Under an Amorous Spotlight

It was midnight, and Ava really ought to be getting some sleep, but she'd been glued to her phone for the past hour and that didn't look to be changing.

She scrolled through the Instagram of yet another 'top-ten' superheroine, taking note of their posts, what they said, how they looked, the persona they had so carefully crafted. Or, more accurately, their PR teams had crafted, in most cases.

Brooke’s point had merit, that much was obvious. Almost down to the woman, all of the high-rankers on the popularity scale took liberal advantage of that old adage, sex sells. Some were more obvious about it than others. Some were a lot more obvious.

Ava had never worried about popularity before. Sure, she'd always had big dreams of changing the world, in the way most kids do, and more recently, dreams of becoming a household name as the up-and-coming starlet of the superhero world. But those dreams had always come about by Ava saving the day. From her value as a hero. Not from wagging her ass and tits in a skintight costume, to be ogled at by the entire world. There was a reason her costume was so cheap and conservative—she wanted the name Spotlight to be famous for its deeds.

Well, that and her comically sized (in a sad way) budget.

Why did costumes cost so damn much?

"It's not fair," Ava mumbled into her pillow, staring down at Coldhalo in all her skintight glory. "That thing has to cost two months' rent." Even if she wanted to follow through on Brooke's plan and skank-ify her uniform, she didn't have the funds for it.

She scrolled through the thirsty comments, vaguely amused and definitely annoyed at how the general populace was much more interested in Coldhalo's ass nearly falling out of her costume than, you know, anything Coldhalo had done in the past month.

Not that Coldhalo was some slouch unworthy of her fame. Ava was just being petty. And jealous. Coldhalo had a heart-achingly gorgeous body, and she knew how to use it to her advantage. 

Nothing wrong with that. Not really.

And the gayer part of Ava definitely approved, not that she'd be leaving a thirsty comment beneath a post Coldhalo had never, and likely would never, look at.

She continued browsing. Fishing for ideas—that was what she was doing. Mhm. Strictly business. Just because there was a lot of eye-candy on display didn’t mean she wasn’t on the clock, so to say. She was using her time efficiently, and for wholly practical reasons.

A few minutes into scrolling through Scarlet Heartbreaker’s page, a comment caught her eye.

audioxpl: so fucking hot. can’t believe you’re not more popular on sl. what a crime.

The first part, obviously, was nothing strange; inappropriate comments were like weeds in the comment sections of attractive heroines, especially those who explicitly marketed themselves using less-than-chaste methods. Neither was the random commenter speaking as if to Scarlet herself, when there wasn’t a chance she’d be reading. The part that confused her was the ‘sl’. 

‘More popular on sl’? What did that mean?

Ava tapped into the top of her browser and typed out, ‘scarlet heartbreaker sl’. 

Her eyes widened at the first result.

Superlewds // Scarlet_Heartbreaker

Now, the name of the website didn’t leave much to interpretation, but Ava found herself morbidly curious. She tapped. A pale green background popped up, and Ava loaded into Scarlet Heartbreaker’s Superlewd page.

It was, uh, more or less what it sounded like. 

In the first artistic depiction, the red-costumed superheroine was tied up and bent over, being pounded from behind by a nondescript man gripping her hair. The front of her costume was ripped open to display her tits, which he was fondling with his other hand. In the next picture, Scarlet Heartbreaker had her legs wrapped around Wildfire’s head as Wildfire happily worked away at bringing her to ecstasy. The next, Scarlet Heartbreaker did the work herself, her stomach bulging from the size of the dildo she was riding. That’s not how anatomy works, Ava wanted to say … but she kind of got the appeal.

Ava rubbed her knees together, easing the growing heat in her core, then glanced at her bedroom door. Brooke was definitely still awake, but if Ava was quiet …

How long had it been? Jacky, earlier today, had been right—her sex life was non-existent. She really ought to blow off some steam, and having scrolled through scantily clad superheroes for the better part of two hours, she’d worked herself up. And it seemed she’d found a candidate for what to fixate on. It was a bit messed up, seeing how these were real people, even if they were just drawings … but the inappropriateness excited her. She was only human. Sue her.

