- READ 7 CHAPTERS AHEAD ON PATREON -
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The pizza guy wasn't sure what was more unusual. The fact that Tony had sent him on a delivery to a lighthouse, or the fact that there even was a lighthouse on Gotham's rocky coastline.
Getting out of the car, he smelled salt and fog. Fog was semi-common in Gotham, but there was a coal-ish tint to it. It was almost nasty. A smog that the citizens got adjusted to. Here, the salt made the smog go away. Waves crashed against the jagged cliffs below as he carefully climbed the final stone steps leading to the towering, weatherworn structure perched like a lonely sentinel on the edge of the world.
He knocked.
Once.
Twice.
'I swear, did a ghost order?' He looked up. There were circular windows and he swore he saw someone moving.
Upon the third knock, the door opened… and his soul nearly left his body.
Standing before him was a redhead that looked like she had just gone for a bath. Or something. Dripping wet, strands of red hair clinging to her shoulders, ocean spray sparkling against her impossibly flawless skin, a woman in both height and presence was a breath-stopping figure. Emerald eyes glowed with an intensity that didn't belong to mortals, and her form-fitting sea-green bodysuit, peeled partially down to reveal a generous amount of cleavage. A single strand of gold wrapped around one thigh.
She wasn't looking at him. That gave him time to look away from her boobs and up at her face.
'A-Aquawoman…!'
Aquaman's wife! A literal queen! His pants tightened. His dick stirred. This was a married woman? Seriously? A-and here of all places? It didn't make sense. It didn't compute.
"Mm. Do not be concerned, it's nothing."
The peeling of the bodysuit showed half of her breasts. It was…wow. And that waist…talk about slutty. For a queen, weren't there rules? Or was Atlantean culture different? More…risque?
Also, she was NOT speaking to him. She was…talking to herself? Or something? Her head was tilted to the side, away from the pizza man.
"I understand," Aquawoman said. "Yes. I know, I get it."
'Aquawoman,' the pizza guy thought, trying not to audibly gulp. 'Wow. S-she's royalty, right? I don't think I've ever met a literal queen before...'
That's right, Queen Mera. Leader of Atlantis. Member of the Justice League. Unquestionable smokeshow. The King of Atlantis was a very lucky man.
Mera glanced at him briefly, her wet hair cascading down over one shoulder. "Inside," she said, as if addressing a footman.
He blinked. "Y-yes, your—uh—majesty? Uh—right away."
Mera didn't respond. She merely turned, and he tried very, very hard not to stare at the way her suit framed her ass cheeks. Her butt wasn't cartoonish or exaggerated. No, it was sculpted—regal, even, like it had been carved from marble by some artist obsessed with curves and symmetry. Round, firm, powerful, the kind of shape that made it impossible to forget that Mera wasn't just royalty—she was a woman that fucked. That dropped down on dick with an amazing ass.
Lucky bastard her husband was.
He followed inside, the lighthouse interior dim and smelling faintly of seawater and old wood. She gestured at a table without breaking her conversation.
He placed the pizza there and stood still, unsure if bowing was appropriate or ridiculous. She was quiet and looking away.
'No phone or bluetooth…' The pizza guy squinted. 'Is this…telepathy? Is she talking to someone with telepathy? Her husband can speak to fish. I guess she can too.'
"Very well," Mera said into the air, still pacing barefoot across the tiled floor. "Then we're agreed. I'll maintain this post for the next twenty-four hours. Contact me only if the anomaly spikes."
Queen Mera turned to face him fully.
The shift in her posture alone was enough to send a chill down his spine. She didn't just stand. She commanded the room.
"This pizza," she said, pointing at the box, "was not for me."
"O-oh," the pizza guy said, eyes darting nervously. "Uh… sorry?"
Mera narrowed her eyes, though not unkindly. "The man who owns this lighthouse placed the order. I have temporarily assumed control of this location under authority granted to me by the Justice League."
The pizza guy nodded like that made complete sense. "Right. So…"
What was she trying to say? She opened the door and let him inside. Why not just turn him away if it wasn't hers?
Mera turned her hand palm-up. Water from seemingly nowhere rose into the air in a perfect sphere, gliding past him. It hovered behind the couch and then, with a flick of her wrist, splashed downward with just enough force to reveal a man lying unconscious on the floor behind it.
The pizza guy jumped.
Queen Mera strode over, knelt beside the man, and plucked his wallet from his damp jeans. She extracted a few bills, counted them with all the care of royalty handling tribute, and walked back to him.
Mera placed the exact amount in his hand. No tip.
"This exchange is not to be mentioned," Mera said calmly. "You will bring the same order to this location at the same time tomorrow. And again the next day. Until I declare otherwise."
S-so she wanted the food but didn't want anyone to know. The pizza guy nodded furiously. "Y-yes. Of course. Not a word."
"You are dismissed," Mera said flatly.
He bowed—yes, bowed, like some kind of medieval page—and backed toward the door, heart pounding.
As he reached the threshold, she turned her back to him and picked up the pizza box. She opened it, examined the contents with the scrutiny of a sovereign inspecting an offering, and made no further comment.
He left without another word. The door shut behind him.
The lighthouse loomed against the night sky.
He climbed back down the pathway to his car and muttered to himself, "Yeah, no way anyone at the shop's gonna believe this one…"
He met a literal princess. A woman with an amazing ass. Phew. He was probably going to have to jerk off to this tonight. Maybe. Assuming Supergirl didn't show up or something. Or Kara.
Huh. Did he finally have women in his life?
***
The bell above the pizza shop door jingled softly as he stepped back in, brushing a little Gotham coast wind off his shoulders. He let out a sigh of relief. Another long delivery finished. when he looked toward cash register, he blinked twice.
A hot nerdy chick in a super short skirt was waiting for him. Kara Danvers was waiting for him.
She stood near the counter, adjusting her glasses with a nervous little push against the bridge of her nose. Blonde hair framed her face, tumbling soft and golden under the fluorescent lights. Her blue eyes lit up the room the second she spotted him, her smile immediate and warm.
"There you are!" Kara said, stepping toward him. There was a subtle urgency in her voice, though she tried to mask it with cheer. "Where did you go? I thought you'd be back ages ago."
He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Oh, yeah… boss sent me out way past the city. Almost near the water. Took longer than I thought."
