exomeme | part two hundred and twenty one

sutao. hybrids/scifi multiplier. 567 wc.

joonmyun can't get any work done.

100, team chen has a chance

theme: animation
in which tao is an assassin pretending to be a templar

feat baeklaytao

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feat chanxiulu

"Joonma," Zitao purrs out against the shell of Joonmyun's ear as the other hunches over a piece of parchment, a wax seal beside him as he signs off on as many official documents as possible. As the General of the High Lord's army, that tends to be a lot. Zitao's lips, soft and plush, press to the curve of his ear and it grows harder to focus. "Can't you come to bed yet..?"

"Zitao," Joonmyun starts in a warning tone, but his scrawling is already getting loopier, signing getting slower, and sure enough, he sets his quill down with a sigh. It's hard to argue with Zitao, especially when he uses that purr in the deep of his throat, and Joonmyun spins around in his chair to peer up at the kittyn in amusement. "I have to work at some point, you know."

"No you don't," Zitao replies shortly, small fangs poking his lips cutely as he pouts, his ears drooping slightly against rich, dark black hair that makes his eyes look even more dangerous than usual. "You have to come to bed." Joonmyun chuckles before standing, shorter than his pet and yet he holds an air of dominance nonetheless, Zitao draping himself over his shoulders and burrowing in against his neck. Joonmyun wraps his arms around his waist, lets his hands roam upwards along the thin fabric of his silken robes. Only the finest for his pet.

There's a soft clink of metal from Zitao's bangles as he lifts his arms to curl around Joonmyun's neck. Despite him being taller, Joonmyun easily scoops Zitao's legs around his waist, the kittyn's tail twisting around Joonmyun's waist to secure himself, and carries him towards the four post bed. Zitao playfully bats at the draping canopy as they climb in, before twisting to curl up against the plush sheets.

Joonmyun laughs, watching him, before shifting to tug at the ties of his blouse, pulling it over his head. He can feel Zitao's sharp eyes on him, and one glance gives Joonmyun the shivers. Zitao is exotic, not a housekat like the other Generals keep. He's from the farthen Eastern Isles, with mocha skin and heavy, sharp, golden eyes. His fangs are longer, tail fuller, and his ears have long tufts of fur at the tips. His muscles are deadly and he grows much taller, much bigger, and whilst some of the other officials may mock Joonmyun for being smaller than his pet, Joonmyun loves every inch of Zitao.

Once he's shed his pants, left only in his nightclothes, he climbs into the bed and reaches over to extinguish the candles. A soft wisp of smoke floats upwards into the dark, and Zitao's hands wander to hook around Joonmyun's limbs, claws digging in ever so slightly, just enough to pull him in possessively and curl himself around. Joonmyun laughs, gently, and cards a hand through the other's hair.

"It is time for sleep, Zitao, not play," he muses gently, pressing a kiss to the kittyn's forehead. Zitao flicks his ears, tail sneaking up to curl slightly around Joonmyun's thigh. He yawns, tongue sliding over his fangs before pooling his cheek comfortably against Joonmyun's collar.

"Goodnight, Joonma," Zitao purrs again, accent thick with sleep. Joonmyun smiles and runs his hand through his hair at a steady rhythm, until Zitao is purring and relaxed within his arms. Sleep comes easy, as it always does when Joonmyun is this comfortable.

723w

xiutao. mutants au. superpowers multiplier. 1113 wc.

minseok cools zitao off in the hot summer sun.

feat doppsuhun

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Zitao was the most careful person he knew. He always had a backup plan, he hadn’t traveled by sunlight for months, always taking back roads and using the darkness as his shield. He made sure none of the Templars he hid within would never be in the same place as he was in his Assassin clothing. He always planned ahead, always. There wasn’t room for failure in such tight times.

