|1||Adult Request Thread Pre-emptive Strike||683||23 November 2011 04:52|
|2||Any class and you?||157||21 April 2014 12:36|
|3||Wetter spots (Sniper x Engineer) WARNING WATER SPORTS||12||14 April 2014 23:29|
|4||Something Like Admiration (Saxton Hale/Sniper)||39||12 April 2014 07:35|
|5||"Sniper in the Middle" (Team gangbang on Sniper)||6||11 April 2014 12:48|
|6||Scout/Spy||4||24 March 2014 21:13|
|7||Looking for a fanfic||3||22 March 2014 08:24|
|8||Trio (Solly/Demo/Engie)||72||10 March 2014 22:57|
|9||classcest party thread over here||11||10 March 2014 00:17|
|10||if you request it i will probably write it||47||28 February 2014 12:34|
|11||Tender [Engineer/Spy; AU]||6||27 February 2014 03:44|
|12||Null Our Boor; or: Taco Run||35||14 February 2014 22:30|
|13||little boy blue||55||10 February 2014 08:44|
|14||SECRET SANTA FIC GIFTS 2013||16||24 January 2014 07:11|
|15||Mark of the Beast||11||14 January 2014 08:06|
|New Thread | All Threads|
Okay, the newer one has already started to auto-sage. It's currently still on the front page but it has fallen past the line where we'll have to start clicking All Threads in order to see it.
Here is the link to it and the ones before it. Lots of great requests still in these!
I'm going to repost the two most recent ones from the most recent thread.
I know this is mostly requests for new stuff, but I haven't been here in a while and I'm having trouble finding an old fanfic. It was Engie x You, started with ambiguous-gender-ness and then had two endings, one for M and one for F.
I've been a thread stalker for a couple of months for a fanfic and I was wondering if there is anyone who can still make those kinds of fics now these days? If so, feel free to put it here.
I'd like to see a tenta!Medic x You.
Also, anything with Engineer because I just hhhhhhhhhhhh
>>153 that sounds pretty damn good too
I'm really sorry for abump, I'm kind of new here...
I have a Medic x You in mind, and it's a romance one. For example, the reader is RED while he's BLU. Problem is, I'm not too confident in my writing. It's my first one.
Should I finish it?
A small water sports ficlet, nothing too serious.
It all just sort of happened. Engie and I were just having our usual beer by the fire, he was strumming that worn down Gibson of his as I just sat back, enjoying the heat of the fire on my feet. Things had been slow, as usual. Small talk about the match of that day, how we hated the Spy and how we'd end him the next day. Our little talk shifted to more intimate things and before I knew it, Engineer had put his guitar down and took me in his lap. We kissed, small pecks at first as I gently ground down against him. We had done this kind of thing often, but lately, we just didn't have time or the energy for such shenanigans. But now we had. We kissed harder, I could feel his hands holding my ass, urging me to grind harder. I knew we'd both probably finish in our trousers, for things always went so fast after a certain point. My breathing became labored as my hips got a mind of their own. I could feel his erection against my own and I grabbed onto his shoulders, leaning down to kiss him harder. Moans escaped our throats, and he pulled me closer. My hands went up to pull off those goggles so I could see his gray/blue eyes, tip off that silly helmet of his to make us both more comfortable.
I could feel my pants straining, though not only because he caused me to be as hard as rock, but also because of the liters of beer in my bladder now. I groaned, shifting uneasily, trying to escape his grasp to get up and take a piss elsewhere. I might be into that kind of thing, but I wasn't sure about my Texan mate and didn't want to force it on him, not even by accident.
"Mate...I need to take a piss." I tried to get him to let me stand, but his hands only gripped my ass firmer and bucked up into me. "Shhh." he had hushed me and began to whistle lowly. His eyes clouded with lust and his lips dry. I could feel my belly protesting about keeping my urine inside for so long. "I'm serious!" I tried to break away, but it was too late. When I rose my hips to stand, I lost control of myself and within seconds, a warm w
Deleted as part of a longer-spanning warning on a user who has been needlessly abrasive over a rather long span of time, but never quite gone past where we draw the line for unacceptable posting in a single post, save once. Continue with your business as normal.
