Fandom: DC, The Suicide Squad, Rick Flag, Dark!Rick Flag
Summary: After he returned from Corto Maltese, Rick thought his life was over. Until, that is, he is reunited with an old acquaintance. But what happens when the truth comes out and it appears he might lose everything once again?
Word Count: 4331
TW: Dark!Rick, Mentions of Past Injury, Betrayal, Death, Suffocation, Lies
Colonel Rick Flag died on the island of Corto Maltese. He was left buried under piles of rubble and debris with a piece of porcelain jutting from his chest. The man who walked out of the hospital a month after the events of that day may have had Rick’s face, but he was no longer that same person. While his body might have been brought home and was on the way to recovery, everything that had made him Colonel Rick Flag was still buried deep within the remains of Jötunheim. His reputation, his career, his patriotism, and, most importantly, his sense of self. Serving his country had been his dream in life for as far back as he could remember. His father, his grandfather, even his great-grandfather, had all served their country with honor and with pride. And now, he had lost all of that. All because of that fucking drive.
As soon as he had gotten out of the hospital, he had tried crawling back to Waller, begging for his job back. However, she had just laughed in his face. After the stunt he pulled that resulted in the remaining members of Task Force X using the drive as a bargaining chip for their freedom, his military career was over. Permanently. Waller had taken extra enjoyment in personally handing him his dishonorable discharge papers and informing him he was permanently blacklisted from all government jobs. And it was at that moment that he realized Colonel Rick Flag had never left Jötunheim.
He had nothing. He didn’t have family or friends outside of the job. His military service had been his entire life. First JROTC in middle school, then ROTC in high school, straight into basic training, multiple overseas tours, running special ops at home and abroad, and finally, the commander of Task Force X. But now, it was all gone. When he was discharged, they had even stripped him of his medals and honors. Erased him as if he had never existed. He had no transferable skills to the civilian world, no alternatives to fall back on. All he knew was how to command, to infiltrate, to kill.
So, that’s what he did.
The one thing his past life had left him was the skills and contacts to become someone else. Someone he hated but someone he knew could do the kinds of jobs he had once fought to stop.
And thus, Ryker was born from the ashes of Rick Flag. A stone-cold assassin who would take any job for the right price. Word began to get around that if you were willing to pay, Ryker would take care of whatever you needed. Didn’t matter the danger, didn’t matter the target, didn’t matter the objective. He took care of everything with a precision and ruthlessness that impressed even the most seasoned or dangerous of criminals. Within two months of first appearing, Ryker had become one of the most notorious mercenaries around.
Sometimes it scared him how similar this new life felt compared to his old one. How the things he had done for the good of his country weren’t all that dissimilar to the things these criminals were asking of him. Was taking a life really so different when it was ordered by the government versus ordered by someone like the Penguin? The only difference seemed to be that one was deemed legal, and the other was not.
And when he considered that, it made him sick to think that if he ever got caught, he would probably end up back in Belle Reve but on the other side of the bars this time. Forced to get a bomb injected into his neck as he was puppeted to his death just as he had puppeted countless others to their deaths. The irony was not lost on him.
As time went on, he began to realize that only Ryker remained. He had been forced to abandon everything from his old life as Rick Flag (his job, his apartment, his identity) in order to create this one. And he slowly started accepting the fact that there was nothing left of the man he was before. Until, one day….
There was a loud knock on the door as he walked out of the bathroom in just his low riding sweatpants, his hair still damp from his shower. Since he had moved into his new apartment, he hadn’t told anyone where he lived. Cautiously, he drew one of his guns from its hiding spot in his end table and approached the door. Cracking it slightly, he blinked in surprise as he saw who it was.
You smiled widely at him as if you had been expected. “Howdy, Colonel. How ya’ doing?”
He quickly tucked his gun behind some books on the table next to him as he stuttered, “Wh-what are you doin’ here?”
“The hospital sends all the agencies a list of people who might need physical therapy after they leave. I know it’s been a few months since you checked out, but you never signed off on a therapist.” He groaned softly. Of course! He had been forced to update his address at the hospital so they could send him his pain medication and follow-up care for his injuries.
“When I saw your name on the list, I jumped at the chance to work with you again. It’s not every day I get to help a real American hero get back on his feet!” You winked before your eyes drifted down to the jagged, red scar that ran down his bare chest. “Yikes. That looks like that hurts.”
Without an invitation, you stepped into his apartment and began running your hand gently over the scar, tenderly probing the muscles around it. He froze, still in shock with your arrival and now this. Since he had left the hospital no one had seen his scar, let alone touched it. And yet here you were, fingers dancing over it like you were strumming a harp. Finally, he came to his senses and growled, “What the hell do you think you are doin’?”
You looked up and noticed his tense expression. Immediately dropping your hand and stumbling back a few steps, you stammered out an apology. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t thinking. I totally should have asked first. I just saw the injury and went straight into recovery mode and tried to assess the damage. But I’m sure you’re still trying to adjust. I’m just so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He mumbled, unable to maintain his gruff attitude as he took in your flustered expression.
“No, I mean, just because I’ve worked with you on some of your injuries before it doesn’t give me the right to just barge in here and start putting my hands all over you like that. It was really unprofessional of me. It’s just…we’ve had such an easy rapport in the past, I sort of forgot myself there for a moment. Let’s start over.” You thrust out your hand. “Hi! Good to see you again.”
“It’s… good to see you too.” He chuckled softly as he shook your hand. “And really, it’s okay. You just surprised me, that’s all.”
“I guess that’s to be expected, I didn’t even ask if you were already seeing someone about physical therapy.”
“No…I didn’t really give it much thought. I’ve had a lot going on lately.” He glanced at the stack of books by the door and could just see the top of the gun peeking out from behind it.
But you didn’t seem to notice. Instead, you just nodded. “Oh, I get it. Your file said you were hurt down in Corto Maltese? I saw what happened on the news. It looked so horrifying. But I’m glad you made it back in one piece….even if it looks like they had to stitch two pieces back into one.” You nodded again to his chest.
He shifted uncomfortably, angling away slightly as his sharp tone returned. “Yeah… you could say that.”
You noticed his shift in demeanor and hit yourself in the forehead with your palm. “There I go, opening my big mouth again. I’m sure you don’t want to talk about what happened. Or maybe you can’t. I remember you said there was a lot of security around what you did.”
He didn’t say anything. He just clenched his jaw and tried to ignore the wave of regret that hit him at the thought of his old life.
You must have assumed his tension was still about his scar because you put a hand gently on his elbow, just below his tattoo, and said, “Hey, it’s okay. You’re still as handsome as ever.” This earned you a shy smirk to which you responded with a dazzling smile. “But how are you doing? Any tightness? Lack of mobility? Unmanageable pain? Anything I can help with?”
He shook his head slightly. “Nah, I’m dealin’ with it. I’ve been keepin’ active so that’s been helpin’.”
“That’s great! I always say that’s the best way to speed up the healing process!”
“Yeah, I remember. I remember everythin’ you said last time.”
You bit your lip and ducked your head shyly. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re taking your recovery seriously. I guess you don’t really need my services then, but it was really great to see you again, Rick.”
He smiled at you. “Yeah, you too.”
You gave his arm a small squeeze then turned and left the apartment. You started to walk away, but just before he closed the door, you called out. “Listen. I might be completely out of line or misinterpreting things, but the last few times I was here, I sort of felt like there might be something between us. I didn’t think it was a good idea to ask you out when I was still your physical therapist and we had to cut your last sessions off so abruptly, I never got to ask you once you were discharged from my care. So, I guess what I’m saying is…. Do you want to grab a drink sometime? With..with me?”
