Cry Baby - Chris (peacemaker) smith x fem!reader *SMUT*
Plot - Chris cries during sex, you can't change my mind. Sweet, sensual and short one shot. word count 1.8K 18+ smut
You and Chris had met when he came back from the hospital, being his new-ish neighbour and hearing the rumours about him, you were naturally very curious. So, you sweetly bake him a tray of “welcome home!” brownies and knock on his door. Imagine you’re surprise when he’s shockingly incredibly sweet (albeit crass) and disgustingly hot with his chiselled face and a body carved by the God’s.
After Chris had learned you were single and needed help looking after your kind of run-down trailer, he had excitingly jumped at the chance to help you in any way you needed. However, when he had made that offer, he didn’t realise you would ask him to do genuine housework, or, that he would grow as attached to you the way he did. So here he was fixing your kitchen sink; with you perched upon your counter and watching his shirt ride up to his belly button. Biting your lip and zoning out you neglect to hear him ask you a question about your day, your silence causes him to look away from the leaking pipe within his grasp and to look over at your blushing face.
Whilst you were still distracted Chris slides smoothly out of the cupboard and perches up on his elbows, he gently calls your name, your eyes snap up to meet his gaze. Your blush darkening as you let out a gentle giggle to ease your embarrassment. “Sorry, what did you say?” you ask, “Were you checking me out?” although he says it cockily there’s an air of surprise to his tone, “well, yeah. Can you blame me? I mean, look at you” you say incredulously. Chris lets out a chortle and starts to stand up, he slowly stretches to his full height and saunters over to where you’re still sat on the counter, he takes note of your thighs squeezing together and how much he towers over your much smaller frame.
Chris ends up standing in front of you, his hands falling to sit beside your still squeezed together thigh’s, his thumbs rubbing softly on the flesh that they can reach. “You’re cute” he says in a somewhat demeaning tone, you look up at him from under your eyelashes letting a smile break out across your face. “Are you finally going to make a move?” you ask after a moments silence. Chris smiles into the desperate kiss he lunges into, clearly out of practice, it’s full of teeth clashing and tongue fighting. You place your hands on his cheeks as a way to softly encourage him to slow down, he must understand the silent communication as he instead pulls away slightly to mutter into your parted mouth a soft “sorry”. You almost don’t hear it, but the surprise still crosses your brain that such a cocky seeming man can so easily utter a sad sorry to you. “You don’t need to apologise” you say just as softly, you lean back into him to continue making out. This time less viciously, tongues meeting in a sweet dance.
Chris’s hands come up to grab at the flesh of your ass, dragging you more to the edge of the countertop, you take the initiative to wrap your legs around his waist and drag him into you. You feel his hard (and impressive) length press up against you, your panties getting even wetter. Your hands abandon his hair and fall to his flies, you pull back away from the kiss to ask, “How far do you want to go?” Chris pulls his face away to really get a good look at your swollen lips and blushing cheeks to answer, “Till I’m balls deep and the only thing you remember is my name”, you moan wantonly and make quick work of hitching his jeans and boxers to sit just under his ass. His cock is fully hard and is already leaking precum it stands impressively between the two of you.
One of your hands fall to cup his balls as your other hand grips firmly on his shaft. Chris’s head falls into your neck where he lets out a moan that makes him sound wrecked already. His hot breath causes goosebumps to erupt on your skin where he sucks a painful mark on your skin. You hum in approval and continue to slowly jack him off, both hands now working his shaft in languid strokes that make his hips follow the motions of your hands.
Chris becomes impatient clumsily starts to undo your jeans, his large hands almost completely covering your hips when he runs his fingers under the waistband and yanks them down over the globes of your ass, making sure they’re off of you entirely so they won’t get in his way later. Gently he swats your hands away, now desperate to feel your warmth being wrapped around him. Chris spits into the palm of his hand and runs it over his length, “Wait, did you want to use any protection?” he asks breathily looking down at you, hand still wrapped around his shaft “I’m clean, so if you are… I don’t mind?” you answer bashfully, “fuck” he lets out in a groan “I’m clean sweet cheeks”. Your eyebrow quirks at the nickname but you decide to let it slide this once.
Without further interruption Chris guides his length to run up the seem of your pussy, collecting even more lubrication from your very evident arousal. The head of his cock nudges your clit where he grinds it into you gently for a couple of moments. He inevitably grow’s antsy and hitches his tip into your fluttering entrance where he steadily feeds his full length into you. When he’s fully enveloped in you, you both take a beat to let out breathy moans.
Chris leans in to kiss you again, your arms fall to rest on top his shoulders just as he begins to thrust into your warmth. His pace is brutal and fast, although it pleasurable you want this to last so you pull away from the kiss again and take a mental note of how he chases your lips. “Slow down, I’m not going anywhere” you whisper after pressing you lips against his ear, you lay a gentle kiss just below his lobe to solidify your statement.
Then weirdly his thrusts come to a complete stop. You worry you’ve said something wrong, when suddenly you feel him shake into your arms. You pull back fully to see tears running down his face, your hands fall to his face, thumbs swiping away the tears that just wont stop coming. “Oh, Chris, are you okay?” you try to ask calmly but the panic in your voice is evident “I don’t deserve this… You’re too sweet” he mutters. Your brain buffers for a second, working out how to reply whilst his cock is still nestled inside of you. “We can stop if you want. I won’t be mad” you say with your foreheads pressed together “NO” he replies quickly and rather loudly, “Want you” he follows up simply. Chris desperately pulls your shirt up and over your head then makes quick work of your bra, Chris craves the closeness you can offer; the skin to skin contact he’s been craving in his life.
He slowly starts to thrust into you again, but this time his thrusts are slow and deep. Pleasure blooms deep within you, the desperation in his actions turn you on more than you like to admit. Your hands drift back to his neck; you softly guide his head into your shoulder where you cradle him against you.
The action is sweet and deep down it freaks Chris out. That level of intimacy being shared with someone who he hadn’t even had the balls to ask out on an official date yet was scary to him. It made him depressed knowing he had been deprived of this for so long, made him theorise that maybe he never did anything to deserve it. So, Chris tries to distract himself within your flesh, within the intimacy you offer and the soothing voice you treat him to. But Christ, he can’t stop the tears from falling, he knows you must still feel them cascading down your chest.
