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Chapter Text

The old couch creaked when Harley spread her legs, with each knee high enough to be stroked by the polish of the windowsill. The string tying the curtains open trailed on her neck, just how she needed it -- now only if it could bite.

As Harley shoved the banana in, it gushed all over her velvet folds like a pool of cum. The juices wouldn’t let up despite her crack already having been slick from the start. The sweet smell of pussy became overridden by the banana as it was destroyed by her tight hole and clenched fist. She could even taste it every time her mouth pulsed open with each moan. 

A thick, lubed piece of banana gushed down her inner hip and nestled between her ass and the couch. It wouldn’t survive long with all her thrusting. The squeaking, the thudding of her feet against the coffee table, the ol’ lady downstairs screaming some malarkey about how it's been four hours, “I know what you’re doing up there!” was just a typical Saturday on probation. 

Another piece of banana came down. Apparently many, as it started to rain slimy kisses all over her thigh, swooping up inside her delicate knee… Up and up, around her kneecap.

Up??

Harley’s lips came together in a pout. She looked down between her legs. under her knee was the snout of a mutt. 

“Brucey!”

The hyena’s tongue slopped up one more lick of this morning's salami grease. 

"You fucking nut!" Her foot swung through the air and slammed into the wall. Bruce jumped out of his fur, right into her line of fire, and got a heel to the nose. 

"Only Mistah J can do that!”

Bruce hunched with a jingle off his collar. His whines rumbled on her other leg as he stole a smear of bratwurst grease from after her shower the night before. 

"Go away!" She threw her hand out past the arm of the couch. He still wasn’t letting up, so she whipped the banana down. It hit the floor with the same hot schlick that echoed through the room as she sat forward on her wet vulva. The juices poured out onto the ol’ lady’s chair, making the dainty embroidered flowers as ruined as her swollen pussy. 

Now only if she could get it as ruined as Mistah J would if he were there.

She gave a sighat the window, dramatic and playful, though it did come from the same place as depression. Watching the city go by atop her beautiful reflection in the window was just a big old tease. And not her favorite kind.

The shop down the street no longer had those cigars as big as two of Mistah J's fingers but small enough for Harley to sneak into her pockets and run out with. The corner shop attached to the KwikMart had plenty of stupid dildo things that didn't even work. The sausages at KwikMart itself were too perishable to reuse for dinner -- at least for her, Bruce didn't mind. And, believe her, she did go to that trash shop in the other side of the KwikMart and ask for something that was like a mouth, and the closest she got was those whitening strip things. There was nothing to regret about not trying those, because the most they could do was be little nipple pasties if she were to use an entire box on her areola. 

But not as good as those command strips that she'd attached to her nips and clipped pinball bells onto, which had definitely surprised Batman during the heist at the jeweller's, and made Joker fall in love with her all over again under the stars at Gotham Central Park.

Mistah J always had great ideas, great ideals to strive towards  -- don't credit her for being crazy enough to try them, he was always the one to surprise her with something to the mouth. 

Laying in this old lady's living room was… Crickets. Things simply couldn't be any more difficult. Especially with a hungry, rowdy, desperate baby hyena crawling all over her.

She turned to Bruce. Her eyes squinted. Upon the jingling, she closed in on the fat strip of leather around his neck.

"Let me borrow that!" 

Before Bruce could even brace himself, her sticky fingers were mangled in his fur. She got to work tugging the collar around to find the buckle. She pried her lubed thighs apart so she could stand up and wrestle him around. 

The buckle was rough, plated with a layer of rust that was corroded enough for her to need to get her screwdriver from the potted plant. "Come on!!!" She drove the tip into the rust. Dirt and soil got caked up near the latch from how hard she had to dig -- the once sticky but wiggly hinge had become stiff in place from Brucey rolling in mud and sitting in the rain so much. It was oddly satisfying to find that jabbing it with the screwdriver had created so many knicks in the leather and metal that it became sharp on her fingers.

"As a matter of fact…" she swung the collar around, blasting a vase off the table, taking a chunk off the table, scratching the wall. She smiled harder each time a whip echoed through the room. "Mama's going for a walk. You stay here."

Bruce pulled up a profile of one of the terrorists on the main screen. The other screens were downloading data and hacking into the servers, but it would be done in no time and he could pull up something to keep Barbara Gordon busy:

"I said no, Barbara." No matter how much she badgered him to let her go out on her own mission while these terrorists were running free in Gotham, Bruce had plenty experience dealing with whiny teenagers and he wasn't going to give in.