He knew he should say no. This new life he was creating for himself didn’t have any room for the distraction of romance. However…. you were right.
When you had first been assigned to help Rick recover from a shoulder injury sustained on a mission with Task Force X, he had been instantly smitten with you. Your bubbly personality, your intelligence, and your beauty all entranced him. And when you had left after your final appointment, Rick had kicked himself for letting you go.
A few months later, when he had damaged his knee, you had shown back up in his life. And once again, Rick had been captivated by you, if not even more so. He had planned a really romantic dinner for you after your final session, but Waller had called Rick in at the last minute for a mission and he hadn’t seen you again. Until now.
So, even though everything in him said it was a bad idea, when he opened his mouth, “Yes” tumbled out. Your face lit up like a Christmas tree and you handed him a piece of paper with your number. As he took it from you, you darted up and placed a soft kiss on his cheek before hurrying away down the hall. He watched you disappear around the corner, a stunned smile spread across his lips. And as he shook his head and closed the door, he realized that for the first time in months, he felt like Rick Flag again.
The next six months passed in a blur. Ryker began getting more jobs than ever as his reputation grew and grew. He was soon traveling all over the world, kidnapping, torturing, and killing anyone who was placed in his sights. He never asked questions, he never tried to figure out why, he just did the job and went home. To you.
Ever since your first date a few days after you had shown back up at his door, your relationship had grown exponentially every day. You were just as amazing as he had remembered, and you soon became the only shining light in the growing darkness of his life. To everyone else, he was Ryker, deadly assassin and ruthless killer. But with you, he was still Rick. You only saw the man he had been before, the man he so desperately still wanted to be. And when he was with you, he could feel a small part of that person creeping back in. Like a ghost or a shade. When he held you in his arms, he felt like himself again. He felt like Rick Flag. And soon, he began to crave that feeling more and more. While Ryker still left on jobs full of blood and death, Rick was the one who would return to your side as soon as possible.
The current assignment had gone terribly. He was distracted thinking about getting home to you, and he had missed the original window to take out the target. After a few more hours of trailing the man, he finally got his shot. Now, as he stalked through the hall of his apartment building, a cigarette lit in his mouth and blood splattered on his shoes, he couldn’t help but silently curse himself for the situation he had put himself in. You were the most important thing in his life, yet you were causing him to become sloppy. And in his business, sloppiness was not an option. But he also knew that he couldn’t let you go. Which meant, eventually, something had to give.
He unlocked his door and walked into his apartment. As he flipped on the light, a voice cried out, “Welcome home, Rick!”
He jumped, hand immediately reaching for the gun tucked in his waistband. But luckily, he recognized the voice before it was too late. Relaxing his stance, he smiled at where you were seated on his couch.
You stood and walked over to him, frowning slightly. “Since when do you smoke?” you asked, taking the cigarette from between his lips and grounding it out on the counter.
“Since I didn’t know you would be here.” He placed a small kiss on your cheek. “Sorry, darlin’. It was a really rough mission. Helps take the edge off.”
Your face softened slightly. “Oh, Rick. I’m sorry. Um…but do you think you could maybe wait until I leave? I don’t want to be a pain, but it can really trigger my asthma.”
“Anything for you. Besides, nothin’ helps me unwind better than havin’ you in my arms.” He wrapped his arms around you as he kicked off his boots, careful to toss them somewhere that you wouldn’t notice the red stains scattered across them. Still holding you tightly, he led you back to the couch and he pulled you down on top of him.
For the next hour or so, the two of you simply lay there wrapped around each other as you told him about how you had been while he was gone. You knew by now that he never talked about where he went or what he did. As far as you were concerned, he wasn’t allowed to divulge government secrets regarding his job so you didn’t ask.
When you finally glanced at your watch, you groaned as you wiggled out of his grasp and stood up. “I wish I could stay later, but I have an early client in the morning, and I still have to go home and take a shower.”
“We could take a shower here.” He grinned as he reached out for your waist. “You have a spare set of clothes in my room.”
You squeezed his outstretched hand but didn’t let him get purchase on his intended target. “I really wish that was it, but I need my files and equipment too. And my apartment’s so far away from here. So, I need to go.”
He stood up and walked over to you. Placing his hands on your shoulder, he began running them up and down your arms. “Actually, I’ve been tryin’ to find the right time to bring this up, and now seems as good as any. Seein’ how we do live so far away from each other and I want as much of you in my life as I can get, I was hopin’ that you might want to move in with me,” he said nervously.
But he had no reason to worry because you immediately threw yourself into his arms and trailed kisses across his neck and face. “Oh, Rick! I’ve been waiting for you to ask me for like a month now! Of course, I’ll move in with you!” He chuckled happily and spun you around, twirling faster as you let out a joyful squeal. You wrapped your legs around his waist as you said, “Oh! Just wait until my sister finds out! She’s always been so jealous I’m dating a soldier, let alone a colonel! And now that we’re moving in together? She’ll be just green with envy!”
He stopped spinning abruptly, causing you to lose your hold on him and sending you tumbling to the floor. Looking up at him in confusion, you asked, “What happened? Was it something I said?”
He had been dreading this moment from the day you walked back into his life. Yet, he also knew he couldn’t lie to you forever and if he wanted to take this next step, he needed to come clean. About everything.
So, as he gently took your hand and helped you back to your feet, he said, “Darlin’, I have to tell you somethin’. And it’s not going to be easy to hear, but I know you love me and that should be enough.”
“What do you mean? About what?”
“About me. About the things I’ve done. About the person I really am.”
You pulled your hand from his grasp. “Rick, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
“The man I told you I am, the one you fell in love with….I was that man once. But things happened, I learned the truth, and I’m not that man anymore.”
“What do you mean? You’re Colonel Rick Flag, yo-you lead missions for the government to stop bad people from doing bad things. You’re a hero.”
He shook his head. “I haven’t been that man for a long time. Not since before you came back into my life. Nowadays, I go by Ryker on the job. And Ryker’s not…. he’s not a hero. He’s not a good man.”
“No…but you leave for your task force missions….you’re gone for days at a time and come back banged up from your assignments…” you shook your head, unable to comprehend what he was trying to tell you.
“Not exactly. I do go on missions, but they’re not for the government anymore.” He took a deep breath as he avoided your eye. “I work contracts for anyone willing to hire me. I-I do whatever they hire me to do.”
“Do whatever they hi-” He watched the realization pass over your face like a shadow. “You’re a- I mean you….No, that can’t be true! You can’t be a-” You couldn’t even say it, but he could tell you understood now, that you knew what he really was. A hitman, a contract killer, a hired gun, an assassin. A cold-blooded murderer.
He hung his head. “I’m not proud of the person I’ve become, but after the shitshow in Corto Maltese, they took everything away and didn’t give me any other choice. Becoming Ryker was the only option I had left.” He gazed lovingly at your face as he cupped it between his hands. “But you… you are the one thing that has kept Rick alive this whole time. You are the one thing that still lets me keep a hold of that part of myself. You’re the tether that keeps me from fading away. And I need you, darlin’.”
“What do you mean ‘keeping Rick alive’? I don’t understand!”
“I thought Rick Flag had died that day. That I had been forced to bury him in the rubble of that cursed building and that Ryker was all that was left. But when you knocked on my door….the way you looked at me, treated me, respected me. You brought a part of Rick back to life. And you’re what’s keeping him alive.” He began caressing your cheek with his thumb.
You pulled your face from his hands as you backed away slowly. “I don’t even know who you are right now! Talking about Rick and Ryker like they’re two separate people! They’re not! You did those horrible things! It doesn’t matter what you call yourself, you’re the one who did them! And that’s not the man I fell in love with! That’s not the man I wanted to spend my life with!”
