#x reader creature commandos

[violetflowers55]

Just finished your fanfic on Ao3. And now I’m lost with what to do with myself 😭 Could I please get a Dr Phosphorus with a reader thats super affectionate, just really wants to be near him. Like they’re always trying to find way around his radioactivity, wearing gloves so they can hold his hand etc.

i really loved this idea!!! sorry it took me so long i’ve been sick for like a week 😭 but i didn’t forget! i wanted to keep it short and fluffy <3 also made reader gender neutral. hopefully you enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey! You can’t be back here!”

The intimates who worked in the kitchen all stared at you, angered you’d disturbed them. You slightly tilted your head, looking up at the head chef through your lashes.

“I’m sorry, I know, I just really need to borrow those,” you cooed, pointing to a pair of oven mitts, “please?”

The hulking monster grumbled, but handed them over to you. You giggled to yourself. Waller might’ve been able to inhibit some of your powers, but she couldn’t inhibit good old fashion charm.

Later that day, you snuck into the medical wing. You waited until the techs left the radiology room, then darted inside to grab one of their protective aprons. It was a lot heavier and bulkier than you expected, making it difficult for you to hid it in your shirt. The sound of footsteps carried down the hall and in a panic, you arranged it to look like a pregnant belly. One of the techs returned and stood in the doorway, staring at you with a blank face.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I think I got lost on my way to delivery?”

Still staring, he held out his hand and pointed down the hall. You thanked him and shuffled out, holding your “belly” to really sell it. Charm worked again.

Finally, night came. The lights shut off with a clang, and the guards left for the time being. Inconspicuously, you walked around your room, acting like you were stretching, until you landed underneath the camera in your room. You rubbed your hands together, forming an electric shock you then targeted at the camera. Then, you did the same for your inhibitor collar. It was such a minor power most people didn’t know you had it, which is why your collar didn’t stop it. Once you were free of your collar, you grabbed all your supplies and phase shifted through the walls, searching for one specific cell.

He jumped when he finally noticed you in his cell. His green glow illuminated your figure in the darkness. You put a finger to your lips before reaching up and zapping the camera in his room.

“What the hell are you doing here? How the hell are you here?” he asked. You smiled and sidled over him.

“I figured out how to touch you,” you said in a coy voice, trying to smoothly adorn your oven mitts and protective apron. He barked a laugh at your ridiculous getup, but opened the blankets up to you.

“You sure that’ll work?”

“No,” you replied, sliding into his bed, “but I don’t care.”

You wrapped yourself around him, making yourself comfortable on his chest. Even through the gloves and apron, you could feel the heat radiating off him. It warmed you to your core.

“Aren’t you determined,” he chuckled, amused by your antics.

“Mm, very,” you murmured.

You could faintly feel his heartbeat underneath your head. His arms held you close to him, carefully avoiding your bare skin. He wouldn’t admit it, but he loved feeling you in his arms, almost as much as he loved how much effort you put in to make it possible. You wiggled even closer; it felt like you couldn’t get close enough to him. You had been deprived of touch for so long and all you wanted was more.

Eventually, you found a position that felt sufficiently close enough to him. He held you close to his chest, also desperate for your touch. The two of you breathed in tandem, drifting off into blissful sleep.

[weirdopotato234]

WE GOT MORE PHOSPHORUS

FANFIC WRITERS, DO YOUR THING, PLEASE

WE NEED

[stargildedskies]

We’re seeing the vision here right

[apocalypse-shuffle]

CREATURE COMMANDOS (DCU - animated)

—

“A Call To Motion” or Going to Carnival w/ The Creature Commandos (Creature Commandos x Fem!Reader)

Headcanons

CHARACTERS: FLAG, BRIDE, PHOSPHOROUS, NINA, G.I. (platonic), WEASEL (platonic).

NSFW, 18+, minors dni, mission, team dynamics, fluff, caribbean setting, dancing, referenced sex (TW: stalking, murder, animal death) - monster!reader & caribbean!reader

6k+ words (some of which are from a 900+ word mini fic w/ Phosphorus)

RICHARD “RICK” FLAG SR.

Rick should absolutely not be allowing you to do this, but he can’t take his eyes off you anyway.

There’s something mesmerizing about how you move to the music around you, the island’s atmosphere seeming to have rejuvenated you significantly. It’s like you were made of the sun, it seeps into the pretty brown of your skin like a homecoming and the way you bask in its warmth and smile takes his breath away.

Flag is old and more than a little jaded, taking his breath away — let alone getting him to start waxing fucking poetic — wasn’t easy. Why, then, you’re able to do it without so much as trying is something he can’t mentally grasp.

He can’t be too mad when you’re still clearly doing your job, though. Even with you singing loudly to every single song. Flag doesn’t even want to know how you know the newer tracks at all, let alone well enough to not be missing any words and wining your waist in time enough to be hitting every single beat.

And he is watching close enough to tell. He tells himself it’s because you’re too much of a wildcard this mission — on this island — but he’s hardly convincing himself. Feigning ignorance is his best bet anyway, even if he is kind of worried about whether he’ll have to bury your headless body in an unmarked grave because you slipped away using familiar pathways you grew up trekking he had no chance of knowing.

Regardless, even with you being covered enough to hide the monstrous parts of your appearance, very little about the way you’re dancing leaves much for his imagination to do. The way your ass pops, the freedom in your movements, the surety in your performance, it’s all like catnip to him.

Even in tactical gear you’re still working him up. Even though you were one of his goddam charges and he was too old to be acting like his love struck son did with that June Moon chick, too old to be falling for a woman who gave him nothing but shit consistently and who’d tried to claw him to death on their first mission the first time you and him fought together.

You were a lot of other things too, however: the first one to save him from an explosion, the first to earnestly ask for his help despite how begrudging you’d obviously been, someone who let him rant about shit without telling the others, who lit up so fantastically at certain things it made him feel a little lighter himself, the woman outcasted from your place of birth that talked him into (ie: verbally tore him apart) finally going to visit Rick’s grave at his, and you’re accent was like fucking silk. So really, who could blame him if he was falling a little in love?

A lot of people, but he’s choosing to ignore that.

Really, there’s better things he could be watching so closely. G.I. was one, he was always one, and Eric was unpredictable and volatile enough Flag was convinced he needed to be watched even closer than Weasel. Or maybe he could even be paying more attention to the literal mission they were on, but still it was you who’d captured his attention the most.

After he catches himself and realizes he’s been ogling you silently for the better part of five minutes he doesn’t watch you as closely as he genuinely wants to. You’re both not dancing for him and are supposed to be working, he needs to get himself under control.

Rick wants to keep his eyes on you, though, and has definitely been letting himself get dragged along in this game of push and pull that you're playing with him.

Jesus fucking Christ if Waller could see him now…

Because of you making a point to stare him down, raise a brow, and then step into the collective mass of dancing bodies to wukup and jam and sing in a shadowy part of the area — getting even closer to where their primary target was throwing back shots surrounded by a wall of women, and basically daring Rick to stop you if he thought he was big and bad enough — Rick ends up taking his frustration out on everyone else on the team.

You’re taking risks, but he can’t deny that even in between your singing the intel you're giving him is good. Plus, you didn’t want anything major going down in your home island any more than Rick did; more so than he did, even. So all he can do is redirect his frustration at you not following his instruction and potentially putting yourself in danger.

Rick wishes he could feel half of what you’re feeling. That he could enjoy the music shaking his teeth and feel the freedom you clearly do in your movements and in being surrounded, however briefly, by your people even ostracized as you now were as a “creature”.

Instead of that he’s been tasked to lead. He might not have you back under control yet — he’ll get to wrangling you back into working if you don’t do so yourself, but he wants you to enjoy the reprieve for now — but he can nitpick the hell out of everyone’s positions until he’s got a cacophony of people bitching and groaning in his ears and his lips are twitching up into less of a frown as he keeps half an eye on you.

Though nothing gets him as close to smiling as when you finally deem yourself satisfied (or as satisfied as you’re ever going to get as a imprisoned woman who’ll never be able to go anywhere uncovered lest she incite a mob) and slide up to him. You don’t do anything so transparent as laugh or cheer, but you do grin at him — your pretty brown eyes nice and wild — and for a second Rick feels himself grinning back.

THE BRIDE

The Bride is the main recipient of your uncharacteristically excited rambling (or uncharacteristically happy grumbling, depending on your personality), but that soft spot she has for you keeps her drawn in to listening to you talk yourself breathless instead of doing her usual and sleeping through the flight to Waller’s next suicide mission.

After you land and the two of you have been left more or less alone while the others stick closer to and/or bother Flag, you tell her all about your plans to slack off a little this go around. How you’re going to milk as much fun out of the Carnival experience as you can before you’re forced to wheel yourself back in.

When you ask that Bride please just let you have a little fun and not tattle, she scoffs. For one, she’s not a fucking child, she doesn’t tattle. For two, she wasn’t your keeper, so long as you kept out of trouble and didn’t get in her way she didn’t care what you got up to.

Except she’d really really hate to see you popped, actually.

The Bride is a bit flattered that you thought to consider her in your plans and that you wanted to ask her permission. She still thinks you're an absolute fucking idiot to risk yourself over something so small, though, don’t get her wrong. Even if she’s got little to stand on with her judgement there.

As far as you’re concerned there was little point in taking these missions if you weren’t going to maximize your “freedom” from Blackgate while it lasted.

Honestly it had been just your luck that this week’s mission from Waller had sent you to this part of the Caribbean during Carnival at all. Even if it wasn’t where you were from, the island and her festivities would surely be enjoyable regardless.

That your main goal for the majority of the first and second nights was recon and observation was an even better plus. Now you didn’t even need to sneak off.

It doesn’t take long for The Bride to be reminded of why she’s kept away from sandy areas in the last several decades. Sand was a bitch to get out of her stitches.

While you’re doing recon Bride just disinterestedly watches you dance around her and drinks from the almost comically small glass of spiked slushie in her hand, little green paper umbrella and all. She has like seven of these and isn't even near tipsy, and for someone who is trying to get drunk that tendency of her metabolism is really getting irritating.

The fact she lets you near her at all isn’t permission in and of itself to stay by her while you act a fool. Bride tolerates your presence just fine on a regular basis, but that was it. When she sees you vibrating where you stand, softly singing along to familiar songs you haven’t heard in years while bouncing in place to the beat, and then gestures halfheartedly in front of her where people are jamming all while raising a brow at you, though, that’s permission. Hell, it’s practically an invitation.

One that you take her up on very vigorously at that. Nina might be shaking head at the two of you, but you can see her hiding a little giggle when you start playing around while you dance regardless. And if it gets a little scoff out of Bride then that’s just a happy bonus.

You’re not going to act like coming down here to have fun wasn't your main goal. The second you’re out of Flag’s sight you start blowing the mission off. Of course you keep a passing track of your targets, but with the mission only being about observing the assholes you think it’s only fair you get to do something entertaining enough that you don’t die of boredom.

You wukup not because you have to, but because you want to. And you do it near where Bride’s leant against the counter of a pop-up bar because you want to too; want her to notice you, maybe make a move.

After all you guys were in lock up, not a nunnery.

You pull out every trick in the book that still flatters your inhuman body, letting the soca beats flow through you like a woman starved all the while, and if it weren’t for Bride’s occasional grunts in reaction to something you’ve done you’d think it wasn’t having any effect at all.

Internally Bride is a lot more invested in what you're doing than even you can tell, and definitely more than the bloody mission you're on. She just makes a good show of seeming like she isn’t.

The only bearable thing about the heat that saw Bride ditching her jacket in the vehicle Flag drove them in was the salt twinged breeze blowing through the short buildings with their colorfully tiled roofs. The fact that you were showing as much skin as you could get away with due to the heat wasn’t lost on her either.

Bride finds a beauty in you she hasn’t seen in anyone since Victor. A beauty that’s brought back to life some of the bits of her that died with her creator, and brings technicolor back to the bits of her that turned dull and grey as Eric continued his relentless pursuit of her.

She couldn’t deny you your whims or resist your draw if she wanted to.

