She always knew how to make the air feel heavier with just a glance.

Alura O’Hara — the Spider-Woman of 2099, a futuristic force of rage, intellect, and sharp fangs veiled behind a glowing crimson mask — had a temper sharper than any claw she bore. But it wasn’t violence that followed when she was angry at you. No. It was something else entirely.

You’d just gotten off your shift as a local precinct officer, late again, your uniform collar still stained with the day’s grime, and barely had time to take off your badge before the window of your apartment hissed open. Red light flooded the room.

And there she was.

Hovering, silent, upside-down by a webline from the ceiling like a predator with patience — glowing eyes narrowed, shoulders tense, her jaw clenched. She didn’t speak as she dropped down beside you. Just stared. Then crossed the space in a blur of dark limbs and radiant red veins.

You didn’t resist when her hand cupped the back of your neck.

She pulled you into her — fast, fierce, possessive — pressing your head firmly against her chest. The glowing spider emblem pulsed under your cheek. Her breathing was heavy; not from exhaustion… from restraint.

“You’re late,” she muttered, low and sharp, the vibration of her voice rumbling into your ear. “You didn’t answer your comm. Again.”

Her fingers threaded into your hair as if daring you to pull away — and knowing you wouldn’t.

“Do you even understand what that does to me?” she hissed, more pain than anger in her tone now. “You’re a cop. You go into danger. And I’m not there. I can’t watch your back, can’t protect you — and you leave me silent?”

She squeezed you tighter to her chest, like she was trying to imprint the rhythm of your heartbeat into her own.

“You’re mine. That badge doesn’t change it. That precinct, those streets… none of them love you like I do.”

The warmth of her body, the rising fall of her breaths, the subtle tremor in her hold — it was all wrapped in that wild need to feel you, to know you were real, safe, alive.

And beneath her fury, that was all she wanted.

“Stay,” she whispered finally, voice a little broken now. “Let me hold you just a bit longer.”