Don't worry, the stupid thread's name isn't the fic's title. But it's almost self-explanatory. Anyway, i was writing it while working on another longer fanfic and it was doomed to rest eternally inside my files... but then decide just to put it here and see what waits me. Beware: it's a SNIPERXSCOUT NON-CON, PWP, some necro and some other little things. You have been warned. Please don't come scold me after reading... It's just my need to take out some raw violence within me. Far more better then doing it against other live beings, i suppose...Anyway, there's a risk the ideas and the fic's structure is fragmented and out of place , kind reflecting some of my mental discontinuity, i suppose. That combined to my english(it's not my first language) may turn into a pain in the ass. So, sorry about that, too... Polite and reasonable criticism will be welcomed... thanks. --------------------------------------------- Even before the Administrator said, BLU Sniper was already leaving his post. He heard her voice echoing through his discreet ear gear, saying the “Victory†almost with an insolent tone, and sometimes Sniper could swear he feels a little and evil smile in her strong voice. Perhaps, she shares with the winner team the euphoric state it overcomes them at the final of a successful and long campaign, a frenetic fury they couldn’t control; specially Sniper. It is time to claim. Sniper stood and looked around, hand gripping Kukri, which was resting inside its sheath at his waist, and a smile curving one side of his lip, illustrating his inner state. He could barely contain his excitement; he was craving for this the last five days, the precise, silent and clean fatal shots he made barely kept his thirsty for blood – that was lingering dangerously at the edge of his sureness that they have own that battle and the RED’s fate was inevitable – at bay… Screaming in a mad ecstasy, Soldier passed through him running, weapon in a hand, and he saw the man disappear inside a room, doing exactly like him: looking for a RED, a stupid and idiot RED that was not smart enough to see that their defeat was inevitable and put himself right at the front line of battle seconds before the very end, instead of already being kilometers ahead, or hide securely at some hall or room at their base that the BLUs didn’t knowledge. And Sniper knew that have some of them that could hide in their side, maybe even inside the BLU base, which the shooter gives more credit to imagination, since it’s far more intelligent them run stupidly around, screaming in horror, until a malignant bullet found his heart. And he, personally, likes more when they hide and struggle. He went into a small corridor, almost imperceptive, that even some guys of his own team didn’t know that it leads to some kind of old destroyed bunker without ceilings that opens to a meadow at the RED’s side, when you ignore the more obvious exit of the corridor (a door that takes you just a little ahead of the BLU Base) and go left, left again and them just ahead. That meadow normally is where the heart of a battle develops, but it’s the little degraded room that provides a good hideout. And there he was. His heart beats with twisted excitement when he saw him, curled in a small ball right beside an old table, trembling, hand over his head in a protection motion and probably believing he made it. Fool. Sniper laughed when he imagined him already making plans to sneak safe and sound back to his beloved RED Base. And, like he wanted, the other at the floor caught the sound of his chuckle, and when he turned his head to Sniper, he already had an expression of pure terror and disbelief at his young face that made the shooter smile even more. The RED Scout. The little idiot he knew was jumping and shooting desperately right at the front of the BLU Base, seconds before the Administrator congratulated then to their new victory, and the RED’s weapons fell to the ground, painfully useless… “Hello kid.†He said in a friendly and fun tone, almost kind, greeting the boy with one hand. Then he smiled; a little, almost foolish smile. And then he threw himself over the boy. He heard a desperate “fuck, no, stop!†before he pulled the boy from the ground and his fist connected with the RED Scout’s nose, breaking it and making him bleed profusely, but he wasn’t that sure. The blood. Oh, the blood. He was craving for it, splashing over his skin, its heat. But this isn’t enough. Still holding the Scout by the collar of his shirt, the BLU Sniper started to punch the young man mercilessly, hitting specially his face and abdomen, hoping for purple bruises, for little noises of pain, for satiation. That was just so little for him, but he knew he was building his excitement… he trapped the boy at the corner with his body, still attacking, but now he was brushing forcibly his body against the Scout’s sore one. He new what he was doing; he felt it physically. An erection. He has felt the arousal coming to him these past months, every time they won a battle. It felt like his body had learn the time where he would unleash his ecstasy, and the peak of that sadistic excitement reach its apogee, and he finally see the flesh and blood he desire so much, hearing screams of pain and victory. But he wasn’t that sure, since Sniper knows he falls into a type of trance every time he went to a new confront, every time he accommodate himself in his strategic spots and adjust his rifle at his shoulder and arm; when everything around him fades and he jumps into a concentrate state of pure malignant joy, and slowly builds his way to their triumph… Sniper took his Kukri out of the sheath, admiring the way the Scout’s face modified to an expression of resigned fear and terror at the sight of the blade. He smiled – the RED’s ignorance, his tendency to think in such obvious commonplace, was entertaining – and started to torn his clothes, turning the red shirt into shreds, cutting his belt into half and dragging the pants down with the edge of his knife, don’t caring that it was digging into Scout’s skin and flesh (no, he was actually adoring it). Scout thrashed, deliciously terrified, resulting in more ugly cuts; he eventually ended naked, in only his socks and running shoes. The shooter dragged the boy out of the destroyed old bunker by his short hair and arm, his grip firm as a hook, and the Scout screamed that things Sniper didn’t care to listen. He shoved him through the door, and the boy fell into the grass of the open battlefield, more blood falling from his wounds. The RED Scout rolled his body, adjusting himself as quickly as he could with his battered body, but Sniper laughed again, that silly laugh that had that sick touch of kindness and amusement, like he was just having a pleasurable walk with Scout. He reached the boy before he could raise himself properly, and dropped him again to the ground, almost throwing himself against the boy’s backs, his bigger body covering him completely, and he started to… Sniper could have waited, could have savor more, killing the young man little by little with his fists and blade. Or he could jump to the inevitable Scout’s end and took his life in a single and fierce motion of his Kukri, and bathed himself in the consequent blood. But such acts would still remain an incomplete conquer, of an unimaginative and tedious form of rampage. It would not achieve his high and professional standards. The happening wouldn’t be memorable. He is roaring now; he couldn’t wait anymore, couldn’t put any form of strains over his actions, over his desires. Blind and deaf to anything else; not minding at all that they are in the middle of the bases camp; mind boiling with inspiration, he grabbed the freaked out Scout by his hips, and rolled him to his chest, making him lay in his knees and elbows, almost in all four. Digging