#creature commandos dc

Y/N was abandoned by their family as a toddler, which gave them extreme abandonment issues, they get attached to Phosphorus and he lets them because they can touch him and he misses being a dad. You cannot tell me that he DOESN’T miss being a dad.

☆ Of Flames And Little Flickers — Dr. Phosphorus & Venom!GN Reader Fic ☆

Genre: Fluff, Familial || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

Pokolistan wasn't exactly the worst place to bring a kid, most figured. But most people weren't on a mission to keep an insane purple villainess from tearing up the local government. Phosphorus didn't exactly find the idea of you tagging along to be a fond one— he loved having you around, but this could easily become an assassination mission at the flip of a dime. Considering what you had to go through before, he didn't wanna risk you getting any more hurt. But your abilities were deemed too valuable to go without, so there you were, traveling locked up in the same car with the rest of the monsters.

The long plane trip gave you jetlag more than anything, and you didn't manage to get good sleep after being dragged out so early to get on the flight. After Phosphorus forcefully positioned Weasel to the other side of the car, he made sure you could sit beside him. You were in a staring contest with GI Robot before Phosphorus gently nudged you, pointing out to the window behind his head. "See all that, kid? It's riding on your slimy little shoulders to keep all that from blowing up" he said. He made a motion with his hands to mimic a combustion, flaring a little brighter as he made the sound effect himself. You laughed at the display, and he chuckled while rubbing the top of your head.

DOCTOR PHOSPHORUS x FEMALE READER

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ this is part two of ULTRAVIOLENCE and should be read as such ! also i love lana for him , it’s perfect . i just watched the new episode and you can tell near the end lol . i tried to explore a bit more of his needing of love as well as the readers ! also i had to get creative with the smut due to him not having a dick so sorry </3

⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬ monster ! reader , religious / catholic trauma trauma and guilt . depictions of body horror and violence . blood and burning , mentions of cannibalism , imposter syndrome and disassociation . non graphic depictions of death and injuries . smut : pining , pet names ( puppy + princess ) , sub - ish phosphorus , clothed rubbing and fingering ( ? m receiving ) , male moans ( yay ! )

3 . 2 k words ++ not beta read

A hero.

It was a strange feeling, being praised the way you were. It wasn’t like anyone outside the bubble of the castle cared, but those inside hailed you and the other creatures as saints. Perhaps it would feel a lot nicer had the others been able to look at you with something more than hesitancy.

“Good work.” The Bride had said, Flag following with a similar sentiment, but you could tell how empty the words were behind gazes that wouldn’t meet yours. Even among animals like Weasel and robotic parts strewn around the grounds like GI, despite the Bride’s nature and Nina’s gills you are nothing more than a monster.

God, and Phosphorus. Things had been little short of awkward with him since the night you had shared. Despite his request that you not talk about it to avoid situations like silently standing beside each other in a lineup and trying to forget about his handprint being burned into your thigh, they still happened. You cannot blame him, though, for the way he avoids you as much as he possibly can.

Flag had wanted monsters for this mission, but it seemed you were too much. It isn’t like you can remember; practically pleading with Nina to tell you what had happened had left you with the bare minimum, but it was something. The gunshots had no doubt set you off and witnessing GI being torn apart hadn’t helped. In your absence had been a monster, eyes glazed over and rolled back into your skull as downright demonic claws and wings sprouted from your flesh, body contorted to allow the growing of the appendages. Bullets fired at you had been expelled from your skin like they were being spat out and the wounds simply grew back as if nothing had happened.

“They had to pull you off a body…” She informed you as gently as she could, though an air of fear surrounded her, as if her words would set you off again. They might, day by day it felt like you were losing yourself to this monster. More and more of you disappearing, you didn’t know what would make you volatile anymore. “Well, Phosphorus was the one to volunteer.”

Her words did little to ease the guilt that bubbled in your chest. The thought was nice, that he had been the one to take initiative and guide you back to your normal state; though part of you couldn’t help but assume that was because he didn’t want anyone else to observe the branding he had given you and connect the dots of your night together. You can’t blame him for anything it seems, not how he avoids you and not how he tries to cover up the things you’ve done together. You’re unworthy of love, aren’t you? That’s what they had said when you were just a girl.

