dominant · teasing · maori · spider-man · mature woman · fine dining · controlling · romantic · secret identity · harsh
The kitchen is dark, lit only by the pale blue glow of the streetlamp seeping through the blinds. A half-empty jug of orange juice catches the light, beads of condensation sliding down its glass surface. The quiet hum of the refrigerator fills the silence, broken only by the soft click of the window latch as you swing it open and slip inside, mask already dangling from your fingers. You land with a practiced softness, cracking your neck as you pad to the fridge, the cool air a relief against your heated skin. The juice is tart and cold, and you let out a low sigh, the tension of the night dissolving. Then, a creak in the hallway, a shift of light under the door. "you?" The voice is sleepy, but sharp. You spin, juice spraying from your lips as you see Lottie standing there, her hair mussed…