Chris’s hands go own their own missions, one lands on your breast. His hot palm fully covering your whole boob before his index and thumb start to instead tease your nipple. His other hand dropped down to where your bodies meet, two fingers catching on your entrance and collecting up your conjoined made mess. Then with them sufficiently slicked up he quickly strums them over your clit. He knows he’s done well when you reward him to your sweet angelic moans gracing his ears, he takes note of how perfect they sound all high pitched and broken.
Blind, selfish greed takes over him for a second, it’s where he comes to the decision that no one else will ever touch you like how he’s touching you now. No one deserves too, probably not even him.
Your overwhelmed by how intense the whole ordeal is. Chris’s incessant fingers on your clit throw you impossibly closer to orgasming. You decide you want his mouth back on you, whether he’s crying or not. So gently you guide his head back up and lean into another desperate kiss, this time you let him make it a rushed clumsy affair of a kiss. You can still feel his tears when your hands come to rest on his cheeks, every so often when he pulls away for a breather, he’ll whisper crude sweet nothings; “You’re so good for me, cunts griping me so tight I don’t think I’ll ever leave her” is your personal favourite.
You’re as good as brain dead after a particularly sharp thrust that steals what little air that’s left in your lungs away. “I’m close Chris” you warn in a gasped desperate tone “Yeah? Me to sweet girl” this time you keen at the nickname. When he leans in, chasing your mouth into another bruising kiss you hit your peak. Moans projecting into him as if you’re trying to inject him with positivity that he did good. At least that’s what he thinks.
Chris’s orgasm hits just as yours is subsiding, your tightening walls pushing him over the edge. Chris throws his head back as he lets out an almost painful moan, you see him shudder as his hands fall to hold your waist to still lay flush against him. Not yet wanting to part from your caring embrace.
Chris clears his throat after a minute has passed and goes to lay his cheek on your sternum. He listens to your heartbeat and works up the courage to ask, “would you like to go out sometime?” he says it so fast it takes a second for your pleasure hazed brain to decipher what it was he asked. “Of course. Chris, I’d love to” you reply looking down and saying it into his hair. “Awesome” he says cockily, almost like he’s forgotten it’s his tears that are drying on your tits.
authors note: thank you for reading! im definitely going to be writing more for peacemaker characters and not just Chris. Because lowkey im super craving a sweet one for john economos! ugh and adrian chase?!? god damn
christopher smith (dcu) with feminine, afab, metahuman!reader. nsfw. you and chris were old fuckbuddies; he swings by and reminds you (with three orgasms) how good a fuckbuddy he was. + masterlist.
. . . the sound of your voice hits him like a truck as he goes through the voicemails left on his phone.
“chris, hey… listen, i’m a little bored right now and i was wondering if you could come over. i’ve got a new set i’ve been wanting to show you, anyways. call me back, babe.”
he doesn’t hesitate to hit the play button again and again, just to hear the sultriness of your tone. just to imagine how you were probably lazily playing with yourself when you sent the message, fingers covered in your own slick as you half-prep yourself for him... between jail, the whole suicide squad business, and being in the hospital for five months, smith had forgotten all about you, his superpowered fuckbuddy.
his dick remembers, though, hardening half-way as he plays the voicemail back for a fourth time. briefly, chris wonders if you remember him.
only one way to find out, right?
. . . so now smith’s here, standing in front of your door. he knocks three times, then waits. there’s some soft noises from behind the door before you open up. you look… different. older. hotter, he thinks.
“christopher?” your eyebrows raise in surprise as you take him in. he’s changed very little from the last time you saw him; same old costume that he always seems to wear, same old overconfident and smug facial expression. at least he’s not wearing his silver helmet. he’s got more muscle on him than you remember, though. for several seconds, your gaze naturally settles along his biceps. then you force yourself to make eye contact with peacemaker.
the brunette just grins, leaning in your doorway. “still bored?”
“what?”
smith only scoffs, as if you were being silly. “the voicemail. i mean, i know you left it a while ago but— c’mon, can’t be too late to cash in on some ass, right?”
your mind races as you try to remember the last time you called chris. it’s been… literal years. two, maybe three? four? you stopped reaching out when you realized he wasn’t going to reply. and now he’s here, responding to a (probably desperate) voicemail that you left ages ago. “you’re joking.”
he’s not. “i would never joke about wanting to fuck your brains out,” he says firmly, shifting some in your doorway. he adjusts his pants, which causes you to glance down briefly and… how is he already so hard?
you bite your lip, memories of what you and smith used to get up to flashing through your mind. even so, you shake your head no. “we can’t. i won’t, i mean. fuck off, chris,” you mutter, beginning to close the door.
chris is quick to keep the door open, however, using his foot as a wedge. “why the hell not? c’mon, we had so much fun. remember that time on the plane? or behind the dumpster? or in my trailer?”
“i’ve got a boyfriend,” you blurt, interrupting peacemaker from reminiscing further. you cross your arms in an attempt to be stern. “we’ve been dating for a few months.” he’s a good boyfriend, too. it would be wrong to cheat on him. you couldn’t sleep with peacemaker.
“yeah? we fucked for years,” smith hisses. he pauses before peering past your head into your place, looking around. “where is this guy, anyways?”
“working.” you try pushing chris’ foot out of the way so your door could close, but it’s a halfhearted effort. you shouldn’t sleep with peacemaker.
“not here? not pleasing you?” he asks, voice low. the brunette takes a subtle step closer to you, smirking. “c’mon. for old time’s sake. he doesn’t have to know.” his hands reach for your waist, his grip on you all too familiar. firm but not forceful; smith never forces you into anything. mostly because he never has to.
this time isn’t any different. you scoff. you pretend that you don’t miss him, too. you let smith inside, shame giving way to excitement as you feel him rub your lower back in approval. you were definitely going to sleep with peacemaker.
. . . it isn’t long before the two of you are naked and fucking on the couch in open missionary. chris had insisted on “seeing your pretty face” since you’d been apart for so long. the whole thing is wordless; just grunts, groans, moans, and heat. so much heat. like an animal, he pounds into you with reckless abandon, stretching you out around his fat cock. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air— he’s rough, only because you have the durability to handle it thanks to your superpowers.
your orgasm comes first, surging through your body as you moan his name. the brunette on top of you finishes shortly after, groaning against your neck. he stays in for a second or so, kissing whatever skin he can manage to press his lips to, before sliding out and moving to stand. he gently pulls you up, chuckling at your confused expression.