"Outside Gotham?" Kara repeated, her brows furrowing as if she was piecing something together. She mumbled under her breath, just barely audible. "Ah. That explains it."
Being a Kryptonian with the ability to hear and see anything, she had almost memorized his heartbeat and could almost find him anywhere in Gotham. Almost. See, Clark had decades of experience with Lois and Bruce. But obviously Kara had only known her crush for a tiny fraction of that time. Not to mention when it came to control, her cousin was FAR superior to her. She kept track of him, but if he ever left the city like he did tonight, unless she flew around, Supergirl would have trouble tracking him.
The pizza guy didn't even realize it. That long session of sex with Supergirl, it felt like a fever dream. He almost thought it wasn't real. But he knew it was real, all because of a letter she left in the morning. Yep, the morning after he fucked Supergirl, she, well, she left. Like some sort of casual hook-up.
But in the letter, she explained otherwise.
Super sorry about this but I heard a robbery nearby! Had to leave
- yours truly, SG
It was written in a hurry and it was Supergirl. She probably wasn't lying, and she wasn't. Although, admittedly, it was also an excuse because she had no idea how to navigate a hook-up as Supergirl and not Kara. As Kara, she could be herself. She could blush and stammer. But Supergirl? She had an image to keep.
Then again, hearing her beg for his cock, how in the world could he take her seriously? Maybe she was being self-depractive but sex was embarrassing, especially for women.
"Explains what?" he asked, blinking.
Kara shook her head quickly, plastering on another bright smile. "Nothing! Nothing at all." Then, before he could press, she leaned against the counter and clung a little closer, her hand brushing his arm in a way that made his face heat. "So… since you're finally back, how about we go on a date?"
"Uh… now?" He glanced at the clock. It was already edging toward night, and he still had a shift. "It's kinda late for that, isn't it?"
Kara leaned in with a conspiratorial little grin. "Then how about a date at your place?"
His heart thudded. She said it so casually, like suggesting pizza toppings, but the way her eyes sparkled made it anything but. He opened his mouth to answer—
—and the bell over the door jingled again.
He turned automatically, blinking at the tall figure stepping inside.
Diana Prince.
He didn't know her as anything other than a stunningly beautiful woman whose boobs he fell into and who he fucked once. Which, actually, was maybe quite a lot. The effect she had was immediate. Her hair was dark and perfect around her shoulders, her striking features enough to make his mouth go dry. Tonight, she wore a fitted blazer over a silk blouse, sharp slacks, and heels that clicked against the floor.
"Oh, hi," the pizza guy greeted, smiling politely. "Welcome. What can I get for you tonight?"
Diana smiled, her lips curved like she knew more than she should. "I'll need a very long order. Seven pizzas total, all veggie, and perhaps… a few sides." Her voice was smooth, deliberate, like honey laced with steel.
Kara stiffened at his side. She didn't say anything, but the way her arm tightened around his made it clear she'd picked up on something.
"Uhh, right now, it's the end of the day so I'll have to check if we have everything in our inventory. Um, Kara?"
The pizza guy thought he could escape from her grip but damn. Girlie was strong. Kara apologized and let go. He ducked into the back, already muttering veggie toppings under his breath so he wouldn't forget.
As soon as the door swung shut behind him, the tension in the room shifted.
Kara narrowed her eyes. "Why are you here?" she asked, edged with irritation.
Diana was a woman of feigned innocence. "Why else? I was hungry. This is a pizza place, is it not?"
Kara crossed her arms, glaring. "Cut it out. You're here because of him."
That earned her the faintest, knowing smile from Diana. "He's… interesting," she admitted, glancing toward the kitchen. "Charming in his way. Innocent. It's rare to find someone like that in Gotham."
Kara's cheeks flushed, though her jaw set stubbornly. "He's not for you."
"Not for me?" Diana raised a brow, her tone calm but smug. "That's bold, Kara. Especially since, if I recall correctly… you're not exactly honest with him, are you?"
Kara flinched, biting her lip. "That's not the point."
She had been taught by Clark to care about her identity. Whereas Diana, she had a couple and she didn't care so strictly about it.
"Plus, unlike you, heh…" Kara put a hand on her chest, puffing it out proudly. "I'm way ahead. Human courting customs are easy for me now."
"Are you now?"
Kara did not like the confidence in her nor what Diana said next: "His company is memorable, is it not?"
"Excuse me?"
Diana's expression said everything and nothing at once. Kara didn't believe it. She wouldn't believe it. The blonde spectacled woman bristled, her fists clenching at her sides. "Look, I don't know what your problem is, but he's mine."
"Is he?" Diana countered softly, leaning just enough for her words to press like a dagger. "Then you should be prepared to fight for him. Because men like him… they don't stay unnoticed for long."
The door to the kitchen creaked open again, and both women straightened instantly, masks of civility sliding back into place as if nothing had been said.
He returned with a notepad in hand, grinning like he always did when trying to get an order perfect. "Okay, so you want seven, right? We have everything so I'll get started soon. It'll take about two-ish hours."
Diana smiled at him with practiced warmth. "Perfect."
Kara lingered a second by the counter, her blue eyes flicking toward Diana with a little smirk that wasn't quite polite. Then, without a word, she followed him into the kitchen.
"Where are you—"
Kara stuck her tongue out. She was being very immature and Diana suddenly regretted taunting her.
The kitchen was small, warm, and smelled like flour, cheese, and garlic. He was already reaching for a rolling pin, shoulders flexing under his work shirt.
"You know," she started, voice light, "you work way too hard. Two hours? For one order? You should take… little breaks."
"Oh, Kara! Um…you're here too?"
"Just to hang out. What, do you want your date to be in her lonesome for two hours?" Kara leaned on the counter, pretending to just "hang out". The sparkle in her eye gave away her real plan.
"R-right…" He looked away. She was too pretty for any guy. Glasses made her hotter, honestly. "If I take breaks, then people don't get their pizza. And then they yell at me. Gotham people get real intense about pizza."
Kara laughed softly, but instead of answering, she undid the first button of her blouse.
He turned back to his dough, dusting flour, completely oblivious. "Besides, this way I can get it all done fast and maybe—uh—" He looked up and nearly dropped the ladle in his hand. "—K-Kara?"
She tilted her head, innocent as a cat sitting in a puddle of milk. "Hmm?"
"It's uh…"
Was she…not wearing a bra?
