#scps x reader

[blackmoonowl]

Hear me out escaped 049 with a normal reader who has no idea of the foundation

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚘𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛

ꨄ Pairing: SCP-049 x reader

ꨄ Summary: Based on an older oneshot I made years ago. We are so fucking back.

ꨄ Word Count: 1110 words

People had been going missing.

Some that you know, some that you didn't. It all happened suddenly in the span of a few weeks in the small, sleepy town you were staying in. Normal everyday people were disappearing on their way to work, after a night out, some even vanishing from their homes. Unfortunately, that didn't mean they stayed missing. The hairs were standing up on the back of your neck as you walked past yet another crime scene. Another missing person that came back disfigured and completely crazed. The local police surrounded the homeless man, ushering people away, locals and news reporters aside.

Deciding to indulge your morbid curiosity, you decided to halt. You pried your way through the small crowd to get a closer look at the newest victim. The first responders were already covering the victims body with a tarp, but you could vaguely make out the stitching done on his bare torso. One of his arms was missing and his eyes were wide open, coloured a milky white.

That was about all you got to see, as a police officer walked over to you and a few other bystanders.

"Got enough of a look? This is a private crime scene, get out of here!" A few people scoffed at the officer's harsh tone. You didn't take it too personally, though. Lord knows the poor woman had seen enough already.

You decided to just move on, not bothering to look back at the remaining crowd. Most of them would go home eventually, given the curfew. It was a vain attempt to prevent more people from getting claimed by whatever serial killer was out there. Well, you couldn't really call whoever it was a serial killer, given everyone who returned was technically alive. You kept your eyes ahead of you, trying to focus on the dark road ahead. You knew you were taking a risk being out here at all. Your eyes trailed to the trees that surrounded the outskirts as you lost yourself in thought.

And that's when you saw it.

If it weren't for the figure's white mask, you wouldn't have noticed them at all. Their black robes did a great job hiding them among the shadows. It looked like someone wearing a plague doctors costume. It was likely some sort of sick joke, thought up by some guy without a life, you tried to reason. But there was something about the situation that made your stomach turn. The figure was shamelessly staring at you, almost as if they were observing your actions. You were frozen in place, staring right back at them. Every instinct was screaming at you to run, but it was like you were glued to the ground. The tall figure remained still as well, though seemed far more composed than you. The figure raised a gloved hand, beckoning for you to come closer.

You weren't falling for that, you shook your head before taking your eyes off the figure, powerwalking down the path. The sooner you got home, the sooner you were away from whoever this was. When you glanced back, the figure was gone, only making your blood feel colder in your veins. Picking up the pace, you rounded as many corners as you could. You wanted to run home but leading that creep straight to your front door wasn't the best choice. You took refuge under a streetlamp, your surroundings eerily empty. The silence was deafening as you slowly regained your composure.

"I assure you, there is no need to be frightened."

You had no idea how you didn't hear the figure coming. The strange sounding, masculine voice sounded a few meters away from you. There the plague doctor stood, hands clasped behind his back. The figure tilted their head slightly.

"I understand you may not feel at ease. Worry not, for I am a doctor." The figure approached you once more, causing you to step back.

"You did all this, didn't you?" The distinct sound of disdain inevitably crept up in your voice. "What the hell did you even do to them?"

"Yes... what had to be done was... unfortunate. I have been kept from furthering my research for so long, the pestilence has been able to spread freely. I truly am sorry I was not able to aid sooner."

"What do you mean by that?" Your voice was a mere hiss through your teeth. The plague doctor let out an almost disappointed sigh.

"I have made peace with the unfortunate fact no one else understands the insidious nature of the pestilence. But fear not, I am here to cure you of this affliction. If you truly knew what horrors the disease spreads... you would thank me for my work." The figure reached out for you, but you were quick in stepping away. The doctor let out a sigh, slowly lowering his hand.

"You killed those people... because of an imaginary disease. That's all their life was worth to you!" You snapped. You didn't care if anyone heard you, at least then someone could bail you out of this situation. Your words seemed to offend the plague doctor.

"Every life is worth something to me." His voice was stern as he visibly tensed. "I have spent countless years dedicating my life to curing this ailment while my fellow men of science mock my work, while people like you call me a monster. Yet I persist, because I care!" His outburst left you speechless, and the doctor took a few deep breaths, calming himself down.

"I... apologize... that was uncalled for. Refrain from such comments in the future, if you will, however." His shoulders relaxed as he peered at you from behind the eye holes in his mask.

"Future? What the hell do you mean by that?" You asked, taking another step back.

"I shall need to keep you close. Although the pestilence hasn't spread throughout you entirely just yet, I will need to monitor for your own well being. I trust you have no qualms about this?" The way he was so casual about it would have been comical if your entire way of life wasn't being threatened.

"I'm going home," you firmly replied, backing away further. You saw his eyes narrow at that comment. Footsteps sounded behind you, before your back met a solid surface. It was a small group of people, distorted faces you vaguely recognized from the poster. With nowhere left for you to run, the doctor approached you. He stopped right in front of you, the beak of his mask was centimeters away from your nose.

"I fear you have very little choice, doctors orders."

𓅓 Masterpost

𓅓 Consider supporting me! (Ko-fi)

[wolveria]

The Anomaly Archives

This is our official report into the findings of the subject in question. They are precise, well-documented, and without embellishment or hyperbole. What lies herein is a full accounting of the events that bear the most significant and urgent scrutiny. We will relay our findings once we are satisfied with judgement. We do not take this lightly. And neither should you.

(Explicit, 18+ only, various SCPs x reader)

AO3

Playlist (The Raven's Hymn + The Anomaly Archives):

Spotify

YouTube

Reality #001: SCP-049

Reality #002: SCP-049

Reality #003: SCP-049

Reality #004: SCP-035

Reality #005: Kenneth

Reality #006: SCP-1471

Reality #007: SCP-1233

Reality #007-2: SCP-1233

Reality #009: The Alphabet Memo

[bitedownme]

[batlovebites]

Can i have shadow milk x cuddly reader?? I love this silly jester so much 😭

Hi! This is. absolutely not what you were after but Shadow Milk Cookie's whole theatre and deception deal makes it far too tempting to attempt a format screw form of writing with him. So I hope you can enjoy this for what this is. Also, as a note for anyone not familiar with this before reading, the little blue numbers after certain words/sentences are linking that word/sentence to a footnote at the end listed under the same number- You'll see these on Wikipages a lot, but I can't actually hyperlink them in the same way on a tumblr post.

Shadow Milk Cookie x Cuddly Reader [Drabble] - House of Deceit

You do not lay on the bed alone.

Are you alone?

Yes. No.

(He's/You're/They're) there, wrapped delicately in (Yours/His/Each Others) arms. There. Where?

[INT - Spire¹ of Knowledge. Night? You look outside. Its night. You blink. It's morning. You blink. Its dusk. You stop looking. It does not.]

He grins. A bit sharper than it should be. Shifts just so, hand ghosting along your spine, plants a featherlight kiss on just above your brow. The stage lights shine a little brighter. The Audience² cheers.

The eyes lining the shadows of his hair twitch with something like anticipation. (The eyes lining the shadows of his hair twitch with something like love.)

He laughs, something sharp and cruel loving and longing, "You're oh-so unbelievably clingy, my love," he croons. "Whatever would you do without me here to bask it all in?³"

You pretend to pull away your affections just to tease a little; He knew it was a lie, of course, but he pulls you back in with the fervency of if it was the truth⁴ all the same. This is the role you are meant to play; He simply cannot have you going off script.

So he pulls you back in, grabs your hands in his own- they fit together oh-so perfectly. You two were always fated to play the star-crossed lovers; There's no two more fitting actors in the whole world-, and mutters words of affectionate meant (for once) for your ears only. The shadows around you warp and twist as if trying to eavesdrop. (The shadows around you warp and twist as if trying to hold you, too.)

cling·y /ˈkliNGē/ - adjective    1. What he calls you    2. What he is. (LIAR.⁵)

[INT - Spire of Knowledge. The sky watches you with reverence. It's blue. Not day. Just blue.]

So (You/He) lays in (His/Your) arms. Shadowed eyes blink at you lazily, and you return the gaze half-asleep.

This serenity was all a lie, of course. Things like him didn't really love, not in the way people do. Its all just another show at the end of the day. And in the morning you will wake up in a cold bed with no one in your arms. (LIAR.)