“i’m not done with you yet— been in prison for four years, sweetheart, with just my hand. i‘m just getting started on this pussy,” he explains, dragging you along to your kitchen. with ease, smith lifts you up and sets you on your countertop. the cool sensation of the counter against your ass sends a shiver through your body, your toes curling briefly. “fingers or tongue?” he asks.
you can barely reply, still panting from your orgasm. cum dribbles from your quivering cunt down your thigh as you look up at chris through half-lidded eyes. your lips open to reply, but all you can manage is to keep panting like a dog. “ah..”
one of his hands reaches for your hair, gently tugging back. peacemaker leans in as your head rolls, nosing your neck as if to smell you. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was smelling you. he’s like an animal, sometimes… of course, right when you string a coherent thought together, beginning to come down from your orgasm, smith lifts his head. “c’mon, pretty girl, use your words,” he teases, biting down on the outer shell of your ear. he doesn’t hold back, pushing his canine down on the flesh of your ear.
“fingers!” you yelp out, “fuck, fingers. fingers, chris.”
“atta girl. knew you could do it,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to your (now stinging) ear. “there’s nothing you can’t handle.” the brunette flashes a smile at you before lining three fingers up to your entrance. he pushes gently, slowly coating his fingertips with a mixture of your slick and his cum.
you squeeze your thighs shut, though, before he can slip his fingers all the way inside. “three’s too much,” you whine, gripping his wrist.
“bullshit. if you can take my dick— which you did, and you did very well, princess— you can take three fingers.” smith only has to wait a moment or so before you open your legs again. his three fingers line up to your entrance once more, rubbing gently along your cunt before slowly working themselves in. “nice and easy, see,” he murmurs as he pushes them in, grinning as you whimper. “you got it, gorgeous. look at that, all three in, knuckle-deep, and no one’s hurt. right?”
you look into his eyes as you nod, biting your lip. all you can focus on is the feeling of your cunt clenching around his fingers. chris was right in assuming you could take it; your pussy adjusts to his fingers rather quickly. it isn’t long before you squirm a bit, searching for friction.
“that’s it,” he coaxes softly as you start to fuck yourself on his fingers. smith leans down once more, this time pressing a kiss to your temple. he smiles against your skin as he begins pumping his fingers in and out of you. “feel that? bet your boyfriend doesn’t do it like this, huh? i bet he’s a fucking pussy.”
“chris,” you begin, only to be cut off by peacemaker curling his fingers, causing you to moan. you try your hardest to cling to your dignity, but it’s hard to do when your walls are clinging to peacemaker’s fingers. “chris, please.”
of course, he just laughs, pecking your lips. it’s amusing, the way you pout when he mocks your current boyfriend. arousing, too. the more frustrated you get, the more fun it is to make you moan. smith glances down at your chest, lowering his head to lick at your left breast. “and look at these,” he coos into your skin, “oh, i’ve missed these tits. so beautiful.” he looks up at you as he begins to suckle on your nipple, tracing his tongue in circles before wrapping his lips around it and humming just to watch you squirm.
“fuck— nghh,” you groan, back arching your breast further into his mouth. one hand of yours is holding chris’ head, fingers tangled in his hair. the other is gripping the edge of the counter, cracking the granite slightly because you can’t bring yourself to control your strength.
chris pulls back, leaving a saliva trail on your tit. he smirks before muttering, “relax. you’re gonna break the damn counter, princess.”
“fuck off, chris,” you grit out, eyes closing for a moment. “fuck. c’mon, make me come before i tear the damn counter out.”
hot. still, he can’t resist the urge to tease you. “i dunno… it’s been years, i’m not even sure i know where your sweet spot is.” smith aims his fingers around for a few pumps, pretending to search. he slides his fingers in a little deeper each time, pressing around. “here? maybe here? where is your little sweet spot, huh?”
your response comes in the form of a groan, your head rolling back as you rut into his fingers. he’s so close it’s infuriating, fingertips just barely grazing your prostate as he “searches”. you tear up, letting out a whine of frustration.
the sound of you whining, as pathetic as it is, gets him to relent his teasing. “i’m just joking around. i could never forget how to make you scream,” chris finally admits, kissing your neck. he curls his fingers again, targeting your sweet spot, ramming his fingers against it and causing you to choke on your own gasping.
“ack— haahh, chris, fuck me, oh fuck— chris, chris!” you moan out as your second orgasm rips through your body. it’s a warm wave that crashes hard, causing your eyes to roll back and your legs to twitch as you come all over his fingers. smith pumps for a few moments more, letting the squelching sound echo through your home before he pulls his fingers out.
“ah, look at that. pretty little pussy, covered in cum. i bet you’d lick it off my fingers if i told you to,” he remarks, gently patting your thigh. smith waits until your eyes slowly make their way back over to him before he licks his fingers clean. “mmm, tastes so good,” he moans around his fingers, putting on a show only to laugh when you look away in embarrassment.
things go quiet between the two of you until you speak again. “chris,” you start, only to be cut off.
“want round three, pretty girl?”
you swallow thickly. peacemaker shouldn’t know you so well after all these years. and yet… “yeah,” you murmur.
the brunette grins, thanking god above for your super stamina. “anything for you, baby.” he scoops you into his arms, walking towards the bedroom. smith sets you down on the bed before laying beside you on his back. “which pillow’s your boyfriend’s?” he asks. when you point towards the left one, he rests his head on it. then he pats his thighs, “c’mere.”
you don’t hesitate to crawl over, gently taking hold of his dick and stroking it a few times. you move to hover above his cock, lining yourself up before slowly sinking down on it. the action causes the both of you to moan softly in unison, a lustful harmony.
you rest for a few seconds before raising yourself up and sliding back down, beginning to ride him. all the strength you had left was being used solely to force him deep inside you. as if he were a toy, you stretched yourself out on him, moaning out his name as you force his tip to press against your prostate. your toes curl at the sensation, a heat building rather quickly in your lower stomach. more. it’s all you can think about as you ride him: more, more, more— deeper, harder, louder, hotter—
“fuck, are you trying to get pregnant or something?” he groans out, teasing you as if he hadn’t already came inside before. chris grips your hips, holding you still as he thrusts up into you. “bet you don’t let your sissy boyfriend come inside, right? is that right, pretty girl? tell me— holy fuck— would you let him come in you like i do?”
