1000 kisses buys my heart from me

Happy ceation day?

2009-09-22T09:56:59Z

As of today, the 22nd of September 2009, I've had this LJ account for seven years. Sweet Shiva above and Ifrit below, that's a third of my life.

Reason to Live : Complete

2009-09-15T06:33:06Z

Took me long enough, but the entire story is finally finished. Eh, take it or leave it; I'm satisfied.

Title: Reason to Live
Game: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing: Vincent/Yuffie
Rating: M
Summary: "I went home to die, and ended up with a reason to live." The story of Vincent Valentine, and how he came to understand his need to move on, guided by a most unexpected companion.
Warning: Swearing, alcohol reference, sexual themes

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15

Melodies of Life: Zidane and Garnet shoot

2009-09-15T06:09:43Z

Yay! thehotmageaeris and I recently did a fun, although somewhat hurried, photo shoot as Dagger/Garnet and Zidane from Final Fantasy 9! Warning, there are lots of pictures behind the cut! Both costumes were made by me =)

Zidane: thehotmageaeris
Dagger/Garnet: mihoyonagi (me)

Blooper pictures, horray! We couldn't help ourselves <3

Princess Garnet / Dagger Photo Shoot

2009-08-02T20:12:06Z

I recently re-did parts of my Princess Garnet / Dagger costume (new wig, new pendant) and managed to get some pictures at a really nice park near where I live. Thought I'd share =)

The entire costume was had made by me, with the exception of the wig I commissioned for the most talented ms_saturday. Event he staff and the pendant topper were done, by hand, by me. No patters were used for this costume.

All pictures taken by my awesome Emily <3

x-posted a few places

Vintage-looking Copper and White Necklace

2009-06-23T06:00:14Z

More pretties =D This one is copper and white~

Check it out in my Etsy shop!

Disney + Pixar's Up - icon dump

2009-06-21T20:00:42Z

18 of 'em behind the cut. Enjoy =)

Previews:

Rules:
-No hotlinking
-Credit is awesome, but not required as I do this for fun.
-These particular icons can be used as bases, but please let me know if you're taking some =)

Thanks!

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Vintage Pressed Flower Necklace

2009-06-14T07:23:50Z

I made a pretty =D

If you're interested, I have this necklace, along with others, for sale on my etsy shop. Take a look here!

Aerith (KH2 version) cosplay <3

2009-04-14T03:01:20Z

I got to wear my Aerith (KH2 version) again this year for Sakura Con. I didn't get too many pics, but wearing the costume was still fun <3

If you're wondering why I'm wearing a mask, it's because a few friends and I went to the Sakura Con Masquerade Ball. It was fun, despite their music choice. Irish contra music? With ball gowns? Really? It was still fun, though <3

Okay, so this last one was awesome. I was walking up the main stairs because a friend of mine was in need of some photos of her costume of Poison Ivy (she forgot her camera) and I heard, from behind me, someone shout "YOU!"

I turn around and lo-and-behold it's the Zack I took a picture with last year! He recognized me! So I begin to walk over and he throws his arms out. I expect to be getting a hug- horray for cosplay hugs.

Well, he put his arms around me, picked me up, and carried me off! All my friends were like 'WTF is going on?' It was so fun ^_^ I'm happy I got to see him again- he's still the best Zack cosplay I've seen thus far, and he's so nice. I feel weird for not talking to him more T_T

Miho's Top Sakura Con 2009 Pictures <3

2009-04-14T02:43:20Z

At Sakura Con, we took so many great pictures. Here are some of my favorites over the weekend. Enjoy!

Also, if you happen to see yourself in one of these photos and would like credit, let me know and I'll be happy to add a credit line for you!

<3

mini-TWEWY shoot <3

2009-04-13T20:17:28Z

Me as Shiki, and my Emily-dear as Neku. Both costume were made by me <3 Plus, some other awesome cosplay we happened across during the con!

-We were outside looking for the TWEWY photoshoot. Apparently, the shoot had moved, and it hadn't been corrected in the booklet, so we missed it. We did, however, get to hang out with an awesome Joshua cosplay <3 So nice!!

-Let me know what you think! <3

Dagger/Zidane cosplay photots!

2009-04-13T20:06:11Z

Both costumes made by yours truly! <3

Both the Dagger costume I wear and the Zidane costume (thehotmageaeris) wears were made by me. Both costumes took roughly over 40 hours of work. The Dagger outfit's cost was roughly $90, and the Zidane costume was about $75.

Debuted at Sakura Con 2009!

-That's me! Ah, skin-tight banana-colored body-suit; you are the bane of my sewing machine...

-I has a moogle!

-Part of the FF9 photoshoot <3 The other Dagger was so nice! Ah, I wish I had asked for her e-mail!

-My darling Jess (thehotmageaeris) as Zidane (I made this costume, too!)

-I didn't REALLY push her... >=D

-Just hangin' around <3

-One of my favorite pics <3

-D'awwwwww <3

-Let me know what you think! <3

Simplistic Boot Cover Tutorial

2009-03-31T08:15:55Z

I made a rather simplistic boot cover tutorial, if anyone is interested in checking it out. I received quite a few questions regarding the covers I made for my Shiki Misaki outfit, so I figured that I'd make a tutorial to answer all the questions in kind.

The actual tutorial file is too large to host on photobucket, so I'll link you to the DA page where it's hosted =)

Boot Cover Tutorial Located Here!

.

57 Icon Update

2009-02-19T09:15:55Z

I haven't done this in a while. Truth be told, I haven't made icons outside of icon-contests for at least a few months. I'm a little out of practice, but at least I'm having fun:

57 icons in total:

-13 Bleach
-5 Eureka 7
-3 FF7
-7 FF9
-2 FF10
-12 FF Dissidia
-3 Fullmetal Alchemist
-6 Last Exile
-6 Prince of Persia

Teasers:

-Credit is appreciated, but I'm not going to hunt you down if you use my icons. If, however, you claim them for your own, I might bite you. Hard.
-I claim no credit for the fanart used in any of the icons I've created. I use art for the sake of art. All images belong to their respective owners. I just eff them up in PS.
-Don't hotlink.
-Please don't alter the icons in any way. Textless icons are NOT bases.

Bleach - 13 ICONS

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Eureka 7 - 5 ICONS

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FF7 - 3 ICONS

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FF9 - 7 ICONS

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FF10 - 2 ICONS

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FF Dissidia - 12 ICONS

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Fullmetal Alchemist - 3 ICONS

001	002	003

Last Exile - 6 ICONS

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Prince of Persia - 6 ICONS

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-Check out my AWARD POST
-Take a peek at my RESOURCES
-Wanna make a REQUEST?

...

Fic Update : PLAYTHING : DAY 6

2009-01-24T07:33:39Z

Title: Plaything
Game: Left 4 Dead
Pairing: Zoey/Hunter
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "Thrown from the third story of an office building, Zoey finds herself hurt, low on ammo, and alone. That is, until a wayward and strangely intelligent hunter decides he wants her all for his own..."
Warnings: Sexual situations, adult language, slight angst, extreme sarcasm

I do have to warn you all that this is the sex chapter. I also have dirty doodles. Oh noes.

Obligatory disclaimer : I hereby state that I, mihoyonagi, do not own any part of Left 4 Dead and acknowledge all characters and plot as part of the actual game belong to solely to Valve. I do not make any gain for the writing of this story, fiscal or otherwise, and do not intend to at any time, present or future.

Artistic disclaimer: I wrote this story for my awesome friend, Jesse, aka thehotmageaeris. While writing, I'd feed her chapters bit by bit. This story, I'll admit as far as planning goes, has turned into quite the collaboration: I write, and Jesse edits the story bits and supplies the art. Everyone wins.

I do, however, also have to thank my amazing editor and friend Minty. Without his help, I'd be royally screwed. Seriously, dude- thanks.
_______________________________

Plaything

Story By: mihoyonagi / mihoyonagi
Art By: thehotmageaeris

Previous chapters:
DAY 0
DAY 1
DAY 2
DAY 3
DAY 3 bloopers
DAY 4
DAY 5
_______________________________

DAY 6

I woke up empty.

I woke up alone.

It should have been pleasing waking up lacking a zombie in my bed for the first time in nearly a week.

Instead, I hurt. My heart ached, and I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do, let alone think.

The hunter, when he’d been human, had tried to get close to me. He’d gone to the same school, been interested in the same stuff. Oh, God, I didn’t want to torment myself by thinking of the ‘what if’s the situation easily spewed forth, had the infection never happened.

My stomach turned and my head spun. Trying to still the careening universe, I rolled over.

I spotted him sitting in the corner of the room, resting against the far walls.

He was wearing his hood up again.

I sat up, suddenly pissed off. “Take your hood off.” It was an order, barked by my raspy morning voice.

His head moved slightly to once side, but the rest of him remained still as stone.

I threw the covers off, stomping over to him and grabbing at his hood.

“I said take it off. I don’t like it when you wear it.”

He hissed at me, showing me his teeth while he was at it, and ripped his head free of my grasp.

Oh. No. He. Did. Not. I was going to have none of his bullshit. I was hurt and confused, and would put up with nothing today.

“I said take it off!”

My hands pulled the sides of his hood back, forcing the cloth away from his face faster than he could react.

I gasped, keeping my hands gripped tightly on the hood.

He looked up at me with hurt in his eyes.

Realization suddenly flooded over me, and I understood where his sadness had come from. He’d been brave enough to open his heart to me the night before, and I’d brushed him off, telling him that I needed to be alone.

After he’d left the room, I’d done another damn good job of tearing up and sobbing like a child. By the time I’d curled up on the bed, hoping to fall asleep from mental exhaustion, my eyes hurt like a son of a bitch and my throat was raw.

He thought I’d completely rejected him.

My hand reached out, seemingly of its own accord, and stroked his cheek.

He remained motionless, staring up at me from the floor.

