#scps x reader

[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

[bitedownme]

[skyeconch]

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

[ghouljams]

Hear me out... SCP!141 with SCP288 (the marriage rings)

:>

GOD. YEAH.

Note from O5 regarding SCP-288 tests:

In an effort to make the members of SCP-141 more docile each male will be subject to no more than an hour to observe the effects of SCP-288 on their personality. It is hoped that SCP-288's memetic effect might neutralize their more dangerous impulses. I understand that this has raised some ethical questions with our more psychologically attuned staff. To which I say: proceed with the tests.

Testing Log, SCP-288:

Subject: SCP-141-A Research Note: Seems only right to start with the ring leader. Results: SCP-141-A is exposed to SCP-141 and brought into standard human containment unit(HCU) which has been outfitted to resemble a small apartment with simple luxuries. Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ offers him the ring box, he chuckles but takes it. "Sweetheart, ya shouldn't 'ave." He opens the box and inspects the rings. "matching set, cute." "If you would wear the-" Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ stops, frowns. "The men's ring?" SCP-141-A supplies. Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ nods, pressing the heel of her hand to her temple as SCP-141-A removes the men's ring and slips it onto his finger. SCP-141-A spends the next several minutes observing Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ silently. He tips his head then tugs a box of cigarettes from his pocket and pulls one free with his teeth. Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ takes a seat in the armchair and SCP-141-A pulls her back to standing with a hand under her elbow. "Ah, ah sweetheart, the couch." He sets her on the provided couch and searches his pockets for a lighter. "Darling-" He tips his head again, taking the cigarette from between his lips and holding it out to her. Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ takes a lighter from her pocket and lights the cigarette for him. "Those things give me a headache." Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ sighs. "Man upstairs won't shell for cigars." SCP-141-A takes a seat next to Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛, resting his hand on her knee. The two sit in silence as Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ rubs her forehead with her fingers. SCP-141-A's hand creeps up her thigh in the quiet. "You know-" SCP-141-A exhales smoke, Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ winces, her hand drops to his on her thigh. "You're hurting me." "-Not right for you to watch a man and his wife." [DATA CORRUPTED]

Testing Notes:

Computers in observation room C ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ due to SCP-141-A's ⬛⬛⬛⬛, security personnel dispatched to HCU ⬛⬛ after video feed was interrupted and the cameras were ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛. Security was able to intervene before SCP-141-A could [Data redacted]. Recommending Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ for immediate psychological examination.

Note from Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛:

I'm fine. Testing may resume.

-

Testing Log, SCP-288:

Subject: SCP-141-B Research Note: I thought we weren't doing any more tests on this guy? Note: Testing will continue. Results: SCP-141-B is exposed to SCP-141 and brought into standard HCU outfited to resemble a small apartment with simple luxuries. The ring box is left on the table with instructions. SCP-141-B places men's ring on his finger, and D-class personnel is let into the room. Announcement made informing SCP-141-B of "wife." SCP-141-B displays characteristics in line with typical SCP-288-2 exposure including: deference to authority, "doting" behavior, and discussions of family planning. "Wife" displays rapid behavior changes in line with SCP-288-1 exposure, making comments on the state of the house and attempting to use the kitchen to bake for SCP-141-B. Test halted after SCP-141-B's attempt to [redacted]. D-class "Wife" displays advanced cognitohazardous effects, and actively resisted staff attempts to neutralize memetic damage. Suffered severe seizures for ⬛⬛ hours before passing. Time of death ⬛⬛:⬛⬛PM. SCP-141-B unresponsive to questions, still smiling ⬛⬛⬛ hours post testing.

-

Testing Log, SCP-288:

Subject: SCP-141-C Research Note: I'm not going in there after what he did. O5 Note: Yes you are. Results: Immediately after placing SCP-288-2 on his own finger SCP-141-C goes after Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛, after several minutes of struggle Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ is wrestled to the ground and SCP-288-1 is forced onto her finger. SCP security staff prevented from intervening. SCP-141-C holds Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ against the ground with her arm twisted behind her back for several minutes, making her repeat bible verses regarding marriage and "wifely duties." He only lets her up upon completion and apologizes for punishing her. Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ smiles and nods along to his apology. Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ is kept on her knees beside the couch. Testing stopped when SCP-141-C removed his [redacted] from his trousers and told her to "open." Security staff were able to safely remove SCP-288-1 from Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛'s finger despite interference from SCP-141-C.

Testing Notes:

Recommending Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ for immediate psychological examination, and mental health leave. Denied

-

Testing Log, SCP-288:

Subject: SCP-141-D Research notes: audio logs and transcriptions pending review, staff may be editorializing these. O5 Notes: Someone muzzle the psych please. Results: SCP-141-D is exposed to SCP-141 and led into standard HCU furnished like small apartment with simple luxuries. His former psychiatrist Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ is handcuffed to the arm chair, she tugs at her restraints in a panic as SCP-141-D takes his seat on the couch. SCP-141-D reads instructions next to ring box and removes SCP-288-2, and places it on his finger. After a moment he steps around Dr.⬛⬛⬛⬛ in order to fiddle with the handcuffs. "Calm down sweet'eart, tryin' ta get ya outta the damn things." (Voice can be heard over receiver) Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛'s struggling only gets worse. SCP-141-D grabs her by the throat and holds her against the back of the armchair. Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ appears to be on the verge of hyperventilation. "Come on." SCP-141-D breaks the chain on one of her cuffs and Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ smacks him across the face. SCP-141-D's grip on her tightens and quickly loosens, anger there and gone only long enough for Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ to cower. "Not gonna hurt ya," [researches described voice as "gentling" pending review] "wouldn't hurt ya, calm down f'r me love." SCP-141-D spends the remaining hour, holding Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ in a bear hug as he sits in the armchair and she thrashes against his hold. SCP-141-D sustains multiple bite injuries and several headbutts, leading to what was assumed to be a broken nose. Upon examination no injuries were found.