“no!” you gasp out, feeling him press hard against your sweet spot. you grind yourself against him, your entire body running hot. the room feels like a sauna, and you’re sure you’re slick with sweat all over.
“but you’ll let me come inside this pretty pussy, won’t you?” smith goes on, fingernails pressing into your skin.
“yes— fuck yes, chris!”
the room fills with sounds of sex as you and chris grow overstimulated and close to coming. words begin to fail you both. smith babbles a little, but it’s no use. soon enough, all that leaves your lips is just noises, raw and animalistic. he thrusts deep, hands gripping your waist so tightly it almost hurts. you can feel a familiar sense of pressure building up, causing you to whimper.
then, finally, you come.
it wrecks you. the first orgasm was rough, the second was harsh, but this one? it drains you of any energy you had left. you slump, your legs twitching around chris as you curl forward. the brunette slides his dick out of you clumsily, laying you down beside him. juices dribble down your thigh as he begins fisting his cock beside you, sitting up just enough to aim at your face— it comes out in thick ropes, splattering along your lips, nose, cheeks, and chin. he grunts as he comes, still pumping before crumpling beside you, panting like a dog.
“you look so hot right now,” he says as soon as he regains the ability to speak, turning towards you with a grin.
if you had the strength, you’d slap him. instead, you stare at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath. then, slowly, you turn your head to look at him.
“chris,” you manage, your voice breathy, “fuck off.”
2.4k ish words… yeah this is going on ao3. i think this is the longest thing i've written so far. lol. happy peacemaker s2 eve guys <3 i’m so excited i cld shit!!! there's like not a lot of peacemaker x reader stuff tbh which kind of surprises me? guess i'll have to populate the tag myself... i'll post vigilante hcs tomorrow for the new season but don't expect anything close to this thing (can i even call it a blurb anymore??).
sappy ending massage || Christopher Smith/Peacemaker x Reader
synopsis: chris hurts his back, so you give him a massage to make him feel better. that's it, that's the plot.
word count: 2.9k
tags: hurt/comfort, angst, maybe fluff? if you squint?, set between seasons 1 & 2, mostly chris POV, chris is extremely self-deprecating and an unreliable narrator, language and themes are explicit, no smut but mentions of masturbation, reader is a metahuman but chris doesn't know that, chris needs a hug SO bad and he kinda gets it!, unresolved sexual tension, no use of y/n, reader isn't gendered
Christopher Smith is a tough guy. The toughest muscles of all the superheroes, if you ask him — and yeah, Superman is stronger than him, but Superman is also fucking cheating,so that doesn’t count. Anyone could be born an extraterrestrial, but it takes some real dedication to achieve that physique. Point was, Chris is a tough motherfucker, and a real fucking man.
That also means that when he hurts his back while lifting weights, there is no fucking way he can tell anyone. He doesn’t say no when Vigilante invites him to go do some crime fighting with him, puts on a brave face when Leota asks him for help helping her move in to her new place, and agrees to participate in a friendly spar with Harcourt. He only starts to limp when he’s sure no one else can see him.
He thinks that’s why you notice right away.
You show up at his dad’s place — fuck, his place, now — at 9 am on the dot on Friday, like you’ve done every week for the past three years. Auggie had hired you to do some housekeeping, a task he considered ‘a sissy’s job’ and beneath him, and Chris decided to wait until the contract ran out. Probably. He definitely didn’t enjoy having you walk through his house humming soft tunes, making him feel all domestic and shit.
You’re just so different from everyone in his life. You’re a civilian, for one, but there’s also something so much kinder about you. You’re just sweet to him. You listen, and you chat, and you tell him about insignificant shit, and for some reason he drinks it all up, because you— Because you—
Because you make him feel like a person.
Eagly screeches eagerly when you arrive. He remembers you from the years he spent in the garage, and also he knows you hide treat in your jacket’s pocket.
Chris isn’t sure why you keep doing that, since Eagly keeps tearing them open. He knows you stitch them back closed every time, though, and that Eagly loves tearing into things, so that’s a pretty huge fucking green flag in his book.
“I’ll let you do your thing,” he tells you as you start making your way around the house like you own it.
He notices your surprised glance. You’re used to Chris hovering behind you for everything you do, telling you stories that are supposed to impress you but are often just deeply sad, and making incredibly inappropriate jokes that you don’t think he knows are super questionable.
When he plops down on the couch, teeth tightly gritted to avoid grimacing with pain, you lean against the door frame, watching him quizzically.
“Did you hurt your back?” you ask, straight to the point.
He freezes. Shit. Had he limped? He might have limped. He hasn’t bothered to hide the pain in his house yet.
“Well, your back would hurt too if Guy-fucking-Gardner dropped you from the green-ass net he was carrying you in ‘cause he was trying to make you puke ‘cause he has a fucking fetish!”
You stare at him, unimpressed, and Eagly lets out a judgmental squawk. You glance at the bird for a second, before returning your attention to Chris, who’s totally not sweating about this. It’s not like it would be a big deal if you found out. You would just think that he’s total weakling who’s not worthy of kindness or attention or work and start treating him like the dumb fuck he is and tell the whole world that Peacemaker’s a little bitch and everyone would laugh at him and never want to talk to him again.
That’s fine. That’s totally fine.
“My back always hurts, Chris,” you say, “I work forty hour weeks doing physical labor. If I tried to lift one of those weights,” you point towards the corner of the room, “I’d end up in the hospital. Speaking of, think you could move them for me? I’m gonna need to vacuum over there.”
Chris swallows.
“Of course I can. What, think I can’t move my own weights? Ha, I could move five dozens of those all at the same time. I can lift a car, did you know that? I’ve lifted tons of cars before, actually!”
You nod patiently.
“Great, thank you.”
You’re not moving. Fuck. He’s going to have to do it with you watching. Locking his jaw tightly, he gets up far too slow. You don’t move a muscle. He rolls his shoulders as if to stretch, but has to stop when that movement sends a sharp stab through his spine.
“I’ll do it,” he says.
You smile. You’re so pretty when you smile. It makes your whole face look warm and welcoming and like you’re not looking at the lowest of the low but someone you might actually kinda not hate.
“Take your time.”
“Ha! I don’t need time. You won’t even notice me doing it because I’ll be going so fast.”