The way her heart speeds up when you crack a joke about a song’s lyrics or a singer's entrance, and how she has to bite her tongue so she doesn’t laugh too obviously. The full on blush she sports when you start dancing with some drunk man in a way he clearly likes but only look her way as you work your waist in his hold, and how she wants to snap all of his fingers and wrench his hands off of you. All of that lets Bride know she’s in trouble and you’re liable to be caught in a crossfire that's been brewing for over a century.

She’s going to have to push you away soon, but ‘soon’ didn’t have to be tonight.

It’s one of the world’s most dangerous games of chicken, working around Eric Frankenstein’s unwanted possessiveness of The Bride. You’re fully aware he’s watching you and Bride too, you just don’t give a shit. Voyeuristic jackass.

Part of you likes antagonizing him.

Revels in the fact that he can’t kill you as easily as he’d like and the fact that you and the man both know it. That you were barely asking for Bride’s attention and she was willingly offering it when years worth of groveling for her attention yielded nothing for him but a fist to the face.

Every time Victor Frankenstein’s Monster comes into view and Bride clocks him lurking (and trying to set you in particular on fire with his gaze) she scoffs and makes a point of putting her back to him and moving you in the process.

It probably makes Eric blue vex every single time The Bride touches you just enough to nudge you from his view.

Bride is more gentle than she needs to be when she steps in closer to you and uses her knee to nudge you in the hip — she does it so softly, in fact, that you don’t fully comprehend her urging you to the side, it’s so out of character with what you’re used to from her, and just move.

Bride is quite fond of how easily you move at her prompting, reluctant as she is to admit it. Still, after she gets you to move, she backs back up to give you space again.

You mourn the way she towers over you in those scant few seconds. Like how harmless it makes you feel, how wholly encompassed by her presence you are, how much of her undivided attention is on you.

Despite everything Bride likes to watch, and it’s clear you're putting on a show for her even though she can’t indulge either of your desires.

You are most definitely not as on high alert as you should be as you’re jamming and singing along to the live band them, but with Bride specifically at your back you couldn’t find it in you to feel unprotected. Bride was quick on the response, and there’d never been a time when you two were working together that she’d been laid out by a hit for long (especially if there wasn’t magic involved).

Bride notices how forlornly you stare at the women still in their colorful Carnival gear from the earlier parades and snags you a feather that matches the only accent color on your mostly all black uniform.

When you preen at her she grumbles to herself, brushing your thanks off, but you hardly let that stop you and start talking away about the importance of the feathers as you finally slip from the crowd to get back to work. And Bride let’s you.

You might want to fuck around with Eric’s self control, but The Bride knows what will happen and that’s a lot of the reason why she won’t show any obvious interest in you. Quite frankly it’s mostly the fact that you’re a woman that’s letting her have as much contact with you (and Nina) as she has because he hasn’t figured out that was an option Bride would go for, and she’d like to keep it that way.

In the end you all survive. Although, she has picked up a few more worries, most pressing being that you seem to enjoy egging Eric on and that she thinks smug looks quite sexy on you.

Once you’re all back in your cell block and she starts complaining about there still being sand in between her damned stitches she can’t help but grow a bit more smitten with you when you pull her grumpy ass to a bench and get to meticulously ridding her of any remaining granules.

‘Soon’ would have to wait another day more to come.

DR PHOSPHORUS | ALEXANDER SARTORIUS

Phosphorus wants to touch you so badly. He’s not blind, he can see all the ways everyone else is dancing together and he wants to get up underneath you like that, to feel your hips against his; for a second, honestly, he does consider it but he already knows what will happen so he doesn’t give in to the urge.

He’s not in any particular rush to get the shit knocked out of him today, or to honestly fight you.

It’s still decidedly entertaining to think about what he’d be doing if he could touch you though, if he could plant his hands on your hips without your flesh boiling beneath his touch cause he’s too excited to temper himself— and a little entertaining to think about what would happen if he touches you in reality, but really he can’t be blamed for mere curiosity. It couldn’t be helped.

Phosphorus likes you too much to actually want to hurt you anyway, just obviously not enough to stay away from you or stop managing to share close quarters with you (yes, even when you’re asleep).

He used to be far more considerate about things like that, he knows. Everything is just too distorted now, the man he was too purposefully forgotten to drag back up.

If he can’t touch you (even when his temperature control is stable) he figures he should at least be able to watch you as much as possible. The good thing about not having visible eyes, too, was that he could keep his gaze on you all the time and no one could call him out on it.

Phosphorus loves whenever you feel his gaze on you and turn your pretty head to glance around. Loves the little twitch of unease you give when you can’t quite figure out that he’s watching you out of the corner of his eyes, and just generally being able to catalog all your reactions and micro expressions to what’s going on around you guys without you noticing.

So you can imagine how much Phosphorus takes in his visual fill when you start bouncing in place while you guys are on lookout together; keeping the perimeter secure around your group of targets, making sure no one was unaccounted for, and the like.

You always operate particularly gingerly around him (so long as the mutation that made you into a monster didn’t make you impervious to long exposure to radiation) — an effect on you Phosphorous doesn’t fail to revel in; it makes him smile a lot when you tense around him, though you obviously can’t tell — and so he completely forgets about bothering to pretend he cares about the mission you’re on when you start tapping your finger on the handle of your weapon or tapping your hand on the side of your thigh.

If the tapping took him by surprise, then the way you start bouncing on the balls of your feet in time with the beat pounding around you makes him choke on nothing. You notice, and boy does he like the way it makes you startle, but the great thing about getting turned into the absolute freak of nature that he is now is that not having expressions for people to read makes them more likely to dismiss what his opinions on little things like being caught doing something mildly embarrassing might be.

You go back to ignoring him easier than most would assume and get lost back in your head when a song you clearly recognize starts playing and you start singing along. Automatically Phosphorus pays more attention to the punchy beats and slick lyrics, but it’s not his kind of music and there’s too much about the dialect he doesn’t understand so he dismisses it quickly as a ‘you thing’ and just raises his brow, smirking as he listens to you.

Even strapped securely in gear and covered in fur or scales or whatever your body’s still killer and a sight to behold when you finally start to move your hips. And when your ass starts to circle he isn’t ashamed to say he doesn’t look away.

Although your movements are subtle he’s enraptured anyway.

Everything about the way you’ve acted since you got to the Caribbean has been telling and after such a show Phosphorus kind of wants to know more. If only because it’s you and because he is bored.

It’s…rare for him to find himself legitimately interested in anybody anymore. Let alone the way he desires you, the way he wants to keep you. A lot of him doesn’t really want to succumb to that seeming howling need — the need to find connection in you, to touch, to possess. The parts of him he’d thought completely eradicated after his “incident” weren’t giving him much of a choice in the matter, though.

—

When he leans back into the wall behind him and its peeling colorful paint, he crosses his arms, gives up any pretense of caring about his mission parameters, and stares at your ass.

Wining your waist. That’s what you're doing if the punchy instructions to the song currently blasting through the night air are to be believed, and he likes it.

Phosphorus starts bouncing one of his legs some with the beat, too. In tandem with your sway and bounce.

He clears his throat.

“So, what’s all this for anyway?”

“…what…?”

At first when you turn to him it’s rather absent, you’re still noticeably trying to keep an ear out for the live bands and bask in the lively chatter surrounding you both from below. Once you clock his leant position and the angle of his head your mood shifts entirely, however.

You stand up taller, glaring, and Phosphorus shivers at all that undivided attention of yours trying to pin him in place.

It wouldn’t work. Far more intimidating people have tried to ‘put him in his place’ or have attempted even dumber shit like trying to ‘appeal to his humanity or humility’ before and it’s yet to work out for any of them.

Wouldn’t work with you either, didn’t matter how much he couldn’t get enough of those dark eyes staring directly at him. Part of him wants to pluck those pretty brown cognacs out to wear around a chain. He won’t, but your eyes were their own type of diamonds he desperately wanted to preserve in a collection.

“…Were you just staring at my ass?”

Phosphorus gasps, jerks himself upright.

He makes a show of acting like he’s about to refute you, like he could never. Like he’s about to go ‘that’s presumptive’ and give you shit about not considering the fact that he’s visually a glow in the dark skeleton. Walking, talking, and killing, sure, but still with no discernible features.

He puts his hand over his heart for a second and everything.

Really, though, he’s just giving you a performance so you keep glaring at him.

“Spit it out already,” you snap.

The walking radiation bomb laughs. He does wave his act off still, leaning forward just to watch you jerk away in response to heat he’s only mostly keeping at bay— you could technically touch him right now if you wanted, but Phosphorus isn’t holding his breath.

“Alright alright,” he says, laughing lowly to himself as he stuffs his hands in his pockets so he can shrug. “I was totally watching, you have a nice ass.”

There’s a herculean effort that goes into you not knocking him down two stories, he can see it in your body language.

“You’re going to stop watching,” you declare, the growl in your voice prominent.

He shrugs, gives less grief to you for ordering him around than he would anyone else still currently breathing, “Fair enough.”

Phosphorus would, however, absolutely be in mourning over it.

When you close in on him, Phosphorus lets his back flatten against the wall where he wouldn’t in any other situation. Let’s himself bend for you that tiny bit more. He wants to see what you’ll do. To know how far he can push you.

He smiles. You clearly don’t notice. He doesn’t mind.

You bare your teeth— they’re sharp and he suddenly wants to feel them breaking his irradiated skin, “What is it that you want, Doctor?”

Doctor. Jesus Christ, he’d moan if he didn’t know that’d really make you throw him off the roof.

Phosphorus didn’t have much of an attachment to his old professional standing, and for good fucking reason, but something about how your voice wraps around such a respectful moniker in reference to him always makes him a little lightheaded.

Head tilting, he holds a finger up to point back to the expanse of writhing bodies beyond the roof.

“Well I did ask earlier.”

The fact that you don’t buss him upside the head is more a testament to your own patience — and no doubt your ability to bid your time — and less so Phos’s powers, especially since he’s not even using them.

You do spend the rest of the time explaining Carnival to him, but he’s not really listening. Not to your words.

He gets the vibe that you’re aware of his actual disinterest for your answers considering your monotone delivery. The whole time it’s like you’re being forced to give a middle school presentation with a gun to your head and Phosphorus doesn’t even mind because what he’s focused on is the tones of your voice, the restless shift of your body when a song comes on you’d clearly like to be paying more attention to, how you force him pettily to focus on the actual content of your words as you explain emancipation and why everything is so goddamned brightly colored.

The fact that he’s stealing your attention makes him deliciously frustrated. Phosphorus stands there for most of the night and learns more than he cares to while basically preening under your gaze the entire time. Hell, he nearly melts into a puddle when his eyes wander (his head tilting in response) to one of your targets leaving the perimeter and you grasp him by the jaw tight enough to ache. Forcing his attention back your way like you need his eyes on you just as badly as he does yours.

He wants to touch you. Wants to massage the plush of your ass, and rub you to completion until he gets tears to spring in your eyes and he aches for more. Wishes for certain nerves back for the first time in forever just so he can shove himself down your throat and come undone without burning his way through.

Subsequently, however, he’ll have to settle for your passive aggressive lecturing and relishing in the blood splatter from the way you pop the head of you two’s wayward target.

He kind of loves it.

Pain at picking back up that emotion relative to someone else again be damned.

NINA MAZURSKY | MERMAID

Even despite the fact that you’re still working, Nina keeps feeling the need to remind you to stay on task or else you could meet your impending doom from the bomb implanted in your neck.

It’s a real bummer, you tell her to live a little.

Despite her words, though, Nina both loves the more water based mission and loves listening to you talk about the place you grew up in. She hangs onto your every word and every anecdote you make about how free everything felt back when you were home and about how much you miss the smell of the sea. Nina gets missing the water, it might not be life and death for you but she still understands being homesick (and the bone deep longing for certain environments).

If there’s anyone on the team you’re roping into dancing with you, it’s Nina. She definitely expresses her concern about disappearing from the outskirts of the crowd where Flag can’t see you and into an alleyway of sorts, but you suck your teeth and toss out that there’s trackers literally implanted in your bodies as you drag her away.

She bitches the whole time but never once resists your lax hold or walks back to her post once you let her hand go.

The sea creature only occasionally bumps into anyone or is bumped into herself, and apologizes excessively all while looking at you bouncing effortlessly between people and turning back to smile at her every once in a while.