He tightened his grip on the ledge he was clung to, eyeing his prey below him. Yixing. A highly admired general among the Templars and other soldiers they had under their palms. Known for his many tactics and skills that had helped kill many Assassins. Though surprisingly his plan had start forming flaws ever since a certain someone was sent in from an alleged expert Templar group from Qingdao. A sly grin grew on Zitao’s face and he almost chuckled when he realized just how much he’d mess with them. He had a personal bone to pick for Yixing. The man had given out info on his family's hideout and forced them out of safety months beforehand. Zitao waited patiently until Yixing had walked right under him, his blade sliding out of it’s hold under his wrist. He let go of the ledge, feeling the air rush by him, sharping whipping his face before connecting his feet with the back of the general, turning him around with a kick and slicing straight through his chest, surely cutting open a lung. Yixing’s eyes widened once he recognized the face hidden behind of the hood.
“Y-you…” He whispered, “A traitor…?”
“I never was a traitor,” Zitao replied, the words slowly dripping off his tongue, “you simply were too careless not to look hard enough.” He watched as the last light melted away from his eyes, rolling back into his head and the rest of his body soon going limp. Zitao retracted his blade, standing up and-
A gun clicked. “Assassin,” a voice yelled, “stop where you are!”
Oh god- he knew that voice. He knew that voice well.
“Did you think you could just waltz right in? Think no one would notice?” He gulped.
Baekhyun. Why did he have to be in the room? Why? Why?

“Face me, assassin. Remove that hood. Stop cowering behind it like all of you do.” He could feel his heart clench leak from his eye. He was so close to finishing his mission here. So close, and now it was ruined. It wasn't his fault to begin with. He let himself grow close to him. Too close to the Templar. He turned, raising an arm up and pulling back his hood, and there, he could of sworn on his life that time had stopped. Baekhyun’s eyes grew bigger, his pupils widening in shock. He could see the grip on him gun loosen, as if wondering if the scene was a lie, a dream perhaps, but the gun straighten itself and fury built up on him face.
“How…?” He whispered, as if trying to contain his anger, “t-they corrupted you. They’re using you for your own good! You have to see this!” Zitao willed his gaze to drop to the ground, but he couldn't. It was as if Baekhyun had glued his only working eye open and locked it on him.
“Of all people, you should know how set I am on sides.” He sadly replied.
“This… all of this time you- you were just…”
“The spy spied on the spy,” Zitao backed up slowly, if he slipped up on something he could shoot him at any given moment.

And so he did. The pain didn't hit him fast, it took it’s time, pinching him around his left shoulder before slapping him in the face. He yelped and automatically ducked, darting from his spot in the room to the nearest window. Baekhyun’s footsteps were not far behind him, shooting angrily around him over and over again. He hit the glass with shoulder, quickly being thankful for the steel pads on them before jumping of the window and onto the roof. Jumping to the next, and the next. Baekhyun’s wild shots hit the tiling around him but didn't touch him. His voice shouted behind him, but he didn't have the heart to try and listen.
He needed to get somewhere safe.

The humidity is far too high, leaving the air thick and sticky and causing disgusting beads of sweat to roll down Zitao's back, his tank top sticking to the skin. He wipes at his brow, though it does no good, merely smearing a layer of grime across his pores. Why was he even out here again? Oh, right, Oh Sehun.

Grumbling quietly to himself, he blocks that grinning shit's face out of his mind and crouches down, going back to pulling weeds from Yixing's garden. He definitely didn't deserve this -- none of this. Everything was Sehun's fault. But Zitao was always bad at words, bad with Korean, and when Joonmyun's stern face passed between both of them, a shattered chandelier from the front hall splattered across the tiles, Sehun was quick to point the finger.

Thankfully, Yixing'd saved him from a real punishment, and in the end, he was merely pushed to do grunt work. With the sun beating down on his back, he's starting to regret trusting Yixing's innocent face too. He probably just wanted someone to clear out his garden for him, the jerk.

A voice breaks him out of his self-loathing. Zitao blinks, tilting his head up towards the grounds, squinting in the sunlight. Minseok stands at the gates to the garden, looking comfortable in his tshirt and shorts, and Zitao is mildly jealous. He holds up a glass of ice water and calls again, and Zitao realizes he's beckoning for him.

Dropping his tools, he quickly wipes his hands off on his jeans and steps over the pile of weeds, hurrying up the path to meet the other. When he reaches Minseok, he's beaming, head tilted downwards. Minseok's a good half of a foot smaller than him, and Zitao finds it rather endearing, despite him being much older than him.

"Hi hyung," Zitao hums, and he'd hug Minseok if he wasn't so dirty. Minseok smiles back, handing over the glass. "How'd you know I was thirsty?"

"Just a guess." Minseok's laughter is kind and Zitao can't stop grinning, taking a grateful sip. The water is extra cold, and he can tell by the way the frost is collected around the rim that Minseok iced it just for him. It feels wonderful on his throat, and the way it seems to cool his belly from the inside out does wonders.

