#the suicide squad fanfic

[drabbles-mc]

All Settled

Rick Flag x F!Reader (past: Rick Flag x June Moone)

For @the-slumberparty's Bingo Challenge! Bingo square: caught in a storm

Warnings: 18+, language, pining, arguing, light angst

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: They're aruging, they're pining, they're stuck in an airport together. We love to see it! also idk i might write more for these two eventually I'm not sure i just don't know but there are Vibes i might explore later lmao

Suicide Squad Taglist: @garbinge @artemiseamoon @beardburnsupersoldiers @words-and-seeds (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

It was perfect, really. Not in the way that it was good, but in the way that it happened and all you could do was laugh, shake your head, and think to yourself, “Of fucking course.”

“This funny to you?” Rick asked, clearly not as amused as you as he dropped his bag to the floor with a loud thud. It wasn’t nearly as loud as the clap of thunder that sounded right before he’d spoken to you, though.

“I mean,” you said with a shrug, also letting your bag slip down off your shoulders, albeit with less drama, “it’s a little funny to me, yeah.”

He shook his head, scuffing the toe of his boot along the tiled floor. You could tell by that and the tightness of his jaw alone that he was fighting the urge to punt his own bag across the floor. “Glad you think so.”

You didn’t let it faze you—Rick and his short fuse weren’t anything new to you at this point. “Yeah, because getting mad about it like you are seems to be so much better.”

He opened his mouth to fire back at you, but he stopped himself when he saw the traces of amusement on your face, that you were just going to take whatever he said to you in that moment and flip it right back onto him. You were one of the few people in the world that he would request time and time again to assist with Task Force X whenever he could, whenever he got enough leash to bring in an extra body on his side of things. But it didn’t make him any less annoyed with you in moments like this.

“Don’t get your panties in a knot, Flag,” you said as you dropped into one of the many empty chairs behind you. Lightning flashed outside, bright light coming through all the airport windows for a split second. “We’ll be outta here first thing in the morning.”

He shook his head, trying to figure out if he wanted to pace and be angry about the situation, or sit down next to you and be angry about it instead. His exhaustion won out just enough to get him to sink down into the chair beside yours.

“Made it through all that shit, and we get stuck on the layover. That’s,” he shook his head, “that’s just…”

“Perfect,” you finished for him with a laugh. You looked over at him, watching as he shook his head and tried not to look like he wanted to laugh right along with you. “Look at the bright side,” you stretched your legs out in front of you, crossing one over the other, “least we didn’t get stuck in this storm with the rest of the team.”

The sigh he puffed out turned into a laugh, shaking his head as he thought about the scenario you’d just put into his head. “Fuckin’ A.”

“Exactly.” You let your head drop back to rest against the top of the seat. You stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds in silence before saying, “We should’ve gotten a hotel room.”

Now it was his turn to laugh at you. “Seriously? We’ve been stuck out,” he gestured vaguely, not wanting to say exactly where even though there weren’t many people around, “you know, and you’re gonna bitch about sleeping in an airport?”

Turning your head to look at him, you raised your eyebrows and replied, “I’m off the clock, Rick—I’d like to sleep in a real bed if at all possible.”

He chuckled, shaking his head at you. “Poor thing,” he mocked.

You laughed, elbowing his arm off the rest that separated your chair from his. Like he had any right to give you grief about complaining at this point. “Fuck you.”

Neither of you said anything for a bit after that. The two of you sat there in your insanely uncomfortable airport chairs, with posture that wasn’t fit at all for the caliber of soldier that the both of you were. Both of you were watching the few people who were stuck at the airport with you. Your flight had been one of the last, but it seemed like a couple others that were scheduled to leave late got pushed off until the morning. No one was dedicated enough to getting a hotel room to go outside in the rain and wind to get a cab. So you watched everyone putting together makeshift beds of their own out of their luggage, draping themselves across chairs. Whatever it took to be at least mildly comfortable.

You’d been still and quiet for so long that Rick thought that you might’ve fallen asleep. Tilting his head, he glanced over at you to find you very much awake. Your eyes were fixed on the small cluster of people who were at the gate across from yours. Among them was a woman with two children, young enough that they thought this was all so fun and exciting.

“Why do you always say yes?” he asked you, watching you as you watched everything around you.

Your face contorted in confusion but you still didn’t turn to face him. “Hm?”

“When I put in the request for you, why do you always say yes?”

You chuckled, finally facing him. “Why do you keep requesting me?”

“’Cause I know you won’t let me get shot.”

You laughed at that, trying not to be too loud as everyone continued to hunker down to go to sleep. “Yea, I guess that’s fair.” You pulled your legs up, feet resting on the edge of your seat as you wrapped your arms so that your hands interlocked and rested on your shins. “Maybe I just like making sure you don’t get shot.”

He smiled, a tiny grin that was briefly illuminated by another strike of lightning. “Can’t like it that much.”

You arched your brow. “Want me to start saying no? Leave the big bad Colonel all on his own?”

He shook his head at you. “Not what I said. I just, I don’t know.” He crossed his arms, letting them rest over his stomach as he looked at the same place you’d just been looking. “You always seemed like you were looking to settle down. This,” he laughed, “this shit ain’t settled.”

You hummed in amusement as you nodded. “It’s not.” You paused. “I’m just, I don’t know, guess I haven’t really found someone to settle with yet. Not gonna give this up with no reason to.” You waited for him to look at you. “Lucky for you, though, huh?”

He nodded, gave you a quick smirk, but he didn’t say anything else in response. You couldn’t tell if there was more that he wanted to say. Either way, it didn’t matter much. He sunk down a little farther in his chair, long legs stretched out in front of him. The heel of his boots rested just on the far side of his ridiculously large duffle bag, ensuring that no one would be able to try and snatch it without him noticing. You shook your head at the precaution—it didn’t seem like anyone in present company was going to want any of his fatigues and t-shirts that hadn’t been washed in a week. You let him have that, though. You watched as his chin dropped and tucked towards his chest, eyes falling closed even though he probably wouldn’t actually fall asleep for a long time.

“Think you’re ever going to?” you asked, propping your chin on your knees as you did.

His eyes were still shut as he asked, “Ever gonna what?”

“Settle down?”

His eyes slowly opened, muscles tensing as he processed the two-word question. “I don’t know.”

You were nearly kicking yourself for ruining the moment. Things were fine. You didn’t have to pry, but you did it anyway. You just couldn’t let things lie—it was a habit you always meant to work on and never got around to it.

“Sorry,” you said, your voice tentative in a way that it hardly ever was with anyone, least of all with Rick.

He looked at you, brows meeting in confusion. “For what?”

You knew that answering the question was just going to dig a deeper hole, but you also knew that you weren’t going to be able to ignore the question, either. Stubbornness was one of the traits that you and Rick shared.

You shrugged, wishing that you could pull your legs in farther, make yourself smaller and disappear out of this conversation. “It’s not my business. I know that…it’s just…I know since June you sorta just—”

“Got it,” he cut you off.

You fought the urge to sigh with everything in you. You were annoyed with yourself, but you were annoyed with him too. “Right.”

There was just enough of a shift in your tone to keep him hooked into the conversation, even though it was evident that neither of you wanted to continue it. “What?”

You shook your head. “I’m not doing this with you, Rick.” He went to try and argue but you kept talking before he could. “You don’t wanna talk about it so we’re just, we’re not gonna talk about it. Forget I fuckin’ said anything.” There was a long stretch of silence and before you could use any impulse control you said, “But to be fair, you asked me first.”

He sighed. “We doin’ this right now?”

“What this are you referring to, exactly?” you snapped, voice hushed. The rain beating down and echoing against the roof helped to hide some of your conversation.

“Since when do you wanna talk about that? About all my shit? About, about June?” He hesitated on it but he still managed to get the question out. You couldn’t remember the last time he actually said her name.

You were too caught up in your frustration to empathize about it though. “Are you serious?” You let your feet drop back to the floor, adjusting yourself in your chair so that your entire torso was turned and facing him. “You’re gonna sit there and pretend that I’m the one who never wanted to talk about it?” You scoffed. “Fuck’s sake, Rick. The only reason I found out the two of you broke up in the first place was because Boomer made some asshole comment and you nearly tossed him out of the helicopter. You have never wanted to talk to me about all of that. About anything, really.”

Rick’s fists were clenched at his sides, trying to keep himself from getting too defensive but you weren’t making it easy for him. You never did. He didn’t make it easy for himself, either. “Hey—”

“Actually, now that I think about it,” you cut him off, “you never talk to me about anything outside of work. You know all about me, but I don’t know shit about—”

“That’s not true,” he interjected, voice firm enough to give you pause. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Your shoulders slumped in defeat at that. He wasn’t wrong. But you weren’t completely wrong either. You both knew plenty about each other but there were always a series of walls that Rick kept up, ones that you never got around to building for yourself. Moments like that made it hard not to feel the distance.

“Whatever,” you finally said, not wanting to give in and actually tell him that he was right.

He was still shaking his head at you as he went back to staring at his boots. “Don’t know why you care so much anyway—not like you ever liked her.”

“What? I,” you sputtered as you shook your head, “I had no problem with June. What are you talking about? I barely even knew her.”

It was true. Outside of the events of Midway City, you had next to no contact with June. Rick was pretty much her sole protective detail, hence how the rest of their entire situation played out. You were part of his team that time around too, although despite being his right hand, you were far from the top of his priority list the way that you were all the times after that when you guys handled ops together. But that was the only time you ever really spent around June, and to say that you really spent it with her would’ve been a stretch even under the most forgiving circumstances. But still, you never had a problem with her.

He let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle—either way it was full of attitude. “Right.”

You huffed, shaking your head. “Fuck you.”

You angled yourself away from him, turning your body so that you were facing forward again. Part of you wanted to get up and walk to another part of the airport. It would’ve been pointless, though. In just a few more hours the two of you would be sitting next to each other on the plane anyway. There was no escaping him until the trip was over. For a split second, you let yourself indulge in the thought that maybe next time you’d say no when he asked you to tag in.

“Should’ve gotten out when she did,” you mumbled.

You heard the sound of his clothes rustling as he turned to look at you. “What was that?”

You didn’t hesitate, not looking at him but speaking just a little louder, and a whole lot clearer. “I said you should’ve gotten out when she did.” You turned and looked at him, wanting to hit him with the full weight of what you were going to say next. “Maybe then you’d still—”

“Don’t fuckin’ go there,” he said, tone low but brimming with anger.

You rolled your eyes, slumping back against the chair. “Yes, sir.”

There were only about ten seconds between your response and him speaking up again, but those seconds felt like hours to Rick as he tried to force himself to just be honest instead of angry for once. Or at least be honest while he was being angry.

“It was because I wouldn’t give it up,” he finally said, bitterness coating his voice.

Your face scrunched in confusion for a moment before you turned your head to look at him. “What?”

“She left because I wouldn’t give it up. She wanted nothing to do with any of it after everything that happened. I got that. She was just waiting for me to walk away from it too.”

“You got into this shit for her—why didn’t you walk away?”

“Think Waller was just gonna let me walk?”

You shrugged. “Not at first. But she’d get tired of fighting you eventually.” You paused. “She probably would’ve ended your entire military career though.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “no thanks.”

“How long did it take her to realize you weren’t gonna quit?” you asked, figuring that if he was gonna open the door you might as well take a peek inside.

He shook his head. “Longer than it should’ve for someone as smart as she is.”

“Love makes you stupid.”

He let out a laugh, one that was one part sadness, one part humor. “Yeah, it does.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. Not on you.”

“You really love this shit, huh?” you asked, really processing the full weight of what he was telling you. Rick had turned his whole life on its head to save June. He said it himself that she was the only woman he’d ever really cared about. From the way he was acting during everything leading up to what happened at Midway City, you were certain that he would’ve done anything for her. But apparently not.

If he laughed you couldn’t hear it over the rumbles of thunder. “’Bout as much as I hate it.” He looked over at the windows for a moment, able to see the rain pelting down in the dark, then he looked back at you. “Stupid, right?”

You chuckled quietly. “That’s how you know you love it.”

“What’s your excuse, then?” he asked. “Because I know you sure as shit don’t love this.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling in the hopes that it would hide all of the thoughts that were racing through your brain because of his question. “Just an adrenaline junkie now, I guess.” You looked over at him. “Regular military ops just don’t do it for me anymore.”

He was slowly starting to let the tension drop out of his shoulders, his guard slowly coming back down as the both of you began to get back to some sort of common ground. “That’s it, huh?”

It wasn’t the time to get into it. It probably wouldn’t ever be the time to get into it. “That and, like you said, someone’s gotta keep you from getting shot.”

He was shaking his head at you, but at least this time he was almost smiling while he did it. The two of you had always had that going for you—no matter how quickly things tensed up between you, you usually managed to cool back down almost as quickly. Some of that was from all the years and hours you’d spent together, some of it was because in the situations you found yourselves in out in the field, there was no time for grudges so it was best to just let shit go if you could. But for yourself, you also knew that there was an element of not wanting to hang onto that, not with him. It’s why you’d always say yes when he asked you.

For a few seconds it was quieter than it had been. The rain lightened enough to not be echoing as it fell against the roof. The thunder and lightning subsided, and the conversation between you hit a lull. So when Rick cleared his throat, it seemed louder than it really was.

You turned to look at him and found him already staring at you. You raised your eyebrows, silently prompting him to say whatever it was that he was gearing up for. His brows scrunched for a split second, a final hesitation but he was still going to go through with it.

“We’re…?” he trailed off, his tone enough to fill in the rest of the question for him.

You smiled, nodding. “We’re good. Don’t worry,” you shifted in your chair so that you were leaning against his side, your head resting on his shoulder, “I won’t leave you hanging next time you call.”

He chuckled, wanting to shake his head and come back with a snarky remark, but he didn’t have it in him. Tilting his head, he looked over at you and for the first time in a long time, he felt a pull of something deep in his chest. A feeling that he wasn’t sure he could afford to put too much stock in. He let his head drop to rest against yours. “Thanks.”

#suicide squad #the suicide squad #rick flag #rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #x reader #x reader fic #suicide squad fanfic #the suicide squad fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #drabblesmc #navy and roo's sleepover #navy and roos sleepover #slumber party #slumber party bingo #rick flag fanfiction

[your-averagewriter]

“Fuck off America’s sweetheart.”

Summary: After trekking through the rainforest the Suicide Squad stumble upon a camp and after a brief massacre they discover Rick Flag, uninjured and not captured.

Word count: 1.0K

Warnings: Violence, swearing, blood, gore, Suicide Squad violence and warnings

-

-

After a day of walking through a rainforest, moisture attaching itself to my skin I try to shrug off the feeling of dirtiness. We reach a makeshift camp and are instantly told to execute anyone and everyone within.