The two of you get stares, there’s no avoiding it when you resemble creatures out of a horror novel, but most everyone is far too intoxicated to dwindle on your appearances as you find someplace less crowded and with a bit more privacy.

When you finally convince Nina to dance with you — after urging her to relax with soft looks as you project your voice over the music to talk her through it and hold out your hands for her to grab — she starts off slowly, cringing at herself as she tries to find the rhythm.

It’s hard when she’s watching your hips to do it, trying to copy how you move your waist without being reduced to a stammering mess. She gulps and blushes through it, her steps stuttering as she slowly catches on to your movements and starts engaging her waist in a circular motion to wine, her eyes wide.

It’s a thing of beauty watching Nina let herself go loose. It takes what feels like forever, but once she starts shyly copying your movements — less a wine, more a sway of her hips side to side — Nina glances up to you with a wide smile, lashes fluttering as she looks for your approval, and for a moment you feel faint.

The both of you have a great time, though. Giggling and dancing and playing around over the sounds of music and people. And with Bride keeping a lookout for you, you don’t have to worry about people stumbling on your or Flag cutting your two person party short.

Only one person causes any actual problem for you both that night, actually. The culprit: some woman who thought you were eyeing her dude as they were walking past you and Nina, too drunk to realize that your tree wasn’t one she wanted to bark up.

When she turns to call you out, yelps as her eyes widen in fear and then snaps out a startled call of “freak” you’re already rolling your eyes. Once her man starts trying to start some shit too, puffing up his chest and staring at you and Nina like you’re evil you figure you’re going to end the night pissed off too. It’s not you who shuts them down, though; no, it’s Nina who tentatively pulls you behind her and then starts clumsily chewing the couple out for being stupid presumptive assholes.

Eventually you end up having to knock them out, Nina letting out a squeak of surprise as they both crash to the ground. While Nina angry is really doing it for you and you’re flattered that she’s come to your defense, if they got any louder you’d get people’s attention and that was the last thing either of you needed.

Nina’s gloved fists are balled tightly once the couple is no longer an issue and you run your hands over them until she relaxes. She apologizes profusely, flushing, but you wave her off and make her flush worse when you compliment her on her mean streak.

After having watched Nina promptly pepper they raas you’d swear your pupils had turned into hearts if you didn’t know any better. It’s like Bride can see them anyway when she snorts and rolls her eyes at you two when ayo finally emerge from the alley to get back to work.

By the end of the mission Nina’s relaxed again, has acquired plenty of beaded necklaces that she’s bunched along her arms and desperately wants to try conch after watching it be prepared for fritters through a food truck's back window. The fried food itself wasn’t necessarily what she was interested in, though you did seem to enjoy the basket you snatched. Nina more so wants to get in the sea to taste them more sashimi style (but without the rice).

Nina also has to admit that she absolutely loves the availability of sea water right off of the house that was rented for the team to recuperate in.

When you sneak out to the beach just beyond your home base you’re in a bathing suit that makes Nina stutter and fully prepared to relax in the sand with a towel until the sun comes up.

Still, you relegate an hour or so to getting into the water with Nina. Marveling some at just how sure and competent she was in the ocean.

In the cover of night you guys can just exist without having to worry about people getting in your way. Can just freely be the ‘monstrous’ creatures you now are for this short amount of time.

Eventually everyone else trickles out of the house with similar ideas of enjoying the beach, even Flag, but Nina doesn’t mind. She just stays lurking in the water, her gums itching for blood in a way she can actually satisfy for once.

There’s no judgement in your eyes when she attacks a fish, your eyes just glitter and you move easily to share some sugar apple you plucked from a tree on your way back to base with her, wiping off the trail of blood coming from her mouth.

She lets you feed her the sweet creamy fruit, looking you in the eyes without the bowl as a barrier for once as her heart pounds a mile a minute in her chest. This is one of the better days of her life, and she tells you as much.

When you smile at her you're more captivating than the stars. When you tell her you're glad and that you agree, especially because she’s here with you, while running the pad of your finger over one of the fins atop her head she shivers and aches for a press of your lips to hers that’s way softer than a bite.

G.I. ROBOT

“Friend Y/n, is visibly excited; is it because there are a lot of Nazis where we’re going?” “—No! No, definitely not. There’s no Nazis there, G.”

Or, at least, not any you knew of (anything was possible and people came from everywhere). Certainly not enough people that were gonna be in the J’ouvert and Carnival crowds to justify letting G.I. get too excited about it.

G.I. doesn’t understand your excitement but he’s not going to begrudge you it or anything either.

In fact, I think G.I. would ask you questions about everything (so long as he saw you as a friend and not just as a handler of some sort).

You’re eager to answer him, eyes bright while you talk as you look him in the face. When he scans you and all signs point to you being happy G.I. feels a small sense of satisfaction at having helped.

When a group of people shove past you to get to the nighttime Carnival activities, you grunt as you’re checked and have to bite back the urge to yell at them and draw attention to G.I. and you. Instead you settle for glaring at them and cussing them out stink under your breath. Your irritation obviously doesn’t go unnoticed by G.I. — even if he wasn’t personally bothered by the shoves — and he offers to get rid of them for you if it will make you feel better. He shifts his hand into his usual embedded gun and all.

It’s such an insane thing to offer, but so true to the robot, that you snort and are knocked out of your angry ranting entirely. You redirect him after that, reaching up to fix the hood of his hoodie where it was pushed back and concealing his head back in its shadows.

G.I.’s eyes still glow red in the shroud of darkness and you tell him it looks sick as fuck before ayo go back to monitoring the parimeter as the rest of the team calls out updates about where the targets are.

After that you start back up telling him about the islands. You miss being home, miss the food, miss feeling the wind blow through your tight curls and dressing up in your feathers and jewels to ramp up and down while wukkin’ up your waist with no abandon. Hell, even now you can’t participate in Carnival and you fucking hate that.

G.I. doesn’t like how upset you are even if he can’t quite articulate how to help. Eventually he settles on asking why you can’t just dance while you’re with him since the music is loud enough to hear from your positions.

Reluctantly, you agree. Once you start dancing as you walk with him you’re far less grumpy though, laughing to yourself as you explain your moves to him while he silently studies you.

When you take one of his hands in yours while you’re patrolling in order to bounce his hand off your own to the beat, he only stares at you. He doesn’t object though and takes to inquiring about some of the more confusing (to him) lyrics in the songs and even starts humming along to the music with you as you dance around him.

He’s got the spirit.

You guys are dragged away before you can sneak off to the food trucks and food stands by the time the first leg of the team’s recon wraps up. To your utter mortification you can feel your lip quiver in your disappointment and keep to yourself more than usual the entire way back to home base, G.I. sitting beside you in the van.

It isn’t until you guys are parked outside the house you’re renting and you two are left in the van last that G.I. shifts and holds his hand out. In it sits a little cup of pastry and jammed fruit. And, yeah, the tart he’d snatched for you just came from his hand but you giggle and eat it anyway, moving to hug him from the side before you do.

G.I. can’t smile, but he does actively lean into your embrace and you take that as expression enough.

WEASEL

Because of the flight risk you present since the Commandos’ next mission is on the island you were born on during one of the busiest tourist days of the year, you’re stuck on Weasel Duty.

Even relegated to the van with him as you are, you’re still close enough (the target was using all the cuhruckle of Carnival as cover) to the festivities that you can hear the music clearly.

Weasel is fairly pleasant company all things considered, but you still throw a fit about being left with him and toss little glares at him every time a group of excited people pass close to the vehicle you're holed up in. It feels like salt being rubbed into a wound.

You want to kill something. Preferably Flag. Then you’d go for Waller.

All that frustration eventually coalesces into the burn of unshed tears in your eyes as you plop down on the floor with gritted teeth and push the heels of your palms into your eyes.

You were not going to cry right now. What the fuck?

Weasel rouses from where he’s squeezed himself into the corner furthest from you, making a small inquiring noise that you ignore.

He whines over your sniffling though, and shuffles over to you with his body still low to the floor while you’re too busy trying to beat your emotions back to notice.

He pokes at your hand with a clawed finger and you startle so badly you knock the back of your head into the metal wall.

Instead of running away his head tilts and his eyes squint in what you interpret as (possibly) sympathy.

Weasel sniffs. You sneer at him. He’s not scared enough to back off and only chitters in response.

It’s…weird. Weasel doesn’t smell or anything, but he is still effectively a naked human man covered in fur and you can’t stop yourself from squinting wet eyes at him as he lowers himself and curls up next to your leg on the van floor.

Weasel’s claws stay retracted the entire time despite your dubious looks. He just looks up at you with those ridiculously large eyes, his tongue lolled out of his mouth as he pants due to the heat.

There were laws against leaving dogs in hot cars, weren’t there?

All it takes is him nudging you with his nose and making another little noise to have you reaching down to scratch over his head. It makes his leg twitch like a dogs and it’s as endearing as it is fucked up.

It’s calming though and the soft content sounds he makes are nice. Allows you to be able to enjoy what little of your home you can bask in right then, the music mingling with the natural ambiance around you.

You definitely crack the windows though, it was too hot for that fuck.

In thanks (after everyone’s finished for the night) you sneak out with him to feed him goat. Live goat, obviously. Though you leave it at just the one for the stable owner’s sake.

The crack of bones and squelch of blood is tolerable mostly because you snapped the animal's neck before tossing it to him (otherwise the bleats would’ve given you away). The way Weasel peeks up at you from over the dead body, lower half of his face covered in blood, is even kind of cute. You’ll admit it, he wasn’t too bad.

Weasel does try offering you some meat off the things’ carcass but, face screwed up, you decline his offer with a short laugh.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!! I want to write more stuff with The Bride, she’s so cool and there’s so many interesting character beats to delve into with her. I knew I’d love her.

Also, I cannot fucking stand Frank Grillo, but Flag’s characterization is pretty fun to work with. I think Flag might just stay dead too, because in the comics “Frankenstein” (ie: Eric) is the leader of the team at times, but idk because we know Flag Sr. is supposed to appear in other shows and movies.

Also also, listen, I don’t even like Dr. Phosphorus like that but playing around with his personality like this got away from me and I just started writing. Phos’s personality is taken from the episodes that have since come out, but with the last two episodes not out yet I am inferring certain aspects of his personality with only the scarce information from the 1x06 promo. Like, I think I wrote myself into liking him because then I was retroactively forced to reconsider him more closely and actually pay attention to his character.

And the title of this is from the song “Movement” by Hozier; a decision I made after writing this and noticing how well the song fit, which is why this isn’t a lyric prompt type thing.

This fic has a series tag so if you’d like to read the other festival/carnival entries then clicking on that tag would be how you’d find them.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[paradlselost]

ֹ ⑅᜔ ׄ ݊ ݂ CINNAMON GIRL ۪ ֹ ᮫

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?”

“Who said I was ignoring you in the first place, princess?”

[phosph-ate]

Picture

Dr. Phosphorus x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You surprise your boss with a picture while he's trying to work. He is not amused.

CW: SMUT! 18+! Masturbation, screwing around in an office, praise, begging, he burns your clothes off, no use of y/n, no pronouns used for reader, reader is fem bodied though

WC: 1.4k

A/N: My BFF requested this! From this prompt list, numbers 18 and 49! I got carried away... If you would like to send in prompts, feel free, those are currently open! This is also written when Phos was in his Boss Era! Divider by cafekitsune

You were humming to yourself, sifting through papers as you sat at your boss’ desk. You were checking numbers, going over expenses, when you heard it. Footsteps stomping down the hall, right towards the office.

A smile spread across your face. Finally, you thought, he saw it. You put the papers down and watched as the door flung open. You are honestly surprised he did not burn through it.

“What the fuck!?” Dr. Phosphorus was ablaze. Literally.

“What?” You smiled at him innocently. He closed the door, gently, and seemed to be thinking about his next move. You watched in entertainment. Your smile widened and you looked back down at some papers. “If you need anything-” You started, “-you can tell me. I’m just sorting some stuff.”

“Oh…” He would have narrowed his eyes at you if he could have. “I understand.”

You continued like nothing had happened. “Understand what, Boss?” You were fighting back laughter at that point. “I’m just doing what you asked of me.”

