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My Week With Everyone	By : Ksennin Category: DC Verse Comics > Justice League Views: 21681 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any characters in the Justice League franchise. I make no money from publishing this work.

Chapter List
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Ted couldn’t sleep. Obviously, there was no way he could go back to work after that, so he clocked out early, went back home, and tried to catch up on his DVR. He ended up watching the same episode of Parks & Rec five times, always sure he would be paying attention this time. Finally, he gave up, went to the fridge, grabbed a beer—weren’t there studies about beer being good for your heart?—and drank the whole bottle in one chug.
He decided it was adrenaline. You heard about it all the time. Nightwing and Huntress being so energized after catching the Riddler—or some other, more romantic villain—that they just had to rip each other’s clothes off and go to town on the nearest rooftop. Sure, that was mostly in the same tabloids that claimed Ms. Martian was really a White Martian, but they had to be right some of the time. He’d just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Hell, if he’d been able to just grab a fawning admirer off the streets as a superhero and get down to bone, he’d probably still be the Blue Beetle. It helped if you had fawning admirers in the first place…
Now he laid in bed, three beers in him, staring at the ceiling. He shouldn’t get hung up on this. It wasn’t like they were in a relationship. It was just a quickie, a hook-up, like all the kids do these days. She’d probably already forgotten what he looked like.
So he would include a signed photo when he sent some chocolates to her. Crap, she’d already used ‘thanks for a magical evening,’ that would’ve made for a perfect signature!
Abruptly, Ted wasn’t looking at the water damage in his ceiling anymore. He was looking at the gimp who was looming over him. A gimp with a great body, slender and feminine with a great set of small, well-formed breasts denting her chest’s costuming, but still. Ted had seen enough horror movies to know waking up in the middle of the night and people in skintight leather did not make a happy equation. Cripes, she was wearing some sort of stitched together mask that covered her entire face, her lips sewn shut, her eyes just blank black lenses!
“Are you gonna rape me?” he asked the horror movie. “I know I prance around in a lot of skimpy outfits and I’m a little drunk, but that’s no excuse!”
She stared at him with an obvious air of incomprehension. Then she pointed at her chest. There was a yellow Bat-symbol there. “Batgirl,” she announced in a voice strangled by a thick Cantonese accent.
Oh. Yeah. He’d heard Batman had gotten a new one. Be easier to recognize her if he didn’t keep to that urban legend thing like he hadn’t stopped half-a-dozen alien invasions. People must have short memories in Gotham.
“Oh, uh, hey. Is this about Zatanna? Because I wasn’t planning to bother her or tell anyone what happened, honest. Our little secret. She doesn’t have to send someone to rape me!”
“Not… rapist,” she labored out. Then she took her mask off. She was a dark-haired girl, Asiatic, her face fuller than her slim physique would suggest—apple-cheeked—cute. Hair cut short, straight and black, combed back from her forehead in a windswept concession to her cowl. An X-shaped scar was healing on one cheek; another led down from her neck and disappeared into her costume. And she was as Asian as her accent had suggested, with tan skin and full, dark eyes. Young, too. Like, she-should-be-in-college young.
Teenage Asian girl in skintight bondage gear? Ted knew Gotham had Catwoman—and Poison Ivy—and Harley Quinn—all three of them, really—but c’mon! It wasn’t like Ted had found the first bisexual redhead supermodel in the Yellow Pages and made her Beetle Girl. Wait, could he have?
Batgirl was still fixated on him. He got the impression she could see right through him—like most women. “Okay, you’re not going to rape me,” Ted said, hoping he didn’t sound disappointed. “What are you doing here, then? Are you investigating something? Asking me to join the Outsiders? What, what is it? Whaddyawant?”
“Penis.” She pulled his sheets down his chest, off his pajama bottoms. Looked down at his crotch. With a quick, decisive motion, she grabbed hold and began to stroke. Ted groaned—that leather was cold, but in a nice sort of way. In a few moments, she had him poking out of his lowered bottoms. “Big penis.”
“So,” Ted grinned smugly, “I guess Zee gave me a glowing recommendation!”
“Who?”
“Zee. Zatanna. Sorcerer? Super-cute, fishnet stockings?”
Batgirl continued to pump him, her face blank with confusion. “…Black Canary?”
“No. Forget it.”
“Yes,” she agreed, her free hand going to her yellow belt. As soon as she snapped the buckle, its many heavy pouches dragged it down along with her pants. She stepped out of them. Her legs bare, long and strong, tattooed with many tiny scars. Some not so tiny. But then he looked up and saw that she wasn’t wearing panties. Probably in a vending machine somewhere, he thought, before chiding himself for being racist. He didn’t even know if she was Japanese, she could be Vietnamese or Chinese or—
In an acrobatic display as quick as any Olympic event, Batgirl vaulted onto the bed and seated herself on his now erect cock. She bit her lip, her eyes flaring, but soon had him well-inserted into her. He actually moaned at how tight she was. Fucking Taiwanese women!