the nails of his right hand into the wounds at his hipbones areas, opening and deepening it more and drawing more blood, he barely managed to free his erection – swollen and thick, with a somewhat dark color, looking painfully ready – when he pushed his own hips against Scout’s. The boy squirmed under him, stuttering and gasping, maybe too much horrified to actually say something. But it wouldn’t make any difference for the BLU Sniper. With the red liquid abundantly dripping from his fingers, and a few spits mixed with it, the shooter applied it quickly and clumsily over his member and pushed inside the little tense entrance between the buttocks; didn’t worked out, and Sniper, frustrated and enraged, heart pounding madly, pushed harder, almost smashing the boy’s waist, thrusting savagely into his hips, forcing the opening with his large penis. The young man started to scream and beg, fingers scratching the ground, like he wanted something to help him crawl out from that attack. Finally, Sniper dug the head of his erection inside Scout’s body; the boy gasped, paralyzed, every muscle of his body tense, when he felt that invasion; and them, in a single, long and powerful motion, moaning harsh and bestially, he entered the boy completely, until his testicles were pressed against the boy’s bottom, his indescribable pleasure increased by the tight feeling of torn out and forced muscles; by a young and slender body tensed in pain under him; by the unquestionable conquer. It’s the perfect seize. Sniper grunted loudly to the cloudy sky up above when he started to roughly pound into the boy. He straight up his upper body to have a good view of his ministrations and what reactions his movements inside his new achievement are causing, feeling a great rush of twisted pleasure when he looked at the lithe form being rocked back and forth by his strong thrusts, hands like claws, trembling, backs and shoulders so tense he could see the muscles fiber hardening under the battered skin, and a blue eye looking over a shoulder to a no specific point, full of pain, fear and others arousing sensations. Then, the BLU shooter noticed that all the stress and scare was making the deeper bruises coating Scout’s body bleed, a very slow and subtle flow of the crimson and thick liquid, dripping inch by inch through the boy’s tense muscles and curves, disappearing between the leaves. Sniper’s lips curled in a twisted smile. He grabbed his Kukri – which was lying abandoned by their sides – and lifted it above his head. Still snapping his hips forward, he dove the blade across the boy’s backs. He used a right and calculated force enough to cut skin, muscle and reach bones, without causing decisive damage. Scout screamed, suddenly going out of the paralyzed state the assault caused, and started to trash again, trying to drop his body to the ground, squirming, hands reaching desperately for something. The older man above him juts held him forcibly in place, didn’t caring the fight, – the young man’s desperate actions are actually helping Sniper, exposing more of his body to the man above him, and soon more cuts and rips, some deeps and others shallows, appeared through his quivering form. The unbearable suffering making him tighter, cozier than never – no, he liked it. Soon Scout was covered in red; his hair was moist with it, the crimson gashes painted his frame with the rich color, flowing abundantly, falling down to the ground, almost like it’s nourishing the grass and earth under their knees and palms; and Sniper felt all his senses struck by pure ferrous blood: he could smell it, he could feel the rough and at the same time slick texture with his hands and tights, he could even intoxicate himself with the taste, the mere red sight already pulling him in that void where everything feel real: that strange dreamy sensation disappears, and all his physical connections to the world looks like it was finally working properly, linking Sniper with the existence around him; he was being. “Please…pl-please, kill me, kill me…†“Yes…†“Kill me…†“Yes, I will…†Does this dialogue really occur? Or was it just inside his mind? Probably it’s really happening, but it didn’t make a difference, as long as Scout “begs†like that. Such beautiful and battered little voice…he would satisfy it’s desire, he would! He was ready to reach the climax, in both mental and physical ways, why not give the boy his own release, his own idea of summit? Concluding he was really hearing the sweet plea, with the imminence of the orgasm and the conviction of triumph, Sniper dug Kukri’s blade in Scout’s body, ripping the muscles at the boy’s midsection. The force of the strike hit bones and pierced the diaphragm and some internal organs, Sniper could tell vaguely: he knew anyway, as experienced killer, that it was a fatal wound. But this was all of a logical thinking he could manage, when he just let his body join Scout’s inside that whirlpool of ethereal sensations – they both are reaching the place they wanted to be, Sniper just knew. It was pure victory and euphoria when he ejaculated, gushes of semen wetting the Scout’s ripped insides, his body convulsing against the bloody dying form of the boy, his head lolling back while his hips pounded ruthless and his voice echoed his pleasure in harsh and guttural moans. Sniper wasn’t done. He took himself out of the RED Scout – thin lines of his seed, mixed with the internal blood of the entrance – and quickly stood up, letting the young man’s body fell to the ground, convulsing slightly, dying little by little. With a low chuckle, and his penis slowly reducing, he urinated over the boy, aiming the great cuts through the backs and his buttocks, the liquid mixing with the blood, flowing through his body. Sniper felt shivers descending over his super sensitive skin at the sight of subject the young battered man at his feet in such humiliation, and the almost agonizing fusion of euphoric happiness and arousal returned to him at full force. Again. Again, he needed something, anything…! Then, sighs, soft sounds of labored air suction. Scout was still alive, barely, his life living his body painfully slow, his damaged lungs incapable of maintain respiration and the internal bleedings aggravating. Scout didn’t die yet? He didn’t fulfill his promise to the youth? He can fix that, oh, he can! Sniper didn’t wasted any time again, dragging the boy to the nearest wall. Falling to his knees, to be more or less at his body’s level, he took Scout’s head in his hand and starting to forcibly hit it against the concrete, blood and tissue splashing over the gray surface and at Sniper’s insane face, and he licked that while over and over he smashed Scout’s forehead beyond necessary – he was already dead with the second blow – breaking the skull and exposing cerebral material. Oh, his eyes, the boy’s eyes. The light has completely left them, and a dull, creepy grayish color was everything it has now, rolling in the orbits. Sniper was hard again, staring at that doll eyes; his erect penis was bobbing between his thighs while he finished him. At that strange angle; with the upper body of the boy’s corpse more or less sustained by the wall, and a little by his arm; Sniper grouped his thighs and spread it ruthless, then just pushed his blood covered member inside the recent dead body, and moved roughly; as much as when Scout was alive and could feel the pain. He towered over the inert body, his hips was tireless, his senses once again being heavenly assaulted by the smells and visions; strangely, he didn’t last long, and Sniper pulled out so his semen could join the others fluids coating Scout’s corpse. Moaning very low, smiling; tired and much, much satisfied; he fisted himself until the pearly drops – it was all that was left – fell over the horrid gashes, marking his triumph.