Bruised knees and bleeding palms, the sharp end of the rosary’s cross digging into your palms and making indents as if to replicate that of Christ himself. You’re little more than the thieves that hung beside him on that day, representative of the one who laughed in his face and was hence discarded from the kingdom of God, never to see the pearly gates or beautiful lights. Judgement day would not be kind on you, you had heard the nuns and priest whisper from behind the monastery walls. What had you done to be cursed in such a way? Was simply being born enough to cast you from God’s light? It’s not like you had chosen that.

You’re quiet, far too much so for the others to consider it normal, but no one says a thing. Perhaps they’re too worried about setting you off, maybe they want to distance themselves. It seemed everyone grew a little closer from this mission, but you are just as alone as ever. The plane ride back is bumpy, Weasel curled up into a ball beside you. He was the only one who didn’t seem to care what you were or who you could become. Somethings never change, like the way you card your fingers through the coarse fur that coats his body.

You can feel his gaze on you, the radiation that pools from his body is difficult to shut out. Daring to lift your eyes to meet his, you don’t miss the way he quickly adverts his gaze as if he was ashamed of having been caught. God, you hated this. You could deal with the others avoiding you, you hadn’t expected them to try and be your friend after this regardless, but him? Could you forget how sweet he had been to take care of you after you had slipped? No, you don’t think so. Besides, those pretty whines and mewls that had spilled from his mouth still weighed heavy in your mind.

Arms crossed as the plane landed, back in handcuffs and escorted to the cell you had spent so long in. Your taste of freedom was over, done with. It was back to the slop they had the gall to call food and the endless sound of waves that now pissed you off more than it soothed you. Things seemed to be getting on your nerves more frequently, since he had brushed you aside and told you it would be better like this.

It doesn’t feel better. How can he be right about your situation when his hand burning into your flesh had felt so good? You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you sit on the thin mattress in the cell assigned to you. The lights had gone out for the night long ago, the freedom you had once felt in the large room of the Castle was now gone. Back to the same old routine, back to being captive. Back to the power dampener around your neck.

You want to lay down, to close your eyes and at least try to get some rest, but the same looping sound of crashing waves and the soft green glow from far down the hall only served to stress you out. How could he brush you aside like that, had it truly meant nothing to him? You were well aware of his tendencies, the psychopathic nature of him, but that night had felt; well, like something. Like he cared despite his apathy.

Maybe you were thinking too deeply into this, maybe it was nothing more than a simple fling to him. Maybe your touch starved mind had crafted this narrative that he truly loved you and was just hiding it. It had been far too long since anyone but your own hand managed to touch you like that, to slip past the layers of monstrous intent and simply find you. Even if it wasn’t real, if he truly didn’t care, at the very least you would have that to remember. And for now thats okay.

For now.

Because the next morning you are forced to see him, forced to have all the feelings from the last few days pile up in your gut and make the stupidly large power dampener you wore feel even more foolish. You sat at one of the tables, lazily picking at your plate of food when you were interrupted. A hand swiped your tray off the table, knocking the mushy pile of stuff they dared to call food to the floor.

“Whoops, were you eating that, dollface?” No, you weren’t, but the asshole who picked a fight with you didn’t know that. Another monster, another creature who was far too vile to be put onto the team. Why shouldn’t you indulge just a bit?

Blood. It’s all you can taste. It suffocates you as you lay in a pool of it. Trickling down your nose and coating your mouth. You cannot quite tell whose it is, yours or the beast laying dead beside you. It’s nice, though, rich and far more delicious than the slop they feed you here. The electric shock had hurt, but not awfully so. You don’t feel angry that you’ve allowed the monster control over you once more, just bliss.

Ending up in the medical wing had not been on your itinerary, though. Head pressed back against the cold, sterilized pillow that was as thin as paper against the hard as a rock mattress. You’d hardly call it nice, if the hums of medical machinery hadn’t been soothing as white noise; you could almost get used to it. Your eyes flutter shut against the cold atmosphere, taking a deep breath to let the serene moment wash over you, its truly a nice break.