“Fuck,” Batgirl said, as concise as ever. “Fuck,” she told him again, and Ted realized it was an instruction. In the superhero world, you always did what a Bat told you. Especially when they were an Asian, teenage girl Bat. In skintight black leather.
He reached up and grabbed her breasts right through the yellow symbol—oh God, never let Batman find out about that—and found them good in his hands, swelling, warming right through the leather. Batgirl looked down at his groping hands with her usual mask of consternation, but she soon warmed to his touch. Her lips quirked. She made a tiny ‘mmm’ noise like she had smelled chocolate.
Ted rose up—he really should do more sit-ups, it shouldn’t be that hard—and kissed her. She complied passionately, if a little clumsily—a little nervous, even. Ted guessed they didn’t have much time for a dating life, up in Gotham. He stroked her hair, trying to reassure her, but she grabbed his hand and brusquely moved it back to her breast.
“Fuck,” she repeated. “Now.”
Well, she asked for it. Expecting to be knocked out and wake up dangling from a rooftop at any moment, Ted wheeled her around and lowered her so she was on her beck. Him on top of her, his prick digging into her waiting cunt. Her eyes fluttered closed, encased in a mask of pure lust. Teenage Asian submissive in skintight bondage gear. What was next, a lesbian fling with a cute blonde? How this girl wasn’t up there on all those internet polls Ted never participated in with Power Girl and Wonder Woman was beyond him.
Batgirl locked her legs around his back. Ted found it worryingly impossible to move. Her legs and sex were holding him way too tightly. Not that he minded, being imprisoned by the delicious muscles of her sex, grinding his hard shaft with warmth and wetness.
“Fuck!” she insisted, which… he was. “Hard!”
Ted looked down at the girl, trembling and writhing under him. Shit, he wasn’t wearing a condom again. He was going to have to put one on twenty-four-seven. Or get a vasectomy. Fuck it, she was a Bat. If she could have contingency plans for Clayface, she’d certainly be on the pill. He drove his cock down all the way to batter every inch of her soft, hot sex. She gasped, the noise shatteringly loud in the quiet night, and her legs flew straight up. She kissed him, he kissed her back, finding her even more receptive as he slammed her cunt hard.
“Good!” she shrieked in ecstasy. “Good! Good! Good!”
Maybe if they ever went on a second date, he’d give her flowers and a thesaurus. He knew Bats didn’t need much of a vocabulary beyond “where,” “drugs,” and “justice,” but this was ridiculous. Yeah, Ted, that’s the part that’s ridiculous. Her word bank.
He had set a steady rhythm now, powering into her with increasing speed, his balls slapping against her muscle-hard ass hard enough to spank. Little gasps of pleasure escaped her, but he had to strain to hear them over the smacking of their bodies. It was worth the effort.
Suddenly Batgirl’s body stiffened, back arched and head flung back in pleasure. Like a woman possessed, her body lunged forward against him before it froze completely rigid. Her legs clamped so tightly around him that Ted could feel his bones creak, but more importantly, he could feel her cunt throbbing, pulsing with life—then a sharp sense of wetness as it flooded with orgasm.
“Give!” she screamed. “Give! Give me! Give!”
He pumped into her as best he could, but his balls were aching with cum. He knew he would have to finish soon, and she knew it too. After a fresh wave of wetness splattered against his groin, she pulled him tight to her chest, her arms as strong as her legs.
“Come!” she whimpered in his ear.
He grabbed her hardened ass, a scar under one palm, and thrust into her as hard as he could, a half-dozen blows to her open cunt that had the bedframe cracking underneath her. Then his cock was jerking spasmodically. It was over.
“With me!” she cheered, her body tensing for one last orgasm to rip through it. He lunged into her saturated cunt once more and made it even wetter, firing a good three, four bursts of jizz to put out her burning pussy. It wasn’t nearly as much as he’d given Zatanna, but after depleting his reserves a few hours ago, he thought it was more than enough.
He rolled them over, holding Batgirl tightly on top of him as they both shuddered with the last of their shared climax. He breathed in little gasps, her own tiny breaths in counterpoint. Her hair was even more disheveled than before, festooned with sweat to burst out in a dozen direction. He brushed it out of her eyes, then turned her face so he could see them.
“How was it?” he asked.
“…big,” she replied at length.
He really hoped she wasn’t talking about his stomach.
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My Week With Everyone