firefly

my name is michelle or you can call me firefly ✩

22 yrs old + black! nonbinary + big fucking nerd !

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┆　┆ ࣪ ˖☆ ࣪⭑┆ ݁˖ .☆ . ݁ ˖

☆⊹ ࣪ ┆ ˖ ࣪　⊹ ࣪ ★ ⋆.˚ ⊹ ࣪

࣪ ˖⋆˚★ ₊ ⊹　 ࣪˖ ࣪ ₊ ࣪ ˖　

. ݁　⊹ ࣪ ˖　　　 ࣪ ˖

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current favorites ! 𑣲⋆｡˚ Love and Deepspace: Zayne and Sylus main, Cyberpunk, DnD, DC, One Piece, Witch Hat Atelier, Horror movies and Space!

✩ lets be friends! ✩

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˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

mdni, tw: sexual content, oral sex, fluff and smut, using food for pleasure, no main story spoilers.

“I’m feeling a little hungry Zaynie…” You roll over from your spot on the edge of the couch, to rest in his lap. He hums in response, looking down at you over his silver square frames. “I suppose that is more of a warning, than a life update. What do you have in mind?”

He bookmarks the medical book he was perusing, one on artificial heart pumps or maybe it was about a new form of holistic care. Either way, you hadn’t the slightest clue and even less concern, now that your stomach has provided a garble in confirmation. It was maybe 4 or 5 hours since you both had a meal, and you were feeling the kind of hunger that needed to boost your dopamine as well. “Oh I know! Let’s bake something, like cookies…no, maybe brownies?” You are up from the couch and on the move to the pantry. Zayne gives you a sideways look, checking his watch and making moves to follow you into the kitchen. “It’s nearly evening love, shouldn’t we make a proper meal. With protein and fiber, your iron has been a little low lately..”

You don’t acknowledge his suggestion, instead continuing to rummage through your pantry for something to satisfy your craving. Behind the chips and avocados, a store bought box of cupcakes mix shines before you. Like a true holy grail. You shove it in his face, now that he has reached the kitchen and beam brightly. “We are gonna have cupcakes for dinner! Come on, you can’t deny it or me. You know you wannaaa..” You shake the box taunting him, and he scrunched his nose and rubs it as if he really needs to deliberate further. “Fine. I guess if we must…but I wont hear it from you later when your stomach is churning from malnutrition.” A triumphant little tune leaves your lips as you make way on the counter for the baking tray and bowls, Zayne in search for ingredients to make a homemade frosting.

As you both work in tandem to crack the eggs, and mix in the premade cupcake powder, a more enticing treat crosses your mind. By now Zayne has rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt to the crease of his arm and pushed his glasses up to the top of his head. Dark strands are held back by them but not by much restraint, similar the restraint you seem to loose when he dips a finger in the homemade frosting and licks it clean. It reminds you of the last time that masterful tongue licked a part of your body. The inside of your thighs down to your ankles. The nape of your neck between your shoulder blades that made your toes curl. A shiver and a “woo” slips from your mouth before you can catch it. He turns his head, now preparing the cupcake pan. “Whats the matter? Are you that hungry?”

He smirks incredulously, noticing the slight heat radiating from your cheeks. You scoff, and sway your hips slightly to inch closer to him. “One might say..i’m starving.” You purr, as if a small invitation to join in your clearly targeted banter. He smirks and takes another dip of frosting with two fingers now and point them to your pillowy lips. His attentive green eyes meet yours, with a twinkle of desire that reassures you he is more than happy to play your game of seductive tag. You comply, your tongue darting out like a lizard might to catch its prey and cleaning his fingers intently. His hands grasp the edge of the kitchen island, on the other side of you to keep his balance and trap you with his body weight. He watches you drench his digits in your saliva, though his fingers were free of frosting long ago and grunts in approval. The noise sends a warm, spark to your lower abdomen that alerts your pretty kitty instinctively. When you feel he has been teased enough, you pull away with a pop and return to filling the baking tray. “You should set our timer and let the frosting sit in the fridge so it doesn’t melt.” Zayne is still pressed up behind you while you work, and he finds it hard to pull away from the curve of your ass. How could he? “You are so perfect.”