(P.S. I'm a bit of a fan of fempyro if she stays in-suit mostly, if that helps your question. Not quite so much the watersports, but it's your thread, write what you will!)
> 7 I don't know what Pyro has between its legs. I don't care. It's irrelevant to who Pyro is. And the fact that things like sex and gender are both unknown and irrelevant are an important aspect of what makes Pyro the mysterious rubber suit monster we all know and love. So while I don't think the mere mention of an ovary is going to destroy Pyro's character, I think you should ask yourself why you need to bring up Pyro's sex/gender, and if it's important to the plot, ask yourself whether or not Pyro is the best character to use for a plot that requires discreet sex/gender identities. Maybe it is and maybe it isn't.
It's doable. I've seen it done. But I've seen enough authors butcher Pyro's character in the name of "looking under the mask" that you'll have to understand if I'm a bit hesitant. But it's your story. Whether or not it turns out to be any good is entirely in your hands.
I've been told by friends that there just isn't enough Saxton/Sniper, I will try to rectify that. I appreciate any constructive criticism for English is not my native tongue and, even after reviewing my work, I feel I do not do the language justice. Please help me become better.
If anyone likes it so far. I will continue with a serious story. If not, it is okay, I will learn from my mistakes, tak?
Something Like Admiration
When they’d first met their weapon’s dealer, the Sniper had been too ashamed to admit he was Australian. Saxton Hale was a head taller than him and twice as built with heavy muscle mass. He’d had a Siberian tiger gripped in a choke hold against his Australian shaped chest hair as he spoke in his thick Australian accent about the war and how his extremely manly weapons would help them win.
He’d slowly slinked off toward the back of his seated team, sitting beside an uninterested Heavy who didn’t care about any other weapons, he only needed his Sasha. Said man gave him a raised brow and a look that showed he understood Sniper’s shame, and leaned forward, covering more of the Sniper from Saxton’s gaze. Whoever had pegged Heavy as stupid was clearly blind; Sniper made a mental note to thank the Russian man later.
The lecture continued as the burly Aussie wrestled the Siberian into submission with his bare strength, barley paying attention to the mercenaries hired by Reliable Excavation Demolition.
Sniper found himself paying more attention to the tiger he was wrestling than his words. As a result, he became more self-conscious of his own form. He’d wrested a croc once, but he’d never dare to go as big as a wild cat or a bear (he’d heard Saxton fought quite a few of those, too). There was no way he’d manage to survive against something that large and strong. He felt like shit by the time the other Aussie left, gripping the tiger by its nape. Heavy just pat his shoulder, “Leetle man has good skill, too.” he muttered before bounding off to join the Medic for a game of chess.
I love Anon 29's idea! It'd be awesome for that to happen, Heavy is just a lovely character and I generally like it when he's involved in a story :)
I'm just popping back in to say that I will be updating soon, but before I do, I would love if any of you would still be interested in beta-ing? Since Composition is still my worst course ever.
I am alive, I am very sorry for leaving.
Team gangbang on Sniper (minus Scout, sorry couldn’t see him getting in on it). Sudden and dubcon, but has aftercare and is not violent (Also includes lube and condoms! Blame medic.)
I whipped this fic up for my girlfriend who wanted slut sniper. Posting here cause I only threw it on tumblr and figured peeps over here might also want to read. Sorry for any grammar errors I did not get a beta (feel free to point them out, I'll fix it on the tumblr post). http://lithefider.tumblr.com/post/77329123244/tf2-fic-sniper-in-the-middle-everyone-x-sniper
Thought the RED Sniper as he sat on the toilet seat cover of the medical bay bathroom, staring at the cup he was supposed to be putting a urine sample in. But instead, all he was doing was stroking his hard cock while biting back groans.
He’d been horny all day. The kind of horny that even made him pause between his work on the field and have to take care of himself. He usually didn’t let such urges interfere with work...he was a professional. But today, it was like he was in heat or something. He just fucking wanted it.