I slowly drifted to my knees, sitting in front of him.

And did something no one on the face of the planet could have predicted.

I kissed him.

A gentle kiss, but full on the lips no less.

He didn’t expect it.

Hell, neither did I.

But the next thing I knew, I was pressed into sheets of the bed, the hunter pinning me down with his weight and snarling against the side of my neck.

I shouldn’t have shuddered in excitement. I knew I shouldn’t have.

I did anyway.

He remained gentle, though I could easily detect the franticness within him, as he kissed my shoulders and neck. His teeth raking across my collarbone elected a gasp from me, and he growled against my skin in appreciation.

I paused for a moment, trying to clear my head. He stopped as I did, his hair falling about my cheek.

Without really thinking about it, I knew he’d stop if I so much as mumbled the word ‘no.’

But did I really want him to?

I was beyond thought. I wanted to feel. Besides, what did any of it matter? It wasn’t hard to guess how much he wanted me.

Would letting him have his way be so terrible?

No. No it fucking wouldn’t.

I shoved my fingers through his hair, pressing his face against my neck.

He didn’t need another invitation. His smooth hands traced up my hips, his fingers stopping only long enough to get under my shirt. I could feel my legs scissoring underneath him. Good God, his legs were muscular. My hands moved from his hair to his shoulders as his hands moved from my stomach upward.

We both paused when his thumbs swept past my nipples.

Holy shit.

It was like someone had started a fire inside of my skin.

His touch was electric – gentle and strong at the same time – and I wondered why I hadn’t done this sooner.

I dug my nails into his back and was rewarded with a moan that curled my toes.

My shirt was pushed up slightly, and his head dipped down. I felt his lips place kisses across my stomach, then slowly move upward. His fingers tried to pull apart my top but I swatted his hands away and eased onto my elbows, pulling the shirt up and over my head.

I’d always been a teeny bit self conscious. I think most women have something about themselves that they don’t like.

Me? I don’t like the way I look naked. At all.

My forearms covered my breasts, and I turned my head away from him, suddenly feeling awkward. I could feel heat rising to my cheeks.

I wasn’t used to this much attention.

He, apparently, was intent on his worship of me.

Without missing a beat, his body moved and he began to kiss his way across my face. I could hear the words he couldn’t say as he nuzzled my cheeks and let his hands slide up and down my waist. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see he thought I was beautiful.

His fingers tugged at the bottom of my elbows, pulling my arms away from my chest.

I knew my face was red without having to look in a mirror. I kept my face turned away from him, but let my hands snake their way back up his well-toned arms and up his shoulders.

I gasped when I felt him take a nipple into his mouth.

Oh, sweet zombie Jesus.

Was this what I’d been missing? Holy fuck, I was an idiot.

My back arced against his lips and I won another moan from him. His tongue teased and teeth tormented me in ways I wasn’t aware existed. I was out of breath already, and he was still completely clothed.

Well, not for long.

I attacked his sweater, ripping it right up and over his head. He didn’t protest in the slightest, and once he was free of the shirt he immediately pressed his chest against mine. His skin was like an inferno against me, and I shivered in delight.

Feeling decidedly wicked, I hooked a leg around his hips and pushed upward against him.

Believe me, he was there. Holy fuck he was there. I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped my lips.

I could feel his cock against the inside of my thigh, our bodies separated by my boxer shorts and his sweatpants.

Without even having to think of it, I knew I was the only thing on his mind. Yet his hands reminded calm no matter how labored his breathing became.

He eased up and pressed his weight onto his elbows, his face even with mine. His breath was hot as it cascaded in heavy waves over my face. His lips descended on mine, starved for my kiss. I could feel his weight shift to one elbow while his free hand worked its way down to my hips again. He hooked a finger in the elastic of my shorts began to tug.

I placed a hand on his, stilling him. I smiled against his kiss, and he pulled back, whimpering.

“You first.”

I slid my hand down his back and tugged on the drawstring of his pants. A deep sound resonated throughout him. I vaguely wondered if he was purring, it sounded so similar. Whatever it was, I knew I was doing right by it.

He eased his hips up and let me slid his pants off. His milky eyes were level with mine the entire time, his lips parted and his breath heady as it fell over my skin. His hands immediately went to my hips. I had to admit that I loved the growl that accompanied his struggle, his clawed fingers pulling at the fabric that still covered me.

I slid my shorts off and swallowed, not completely knowing what to expect.

The hunter pressed his face against my neck, inhaling deeply. His breath was warm as he exhaled, his hand casually making its way up my legs and between my thighs.

I didn’t have time to protest. I hardly had time to breathe at all.

One second I was anticipating his actions, the next my back was arched and his finger was inside of me.

Holy shit. Hooo-leee shit.

He bit at my neck and I quivered beneath him, scratching at his shoulders and mewling as his hands went to work between my legs. I moved my hips with the motion of his palm, trying to make myself breathe again but failing miserably. I was light headed, but so long as he didn’t stop what he was doing I really couldn’t have given less of a damn. The apartment could have been on fire for all I cared.

Despite not being able to open a can of fruit, he was damn good with his hands.

Fuck, it was all so quick. I was almost there already; I could feel my body straining against his hand for sweet release.

Then, the world came tumbling down. His fingers left me, his palm leaving the bundle of nerves between my thighs.

I tried to take a deep breath, readying myself to scream out in pure sexual frustration, but I didn’t have time.

He hooked and elbow under one of my knees, pushed my leg up, and was inside of me before I’d even had time to inhale.

And I’d thought his hand had been something special?

He was all business now, his teeth bared as he growled, pumping against my hips with the speed and force of a runaway train. I didn’t have the strength to protest; I grabbed a hold of his shoulders and went along for the ride, praying I didn’t fall off.

He growled against me, nailing me to the mattress.

All of that tension that had built up in my body before had increased tenfold, my head threatening to explode.

He bit me on the neck, snarling against my skin.

That did it for me.

The entire room heaved and I vaguely heard myself scream, as if from far away. I clamped my eyes shut, riding the wave of pleasure he’d delivered.

His pumping became frantic, and his breathing coarse. I heard him suck in a huge gulp of air.

He roared into my neck, his hands clamping down on my ass.

I could feel his taut muscles jerk and spasm; his back tightening, the muscles in his neck bulging, his legs straining. He began to pant against me, sucking in air as if he’d almost drown moments before.

He fell on me, completely spent.

His exhaustion, however, was apparently ignored as I watched him bring his hand up and place it on my cheek.

He turned my head toward him and stole a sweet, gentle kiss.

His hips moved, and he pulled out. I was dimly aware that I felt empty without him in me. I didn’t have much time to dwell on the thought, however, for he pulled me close against him, both of us lying on our sides, and reached for the sheets to covers us with.

When he pulled me close, I realized I could feel his heartbeat. It was a deep, steady rhythm, much like his breathing. His free hand caressed my skin, from my hips and legs all the way up to my face, his eyes closed all the while.

I feel asleep, feeling better than I had in a long damn time.

Too bad I woke up with a feeling in my stomach that made me wonder if I’d swallowed a bag of quick-dry cement before I’d fallen asleep. The hunter still had his arms around me, our bodies touching and warming one another.

I felt like I was going to throw up. I tried to ease out of his grasp without waking him, and was a little more than surprised when I’d succeeded. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t even flinched, as I pulled my body away from his.

Pulling on a t-shirt from the dresser, I shoved my arms through the holes in it and brought it over my head, trying to tiptoe out of the bedroom as quickly and quietly as I could.

Oh, dear God. What had I done?

I’d fucked a zombie, that’s what I’d done. Well, I’d mostly let the zombie fuck me, but who was going to argue the case? Point: we’d down the horizontal nasty.

What about afterward?

He’d gotten what he’d been pining after for nearly a week. What would my life matter to him now?

Would he kill me?

Shit, Zoey, you are so depressing.

You’d just had the sex of your life – with a zombie, no less; don’t forget – and it’s only now you’re worrying about the repercussions?

I was winning all kinds of awards tonight, wasn’t I?

I felt as if I were about to puke. I turned on the faucet in the kitchen and stuck my head under the rush of water, hoping I could calm myself down enough to try and think about a solution to my problem.

I should have been thinking of a way out a week ago. Surely not after I’d let him give me a good dicking.

The water fell and soaked the rim of the shirt, wetting my shoulders and parts of my back as I stood back up. I turned the faucet off, my hands shaking.

What, then, if he really did decide to kill me? I could fight him, sure, but he was more than capable of killing me whenever he wanted. Why was he so intent on keeping me alive?

I didn’t want to be some zombie’s fuck doll.

I wasn’t going to be his plaything.

I sucked in a deep breath, turned on my heel, and was promptly bowled over by a wall of flesh.

The hunter, having apparently been woken up, crushed his body against mine. My back was against the fridge, and with his hands on either side of my waist I was left with nowhere to go.

Not that I could really run, anyway. He'd catch me easily.

I felt his lips nip at my collarbone, his sultry purr resonating throughout. I gulped, not quite so resolved to tell him off as I had been a few moments before.

His hand came up and fell to my cheek, his lips dancing their way across my forehead.

He moved his head and looked down at me, as if he were curious as to why I wasn’t moving in response.

The adoration I saw in his eyes eased me, even though I knew it shouldn’t.

I wasn’t his plaything.

I was his dream girl, even if he was not who he once was. Though his body may have been scrambled, his heart and mind were intact.

It was a sad realization, but I knew that he cared for me more than the look in his eyes could convey.

I kissed him, knowing that going back had never been an option.

His gentleness still came to a surprise to me, having been used to his eating habits.

But, hey, I wasn’t going to complain. Those hands of his sparked a fire in me I’d never felt before, and I wasn’t going to bitch about such a nice gift.

His hands were underneath my shirt in an instant, and his hips pressed against mine. He bent his knees and lifted me easily off the floor with only his lower body. Damn, he was good.