SCP-141-D Note:

Don't you ever put that on me again. Like puttin' a fightin' dog in a jumper. I'll kill 'er next time.

Site ⬛⬛ Memo:

Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ requesting immediate termination of employment. Denied

[imagine-darksiders]

Absolute Anarchy

A Darksiders/SCP Foundation crossover nobody asked for but is here regardless.

Summary: SCP-8103. Object class; undetermined. There's a new entity at the Foundation. Four D-Class have already been supplied with weapons and pitted against it, only to be cut down before they could get more than a couple of shots in. Eager to determine which calibre of rifle can pierce its armour, they send you in next - D-1935 - to accomplish what your predecessors couldn't. It's too bad they never taught you how to actually use the rifle...

This has the vague semblance of a plot btw, but I'm trying not to be too finicky, and just to write as it comes to me, so hopefully it'll still be easy enough to follow and enjoyable at the same time.

Tw: Blood, guns, death, imprisonment, threat, violence, trapped, typical SCP violence.

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

If there was ever a moment where you should have felt the stars aligning to determine the path your life might take, it would have to be the moment you decided to steal that godforsaken sports car.

It was an instance born of desperation – a tantalising lure cast by the owner of a chop-shop who made heartfelt promises to lift you out of poverty, only to throw you under the proverbial bus when the heat ventured too close to his illicit operation.

He only wanted the money from that Ferrari.

You reduced yourself to grand theft auto for a chance to escape the homeless shelter and land on your feet.

And where did you land instead?

Behind bars, that’s where. Tossed into some dingy prison that seemed only built for the sole purpose of hiding away society’s miserable, forgotten dregs.

You thought you knew what rock bottom looked like.

How were you to know the depths this pitiless world could drag you down to?

“D – One-nine-three-five!”

A strident voice bellows a set of all-too familiar numbers at what must be the top of his already bursting lungs. The door to your cell is wrenched violently open, spilling light into a room that’s a damn sight smaller and bleaker than the one they pulled you from in St Ives.

Bureaucracy had been your ultimate enemy, in the end. A signature in the wrong place, a ‘t’ dotted where it should have been crossed, and an ‘i’ absent from your paperwork had all lead you to a place you couldn’t have imagined in your most turbulent nightmares. A place that shouldn’t - and so far as the public is aware - doesn’t exist.

The SCP Foundation.

Specifically, site 12; a rancorous offshoot of what you’ve come to learn through eavesdropping and rumour, is a worldwide operation.

It turns out the people in charge here couldn’t less of give a hoot whether you’re a petty thief or a renowned and unrepentant serial killer. If your name is on their list, they won’t bother to see a difference. You’re all Disposables, in the end, and no amount of pleas for your innocence or requests for an evaluation will get you any closer to that glorious taste of freedom.

You’ll serve your time or die trying. And as of yet, you haven’t heard of anyone who’s reached the end of their ‘sentence.’

The bed springs underneath you shriek with relief as you scramble up onto your feet, nearly tripping over the long hems of your jumpsuit.

Heart thundering like a jackhammer, you cower before the imposing shape silhouetted in your doorway, warily eyeing the M9 Beretta that’s being aimed directly at your forehead.

You’d hoped that by now the guards here would have learned that you’re not a threat. Hell, it didn’t take you long to figure out that anybody even vaguely considered a troublemaker in this place will earn themselves a one-way ticket to a fate that would make you beg for a bullet between the eyes.

That first week, you ended up trying to plead your case to the wrong scientist and wound up on the bi-weekly rota to clean SCP-173’s cell. Twice.

How you got out of there with your neck facing the right way is one of life’s greatest mysteries. If it hadn’t gone for your poor cellmate first…

“You listening, Scuzz!?” The handgun jerks to the left of your doorway. “Get your ass outta that cell!”

Ah... Mullins. One of the guards assigned to your particular block.

A meaner son of a bitch, you’ve never known. Rumour has it that the towering brute used to be a D-Class, like you, but through shows of force, an unflinching disregard for his fellow man, and an uncanny ability to survive, the Lab Coats bumped him up to guard status, if for no other reason than to keep the inmates in line.

You’re loathe to admit it, but he is damn good at his job.

Ducking your head, you scurry from your bed through the open door, pressing yourself as close to the frame as possible to squeeze past the Beretta that he keeps trained on your head. You don’t even have to look at him anymore to know that there’s a wide smirk on his face when he jabs the barrel at the back of your skull, shoving you into an awkward stumble down the hallway.

“Move. Got a new assignment for you today,” he goads, falling into step behind you, his thick, rubber boots thudding purposefully on the linoleum.

In contrast, your plimsoles make rather pathetic ‘slaps’ with each, hurried step you take.

You know the drill by now. Head down. Eyes front. Mouth shut.

You’ve walked this path to the lifts a hundred times before.

It's been weeks since you stopped asking him when you can go home.

‘When you’ve served your sentence,’ became ‘When we damn well feel like it,’ became ‘You still think you’re getting out of here?’

