Dinner and a Movie (Sub!Rick Flag x Reader) Smut
𝚁𝙵𝙱 𝚂𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝙵𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍: Nervous First Date 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Rick Flag x Plus-sized F!Reader; Reference to past Rick Flag x June Moone 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 5k 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: Language. Alcohol. Food. Smut. Kissing. Touching. Hand job. Auralism. Praisekink. Fingering (f recieving). Penetration (m/f). Sub!Rick :) 𝙰/𝙽: Oneshot. I'm on a fluff kick and really proud of this one. Somehow, I'm even softer for this man when I'm full of rosé. And if you saw my post from the other day, you know why I had his silly little hat on the brain now. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Thank you to the lovely @loverhymeswith for beta reading. Anyway, sit back and have a soft date with Rick Flag <3 𝚁𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐: Lemon My Rick Flag Bingo Masterlist || My Masterlist
𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 @rickflagbingo
tags: @reysorigins @knivesareout @lunarxeclipse @melody-death @lorecraft @lacontroller1991 @lunaticsandidiots @heart-0n-fire @deadangeluniverse @loverhymeswith @nerdysuperchick
Rick hasn't done this in awhile.
It’s never happened to Rick before.
But he knows it’s your cadence, your calm demeanor. It’s how you ground the others in the face of danger all around them, especially Rick. Your voice comes through the comms with a level command that puts him at ease and distracts him all at once.
You’re one of Argus’s operations coordinators. When it’s not Amanda Waller herself taking charge of the more pertinent missions, it’s you and a select few who step up to the plate. But you in particular- your level-headedness that never breaks or slips into a hollering fury- it’s hypnotic. At this point it’s almost Pavlovian the way you take over the comms when the mission shifts over to your expertise and Rick knows he’s in good hands. He feels comfort and support and your steady guidance all at once.
And it had started to become a major problem, workplace wise. Because after a while, Rick knows he wants you more than a colleague should.
But with a demanding agency like Argus. There was never any time. You were just as busy as Rick before and after an operation. And he didn’t just want a fling. He needed more of you, outside the war room walls, and he needed you badly.
He’s up in comms often enough. He’s caught your glances. Catches them with his own tentative smiles when no one else is looking. He knows it’s not just in his head. You speak in his ear with distinction on missions. Not just because he’s team leader. They’re extra words of comfort. And they draw Rick Flag like a siren song.
You confirm his theory one day as all the analysts talk shop around the operations table. You move toward Rick’s chair silently, until finally he glances down at his elbow and sees you’ve slid a folded Argus memo slip over to his coffee mug without a word. You keep your eyes on the meeting with patient ease. Afterward, Rick pulls the slip out of his windbreaker while he’s alone in the elevator. He bites back a smirk. In your neat scrawl, your personal number.
You couldn’t meet in person, but the two of you could start the conversation.
Rick soon learns there’s a different side to you over text. Where your interactions in person are always professional and to the point, your messages to Rick were sharp, witty, and gave him everything he’d hoped for. He hopes that he, too, gets his own point across. He doesn’t have your way with words, but you never seem to mind it.
[You]
I need a drink.
You send during a particularly rowdy pre-ops meeting. John and Emilia are beginning to shout about the best point of infiltration, while the other minor analysts cower with information at the ready. Across the room, you look neutral, but he can tell. You’re bored at the back and forth; Rick’s learned you’ve got a poker face to rival his own. He sniffs idly, reaching to rub his brow as he sneaks a glance down at his phone under his desk.
[Rick] If these two stop hollerin any time soon I might actually be able to take you out one of these days.
He hits send with bated breath. In fact, he spares himself from a glance in your direction where he hopes you’re typing from behind your clipboard.
Rick’s break up with June had been rough. Shortly after Midway, or rather, despite everything that they'd gone through together in Midway, June blindsides Rick Flag with the talk. It wasn’t him, it was her. He keeps a tight lid on his devastation for months. It had been more than a year since then. But although you joined Argus after the Suicide Squad had developed into a permanent operation, he knows you’ve heard the rumors.
