#pyrotechnition | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

buryustogether · 4 years ago

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too good for me

summary: it seems that sniper has as many secrets as he does bullets. perhaps, just this once, he’ll give one up.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: smut, swearing, scars/past injury talk

author’s note: LISTEN, i pulled this from an old abandoned account of MINE, so i am NOT stealing or plagiarizing. this is my own original work i posted on one account and am posting on this one as well.

Even for New Mexico, this is far too much. Someone must have pissed Mother Nature off to a level most unimaginable, because she was retaliating with a scorching, blazing heat even the toughest mercenary melted beneath. The battle today was shorter than short, what with everyone dying to get back inside in the air conditioning. That was, until Scout accidentally knocked a grenade into the RED base AC unit.

He rightfully earned a black eye and sported it like a badge of shame.

Now, in the sweltering heat of the late evening, you and most of the other mercenaries took shelter in the rec room. A single rotating fan swiveled sluggishly, giving you all a few moments of relief before moving on to your comrades.

“This is,” Demo said as he fanned himself, “a right disaster, it is. Sittin’ ‘round like sacks a’ shit while we melt?”

Spy regarded him coldly from his seat in his armchair. “Do you see anything else around here to do, Irishman?”

You rolled your eyes to the back of your head as you listened to them bicker. Across the room, Scout and Soldier rocked the pinball machine as they tried to hit a particular target; so far, Pyro had held the highscore for three weeks and it was getting under their nerves. Ironically, the pyrotechnition was nowhere to be seen.

Billowing your thin shirt to give your chest some air, you cast a glance to Sniper. He’d only taken his hat off in attempt to battle the near sinful heat; everything else, all his layers, he had left on. “Jesus,” you said, “aren’t you boiling?”

He gave you a glance over the tops of his sunglasses, eyes tinted a gentle orange. “Part of the job, Sheila,” he grunted, then quickly turned his head back to the newspaper he read.

It wasn’t until the quiet reached your ears that you realized Spy and Demo had stopped their bickering to watch you pair rather curiously. They gave you sly expressions when you turned to them. You hurried to look away, hand flying up to support your head and slightly hide your face.

It was unreadable to those who could only be stupid, and even Soldier had picked up on it by now. The tension that had formed between you and Sniper - romantic, sexual, whatever you could call it - had thickened with each day that had gone by. Bets had been placed between the others on when you’d both finally come around. It hadn’t gone unnoticed, the way you often snuck out to the garage to keep him company in his van, how you always had your morning coffee together and never left a seat between you.

You had to admit to yourself, the rifleman had managed to ensnare you in a sort of net you didn’t want to escape escape from. Over the months since you were employed to work here at Mann. Co., you’d grown ever closer to the man who insisted you call him by his real name - Mick. You’d never heard another merc call him that without receiving a sound beating. The way his eyes flitted to you during dinner, the barely-there brushes on your shoulders when he pretended to squeeze past you; they made you trip, and fall hard. How he murmured late at night when you had your midnight chats, the thin lips that adorned his sharp, weathered face.

Oh, how you’d longed so many nights to run your thumbs over those cheekbones, taste the inside of his mouth and hear him say your name.

It was the clearing of a throat that brought you from your thoughts, and you realized Sniper had risen and left the room. You waited a few moments, then attempted to appear nonchalant as you got to your feet and followed him out.

Bare feet padding the floor, you wandered the hallways to the garage, where you found the door slightly ajar. You peeked outside; the lights in his van were on. It was a little hotter out here, especially without the fan cooling you off. Trudging through the thick heat, you closed the door behind you and made for the van. You’d spent so much time in there, there was a small space of his closet that contained the few pieces of clothing you’d left in there - just socks and jackets and extra layers, mind you. You and he had never... well. Not that you hadn’t thought about it, of course. Nearly every night you were in your room and he was in his. You exhaled, blinking, attempting to clear your head.

Without bothering to knock, since you never did, you swung the camper’s door open and stepped inside. “Hey, why did you - ?”