“SCP-Eight-One-Oh-Three~,” Mullins sing-songs at your back, entirely too cheerful all of a sudden, “This one just came in. The Lab coats don’t know nothin’ about it. And guess who’s the lucky little D-Scuzz who gets to ‘further the advancement of science?”

Although your body trembles like a leaf in a hurricane, you don’t make a sound, not even when the moisture in your eyes wells up into a fat, salty teardrop and breaks over the dam of your lash line, carving a damp path down your grubby cheek.

An unknown SCP?

Your odds of making it to the end of the day in one piece have just plummeted into the single digits, and you once again find yourself asking, 'why me?'

‘We’re doing this for the good of humanity,’ one doctor with a particularly punchable face had once announced to a room full of orange-clad prisoners, and you can still remember wondering when you and your fellow inmates stopped being a part of that same Humanity this Foundation seems to keen to protect.

The cold steel of a gun jabs you again in the base of your neck, pushing a quiet sound of protest from your lips that you hurriedly clamp down on, fists balling up at your sides.

“That’s right!” Mullins continues, “Damn, you gotta be feelin’ proud as a peacock, kid. Not every day someone gets to be the first to make contact. Hell, maybe you’ll get lucky, and it’ll be a Euclid.”

The row of lifts appears as you turn the next corner and come to a stop obediently in front of the closest one, head still hanging nearly to your chest as you wait for Mullins to reach past you and jam his thumb on the ‘down’ button.

“Wouldn’t bet on it though… That thing has Keter written all over it.”

With the damning chime of a bell, the heavy, metal doors slide open, and Mullins shoves you roughly into the claustrophobic space with one fist to your spine. Jesus, trapped in this finite space with him, the smell of cheap brand cigarettes wafts from his jacket and drifts up into your nose, sitting stale and musty on the back of your tongue.

The walls are dull in here, unreflective, which you nearly count as a blessing.

It means you don’t have to see the mess you’ve become.

----

It’s only when you’re standing outside the containment cell that you realise Mullins was either lying, or just plain wrong.

You aren’t the first D-Class to make contact with this SCP.

In fact, if the stiff-faced scientist shoving a rifle into your hands is to be believed, you’re precisely the fifth.

“That,” he begins with an aloof air of bored professionalism, watching impassively while you fumble to find purchase on the heavy gun, “Is the CZ-Five-Fifty. And today, you will be testing its armour-piercing capabilities.”

‘Armour?’ you think, swallowing thickly, ‘What the Hell kind of monster have they brought into this place?’

The cold circle of steel still pressed to your shoulder blade reminds you of Mullins’s unpleasant presence.

“No funny business,” he growls, “You couldn’t get the safety off before I put you down like a lame bitch.”

Charming.

You don’t fancy telling him you couldn’t get the safety off anyway. And that it... hadn't occurred to you to even try and turn it on him and the scientist, though it probably should have been the first thing you thought of.

The weapon sits like a dead weight in your hands, heavy and fundamentally useless. You don’t know how to fire a gun, let alone one this powerful.

But the scientist doesn’t seem to know that, lazily racking off the terms of your contract and your ‘obligation’ to the Foundation.

Yes, you imagine it would get tiresome having to rehash the same speech five times in a row… Perhaps he just assumes you know how to use it?

Bastard.

Wetting your lips, you peel them apart and croak out a question, wincing at the pathetic crack in your voice, dry and reedy from disuse. “What happened to the others?”

At that, the scientist’s lips purse, and an eyelid twitches then settles.

They all hate being interrupted. Especially by a D-Class.

At least the guards acknowledge your autonomy through rage and demeaning names and acts of violence.

To the Lab Coats, you’re just cannon-fodder. Nothing. Empty vessels for them to use as they see fit.

Even so, the one in front of you straightens up and peers down the length of his nose at you, sighing as though he were trying to explain the concept of algebra to a dog. “The D-Class personnel-“ he begins, and you have to bite your tongue to hold in a scoff. ‘Personnel’ is a funny way of pronouncing ‘Prisoners.’

“-who came before, all failed their assignments.”

Behind you, Mullins pipes up with a distinguishable sneer. “Emptied their whole clips into the thing before they got turned into Swiss cheese.”

Oh… God.

“Didn’t even make a dent,” he concludes, sounding not in the least bit sad to have wasted four lives.

“Yes, well-“ the scientist clears his throat, “The first step to knowing your enemy is knowing how to kill it. And the supplied Rugers proved… ahem… inefficient. But at least we now know the three-five-seven calibre isn’t strong enough. We’re hoping the point six hundred will be.”

 “Six hundred Overkill…” Mullins whistles appreciatively. “Elephant killers.”

Your stomach twists into a tight, clenching ball. You think you might be sick if there was anything to bring up except bile.

So, this is the SCP that finally kills you.

Shit.

In a whirlwind of sudden, dizzying movements and barked orders, you’re unceremoniously surrounded by three more guards who bodily ‘escort’ you into the loading dock – an empty room set in the midway of two descending doors that are made from several feet of a solid titanium alloy. The primary door slides open with a mechanical hiss, and you’re shoved roughly into the space between it and the secondary door.

On trembling knees, you gape up at the grey metal, noting with no small degree of alarm that it’s tall and wide enough to admit the shipping container of something titanic.

Above your head on the wall, an orange light pulses as the primary door slams shut behind you, and the sound of enormous locks sliding into place fills the room. Your rifle almost slips from your grasp, leaving you to fumble for it with sweat-slicked palms.