A brutal but sadly common order in the Suicide Squad. DuBois and Peacemaker have an obvious rivalry not leaving many to the rest of us but I’m not complaining. I’ve never been someone to enjoy killing, only when ordered to or when it’s necessary, that’s not to say I’m bad at it, don’t misunderstand.

I approach the camp, following behind the two in competition, not something I wanna get involved with. Slowly, I pull out a few bullets from my bag, toss one in the air, catch it then throw it, propelling it straight into a man’s head. Sunlight shines through from the other side, illuminating the cascading blood from the wound. I repeat the process with a second bullet, lodging it in someone’s skull before moving on through the camp.

Watching the two ‘vigilantes’ act like children is entertaining for a few minutes but gets old quickly as they fight over the last victim. Quickly, I pull out two bullets from my bag and propel them at the same time towards the last man standing. Falling over, you can see the two holes the bullets paved through his eyes, perfect shot, I think allowing a small smile at the precision and accuracy.

Both of them turn to me, glaring ever so slightly annoyed that I took away their tie breaker but we have a mission to do and competition with each other will only get each other killed.

“Damn it.” I hear both of them say, frustrated, watching as the man falls, flat on the ground, the remains of his eyes splattered nearby.

Staying silent, I follow closely behind the leader and another who has also deemed himself a leader (Peacemaker). His ego seems to have no bounds, from his pretentious name to stupid hat.

Heading towards a tent, DuBois pulls open the entrance to reveal a short woman in some sort of uniform and a patched up Rick Flag. They turn to us in confusion which is mimicked by our faces.

“(y/n)?” He asks and I furrow my brows looking at him, sitting laughing in a tent whilst we were out fighting and trying to protect the island.

I step back, out of the tent slowly as too many emotions flood my system making me not be able to think straight. I just need to get out of here.

I don’t walk far and I don’t know what to do so I walk through the camp following the trails of my murders tracing my bullets. They’re not really that special but I don’t know what to do right now.

Feeling a tear carve a path down my face, my hand flies up immediately to swipe it away and I refuse to cry or to let anyone see me cry. I grab at the bullets, forcing my fingernails into my palms almost drawing blood but the pain stops the tears from falling. Reversed logic but when did emotions ever make sense. Stuffing the bullets back into my bag I walk over to a fallen tree where I perch my head in my hands, not crying, not angry, just overwhelmed. Although, an overwhelmed assassin can be a dangerous thing.

This whole experience only lasts seconds in reality but it feels like it’s going on forever.

Waller convinced me to go on this mission stating that Rick had been captured, that he was being used by the enemy, she didn’t outright say he was being tortured but it was heavily implied.But here he is laughing in a tent with some random people, certainly not looking captured.

I know it’s not his fault that he's unharmed, not captured by the enemy, I’m not mad at him, it’s Waller as usual - manipulating me using my emotions and using the one person I care about to force me on this mission.

Rick emerges from the tent a few moments afterwards, likely done with a short debrief for DuBois and the others. He scans the forest, tracing the treeline, looking for me and eventually he clocks me sitting on the tree.

“(y/n)-” I interrupt.

“Why are you here? I don’t understand.” I say, my hands threaded in my hair.

“Trust me, I’m about to ask you the same thing.”

“Waller called me in, she told me you had been captured and were probably being tortured. That’s why I’m here. Why aren’t you being tortured?” He chuckles quietly. “I know that sounds weird.” I say, resting my head on his shoulder.

“Waller lied to you.” I sigh. What I thought has now been confirmed.

“I can’t believe she would do that… Well, I can.” I frown.

“I’m so sorry.” He says, wrapping his arm around my waist, resting his head on top of mine. “I don’t want you to be here because of me.”

“It’s not your fault. We’ve just gotta make sure we both get out of it now so we can deal with Waller later on.”

“Yeah. Then you can show Waller what you’re made of.” 

“She won’t know what hit her.” I manage a small smile. There’s a comfortable silence that falls over us before I stand up holding onto his hand, cherishing the warmth he provides me with. “We should get back to the others…” I say.

He agrees quietly, following after me. We walk back over to the tent where the others are standing and talking with the people in uniform.

“DuBois?” I say and he turns around upon hearing his name. “Did you know?” I ask.

“Know what?”

“That Flag wasn’t captured, wasn’t tortured.”

“I didn’t know Flag was here.” He says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Who the fuck is this guy?” Peacemaker asks. “Why is he so important?”

“Fuck off America’s sweetheart.” I say, the anger of Waller lying being emphasised by Peacemaker’s idiocy. I feel Rick squeeze my hand, an attempt to calm me. I don’t have anger issues but there are some specific things that rile me up.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Robert stands in the middle of us putting his hands up, preventing escalation. “He’s just a dick.” DuBois says quietly.

“Hey, I can hear you!” Peacemaker shouts.

“Fuck off!” I yell back.

-

AN: I hope you enjoyed reading!

I'm so boring with my title recently, I've just been putting quotes from the fics, I'm sorry haha.

I thought you'd want to be tagged @mandy-eminem-moxley77 (I have a much better Rick Flag fic that I'm gonna post tomorrow or the day after that's 'spicy' so...)

#the suicide squad #rick flag #suicide squad #dc #the suicide squad x reader #the suicide squad x you #the suicide squad x y/n #the suicide squad x yn #rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #rick flag x y/n #rick flag x yn #x you #x y/n #x yn #x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #the suicide squad fanfiction #the suicide squad fanfic #rick flag fanfiction #rick flag fanfic #dc x reader #dc x you #dc x y/n #dc x yn #dc fanfiction #dc fanfic #robert dubois #peacemaker

[creepling]

⋆.˚☀︎٠ ࣪⭑ A KNOCK AWAY

synopsis: returning packages and a broken washing machine lead you to spend the night with your hot neighbour, digger harkness.

tags: smut - minors dni. fem!reader. age difference (early 20s x late 30s). domestic elements. reader described as "shy" but not really. sexual tension. alcohol use. drinking games. awkward moments. oral (f receiving). couch sex. big dick (it's canon it's out of my control!!!). p in v. creampie. 4.4k words.

Your neighbour had a habit of ordering ludicrous amounts of packages but is never at home to collect them. It was almost every day they arrived and piled at your front door. The last few days you’ve knocked on his door to give them, but met by silence. Your small apartment is running out of room if any more decide to show up. You had been going in the afternoons once you came off work, but he either didn’t answer or wasn’t in. This time, on Saturday morning, you decided to knock on his door. Who cares if it’s the weekend, or it’s too early, you were determined to get those packages out of your house.

You knock gently at first and wait for a minute. No answer. A week. A whole week of this bullshit. Impatience clouds your sympathy, and you knock on the door harder. You hear a thud, a clank of glass, and a curse on the other side of the door. You knock again, calling up a groan of annoyance and an “I’m coming!”

The door opens, and you’re greeted by your neighbour for the first time since you moved here. He is shirtless, showing off a collection of tattoos. His mop of hair hadn’t met a comb yet; still scuffled by sleep. You could tell he was older, and you were taken aback by how attractive he was. Given in a rugged way. You half-expected a balding divorcee with a beer belly.

“You’re George, right? I live next door,” You introduce.

Eyes squint and bloodshot, he looks you up and down before nodding. “You know what time it is, sunshine? Too bloody early to be knocking on people’s doors.” He said, fighting through a hangover to communicate. The twang of an Aussie accent was the second thing to surprise you. Even with the twang of annoyance in his tone, you bite your cheek to fight off a flattered smile.

Your bashfulness forces you to ditch the defiant speech you prepared. “I’m aware of that- but I’ve tried to get a hold of you all week, but you seem to not be in during the afternoon.” You shuffle to your open door, grab one of the packages and gesture it to George, “There’s a ton of packages here for you.”

George’s annoyed face began to soften, and he let out an idle chuckle. “Shiiiiit, I forgot about those!”

He opened his door wider and began collecting the parcels from you. You got a peek inside his apartment. Your suspicions of his home were accurate, resembling what all men living alone succumb themself to; their own squaller.

“Thanks for holding onto them for me. And sorry for being cranky, hangovers, y’know?” George said, his tone now different, one more pleasant. You smile, feeling pleased that you have the chance to converse with a neighbour and know who lives next door.

“Hope you had a good night so it’s worth it,” you chuckle, taking a stack of the packages and shuffling to his door. George takes them from your hands swiftly. This left you standing by his door, looking around the living room, stumped on the small talk. You were never really good at this.

“I mean- it was alright. They just hit you more when you get older,” he dropped the remaining boxes by his door, rubbing his temples as he stretched. His abdomen extended, shifting the waistband of his pants, making you look away and stand in silence. George scratches the back of his neck as he looks at you, feeling the interaction fade to a farewell.

“I better get going, you’ve got a lot to unbox,” you say, slowly backing away.

George gets to the door, nodding and shooting you a smile. “Thanks again for keeping them safe.” You could have sworn he looked you up and down, in a different way this time. Sizing you up, for other means. Maybe it was your imagination.

You meekly wave before retreating to your apartment. With the packages gone, your eyes adjust to the clear space, and the lingering images of your neighbour hot in your thoughts.

The washing machine was stuck again, and no matter how hard you hit it, it was still broken. Today is not going well, and you were on the edge, especially since the only other machine in the block has an ‘out of order’ sign on it. You rub your hands along your face, the skin already flushed from anger. A shuffle of footsteps approaches the entrance, and you reveal yourself to see who is witnessing your self-pity.

“Useless fucking thing, ain’t it?” It was George, the first time you’ve seen him in clothes that weren’t pyjama pants with socks and slides. He looks like he’s back from work, or the gym, it is hard to tell. You did wonder what he did for a living.

“I’m lucky it broke before I put my laundry in,” You look at the bright side with heavy eyes and a half-assed smile.

“Well, I don’t wanna brag, but I do have a machine. Wouldn’t mind ya using it until they fix it,” George shrugs with a ‘no big deal’ attitude. Suddenly your neighbour was a beacon of hope, and the stress left you with a sigh of relief.

“That would be really helpful, thanks,” you pick up your laundry basket, following up the stairs. He hunched the duffle bags over his shoulder. Reaching the top of the stairs, he unlocks his front door and lets you in first, taking a look at his living room and huffing. “Sorry about the mess.”

Beer bottles and cans littering the coffee table, clothes on the floor or hanging from the couch and chairs. You take one breath and smell the stale air, keeping a straight face. “It’s okay,” You smile through it, not wanting to place judgment. Maybe he’s just a busy guy.

George quickly shows you the settings on the machine (which he wasn’t so sure about) before excusing himself to the shower. Before you could ask questions, he was dashing to the bathroom, leaving you to your own devices. You load the machine, press the button and hope for the best.

Alone in his apartment was daunting and you begin to explore. Mostly focused on the messiness, the environment nagging at your senses. Clean space, clean mind, as they say. You pick up the trash and throw it out, starting with the beer cans. Luckily you didn’t find anything too disgusting, with the odd dirty plate you could place in the sink. You open the curtains, coughing from the dust and open the window to release the smell of stale pizza and beer. Your mind is clearer, you go to wash your hands until you spot George standing by the entrance of the living room in awe. He is still in his towel, his right hand clenching the side to keep it in place, his hair wet and slicked back. You turn away immediately, looking anywhere but him, a kick of adrenaline overtaking your insides.

“Wasn’t aware I ordered room service,” he joked, amused by your embarrassment.

“I’m sorry- I should have just left and come back later for the laundry. But- I don’t know- your place looked like it needed a tidy-up. I can’t help myself, it’s a habit. God- I’m so stupid-”

“Don’t get your undies in a twist, it’s fine. I appreciate it,” George reassures, rubbing the back of his neck, “As you can see, I don’t get many visitors.”

When he closes the bedroom door to change, it’s safe for you to look again. That feeling in your stomach didn’t go away, it still brewed in the pit and crawled its way up your core. It makes you think about him again, like those sleepless nights after your first encounter, and your cheeks grow hot. Maybe this is a good time to slip out and avoid him like the plague. But what else would you be doing? Watching TV? Playing video games? All alone in your apartment, like you always are. That’s how your life has been, work, home, bed; absent of social life, of anything remotely adventurous. You keep your feet firmly on the ground, chewing your lip in thought. There was a time when you lived life on the edge, out every weekend, hooked up with people. Letting your old self come out to play wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

“Where do you keep your cleaning supplies? I could do the rest for you if you want,” you call, inching towards the bedroom door so he can hear you. He opens the door quickly, startling you, wearing casual grey sweatpants and a white tee.

“Are you like a freelance maid or something? This how you get clients?” He leaned an arm on the door frame, looking down at you. He becomes the only thing in eyesight and you freeze, giving a shy smile.

“No, I just like cleaning, that's all. You seem like you need it, being a busy guy and all.” You study his eyes, wondering if he sees right through you.

George slowly nods, then snaps his fingers, heading towards the front door and sliding his shoes on. “Tell you what, love. I have to run a few errands, while I’m out I’ll leave you to it.”

You frown, crossing your arms. “You’re just gonna leave me, your neighbour you’ve met like once, in your house alone? You trust me like that?”

He shrugs, taking one of the duffle bags full of… something. “I’ve got many weapons I can pull on you if you try anything. Plus, you’re young and don’t look that strong, so I think I can take you on.” You weren’t sure if he was joking, but there was a cheeky look in his eye that allowed you to chuckle.

“That would do it. You can trust me.”

George gives a little salute, exiting the door. “Stuff’s under the kitchen sink. Good luck!”

You look at his limited supply, an empty bottle of bleach and a mysterious liquid in a spray bottle. You decide to use your supplies, grab them from your apartment, and come back to start the work.

You collapse on the couch gasping for air. People underestimate how much energy it takes to clean, especially when cleaning George’s house. Within an hour you cleaned the living room and kitchen and hung up your laundry to dry in your apartment. The worst part was the vacuuming, as like not owning cleaning supplies, he also didn’t have a vacuum. Go figure.

George eventually returned, greeted by your efforts and your limp body sprawled on his couch. You quickly got up, hoping he didn’t mind. Heck, this guy doesn’t have a vacuum, he can’t be the judge. “So, what do you think?” You anticipate.

“You did a bloody good job, I’ll tell ya that,” a smile on his face, making you smile too. “And since ya the best neighbour on this side of Metropolis, I got ya a lil payment to say thanks.”

George pulls out a crate of beers and takeaway pizza, presenting them to you. Your eyebrows knit in confusion, but you smile at the thought. “Thanks, George.”

“Please, call me Digger, everyone calls me that,” he said, “Thought we could have a couple of beers and I’d feed ya, but I’m no chef, hence the pizza.”

“So, Digger… is this you inviting me over for dinner?” You ask, pursing your lips. He thought about it and then nodded his head. “I guess I am,” he smirks.