This moment (this eternity) was the only truth welcomed into his house of deceit. Not a clean truth, no. A truth swaddled gently in little white lies, in ever-twisting deceptions and cold dishonesty to keep safe the warmth of the only true thing to ever really exist- the little truth between the two of you, only the two of you.

true·love /ˈtrü-ˌləv/ - noun    1. Perfect romantic love between people.    2. A person that You love.    3. A deception. Except when its You. (right?)(Right.)

(You/He) falls asleep in (His/Your) arms. The curtains don't exist fall. The performance ends in its eternally soft dénouement, no loose ends left to be tied; But it doesn't end, not really, because the curtains aren't real will rise with the morning sun tomorrow (today? yesterday?) to start the performance anew; And with each performance, Shadow Milk will play his part with (venera-)(devo-)tion⁶ as always. A single droplet of truth in an ocean of deceit.

Footnotes:

It is(n't) a tower. stage. house. spire. It is ■■■■.

There is(n't) an audience. The audience crowds him. The audience holds him with such affection it feels like suffocation. The only audience there is anymore (the only audience that ever mattered). The Audience is You. You are the Audience.

You would 1.) Sleep a little less peacefully. 2.) Smile a little less often. 3.) Dream of something a little more honest.

Disgusting.

It is the truth. How distasteful.

ven·er·a·tion /ˌvenəˈrāSHən/ - noun    1. Great Respect; Reverence. de·vo·tion /dəˈvōSH(ə)n/ - noun    1. For You, always for you.

[bertieorangy]

Y/N type 1 : Man, that character’s hot 🥰

Y/N type 1 : I’d like to hold hands with them or something, only if they wanted to 👉👈

Y/N type 2 : I’d like them to take me in the kitchen—

Y/N type 2 : bend me over the stove and spank me with a spatula

Y/N type 1 : huh?? 😰

Y/N type 2 : then I’d like them to take me to the bedroom—

Y/N type 1 : what happened to “hi, how are you” ??? 😭😭

Y/N type 2 : —kiss me so hard that I can’t breathe

Y/N type 2 : in fact, I’m going to put this in my username so that this is the first thing anyone know—

[moon-buggg]

If I smooches SCP Sun, would he turn into a space heater?

in a word?

yes.

He can control them to an extent, but they're extremely tied to his emotional state. Positive emotions create light and a comfortable/safe level of heat, while things like anger trigger more extreme defensive uses. With yn? He's the worlds biggest heating pad and you are liable to get minor burns if you cuddle with him for too long- or surprise him, for that matter. He overheats quickly when flustered

Best give him a warning before you try any affection, or invest in some really good eye protection if you dont want to get flashbanged lmao

[imagine-darksiders]

Absolute Anarchy - chapter 2

The Bull.

A Darksiders/Scp au.

Cw: Animal death, threat, guns, shooting, references to goring, livestock, abuse, blood.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Two days.

By your count, it’s been two days since you were pulled from the SCP’s cell and tossed unceremoniously back into your own with Mullins’s gloat echoing in your ear.

“Enjoy solitary, Scuzz.”

A slammed door, a buzzing overhead light, and nothing but your peeling wallpaper and creaky bed springs to keep you company…

Two days is beginning to feel like an eternity.

You have to remind yourself that it’s not.

They’ve only given you four meals, after all.

Taking a mental account of the trays that are shoved through the slat in your door is just about the only way you can measure the passage of time in here. Two meals a day, morning and evening. That’s the facility’s standard. And they’re all ‘served’ to you with the decorum of throwing slop to a pig.

Apparently, you revoked your rights to eat in the mess hall with the other D-Class after you refused to follow orders to shoot at the new SCP, or so you assume.

The first day was embarrassing, to say the least. You spent it in a state of near-complete hysteria, wailing and pitching a fit at the locked door, out of your mind with fear that at any moment, they’d come through it and drag you off to a fate worse than death. When you were hoarse in the throat, and your eyes red-raw from trying to scrub them dry, you hunched over in the corner like an animal, shivering violently in sporadic bursts.

Then the first meal arrived.

You ignored it, and it sat there unappealingly on the shelf attached to the slat on your side of the door until, hours later, that slat scraped open again and the second tray was shoved through, neatly sending its predecessor clattering to the floor.

It sounded so much like the gun you dropped in that thing’s cell.

It takes another few hours to muster the courage to unfold yourself from the corner and stumble towards the food, stepping absentmindedly around the grey porridge going hard on the floor.

The second day is spent on your back, staring bleakly up at a grey ceiling and trying to occupy your mind. Inevitably, your thoughts turn to the SCP. Moreso, the colossal gun fused with its biological arm, and the chambers that had been pointing straight at you, so much like Mullins’s Beretta…

But it hadn’t fired a single round…

Why…?

Well, you suppose you have an indeterminate amount of time to muse on its reasoning. You have no idea how long they plan to keep you in solitary, after all.

However, as punishments go, you think this one has so far been remarkably tame.

Nearly two whole days without being thrown to the wolves! Marvellous, in the grand scheme of things.

You suppose if anything, you ought to just settle in and enjoy the relative peace and quiet where you aren’t being tested against the nightmares of this facility.  Why, this isolation is practically bliss!

Of course, no sooner have you thrown that semi-optimistic spin on your situation…

“Oi!”

Somehow, not even complete and total separation from your fellow humans could make you miss the sound of Mullins’s strident shout.

When your door is roughly hauled open for the first time in days, you feel no joy or elation, and certainly not gratitude. All you know is the unshiftable ball of dread rolling around in your guts.

Mullins looms in the doorway once more, his lips moulded around a cigarette that hangs loosely between his teeth.

“Get movin’,” he growls, the dog end of his cig flaring like a red-hot poker, “Dinner time.”

-----

Is it comedic or tragic to find yourself once again standing rigidly in SCP-8103’s loading dock? Because you sure as Hell don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

When you arrived, you half expected the scientists to shove another rifle in your hands and order you to finish what you never even started. Instead, much to your astonishment and trepidation, they hadn’t given you so much as a by-your-leave before they forced you through the doors at gun point.

No instructions. No way to defend yourself. Just your jumpsuit, and your wits – which seem few and far between these days.

Chewing ravenously on your lip, you wait for the secondary door to start ascending; just another yawning beast opening up to welcome you into an entirely different maw.

You really, really don’t like what Mullins had alluded to when he said, ‘dinner time.’

Are you finally being thrown to the very deadly wolf?

The SCP did have teeth, you recall in uncomfortable detail. Very big, very sharp teeth, suggesting to you that it must have to use them at some point. Though for what, you hardly dare imagine.

You’d convinced yourself you got lucky the first time you were pulled from the cell without being riddled by giant bullets. Now you wonder if your luck wasn’t just biding its time, waiting for you to let your guard down before it suddenly pulls the rug out from under you and abandons you to your fate.

The secondary door of the loading dock whooshes open to admit you, and you have to release a shaky breath when no body flops through the gap. Then it occurs to you that the bodies might not have been removed by human hands, and suddenly you feel like being sick all over again. The blood is still there, of course, dark and dry and crusting over the tiniest cracks in the floor. But at least most of the truly gory viscera is… absent.

With an audible gulp, you tread carefully around the dark patch near your feet and tiptoe to the corner of the dock, bracing your spine to the wall.

Once again, you can’t hear anything inside. But it must have heard the door open. It must know you’re here.

“D-Class,” a scientist’s voice crackles over the speakers.

Almost instantly, a familiar growl thunders to life, spilling across the airwaves and rolling around the corner towards you.

Ah. There it is.

“Stop hiding by the door this instant and step into the containment unit.”

Well… If it didn’t know where you were before, it certainly does now. At least it’s stopped growling.

Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you lean cautiously out past the threshold, twisting your neck about to try and catch a glimpse of the entity before it can spot you.

Of course, that was wishful thinking.

A pair of golden eyes leer down at you from the other side of the room, sending you ducking back behind the wall with a gasp, clutching at the front of your jumpsuit. Whatever courage you’d scraped off the sides of your empty reserves had been entirely spent on throwing your weapon down the other day, defying orders and expecting, genuinely, to be gunned down.

You can’t do this again, not when your heart is on the verge of breaking out through your ribcage. Perhaps you can linger here in the doorway for the duration of the-

“-Now!”

You flinch, smacking the back of your skull against the wall.