Colonel Rick Flag kicks ass in the field. But keeping his woman happy? The score was widely known. Rick sighs through his nose and flicks his eyes over the room full of desk jockeys. Gossipy fucks.
Rick swallows thickly after the meeting when Waller pulls you and the other coordinators into her office.
He furrows his brow when he looks down at his phone again.
You don’t shoot him back a text, but a file. Rick opens it and sees the operations schedule for everyone over the next month or so. You’ve highlighted the rows with your name and his. It’s clear to see you’ve figured out where your rare and fleeting days off have matched.
Next weekend.
The whole weekend, actually.
Rick sits up in his seat, a little too eagerly, and a little nervous all of a sudden to boot.
Shit- you were lining it right the hell up, weren’t you? A real date night. With drinks in town and maybe dinner. Well he’ll be damned.
Friday night it is.
+
Rick drags his fingers through his hair, brows knitted together at his reflection in the driver's side window of his truck. He puts his baseball cap back on, then takes it off again, repeating the swipe of light brown locks from his forehead. No, that doesn’t seem right either. Rick considers moving his hair down to the side rather than straight back.
Aw, hell.
When he yanks the cap on and off a third time he huffs, finally tossing it back inside the vehicle all together.
He swears under his breath when his phone buzzes in his back pocket. Rick makes his way to the large garage elevator as he checks your text.
[You] Here. By the fountains.
He'd arrived thirty minutes early, and somehow he was already making you wait.
The Promenade in town is always busy on Friday nights. The storefronts glittered and trees flickered with lights, the tables and chairs outside of each restaurant packed with people. Rick never had a reason to find himself here, but it was mutual ground for the two of you to approach each other for the first time outside of work. It's easy to find the large fountain pools the two of you are meant to meet at.
Rick's got on a plain crew shirt and a bomber jacket, his black jeans new and still pressed straight from when he bought them earlier that week— Just for this. You'd both decided to keep it casual— Keep it real— Much to his relief.
How many weeks would this make it? Nine? Ten? Nearly three months of your back and forths over your phones. Tonight’s new territory for Rick Flag.
Rick had moved on since June, of course. Even downloaded a dating app with only slight apprehension. His first three real matches had ended up being single dates— Hook-ups to be exact. Hook ups he could handle. But this?
Ah shit. Shit shit shit. There you were- you weren’t in your normal comms room attire. You pull a cardigan over yourself against the evening chill, and your blouse flutters a little when you turn. Rick looks you up and down and swallows.
You're standing by the fountain's edge, your eyes searching the people passing by your vicinity. Rick doesn't even have to wave to catch your attention. When you meet his eye, he inhales sharply, the reality of tonight with you finally concrete in front of him.
You brighten. "Hey," you greet first.
Rick stops before you, his hands slipping into his jacket pockets for a moment before he quickly takes them back out. For some bizarre reason, like he’s about to formally meet a peer, his first instinct is to shake your hand. He catches himself before he raises his arm. What was he, stupid?
"Hey." Rick remembers to say with a nod.
You chuckle. "No flag hat?" Your eyes flit over his hair and face. You can hardly see the top of his head from where you stand close to him. Before he can answer, you reach forward and take his torso in a firm hug, ripping the bandaid off. You immediately note the way he smells and feels— Clean and warm and firm.
Rick jerks his hands out of his pockets— Which had nervously retreated— again. He returns the gesture with some surprise.
He envelopes you in his arms, and when he leans down his voice is right beside your ear when he smiles back, "Figured you hated it so much I should just leave it at home."
You pull back with a grin now. Rick sported his American flag cap inside HQ like a second skin. You brought it up often, encouraging that he shouldn't hide his head of pretty hair underneath it all the time. Well, teased it, was more apt.
[You] What is it with 40 year old men and baseball caps?
[Rick] Hey. What's my age got to do with it?