I pulled my shirt off after I noticed how naked he still was. His hips continued to press against mine as his hands lifted my legs higher.

He didn’t want me.

He needed me.

It was almost palpable in the way he touched me, the way he moaned against me as our bodies touched.

Well, I sure as hell wasn’t going to deny him. Not after the performance earlier.

I arched against the cool surface of the fridge, pressing my chest against him. His skin burned.

Holy fuck. Why had I chided myself about liking this earlier? My mind drew a blank.

Oh well. Didn’t matter.

All that did matter was the fact that I needed him inside of me.

Right. Fucking. Now.

And I was glad to know that he wanted me just as bad – or else he could read my mind, too – because he wrapped an arm around one of my knees to steady me against him, set his other hand on the top of the fridge to steady himself, and dove right inside.

My arms slid around his neck, one hand getting a good grip in his hair. I jerked his head back and, feeling ferocious and powerful, bit his neck.

His breath hissed as he inhaled sharply. I felt his chest tighten for only the span of a breath before he began pumping like a crazed animal. He snarled into my ear and my entire body erupted in goose bumps.

The fridge knocked against the wall as he mercilessly nailed me against the door. A steady, loud, continuous thumping echoed throughout the apartment, drowning out my pants and pleadings.

God, if I didn’t get release I was going to fucking explode.

My prayers were answered. Holy shit, were they ever. His nails dug into my ass as he pumped me, just enough to send me right over the edge I’d been teetering on.

So generous; he made sure I was happy before took anything for himself. I collapsed against him, my arms falling limp as I struggled to breathe.

It didn’t take him long to join me. Hell, he’d only been a few steps behind the entire time.

His roar of pleasure was satisfying in a way the sex hadn’t been. I had complete control over him; I had the key to what he wanted, what he needed, what his body and mind craved.

He knew, however, that all he had to do was ask.

We stayed like that, me up in the air and supported only by his hips, until our breathing slowed. He’d slumped against me, that sweet, low purring noise coming from him again.

As he pulled out, I mewled in disappointment. I felt, however, his smile as his lips curved up, deviously, against my cheek.

Without allowing my feet to touch the ground, he carried me back to the bedroom, despite his tired limbs. He tossed me in the middle of the bed, facing the ceiling, before he climbed atop me and grinned.

His hands swept up my inner thighs, urging my legs apart.

More already? Christ, I doubted I could stand and he wanted more?

His hips didn’t dip toward mine, however.

His upper body did.

I knew, the moment his tongue began to kiss and bite at the inside of my thighs, that I had no chance. I heard him inhale, and then whine.

His head dipped lower.

Fuck.

I felt his tongue lash out, and his mouth pressed against the wetness between my legs.

Everything on my body was still so sensitive from when he’d fucked me against the fridge, I couldn’t even open my mouth to protest.

Not that I was going to.

My hips tried to match the push and pull of his tongue and teeth. He moaned, nearly setting me over the edge then and there, but he stilled his lips at the last moment, stealing from me my sweet release. His hand steadied my thighs, pinning me down to the mattress.

I was at his mercy.

I whimpered, balling up the sheets in my hands, and met his milky eyes with desperation unashamedly plastered across my face.

I didn’t have to ask twice. He went back to work and, at the last second, before I began to soar, he moaned against me again, deep and echoing.

My hips kicked up against him, despite his strong grip, and I called out, thrashing my head from side to side.

God damn how good he was.

After he’d taken me as far as I could go, he lazily crawled next to me, flopping down unceremoniously.

I didn’t care about anything any longer, save for him. I rolled over, pushing myself as close to him as I could possibly manage. He pulled the covers up and over us, like he had done earlier, and wrapped his arms around me.

I didn’t have to look at his face to know the size of smile he wore on it.

Art By: thehotmageaeris

Art By: thehotmageaeris

Art By: thehotmageaeris

Art By: thehotmageaeris

...

Fic Update : PLAYTHING : DAY 5

2009-01-23T11:01:22Z

Title: Plaything
Game: Left 4 Dead
Pairing: Zoey/Hunter
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "Thrown from the third story of an office building, Zoey finds herself hurt, low on ammo, and alone. That is, until a wayward and strangely intelligent hunter decides he wants her all for his own..."
Warnings: Sexual situations, adult language, slight angst, extreme sarcasm

Obligatory disclaimer : I hereby state that I, mihoyonagi, do not own any part of Left 4 Dead and acknowledge all characters and plot as part of the actual game belong to solely to Valve. I do not make any gain for the writing of this story, fiscal or otherwise, and do not intend to at any time, present or future.

Artistic disclaimer: I wrote this story for my awesome friend, Jesse, aka thehotmageaeris. While writing, I'd feed her chapters bit by bit. This story, I'll admit as far as planning goes, has turned into quite the collaboration: I write, and Jesse edits the story bits and supplies the art. Everyone wins.

I do, however, also have to thank my amazing editor and friend Minty. Without his help, I'd be royally screwed. Seriously, dude- thanks.
_______________________________

Plaything

Story By: mihoyonagi / mihoyonagi
Art By: thehotmageaeris

Previous chapters:
DAY 0
DAY 1
DAY 2
DAY 3
DAY 3 bloopers
DAY 4
_______________________________

DAY 5

I didn’t sleep worth a shit. I’d read three of the magazines before bed, cover to cover, and learned how to spot if my man was cheating, the right way to dye my hair, and how to properly pluck and maintain my eyebrows. Not that I’d use any of that kind of bullshit. I rolled over and tried to fall asleep, but I couldn’t.

The hunter had been pacing outside the bedroom door for at least an hour before I finally shoved my head under one of the pillows and feigned sleep. It was way later before I actually fell unconscious.

And wouldn’t you know who was next to me when I woke up?

He was closer this time, and I found myself pressed against his chest, his chin resting on my head. The shoulder that he wasn’t lying on was leaning against me, and his arm crossed over my waist and forearm lying against my back.

I felt his fingers idly play with my hair.

It was too much this morning. My head was foggy, my neck stiff, and I just didn't need this bullshit. I rolled out of his arms and sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing my face with my hands and not bothering to look at him. I headed for the kitchen, hungry for something solid and lacking copious amounts of salt and preservatives; my insides couldn't take too many more punches from Mr. Nacho Cheese Doritos.

He followed me. His footsteps were easy to hear, even when he was trying to be quiet, due simply to the fact that I was becoming used to his presence. Not really a good thing.

I figured the freezer would be a good place to start. I hadn't looked too hard yesterday, simply because I wasn't in the mood to give an overwhelming damn, but not I wanted something hot to settle my stomach. My foot was finally feeling better, which made it that much easier for me to squat down and begin my rampage through the frozen portal.

The hunter crouched behind me, accepting the boxes and bags I pulled out of the freezer without making a sound. I was under the impression he felt I knew what I was doing, but I still decided to make small talk. I knew I was basically talking to myself, but it did have the nice effect of lightening my heart, even if for only a little while.

“When I was younger, my mom used to make waffles for me. I guess she never really 'made' them so much as took them out of the box and shoved them in the toaster, but waffles are waffles and it was what I got every Sunday morning until I was twelve.”

I pulled a frozen loaf of bread and placed it on the counter. Maybe I could find some jam and peanut butter later and have a sandwich.

“After I turned twelve, my mom let me make my own waffles, and even pour on my own syrup. That's big, when you're young. I would always put way too much on, but mom never said anything.”

Oh, jackpot- a container of frozen sausage. I could fry some up and eat it with the other bag of noodles that was sill in the cupboard.

“I was big on horror movies when I was little, but mom hated it. One of my friends got me a wall-hanging cardboard cut-out of Jason when I turned fifteen, and mom flipped a shit. I was so mad when I found out she threw it out.”

A bag of chicken breast fillets: I was going to eat like a damn royal.

I stood, shoving my loot onto the top shelf of the freezer. I wanted to explore the rest of the cupboards a little more.

Damn good idea. At the back of the cupboard beneath the microwave, I found a can of tomato and basil soup – the expensive stuff, all natural and organic – and decided, immediately, on my breakfast.

“Pick something out to eat. This soup is for me.”

And I'd enjoy every last drop of the can, too. I popped the pull-tab and dumped the soup into the noodle pan I'd used the day before. While silverware might be an issue, I'd at least found a wooden spoon to stir the soup with lying near the cutting board.

The hunter edged around me, sniffing around through a few cupboards before finding another can of fruit and presenting it to me. I opened it for him and drained some of the juice, like I had before, and handed the can back to him, stirring my soup.

He was a little more careful this morning, and only managed to drop one piece. I tossed the fallen fruit into the sagging trash bag next to the oven.

“Bring me the rag so I can clean you up.”

He let me wipe his face again, not protesting in the slightest.

I sighed, looking into the soup on the stove. “If you intend to keep me here, I'm going to need more to eat.”

He padded across the apartment, opened the screen door, and left.

What a good little lap-dog.

I had to admit that I was becoming used to the situation I'd fallen into. I also had to admit that I was better off with a hunter on my side than not. I still had no gun, no other means of defense, and, to be brutally honest, I should have been dead already. Way dead. Super dead.

When the soup was warm enough, I emptied it into one of three bowls I'd found that weren't smashed. Temper, temper. I waited a while for the soup to cool, and then sipped it out of the bowl. Spoons were overrated anyway.

With my belly full, my body energized, and my mind relaxed, I walked through the apartment, shamefully snooping around. Upon closer inspection of underneath the coffee table, I found a scattering of pictures. When I picked them up, I noticed they'd been bitten and torn.

But it was only one face that had been shredded from the photos.

I didn't need to guess whose face had been scratched out. It was easy to recognize the hunter's body; little had changed.

As I looked down, shuffling through the photos, my heart sunk. Happy people on happy backdrops; family gatherings; pets and children; everything that had once been part of his world lie torn in my hands. He'd scratched out his own face in all of the photos, as if he'd been ashamed. Ashamed of what he was, of what he'd turned into.

