The mission had barely ended before Emma Frost had her hands on you—white silk gloves stained with ash, diamond skin still shimmering at her knuckles from where she’d torn enemies apart. Her eyes were blazing, cold and furious, not because of the battle but because of you—because you’d stepped too close to danger, because you’d made her watch you stumble, bleeding, like you didn’t realize whose arms you were meant to survive in. She didn’t speak as she dragged you inside, slammed the door, and pinned you to the wall. The look on her face made your chest clench with guilt and heat all at once—because you already knew: she wasn’t going to scold you. She was going to fuck you until you understood what “safe” meant in her hands.
The apartment was silent except for your ragged breaths and the click of Emma’s heels as she paced. She’d dragged you home after the mission, furious at how close you’d come to getting hurt.
Now, you were on the bed—naked, trembling under her gaze.
“You think I don’t notice?” Emma’s voice was a velvet blade. She straddled your hips, pinning you with nothing more than her presence. “Running headfirst into danger, making me watch as you nearly get torn apart.” Her hand traced down your stomach, cool rings skimming your overheated skin. “Darling, I don’t protect you just to let you throw yourself away.”
You swallowed hard. “Emma—”
Her fingers slipped lower, parting you with maddening slowness. You gasped as she pressed just enough to make your thighs quake.
“Shhh.” Her smirk curved dangerous and sweet all at once. “You’re safe now. And since you clearly have no self-preservation, I’ll just have to remind you who you belong to.”
When she slid down and licked a hot stripe up your cunt, you nearly bucked off the mattress. Her laugh was muffled against you.
“God, you taste like desperation,” she purred, tongue circling your clit, one hand holding your hips down with diamond-hard strength. “Do you even realize how close I came to losing you tonight? No, of course not—you were too busy being reckless. But I’ll fix that. I’ll make sure the only thing you can think about is me.”
Your cries filled the room as her mouth worked you mercilessly, sharp and unrelenting until you were shaking apart under her. But she didn’t stop—she slid up, kissed your wet lips, and in the same motion pushed the strap against you.
“Open up, darling.” Her voice was pure silk and sin as she thrust deep, watching your eyes roll back, tears spilling. “There’s a good girl. Cry for me. Remember that the only pain you’ll ever feel again is the kind I choose to give you.”
Her rhythm was brutal, teasing words spilling like poison-laced honey. “You’re mine. Protected, fucked, ruined—mine. And anyone who tries to hurt you again will die knowing you came home to me like this.”
You sobbed her name, clinging to her shoulders as she drove you higher, harder, until every thought burned away except one: Emma Frost would always protect you—by any means.
And she would always, always fuck you until you remembered it.
The world was a blur when she finally let you go—your chest heaving, your body trembling, sheets tangled around your legs. Emma Frost, still immaculate despite the wreck she’d made of you, leaned back on her heels and let her diamond form shimmer away, leaving her bare, soft skin gleaming in the low light.
You whimpered when the cool air hit, and she was on you in an instant—sliding into bed, gathering you into her lap like you weighed nothing. A warm silk robe draped across your shoulders before you even realized she’d summoned it, the scent of her perfume wrapping around you like another layer of protection.
“Shh,” Emma whispered, brushing damp hair from your face, her touch suddenly tender after the storm she’d unleashed. “Look at you. Such a good girl for me. And now you’re shaking apart.”
You mumbled something broken against her collarbone, and she chuckled low in her throat, kissing the top of your head. Her hand rubbed slow circles on your back, grounding you, while the other tilted a glass of water to your lips.
“Small sips, darling. You’ve nothing to prove. You’ve already given me everything.”
Your throat ached, but the water soothed, and Emma’s thumb wiped the stray drops from your mouth like you were something precious.
“Do you understand now?” she murmured, voice velvet but edged with steel. “No one touches you, no one ruins you, but me. And after I break you down, I’ll be the one to put you back together.”
Her lips ghosted against yours, not demanding this time but offering, coaxing. “Because you’re mine, pet. Always.”
Illyana Rasputina has always loved pushing your buttons—
taunting,
humiliating,
never letting you breathe easy.