[You] Nothing :) You just really take the whole 'Flag' thing to heart, huh
"I don't hate it." You say, rolling your eyes. And Rick wants to breathe a sigh of relief at how easily the two of you slip into the banter you’ve come to exchange. But it’s one thing to text. It’s another to hear your voice, relinquished from your duties in the comm room, your smile as bright and light to match. You make it obvious you’re in a good mood, and the tension in Rick’s broad shoulders ease.
Now, if only he could hear you better in this damn bar he picked out.
It’s just a short stroll away. The area is warm and vibrant and relaxed. You take a seat at a tall table, the cool night air drifting in through the wide open windows. Your feet dangle on the seat while Rick sits with one foot on a rung, one foot on the ground. Together you order several tapas plates and a pair of drinks to start, and you chuckle when Rick orders himself a Bourbon and Branch.
“What?” He says above the din. You take a sip of a margarita glass rimmed with salt, and Rick watches your pink tongue dart out softly over your lip to catch a piece of it on the rim.
“I’m surprised you order them with water.” You snort. Rick smiles. You loved to tease him.
But on a weekend, the bar is so packed and only gets louder. Finally, after another drink, Rick picks up his stool and moves it closer, perpendicular to you. You grin.
“That better?” He murmurs at you, no longer needing to shout. You feel warmth spread through you from your chest to your toes- partly because of the tequila, but mostly because of the way Rick’s knee presses into yours. The two of you conspire together this way, your cheeks nearly pushing together. Goosebumps spread under his collar at the way you turn to speak directly into his ear, your breath like citrus and mischief at once. You can’t know how much he wants you in his ear in and out of work.
“Here.” You encourage Rick to try something else besides straight liquor tonight. Moving the straw out of his way, you make to pass the glass to him. But instead of taking it, Rick folds his large hand over yours and brings the rim to him. His bottom lip is warm as he presses it to the edge of your thumb. He takes a long pull of the drink and you watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow. In return, Rick Flag watches you flush. A thrill passes through him. At the way he can capture your full attention with a simple, physical gesture.
“Not bad.” He muses.
At the movies, the two of you have more luck. He picked the bar, but you picked the flick. When you reach the empty theater Rick wonders if you’ve done it on purpose. It’s an older movie, nearly completely cycled out of showings, and when you get to the top row, there’s no one there to bother the two of you way in back. In your defense, you point out that the two of you never had time to see movies, and maybe you were in luck, catching this last showing.
Except that to Rick’s smug satisfaction, it’s a complete and utter dud.
The artsy display on screen is more… interpretative than you anticipated. And in between the long stretches of silence and droning dialogue, you find your eyes drifting back over to Rick after thirty minutes or so.
He leans into you, chin in hand. Before he can ask if he can make fun of one of the dullest things he’s ever seen, you’re beating him to the punch. You overestimate the distance, and when you whisper into Rick’s ear, your lips brush over the shell, sending a shiver up the Colonel’s spine. “Okay if we talk through this one?”
Christ was it ever. He smirks, a little more alert now. Rick sits up and lifts the arm rest between the two of you, slipping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. You go back and forth, making fun of the dramatic characters with champagne problems. But Rick’s mostly focused on your breath in his ear and your hand on his as he squeezes your waist until the very end.
Finally, the Promenade clears more by the time you’re let out. You and Rick stroll slowly to the end, past a few other couples keeping the night going. Rick can’t help but feel his chest puff out a little when you slip your arm boldly into his, moving closer as the two of you come to a stop by the fountain from earlier.
“You parked in the garage?” He nods over the building across the street, hoping to extend your stroll even further. That and he wasn’t gonna let you walk back to your car alone, that was for sure. But you shake your head. “The street actually. Free overnight.”
Rick cocks a brow, a sly smirk forming. “And why’s that?” He murmurs, playing dumb.