The drawback of not being a hardened death-row inmate is that when it comes to moments of great danger, you’re inclined to neither fight nor flee.

Instead, worst of all, you’re the type to freeze solid.

Now is no exception.

As the light flashing above you turns green, signalling for the second door to ascend into its slot high in the ceiling, your spine promptly goes rigid, fingers locking up around the gun whilst your feet turn to two blocks of cement.

All of a sudden, you can’t help but let out a shriek when something flops down onto the ground on your side of the door once it’s been raised a couple of feet, and at first, you assume something is trying to crawl through the space to get at you.

Once you realise what the dark object actually is, you almost wish your initial assumption had been correct.

What lays on the ground, spread across the threshold between the dock and the cell, is a body. ‘A human body!’ your addled brain registers.

Or what’s left of a human…

Swiss cheese might not have been an exaggeration after all.

Entry and exit holes have torn the poor bastard apart from head to toe, shredding to ribbons what remains of a grubby, orange jumpsuit, much like the one you’re currently garbed in. Bones and muscle and sinew show through torn flaps of skin, and the stench of blood mingles with gun smoke, seeping into your nostrils before you can scrunch your nose up to block it out. You could have done without the acrid taste of iron resting on the back of your tongue.

‘That’s gonna happen to me,’ you gasp silently, choking on a sob, unable to tear your gaze from the body, ‘Oh god, that’ll be me in a minute!’

Jesus Christ, they hadn’t even waited for the blood to dry, the assholes!

With a ‘click’ and a ‘thud,’ the door slides gracefully to a halt, utterly and completely open, exposing you to whatever entity lays in wait beyond the threshold. The fear of what lies ahead outweighs your horror of seeing a fellow D-Class on the ground. In an instant, you wrench your eyes away from the body and gape out into the room in front of you.

Sturdy, grey walls lit by an overhead fluorescent light are a familiar view, as are the bloodstains spattered across the stone slabs.

The pockmarks littering the adjacent wall are new however, each about the size of your fist. There are hundreds of them, like someone took a gatling gun and sprayed it all over the cell. They look… far too large to have been made by any ordinary rifle…

A hard blink sends twin tracks of tears leaking down your face. The room beyond angles sharply to the left right outside the door, and it plucks at your frayed nerves to realise you can’t see what’s around the corner…

Nearby, facedown on the floor just several feet from the entrance, is the second body, a gun laying close to their side and an arm outstretched towards you, their final act in the throes of death. They must have skidded around the corner and were making for the door when they were cut down…

Despite the carnage, the cell is eerily silent, not a breath nor a shift to give away where the SCP might be.

Is it lurking just around the bend to ambush you?

Is it seconds away from tearing into the pocket of space and doing to you whatever it did to these sorry sods?

Aside from quivering fit to bust, you can’t move a muscle.

You won’t.

You won’t go in there, they can’t –!

“D-Class!”

A sharp staccato shout is thrown from a speaker in the corner of the dock, causing you to nearly leap out of your skin. But worse than your visceral flinch is the sound the voice elicits from something inside the cell.

It’s like a roll of thunder, soft then loud then soft again, a guttural growl, so rich and deep it shakes the walls and travels up through your plimsoles, undulating across each section of your spine until you can feel it hum behind your eyes.

The reverb hasn’t even faded before the same voice barks, “Proceed into the containment chamber at once.”

“To Hell with that!” you retort, feet still rooted firmly to the ground.

“You will proceed or you will be reassigned.”

It’s a threat that’s worked before.

And Hell… It works again now.

Reassignment is an absolute. A guaranteed death sentence. At least in here, even with an unknown entity, there’s a slim, albeit nearly imperceptible change of survival or at the very least, a quick death. Besides, the previous victims look well and truly dead, and that’s frankly a fate that’s a Hell of a lot better than becoming a living hive for a colony of insects or a tumour-riddled larder for giant, cave-dwelling rodents.

“D-Class. You have precisely three seconds to-“

The inescapable terror of a worse ending is your greatest motivator down here. You don’t even wait for the countdown to start.

Heaving in a wet breath, you squeeze your eyes halfway shut and yank one leg stiffly into the air, planting it forwards, once, twice, three times until you pass the body on the threshold and step out into the cell. Into the open. Like a doe entering a meadow when she damn well knows there are hunters lurking in the trees nearby.

Your eyes are still clenched almost shut when you turn yourself to the left and spot the remaining pair of bodies, one almost laying on top of the other, weapons still locked in their cold, dead hands,

Another, blood-curdling growl blasts through the air around you, sudden and violent enough to nearly send you toppling over onto your backside.

Flinging your eyes open with a gasp, you immediately wish you’d kept them closed instead. You wish the SCP had just killed you outright.

You wish you never stole that wretched car.

You were expecting big.

This SCP is bigger.

You can see why the scientists want to find a calibre that can pierce armour.

The creature that hunches before you, eating up ample space between the floor and the ceiling dozens of feet overhead, is almost solid metal from top to bottom. And armoured, you realise in horror, covering flashes of grey, scaly skin the colour of iron.

Bipedal, is the second thing you note, towering all the way to the roof on a pair of long, lithe legs, each ending in a three-toed foot with claws that remind you of some long extinct theropod.

A scrawny waist feeds into a contrarily powerful chest and monumental shoulders that are made even larger by the armoured struts encasing them.