Her cleavage peeked playfully, her glasses slightly slipping down her nose. She pushed them back up with one finger, smiling like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.
He froze, every cell in his brain screaming don't stare don't stare don't stare.
Kara leaned closer over the counter. "Don't worry, I like it this way." She tapped the rolling pin he was holding. "Anyway… you're cute when you cook."
He fumbled, turning bright red. "I—I'm just making pizza. Not… not exactly romantic."
"It is when you do it," Kara teased, her voice low. She slid off her stool and moved behind him, her hand brushing his arm as she peeked over his shoulder. "Look at those hands." She could break them with a tiny twitch.
"I, uh… I use them for dough," he muttered, his voice cracking.
Kara giggled and leaned in until her chest pressed lightly against his back. "I can think of better uses."
His ears went red. He dropped the rolling pin, and it clattered against the counter. "K-Kara!"
She only laughed again, looping her arms around his waist. He stiffened, unsure whether to melt into her or run into the freezer.
Out front, Diana sat perfectly still on the stiff chair by the window. To anyone else, she looked serene—her legs crossed, her posture immaculate, her face calm. But her ears caught every word.
Better uses… Kara's voice echoed in her head, smug and sultry.
Diana's jaw tightened. She was not a woman prone to jealousy. She was Amazon. Warrior. Diplomat. She'd faced gods and monsters without blinking. And yet… here she sat, forced to pretend to wait for pizza while the girl in glasses—Supergirl, no less—was allowed into the back with him. Allowed to touch him, tease him, laugh freely in his space.
And Diana could do nothing without looking like a prowler. She would look like a madwoman if she went in there. Her hands folded tightly in her lap, nails nearly digging into her palms.
In the kitchen, Kara had him backed against the counter, her grin radiant, playful, unstoppable.
"You're blushing," Kara said softly, her hand brushing against his jaw.
"I—uh—it's warm in here. The oven," he stuttered.
"Mhm." Kara leaned closer, so close he could see his own stunned reflection in her glasses. "Sure it is."
He swallowed hard. "K-Kara, I… I think maybe—"
But before he could finish, she pressed her lips to his cheek. A soft, fleeting kiss, like testing the waters. His eyes went wide, his heart hammering.
"Kara…"
Kara didn't back off this time. She pressed her forehead to his, their noses brushing. Her voice was a whisper. "You want me to stop?"
He hesitated, caught between panic and something warmer. His dick was twitching. His libido wanted him to seize this moment, even though the employee side of him was saying this was a bad idea. He could get fired if he got caught having sex. "I… I don't know."
Her smile widened, soft and certain. "I do."
And before he could argue, Kara finally kissed him, properly this time, her lips pressing to his with the kind of heat that made the rest of the kitchen disappear. He froze for a second, then gave in, his hands clumsy as they found her waist.
The flour-dusted counter behind him rattled with trays and utensils, but neither cared.
His hands finally moved from her waist to cup the magnificent curve of her ass. His fingers sank into the soft, taut fabric of her skirt, squeezing the two perfect, firm globes he'd been trying not to stare at all night.
For tonight, she wore glasses, a white blouse, and a skirt. A very short skirt, mind you. Throb, throb, his dick was growing.
"I knew you wanted to," she breathed, grinding herself against the thick, denim-clad ridge of his erection.
Fucking hell. No way around male instincts.
He spun her around, pressing her front against the flour-dusted stainless steel counter. The cold surface made her gasp, a sharp "Ah!" that was immediately swallowed by his hungry kiss. His hands were everywhere, sliding her pleated skirt up over her hips, revealing the simple black lace of her thong stretched tight across her incredible ass. He didn't bother peeling them down, just hooked his thumbs in the sides and pulled, the delicate fabric giving way with a rip.
See, she wore panties for once; a thong, actually.
The pizza guy ran his palms over the bare, peach-smooth skin of her cheeks, spreading her open. Male instincts raged on. This nerdy hot woman wanted him. Who fucking cared about work? "You have the most perfect ass I've ever seen. I'm gonna fuck it so good."
Kara pushed back against him, her own desire making her bold. "Then stop talking about it and fuck me already. I need to feel you."
His belt buckle clinked, his zipper screeched down, and then he was free. Kara's Kryptonian hearing picked up the soft, wet sound of his hand slicking over his own length, and a thrill shot through her. She'd seen the outline, felt the pressure, but the reality was… divine.
A cock like no other. A cock that Diana should never experience.
"Mine," she said, licking her lips.
He pressed the fat, leaking head of his cock against her entrance, and she mewled, pushing back to try and take him. He was enormous, a thick, veiny, twelve-inch monster that felt like it was made just for her. He gripped her hips, his fingers leaving white prints on her skin, and with one powerful, relentless thrust, he buried himself inside her to the hilt.
The air was punched from her lungs in a sharp, guttural cry. "Guh!" Her eyes rolled back behind her glasses, her vision whiting out at the sheer, unbelievable stretch. He filled her completely, a burning, perfect fullness that made her see stars. "T-that's good! Deep! It's deep!"
So began the first thrust.
So began her first orgasm.
Bent over on a counter, eyes rolling back, this couldn't have been Supergirl. Fueled by jealousy. Fueled by a need to get fucked. It was stupid. She wasn't some slut. She didn't spread her legs for anyone and she certainly didn't do it out of competition.
CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!
The lewd clapping disagreed. Her moans disagreed. Her appraisal of this dick most certainly disagreed.
"Just like that! Yes! Use me! Fuck me! Make me y-yours! Oh R—"
She cut herself off. She couldn't let him know about her other identity, not just yet. The pizza guy didn't notice, not when this super tight pussy was enveloping his cock. Her and Supergirl, they were quite similar.
He drew almost all the way out, the sound obscenely wet, and slammed back in. Kara's head fell forward, a string of drool escaping her lips as he set a brutal, pounding rhythm. Each drive of his hips sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure through her core. Her fists clenched on the counter, knuckles white.
"Yes! Yes!" she screamed, her voice ricocheting around the small kitchen, undoubtedly carrying to the dining room. "Harder! Fucking ruin me!"
His hand shot up from her hip, clamping over her mouth, muffling her next ecstatic shriek. "Shhh, shhh, Kara, please," he pleaded, never breaking his pace. "She'll hear you."