Barbara messing around with armory and other equipment wasn't getting her any further.

Batgirl moved away from the satellite computer she wasn't even supposed to be around, so Bruce would have no choice but to see the flashing red bullseye on the map only a few miles away. "It's nuts out there. Who knows how it’s gonna turn out if we let an entire warehouse go-"

"If you want to work together, you need to stick to the plan."

"What plan?" Her hand went to her hip, rubbing the thin neoprene of her gloves against her leather. "The Joker's back in the slammer. He sure as hell ain't staying there, which only adds to my point -- so what's gonna happen? What's wrong with getting ahead a little?"

Alfred sat upon his stool at the workstation. He couldn't hold his peace. He had no choice but to say, "Master Wayne, if this is about a warehouse, don't you think it would be wise to check up on Mr Allen?"

Batgirl smiled. "Yeah, Bruce." A rush went through her belly, a thrill that was heavy enough to leave a little tingle in her vulva.

Bruce challenged her with a raised eyebrow. "That doesn't mean go, Barbara." The girl knew full well Bruce could handle it in a matter of seconds if something were to happen to Barry Allen, and that was if Barry could not handle things in a fraction of that time.

Alfred stuttered, putting the cowl and all of his tools back down on his desk. "Babs, might we get some milk and cookies? You really ought to get a snack, perhaps some supper?" She and Alfred both knew that this was not an actual question, just Alfred's way of telling her to go upstairs. She wasn't a good girl who needed some sweets after a long day of work. This was the fourth day of them going back and forth all night while waiting for the Batcomputer to flash with a "SCAN COMPLETE".

Now the screen was taken over by static, and zipped to pitch black. The others were about to load the servers when they were kicked off and now it was back to square one. Bruce was about to be here all night

Batgirl snarked towards him with a raised brow. "What are we even doing? Clearly you're busy. I can go figure this one out."

Bruce's fist slammed down on the desk. The cracking echoed throughout the entire cave. "No!" His voice was overcome with a growl. "You are staying here, and that's final!" 

Both the brat's hands were on her hips as they sassed around. "Why?"

"I said so." 

Say-so wasn't enough for her, but if Bruce were to try to reason with her, she would have more ammo to argue or create a reason to ditch this place.

"No arguments, Barbara. Go get rest, and I'll have Alfred take you home in an hour so you can get sleep. You have a test tomorrow."

Little did this 19-year-old know that once she took to the hallway window, put her foot out the windowsill and straddled the knotted sheets, it would be the last time her thighs touched for six months.

She got to the ground. Her small gloved hand slid down the sheets and with a tug, shot them back up. They didn't go in the window as far as she planned and still hung out but it was enough to not notice from the courtyard or driveway.

"Aha!" She gave a naughty laugh. Though, she had to disappear fast. She went in stealth mode, straight down to her hands and knees so that her boot wedges wouldn't hit the ground.

Her little pussy fluttered against the leather of her suit, as the scene washed through her head. Bruce was wrong, oh, was he so fucking wrong. The minute she got in that warehouse, those bitches would be up the wall and the only chill running over her would be under her glove as the blood ran down. And it would be on Bruce to admit that she was capable, she could hold her own.

Chapter Text

As right as right could be. Barbara gave a naughty smile down the ally, at the line of inmates she created, stretching from the alleyway to the doors of the warehouse.

A few of the Arkham bitches were a struggle, she had to admit, but a few heels to the gut is oftentimes the answer. Her knuckles weren't red exactly, or at least the gloves. The burn radiated through her hand and some stretches were in order, discreet ones of course.

At a glance, she noticed the broken lock on the warehouse door as it creaked open.

A smile came on her face. With a hand on her hip she was about to bust a bitch on a robbery or vandalism.

"Alright, what'd you guys ransack? Or try to, at least?" 

She didn't need to sneak in, she walked through the doors with her knuckles on display.

To her surprise, the shadows had no mess to hide. The smell of mildew was drying up as it wasn't accompanied by dripping. The scratched metal shelves that drew 8 ft up were still cramped with their boxes but also still and unbothered like a photo.

Except, Barbara heard the little creak.

She demanded, "Alright, I know you're there! Come out and get me!!"

This would be the last time she got what she wanted, and it would be directly to instruction.

A smack echoed and she found herself on the floor, mounted to her knees with a moan.

"Hiya, ya Brat!" Harley Quinn screamed.