“Baby girl…It’s still me.”
“No, it’s not! You’re a cold-blooded killer! How can I be with someone like that?” You suddenly turned and grabbed your purse off the table. “I-I have to go. I have to get out of here.”
“Darlin’, don’t do this. Please, let’s talk.” He grabbed for your hand, but you yanked it from his grasp.
You hurried to the door but just as you began to open it, his large hand slammed it shut. You tried pulling on the handle again, but he continued to lean on it, holding it firmly closed. Without turning to face him, you whispered in a voice quaking with fear, “Rick. Let me go.”
“I can’t do that. Haven’t you been listenin’ to anythin’ I’ve been sayin’? I can’t lose you!” His voice was taking on a hysteric edge that neither one of you had ever heard before.
You swallowed anxiously. “Rick. Please, we can talk about this later but right now, I just need to clear my head, think things over. Then I can come back tomorrow, and we can discuss all of this.”
He shook his head. “We both know if I let you out that door, I’ll never see you again. Or, worse, you’ll show back up here with the police.”
“No, I would never do that! I j-just need to go think about things then we ca-”
He smashed his fist into the wall, leaving a large dent. “Stop lyin’ to me!”
Slowly, you turned to face him, your back pressed tightly against the door. He could see tears forming in the corner of your eyes and just for a moment, he hesitated.
You must have seen the shift in his face because you took a step closer and wrapped your arms around his hips. “You know what? You’re right, baby. It would be better if I just stayed here and we talked things out. But I’m really tired so why don’t we go to bed, and we can talk in the morning.”
He stared at you in disbelief. “Do you think I’m an idiot? The second I fall asleep, you’d be out this door. No, you’re not going anywhere.”
For one moment, you looked deeply into his face, searching for a hint of the man you loved. But when all you found was a stranger, you began screaming for help at the top of your lungs. His left hand immediately covered your mouth and nose while his right gripped your throat. He pressed his knee in-between your legs as he pinned you to the door, his face just inches away from yours. You continued to scream, but his large hand muffled all sounds trying to escape your lips. Slowly, he began to tighten his fingers around your throat, cutting off your air.
Your eyes grew wide as you realized what was happening. Frantically, you tried to struggle out of Rick’s grasp, but you were no match for his hulking frame holding you in place. As your air supply began to dwindle, you began to buck and jerk, chest heaving as it burned for oxygen. Tears streamed down your cheeks and pooled at the top of his hand before sliding off his fingertips.
Leaning over, he placed his forehead against yours and he whispered, “Please know that Rick Flag loved you. He loved you with every piece of him that remained. You were the only thing holding him in the light. But now….now, it’s time to say goodbye to both of you. The man I once was, and the woman that he loved.”
And as he stared into your eyes, he felt the last few spasms run through your body before it stilled. Then, ever so slowly, he watched the light fade from your eyes. Even once they had gone dark, and he was left staring into the empty void of what once was, he continued to hold you there thinking about everything that he had lost tonight. Until finally, he let both his arms drop to his side. You crumpled in a heap on the floor, your lifeless eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.
Ryker didn’t even give you a second glance as he went into his bedroom and pulled out the go-bag he kept in his closet. Then, grabbing a few guns from his gun safe, he pulled on his jacket and marched out the door. But before he closed it, he took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it with his lighter. He took one long drag before flicking it into the apartment where it landed on his stack of mail. Soon, flames began to grow and spread throughout the room. And just as the first flames began licking at your motionless body, Ryker closed the door, walked down the hall, and out of the building.
Colonel Rick Flag died on the island of Corto Maltese and tonight, the last remnant of this once great man faded into oblivion.
Rating/Warning(s): Darkfic warning!! Language, violence, dubcon/noncon smut. Facefucking, humiliation, cunnilingus, fingering, penetration, handcuffs, cream pie. Descriptions of past abuse/conditioning.
A/N: Ex-Prisoner!Reader. No notes 😳 Just dark vibes.
Your five year stint in Belle Reve unfolded with little to no fanfare— until you caught the attention of Colonel Rick Flag. Now out and free, you thought you’d seen the last of his obsession with you.
But it’s just your luck. You’ve end up on ARGUS's radar with something they want. They send their Colonel to come collect.
The set up hadn’t even been for you. But it certainly looked like two birds with one stone in this case. When that fucking squad broke down the damn door, you knew— You were fucked. They stormed your crew's base, eliminating everyone who took up guns and fired back.
But not you. You weren't loyal to this crew— These piles of shit who couldn't see a losing fight when it punched them in the face. So you booked it, abandoning the rest of them and already thinking of a new one to join on the way out. The cliche thought crossed your mind— You’d die before you got dragged back to Belle Reve.
When you had gotten your hands on some private militant corporations’ encrypted files, you couldn’t wait to find someone to sell them to. But now you knew— Someone had sold you out. And you wished you’d unloaded the files sooner.
It’s Flag who tackled you before you made it to the harbor—Your one getaway— his weight sending you crashing to the wet asphalt and your head straight into blackness.
You woke up back at your crew’s base, the bodies already cleared and the rest of the Task Force nowhere in site. You stirred at the sound of his voice speaking to someone else. As you tried to focus, you watched and listened as he signed off over his comms. He tossed the small earpiece onto one of the work benches your now-deceased boss had up for the base's repairs. The entire room was covered in repair deluge— Thick layers of plastic tarp and equipment hanging from closed off areas made a perfect space for Flag to chain you up in. In the corner, the shine of a flood light in such a tight enclosure would've blinded you if it hadn't been aim toward the ceiling.
The loud bang of something startled you, and you see Flag smashing the earpiece with a hammer from off the tool rack. Off off the record for this one, then.
“You finally awake over there?" He called casually, removing his fingerless gloves. The sound of his voice was visceral— Fear and loathing and arousal washing over you all at once. You hated the way your skin pricked up in response.
You already knew what he was here for. And if Waller wanted more of the information you had access to, you just might get out of this one alive. You just weren't sure how intact yet. Not when you hadn’t seen him in months.
Finally, Flag made his way over to you, and you expect the first punch, the first slap, the first blow in a series of many. Instead, the colonel grips your jaw in both strong, calloused hands, crowding you firmly against the wall.
He kissed you, rough lips leaning down to snag yours. You couldn’t help the whimper that squeaks its way out of you. The familiar sound made Flag grin against you as you grimaced away from him in return. You yelped when he took your bottom lip between his teeth and bit you sharply.
"What are you going to—" You gasped as he reached down, cupping your sex through your pants. Your thighs squeezed together, trying to startle away from his touch. He brought the back of his arm up to push it against your chest.
"Gonna do whatever the fuck I want tonight." He said casually in your ear. He invaded your space even closer— Making you feel small as he towered over you. "I've got you til dawn."
He seemed to like your confused expression. You gasped again when he tightened his grip and you tried to shake him off. His other arm came up then, slamming you back into the wall and sending your vision whirling.
With his free hand, Rick snaked his fingers through your hair and yanked your head to the side. You felt his searing hot breath before he's biting down on your neck roughly. His teeth and tongue worked over your flesh as he sucked an angry red welt onto you. He pulled away, the sound his lips make as they slurped over your new mark causing you to whimper.
Flag growled. He turned your head to the side so he could look at the purple and red bruise. His mark. He ran his thumb over your spit slick skin, and you felt your burst blood vessels burn at the touch.
“I know you missed me like I missed you, [Y/n].” He crooned. You turned your head away from him even though you knew it would get you in trouble. Like you expected, he grabbed your face, made you look him in the eyes. “Say it.”