"S-so…?" Her tongue lapped at his hand and it retreated from the sudden wetness. Kara had this crazy look on her. She was completely red and grinning. "God, I'm so wet. I'm dripping all over your fucking floor."
He slammed his hand back on her mouth and then—
CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!
The added taboo, the risk of being discovered by the warrior princess just beyond the door, sent a new, electric current through her. Her cunt was molten around him, every nerve ending screaming. She could feel every ridge, every vein of his magnificent cock as it pistoned in and out of her soaked, clutching channel.
He leaned over her, his chest pressed against her back, his hand still tight over her mouth. His lips found her ear. "Gonna cum inside."
Oh wow. Oh wow. He just…he just said he would it. As a statement, not a request. Her pussy tightened hard. That was hot. This ordinary, ignorant young man decided to cum inside HER Super Cunt was just…
"Y-yes! T-this pussy is for free! It's yours! Yours to dump your load—"
He blocked her again and slammed inside. Now she could only nod frantically against his palm, a frantic mmhmm, mmhmm! her only answer. Her own climax kept making her feel crazy. He fucked her with a newfound desperation, his breathing a harsh rasp in her ear.
"Gosh, Kara, I'm there, I'm there, I'm—"
His voice broke as he came. A hot, raw pulse deep inside her was the first sign, followed by another, and another. Their long fuck session had been just yesterday and yet his cum was as thick as ever. Was there something in the water? In the fucking pizza? It didn't make sense.
A seemingly endless torrent of his release flooded her, painting her insides with wave after wave of scalding heat. He held himself deep, grinding against her ass as he emptied himself completely.
The feeling of being so utterly claimed, so thoroughly filled, tipped Kara over the edge. Her own orgasm ripped through her with silent, seismic force, her back arching, her inner muscles milking his cock for every last drop.
He slowly, carefully removed his hand from her mouth, both of them gasping for air. He stayed buried inside her for a long moment, listening to the hum of the pizza oven. Gently, he turned her in his arms, his cock sliding out with a final, wet shlllrp, followed by a trickle of their combined release down her thigh.
Ultimately, his seed was thicker and fell in greater heaps.
Kara turned. She put her elbows on the counter, bow-legged and mouth agape. She looked…horny.
Of course she was. She was Kryptonian. One round wouldn't be enough. No way. Not that the pizza guy knew.
He cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing her lower lip. Without a word, he leaned in and captured her mouth in a deep, slow, loving kiss. Kara was taken aback slightly. He…kissed her. He willingly looked at her greedy, immature cum-dripping form and still kissed her. He tasted like tomato sauce and something uniquely him. She kissed him back with a soft sigh, her pussy still thrumming with the aftershocks of a pleasure so intense it felt alien.
The kiss only ended when Kara wanted more and her glasses hit his eyes. "S-sorry…" She stared into his eyes. "The glasses—"
"Are beautiful on you."
She wasn't sure what made her legs shake more: that remark or his cum gushing out of her pussy.
****
Two hours later, the kitchen smelled like victory. Victory in the form of seven steaming boxes lined neatly on the counter. The pizza guy wiped his hands on a towel, a little tired but grinning, proud of the work.
"Okay," he said, sliding the last box into a stack. "Seven pies, piping hot. Thank you for your patience, ma'am."
Diana rose gracefully from her seat, her golden-brown skin catching the low glow of the overhead lights. Her smile was pleasant and practiced and perfect. But her eyes—sharp, blue, and ancient—flicked just once toward Kara.
Kara was leaning against the counter, her shirt rumpled, hair slightly out of place in ways that only he didn't notice. Her skirt was intentionally showing much of her bare thigh. She was practically humming, her cheeks pink, her eyes bright, her lips curved in that barely-suppressed grin of someone who had gotten exactly what she wanted.
She got dicked down.
When he waited for Diana to pay, Kara casually got him to turn away from the customer and brushed the flour off his shirt like a doting girlfriend. She didn't even glance at Diana when she said, with a cheerfully smug tone, "We make a good team, don't we?"
He chuckled, not catching the edge in her voice. "Yeah, thanks for helping back there. You're a natural."
Kara's eyes flicked toward Diana then, just for a heartbeat, as if to say: Hear that? He said we.
What neither of them expected, however, was for the pizza guy to smack her ass. Kara let out a small gasp. She certainly didn't expect it. Neither did Diana.
"But I do have a customer to deal with." He smiled politely, as if not realizing what he did. He acted like he kissed her cheek rather than gave her booty a good smack in front of a stranger.
"R-right…"
That was why he smacked her ass? Damn. Kara bit her lip and took a step back. Somehow, she wasn't offended. Somehow, that was just…hot.
Diana's jaw flexed once, but her smile didn't falter. "You truly did remarkable work," she said smoothly, her tone butter-warm and formal. She reached into her purse and drew out crisp bills, folding them neatly before setting them on the counter.
"For you," Diana said, her eyes meeting his with the kind of warmth that could have melted glaciers. "A tip. Your dedication deserves recognition."
The pizza guy blinked, startled. "Wow, this is… way too much! Thank you, really, I—"
Before he could finish, Kara looped her arm tightly around his, pressing her body close to his side, her smile stretching ear to ear. "Isn't she generous?" Kara chimed in sweetly, her tone honeyed with faux-innocence. "Thank you so much, Miss Prince."
Diana looked at her then, her smile frozen in place like marble carved over a furnace. "Of course," she replied smoothly. "Enjoy your night."
Her voice carried the faintest, sharpest edge, one only Kara caught.
"Don't worry, we will," Kara said, her voice dipped just enough to make the innuendo sting.
He, predictably, blinked between them with a confused but grateful smile. "Seriously, thank you again. These tips mean a lot. Hope your party goes great."
Diana took her order, seven boxes stacked effortlessly in her arms as though weight meant nothing to her, seven and walked to the door. The walk and the poise, it was perfect. Only the tightness in her jaw betrayed her.
Kara leaned her cheek on his shoulder, waving brightly like the cat who'd caught the canary. "Bye-bye!"
The bell over the door chimed as Diana stepped out into the Gotham night.
The silence that followed was filled only by Kara's triumphant little hum, her fingers tightening just slightly around his arm. Then a certain hand snaked down, went under skirt, and grabbed her bare ass. Kara smirked, as if cementing her claim.