I sank down to the couch, curling my legs up against my chest, letting the pictures fall to the floor. It really wasn't my place to look at them, and they had only served to depress me.

I missed my family. I missed my mom. I missed waffle Sundays. I missed my stupid dorm and my stupid classes and my stupid professors.

A wave of sorrow washed over me like nothing I'd ever felt before. My chest ached and my eyes burned. I crawled off the couch, wishing I could get away from the pile of once happy photos on the floor.

I paced around the apartment, wondering for a moment if I should just open the steel door of the apartment and scream. Death wouldn't be that hard to find. Maybe I could pitch myself off the balcony. Surely plummeting to the cement from five stories up would prove fatal.

Shaking, I tried to gather my thoughts. I couldn't calm my hands, and I knew I needed somewhere to sit before I threw up. Back in the bedroom, I plopped down on the edge of the bed and tried to take a deep breath. I broke into a sob halfway though, and I bent over and stuck my head between my knees. My body wracked with sobs, I didn't even realize I'd started to wail until my throat was raw.

A cacophony of metal hitting the hardwood floor shook me from my despair. I looked up and saw the hunter in the doorway, having dropped whatever it was he'd brought me; cans and bags alike scattered across the floor.

Silence stretched out between us, my tears having momentarily stopped. I couldn't hold them in forever, and eventually shivered and bit my lip, wishing I hadn't let him see me so weak.

I wasn't surprised when he'd bounded toward me. I was shocked, however, when he fell to his knees in front of me, wedging himself between my knees so he could press close and shoving back his hood. The look on his face startled me. I couldn't recall when I'd seen such raw emotion pass over his face. I saw it now.

He was worried.

He pawed at my shoulders as I continued to sob, my body clearly not done with the waterworks show. I slowed my breathing, taking in deep gulps of air, purposefully trying to calm myself.

His cheek pressed against mine, his nose dragging across my closed eyes. He whined, bringing a hand to my face. With clumsy fingers, he tried to wipe away my tears.

What did it matter? What did any of it matter anymore? I took a deep breath and forced myself not to care. I should have been dead. I already was as well off.

My heart slowed, by breathing as well, and my tears eventually stopped flowing.

The hunter continued to nuzzle me, in what I could only guess what his version of comfort. At least he was trying. He pressed a palm to my face, gently forcing my head back. I looked at him, into his milky eyes, and just sighed.

I wanted not to care. I wished I could give up.

But I couldn't. Not when he looked at me with such concern on his face.

I surged forward, my hands latching onto the shoulders of his grungy hoodie, and I pressed my face to his neck, sobbing.

My whole body shook. I felt his hands climb up and fall down my back, trying to calm me and still my worries.

Eventually, my tears dried. Every once in a great while I would hiccup, but I knew I had little left in me.

He stayed by me, rubbing his hands up and down my back, the entire time. I sagged against him, wishing he had the ability to speak to me. I needed a chorus of 'I'm here for you's and 'everything will be alright's, even if I knew it was all bullshit lies.

Maneuvering me just slightly, he pushed me backward so I was sitting up. He placed a strangely gentle hand against my face, sweeping his nose across my forehead in a kind gesture.

I just sat there, feeling myself go numb.

He tried to bring me back.

I felt his lips sweep across my cheek, the bridge of his nose nuzzling my ear. It was strange how easily his tenderness came, considering how clumsy the rest of him always seemed. He whined against me, obviously still fretting.

I gave up. I gave in.

What was the use in resisting? What did it matter any more? I was going numb. Maybe, just maybe, he could make me feel something. Anything.

I heaved a heavy sigh, and craned my neck.

He took the open invitation, but surprised me by staying gentle. I could feel his lips gently trace their way down my collarbone and back up again to the underside of my jaw. He kissed his way up my jaw line, inhaling heavily as he pressed his face to my hair.

His push was gentle, and I acquiesced, unafraid. With his hands still on the small of my back, his shoulders pressed against mine and eased me backwards. I fell back against the mattress, one of his hands slipping free and sliding down my thigh. His hair fell against my face as he laid another line of kisses along the other side of my face, a deep growl resonating throughout him.

He pressed against me, his body coming to a rest on top of mine. His legs rested on either side of mine, and I felt his hand slowly begin its journey upward. Clawed fingers teased the skin of my leg, eliciting goosebumps as reward.

I swallowed, wishing I knew what I was doing. I brought my arms up, wrapping them around his neck and shoulders, easing my fingers into his hair.

His growl deepened.

I couldn't help the flare of excitement that coursed through me, unexpectedly.

His hand paused when he reached the tail of my shirt. Tentatively, as if he was afraid I'd snap, he eased his hand under the fabric, running his fingertips up my hips and waist.

My breath hitched. He growled into my ear, his legs scissoring against mine. One of his hands explored the flat of my stomach while the other pushed at the small of my back, urging my spine to arch.

“Why me?”

He stopped dead.

I did too, unaware of what I'd asked. The words spilled from my mouth like a waterfall; once the trickle started, nothing could stop the flow.

“Why did you pick me? Why do you feed me? Why are you keeping me alive?”

He eased his hand out of my shirt, rocking back on his knees.

“Why do you want me so much?”

Even though I had thought I'd been out of tears, I started to cry again. The stream of wetness that fell from my eyes was minute in comparison to the waterfall from earlier. I started to hiccup again. Crossing my arms over my chest, I suddenly felt very small.

He sighed and rolled off the bed.

I sat up, wishing I hadn't opened my stupid mouth. I wanted company – was desperate for it – and I'd pushed what he's offered me away without so much as a second though.

He hadn't left the room, however. Instead, he'd gone to the dresser and started to tear through one of the bottom drawers.

His return was slow, as if he didn't want to show me what he'd pulled from the dresser. He set it in my lap after he'd paced in front of me a few times. It was strange to think he looked embarrassed about it.

I looked down at the object in my lap.

It was a book. A small, paperback text book. I recognized the cover from a class I'd taken at the college I'd been attending.

The class had been so boring that I'd spent nearly every extra minute I wasn't taking notes to defile the book with doodles and movie quotes. I'd drawn pictures of the teacher as a zombie, something that, now I think about it, was slightly ironic and rather horrifying considering what had happened. I'd lost the book in the middle of the semester and was going to buy a new one... Then the outbreak happened, and I didn't need a textbook; I needed a gun and good set of running shoes.

Had he attended the same school as I had?

I opened the book, thinking I might find his name written somewhere in the front cover.

His name wasn't there.

Mine was.

The book had been mine.

I flipped through a few pages, seeing the drawing of the professor as a zombie.

Everything inside of me went cold, went numb.

The hunter hovered over me, pawing at the pages and forcing the book to open to the end. Between two pages there was a single piece of paper, folded in half. He clawed at it, indicating that he was interested in it.

I pulled the piece of paper out, unfolded it, and began to read.

It had been dated the day before the infection had spread throughout the city.

'Dear Zoey,

I'm sorry if I seem frank in saying so, but your sense of humor is wonderful. I found your book in the parking lot last Wednesday, and only just figured out from a friend of mine who is in your class that it belonged to you.

You seem like an amazing person. Horror movie quotes and zombie sketches of your professor, thirsting for high-fastening pants? You're a rare breed. Most girls I've met aren't into that kind of thing.

I was hoping you'd do me the honor of meeting me for coffee tomorrow afternoon in the cafe next to the science building. I'd love to get to know you.'

There was no signature at the bottom. Instead, there was an Evil Dead quote. My favorite.

'Shop smart! Shop S-Mart!'

I couldn't think.

I couldn't breathe.

The hunter, seeing that I'd finished the note, pressed his face to the book and inhaled, long and deep. He moved from the book to me, laying his cheek against mine. He took another deep breath.

He'd recognized me from my book. That's why he hadn't killed me during our first encounter. He’d been the one who wrote me the note.

I couldn't look at him. I had to swallow the lump in my throat a few times before I could speak.

“I think I need to be alone.”

Art By: thehotmageaeris

Art By: thehotmageaeris

...

Fic Update : PLAYTHING : DAY 4

2009-01-22T11:26:50Z

PLAYTHING : DAY 3 bloopers

2009-01-21T09:49:32Z

Let's face it- we all have our off days. Also, these were too funny not to share. thehotmageaeris, I heart you.

Art By: thehotmageaeris

Art By: thehotmageaeris

Art By: thehotmageaeris

Art By: thehotmageaeris

thehotmageaeris: you are my farking hero. I love your doodles. If that last pic didn't make you people crack a smile, YOU ARE NOT HUMAN!

...

Fic Update : PLAYTHING : DAY 3

2009-01-21T09:44:38Z

Title: Plaything
Game: Left 4 Dead
Pairing: Zoey/Hunter
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "Thrown from the third story of an office building, Zoey finds herself hurt, low on ammo, and alone. That is, until a wayward and strangely intelligent hunter decides he wants her all for his own..."
Warnings: Sexual situations, adult language, slight angst, extreme sarcasm

Obligatory disclaimer : I hereby state that I, mihoyonagi, do not own any part of Left 4 Dead and acknowledge all characters and plot as part of the actual game belong to solely to Valve. I do not make any gain for the writing of this story, fiscal or otherwise, and do not intend to at any time, present or future.

Artistic disclaimer: I wrote this story for my awesome friend, Jesse, aka thehotmageaeris. While writing, I'd feed her chapters bit by bit. This story, I'll admit as far as planning goes, has turned into quite the collaboration: I write, and Jesse edits the story bits and supplies the art. Everyone wins.

I do, however, also have to thank my amazing editor and friend Minty. Without his help, I'd be royally screwed. Seriously, dude- thanks.

_______________________________

Plaything

Story By: mihoyonagi / mihoyonagi
Art By: thehotmageaeris

Previous chapters:
DAY 0
DAY 1
DAY 2
_______________________________

DAY 3

When I woke up, he was next to me again. I didn't flail like I had the day before, but I was still fairly pissed about the incident from last night and wasn't soon going to forget it. I took one of the pillows still left on the bed and smacked the hunter with it. Hard.