“I missed you.” You whispered, trying to gulp. Rick relaxed his grip at your submission, his cupped hand trailing down to close gently around your neck. He delighted in the way the knot in your throat bobbed up and down nervously beneath his touch.
“Knees. Now.” He instructed slowly, in that low, deep voice.
A flash of something crossed your face. Defiance. Flag’s lips twitched, a frown threatening to form.
You’d been away from him too long. Forgotten how to follow his orders. You cried out when a boot comes around to kick the back of your knee in, your body falling down onto the cement. Flag caught you by the back of your hair to stop from you from falling on your face. You stayed there like that for a moment, crouched over, your breath shaking. You squeezed your eyes shut when you felt that hand release you— Tried not to whimper again when his fingers run through the strands at your crown, almost tenderly.
“You’ve been out too long.” He chided, brushing some of your hair behind your ear. “Should’ve came and found you sooner.”
You knew it. You knew it wouldn’t just end when your sentence was over. He had the resources. The hunter in him that had picked you out of a crowd had locked on like a wolf’s jaw clamping down on a kill. There was no way he would have just let you go. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he kept tabs on you since before you had gotten your hands on what Waller wanted from you.
It’s why you tried to keep moving. Kept doing these shitty freelance jobs with open crews in any big city that would hide you. You steered clear of D.C. and Louisiana— Gave yourself a wide berth between you and him. But it wasn’t enough.
The hard grip on your hair returned, Flag’s free hand coming up to undo the zipper on his suit.
You jerked away, a sudden burst of fight in you taking over your limbs again. But he expected it this time; You saw another a flurry of stars when he yanked your head back, slamming it against the wall behind you. Your shackled hands brace yourself on the floor as you will the room to stop spinning.
Rick tutted. He dragged a thumb over the fresh new cut on your temple now, making you wince. “Why would you go and give yourself a headache like that, huh?”
Your hands flew up to push against his thighs as Flag dragged you back to kneel before him. He’d taken his cock out by the time you were seeing straight.
You shuttered when Rick pried your lips apart with his fingers. You tasted the salt and blood on his touch. Then, without warning, the head of his hard cock was pushing past your lips. You inhaled sharply before you breathing was cut off. He doesn’t hesitate to push his thick length to the back of your throat.
Flag released a deep groan as you gagged around him, your mouth so fucking wet and tight. You watched from your knees as his head falls back above you, his hand combing through your hair gently again. “There you go, baby.” He breathed. “Fuck, that’s it.”
You whined. Between your thighs, you felt the unwanted coil of heat beginning as muscle memory took over. You felt the tears prick your eyes— From the pain, from the humilitation of falling back into this. You pulled your face away to drag your tongue up the underside of Rick’s cock, flicking at the bundle of nerves where his head met his long length.
“Fuck, [Y/n].” He said. The low sound that leaves your throat seemed to wind right up the colonel’s spine. Gripping the back of your head, you’re not prepared when he suddenly thrusted into your mouth again, his cock slamming into the back of your throat. He didn’t leave you any room, not an inch of space as he started fucking your face in earnest. Your breathing quickened, desperate to get enough air in to keep going for as long as he’ll make you.
You shut your watering eyes. He alternated between short quick thrusts and hard, sudden stops, burying your nose against the patch of hair at his base as he made you take him in his entirety. You felt yourself stretch around him, your cheeks hollowing out as you sucked Rick’s cock.
“You missed this, [Y/n]? Missed me fucking this pretty, slut mouth of yours?” He ground out. You betrayed yourself with an eager whimper, a tear falling down your flushed cheek as you looked up at him again. He’s watching you in return, watching the way his length disappears down your throat.
“Shit.” He groaned.
You gagged around another sound of agreement, you fingers twisting into the fabric of his pants as you gripped him tightly. He was going to come down your throat. The thought happens at the same time the wetness blooms between your legs. He continued thrusting, his hips bucking in their familiar way— He was close. You moved your head back and forth to meet each shove of his cock into your waiting mouth.
“Good little slut.” He commended. God, you were. That’s all you were now again, wasn’t it? You willed him look down at you again so that you can see him coming, see his face when he paints your throat with thick ribbons of his cum.
Your muffled sob is garbled by one last, hard thrust; His hand pinned your face there right up against his pelvis again as Flag finally climaxed with a string of curses. You started swallowing before he could even finish, his warm cum filling up your mouth, dribbling down your lips.
“Fuck,” He panted, thrusting once more for good measure. You gagged again. “Can’t get enough, can you?”
You shook you head like you knew he wanted you to, licking your lips when he finally pulls out of your sore mouth. Your jaw ached as you took a gulp of air, his spend still spilling from the corner of your lip. Flag reached down to wipe at it, pressing his thumb back into your mouth for you to suck clean. You did so, your soft tongue laving around it til it was shining. Guiding your head back down to his length, you obediently begin to lick the rest of his cock clean too.
His hips stuttered against your face as you worked over his sensitive skin. When you finished you look up at him for approval. Your eyes fluttered shut when he cups your chin again softly.
“That pussy wet for me yet?” He didn’t have to ask. He knew the answer. When you opened your eyes to speak, you jolt instead. Rick was pressing something unfamiliar to your nose and mouth. A sharp pain stung your eyes. You tried to scramble away again, fight or flight finally kicking in again, but it was too late. In your surprise, you inhaled a deep whiff of the chloroform soaked cloth in his hand. He shoved it in your face some more, until the room was tilting and the world around him turned black once more.
- - -
You can’t describe the throbbing ache that wracks your skull when you wake up again. Half in and out of consciousness, you try to move around, try to drag your hands over your tired, sore face.
Your hands stop short as you yank the cuffs clamped firmly around your wrists. Your eyes fly open.
They’re caught on the bedrail behind you, keeping your hands above your head. You glance around blearily, what had happened earlier almost forgotten. Almost.
You jump when a pair of hands grip you by the thighs, fingernails digging into your bare skin.
That’s when you feel it, the swipe of something warm and wet lapping at your exposed sex. You cry out when Rick dips the tip of his tongue into your entrance again; You feel a different ache wash over you— that hot pleasure/pain that’s throbbing in time with your beating pulse. You look down to see Rick, face buried between your spread legs, his arms keeping them pried open as consciousness returned to you. You writhe, try to squirm away from him. But between the bed and his iron grip, you have nowhere to go.
You’re naked. Bare and entirely exposed. Your nipples stand stiffly against the cool air of the room, goosebumps prickling your entire body. But it’s not just the air of what looked like some seedy motel room you were in— Rick doesn’t relent as you shake the handcuffs against the rails some more.
He doesn’t bother glancing up at your face either, but he does let go of low growl, pleased that you are awake again. He continues laving his tongue up and down you wet slit. You feel yourself involuntarily clench your cunt as a moan escapes you.
When he nips at your inner thigh, it hurts more than it should. You strain to look down between your breasts, past the curve of your belly to see your thighs riddled with bruising welts. As if to show you his handy work now that you were awake, Rick leans down to suck another red bite onto your flesh, making you go rigid. He runs his tongue over the spot again when he’s done, finally looking back at you.
You freeze.
“I wanted to apologize.” He says. You press yourself down into the mattress as he makes his way back up your body, his own figure pressing down heavily onto you. He frames you with ease, large thighs pinning you down into the bed. You make a scared sound, you knees pressing together.
Flag brushes your hair from your eyes. “Think I used a little too much chloroform back there. Your head must be killin’ you, darlin.” You flinch away from his touch.
A hand wraps around your throat in an instant.
“Don’t be like that.” He warned. Pressing down on you, you think he might just crush you like this. Instead, you feel his lips wrap around your earlobe, his tongue going to work again down your neck, your collarbone. The pressure atop you relents, and you exhale with relief.