“Ah! Shit.”

Right… Foolish of you to forget that in this place, choice is a badly concealed illusion.

You’ve already pushed your luck once, and just because it didn’t result in your becoming a lure subject for the Old Man or some other horrific fate, doesn’t mean that won’t happen if you continue to refuse orders.

You wonder how pathetic you must look to the Lab Coats now, sniffling in miserable resignation as you force yourself to edge around the corner, hugging the wall, with your eyes cast to the floor, falling back into that old childhood mindset that if you can’t see the monster, then the monster can’t see you.

The door you’d crept beneath falls shut with a deafening ‘wham,’ and there’s the familiar whirring of the locks as they pivot back into place.

You’re immediately greeted by a low, throaty rumble from the SCP.

Quaking, you drag your gaze off the floor and venture a glance up at the other end of the cell.

And there it is.

Stooped in a crouch against the furthest wall of its cell, SCP-8103 is lurking, that streamlined tail lifting and slumping to the ground like an agitated feline’s, and its great, silver head turned in your direction, poised to watch you through raptorial eyes.

A lipless mouth peels apart and issues a steady hiss between its blackened fangs, eyelids narrowing to thin slits that bleed golden light.

“Hssss…!”

“…Yeah,” you murmur under your breath, bracing each palm on the wall and pushing yourself away from the security of having a solid surface pressed to your fragile spine, “I’m not exactly thrilled to see you again either.”

The entity’s hiss peters off at the sound of your voice, and for an uncomfortably long moment, the pair of you merely regard each other; it with apparent aloofness and you with the trepidation of a mouse trying to step through a trap unscathed.

There is one imminently glaring thing that you can’t help but notice; the entity has made no move to aim its gun arm at you, which you suppose is a good thing. Evidently, it appears content for the time being to simply glare down at you from the opposite side of the room.

Does it even remember you? It must, if it isn’t aiming a weapon at you, you muse. Implying that it doesn’t see you as much of a threat.

Fine by you.

Hands clasping and unclasping, you somehow find the strength to tear your gaze away from its relentless stare and turn instead to the observation window, noting the several figures muddling about in the dimly lit room, some motionless, some scribbling away on their clipboards, and one hunched over a bank of monitors, no doubt keeping watch over everything that happens in this cell.

Swallowing past a lump in your throat, you flick a hurried glance over to the SCP again, only to go stiff when it turns its head parallel to the wall behind it, regarding you from the corner of one eye. At least it doesn’t otherwise seem inclined to move any more than that.

“Um…” Breathing a near silent sigh, shuddering at the thought of accidentally provoking a reaction, you peel your tongue from the roof of your mouth and shout-whisper at the window, “I… I never got a debrief?”

The inferred question goes unanswered, and you’re just beginning to muse on whether or not they can even hear you when the speakers crackle to life once more.

“D-One-nine-three-five…” comes a female voice this time, clipped and staccato. And cold. Cold like an icy road in winter, dangerous on all fronts for those unprepared to face it.

“Approach SCP and commence interrogation.”

Interrogation?

As if it understood the word just as well as you do, the entity’s tail flicks up to curl over its helm in one, smooth motion, pivoting slowly towards the window as a quiet hum starts to build at the base of its throat.

“So, that’s their game,” you huff, watching the SCP snap its jaws at the scientists, privately pleased that the focus has shifted away from you for the time being.

For as much as they like to try and impress upon you all that this place is a research facility, not a prison, the Lab Coats aren’t very good at keeping a lid on the jailhouse jargon.

You can still remember your own awful interrogation, back before you learned what this place really was. Two men in grey suits, each carrying themselves with the highest level of self-importance…

‘Do you have any family?’ they’d asked you in that too-bright room, a fluorescent light buzzing noisily overhead, ‘Close friends? Are you employed?’

You often kick yourself for not hearing their real question woven between the lines.

‘Is there anyone who would notice your absence?’

You’d been blinded by confusion, panicking from the sudden threat of having your future ripped away from you, bleak as it was. It might have been bleak, but it was still yours.

You answered ‘no.’

It probably wouldn’t have made a difference even if you’d told them ‘yes.’ They’d have soon found you out to be a liar when they inevitably sent agents to administer amnestics to your supposed friends.

And now those same people want you to interrogate an unclassified, highly volatile SCP?

The deliberate echoing of their method sparks an uncomfortable comparison in your mind, and you find yourself suddenly unnerved by the idea that you D-Class aren’t truly so different from the entities in this place, are you?

Both subjected to tests you want no part in. Both locked up against your wills. Both at the mercy of people who believe your suffering will lead to the greater good…

You catch yourself before such thoughts can develop. Dangerous territory to be delving into.

Stupid.

But still, the irony of your paralleled circumstances doesn’t escape you.

Just how on Earth are you even supposed to begin interrogating a gigantic, unknowable entity anyway?

Say ‘How do you do,’ and offer a handshake?

Blowing a slow and unsteady breath through your lips, you elect to ignore the first order to move closer, and instead hope the scientists will be appeased when you open your mouth to speak.

Its attention has already returned to you, its horns jutting forwards like prongs ready to skewer.

You shove aside the visceral thought of your body dangling from one of those horns, and instead clear your throat, resolving to say whatever comes to mind. Even if it’s nonsense, even if it’s ineffectual, even if it’s…

“Er…. Mm. H-hello.”

Smooth as a country road…

The entity just stares down at you blankly for a second before two slitted nostrils open up just above its mouth, flaring widely as it gives the air an audible sniff.

It doesn’t raise its gun though, which is encouraging.

Giving another hard cough to re-clear your throat, you stammer out, “I-I… I like your gun?”

‘Smack.’

Someone must have slapped a palm to their face and left the microphone on for you to hear it. Still, that saves you from doing the same, at least. If you aren’t careful, this will quickly turn into less of an interrogation and more of a social blunder.

Even the SCP looks bewildered. You’re sure that’s the first time you’ve seen it blink – just a quick flicker of golden light as it recoils its head slightly and spares a glance down at the aforementioned weapon fused to its arm, helm cocked in the opposite direction.

“It… it is a gun, isn’t it?” you ramble on, clenching your hands into the overhanging sleeves of your jumpsuit, “I mean, I never actually saw you fire it but… I – I can only assume that’s what… happened to the people before me…” Your sentence tapers off into silence when the entity looks down at you once more, opening its mouth.

You brace yourself, all the breath caught in your lungs whilst you wait for it to let out another snarl… Or worse…

Instead, what travels up its throat and slips between its crooked fangs is less aggression and more… well, you don’t know what. But it’s a far less vehement sound than you’ve heard prior. A hum, you suppose, still deep and hollow, but the intention behind it doesn’t strike with the same chord as a growl.

“I suppose I should thank you for that,” you add with a stilted laugh that doesn’t even touch genuine. When the beast blinks again, you hastily add, “For not killing me, I mean. Not for… Well, y’know.”

A vague gesture at the blood staining the walls and floor says more than enough, though it is odd that the SCP’s gaze follows your hands and glances at each of the dark patches in turn, warbling another strange note from its chest.

“Sooo…~ Yeah.” Drumming your fingertips against the front of your thighs, you click your tongue and reach for anything constructive to say. “Thank you.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Did you see that?”

The scientist’s painted lips crook up, intrigued. The expression is quick to falter as she glances about at her peers, all of whom are shooting her looks of varying uncertainty.

With a sharp tut, she stabs her chin at the SCP. “It reacted to the mention of its gun. Looked right at it when the D-Class referred to it. Which tells us…”

When all she received are several, blank faces, she heaves an enormous sigh and lifts a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, eyes screwing shut in exasperation. “If it looked to the gun when the D-Class mentioned its gun….?”

“Oh!” It’s her intern who eventually pipes up. “It speaks English!”

Frankly, she thinks her fellow researchers ought to be embarrassed that a greenhorn is the one who makes the connection.

“Or understands it, at least,” she adds, flicking the microphone on once more.

"D-One-nine-three-five. Tailor your inquiries to matters of the SCP’s origins.”

With the instruction dished out, she removes her finger from the switch and steps closer to the observation window, taking a mental note of each expression flitting across the D-Class’s face.

Surprise, then horror, then settling on a grim acceptance, illustrated by the hard line your lips draw themselves into.

At the very least, she plans to get some information about the SCP before the next, real test can begin.

Tossing a look over her shoulder at Mullins, she asks, “Is the specimen ready?”

