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??).