Minseok's eyes wander slightly, down towards sweaty, tan skin, and defined muscles. It's hard not to notice the way Zitao's tanktop sticks to his chest. Zitao doesn't quite noticed, too focused on guzzling his drink. When the ice clinks to the bottom of the empty glass, Zitao sighs happily. That hit the spot.

"Thanks, hyung. I really needed that." Handing Minseok back the cup, he wipes at his brow again before giving him a pout. "Can't you maybe help me out?"

"Pulling weeds? No way; I'm not getting in the middle of Joonmyun's punishments," Minseok laughs and Zitao pouts more, nudging into the other despite his sweaty biceps ("Ah, so nice," Minseok thinks to himself). Minseok merely stares back, shaking his head. "Your puppy faces are useless on me. I'm immune. I've dealt with Luhan for too many years."

Zitao huffs, though there's a playfulness in it that assures Minseok he isn't actually mad. Instead, Zitao pushes his dark hair back with a dirty hand and does his best to fan at his sweating neck.

"Could you just turn the temperature down a notch then?" Zitao pouts and Minseok lets out a loud laugh, shaking his head. "Just a little!"

"Zitao!"

"Hyung, please," he whines, and for a moment, Zitao looks much younger than 19, all stompy feet and noodly limbs and puffed cheeks. Minseok feels his heart flip and lets out a loud sigh, and Zitao knows he's won. He beams widely and Minseok wonders when he let the rascal in his heart.

"Okay, okay...But only for a few minutes, okay? This is supposed to be punishment, you know."

"Punishment doesn't mean I have to die of heatstroke," Zitao huffs beneath his breath but otherwise bites in his snarky remarks. Rolling his eyes, Minseok sets the glass down on the ground and closes his eyes, tilting his head back. He breathes in and inside, the hot air twists and morphs and everything grows cool from the inside out. When he exhales, the air escapes in a frost. Opening his eyes, he reaches up to cup his hands around Zitao's cheeks, almost touching but not quite. Zitao watches excitedly. The air changes immediately around them as Minseok maps an outline of Zitao, dragging his hands downwards.

Zitao can only imagine how cold it is when Minseok touches someone, because even an inch apart feels like running an ice cube along his skin. He groans at first, because it's such a relief from the relentless sunbeams, sweat drying up slowly but steadily. Minseok's eyes are intense, and Zitao is envious of the control he has over his gift. Zitao, on a good day, still manages to skip hours in the day on accident. Or on his bad days, sit somewhere for hours, waiting for time to start moving again. He's been struggling with it, and while Sehun's sudden whirlwinds cause physical damage, Zitao feels like his time is always suspended in chance.

Goosebumps start to rise slowly on his skin and he closes his eyes for a moment, relishing in the cold, the way that Minseok seeps into his skin and to his very core, belly warming him up from the inside out.

Something cold and wet hits the tip of his nose and he quickly blinks his eyes back open, staring down at Minseok in confusion. The other merely smiles as soft, downy snowflakes begin to flutter in the middle of summer. They cascade around Zitao, playful and wispy and sticking to his skin and his clothing. Zitao can't help the laughter that bubbles up and out, cupping his hands to catch a few.

"Nice and cool now?" Minseok grins as he drops his hands, eyes fond and affectionate. Zitao nods excitedly, blowing a handful of powdered snow at the other playfully. Minseok laughs, brushing it off his face and reaches up to pinch Zitao softly on the cheek. "I'll let it snow for a few more minutes...Go pull the rest of your weeds, okay?" Zitao wrinkles his nose a little but nods otherwise, snow collecting cutely on the top of his head.

"Can we go throw snowballs at Luhan after..?" Minseok laughs louder at that, but there's a mischevious glint in his eye that matches Zitao's.

"Mm...Maybe. If you do a good job." Zitao gleefully turns to hurry back down to his pile of weeds.

He may or may not speed time up just a little bit.

maknaeline ot3. vampires au. tw: a lot of blood. 1646 wc.

taohun turn jongin into a vampire.

feat kitties xiuchen and puppies chanlay

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feat kitties baektao, puppy kai, and lizardlu

theme: crime
don't leave dead bodies in your boyfriend's apartment

please stop by and give sesudopp a loving home ;;
owl dopp doesn't claw too much

lol um

1238w

"Can't you smell him?" Zitao whispers into Jongin's tan skin, buried tightly against his neck. "He smells delicious." He slowly drags his nose along the other's pulse, upwards, lips parted and the tip of his tongue trailing ever so lightly. The way his mouth salivates is tantalyzing and fills his belly with an incomparable ache.