“I’m just making cupcakes..” You say as though you cannot feel his bulge growing by the passing seconds. “Excuse me, Zaynie. I need to put this in the oven now.” You shuffle but there is no movement. His hands have now grasped your waist, and before you can make your second attempt to maneuver past him you’re hoisted into the air and placed firmly on the counter. “No, darling, you will stay right here.” His eyes never leaving yours, now fully entranced by your every moment.

Zayne moves with a swiftness, an urgency, as he tenderly places the cupcakes in the oven, ensures it’s been properly preheated and sets a timer. Within a minute he is back in front of you, pulling you closer standing between your legs. Keeping them spread open. You didn’t think a little playful frosting play would get him this hot and bothered so fast but there are no complaints from you. You try not to giggle maniacally, from sheer excitement at how successful you were at riling him up. Your arms wrap around his neck casually and you look over the counter once again. “I know that look…I want you, babe.” You spot the bowl of frosting still sitting out and a fleeting thought cross both of your minds, when he follows your gaze. He pushes up against you further, determined to make you feel how bad he wants you, instead of using his words. “The cupcakes will still take another 30 minutes…but I fear i’m quite hungry now. Do you have something that might hold me over until then Snow Angel?”

He practically growls in your ear, one hand has migrated to your thigh. The way he massages and kneads it roughly makes your kitty pucker in anticipation. But what he intends to give you, you still can’t quite guess. You just hope he gives it to you real good and real soon. You nod your head slowly, spreading your legs a bit more, as if to give him a better view and he accepts. His fingers creep under your soft shorts, tugging teasingly at your underwear. He can feel how warm and wet you’ve grown in the midst of your teasing. He peaks back up at you, seekng the way your eyes have grown heavy and dark. You’re waiting for his next move, and he refuses to leave his baby hanging.

“Tell me how much you want me love.” He demands, his fingers now sliding tenderly between your folds. The feeling is addictive, and you mewl in contentment. “So bad Zaynie…more than anything.” He curls his fingers gently, as he begins to slide your lower half further down on the counter, back pressed against the cold granite. It gives you another sensation to focus on. “And what do you want baby? What do you need from me?”

His fingers begin to pick up the pace, giving you a third finger now. Your stomach bubbles with arousal at the feeling and the noises that escape your lips are much louder than before. He groans in response to your pretty moans, its music to his ears. It riles him up, makes it hard not to loose his own bottoms as he swiftly pulls yours off and places them gently beside you. Even in this feeal state he’s so meticulously. He doesn’t stop pumping his fingers, but he does use his free hand to reach up and knead at your chest, playing with you nipples ever so slightly. “You are so beautiful darling, how could I ignore such a clear plea for pleasure. How could i ignore such a hungry girl. I saw your stares..and I can read your mind.” He moves from your chest to the bowl of frosting. He slows his pace just enough to focus on making each one deeper than the last. God, how could his fingers be so big. It sends you reeling when he removes them after another minute, your lips fluttering around nothing. Dripping on the counter, missing the stretch your boyfriend provided before. You whine, needy for more of him, all of his body connection to yours. He straightens up to get a better look at you, flushed and starting to break a sweat. Your arm draped lazily across your forehead, your chest rising and falling in staggering beats of anticipation. You hadn’t realized your eyes were closed so tightly until you pried them open and got a glimpse of that stoic god posing as your lover. He was unbuttoning a few of his buttons on his shirt, his glasses now fully removed and the bowl of frosting sitting in his arms close to his chest. He was eyeing you like the most delicious delicacy there could ever be concocted. “You are so so gorgeous darling…and I just know you taste even better.” He scoops some of the frosting onto his fingers, just as he had before and kneels down before you. “Will you be a good girl, and stay very still for me. I don’t want to make too much of a mess.”