Pizza crusts and beer cans decorate the coffee table, the television musing low music. You laugh at a joke Digger told you, hiding your mouth to not spit all over the place. He sits low on the couch, his hands resting between his legs with a beer. With your legs close to your chest, you take a sip of beer when a silence falls between you.

“Thanks for having me, I’m having a lovely time.” You confess, a little tipsy. You get shy admitting that, focusing on the music, unaware of Digger’s eyes not leaving your sight.

“I didn’t have a college kid cleaning my house on my bingo card,” he muses teasingly, smirking at your bashful smile.

“I am not a college kid! I graduated ages ago.”

“And by ages ago you mean in the last five years?”

He chuckles at your look of defeat. “Says the guy who’s five years off getting a pension,” you tease in defence.

“I’m not that old!” He defended back, “Nowhere near it!”

“Well, you’re at least old enough to clean your own house and have a vacuum.”

“You got me there…” he says into his beer.

The silence fell between you once again, but surprisingly it was not awkward. The air was thick, and not with stale air like before. You convince yourself it’s one-sided, keeping yourself together. You had an idea, but it was juvenile. When he doesn't say anything to keep the conversation going, you go on and suggest it.

“How about we play truth or drink?”

“How old are you? Five?” He scoffs.

“We already established my age, remember? C’mon, it’ll be a good icebreaker. Don’t you wanna get to know your friendly neighbour?” You nudge his arm playfully, realising you’ve been going that a lot since you had a drink. Mostly when he told a joke. You try not to cringe, realising your inferiority. He probably thinks you’re immature, and you suddenly see yourself as a fool. But when he turns his body towards you, giving you his full attention while cracking open another beer, you feel a little better about yourself.

“Who’s asking first?” He asks.

You volunteered since you suggested playing. You turn towards him, fighting through a fit of giggles, liking the way his eyes smile at you. He has nice eyes, light in colour, a mix of blue and grey with crow's feet winging the sides.

“Okay, let’s start easy. How long have you lived on the block?” You ask.

“‘Bout five months, I’d say,” he says.

“Do you move around a lot?”

“Oi, thought you ask one question at a time?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just curious,” you dart your eyes to his smirking lips before looking away.

“To answer your other question, I do move around a bit. It’s a job thing.”

You look back at him, catching his stare, the one that never seems to fade from you. You like the way he stares at you, so attentive like he refuses to have you out of his sight. It’s the type of stare that makes someone feel special.

“My turn,” he chirps, “are you always this shy around people?”

“What? I’m not shy,” you scoff.

“Really? You’re not shy?”

“What happened to starting easy?”

“No, you said that. I didn’t. I never start easy,” he says haughtily.

You roll your eyes, taking the beer can to your lips and taking a sip. Digger scoffs in shock, “No way are you drinking to that.”

“It’s a ridiculous question, plus I technically did answer the question. I’m not shy.”

Digger shakes his head in disappointment, breaking eye contact to chuckle into his hand. You narrow your eyes, readying the next question.

“Do you have a wife and kids?” You ask.

Digger didn’t act like you struck a nerve, but he wasn’t laughing anymore. He shook his head, and you take that as an answer, not wanting to press further. Yet, he begins to speak, in a tone softer than the one you’ve been getting used to;

“I know at my age I probably should, but it’s never worked out, y’know? The whole love thing I’ve never gotten the hang of.”

You resonate with him, meekly returning a smile. “Me either.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Digger said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’re good-looking. Woulda bet somebody snagged ya by now.”

You can’t help but chuckle, hearing how wrong his words are. “I guess I’ve gotten close before, but it was never meant to be.”

Digger nods in agreement like he is in the same boat. You had a strong urge to move closer to him, but resort to fidgeting with a thread on the coach. “Who’s turn is it?”

“Mine,” Digger returns his gaze to you. It was more intense, and you feel him all over you. As you grow the courage to meet his eyes, you see them trailing from your lips to meet you, his icy eyes darkening and lips parting as he readies his words.

“How would you feel about kissing me?”

Your stillness speaks volumes to him, and from the look of shock in your eyes, Digger’s smile fades and turns sour. He hides his face in his hands, cursing under his breath.

“Fuck- Just drink to that, it was bloody stupid,” his self-depreciation eats at you and you try and find the words to explain yourself. He was right, you were shy, and it got in the way of your feelings. So much for being the big flirt like you planned.

“No, it’s fine, honestly-”

He cuts you off, “I just thought- why else would wanna hang out with an old fuck like me? Keep my packages, clean my house,” he groans out a sigh, “and the way you look at me, fuck, it’s been driving me insane all day.”

“Digger-” you catch his attention, softening your face, and placing your beer on the coffee table. You shift your body closer to his, your movement swift but gentle. “I’d like it if you kissed me.”

He blinks, adjusting his eyes to the proximity, noticing the small details of your features, the softness of your lips. He swallows back his nerves, “Nah- you’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

There is only one way to prove him wrong, and you did it by making the first move. You press your lips against him, and you're struck with his immediate touch as he engulfs you in his arms. Your hands snake up his chest to the back of his neck, deepening the kiss as he beckons you to press your body against him with his firm hold. He grins into the kiss at the sound of your whimpers, holding the small of your waist and guiding you to his lap. You go with the motion, swinging your leg around and straddling him, enamoured by the hold he has on you. The makeout was sloppy, tipsy on beer and getting more drunk on each other’s lips. Digger’s kisses were firm and deep, his chapped lips coated in your sweet spot as he glided his tongue along yours. His hands lay haven on your asses, rubbing his callous palm around the fabric of your pants, enchanting your hips to move ever so slightly.

“Ain’t so shy now, are ya?” He grunts into your ear, migrating his lips down your neck, sucking and nibbling on your faint skin. You see stars, closing your eyes in bliss, your fingers tugging at his shirt and fighting off the urge to rip it off. He takes the time to remove his t-shirt with your eager assistance, latching onto you once you discard it.

“Please, I need you,” you plead. You gaze down at him, your stare both close and far. His bucking hips invite your crotch to feel his length, the tip of his bulge grinding against your thigh.

He whispers to you, “Tell me what you want.”

 “Use me, I know you want to,” you taunt, enjoying the light that ignites in his eyes, his grip tighter on your skin.

“You’ll regret saying that, but I bet you can handle it,” he jesters, pulling your hair to expose your neck, his lips latching back onto your sweet skin. His other hand pushes your top over your breasts, exposing your hardening nipples. Licking towards your nipples, sucking on them gently and cupping your tits in his hands, grazing his teeth when you grind down on his erection.

Digger, hungry for more of you, lays you down on the couch. His eyes demand your attention, taking time to pull down your pants and underwear, drenched in your arousal. He lowers his head to your cunt, prying your legs open as you try to hide how wet you were.

“Don’t hide from me, love, show me how pretty you are,” he muses, admiring your glistening walls, lapping them tenderly with the tip of his fingers. Relishing in your squirms, he gazes at you under his lashes. “Fuck, you’re drenched.”

Your hands grip his hair when his tongue makes contact with your sensitive walls, his prominent nose snug on your clit as he eats you out. His movements are deep and steady, keeping himself in place between your quivering thighs, refusing to come up for breath as a rising feeling of release fills your insides. Shifting his tongue from your walls to your clit, his nose taking place not to neglect your pleasure, his eyes checking your reactions as his pride swelled from your raptured state. He takes a breath to tease you in between, his hoarse voice wavering against your heat, “Look at you, getting so worked up for me.”

“’m so close,” that was music to Digger’s ears, egging him on to keep up the pace.

Your whimpers rise into moans, and your thighs shiver under his grip and come undone. Digger doesn’t stop, pressing a firm hand on your stomach, keeping you in place so he rides out your high. You’re flushed in humility, but fuck it feels amazing. You break a sweat, shivering at the cooling of your hot skin, sighing in relief when Digger finally relaxes his hold on you. His face meets yours, your arousal coating the stubble on his chin and spreading to his chops. He is ferocious and light-headed – as if drunk on the taste of you.

“Hope you’ve still got some spunk in ya,” he pants, “I’m as stiff as a board here.”

Digger invites your hand to feel his erection. You didn’t think he could be harder than he was before, but he comes full of surprises. He slings the waistband of his trousers down and his cock springs free, twitching at the touch of your flinching fingers.

“Jesus fucking Christ-” Blessed by the man himself, his size was insane. You straighten in intimidation.

“I’ll go slow, okay? Just- fuck- I’m bursting at the seams here,” he begs, cupping your cheek with a reassuring hand.

You nod with a morbid curiosity, unable to deny the instinct to have him inside you, to feel every inch of him. Digger litters you in kisses, sloppy and idle as he dampens your cheeks and lips. Opening your legs wide, sucking in a breath, you watch as he lines his cock to your entrance. There was no fuss in sliding inside you, your dripping cunt lubing his tip and coating his shaft, the feeling of him inside you more filling than painful. It sets a spark in your mind, your eyes distant, the twitch of his cock against your walls melting your senses.

An unexpected moan escapes Digger’s lips, but he is attentive enough to coo for your attention, holding your face and bringing you back to earth.

“You still with me, hun?” He chuckles at your dazed look, trying to keep himself together as you tighten around him. You blink back to reality and wrap your legs around him, mewling at the slow thrusts coming into you. You eventually nod a reply, straining your neck to witness his cock buried inside you to train your hole for his massive size. He takes advantage of your position, locking a hand behind your head and picking up the pace. He is smitten by your squeaks. His rough hand clenches your hip, setting out to fuck you good. As you will soon learn, Digger has a habit of getting carried away. You learn a lot of dirty things about him that both shock you and fill you with sweetly sick lust.

Digger has you bent over the arm of the couch, his cock pummelling in and out of your abused cunt, muffling your feral moans with a hand clasped over your mouth. He arches your back and presses his lips against your ear, reminding you that he can see right through you.

“Is this what you wanted? To fuck you; get you drunk on my fat dick. Bet you didn’t think I had it in me.”

“You’re so good, so ‘fucking good,” you moan, your eyes glued to him with lust, a sly smile across your face. Digger sticks two fingers into your mouth, teasing your tongue to swirl around them, smirking at your eagerness.

“Shit, that’s enough to make me finish,” he says in a low voice, “And you wouldn’t want me cumming inside you, would ya?”

The way you clench around his dick and the sidious look in the dim light suggest the opposite. “No, come inside me,” you seal the deal.

“You’re so bloody dirty.” Digger’s eyes turn dark, his hand wrapping around your neck, rutting into you faster and harder than before. You see stars, giving into the numbing pleasure you succumb to. A dumbfound smile stretches across your lips once you feel the warmth of Digger’s seed filling your cunt, hitting against your womb. His weight falls on you momentarily, leaving kisses along your back while his energy is slowly sucked out of him. His cock slips out and before his heavy eyes close over, he gazes at the cum dripping from your slit, groping your ass for a better view.

Digger gathers his senses, only noticing you struggling to get up from your stiff knees. He brings you onto his lap, soothing your legs and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Well, that was something…” He chuckles, “Ya think we got a little carried away?”

“I think I’ll never be able to walk again,” you joke, yet anticipated the next few days entailing leg pain.

He felt guilty, knowing to make up for it he would need more than pizza and beer. He continues to sooth your legs, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

“How’s about I run you a bath?” He suggests.

There he is again, that beacon of hope. He is going to find it hard to get rid of you now. “That’d be amazing.”

#digger harkness x reader #captain boomerang x reader #the suicide squad #kill the justice league #ssktjl #smut #dc fanfic #ehhh might be a lil ooc it's my first time writing him sorryyy

[finniestoncrane]

Gotta be honest with you, I need to hear every single Digger headcanon you have because they 2 you've shared are just so good.

General Headcanons

KTJL!Boomer Headcanons yippee!!! woohoo!!! someone wants to listen to my bullshit!! i am so happy to write down more of my headcanons by the way, but for anyone wanting any make sure to let me know what you want the 💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: mentions of nsfw things, it's fuckin boomer so of course, there's a whole load of nsfw headcanons and i mention piss because duh

General Headcanons

this is a sort of universal belief i suppose but i do think he lives in his van and i will live and die by my faith. he likes having everything he needs with him at all times. he will spout some bullshit rhetoric about living a "buddhist" existence with few material goods. and he's half right in that he has two pairs of underwear, and a collection of empty (or maybe not completely empty) beer cans rattling around back there

he's passed out twice while getting tattoos and he will yell and scream and argue that it was because his blood sugar was super low and not because he's a total wuss

he smells amazing. not like... good, don't get me wrong i don't think he smells nice. BUT he smells fuckin great. he has a natural deep musk that just hits the receptors nicely, the kind of smell that's laden with all the right pheromones to engage your caveman brain and have you swooning over him

bad habits (which i count as a bonus tbh) include: picking things: ears, skin, nose, anything. drinking to excess and then never learning a single lesson. masking all of his emotions until he's certain you won't make fun of him for having feelings. pretending to hate people that he loves because he can't be seen getting hurt. leaving his clothes lying around and relying on the smell test to get him through the process of getting dressed. kissing you in the morning before he has brushed his teeth. having no concept of personal space: he will steal blankets, he will curl around you in bed, he will sit too close to you on the sofa, he will hang off your body, he will hug you from behind and not let go, he will stand beside you all the time. refusing to take things seriously until he really has no other option. bad temper, and then defusing the situation by kicking something

yes, he has great tits and strong arms, but in my heart of hearts i know his stomach is not flat and in my head he has the sweetest lil beer gut to ever exist. it gets worse once he's just finished eating or drinking, and he cradles it and makes jokes about it being a girl or a boy. and while they might not have added it into the game, they did add in his sweet lovehandles on those hips, and he likes being grabbed by them and pulled into a hug. reminds him that when he's no longer big buff boomer, you'll still be super into his hot body

i think he's 45 years old fuck you. i think youngest he's 40, there's no way he's near me in age. we can consider sun damage to an extent but he has wrinkles, he's a dad, he's got big ol bags under his eyes and a slightly receding hairline

he's competitive, but not in an aggressive way, more in an annoying way. like you play a board game with him, and he'll do everything in his power to distract you, or use the rules against you. and if he loses, he doesn't go in a big strop, maybe a tiny huff with a few whines. who can refuse him a pity win when he's looking up at you all sad with those big green eyes and batting those silly eyelashes?

if there is something about you that he can mercilessly tease you for (without making you cry) he will harp on about it constantly. it's his way of showing that he's comfortable around you, enough that he can make you want to punch him in the throat. he can give but he can't take though, so remember that before you point out that he is in fact ginger, or that his freckles make him look so cutie-patootie, or that his tattoos are kinda dumb

you have to laugh at his jokes and puns, it's a requirement and he'd be tempted to make you sign a contract saying you will adhere to this rule. it gives him a boost, makes him feel proud. plus he is genuinely very funny, and the dorky nature behind his silly jokes is so endearing