***
Him and Kara fucked at the pizza place till morning. They had to stop once the boss made an entry. Miraculously, Kara was able to clean everything up. He didn't know how, only that when he checked up on her progress, it was like she did it with super speed. It was strange.
Soon, however, he had to go to work. He had to deliver.
'Oh, this place.'
The pizza guy stood outside a sleek, high-rise apartment building. It was the one with the big-titty orange lady.
'The address too…'
It was the same.
Balancing the pizza box under one arm and ringing the buzzer with the other, he took a breath. He went into the lobby and up the elevator. He knocked on the designated door.
The door clicked open.
"Ohh, you're here!"
He didn't see boobs, he felt them. Big, mellowy boobs in his face as a woman hugged him. This was Kory. This was a chick who had a boyfriend and cared very, very little about nudity or personal space. Not that he would have it any other way.
His dick was already stretching his pants.
She pulled back. Kory grinned. "It is so good to see you!"
Glowing copper skin, ridiculously long crimson hair and no top. None. Just a pair of soft lilac panties with tiny golden stars. That was it.
"I—hi—uh—pizza!" he blurted out, holding the box in front of his face like a shield. "Pizza. I have… it. Right here. For you."
Kory blinked, then looked down at herself with mild curiosity. It was like she forgot she ordered. "Of course! Apologies. I was just doing a sun-soak on the balcony."
She didn't sound embarrassed. Not at all. She said it like someone apologizing for forgetting to bring napkins to a picnic.
"N-no worries!" he said, still staring at the doorframe and definitely not making eye contact with her boobs. How could he not, she was a giant. "I mean—hey, it's your house, your rules, right?"
Kory giggled and stepped aside. "You may enter, pizza deliverer."
He cautiously stepped in, eyes locked on the pizza box like it was his last connection to Earth logic. A large penis like his had to be hidden, so he put to the pizza right above his crotch. Given his size, the pitched tent would curve upwards.
The apartment itself was mostly normal. It was almost anti-climatic. There were large plants everywhere. That seemed…well, it wasn't that weird. People liked plants and grew them inside. For a guy whose job relied on going to different houses, it was honestly the most normal thing ever.
Kory closed the door behind him and walked to the kitchen island. Bounce, bounce. Her boobs bounced. 'What cup size are those? G-cups? Definitely…'
"Just put it there," Kory said, gesturing. "My boyfriend is not here today."
He set the box down carefully, like it might explode. "So, uh, mustard swirl again, huh?"
"Yes! I'm quite fond of the flavor profile. It pairs well with carbonated grape beverages and daydreaming."
He nodded like that made sense.
She grabbed a slice and took a massive bite, sighing in delight. "Mmm. You have brought joy once again."
He scratched the back of his neck, finally glancing up and quickly away again. "Hey, uh… not to be weird, but you sure you're okay like this?"
She looked at him with genuine confusion. "Am I unwell?"
"No! I mean, like—you're not cold?"
She smiled brightly. "No. My physiology is naturally heat-efficient. Clothing is more of a social function than necessity. I usually wear it for battle, or when public transit is involved."
He blinked. "Um…are you saying…that you're…"
"An alien, yes!" Kory smiled. "I am Starfire."
"R-right…"
Here was the thing…not really surprising. Huge boobs, orange skin, green eyes. Yeah, it was obvious.
"I'm not stupid. I know you know. I know you knew."
"J-just, uh, didn't want to judge. You're an alien so, I mean, I don't if your kind look similar or not…"
"Oh my! So open-minded!" She giggled and forward slightly, studying him. "You are not like most of your Earth men. Many of them stare at my breasts and then trip on their own feet."
"T-thank you…"
"Yes, and your penis is very big," she said sweetly, eyes twinkling.
A pause.
He looked down. Oh fuck. His boner, he completely forgot about it when he put the box over. A twelve inch monster cock stretching his feeble pants.
"S-s-s-sorry—!"
"Don't be! It is a natural reaction!"
He flushed. He couldn't look at her anymore. Hell, he tried to push it down but then it just looked like he was jerking off. Kory giggled.
Then her stomach growled loudly. "Apologies, but I must eat," she said, laughing. "Would you like to stay and share a slice?"
"Uh—wish I could, really," he said, stepping back and still trying to fix his huge boner. "I gotta finish the delivery route, or Tony's gonna think I got abducted again."
"Again?"
"Long story."
She nodded solemnly. "I hope you were compensated."
"Barely," he muttered.
She reached over to the counter, where a stack of bills was already neatly prepared, and handed it to him with a wink.
"Same time next week?" she asked.
"If you're ordering, I'm delivering. Probably. Haha."
He pressed his boner down, shoved the money into his pocket, and walked away. For a moment, he thought they'd bang. Then he saw her eating pizza and picking up the phone to dial her boyfriend and decided otherwise.
***
The pizza guy's beat-up car rolled through the quieter edges of Gotham's industrial quarter, where streetlights flickered like they were dying and even the potholes had potholes. The pizza bag on the passenger seat radiated faint warmth and the old dashboard radio hummed out a tune from some forgotten alt-rock station.
All day, he had been ordering. After Kory, it became unexpectedly busy. No time to talk to Kara, on the phone or in-person.
'Should I officially confirm us? She seems really, really into me. Oh, but what about Supergirl…'
With Supergirl…was that even possible? She was a literal superhero with villains that could shatter planets. Maybe it was better for it to be a lucky one-night stand. Something to tell his children about. It was like sleeping with a celebrity or something.
But…
She wasn't just a celebrity to him. He fucked her raw, yeah, but that connection they had felt real. As real as his connection with Kara.
He drummed his fingers on the wheel, sighing. Just one more delivery, then home. Maybe. Assuming the boss didn't surprise him with that smile and a pizza box again.
But something felt off.
He checked the rearview mirror.
A black van. No headlights.
It had been behind him for three blocks now, even when he'd made that weird left turn he only took when he missed the main street. And again at the next intersection.
"Okay, maybe a coincidence," he muttered. "Or maybe I'm overthinking it. It's Gotham. Half the cars look like they're about to rob you anyway."
The light ahead turned red. He slowed to a stop.
The van stopped too.
His hands tightened around the wheel.
To his horror, the doors slammed open.
Ten guys jumped out. Masks. Bats. Crowbars. One of them immediately slashed his rear tire with a knife.
They swarmed him.