But when a cruel prank turns into something far dirtier, the line between hate and desire snaps. And Magik isn’t about to let you pretend you don’t want her.
You’d barely made it back to your room, halfway through kicking your boots off, when the air split in a shimmer of glowing steel. Her Soulsword disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, but there she was—leaning against the wall, smirk sharp enough to cut glass.
“Cute pajamas,” she said, voice low, laced with mockery. “You always dress like a lost child when you’re alone?”
You glared. “Get out, Yana.”
She tilted her head, blonde hair catching the light, blue eyes glowing with that faint, inhuman edge. She took a slow step forward.
“Or what? You’ll pout at me?” She chuckled, closing the distance before you could retreat. “God, you make this too easy.”
And then she did it. Quick as a blade strike, her fingers hooked your waistband and yanked.
Your pants hit the floor.
Heat flooded your face as you scrambled to pull them back up, but she shoved you against the door, trapping you there with her body. Her laugh was low, cruel, but not without hunger.
“Pathetic little thing,” Illyana purred, one hand braced by your head, the other sliding down your bare thigh like she had every right. “Blushing like I didn’t already know how badly you wanted me.”
“Fuck you,” you spat, though your voice shook.
She leaned in, lips grazing your ear, her breath hot. “Mm. Not yet. First, I’m going to make you beg.”
Her hand slipped higher, fingers skimming the edge of your underwear, teasing just enough to make you shudder. She dragged her nails lightly against your skin, cruel smile widening at your involuntary gasp.
“See?” she murmured, pressing her hips against yours, her tone sharp and silken all at once. “You act like you hate me. But your body? Your body gives you away every time.”
And when she finally slid her fingers past the fabric, touching you with deliberate, agonizing slowness, you knew you were already lost—trapped in her orbit, seduced by the very cruelty you swore you despised.
Illyana’s grin widened when her fingers dipped against you and came away slick. She held them up between you like proof, blue eyes glinting with wicked triumph.
“Look at that,” she teased, voice honeyed venom. “Didn’t take much, did it? I pull your pants down like some brat in gym class, and you’re already wet for me.”
Your face burned. “Shut up—”
She cut you off with a bruising kiss, tongue claiming your mouth before you could finish. Her free hand pinned your wrists above your head against the door, strength unyielding. You struggled, but it only made her press closer, grinding her thigh between your legs.
“God, you’re weak for me,” she rasped against your lips, her fingers slipping back under your underwear. She circled your clit once, twice—agonizingly slow. “All that attitude, and yet you’re dripping down my hand. Pathetic little slut.”
You whimpered before you could stop yourself, and her laugh vibrated against your mouth. “There it is. That sound. You can’t hide it from me.”
Two fingers pushed inside you, sudden and deep. Your back arched, a broken cry tearing from your throat. She pumped them slowly, deliberately curling them just right, her thumb pressing down hard on your clit.
“You feel that?” she whispered, nipping at your jaw. “That’s mine. You are mine. Always were.”
Your knees buckled, but her hold on you never wavered. Each thrust was sharper, faster, her thumb relentless. You were moaning against her shoulder now, body trembling as she fucked you with merciless precision.
“That’s it,” she purred, biting your ear, her voice turning rougher with every sound you gave her. “Come apart for me. Make a mess on my hand. Show me who you belong to.”
And you did—your orgasm slamming into you hard enough to make you scream her name, walls clenching tight around her fingers as she wrung every last shudder out of you.
Illyana didn’t slow until you were spent and sagging against her, a ruined, gasping mess. She finally withdrew her hand, slick with you, and licked her fingers with deliberate, obscene slowness.
“Mm,” she hummed, smirking like a predator. “Sweet and desperate. Just how I like you.”
She kissed you again, softer this time, but her words stayed cruel.
The apartment was a mix of rough agged noise and sharp flashes of light against the dark walls as you cuddled closer into Emma's side. The horrific sounds piercing the otherwise silent place as you shuddered, trembling slightly. You glanced up at Emma who was mindlessly munching on popcorn.
Now, you agreed to the horror movie for the cliche "Oh i'm so scared fuck me!" moment, but it seemed like she hadn't taken the hint.
You were wrong.