"Of course I can," Sehun drawls out in return, and Zitao knows he's much more interested than his lazy voice offers. Sehun's hands slip slowly around Jongin's waist, palms spread and taking in every dip and curve of muscle beneath the white blouse, all but one button undone. His bone white hair hangs against his skin, makes him look so inviting and Zitao steels himself, settles for running the flat of his tongue along the plane of Jongin's throat.

Jongin stays put on his knees, dark eyes heavily lidded and staring off into nothing, locked on some point on the wall. His hands are loose at Zitao's sides, settled on his hips, barely holding on. The sheets are tangled around them, and Jongin can't remember how he got here. The candles he'd lit before bed are starting to burn to the end of their wicks, golden trays filled with liquid wax, a deep crimson pool that hides the bottom. His breathing is slow and labored, and there's an intoxication in his lungs, a scent that drunkens every sense and covers his eyes with a fuzzy filter.

When he'd invited the two young lords for dinner, this was never in his plans. Sure, he'd found them as delicious and nice to look at as the rest of the kingdom did. The two noblemen were known by every woman in the city, young, old, and in between. If not for their impeccable good looks, then for their smooth words and generosity. Jongin's father, the King, had thought it'd be good for Jongin's image if he befriended the two most charming men in court.

But at some point during the meal, he'd stared a bit too long, lingered a little too much on Zitao's dip of chest and Sehun's pale fingers. Got way too lost in their dark eyes and slow grins. 'Let's retire to the study,' Jongin'd said halfway through the meal without thinking. 'Let's.' Sehun'd replied simply. He'd led them to his bedroom before he knew it.

It was like a fire burned inside of him, like his limbs acted of their own accord. The drapery was drawn, and Sehun's eyes flicker to the candles. They extinguish themselves suddenly, and Jongin's vision floods with darkness. His nose stays filled with Zitao, the dark black hair so soft and so smooth, tickling his nose as Zitao slides to trace the other side of his neck, earning a slow moan from Jongin's throat. Sehun chuckles from behind him, hands roaming upwards.

"I'm so thirsty, Sehun.." Zitao purrs out, voice deadly and dripping with lust, and Jongin shivers in his touch. He still isn't sure why he's here or why this feels so amazing, but he knows he wants more; wants them closer; wants their hands to grip and grope and every inch of him.

"You can't feed, Zitao." Sehun's voice is soft, yet firm, obviously the voice of reason between the two of them. Jongin can feel Zitao pout against his skin. He catches a flicker of red eyes as Zitao lifts from his neck, slowly licking Jongin's scent from his lips.

"Royal blood tastes so sweet, though..." There's a longing in his words, in his tone that has Jongin's gut lurching with need, another soft noise from his plush lips, hands sliding up Zitao's broad back. He just wants to touch and be touched, for the love of God touch him.

"Imagine the power we'll have with him on his way to the crown, Zitao," Sehun whispers, and he shifts, leaning over Jongin's shoulder to catch Zitao's mouth in a slow, sensual kiss. Zitao leans forward with a sinful noise and they kiss so close, Jongin's eyes locked on their mouths, wanting so badly to be involved.

"Okay, fine..." Zitao whispers into Sehun's mouth, and the other pulls a hand from Jongin's waist to grab tightly onto Zitao's hair, kissing him bruisingly in response before letting go with a chuckle. Zitao grins wide and turns his attention back to Jongin.

"Look at you, sitting here so patiently...What a good pup," Zitao whispers, and his words splash over Jongin like fresh linen, so warm, so thick that he wants to wrap up and lose himself. He leans in, needily, and Zitao grants him a kiss, mouth melding against Jongin's like hot molasses. Slow and savoring every movement and Jongin feels his pulse racing faster and faster, the ache in his body to give himself up to the other almost unbearable. He needs Zitao, wants him more than he's ever wanted anything in his life.

Sehun growls behind him and the noise sends a spark of electricity down Jongin's spine. "Stop toying around, Zitao." He sounds so predatory that for a brief moment, Jongin's heart lurches in fear, but it's quickly washed out by another blanket of muted pleasure when Zitao laughs and the tinkling noise fills his ears to the brim.

Without another word, Zitao leans in to mouth at his neck again and Jongin's pulse races so quickly, he's pretty sure his heart is going to leap out of his chest. Sehun's hands claw their way up his chest, pulling him flat against his chest and burying his nose against Jongin's hair to take a deep breath.