------------------------------- BLU Spy was sitting down on an old bench, inside a little room within RED’s base, gaze to the floor, blazer and Ambassador resting by his side. He was feeling defeated, even though a few minutes ago – well, 10 minutes, perhaps, maybe less – the Administrator had announced their victory. Logically thinking, he could still praise himself internally even if they have lost. He fought with expertise, and knew he had helped a lot the team to reach that conclusion… Except it isn’t over. Not for him. Almost like it was marking his thoughts, he heard a terrified scream echoing through the halls, and animalistic sounds of human beings destroying and tearing apart flesh of other human being. He frowned, feeling a wicked sensation passing through his tired frame. The cry was still piercing his ears when he stood up and leaved the room, adjusting his suit, thinking that stay inside the place will not erase anything he will see, later or sooner. He knew that he should be already used to that eerie spectacular, – it happens every single time they win, and they win a fairly amount – but something inside him also knowledge that maybe is a good thing that his stomach still convulses, his forehead sweats and his mind swirl in disgusted and indignant thoughts every time he saw his comrades in full rage, marking their celebrations with more blood – Do they never get tired of the color? It’s everywhere, plastering walls and ground, sticking to clothes and staining the fabric and even on their enemies, coloring their uniforms. Smiling to himself, feeling a little silly because of that stupid line of musing, he wandered of the RED facilities, and stood at the meadow, for whatever atrocity he will face, which he knew will wipe in a second any funny or good feeling from his mind. He walked at the direction of his base, focusing in his crave for his room, a bath, something to eat, a warm bed and even something to drink, which he hopes that will erase everything he will see passing by the grass and buildings of the field… And he saw. His sureness that every single time they win something dies more and more inside of him at the sight of the victories rituals of the majority of his comrade’s was not disappointed. Groaning like an animal, posting himself like a beast, the motion of his body unmistakable, with hips going back and forth furiously: BLU Sniper was over somebody Spy couldn’t recognize, some reddish form against a granite wall, lost between the grasses and debris common in their battlefields. Suddenly, then, he stood up, moaning, and the Spy saw the movements he was doing with his arm, in his crotch… Then it was over. How come? In a matter of seconds he was just walking around, lost in thoughts, and then he was facing that – Spy lost his breath at the sight, his eyes wide in horror, his heart frozen into an ice rock inside his chest – crimson piece of hell and, finally, Sniper’s eyes, which just turned around, zipping his pants. It was just so damn fast for Spy digest, for Spy start to understand, construct some reasonable thinking; and his cursed wits already figuring out the whole picture: “What you did?†The BLU Sniper just started to walk, his clothes dripping blood, in measured steps, like he just have got drunk with fine wine and didn’t want to lose balance, murmuring a casual “Havin’ some funâ€. He collected his Kukri from the ground; the BLY Spy saw the great masses of blood covering the blade, which lost its fine shine. “Just forget what you saw, Spy.†“No.†Spy gasped softly; his face was so pale it was contrasting with the dark blue color of his balaclava. Even he doesn’t know what exactly he was denying. “No, Sniper, what you have done?†“It’s for your own good. Forget.†Spy was gazing at Sniper; he wasn’t afraid of him, he would never be: “I will not forget it.†“You wouldn’t understand.†Spy felt his innards twisting in a thing he could only describe as rage. He made a step in the direction of the man. “Understand what? What?†The shooter, now clearly irritated with the other man; like if Spy had just invaded his personal space, poking into his mental thoughts, his reality, and was staining it with an annoying piece of that dreamy sensation that will overtook him while the time passes until the next victory; just walked away back to the base. “Just leave me alone, damn it.†“I won’t forget.†---------------------------------------------------------------- “What the hell you did with the boy’s corpse?†“I buried him. Properly, away from you, and be sure that won’t tell you where.†“That’s a stupid thing to do, Spy. You know it makes no difference. The bodies…†“What’s wrong with you, nervous?†“No.†“Yes, you are, Sniper. And I know what happens to the body after some time, but I preferred to leave the remains of the boy away from your disgusting presence while it doesn’t disappear.†“That’s completely stupid, and you know that. What’s wrong with you, with this passionate and illogical behavior? And stay away of my fucking business, damn it, you have nothing to do with what I do and what…†“One day I will probably assign to the RED.†He had stared into his eyes. No single trepidation, no fear .Only cold scorn. “And then we will be in separate teams.†“I hope so. Can’t hardly wait,†“Then…you are going to see.†Sniper aimed carefully, and shot. The bullet went straight inside a RED Heavy’s skull, the impact making it blow, pieces of reddish tissue flying in various directions. That little exchange of words had enraged him. Of course, he didn’t show it to their teammates; almost the whole team was at the hall, and they suddenly paid attention to a discussion between the Sniper and Spy, about a certain incident that occurred during their last Victory, of more or less one day ago, which was becoming legendary…; he would never show any other emotions besides that shallow shades of irritation, happiness, which was more appropriated, and anyhow, he rarely feel more than that. But now that man was breaking his silence, his solitude, with those intrusive words of his; what he is trying to do, ruining his happiness? Can’t he just go to the other damn team and be more direct with that revolver of his? That was angering him. Oh, the Scout’s corpse…he wanted it so bad. He had figured out that since Medic was able to save some dead limbs and organs of dead enemies, he maybe would be able to do it with the boy’s hand, genital, head, whatever. He just wanted a little souvenir to remember… Sniper shot again, this time striking a poor Engineer under heavy fire, his body almost like in automatic motion, while he was thinking. Then, he thought, calculating the next shot – the Sentry – with the wind’s strength: why care? While he pondered the idea, consciously nurturing these terrible feelings, the sureness of being a target of such despises, such hate – at a very point where Spy wants to kill him, to make him pay – was slowly turning that eerie irritation inside his troubled mind every time he sees Spy, making it blossoming into something else, into bliss. Spy would be a formidable opponent. He is probably as strong and skilled as himself; would be a great challenge, quite entertaining. And he just knew that construct the way to achieve victory – kill the Spy – would be more fun then the conquer itself. Besides, Sniper concluded, Spy’s current