Relationship Headcanons

when he falls for someone, he falls first and he falls hard. he also falls pretty easily, and he's no stranger to heartbreak, but he has his terrible coping methods to keep him going

he finds it easy to find something about everyone that he likes, because he's just prone to liking people. he thinks everything and anything is sexy, and he can find your good traits like a pig sniffing out truffles

he regularly brings home gifts for his partner, stolen or otherwise. no one needs to know how you aquired such an expensive piece of jewellery or that really nice original looking bit of art. maybe you just happen to save a lot of money by living in the back of his van with him!!

gifts are just one of the ways he is surprisingly thoughtful for a boy with no thoughts behind his eyes! dates are another thing he's fuckin stellar at!! wherever you're going and whatever you're doing you are guaranteed to have fun, that's just how he is. he makes everything tolerable, and he can turn a shit day into a great one

he's desperate for friendship, far more than he is for anything romantic or sexual, although if the two could go hand in hand that'd be an ideal scenario. he might claim to be chill and looking for a quick root, but he's far more interested in finding a partner who can be his buddy as well as his lover

there's never going to be a moment when he's not touching his partner by the way, like that is just something you are going to have to put up with

hand on your shoulder, hand in your hand, hand on your waist, hand on your thigh, hand on your back, hands around you as he hugs you from behind, hands around you as he hugs you from the front, hands around you as he hugs you from the side, hand on your butt, hand on your chest, hand on your stomach, hand on your cheek. the man has borderline separation anxiety

holding hands is his favourite though, especially when paired with his habit of loudly announcing your status to anyone within earshot. "oh this is my partner!" "yeah i'm their boyfriend!" "i'm fucking that beautiful bit of arse over there, thanks for asking!" like thank you, digger

he's surprisingly emotional, and surprisingly open once you get past his protective exterior layer. he's still always joking around and trying not to take things seriously, but the minute you or he needs some serious feeling time he is down for it

i don't think he would ever choose a sexuality. personally, i feel like he's bisexual or pansexual, but digger would say he's just sexual. he'll go for anything with a pulse who was happy to see him. there's a bit of digger for anyone (or anything...)

he'd be quick to take things to the next level with a partner he really loved. like he comes to pick you up one day in the boomer-van and he's like "tah-dah" and in the bacl there's a plastic storage box duct taped to the wall with your name written on it. this is how he would ask you to move in with him. you might need to get rid of a lot of your posessions but he wouldn't be adverse to you cleaning up the van or making it your own though!! i bet he'd love to have fairylights on the ceiling and some rugs on the floor

NSFW Headcanons

he has a piss kink. i know that is not a thing for most people, but i have evidence backing this up. it's barely a headcanon at this point, it's just straight up fuckin canonical fact lmao!! anyway i don't think it's a goes both ways thing most of the time. he likes to be the one pissing, it's where he refuses to be a switch and will only be the dominant one, usually

speaking of being the dominant one, it's what he's most comfortable with since he's a loud, brash, bold and heroic villainous boy, but he really doesn't mind switching things up. he can be a gentle dom, a bratty sub, and any combination in between. really, he is up for literally any activity or kink or fetish or position you can throw at him

he gets very vocal during sex. he spouts all kind of filth at you, confirming what he's doing, what he wants to do, and what he's going to do to you. his preferred terms are surprisingly gentle though, calling you kitten or pup, princess or prince, love, babe, baby. a combination of them all. aside from that, he is loud. volume is not something he can control when he's deep in the heat of the moment and he is the literal definition of animalistic. he growls while he fucks you, and he howls when he cums, and he has referred to himself as a dingo before...

of course, if you're getting particualrly nasty, or he's in a far more feral mood, he'll be growling low into your ear, calling you a dirty, nasty little cunt while he grabs your body and keeps you close

he's into any kink, sort of believing in trying anything once (or twice... or three times...) but there's a few he just LOVES. ones that if you mention them, you run the risk of having him cumming in his pants or rutting up against your leg like a desperate, badly behaved puppy

obviously, previously mentioned piss kink, but specifically if it involves some level of servitude or worship. like you on your knees holding his cock for him while he goes to the toilet, you offering to lick him clean, or letting him piss on you because you're so beneath him and he's yours to mark and claim. begging for a taste of him or pleading for him to use you gets him going too when you combine it with this

body worship or worship in general gets him going too. he's so desperate to be loved and wanted and adored and needed, so having someone beg for him, tell him they want him, they need his cock, his fingers, his hands, his saliva, his drool, his cum, anything he's willing to give them. top that off by calling him captain and he'll melt into a sticky little puddle

he's also way behind on comfort, so a little bit of gentle love mixed with kink is a great way to help him relax. feed him a tit or a hard cock, let him suck until he's soothed himself. hold him on your lap and stroke his hair while you tell him he's amazing, and so good at everything he does

cowboy digger is reporting for duty at the breeding ranch! get you some horns, a teeny tiny cowprint outfit, a tail and a bell and he'll either milk you dry until you're crying from overstimulation, or he'll ride you until he's pumped every last bit of cum into you, making sure you're ready for him to be the daddy

he'll fuck with the hat on. he's a socks on kinda guy too. he just gets way too into it way too quickly and forgets anything else but rutting and grunting

this could have been soft, if it wasn't george, but he loves when you fall asleep on him, like your head resting on his chest or his stomach or his lap or his shoulder. he'll be sweet, of course, and place a little kiss on the top of your head. but then he will try and sneak a look down your top or at your ass or to see if you have a visible bulge he can ogle

#captain boomerang #digger harkness #george harkness #captain boomerang fanfic #finnie writes #captain boomerang headcanons #suicide squad: kill the justice league

[samantha-rae-velcher]

Pretty

Joker x Fem reader

Requested by: anon

Warnings: swearing, threats, violence, joker being joker.

A/n: if you don't like the warnings, please don't read

Request: Can I request a Leto!Joker where the reader is Harley’s younger sister (she is telekinetic) and she is a pyschiatrist and she secretly loves J. One day the reader is in one of J’s sessions with Harley but J keeps looking at the reader until J breaks out and does everything that he did to Harley to the reader. J and the reader go to Ace Chemicals to make their relationship offical (you can add the rest) thank u :)

___

Joker sat across from the sisters in a straitjacket. Y/n felt a chill roll down her spine every time he looked her way, but there was something about him that intrigued her. He was handsome, and there was something she saw in his eyes everytime they locked with hers, it wasn't crazy. He knew what he wanted, he knew what he was doing. No amount of therapy was gonna help him, he was perfectly sane. He just wasn't normal, he had a dark side and he chooses to live in his own shadows, behind the mask that is the Joker.

"So who is this?" He asked, nodding towards Y/n.

Harley looked over at her younger sister and smiled.

"Oh, this is my sister, Y/n. She's training to be a psychiatrist, so I thought it would be a great learning experience if she sat in on our session."

The Joker just nodded and kept staring, the session went on and Y/n didn't pay any attention. She at there sketching him on her note pad.

"I'm curious." She said. "Do you feel anger towards anyone here?"

Joker slowly looked over at her. Fuck this man was terrifying, she didn't know how Harley couldn't get up and bolt for the door.

"No."

"Okay, just asking." Y/n went back to sketching the man.

Over the next few weeks Harley and Y/n went back and forth with the sessions, they made a schedule on which one of them would be evaluating him on this day and that day. Harley began noticing changes between the two, y/n had even told him the secret that only the two of them knew about.

"I like your sister." Joker said. "She's innocent."

Harley looked up from her papers, she knew what this man could do to y/n, he could brainwash her and get her to do his bidding. Joker could play the "I was framed! Poor me!" Act to make her feel bad and let him out. Or worse she could fall in love with him.

"Yeah well, she's not coming here anymore."

"Why is that?" He asked.

"I don't want you using her. She's not who you think."

Harley got up to leave, she got to the door and stopped when she heard The joker speak.

"Telekinesis is a new one in Gotham. You think I'd use her to get to her ability?"

Harley felt rage as she flung the door open and stormed out of the room. She wanted a transfer, she was done with this psychotic clown.

Y/n entered Arkham and walked down the hall towards Jokers cell. She ducked behind a filing cabinet when she saw Harley come plowing by.

Y/n had one of the guards unlock his cell and let her in, Joker smiled and leaned against the wall.

"I thought your sister didn't want you near me?"

"Harley doesn't know I'm here."

They sat down, she didn't ask the normal questions. Instead, they had a real conversation.

"I need a machine gun." He said while leaning over the table.

"A machine gun?"

Joker smiled. "You can get it for me can't you?"

"But-"

The Joker stood and came to her side of the table. He gently touched her cheek and leaned in, whispering in her ear. This man made her feel scared, but she wanted more. She was addicted to this man and she didn't know why. Was this love?

"I need a machine gun, Y/n. Can you get it for me?"

"I...yes."

___

Y/n was in her office at Arkham when the gunshots could be heard, the screams rang through the hall as running feet fleeing for the exits came flying passed her door.

Two men busted it down and came at her, she struggled but they had her in a tight grip. The brought her into another room and slammed her down on a table. She felt them strap her down, the room when quiet all but the screams that could be heard outside.

"What do we have here?" Joker yelled.

He walked into the room, he was wearing nothing but pants, shoes, and rubber purple gloves. Joker came closer and aggressively lowered the lamp, blasting her in the eyes with the light.

"What the fuck!?" Y/n pulled at the straps. "I helped you!"

"You helped me?" He asked. "By erasing my mind? No you left me in a black hole of rage and confusion. You and your spiteful bitch sister."

Joker smiled and turned to the table beside him, he began rummaging through items.

"The sister who tried to keep you from me." He moved his head back and forth, cracking his neck. "like she could ever keep us apart."

He picked up two metal things attached to cords. Fear struck Y/n, she started pulling at the straps again, trying to get away.

"What are you planning?" She asked. "You gonna kill me?"

"No, I'm not gonna kill ya, Sweetheart. I'm just gonna hurt ya, really really bad."

"Yeah? You don't know me that well then. Cuz I can take it."

Joker smiled and took off his belt, the sound clanking of the metal going right to her core. He straighted it and had her bite it.

"This is gonna hurt, so I suggest you don't spit this out. We don't want you breaking your teeth now do we?"

J turned in the machine and pressed the metal devices to both sides of her head. Pain shot through her making her bite the belt so hard it hurt her jaw.

All she could hear was the screech if the machine, gun shots ringing through the halls and the joker laughing.

___

Y/n was looking down at the giant barrels of bubbling chemicals. Joker paced back and forth behind her, he gently gripped her hips and turned her to face him.

"Would you die for me?" He asked.

"I-"

"That's too easy....would you...would you live for me?"

Y/n looked him in the eyes as she answered, she wanted him to know she ment it.

"Yes."

"Careful, my dear." Joker circled her. "Don't say this oath thoughtlessly."

He leaned in close, their lips nearly touching.

"Desire becomes surrender, surrender becomes power." He gently places a kiss on her lips. He stayed close. "Are you ready to surrender to your fate? To me?"

She slowly backed up towards the edge, Y/n could see he didn't believe she's do it. He thought she was too weak. Y/n smile and blew him as kiss before letting herself fall over the edge.

Joker watched her sink into the green liquid. He turned and began slowly walking away before he stopped. Joker tilted his head side to side, cracking his neck before he pulled his leather jacket off and jumped over after her.

Y/n felt the air being forced back into her lungs as her eyes shot open, Joker was holding her close and looking at her with hunger in his eyes. He leaned in and closed the gap between them, the kiss was passionate. He pulled away slowly, he smiled and whispered.

"Pretty pretty pretty pretty."

THE END ❤️

I'm gonna make a part 2

#fyp #foryou #fanfic #foryoupage #x reader #requested #jared leto joker #jared leto #joker x fem reader #joker x oc #joker x y/n #joker x reader #joker suicide squad #suicide squad #suicide squad x reader #suicide squad joker

[adoptable-fanfic-prompts]

DP + DC Writing Prompt

An older Danny Phantom gets kidnapped by Amanda Waller to join her Suicide Squad. Obviously, he’s able to remove the bomb but with this being an older and more jaded Danny Fenton, he’s willing to stay with the group. He refuses to kill but he isn’t exactly stopping them either (mostly spends it trying to make sure that his ‘teammates’ don’t kill themselves by being idiots).

#writing #writing prompt #fanfic #fanfic idea #fanfic ideas #fanfic prompt #danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dc comcis #dc x dp #dp x dc fanfic #dc #older Danny Fenton #Danny Fenton is just done #morally grey Danny #suicide squad #suicide squad Danny phantom

[foli-vora]

Congratulations on your follower milestone! That is amazing! 💖

May I please request a Rick Flag fic with “The first time you smiled it felt like the universe aligned.” and I would love for you to rip my heart out (since that is an option 😊)

Thanks and I am so excited to read all of these upcoming fics!

My sweet angel, thank you for your never ending support and love, and thank you for the request! I'm sorry for the major delay getting this done, but I hope you enjoy me ripping your heart out and squishing it under my slipper 💖

hear me

rick flag x suicidesquadf!reader

word count: 1k warnings: ANGST SUPREME. sad ending. swearing, blood, bullet wounds, death, sad sad sad. rick is cheesy & sad. SAD. ANGST. genuinely teared up writing this bye.

They lied. Everyone who had toed that line between life and death, they fucking lied. There was no bittersweet flash of memories before your eyes. You didn’t have a lot, but shit—there’s gotta be something worth showing you, worth reliving, before you close your eyes forever.

The minutes pass, you feel the growing chill along your limbs from the steady flow of blood from the various bullet holes in your torso, and still—nothing. Not a goddamn thing. 

Just Rick.

Rick bolting across the sand with your name falling from his lips. You can’t hear it, there’s a distinct shrill ringing in your ears that seems to be drowning out the chaos around you, but you see the movement of his mouth, the strain of his throat as he yells.

He comes to land on his knees next to you, a shower of cool sandy grains flicking up and dusting your black tac shirt. It glistens under the light of explosions and gunfire, and you briefly wonder in morbid curiosity how much of your blood stains the beach beneath you.

“Jesus. Oh, oh darlin’—”

You hear him then, his broken and strained mutter cutting through the surrounding ambush.

“Hey Colonel,” you rasp with a barely there smile, a sticky hot trail of liquid leaking from the edge of your lips, “how’s it lookin’?”

Those pretty doe eyes dart over the destruction of your body, his hands ghosting over your wounds in what feels like hesitation, anxiety. Which ones can be smothered with a cheap and easy dressing? What one needs the most pressure applied?

Going by the rate your body seems to be numbing, cooling in the breezy night air, they’re all pretty shit. At least there's no pain. Shock, adrenaline - whatever the fuck it is, you're thankful for it.

“Fine,” he mutters, rough gloved hands instead coming to rest on your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the coarse sand and half dried blood splatters covering your skin, “you’re gonna be just fine.”

“Damn,” you breathe heavily, brows briefly coming together, “I never thought I’d hear you lie to me. None of that shit. No, no.... you gotta make it something good, Colonel.”