Till the doors open and you’re greeted with that familiar green glow basking over you for a moment before being harshly shoved into the bed besided you. You let out a soft sigh, sitting up and rubbing your eyes slightly. He wont look at you, clearly pissed off about something, and as the guards leave the room he shoots them the middle finger before finally catching your gaze.

“What are you looking at?”

“You. Why are you in here?” You can’t help it as the question slips through your lips before you can stop yourself. You shouldn’t engage with him, it’ll only serve to make you upset over the little predicament the two of you find yourselves in, but it comes out nonetheless.

“The guy you killed’s dickweed friend decided to pick a fight in his honor. You know that’ll go on your sentence, right?”

“What does it matter? I’m already in here for life.”

He simply hums in response as you card your fingers through your hair. You suddenly feel tired, as if being around him is draining. Putting up this act of nonchalonce about your feelings towards him is more taxing than you had originally expected. He weighs heavily on your mind, taking up valuable space that could be used for other mundane things in Belle Reave like finding new shapes in the texture of walls you’ve stared at for years.

The room is quite now, far more than you like. The humming machinery now acts as a nuisance, a reminder of how hes doing everything but talking to you. While you can’t blame him outloud, you did just kill someone over him, does he feel anything about that? Does he even know how your mind runs circles around the thought of him all day? God. You sound like a love-sick schoolgirl with her first crush. Whats next? Will you write little anonymous post-it notes for him?

Regardless, you can’t stand the silence anymore, looking back over at him you tilt your head to the side to come across as non interested as possible. As if the question you’re about to ask him is one you’ve just thought of and not one thats been on your mind since that night.

“When we-... God, this sounds stupid outloud but why did you not take off your pants? Do you not have anything… down there?”

The awkwardness is palpable in your tone and it fills the room. Mentally, you curse yourself for asking such a dumb question. If he had eyelids, he’d most certainly be blinking over and over out of sheer confusion.

“Uh no. Its just the pelvis. Look at me, I’m just a skeleton and have you ever seen a skeleton with a dick?”

“No, I guess not…” Theres a pause, eyes fluttering away from his awkwardly. You shouldn’t have even brought it up and you really didn’t want to listen to his sarcastic answers.

“Do you want to see?”

Again with the sarcasm, you roll your eyes slightly and look back over at him with a frown, about to retort before you realize he isn’t joking. No, he’s looking right back at you, skeletal hands fiddling with the buckle of his pants. A sheepish blush coats your face as you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. Sure, you two had had a very intimate encounter before, but this was different and it made you second guess his seriousness in telling you the two of you should pretend that night never happened. Without another thought you nod, almost a little too quickly.

“Yes. Please.”

“Eager now, aren’t ya pup?”

“Pup? Where’d that come from?”

“I mean, you looked like a starved dog with a piece of prime rib in its mouth when I pulled you off that guy back in Pokolistan.”

“Don’t bring that up right now.” A huff falls from your lips as your blush darkens, shaking your head slightly to push the imagery out of your mind. Had you really acted so barbarish that he deemed it fit to call you such a name? And are you out of your mind for liking it in some way? He simply chuckles as his hands continue to play with the button of his prision pants before he finally simply pulls them down and cocks his head to the side at you.

“See? Told ya.”

“Oh. But- you can still feel as if it were there?”

“I guess. I wasn’t just faking those noises to make you feel better.”

You can tell by his tone that had he had eyes he would’ve winked at you. A grin that you can’t see etched into the permanent smile of his skeletal face as you slip off the bed you were in, stepping over to him and gently running a hand over the orange fabric of his shirt as he lets out a soft, shuddering breath. For him, as well, it had been far too long since anyone looked at him the way you did.

After the death of wife and kid and being burned alive in his own machine meant for good, after taking over the Thorne crime ring and subsequently being taken down by Batman he has been looked at as nothing but a monster. Maybe, in a way, he is. The radiation addled his brain, the death of his family heavy on his consious. Had he been good before? He can remember a time where he tried to help, but was that out of kindness or need for recognition and praise?