But he couldn’t properly wank himself off while bullets were whizzing about, even from the safety of his nest. He was looking forward to some time alone in his van, undisturbed...but NO. Medic had to call everyone in for urine samples right after the cease fire bell because ‘the well water might be tainted’ or some bullshit.
This was incredible. Nothing to add crit-wise other than stating I agree with >>2 and there are occasional missing linking words (and, but) - nothing a read-through yourself can't fix if it bothers you.
Great work, man.
The boy was probably the most fucking annoying person he had ever met.
Sometimes Spy would send him to respawn several times in a match to to watch the cocky grin slip off his face as his knife slid into the boy's chest. Sometimes he would aim for the lungs, just to watch the kid choke and sputter a bit before he died.
That probably wasn't healthy.
He knew the boy wasn't fond of him either. Whenever their eyes met, there was a fiery heat behind the other's, it was the same look the boy had when he was swinging his bat in an arc towards Spy's face on the rare occasion he caught him off-guard. It was almost terrifying, and admittedly alluring. Every time he was killed by the scout his first emotion was rage, and a determination to return the favor, but he felt a tinge of something else.
Spy had had his fill of women. They were still beautiful, he still loved to look, but maybe there was something about the brutality of the war in which he had been immersed that had spoiled his desire for the softer, more pliant gender.
Sleep did not come easy for the Frenchman. He would often lay awake thinking on a variety of things. He would remember his home, the rosy boyhood he had enjoyed, his first love and how he lost it. He'd think of the boy on occasion too, his intrusion into his thoughts was much like the boy himself, loud, obnoxious, and completely unwarranted. He had a feeling, though, that those words were not all there was to the boy. There was something more, something deeper behind him, he wasn't just an over grown child with no filter. Something in his eyes had Spy believing there was something more.
So the spy began to watch Scout. The boy seemed to be wary at first, checking around corners, squinting at spots for the tell tale shimmer of the spy's cloak. He had several chances at the boys exposed back, but he allowed them to pass when the boy wasn't too close to the intelligence or proving to be a nuisance to his fellow blues. The kid was good, he was agile and quick on his feet. The kid was good at circumventing obstacles, finding weak spots and using them to his advantage. He used his sp
Cut off top part of this on accident, I mean for this to be multiple parts.
Criticism encouraged and appreciated . Couldn't think of a title that didn't rub me the wrong way.
I can't wait to read more of this. There were few teeny tiny little typos, but nothing to stop me from enjoying this wonderful piece.
In the start I really wished you would have opened their team colors sooner. When the BLU team won and Scout couldn't use his weapon anymore was the point I finally got this is BLU Spy/RED Scout, unlike I had expected.
Also, I was hoping you would have given us a hint why Spy stopped in the middle of their heated grinding. Did he want to annoy the boy and make him crave for more, or did he realize it was not something he was not supposed to be doing?
Other than that, I've got nothing else to criticize. Well done, I hope to hear more from you soon!
"So the spy began to watch Scout. The boy seemed to be wary at first, checking around corners, squinting at spots for the tell tale shimmer of the spy's cloak. He had several chances at the boys exposed back, but he allowed them to pass when the boy wasn't too close to the intelligence or proving to be a nuisance to his fellow blues. The kid was good, he was agile and quick on his feet. The kid was good at circumventing obstacles, finding weak spots and using them to his advantage. He used his speed and advantage to out maneuver his opponents who had a size and strength advantage. Watching the kid made the spy realize, the kid was good at hiding his biggest weapon of all, his intellect."
This part bugged me with all it repetitions. Boy, boy, boy. Kid, kid, kid. Advantage advantage advantage.
Hello folks !
Sorry, it's not a new content, I would like to find a fanfic I really liked but never saved. I think I read it here, or in the archives.
It's a Sniper/Spy/Medic. In it, a Spy is smoking on the bridge of 2Fort on ceasefire, and a scout from the opposite team knock him out with a baseball. He wake up in their infirmary, and the Medic and Sniper have their fun with him before releasing him.
Thanks in advance.
I finally found it :
A love letter to Marty and all the other Demo lovers on the Chan.