Confusion pinches his pretty face through the pain, and you give another strained smile.

“The last words I’ll ever hear—make ‘em… they gotta be good.”

“Don’t talk like that, you hear me? You’ll be fine. Backup’s comin’. They’re comin’, and we’ll get you patched up, and you’ll be right to back to bein’ a pain in my ass, okay?”

Oh, sweet soldier.

No.

It doesn't work like that.

They don’t send help for people like you. Suicide Squad, remember? It’s in the name. You knew what you were signing up for. He knew what you were signing up for. This is it. You’re just another classified file thrown through the shredder at the end of the day.

You blink tiredly up at him, “No one’s coming, Flag.”

He shakes his head in firm denial, strong jaw rolling in an effort to remain cool and collected.

“No, they... they have to.” 

“Somethin’ good, Flag,” you remind him quietly, a heaviness now seemingly coming to rest along your limbs.

Is this it? Can’t you just have one more minute? One more minute of him crowding your vision? You don’t need a last minute life montage, not when he’s here, not when he’s carefully dragging you further into his warm embrace.

Please, just a little longer in his arms.

“Okay… okay. The—the first time you smiled, it felt like the universe aligned.”

“Oh, fuck me,” you splutter with a sudden roll of remaining energy, chest heaving and lungs screaming as you choke on a weak chuckle, “that’s a… a new low, even for… f’your s-soft self.”

“Thought you’d like that,” he drawls quietly with a grin.

It’s brief, tainted with agony stricken tears, and falls from his face the second it stretches his lips. No, sweet soldier. Smile. It’s okay.

Maybe… maybe this is why your life isn’t flashing before your eyes. It’s because it’s here—he’s here. You didn’t really have anything before this, before the Squad, before Rick. You were merely a shell of a person in your cell, angry with the unfair world and the hand you’d been dealt from childhood, but when he came along?

He gave you a chance, saw something in you no one had before. He provided you with the Squad, with friends. He got you out of your cell and into the fresh air with a new outlook. He trained you, laughed with you, ate with you in the crappy mess hall despite the frowns from his co-workers.

He saw you.

He saw you for everything you were, not for what people thought you to be.

“Think you’re the… the closest thing I’ve e-ever felt to love, Colonel. Thank you.”

It’s a decent goodbye, you decide with the final beat of your heart, slackening in relief and embracing the call of the abyss with a leftover curl still tugging at your lips. Better than you’d been led to believe you deserved, better than what Waller threatened you with.

You got a good ending.

He feels the weight of you in his arms, sees how unnaturally still your chest has fallen and how your eyes seem to stare just past his shoulder. It shakes him to the core. His heart beats at the base of his throat and he can’t help but call out to you one more time, despite knowing you’d never answer.

“Darlin’?”

You can’t be gone—not yet.

You can’t be gone, because you didn’t get to hear him say it back. He needs to say it, he needs you to hear it. He murmurs those three little words over and over, breathing them into your skin wherever he can reach, willing you to stay just long enough to hear them, long enough to know you were loved.

You need to know you’re loved.

Bile builds in his throat at the thought, but he has to leave you behind; alone, broken and bled out on the sandy beach for a sweep team to deal with later. He wonders as he runs through the dense jungle, but he’ll never know if you did manage to hear his broken, tear filled I love you’s.

He hopes with everything in him that you did.

#foli's 3k #rick flag x reader #rick flag x f!reader #rick flag x you #rick flag imagine #suicide squad fic #dc fanfic

[beastyboyxx]

Alcoholic Problems. ★★

Summary: It was one of those nights. Harkness upset about one thing or another. Believing he could find reassurance at the bottom of a bottle.

Warnings: Dialogue Heavy, Angst, Male Reader, Rude Harkness, Drunk Harkness, M4M, Mentions Of Drinking, Drinking Problems, Breaking Into Apartment, Small Argument

Characters: Captain Boomerang (George “Digger” Harkness)

Category: One-Shot

Series: Suicide Squad: Kill The Justice League

Word Count: 1224

With the day filtering to its end the people of Metropolis headed home from work or began their nightly schedule. Harkness was one of those people.

The tall Aussie stumbling out of a bar he had just been kicked out of. Due to his obnoxious behavior when he’s under the influence. With a kick of his empty beer can to the door of the establishment and a few curses strung out. Digger disappeared into an alleyway, shoving his hands into his pockets.

He didn’t exactly know where his path was leading him. He just kept walking, not sure or not too keen on really caring as to where he’d stumble to next. His eyes drew up to a familiar apparent window, and he knew exactly where his body was leading him.

Just up a few stories by the fire escape was your floor. Your window. And maybe with you inside, unless you were out somewhere. Harkness didn’t really care, he has crashed at your place before. One more time couldn’t hurt.

The man grunted and fumbled his way up the fire escape, finally reaching your window. It was unlocked, but the lights were all off. You weren’t home.

Falling over himself he landed into your bedroom. It was cold and dark. The moon peaked over the neighboring building to see inside the living space, looking directly at Digger.

“Ahh I know…” he grumbled as he stood to his feet. “He won’t be happy, but do I bloody care?” The Australian disappeared from the window he had left open into the kitchen.

…

You were gone, away from your apartment to get some food at a restaurant, while catching up with a friend. It was two hours exactly that went by until the two of you said your goodbyes and headed off.

With a quick metro ride home and a few stairs you stood in front of your apartment door. Digging for your keys, opening the door, and seeing your bedroom light on. You didn’t leave it on when you left.

Slowly you closed the door behind you keeping your body facing your apartment. The door clicked, and a man from your bedroom called out.

“You home already? Thought you’d be out a few more…”

It was George. And he sounded wasted. You confirmed your suspicions by seeing the fridge door wide open with several of your beer bottles littered across the floor.

“Christ Digger…” I groaned out his name. My nose scrunched in distaste and mild anger.

Treading across the living room making way towards my bedroom, I stepped over a stray bottle on the way.

“Did you just sit here and drink? Are you serious?” I threw my bag to the floor, frustrated more over the fact he was absolutely wasted. In my apartment.

“What’s wrong with you!?”

The man didn’t reply with words, only a strung out groan. He was sprawled out on my bed, arm hanging over the side with a loose grip on a bottle. Face down in my pillow.

“George! Are you even listening?” I stormed over, flipping him over onto his back. His eyes slowly rolled open. He looked up at me with a half grin.

“You need water…” a gentle wave pooled over my anger and frustration. I hated seeing him like this. “C’mon let’s get you up.”

“Don’t need it… your help…” he swatted my arm away as he got up himself.

“George. You come into my apartment, drink my beer. And probably before you even came here, you strayed away from some other bar. You need my help. That’s why you’re here in the first place.” I straightened his posture. He relaxed his shoulders.

“Just, sit here and… god you even left the window open.” Quickly I went to go shut it. Thankfully it hadn’t rained.

“Look. You can spend the night but the second you feel better you’re out of here and— George?” I turned back to see an empty bed with no Digger. A few sounds from the kitchen rolled into the bedroom. “George!” I called out like a fussy parent.

Running up to the doorframe I met with the tall wasted man rummaging around, quickly I stepped up to stop his wrist from continuing to move.

“Stop, just stop it.” I toss his arm to the side. “You need to lay down, drink water. You can’t fix your problems with more alcohol.”

He stood silent. For a second I began to regret my sternness, he had a rough night I could tell. He reeked of beer.

“I’m a damn mess ain’t I..? Love bug?” He grumbled, some stray hairs kissing his temple as his head dropped. “A massive mess up, no good for anything… just only good for messin’ up or messin’ around.”

“Stop saying stuff like that.”

“They should call me Captain screw up!” Digger let out a breathless wheeze. Shoving past me with a firm push to the shoulder.

“I just make a fool of myself, don’t know why you keep me around… I hate it.”

“Y’know what I hate? I hate that I love you. I hate that, that I know you won’t feel the same. That you are so lost in a bottle you’ll never look up to see the things around you that love you!”

The apartment fell on quiet lips. None of us wanting to speak or say anything, enough was already said.

“A drink… can’t love you…” whispering, to not disturb the quiet. My heart squeezed. I hadn’t noticed my own tears until I saw his. “But, maybe, I can…?”

We went silent again, past the small sniffles. Digger didn’t say anything, his body carried him back over to me, his arms slugged over my shoulders as he tightly hugged onto me. The poor drunk began to break out in broken sobs. Mumbling things I couldn’t understand as his head was buried into my neck.

I raised my arms to clutch onto his back. Letting him cry out every pain he could muster. If only it was just that easy. He cried. I cried just a little.

“You can stay. I don’t care for how long… but you can stay.” We draw back. His arms still over my shoulders while mine trailed up to meet his cheeks. “How does that sound?”

The Australian nodded. Whipping away his teary eyes. “Sounds good…” he swallowed.

“Kay, let’s get you to bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Nah… I want us to share…” His arm lightly squeezed my shoulder.

“Not when it’s the drink talking George.”

“It ain’t, I swear…”

“Alright.” I nod my head.

Through the shadows of the kitchen and living room we both headed into the dimly lit bedroom. Digger was first to scramble his way under the sheets until I joined him. No words were exchanged between us, but actions.

The taller drunk buried his face into the crook of my neck. Smelling like alcohol and my sheet conditioner. And for a moment I thought of everything he has told me on nights like this. I would never exchange his chances at healing himself in the only ways he knew now.

Because for once in his life. Somebody genuinely loved him.

#m4m #male reader #x male reader #oneshot #suicide squad #suicide squad x male reader #captain boomerang #captain boomerang x male reader #kill the justice league #kill the justice league x male reader #digger harkness #digger harkness x male reader #angst #drinking #angst fanfic #angst with a happy ending

[loverhymeswith]

Say You Want Me and I'm Yours

Pairing: Rick Flag x F!Reader

Summary: A prequel to Nothing Will Ever be the Same

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, language, p in v sex

A/N: Thank you so much @a-reader-and-a-writer for the prompt, and for beta reading 💖

Rick follows you into the staff locker room but you pretend not to notice. He’s barely exchanged two words with you since your argument onboard the helo and judging by the steely scowl you just caught a glimpse of in the mirror, that isn’t likely to change anytime soon.

This suits you just fine. You’re too tired and sore to engage with him right now anyway, and besides, you've said all you needed to. The mission was a success; who cares if you went a little off-script to get the result?

Certainly not Amanda Waller. You could practically hear her glee over the comms when Rick had informed her the asset had been retrieved. That was all thanks to you – a fact that Rick had deliberately failed to mention.

While you might consider yourself the hero of the hour, Rick hadn't seen it quite the same way. Stupid and rash, he'd called you. A liability.

None of this is new. In fact, lately most of your missions have ended in a similar fashion: the two of you embroiled in a blazing row while the rest of the squad watches on in bemusement. Rick accuses you of being sloppy and undisciplined; you tell him he's a control freak and too tightly wound, that perhaps he needs to get laid.

The sparse facilities of Belle Reve along with the life-or-death nature of the job leave little room for modesty and you can hear Rick moving behind you – the sound of his tact vest and t-shirt hitting the floor. As tempting as it might be to poke the colonel-shaped bear further now that you find yourselves in the privacy of the locker room, you truly don't have the energy. Instead, you strip out of your own filthy vest and shirt and start to examine the extent of your injuries.

It could have been much worse. There’s a dark bruise forming around your left bicep where Boomer had pulled you out of the way of a grenade, and an array of scratches and scrapes across your forearms and knuckles, but nothing to write home about. The only thing bothering you is your ankle. You suspect you must have landed badly jumping off the roof of the compound, though it's probably just a sprain.

Continuing to ignore Rick’s presence, you sink onto one of the benches and start to unlace your boots, until eventually you sense the weight of his gaze settling between your shoulder blades.

"You should get that checked out."

You twist around and spare him a cursory glance. A rapid assessment reveals no new injuries to his thick, muscular body. All differences aside, you're relieved he seems to be in one piece. Not that you let it show. “So you’re speaking to me again?”

Your words appear to find their mark as usual, the large vein on the side of Rick’s neck bulging as he works his jaw and grunts. "Who says I wasn't speakin' to you?"

You shrug, kicking off your boots and gingerly rolling up your pant leg to assess the damage. Sure enough, the skin around your ankle is swollen and inflamed. Hopefully nothing that aspirin and a few days rest won't fix.

When you don't respond, Rick places himself in front of you.

"What?" You snap at his feet, hoping he isn't planning for round two. A faint headache is beginning to bloom at your temple and you want nothing more than to go home and collapse into bed.

"Why have you always gotta be so goddamn confrontational?" You can hear the exasperation in his voice and when you tilt your head to meet his eye, his lips are turned down into a customary frown.

"Why do you always have to be such a jerk?"

Rick folds his arms across the expanse of his bare chest. A thin sheen of sweat is glistening on his tanned skin. He'll be heading for the showers any moment now. You know his routine like the back of your hand. Straight-laced, predictable Rick Flag.

"That is exactly what I'm talkin' about." He sighs audibly, nostrils flaring. "Straight in there with the childish insults. Why can't we ever talk things out like grown adults?"

"Because you don't listen."

"Like hell I don't." Rick shifts his weight from one foot to the other, drawing his lips into a thin line. It's his default expression; you can't remember the last time you saw him smile. "You're the one never listenin'. You're the one ignorin' orders and tryin' to get yourself killed."

Your rise from the bench, planting yourself squarely before him. A pulse of anger flares through your chest. "Don't act like you give a fuck about me, Flag. All you care about is bossing the squad around. You'd rather fail the mission than let anyone else take the lead."

"You got no idea what you're talkin' about," he growls, hazel eyes flashing with a fury to match your own.

"Don't I?" You take a step closer until you're standing toe to toe. With barely any space between you, Rick’s scar-flecked chest is directly in your line of vision, rising and falling with each heavy breath. You’ve never noticed the latticework of thin silver lines marring his skin before. That one man could walk away from battle so many times is nothing short of a miracle.

But you don't tell him this. Instead, you fold your arms to match his stance and continue. “Why didn't you let me take the credit with Waller today? You know we never would have succeeded if Boomer and I hadn't gone up on that roof."

A muscle in Rick’s jaw ticks. "Is that what you really think? That I give a damn about who gets the credit?"

You shrug half-heartedly. It certainly seems that way lately. Constantly down-playing your achievements and speaking over you in briefings with Waller, it’s like Rick wants you to fail. "Prove me wrong."

"Prove you wrong?" He's barely a hair's breadth away from you now. So close that when he huffs out the last remaining whisper of his anger, his warm breath flutters across your cheek.

"I'm tryin' to protect you," he mutters quietly, as if he's suddenly worried about being overheard. "If Waller learns the truth… if she learns just how fuckin' fearless and capable you are, she'll take you away from me."