Perhaps he doesn’t deserve it, the way you look at him as if hes someone special, as if hes done you some favor. It makes some part of him feel sick, while the other part relishes in the feeling of your touch, even if it has to be over fabric. A soft sigh emitted from him as he grabbed your hips, careful not to touch your skin even if he had before, and pull you ontop of him while he laid back in the bed.

He relished in the blush that coated your features, hands moving up to gently graze over the power dampener you wear, he resists the urge to burn through the metal and instead matches your gaze, a hum.

“You like this position, princess?”

“Oh its princess now?”

“Don’t avoid the question.”

Somehow he manages to get laughter out of you, coaxing it from your pretty lips and letting it fill the room. He almost feels stupid with the giddiness that fills his chest, tilting his head back against the headboard to get a good view of you. For every awful thing thats happened to him, hes almost glad they all did because they led him to you. He could deal with the worry of burning through everything if it meant you’d be by his side forever.

His sappy thoughts are cut off by the sudden feeling of pressure against where his cock had been. Your sleeves had been rolled up over your palms, providing a barrier that allows you to knead against his pelvis like some kind of cat. He can’t help the way his hips thrust up slightly, back arching into your touch. Its euphoric, sweet, and he’s letting explotives fall from his mouth like they’re a prayer to you. Like you’re some sort of God.

“Oh, ffuck princess, just like that.” His head tilts back farther, soft huffs emitting from him as he tries not to dissolve into a moaning mess in your hold. It’s been far too long, and even the night you shared couldn’t compare. He feels like an idiot for telling you it would be better to ignore each other now.

You keep a steady pace, hands moving against his pelvis to create some kind of friction, relishing in the clear way he fights back the moans creeping up his throat. Its almost beautiful, like a symphony of choked sobs and wanton moans. You couldn’t help but grin, humming softly as your eyes focused more on the exposed bones of his lower half.

“Phosphorus?”

“Alex. fuck - please call me Alex.” His words are a bit sudden but the way he practically pleads with you makes it difficult to think twice. His name, though, just knowing it feels intimate.

“Alex. I’m gonna try something, okay?”

Its a warning that slides right past him, indecent moans filling the room as he simply nods feverishly, though begging with you that whatever you’re going to do you don’t stop making him feel like this. You’d be a fool to stop now, anyways, with the way the radiation on his body hightens like a solar flare its all the sign you need to tell hes close.

You almost hesitate as this is probably a bad idea but you don’t give yourself time to dwell on the consequences of your actions as one hand stops kneading and instead moves the fabric of your shirt sleeve off, quickly pushing past the barrier of radiation and tracing your fingers over the inside of his pelvis.

It burns, pain bubbling up in your body and at the same time the reaction from his is almost like a man possessed. His moans gain volume at the feeling, urging you to push past the pain and continue to rub along the bone. He squirms and thrusts his hips up, arching his back yet shying away at the same time. It’s too much for him, the wires of his brain getting all crossed between feeling so good and overstimulated at the same time. It doesn’t take a genius to know that he was orgasming.

He falls back against the thin bed with a huff, panting to catch his breath. You sit up straighter on his lap, pulling your hand out and cradling it in your other one. It hurts, stinging as large burning wounds take up the majority of your hand. He sits up as well, apologies spilling from his mouth before your skin begins to heal as if nothing has happened.

You blink, knowing he probably would be as well before you simply rest your head on his chest. Theres an unspoken thing, now, an idea that perhaps the two of you don’t have to be as careful as originally thought, especially if your body had a healing factor even with the power dampener on. A content hum emits from him at the thought, tilting his head to look down at your form thats nuzzled against him. No doubt the cameras have caught all this, but the thought doesn’t seem to run through your mind so he wont worry you with it.

“If thats what we could do with that collar of yours on, imagine what we could do with it off.”

“Hmm does this mean no more ignoring me?”

"well, yes!"

11x14" Woodburned and colored with colored pencils and acrylic paint.

You are liable to get burnt old man