Hit a dead end on Duo - my Scout/Medic fanfic, and decided it was because I needed another story to work on til inspiration comes-a knockin'. So I went onto what was next on the list. Enjoy.
Soldier smirked under the rim of his helmet as he eyed his prize. Engineer was hogtied wrist to ankle, in nothing but a cowboy hat and a pair of spurred cowboy boots. He looked absolutely delectable kneeling on the ground like that, a horse bit wedged between his teeth, making coherent speech nearly impossible. His erection stood at full attention, with sweet precum bubbling at the tip.
Soldier circled around him like a vulture, eating the sight up. Engineer watched him, his breath fast paced and irregular, cheeks flushed, and eyes glittering with sinful passion.
Finally, Soldier stopped before the hardy Texan, and nudged the erection with the tip of his vintage Mantreads. His smirk only grew as he saw the way Engineer shuddered and tried to arch into his boot for more. “You love that, don’t you,” came the hoarse whisper.
Soldier was still fully clothed, sporting a plain white tee and his standard issue blue slacks. Even through the loose fabric, his erection was making itself painfully known. When the company-issued vacation came up, he and Engineer decided to visit Las Vegas for some private time together.
Best. Idea. Ever.
Last post from 2012, I lost all hope this will be continued.
Nonetheless, this is a great fic.
I'll start with Spycest, the prompt was "Spy/anyone, fancy cheeses." Feel free to
The rest of the team assumed he had been to see his lady love that weekend. And indeed, the Spy had taken the first available flight out of the local airport to Boston, but not to visit his little cauliflower. As much as it pained him to admit, he had left the base to indulge a far more selective taste. Wine and women, he could eventually find out here, though perhaps not quite to his standards. Fine cheeses, however, were near impossible to locate, of any quality other than that oily prepackaged swill the other men willingly put in their sandwiches and consumed.
He ate a sandwich once, in the middle of battle, injured and in desperate need of healing. He vowed to never put himself in the position of requiring one again.
When the Spy was certain the team had gone to bed for the night, he slipped out of his room and fled to the kitchen in shameful silence. There, in the refrigerator, in a paper sack labeled “dead dove, don’t open” and which had been clearly opened at least twice then hastily closed back, he retrieved a small ripe wedge of Roquefort. Tucked behind a six pack of Red Shed, he found his prized Chevrot, and squirreled away in the rarely-used vegetable bin, a piece of Manchego. With care, he set the cheeses out on the cleanest plate he could find, admiring their colors even in the fluorescent lights. A flick of his knife sliced each wedge into a few bite-size pieces, fanned out to best showcase their unique textures.
The Spy quietly uncorked a bottle of wine, a pricey sauvignon blanc he had been hoarding since his last trip to civilization, and filled a glass. A handful of raisins and some soda crackers that had seen fresher days would help cleanse the palate in between nibbles of cheese. The contents of the plate made for a rather tragic picture, nothing like the decadent displays of his own country, when he could count on a wine and cheese tasting every other week, no repeats for at least a year. And yet, the Spy could not help smiling a little at
Thanks, I do appreciate the feedback. I don't have any prompts for Heavycest or Soldicest or Engicest, and only one for Medicest, and I am not feeling the prompts for Pyrocest or Scoutcest mostly because I would like to avoid writing those two, so it looks like... Medicest is next. (Unless someone else wants to join in???!!!)
hello friends, i am the anon that wrote the "in the dark" thread. and i wrote the random fic from the "webcam chat" thread. i want to write and be more active, but i am terrible at ideas.
solution: give me requests. i'm pretty much okay with every pairing and every kink that isn't like... super gross.
on to the fucking!
(sorry for my english, its not my first language)
It a VERY long request (its more of a personal vent TBH)
So,I would really REALLY like to see a SniperxMedic story that I had in my head for a while. With multiple teams, ones normal and one full of psico freaks.
I had an idea (but I'm so bad at writing...) where, in the normal team, there are 2 medics: one sadic and more "meet the medic" stiles, and one gentler. The gentler one is in some kind of relationship with the sniper (just a start like in http://games.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600084408) but he get assigned to the freak team (they miss a medic because he decided to kill the previous soldier and take his place).