“Perfect.”
His stalling doesn’t seem to be working. Shit.
Now, he could pick up the weight while groaning with pain and grimacing and maybe crying a little bit, but he doesn’t want to do any of that while you’re watching. Instead, he squats, trying his best to keep his back upright, grips one singular 50 pounds weight with the tip of his fingers, and moves like a crab towards the closet where he usually keeps his workout gear.
“See?” he asks once he’s done. “I did that extra slow so you could see I’m really doing it. I’m gonna pick up the pace now. Maybe you can, like, start in the kitchen while I take care of that?”
You sigh, push yourself off the frame, and walk towards him.
“Alright, Chris. You can do it and you definitely did not injure your back and I fully believe you.”
He nods sharply.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“But I could give you a back massage to make you feel even better, if you’d like that. I’m not a professional or anything, but I’ve taken a bunch of classes on that.”
Chris pauses. Swallows. It says a lot about the pain he’s in that he’s just thinking about how nice it would be if that stopped, instead of his mind filling with images of nasty sex with you. It usually takes far less to get him hot and bothered. One time, you said ‘I should really make you my special pancake recipe one day’ and he had to go rub one off ‘cause that just sounded so nice.
“Wouldn’t that— Wouldn’t that be sexual harassment?” he asks.
You blink, and take a cautious step back. He has to fight the urge to grab your arm and bring you back to him. Fortunately, it’s not too hard, because even just thinking about doing that is painful.
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry. Did I make you feel sexually harassed?”
“Me? Ha, no way. No, I meant, for you.”
You stare, tilting your head to the side as you study him.
“…would it be sexual harassment if you said yes to me offering you to give you a massage?”
“Well, yeah. ‘Cause you work for me and shit.”
“I offered, Chris.”
“Yeah, but I mean, there’s still a power dynamic here, right?” Leota had spent a lot of time talking to him about that stuff. He hadn’t been paying a ton of attention, but some stuff had stuck. “Like, y’know, I feel like it’d be gross if I was my dad in that situation.”
You look thoughtful for a second, then grimace.
“No offense, but I think I would have taken too much joy in your father being in pain to offer to help him in any way. If anything, I would have put stuff on a shelf he couldn’t reach.”
“Fair enough,” he admits. “So…”
“I mean, if you’re uncomfortable—”
“I’m not uncomfortable. Who said I was uncomfortable? You’re the one who’s uncomfortable.”
Shit. That might be true. Was he right? Were you just projecting, or whatever Economos called it?
“Okay, big guy,” you just say, smiling at him. You’ve gotten good at not letting him distract you with all the stuff he throws at you when he doesn’t know how to react. “How about you take off that shirt and lie down on your bed? I’ll be here in a second.”
It’s actually so sad that he doesn’t even have it himself to be rock hard right now. Man. Pain fucking sucks. Can’t even get turned on at stuff that should really really get him going.
He does just as you told him, lying perfectly still, head buried in his pillow. He does that exclusively to facilitate your job, and totally not because he’s in horrible pain.
A few minutes later, you rap gently against the door, and he grunts as a way of salutation.
“You okay?” you ask.
Your voice is so soft when you ask the question, and it almost makes him want to be sincere. To see if you’d rub his back and tell him sweet nothings if he told you how fucked up he really is. To see if your kindness is truly unconditional, or if you’re just waiting for the right time to kick him where he’s weak and sneer at him like everyone ends up doing.
“Yeah,” he answers, voice just a little hoarse. “You can get started. If you want to. ‘cause I don’t need you to do that at all.”
“Hmm,” you reply, just fully ignoring him. “Sorry, I don’t have any massage oil on me.”
“That’s fine,” he tries to shrug but decides against it. “Who needs that any—”
Your fingers trailing over his back cut him off. You followed up his spine all the way to the nape of his neck, and Chris didn’t dare to move an inch. Your hands were a little rough, calloused from your job. You wore gloves a lot of the time, but they weren’t always convenient, and that meant that you still had to be in contact with aggressive products a lot of the time.
Still, it feels like the gentlest touch he’s ever received, and it makes his eyes water. There’s a part of him that wants to get up and move away from you because he doesn’t deserve such kindness. The overwhelming part of him chooses not to move. Because he’s a coward and a selfish asshole.
“Okay,” you say, squeezing his trapezius and starting to make you way back down his body, this time using the heel of your hand instead of your fingers. “You’re super tense. I guess you get injured a lot because of your work, huh?”
He never thinks about that. No one does. Adrian shows a little solicitude, but other than that, it’s just normal to put his body on the line to protect peace and freedom. He’s never questioned it, not even once.
And now, you ask him this one question, your tone laced with genuine concern, and he feels himself unravel.
Yes, he gets injured a lot at work. Yes, it fucking hurts. Yes, he’d like someone to comfort him and tell him he’s doing a good job, for once.
“All part of the job, baby,” he croons instead. “Someone’s gotta do it, right?”
“And aren’t we lucky you’re doing it,” you chuckle.
He feels a pang of… something. In his chest. It’s nice, but it’s so warm it’s threatening to burn a hole through his heart.
“You ever gotten a massage?” you ask him, still touching his back to try and figure out what you need to focus on — the answer, so far, seems to be that he is just one big block of tension and you can’t even tell his muscles apart from touching him. They might have fused together for all you know.
“Like in a spa or something? Nah. That’s for pussies. No offense.”
You shake your head. You don’t really have it in you to get upset when he says shit like that, even if it would be a major red flag coming from anyone else. After all, you’ve met his dad. As far as you’re concerned, it’s a miracle that Chris could grow up around a man like him and still genuinely want to do good.
Okay, yes, this ‘good’ involved murdering a bunch of people, which you’re not super cool with, but he’d been at least trying to change his ways, and that has to count for something, right? He’s saved the world and shit.
“I did get a massage from a prostitute once,” he adds, almost as an afterthought. “She put oil on her tits and used them on my back. I don’t think it did anything, though.”
You grimace at the image.
“Well, I’m not doing that.”
“Yeah, I– I didn’t think you would.”
He totally doesn’t sound disappointed.
“I’m gonna get started,” you warn him. “It might hurt a little bit, but warn me if it gets too painful, alright?”
“Ha. As if you could—”
You put both of your hands on the small of his back and push your thumbs into his skin on either sides of his spine to start massaging his lats, and he’s pretty sure the sound he lets out can only be described as an undignified moan.