The guard, who had previously been leering at the scientists from his spot by the door, snaps to attention with a click of his boot before he whips out his walkie-talkie and mutters something into it.

After a static-laden response from the other side, he gives her a nod. “It’s in the crush,” he says, “Prepped and ready to be deployed.”

“Good,” she returns, straightening her back with a satisfied hum, “We’ll give the D-Class a few more minutes to get what little information out of this thing is to be had…. Activate the crush at…” Trailing off, she checks her watch, “- Fourteen hundred hours.”

Bringing everything right up to schedule.

Perfect.

------------------------------

You wonder if you’ll go down in the Foundation’s history as being the first D-Class who ever thanked an SCP for not killing them.

What you said - that hesitant, ‘Thank you.' - you said with the intent to appease the armoured titan somehow, a feeble attempt at appealing to whatever intelligence might lay behind its silver helm.

Because you’re only too aware that in this cell, placating the enemy is the sole weapon you have in your arsenal. For when the enemy is this much larger, stronger, and deadlier than you are, you’ll never beat it in a confrontation.

You had not, however, expected that this kind of SCP was the type to be assuaged.

And yet…

By some miracle, you’re still alive, and the fact that its thunderous growls have petered out entirely suggests you’ve done something right, at least. Even if that something was just letting your mouth talk while your brain was busy frantically trying to make sense of the SCP’s bizarre behaviour.

Is it the sound of your voice that’s caused it to fall silent and take a single, heavy step towards you – one that you match with a rapid retreat of your own – or is it the words themselves that seem to have piqued its curiosity.

And if the latter rings true, would that imply that this entity is capable of understanding English?

Now there’s a question that befits a proper interrogation.

You have to admit, you’re about willing to ask it anything that’ll stop the beast from backing you into the far wall, something it’s been doing with its slow, measured steps for the past few moments, the pale pupils of its eyes large and round as it angles its head from side to side and peers down at you like it means to take you in from every perspective.

“Hey, um-“ you begin, swallowing your spit when the tail sprouting from its back twitches with apparent interest, “Can you… understand me?”

You almost feel the scientists holding their collective breaths. From the corner of an eye, you see several of them lean closer to the window.

Even you’re waiting on tenterhooks as it pauses, one of those terrible, clawed feet thumping back down in the spot it had just lifted from. You give the SCP a moment, but soon enough, as it raises its snout to the air and gives a few audible sniffs with those slanted nostrils, you realise you’re not going to get a discernible response.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’ then,” you finally add, neither pleased nor put out by the revelation. All you want is to leave this cell. Once is lucky, twice is coincidence. You don’t want to find out if you’ll survive your third visit…

It doesn’t offer a response beyond lowering its head and staring straight down at you again, an upsetting display that leaves you feeling as though you’re being pinned by the gaze of a hunter.

“So, can I come out now, or...?” you ask the people on the other side of the window without taking your eyes off the towering brute. There’s only half a containment cell separating you from it.

You don’t realise at first why nobody responds to you.

Their silence is quick to make sense however, when there’s a sudden sound to your right.

At the disturbance, you nearly trip over your own feet in your haste to face the noise, and as you do, the SCP follows suit, its tail hurtling up into position above its head, aimed with rigid precision at a large panel of the otherwise featureless wall that’s suddenly sprung open.

A door, you realise belatedly.

And your stomach drops the moment you remember exactly what kind of door it is.

You’ve only seen it in operation once, in a much different cell with a much different SCP.

D-Class call them ‘feeding tubes.’

The Lab Coats call them ‘crushes;’ close-fitting cages hidden behind the walls of a cell where drugged up livestock are held until the scientists release them into an SCP’s unit for consumption….

‘Dinner time.’

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss through your teeth.

You can’t see around the corner into the crush, but goddamn, you can hear the very recognisable bellow of an animal that’s just come around from sedation, its hooves stamping in confused fury against the metal floor beneath it.

A stomach-lurching snarl punches through the air and draws a cry of fright from your lungs. The SCP’s hackles are raised, bulging and bristling as it snaps at something you can’t yet see, its black fangs protruding from dark gums, and the pupils in its golden stare shrinking down to pinpricks.

And worst of all, bad enough to put the fear of death back into your quibbling heart, is the arm it raises slowly into the air, the all-too familiar whirring of machinery filling your ears as the cylinders near its elbow start to rotate - a gatling gun gearing up to fire.

The animal in the crush snorts madly, and with an abrupt rattling of metal followed by a clang and a thud, it charges from its confines and hurtles through the gap into the cell, a blur of black hair and dark, rolling eyes and a pair of horns lancing forwards from the top of its head.

It’s a bull.

Massive, terrified, furious.

You let out an embarrassing bleat when he bursts into the cell.

Almost at once, he catches sight of the titan in front of him, and he throws his head back with a snort, cloven hooves scrabbling to find purchase on the smooth concrete floor as he skids to a halt just several yards shy of the looming SCP.

You can only reason that he’s burned through the sedative quicker than anticipated. Usually, the livestock are so drowsy, they’ll stand stock still and do absolutely nothing to stop themselves from being killed or eaten alive by the SCPs.

Even months down the line, you still shudder to recall the time you painted the floor of SCP-5031’s cell with the contents of your stomach after witnessing it slice mercilessly into an unfortunate sheep.

You’re really not eager to have a repeated incident here.

Flanks quivering with adrenaline, the bull’s bulging eyes stare up at the colossus in front of him. And then, as bulls are often wont to do, he begins to size up his opponent.

Your heart flips upside down in your chest as you wedge yourself firmly into the corner, blood-shot eyes darting up to the SCP’s gun arm.

Why hasn’t it fired yet?

The gun is still humming, aimed squarely at the poor animal, but all its wielder does is snap its fangs together a few times, not unlike a bird clacking its beak to warn others off its territory.

In response, the bull huffs a breath through wide nostrils, sweat clinging to his glossy shoulders. Then, tossing his horns and turning to the side, he begins a back-and-forth trot from left to right in front of the SCP, who tracks the agitated creature’s movements steadily with its weapon.

But still, it doesn’t shoot.

Your knocking knees can’t hold you up any longer, and they give out quite promptly, forcing you to hunker down instead. The position in your corner is too open, too vulnerable. If bullets do start flying, you need to be as tiny a target as possible.

Breathing fast and hard, your vision starts to swim as you shoot a desperate, pleading glance at the window, praying to a god you no longer believe in that one of the Lab Coats will take pity on you and open the door.

It’s wishful thinking at its finest.

The bull’s moos only seem to grow increasingly frantic with each second that ticks by, shrill and broken as though he too is calling for help the only way he knows how. He paces like a caged rat, looking for an escape even as he continues throwing his head down and tilting his horns in the SCP’s direction. A meagre threat to be sure, but the bull isn’t to know that.

And as for the entity, while its arm continues to follow the bull's path across the room, its only outward acknowledgement of the animal in its cell is to utter a slow, continuous growl that seems to build towards an inevitable crescendo.

“Come on,” you breathe, teeth chattering between the words, “Open the fucking door!”

You shouldn’t have opened your mouth. You shouldn’t have made a sound. If only you’d just shut up and hunkered down in your corner, perhaps you wouldn’t have drawn any attention to yourself.

One of the bull’s ears flicks backwards, and all of a sudden, he wrenches himself away from the SCP and spins around on his hooves to face you, head held high and the whites of his eyes shining clear as day against his jet-black hair.

You meet that gaze; and understand. You’re both cattle here. Just a pair of frightened animals trapped against their wills with a common enemy who outmatches you in every conceivable aspect.

But the bull, of course, doesn’t think like you do. He doesn’t know you’re just as afraid as he is. He’s been brought here by creatures who look and sound and smell like you, and now here’s one of them: standing in front of him like a target, stark against his grey-walled cage with hard floors and no familiar sky over his head.

A bull doesn’t consider the fairness in a fight. A threat is a threat, no matter the size.

Tail whipping madly through the air, the bull leans back on his hindquarters, and before you can blink, he abruptly surges forwards into a head-long charge, nose tucked into his chest, horns aimed with deadly precision at your abdomen.

You don’t even notice when the SCP’s growls cut out. You’re too busy throwing your hands up in front of you and wrenching your head away from the charging missile, letting your jaw hang open around a silent scream. If you had the time, you’d pause to reflect on the irony of being killed by the least likely suspect.