"I'm not a possession." You bristle at the implication, fingernails digging painfully into the flesh of your arms so he can’t see just how much his words are affecting you. "You can't keep me all to yourself."

"I don't want to own you," he grumbles, unjustly annoyed that you can't seem to decipher the inner workings of his mind. "I'm tryin' to keep you free from Waller. She'll set you up with your own squad. I won't be -"

"I don't need you around to save me all the time, Flag." You cut him off before he can do further damage to your already precarious relationship. "Didn't I make that clear today?"

"Fuck. Darlin', that's not what I'm tryin' to say."

In Rick's honey-coated southern drawl, the pet name causes you to falter. He's never called you by anything other than your last name before. He seems to notice his mistake too, because he's scrubbing a hand over his jaw, gaze focused anywhere but you.

"Darlin'?" You repeat with the arch of a brow. You'd intended for it to sound condescending, but even you can't deny the surprise in your tone. "That's a new one."

"You just…" Rick stumbles over his words like he’s been knocked off course by an invisible force. "I can't think straight when I'm around you."

If you were on top of your game, you'd have snapped back with a cutting remark, teasing him for showing even a hint of weakness, but something about the sincerity of his words leaves no room for mockery. "What?"

Rick's eyes shutter, dark lashes kissing golden skin, and suddenly you’ve lost all direction too – can barely remember why you were so pissed at him in the first place.

Recovering from some internal conflict, Rick pins you with a heated gaze. "You heard me."

When your back hits metal you realise he's stepped even closer, his large body looming over you as a pair of tattooed arms reach out to keep you caged against the lockers. You read the hunger in his eyes a split second before he leans in.

His lips have barely brushed your own when your hands fly to his glistening chest, pushing against the solid wall of muscle. He staggers back instantly, wide-eyed and panic-stricken, like he can't believe what he's done.

That makes two of you.

"What the hell was that for?" you demand, heartbeat racing furiously while your brain fights to catch up.

"I…I'm…" You can sense him stumbling again, grasping blindly for any kind of excuse he can offer you, anything that might justify trying to kiss you.

Ultimately though, it doesn’t matter; he's too slow to respond. Because in that moment, he's breathtaking. So beautifully flustered and unlike the Rick you thought you knew that you have no choice but to grab his dogtags and drag his mouth back down to meet your own.

Your action awakens something in Rick, or at the very least it chases away his doubts, because he seals his soft pink lips to yours and he's really kissing you now.

It’s angry and it's messy and your teeth clack together as you tug him closer, fingers rising to thread through the lengths of his golden hair. His battle-worn hands have dropped to your waist, burning against your bare skin as he squeezes you tightly, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his body.

If you were still of sound mind it might have occurred to you to question whether this was wise: a colonel and his lieutenant overstepping every boundary in the book. But all sensible thoughts are driven from your head when Rick wedges one of his legs between your own. The insistent pressure of his muscled thigh against your centre forces all the heat in your body to rush south, stirring some long dormant desire you'd thought had been buried by the battlefields and bloodshed.

As your fingernails rake over the sweat-slick skin of his impossibly wide shoulders, Rick grabs your ass and drags you roughly along the length of his thigh. The friction against your core is so delicious that you find yourself whimpering into his mouth.

His tight hold on you falters and he pauses, seemingly startled by the sound.

"What are you waiting for?" you hiss, pulling back to find wariness written in the fine lines of his brow.

What you really mean is don't stop now.

Rick’s eyes have turned almost-black with lust, but there's an edge to his rasping voice that forces you to listen. Even now he commands your begrudging attention. "I don't want you havin' any regrets."

Your fingers head south, tracing the path of silver scars along the ridge of his abdomen, causing him to tense beneath your touch. "No mistakes, no regrets," you murmur, echoing the wisdom he'd shared before your first mission together two years earlier – wisdom that has served you well up to now.

Rick huffs out a laugh, a sound so foreign that it's hard to believe he is the source. "Beautiful sentiment, darlin'." But it seems to satisfy him, because he's closing the distance again, his lips finding your jaw.

Trapped between the press of Rick’s warm body and the cool metal lockers against your spine, your nerves are set alight. All the anger you were carrying around has faded now, giving way to pure, unfiltered desire.

His large hand replaces his thigh, swiftly parting your legs and cupping your covered core. "Been dreamin' about this," he admits roughly, dragging his fingers along your aching centre. "Dreamin' about all the ways I could stop that pretty mind of yours from racin' for a while. All the ways I could make you feel good."

Your head falls back, clanging against the metal, and all sense of reason abandons you. "Make me feel good, Rick."

Your breathless command unleashes him. He has you out of your sports bra and pants in a matter of seconds, that military efficiency apparent even in moments like this. “Should’a known,” he growls, as he palms a large hand over your breast. “Everythin' about you is so fuckin’ perfect.”

As you stand utterly naked before him, Rick's calloused thumb brushes over your peaked nipple, sending another pulse of heat straight between your legs. The white-hot need for him to touch you is almost unbearable, but instinct tells you that he's going to make you wait.

"Even better than I imagined." He continues in earnest, lowering his head and sealing his lips around your delicate pebbled flesh.

You barely recognise the sounds leaving your mouth as he worships your breasts with his wicked tongue; licking and sucking and teeth grazing until you start to come undone. He's expertly breaking you into pieces, leaving behind nothing but a flustered, needy mess.

When he pauses his ministrations to capture you in another claiming kiss, you seize the opportunity to reach for his belt. Your attention is centred on his arousal, which is visibly straining against the rough material of his tact pants. "Take them off,” you whine against his mouth, fingers frantically fumbling at his buckle.

Rick withdraws from your lips and steps back, flashing you an uncharacteristic smirk that has your thighs clenching tightly. "Still as impatient as ever."

Any quick-fire retort you might have planned dies on your lips as he complies with your wishes. His thick, capable fingers swiftly unfasten the silver belt buckle and you're left to stare unashamedly as his pants and boots join your own in a heap on the floor.

You can't believe it's taken so long for you to notice: Rick Flag is a study in perfection. You shouldn't be surprised to find that every part of his body is as long and thick and beautiful as the rest, as if he'd been carved by the gods themselves. You drink in the sight of him like you've been dying of thirst since the day you first met, your mouth watering when you try to imagine how good he'll feel buried inside you.

Because that's where this is going to end. The fuse has been lit and there's no choice now but to let the sparks fly.

Standing on tiptoes, you loop your arms around his neck and pull yourself closer, until you can feel his scorching length pressed against your stomach. He's bigger than you could have possibly imagined.

As his hands rise to cup your jaw, Rick’s dark gaze meets yours and tension crackles in the air. "Kiss me," he rumbles.

For the first time since you met him, your colonel doesn't have to tell you twice. You kiss him deeply and thoroughly, running your nails through the short hair at the back of his neck and revelling in the soft groans you're able to elicit from him. This new side of Rick steals your breath; his harsh lines and stern frown melt away beneath your touch, causing you to question everything you thought you knew.

It should scare you. It should fill you with doubt – how you've already crossed so many lines in such a small amount of time. But your brain has been short-circuited. The only thing you know with any certainty is how good it feels to be right here in the moment, wrapped up in Rick’s all-encompassing embrace.

But if Rick thinks he's solely in control here, he's very much mistaken. Catching his bottom lip between your teeth, you tug playfully. It earns you a deep growl, the sound vibrating through your chest as dampness continues to pool between your thighs.

"Touch me, Rick."

Rick proves himself just as capable of following orders as he is at dishing them out. His hand slides between your two bodies and when he finally reaches your centre, deft fingers glide along your wetness. The intensity of the pleasure catches you by surprise and you cry out desperately, legs buckling as you clutch at his shoulders.

He repeats the action, over and over, gathering up your slick until suddenly he pushes a finger inside you and lets out a string of filthy curses that makes your head spin. "Oh fuck, darlin'. Think this pussy's gonna destroy me."

If he carries on like this, he might just destroy you first.

In true Rick-fashion, he's diligent and methodical in his actions, carefully working you open until you can take two of his fingers, then three. He curls them up inside you, hitting that sweet, sweet spot over and over again, until the sounds of your desperate pants and moans rapidly fill the locker room.

Rick brushes his lips over your jaw. His breath is hot and his words are laced with a molten desire that surely matches your own. "If I knew it was this easy to get you to quit bitchin' at me, I wouldn't have waited so long."

Prickling at such a comment despite your building pleasure, you drop your hand and wrap your fingers around his shaft, squeezing tightly. Rick curses again, and when you run your thumb along his weeping tip he bucks his hips into your hand, shuddering beneath your touch.

"I think I like you better like this too," you smirk against his lips.

Deciding you're ready, that he's prepared you just enough, Rick spins you around roughly, pushing your chest into the lockers. Your nipples pebble against the cool metal and a surprised yelp bursts from your lips.

Rick doesn't seem to notice. He's too busy squeezing your waist with a bruising grip whilst his other hand forces your legs apart. Despite the forceful nature of his actions, he pauses for a moment to press a wet kiss between your shoulder blades. "Say you want me, darlin'," he rasps against your skin. "Say you want me and I'm yours."

Your palms hit the lockers, readying yourself for what's to come. "I want you."

Rick guides his cock between your folds once, twice, three times before he breaches you, filling you with a single stroke. The pressure is almost overwhelming but you take everything he gives you. In that respect, he has you well trained.

"Perfect," he grunts, buried to the hilt inside your pussy. "How could you not be?"

You bite down on your lip as he drags his hips back slowly before slamming into you again. The lockers rattle from the force.

"Don't go easy on me, Flag," you tease breathlessly, feeling your walls flutter around his throbbing length. "I'm a big girl. I can take it."

"I know you can, darlin'. You're gonna take it so fuckin' well."

The hand not gripping your waist traces the curve of your spine, rising higher until his fingers wrap around the delicate column of your throat. He applies just the whisper of pressure as his hips snap into you again, but it's enough to have you crying out for more.

In credit to Rick, he doesn't hold back. As he plunges into you at a relentless pace, you’re reduced to strangled sobs and moans, your fragile relationship with him breaking and reforming with every drag of his cock through your soaked channel.

You're not too far gone to understand that this might simply be an outlet for Rick's anger. A way to disperse whatever fear he felt towards your reckless behaviour on the mission. You are, however, too far gone to worry about that for now. You tuck the thought away, saving it for examination much later, focusing instead on the way he stretches and fills you so exquisitely.

"You're doin' so well, baby." Usually, Rick’s compliments are tinged with condescension, but not today. With each stroke of his cock he offers soothing praise that causes your cunt to convulse around him. "You look so fuckin' good like this."

You've always believed it a weakness to show emotion on the battlefield, but any thoughts about saving face in front of Rick are swiftly dissolved as he chases after your relief and his own. You cry out loudly when he tightens his grip on your throat, his other hand reaching down to strum your clit.

"Need you to come for me now, darlin'. I know you can do it. You're so good. So perfect."

He continues to coax you towards your climax, never faltering with his rhythm or his praise. Just like the countless missions he's led you on over the years, he's singularly focused on the outcome. You should have guessed he would make an attentive lover.

"Never gonna get over how fuckin' amazin' this pussy feels, baby. You've ruined me."

The band inside you suddenly snaps and your hands fly from the locker, fingernails digging into the flesh of his forearms as you ride the wave of your release. "Oh god, Rick."

As his name leaves your lips, his hips stutter violently and you feel him spill inside you, coating your walls with his spend. As he falls forward, his head tips against the curve of your neck and he presses another open-mouthed kiss to your skin.

"Darlin'..."

All at once, it's a promise and a plea. A prayer and a curse. There's so much to unpack in that one little word. But maybe it doesn't matter. At least not right now.

Maybe, like the kerosene and cloth of Harley’s beloved Molotov cocktails, you and Rick were always destined to ignite.

Joel Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @babblydrabbly @sociiallydiisoriiented @yespolkadotkitty @weallhaveadestiny @bewitchedignition @lavenderluna10 @lacontroller1991 @ed-baldwin @phoenixhalliwell @immyownlittlebitch @mayhem24-7forever @s-u-t @littlefreakingfangirl @katjnordstrom96 @kirsteng42 @heresathreebee @christinasyellowflowers @xoxabs88xox @fairchildflag

#rick flag #joel kinnaman #rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #the suicide squad #colonel rick flag #rick flag smut #dceu fanfic

[drabbles-mc]

A Bet's A Bet

Rick Flag x F!Reader

For @the-slumberparty's Bingo Challenge! Bingo Square: lost a bet

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol, pining

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: I love him, what else can I say? 😂 I love to see a gruff, grumpy man squirm a little bit lmao.

Suicide Squad Taglist: @garbinge @beardburnsupersoldiers @words-and-seeds @artemiseamoon (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

“This is ridiculous,” Rick muttered as he picked the shot glass up from the surface of the bar.

You laughed as you watched him drink it, his head tilted back for a moment. He hardly even cringed. “I mean, you sort of set yourself up for it.” The offended look on his face was impossible to miss and it only made you laugh harder. “What? He’s literally so good at shooting people that they let him back out of prison to do it. Did you really think that you were going to beat him?”

“You don’t think I could?”

You shook your head before taking a sip of your beer. “I think that remains to be seen.” You flagged down the bartender and asked them to bring Rick another shot. You saw the look he gave you and laughed. “What? The bet was two shots and one—”

“I know, I know,” he grumbled, begrudgingly downing the second shot before looking back over at you again, “Just didn’t think that you would sell me out like that.”

You hummed in amusement even though you knew that he most likely couldn’t hear you over the noise of the bar. “I’m here to keep you honest, Flag.”

The shot glass made a loud clattering sound as he practically tossed it back onto the bar. “I think I might be the only honest one here.” He heard the dramatic gasp you let out at his statement and he laughed before looking over at you. “Yea. Including you.”

Your offended façade only lasted a moment longer before you started laughing again. “Fuck off. If you didn’t want me here, I wouldn’t be.”

“You know I don’t pick—”

“You don’t get to pick anyone from the roster in Belle Reve,” you pointed at him with the beer bottle in your hand, “but you do get to pick who’s gonna be on your team if they’re not behind bars.” His silence spoke volumes and you laughed in triumph. “And here I am yet again!”

“Shut up and drink your beer,” he said, shaking his head like you couldn’t spot the way the ends of his mouth were beginning to curl into a smile.

“Alright,” you took another swig, “but when I’m done, you gotta—”

“I know what I gotta,” he cut you off as he leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the edge of the bar.

“You make it sound so unbearable.” You couldn’t help but to laugh at his dramatics.

He turned around so that he was facing the dance floor. Leaning, he rested back against the bar. He spoke to you even though his eyes were scanning the rest of the bar and the dancefloor to keep an eye on the rest of your team.

“How long you known me?” he asked, still not looking at you.

You laughed as you maneuvered to copy his position. “Too fuckin’ long at this point, I think,” you joked.