Phosphorus nodded and brought you something. Something charred and burnt. A phone. Your eyes widened momentarily. You swallowed hard. “Did you burn that?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Yes.”

Your jaw clenched and you took in a shaky breath. You had sort of expected that. But nothing to that extent. Your eyes looked back at the horribly melted phone he set on the desk. You exhaled loudly and looked up at him. He stood on the other side of the desk, but he looked like he was about to fly over it. But not in anger.

“They almost saw you.”

Your smile returned. “But they didn’t?” You asked. That obviously was not the point. You let out a low laugh. “I texted John to give you his phone, when I just knew you had it, I sent the picture.”

“Do you seriously think it’s funny? Sending me shit like that while I’m at work!?” Phosphorus was upset, but you could tell it was not just anger. He was frustrated. Sexually. “What if someone else had seen that picture?” He was not laughing, but you thought it was hilarious.

You stood up from your seat and leaned towards your boss. “Then they’d know who I belonged to, sir.”

Phosphorus almost lost it. He was silent, but only for a moment. He seemed to be malfunctioning. “What?” His voice was low. It sent a chill down your spine. You froze up. “Repeat that.”

You blinked a few times, stunned. “They would know I’m yours, Boss.”

Phosphorus wished he could grin wider. His permanent smile would have to do. “You’re being serious?” He sounded excited. Ready to pounce all over again. “Tell me now, we don’t have to do this.”

Your nails dragged across your scalp, and you looked away momentarily. You looked back at him with a yearning he was sure you would never have for him. “I’m dead fucking serious. I wouldn’t send that picture if I wasn’t.” The desk was still between the two of you. “How much of it did you see? Before you blew up the phone?”

“Oh,” He dragged out the word and you smiled, “I saw everything, dear.” He motioned for you to come around the desk. You did not deny him. You moved around it, and he took a step back. You immediately moved into the space he had been, wedging yourself between the desk and your boss. “I saw how you were sitting, right here,” He easily picked you up and set you on the desk. You squeaked in response. “I saw your lacy black panties, and I know for a fact you are not wearing a bra.”

You nodded, suddenly feeling shy. Phosphorus pushed between your thighs and his hands grabbed your hips. He moved closer to you, face inches from yours. “Did you like it?” You asked, mouth going dry.

“I loved it.” He growled out. He was obviously trying hard to control his flames. “I need you-” He was breathless.

“Here?” Your hand was on his chest. “In the office?” Dr. Phosphorus got a nod in before you ultimately agreed. “Okay!” Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you pulled him as close as possible to you. Your hands cupped his face. You stared at him, taking the moment in.

“You can kiss me, you know.”

You lit up. It was almost as if that did not cross your mind, being able to do that. You instantly started kissing his face. As you kissed him you felt heat on your abdomen. You pulled away and saw your shirt disintegrating. You gasped and covered your chest. “Alex!” You never called him Alex; it was always Boss or Sir. “What the-”

“Sorry,” He did sound apologetic. “Got excited.”

“That was expensive…” You sat there, covering your breasts.

“Don’t worry about the clothes, I'll just buy you new ones.” Dr. Phosphorus sounded smug. You sighed and nodded. “You should really call me Alex more often,” His hand moved to your wrist. “I like the way it sounds when you say it.”

You looked at him as if he had hung the moon and stars. You sucked in air, and you felt a sudden surge of confidence. You removed your hands from your chest, “If you’re going to buy me more clothes… You might as well get rid of all of them, huh?” You smiled, soft and sweet. He was wrapped around your finger.

Dr. Phosphorus could not agree more. Phosphorus’ hands moved to your thighs, and he burned away your pants. Before you knew it, you were naked, on a silver platter before him. You sat on the desk in front of him and he looked at you, all of you. He took everything in.

“Can’t believe it…” He muttered. “You’re all mine.” Phosphorus moved behind you and pushed the papers off the desk. “Scoot back.” You followed his orders and pushed yourself further onto the desk, near the middle of it. “Touch yourself.”

“What?” You were baffled. “I want you to touch me!” You whined.

“Follow my orders and I’m sure you’ll get what you want.” He pulled a chair out and sat down, a little way from you. You pouted at him. “I promise.” He watched you closely.

You nodded. Fine, I have to do everything myself, you kept that thought to yourself. You pulled a leg onto the desk and let the one dangle over the floor. You pushed a finger into your entrance and your head rolled back. You were already wet from your earlier interaction and even earlier dirty thoughts about your boss. Yor finger slid in, and your thumb circled your clit. You let out a soft mewl and Phosphorus hummed.

“Good,” He praised you. “You’re being so obedient.” You wanted him. Your eyes shut and your hips gently rolled into your hand. “Look at me,” Phosphorus’ voice was stern. “I want to see how good you feel.”

You followed his orders, as always. “Alex,” You moaned. Your eyes hit him, and he seemed to be concentrating on you. He leaned forward slightly, his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands. He was watching.

Another finger slipped inside of you and your pace quickened. You were quick to find what made you feel the best, even if you wondered if your boss would lend you a hand if you acted like you did not know what you were doing. Your eyes were half lidded at that point, barely able to stay open.

“I need you, Alex…” You cried out for him, finger swirling over your clit again. “Please-”

“I know,” He cooed from his seat. “You’re doing so good though, I want you to cum for me.”

It did not take much more than that. Your toes were curling, and your body was tensing. There was a white-hot fire in your stomach. You let out a short cry, moaning his name as you came undone. You were seeing stars, your eyes had shut tight, and your body shook momentarily.

You heard Dr. Phosphorus get up and when you squinted your eyes open, you saw him standing before you. You caught your breath and quickly leaned against him, head resting against his coat. “You did so good,” His hand ran down your side, sending chills down your spine. “We have the rest of the night together.” He informed you. “I got the others to cover what I was doing, for now. So, you are mine for the next eight hours.”

No words had ever made you happier.

[phossiii]

｡𖦹°‧⭑ monsters: chapter two

synopsis: task force m arrives at the palace. and you and phosphorus come to an agreement.

cw: reader is a monster, mature themes, profanity, innuendos, phosphorus is phosphorus, more superpower usage, cute flirting thing going on, little spicy at the end.

"You'd think they'd take these shits down after a while..." you grimaced, watching as you passed by each deformed face. "I mean, seriously?"

"They're family. Who would wanna take down the last known painting of Great Great Grandpa Ugly?" Phosphorus quipped, pointing toward one of them as he walked alongside you. "They even got his good side."

"That's a woman..."

"..."

"Wow."

After arriving in Pokolistan, and taking a rather uncomfortable, piss-ridden ride to the palace, Task Force M had finally made it to the royal castle.

The royal castle where inbreeding seemed to be the fad of the last few centuries.

"Looks like the gene pool was above ground and inflatable, if you know what I mean," Bride remarked, glancing at Flag.

The general let out a soft chuckle, slightly grimacing at the images.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I wonder what this princess is going to look li—Oh."

In front of you all approached a gorgeous woman, with sparkling blue eyes and short, blonde hair.

Flag watched, entranced, as she approached, earning an eye roll from the Bride.

"Schwing," Phosphorus whispered, earning an eye roll from you.

"Dork."

"Richard Bill Flag, Sr," Ilana smiled, resting her hands behind her back. "So wonderful to be meeting you."

"Yes... you, too," he nodded, awkwardly.

"Your middle name is Bill?" Bride raised a brow.

"Yes."

"Not, like, William?" Nina asked.

"No."

"Whose middle name is Bill?" you slightly grinned.

"Mine! Okay?"

You raised your hand in defense, backing off as he refocused.

"Princess Rostovic, it's an honor," Flag bowed, humbly.

"This is not the kind of bow we do in Pokolistan, Mr. Richard Flag," the captain of the guard interjected. "So, unfortunately... we're going to have to kill you."

"What?!"

"Alexi," Ilana tried to reprimand.

"I am sorry. We must only do sacred, customary bow in this castle."

As the guards began to close in, drawing their weapons, everyone went back to back, you igniting your fist with fire.

"Everyone, murder this man."

"What?! Hold on a minute! No one briefed me on what kind of bow!"

Though, it wasn't long before they all burst into laughter.

'The hell?'

"I'm sorry. They're... how do you say it... messing on you?" Ilana apologized, muffling her snickers.

"I am making joke!" Alexi cackled. "For a minute, I think you're going to make mess in your pants, huh?"

"I was never gonna—!"

"Very close to messing his pants," the Bride interrupted with a smile.

"I wasn't even in the vicinity of doing that."

"I think someone else was," Phosphorus smirked, nudging you. "Right, Jumpy?"

"Don't make me hurt you, X-ray," you threatened, sharply.

"We are so much like Americans, yes?" Alexi grinned. "Ooh, we pull pranks like Jamie Kennedy Experiment! We do the Super Bowl shovel! We like to say Wazzup!"

'Jesus...'

"Well, you're certainly current with your popular cultural references," Phosphorus commended.

"Thank you!"

"You're welcome," he leaned in closer to you, lowering his voice to a whisper and pointing to his face. "Sarcastic smile."

"Why are you talking to me right now?"

"Now, I have question for you, skeleton. Where is the beef?" Alexi laughed. "Clara Peller, one of the greats—"

"Enough, Alexi," Ilana sighed, turning to the rest of you. "We've prepared a banquet for you, our honored guests."

You grinned, finally excited.

It had been so long since you'd had a meal that wasn't grey-ish, brown slop.

'Shoulda led with that.'

"Hey, doll face," Phosphorus, chimed, mouth stuffed with food as he glanced at your steak, "You gonna eat that?"

"Don't call me doll face," you shut down, harshly. "And no. I'm not."

"Perfect."

Without hesitation, he snatched it away and plopped it down on his plate, using an irradiated hand to cook it a bit extra. 

Though, once he was finished, he was quick to yoke it up and take a bite out of it like a goddamn raccoon.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you went back to cutting your brussel sprouts.

"Animal..."

"Don't start thinkin' you're better than me just 'cause you're on a diet," he countered, tossing the once bitten steak over his shoulder, sending Weasel to fetch it.

"Vegetarian," you corrected, stabbing a piece of broccoli with your fork. "I haven't eaten meat in years."

"Didn't know Hell had a salad bar."

"Fuck you."

"That would be delightful, actually," he grinned, unbothered, as he ripped the drumstick off a turkey and took a large bite.

Pointedly, you ignored him, opening your mouth and shoveling in some vegetables.

And that's when he noticed...

"Whoa..." Phosphorus froze, slightly, eyes widening at the sight. "You have fangs?"

Your expression fell, swapping for one of annoyance.

"Yes," you answered, flatly. "Are you deaf or something? 'Cause you seem to be having a hard time grasping the fact thatI. Am. A. Demon."

"That's hot," he stated, completely ignoring what you just said.

Taken by surprise, you clammed up, a certain warmth rising to your cheeks at his bold comment.

As crude as it was, no one had ever actually complimented you off your looks before.

This was completely new territory.

"I—Shut up!" you slightly stammered, internally cursing yourself for being so embarrassing.

"Holy crap... did you just stutter?" he realized, giddily. 

"No!"

"You did! Oh, my God! You just did!"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"That was adorable! You're adorable."

"I hate you."

"You're not the first."

"Fuck..." you cursed, closing your eyes and biting your lip as your free hand cupped your breast through the thin fabric of your tank top.

Lost in the moment, your breath began to pick up, even more so as you slid your red hand down the front of your panties.

You moaned as you began to massage your sensitive bud, imagining it was someone else instead.

After housing down the rest of your dinner, and take a well-earned shower, you got set your own private room—which you procured by telling Flag you sometimes burst into flames in your sleep.

But now, with the boys keeping watch outside the princess's room, and nothing but time to kill, you settled for the old American past time, dealing with an itch you'd been meaning to scratch for years.

"Oh, shit..." you gasped, slipping your fingers inside, expecting to feel something.

But you didn't.

In fact, you felt nothing.

'The fuck?'

Abruptly, you sat up on the bed, letting out a huff as you looked down at yourself.

You knew it had been a hot minute since you last... y'know... but you didn't think you were that rusty.

"Fuck me," you groaned, flopping back on the mattress in annoyance.