Your eyes, wider than saucers, travel along the length of its arms – the first hanging down to its bent knee with a hand that looks large enough to wrap around your whole body and crush you between its fingers. The other arm, however, doesn’t end in a hand – clawed or otherwise.

It ends instead, from the elbow down, in a four barrelled gun the size of cannon.

And all four of those chambers are aimed directly and unwaveringly at you.

Behind the sights, several cylinders spin over one another like a minigun ramping up to fire, clanking angrily in an obvious threat.

You don’t dare pull in a breath, not when your gaze locks onto one of the chambers of the gun arm, and from somewhere deep in the pits of those long barrels, a dim, red glow sparks to life, the same light you imagine the fires of Hell would kick out if Satan ever eventually sets foot in this horrible place.

And that’s without even mentioning its other apparent weapon.

You think it must be some kind of tail, arched up and over the SCP’s head like the tail of a scorpion, swaying very gently from left to right and back again. Whip-like, it tapers to a point, and from what you can see from down here, the grey of its scales beneath the armour fades into an angry red right near the tip, glowing the same colour as the lights in the barrels of its gatling arm.

Vivid images of your body being impaled on the end of that wicked appendage flicker through your mind’s eye, and you have to drop your gaze to banish them, moving on to take in the rest of the monstrosity.

A pair of metal horns sweep forwards from the sides of an avian helm, long and sleek and ending in deadly points perfect for goring, like the tusks of an elephant. There’s a mane sprouting from its back too, a vibrant purple that stands out fiercely against the silver of its armour. Each strand of hair seems to wave and snake about through the air as if they’re alive.

And then you make the mistake of meeting its gaze.

You’ve seen SCP’s with no eyes, some with too many eyes, a few that are made up entirely of eyes and even those that have eyes in places where eyes have no business being.

These though… you don’t like these eyes at all, even despite the fact there are a regular number of them.

Gold as gleaming bullion, unnaturally bright and forward-facing, all nature’s warning signs that you’re staring up into the eyes of a predator.

Once they’ve locked you in their sights, it’s nigh on impossible to tear yourself free.

The snarling visage opens up like a steel trap, baring black fangs the size of axe heads, and a burning heat behind its jaws that rises like-

“D – One-nine-three-five!”

“Shit!” You don’t mean to yelp aloud, nor do you intend to nearly drop the gun, scrambling to secure your grip on it before it can fall from your hands. In the blink of an eye, the entity’s gigantic head swings around to hiss furiously at something you’d missed completely when you stumbled into its cell.

An observation window dominates the far wall, and behind it, several figures donned in white coats stand watching, their faces only slightly blurred behind the thick – presumably bullet-proof – glass.

Just above the window on this side of the cell, another speaker has been fitted into the wall, and from it, the same nasally voice as before barks a command.

“You are to proceed with testing the Overkill’s capabilities.”

… Are they serious?

The SCP’s tail has swung around to follow its head and aims warningly at the glass, though its weaponised arm stays fixed on you.

Your own weapon remains useless, hanging from your grasp, pointed at the ground. You can’t muster the courage to raise it.

What defence could it possibly provide? What could such a tiny rifle do, really, against a weapon that made holes that size in the concrete walls?

The scientists are insane. The lot of them...

Well, to Hell with them, and to Hell with this stupid experiment.

Still blurred over by salty tears, your eyes reluctantly trail back up to the entity’s head. If you’re to die, you want to look this thing in the eye when it kills you. You might have lived as a coward, but you’re not so eager to die as one.

You’ve been afraid to defy them for so long, terrified – paralysed by the possibility of what these people might do to you in retaliation of defiance. But somehow, being here surrounded by the bodies of your fellow prisoners, knowing you’re about to meet the same fate, you can’t think of anything more satisfying than not giving the Foundation what they want.

Oh certainly, you imagine they’ll soon get some other D-Class to do the job you failed to do, but if causing the Lab Coats a mild inconvenience before you die is how they remember you, you think you’ll be okay with that.

You have to be okay with it. There’s nothing else you can be now, seconds from having your body turned into, as Mullins so eloquently put it, Swiss cheese.

Stiffening your upper lip, you aim a shaky scowl at the window, eyes bloodshot with tears and fatigue. And in an act you hope looks as rebellious as it feels, you open your arms and let the gun fall to the ground with an almighty clatter, drawing the SCP’s attention back onto yourself.

A strangled noise escapes the speakers before you hear, “D – One-nine-three-five! Retrieve your weapon at once!”

Ignoring him, you roll your gaze over to the SCP and let your arms flop defeatedly to your sides, teeth clenched shut to try and hold onto your sobs.

That enormous, horned head cocks sideways at you, and through your tear-streaked vision, you almost believe you can see its gatling arm drop ever so slightly, and the glow in its barrels fade from red-hot to warm-orange.

“Please,” you find your voice, blindly toeing a plimsole forwards and giving the gun a weak kick, listening to it slide a few feet away from you. You’re unaware that the beast’s gaze tracks your discarded weapon across the room. “Just… make it quick?”

The body closest to you still has his eyes intact, and they stare up at you from the floor, glassy and unseeing. You wonder if his death was quick. You hope so. It looks like it should have been.

The entity regards you with its wide, fiery snarl, unblinking, calculating. As the seconds tick by, you find yourself fidgeting and sparing glances between its gun and its armoured face.

What the Hell is it waiting for?