He woke up, startled, and rolled off the bed.

“Serves you right for trying to creep back up here with me. I'd have thought you learned your lesson last night.”

I watched him as he crouched next to the bed. His face was still obstructed by his hood, even at such close proximity. I vaguely wondered if I really wanted to see what his face looked like in the first place.

Something foul crept up to my nose and assaulted my sense of smell. I looked around, hoping he hadn't brought me another severed hand. I realized, with a sour stomach, that the smell was coming from me. I still had puke on me from the boomer, still the lingering smell from the smoker, and I had cuts and scrapes and dirt covering most of my skin. I didn't even want to think what I had stuck in my hair.

I looked at the hunter, my eyes narrowing.

“I want to get cleaned up. I want to shower. If you come into the bathroom while I'm in there, I'm going to kick your ass.”

He tilted his head.

I didn't know where my courage had come from, but I wasn't about to question it. I had elbowed the hunter good and hard against the side of the head last night – I'm sure I had a bruise – and I knew he wasn't going to soon forget it. For whatever reason, I was beginning to figure that, even though he kept trying to get into my pants, he wasn't going to hurt me. He'd made that clear last night when he had been decent enough to feed me. When I'd yelled at him to get out, he'd at least left me alone. Which meant that while my power over him was slight, I still had some.

Better than nothing.

I shifted to the side of the bed, opposite the hunter, and swung my legs down. My ankle was still screwed up as I couldn't put much weight on it yet, but I figured that because the pain wasn't all that great, the injury must have been minor. Most likely a twist, or a very minor sprain.

Still, I didn't think I'd be able to stand and shower with it the way it was. I'd just sit in the bath, then, and get clean that way. So long as I wasn't covered in vomit any longer, I didn't really give too much of a damn about the 'how.'

I flipped the switch in the bathroom, surprised to see the lighting still worked. The apartment complex must have had its own, private generator that, somehow, was still going. True, only one light bulb was functioning, but it was better than sitting in a bathtub in the dark.

Turning, I faced out into the bedroom. “You come in here and you're in big trouble, you got me? In fact, I want you out of the bedroom, too.”

The hunter, looking somewhat akin to a kicked puppy, stalked out of the bedroom. I didn't hear the sliding door open, so I knew he was still within the apartment complex, but I was nonetheless glad he was out of the room.

I pivoted on my good heel and limped back into the bathroom. Situating myself on the edge of the bathtub, I turned the knob labeled 'hot' next to the faucet as far as it could go. It took several minutes, but a rush of hot water finally poured from the spigot. Oh, thank God. One thing was going my way so far.

Letting the bathtub fill with water, I hobbled out of the bathroom door once more, looking toward the door that lead into the main room of the apartment. It was mostly dark past the door frame. The sound of sneakers pacing back and forth hit my ears. The hunter walked by the door, peeking inside when he saw me. He cocked his head to one side, then went back to whatever it was he had been occupying himself with before.

He might have lacked the ability to speak, but at least he listened well enough.

I pushed thoughts of him out of my mind and concentrated on my objective; the unopened box of Hostess powdered donuts that was situated next to the end of the bed. I snagged it, my small spark of joy in an otherwise dark room, and gimped back into the bathroom.

The bathtub was nearly full, so I slowed the raging faucet to a gentle stream and began to look through the cupboards.

Jackpot.

I found three clean towels, neatly folded, under the sink. I took two out, keeping the third for backup. I took the only good washcloth, however. Had to get clean somehow.

In the drawer nearest to the floor, I found several unopened boxes of generic bar soap. I grabbed two, thankful that whoever had lived in the apartment seemed to like keeping extras around. The next drawer up I found an unopened three-pack of toothbrushes. There wasn't any extra toothpaste, sadly, but I was at least happy to have scored this much.

I hopped back over to the bathtub, shutting off the faucet. It hurt to take off the shoe on my swollen foot, but I had to admit that it felt better once my toes were free. I eased my socks off, too, wrinkling my nose at how dirty my feet were. My pants were the next step, followed by my ripped shirt until I was clad only in my bra and panties.

I sighed, taking note that even my undergarments were dirty. Man, I was going to have to wash my clothes by hand after this. I'd have to find a new shirt, too. Lame.

Whatever.

I got naked and eased myself into the too-hot bathwater. I knew I was going to be pastel pink afterward, but the water felt so good on my skin I wasn't too interested in thinking about what would happen when I got out.

I leaned over the rim of the tub and popped open the box of donuts. Oh, dear God- the sugar was intense on my tongue, the factory-made sponge cake suffocatingly puffy in my mouth.

It was heaven. Or at least what little I could find, given my situation.

I ate the whole damn box.

My conscious spoke up, afterward, scolding me for such an indulgence. I could hear the motherly voice in my head: 'Those damn things are going to go straight to your ass!'

Ah, let them. It had been worth it.

Opening one of the boxes of bar soap, I lathered up the washcloth and went to work. I scrubbed my skin until the bathwater was piss-warm and murky brown, then I drained the tub and began to fill it up again. I rinsed out the washcloth as best I could, lathered it up again and set to work once more.

I used the razor I found on the edge of the bathtub to shave my legs. I was clean, sure, but I wanted to feel nice, too.

There was dirt and dried blood under my nails. It was a bitch to get out, but I managed. I emptied the tub again, glad that the water was significantly less brown than before. I turned the faucet up, but didn't bother to plug the drain. I tore out the rubber-band and let my hair fall free, then shoved my head under the running water and scrubbed mercilessly at my scalp, draining half of what was left in the shampoo bottle on the shelf next to the tub.

Four times. I washed my hair four times.

I turned off the water after I had scrubbed my face, squeezing the excess water from my hair and listening to the sound it made as it the side of the tub.

I froze when I heard the sound of a door being pushed open.

He may have listened well, but he had one hell of an attention span.

I grabbed a towel and held it over me, my heart racing as I heard his sneakers slowly traverse the distance from the bedroom door the bathroom. His shadow blocked out the light from the window when he appeared in the doorway.

I flung the shampoo bottle at the door.

“Get the fuck out!”

I could hear him scrambling ass over elbow out of the way of the airborne bottle, his quick feet easily carrying him to the next room. Peering around the corner, I looked out of the door.

Needless to say, I was a little shocked to see a pile of clothes in the doorway.

I got out of the bath and reached for what was on the floor. A button-up shirt, a pair of boxer-shorts, and a mismatched pair of socks; he'd brought me something to wear.

Well, I felt a little bad about throwing the shampoo bottle so hard. But only a little.

I stood and dressed, pleased that the clothing had obviously been tucked away in a drawer somewhere. It still smelled like fabric softener, which was nothing more, really, than a hollow comfort I tried to ease my alienation with. Fabric softener reminded me of home, a place that I'd most likely never get to see again.

Well, I was clean at the least.

The hunter, however...

I limped into the doorway of the bedroom and called out.

“Hey!”

I heard the shuffling of feet. He poked his head around the corner, as if he were worried I'd throw something else at his head.

I picked up the shampoo bottle and looked down at it. Then, I turned my gaze to him.

“You smell. Let me give you a bath.”

His posture instantly sagged. If he were a dog, I'm sure his ears would have been flat against his head and his tail between his legs.

Like I gave a damn.

“I said you stink. In the tub, now.”

He sulked all the way to the bathroom.

“Hoodie. Off. Pronto.” I wasn't messing around. He stank like something awful, and was covered in filth. If I had to be stuck with him, I'd at least make sure he was partially clean.

His head faced down, as if he was looking at the shirt. He shifted uncomfortably, then tried to pull the hoodie up and over his head.

I should have realized it wasn't going to work.

He got stuck, his arms over his head. I heard him let out a deep snarl, twisting and turning. His anger was getting the better of him as I heard a seam in the shirt begin to snap.

I put my hand on his elbow and gripped the fabric. “Stop it. Let me help you.”

He stilled at my touch and let me ease the sweater off of him. For the first time, I saw what he looked like underneath the layer of shadows.

I had to remind my heart to beat.

It was both absolutely terrifying and completely enthralling to see the hunter without his hoodie on.

He looked...

He looked human.

His skin was paler than what one would consider normal – an almost sick, sallow color – and discolored in certain places. His hair was jet-black and cut short, though it covered his eyes, and his cheekbones were high. Angular nose, strong jaw, well muscled build -

Dammit, Zoey, stop eying him like a steak.

He turned his head toward the tub, curling a lip and flashing his teeth in an act of animalistic defiance.

“Quit being a baby.” I reached over and helped him pull the t-shirt up and over his head as well. “Can you manage the button on your pants?”

His hands dropped down as he fidgeted with the metal clasp. Obviously, it wasn't going to work. I swatted his hands away, unbuttoned and unzipped, then turned my back. “You can get the rest.”

I heard a ruffle of fabric, then a scuffle. He wasn't going to fall over, was he? I swear, he-

I was pressed against the counter with the hunter leaning against my back, his hands on either side of the sink to steady himself. I looked down, feeling out of place and rather awkward and instantly caught sight of the problem.

“Take your shoes off, stupid. You can't get your pants off with yours shoes still on.”

He was still a moment longer. I felt his breath exhale over the skin on my neck as he pulled away. A muffled growl and a few moments later and I knew he was free of his clothing.

Great. I was in a bathroom, alone with a naked zombie who wanted into my pants. My whole body went cold and clammy.

I held out the other clean towel behind me. “Cover yourself up with this, and climb into the tub.”

It was an understatement to say that I was relieved when I didn't feel him press up against me again and instead heard him situating himself in the bathtub. When the room fell silent I turned around and didn't waste any time: I turned the water spigot on, making sure it wasn't too hot, and lathered up the washcloth with the extra bar of soap I'd pulled from the drawer earlier.