Now, thing start getting pretty much fucked up because, the freak group is composed by 3 old nazi that escaped trials by joining the mercs (I thought Pyro, medic/soldier and heavy), a subtle russian spy with no heart, a barely sane engie who keeps up by standing away from the rest of the team during ceased fire and a very dark and Psicopath Sniper (CBS whould be the best for this part).
Gentle medic (I called him Joseph but if someone would ever think about writing this thing, can call him whatever he want) is cornered fro the begin by the nazi group but he's able to avoid them for some time (at some point they catch him and mark a svastica with a burning iron in his chest).
Meanwhile, (before the marking) he got friend with the sniper, who misunderstood all the gentle care of the medic for something different.
After the marking event, the sniper told him to hide in his van.
(I imagined this particular sniper like some kind of villain for and old horror movie, the kind of bad guy always two feet in front of you and basically unkillable)He goes to the trio and beat the shit out of them, telling them to not touch "his" medic again unless they want to keep their organs inside.
When the sniper got back to the van, covered in blood, medic is preoccuped and run to him to check for injury. Unfortunatly for him, this only make the brutal sniper believe in his personal, crazy world wher
A story about Dell, a wealthy, celibate scientist, his four adopted children, and the man who is probably going to break his heart.
Pairings: a LOT of this is GEN, but the main pairing is Engineer/Spy. Minor pairings include Heavy/Medic + many more (mostly slash/femslash) pairings.
This is an AU filled with general domesticity, fluff, and angst. Contains slight crossover (other valve games) and sci-fi elements. Some characters have been aged down drastically to fit the purposes of this story.
(This fic has a slow build and will not be /afic/ for a while, but it will have sex, so I hope it's alright to save the trouble of two different threads and just go ahead and post it here.)
Prologue, Part One:
The offers to join them started before the alarms. Dell had laughed off the prospect of a ride-along initially, but when the bustle of an emergency erupted through the fire station, his indecision about joining them was all kinds of inappropriate in its delay of their departure, and he found himself being pulled into the firetruck by a man he had only just met three hours ago.
Three hours... it had never been his intention to stay that long. The visit was meant to be a small meet and greet, an obligation to shake the hands of the men and women who ran the fire station before he donated a large chunk of money to their facility. He always turned out to be a sucker for the social aspect, even though he usually dreaded public appearances and generally wished philanthropy didn't require the ground-work it did.
Prologue, Part Two:
Morning light was flooding in through the windows before Dell finally left Scout's hospital room. He had arranged an emergency sleepover for Paulie at her best friend's house so that he didn't have to leave Scout's side. It had all been for nothing though, because when a nurse came to inform them that evacuations had stopped hours ago, and that no one matching the kid's description had been admitted to the hospital, the kid was devastated, which was expected.
What wasn't expected were the harsh glares through tears and an irrefutable accusation that it was all Dell's fault.
It had been surprisingly hard to hear and Dell had found himself tearing up, floundering in his own inability to form a meaningful reply. He had no business arguing with the kid's logic, as flawed as it was. After it was clear that any attempt at comfort was a lost cause, and his presence was only turning the kid's grief into anger, Dell excused himself with one last misty apology.
It had been a long night.
He was still crouched in the hall outside the kid's room with the heels of his palms digging into his eyes when footsteps stopped in front of him.
"... Engineer? What are you doing here?"
Dell snapped to attention at the sound of his friend's voice. "Medic?"
a/n: (I'm beginning to feel like this is just going to seem like some sort of bizarre ABC Family show... I'm so sorry.)
Dell couldn't remember the last time he had been roused from sleep by the smell of a cooking breakfast. Had it been during Mundy's last visit? The man preferred campfires to stoves, but he could make a mean omelet.
Home cooked meals were an area Dell was skilled in, and as such it was always him who was up early, surprising a friend or a child with breakfast. Along with the scent of bacon, eggs and toast came a wave of nostalgia; it had usually always been his late mother rousing the house with a warm meal, but that was a long time ago.
Dell could only bask in the old memories for a moment before crashing back to reality with the realization that the other occupants of the house could barely operate a toaster, let alone maneuver a skillet. Dell was ready to throw his covers off and scramble downstairs to assess the damage when a loud thump sounded outside his bedroom door.