Flag must misinterpret the sound as a sigh. You feel him smile against the skin between your breasts. He lets go of your neck, trailing his touch down your chest until he’s cupping your breast in his palm. He massages it while he mouths at the other, teeth scraping over your already-hard nipple. You arch against him. When he bites down, a sudden sob tears from your throat.
He hums his approval against your chest.
“Flag… please…” You hear yourself saying faintly. Rick is back between your legs, pressing his lips to your swollen clit before you can beg him to stop. Let me go. I’ll give you anything.
But he’s already taken everything from you. Could have taken the encrypted flash drive from you, but he won’t— I have you til dawn.
You arch again when he sucks on that hooded bud between your folds, your breath hitching. You feel the tears well again, feel them trail down into your hairline as you laid there prone for Rick Flag. He pushed your legs open wide again, and like old habits, you spread your weak knees apart. You keen when two finger sink into your soaked pussy.
He takes his time, scissoring and pumping his fingers in and out of you like he’s playing patiently.
“Look at me.” He demands when you try to keep you glazed eyes on the ceiling. You bite back a small sound when he uses his teeth on your clit, your body jolting again. He crooks his fingers inside of you, bending them until they brush over the soft, spongy flesh inside of you. You let out a deep moan, throwing your head back against the pillow before you remember to keep your eyes on him. You stare back, helpless under his touch.
The flame inside your gut burns until you can’t help it anymore. You cant your hips, press your cunt toward his face so that he can just bring you over the edge already. Your mind slips back into that addled state of submission, that place where you can only want what he gives you.
A flame burns behind Rick’s eyes too. He lets them flutter closed as he fucks you with his tongue and fingers. Your walls pulse around his touch, making the stiff arousal trapped between him and the sheets twitch achingly. Your breathing begins to pick up, a high, needy sound accompanying every little pant.
“You’re gonna come from just my fingers, aren’t you?” As if to punctuate how you’ve been away from him too long.
You nod, your lip quivering. You pull at the handcuffs as your back arches off the bed. Rick scoffs like it isn’t exactly what he wants— like it’s not exactly what gets him off— you, a quivering mess beneath him, already ready to come for him, You feel your skin start to burn, your face and ears flushing red as the tight coil in your abdomen builds more.
“Flag— Rick— Oh fuck.” You cry. “Oh please.”
“Please what?” He grinds out.
You try to bite back how easily the words come to you. But you can’t even hold your breath, your panting filling your own ears now. You whimper when he adds a third finger, sending a spasm through you. It stretches your wider, pulling at your muscles until every stroke is hitting that red hot spot inside you.
“Please, please make me come, Rick. Oh— oh. Fuck! I’m going to— I’m— I— I—” Your hips stutter as you fuck yourself on his fingers now, and Flag is content to watch you. He splays his tongue flat as you drag your clit over it again and again, until suddenly your back is lifting off the bed, your body pulling taut again the handcuffs. Your cries fill up the room until you’re a crumpled mess, panting and sweating under him.
Rick smirks as he pulls away, licking his glistening lips. You bury your face in the crook of your arm as the shame washes over you— it always did after he made you come undone so easily.
You hear the rustle of clothes, the sound of a heavy belt dropping onto the carpet floor. You know what comes next. Still, you yelp when Rick is taking you leg and flipping you over like you weight nothing at all. You land with your wrists crossed under your chest, and you try you best to get back on your elbows.
Behind you, Flag is already nudging your knees apart. You wobble on them over the mattress, your legs still shaking from coming moments ago. You feel the drip of your wet pussy inch it’s way down you inner thigh.
The movement behind you stops. Rick takes a moment to enjoy the view, his hand sliding up your sweat slick back. You arch under his touch, peering behind you warily to see his lust-filled face, head tilted as he stared back. Rick’s cock bobs heftily between your thighs.
“You look so damn sweet like this. Presentin’ that pretty cunt just for me.” He murmurs, his drawl thick and rough in his throat. Your pussy clenches again as a shiver runs down your spine, squeezing more of your own juices out. Rick presses his thumb between your folds with a teasing grin, running it over your pink clit. You jerk, hips bucking.
Not able to wait any longer, Rick is taking the flesh of your thigh in one hand, dragging your back to meet his hips. He lines up the head of his cock with your entrance, rubbing the bead of precum dripping from the very tip onto your sex. Finally, he exhales as he pushes his length into you.
It’s slow— Agonizing— The way he takes his time, fully hilting himself inside you until you feel his pelvis press against you. Your walls stretch even more than you expected. Your time away from him was obvious to you now— You think you might just burst like this.
You use your arm to muffle your sob again. It’s the wrong thing to do.
He yanks your head back by the hair until you’re gasping, hands flying up to grasp back at his merciless grip.
”What’d I say about hidin’ from me?” He snarls. You lose your balance, face falling onto the bed. He keeps you there, hand pressing the side of your face into the sheets as he starts fucking you. Staying there, bent and sobbing, his thrusts pushing you up the bed as he doesn’t hold back. Rick fucks you fast and hard, drilling you until you’re knees can’t part beneath him any further.
“Oh fuck, Rick. You’re fucking me,” You babbled mindlessly. The more you spoke, the more you begged and whined, the sooner you knew he’d be coming inside you. You cry out when a hand comes down to slap your ass roughly, leaving a ringing in your ears.
You feel him bend over, feel the way he covers your body posessively with his. The hand pressing your face into the bed releases you; It reaches around to grab a handful of your throat again. He noses at your ear from behind, hips still knocking into you as the sound of slapping flesh mixes with his deep, feral voice. “You’re fucking mine. Mine.”
“Yours!” You echo, gasping. You fuck yourself on his thick cock, pulse around it like your pussy was made for him. Your hips move on their own while you moan louder for Rick like a good little slut. The handcuffs dig into your wrists, and you cant even remember why he needed to put them on you. You were already his.
“I’m coming again.” You whined, turning your head around. Rick snarls again as he captures your lips, biting and sucking as another orgasm rips through you. Rick moans around your tongue while your walls clench his cock in a vice grip. By the time your legs give out, Rick is thrusting into you one more time, his hot come filling your pussy until its seeps out onto the sheets.
Rick collaspses on top of you, his softening cock still buried deep inside your cunt. You try to breathe beneath his weight, gasping to catch your breath again. A pair of arms come around to wrap you up in them, his body finally shifting after a moment to lay you both down on your sides. You twitch at the feeling of your walls still stretched around Rick’s cock. He presses his back to your chest, his breath heaving too.
“You’re never fucking leaving me again.” He growls in your ear.
You bite back your sob, nodding obediently.
“You're mine.”
You hear your own voice somewhere far away— a distant, broken thing as darkness swallowed up your vision again. He waits for you to whisper it back to him.
Summary: Rick wants kids; you don’t. It’s a deal-breaker for Rick, so the relationship ends. Until Rick realizes he can have everything he wants, even if he has to take it by force.
Warnings: dark themes, implied forced pregnancy, smut, stalking, language, kidnapping, deception, imprisonment, threat of harm.
W/C: 1.8k
Rating: E (explicit - 18+)
Characters: Rick Flag
Pairing: Rick Flag x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).