I went right to work.

God, he was filthy. I didn't even bother plugging the drain. Instead, I reached over and turned the shower head on.

He hissed, obviously not pleased with my decision, but I wasn't going to take any of his bullshit. “I told you to quit being a baby. If you're going to be around me, you're not going to smell like shit anymore.”

His hissing stopped, but he tried to glower from under his soggy bangs.

It was a while before I got most of the dirt off of him. I was going to have to scrub the tub if I ever wanted to bathe in it again, but at least the pungent smell of dead, rotting ass had dissipated. I scrubbed his nails until they didn't look like he'd been playing in the mud any longer. They were still longer and thicker than a normal humans', but I guess I really wasn't expecting different. His hair was a bitch to clean because he kept trying to dodge out of my grasp. Once I told him to quit his bitch act, he stopped fidgeting so much.

I leaned back from my position on my knees, using the side of the tub to help myself stand. “You know, you're not so bad to look at when you're not covered in crap.”

I was trying to be nice, paying him a compliment because he had behaved fairly well under the warm spray of the shower.

Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say.

Or the right thing, depending on how you looked at it.

His lips curled up into a fiendish smile as he leaned toward me. By the time I had taken a step backwards, he had stood up.

The towel dropped to the floor.

I clutched the washcloth in my hand tightly, moving my gaze to anywhere his waist wasn't. I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very small.

His smile widened as he reached for me.

I froze, my heart in my mouth.

His hands went straight for the button-up shirt I was wearing. His clumsy fingers pawed at me, but he managed to get a good grip on the cloth before long. He pulled the top apart, sending two of the buttons flying across the room.

He had a thing for my boobs, apparently.

Which I really wasn't down with.

So, blood beginning to boil, I smacked him full across the face.

“What the hell is wrong with you, you pervert?” I twisted out of his grasp, holding my shirt closed with one hand. A few steps away I turned to throw the washcloth at him.

I hit him square in the face.

Two points.

“Get back in the tub and finish washing yourself.”

I walked out of the bathroom, red in the face and pissed as all hell.

It was a fluke that I noticed the dresser on the opposing side of the room had been ravaged through. I limped over and dug through the clothing, pulling another shirt from the drawer. Changing quickly, I fished around the drawers for a pair of pants hopefully large enough for the hunter to wear. I was still pissed, sure, but I wasn't about to let him roam around the apartment naked.

I found the largest pair of sweatpants I could, as well as a pair of boxers. It was strange, as I went through the drawers, that I only encountered clothing meant for man. Not that strange, I suppose, if whoever had been living here was a bachelor.

Pausing and stilling my hands, I realized that the apartment I was trapped in most likely belonged to the hunter before he had become infected. It would only make sense: he had taken me here, a place where, when he was human, he had felt safe and at home. I'd bet anything that the clothing I was wearing belonged to him. He was smarter than I gave him credit.

But he was still acting like a horny teenager.

Knowing I couldn't walk far with my ankle still screwed up, I hopped on my good foot and eased myself down on the bed. I balled up the boxers, then rolled them up in the sweatpants. Sticking my tongue out for effect, I tossed the wad of clothing into the bathroom's open door.

Another two points.

I heard the water shut off soon after. He'd most likely struggled with the faucet knobs, but I wasn't about to venture in again to help him.

“I threw some sweatpants and a pair of undergarments in there for you. Don't come out until you have them on, you hear?”

The rustle of cloth sounded.

Smart man. Zombie. Thing. I would have clocked him against the side of the head again had he come out of the bathroom in his birthday suit.

It was several minutes before I heard him emerge. I turned, pleased he'd figured out his pants. His feet and chest were still bare, but at least he didn't stink anymore.

He held something out for me. It was his hoodie.

It was also filthy.

I grimaced, holding my hand out and taking the article of clothing from him. “I'm not going to let you wear this thing. It's disgusting.”

He whined, a sound much like what I'd heard the other night.

I rolled my eyes. What a baby.

“Fine. I have to wash my own clothes anyway. I can wash this too, if you're going to pout about it.”

I stood and pushed past him. His face had lightened, and he followed me into the bathroom. Falling to my knees, I filled up the bathtub with warm water again, plugging the drain. I leaned forward, dumping his shirt as well as my clothing into the hot water. It took a while, armed only with bar soap and hot water, to get all of the stains and dirt and grime and filth off of our clothing, but I managed. My arms ached afterward; apparently, washing clothing by hand exerted muscles not used during daily life.

I found his wallet in his pants pocket. I placed it next to the bathtub, not wanting to get it wet.

I didn't notice he was leaning over me, peering curiously into the bathwater, until I moved and bumped into him. His chin was almost resting on my shoulder.

He was completely clueless about personal space, it seemed.

“It has to dry. Then you can wear it.”

I hung our clothing over the rail for the shower curtain. I hobbled back into the bedroom, hungry again. I sat down, then leaned over and procured a bag of Wheat-Thins from the pile, accompanied by another water bottle. He'd brought me quite a bit to munch on, but, aside from the water bottles, it was all junk food. I could snack on this, sure, but I wouldn't be able to go very long with only chips and powdered donuts in my stomach.

He sat opposite me on the bed, and held out his hand toward me.

I looked at him. “You want some?” I asked, stuffing a few of the crackers in my mouth.

He blinked at me, then looked at the box.

I'd take that as a yes.

I pulled out a handful for him, depositing the offering in his open palm. His skin was smoother than I recalled from the night before – perhaps the grime and dirt had made it feel calloused – and I turned away when I noticed I was staring at his bare chest.

I heard him crunch on the Wheat-Thins. I was probably going to have to shake off the covers, considering his hand-eye coordination. He couldn't even unbutton his own pants; why did I think he could eat cleanly on his own?

Dammit, Zoey- he wasn't a possibility. Even if he had the build of an athlete all of the high school girls creamed their panties fantasizing about. Just ignore him. Ignore his six-pack and toned arms. Ignore his strong neck and large shoulders. Ignore- oh, fuck it all to hell. I turned my back toward him, facing the window.

I felt him paw at my shoulder a few minuets later, holding out his empty hand and asking for more food.

I turned and faced him, after I'd pacified him with another handful of crackers, and forced myself to quit acting like an idiot. I was not one acting like a horny teenager- he was. Damned if I lose my self control because the zombie who nabbed me and was keeping me as a pet had a rockin' bod.

You know what, Zoey? Just shut up.

I focused on nothing, letting a cool calm overcome my mind, as he and I finished the box. “Go get you hoodie. I'll help you put it back on.”

He didn't need to be told twice. He hopped easily off the bed, disappeared into the bathroom, and brought his sweater back. I instructed him to put his arms over his head, and dressed him like an adult would a child. When the hoodie was situated in a position he liked, he reached back to pull the hood back up over his face.

I stopped him, placing my hand on his elbow and looking into his eyes. “It scares me when I can't see your face.”

It was the first time he'd looked me directly in the eyes. His eyes were a milky white, but I could see the faint outline of his iris. It gave me chills and made my breath hitch at the same time.

He lowered his hands, leaving his hood off.

My heart was beating like a damn drum in my ears, and I wasn't sure the exact reason.

“I have to use the restroom. Don't follow me in there, okay?”

I didn't look to see if he had acknowledged what I'd said; I just took off into the bathroom. I damned the broken door and its inability to close. I needed space – I needed air. I splashed some water from the skin faucet on my face.

My foot hit something. I looked down.

It was his wallet. I'd pulled it out of his pants when I'd been washing our clothing earlier. I picked it up, curious. I flipped it open and looked through it.

The damn thing was empty, save for half a Driver's License. I flipped over the card. All of the personal information had been chewed on, ripped apart, or rubbed off.

And saw his face.

When he was human.

His eyes were the most piercing blue I'd ever seen.

I heard the bed creak; he was getting up. I tossed the wallet back on the floor, stuffing the picture into the breast pocket of my shirt and began to shuffle toward the door.

When I entered the bedroom, he was on the edge of the bed, peering down at the pile of food he'd brought me. He picked up a bag of Fritos corn chips and handed it to me. I indulged him, opening the back and handing it back. It was strange, watching him eating. Sitting down, I positioned myself against the headboard.

I had only meant to close my eyes for a moment...

PRE-infected hunter

Art By: thehotmageaeris

POST-infection hunter

Art By: thehotmageaeris

Art By: thehotmageaeris

Art By: thehotmageaeris

Art By: thehotmageaeris

Art By: thehotmageaeris

...

Fic Update : PLAYTHING : DAY 2

2009-01-20T10:08:12Z

Fic Update : PLAYTHING : DAY 1

2009-01-20T09:56:40Z

Fic Update : PLAYTHING : DAY 0

2009-01-02T03:50:30Z

Let's get this straight. I have a thing for these two, and I ship them like burning. Who, you ask? Zoey, and the zombie hunter from Left 4 Dead. Call me crazy - I'm sure that's what I am - but I can't stop loving how completely dysfunctional they are together. I think I just like relationships where the participants aren't what you'd normally consider romantics, if even sane at all. I don't believe that love is all happiness and sunshine and unicorns crapping rainbows so the prince can whisk the abused hand-maiden off into the sunset for them to live happily ever after. That's too far-gone for me. Sure, I like happy endings, but I'm twisted in the sense that, to me, happily ever after usually consists of someone getting laid and no one dying.

Eh, take it or leave it. I am how I am.

This is for my darling Jesse, for this fic, let alone my love for the two the story centers around, wouldn't exsist without her. Congratulations, sweets- your mind is almost as twisted as mine. Also, I want more Micah/Bruce pictures, and I know the more of this story I pump out for you the more sweet sketches I'll be rewarded with.