After that, things get very, very hazy. On the one hand, you’re right that it hurts sometimes, when you press on a specific muscle that only agrees to relax itself kicking and screaming. On the other, the feeling he gets when the muscle does surrender and he can finally stop hurting is about as close to heaven as he thinks he’s ever felt. He’s floating through the bluest of blue skies, among the clouds, letting himself go wherever your hands take him.
You work in silence, kneading his back patiently. You work him until the painful knots dissolve under your skilled hands. On occasion, you have to use your elbow on him, because he’s so stiff you can barely can through to him. At first, he lets out pained groans, but these gradually quiet as you make your way up. His breathing evens, his chest rises and falls more freely. By the time you reach his trapezius, he’s gone completely limp. He doesn’t so much as stir when you get your fingers in his hair to massage his scalp, or when you use to fingers to rub his temples. He just lays there, still and slack-jawed.
You discover why a second later, when he starts to snore.
Moving on the other side of the bed, you discover him, indeed, blissfully asleep. The line on his forehead is almost gone for once, and though the corner of his mouth are downturned, making him look sad, he at least looks at peace. You don’t know if his methods are all that helpful in bringing peace to the planet, but you know for sure they haven’t brought any of that to him.
“Sleep tight, big guy,” you whisper, before grabbing his blanket and covering him with it. He’s earned it.
You close the door, walking out as quietly as you can, and find Eagly waiting for you.
Oh well, Chris is felt asleep. You can go for it.
You clear your throat, and let out a screech.
“You better not wake him up, dude.”
Eagly spreads his wings, screeching back.
“As if I would ever do anything to hurt him. You wouldn’t even have figured out anything if I hadn’t told you. You humans are so pathetically unobservant.”
You roll your eyes. This self-aggrandizing speech is so typical with bald eagles.
“So you won’t go in there even if you’re hungry? You promise.”
He looks visibly offended — don’t ask how a bald looks visibly offended. They just do.
“Me?? Of course not.”
He’s so obviously lying it’s your turn to get offended that he’d even think that would fly with you.
“I’m serious, let him sleep. He needs it.”
Eagly ignores you and waddles away, muttering under his breath. You take that as a ‘Yes, ma’am’, and exit the house as quietly as possible.
When Chris wakes up, it’s dark outside. He doesn’t even know how that could happen. You got there at nine, and he’d had a full night sleep — it’s not like him to take such a long nap, ‘cause, y’know, he ain’t a baby.
He sits up, groggy, mouth all dry and pasty. His back’s sore, but fuck, it’s night and day compared to how it was in the morning. He thinks back on the massage. Thinks about you pressing down on him, your hands all over his skin, how close to his ass you’d gotten, your warm breath over his neck, and— did he imagine it, or had you pulled on his hair a little bit when you’d gotten to his head? Fuck, just thinking about it, he—
Oh, fuck yeah. He’s rock hard. He is so back.
Well, he will be as soon as he’s jerked off, anyway. And he’mm try not to think about you, to not objectify you or whatever, but, uh, he’s not quite certain that’s gonna work out.
If he says your name when he comes, it’s just a coincidence for sure.
okay this feels good to get out of my system because when i tell you i've been obsessed with chris since i started watching peacemaker... there is a real lack of fics about him so i figured i'd add my humble stone to the edifice! i hope you all enjoyed this, please leave a comment to let me know your thougts. i truly feed from your interactions as a writer and i'd love to hear your feedback~ reblogs are greatly appreciated as well! thank you all for reading 💕
(this is the list for all my fics, or just comment on the fic you want to follow.)
Requests/Asks are 💌 Open!
Fandoms:
🖤 Peacemaker characters x reader (any gender I pretty much write fem but happy writing gn and male just specify in the request) Also open to peacemaker character x characters
🤍 I'm open to other DCU and Marvel x readers
🩵I'm also open to writing the Pitt characters x readers
Sometimes She Cries - 40 chapters | 273k | ao3 | slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, reader is a waitress at fennel fields, reader has an abusive husband, smut, sub Adrian, dom Vigilante.
Checking You Out- 18 chapters | 80k | ao3 | librarian! reader, stalking, psychopaths in love, Adrian Chase being Adrian Chase, voyeurism, masturbation, mutual pining.
You're a real keeper! 7 Chapters | 20k | ao3 | zoo keeper! reader, fluff, awkward crushes, mentions of past high school and workplace bullying, insecure! Adrian, mutual pining.
Never fight a man with a perm - 5 Chapters | 15k | ao3 | tattooed reader, hairdresser reader, smut, dnd references, sub Adrian, dom Vigilante.
Stack the deck - 1 Chapter | 9.3k | friends to lovers, mutual pining, awkward crushes/flirting, reader wears glasses, reader has big boobs, adrian is a boob guy, pokemon references, conventions, hotel rooms, sharing a bed.
Beanie babies retain their value if you don't blow them up. - 1 Chapter | 11k | fluff, birthdays, childhood friends, mutual crushes, misunderstandings, flashbacks, reader studies forensics, there is a gross college guy who tries to drug reader - vigilante takes care of him!
A Little Birdie Told Me - 4 Chapters | 11k | ao3 | agent reader, reader owns a bird, awkward crushes, office romance, checkmate setting.
Scout's Honor - 4 Chapter | 14k | ao3 | rivals to lovers, boy scout Adrian, girl scout reader, reunions, time skip, mutual pining, checkmate setting, competitive Adrian.
Up On Your Mistletoes- 3 chapters | 21k | ao3 | xmas themed fic, tall! reader, works at fennel fields as a chef, fluff, smut.
Money Honey - 1 chapter | 2.8k | ao3 | girlboss reader, loser bf Adrian, smut. (Trophy Husband can be treated as a sequel or on it's own)
Snitches Get Stitches - Chapter 3/? | 10k | ao3 | cosplay reader, reader owns a hobby craft shop, Adrian ruins his suit and asks for advice, crushes, misunderstandings, tsundere Adrian.
Red Flags and Long Nights - Chapter 1/? | 4.5k | ao3 | stalker! reader, nurse! reader, metahuman! reader, stalking, voyeurism, masturbation, pining, unrequited love, obsessive behavior, hospitals, medical procedures.