It was no use for Barbara to fight back. Even when she got to her knees, the lovely Miss Harley Quinn was over two feet taller than her and much heavier due to her curves. It didn't take long for Harley to have the girl's hands fixed behind her back, sandwiched between her and Harley.

In one of Harley's hands was a serrated pocket knife. She had no hesitation putting it to Barbara's throat and making her gag.

Barbara had no choice but to give in. She fought it with demands of "Let me go!" while she tried to not succumb to the anxious tingling spreading through her pussy.

Harley instantly shut her down. "Shut it, ya freak!" Her other hand went to the back of Barbara's head to ravel hair into her fingers, and made the girl moan with a good clutch. Barbara's hair was yanked as she frantically fought her restraints, and Harley only grabbed more.

Barbara's groan echoed down the hallway. It was louder than Harley's giggling fit, but it wouldn't matter among the only witnesses, who were lined down the alley and entryway succumbing to tunnel vision.

Harley pushed the blade further. She screamed in Barbara's face, but all Barbara could pay attention to was the inmate who was peeking through the doors. Also peeking, out of the frayed glory hole of his jumpsuit, was his dribbling cock head.

How dare he! What a pig! Barbara clamped her lips shut and let the lip gloss glue them together. She wouldn't scream -- despite her eyes going wide like saucers, she would not give him satisfaction.

Harley yanked back, and, with the squint of an eye like an archer, let go. 

The wind was whipped from Barbara. She watched the floor race forward, and, the next thing she knew, her head was surrendered down. Her moan vibrated off the knife as it caught her throat.

With that, the ridges of the frayed rust clamped her throat. She knew better than to move, but she couldn't help herself. She had to grind, against the hard steel, grind against Harley's bouncing tits, grind her own little tits against Harley's arm as her Domme held onto her, grind, grind.

Harley held tighter, upon reflex of feeling the girl's nipples begin to grow like rosebuds. It was a race, the right was a little faster though the left one picked up the pace and ultimately outdid the other. Shame on the girl for not being a proper lady and not wearing a bra, regardless of her mobility or the time saved, Harley wouldn't know. But it really didn't matter.

Barbara's a good girl, a smart one at that, and she's learned the smell of blood, though the biting of the blade sent too many goosebumps down her rust-smeared neck, so there was no way to assess the damage. Autonomy was no longer in Barbara's court.

As her neck was paralyzed with fatigue, her Domme took an opportunity. She grabbed the girl's hair and yanked her head back up. This time, Barbara's head fell back down, but into a leather trap.

Barbara thrashed around, despite not realizing the collar had already been secured on her neck. As a matter of fact, directly under her chin, and thick enough to lock her head a few inches up, at a perfect height for seeing her Mistress at eye level at any given time. Any attempt to do anything other than groan through her locked jaw resulted in a scraping and beating from the cracked leather, or severe beating if that was what she wanted.

The buckle coming together on the back of her neck was the end of it all. It nearly pinched the skin as Harley fought it on.

"Oh, look at your pretty necklace! Look at my pretty girl!" But Harley only smiled, because the both of them knew what the thing really was. Even the inmates who were still conscious, at least three, didn't bother to hold back their laughter. And that's what made it fun!

However, Harley hated to say, party was over. Barbara had to go home.

"Quit ya whining, let's go! Come on! No need to get your panties in a bunch! That is, If you even wearing any."

And the opposite was proven evident when Barbara's pussy trickled, and the hem that was pulled tight between her puffy cheeks got a spot in them. Her ass tingled and reflexively puckered up, which only made the stream stronger. In no time, her compression wear was clinging tight enough to outline everything. There were even pussy imprints on the floor, starting out like little flower petals but easily turning into big loud smooches as Harley dragged her out.

"Big old Batman was a bad boy, and you were a bad girl for him. You get what ya get--" With a moan, Harley forced Barbara up over the threshold. "and ya don't throw a fit.”

Chapter Text

It was the drag down the alley that should've made Barbara realize. Nobody was coming for her.

All her brutality over the years has further enabled the police car at the end of the alleyway to just sit, with enough donuts and open boxes on the dashboard to gloss up the windshield in icing. Enough coffee for the officer in the passenger side to accidentally dribble some down his chin, and commence the first world problem that would distract him from the body being hoisted.

Commence her own first world problem. A grumbling stomach. 

And even emptier than her stomach was the sky above, as large as the world and visible to all, with no vantage points as far as her trained eye could see.

