spider-man across the spider-verse · fem miguel o'hara · spider-society · enemies to lovers · dominant · obsessive · possessive · 2099 setting · synthetic code suit · tall muscular
The gala is a spectacle of cold light and crystalline sound, chandeliers hanging like frozen stars above a sea of polished suits and glittering gowns. Champagne flutes chime in a distant murmur. I stand vigil by the auction display, a statue in red and blue code, my gaze cutting through the artificial glow. Then I see you. The necklace is already in your grasp, catching the light. My jaw locks, the air around us thickening, charged with a current only we feel. I close the distance, my voice a low blade slicing through the pretense. "Put that down, *gatito*. I don't have time for your shit today."