despise and obsession for him already have a very interesting side of its own: the silent assassin is now a common; he is the same as Sniper is. He had entered that strange and foggy world, that one where violence and senseless is the only answer, and everything else is futile and tiresome, making no difference at all; he is now a segregated from other people, even his teammates; no one will be able to understand him, just like no one understand Sniper inside that dreamy land. The incredible sensation of grudge and hatred his ravishing, and now Spy feel it running through his veins. Suddenly, through the scope of his rifle, Sniper saw a flick of red running like only one class was able to. Sniper smiled. The RED Scout, in one piece and in shape, was leading a sudden attack and spreading terror. His RED teammates have to thank him, Sniper, to wake such beast! And now, he was just looking what he had lost between the blood of the BLU Team, between their dead bodies he was piling, and the release of his painful rage. The BLU Sniper knew: it is just the beginning; no ordinary sacrifice would silence the hatred inside Scout’s mind. Now that the young man had fall into his and Spy’s world, he would soon been looking for him; he would look for his executioner and claim back what had been stolen from him – whatever it is( Sniper knew that much probably even the boy wasn’t sure what had been lost, just that it’s gone). He would hunt Sniper; he will try to kill him, avenge himself. The shooter will fight back; he can test the boy’s skills as much as he want, playing around, for the Scout would never give up his need of Sniper’s blood. And it will be thrilling. So be it. Sniper felt himself smile even more; he can feel that subtle tingle of arousal returning, and he was sure that wasn’t just because of his precise headshots. ____________________________________________________________ __________END “(...) it sure seems like some of the thoughts aren't my own, they just come blasting into my head… These thoughts are very powerful, very destructive, and they do not leave. They're not the kind of thoughts that you can just shake your head and they're gone. They do not leave.†Jeffrey Dahmer. (P.S: I just made a little research and discovered that Sniper’s kukri actually stays at his backs, not in his waist – but I’m so tired I can’t make me correct it… Sorry, bad memory is bad.)
I couldn't stand to read this- not because of the content, but because your grammar and spelling are terribly lacking. Might I suggest a beta reader to help you with writing mistakes like your inconsistent grasp of tense?
Actually, that's fuckin' funny, cause until the last second when i was posting this, i was changing the verbs and grammar and stuff, all like "omg omg this can't be wrong, caaaan't!" XDD High chances that there were some things that were correct before but i put it wrong later. Fuuuuuuuuuu. But yeah, i'm looking for a beta, that's for sure...can someone give me a tip where i can find nice and patient people? I'm kinda...timid, ya know...
Hi! I'm nice and patient people! (waves) But in all seriousness, if you'd like a beta just for grammar and spelling (and run-on sentences and ambiguous subject-verb relationships, basically what an English teacher might mark up on a paper, not that I am one), then I'll totally be your gal. Not quite sure how formatting works in tf2chan, I'm a professional lurker like that, but I'd definitely be able to fix the errors that turned a couple people off your story. No offense taken if you refuse, I don't exactly have much work to my name to prove I can do what I say. My email's in the name if you're interested.
That's very sweet! I'm accepting your help. Mailing ya soon. Don't worry, i just want the basic help (grammar, spelling, slang, verbs, pull ears and stuff). Thank ya!
Anon 5 speaking: Pull ears? I'll see what I can do :3
Grammar and mistakes aside (I do agree, you should get a Beta) as a smutfic, it wasn't too bad. I'm not into the whole, "bloody-gory-sex" stuff, but I think you made it sound properly smutty (for a lack of proper words). So in short- continue! With a Beta!
Thank ya Anon who wrote the same thing three times!! Now that you mentioned it... guess this is not exactly something someone would mastubarte to... not talking about the gore thing, but that maybe this isn't...graphic enough to arousal someone?
Eeer...hey guys. I promise this is an update, not a mindless bump! Actually, it's the beta version of the fanfic above. Credits go to miss Annie L., who not only helped me and corrected my mistakes, but also made the incredible feat of handle me for more than a couple of days (probably a week, it's a new record! Though no one as never defeated my parents: 9 years before drop me off grandpa's)! So, if you can read this more confortably, it's thanks to her. So: SNIPERXSCOUT NON-CON, PWP, no title(i'm not good with titles), with some necro and other little nasty things. P.S.: if it's still has some mistakes, it's exclusively my fault and my inability to learn... sorry about that, truly... ____________________________ Even before the Administrator announced it, BLU Sniper was already leaving his post. He heard her voice echoing through his discreet ear gear, saying the “Victory†almost with an arrogant tone, and sometimes Sniper could swear he felt a small and malevolent smile in her strong voice. Perhaps, she shares with the winning team the euphoric state it overcomes them at the end of a successful and long campaign, a frenetic fury they couldn’t control; or at least Sniper knew he couldn’t. It is time to hunt. Sniper halted and looked around, attentive, a hand gripping Kukri’s hilt, which was resting inside its sheath at his back, and a smile curved one side of his lip. He could barely contain his excitement; he was craving for this for days; the precise, silent and clean fatal shots he made barely held back his thirst for blood – a thirst that lingered dangerously, growing with his assuredness that their enemies have lost that battle and the RED’s fate was inevitable… Screaming in a mad ecstasy, Soldier ran past him, weapon in a hand, and he saw the man disappear inside a room. Soldier was just like him: looking for a RED, a stupid and idiot RED that was not smart enough to see that their defeat was inevitable and put himself right at the front line of battle seconds before the very end, instead of already being kilometers ahead, or hide securely at some hall or room at their base that the BLUs didn’t knowledge. And Sniper knew that have some of them that could hide in their side, maybe even inside the BLU base, for which the sharpshooter gives more credit to imagination, since it’s far more intelligent them run stupidly around, screaming in horror, until a malignant bullet finds his heart. And he, personally, likes more when they hide. He went into a small corridor, almost imperceptive, that even some guys of his own team didn’t know that it leads to some kind of old destroyed bunker without ceilings that opens to a meadow at the RED’s side, when you ignore the more obvious exit of the corridor (a door that takes you just a little ahead of the BLU Base) and go left, left again and them just ahead. That meadow normally is where the heart of a battle develops, but it’s the little degraded room that provides a good hideout. And there he was. Sniper’s heart thumped with twisted excitement when he saw him, curled in a small ball right beside an old table and trembling, hand over his head in a protective gesture and probably believing he was out of danger by now. Fool. Sniper laughed as he imagined him already making plans to sneak back safe and sound to his beloved RED Base. And, like the marksman had anticipated, the other on the floor caught the sound of his chuckle, and when he turned his head to Sniper, his expression already of pure terror and disbelief. His distraught young face made the sharpshooter smile even more. The RED Scout. The little idiot had been jumping and shooting desperately right in the front of the BLU Base, seconds before the Administrator congratulated the BLUs on their new victory, and the RED’s weapons fell to the ground, painfully useless… “Hello kid.