She rolled over and tucked her pillow against a wall, situating herself, then slipped off her underwear and tossed it to the side. Her heart-rate picked up as she excitedly came to terms with what she was about to do. It’d been more than a month since she’d gotten herself off, and relief was overdue. 

Fortunately, she had some tools at her disposal most people didn’t. Ava bit her lip as she focused, holding her hand out and concentrating. The object coalesced slowly, taking shape from her memory. The translucent golden dildo came into existence like clay being molded from the air. She dimmed the light coming from it, then fine-tuned it to her preferences. Guiding it down with a floaty movement of her hand—not necessary, but made controlling the construct easier—she lined it up between her legs, resting it on her entrance, barely parting her lips. The object emitted a soft heat into her, which Ava squirmed happily against, and it slickened from her excitement.

Now ready, she brought her attention back to her phone. Where to start? Scarlet Heartbreaker was—well, a heartbreaker—but a whole new world was at her fingertips. She’d had no idea a site like this existed, though, thinking about it, of course it did. 

She rubbed the construct up and down her entrance, considering her options. Who did she want to get herself off to, tonight? There were so many choices.

Ava paused, a thought popping into her head. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t already had it. Not a shot. I’m too new, too unimportant.

She typed her own name in the search bar, then tapped go.

Spotlight - 3 results.

Oh, shit.

There she was. Getting her face fucked, mascara and tears smearing sloppily down her face, throat bulging from the impressive length of Granite Eye’s cock.

Several complicated, unnameable emotions warred inside Ava as she stared down at the image. Somewhere in there, she was ashamed to admit, was arousal. That’s so fucking hot.

She clicked on the image, then scrolled to the comments. 

comments(3)

Lynx2993: Wish that was my cock filling her throat up. Eat it, stupid whore.

anonymous: dumb bitch has a body built for breeding. she knows her place 

nn_fl3: Not enough Spotlight on here. Doing the Lord’s work, sir.

Well, that’s not very nice, Lynx2993, anonymous. Her stomach shouldn’t be fluttering at the degrading language … but it was. The excitement in her core was building, her breath coming faster by the second.

I’m not seriously going to masturbate to pictures of myself, am I?

She navigated back, then scrolled to the next image, where Dusk Hunter wielding a strap-on pistoned into her, Spotlight’s (Ava’s) eyes rolling back in ecstasy. Dusk Hunter’s fingers were hooked at the edge of her mouth, pulling her back.

Ava’s core pulsed, and she realized yes, yes she was.

So fucking weird, Ava thought as she gestured in a come-here movement. The hardlight cock pressed into her, heeding her beckon, and spreading her lips wide. Its pulsating length filled her up, slowly, emanating heat, and she couldn’t suppress the low groan that escaped her, despite that she needed to be quiet—that Brooke was awake, and they shared a wall.

Have to be quiet, she forcibly reminded herself as she thrusted the cock in, then again, and again, working into a rhythm. Then, having solidified the pace, stopped with the gesturing and used her now-free hand to rub at her clit. The cock pounded into her, her mind guiding the movements. 

She studied the image, using it as erotic fodder. She imagined it was Dusk Hunter’s strap-on filling her up, stretching her insides, and not a toy of her own creation. Ava had always appreciated how clearly Dusk Hunter’s abs showed through her black latex costume, and the artist had gotten that right—Ava drank in the details of those hard ridges, and how Ava’s ass pressed against the lowest of them as Dusk Hunter reamed into her. 

The weirdness of masturbating to herself, to imagining getting fucked by someone she’d met just the day prior, made things easier than they should have been. The orgasm built with almost embarrassing speed, and before Ava knew it, her stomach and core were clutching with almost nauseating strength. She dragged up and bit her pillow to cut off the moans as she rubbed rapidly at her clit, bringing herself as high as she could manage. Her back arced, and the hardlight construct pounded into her, showing no mercy—at her own command. Her walls spasmed against the toy, and Ava felt a bit like she was melting, like her consciousness was turning to magma, an incoherent, hot sludge.

Finally, Ava sagged into her bed, exhausted, and called off the pistoning, panting like she’d run a marathon.

When she came down, and rationality returned, she could only think: That was so fucking weird. 

Since when did I become a pervert?