“Aw, jeez.” The voice that filtered through the door was filled with a domestic sort of annoyance but nothing more. If Dell had started panicking, he wasn’t anymore.
There was some shuffling outside before the handle was turned, and the door was eased open with a sock clad foot. The teenager entered looking as if he was trying to regain proper balance, eyes focused on the tray in his arms. Dell considered feigning sleep but felt silly at the mere thought. Instead, he sat up against the headboard. The boy’s eyes left the tray and met Dell’s when he heard the rustling sheets.
My On the Road/TF2 pastiche.
I first startarted bumming around with Scout a few years after the war ended and a few before war ended which was never a war, , and this was long before I realised that neither war really had a beginning or an end and that all of them just ran into eachother, willrun into each other til the end of time, but more about that later. Scout had decided that night he was “just stahvin for a taco” and I had to reflect that sentiment. We were both coming down and Scout was certain that he was the fitter of the two of us to drive, I could not object. He had only done “just a little speed and some mescaline.” “Where'd you get mescaline?” “Where I get mescaline.” That's when I knew I would never get a straight answer out of him for anything, as if I ever wanted one. We left and very shortly I knew we wouldn't just be getting tacos. “I need to see the Medic,” he said and gave me a cheeky bloody wink and while we were driving he told me about his awesome life: running, literally, from one girl to the next high, to the next girl to the next high, to a few men in between, mostly for the money. “I'm the fastest hand in Boston!” I believed him about that mostly business and I didn't question him further on it. We arrived at Medic's place and before the engine stopped, Scout had bounded over the carhood and was screaming into the building's intercom, “I'M HYEAH TA BUY!” We were buzzed in. While dazed and lumbering halfway up the steps, he'd already reached his destination but immediately raced back down to intercept me, “Come on, old man, you're holding up the mission!” “Gwaawn, I'm not that much older than you!” “You are.” “You just seem young cause you still act like a teenager.” The door opened. “Aw, gawddammit!” “C'est le plus plaisir de vous-rencontre, aussi. You've brought another friend, I see.” “Saloooo!” I called out. A plain, unmasked face suddenly appeared and I was taken aback, we
Dr Conagher had no patience for small talk. It always involved projecting feelings upon events you were powerless to change: mother's health, the decline of Western Civilization, the weather. To Dell, this seamed like a very cheaterly way to talk about God without talking about religion. Thus: never explicitly stated as such, but His displeasure was marked by precipitation of any kind or too much cloud cover, and somehow this transferred to your own personal narrative. A well-lived life was indicated by the most observed changes in barometric pressure.
Tavish was only indirectly aware of the effects that the Great War had on his country, when people talked of before, society became a construction that rivalled the Roman aqueducts: balance and precariousness somehow melded into strength. Now—the word always emerged with a sound that suggested gagging on treacle or laudanum—in an attempt to repair that great structure, we could only come up with several outdoor loos. Devices such as these had never inconvenienced the residents of Degroot Manor.
Medic would declare this century as the worst, mind you, fully aware of the array of atrocities throughout history. He imagined the industrialization of the process was meant to abdicate the cruelty involved (well, on one side at least); the ultimate effect was enough distance to make the cruelty immeasurable. Screams and eye contact make for an entirely different experience. The inquisitions had spectacle at least; and at this, he allowed a dark chuckle to escape.
Since there is no such thing as luck, it must follow that there is no honor in surviving adversity. You could claim horror at the more recent purges, but you would be exercising a willful ignorance of the prior purges, pogroms and poverty that nearly defines the country—the broadness of the land made having a definite identity impossible, not that there weren't attempts. To witness this (as Heavy had) meant that one's life was only to accumulate choices between terror and guilt, if you had the good fortune to be given a choice.
The British claim to dominance, mused sniper, rested exclusively on the play
“Try to remember the worst thing you’ve ever done. You needn’t tell me.”
“Yes. What now?”
“Do you associate this event with a choice or a compulsion?”