No, that fear was silly. The leather around her neck and red and pink striped tape pressed between her puffed cheeks were only instigating her survival instinct. Silly Barbara. Someone's always been there for her, whether it was during a little mugging she wasn't allowed to take on for some reason or even that wild pursuit through the sewers despite Bruce insisting that Killer Croc was gone, probably just to protect her or whatever. Actually, to be real: She didn't need him to come in, she didn't need a big worry wart, feat. Alfred, who should have known better, enabling him. If they could sit back and watch her go through a training simulation, even the one where she had gotten severely hurt from plunging to the floor before getting completely ignored, and especially watch all of those ones where she's succeeded without a single congratulation, which is every time, then what place did they have here? Hypocrites. Was that even the right word?

A pair of screeching doors interrupted her. Paired with the trademark humming of Harley Quinn, echoing through the darkness, and bouncing off two slate gray walls. Barbara instantly recognized it, from the fluorescent beams hanging on chains to the caution lines painted at the various checkpoints, the very articulate graffiti on the pillars, to the few shelves plastered high up the walls between her favorite vantage points -- this was not only a stimulation, but the room she's won in every time.

Well, sans whatever the hell just happened before, the question how she got here, these props that were too kinky for Bruce's sake or even Selena's sake back when she was trying to help. Or even Harley, who she was 90% sure Bruce would only allow to help in an emergency case. But it was whatever, this was a level 15 simulation that Barbara had finally deserved. Barbara was right.

Harley hoisted her past the pillars. And Barbara would let the scrapes down her back grind on the cement as her plump ass jiggled with a sweaty path. It was even better when Harley went all out. Barbara could play dumb and build up her strength as Harley forced her up against the pillar like a limp baby doll. Harley's hand came up to show the massive studs on her glove, right before administering a good old smack to stun the girl. And another straight to her mouth for good measure, hard enough to help the girl's fidgeting lips work the tape off. And one across her chest, simply because it was fun, to see the perky little breasts bounce to the side and give a little jiggle before the budding nipples, now harder, got caught up by the spandex.

Barbara's mouth instinctively fell open just from the surprise. She was used to joking around with her friends, even her boyfriend Luke, and she was no stranger to being tit slapped by horny thugs or crackheads who needed cheap defense…but... There's something about Harley. This special willpower where she'll do anything to have fun, although her wants are not clear, sometimes an endgame doesn't even matter to her. Harley's mad laughter was having fun, but for what?

By the time Harley undid her own belt and kneeled down on the floor, that wasn't relevant. Now it was time to collect Barbara's hands, force them high above her head, high enough to completely straighten her out and prop her cute breasts out fully exposed to the chill and whatever else may be in store. Harley was quick to get the belt around Barbara's wrists and the pillar, as she wasn't too worried about detail due to this only being temporary, which was rather unfortunate because of how well Barbara took to it.

Harley's breasts were also well taken, as she pressed herself into the poor girl's face and the giant knockers poured past Barbara's cheeks and around her chin. On second thought, Harley would take some time to readjust the stubborn belt buckle a little bit tighter, and smear her breasts up and down, all around. Barbara's soft lips were perfect between the cleavage that had been packed together so tight for so long, with the sweet but wretched sweat that was still slightly moist. The edges of Barbara's cowl seemed to be made for just the occasion, as grinding against the dips and grooves was treating Harley's nipples with little orgasmic jolts. It paired perfectly with the tiny vibrations of Barbara's grunting and the slight shaking from Barbara when wiggling her fingers around wasn't enough to take the pressure off.

The girl's voice was instantly more demanding than usual, now as squeaky as it was back when she was a teenager. Broken up with little gasps. "Ah… Uh… No! Uh! Stop… ew… Hrmm no ughwhatquit…"

Harley pressed in even further. She leaned up higher, trying to pull the belt as tight as it would possibly give. The leather split with more cracks against Barbara's wrists and straight through her gloves. Harley's moans outdid Barbara's suffocated excuse for begs. But something overpowered both of them.

From the opposite side of this warehouse, echoed the signature door squeak. Followed by a slam, rattle of chains, and a man's wheezing cough. Some sort of music, although very faint, accompanied by David Bowie's voice from headphones that were far too loud. Then Barbara heard the footsteps, so far, yet closer and closer.

Harley backed off Barbara. "Shut yer yap!"

Barbara found two hands forcing the now Dusty piece of tape back on. Harley pressed her mouth shut with an overwhelming smell of sweat, leather, and… was that pussy? And banana?