His fingers return to your pussy, coating the sickly sweet concoction over the expanse of the beauty between your legs. He is careful not to get any inside and cause an infection because your health is of utmost importance. Once he feels the job has been done sufficiently, he gets straight to work Lapping away at the icing between your legs, sucking on that joyous bundle of nerves that makes you squirm in his hold. He groans into the wetness of your pussy and begins to feel his way inside. Your hands reach out for his hair, tugging as gently as possible while your back arches off the countertop in ecstasy. It feels like a dream, one you hope never ends. He plunges his tongue deeper, hoping to reach the spot that always gets you close to the edge. He can tell you’re almost there when you whine his name and shift your hips in an attempt to wiggle away from his grasp but those large, gentle hands held your hips down and pulled you in closer. Zayne wanted all of you, frosting decorating his nose and mixing with the juices that leak from your arousal. It’s suffocating him in the most loving way, so sweet and so warm. He needed more. He’s hoisted your hips ho further, now hands palming your round ass with tenacity of a man starved for days. It was almost too much, you were definitely close to the edge. Your moans are much louder, and much more effective at getting Zayne incredibly hard. Your toes curl when he moves one hand back to your breast, and your head begins to spin. You’re about to cum and Zayne is gonna take you there. As your stomach begins to tighten, and you feel release get closer, theres a melodic tune humming in the background. “Zayneeee..” You call out but he is so far gone, so entranced that neither of you notice the poor cupcakes still in the oven. As the alarm chimes on, Zayne is relentless, and before you know it you are crying out his name in pleasure as you finally climax, and he drinks up every bit. He pulls away with satisfaction so insurmountable, that only after he has licked the last of your nectar from his mouth, he sighs in realization. “We forgot our treats..my apologies Sweetie. Guess we’ll be eating out tonight.”

.✦ ݁˖ - You spent hours, maybe even days writing and rewriting what you hopped would be her next masterpiece. The lids of your eyes are heavy and your inner turmoil has a new enemy. A good night’s rest. This book isn’t just any book, it’s a manifesto of sorts, your next liberating tale of adventure and human ingenuity. At least it is meant to be but once again you are plagued with anxiety. Worried that in your ambition you’ve begun to loose sight of what it really important over the work that never comes to an end. It is dawn when your feet finally pad their way out of the study and through the halls of your grand home. It is not so dramatic of castle that one might think you’re royalty but it is grand because it is filled with the things you and Sylus treasure most. Through the windows peeks the faint rays of sunlight from over the horizon. It bathes you in a subtle warmth that simply pales in comparison to the hands that have now rested on your aching shoulders. There is a strong presence in your blind spots but it raises no alarms. You melts more into his strong chest, into his arms as they hold your waist firmly. It is all the more intoxicating when a deep, dark voice reaches your ears.

“How long have you been awake sweetie? There is such deep thought in your eyes for such an early morning. Do you wish to leave me cold and restless? Indulge in me, for I have not the power to reach the far depths of your brilliant mind yet.” His voice is capable of captivating an entire room but this morning it has only one mission. Convincing his lover to listen to his wishes and your body and not the critics or publishers or anyone else who might tell her the lie that she will never write well enough. She has been an outstanding writer since youth, and the first book you published brought a whirlwind of fame you had no intention in garnering. Yet, the messages your stories sent to young readers and people who faced the same life struggles growing up made working on this book more necessary. However on this morning, although he has failed to steal you from insomnia for weeks, the air is different. She feels more…reasonable to his requests. “Your tenacity is outstanding dear, but with little rest how can you hope to conquer more hearts? You aren’t listening to your own?” Could he know what tremors run deep your spine when he challenges your incessant need to over work, his voice so calm yet authoritative. When your lips meet it’s not just a warning, it’s a reminder that no matter how many nights you attempt to work your fingers to the bone, he will always come to take care of you. Hunched under low lights of midnight or draped over your wooden desk in the early mornings. He knows what you will always, truly need is his love and support. You wonder if he truly feels the pace quicken in your heart at the accuracy of psychoanalysis of you. Hid hand now cups your face, firm and unrelenting. You cannot escape his gaze and argue that maybe there was a small break for water this time and that you contemplated a small moments rest. By the dryness of your eyes, and the guilt that dripped from your voice, it is clear the Sandman did not visit this troubled writer. “I want for nothing but to succeed. Your happiness and my writing are both so important to me, but my readers are not as easy to please as you. Can you not spare me one more day, I know I am so so close to..”