Medic considered this briefly. “There was a clear sense of urgency, as best it can be described with respect to discretion.”
“With respect to discretion, were the rules of ethics or morality suspended in this moment of indiscretion if your act was so compelled?”
Medic answered very carefully, “It feels as if yes and no could be correct in the same instant.”
“That is the essence of post-modernism this goes for science as well as art. Heisenberg discovered what literature has known for centuries; objectivity is the least objective of all experiences.”
“And now empiricism has to be re-examined? Along with logic and simple arithmetic, I can go back to testing a person’s humors, supposedly?”
team/spy abuse, part 1 of 2
He kept his eyes open while they fucked him. Even when he could not discern much more than a hulking shadow, grunting and thrusting above his line of sight, he never took his gaze away. It did not make things any less bearable in the end, he could hardly pretend they were anyone else but his own teammates. But he told himself to look, to not cover his eyes, and before he realized it, they had finished, the shadow would become a man again, and it was time to clean up and get ready for the next.
They never took long with him. Not this far out from town, from a woman’s embrace, from any other sort of release from boredom.
He could not guess whose idea it was, and did not want to know, but perhaps they had intended this for him from the start. Better him, then, he had eventually concluded, after that first time with Scout, who broke down and cried pitifully in relief in his arms. At least he knew what to do, to soothe the rage and lust that drove a powerful man, how to please and flatter the ones he worked with, even if he could not hope to receive any valuable bits of pillow talk to use against their opponents.
Well, nothing he could use in the battlefield, at any rate.
The second time was less awkward, and by the fourth time, he felt a sort of insane sense of accomplishment. Then they started the hitting. And he could not help but wonder how the friendly fire mechanism never broke down during those long nights, even when it always seemed to break down in the middle of fighting for him.
I'm curious to see how Spy will handle the torture from now on now when he knows the reason they're doing it. Unless, of course, Engie's story wasn't true.
i love this fic. i love it a lot, so please don't take this the wrong way.
but engineer's "reasoning" doesn't make any goddamn sense? why wouldn't they have told the spy about it yet?
Written Secret Santa gifts inbound! Please don’t reply to this thread until all the fics have been posted. There will be a post signalling when you're clear to start commenting.
As per usual for this event, critique is discouraged on these gifts. This is one of the rare instances we discourage critique unless the creator specifically asks for it (including if/when they choose to repost in their own threads or elsewhere). Someone has worked very hard, through stresses and unforeseen circumstances, to the best of their ability to bring you something they hope you will enjoy. Let's keep in the spirit of Smissmas and give a hand to our hard-working Secret Santas!
Gifts will be posted in order of when they were received.
SFW gifts will be posted first and NSFW after the post stating so. Avert your eyes if that ain't your kind of thing.
Merry Smissmas, magets!
The idea for a “Secret Santa” had been a mistake, the Medic thought bleakly, putting his hand over his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. The idea hadn’t been his. It had been the Scout’s, and the Soldier had immediately jumped on board, crying something about how ‘it would help improve team morale.’
It was the Medic’s personal belief that the Soldier just wanted presents. Of course, the actual work of the project had fallen to him, as it usually did, and he’d been the one to assign random partners to each person. The matches had worked out fairly well, to start with. He thought that he’d made a good match with Soldier and the Demoman, since the idiot soldier was still desperately trying to impress him. The Sniper had been assigned to the Pyro, which the man had complained loudly about, though he eventually sent in his gift. Basically, all of the gifts were taken care of and accounted for.
Except for his own. Much to his chagrin, he’d been assigned to the Engineer. By his own rules, he would keep his assignment, but the Medic really didn’t want to deal with the Texan. The man was not a procrastinator by any means, but it was Christmas Eve and no package had come in from him. The Medic was also bothered by the fact that he knew who his “Secret Santa” was supposed to be. Of course, if he didn’t get anything, he could now hunt the Engineer down after the gift exchange and give him a piece of his mind. And by ‘piece of his mind’ he meant something simple, like a bonesaw thrust deeply into the man’s sternum.
Archimedes would love to come along and watch that.