“Right,” he agreed with a nod before finally looking over at you. “And in all that time, when the hell have you ever seen me dance?”

You opened your mouth to argue with him, but then you snapped it shut again when you realized that you really hadn’t ever seen it. Not even way back when you were all deployed together and had downtime to fuck around between ops. Things got crazy when the whole squad had too much time on their hands, but no matter the volume of the music or the number of drinks that were passed around, Rick never danced. He got up to plenty of other ridiculous and irresponsible things, but not that.

“Holy shit,” you finally said with a laugh.

His lips flattened into a thin line and he have a single nod. “Yea.”

“Wait a second,” you shut your eyes tight for one moment as your brain started putting all of the puzzle pieces together, creating more of the insane picture that was Colonel Rick Flag, “you’re telling me that we’ve been out here, doing all of this insane shit, and you’ve never—”

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked.

“Because I can’t believe it.” You shook your head. “Out here ready to be murdered by an alien or something when you’ve never even danced.”

“Tell me how those two things are related?”

“Alright,” you said as you shook your head. Bringing your beer bottle to your lips, you downed the rest of it in one go before setting it back on the bar and looking over at Rick. “Let’s go. Come on.”

You started to walk away from the bar and towards the dancefloor. You only got a step and a half away before you noticed that Rick wasn’t following you. You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. Turning back around, you reached and grabbed onto his hand.

“Let’s go!” you said with a laugh.

Rick huffed, but he let you pull him along. If he really wanted nothing to do with it, he would’ve just planted his feet and been done with it. He dragged his feet a little bit but he still went. You felt it the moment it went from you just grabbing onto his hand to pull him along to him grasping your hand back. His fingers hooked around yours, the callouses of his palm rough but still warm against yours. You were glad that your back was mostly to him and that he couldn’t see the stupid little grin on your face over it.

“This is so fuckin’ stupid,” he muttered when the two of you got to the middle of the dancefloor.

You laughed, knowing that it was loud enough that no one else probably heard him, but you certainly did. “And yet,” you stepped in so you were pressed close to him, “you’re still out here.”

He scoffed. “A bet’s a bet.”

You were giddy. “Very honorable of you, Colonel.” There were a few beats where neither of you said anything, neither of you moved, and you couldn’t help but to laugh. Resting your hands flat against his chest, you leaned in so that he’d hear you without having to yell. “I think the bet was more than just you getting out here, Flag.”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m aware.”

“It’s not that bad. Promise.”

He looked at everyone around the two of you. It was like no one even noticed that he was there, which he would be eternally grateful for after he survived this. He scanned the place, and realized that the only person watching him besides you, was DuBois, the person who had sent him out onto the dancefloor in the first place. Before he watched long enough to see the rest of the team crumble into fits of laughter at his expense, his eyes were back on you. You seemed as unfazed about this as you were about everything else.

“I don’t think you were part of the bet, by the way,” he mentioned as you danced.

You laughed. “Yea, ‘cause you were gonna come out here alone. Sure.” You could see the way he was shaking his head and even though you couldn’t hear him with all the noise in the bar, you were sure that he was mumbling and cursing under his breath. Bringing your hands from his chest to his sides, you forced him to start swaying, trying not to laugh at the confused and disgruntled look on his face. “God you are the stiffest man alive.”

He tried to relax, but now he felt even more on-edge than before. Something about the warmth of your palms soaking through his shirt, noticeable even with how heavy the air already was with the bodies packed onto the dancefloor.

“Liked it better when I was getting shot at,” he finally said.

You laughed, shaking your head before stepping in close enough for your forehead to drop against him, resting just below his shoulder for a moment as you laughed. Peeling yourself away, you left your hands on his sides as you said, “Maybe we should’ve gotten you a third shot.”

“You’re enjoyin’ this way too much.”

“Watching you squirm?” you asked. When he nodded, you could only nod right back. “Just a little, yea.”

It took longer than it should’ve for him to ease into it. And even when he did, he was still awkward, still stiff. Which really as about what you’d expected. You couldn’t deny that it was funny watching Rick Flag trying to force himself to loosen up and have a good time. It’d apparently been too long since he’d really tried to do anything of the sort.

You kept yourself pinned close to him. You knew that he wouldn’t on his own, so you took the initiative and placed his hands on your waist, letting yours come to rest on his shoulders in return. It was amusing to you to see how hesitant he was about it. The same man who had dragged you when you were bloodied and beaten, the same man who you had to cram into the world’s smallest, most uncomfortable spaces with to keep yourselves alive, was suddenly skittish when your closeness had background music to go with it.

Rick was only on the hook for one dance. That was the bet. Mostly because no one thought that he would actually get out there and follow through on it. You couldn’t say that you blamed them, but Rick had never been the kind to back down from a challenge or an order. Or a bet, apparently.

When the song changed, one flowing easily into the next, you thought that he was immediately going to turn tail and run. You’d understand it—you could still feel the slightly anxious and awkward energy coming off of him. Something completely foreign given the source, the same person who didn’t flinch running into a firefight beside you. But despite the small, lingering traces of discomfort, he stayed. Because even though his muscles were still a bit tense, even though he still hadn’t quite figured out what he was like to have a sense of rhythm, he liked the way it felt to have his hands on the small of your back. He liked the way the tips of your fingers reached just past where the collar of his t-shirt stopped.

He hadn’t even felt those thoughts creeping up on him until it was too late. It felt like one second he was looking around to make sure the two of you hadn’t lost anyone, and the next second he was looking back to you and the wind got sucked clean out of his lungs. And you were so unbothered, so unaware. He hoped that it would stay that way.

Not that you’d been very far away from him to begin with, but suddenly you felt so much closer. He could feel the press of your entire body against his, the way that your legs somehow ended up slotted together. His hips were pinned to yours, his arms wrapped tight enough around you so that he was almost completely on-beat with you. At that point, though, he didn’t even care about the rest of it. The racing thoughts in his head were outrun only by the rapid beat of his heart. For the first time all night there was only one thing pulling his focus, and it was you as you stared back at him. You looked just about ready to completely melt into him and his entire mind blanked out one that thought entered his head.

You saw the shift in his eyes, but it was a look that you weren’t familiar with, one that you couldn’t place. Your hand that had been resting in the space where his neck met his shoulder slid up, palm on the side of his throat, fingertips grazing along his jaw. You tilted your head slightly, eyebrows raising to ask the question that you didn’t want to yell loudly in the midst of the club. His response was an equally wordless smile and small nod. You felt your breath get caught in your throat as you looked at him. It was impossible not to feel the way that the two of you were each leaning in closer to the other.

If it hadn’t been so loud on the dancefloor, you were sure that Rick would’ve been able to hear the pounding of your heart inside your chest. In all of the years that the two of you had known each other, all the late nights, long talks, and close quarters, this was the first time that you felt like things were about to cross a line into territory that you wouldn’t be able to backpedal from. You were shocked at how much you didn’t mind the thought of it.

He was close enough to you that you could feel his breath against your skin. Your heart was about to burst clean out of your chest and your lips were just about to touch his. You almost couldn’t believe that it was about to happen.

And then, before it could, you heard the tell-tale sounds of a fight breaking out on the other side of the bar. You didn’t even have to turn around and look to know that it was your team. Some of the most lethal metahumans in the world finally got to have a night out and they just couldn’t fucking handle it.

Rick’s attention snapped over to the noise immediately, the dazed look on his face was quickly replaced with annoyance. “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he practically groaned. His arms dropped back to his sides, hands leaving he small of your back leaving an emptiness that neither of you liked or wanted to think too deeply on.

You turned and followed his stride, both of you weaving through the tightly paced groups of people the best that you could. You had no idea what someone said to Peacemaker to get him to swing, but you really didn’t care at that point either. It was bad enough when one team member went rogue, it was worse when it turned into one of the few moments that everyone decided to be on the same side about something and everyone else got involved. You expected this kind of stuff from Peacemaker, but seeing Harley about to smash a beer bottle over someone’s head definitely made you a little extra concerned.

“Alright! Alright!” Rick wasn’t even attempting to hide his annoyance as he started pulling people apart. “Overstayin’ our welcome. Let’s get outta here.”

You caught out of the corner of your eye that DuBois was about to grab his gun and you quickly put your hand on his arm to stop him. He looked at you, peeved at the entire thing. You shook your head. “Not in here.”

He shook his head but he still followed your lead. He wasn’t that dedicated to picking a fight. Once you had him agreeing with you, it became much easier to round everyone up and get them out of the bar. Rick was practically dragging people by their collars but it worked nonetheless. You all had about seven hours before you would get in the chopper and brought back home. With the way things had unfolded so far, some of you might at least be able to use a couple of those to sleep.

Everyone’s rooms were all grouped together. It was a crappy little motel off the beaten path, but it was better than nothing. You were surprised that Waller got you all set up with anything at all, honestly. You’d take what you could get. You and Rick opted to share a room, the foot separating your two queen beds seemed odd now in a way that it never would have before.

“Everyone all locked up in their rooms?” you asked, half-joking, half-serious when Rick came into your room.

He chuckled, nodding. “Yea. All of ‘em are in time-out till we get back to Belle Reve.”

“Yea,” you rolled your eyes as you plopped down and sat on the edge of your bed, “because it’s not like prison is a time-out for them or anything.” You paused, watching as Rick flopped onto the bed that you weren’t sitting on, dragging his hands down his face. “They tell you what happened?”

“No,” he mumbled through his fingers, “but I didn’t fuckin’ ask, either.”

You laughed. “Didn’t wanna know the drama?”

His reply came with no hesitation. “Nope.”

You were shaking your head, helpless to do anything besides stare over at him. You waited, wondering if he was going to say anything about what had happened at the bar with the two of you. With the chaos dealt with and everyone safely stowed away in their rooms, you figured that this was going to be the closest thing that the two of you got to privacy for a while.

There must’ve been a graceful way to bring it up, a way that wouldn’t be awkward or jarring. You just didn’t know what it was. You kept your mouth shut, twisting your fingers into the blanket that rested on top of your bed.

Rick’s eyes were still closed, he was still laying on his bed with his legs dangling off the very end of it because he hadn’t scooted up enough before collapsing onto it. Even with all of that, he still felt you staring at him.

“What?” he asked, not turning to look at you as he did.

You shook his head like he could see you, because it felt like he could. Clearing your throat, you forced out, “Nothing.”

The end of his mouth lifted into a smirk. “Liar.”

It eased some of the tension you were feeling, the laughter that came out of you making you feel a little better about it all. “Shut up.”

Opening his eyes, he turned and looked over at you. “What is it?”

You shook your head. “Nothing, really. Just,” you sighed, “wild night.”

“I mean,” he chuckled, propping himself up on his elbows, “thinkin’ about everything else we’ve been through? Really not…you know…”

You let out a soft laugh, one that was quieter than you wanted it to be. “That’s true.”

“Look—”

“About the bar—”

You both started talking at the same time, both of you stopping when you heard the other. There were a few seconds of awkward silence before you both started laughing. You nodded for him to continue, beating him to the punch.

“Look,” he started again with a laugh, “I was just gonna say…” he trailed off, “I don’t really know what I was gonna fuckin’ say,” he admitted with a laugh.

“I think,” you said, a joking lilt already in your tone, “that considering you’ve never attempted to have any rhythm in your life, you really didn’t do that bad.”

He laughed, shaking his head at you. “Shut up.”

“I mean there’s room for improvement, for sure,” you nettled him just to get another laugh out of him, “but I thought it was going to go much worse.”

“Wow,” he sat up the rest of the way, hands braced on the edge of the bed so he was nearly mirroring the position that you were in, “thanks for the endorsement.”

“It’s an honest one, at least.”

He shook his head but he was still smiling. “Always is with you.”

You figured while you were in the vein of being honest, you might as well go for broke. “I also thought you were gonna kiss me,” the words tumbled out, rushed but clear enough. You chuckled nervously. “You know, before Peacemaker banged some guy’s face off the table.”

Rick’s eyes were still widened from the first part of your statement. He knew that it was his turn to say something, but he couldn’t find the right words. “I thought I was too.”

Warmth spread across your chest at his words, a smile instantly breaking out across your face. Your nerves didn’t dissipate completely, but there was a sense of security in it all that you hadn’t felt before. He could see it, too, the way that your body eased. He was up on his feet again before he could think to stop himself. It only took a couple strides for him to wind up next to you, the mattress sinking slightly beneath his weight as he sat down. He was close enough for the outside of your thigh to be pressed up against his.

“Rick—”

You didn’t get the rest of your sentence out as he leaned in and brought his lips to yours. Nothing you could’ve said would have had any shot in hell at being better than the feeling of him kissing you. You could still taste the faintest hint of liquor off of him from the bar, could feel his stubble beneath the pads of your fingers as they pressed against his jaw. He grabbed onto your waist, his grip firm, like he was determined not to let you or this moment slip away from him a second time.

When the two of you finally came back up for air, you didn’t pull away very far. His forehead was still pressed against yours, chests flush as he continued to hold onto your hip. You smiled, thumb grazing over his cheek as you tried to soak in the moment for all that it was worth.

“You’re better at kissing than you are at dancing, you know,” you finally said, whispering without quite meaning to, like what the two of you were sharing was a secret just for the both of you to know about.

He laughed quietly. “Thank god for that, huh?”

You smiled wider, shaking your head before pulling his lips back to yours. “C’mere.”

#the suicide squad #suicide squad #suicide squad fanfic #the suicide squad fanfic #rick flag fanfiction #rick flag #rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #x reader #x reader fic #navy and roos sleepover #navy and roo's sleepover #slumber party bingo #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

[your-averagewriter]

"I thought they killed you."

Summary: (y/n) is isolated after the disaster on the beach but luckily she's found just in time but just the right people. (Rick Flag x reader)

Word count: 1.0K

Warnings: Blood, injury, violence, weapons, swearing, (usual Suicide Squad things)

-

-

I stumble through the forest patting the fire out on my arm, the burnt cloth scratching against my wounds. The mission wasn’t meant to go like this - I can’t believe Blackguard sold us out. Actually I can believe it because I don’t know him, barely any of us know each other which is one of our problems, you can’t just trust strangers on a suicide mission.

So far, I imagine most of the squad is dead and those that aren’t are isolated waiting to be picked off by the soldiers hunting us through the forest.

But I keep going in the hopes that someone is alive or finding anyone at this rate would be good, friend or enemy.

Holding onto the branch above I steady myself as I try to make my way down a hill but I trip falling. I can feel my stomach reeling and despite my head feeling heavier than ever I pull myself up off the ground and continue, desperately, not knowing what’s ahead. It would be nice if next time (if there is a next time) Waller would come up with a plan B or an evacuation tactic but she doesn’t care about what happens to us so I doubt she will.