Notes: Set after The Suicide Squad movie - spoilers for the ending. I do not accept the ending, so I fixed it - or made it worse 🤷🏻♀️
alright guys I will write a Lazarus Pit! Rick Flag AU because y’all loved my idea and edit so much lmao BUT I have to finish my Lose You Too series before I start so it will still be a few weeks (i’m writing chapter 5 of 10 now) so stick around for that. no clue if it will be just straight up Rick or if i’ll do a cheeky little x reader in there. i have an entire plot line already laid out for a Batfam tv show pitch i did in film school that i can tweak but also i kinda like that one the way it is? idk all of this is to say it’s coming! let me know if you have any preferences on if it’s just an AU or a slash fic
Rating/Warning(s): Dark fic warning!!!, stalking, mentions of non-con stuff, female masturbation, voyeurism, language.
A/N: For this request. omg nonnie, rick and stalking. what have you done to me. Title is 100% ironic for obvious reasons.
Anonymous Asked: "Rick Flag prompt: Reader has been getting red flags that she might have a stalker, who leaves invasive letters/gifts for her behind and she’s getting more and more worried about her safety. Who better to confide in than our favorite reliable Colonel?"
It started with minuscule things. Things you wouldn't have noticed otherwise, had they not piled up; Your doormat askew in the hall. Your bathroom door open when you thought you had closed it before you left for work. Your mailbox down in the lobby missing letters you'd been expecting.
And then, one weekday, it's there. Waiting by your door, a bouquet of flowers sat propped for you when you get home. You glanced up and down the hall before picking it up, examining it carefully. There's no note, not even a business card. You tried to think who would have a reason to send you something so nice, but at the back of your mind you felt uneasy.
A ways away, another door opened and shut. And you looked up to see your neighbor Rick on his way out. He's got on his usual, nondescript work garb— A black windbreaker and baseball cap. He slipped past you with a nod, his eyes flitting down to the flowers in your arms. He slowed, arching a brow.
"Not Valentine's Day yet is it?" He joked warmly. You chuckled in return, a little embarrassed to be caught with the bouquet without occasion.
You shook you head. "No, I don't know what they're for actually."
He shrugged. Rick shot you another smile before heading down the hall, and you let yourself into your apartment to set the flowers down. You spent the evening wondering if you should put them in the vase or dump them in the trash. You decided trash the next morning, sweeping them into the bin before dumping it all down the hallway chute.
A week later, you find a note in your mail box. Not a flower kind of gal?
---
Rick opened his front door, looking surprised to see you. You'd knocked with urgency. You didn't want to worry your neighbor, but you did want a little neighborly advice.
"You said you worked in security, right?" You began when he let you into his apartment.
The man nodded, closing the door behind him. "I do."
It was technically true, on occasion. Rick Flag had a few covers over the years. His indefinite assignment with Waller had him sticking to the same one since he moved closer to Belle Reve.
"I was wondering if you had any pointers for..." You stood in his living room, wringing your hands together. A nervous tick, he'd noticed, something you often did waiting for the elevator or for a taxi outside the building. He found it endearing— the way you got caught up in your own head.
You tried to get your thoughts together. Tried not to sound so paranoid. "Well, I wanted to put a camera outside my door, maybe. The manager said it was alright. I just wanted to know if you knew a good kind to install."
Rick pretended to mull it over as he nodded thoughtfully. He poured you a glass of water, and you take it, grateful. "I can set you up with somethin' simple. Plenty of cameras hook up to your phone these days. You can keep an eye on your place while you're at work."
Your face lit up with a appreciative smile. It sends a warm jolt up Rick's spine.
He gets you set up in no time. You watched him kneel to install the camera/sensor in your doorway over the weekend, his fingers working deftly to secure it in place. He also got you a camera for your kitchen, pointing out into the living room and into your bedroom. You thanked him with a batch of fresh blueberry muffins you whipped together as he worked.
Rick took the plate with a smile that makes your heart stutter. You told him he can stop by more often— The two of you didn't have to keep exchanging favors just to chat.
"Yeah?" He said. "Maybe when I get back."
He has to head back to base for another task force mission. He hated leaving you on your own; But he felt better knowing now he could keep an eye on you.
---
The notes stop. And with the cameras, you feel better getting notifications whenever anyone knocked on your door.
You get home one day, exhausted. You make a beeline for the bathroom and rinse the day's sweat and grime off, elated that it was a Friday. As you wash the soap from your body, your touch lingers over your breasts, and you decide that when you get into bed you're going to relax and release the tension you've been feeling all week.
Rick is in his office when you turn your kitchen camera off. He copied the feed from your new equipment to his own phone; He likes to keep it on while he works at his desk, your pattering around your apartment like white noise.
He stops working and glances at his phone. With a few easy clicks, Rick is turning your camera back on, and now he knows why you've shut it off.
You felt odd about having something watching you as you went about your apartment. You always changed in the bathroom, so it had never occurred to you to cover or block the kitchen camera. But today you were on your bed, back pressed into the covers as you worked your hand between your legs. You arched off the bed as you felt the heat in your abdomen build.
You tried not to think about your neighbor as you massaged your fingers in and out of yourself, your slick folds making the slide so, so easy. Rick was polite, kind; The kind of gentleman you'd normally go for, if you wanted to break your cardinal rule about dating in your own apartment complex, that is. You feel a little guilty about imagining him between your thighs— Imagining him working his tongue in and out of you as you writhed on the bed.
Your back arches as you squeeze your eyes shut. You're in just your robe, still naked from your shower. It falls open to expose your breasts to the cool air of your bedroom, and you lift your free hand to palm at your nipple, making yourself gasp.
Fuck.
Rick's eyes are glue to his phone. You're perfectly centered within frame, your body distant from the camera but still visible. He shifts in his chair.
Didn't you have any idea what you do to him? Rick's cock twitches as he watches your legs fall open more. You slowly fuck your fingers into your cunt, your chest heaving— Rick glances at his office door to make sure it's locked. He doesn't move. Doesn't press a hand to his growing length even though the sight of you is driving him wild.
There's no sound on the camera. So Rick takes the liberty of imagining you're saying his name as you near your climax. He'd do anything to hear it in person; He's got half a mind to leave base early and drive back home well over the speed limit right now.
But it doesn't take you long to finish. You press your hand to your clit, feeling the friction as you fuck yourself on your fingers until you're finally pulled taut— You arch until your back is off the bed, your mouth falling open as you come. A soft yelp leaves your lips as you fuck yourself through it as best you can until you're shaking.
You fall back onto the bed in a daze, already wondering what you were going to cook up for dinner.
---
Rick enters the elevator to your building later that night. It's nearly twelve in the morning by the time he's on your floor. He passes your front door, the ring on your camera illuminating when his figure trips the sensor there. He doesn't expect you're still awake; But when you yank your door open, he's pleasantly surprised.
You're still in your robe from earlier, but now you've got a pajama set on underneath, the belt around you pulled closed and tight. He greets you with a tired smile, but when he sees your expression, he stops.
"[Y/n]? You alright?" He asks carefully.
You step into the hall. "Hey Rick, can I talk to you?"
Rick hopes your heart is racing like his is when you let him into your apartment. He stops his eyes from flickering over to your bedroom door, the memory of you laying there prone and euphoric still etched into his mind. He thought about you on the way home— How he would have fucked you two, three more times after that little orgasm you gave yourself just hours ago. You deserved more than a quick little evening. Much more.
You brushed your hair behind your ears worriedly as you paced in front of him. "Somethin' wrong, sweetheart?" He prods. He tests the nickname out, and he likes the way it rolls off his tongue when he's saying it directly to you. He closes the door behind him, careful to lock it without making a sound.
He sees you glance over at him, your cheeks flushing.
"I just um— Sorry, I don't want to sound paranoid or anything. I know you did a good job with the cameras. I was just wondering—" You took a breath, stopping by the counter. "Can someone hack into them? Like, turn them on without me knowing?"
Rick wants to commend you for your attention to detail. —That's why he loved you, wasn't it? How you took action, reached out for his help when you knew something had changed. Deep down, you knew you were being watched and looked after.