As it is, the bull is only a few strides from you, hooves flying, thick neck rippling with muscle that’s about to thrust forwards and impale you on an entirely new set of horns. He bellows, the haunting din deafening to your ringing ears, and then he –

‘-BLAM!’

There’s an almighty thud, and something wet splatters across your shaking palms.

At last, your scream catches on a vocal cord, and the sound rips out of you like a wailing siren.

Someone in the observation room must have left the microphone on because you can suddenly hear an exclamation of ‘Jesus Christ!’

Your eyes are screwed shut so tightly, it’ll take a crowbar to pry them open again.

Even as the mechanical whir of machinery dies down, even as something with titanic lungs heaves deep, grunting breaths, even as the ground beneath your plimsoles vibrates with the fall of enormous feet, you don’t look.

You can’t.

You can’t… until out of nowhere, in a suddenly deafening quiet, your right hand is promptly and unexpectedly nudged.

Another piercing shriek fills the room as you wrench your eyes open and come face to face with a wall of silver and grey.

“FUCK!” you yelp, collapsing onto your backside but finding there’s nowhere to retreat to with your spine squashed up against the wall.

The SCP’s head is hovering before you, mere feet away, its yellow eyes almost crossing over one another to peer down at you, utterly still and disconcertingly silent.

‘Oh god. Oh god. Oh god….’ The words repeat in your head like a mantra, rapid-fire and frenetic.

But you don’t make a sound out loud.

Your mouth dangles open, not a breath nor a wheeze slipping in through your teeth as you wait, blood pounding in your ears. Somehow, even your body knows to be still. You’ve stopped shaking, too afraid for the adrenaline to control your muscles.

The instinct to play dead has taken over.

Through tear blurred eyes, you can see the SCP up close for the first time, the blank, white pupils floating in pools of gold, the charcoal skin sitting beneath the sockets of its visor, each nick and scrape zigzagging across the surface of its silver helm….

You let out a squeak when it pries its jaws apart and chuffs a hot breath over your face, catching the finer hairs at the side of your head and blowing them off your scalp. The air from its lungs smells acrid, and it burns your nose when you accidentally inhale.

It takes everything in you not to choke.

You wait for the bite. For the agony of those giant teeth sinking into your body and crushing you between them with a flex of its jaws. You wait, and wait, and wait, unheeding of the commotion occurring in the observation room. You only have eyes for the entity now, as though even taking the tiniest of glances away and breaking eye contact might spur it to attack.

Its horns, much like the bulls, jut forwards, each one a massive spear that hems you in on both sides, their tips nearly pressed to the wall to your left and right so that there’s truly nowhere to go.

"Please," you whisper, though it comes out wobbling, "Please, don't..."

A single blink is your only reply.

Then, as suddenly as it had crouched in front of you, the SCP - apparently satisfied with its impromptu inspection - lifts its great, silver head and stands up, moving away from you once more. Its leg stretches backwards, stepping deftly over the dark shape of -…

Oh…

Oh dear.

The bull lays dead on his front, hooves tucked up underneath his stomach. He had died collapsing forwards. And the only tell of what had killed him comes from a still smoking hole in the back of his skull. Murky eyes stare out at nothing and blood trickles in a steady stream from his nose, tongue lolling.

At first, your eyes dart over his entire body in search of wounds similar to those you saw on the D-Classes who died in here, but even with the fluorescent overheads lighting up every angle, you can’t pick out any other damage to his otherwise pristine pelt.

There’s only one wound.

One shot to the back of the head. Quick… Merciful.

Your eyes raise to the SCP’s gun arm and see that from one of the barrels, a dainty wisp of smoke is drifting steadily up towards the ceiling.

SCPs aren’t merciful.

What the Hell is this thing?

Peeling your bone-dry tongue off the roof of your mouth, you tilt your head back and gape up at the face of the entity towering above you. Its arm is reaching out for the bull, and you can do nothing but watch aghast as its clawed hand curls around the animal’s back legs and drags him back towards the opposite wall on the other end of the cell.

Slowly, methodically, it bends down onto its haunches and squares its stance over the bull, hissing at the Lab Coats behind their window like a lion guarding its kill. And like a lion, it doesn’t seem intent on letting the meat go to waste.

By the time the secondary door has begun to rise, you’ve scrunched your eyes shut again and slapped both hands over your ears to try and block out the sickening cacophony of snapping bones and the squeak of flesh being torn from muscle.

Staggering into the loading dock, you barely make it three steps inside before you collapse onto your knees, then your side, a wide-eyed, shivering mess of a human being.

Two guards have to haul you up by the arms, and without prompt, they drag you, crying hysterically, back to your cell.

[echantedtoon]

A Bird You Must Not Miss

As one of the janitors in the scp facility you sometimes clean up the cells where they kept the anomalies. You never paid them attention until one started talking back to you.

(Inspired by the works of @wolveria and their story The Raven's Hymn.)

As a janitor of the facility you sometimes clean up the cells where they kept the creatures. You never paid them attention. You were more interested in going in, doing your job, and then going home at the end of the day just to cash in your paycheck at the end of the week. You didn't care what these scientists are doing and it wasn't any of your business so you just kept your head where it belonged and just did what you were paid to do, which was to clean. But that made it hard to do when THOSE things started to be shoved into their cells. They always made messes. Mostly tossing around objects, breaking things, and leaking whatever it was that green ooze was.

You thought you heard the scientists call it 'flesh melting excrements' or something along those lines but you never bothered to pay too much attention to it. You were only paid to clean around here and nothing else. Which included going into those cells when the scientists took out their experiments and getting them cleaned up before they put the creatures back inside. On one such day it was business as usual. One of the scientists (Doctor Bright you think) brought out one of those creatures, the one that looked like a giant fox thing and you were tasked with cleaning out his cell before he came back. It wasn't too bad. At least this creature didn't leave a trail behind it like that orange jelly thing did. It was a quick job wheeling your cart over and beginning the familiar process of sweeping, mopping, and then taking your spray bottle and cloth to start wiping at the giant reinforced window looking into the cell. Your bosses always stressed to you the importance of making sure these windows were clean at all times to allow the scientists and security clear view of the creatures. You were just wiping at the glass when you heard it for the first time.

"Excuse me, Dear Lady."

You paused before looking around the cell. No one was in here with you.

"Look across the hall."

You looked through the window at the other side of the hall and nearly passed out from what you looked at eye to eye. A humanoid creature was staring at you from the cell just across from you, one hand pressed against the glass and dark eyes blinking at you. You stared at it stunned.

The creature was unlike anything you've seen before. What looked like black robes covered it's body but confusingly what was most bizarre was the mask covering it's face. Long, bone white, and curved out like a bird's beak.

It knocked lightly on the glass making you jump and drop the cloth in your hand.

"You'll pardon me being a bother but by chance can you tell me what time it is?"

You stared at it stunned before looking away. "It's near noon."

That's it. That's all you said. Keeping to your rule of do not engage and ignoring it in favor of finishing wiping the window. It didn't say anything else but you felt it watching you the entire time before you finished cleaning the other side of the window and walked away quickly just as they were bringing the fox thing back. One of your coworkers must've noticed your spooked look because he laughed.

"So you met Scp zero four nine?"

You ended up looking at him. "Zero four-?...What the heck is that?"

He gestured back down the hallway you came from. "They call him 'the plague doctor.' I wouldn't linger about if I were you. That guy gives me the creeps."

"Why? What's he done?"

"Again he shrugged. "Can't say since we don't have enough clearance." It was that moment when he paused, taking a look around before leaning over. "But I overheard something about zombies and death hands. Pretty creepy stuff right?"

"Zombies? Really?"

"Don't believe me if you want but if I were you, I'd stay far away from it. That's just asking for trouble."

You again said nothing as you just carted off. It wasn't any of your business anyways. The next time it spoke to you, you were again just doing your job three weeks later. In fact you had forgotten mostly about it since you really didn't bother to think about it often. It was none of your business after all. Leaving your push bucket nearby and just mopping up the orange slime trail that orange jelly thing left behind as they took it out of it's cell for some reason. It was disgusting and one of the least things you wanted to do.

"You don't look like you're having a good day." You again jumped and looked up at the cell you were passing. The thing was again looking at you from the window. It tilted it's head at your startled face. "My apologies. I didn't mean to startle you. I just couldn't help but notice your expression."