Title: Plaything
Game: Left 4 Dead
Pairing: Zoey/Hunter
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "Thrown from the third story of an office building, Zoey finds herself hurt, low on ammo, and alone. That is, until a wayward and strangely intelligent hunter decides he wants her all for his own..."
Warnings: Sexual situations, adult language, slight angst, extreme sarcasm

Obligatory disclaimer : I hereby state that I, mihoyonagi, do not own any part of Left 4 Dead and acknowledge all characters and plot as part of the actual game belong to solely to Valve. I do not make any gain for the writing of this story, fiscal or otherwise, and do not intend to at any time, present or future.

Plaything, by mihoyonagi

DAY 0

It was one of those things that, at first, I was in complete denial about.

I mean, come on; a freak infectious outbreak that turns the overwhelming majority of the population into zombie-like beings? Only a handful of survivors make it and are forced to gun their way through waves of what might as well be corpses – or at least will be when we get done with them – in order to be rescued?

Seriously, Zoey- it sounds like the plot of some cheesy B-rated horror flick, or some point-and-click computer game. Grow up.

I guess, after a few hours, I just kinda stopped trying to convince myself that I was going to wake up.

“Zoey, you doin' alright?”

I turned my head and looked at Louis, shaking off an ominous feeling I had in the pit of my stomach. “I'm fine. Let's keep going.”

We'd managed to climb to the second floor of a decrepit office building, hoping we could use the piping on the floor above to get to the hospital next to it. None of the doors on the ground level had been open, and most of them were made of steel so it wasn't like we could just shoot out way through them. We could try, but we all know that we'd attract a horde that way. Not the best of ideas, really.

I guess that going through the office building hadn't been much better of an idea.

As we rounded a corner, I got puked on by one of those disgusting, bulbous Boomers. Francis easily put a spray of shotgun bullets through him, but I had already been hit. Damn it, I hated those things. Puke is pretty gross as a general assessment, but puke that attracts a massive amount of zombies sucks way worse. The four of us managed to wedge ourselves against a partition between rooms, and we emptied more than a few clips of handgun ammo in the process of ridding the room of the brainless bastards. The aftereffect of the vomit only lasts a few minutes, thankfully, but it's still nasty. The dead bodies that lay in heaps before us didn't really make me feel any better.

We moved around another corner, and fate decided to punch us all in the face.

You always hear a tank before it approaches. Always. The fuckers are called 'tanks' for a reason – they are nearly as big, just as loud, easily as mean, and don't really have too much going on upstairs as far as intellect is concerned. They chase you, and they smack the shit out of you. If you manage to run fast enough that they can't catch you, they throw giant slabs of concrete at you. I'm not really sure what's worse: a ham-sized fist to the face or a chunk of asphalt to the head.

The tanks' hulking arms came into view as it charged down a hallway toward us. Francis and Bill moved one way, Louis and I dodged another. Most likely pissed off that we wouldn't stay in one place for it, the tank let out a low roar and peeled off toward Francis and Bill. I took out my handgun and emptied the clip in the back of the tanks' hulking body. It didn't serve much good, as a tanks is pretty much solid muscle, not to mention as hard as rock, but every little bit counts.

Louis veered off one way, dodging a stray office chair the tank had flung backwards in its attempt to reach Bill. I turned the other way, hoping to cut the tank off and introduce him to the business end of my shotgun-

But, like I said, fate seemed to have it out for me.

I knew it was a smoker who had gotten a hold of me even before I tripped on the nasty, long tongue it was trying to wrap around me. His scaly tongue had gripped both my legs all the way up to my knees, and the bastard was constricting the muscle as tight as he could while he pulled me closer. I fell face first, the flipped over on my back as quickly as I could.

Crying out, I reached out toward the others, hoping someone had watched me fall.

No such luck- everyone's back was turned against me as they fired bullet after bullet into the raging beast that was the tank.

I turned around, desperate to get free, and aimed my handgun toward the smoker. I shot the rest of my clip at the bastard, and managed to blow a hand off- my aim was off and unless I killed him, he wouldn't let go. I struggled to reload, but the smoker jerked me toward him and I found myself falling dangerously close to the edge of of the building. There was no window, and I noticed in my near-panicked state that I was being shredded from being dragged through the shards of glass that littered the floor.

I plugged my last clip into my gun and unloaded.

Too bad the smoker had watched me. He jerked his head at the last possible second, but I had already pulled the trigger. The bullet I fired missed his head, but I manged to blow the bastard's arm off.

Yeah. He didn't like that too much.

His head gave a great jerk as his whole body convulsed – be it in pain or shock I didn't really care – and, with his remaining arm, groped dumbly at the stump at his shoulder.

I think I preferred being drug across the glass, honestly, because the next breath I took I was when I was airborne. The spastic muscle movement from the smoker had proven to be just enough force to launch my body right out of the window. His tongue pulled back and I felt the pressure around my legs cease as I began my inevitable descent toward the ground.

Well, I admitted to myself, falling off a building was one way I hadn't really thought of going, considering it had been masses of zombies I'd been pumping full of lead all day. Funny how that goes; the house is burning down and you drown.

...

Update - Unspoken - Chapter 51 : Endings

2008-12-29T01:57:52Z

Unspoken has finally come to an ending, girls and boys. Here's the final chapter of my three-years-in-the-making fic...

Chapter 51 : Endings

.

Update - Unpsoken - Chapter 50 : Harmony

2008-12-21T10:56:05Z

Okay. So. Unspoken is drawing to a close within the next chapter- only one more after this to go. Parting is such sweet sorrow, isn't it? Long story short, I wrote some smut if anyone wants it.

The clean chapter is located here :
Chapter 50 : Harmony

The dirty, sexy version is located behind the cut. I am going to go a head and put up a warning for sex, just to be safe (as if you people haven't figured it out).

Sephiroth adjusted the collar of his shirt, trying to decide if he should leave the top button open or not. He frowned in the mirror, cursing his indecisiveness. He was happy to be back in the cabin discreetly tucked away in the Mideel woods, just outside of town, he was rather irate with the fact that he couldn’t decide what to wear.

“Seph?” Aerith’s voice carried out from the room next to his, and as soon as he heard her call out to him he forgot how annoyed he was at his appearance and rushed to her side.

“What wrong? Are you feeling dizzy again? Do you need me to-“

Aerith sighed melodramatically, making sure her head rolled along with her eyes. “I’ve been in this damn bed three days longer than Rej said I needed to be. I want to get up and get ready for tonight. I want to cook for when everyone comes over. I’m sick of lying here like a bump on a log.”

Sephiroth sat next to Aerith, smiling down at her. “I want to make sure you’re well. I’ll not let you take any chances.”

Crossing her arms, Aerith narrowed her eyes. “There’s cautious, and then there’s silly. I want to get up, and I know I’m well enough to do it.”

Oh, she was being catty! Sephiroth’s smile widened, feeling mischievous. “If you’re well enough to stand, then why haven’t you?”

“I haven’t so much as rolled over without you by my side! I don’t want you pitching a fit because I stood up with you out of the room. I’m not about to be guilted back to bed.”

Sephiroth cocked an eyebrow. “I would guilt you back to bed? Really?”

Aerith scoffed. “I can hear you now! ‘Why did you stand up without me there? You could have fallen over! You could have hurt yourself! Blah blah blah!’ And then you’d give me that look, and I’d feel so terrible about it I would crawl back into bed for another month.”

Daring a sly grin, Sephiroth kissed Aerith’s forehead. “My voice isn’t quite so high, but that’s roughly what would happen.”

Aerith shrugged off the covers from her legs, pulling her self up off the stack of pillows she had been resting on. “I want up. Now. Are you going to help me or not?”

Sephiroth stood, reaching his hand out for Aerith to take. “Better than being a bump on a log, as you put it.”

Helping her up wasn’t quite the chore Sephiroth had expected. Aerith was still light as he remembered her, her tiny frame easily falling and fitting against his. No, it was the way her legs trembled that made him worry.

“Are you alright?”

She shook her head, and Sephiroth saw that she was biting her lip as if in pain. Immediately, though gently, he pushed her back down upon her bed. As he sat next to her, he placed her legs in his lap and gave her a curious look.

Letting out a huge breath, Aerith clenched her eyes. “I hate being so helpless!” Her exclamation came to no surprise; Sephiroth would be just as frustrated, if not more, were he in her place.

He made a gentle sound, trying to soothe her. He absent mindedly rubbed her calf muscles, hoping to ease her weariness. “Your muscles are atrophied a bit, that’s all. You’ve been in bed, healing. You’re nothing close to helpless, little one.”

Obviously he had said the right words, as Sephiroth watched while Aerith’s facial expression softened. “I just want to get out of this dumb bed. I’m so sick of sitting here and doing nothing.”

Sephiroth clucked, moving his hands from her calves to her ankles. “You’ve been as active as ever, your activities have just been limited. Come now- how many books from the downstairs shelf have I brought to you? Nearly all of your friends have come to stay with us to check up on you, too. You were able to talk with Red, and play games with Yuffie, and, if I’m not mistaken, it was Tifa who painted your toes pink last Saturday. Everyone knows the situation you’ve been through, and no one thinks you weak for it.”

Mood obviously brightened, Aerith let out a contented sigh. “Where did you learn to give massages like that, Seph? Do my knees next, please?”

As if he could say no. He smiled as he went to work, concentrating on the way her skin yielded against his calloused fingers. She was so soft against him, so warm. Her skin was the most beautiful shade of cream, and every so often he would encounter a stray freckle he hadn’t known she had. Several long moments of silence past before Aerith felt the need to get his attention.

“Why, Seph; I do believe you’re going to get carried away.”

When he looked up at her face, she wore the prettiest blush upon her cheeks. He looked back down at his hands, realizing they were inching up her things. With a sigh, he gently took his hands away.

He liked the little sound of regret she made when his skin left hers.

“I’m not broken, Seph. I’m not made of glass, either.”

Again, he looked up at her, this time catching the meaning hidden behind her rosy cheeks. “Aerith, I couldn’t. Not while you’re still-“

She cut him off when she rolled her eyes and turned her head away.