All of a sudden, two slitted nostrils appear above the SCP’s mouth, glowing with the same liquid gold that shimmers in its eyes. They flare hotly for a moment, kicking out a noisy whumph of air, and then…

Against every odd…

The SCP snatches its head away from you and… and drops its gun arm with a gruff snort, glaring at the wall opposite the scientists.

You blink once.

Seconds later, you have to blink again, clearing your vision slightly.

Why… are you still alive?

“Um…” you utter, for lack of any better ideas.

The SCP doesn’t turn to acknowledge the sound of your voice. In fact, it seems entirely adamant in subjecting the concrete wall to a fearsome glower instead as it thumps the barrels of its gun to the ground and leans its weight on that arm, its mighty chest heaving in and out with a huff.

… Perhaps you’re going mad. That’s it. That must be part of its power. It makes people go mad. Why else would you be plagued by the feeling that you’re being deliberately ignored?

On the other side of the glass, a young scientist hovers over the microphone, trembling with unprofessional agitation and apprehension.

“D-Class!” he barks shrilly, pushing down on the button so hard his fingertip turns white, “If you don’t pick up your rifle at once, I will have no choice but to-!”

“- Quiet Spencer…” Another voice - older, authoritative – snaps, causing the shrieking man to immediately fall silent and cower away from the microphone as obediently as a beaten dog. It even hushes the mutters of every other scientist in the observation room. Narrow eyes stare unblinkingly through coke-bottle spectacles, observing the interaction beyond the observation window with cool interest. “This is the longest a D-Class has survived with this specimen…” she points out, listening to the intern beside her scribble down the minutes, “I’d like to find out why.”

She watches the Disposable’s face turn towards the glass, trying to meet any of the scientists’ gazes, apparently seeking some sort of explanation to the SCP's behaviour.

Join the club.

“… Ma’am?” someone asks after several seconds pass without an answer, turning to face her, their expression inquiring.

For a further minute, she elects to stand there in silence, thoughtfully tapping a manicured nail against the microphone button, contemplating the magnificent creature and the miniscule human currently sharing a space.

Then, with a deliberate slowness, she slides her finger from the button and folds her arms, lab coat wrinkling around her elbows.

“The D-Class gets five minutes inside before extraction,” she declares, shooting a nod at her intern who scrambles to fish a stopwatch from his pocket and stabs his thumb on the button. Once she hears the sharp ‘beep,’ she returns her attention to the staff around her and adds, “No external input.”

There are murmurs of varying approval rising and falling all throughout the room, but once again, she only has eyes for the SCP.

“Let’s see if this D-Class proves more useful than the predecessors…”

---

“Hello?” you whisper-shout at the scientists behind the window, keeping the entity in the corner of your eye, “Um...”

Christ, this is awkward... "Can I... Can I leave, or...?"

Silence.

Impassive, boring silence.

Aside from the occasional motion made to scribble something down on a clipboard, none of the scientists seem inclined to offer anything more through the microphone.

Gradually, the tired muscles in your shoulder tighten.

You’ve seen this before. D-Class call it the ‘silent treatment,’ where scientists are more interested in seeing what you can find out about SCPs of your own volition.

Are you supposed to have survived for this long? Your mind races with the thought that your predecessors might have been subjected to the same thing before they met their end. You may end up a smear on the wall yet. Half of you is weary enough to hope that’s the case. You’ve just defied a direct order from one of the Lab Coats. You shudder to imagine which SCP they’ll toss you to after this.

It’s that thought alone that spurs you to take a single step towards this entity, intending to get this over with, but no sooner have you moved closer than it whips its head towards you again, and that gun is back up, the cylinders clicking furiously in response to your proximity.

You realise at once that you’d become too bold without its weapon pointed at you because now, that same fear has returned tenfold, sending you staggering backwards again to put some more distance between you and that deadly arm.

Slamming your eyes shut, you raise your hands up in front of your face, breath hitching as you wait to feel the first of many bullets slamming into your flesh.

… You count no less than ten heartbeats without feeling a thing.

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

“Two minutes to go, ma’am,” the intern quibbles at her side.

Eyes gleaming, she watches you stand shaking in front of the SCP, arms lifted in what she presumes must be surrender. “Fascinating,” she murmurs, “The entity still hasn’t fired a single round…”

“You think it’s run out of ammo?” one of the other scientists asks, bolder than his fellows in the face of their superior.

“Perhaps,” she muses, eyeing the SCP’s ‘tail’ that hangs slack behind it this time, not poised to strike over its head like a cobra, “But perhaps it’s just as likely that it won’t fire unless it’s fired upon first.”

The intern, apparently emboldened by another voice speaking up before him, says, “Um, would that class it as a Euclid then?”

Someone scoffs derisively.

“That cannot be determined at present,” she returns cooly, “We haven’t enough data… That being said...”

Stepping closer to the window, arms coming to clasp loosely behind her back, she tilts her head sideways and regards you with the mild interest of a spider watching a fly struggle in her web. “Thanks to this D-Class, we now know far more about the SCP than we did before… And all because an order was disregarded…”

“Impertinence,” someone spits.

“Initiative,” she returns sharply, the beginnings of a rare and pensive smile lifting her cheeks, “Mullins.”

The guard near the back of the room snaps to attention.

“Prepare for extraction in one minute’s time… And return our lucky D-Class to isolation. Forty-eight hours, I think. Regular meals. That should give us enough time to make arrangements for the next test.”

“Ma’am,” he grunts, moving up to the primary door.

“Er…” The intern beside her shifts on his feet, casting apprehensive glances between the SCP and the D-Class, “What is the next test…? Oh-! Um, Ma’am?”