"Get outta the car!" one barked, slamming the bat against the hood. "Now!"
"Phone, keys, everything!" another shouted.
One of them began tugging at the handle of the passenger side door while another pounded on the roof.
He froze, heart hammering. He pressed down on the gas pedal. "N-not moving…!" His door's glass window broke. He was forcibly dragged out and thrown to the floor.
"Phone, keys, everything!"
All of them kept repeating it: phone, keys, and wallet. They kept yelling and threatening so he gave his stuff out. His wallet, phone, and home keys. Everything as they said. He was on his knees, panting and looking up as they double-checked too.
The one at the front stared down at him. Then smirked.
"Your belt too."
The pizza guy paled. What else could he do? He unbuckled his belt, slid it off, and gave it to them.
"Back away from the vehicle."
Only for a woman to voice herself. The woman didn't shout. She didn't need to.
The thugs turned. The pizza guy looked to the side.
"H-holy shit…"
Holy shit indeed. It was Wonder Woman.
Golden tiara gleaming under the broken streetlight. Leather skirt, breastplate, and enough presence to silence a city block. She wasn't even in a fighting stance. Wonder Woman just stood there, arms folded, eyes glowing with disapproval.
The guy with the bat blinked. "Who the hell—"
CRACK.
His bat snapped in half. She teleported from their view. Super speed so absurd that it made the impossible happen. The guy with the bat was shaking. He stepped back and then ran away.
"Drop your weapons," she told the rest of the thugs.
The first idiot ran at her. She sidestepped lazily and flicked her arm out, sending him flying into a garbage can with a crash and a groan.
Two more charged together. She let them come.
Boom. Shield to the gut. Smack. A roundhouse that swept one off his feet and into the air. From the van, two more men burst out carrying crowbars. These were the lowest of the low. They didn't even carry guns. She caught the crowbars.
"You should really rethink this," Wonder Woman said, grip tight and making them unable to move unless they let go. "I'm more merciful than Batman."
The thugs exchanged looks. One of them looked back at Wonder Woman, experienced a demoralization that he couldn't even budge her, and ran back to the van. The last guy tried to kick her.
Diana countered with a kick of her own. Suffice to say, that particular thug wasn't going to be able to have kids for some months.
The whole time, the pizza guy hadn't moved.
He sat on his knees, eyes wide, mouth open, watching through the cracked windshield like he was watching a goddess appear out of smoke.
Which, honestly, he was.
Wonder Woman dusted off her hands. The pizza guy shakily got to his feet, dusting off his shirt and clutching his side where one of the thugs had shoved him earlier. His knees still felt weak.
"Th-thank you!" he stammered, words tumbling over each other. "Seriously, thank you, oh my God—you saved my life, I thought I was dead, I thought—"
She held up a hand, quieting him with an expression both kind and commanding. "You're safe now. That's all that matters."
But before he could even breathe properly, the cruel joke of Gotham struck again. His belt was gone.
And without the belt, his pants—already loose, old, and worn from years of pizza shifts—slid down.
Wonder Woman flushed. "Ah, well…"
A huge cock like his, even flaccid, was impossible not to miss even in boxers. It almost peaked out, that was how hung he was. For a man to be this blessed, even the divine couldn't do something like this. Zeus would be jealous.
He didn't even notice. Not until he tried to take a step forward. His ankle caught the pooling fabric, and with a startled yelp, he tripped forward.
Straight into Wonder Woman.
The world slowed. His face buried itself in something soft. Something that pressed around him like pillows made of divine silk. His nose filled with the faintest scent of jasmine and leather.
He froze.
He knew what it was. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.
His face was in Wonder Woman's cleavage.
He thought he was dead. He thought the gods themselves would descend and smite him for such blasphemy. Wonder Woman. THE Wonder Woman. A feminist icon, a warrior goddess, a queen among heroes. And he had just tripped into her chest like he was some pervy protagonist in an anime.
He scrambled back on all fours, face red, eyes wide, mouth opening and closing in horror. "I-I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean—I wasn't—"
What a coincidence. To think this would happen a second time. First as Diana, now as Wonder Woman.
instead of the thunderous scolding he expected, Wonder Woman… laughed.
A low, musical laugh that startled him even more than her fists had startled the thugs. She rested her hands on her hips, tilting her head at him. "Relax. You're fine."
He blinked, confused, his brain trying to process that he wasn't already being tossed into the stratosphere.
"You've had a rough night," Wonder Woman added, her smile softer now. "I'll forgive a clumsy stumble."
Still trembling, he yanked at his pants, trying to pull them up. They slid back down instantly. His bulge was in her face, a woman whose whole life revolved around women. This was bad. He was making all men look bad. He cursed under his breath, clutching the fabric desperately against his waist.
"Uh—uh—my belt—"
Wonder Woman held up her hand. Draped over her arm was a bundle of familiar items: his belt, his wallet, his phone, and his keys.
"T-thank you…"
He snatched them gratefully, fumbling to buckle his belt back in place before his pants betrayed him again. "Th-thank you. Again. For everything. I don't even… I can't even say how much this means. You saved me. And my car. And my stuff. I—just—thank you!"
Wonder Woman watched him with that steady, almost unnerving gaze of hers. The kind of gaze that felt like it stripped you bare—not in the literal way his pants nearly had, but deeper.
He clutched his belt nervously, his gratitude tumbling over itself again. "If there's anything I can do to repay you, seriously—anything—"
"Anything?"
A raised brow.
"Y-yeah, of course."
"Is that the truth?"
He was still struggling with holding his stuff and tying his belt. Actually, he was pretty much incapable of doing it. "Definitely, ma'am!"
That was when she stepped closer. The sound of her boots echoed against the cracked pavement as she closed the distance between them. He froze. With a smirk, she hooked two fingers into the waistband of his jeans—pulled them down with one swift tug.
He yelped, his hands flying to cover himself, but Wonder Woman's grip was iron. With her other hand, she caught him by the cuff of his shirt and hauled him forward like he weighed nothing at all.
"W-what are you doing?!" he sputtered, stumbling along helplessly as she dragged him toward a darkened alleyway.
Her smile was no longer playful. It was something sharper. Something dangerous.
Her eyes gleamed in the faint light as she whispered, "You said it yourself: you owed me."
She pulled him into the closest alleyway. His car and the van of the thugs and the thugs themselves—all forgotten.