†He said in a friendly and fun tone, almost kind, greeting the boy with one hand. Then he smiled. And then he threw himself on the boy. He heard a desperate “fuck, no, stop!†before pulling the screaming boy from the ground and his fist connected with the RED Scout’s nose, breaking it, snapping the cartilage and making him bleed – but he wasn’t that sure because… the blood. Oh, the blood. He was craving for it, splashing over his skin, its heat caressing his knuckles, the smell penetrating his senses. But this wasn’t enough. Still holding the Scout by the collar of his shirt, the BLU Sniper began to punch the young man mercilessly, focusing on his face and abdomen; he yearned for purple bruises, for the little noises of pain, for his own satiation. That was just the preliminaries, the appetizer, yes… he trapped the boy against the corner with his taller body, still attacking, but now he was brushing forcibly his form against the Scout’s sore one. He knew what he was doing; he felt it physically. An erection. He had felt the arousal coming to him these past months, every time they won a battle. It felt like his body had learn the time where he would unleash his ecstasy, and the peak of that sadistic excitement reach its apogee, and he finally see the flesh and blood he desire so much, hearing screams of pain and victory. But he wasn’t that sure, since Sniper knows he falls into a type of trance every time he went to a new confront, every time he accommodate himself in his strategic spots and adjust his rifle at his shoulder and arm; when everything around him fades and he jumps into a concentrate state of pure malignant joy, and slowly builds his way to their triumph… Sniper took his Kukri out of the sheath, admiring the way the Scout’s face twisted to a mixture of resigned fear and terror at the sight of the blade. He smiled – the RED’s ignorance, his tendency to think in such obvious commonplace, was entertaining – and started slice the red shirt into shreds, cutting his belt into half and dragging the pants down with the edge of his knife, didn’t caring that it was digging into Scout’s skin and flesh, actually adoring it. Scout thrashed, deliciously terrified, and the desperate attempts to get away from the pain resulted in more ugly cuts; he eventually ended naked, in only his socks and running shoes. The sharpshooter dragged the boy out of the destroyed old bunker by his arms, his grip firm as a hook, and the Scout screamed that things Sniper didn’t care to acknowledge. He shoved him through the door, and the boy fell into the grass of the open battlefield, more blood dripping from his wounds. The RED Scout tried to crawl from his attacker, adjusting himself as quickly as he could with his battered body, but Sniper laughed again, that silly laugh that had that sick touch of kindness and amusement, like he was just having a pleasurable walk with Scout. He reached the boy before he could raise himself properly, and knocked him again to the ground, almost throwing himself against the boy’s backs, his bigger body covering him completely, and he started to… Sniper could have waited, could have savored more, killing the young man inch by inch with his fists and blade. Or he could skip to the inevitable end and take his life in a single and fierce swing of his Kukri, and bathed himself in the consequent blood. But such acts would still remain an incomplete conquer, of an unimaginative and tedious form of rampage. It would not achieve his high and professional standards. The incident wouldn’t be memorable. He is roaring now; he couldn’t wait anymore, couldn’t put any restrains on his actions, on his desires. Blind and deaf to anything else; not minding at all that they are in the middle of the arena; mind boiling with inspiration, he grabbed the horrified Scout by his hips, and rolled him to his chest, making him lie in his knees and elbows. Digging the nails of his right hand into the wounds at the boy’s hips, opening and deepening it more and drawing more blood, he barely managed to free his erection – swollen and thick, dark in color and looking painfully ready – when he pushed his own hips against Scout’s. The boy squirmed under him, stuttering and gasping, maybe too much shocked to actually say something. But it wouldn’t make any difference for the BLU Sniper. With the red liquid abundantly dripping from his fingers, and a few spits mixed with it, the marksman applied it quickly and clumsily over his member and pushed inside the little tense entrance between the buttocks; it refused to yield, and Sniper, frustrated and enraged, heart pounding madly, pushed harder, almost smashing the boy’s waist, thrusting savagely into his hips, forcing the opening with his large member. The young man started to scream and beg, fingers scratching the ground, as if he could dig himself free. Finally, Sniper dug the head of his erection inside Scout’s body; the boy gasped, paralyzed, every muscle of his body tense, when he felt that invasion; and them, in a single, long and powerful motion, moaning harsh and bestially, he entered the boy completely, until his hips were pressed against the boy’s bottom, his indescribable pleasure increased by the tight feeling of torn out and forced muscles; by a young and slender body tensed in pain under him; by the unquestionable conqueror. It’s the perfect conquest. Sniper grunted loudly to the cloudy sky above when he started to roughly pound into the boy. He straight up his upper body to have a good view of his ministrations and what reactions his movements inside his prey were causing. A great rush of twisted pleasure grew inside of him when he watched the lithe form being rocked back and forth by his strong thrusts, hands like claws and trembling, backs and shoulders so tense he could see the muscles fiber hardening under the battered skin, and a blue eye looking over his shoulder to a no specific point, full of pain, fear and others arousing sensations. Then, the BLU shooter noticed that all the stress and scare was making the deeper bruises coating Scout’s body bleed, a very slow and subtle flow of the crimson and thick liquid, dripping inch by inch through the boy’s tense muscles and curves, disappearing between the leaves. Sniper’s lips curled in a twisted smile. He grabbed his Kukri – which was lying abandoned by his sides – and lifted it above his head. Still snapping his hips forward, he sliced the blade across the boy’s