You grin up at Rick. When you tug at the edges of his open jacket he leans down without resistance, meeting you halfway as you push up on your toes. You slot your lips against Rick’s in a warm, chaste kiss, a hum escaping you as he slips both his strong arms around your waist. He pulls you flush to him with ease. The two of you stand there, learning the new sensation of each other’s mouths. Rick had gotten so familiar with the words that left yours over the months, and now he was eager to entice all the sounds out of you left unexplored.
You both agree on Rick’s truck. He’s sobered up- especially after such a sobering movie, he teases you. You’re getting there but, ever the strategist, you know it’s safer to pick the towering soldier over yourself and your little coupe.
When you slip into the passenger side of the truck, you let out a small ‘oop’ when you accidentally sit on something.
Rick glances over when you yank the offending object out from under you.
“Aha! You did bring it!” You burst, waving the flag cap at him. Rick snatches it from you sheepishly.
“Yeah, yeah, alright.” He mutters through his teeth, smothering his grin. He tosses it in the back, and in one fluid motion, Rick reaches up to take your face in both his hands, pulling you in for another kiss. It’s deeper and filled with more passion, now that Rick has no doubt in his mind that you want this as much as he does.
There’s no middle console. Just the smooth upholstery. You both slide over the space until you’re pressed together again, your hands moving to explore one another with a little more privacy. You rake your fingers over his chest and abdomen, humming as you appreciate every hard line. Rick too, wanders your curves. And your heart flutters at the way he runs his touch along your soft sides, fingers making contact with the skin beneath the hem of your blouse.
In truth, Rick isn’t the only one who hasn’t done this in awhile. You, like him and nearly everyone at Argus, pour most of your life into its demanding operation. You had been content with evening drinks in groups and the occasional lunch with some of the other agents; But your eyes and ears had always been on the lookout for Rick Flag. He was a solemn, polite man around you, despite the fact you knew he was more gruff with the squad and other operatives. His tentativeness caught your attention after just a few missions. But what you appreciate most was that he seemed to truly listen to you. On the field, and off.
You chuckle breathlessly when you realize all these months of flirting have led up to not much talking now. Rick hums deeply in question as his hands slip under your shirt, his rough fingers scratching pleasantly against the small of your back. He busies himself with kisses along your neck and you gasp at the way his lashes flutter along your jaw.
“You trying to get me to fool around in your little pick up truck, Flag?” You tease in his ear. He grins against your pulse. A heat rises in Rick’s cheeks, out of your view, and he knows he can’t blame it on the alcohol anymore. Your timbre runs right through him, warm and smooth like honey.
“You don’t think it’s little.” He goads.
You scoff, pushing at his shoulder as he chuckles. But it soon dissolves into a moan when you nip at his earlobe, and Rick’s hold on you stiffens. You marvel in the deep sound you elicit so easily from such a large man. It goes straight to your core, and you curiously do it again as your hand wanders down between his thighs. You run your finger along his inseam until you’re met with what you’re looking for. Rick’s length is thick and straining under your light grasp. – Not little was right. He pauses from kissing your collar bone.
“That for me?” You purr.
Rick’s forehead falls atop your shoulder. “Been needing you all night, darlin’.”
You keep your mouth on the shell of his ear, feeling how hot it’s growing between your lips as you lick and kiss him languidly there. All the while, you stroke Rick through the fabric of his jeans, your own sex hot and wet and wanting. “The night’s not over, Colonel.”
Rick captures your lips with his with more fervor than ever, his fingers pushing through your hair to cup the back of your head to his. You squeeze your thighs together in your seat with a soft moan.
It takes everything he’s got to tear away from you. You buckle up with amusement as Rick puts his hand on the back of your headrest and reverses out of the garage without wasting another minute.
It’s his truck, but it’s your apartment. Your place is much closer than base, just a few blocks away from the Promenade. And Rick will be damned if he’s waiting to roll through two sets of security checkpoints and a long walk up to the barracks to make you his.