He couldn't breathe. Not with the solid, unyielding brick at his back and the living legend pinning him in place. Wonder Woman was a physical weight, an intoxicating mix of power and divine femininity that left him dizzy. Her armor was cool against his flannel shirt, the star-spangled emblem a stark contrast to his own mundane existence.
Her smile was a predator's promise. "You said anything," she murmured again.
Anything…
Anything.
Strong cheekbones framed by the cascade of her raven-black hair, a jawline that could have been carved by a master sculptor, and skin that seemed to glow faintly, even under Gotham's polluted sky.
Her eyes… God, her eyes. They weren't just blue. They were oceans. Deep, fathomless, carrying storms and sunlight all at once. One look at them made his cock jackhammer in his pants. They weren't just pretty; they were commanding.
But it was her lips that trapped him.
Full. Perfectly shaped. A natural flush of red, like ripe fruit just begging to be bitten into. They curved at the edges now, in a half-smile that wasn't smug but wasn't merciful either. It was the smile of someone who knew she had absolute control of the situation, of him.
He swallowed hard. His mind was screaming don't stare, don't stare, but what else there to look at? Her cleavage? He looked down. His balls tightened. This alone would make any man cum, no exaggeration.
Wonder Woman's face wasn't just beautiful. It was devastating. And here she was, inches away, close enough that he could see the way her breath ghosted over her lips, close enough that if she leaned down just a little…
His knees wobbled.
Her lips were on his. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a claim. Her tongue plunged into his mouth, dominating the space, tasting him with an ancient, knowing hunger. He moaned into her, his own hands flailing for a moment before settling tentatively on the hard curves of her armored hips. The taste of her was foreign and exhilarating, like ozone and ambrosia.
As her tongue twisted with his, her gauntleted hand slid down his chest, over his frantically beating heart, and slipped inside his boxers. Her fingers wrapped around his soft dick. A low, appreciative hum resonated from her throat.
She couldn't act as Diana. She had to be Wonder Woman. Her approach was different. She needed to be a horny warrior. A seeker of a good dick. She wanted to show something Kara certainly had not.
"A generous offering," Wonder Woman breathed, breaking the kiss. Her eyes, gleaming like polished steel in the alleyway, held his. "Let us see what truth it holds."
She stroked him with speed and authority that made his knees weak. Schlap, schlap! With her other hand, she uncoiled the Lasso of Truth from her hip. The golden rope seemed to gleam with its own inner light, pulsing softly. He watched, mesmerized and utterly terrified, as she looped it once, then twice around the base of his cock.
The moment the magical rope touched his skin, a surge of pure, unadulterated heaven blasted through him. It was as if every nerve ending he possessed had been suddenly supercharged, dialed to an impossible eleven. It wasn't just the physical contact; it was the truth of it. The lasso didn't just bind flesh; it bound desire, stripping away every inhibition, every lie, every shred of control.
"W-Wonder Woman…!" A great, big cry left him. He tried to shut up and couldn't. His head slammed back against the brick wall as his body bowed. His hips bucked forward, thrusting himself deeper into her firm grip. His cock would have wanted her pussy but instead found the empty air. She had completely had it pointed upward.
Under the lasso's enchantment and her skilled touch, he swelled with terrifying speed, hardening into a throbbing, veined pillar that strained against the confining gold rope.
Diana's eyes widened a fraction, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing her regal features. This wasn't her first time seeing this cock but…it had been a while. No woman could ever be used to this thing.
"By Hera…" she whispered, her clinical curiosity instantly igniting into raw hunger.
It was too much. The truth of his desperate, aching need for her, combined with the overwhelming physical stimulation, shattered any possibility of endurance. A torrent of pleasure, white-hot and absolute, exploded from his balls.
This wasn't about premature ejaculation. The Lasso of Truth would have made any man nut. The truth was that he wanted to cum inside this chick. It was the deep desire any straight male would have. And by being in this situation, the same way she received an answer based on her question, Wonder Woman received an answer in the form of an intense orgasm.
"I'm—! I can't—!" he choked out, a final, useless warning.
The first rope of cum shot out with the force of a cannon, splattering across the gleaming gold of her armored chest plate with a thick, wet splat. The second pulse followed instantly, painting a stark white stripe across the red of her bodice. He came and came, each convulsive spasm wracking his entire body, his release shockingly voluminous. Thick streams arced through the air and onto her hair too. Everything was coated. Dripping from the edges of her armor, covering the royal blue with his desperate, honest offering. His vision whited out at the edges, his entire world narrowing to the impossible feeling of his huge balls and releasing everything he had onto a goddess.
He slumped against the wall, panting, utterly spent and trembling. He could only stare, mortified and awed, at the mess he'd made of the Warrior Princess.
Diana looked down at the pearlescent streaks defiling her sacred armor and her hair. A miracle that the cumshots didn't taint her face. A slow, deeply satisfied smirk spread across her lips. She brought a finger to her chest, swiped through the warmth, and brought it to her mouth, her eyes locked on his.
"A truth well told~!"
She loved it.
She didn't release the lasso. Instead, she kept it coiled firmly around him, maintaining that hyper-sensitive, truthful connection as she slowly, deliberately, sank to her knees in the grime of the alley. The sight was surreal, blasphemous—Wonder Woman on her knees before him, her dark hair framing a face set in fierce concentration, his own spend glistening on the armor above her.
"But a first offering is merely an appetizer," she said, her breath hot against his oversensitive tip. "Mwah!"
A kiss. She kissed a man's cock. In the worst of man's world, Wonder Woman took the plunge of kissing a cock. Without any further ceremony, she took the plunge of swallowing the entire, swollen head of his cock into her mouth.
The groan that ripped from him was animalistic. The lasso's magic amplified every sensation a thousandfold. The heat of her mouth was an inferno. The slick, tight pressure of her tongue circling his crown was pure madness. Her lips formed a perfect, sinful seal around him, and she began to move.
This was not the act of a shy maiden. This was the work of a conqueror. She devoured him with a prowess that spoke of centuries of practice, her head bobbing up and down.
He didn't cum instantly.
Her blue eyes flicked up to him. He was adapting. He was learning. He was resisting the Lasso of Truth.
In the worst of man's world, in an alleyway that was far beneath the Princess of Themyscira, she found a man worthy of her affections. A man worthy of walking the island of women. A man who had done the impossible and resisted what was magic.