backs. He cut skin, muscle and skittered across bones, without causing decisive damage. Scout screamed, suddenly going out of the paralyzed state the assault caused, and started to thrash again, trying to thrown his body to the ground, squirming, hands reaching desperately for something. The older man above him juts held him forcibly in place, not worried about the struggles – the young man’s desperate actions are actually helping Sniper, exposing more of his body to the man above him, and soon more cuts and rips, some deeps and others shallow, appeared through his quivering form. The unbearable suffering making him tighter, cozier than never – no, he liked it. Soon Scout was covered in red; his hair was moist with it, the crimson gashes painted his frame with the rich color, flowing abundantly, falling down to the ground, almost like it’s nourishing the grass and earth under their knees and palms; and Sniper felt all his senses struck by pure ferrous blood: he could smell it, he could feel the rough and at the same time slick texture with his hands and tights, he could even intoxicate himself with the taste, the mere red sight already pulling him in that void where everything feel real: that strange dreamy sensation disappears, and all his physical connections to the world look like it was finally working properly, linking Sniper with the existence around him; he was being. “Please…pl-please, kill me, kill me…†“Yes…†“Kill me…†“Yes, I will…†Does this dialogue really occur? Or was it just inside his mind? Probably it’s really happening, but it didn’t make a difference, as long as Scout “begs†like that. Such beautiful and battered little voice…he would satisfy it’s desire, he would! He was ready to reach the climax, in both mental and physical ways, why not give the boy his own release, his own idea of summit? Concluding that that pleading voice was really reaching his ears, with the imminence of the orgasm and the conviction of triumph, Sniper dug Kukri’s blade in Scout’s body, ripping the muscles at the boy’s midsection. The force of the strike shattered bones and pierced the diaphragm and some internal organs, Sniper could tell vaguely: he knew anyway, as an experienced killer, that it was a fatal wound. But this was all of a logical thinking he could manage, when he just let his body join Scout’s inside that whirlpool of ethereal sensations – they both are reaching the place they wanted to be, Sniper just knew. It was pure victory and euphoria when he ejaculated, gushes of semen wetting the Scout’s ripped insides, his body convulsing against the bloody dying form of the boy, his head lolling back while his hips pounded ruthless and his voice echoed his pleasure in harsh and guttural moans. Sniper wasn’t done. He took himself out of the RED Scout – thin lines of his seed, mixed with the internal blood of the entrance – and quickly stood up, letting the young man’s body fell to the ground, convulsing slightly, dying little by little. With a low chuckle, as his penis slowly softened, he urinated over the boy, aiming at the great cuts through the backs and his buttocks, the liquid mixing with the blood, flowing through the young man’s body. Sniper felt shivers descending over his super sensitive skin at the sight of the young battered man at his feet in such humiliation, and the almost agonizing fusion of euphoric happiness and arousal returned to him at full force. Again. Again, he needed something, anything…! Then, sighs, soft sounds of labored air suction. Scout was still alive, barely, his life leaving his body painfully slow, his damaged lungs incapable of maintain respiration and the internal bleedings aggravating. Scout didn’t die yet? He didn’t fulfill his promise to the youth? He can fix that, oh, he can! Sniper didn’t waste any time again, dragging the boy to the nearest wall. Falling to his knees, to be more or less at his body’s level, he took Scout’s head in his hand and starting to forcibly hit it against the concrete, blood and tissue splashing over the gray surface and at Sniper’s insane face, and he licked that while over and over he smashed Scout’s forehead beyond necessary – he was already dead with the second blow – breaking the skull and exposing cerebral material. Oh, his eyes, the boy’s eyes. The light has completely left them, and a dull, creepy grayish color was everything it has now, rolling in the orbits. Sniper was hard again, staring at those blank, doll-like eyes; his erect penis was bobbing between his thighs while he finished him. At that strange angle; with the upper body of the boy’s corpse more or less sustained by the wall; Sniper groped his thighs and spread them ruthless, then just pushed his blood covered member inside the body, and moved roughly; as much as when Scout was alive and could feel the pain. He towered over the inert body, his hips was tireless, his senses once again being heavenly assaulted by the smells and visions. He didn’t last long, and Sniper pulled out so his semen could join the other fluids coating Scout’s corpse. Moaning very low, tiredly smiling and extremely satisfied; he fisted himself until the pearly drops – it was all that was left – fell over the horrid gashes, marking his triumph. ------------------------------- BLU Spy was sitting down on an old bench, inside a little room within RED’s base, gaze to the floor, blazer and Ambassador resting by his side. He was feeling defeated, even though a few minutes ago – well, 10 minutes, perhaps, maybe less – the Administrator had announced their victory. Logically thinking, he could still praise himself internally even if they had lost. He fought with expertise, and knew he had helped a lot the team to reach their victory. Except it isn’t over. Not for him. Almost like it was marking his thoughts, he heard a terrified scream echoing through the halls, and animalistic sounds of human beings destroying and tearing apart flesh of another human being. He frowned, a sickened sensation passing through his tired frame. The cry was still piercing his ears when he stood up and left the room, adjusting his suit, thinking that staying inside the place would not erase anything he would see, later or sooner. He knew that he should be already used to that eerie spectacle, – it happened every single time they won, and they won a fair amount – but something inside him also knew that maybe is a good thing that his stomach still convulses, his forehead sweats and his mind swirl in disgusted and indignant thoughts every time he saw his comrades in full rage, marking their celebrations with more blood – Do they never get tired of the color? It’s everywhere, plastering walls and ground, sticking to clothes and staining the fabric and even on their enemies, coloring their uniforms. Smiling weakly to himself, feeling a little silly because of that stupid line of musing, he wandered off the RED facilities, and stood at the meadow, for whatever atrocity he would face, which he knew would wipe in seconds any funny or good feeling from his mind. He walked towards the direction of his base, focusing on his craving for his room, a bath, something to eat, a warm bed and even something to drink, which he hoped that would erase everything he knows he will see passing by the grass and buildings of the field… And he saw. His assuredness that every single time they win something dies more and more inside of him at the sight of the victories rituals of the majority of his comrade’s was not disappointed. Groaning like an animal, positioning himself like a beast, the motion of his body unmistakable, with hips going back and forth furiously: BLU Sniper lay over somebody Spy couldn’t recognize, some reddish form against a granite wall, lost between the grasses and debris common in their battlefields. Suddenly, then, he stood up, moaning, and the Spy saw the movements he was doing with his arm, in his crotch… Then it was over. How come? In a matter of seconds he, Spy, was just walking around, lost in thoughts, and then he was facing that – Spy lost his breath at the sight, his eyes wide in horror, his heart was freezing inside his chest – crimson piece of hell and, finally, Sniper’s eyes, which just turned around, zipping his pants. It was just so damn fast for Spy digest, for Spy start to understand, construct some reasonable thinking; and his cursed wits already figuring out the whole picture: “What did you do?