Chapter Text

A sudden flash of light sparked through the other side of the warehouse, followed by more glare than the Batcave. Too many screens to count, some littered with technical nonsense, one with BoJack Horseman, one running some K-pop video, and the smaller one above them showcasing very lewd thumbnails on the front page of a site Barbara has surprisingly never even heard of.

A desk and glass table were blurry in the distance. A swivel lamp illuminated various tools from clamps to wedges, fidget toys, and what appeared to be little lancet needles. It was all swept away as a pizza hit the table, and a man in a red and black chequered jacket and gray jacket took a chunk of cheese off. Greasy fingers and hair? Had to be a squatter. He disappeared from Barbara's limited view.

That onion and cheese and mushroom and pepper slop was enough to mask the taste of Harley's hand, thank God. What Barbara wasn't prepared for was the grumbling of her stomach, and the surprised moan that followed when it actually hurt. Now she definitely regretted having chosen to be stubborn and not eat anything all day just to prove a point to Bruce that she didn't need to be taken care of.

(She regretted getting herself here to begin with, but being hungry was easier to admit than this)

Harley herself gasped in surprise. That twerp Barry Allen wasn't supposed to be home yet. She'd even gone against the Joker code of no planning and looked through Barry Allen's plans for the day. A bad boy was missing work. And at everybody's expense!

Meanwhile, Alfred placed his wrench down and sat up in his work stool. It'd been a long night, Alfred couldn't blame Bruce for being his same old self, nor Barbara for having quite the influence, or lack thereof. Lack of other things wasn't making this much easier. The tray of drinks and snacks Alfred had brought down hours ago were as aged as his cider. However, just like his cider and nut assortment, most of what was on the tray probably wasn't so appetizing or appropriate for a young lady with such young tastes.

He wouldn't bother Bruce at the computer. He stood up and grabbed his coat. Alfred would now begin the journey of finding Barbara. The young lady was most likely getting a cab or or hitched with some friends, If not hijacking one of the batcycles to blow off some steam. Surely there would be a stop at a food court, quite possibly a night cafe. Hopefully he would see her in time and pay for her. Maybe, if this was one of those nights where she'd actually gone into Wayne Manor and up to her room as Bruce had ordered her to, he would arrive to see a knotted sheet being flung out the window and be able to coax her back in with some treats.

Barbara's eyes rolled back. Harley's swelling pussy did such a good job at muffling Barbara's attempts at crying, the harder she grinded herself into Barbara's face. The duct tape hung on for its dear life, though it wasn't necessary when there was plenty of gushing juice to fill up each of Barbara's holes.

An overwhelming dizziness from lack of air was becoming such a priority for Barbara, that the weight of Harley's pelvis against her face was nothing more than that of her cowl. It was unclear why she was unable to move her head to try to get away despite her body going into full fight mode, feet kicking and wiggling, hands groping the waistband of Harley's shorts that barely contained Harley's ass crack and desperately smacking the cheeks that poured out.

All the times with her boyfriend Luke having pinned her to the bed with a tight grip to her throat were nothing like this. Even his 9 inches being forced past her tonsils, nothing like this. The difference is... Luke knows that, deep down inside, Barbara is only a lost delicate little girl. Luke is able to abide by the unspoken rule that states his baby girl still has an ego to keep, being 10 years behind him and even further mentally.

Even that one time with Dick Grayson when they had first started dating (and possibly even more times during those college days when she had been slamming alcohol and cramming books too hard to even remember what age she'd pretended to be turning on her 18th birthday)... Heavy emphasis on the con part of non-con. Grayson was known for having taken risks, and even dying for one of them... But those dangerous things with her were consented and passionate. This shit with Harley was nothing but heated.

As for Barbara, her body was flushed over in a temperature she's never felt before, neither hot nor cold. All the light was as blinding as the sun in her narrowing vision. The high was coursing through her blood. It was time for her to realize that, just like the Joker, Harley didn't give two shits how this was going to turn out and she was going to win whatever the hell this was. Unlike Grayson, the least Barbara could do was survive this, and possibly con her way out of this abduction at some point. Otherwise her dead body wouldn't see the end of it, and Bruce would be right after all.

Barbara tried her very best to restrain herself, to stop the kicking and groping, and let Harley's body weight do the rest. To capitalize her surrender, after she was calm enough to be able to pull away slightly, she began what would turn out to be her first assignment.

She let the velvet folds eclipse her face, even some of her rosy cheeks surrendered.

Her tongue traced around, pushing the juices out to Harley's thigh. She imagined that once she found the source of that banana smell, which was most likely deeper in Harley's plump pussy, the act of slopping up Harley's piss and lube would be nothing more than tossing fruit salad... And with a solid reason to be doing so, rather than just being the little bitch in the room. 