The teeth puncture his skin so suddenly that it takes a moment for the pain to catch up with his brain, breath gone and eyes wide. A scream bubbles at the back of his throat, but Zitao sucks hard and sudden and a wave of pleasure silences him. It still hurts and he can feel the strange sensation of his blood leaving him, a sickly warm liquid pooling against his neck, a slow trail sliding down his collar and staining his blouse. Sehun's hands are hard and tight and he can't even thrash, voice caught.

The shadows encroach on his vision and things grow hazy. His hearing becomes muted, eyes blurry, and he vaguely makes out Sehun snarling and snapping long fangs at Zitao's face like an animal. Zitao rips away from Jongin's throat with a hiss, blood pooled around his mouth and smeared along his chin, shining and bright. His eyes are blood red and he twists around with inhuman speed, crawling to the edge of the bed, back arched unnaturally as if protecting himself from Sehun. A low growl pools in his throat, claws dug into the sheets.

Sehun keeps up his snarl, teeth bared as he cligns to Jongin like a prize, turning his eyes down towards the blood seeping from his neck at a steady flow. It's so delicious, so dark and fresh and Sehun wants to badly to take a drink, to empty Jongin of everything, but somehow keeps a clearer head than the animal at the foot of the bed.

Zitao seems to regain some sense, still on guard though he moves closer slowly, bright red eyes trained on Jongin's as he drags his tongue through the mess on his chin. It's disgusting and Jongin's heart thuds with fear, but he can't look away.

Everything grows dark, shadows of smoke billowing around like a haunting guise. They twist around his ankles, crawl up his legs. They travel up his torso, leaving cold everywhere they go, and without warning, they slide into his mouth and down his throat. He chokes on the taste, metallic and cold and so perfectly resembling what one would imagine Death itself tasted like. His eyes sting and he tries to cry, unable to do anything but gurgle as Sehun's nails dig into his body, holding him down.

The smoke coils and digs and encases his heart with such pain that Jongin begs for nothing more than to die right here, like this. It feels like his insides are tearing apart, everything far too hot and far too cold and far too sensitive. His world goes completely dark and Jongin feels like he's falling, a fear filling every sense until he's blinded by it, unable to feel anything else, see anything else, hear anything else, smell anything else.

And then it stops. Everything stops suddenly, with such a jerk that Jongin's body convulses momentarily, blood pooling on thick lips and down his chin. Sehun licks it up slowly, letting out a groan and turns red eyes to Zitao's. "It's almost done...Get the housemaid.." Zitao growls at him, not taking too kindly to being bossed around, though he obliges and disappears from the room so quickly that the drapery around the bed flutters in his wake.

When he returns, he brings with him one of Jongin's caretakers, a young and homely looking girl with straw brown hair and porcelain skin. Jongin sits on his knees, his elbows caught in Sehun's hands, head dropped completely. He's still, far too still, and there isn't even the movement of breathing.

From behind her gag, the housemaid whimpers, jerking and thrashing slightly in Zitao's hands, though he hardly gives her the time of day, eyes trained on Jongin. Tears slide down her cheeks and as they hit the floor, Jongin's head snaps up with terrifying speed.

His eyes burn wide and bright, redder than the blood on his shirt, smeared across his chest. There's a desperation in them, and he pants like a dog in heat, muscles strained against Sehun's grip, pulling. Sehun steels himself, grinning at Zitao. When Zitao lets go of the girl, Sehun lets go of Jongin, and Jongin lurches forward unnaturally, snarling loud, fangs curving and sinking into flesh without regret.

He drinks like his life depends on it, sucks every last drop from the girl, and Zitao watches in amusement as the light leaves her eyes but the fear remains.

fearless foursome baektaolukai

chenyeol. hybrids/scifi multiplier. 876 wc.

puppy!yeol gives kitty!dae a bath.

part two hundred and twenty one

wc!au: [team chen] exotica

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wc!au: team chen - assassin's creed au

wcau - team chen - fantasy life team a

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wcau - team chen - fantasy life team b

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wc!au: [team chen] frostbreath

wcau - team chen - fantasy life team c

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wcau - team chen - fantasy life 2jong

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wc!au: [team chen] lover to your nightmare

wcau - team chen - hybrids team a

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wcau - team chen - hybrids team b

wc!au: team chen

wcau - team chen - hybrid leftovers :c

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wcau - team chen - mama powers team b!

wc!au: [team chen] pussyfooting around