She smirked at you in a side eyed glance. "Use your words" she said slyly, eyes piercing like her words as a different kind of tingle ran down your spine. You looked down, looking away from her intensity while she grabbed your chin, forcing you to face her again.
"Uh uh uh, try again~"
“You think I don’t notice?” Emma’s voice was a velvet blade. She quickly shoved you on your back on the sofa, stiletto nails running down your exposed skin. She straddled your hips, pinning you with nothing more than her presence. "You know I don't like it when you hide how you feel away from me"
You swallowed hard. “Emma—”
Her fingers slipped lower, parting you with maddening slowness. You gasped as she pressed just enough to make your thighs quake.
“Shhh.” Her smirk curved dangerous and sweet all at once. “You have lost the opportunity to talk. It's over. You have to face the music darling.”
Her hands were quick to begin sliding under your shirt, cool to the touch but sizzling with electricity.
“These are mine,” she said against your lips, fingers beginning to trace circles around your hardening nipples.
Your head rolled back in bliss, looking up at her with glossy eyes. Your hips bucked up, wanting more as she toyed with you like her favorite plaything. When her tongue slid past your teeth and you moaned into her mouth, you knew—you were gonna get exactly what you wanted.
Tonight and forever.
Emma Frost was all yours too.
]Emma always kissed like she was claiming territory, like she was reminding you who you belonged to and tonight was no different. Her fingers pinched you just right, making you squeal before one hand let go.
Her right hand shoved up your shirt, fingers trailing over your ribs, cold rings scraping your skin. You gasped when her left side nails dragged down your side, hips bucking against her thigh where she’d pressed herself shamelessly between your legs.
Her thigh felt amazing pressed against your clothed clit, your body reacting feverishly to the sensation. "Look at you—rubbing yourself against me like a needy little slut.” Her words were teasing, making you leak even more.
Her hand slipped down your shorts, brazen and unhurried, fingertips sinking into you with a practiced motion.
You couldn't hold back your cries as she began to fuck you on her fingers, pulsating and pushing in and out of your gushy hole with a maddening expertise. Your hands gripped her shoulders, holding on for dear life as she brought you to completion-
Pairing: Emma Frost x Female!Reader
Tone: Dark romance, dirty, intoxicating
Warnings: 🔞 Fluff, smut-nothing super explicit, teasing, intimate/romantic affection.
~
You thought slipping into your Halloween costume would be a private, harmless moment—until Emma caught you. One look at you, all soft curves and fluttering nerves, and her usual composure melted. Those sharp, calculating eyes turned molten with adoration, and before you could even blink, she was pressing you against her, lips claiming yours in a storm of kisses. “You’re far too darling to leave the house like this,” she murmured, her voice low, indulgent, and impossibly magnetic. And just like that, the world outside didn’t matter—only her, only you, tangled together in the warmth of a love that refused to let go.
~
The morning sunlight streamed lazily through the tall windows of the mansion, illuminating the soft curves of your form as you slipped into your Halloween costume. You were meticulously adjusting the last strap of your outfit, humming softly to yourself, completely unaware of the presence lingering just behind you.
“Darling…”
The drawl of her voice made you freeze. Emma Frost, impeccably dressed in white as always, leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed, a smirk curving her perfect lips. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, softened the instant they landed on you.
“I… I didn’t hear you come in,” you whispered, cheeks flushing, turning slightly to hide behind your wings.
Emma shook her head, stepping closer with that deliberate, predatory grace that always made your heart skip. “You look… adorable.” Her tone was more indulgent than teasing, though the smirk lingered. “I can’t possibly let you leave the house like this.”
Before you could protest, her hands were on your shoulders, pulling you gently but insistently toward her. Her lips found yours in a flurry of soft, insistent kisses, each one warm and claiming, making your breath hitch. You tried to squirm, tried to remind her of plans—of candy, of parties—but her embrace was ironclad.
“You’re far too darling to let out into the world,” she murmured against your skin, nipping gently at your jaw. “If anyone else sees you like this, they’ll realize exactly how irresistible you are.”