†The BLU Sniper just started to walk, his clothes dripping blood, in measured steps, like a drunkard pretending he was sober and not wanting to lose balance, murmuring a casual “Havin’ some funâ€. He collected his Kukri from the ground; the BLY Spy saw the great masses of blood covering the blade, which had lost its fine shine. “Just forget what you saw, Spy.†“No.†Spy gasped softly; his face was so pale it almost ghostly against the dark blue color of his balaclava. Even he doesn’t know what exactly he was denying. “No, Sniper, what you have done?†“It’s for your own good. Forget.†Spy was gazing at Sniper; he wasn’t afraid of him, he would never be: “I will not forget it.†“You wouldn’t understand.†Spy felt his innards twisting in a thing he could only describe as rage. He made a step in the direction of the man. “Understand what? What?†The sharpshooter was now clearly irritated with the other man, like if Spy had just invaded his personal space, poking into his mental thoughts, his reality, and was staining it with an annoying piece of that dreamy sensation that will overtook him while the time passes until the next victory. Sniper grunted, walking away from the whole scene and returning to their base. “Just leave me alone, damn it.†“I won’t forget.†--------------------------- “What the hell you did with the boy’s corpse?†“I buried him. Properly, away from you, and be sure that I'm not telling you where.†“That’s a stupid thing to do, Spy. You know it makes no difference. The bodies…†“What’s wrong with you, nervous?†“No.†“Yes, you are, Sniper. And I know what happens to the body after some time, but I preferred to leave the remains of the boy away from your disgusting presence while it doesn’t disappear.†“That’s completely stupid and useless, and you know that. What’s wrong with you? You have never been so passionate like this, Spy. And stay away of my fucking business, damn it, you have nothing to do with what I do and what…†“One day the team may be auto-balanced. I could go to the REDs." The Spy had stared into his eyes. No single trepidation, no fear. Only cold scorn. “And then we will be in separate teams.†“I hope so. Can’t hardly wait.†“Then…you are going to see.†Sniper aimed carefully, and shot. The bullet went straight inside a RED Heavy’s skull, the impact blowing pieces of reddish tissue that flew in various directions. That little exchange of words had enraged him. Of course, he didn’t show it to their teammates; almost the whole team was at the hall, listening, and they suddenly paid attention to a discussion between the Sniper and Spy, about a certain incident that occurred during their last Victory, of more or less one day ago, which was becoming legendary…; he would never show any other emotions besides that shallow shades of irritation, happiness, whichever was more appropriate, and anyhow, he rarely feel more than that. But now that man was breaking his silence, his solitude, with those intrusive words of his; what he is trying to do, ruining his happiness? Can’t he just go to the other damn team and be more direct with that revolver of his? That was angering him. Oh, the Scout’s corpse…he wanted it so bad. He had figured out that since Medic was able to save some limbs and organs of dead enemies, he maybe would be able to do it with the boy’s hand, genital, head, whatever. He just wanted a little souvenir to remember… Sniper shot again, this time striking a poor Engineer under heavy fire, his body almost like in automatic motion, while he was thinking. Then, he thought, calculating the next shot – wanting to hit the Sentry, he had to adjust his angle for the suddenly heavy wind – why care? While he pondered the idea, consciously nurturing these terrible feelings, the assuredness of being a target of such despises, such hate – at a very point where Spy wants to kill him, to make him pay – was slowly changing that eerie irritation inside his troubled mind every time he sees Spy, making it blossoming into something else, into bliss. Spy would be a formidable opponent. He was probably as strong and skilled as himself; it would be a great challenge, quite entertaining. And he just knew that the path to achieve the victory – kill the Spy – would be more fun than the conquering itself. Besides, Sniper concluded, Spy’s current loathing and obsession for him already have a very interesting side of its own: the silent assassin is now an equal; he became the same as Sniper. He had entered that strange and foggy world, that one where violence and senseless is the only answer, and everything else is futile and tiresome, making no difference at all; he is now a segregated from other people, even his teammates; no one will be able to understand him, just like no one understand Sniper inside that dreamy land. The incredible sensation of grudge and hatred his ravishing, and now Spy feel it running through his veins. Suddenly, through the scope of his rifle, Sniper saw a flick of red running like only one class was able to. Sniper smiled. The RED Scout, in one piece and in shape, was leading a sudden attack and spreading terror, scattering the BLU’s defenses. His RED teammates have to thank him, Sniper, to wake such beast! And now, he was just looking for what he had lost between the blood of the BLU Team, between their dead bodies he was piling, and the release of his painful rage. The BLU Sniper knew: it is just the beginning; no ordinary sacrifice would silence the hatred inside Scout’s mind. Now that the young man had fall into his and Spy’s world, he would soon been looking for him; he would look for his executioner and claim back what had been stolen from him – whatever it was( Sniper knew that much probably even the boy wasn’t sure what had been lost, just that it’s gone). He would hunt Sniper; he will try to kill him, avenge himself. The marksman would fight back; he can test the boy’s skills as much as he wants, playing around, for the Scout would never give up his need of Sniper’s blood. And it will be thrilling. So be it. Sniper felt himself smile even more; he can feel that subtle tingle of arousal returning, and he was sure that wasn’t just because of his precise headshots. END __________________________________________ Please, polite criticism will be welcomed...