You were already pent up enough, but adding sexual frustration to the mix only worsened the feral urges rising in your chest.

God, you weren't even supposed to be here...

You weren't some hardened criminal, or senseless evil-doer.

You were just a woman.

A woman... with horrible luck, and a really, really bad case of DID.

And a woman who wanted nothing more than to be back at her cell in Arkham, far away from these people and this place.

Quickly, you got up, snatching your shorts off the floor before tugging them on, running a frustrated hand through your hair.

Frantically, you racked your brain for someone to assist you, feeling as though if you didn't get this release, you might go insane.

Just one round.

Just one, quick round.

And you'd be set for however many more years you had at the asylum.

Flag?

'No. He was makin' goo-goo eyes at the princess... and by now she's probably already fucked him.'

G.I?

'Too stiff. I don't even think he has a dick...'

Weasel?

'Absolutely not.'

Which only leaves...

'Fuck. Me.'

Cursing under your breath, you stood there for a moment, contemplating the life choices that led you to this moment before starting for the door.

On your way, your steps seeming to echo throughout the room as you padded across, and only got louder after you yanked open the door and reached the hallway.

At this point, you were desperate.

With no actual options and limited time, you would have to act fast.

And pray that he'd let it go once you were done...

Using your sense of smell, you found his door easily, moving to step in front of it.

You were about to knock, but stopped mid-way, hesitant.

What if he said no? Found you disgusting...

"Whoa, there, doll face... That's hot," his words echoed in your head.

With a deep sigh, you steeled your nerves, raising your hand to knock, but just as you did, the door swung open, scaring you half to death.

And there he stood, six feet of surprisingly attractive radiation clad in a hoodie and sweatpants, sleeves pushed up to reveal his glowing forearms.

'Damn...'

Though, he looked like he was on his way to do something.

"(y/n)... to what do I owe the surprise?" Phosphorus played off, his voice doing little to hide the grin on his face.

In this case, he was glad that his eyes weren't visible to others, as that was the only thing keeping you from smacking him across the face for the look he had on.

Which was utterly shameless.

But fuck... who could blame him when you looked the way you did? 

You exchanged the sexy leather and buckles for a sinfully thin, black tank top and shorts, your curves now even further on display.

If he was being honest, for a moment, he didn't even believe the sight to be real—it all seemed too good to be true.

That is, until you started talking.

"Look, I'm only gonna say this one time," you started, poking your finger into his chest and forcing him back into his room, kicking the door shut behind you once you were inside. "So for once in your life, shut the fuck up and listen. Okay?"

He felt his stomach churn at your touch, your demanding tone and freshly-washed scent doing little to help.

But he silently nodded, keeping somewhat eye contact.

"I have been stuck in Arkham for ten fucking years... and for ten fucking years I've only ever touched myself..." you continued, still moving forward, and still forcing him back. "This might be the last time I see the outside world, and if it is, I'm doing one thing before I go."

Absolutely floored, Phosphorus couldn't help but let his mouth hang wide, completely disbelieving of the words coming out of your mouth.

There was no way.

Were you serious?

Was this really happening?

Had he fallen asleep?

"Sadly, there isn't a buffet of options," you sighed, slightly amused, as the backs of his knees hit the bed, forcing him to fall back onto it with a yelp. "But out of the assortment, you're the only one I can fuck without giving severe burns."

Practically pouncing, you crawled on top of him, sitting yourself down on his crotch and caging him to the mattress.

"But I wanna be clear that this is just sex. I need something... and you probably do, too. So we're just giving it to each other. Nothing more, nothing less."

Phosphorus's brow raised at the statement.

"Figured that," he chuckled. "I'm never gonna see you again. They're gonna ship you back to Gotham when this is all over."

"Exactly," you nodded. "So... you fuck me, help me get my nut, and then I leave. No cuddling, pillow talk, none of that. Am I clear?"

Below you, the man cocked his head to the side, seeming to be searching your face for something.

You tried to keep your expression as firm as possible, needing him to understand how serious you were.

Finally, he nodded, slowly resting a hot hand on your hip, sending a small vibration running right through your body.

"Crystal," he purred.

You shoulders sank with a quiet sigh, relief flooding your body as you leaned down, your face now inches from his.

"Good..." you hummed, moving closer until your lips were just out of each other's reach.

You could finally feel good, for what could possibly be the last time.

You weren't going to waste a single second.

"Now fuck me."

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can we get a doctor phosphorus X reader where the reader has power similar to Deadpool. Example of unable to die and sometimes has ability to pull things out of thin air for comedic effect

You were a curious case to most, from your inability to die, to your unique ability to seemingly pull things that people needed out of thin air as though by pure coincidence. When asked about how you did what you did, you merely shrugged your shoulders - you sipped a drink you plucked out of thin air through a silly straw- and replied with something that only left the rest of the monsters even more confused;

‘Plot convenience and comedic effect for the audience reading this fanfic that author took far too long to actually get to writing.’

Many left you alone after that, deducing you a tad mentally unstable, all but Dr Phosphorus who also thrived off of the chaos and unpredictable nature that you brought to every situation you found yourself in. He found comradery in you and your ability to piss of basically everyone by getting under their skin, even him at times but he knows when to laugh with you as while everything that came from your mouth might sound insulting, that’s just how you came across and it only takes someone with a likemindedness to understand when you were being genuine or not.

Dr Phosphorus remembered the first time you interacted with one another when you scared him by accident, making him grab your shoulder with his exposed radiated hand, thinking you’ll die a violent death but imagine his surprise when you only shrug his hand off to reveal a healing shoulder where his hand once was. ‘Is it hot in here or is it just you? Oh who am I kidding it is you because of your…yeah.’ You said as you gestured to all of him and while he couldn’t smile since he was a literal skeleton, he couldn’t help but chuckle at your words now that the initial scare was over.

‘Oh you’re the wise ass who thought it’d be funny to scare the irradiated Skelton?’ Dr phosphorus says as he crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he took you in and the burnt cloth at your shoulder from his touch, your skin however -now fully healed at this point- looked untouched as though he wasn’t close enough to even hurt you. ‘Who are you newbie, I would think that I would remember a person like you.’ He adds with an almost flirtatious purr.

You smiled as you offered out your hand. ‘Of course you wouldn’t as I was hauled off here just this morning, but for the sake of keeping this fanfic a reasonable length as to prevent the possibility of stretching the readers attention span too thin, I killed a bunch of bad guys and lost a couple of limbs in the process.’ You said as though it wasn’t as big of a deal as it would be to others, ‘people were screaming, I was screaming. and here I am being called a freak, monster and whatever even by people who should probably look in the mirror before saying shit. It’s like the pot calling the kettle black.’ You finished.

Dr phosphorus looked at you then back down at your hand before looking back at you once more, amused. ‘I’d take your hand sweetheart, but I don’t want to hurt you…again.’

‘Oh then take these gloves.’ You said.

‘What gloves-‘

‘These silly!’ You exclaimed as you shoved a pair of irradiation proof gloves against dr phosphorus’s chest.

‘How did you-‘ dr phosphorus tried to ask, only to then decide that logic wasn’t all that important to you when you seemingly worked outside of logic as a person, logic and sound decisions didn’t exist within you, and it shows in the most subtlest ways that one wouldn’t notice unless they were paying attention as to how you seemingly controlled an unforeseen narrative to your very will.

‘How did I what?’ You asked.

‘Pull shit out of thin air.’ Dr phosphorus replied as he slides the gloves over his hands.

‘Plot convenience and comedic effect for the them.’ You then pointed towards a part of the room, almost as though gesturing to an audience , only for there to be no one there at all but cold walls. You two were the only ones in the room and dr phosphorus thought he was the only mentally unstable one in this facility. ‘Who are we looking at sweets?’ Dr phosphorus says as he tried to see what you were seeing, but all he could see was the cold walls that he was far too familiar with then the outside of the very structure he was trapped within, which sounded sad but to his knowledge no sane mind would blink twice at the mistreatment of a monster.

‘The audience reading this very fan fic.’ You informed him with a smile before seeing that he had put on the gloves and boldly grabbed his hand, making the skeleton jolt as he then relaxed when remembering he did put on the gloves. ‘But never mind them, it’s good to meet you dr phosphorus.’ You add as though knowing his name without him telling you was all apart of your character and dr phosphorus had to say that he was liking you more and more you spoke.

‘I don’t think I disclosed that to you sweetheart, but it’s good to meet you too.’ He chuckled and in that moment he knew that your relationship was going to be unlike any other. And he was right.

There would be times where all of you were gathered in the cafeteria, where one of the monsters nudged past you rather rudely while sneering at you. You were use to this as technically while you had abilities that went beyond human comprehension, you were still the closest thing to being a human in comparison to those who had physical appearance that screamed monster.

‘Watch where you’re going human.’ They’d spit at you venomously.

You only smiled back at them while Dr Phosphorus looked between the two of you from the sidelines along with everyone else. ‘Someone who’s going to get bitchslapped by a fish says what.’

The bat like creature scrunched up their face. ‘What-‘ before they could finish their sentence, they were then smacked across the face with a fish rather violently as they were sent to the floor. They hold a hand to their cheek, clearly unaware of what had just happened along with the rest of the room, before looking at your hand that was once empty now was grasping the tail a dead fish the length of your arm; which explained the disgusting smell that soon hit their senses a second after they realised that they were hit in the face with a dead fish.

‘Where did you get that thing?!’ They’d spit exclaimed but you shrugged.

‘That’s on a need to know basis.’ You replied as you shoved the fish into the hands of a gargoyle like being as you took your place next to dr phosphorus, who had been trying to hold back his laughter but couldn’t when you were close enough if g for him to ask. ‘A fish? That’s what you come up with when insulated?!’ He wheezed. You shrugged ‘thought you would like the image of someone getting slapped with a fish and so I went with it.’ You explained as though it was something that happened on a daily basis for you.

‘Well it was definitely a sight to behold for not just me sweetheart.’ Dr phosphorus tells you as you both carried on with your day, all the while everyone else could only watch as the irradiated skeleton and you continue your conversation before being joined by weasel who had the fish firmly liked in his jaw.

[yandere-wishes]

｡ ₊°༺ Pink Pony Club ༻°₊ ｡

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆Yandere! Dr Phosphorus x Reader ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

⋆.𝄞𝓟𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓟𝓸𝓷𝔂 𝓒𝓵𝓾𝓫 𝓑𝔂 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓡𝓸𝓪𝓷𝄞˚.⋆

✮★✮ Oh Mama, I'm just having fun, on the stage in my heels it's where I belong, down at the Pink Pony Club, I'm gonna keep on dancing at the Pink Pony Club. ✮★✮