You left the sentence hanging in the air when your eyes landed on him, and he at once took an instinctive step back. He had discarded his shirt and vest, allowing you a full view of his bare front. Scars in the crooked shape of a letter ‘V’ trailed down his chest and stomach, outlines of where a blade dug into his skin visible even after the healing. Knicks and small bruises and scratches adorned them, decorating his front like an art gallery.

“Sheila,” he said, at once looking down at himself. You were able to see his neck and ears turning a barely-noticeable pink. “I didn’t hear ‘ya.”

You cleared your throat and turned away, aware he was obviously embarrassed. You were, too. You’d never seen him like this and it intimidates you slightly, despite having fantasized about it time and time again. “Sorry,” you said, making your way to the kitchenette bench. You waited a few moments, then glanced furtively over your shoulder.

Sniper faced the closet, a white tank top in hand, but he didn’t put it on. He only stared at it. “Don’t you wan’ to know?” he asked.

Though he couldn’t see you, you shrugged your shoulders and picked at the table’s edge. “No,” you admitted. You blinked. “You’re... you’re obviously not comfortable, and it’s not my place to ask.”

As if moved by your words alone, he at last turned to face you again, hair mussed and scars breathing and eyes vulnerable, so, so vulnerable. You realize you’d never seen them like that, either. It made him even more attractive.

After what seemed like a long while, Sniper emitted a quiet chuckle and, instead of pulling the tank top on, kicked his boots off. “You’re too good for me, Sheila.”

You smiled. “As you’ve said before,” you said, because he had. Every time he did, it made your heart flutter and jump.

“Yeah, but...” He shook his head and waved a hand. “S’ gettin’ late. You wan’ to stay here?”

It was a request that caught you completely off guard, as you’d never actually slept here in his van with him, but you rushed to answer. “Sure.” You were already in your pajamas - simply a shirt and a pair of shorts - and you found your heart was leaping clear over the moon. “I can just sleep on the floor.”

“Nah,” he said, pulling the spare pillow from the rack above his bed, “I’ll have it. Can’t have your pretty little back blown out, now, can we?”

You stared at his bare back. Was he... flirting with you? Sure, you’d both playfully hit on one another before, but... there was something not quite the same about this time. You inhaled gently and stood as he tidied the bed up for you. “Oh. Thanks.” Crawling in, you lay down and breathed in his scent like it was the last thing you’d ever do. He smelled of old cologne and a deep, flirtatious musk. The lights switched off and drowned you in darkness, forcing you to stare at nothing as you listened to him lie down. You shifted to your back. What was going on?

Before you could give it much thought, you heard his ground-trembling, husky voice murmur, “...You’re too good for me, Sheila.”

You were both quite. Silent. Still. The tension hanging between you tightened as you both tugged and twisted at it with everything you had. You were pulling, crawling, towards one another. Yet, when you reached him, one of you always pulled away. You wouldn’t. Not this time.

Lips chapped and neck sweating from the swealtering heat, you whispered, “Mick?”

“Hmm?”

“…Come up here.”

There was a pause, it seemed, in reality. Everything stilled. Because when it resumed again, you found Sniper hovering over you and his mouth colliding with yours. It was like a hurricane you’d been holding back for ever crashed down upon you both as you pressed against him, hands grappling for purchase on the sides of his face. Lips moved in a haphazard harmony, teeth clashing and voices rumbling from throats as you kissed.

When he finally pulled away for air, he kept his forehead against yours and arms on either side of your head. “Bloody ‘ell,” he panted, “I’ve been waitin’ for that for near a year.”

“Jesus, me too.” Unable to stand him being apart from you any longer, you hooked your hands at the back of his head and pulled him back down. Your lips mashed against his and you attempted to memorize the feeling of his tongue skipping into your mouth and demanding attention.