I won't make comment on the genre or theme of this story, other than that it isn't my bag. What I will say is that the grammatical inconsistencies and (in some places) shifting of tense, make it clumsy to read. Some of the run-on sentences really bothered me (ie. He had entered that strange and foggy world, that one where violence and senseless is the only answer, and everything else is futile and tiresome, making no difference at all; he is now a segregated from other people, even his teammates; no one will be able to understand him, just like no one understand Sniper inside that dreamy land.) Some of the dialogue between Sniper and Spy seemed not-quite in character, although it could just be that you didn't write their accents- in a way, it's just a matter of personal taste. I would suggest if you want this story to really be polished, find a few beta readers and see what they make of it. An editor, even. Just spellchecking something won't help with clumsy choices of words or syntax. Eh, hope that didn't seem too rude to you. I'm just offering my own opinion on the technical side of this story writing stuff.
>>13 Thanks for the review! No, you didn't sound rude at all! Hum...understood. I mean...more or less, hehe. What do you mean, "run-on sentences"? I thought it was...humm... well structured. I guess it's because the difference between my language and english: in mine, it's okay to use such structure in text and stories, making no difference if it's a cientifical text or a fictional story...it goes well in a case of poetic license or in a college paper, for example, as long as it's well placed in the sentence, of course. Perhaps is this difference... it will be hard for you guys to read this style, right...? I don't write the accents because...srsly, i don't like! It's not my mother language, so i find pretty difficult to put into the accents correctly in english, in a way that will not look silly or unnatural, so i drop it off. Telling the truth, it's...well, ugly even in my language, so i don't like...it's personal, i guess. Besides, I've been seeing some fanfics that don't use them, and they're still pretty good and in-char, so i didn't care to use them. But, of course, if the readers think it's a good idea, i will try harder to get used with this accent thing... The grammar inconsistencies and the shifts are my fault(not the beta's, she already had told me that she didn't finish with the revision)...i will improve. I will try. In a next fanfic, of course, since this is the second failure with this one...and i don't want to bore you guys to death with the third version of this, haha(telling the truth, i'm kinda giving up...)!
Considering that some of this Fandom's most beloved writers, as well as the official comics, do not use accents, I really don't think they are necessary. They can add character, and some authors find them fun to write, but they aren't necessary. I understand your problem with English sentences. My own first language tends to have very long sentences, and if I try a literal translation into English the result is criticised by native English speakers as convoluted. Regardless of how well-structured they are, if you are writing in English, I recommend using short sentences. Also, less unnecessary details, less colons and semi-colons, and more full stops. And, in general, you really need to watch your tenses. For example, this sentence: Then, he thought, calculating the next shot – wanting to hit the Sentry, he had to adjust his angle for the suddenly heavy wind – why care? While he pondered the idea, consciously nurturing these terrible feelings, the assuredness of being a target of such despises, such hate – at a very point where Spy wants to kill him, to make him pay – was slowly changing that eerie irritation inside his troubled mind every time he sees Spy, making it blossoming into something else, into bliss It would sound better if you write it like this: Then, he thought, calculating the next shot to hit a sentry through heavy wind - why care? He pondered the idea, consciously nurturing those terrible feelings. The assuredness of being a target of such despise, such hate – to the point where Spy wanted to kill him! – was slowly changing that eerie irritation he felt every time he saw Spy, making it blossom into something else, into bliss. Don't give up writing! This second version may still be flawed, but it's a HUGE improvements over the first version. You are definitely getting better :) I'd agree that a third version of this fic would be overdoing it. Better to start something new, I think; I suggest a short ficlet, it's much easier to practice and to focus on any potential flaws if the story is short. But don't give up writing fics. You have already shown that you are capable of accepting criticism and learning from it, it would be a pity to throw in the towel. Just remember: short sentences, less unnecessary details, watch your tenses. Good luck! :)
>>15 Humm...thank ya for the review, it's very sweet of you to take your time like this. So, yeah, i've been reading english texts, stories, books and etc (in my first language or not), for a long time, and it's more or less like a common that all the writers doesn't use long sentences with lots of words. Perhaps the english language suits better with an elegant, right-on-the-point write style, where it's better to make the reader fell the whole scene you're describing with a minimum of words. In my language, sometimes, it's very beautiful to describe things in fictional texts with long, rich sentences...so, my style follows my language, i guess...and here i am, using it to write in english (wow, i'm genius). But i guess a different style is on the way. =3 It will be strange, for me being so used to write like this, but i will try to change a little. Of course, i won't change my whole way of writing things or it will be like someone else wrote it, and maybe even look generic (it will suck for you guys, and i will be very unsatisfied with the result). It'll be hard i guess (judgind for this comment, oh hell, bet on it, hehehe), but you're right, there's no point giving up right now... Thank ya very much for encouraging me! P.S.:...i need a beta...
Ahh, so English isn't your first language. I can't knock on you too hard for any mistakes (you're much better at this second language thing than me; I can barely get away with pretending I'm bilingual), and the story was understandable- just kind of rough here and there, linguistically. The thing about run-on sentences is kind of awkward. While they're technically possible, people usually find them hard to follow or just overly wordy; it's been ages since I was in school, but I believe we were taught to try and limit the number of clauses in a sentence to 1, with the option to add additional clauses by breaking it up using commas or semicolons. A single clause that's been drawn-out over several comma breaks starts looking too long, in English.
Haha, don't worry, be hard on me (oh, lord, everything around here turns ambiguous). It's no shame when you are polite and nice like this, srsly. I am working in other fanfics, and i'm now trimming the poor things, because of the warnings of you guys...it's so weird, haha. But i guess it will be better. And i'm paying extra, eeextra attention for grammar mistakes. I hope, too, that people around here don't mind more non-con. I can't help it, it's my obsession...