Chapter Text

A few flashes of light bounced around the warehouse. Now the doors were barricaded, more fuse boxes activated, and a compact bed set up on the ground with a pantsless Barry Allen searching for something – all covered in grease from what was now a half missing pizza.

Barbara hadn't been likely to go anywhere anytime soon, and now she most certainly wasn't. Even as Harley pulled off of her.

Harley clenched Barbara's leather suit and threw a hand towards Barry. "See what you got us into?"

Barbara's mouth instinctively came open to start arguing, but her cheeks and tongue were glued with banana cocktail. Maybe gagging on the pussy juice was for her own good, so she wouldn't scream when Harley reached into her boot and pulled out a revolver.

Barbara panicked and squeaked. What was she doing?! This bitch really wa crazier than crazy.

Knowing that she had just experienced one of the worst, most depraved things in her life, and that she could take anything from Harley at this point unlike Barry who really didn't deserve this bullet, Barbara lunged into Harley. She got the revolver's barrel pointed to the ground. But before she could get it completely out of Harley's control, Harley's toes went straight to her face. Barbara fell back and Harley snatched her wrist. Harley held the gun up high over her head, and dangled it in the air, the way she teases Bruce with scrumptious nummies or something she's just taken away.

Barbara instinctively got up on her knees to try to get the gun. Harley let her put up a good fight, however the most she could do while staying silent was reach up, with hands begging.

Sure, maybe she could get Barry's attention while the gun was away. But she wasn't going to be caught like this, especially not in slow motion. Barry is a big boy, a big hungry and hormonal boy, and he would be able to pick up what was going on in Barbara's mouth. Paired with having been defeated once again when last time nd the time before that and especially that time working with the Justice League were supposed to be her last times fucking up because of her own choices.

That's why when Harley screamed, "Nah nah boo boo, you don't got it but I do!" Barbara had to seal her mouth shut and just succumb to the cocktail. Barbara's eyes begged Harley, for a motive, for a point, for anything. What was the point of all of this? This fight wasn't going anywhere, this was only torture. Even Harley was starting to realize this, and little Barbara had a point. Sure, teasing Barbara was fun, and could probably be endless with how willing Barbara is to fight, but this was nothing new. The joker is fresh. J-man doesn't tease all of the havoc he's going to cause, he definitely doesn't need to stop to think about what he needs to do to have fun, because the world is his fun house. Now if she was going to do something like him…something even worse…sicker than the Batman himself…It was time to stop thinking and start indulging.

Barry over there had the right idea. Diving through viruses galore, with the plasma screen all to himself, while a girl took a large fist in her ass all to herself in a video preview. Now  that was ingenuity, that was genius, art, culture. And as he clicked away, maybe not a fist, how about a popsicle? A banana? Hell, this banana girl could get three whole cucumbers in her slut pussy and still want one for the road up her ass. The videos would only get raunchier as more suggestions came, or should she say ranchier.

These sluts were crazier than her! Entire boxes of popsicles. Creampies without a man. Even better, having another girl to take the cream pie, delivered fresh. Harley's seen enough torture to find tears in the eyes of the receiving girl, the regret of knowing she had signed on to get fucked but not this level of fucked.

What was Barry gonna pick?

She lowered the gun down for Barbara to jump for it, but instantly pulled it back. She asked Barbara if she wanted it, if she really really really wanted it. And of course, Barbara always wants to win, even if it means walking straight into what Harley had next.

Chapter Text

Barry finally settled on a video. And it was nothing like the thumbnails and unholy ads –a woman around Barry's age, fully dressed with nothing provocative except the outline of her sports bra that surfaced as she twirled in front of the camera. She spun, hands caressing her shirt just hard enough to push it around and let her tummy peek out when she came back around to face the camera.

Her moans weren't even moans, just breaths and chuckles that blended in with her sneakers rubbing on the carpet.

It had Harley going, “Heh?!” in confusion and surprise.

Thius wasn't even a pornstar, just an average college outcast with not enough jiggle in her chest or ass to really amount to anything. She was as flat and casual as this brat, Barbara Gordon, yet Barry boy was giving his full attentions when this girl giggled, and her fingertips teased the hem of her shirt, raveled it up to expose her belly button, then with a naughty laugh, did an oopsie and dropped the shirt back over her navel.