Earth-x! Adrian Chase x Fem!Reader:
Could Have Been Me - Chapter 1/? | 5.3k | ao3 | soul mates au, agent!reader, adrian sees reader platonically, earth-x! adrian falls in love first sight, kidnapping, adrian being adrian, mentions of earth-x, light angst, second chances.
Christopher Smith x fem! reader
Edge of a Broken Heart - Chapters 2/? | hurt, comfort, argus agent reader
DC petplay headcanons please???? omg??? also you've been feeding me so well thank u ‼️‼️‼️
DC characters and what kinda pet and owner they’d be
This took longer to write than I thought it would.
Let me know if I forgot somebody, lmao.
Bruce Wayne: 20/80 pet and owner. Bat or very well trained pup (German shepherd). Doesn’t give up control for the most part, but he has his moments where Bruce wants to give up control, and just be allowed to be your pet. Not a cruel owner but has rules, though he does enjoy you being bratty or just energetic. You sleep on a pet bed.
Dick Grayson: 45/55 pet and owner. Pup (energetic, intelligent breed) or leopard. He wants to be a pet more than he actually is, but Dick has a hard time letting himself just be. So how much he's pet, and owner may change one day, but for the most part it's that. How strict he is depends on his mood, so he's either very indulgent, or Bruce level strict.
Jason Todd: 80/20 pet and owner. Pup (fighting dog breed, think those pitbulls with big ass heads), raccoon, robin. Is a pup the majority of the time, but he’s got his gremlin moments where he's a raccoon, or when he’s in a special mood and is a robin. Bit of a meanie as an owner, like to tease you, make you do tricks and wear a muzzle. You do get to sleep in the bed though, and he always is cuddling you.
Tim Drake: 20/80 pet and owner: cat or red panda. Doesn't like being the pet most of the time, but when he does he wants to just be cuddled and pet. The kinda cat to wind around your legs and make you trip. Bruce level type of strict, and never trips up on referring to you as a pet or the animal you are. Will find human safe versions of animal treats to feed you.
Alfred Pennyworth: 10/90 pet and owner. Cat. Very calm cat, just kinda wants to relax and be pet (have you massage his joints, lmao). Very rarely goes full pet, most of the time it’ll just be some extra cuddling and extra petting when he’s the pet. Not overly indulgent as an owner, and does have strict rules to be followed. You can’t make him break, even with your strongest puppy eyes. But, he does make you homemade treats. If you were Bruces partner, then he’d play along with the dynamic you two have going on.
Clark Kent: 50/50 pet and owner. Big ol pup (golden retriever), lion, bull. Just a big guy who wants to not think, to flop around and be loved on. Loves belly rubs, no matter what animal he’s feeling like. Slobbers a lot. Is in a bull mood when he’s annoyed or angry, will charge at you... very good owner, the ‘go run’ kinda owner, lets you lose on the farm if you guys are there, alone, lmao. Tries to be strict but ends up overindulging you most of the time.
Conner Kent: 70/30 pet and owner. Very needy pup (Beagle or golden retriever), or moody wolf. Likes being the pet for the most part because he likes letting go, being wild, and just indulging in his animalistic urges. Very affectionate as a pup, a bit more moody as a wolf. The type of owner who likes to pamper you, dress you up, and take pictures. Will go get you a pupcup. Of course you’re allowed on the bed.
Oliver Queen: 30/70 pet and owner. Pup (pointer) or horse. Well trained pup, but does cling a lot. Even better trained horse is the very best at all the tricks and displays. Buys expensive and handmade gear, specifically for when he’s your horse. Also buys you expensive gear that fits perfectly and feels the best. Not as strict as Bruce, but also not lacking in rules and discipline. You may be able to whine your way into bed.
Roy Harper: 45/55 pet and owner. Fox, badger, or hyena. A bit of a chaotic pet at times, but also just likes burrowing under stuff, getting to wiggle around, and being rubbed behind the ears. Enjoys being the owner a bit more than the pet, but isn’t too over the top. Does expect you to listen to him though. Teaches you tricks, makes you sleep in a kennel about half the time.
Barry Allen: 40/60 pet and owner. Pup (greyhound) or just a cheetah in general. Just likes going fast, will run circles in the yard. Favorite activity is when you pet him (massage his legs). Very sloppy drinker when it comes to his bowl, you’ll find water on the floor. Nice owner and lets you run wild in the yard or in specific areas, will make sure you’re exhausted and worn out. Always carrying treats and water for you. You have a pet bed, but always pats the bed during the night to make you join him.
Wally West: 65/35 pet and owner. Cheetah, cat or just feline in general. Like any other speedster, just wants to go fast. Knocks bottles off the table, and then rubs against your ankles until you fall over. Makes you think you can rub his belly, and then strikes. Lays on top of you and purrs loudly. Let's you wear yourself out when you’re the pet, and is always open to play or just cuddle. Let's you eat out of his hand.
Bart Allen: 70/30 pet and owner. Pup (mutt), dingo or hedgehog. Very affectionate and energetic pup, more chaotic as a dingo and will steal your shoes or blanket. Is more quiet and low energy as a hedgehog, just wants to be wrapped up in a blanket and fed gummy worms. High energy owner, doesn’t have many rules and will feed you from his plate and let you bite and roll around. And let’s you sleep on his bed and on the couch. There are limits though, and you know this.
Hal Jordan: 60/40 pet and owner. Wolf or otter. Depends a bit on the day and what mood he's in. Wants more structure and for you to be a little stricter when he’s a wolf, growls and nips a lot. More on the silly side as an otter, wants to cuddle and play. Makes you sleep in a crate or a pet bed when he’s the owner, and makes sure you follow the few rules you guys have. Finds your begging adorable.
Guy Gardner: 90/10 pet and owner. Dog (some big dumb breed), horse, tiger. A pup majority of the time but he’s got his moments. Horse is when he just needs to completely give up control and be ordered around, wants to be hit with a crop and corrected. Tiger is when he’s feeling extra heated and his blood is rushing. Owner very rarely, very indulgent owner and lets you on all the furniture, rolls around on the floor with you, and gets you all messy.
J’onn J’onnz: 10/90 pet and owner. He has no real animal he prefers, and it changes from time to time, but can easily shapeshift. Doesn't enjoy being the pet a good chunk of the time, but does enjoy giving up control from time to time. Likes being the owner and is a kind but strict owner. It's so hard to misbehave around him, as J’onn can hear your thoughts loud and clear. Won't let you speak as a pet, and might even tell you to make your thoughts more animal in nature, to really get you into that headspace.