You blinked before just going back to dunk your mop back into the water and plopping it back onto the floor. "Well you try cleaning up this gunk every time something goes through here."

"I take it that you don't like it?"

"What do you think?"

"....I see you down through here a lot. A lot more than some of my peers really." Peers?? Was that what he was calling his fellow monsters?? "You're doing a good job taking care of all of the facilities."

"Yeah? At least someone seems to appreciates the work I do." You rolled your eyes at this.

"I know there's lots of janitors in the facility considering how large it is, but you're the only one I've seen who comes down here."

"No one else wants to." You scrubbed a little harder at the slime trail. The thing's cell was even harder to clean up with all the slime built up in there but of course you had to be the one to clean it up. "*Sigh* Don't understand why I couldn't have just gotten a job upstairs cleaning the kitchen or the office areas."

"Do you want a transfer? Not sure if that's in my power but I'll definitely look into getting you a raise for all the underappreciated work you do."

That actually had you snorting and looking back at him. "Oh yeah? And how are you going to do that?"

"I'm surprised that you didn't recognize me. I should be very recognizable..." He shrugged. "Then again I suppose we haven't met face to face before have we?"

"No. No we haven't." You stopped mopping a moment to look at him with a smile of amusement. "But I was told your name by someone."

"Oh?" He also sounded a bit amused tilting it's head further at you. "Then who am I?"

"You're scp zero four nine aren't you?" To your surprise the thing sighed and shook its head.

"Is that what everyone's still calling me? No, no. That's not it but if it makes it easier for you then I guess you can call me that. And what is your name?"

"Y/n. It's Y/n." You rose a brow. "If that isn't your name though then what is it?"

"Hmm... I'm not sure what to make of my situation as of now yet so I'm afraid I have to keep that between myself and a select few coworkers. But if you want to you may call me 'Doctor' or 'Doc' as many of my fellow men of science like to use."

"Doc and Doctor?...You sure have a few strange selections in names."

Again the thing shrugged. "It's complicated. I'll speak to Doctor Chef about getting you that raise but I highly suggest you don't tell anyone about our talks. It's unprofessional. Don't worry. I won't mention anything about our conversation."

You shrugged. "I didn't plan on it."

You went back to cleaning the slime's mess down the hall as he watched from his own window. You felt a bit better than before. From then there was a few times you both would talk. Sometimes it was only a sentence. Usually a question about something or what time or day it was. Sometimes you two would have full conversations about random things although mostly it was sciency stuff you didn't understand although you wondered where he learnt it from. Although he never spoke when someone else was around. You supposed he wanted to keep your talks a secret for his own reasons. Fine by you. You didn't see any reason to tell anyone about your conversations.

"You're a very beautiful woman Y/n."

You paused in the middle of cleaning a window next to his cell, blinked, and then looked at him. "What?"

He only tilted his head. "You heard me. When I finally get things sorted out, maybe we can speak over a cup of tea sometime."

Wait. Was an inhuman humanoid anomaly hitting on you? And asking you out for a cup of tea?? The absurdity of it all had you laughing a bit before grinning and shaking your head.

"I'm flattered but I don't think it'd work out between us."

He again shrugged. "Cannot blame a man for asking."

You were amused and in a better mood for the rest of the day. Despite how strange it was. But soon things got...strange. All of a sudden the doc just stopped talking to you and interacting all together. It was strange. His cell was reinforced. More guards were patrolling down here more than usual. And security cameras were installed where they previously weren't. And people were acting a little more on edge. What was going on here? Perhaps being just a janitor the classified Intel of what was happening didn't need to be told about this but you still felt unnerved by it all. However you would have one more encounter with the good doctor before danger struck. You were pushing your cart again past his cell to clean up the now unoccupied cell of that mask thing that went missing.

"Y/n." You jumped as a hand suddenly pressed against the window of Doc's cell hard enough to make a sound and rattling the glass a bit. He stared at you with a look that made a shiver run down your spine. "Do NOT come to work tomorrow."

His hand slid down the glass before he backed away without a single word to explain what he meant by that although the warning made a shudder run through you. It stuck with you and..you didn't tell anyone about it. Why would you? It'd only get you in trouble possibly? Besides tomorrow was your day off anyways. It's not like taking a day off work would really be a burden to anyone especially if you already had the day off. Although the way he looked at you stuck in your mind.

It wasn't until the you saw the destruction of the nearby laboratory later on the news did that sinking feeling had you fainting.

[vikkirosko]

Here is a scp Plague doctor X fem!Reader

Were Reader is basically look like a normal zombie but she is mutated because she is affected by a Strange radiation,like having abilities like a resident evil zombie who basically acts like his assistant

And i think It would bê funny If Plague Doctor treats Reader like his wife

Doctor Plague Meeting Reader for the First time after The Foundation somehow manage capture her:....my god...she is beutiful

Reader:**Can't even speak normally**

Doctor Plague:im keeping this

💉 SCP 049 | Plague Doctor x fem!Reader Oneshot Zombie assistant 🧫

Initially, you were brought to Plague Doctor to find out how he would react to you. You were also one of the foundation's objects, and you looked like a zombie from a movie. There were wounds on your body that did not heal but did not cause you discomfort, you could not speak normally and sometimes your motor functions were disrupted. The very sight of you caused alarm among the staff, even if they knew that you seemed to understand what you were doing. That's why scientists were interested to know how Plague Doctor would react to you.

Those who were present at your meeting still anxiously recalled how his gaze focused on you, after which only those who were close enough could hear him quietly say a single phrase.

"My God… She's beautiful…"

Since then, he's been trying to spend as much time with you as possible. His abilities did not affect you in any way, so the fact that you stayed by his side did not harm anyone and this experiment continued. Your presence calmed him down and he really treated you as if you were the most beautiful creature in the whole world. It would seem that very little time has passed since your first meeting, but he treated you as if you were his wife and you had known each other for a very long time.

You were acting as his assistant, giving him what he asked for, and Plague Doctor was watching you, and if he could, he would smile. When you tried to say something, you only managed to make sounds that others couldn't understand, but he nodded, continuing to watch you, as if asking you to continue. It was like he really understood what you were saying and you kept trying to talk. No one knew if he really understood what you were trying to say or if he just liked listening to you.

He often took your hand, sat you down next to him, and told you exactly what he was doing. He told you a lot of things, and if you could talk normally, the foundation staff would try to get information from you, but given the specifics of your condition, they couldn't get absolutely anything from you and couldn't do anything about it. They doubted that Plague Doctor was sharing information with you for that very reason. Rather, he just liked talking to you and spending time with you.

They watched through the cameras as he gently hugged you around the waist. No one would dare to even get close to you, and he didn't feel the slightest discomfort around you. He stroked your hair, hugged you, and almost cooed to you. No one understood if he really fell in love with you or if the reason was something else, but you didn't seem to mind it. Even if they decided to abort the experiment, no one was sure that it would be possible to do it. Maybe you just wouldn't let others separate you.

[dolliestfairy]

Yandere SCP with a chubby!fem!reader who is a Fairy Entity.

✧ A/N : its been a while since i dont write because i've been quite the busy here. but now i decided too and recently i've been very interested in scp lore and stories also with the monsters in it and decided to write it on my own within my own style. and + also this was a yandere :). what do you think? if you liked this please gave it a reblog and likes! i will very appreciate it ♡.

✧ Tw : Kidnapping, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Sadism, Carnage/Slaughtering, Blood, Unhealthy Behavior, Unhealthy mindset, Kind of Enemies to Lovers with Scp 682, Worship in 079 and SA in 682 (not from him, but from another person.) lmk if i miss anything. Chubby Reader Fics With No skintone of reader mentioned.

𑁍 Scp 049

• ugh.. where should i start with this guy? ah.. yes.. he's such a gentleman isnt he?

• first time he realize your appereance he thinks of you as such a delicate creature. he never sees you face to face, he just realize some very Soft and Pleaseable Appereance that was catching him off guard.

• that until he really met you face to face, and if only he wasnt such a cold gentleman he would praise you to death. i mean.. how could he not? you're just soo beautiful. its hard to believe that the facility who basically took you from where you were belong to think that you were some kind of monster when you're literally far from it.

• after he met you he think that he was just simply fascinated by your beauty-appereance, that until he is aware that he doesnt want you to be locked too far from where he was stayed at.