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He lets the music roll over him, allowing the drums to melt over his flames and bleed into the marrow of his black bones. When you dance, you have to focus on the turn out of each step, on the wave of your arms, when to stiffen when to loosen. It makes it all so easy to forget the pain of being constantly on fire. To forget the melancholy that festers inside you. When the adrenaline is this high, you can only make out the strobing neon lights and the dazed amusement of the crowd.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ It's hard to hate the music and the lights, to shy away from a crowd so easily fascinated by the gleeful macabre. It's really the most sanity-inducing thing you can cling to when your body has turned into the thing you once loved. When you've become your research after watching your old self die in a furnace at the hands of those who once wielded all the power in the world. Funny how we make our own monsters, funny how the thing that kills us, is nothing more than the very man we once tried to kill, now engulfed by his own invention. Phosphorus spins, left leg, right leg, jump, and twirl.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The dancing, the music, the clapping, the lights, it's all so perfect for melting away the terrible things that slither inside him, to burn away all those good memories until the kill and the luxury are all the remains. It's getting just too easy to forget his son's face, to forget the smile his wife gave him on their wedding day.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ There's a moment between moments when the world seems to stop. It's only then that he notices you, or rather notices what you're wearing. It's the dress he thinks, pink like the mushroom clouds he'd once adored, like the sunset framing devastation. Or maybe it's the way you have your hair so cruelly tied. Tight circle above your head like an atom waiting to explode. In a flash it's over, someone is handing him a drink. Another sitting on his lap. And he's thrust harshly back into reality, back to a world of trying to forget.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Phosphorus is and always will be a man of logic. A man of science. He lets his fingers glide over the stack of pristine hundred-dollar bills. To think he'd spent his whole life begging for a quarter of all of this. Begging for scraps of funding to save the lives of thousands. It had all been so important once. Still, he can't help but let his mind wonder, what could he build with all of this? What could he solve, discover, create? He tells his men to lock it up in the safe, he's not ready to go back to all of that just yet.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The next time Phosphorus sees you, he's half sunken into the plush couch of the VIP lounge. It's been a long day, a long tough day. Everything had gone wrong and all so right in the same breath. This time your dress is the shade of clouds marred by the blood of a dying sun. He should know this shade from the history books he'd used to read, the shade of skylines behind ancient temples. Back then he'd been trying to understand. Understand what he's not quite sure, he'd been so desperate to pry every little answer from the world. To chew their solutions, breaking them with his teeth and spitting out his own variation, his own thesis. He'd been so utterly convinced of his own intellect, convinced that reading Saadi at the same time as the latest research paper on Nuclear decay meant understanding the world.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He watched with staunch fascination as you tried to dance. Following your friend's steps, heels stepping awkwardly completely out of tune. You bend your knees, sinking to the floor. And Phosphorus can't think of any excuses for why his cheeks feel hotter than usual. Why his eyes are permanently affixed to the sway of your arms.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He thinks you look just like nuclear fission dancing in the limelight with your friends. Like you've split your own body to create them. Little atomic nucleus dancing under his microscope. You look perfect, your toned legs amplified by the radioactive pink of your heels. Long neck he'd love to kiss decorated with a thin string of gold. You don't look a thing like the other girls at the lounge, you look like an experiment beckoning him, seducing him into cutting you open, and observing how you explode.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He's been following you keenly, trying to see what happens next. It's the fourth week in a row that he's forgotten about dancing for the crowd, about the girls who used to hang off his arms. He's too devoted to this experiment. "Nuclear scientist finds atomic bomb inside ancient temple from the bronze age". Phosphorus examines the sway of your hips, the bob of your head, and the crude kicks of your legs. There's something wrong with those heels, they're too thin, too high, inviting everyone to stare at you. But he's quick to shove them away, circling you from afar. He can't let anyone tamper with his experimentation. Certain matter performs differently when it knows it's being observed. So he allows the notion of invisibility, making you feel unobserved, safe in your own ignorance.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He hasn't felt this alive in years. This ecstasy tastes utterly sweet, pure saccharine. It's the same thrill as watching your particles stabilize after days of trying to find the right frequency. Watching them organize into the right motion. And isn't that what you are? An ionized atom. After all, what is dancing if not ionization, if not trying to lose a part of yourself you can no longer bear?

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He's late tonight, rivals had somehow bled in and were after the safe from Phosphorus' newest heist. He'd burned them to a crisp and danced on their ashes until they flew away. But that doesn't change the fact that he's late, too late in fact. When he rushes through the door, men nervously run behind him. His eyeless sockets fall upon an uttermost dreary sight...

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The problem with people is that they never truly appreciate beauty. They treat it as if it's something to conquer something to tame. They never bother to understand it, to study it from afar whispering prayers of gratitude for bearing witness to this new discipline. The man's body is too close to yours, head following your lips, as you awkwardly try to sidestep. The moment you try to flee he grabs your wrist. You scream, no one ever hears screaming through the bass and the rhythm.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ There's smoke in your eyes, sickly-sweet honey in the back of your throat. It's all too acrid but at least the hand assaulting your wrist subsides. The thing in front of you glows green, an acidic neon green that feels too familiar in shade. You watch as the skeleton seizes your shoulders, such a warm touch hearthlike in every way. He pulls you closer till all you can smell is null and all you can feel is smothering warmth.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ You never quite quiver under his touch, never fully shy away when he cups your jaw and tilts your head. It's like you want the radiation, want to feel his nuclear essence bleeding into you. Maybe then you'll be whole. Maybe then neither of you will need the music, and the lights, and the crowd to feel whole.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ You never belonged in the clubs, it was painfully obvious you could never mold to their dances, their music. Your heels never fit right. Phosphorous knows he's been trying to do the very same for all so long. Neither of you needed to kill off your electrons, to throw them away to ignorant nobodies who would sooner hurt you for their own voracious motivations. "Give me your electrons and I'll give you mine." Phosphorus tucks your head into the crux of his shoulder, "I'll fuse with you so you'll never need anyone else."

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Phosphorus' hands mirror yours, swaying overhead before falling lower like the cascade of a wave. Side step, side step, stop, and bend. He thinks this is better than any club, any choreography he could do by himself. He feels so whole dancing only for your eyes. He feels so happy having you dance only for his eyes. Your palms touch as you circle slowly. Dancing like the airy rotation of electrons. There's no more dancing at the Pink Pony Club.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ What do you call a dance that feels like merging two atoms? What do you call it when your heart feels like the denotation of a bomb? He presses his lips to yours slowly, feeling the nuclei crash, a nuclear reaction, his tongue hum between your teeth endeavoring to melt away your fear. His fingers, dance across your hips heating up, leaving burning hearts and hand prints, claiming you as his, making you death just like him.

Lost the request for this but thank you so so much to the sender!! 💞💋💞💋

[miraclecherryblossomsblog]

Random fluff headcanons cuz as much as i love smut I just really wanna be held by him.....

-Idk about you but i think Dr Phosphorus would clingy once he finds out his radiation can't affect you (15 years without a single hug bru.........)

I been struggling on my oc for this man but i just cant help to imagen being a normal human whose just immune to any type of radiation...maybe I'll just do that lol

-Like my guy would be so touch starved but would only show it in closed doors at the start. I can see him being more open to it outdoors after some time

-It would start with holding pinkies to putting his arm around you to just put his body on you when ur laying down (he's ur warm weighted blankie <3)

-Can def see this guy being protective, he jokes but u get hurt or someone comments shit? Nah bro those mfs r burned meat 💀

-And ngl he would spoil you, kind of going off the story here but since him being big time criminal boss I can see shi like ur just existing and OOPS he slips $40000 in your account. Trying to pay you college debt? already done. Wanting to pay to fix your car? He's already driving to your house with the latest model.

-Would pull you to dance with him, even if cant dance he still spinning you around and sometimes letting you put your feet on his so yall dancing the same rhythm. specially on the late date nights

[violetflowers55]

Burning Fire - Oneshot

(crime boss! Dr. Phosphorus x fem!reader)

Synopsis: For a crime lord, Phosphorus works far more than you’d expect. So, you find a way to entertain yourself while he works…only you get way more than you bargained for. (smut, no plot)

CW: cockwarming, slapping (ass and face), domination, overstimulation, heat kink, burning

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been your idea. You hated not being able to get close to him while he was working. For a crime lord, Phosphorus worked far too much for your liking, and you wanted him all the time. Now that you had been sitting idly in his lap for twenty minutes, you were starting to get even more impatient.

Your whole body was warm. The feeling of his full length inside you, unmoving, was getting to be almost unbearable. The fact that neither of his hands were touching you made it worse. Behind you, he was on a phone call, arguing over his drug business. It wasn’t something you fully understood, and in this moment, you had no desire to learn. All you wanted was his full attention.

The other person on the call must have said something wrong because Phosphorus suddenly started shouting. You felt him heat up inside you as his anger grew. He animatedly threatened to kill the person if they didn’t get his shit to him fast, slamming his free hand down on the desk beside you. The slight movements after being still for so long sent jolts of electricity through your body. You groaned and bounced slightly, desperate for more. Phosphorus hung up and leaned into your neck, placing his hands on your hips.

“You said you could sit still and be patient,” he murmured in your ear.

“But it’s been so long,” you whined. Phosphorus chuckled, his hot breath on your neck sending tingles down your spine.

“Patience, dollface.”

You groaned and bent forward, laying your head on his desk as he took another call. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take this. It felt so good to have his cock inside you, filling you up. At first, that had been enough, but now you wanted, no, needed more.

A dangerous idea popped into your head. Phosphorus would be pissed, but you’d get what you needed. He laughed behind you, ticking you off. He was laughing while you were on top of him, naked, prime for the taking. Nervous butterflies swirled in your stomach as you decided to go through with it. You lifted your hips up and down, a sigh that turned into moans escaping you as you pleasured yourself on him. You arched your back, giving him a better view of your figure. He heated up beneath you and let out his own moan.

“I’m gonna have to call you back.”

You laughed slightly at him hanging up his call. He placed his hands on your ass, squeezing and burning your skin. Just as you started to pick up your pace, he stood up, pushing your hips into the desk. You gasped as he gripped your hair and pressed your face sideways on the hard wood.

“You’re going to regret that,” Phosphorous rasped into your ear.

Before you could respond, he gave your ass a hard slap and started pounded into you. Each thrust shook your body, slamming you into the desk repeatedly. You moaned and cried out, overwhelmed by the sudden movement. Still holding onto your hair, he slid his other hand between your legs. His fingers rubbed quick circles over your clit, the hotness of his hand only intensifying your pleasure.

“Phosphorous, fuck, I-I can’t-“ you cried out, succumbing to intense lightening shooting through your body. You gripped the desk as you tightened around him, liquid dripping down your legs.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he growled in your ear, “You interrupted my phone call for this, so you can and you will.”

Even as you came, he didn’t slow down. He hammered into you relentlessly, fast and hard. He let up on your clit, giving you a moment of slight relief before he began slapping your ass again. Each strike sent shockwaves through your body. You pleaded his name over and over again, unable to think of anything else.

“Phos-Phosphorus, fuck, Phosphorus.”

Tangling his hand in your hair, he pulled you up from the desk. You cried out from the feeling of him pulling your hair. He gave your ass another sharp smack before sliding his hand up your body to your throat. His hand slightly burned as he squeezed - hard enough to excite you, but light enough to still let you breathe. He groaned into your ear and pushed his whole length into you, filling you up to the hilt.

“Who’s pussy is this?” he grunted, holding his position deep inside you.

“Ah-yours!” you cried out, almost overwhelmed by all the sensations coursing through you. He snapped his hips, roughly thrusting into you once.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You! Yours, I-I’m yours, I’m yours,” you whimpered. He squeezed your throat tighter, making you gasp for air.

“Then come for me,” he commanded, resuming his merciless rhythm.

You cried out from the sudden stimulation, involuntarily obeying him. Stars crossed your vision as you released. Phosphorus let go of your head and throat, momentarily pulling out to flip you over. He lifted your legs up onto his shoulders and buried himself in you again. His one hand cupped your breast, teasing your nipple, while the other held your chin.

“Phos-fuck, oh God, Phosphorus,” you babbled as he fucked you, slow but deep.

He leaned down, stopping when his face was only an inch from yours. The heat radiating off him combined with breathing in each other’s air was intoxicating.

“I wanted to see how pretty you look when you screaming my name,” he murmured, holding your face so you were forced to look in his eyes.

He picked up his pace, the sound of him pounding your dripping cunt filling the room. You started to moan even more, but he closed the gap between you, swallowing your moan with his lips. He kissed you sloppily and passionately, the two of you moaning into each other’s mouths. His tongue swirled around yours while his fingers continued playing with your nipple. You wrapped your arms around his neck, digging your nails into his jacket, desperate for something to hold on to as you felt another climax rising.

He pulled back from your lips to watch as you cried out his name. You pulsed around him, the world around you shattering. He groaned in response, pounding into you even faster.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he gasped into your ear.

All you could do was make incoherent noises. Every thrust felt like it might send you over the edge again. You felt so tender, yet you didn’t want him to stop. Him using you, rutting into you like an animal, was the only thing that existed to you.

A hot, sharp sting across your face brought you back. Right as you realized what had happened, Phosphorus slapped you again, slamming deep into you simultaneously for good measure.

“Don’t tell me you’re overstimulated already, baby,” he said huskily, gripping your throat again, “I’ve only just started.”

He mercifully slowed down, opting for slow and deep movements. You could feel every inch of him as he moved in and out, each pump eliciting more moans from you. His other hand slid down your body, landing on your swollen nub. He drew lazy circles over it, and you gasped and trembled with each one.

“You like that, dollface, hm?”