You don’t bother with the living room lights, stumbling backwards into your apartment as Rick pulls you in close again. He breaks apart long enough to nod to the couch, “Here?” He murmurs down at you. Your knees hit the edge of the seat but you shake your head, your noses brushing. Your head spins with the way his hard length is pressing into your waist, the scent of your familiar apartment mixing with the utterly unfamiliar and intoxicating scent of Rick Flag. You grin as you continue your walk backward to your bedroom. You slip your hands around Rick’s belt and deftly begin relieving him of it.
“Easy there, cowboy.” You tease him as he fumbles for the doorknob.
The yellow glow of the street lamp outside is enough light. Rick slips his jacket off and lets it fall to the floor as you do the same with your cardigan. You yank the hem of his shirt out of his pants eagerly, and you both tumble onto your comforter before it’s up and over his head. Rick tosses it aside.
He takes a moment to look at you laid out and breathless, your legs wedge between his thighs. Rick then leans down, takes the moment to trail kiss after kiss up your body, and you watch as the sharp geography of his back muscles flex under your touch in the low light. When he reaches the swell of your breasts, you cup his face in your hands and drag him up to meet yours, the need to taste him again overwhelming.
When your name leaves his lips like a plea, Rick drops his hips down to roll against yours. You moan when you feel his cock twitch through all your bottom layers.
“We’ve still got too many clothes on.” You point out astutely. And Rick Flag can’t agree more. He buries his face between your breasts once again, mouthing at your cleavage as he reaches down to yank your button blouse open in one simple tug between his fists. The buttons fall onto the hardwood floor off to the side with a stunning clatter.
“Rick!”
He’s pulling your bra down, taking a nipple into his mouth with ravenous abandon as he thrusts against your thigh again. “‘Said I need you, darlin’. I’m burnin’ up.” He growls.
Your hands find the button on his pants. When you pull his waistband down, his cock springs free, falling heavily in your grasp.
“Mm need you too,” You whisper in his ear. “I need you, Rick.”
The man groans, peppering your neck with kisses. You pump your hand around his hot length once and he rolls his hips into your palm without hesitation.
Rick falls back on his knees and guides your legs up. He makes quick work of your pants, a happy smirk evident as he slides them up off your legs. He kisses your calf slowly, your knee, each open-mouthed kiss sending a shiver through you. Rick puts himself between your legs until your knees are hitched over his strong arms, and he leans back down over you to capture your lips once more. You keep stroking him as he shucks the last of his clothes off, leaving you both bare and ready. Finally, you line him up with your entrance, already so wet with want. You both shudder as he slides into your cunt.
“Oh, fuck, Rick.” You grab his broad shoulder as he sinks into you, your other arm wrapping around the back of his head. You press your cheek to his, your breath hot in his ear and in his head. “Oh, please, I need it. Need you to fuck me.”
Rick whines, his deep voice hitching when he pushes the last of himself inside. You think you almost can’t take all of him, until he slowly presses down and bottoms out. You wrap your legs around his waist, dragging your nails down his back. You stretch around him, your hips eagerly moving to feel that hot slide of friction. He gives you another long moment, until you’re rolling your hips again. You thrust yourself on Rick’s cock with a whimper, and the move ignites the fire you know is lying in wait. Rick swears into the pillow beneath your head.
“Feel so good.” You croon. Rick begins thrusting, mouth latching onto your neck as he braces his arms on either side of the bed. You’re soft and warm and heavenly beneath him, your core molding around him with every thrust so tightly Rick quickly finds himself lost in you.
Despite the fact he can’t seem to keep his eyes open, his breath heavy and gone against your skin, you marvel at his stamina. You continue to whisper in his ear, extracting one desperate, helpless sound from the Colonel after the other. He’d last forever if you told him to. Come right then and there with a single word, if that’s the command you poured into his ear. Rick slips a forearm under your lower back and hikes you up as he keeps fucking you. As if drawing you closer could let him possess you even more- every inch of skin sliding against skin bringing him undone. You moan. You arch your back now, meeting his thrusts at a new angle that hits you til you’re crying out with every breath. “Yes- Just like that. Yes- yes- yes–”
You scramble to keep your hold on his shoulder. “Touch me,” You beg him, “Touch me, Rick, please?’ Rick nods frantically, reaching down between you. You cry out when his thumb meets your swollen clit. Quick, slick circles glide over you. Heat blooms across your cheeks. “Rick, Rick, oh please make me come.”