That was it? This boy had a day off work, came home, got all the way to this trash of a site, to watch a girl play peekaboo with the band of her plain baby pink bra?

Gosh, must've been one hell of a video. Maybe there was a surprise at the end, or a toy at the bottom of the box or something, for all Harley knew. “Christ, you people are weird.”

Youngins these days, huh.

But when she looked back down at Batgirl, the girl was about to fall in Harley's Arms.

“You too?”

Barbara's eyes set like the sun when they found the screen. 

the girl on screen released her tits from her bra, they popped out pretty hard for being so small, likely from the weight of the stiff nipples. Barry Allen's hands came up, not fully, but just high enough for Barbara to watch his thumbs go in circles as if he was actually there and part of all the fun. He was so gentle about it as if there was a nuance or some restriction. His thumbs were so inexperienced that they moved just the right way, each trail and flick couldn't have been more clumsy and rough – just how Luke liked to do it. And while Barbara hated the idea of almost never Ietting Luke play with her tits, she had to keep him somewhat desperate, unrefined the perfect tease.

The way Barry Allen couldn't help but tremble and drool as the girl in the video finally let that g-string come off was… such a Luke thing for some reason. Luke could never, ever, last a strip tease or anything along those lines, it was like no matter how often they fucked or how often he had seen her naked, he was always too much of a pervert to not get excited when she put on a show for him. Watching Babs pull at a shirt and g-string made it like he was seeing pussy for the first time – each time, no fail.

It didn't take long for her to actually feel the video.

To break into a moan as the woman's body became a mirror of hers. The woman's finger became Luke's pinky (because on the days she was still sore after having been stretched out so hard but still needed a little "Something”, his pinky was just the right thing. It had the most gentle stroke, and a slight curve that pushed the lube around just right, and a knuckle that gave the feel of pounding without actually wrecking her slit).

The woman's hand gripped her thigh and turned into Luke's fingers trailing around to find the perfect spot to snatch, to make her gasp. Because each gasp brought injustenough air to slightly spike her breathing, which jolted her nipples through the air, which got the blood down there going

Fuck.

She couldn't feel this now. Not in front of Harley, not in some random place (while she and Luke have done business in quite a few random places, this wasn't the same, this wasn't something she or Barry Allen consented to). And for some reason, that only made all of this worse.

When Harley's hand went down to Barbara's happy place, her eyes grew to find things so sticky and hot. Her nails could trace each thread of the seam of Barbara's crotch, it was drawn so tight and her pussy was so tender.

Harley clutched Barbara's hairand pulled her head upward to make sure she couldn't look away from that screen, if she were to have the willpower to.

“Ya want it, Babs, don'tcha?”

Now it wasn't even about the gun. or any sentiment related to getting free. This little superhero, rather both little superheroes, had other priorities now. and no matter how much Barbara physically fought and thrashed around, trying to get free from Harley's tight grip or the principle that Harley is completely right, Barbara didn't stand a chance.

Harley got just the idea. Barry boy was clearly not in the position to do anything about Barbara's position, Harley couldn't blame him.

Harley could get even more than she bargained for.

“Babsies, we should go see if our friend Barry could use a little help!!”

Barbara frantically shook her head, but this was already set in stone when Barry Allen heard that voice, froze in horror, and couldn't dare to turn and look because he was not about to see Harley Quinn here, right behind him, present and watching all along.

Barbara's eyes shot wide open as Harley dragged her over.

The new Kara Danvers of Krypton had just what it took to help Clark on tonight's mission. He hadn't even asked her to come out, but here she was, loyal to the cause. Having found the West Bank of Metropolis by herself and flown in to dismantle two of the bombs before having freed Lois from her restraints when Clark was preoccupied with keeping that group of terrorists from successfully shooting up the entire lobby was enough for Clark to welcome her to the League.

They left the bank together to get Lois home safely, then to report to Batman, even though Clark was certain Bruce would be instantly welcoming to anything in Clark's discretion, and especially to Kara, direct family of the most important member of The League.

But when Kara arrived at the Cave, this recruiting process didn't come on so easily. He already had a mission for her, which would also be an opportunity to prove herself as well as bond with another new member.

To find Barbara and get her back, it would probably take someone that Barbara could see more as a friend or a peer. And Kara had no problem doing a favor for the big man.

Chapter Text

Barry stared at Harley. He didn't even notice Barbara yet among the darkness. The only thing he could do was freeze, with hand on his groin, cock up between his index and middle finger and precum slathered over his knuckles and still oozing over his flared head. What the…?