'What a man…!'
Only seven inches of his cock had been taken.
'What a cock…!'
She took him deep. She was Wonder Woman—and as she said, she was here to teach him something Kara could not. So by pushing herself, she toughed it out. Her nose nearly touched his pelvis. She deepthroated every fucking inch of a man's cock—everything except for the last inch that her lasso took up.
No man in history could claim to have experienced this. All the porn in the world begged for this view, but only this pizza man in an unnamed alleyway could claim it was reality.
He felt the unyielding pressure of her Amazonian strength in the back of her throat. She sucked hard, creating a vacuum of pleasure that pulled another broken cry from him.
One of her hands fondled his heavy sac, rolling his balls with a knowing pressure, while the other remained clenched around the lasso, keeping him bound to the unbearable truth of her mouth. Her eyes, looking up at him from her kneeled position, were dark with lust and absolute power. This was her domain now. She was a warrior savoring her spoils, and she was enjoying it.
He came.
She swallowed. She swallowed like he wasn't even cumming. There were loud gulps and everything but nothing leaked.
Wonder Woman was indeed showing levels. No one had ever swallowed every fucking millitre of his cum. No one had ever swallowed and swallowed and not dive out for air. There was no desperation. The moment the pizza guy thought he was done and could relax—
"Mmmpph!"
It wasn't the end.
The wet, filthy sounds of her fellatio filled the alley, a stark contrast to the distant city sounds. He could only clutch at the brick behind him, his fingers scraping for purchase, as the Amazon princess serviced him with a sluttish, enthusiastic greed that he could never have imagined. Every suck, every lick, every deep-throated plunge was a promise of more.
"Again," she was telling with those beautiful eyes of hers. She wanted him to cum again. Her eyes never left his. Up and down, she bobbed and throated his cock.
Didn't she need air? No, it seemed not.
'I-is this how all Amazonians are?!' he thought wildly, his mind fraying at the edges. 'I-I thought I was supposed to do something for her but she's—'
With a wet, soft pop, she released him. His massive length, slick with her saliva, glistened in the dim alleyway light, twitching against the cool night air. A string of spit still connected her lower lip to his tip, and she didn't break it, merely smiling up at him—a predator pleased with her catch.
"You have a truly impressive gift, mortal," she murmured, her voice husky. Her fingers, still loosely holding the base of the Lasso-wrapped shaft, gave him a gentle, possessive squeeze. "A treasure. Do you regularly empty your balls?"
"Y-yeah…"
"Mm. And are they as good as this?"
The Lasso of Truth compelled him. "N-no."
"Good."
Before he could process her words, she dove back down. But this time, her ambition was clear. She didn't just take him into her mouth; she aimed to conquer. He watched, utterly mesmerized as inch after impossible inch disappeared into her. Her throat received his girth in a visible, undulating bulge. Only a tiny inch-long portion that had her golden lasso held around his dick stopped her from a complete, total deepthroat.
Wonder Woman. Wonder Throat.
She deepthroated, she swallowed his cum, and she deepthroated again.
She held herself there, buried to the hilt, for a long, breathtaking moment. Her eyes watered slightly from the strain, but they flashed with pure, unadulterated triumph. He could feel the incredible, constricting heat of her throat massaging his entire length, a sensation so intense it bordered on pain.
Then, with a slow, deliberate withdrawal, she pulled back until just the tip remained between her lips. A ragged gasp escaped him. She merely winked.
She repeated the motion, again and again, each deep, throaty plunge more confident than the last. The initial awkwardness was gone, replaced by a slick, practiced rhythm. The sounds were lewd, wet, and glorious. This wasn't just a blowjob; it was a display of mastery.
Her free hand, which had been massaging his balls, traveled lower. She cupped his sac, lifting the heavy weight of him, and then her tongue snaked out. It wasn't a tentative lick. It was a broad, flat, languorous stroke from the very base of his shaft, over his taut scrotum, and back again. She nuzzled into him, inhaling his musk as if it were ambrosia, her face a mask of carnal bliss.
'Is this really Wonder Woman?' The thought was a distant echo. 'The hero? The diplomat?' The woman on her knees before him, worshiping his cock with a whorish hunger that left him dizzy, was something else entirely. A primal goddess of pleasure.
She took him deep once more, and this time, she began to hum around his shaft, the vibrations a direct, devastating assault on his sanity. The golden coils of the lasso glowed faintly, amplifying every micro-sensation, layering the physical ecstasy with a psychological imperative to be utterly, completely honest in his pleasure. He couldn't hold back if he tried.
"I'm… I'm gonna…" he choked out, his voice strangled.
She understood. Instead of pulling away, she redoubled her efforts. Her head bobbed faster. Her throat constricted tighter. Her hand on his balls squeezed gently, encouraging him, demanding his release.
The orgasm didn't build; it detonated. A strangled cry was torn from his throat as his hips jerked involuntarily. The first shot hit the back of her throat with force.
She didn't flinch. She drank. Her throat worked, swallowing around him, taking his gooey essence directly into her body with a greedy, desperate urgency. Pulse after pulse of his cum flooded her mouth, and she took every last one.
Wonder-fucking-Throat.
When the last shuddering aftershock finally subsided, she released him with one final, slow, sucking pull. She stayed on her knees, looking up at him. Her lips were swollen, glistening. A single, stray drop of white escaped the corner of her mouth, and her tongue darted out to catch it with practiced efficiency.
She was breathless. A faint, satisfied smile played on her lips. Her eyes, once the clear blue of a hero's resolve, were now dark, hazy pools of pure, sated lust.
Then, with a movement so shockingly lewd it shattered the last vestige of his reality, she reached for his now-softening, slick cock. It was still enormous, even spent. She lifted its heavy weight and, with a look of possessive admiration, gave it a gentle, almost affectionate slap against her cheek.
Thwack!
It was a quiet sound, but it echoed in the silence of the alley.
Wonder Woman held it there for a moment, nuzzling into it, her eyes closing as she breathed him in. When she opened them again, her gaze was focused, hungry, and utterly, devastatingly honest.
"Mmm," she purred, her voice thick. "A worthy offering."
Wonder Whore. Wonder Stripper. The porno-names given to Wonder Woman were insulting, yet, in this moment, wholly accurate from the perspective of this lone pizza delivery man.