You're confused by his little smile, a shadow of a smirk that suddenly sets you on edge.
"The red light on the back. You saw it turn back on." He notes in his calm drawl.
"Yeah, I was reaching for something in the pantry behind it and I— How did you—?" You're cut off when Rick swiftly presses you back against to the edge of the counter, pinning you there with both hands resting on the marble surface. He revels in the way you shiver, how the small puff of your breath lands shakily on his face.
"You don't even know what you do to me, [y/n]." He whispers in your ear. You whimper as you feel the hot press of his lips ghosting the shell there, feel him inhale the scent of your shampooed hair deeply.
You don't even know what you do to me. It was one of the notes left for you. You had dropped the scrap of paper that had slipped itself under your door while you were away at work, horrified. You thought about keeping it— About bunching it up with the other notes as evidence for— For whoever it was that was harassing you like this. You feel your eyes well with tears.
You make another high, alarmed sound when Rick presses his body into yours. You feel the thick girth of him against your pelvis, already hard and waiting for you. Rick finally takes your face in his hands, making you look at him. You see the way his eyes are blown nearly black. His fingers tighten around your chin— He has to hold himself back, take a moment to look at you up close like this.
Rick licks at his lips faintly as he takes in your trembling face. His expression, a mix of adoration and predatory hunger, makes you reel away. He holds you there as he presses a bruising kiss onto your lips—swallows your attempt to cry out.
Rick brushes a thumb over your jawline tenderly. When he pulls away, he's smiling.
Wish: I wish Rick Flag would fill my apartment with roses.
Warnings: implied noncon and dubcon, threats of violence, stalking, implications of past abuse.
Please reblog and leave some feedback. I really appreciate all your input and interaction. I hope y’all enjoy these drabbles.
❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹
You sort through your cluttered keychain as your purse hangs from your elbow against the long paper bag with wire handles. Another long day in another very long year. You shove your key into the slot and twist it sharply as you fight the tarnished mechanism.
After more than a year, the place feels both new and old to you. A much-welcomed escape from your former life but a dull existence between the peeling walls. You can’t complain for the predictability, not after the turbulence of your past.
You feared being alone once. Feared being bored, or lost, or living the same day one after another. Now, it was enough. You had the little things to get you through the murky flow of time.
You jerk the door and it grinds against the doorframe before it gives. You sigh and step into the obscurity of the tiny apartment. You shut the door and slide the chain into place and turn the latch so the bar whines into the slot.
You set your bag down blindly and pull off your long wool jacket, hanging it from the rack shadowed in the dark. You plant a hand on the wall and lean as you wiggle off your boots. The February gloom hazes through the curtains, the nights slowly growing later. You bend and feel around until you catch the handles of the paper bag and continue through the dim into the compact kitchen.
You hit the switch with your palm and the light crackles on. You pause as your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness. You can’t quite believe what you’re seeing. You must be imagining it.
You reach into the bag and ease out the bottle, placing the discount rose beside the round-bodied bottle of champagne waiting on your counter.
The low clink sinks into your chest as you let go of the neck, your reflection distorted in the gleaming wall of the wine glasses set out in anticipation. You don’t own crystal, you drink out of thrifted mugs and mismatched tumblers.
You back away, hitting the other counter clumsily and turning to look out the open doorway into your front room. The floor is carpeted with varying shades of red, pink, and white, petals at your feet as they lay deliberately littered around your apartment. You shake as you take a step back and spin in a panic.
You stop short as you face the ghost of your past. The man who drove you to live in obscurity. The man who stole your life, your name, your happiness. He stands coolly in the other doorway, the one which looks out on the front door, filling the frame with his formidable figure as he holds a heart-shaped box.
“Hey, angel,” Rick’s lips slant, “happy valentine’s, you miss me?”
“What are you– How–” you croak.
“You didn’t think I wouldn’t find you, did you? That’s kinda my job,” he takes a step forward and you mimic him, stepping back through the doorway, “you remember,” he puts the box down on the counter as he comes closer, herding you out into the front room, “how you always hated when I was away for Valentine’s? Or Christmas? Or your birthday?”
“Rick, please,” you swallow as you hit your hip on the console table and feel your way past it, “please, go away–”
“You were right and I’m gonna make it up to you,” he follows you intently as you make your way around the couch, nearly stumbling as you don’t dare look away from him, “I’m here now and I’m ready to treat you right.”
“No, go,” you insist as your foot slips on the rose petals and you catch yourself against the narrow bookshelf beside your television, “please, it’s over. I told you–”
“What did you tell me?” he raises his voice and you flinch. You could never forget that tone, that horrid timbre that still haunted your dreams, his temper that chased you across the world. “You told me shit, angel, you–” he pauses and reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded letter, “left me this bullshit and nothing else!”
He flicks the paper at you, the letter you left as a final courtesy, a goodbye you never owed him. You were always the one to take the higher road, to do the decent thing.
“Why are you doing this?” you plead as you round the end table and reach back to grasp the corner of the wall as you circle back, only feet from the front door, your only escape.
“Why did you leave? I love you,” he hisses as your heart pounds, your mind on the door.
“I had to, you know I had to–”
“No, you didn’t,” he snaps and lunges forward.
You spin and kick your legs out, slamming into the door as you struggle to untangle the chain. You barely get it free before he’s on you, before he has you in his grasp, before the world is turned upside down and you’re slung over his shoulder. You claw at the back of his green tee shirt and flail your legs wildly.
“Rick, please, I’m begging you, please, don’t do this,” you cry out, “please let me g–”
You squeal as he flings you onto your narrow mattress and your head rattles with the springy landing. You struggle to steady yourself and sit up as you watch him pace before you like a caged lion, his anger pulsing through the vein in his forehead as his thaw clenches and ticks.
“Do you know what it is to come home to an empty home?” he hollers, “do you know what it's like to have your heart kicked into the dirt? To work your ass off, put your neck on the line, and then your one thing, your person, the one you live for just runs off and why?”
“Rick, you know–”
“I don’t,” he snaps and grips his belt buckle, “but you know exactly what you did, don’t you, angel?”
He unhooks his belt and yanks it from the loops around his waist. You flinch and push yourself to the edge of the bed. He lashes the leather at you so you feel the bite in the air just before your cheek. You recoil and whimper as he pulls the belt taut between his hands.
“You earned this, angel, so take it like a big girl,” he growls as he folds it and grips it firmly, testing it against his calloused palm, “bend over for the colonel.”
Wish: I wish Rick Flag would give me a massage after a long day from @lokislastlove
Warnings: implied noncon and dubcon, mentions of violence, kidnapping.
Please reblog and leave some feedback. I really appreciate all your input and interaction. I hope y’all enjoy these drabbles.
❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹
The engine cranks and sputters as it shifts gears, the uneven terrain rattling your body and reawakening some feeling in your cramped legs. The obnoxious noise of the beat-up trunk rumbles in your ears and bones. You groan and try to roll over, but again, you’re caught in the confines of the compartment, knees angled one way as your torso twists unnaturally.
You grunt and hit the side with your elbow as you try to find a semblance of comfort, even just a position that doesn’t make your spine throb. The axel bounces violently as the truck turns flat, and finally, the tires slow. The engine coughs to a stop, and the silence that follows is disturbed only by the metallic whine of a door, then a slam that shakes you.
Footsteps near and suddenly the crate lurches and scrapes across the rusty bed. Your set off-kilter as you’re carried in the dark box across some unseen expanse.
Another door, this one just as heavy, and you hit the floor with a thunk. You listen to the movement outside your dark prison; you gave up screaming and hitting hours ago. Now, all you can think of is your bladder.