What the heck was he supposed to do? What would anyone do…?

It wasn't unlike Harley to just bust her way in somewhere and start… whatever Harley does. But why here? But also why not, Harley never needed a reason.

Back to the question: What was he supposed to do?

But that would depend on why she was there.

It kind of didn't matter that he didn't have the capacity to move or do anything. Her seeing his cock was… maybe business as usual? She literally just almost got her probation revoked after hijacking that subway and trying to lead the security guard into oral sexual activities (though was it really an attempt if she actually had gotten his penis out from his belt and…?) 

Harley seeing his cock was maybe ethically clean, with this being his private space as well as a secluded area, and her being the intruder who had banged in, therefore consenting to any and all conditions she may find herself in.

However, Harley seeing his cock, and smiling and then laughing at it, kind of did matter.

And it made him shake. Because as crazy as Harley is, she never judges. That's beyond just a product of her being tragically insane, she is actually a sort of safe person in ways – she has absolutely no foundation to judge or even lack some basic understanding, given her background (according to Bruce Wayne her father literally had sold her for a pack of beer as an infant) as well as the fact she'd once been one of the highest doctors in the area.

Why did it feel like she was making fun of him? Not cackling out of insanity, rather at him or as a result of something he had done? Or… his penis?

Harley didn't mean to, he was so cute. He was actually such a sweetheart that mayhaps she regretted this, she'd gone a bit too far.

Ha! Nah.

Not like this was planned, in full. Just taking advantage of opportunities, riding out whatever happens. And this was funny. A little precious. Him rubbing off like a girl – at least when she stopped him. He was shaved or waxed like a girl, too.

Before rubbing the mound now, he'd palmed at the shaft and trailing fingers on his flare and scar.

Poor boy was cut and dry, literally. Playing with what he had left after the snip-snip, not knowing any different. But hey, it looked great!

It was weird how Barbara kept staring, but she simply couldn't help it. She'd never seen a circumcised dick before. Dick was a circus boy, and Luke's dad has his way of seeing through things and it made sense, plus most people in Gotham probably can't even afford it on top of everything let alone see a doctor. Barbara somehow evaded all the dick pics she's heard about, she was always just good at knowing when to call it quits with an asshole guy online, and she knew better than to use the internet without extreme ad blockers and without supporting sites that sell fake ass sex videos, when she could hit up Dick or Luke and get the real thing.

A part of Barry's body had been taken, owned in a specific way. Either fixed up for him, or made into what it was "supposed to be”. 

HeShe just watched him have to milk out as much precum as possible to use as lube, and he had been rubbing pretty hard in order to breathe heavily and get to the point of almost moaning. Yet, there was something about it, this perfect line separating two tones, a half an inch of pink that he couldn't help but keep strumming his fingers on even though he was being confronted. The flared head was still dry and exposed even with all the precum, but it looked soft in a way, and prodded the air unguarded, and desperate for any contact.

Her nipples were worse, forcing against her uniform and swelling the same way as her pussy began to go plush, and clogged the seams of her uniform. It was almost, no, totally, as if she needed to pump the air too. At the sight of this. Curiosity or something was getting the best of her.

Fuck Harley, fuck this bitch for all of this.

And Barbara said it out loud, like it slipped out. “Fuck you, Harley.” She hardly could, with the film in her month and the creases of her lips.

Harley insisted, “Already? We're only getting started.”

Kara soared though clouds and layers of fog. It was so thick here it made her cough, and sent her backwards for a second, but she pushed through. She was still getting used to the outside world after her entire life locked in those chambers and leaving only to get her monthly sunlight to keep her alive, or as randomly ordered by the General inorder to power her up for an experiment.

She owed not only Barry Allen, but the whole League, and everyone on her cousin's side. Finding this Barbara girl was as simple getting her schematics, tracking them to a group of warehouses between Gotham, Midway City, and Central City, and doing a quick scan of the units to verify. Yes, it was her heartbeat and bone structure, inside that signature cowl. But… there was more to it, and someone was with her, and this was the hard part. Hard not knowing if Barbara meant to be held down, she was panicked, but as the same time perfectly content.

Aroused. Kara finally had gotten a term for that certain, special feeling in her… parts that can't really be spoken of within the human population. She'd had a fleeting conversation with Diana Prince, which led to a “sex education” meeting with Bruce Wayne, then a little chat with her cousin at his home that opened her for a few questions about women, and boys. 

Not only the obligation and honor of saving one of their kind, but sheer curiosity made her swoop down, and bust through the doors.