You whimpered beneath him and tried to nod. The waves of pleasure coursing through you were growing, threatening to overwhelm you again. He gripped your throat tighter and sped up rubbing your clit.

“Say it,” he croaked, “tell me how much you love my cock inside you.”

“I love it, I love it, I l-love your, ah! cock in-in me, oh God!” you cried out.

He heated up from your words and pounded into you frantically. He groaned into your ear, sending tingles down your neck. The sound of you screaming his name filled the room. Your walls spasmed around him, liquid spilling out of you as you hit your peak.

“God, I love feeling you come on me,” Phosphorous said in a strangled voice.

His fingers released your clit, instead digging into your hip, burning your skin. His movements became sloppier and faster, his breath getting more ragged as he reached his own climax. You felt his hot cum spill into you as he slammed into you once, then twice, sending you over the edge again.

He collapsed onto your chest, still inside you as he tried to catch his breath. When he finally pulled out, you felt empty. He threaded his fingers through your hair and gently trailed kisses down your neck.

“Mm, Phosphorus,” you murmured, comfortably wrapping your arms around him. He picked up his head to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“You were so good for me baby,” he cooed, cupping your cheek. A giddy smile spread across your face.

The phone he had cast aside rang, its high pitch breaking your bliss. He hung his head and groaned, flopping back onto his chair. You whimpered, giving him your best doe eyes. Seeing you, he soundlessly laughed, but he still picked up the phone. He held a finger up to your lips before answering the call.

“No distractions this time.”

[n-black]

Me checking if someone drops fanfics of Dr. Phosphorus more than my mental health

[fanged-fanfics]

Creatures Commandos platonic request, can you do Dr. Phosphorus x Child! Venom Reader (the only difference between them and OG Venom is that they can withstand extreme heat.), I need this radioactive skeleton man to be a dad again.

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.

"Not too worn out, yeah? We got a big day protecting this princess" he asked you. You shook your head "Nuh-uh. It's just... early". "Well, it's midday by now, kid, a little too late for 'early'" Phosphorus responded back. You groaned, sitting back in your seat "Why did it feel like we got dragged out so soon?" You complained. "Timezones, bud" Phosphorus said "Had to get up early to be here on time. It's a whole new country". You paused, soaking in the reminder of the unfamiliar landscape. You scooted closer to him, grabbing hold of his sleeve. Phosphorus wrapped his arm around you in return. Jeez, it'd been 15 years since he was able to have this. Someone who could stand to be near him, and who actually trusted him enough to lean on.

"You getting tired there, little hellraiser?" He asked, seeing you beginning to nod off. You stubbornly shook your head, mumbling in protest. He chuckled once more, pulling you up close to his side. To the average person, it was deeply scalding and searing to the touch. But to you, it was like being pressed against the warmest heater that could ever be offered. Your wide eyes slowly fall shut, feeling the comforting repetitive motion of Phosphorus petting your back to soothe you. Your head falls onto his form, using him as a foundation to lean on. He'd been that ever since you arrived, really. Support, stability, a shoulder or hand to reach out to. A jaded and crude support beam at times, sure, but he did his best to conduct himself at least a little bit around you.

While you slowly drifted to sleep, Phosphorus kept his gaze on you, seeing how you were able to relax against him. It was a familiar sight, one that made what was left of his heart ache. He looked up, seeing Bride not far at all taking note of it as well. He held a finger over where his mouth used to be to signify quiet. The stitched lady gave a sigh that showed she wasn't very impressed but, well, when was she ever? Phosphorus moved his coat to wrap it around your shoulders for extra protection, using a hand to shield you from the sun. He gently pet your back a bit more before simply keeping his gaze looking around for you both. No one could tell except for Phosphorus himself, but this time, he really was smiling.

[little-miss-fandom-freak]

This isn't a request or anything I just had a funny thought but like, imagine if the Justice League finally got evidence that Y/N is innocent, and they tried to visit but Phosphorus is just. Booing and throwing trash at the League members. Y/N may join in also. Bonding time 🩷

Okay I know I need to be working on my other asks but I LOVE THIS

Dr. Phosphorus X Former Hero!Reader Pt 2.

Little note: I did want this to end on a happier note and I found it hard to be mad at Superman lol

○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○

You didn't understand why Superman and Batman were here in Belle Reve. You had assumed it was for some meeting with Waller until one of the guards approached you and your team.

"C'mon," She said as she lifted your shoulder, "you got visitors."

You looked around, completely confused. "Visitors? Who would be visiting me?" The guard didn't respond as she pulled you away from the table and put your hands in cuffs. He tried to shrug them off, determined to stay with you. You gave him a stern look, one that said 'don't do anything that will get you in trouble'. He sighed as he took a step back, letting the guards take you out to the courtyard.

You were shocked to find out that your former teammates were the visitors. You tried to dig your heels into the concrete, causing the gurads to struggle as they dragged you to them. "I have nothing to say to you two!" You yelled from across the courtyard.

They gave each other a look before Superman took a step forward. "Lose the cuffs, guys. She's won't do anything."

The guards looked to Waller for confirmation. She nodded, giving them permission to take the tight handcuffs off. You rubbed your wrist as the two approached you. "Leave me alone, Superman." You said with spite

"Look..." He started, clearly trying to find the right words to say. "I know there's no taking back everything that's happened these past few years, but I hope you understand why we did it."

"You mean how the whole team left me to rot in a cell, not even showing up for my trials!" You yelled.

"We wanted to, but it wasn't a good time. For any of it. You have to believe us." He pleaded.

"Why should I? It's not like you believed a word I said!" You sighed as you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to calm yourself. "I hope you two didn't come all the way out here just to apologize and think I'll forgive you, cause there's no way in hell-"

"The court has decided to give you bail." Batman said, stopping you mid rant.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing right now. "Give me bail? Why?"

"While you were locked up, things changed. New laws were made, old ones were fixed, and your lawyer found new evidence to support your case. If you choose to go to trail and plead not guilty, there's a chance you'll make bail. And I would be happy to pay it, if you promise to return to the Justice League."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Back in the rec room, Phosphorus was standing on top of one of the tables that he had pushed against the wall, trying to get a view of what was going on outside. Nina and Bride had joined him; for Nina it was out of concern, for Bride it was simply because she was bored.

"What are they saying?" He mumbled, his grip on the bars tightening as he tried to listen.

"It has to be something about her case." Said Bride. "With how long she's been in here, and not a single visit before, there must've been a change."

Phosphorus didn't know how to take that. Was there more that you didn't tell him? Were more years added to your sentence? Are you getting transferred? Or worse, did they find you innocent?

The Bride side glanced at Phosphorus, a knowing smirk graced her lips. "You know, you're really bad at pretending you're not the "jealous boyfriend" type."

His head whipped around in her direction, his flames rose but she couldn't tell if it was from anger or embarrassment.

"I-I just- you- just-just shut up!"

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You thought for a moment, you weren't quite sure how to respond. "If I come back, I want a few things."

Batman scoffed. "Do you really think you're in the position to be negotiating?"

"I'll have you know, prison life hasn't been all that bad for me." You said with sass as your crossed your arms. "Once I got over the feeling of betrayal, I actually formed relationships with the inmates."

"Really?" Superman cringed at the thought. "But they're murderers-"

"At least they know loyalty."

"Barely." Batman shot back.

You gritted your teeth. "Task Force M has showed more loyalty to me than any if the Justuce League. I'm am perfectly fine with staying in here, you're the ones who want me back. So, do we have a deal?"

Batman glared at you before he made up his mind. "What do you want?"

You tense shoulders relaxed slightly. "My team, I want to be able to see them while I'm out. Not just visitation hours, I want them out of Belle Reve when I see them."

Superman and Batman looked at each other, before Batman looked to Waller. She shrugged. "Task Force M has been more well behaved than usual. If they can keep it up, I'm sure I can arrange something."

You nodded to Waller, silently thanking her for her cooperation. You turned back to the men in front of you. "Looks like I'm back."

A wide smile filled Suoerman's face. He rushed to you a scooped you up into a hug. "You have no idea how hard it was not to visut you, but we were under so much fire at the time. The governmentthought it would be safer if we temporarilydropped connections. "

You embraced the hug, realizing how much you actually missed your old team. Suddenly, you heard muffled yelling coming from across the courtyard. Looking to your left, you saw Phosphorus yelling something you couldn't hear but Superman could.

"Um, why is the glowing skeleton yelling at me to get my hands off of you?" He asked, clearly concerned.

You chuckled. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

Suddenly, several peices of trash came flying your way. Well, not exactly flying. They hit the ground several feet away from the three of you, but the action was enough to make the guards inside tackle your partner.

With a sigh, you removed yourself from the hug. "We should head back in."

As Waller and the guards led you all back inside, Batman came up beside you.

"Phosphorus? Really?"

You smiled slightly as you shrugged. "What can I say, he's got charm."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Yeah, it's called radiation. I don't think he's good for you-"

"Don't go all dad-mode on me Bats, we're still the same age remember?"

He scoffed. "And yet you're the one making juvenile dating choices."

"Uh huh, and how's it going with Selena?" You said with a shit-eating grin. He was quiet for a few moments.

"Fair point." He said, causing you to let out a laugh. As much as you hated them, and how long it will be before eyour relationships are repaired, you couldn't deny that you missed moments like this.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

I hope you enjoyed this and if you have anything you would like me to personally respond to, message me or put it in my ask box because as of right now, Tumblr won't let me respond to comments :)

[sunflwrapple]

Y/N : Damn, it’s cold

Rick Flag Sr : here, take my hoodie, I’m not even that cold

Y/N : thanks! I’ll give it back tomorrow

[Later that night]

Y/N, aggressively inhaling in his jacket scent while curled up inside it : I’m not giving this back.

[paradlselost]

. ⋮ ULTRAVIOLENCE .ᐟ ֹ

doctor phosphorus x female reader

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ fun fact i’ve wanted to eat uranium for a long time so he is the worlds most perfect man to me . also sorry for not writing anything in so long , i’ve been busy and jumping from hyperfixation to hyperfixation for a while now as you can see by my unfinished mouthwashing fanfics . but i watched the show last night and he is my favorite and there’s almost nothing about him so i had to . enjoy !

⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬ monster ! reader , mentions of body dysmorphia and imposter syndrome / depersonalization , religious trauma + blasphemy ( cause i can’t help myself ) specifically in catholicism , catholic rituals , depictions of eating raw meat , depictions of wounds , hurt / comfort , depictions of cannibalism , described body horror . smut : fire / burning kink , dry humping , fingering , male moans ( yay ! ) .

3 . 1 k words ++ not beta read .

PART TWO OUT NOW : CINNAMON GIRL

Eyes flutter closed, allowing darkness to wash over you. Soft sounds of birds chirping fill the room around you, drowning out the constant humming of the chip in the back of your neck. You’re hyper aware of everything, the fabric of the blanket that covers you and the cold air that stings your nose as you breath in; chest rising and falling in rhythm.

You remember how reluctant the guards that watched over you were to allow you the sounds you so desperately needed to sleep, not believing your pleas to quiet your constantly racing mind. Nearly a week without rest made them understand rather quickly, when, despite the power dampener locked around your neck, talons began to grow out of your hands and your spine contorted with the growing of fleshy wings.

It seems you’ve been blessed, something has gone right for once in your life as you’re now able to change the sounds to whatever you wish instead of the constant rushing of waves. Secretly, you’re happy to have been put on this mission. Grateful, even, as much as you could be to a monster like Waller. Perhaps you could even forgive her for the electrocution you’d been put through.

Weasel kips at the foot of your bed, stuck to your side since the day you had snapped at him: barred your fangs and shoved him away from you. Something about the beast had been so pathetic that you ended up apologizing and giving a hesitant scratch to the back of his ears. He’s good company, loyal if not a bit of a flea concern, and he listens when you speak to him unlike many of the others in the special containment of Belle Reave.

Nina was kind, as well, perhaps a bit out of her element, though. You’d once tried to make small talk with GI but that ended as quickly as it had started with his sudden interrogation on if you were a Nazi. And god, you wouldn’t dare bring anything up to the others.