Sniper’s knees planted themselves on either side of you for balance as his hands tangled themselves in your hair. Soon, then began to trail away. Down to your face, then your neck, arms, and middle. He thumbed the edge of your shirt up, then looked at you, awaiting your permission. You nodded, connecting your lips once more. In a flash of cloth and heaving breaths in the dark, you found yourself in just your underwear and your mouth open in delight. Scruff scraping against the skin over your rib cage, his lips kissed and mouthed at your breasts and nipples, working wonders you didn’t think were possible.

“Oh, god, Mick,” you whine, breath quickly being snatched from your lungs. Fingers working his short curls, tangled from the slick heat, you felt lead and butterflies mix in the pit of your stomach. A fluttering arousal flickered to life in your lower regions and you gasped as he licked a strip up your sternum and to the base of your neck.

Pausing for just a moment to pull off his own shirt and pants, Sniper returned to your mouth to capture you in a sweet, passionate kiss. “You see what you do to me?” he murmured, rutting his clothed hips against yours. You were able to feel the firm bulge against the top of your thigh, but at the moment you were more attuned to the way his voice had lowered. Eyes a mixture of pure adoration and dark lust, he again licked up your chest. “You sure you want this, Sheila?”

“Yes,” you said, giving him your consent. “God, yes. Please.”

In a blink, he’d wiggled out of his boxers and pulled yours off as well. You’d barely allowed a glance at him before he dropped between your legs and threw one over his shoulder, pressing a kiss against your calf. His scars shone in the dim light from the garage. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

Your hands immediately gripped the bedsheets, nearly thrown over the edge by just his nose nudging your core alone. “Fuck,” you said, bucking your hips up against him. He ground his palms against your bare skin, keeping you gently mounted to the bed. Again, he emitted that tummy-churning chuckle.

“Eager, darlin’?”

“Like you’re not?”

He smiled up at you, eyes dark and alight with flame all at once. “Always.” With that, he dipped his head and pressed his tongue flat against your folds, loving the way he felt your toes curl at the action. Gaze staying on your face and the expression he’s able to paint there, he lapped at your core a few times before slipping his tongue inside. His name tumbled from your lips and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You swore you saw stars as he sucked at your clit, your hands tugging at the bedsheets aimlessly. Breaths come out in pants, you felt a knot tighten in your lower stomach, stretching and yanking at your insides. “Mick, oh, Christ!”

It seemed he had a sense for things other than always hitting his target, because just as you were about to come undone, he pulled away and crawled back over you. “Not so fast, Sheila,” he huffed, slowly lowering himself on top of you. His lips parted as you gently kissed a few inches of his scars, at least the ones you could reach, and he was beside himself. The shock was evident upon his face until he was suddenly overwhelmed with love and passion and pushed himself inside you.

“Oh, god!” Nails dug into his back as he filled you up, chest against yours and sweat dripping from both your brows. The heat didn’t even exist anymore. A few moments went by as you became used to his feeling, kisses being pressed against your cheeks, nose, forehead.

Sniper heaved for breath as he slowly moved his hips up, nearly pulling out of you, before pushing back in. Again, and your lips collided once more. His pace quickened and you both moaned in pleasure; it was a few minutes before you even felt the van rocking slightly.

You’d only imagined this for so long, what seemed forever, and now that it was happening, it was flying by like the hurricane around you.

“Ah, shit,” he groaned. You felt him move slightly inside of you, and it only seemed to push you to the end. The knot in your stomach returned like a violent ocean wave and slammed into you, unwinding you from the inside out.

“Mick!” you practically screamed. He stilled as you came, nipping and biting at your neck, until you were finished and he pulled out, pumping his cock before finishing on his own. Skin sheen from sweat, you stared up at the camper’s ceiling and attempted to catch your breath.

Sniper allowed a few minutes to pass before wiping his face and turning to you. He reached out and smiled gently, moving a lock of hair from your forehead. He placed a kiss on the bridge of your nose. “You’re too good for me, Sheila.”

#tf2 #tf2 sniper #sniper x reader #sniper imagine #sniper imagines #team fortress 2 #team fortress #team fortress sniper #team fortress comics

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