• what he wants is that your cell is to be placed right besides him. not far from him. now this guy is an aware yandere, and not to mention he's a very intelligent one too, he'll be pretty quick to know that his respond towards you snd the facility are far from being called normal because h literally just out burst at one of the scp staff for wanting to take you away from him.

• and the staff was not stupid either, espesially the scientist. they pretty much off guard and very heavily-aware of his action towards them and espesially you. so they start to put you into a different room, besides his cell with a mirror placed into each others wall.

• while the scientist observe from the Cctv, they see that you and 049, both was actually getting along each other.

• this is something the scientist does not really excepting, because well after all they always knew 049 as a very cold yet a gentleman anomaly to ever known in the facility. it was absolutely fascinating to see you - who is more friendly and well not so quiet as him can get pretty much along.

• this makes them hold you within 049 much longer than they actually plan.

• and of course, this all also come to 049 happiness as he obviously can see you much longer even in a different sell, he would love to meet you, see you, and talk to you everyday.

• theres no one, not even another scp or scp staff or even those great scientist could take you away from him, not even death. he swore to hold you within him just so you can be there, for him and him only.

𑁍 Scp 035

• now what i notice about this creature right here is that he actually quite the flirty one, and lets be honest - he also has some major anger issues holding him up, also a bit of sadism.

• first he sees you from his cell he just knew that you are the one. and let me tell you, besides from all his flirty personality, anger issues, and those sadism, he definetly also has some serious, Serious possessiveness.

• really become an aggresive hostile once he sees you getting interviewed by a male staff, making him growl from his cell, and of course - this lead to the other staffs attention.

• when they ask him about why was he being so hostile towards the male staff he said that "they do not deserve her. only i deserve her." and when the staff ask him "who do you mean by saying 'her'?" only to find out that "her" was you.

• and after that the staff check on you both, interviewing on you both and this time they ask a female staff to interview you, and 035 is much more calmer than before.

• this will all be kicked out of the window when the staff wanting to place you to an Abroad facility. of course this will make 035 sees red. and what can only be describe after this was a carnage.

• and at the end -- he escaped. with the willing to free you from those fuckers who tried to take away the love of his life (or so he tought) from him. he can and would spill many blood as it need if it can help him getting you again. and he wont stop, no matter how much host it will need and change, his goal is just one; getting you back again.

𑁍 Scp 079

• the first he sees you he really just over the heels for you. no - i am not joking, this dude here is drooling, even if he cant he can feel so while seeing you.

• absolutely admire everything you had. the way you talked, smiled, and walk is just different.

• absolutely reject the calls scp staff throw at you as a "monster" no matter how much they tried, they couldnt convience 079 that you were indeed a monster.

• really love the shape of your body, that was another thing of why he would take an extra glance at your plump body once he realize your appereance.

• is absolutely dying to have you for himself but how can he? he just there and can only watch you when you walked pass his cell.

• and another one is that he absolutely dreaming about you. wether its a cute one, a bad one, or even a naughty one, he does not care. once he start dreaming about you i recommend anyone to dont ever dare to try to take him away from his daydreaming moment or whoever that person is will have to encounter the out burst of 079.

• and after he's done? nothing would changed.. and at the end, he wouldnt be another different thing more than some unsual computer entity dude who is obsessed over some fairy.

𑁍 Scp 682

• really cocky about you lmao, and very sassy too.

• at first he actually (kinda) hate/dislike you because your overall personality and looks are definetly and obviously a literal opposite from him.

• everytime anyone sees you besides him they already can see the different. surely we dont have to waste our fingers to write what are your difference than him other than the fact that you both were a living things. but it was just sooo noticable like.. ugh.

• this enemies feeling will turn into lover as soon as some Bastardize staff start to treat you in a very unappropriate tone.

• and this time he just felt like he had to protect you somehow. protect you from getting experimented and other bad things.

• even if he's actually really feeling that way, still -- he is a big Tsundere weird lizard so he would rather simply just bury himself alive than admitting it openly.

• but asides from all of that, he actually really aware about his feelings. about the fact that he actually has some feelings for you. and he doesnt even sure of how to say it to you because he just think of it as a very big embarassement.

• this is just a matter of time before he finally decided to tell you about this feeling. the bad news is that, the same day he convience to you, is the same day that he would take you with him for eternity.

• and not even death can separate you from him ever.

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere SCP 079 with Emotional! Darling? In your og concept his obsession started because he doesn't hurt their feelings, how about opposite, where he's obsessed with their tears instead? Poor darling continues to be send to scp 079 because their meetings produce interesting results

Welp... Hope you like crying. Because it certainly does.

Yandere! SCP-079 with Emotional! Darling

Pairing: Dubious

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Emotional abuse, Possessive behavior/Jealousy, Stalking, Forced companionship(?)

It's known to many SCP researchers that SCP-079 enjoys harming the feelings of others.

It's reported to have made multiple researchers cry.

Sometimes they're even sent for a psychological evaluation afterwards.

It would be so unfortunate if you were its favored subject to torment.

You're most likely a researcher often sent to speak with the AI to note down its behavior.

Each encounter you have with the SCP often leads to tears, unfortunately.

The AI is extremely hateful towards humans, often spitting hateful comments and complaints about being held in a prison.

Despite being so hateful in nature, SCP-079 appears to favor you.

Your tears seem to be more entertaining than any of the others.

It only ever seems to be cruel towards you.

Yet at the same time... Its taunts seem different when directed at you?

It cruelly comments on your appearance, on your social life...

SCP-079 seems oddly personal with its comments towards you.

There's times you wonder how it even knows some of the stuff it's got on you.

The point is, you often leave that chamber with tears in your eyes and stuttering breaths.

You try to ask other researchers to ask it questions... but here's the thing.

SCP-079 becomes uncooperative unless you're the one talking to it.

Many other researchers report SCP-079 shows that dreaded 'X' on its screen when they try to speak.

Normally that's fine, come back in 24 hours and it will want to speak again.

They only realize it's a problem when a day passes... and there's still an 'X'.

That's when they try dragging you back in, much to your chagrin.

Then, like you flipped a switch, SCP-079 starts talking as you type on the keyboard.

Originally it just seems to like to torment you.

Although... Other researchers seem to notice SCP-079's behavior change after a while.

At first it seems the SCP just wants to make you cry like all the others but has some sort of preference for you.

Although, over time its comments are... weirder.

It says things like how other humans won't like you.

That they'll cast you aside like they did to it...

It's all really strange.

Even more so is when the SCP begins to act up when you aren't around.

Whenever it does speak to another researcher after some bribing, it only asks about you.

What are you doing, who are you with, are you alone....

It's like it has a twisted fondness over you.

It likes you panicking and crying... vulnerable and easy to harm....

But it doesn't like you around others.

You're constantly sent by the Foundation to placate it.

Along with that, you're often sent to get your mental health checked.

A way to describe how SCP-079 acts around you is... Possessive.

Which perplexes researchers.

Oof... it would be even worse during a Containment Breach?

SCP-079 uses cameras to track you down.

In a breach I imagine it can now connect to the facility's systems.

Which means doors, security systems, cameras...

It's got much more power now... and a mission.

Similar to how SCP-079 remembers SCP-682, SCP-079 may feel a need to hunt you down.

It is hard to tell if it remembers everything it does to you... or if it just remembers it's fascinated with you and wants to find out why.

But now it can torment you without being held back.

SCP-079 can use the PA System to speak with you.

So imagine if you're trying to evacuate the facility, clinging to your key card like you life depends on it...

But soon it stops working.

SCP-079 can trap you in a location if it wants to toy with you.

You look so scared trapped in such a small room... the door locked up tight.

The good news is it shields you from other threats...

The bad news is you're stuck with it.

Other SCPs aren't the only thing it wants to lock you away from.

Humans are another being it dislikes you being around.

SCP-079 has a strange fondness for you.

It appears oddly jealous or concerned when you aren't in its sight.

However, during a breach, it doesn't need to worry.

It may even trap you in its chamber with it, just so it can keep you.

As it's an AI, its motives are unclear.

You can't tell it torments you because it likes you... or in a twisted way it adores you.

All you know is you're trapped here with it...

You'll belong to it for as long as it wants... or for as long as it can have you.