Rick obeys. His only reply is his breathless, blissed-filled panting. He’d do fucking anything for you in this moment. Follow any command. It’s just as he’s out in the field, in the dark, and your voice is the only thing that’s gonna save him. Your walls squeeze him tight as you come, your mouth right in his ear as you scream lightly, your arms clinging to him in ecstasy– everything he’s needed since he knew he needed you.
Rick comes before you’re even done, joining your breathless pleas with a combination of a shudder and a groan. He punches his hips, once, twice, as you come down, his spend filling you up with a delicious heat.
Rick nearly collapses onto you. Careful not to crush you at the last second with one arm, he props himself up over your prone body, his legs slotting with yours.
“Jesus Christ,” He pants. His face disappears into the crook of your neck again. You take a moment to catch your breath, your fingers pushing through Rick’s hair gently with a smile. Rick nuzzles your neck before placing a kiss on your jaw.
You capture his lips softly, the kiss a slow and tender thing. You relish the silence of the bedroom- how the only sounds are the ones you’re orchestrating with the man above you. Music in the ether you’ve been waiting to hear ever since you laid eyes on him. You stay like that until you’re drifting; you open your eyes when you didn’t know you closed them, and you know it’s time to sit up a little, move around a little. You crane your neck at the glowing red numbers on your nightstand clock. You can’t remember the last time you stayed up this late without Argus or Amanda goddamn Waller being the sole reason. The action stirs the resting man in your arms as well, and you’re sorry you’ve disturbed Rick from such a blissful slumber.
When he sits up, Rick seems to blink around the dark room, taking in his surroundings for the first time.
It’s an out of place feeling. Rick’s the man to find every entry point and exit in any given room. But here, with you, his attention was wholly enveloped. That’s what you did to him. You watch him curiously as he searches around the floor. When he finds his shirt by the nightstand and picks it up, you raise yourself up on an elbow and arch a brow at the soldier.
“What do you think you’re doing?” You inquire curiously.
Rick pauses with his shirt halfway on. It dangles around his neck loosely, and you laugh at how it’s clear Rick Flag does things a certain way- his muscle memory driving him to get dressed promptly. Efficiently. And with unnecessary haste.
But you’re not insulted. In fact, you’re a little amused. Because you’re confident when you hitch your leg around the back of his thigh that it’s all it will take to make him stay put. Rick is nearly two hundred and twenty pounds of muscle and you delight in the way every single one stills beneath your touch.
You know the uncertainty in his eyes isn’t a reflection on you. You know it from hours of texting. Of the careful, deliberate unguarding of Rick’s thoughts. He’d been hurt, like many people. Like you have, more than once or twice in your own life. You knew about his routine with lesser flings just as he knew about your aversion to the ominous idea of dating in the first place. It’s unfamiliar territory for you both. You level him with hooded eyes, inviting and patient.
“You’re not going anywhere, Rick Flag.”
“I– no?” He tries.
“We’ve finally both got a weekend off. I’m not done with you yet, Colonel.” You reach for the shirt bunched up around his neck and pull him forward. Rick crawls back over you, his small, pleased smirk returning. “That so?”
“That’s an order, actually.” You purr, tossing the shirt off his head.
Rick’s arms wrap around you tightly, the goosebumps along his tattooed biceps making his pleasure at the idea loud and clear. He lies back down with you, slotting himself beside you. His form dwarfs your body as your fingers find that sandy blonde hair you’ve come to adore. The tension eases. In his muscles, in his worries. For the first time in a while, Rick’s not worried about a damn thing.
The habitual thoughts of tomorrow, tomorrow disappear at your behest, replaced with the sound of your gentle breaths. Rick sighs against your jaw.
“Yes, Ma’am.”