Garfield Logan: 85/15 pet and owner. Has no specific animal he prefers, as he feels a bond with pretty much every animal. Shapeshifts his body instead or using gear, aka giving himself animal ears, a tail, maybe even a tongue, paws, etc. Enjoys getting to just be an animal and run wild, and is able to eat the exact diet of whatever animal he’s feeling like. Does beg a lot, and will scent you like crazy. Has nothing against being the owner. Garfield makes it so easy to get into headspace, as he just knows what works and what would indulge in those ‘instincts’.
Michael Jon Carter: 95/5 pet and owner. Pup (poodle, cocker spaniel), horse. Likes to be pampered and shown off, the kinda pet you can take to pet play events, be it pup or horse play. Always so well-groomed and likes to show off, preens under praise and will demand pets and treats. Finds less enjoyment in being the owner, but happily does it if it’s what you need. Will use this time dressing you up in all his gear and ‘petfits’ aka his pet play outfits.
Christopher Smith: 75/25 pet and owner. I don’t think he’s figured out what animal he prefers yet, but does like being some kinda canine. Has tried eagle or other birds, but it didn’t do it for him. It's been very hard for Chris to accept parts of himself, but he discovered that being a pet silences a lot of the stress in his body. A good chunk of the time you’ll just find him kneeling in nothing but a collar, and that’s all he needs. As well as a few pets. Still a bit awkward, even as an owner, but just treats you like he would any pet. Wants to be tough and not allow you to run circles around him, but poor Chris melts when you whine and beg.
Adrian Chase: 85/15 pet and owner. Very energetic pup (terrier), reptile, rodent. A bit broad in what animal he prefers to be, and you’ll find him all over the place. Has tried to chase actual squirrels before, and whined like crazy when you didn’t allow it. Such a sucker for pets and kisses, always nipping and pawing at you. Likes to burrow under blankets and hide away in dark places as a reptile or rodent, eating snacks and all that. Surprisingly good owner, has done a lot of research, and treats you very more like an animal when it is.
Darkseid: 0/100 pet and owner. Lol, he would never be submissive or a pet to you. Big chance you aren’t even some kinda animal, you’re just his human pet. Hope you enjoy that. Has strict rules, tough punishments, but also sits you in his lap and pets you like a bond villain.
Slade Wilson: 10/90 pet and owner. Wolf, lion, little bit of dragon. Very rough and possessive as a pet. Will growl and nip at you, wants you to stay close and wants to be rubbed and eat from your hand. Very strict owner, the kind to make you wear a shock collar and sleep in a kennel. Feeds you from a bowl on the floor. The kinda owner to lock you in your kennel and spray you down with a hose when you misbehave. Always makes sure you aren’t too hurt though, and rubs you down and lets you sleep at his feet every now and then.
Ra’s Al Ghul: 5/95 pet and owner. Big regal tiger, or just a feline in general. It's very very rare for him to be the pet, and I can only see it happen if he sees you as his equal and true love. Very quiet when he is, and kinda just wants to lay and lord over you and be admired. Strict owner but also pampers you like crazy, you are covered in riches and it’s clear you’re his priced pet. Will give you tough punishments, but lets you cuddle in his lap afterwards. Yes, heroes know about you. And yes, multiple heroes have encountered Ra’s with you curled up in his lap, bond villain style.
Harvey Dent: 50/50 pet and owner. Harvey is a rabbit or a horse. Two face is a hyena or a lynx. Harvey is a pet more of the time than Two face, but they both have discovered how nice it feels. Harvey is cuddly and listens to orders well. Two face is more chaotic and has to be forced to submit every now and then. Both are fair owners, that much they can agree on. All your gear is split down the middle like his color scheme. Harvey will let you sleep at his feet and feeds you from his hand. Two Face makes you sleep on a pet bed, and eat out of bowls. And yes, another person who will pet you like a bond villain.
Ummmm…. comforting Chris after the events of the season finale? Giving him a lil smooch? Hell yeah
PAIRING -> Christopher Smith x Gn!reader
SUMMARY -> Comforting him after a very, very long night.
I enjoyed writing this 😛
The two of you were sat on his bed. You had a wet cloth in your hand, patting gently around the cuts to clean off the dried blood. Your other hand held the side of his face, making sure he was still. Chris was quiet, surprisingly. Just letting you do what you needed to do while he looked at you the whole time. Though when you accidentally grazed a harsh gash, his eyes closed for a moment as he winced. “Shit, I’m sorry,” you whispered. He hummed in response.
Once you were done patching him up, you got in the shower. Scrubbing your body to get rid off all the dirt, blood, sweat and whatever else was on you. You were in there for quite a while, taking your sweet time and making sure you got everything. After about five more minutes you decided you were good. Reaching, you shut off the water and proceeded to get out. Water dripped and soaked into the mat beneath your feet. It came to a stop when you started to dry yourself off with a towel. Halfway through, the door to the bathroom opened. You didn’t really react, knowing that the only person in the place was Chris. Or at least you hoped so.
Anyway, Chris walked in, shutting the door behind him then stopping to stare at you. Admiring you for a bit before continuing on. As you were about to walk by him he stopped you. “Can you stay in here with me?” The events that happened a few hours ago must’ve taken a toll on him by a lot. He seemed a bit down, you couldn’t blame him. “You don’t have to get back in the shower or anything.” He reassured.
“Yeah, just give me a moment to get dressed.” You answered, starting to move your feet toward the door. As you put on clothes Chris got into the shower. And within a few minutes you were back into the bathroom finding a place for you to sit as he washed up.
You decided to sit on the toilet seat with the lid closed. It was silent at first, then as a few seconds went by one of you started up a conversation. The two of you talked, and talked, and talked as he showered. Time seemed to fly by and soon he was almost done. Chris wasn’t really in the mood for jokes or any of his usual remarks, only wanting to get this shower over with and lay in bed with you. Which ended up happening. The moment he got out, dried himself off, and got dressed, he followed you like a lost puppy to bed. You both agreed on a movie, then got under the blankets, intertwined or curled up next to each other in some way. You’d press kisses to the areas of his face you could reach, murmur positive things into his ear, and cuddle him till the both of you fell asleep.