Tentatively, afraid he had ruined the moment, Sephiroth placed his hand gently against the outside of her thigh. “It’s not that I don’t want you, sweet one.”

She shot him a glare, though it was soft. “Then what it is?”

He felt a lump rise in his throat. Never having been one to openly discuss his thoughts and emotions, Sephiroth was having a hard time gathering his feelings and trying to place them into words. It took him several minutes of concentration before he felt he could answer her question.

“Because I do want you, all of you, and that’s the problem. I want this to last though, Aerith: I want us to last. Jumping headfirst into everything is hard for me. I’m not used to being honest with the way I am feeling. I find that sometimes I can’t even express in words what’s going on inside of me. I’m confused and content all at once, all of the time. But I am determined in taking things slow with us. I’m not going to scare you off.”

The look he gave her turned his heart to mush. “I’ve been in this bed for weeks, Seph. The most affection you’ve given me is a peck on the cheek, and only when I ask for it. I just feel the need to be honest with you, that’s all. I’m tired of sitting here. I’m tired of your hard-to-read emotions. Just let it out, would you? If you want me, I’m here.”

Goddamn the fact that he could deny her nothing, least of all his own heart.

He had her pinned to the mattress, knees on either side of her hips, elbows resting on either side of her head, within the span of a breath of air. He sighed into her neck, placing kisses along her collarbone. She giggled underneath him.

“One of these days, Aerith, I am going to learn how to tell you ‘no’.”

Sephiroth could practically hear the smile that befell her face. “I’ll just have to learn new ways to make you want to give in. I’m such a temptress, aren’t I?”

He chuckled, delighted in the fact that she wasn’t going to play coy with him.

Littering her neckline with kisses, Sephiroth took his time mapping her features with his lips. He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her nose, and the corners of her mouth. All the while she played with his hair, sighing contentedly against him. Making his way to one of her ears, he nibbled on the lobe, pulling and nipping gently with his teeth.

“Are you sure, Aerith? We have guests that will be arriving in less than three hours.”

She shifted under him, sending a delicious wave of want through him.

“They can wait.”

She bit at his neck.

“And what of the food you told me you were going to prepare for them all?” He delighted in teasing her.

She wound her arms around his neck, pulling them together.

“We’ll order out.”

This time, it was her turn to pull at his ear with her teeth.

He smiled as he turned and kissed her.

“Why, Aerith; I do believe you’re going to get carried away.”

She smiled against his kisses, obviously pleased with how events were turning in her favor. He, too, had to admit he was enjoying where they were headed.

From below him, she sighed contentedly. He heard her open her mouth, but when no sound came out, he pulled back to look at her. She smiled up at him, a pretty pink blush painting her cheeks.

“What is it, sweet one?” He placed a kiss to her forehead.

She hesitated.

Still, he persisted. “Tell me. No secrets between us.”

Aerith laughed, and then looked up at him. Her eyes were alight with happiness. “I love you.”

A great, warm feeling overtook him, spreading all the way down to his toes. “And I love you.”

“Promise?”

Ah, greedy for this affection, wasn’t she? He obliged her, nipping at her collarbone. “I promise.”

Sephiroth could feel her soft hands beginning to work at his shirt, pulling it up and eventually over his head.

“Forever?”

He shuddered when her hands pressed against his chest, spreading wide and pawing at him, as if she were desperate to never stop touching him.

“Forever.”

Picking up his work where he left off, Sephiroth dipped his head down and pressed soft kisses against Aerith’s neck and shoulders, reveling in the sweet noises that escaped her lips. Her hands somehow found their way toward his face, and she placed her palms on his cheeks.

He looked down at her again, cursing his luck.

He didn’t deserve her. He knew he didn’t.

But there she was, underneath him, the smile on her face letting him know, without words, how much she loved him.

He pressed his face against the hollow of her neck, trying so hard not to let her see the emotions that threatened to break him.

“No secrets, remember? What’s wrong?”

Even when he tried to hide himself from her, she knew him all too well.

“I’m the luckiest man on the planet to have you.”

He heard her sigh against him again. “Stop thinking about the past. Stop thinking all together. I’m here now, and that’s all that should matter to you.”

She was right. She was absolutely, without a doubt, right.

Gathering all of his strength, Sephiroth pushed all thoughts of his past from his mind. All that mattered was the wonderful woman who lay underneath him. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the sweet scent of her.

He kissed her, all of his emotions evolving into a single action. Sephiroth heard the noise she made against him and melted. Summons and angels, she owned him, didn’t she? To hell with it; he was happy.

His tongue ventured forth, curiously seeking passage. He gently prodded Aerith’s lips for entrance, and she willingly obliged him. He tasted her, savored her, and shook with how much love he felt for her.

And so the innocent beauty tamed the raging beast.

Well, not all aspects of the beast…

He pulled his lips from hers, attention turning once more to her neck. With deft fingers, he eased Aerith’s shirt up and pulled it free, up and over her arms. When he looked down at her, his breath caught. He growled as he placed a gentle kiss between her breasts, appreciating the soft white lace that accentuated their curves.

“So perfect,” he whispered against the fabric. “Everything about you is beautiful.”

As easily as he had rid her of her shirt, so too did he ease her bra off. Sephiroth let his lips press soft trails all across her smooth skin, satisfaction rushing through his veins when he heard Aerith gasp as he took one of her tight nipples into his mouth. He teased her peak with his tongue, pulled back and blew gently, eliciting goose-bumps all over her skin, then shifted and did the same with the other.

He fingers caressed his shoulders, drawing out a fire within him he didn’t know existed. With a gentle pull, he eased his mouth off of her nipple and set to the underside of her breasts. When her fingers stopped caressing and her nails began to dig into his flesh, he smiled slyly to himself. She arched her back, hissing. Angels above, she would be the death of him with those noises she kept making. Ah, but he would go a happy fool.

Her breath came in sharp pants now, and Sephiroth was pleased to know he was the one making her so restlessly starved for attention. He felt his pants grow tighter as her legs scissor beneath him, and he fought the urge to simply rip the rest of his clothing off and ravage her.

No, he would make sure she fell into ecstasy long before he did.

With gentle kisses, he traced trails from her breasts all the way down the he lip of her pants, biting at the fabric. She shivered and called out his name, her hands weaving through his hair. He knew exactly what she wanted, and he was hard pressed trying to keep it from her.

Still, he remained in control. He tugged at the button of her pants, easing the cloth down past her hips. Grinning in appreciation, he noticed that her panties matched the bra he had only just rid her off.

Easing his way back up her body, Sephiroth settled yet another kiss on the lips of his beloved flower girl. Aerith dug her hands into his great shock of hair, pulling them closer together.

He pressed the palm of his hand against her panties, moving in small but firm circles around the bunch of nerves between her thighs.

Aerith moaned against him and, for a brief lapse of time, Sephiroth almost lost control of himself. Taking a deep breath and trying desperately to regain his composure, he eased his lips from hers and again kissed his way down to her supple breasts.

When he pressed his fingers against the wetness of her panties, he had to bite his tongue. Great Ifrit below, she was already sopping wet for him. He growled against her breast, gaining another one of her deep moans in return, and ripped those damned panties of hers right off her body.

God damn, he wanted her, needed her, like nothing he'd ever before encountered in his existence.

When his hands kept fumbling with the button of his pants, he cursed under his breath. Aerith came to his rescue, obviously wanting him just as badly as he needed her. He rid himself of the damned garment the moment after the button came undone.

He was inside of her before his pants hit the floor.

Her sharp intake of breath, the way her nails dug into his shoulders, the warm feel of her body as his large frame pressed her into the mattress; it all threatened to consume him.

Sephiroth had wanted so badly to please his little love before he pleased himself, but now that he was inside of her he doubted he could stop. Instead, as he drew himself back, he placed a hand between them, between her legs at the apex of her thighs, only just above where he was buried inside of her, his thumb beginning to rotate in small but furious circles.

She tossed her head against the pillow as he pushed in again, then pulled out, his pace starting off slow but gaining momentum as his body screamed for release.

No, not yet- he would hold off at least long enough to hear her scream his name in ecstasy.

Sephiroth was pleased when he felt her buck beneath him. Aerith's body went stiff, rigid, then her back arched as a delightful sound spilled past her lips and right into his waiting ears. God, his name had never sounded better than it did when she came.

He pulled his hand away from between them and pressed it into the pillow under her head. With strong hips, he pumped her furiously, seeking sweet release.

His wait was short- great stars above, had she no idea what she did him, to his body, when she made those mewling noises? The world exploded in front of him, hot lightning shooting all the way down his spine and into every nerve of his body. He vaguely recalled his bellow – a deep cry of her name as his body soared through the heavens – before his fall back to earth.

Moments later – maybe it was hours, he couldn't tell – he heard her sigh against him. “I love you,” she whispered into his hair.

He smiled, his eyelids heavy. “I love you more,” he teased.

Unspoken - Chapter 49

2008-12-16T09:22:41Z

Man, it's been a while since I posted an update about Unspoken. Well, my baby is almost finished, guys. Only a few chapters to go before the end. Been working on this thing for over three years now, and I must admit I'm sad to watch it draw so close to an end...

Title: Unspoken
Game: Final Fantasy VII (original game- takes place about two years after the fall of Meteor)
Rating: PG13 for occasional crude language and adult humor and situations.
Genera: Romance/Action/Adventure/Comedy
Pairings: Aerith and Sephiroth

Chapter 49 - Peace

Small icon post

2008-12-16T09:14:55Z

Small icon post : request from my dalin' little Ama, from selected images she chose. Happy b-day, sweetheart!

11 Yuffie/Vincent (FF7) icons behind the cut!

...RULES...
- credit is appreciated, but not necessary =)
- no hotlinking, please!
- share and enjoy; spread the love!

01) 02) 03)
04) 05) 06)
07) 08) 09)
10) 11) 00)

Credit for the art goes out to all original artists =)