What indeed? Her mind is already swirling with possibilities, the first of which sticks in place as she contemplates the logistics of it, turning it over and making mental arrangements that’ll need to be put in place.

“The next test?” she replies absently, gazing up at the entity’s fangs that are still being bared down at you, though it hasn’t made a move against you yet, “We’re going to see what, if anything, this SCP likes to eat.”

[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.

[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

[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)

[an-albino-pinetree]

Happy (early) Valentines!

[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]

Hey, Scarlet King, can I kiss you? Pleaseeeeeeee

[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.

[moon-buggg]

SCP au drabble

set a week after YN gets taken to the facility, basic au info here

warnings: yn was kidnapped by an offbrand scp foundation after they didn't get killed by Moon and thats whats being discussed and im not sure how to tag that. Yn is a little emotionally dumb, flirty sun

no word count because I wrote this in the tumblr post maker in a frenzied haze

-

"You are stuck here... because of us?" Sun asks, carefully, tentatively. His, frankly, absurdly tall body hunches over so he can be at eye level. Under any other circumstances, you'd be terrified of the strange creature trying to comfort you. As is, his presence is incredibly comforting; the sole friendly face in a sea of questionable actors.

"I mean, pretty sure they expected Moon to kill me," Sun flinches just slightly, ears tilting ever so slightly back, "so I don't think I was ever meant to leave this stupid place, anyways."

You'd fallen asleep in the darkness of what you now know as Sun and Moon's room, and had awoken to several researchers and armed guards preparing you for a barrage of tests. Those first few days had been a horrible mess of exhausting tests and tedious interviews as your white-coated captors tried desperately to discover what made you different.

Why you'd survived.

They still hadn't found anything, but at least the tests seemed to be slowing down ever so slightly. After an uneventful introduction to the more passive, daytime version of the thing they expected to kill you, it was decided that you'd be allowed to visit him once every other day.

Jury seemed to still be out on if it was worth risking another encounter with Moon.

"It's not your fault," you add after a beat of silence, "or Moon's for that matter. You're both trapped here just as much as I am."

A soft, crooning sound rumbles out from Sun's chest as he slinks back into a seated position that leaves him still about a head taller than you. Gentle lights pulse across his fur, barely visible under the harsh fluorescent lights. He seems to struggle to find the right words, before giving up.

Carefully, as if approaching a startled animal, he reaches out a hand. When you don't react to the long claws coming at you, he continues. Turning over his hand to keep those sharp claws decisively away from you, he runs his knuckles over your head in a clear attempt at a comforting gesture.

It's startling how much it works.

"Oh starlight, far too kind for a place like this." His voice is soft and quiet in a way that makes your face feel warm. You choose not to think about it too hard. "You shouldn't be locked away."

"Neither should you." The words are harsh and automatic, and seem to startle Sun who draws back as if burnt. His glowing fur brightens significantly, its starting to get uncomfortable to look at, actually.

He recovers quickly.

"There you go," the words are teasingly chiding, "proving me right starlight." He reaches a long claw out again, this time using his knuckle to gently boop your nose.

He bends, using his long neck to crowd into your space. It's hard not to feel a little threatened by those big teeth so close to your face, and Sun's widening smile does little to help. Seems like you can't help but feel flustered today.

"At least you'll have me to keep you company." His voice is just a bit too hopeful, like he's desperate for you to agree. Poor guy seems utterly starved of positive affection. The urge to comfort him is hard to ignore, so you don't.

It's easy enough to thread your fingers into the long mane of fur that frames his face. The feeling is distracting, it's so warm...

Movement brings you back to the moment as Sun leans ever so slightly into your touch. Right, right, you had a reason for this.

"We're in this together," you say in what you hope is your most sturdy, comforting voice. Sun's presence has done a lot for you in the few days you've been here so far, and you want to do your best to be a comforting presence to him in return. You don't miss the way his fur seems to glow brighter and hotter at your words.

Acutely aware of where your hands are, you realize that grabbing a giant monsters face out of no where probably wasn't your best idea.

"Sorry!" you quickly release Sun's face, your own face hot with embarrassment, "Sorry! I shouldn't have just grabbed you like-"

"We didn't mind, starlight," he interrupts, pulling back out of your personal bubble. His hand ghost over where you touched, smoothing the fur back down, "no, don't mind at all."

[theres-a-body-here]

Scumtober- Day 18 (Medical Play)

SCP-049 x Male!reader

"Now, now," said SCP‐049 calmly, raising a hand to wave vaguely at the array of tools. "Let us begin. First things first – tell me how you've been feeling recently?"

You snapped out of your trance. You were busy looking around the containment room. Right, you're here for a checkup. You've recently been feeling under the weather, which is concerning considering you're an Euclid class SCP. Even more ironic, your abilities pertain to human diseases and ailments, more specifically, spreading them on an unprecedented level yet remaining immune to them. So its not hard to see why the Foundation would be interested to know what exactly is infecting you.

"Ive been feeling strange.....melancholic" you say softly as you glance at his medical tools curiously. The doctor nods as his hand goes under his chin as if in thought. He motions for you to continue. You look through your memories. "I saw one of the assistants whispering to one of the researchers the other day. She laughed and I felt....left out"

The Plague doctor stops pondering as he internally facepalms. You're just lonely. He could cure this in his sleep.