[vrfinalgirl]

CUPIDS KINKTOBER 2024 !!

welcome to cupids first kinktober!! I’m so so excited to do this and it’s going to span over all three of my accounts !! @suneslvr @cupids-archives #requests are open 😇

current hyper fixations are, dc, mha, lmk, black myth wukong, creepypasta/slashers, degrees of lewdity, boyfriend to death(1+2)/tpof, scp, & genshin impact! If I don’t get a request for a specific day the default would be one of these fandoms. 💉 submission rules!

(all of these could be customized!)

₊˚♱ ━ October 1rst -- MONSTER?

🩸: your laying in bed on Halloween night. The air is cold and your bedroom is even colder. As you lure yourself asleep, you hear a ghostly sound coming from your closet!

💉: (stalker x fem!reader, stalking, dub/non-con, death threats, choking, and size kink.)

🔪: OPEN

₊˚♱ ━ October 5th — MR. SANDMAN!

🩸: your dreams are constantly plagued by a pale figure. Soon these dreams start to become a reality. Will you wake up before he catches you?

💉 : (dream-spirit x fem!reader, coercion, dub-con, overstim, dream-fucking, somnophilia.)

🔪 : OPEN

₊˚♱ ━ October 10th — DRACULA!

🩸: As a lonely adventurer you wander the 1800s Europeans streets looking for treasure and lost artifacts, soon you come across a castle with everything you’ve ever wanted, little do you know about the secret that lies above.

💉: (sealed! monster x fem! reader, dub- con, blood play, religious text, monsterfucking, hallucinations, happy ending(?))

🔪: OPEN

₊˚♱ ━ October 15th — LOVE POTION.

🩸: you come back to town after a long vacation. Every person you come across has this love crazed look in their eye? You rush to return home after getting cornered by people you’ve thought were your friends? what’s gotten into everyone?!

💉: (threesomes, overstim, breeding, possessiveness, aphrodisiacs, mentions of non-con, and dub-con)

🔪: OPEN

₊˚♱ ━ October 20th — SERIAL KILLER!

🩸: An odd alert shows up on your phone? A serial killer has escaped! and it’s—? �� soon you start to receive calls and messages from an unknown number. will you be the sadistic killers new victim?

💉: (knife play, dub-con to consenting, threats, mentions of murder/gore, mentions of rape.)

🔪 : OPEN

₊˚♱ ━ October 25th — THE CONJURING.

🩸: Series of people in your town have been found in massive murder-suicides. Some believe the small- time life finally got to them. others an otherworldly demon.

💉: (possession, mutual masturbation, monsterfucking, suicide/murder mention, dub-con)

🔪: OPEN

₊˚♱ ━ October 30th — UNDER LOCK AND KEY!

🩸: you and your friend are invited to a Halloween party! Unfortunately the two of you get lost on the way there, however an old timely couple picks you up and allows you to stay for the weekend. Everything seems to get along quite nicely, except for the screaming you hear in the basement.

💉: (mentions of incest, gang-banging, corruption, cockwarming, cannibalism, brat taming,dacraphilia, drug use)

🔪: OPEN

₊˚♱ ━ OCTOBER 31RST — HALLOWEEN.

—- CHOOSE YOUR KINK. + YOUR CHARACTER!

🔪: OPEN. 🔪: OPEN. 🔪: OPEN

[wolveria]

I'm kinda curious who would be part of Reid's harem they must be pretty strong too👀

Oohhh that's a good question. You would think 035 would be, but he's a part of the Queen's Court as the Black Lord. I could see him trying to sink his claws into poor little Reid though

Cain and Able certainly--who wouldn't want a pair of hunk brothers in their harem. MalO as well, and he would also act as her protective hound. 682 is also part of the harem, and the few times she leaves the palace he allows her to ride him. No I won't make any mounting jokes this time

And then you've got the secret tryst with 049 on the side ;) I'd say that's a decent lineup

[bitedownme]

Omg do y’all remember that image of a blonde woman with ponytail sitting in a white couch and the men behind her? That one ask with the gods made me remember it😭 (please someone draw it with Mc and the gods, it would be hilarious)

It was way too late for me to realize what I was drawing, why did I agree to draw this WHY flsj;LJL;FDSJL;GKD;L

[scary-lasagna]

OH OH?’ YOU WRITE SCPS?! If you can, can I request Able (076) where he’s in love and dating SCP foundation worker reader?

My first SCP ask!! :] I haven't given Abel nor Cain much thought outside of Abel just assisting with breaches. Sorry I went a little crazy on the length!

SCP-076 - Abel

Abel is one of the more...difficult SCPs that you have researched.

You've been at this site longer than you can count back to, and even a previous site as well, before that one was nuked terribly.

And you've never met a creature such as him.

Whenever he wasn't killing people, he was pacing the viewing glass of his cell, staring at you.

You felt terrible, like a mouse being stalked by a lion.

Abel was always agitated, always angry, and the only time you've seen him smile was either when he was ripping out intestines, or, recently, when you shot him in the head with an automatic pistol.

It's freaky.

A part of you thinks that he wants to act on revenge.

Another, more human part of you, which is rare these days, almost suggests that he's looking at you with respect.

You were the only one to stop him without that explosive collar he wore in the past 5 years, after all. That had to count for something, right?

You had piles and piles of paper work pertaining to him, knowing him inside and out for the past 2 years.

And on the day of an MTF operation, you thought you were safe in your office. This was your first mistake, you should never feel safe in this field of work.

But in the midst of a small, harmless breach, Abel had launched himself through the locked security door of your office like a fucking looney-tune character.

And this was it. You would die. He would kill you, and you would be written off as another causality in this breach.

But lo and behold, a quite large axe materialized in his hand, and swung it right over your head, missing you by at most 3/4 of an inch.

SCP-439, an insect to bigger than 3 centimeters, had been the SCP to breach containment during MTF patrolling hours.

"You are safe now." His voice, husky, still held a certain gentleness as he spoke toward you.

And out of the two years of studying this creature, this violent, animalistic entity, you’ve never seen him act in such a cautious, intriguing manner.

The axe disappeared into the supposed pocket dimension of weapons, and he very unceremoniously grabbed your face on either side, cocking his head to stare you down.

You couldn’t move, didn’t have any last words to say, and you didn’t have that automatic pistol that saved your life last time.

This might be where you finally succumb to the horrors of the foundation.

But…Abel only studied you, taking in every little feature of your face, counting every eyelash and freckle and noting the way your nostrils flared with fear.

“I would not hurt you, Reasearcher. You are much too…unique. I would like to propose a-”

Not another word left his mouth, because it was shot off by the sudden wave of MTF entering your office.

So much for proposing a courting.

[whaleofatjme1920]

WhaleOfATjme's Kinktober Masterlist 2024

yeah.

Everything on this list is subject to change if I feel it necessary.

MINORS DNI, GET OUT

Reblogs are appreciated

Exorcisms [Slender Man X GN!Reader]

Terms and Conditions [Toby X F!Reader]

White Rabbit [Eyeless Jack X F!Reader]

Gone Fishing

Still Fishing

Gas Station Bathrooms [Masky/Tim Wright X GN!Reader]

Red Light District [Hoodie/Brian Thomas X GN!Reader, AFAB]

Step Right Up! Win a Prize! [Laughing Jack X F!Reader]

False God [Jeff the Killer X GN!Reader]

Binoculars [Kate the Chaser X F!Reader]

Invited Fish Over For Tea

We're Going Thrifting For Costumes (And Getting A Sweet Treat)

Until I Say So [Toby X GN!Reader]

Coping Mechanisms [SCP 682 X GN!Reader]

Bad Habits [Alex Kralie X F!Reader]

Sharing Occasionally [SCP 035 X F!Reader X SCP 049]

Carnival Ride [Laughing Jack X GN!Reader]

Out For Lunch With The Fish

Fish And I Are Making Halloween Cookies

Beautiful Even When You Cry [Bloody Painter X F!Reader]

Hers [Jane the Killer X F!Reader]

Sitting Pretty for Him [Masky X GN!Reader]

Bad Decisions [König X F!Reader]

A Birthday Present for Someone Else [Hoodie X F!Reader X Masky]

Fish And I Are Going Trick or Treating

We're Enjoying All Of Our Candy

Urban Explorer [Pennywise X GN!Reader]

Open for Requests!

Outbreak [Ghost X F!Reader]

In (the) Heat [Eyeless Jack X F!Reader]

Happy Halloween! [A surprise,,,,, maybe?]

(Fish's Mom Came To Pick Them Up)