Crickets chirped through the headphones you had been allowed to wear, owls hooting and birds calling. A forest at night, a beautiful scene you were sure you wouldn’t be able to see freely again, but you do not indulge in those negative thoughts. You can already feel it looming over you, exhaustion and stress mingling to bring it out. The thing that stirrs inside you, monstrous and ugly. Its hungry, and you know better than to ignore that hunger lest the Weasel that kips at the foot of your bed be more than a scrap of fur.

So, you stirr. Sitting up in the bed you remove your headphones and push the blanket from your form quietly as to not disturb him. He’s almost cute when he sleeps, like a crusty old dog that resembles more of a tattered blanket than a pet. Regardless, you close the door quietly behind you and walk down the long winding hallways of the palace. Truthfully, you had never been anywhere quite as lavish, never had a king sized bed all to yourself or a private bathroom. Its almost too big, especially at night when the shadows dance up the walls and cast an ominous glare over just about everything.

You know better than to gaze at your shadow as you pass the large walls with royal family portraits. Unworthy, unrighteous, evil. The rosary marks still pierce your skin, forced to pray this thing away day and night till your palms and knees bled. You’ve grown resentful towards the being that shares your body. It makes demands of you, to feast, a single slip can give way and allow it to control you. Some kind of devil, the reason you’re here in the first place.

Your mouth had begun to hurt in your search for the kitchen, gums beginning to bleed and pool against the base of your tongue.. You’d have thought you’d be used to this by now, that your world wouldn’t continue to be turned upside down, that the Lord’s Prayer wouldn’t recite involuntarily in your mind as it all starts over again. You stumble over your own two feet, finding yourself silently wishing you had that power dampener around your neck once again. Your stomach rumbles more.

It feels like an eternity till you finally find the kitchen, thankful that all the servants had retired for the night so you can spit your mouthful of blood into the sink. Crimson stains the marble, dripping from your chin as you turn on the faucet to wash your mouth of the taste. Your fangs had grown in now, taking space in front of your canines and piercing uncomfortably against your bottom lip whenever you close your mouth. Hunger gnaws at your stomach as if beginning to consume the lining itself.

You throw open the fridge door with little care of the noise it makes as it slams into the counter beside it. Eyes scour for something, anything, till you land on a large, raw goose marinating for tomorrow nights feast. Shaky hands reach out to grab it, allowing the glass tray it sits in to fall to the ground and shatter. The shards prick at your bare feet, cutting and marring your skin with more blood, though you don’t seem to notice.

Fangs sink into the bird, soft flesh breaking at the intrusion. The taste is almost euphoric, never had you tasted a meat so rich and fatty; your body had gotten far too used to the awful prison food they served in containment. You rip out a large chunk; tendons harshly snapping from the body as you swallow nearly without chewing. Your eyes gloss over as you devour the bird, reaching in to grab at the sausage links that had also been waiting to be cooked the next day.

You hadn’t realized how much you had truly lost yourself till a harsh green glow halted your feast. Head whipping around to greet the skeletal face of Phosphorus, a hiss falling from your lips that still wrapped around a chunk of meat like a food insecure cat. He was your least favorite of all, acting as if he knew everything simply because he had been a doctor before his incident. Not like it mattered in Belle Reave, and certainly not in the monster sector they were kept in.

“Woah. Calm down, I’m not takin’ that from you.” A huff came from him, head tilted to the side as he watched you, almost intrigued with the way you acted. He simply stepped past you, walking over to the sink and simply staring down at the blood that had graced the basin. “This yours?”

The link fell from your mouth, rolling into the shards of glass and crimson as the fangs retracted back into your gums, eyes returning to normal. All you could do was stare at him, as if he had asked the most stupid question in the world. Smartest man in the room your ass.

“Who else’s would it be?”

“Don’t know, thats why I’m asking. Flag and I got into a fight earlier and I totally won, so I’m just wondering.”

“Oh.”

He leans back against the countertop, facing you now, the sleeves of his hoodie protecting him from burning through the granite. Part of him had always intrigued you, in a way, everyone but Weasel had a signature outfit; but him? A hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. It was almost comical how simple he was, though you supposed there wasnt much he could keep. A step towards him, wincing at the sudden realization of what you had done.

His gaze followed yours, looking down to the glass and blood that gushed from your feet and ankles. The light from the fridge and his green glow illuminated the space between you two, dancing off the shards on the floor. Your mouth was covered as well, sloppily wiped onto your cheeks as you had feasted. God, you looked a mess, but the pain distracted you from that fact. Biting your bottom lip to muffle a pathetic whimper of pain.

“Cmon don’t cry, what’s a little glass among friends?”

“I am not crying.”

If he had eyes to roll no doubt he would’ve. Stepping over to you and hooking an arm around your shoulder to help you stand without any warning. Your first instinct is to fight him off, to tell him no and shout at him, but you don’t. Instead, you lean into the touch and allow him to help you hobble up the stairs to, what you originally assume to be your room, but soon discover he’s guiding you into his, and then, into his bathroom.

Theres something almost intimate about the way he grabs your hips to help you onto the counter so he can patch you up. You hadn’t asked this from him, but it didn’t seem to matter much now as he filled a bucket with warm soapy water, dunking a rag in a few times and using the help of tweezers to pick the glass out of your skin. You do your best not to flinch, using the time to preoccupy yourself with washing off the blood from your face.

John 13. You detest the thought, Belle Reave had ripped every ounce of belief from your body, but the ceremonies and rituals of your youth had not quite left your mind, and the intimacy of the moment didn’t help. Silence filled the room, the only noises being the soft sounds of the wash cloth being dunked into the water and squeezed out. You’d seen it before, a relatives wedding, the washing of the feet ceremony. It’s meant to be intimate, to be between spouses, to show commitment and love just as Jesus had to his disciples. You feel far more like Judas, however, with the monster that festers inside you.

“So. What was that?” His voice snaps you from your thoughts, eyes fluttering down to look at him, hesitating at his question. You don’t have a good answer, not one that wraps everything up into a neat bow at the least. Just what you know, which isn’t much.

“It’s the reason I’m classified as a monster. Theres… something that lives inside me, a devil of sorts I was always told. It’s been there for as long as I can remember, its why I had to wear the collar back in confinement. It starts to creep out whenever I slip, get too comfortable or let my guard down.” You’re quiet, not wanting to break the softness of this encounter. “I’m sorry you had to see it.”

“You don’t have to apologize. We’re all freaks, its the whole point of this task force.”

“I guess. I’m still sorry.”

A huff comes from Phosphorus as he grabs a clean washcloth, dunking it in fresh water and reaching up to wipe off some of the blood that you had missed, that still marrs your mouth and flesh. He’s close, now, very much so. He smells of sulfur, though it does not cause you to recoil or scrunch your nose; its a scent you’ve grown accustomed to with the monster that shares your body. Can a skeleton be attractive? Is that possible?

You lean into the feeling of the warm washcloth against your cheek; having been so long since someone had touched you. Before you had been arrested you indulged in sin, lust, it had engulfed your body and it wasn’t a feeling you ever wanted to encounter again. How it could consume your entire being, give control over to someone other than yourself. It’s a fine line for you, but you feel the distantly familiar feeling of butterflies flutter in your stomach at the proximity of him.

You feel sick; like bile will creep up your throat any moment, but it doesn’t feel bad. Not with how he lets the cloth be a barrier between the two of you, between his hands that will burn your body at his touch. You’d welcome it, to let him cauterize your wounds and fix you. Your hands creep up to wrap around the back of his neck, protected by the hood of his sweater as you pull him closer. He’s warm, comfortable.

“I don’t like you apologizing, you look like a kicked puppy.”

“You’re smiling, though.”

“Can’t help it, I’m a skeleton, doll.”

His voice is a giveaway, though, possibly the most upbeat you had heard him despite the quiet and intimate nature of the room. You feel it, the radiating warmth from his other hand creeping down to your thigh, rubbing soft, soothing circles against the fabric that protects your skin from his touch. It would hurt, but a part of you almost welcomes it, wants to feel it.

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes focused on the hand that slowly crept higher from your thigh. He’s close, his heat rivaling that at your core. You miss the way his head tilts to the side at your demeanor, hands grasping and releasing the fabric of his hoodie over and over.

Phosphorus said nothing as he continued to wipe some of the blood from your mouth, lingering over your bottom lip while his other hand becomes preoccupied with cupping you over your pajama pants, skeletal fingers pressing in to give you some friction.

That nausea you had felt earlier returns tenfold, punishing yourself for feeling anything remotely good. The situation reminds you far too much of the last time, dipping too far into bliss. It seemed you had only blinked when the body of the lover you had found for the night was strewn across the room, spitting half eaten entrails out of your maw. He guides you to lean back against the mirror, your hand clasping over your mouth to muffle your sounds as he slips below the fabric of your nightwear.

You can feel it again, the hunger that rises to your chest. Your hands shake against your skin now, nailbeds aching with the growing of your talons. A whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. You are selfish, greedy. You’d rather relish in this than warn him, to have one moment that allows you to feel human, to feel wanted and loved.

A sudden burning feeling rips you from your thoughts, your hand had been removed from its post over your mouth and was held in his. Tears well in your eyes at the feeling, the searing pain that washed over your body and forces you to see white. It aches, branding you.

“Shit.” Is all that falls from his mouth, moving his hand away before you needily grasp it once more. Intertwining your fingers, keeping him there. The pain had forced the monster away, talons no longer threatening to protrude from your nailbeds and spine ceasing its contorting. You are lucky, graced with an opportunity to feel something beneath the endless pit in your stomach. To feel him.

“Don’t stop.” Your breathless words are more than enough to encourage his continuation, slotting himself between you legs and pressing the suddenly tight fabric of his sweatpants against you. A soft sigh falling from your lips, head tilted back, hair fluffing up on the mirror as he began to rock against you.

“I wont.” Slow, at first, as if testing the waters to gauge your reaction. Soft whines emitting from somewhere behind the skeletal teeth that were on display for you. Your hand scrunches up his hoodie, dragging his chest closer to you as he began to pick up the pace.

Needy and pathetic, his hips grinding rougher against your pajama pants, the tent in his pants catching on your covered clit; pulling a gasp from you as you arched your back. He focused his movements in that spot, up and then down to elicit soft whines and moans from you. Matching his neediness, having been touched starved for so long.

You’d grown up with depictions of heaven, imaginary white fluffy clouds somewhere high above the Earth. But here, right now, you’re more than convinced this is paradise. Rough fabrics rocking against each other, keeping you grounded on the countertop you sit on, the mirror behind you beginning to fog up with your heavy breathing. Your hands still intertwined, the harsh stinging drowned out at the near bliss you faced.

Hes sloppy now, nearing his finish far faster than you despite your state. Harsh whines fall from him as he grinds against you a few more times before panting and leaning against you. He’s winded for a moment, catching his breath, though the hand not holding yours travels back down to rub against your core.

Hes rough, guiding you to gush around nothing. You can feel your heartbeat below, drumming uncomfortably as you bury your face in the neck of his hoodie. His hand slips below your pajamas once more, continuing to tease your swollen clit and soaked folds as tears pricked at your eyes, squeezing his hand to single for him to stop.

Within a moment, he did. Ceasing the torment though not removing his hand from under your pants. Allowing your juices to pool against the cotton of your underwear before guiding his hand lower, placing his palm flat against your thigh and removing his other hand from yours. It stings, the cleansing fire emitting from him, your hand already burned as he brands your thigh with his handprint.

“Perhaps we should act like this didn’t happen… I’m sure it would make being on a team awkward.”

“I-... Yeah. Agreed. I should, um, head to bed.” Awkward you lift yourself from the counter and fix your pajama pants, slipping off the granite and setting against the cold tile floor. Your feet still hurt, though not nearly as bad as they had hurt before and surely nothing in comparison to the feeling of him against your skin.

He gives little more than a nod as you slink out the door, stumbling down the hall to find your own room and quickly running a hot bath. It would soothe you, make everything better, you deemed. Stripping to allow yourself to sink into the warmth as a sigh falls from your lips, eyes drawn to the handprint marked on your thigh.

You trace the outline with your finger, over and over almost obsessively and silently cursing him for his words. An asshole, you remembered, your least favorite in the little ragtag team. Though, with the way he had whimpered and moaned against you, you were halfway convinced you may be able to fuck the sarcasm and ill wit out of him.