“Wurdst du nicht, Schnuckel?” He asked, looking down at the small dove that was making a mess on a set of notes. Archimedes looked up at him and cooed a little before hopping across the desk and gently nipping the knuckle of his index finger. It wasn’t that he disliked the Engineer, it was just…complicated.
At least, that was what he told himself. He liked the man plenty. In fact, he liked the man a lot more than plenty. He admired the Engineer’s intelligence, and his cool sense of superiority. He supposed it was called confidence, though the Engin
[Spy/Pyro, kind of related to Devil In Your Hands but not really, just found it on my hard drive and trying to finish it.]
“I will keep your secret,” he promises quietly. “No one else will ever know.”
There is nothing to be read in the masked face that peers in his direction. But he is not deterred by the lack of response. He has gotten this far, won its hard-earned trust after back-breaking, neck-straining hours spent holed up in the air ducts, hanging by the windows, listening in from the sewers. He had even tolerated the other teammate’s teasing for his obsession to know who or what walked in that flame retardant suit. They had told him curiosity killed the cat, but he has plenty of lives to squander as long as he works for BLU. And for as long as their Pyro does, too, he feels safe enough.
To earn the privilege he seeks, he knows he must make a sacrifice. He does so under that watchful gaze, loosening his collar enough to grasp the edge of his balaclava, to roll the thin webbed material up, inch by agonizing inch, over the skin of his throat. Intrigued, the Pyro leans closer, as the Spy unmasks himself slowly, taunting with the gradual reveal. His skin is blotchy from the uneven sun exposure, and his graying hair surely an unruly staticky mess, but the Pyro makes a soft hollow “ohh” of admiration once the Spy sets his mask down on the ground.
Why shouldn’t it express awe? He takes good care of his looks. Attractiveness is a weapon; he keeps all of his weapons sharp.
“You like what you see, mon chaton?” he murmurs, and laughs as the Pyro nods yes. “It is all for you, this secret of mine. Now tell me, do you want to see more?”
Oh god please someone plllleeeasse continue this story! It's a really good story and I hate to see it forgotten. I would write it myself if I wasn't such a bad writer.
Sweet baby scoot on a flying toaster, where do I begin? Take my love, ALL OF IT.
I am ashamed and dismayed I was unable to catch up with this fic until now, but here I am, at last, to shower you with unfettered praise. The pacing, turn of phrase, characterisations, plot.. they hit all the right spots and then some. It's rare for me to be this giddy over anything, so congratulations.
I implore you to continue. If you are nervous about revealing Pyro's sex, the best I can offer you is experience from my own way of doing things, which may not be to your taste. But here goes anyway:
If you want to keep it ambiguous, then figure out non-gender-specific actions and areas of detail to focus on (you have displayed a great grasp on this already). Hands and mouths and furious grinding can be just as hot as penetrative intercourse, and Spy could always be on the receiving end of anything explicit. Pyro can, too, but that comes back to how descriptive you want to be. It is possible to write penetrative intercourse without explaining what orfice it's going into, so long as you keep reader focus on other areas of interest (how it feels for Spy, what their hands are doing, Pyro's actions, etc)
I do hope you continue. What you've set up here would be a great waste if left abandoned. Now I will have to tide myself over by reading Devil In Your Hands because I am hook'd fo lyfe.
I don't think people are offended by Pyro sex as much as they're disappointed when the version of Pyro that gets "revealed" during sex is nothing like what they've been imagining. After all, the magic of Pyro's character is its blank slate nature--not just for the author, but for the readers as well. People like seeing Pyro the way they want to see it and they don't like it when that vision is taken away from them. But as far as I've seen, when authors manage to write Pyro sex without pushing their own version of Pyro's identity, the response is usually quite positive. That isn't, I think, particularly difficult to do. You can get a lot of sexy shit done without removing a single article of Pyro's clothing--and even if you do remove it, you are by no means obligated to describe what lies beneath.
So, long story short, if you want to write more, it's definitely possible to do so without upsetting people. I'd love to see you write more. You've certainly done a good job with what's here so far.
I think I'd be willing to write the rest of the scene, but I'd much rather see this story carried through in the hands of its original creator. It's just more satisfying that way.