Soon after I realize that I’m bleeding from my arm, a cut, not deep but not shallow either so I rip off some cloth from my dirtied trousers and tie it around the wound, making sure there’s adequate pressure. At this rate I could bleed out from my wounds before I even get anywhere.

I hear footsteps and voices, although my head is pounding so badly that I can’t hear properly and can’t bring myself to care. Maybe if it’s some soldiers they can finish me off.

Turning the corner I can barely hold myself up but I see a familiar face I certainly didn’t expect to see.

“DuBois?” I question quietly, wondering whether I’ve lost enough blood to start hallucinating. But before I can even take another step I feel my body go limp and I collapse on myself, falling to the ground. All I hear is DuBois saying my name, worriedly before I feel my consciousness leave me.

I feel my eyelids flutter open as I’m met with a pale canopy roof. My head is killing me and my mind is fogged over with confusion and questions. I look down at my body and see all my wounds have been properly dressed and some stitched up. My skin is still dirty along with my clothes but all traces of my blood have been removed. I question why I’m here but that’s when I remember what happened before I must have passed out.

“DuBois?” I say again, quietly as I sit up. I instantly regret it as all the blood rushes to my head and I feel myself becoming faint again but it passes after a few moments.

Looking around the room, there are a couple of wooden chairs and the floor is planked - I can see through the slither of the entrance to the canopy that we’re still in a forest.

Suddenly I hear footsteps from outside the canopy and I instantly reach for my weapons but they’ve been removed so I look for the closest, best option which ends up being a syringe - it hasn’t got any liquid in it but any object in my hand becomes a weapon. I realize my shoes have been removed as I place my bare feet onto the planks, it takes me a second to stand up but after, I manage to limp quietly to the entrance.

My back is pressed up against the fabric of the canopy as I await the impending footsteps, ready with the syringe in hand.

Someone pushes the fabric aside and walks in but as soon as they do I throw my arm around their neck, effectively choking them and placing the needle so it presses against the skin of their neck, not quite piercing it but could easily be if needed.

They don’t struggle and I notice by their uniform that they’re not a civilian but whether they’re friend or foe remains unknown.

Another figure walks in behind the uniformed stranger.

Rick Flag.

My face is a painting of confusion as I look at him and then to the stranger. He walks slowly towards me.

“(y/n).” He says gently. “Put the needle down.” He says again in a soft tone as he walks towards me, hands reaching for mine. “You’re okay.”

“Rick?” I question, not entirely sure he’s there or why. “What are you-What are you doing here? I thought you…” Tears start to brim my eyes as I look at him. “I thought they killed you.” I say, my voice wavering, unable to stop the trembling.

“Put the needle down.” He’commands’ but it’s still gentle. I lower the needle slowly and release the person from my grip. Dropping the needle to the ground, Rick immediately wraps me in his arms.

“You’re okay, you’re safe here.” He reassures me, his hand stroking the back of my head as I bury my face in his chest.

“I don’t understand, I saw them, they had you!” I say. “I saw it with my own eyes!” I exclaim, tears flowing from my eyes now. “I tried to help you but they- they.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter now. I escaped, you escaped. That’s all that matters.”

“And DuBois? I saw him! I swear.” 

“He brought you back here, he said you fainted just after he saw you. You were hurt pretty badly.”

“Why is DuBois here?” I ask and all the confusion is only making my head hurt more.

“Waller went behind our backs and set up a second team. We were a distraction.”

“A distraction? Fucking brilliant.” I mumble, shocked but not surprised at Waller’s actions. “We were sent to die?” He sighs but nods.

“I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“Waller can’t get rid of me that easily.” I say with a small smirk and I can tell that he’s glad I’ve kept my humour throughout this shit show.

-

AN: First piece of writing I've done in a while!

I've been doing exams and working so I haven't posted much but I've finished my exams now so you can expect me to post more (hopefully more Suicide Squad content because I LOVE the movies).

Hope you enjoyed reading and requests are open!

#the suicide squad #rick flag x reader #fanfiction #the suicide squad x reader #x yn #x y/n #suicide squad #rick flag x y/n #rick flag x you #rick flag x yn #suicide squad x reader #rick flag #fanfic #dc x reader #suicide squad x you #x you #x reader #suicide squad x y/n #suicide squad x yn #the suicide squad x you #the suicide squad x yn #the suicide squad x y/n #the suicide squad fanfiction #the suicide squad fanfic #rick flag fanfiction #rick flag fanfic #dc x you #robert dubois #bloodsport #dc fanfiction

[lacontroller1991]

Cabin in the Woods (Rick Flag x Platonic!F!Reader)

Author's Note: This fic is inspired by THIS gif set from @ijustthinkrickflagisprettyneat

Main Master List DC Master List

Warnings: language, talk of death

Synopsis: Rick goes missing and you're the only one who knows where he is.

==========

Two weeks. Two weeks since the Battle of Midway. Two weeks since the task force saved the city (and the world) from annihilation. Two weeks since the Enchantress died. Two weeks since June Moone died with her. Two weeks since Rick Flag’s disappearance. After the rubble and dust and smoke cleared, Rick was left kneeling over nothing more than a corpse, the ancient witch having taken Rick’s lover with her. The squad remained silent in shock, after all, what more could you say to somebody who just killed the only person they ever loved. After Waller had deducted 10 years off of everybody’s prison statement, Rick had decided to ‘take a vacation’ and dipped out of Belle Reve, disappearing to somewhere that no one will be able to find him. No one except you.

Placing the car in park, you eye the cabin from the outside. Lights off, curtains closed, and porch dirty. Had it not been for the slight glow of a small bonfire recently put out, you would have assumed that no one was home. Letting out a sigh, you clutch the file in your hand and walk up the creaking steps, alerting Rick of your arrival. 

The door swings open and you’re met with the colonel, in worse shape than you thought he would be in. His shirt hangs off his normally lean but built frame. His eye circles are even darker than before. His facial hair now grown out and spread across his chiseled jaw, and even his posture caves in on himself. “Jesus Rick, you look like shit.”

“Ha,” he rolls his eyes, obviously not finding the statement amusing, or just not caring as he steps to the side allowing you to enter the small house. “What are you doing here?”

“No one could find you or get ahold of you, so I thought I’d swing by. Check in on you.”

“I don’t need you to check on me,” you know he meant his words to be bitter and angry but they came out tired and defeated. “I don’t need your pity.” You sit down on the couch and eye his position against the wall, fidgeting slightly as his hazel eyes scan over your body and landing on the folder. “What’s in there?”

You look down and open the manilla folder, flipping through the papers, internally cringing. “A mission and papers for desertion.” His eyes widen as you grimace. “Waller said that if you don’t come back within the next 2 days, she’ll court-martial you for desertion and you’ll be dishonorably discharged.” He snatches the file out of your hands and reads it over in anger.

“How can she do that? I’m not even hers. I’m still on vacation.”

“Rick. It’s been two weeks. You’re long past the perimeters of vacation time.”

“It’s been two weeks?” He sinks down onto the spot next to you, grabbing fistfuls of his shaggy hair. “I’ve only been gone for three days.”

“Flag…You’ve been gone for two weeks. I can’t keep coming up with excuses for you when Waller asks where you are. She knows you’re missing and she’s going to have these papers finalized unless you come back,” he eyes you, tears welling in his eyes as he leans into you, his head resting on your shoulder as you throw an arm around him, holding the colonel close to your body. 

“I can’t go back. I lost June. I don’t know what to do anymore,” his sobs rack through his body as you attempt to soothe him, though it doesn’t work. Truth being told, you lost somebody too in the past year and it’s been eating away at you ever since, but you need to be strong. Not just for yourself but for Rick. 

“You can lead this fucking squad. You’re the most capable leader there is. They need you, Rick. You’re the reason none of them got seriously injured. They need you, Flag. I can’t lead them all by myself. I need you. So please, just come back with me?” He sits back in contemplation, his body still lightly fidgeting, from what though, you don’t know.

“Guess I don’t have a choice, do I?” You unwrap your arm from his shoulder and straighten out your jacket.

“No, not really.” Silence falls between you two for a minute before you clear your throat. “Look, I know losing somebody isn’t easy, but Rick, you can’t shut everybody out. You can’t just hide away from it because at the end of the day, they’re still dead. I should know. I went through the whole grieving process and it’s better when you have somebody to talk to. Somebody who will listen. So just please, come on back.” 

“Alright. I’ll go,” he stands and extends his hand, hoisting you up and packing his duffle bag before flinging it over his shoulder and wiping away his unshed tears. “So. What’s the mission?”

General Tag List: @marvelousmermaid @himbovillain-anon @babblydrabbly @a-reader-and-a-writer @fairchildflag @infatuatedjanes @niki-xie

Joel Related Tag List: @aestheticallywinchester @loverhymeswith @xoxabs88xox @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o @witchygagirl @the1redrose @ratcatcher2world @green-socks @heart-0n-fire @weallhaveadestiny @yourjacketisnowdry @rachelh1992 @a-girl-who-loves-disney @knivesareout @bubblegloopswampwitch @waspswidows @burntghoost @mattymurdocksbitch @katjnordstrom96 @bb-skyrunner @ed-baldwin @yespolkadotkitty @heresathreebee @madkovacs @wxr-zxne @wtfobiwan @alieninoklahoma @sociiallydiisoriiented @violetmuses

#rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #joel kinnaman #joelkinnnaman #rick flag #colonel rick flag x reader #colonel rick flag x you #colonel rick flag #colonel flag x reader #colonel flag x you #colonel flag #the suicide squad #suicide squad #dceu #dceu tss #the suicide squad fanfic #rick flag fanfic #rick flag fanfiction #lacontroller1991

[erisgodofchaos]

Ok. So this is my first time posting but hear me out.

Fanfic prompt:

So I think it would kinda cool if there was a crossover with Danny phantom joining the suicide squad after being captured by the GIW and being sent to go on the mission by Amanda Waller considering that technically he is not a sentient being in the eyes of their government. So he joins the team and their like WTH. This is a child he should not be there and ends up being like the kid of the group who is low key scary. I think it could work with the whole electrocution thing working against him. And him being ghost king will work against enchantress.

Sorry this is kind a rant.

#danny phantom #dcu #suicide squad #dpxdc #fanfic

[creepling]

drunk, fem!reader. slight dub-con. 'spoiled brat' & slut shaming. minors dni.

i know i've written this before for other characters but........ dbf!digger is eating away at my brain,, so bad. you're dad works among rogues and makes a wealthy living from it, so you've been considered a spoiled brat all your life. used to leeching off daddy's money and sheltered from the big bad world. that doesn't stop you from getting drunk with your friends every weekend and getting black out to the point you can't call a cab. dbf!digger picks you up from the street, glaring at the state of you. your skimpy dress hiked up over your thighs; laying bare on the passenger seat. what a skank, digger thinks, even though his erection is growing and he is gripping the steering wheel. he takes another look at you, his eyes eating up your cleavage as your chest rise and falls. you're too drunk to notice.

is your dad home? he asks.

he's out of town for a week, you sigh unknowingly.

fuckin' ace. he's excited now. maybe if he asks nicely, you'll be into it too. it's about time someone tames the brat in you and teach you a lesson. and digger's got all the seediness to be the prosecutor.

#digger harkness x reader #captain boomerang x reader #ssktjl #dbf!digger #drabble #dc fanfic #suicide squad #creepling.brainrot

[finniestoncrane]

love your piss fics with boomer. hope you write more now that kill the justice league is out with some wonderful cutscenes for us piss lovers<3

Life Goal

KTJL!Boomer x GN!Reader, word count: 500 i am NOTHING if not an indulgent little slut who would happily take a golden aussie shower 💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: piss, spoilers, death reference, allusions to that cut scene so uh... disrepecting a corpse OOP

Taking a deep inhale and then sighing, filled with satisfaction, Digger spoke.

"Aw yeah. I'm gonna do it. Definitely."

You'd been resting on his shoulder, hand on his chest as you lazed on the sofa. He'd been silent throughout the movie, his thumb absent-mindedly stroking your arm, intermittently bending his neck to kiss your head. He'd been deep in thought, but given that his thoughts were usually pornographic in nature, you hadn't bothered pressing him. There was always something filthy rattling around in his dirty mind.

"Gonna do what, Dig?"

"When I kill the Flash."

"When, not if."

"Yeah! When I kill him!"

"Yeah?"

He turned to you, causing you to fall onto his chest, looking up into his excited green eyes as a crooked smile pressed into his freckled cheeks.

"When I kill him. I'm going to piss on his stupid corpse."

"What a noble life goal."

"Is it, isn't it."

Walking your fingers up his sternum and resting your palm in the centre of his chest, feeling his quickening heartbeat, you batted your eyelashes playfully.

"Will you let me help?"

He raised an eyebrow, confused and taken aback.

"You wanna piss on him too?"

You laughed, quick to shut that line of thinking down, but gently so.

“If you wanted me to, I’d think about it… But I was thinking more along the lines of a helping hand.”

Your free hand quickly skated up his thigh, gripping the ever-present bulge in his pants, his thick, impressive cock stuffed in tight.

“This has always seemed like a two person job, after all. I could help you hold it, so your arms don’t get tired, of course.”

His voice cracked ever so slightly as he spoke, a definite twitch against your palm as his cock began to stiffen.

"Really? I mean, obviously, I could do with the help. I'm never going to say no to any assistance."

"Is that so?"

Stroking his growing length, feeling the veins pulse through the thing layer of fabric between them and your hand, you felt your own arousal growing. He jutted his hips up a little, pushing at you to go further, begging you to, silently. As much as he loved a tease, he was far more interested in getting to the point of the action. Your soft skin against him, your hand tight, pumping, stroking. He realised he was holding his breath, a lopsided, brainless smile on his lips as he daydreamed.

You could sense his desperation, and you knew it wasn't fair to tease him with no intentions of providing any relief. So you spoke up.

"Maybe we should go practice then. I'd hate to mess up your big moment."

Digger jumped up from the sofa, almost sending you tumbling to the floor. He spoke as he ran to the bathroom, pulling his pants down as he walked.

"Righto, sweetheart! Hurry up! I could kill Flash at any moment!"

Rolling your eyes a little, but gleefully, you followed in his wake.

#cw piss #captain boomerang #digger harkness #george harkness #captain boomerang x reader #captain boomer x you #captain boomerang fanfic #finnie writes #suicide squad #suicide squad kill the justice league

[theelysiumconcept]

Showcases a Harley Quinn and Witcher 3 Crossover concept: The lady of Space and Crime

Whilst on the run from the Wildhunt, Ciri lands in Gotham, encountering Harley Quinn who promises to keep her safe and hidden, providing she agrees to a few favours...

#gaming #dark fantasy #the witcher #the witcher 3 #cirilla of cintra #witcher ciri #geralt of rivia #dc comics #dark comic #batman #harley quinn #dc joker #crossover #fanfic #concept art #digital art #aiartcommunity #suicide squad