Your eyes flicker back to the study’s door, now ajar. He does not prod you further, he can surmount the events of your evening fairly well from the mess of your desk, littered with editors’ notes and tabloids, and the glass of tea that was meant to calm your nerves, now grown cold. “I promise i’ll wrap up soon..” This time much sweeter, almost a plea but it is too late, your creeping yawn and the weight of depleted energy that threatens to shut your whole body down tells him everything. Now those strong arms have lifted you into the air, bridal style, and it is clear Sylus does not intend to argue. Determination is henceforth set on getting his sweet girl to sleep. Despite his own work being of importance too, she will always come first. He is likely the strongest negotiator in the world, because in this case his words may not work but his gentle, seductive kisses to your forehead and neck have. You falter once more to the whims of your body, both tiredness and want taking over as you drape your arms around his neck contently. You are careful not to squeeze too tight, but he is holding your waist and legs tighter than before. You will not run away, not when his chest feels like a pillow of clouds sculpted for resting your precious head. Not when he provides a love so strong, one that has captured your every breath since the day you first met.

“I would never lock your heart away, or your dreams. But sweetie…to throw yourself at this novel every night with no regard for your basic needs…no regard for mine?” It comes out wickedly intimate and persuasive. You realizes how little you have actually slept in your bed this week and how easily Sylus grows impatient of missing your presence all day.

Weaker and weaker you are becoming. The air in the hallway is cool, winter is still bearing its fangs outside the door. A shiver runs under your skin, a sign of exhaustion starting to settle in. He leads you so gracefully to the bedroom. It is slightly perfumed, with curtains and banners and even more books than the study and only the lamps and slivers of daylight provide light for Sylus to maneuver through the collection of papers that never made it back to the shelves. He completes your journey at the plush, down bed, falling soundly into the sheets with you. You are just barely dressed in your night gown, as your temperature always runs too hot in the evenings. You close any space between your bodies, instinctively to entangle your limbs wuth his. He holds you closer, his lips planting further attacks to your exposed collarbone. You twirl his silver locks between your fingers, and are thankful for such soothing, luscious locks to be in reach. Even more grateful for his fingertips reaching your scalp just the same. The slight scratch of his nails gives you such relief and in this swell of pleasure you give in to your natural rhythm, your eyes flutter closed. You know he is still watching.

“Why are you so much easier today? I’d say this is a groundbreaking moment, that for once I have fully convinced you to take care of yourself..and me.”

He is clearly amused by how little fight you had left, his crimson eyes now retracing every inch of your beauty in this dreamy state. His large hands now rest on the small of your back, foxtrotting their path along your spine to rest on your bottom. “It would have only taken me 30 more minutes to finish. Besides…I was taking a break right before you so hurriedly rushed me to bed.”

I am stubborn but he is patient. “You are do convincing sweetie” His sarcasm is playful, knowing, you never intended to be caught. His hand now kneading your ass with the intention of comfort that usually coaxes you to sleep, despite hidden desire lying underneath. Rest first, making love can come after you have finally found some relief. He won’t let you forget that you have neglected his needs as well this week. You fit your chest closer to his, breathing warmly on his skin. “I have spent many, many years in battle with opinions and criticisms. It is torture, to keep bottled up and it will drive you mad my love. You must be honest with yourself and with me..” he trails off, but his breath lingers on your earlobe “you are scared.”

A grounded statement, not a question needing answering, he is well aware that despite their deep connection you still hide away deeper insecurities. Meeting expectations is never easy, especially the ones you’re thrusting upon yourself, at times you feel unworthy of any such high esteem and care. He gives you everything, and wants for so little, it feels as though you take too much. The way he looks at you with such intensity brings the tears, realizing just how much someone like Sylus caring wholeheartedly for you brings you dual joy and worry. In that moment you are helpless to him, vulnerable but nonetheless safe. He wipes away what he can catch from your cheeks, and rests his arms lazily once more in a guarding embrace. He hugs so tightly you can feel some of your bones crackle but it is not painful, your posture was too stiff before. Now as the birds slowly begin to sing, you feel so relaxed and so soft for him, that the weight of your tears isn’t shameful, but blessed by how safe it is to cry before him. With him you are not required to be anything but yourself. Not a world author or strong figure of empowerment, just you. He could only be an angel, and you could only be so lucky to be so precious in his eyes. “I am scared..and I am so utterly exhausted. You are all too wonderful to me..”

His laugh is infectious, and together you find humor in the sleepy confession you are sure to deny later. After that morning, he never went to bed before you again, even after you no longer had the trouble with leaving your desk at a reasonable time. He wanted to be sure that you never lost a wink of sleep again.

“I’ll never be as wonderful as you sweetie.”