Clanging, jingling, thumps, soft rustles, noises come muffled through the thick walls of the box until the lock right beside you clicks. The lid pops open as it’s sent back with exceptional force and you writhe and sit up with a mutter. Your back hurts and your hips ring with agony.
“Uh, hi,” you say as you set sights on your captor for the first time.
“Take your time,” he warns and places his hand on the gun holstered on his hip.
You eye him warily. He’s tall, his hair dark blonde and shiny with sweat, hazel eyes steady and staunch as he watches you. You push your head back and your neck cracks as a strained noise escapes you. You set your feet and push yourself up by the sides of the box.
“Is this usually how you introduce yourself? Shoving people in boxes?” You try to stand straight and wince, hunching as you brace your lower back.
“It’s a military chest,” he says dully.
You lower your brow at him, undecided if it’s sarcasm or not. You step over the side of the box and catch yourself on a chair not far from where he dropped it. He must be strong if he carried you all on his own.
“There a bathroom here?” You ask.
“There,” he nods to a door behind you, hand firmly on his holster, “two minutes.”
“Two minutes then…” you wonder.
“We’ll see,” he says as he lifts his chin, “but if you're anxious to go back in–”
“Alright, alright,” you wave him off and turn to hobble over to the door.
You flip on the light and close the door. It doesn’t catch and falls back an inch, a space between the frame and the edge. There’s no handle left in it, which means there’s no mechanism. You shake your head and reach for your fly, the pressure too urgent to worry about privacy.
You finish and get up with another pang across your shoulders. You zip up your pants and turn to inspect the window. Even if you were in a state to try, you doubt you would get by the sharp nails set point out along the frame. This isn’t a safe house, it’s a cell.
A thud comes against the wall just outside, “do I need to help you out of there?” the man asks.
You turn and pull back the door, hissing as you slowly make your way out.
“I’m working on it,” you grumble, “so… guess you know who I am.”
He hums and watches you limp across the room. He makes no move to stop you as you fall onto the couch and throw your head back to croak. You feel the need to stretch yet you fear making the pain worse.
“Arachnea,” he paces calmly across the room, “you come up with that yourself?”
“Not exactly,” you grip your hips, “every web needs its spider.”
“Sure,” he drags his sole on the floor as he fixes his posture, “you’re not the usual type I deal with but dangerous in your own way.”
“And you? You gonna tell me who you are?” you whimper as you try to adjust yourself on the couch and grasp your back, “or who sent you.”
“You can call me Rick if you need to,” he answers, “the rest is confidential.”
“I got no good guesses. I have enough enemies to keep that a mystery,” you huff and fall onto your side and stiffly lift your legs onto the cushion, “oh my god, well I think you can relax, I won’t be running anywhere.”
“Wouldn’t get far on your best day,” he assures as he steps around the chair and sits. He bends his arms against his thighs as he bends forward and watches you, “you don’t look like a criminal.”
“Oh, and they all look alike?”
“The one’s I work with? They usually have a certain… discerning feature,” he says.
“I’m not a criminal,” you utter, “the laws are just outdated.”
“Ha,” he snorts as he watches you struggle.
“Shit,” your hip is on fire and your spine is rigid and wrought.
“Here,” he says as he stands and nears you, “sit up.”
“What? I don’t think I can,” you breathe in a tide of pain.
“Come on,” he grabs your arm and pulls you up gruffly and you cry out. He sits beside you and lifts his left leg up onto the cushion and moves you to sit on an angle with your back to him, “you’ll survive, just gotta get the knots out.”
He grips your shoulders and you flinch. You try to pull away but he holds you down. You don’t have the strength or will to resist much.
“What are you doing?” you ask as you squeeze your knees to keep from collapsing entirely.
“Helping,” he says curtly.
“Why?”
“Should I stop?” he returns.
You consider as his thumbs press above your shoulder blades, even just the light pressure eases the tension. You lower your head and exhale.
“No, please, I… thank you,” you say.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he warns as he moves his thumbs defty, “my orders are to get you to your destination in one piece. That’s it.”
“I’m sure your–boss,” your voice peaks as he hits a knot, “wouldn’t mind if I was a bit beat up.”
“Maybe not,” he agrees but adds nothing else to the thought.
You groan and lean into his touch as his hands move lower, kneading along your shoulder blades and beneath. You curl your fingers against your thighs and let his motion sway you as he works his way further, finding nooks you never even know of.
He shifts closer, his leg touching your hip and you reach back without thinking to grip his thigh. You moan and hang your head back as he kneads your sides with his large hands. Your own voice forces you back to reality and you sit straight but don’t pull away, unable to part from his confident tending.
“Sorry, I–” you swallow and drag your hand away from his thick leg, “I… you’re very good at this.”
“Buddies used to get real banged up in the shit,” he explains, “usually one good crack got them going but sometimes you need a bit of tenderness.”
“Ah, so you and your… buddies liked to give each other massages after long missions?”
“Not exactly,” he replies, “but we found some who would.”
“Oh,” you nod as you catch his meaning, knowing soldiers and certain services they sought.
“You got a lot of tension,” he comments in a low tone, “don’t think it’s all from the box.”
“It’s a military chest,” you correct him.
He chuckles and traces circles into the small of your back. You suck in air sharply as it fills you with sweet relief, your body tingling.
“Oh, wow,” you let out as you lean forward, “fuuuuuck.”
You can't help yourself even at the realisation that there's a complete stranger with his hands all over you. That you're purring and whining like a cat in heat for more. That the ache in your muscles is just too much to muster up a degree of shame.
"You like that?" He snickers lightly, more a roll of the voice as he moves his hands to frame your hips, "you sounded scarier in the box, kitten."
You hush him, overly aware that even with irritation pooling in your throat, you can't make him stop. You won't. All day in that chest and all you wanted was to loosen up your muscles and he is doing just that, quite expertly too.
"Rick," you say his name for the first time, your voice carnal and coarse, "stop…"
"Stop?" He questions as if he can read your false humility like the alphabet.
"Please," you beg, yourself more than him, "it's good. It's...enough."
"Enough?" He drawls, a hand leaving your back as the other walks up your spine, pinching your neck between his wide fingertips, "you're all tensed up, kitten."
You breathe, a willowy gasp, as the couch, the room, the world seems to move around you. As all you know is the hand on your neck, the ripples coiling down through your taut muscles, tendrils of heat consuming you like some Lovecraftian beast.
You push your head back until it meets his shoulder as he runs his knuckles down your spine. He reaches around you, leaning back as he lifts you, slipping his hand down, fingers stretching beneath the front of your jeans. You gasp and grab his wrist, the haze of rapture cracking just slightly.
"Kitten, you don't need to do nothing but purr," he falls back and takes you with him fingers creeping lower and dipping between your folds, "won't put you back in your cage if you keep your claws to yourself."
His breath wafts hotly past your cheek and seeps into the thin cotton of your tee. You feel his firm chest against your back as he forces you to lay atop him. He digs his boots into the couch as he lifts his pelvis beneath you.
He trails the seams along the denim and curls his fingers around the waist of your jeans, shoving them down past your ass. You squeeze his side and he pulls your legs up, tugging your pants further until they are trapped together, your ass bare in the stolid air. He hooks his arm beneath your knees as he keeps you folded atop him.
His other hand slips beneath you, the subtle metallic whisper of his zipper as he shifts. His hard tip brushes along your cunt as he tickles your tender lips. He feels along your slick entrance and swirls around your clit.
"You just need to relax, kitten," he snarls as he slowly stretches you around him and your lips form a surprised O, "I know how to work out the kinks."