SCP‐049 leaned against the table, his mask's beak pointing at you. "Ah yes, the Pestilence of loneliness," he mused. "A most insidious affliction indeed. But fear not," he purred, placing a gloved hand on your shoulder. "For I shall be your... cure."

Without warning, SCP‐049 pulled back suddenly, revealing a syringe in his gloved hand. Before you could react, he pressed it firmly against your neck and pressed down on the plunger, injecting you with an unknown substance. As he did so, he continued to speak in his smooth, almost hypnotic tone. "There now, that won't do. Let's see if this helps clear up those pesky blues."

He removes the syringe and starts cleaning up the spot where he injected you. Within minutes you start to feel a warmth traveling from your chest to your groin. You blush as you start to visibly tent up. You move your hands to cover your boner. The doctor huffs and shakes his head as he gently grabs your hands to pull them away. You groan but let him since you want this funk to end already, no matter what crazy ideas this loon has.

As SCP‐049 began examining you, his movements became increasingly sensual, his fingers tracing along your inner thighs and brushing against your growing erection. "Tell me, mon cher," he whispered behind his mask. "Have you ever considered... exploring your own desires? There's no shame in wanting pleasure, after all."

Your mind swirled with arousal as you tried to focus on answering him truthfully. Finally, you managed to stammer out a response. "I... I haven't really thought about it much."

He simply gives a hum in response before tugging at your pants. Your blush darkens but you let him, he's the professional after all....you think. The doctor pulls down your pants and underwear as he carefully folds them and places them on a chair besides the trolley holding the tools. You shiver as your bare ass touches the cold metal of the exam table. The doctor reaches over to the trolley and pulls it closer to the table. He picks up the clipboard.

With practiced ease, SCP‐049 spread your legs apart with his free hand, exposing your genitals to his gaze. He hummed appreciatively at the sight of your throbbing member, eager and throbbing. He tilted his head as he ran a finger lightly along the sensitive skin of your balls. You let out a soft sigh at the contact. Your cock flexes and twitches.

"Interesting..." he murmured, jotting down some notes on his clipboard. SCP‐049 moved closer to you, pressing the tip of his pen directly onto the slit of your penis. At the slight pressure, you let out a surprised whine, involuntarily thrusting your hips towards him. This elicited another low hum of approval from SCP‐049 as he went back to writing more notes.

He suddenly puts the clipboard onto the trolley. He picks up a thin metal rod and applies some lubricant to the end of it. You raise an eyebrow as you try to guess where its going. With deliberate slowness, he placed the lubed end of the rod against the slit of your penis. You sharply inhale as you wait, shaking with nerves.

"Relax, cherie," he crooned, running a gentle hand across your stomach. "This won't hurt...much."

Slowly, oh so slowly, SCP‐049 pushed the sounding rod into your urethra, making sure to apply just enough pressure to keep you aroused without causing pain. As he worked, he couldn't help but marvel at the way your body responded to each millimeter of intrusion – your breath coming faster, your cock growing harder, and your eyes widening in anticipation.

Finally, with a satisfied grunt, SCP‐049 reached the desired depth and held the rod steady, taking great satisfaction in hearing your whimpers. Placing a small clamp near the base of the rod, he secured it in place, ensuring that it wouldn't slide any further into your urethral tunnel. Satisfied with his work, he returned to his clipboard, scribbling furiously as he documented everything he observed.

You whimper as he takes his time. "Please....I need more" You moan out desperately. The doctor rolls his eyes and sighs. Being a doctor can be so demanding sometimes. He shakes his head as he lubricates his gloved hands liberally.

"Oh, very well," SCP‐049 sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically behind his mask. "It seems our dear patient requires additional stimulation." He presses his fingers against your puckered hole, inciting a soft moan from you.

With expert precision, SCP‐049 inserted two fingers past the tight ring of muscle guarding your entrance. He scissored them open once inside, stretching you wider. Each movement was accompanied by a keening cry from you, your voice hoarse with desire. Your hips buck and your cock bounces, causing the metal rod to slide a bit in and out.

"Subject exhibiting signs of extreme arousal. Penis fully erect, testicles drawn up close to body. Vocalizations indicate heightened state of excitement. Shall proceed with next phase of experiment"

As SCP‐049 spoke, he removed his fingers from your hole and replaced them with three – one middle finger sandwiched between two index fingers. Your body writhed helplessly on the table as you let out guttural moans.

SCP‐049 grabs hold of your shoulder for support, using it as leverage to drive his digits deeper still. His fingers move with a cruel rhythm, plundering your depths ruthlessly until you felt like nothing more than an empty vessel begging to be filled. You grasp the edge of the table for support as he abuses your prostate. The sounding rod bobbed maddeningly inside you, adding yet another layer of sensory input to fuel your impending climax. Already, you could feel the telltale stirrings deep within your core as your orgasm approached.

Desperate to reach release, you claw at SCP‐049's robe, searching for something solid to anchor yourself amidst the storm of pleasure. Without warning, he yanks the sounding rod out of your urethra in one swift motion, sending a geyser of hot semen shooting forth from your dick. It splatters across your torso and chin, leaving you utterly spent and trembling with post‐orgasmic bliss.

"Magnifique!" SCP‐049 declared triumphantly, moving back slightly to admire his handiwork. "But I fear our session has only just begun, ma cher. We have much more ground to cover if we are to rid you of your loneliness."

With that cryptic statement, he began to undo the fastenings of his robes.

This was going to be a long visit to the doctors.

Scumtober 2023 Masterlist