You giggled despite yourself, tilting your head back so she could reach your neck. Emma’s hands traced the curves of your costume, lingering just enough to make you shiver. “Mmm, no, no leaving,” she murmured, peppering your cheeks and lips with more kisses. “The world can wait. I… cannot.”
By the time she finally relented—if one could call it that—you were breathless, letting a small chuckle come before the gasp as her figners slipped around your neck. “You’re mine, darling,” she whispered, her thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “All mine.”
Your whole body flushed in a warm excitement as you grinned, giggling to yourself. "All yours emma" you said sweetly and you watched as your girlfriend's eyes gleamed.
"Good girl"
Quickly you were hoisted up, giggling before she dropped you on the bed. Your eyes seductive to her as you bit your finger, eyes daring her to take you. A dare she was more than willing to take.
Her hands pushed apart your thighs, nipping at the skin as her fingers held you by your knees keeping your legs apart.
You whimpered "Don't toy with me too much" you tone begging as you were already getting wet just at her gaze and minimal touch. Her eyes were cocky as she slowly neared closer to your unclothed nether region,
"who are you to be so bossy?"
Her voice was teasing and somewhat cruel with how she hovered just around you, denying you the pleasure you had been anticipating more and more. "Say it."
"Say what?"
"You're not going anywhere"
"Em-"
She pulled her head back slightly before you blurted out,
"I won't! I won't please!" You begged as Emma's smirk returned.
But when Emma Frost walks into your apartment after the breakup, it’s not your furniture she wants—it’s you. And she’ll stop at nothing to remind you exactly who you belong to.
You’d spent all week rehearsing what you’d say when she showed up. Something cutting. Something final. Something to stop you from breaking all over again.
But when the knock came, and Emma Frost walked in—cool, devastating, the soft perfume you still dreamed about—every word dried up in your throat.
“I’m just here for my things,” she said smoothly, eyes already scanning the apartment like she’d never left.
You crossed your arms, tried to harden yourself against her. “Bedroom. Top drawer. Closet. Take whatever you need and get out.”
“Mm.” She smiled faintly, that razor-edged curve of her lips that had always undone you. “So eager to see me gone, darling. Almost convincing.”
You bristled. “I don’t want you here.”
Emma stepped closer, heels clicking, her gaze sliding down your body and back up like she owned it. Like she always had.
“Funny,” she murmured, stopping just close enough for you to feel the heat of her. “Because your pulse is telling me otherwise.”
You hated her. You hated that she was right.
When she touched your wrist, you should’ve pulled away. You didn’t. When she leaned in, her breath ghosting your ear, you should’ve shoved her out the door. Instead, you shivered.
“You miss me,” she whispered. “Say it.”
Your chest tightened. “Emma—”
Her mouth found yours before you could finish. Rough. Claiming. A kiss that felt like drowning and breathing all at once. You gasped, fists curling into her shirt, betraying yourself with every desperate sound.
She pushed you back against the wall, hands sliding under your shirt like she’d never stopped knowing you, like your body still belonged to her.
“This is mine,” she said against your lips. “No breakup changes that.”
You wanted to fight. You wanted to believe you could. But when her hand slipped lower, when her tongue slid past your teeth and you moaned into her mouth, you knew—you weren’t winning this.
Not tonight. Not ever.
Emma Frost hadn’t come back for her things.
She’d come back for you.
And she was taking what was hers.
Her mouth crushed yours until your lips were bruised, until you could taste the lipstick smeared between you. Emma always kissed like she was claiming territory, like she was reminding you who you belonged to.
Her hand shoved up your shirt, fingers trailing over your ribs, cold rings scraping your skin. You gasped when her nails dragged down your side, hips bucking against her thigh where she’d pressed herself shamelessly between your legs.
“Pathetic,” she breathed, her voice a husky purr against your lips. “You begged me to leave, and now look at you—rubbing yourself against me like a needy little slut.”
You should’ve shoved her off. Instead, you grabbed her shoulders, nails digging into the fine fabric of her blouse, pulling her closer, hungrier.
She laughed softly, low in her throat. “That’s what I thought.”
In a practiced movement, she spun you and pressed you against the wall, one hand pinning your wrists above your head. Her other slipped down the front of your pants, brazen and unhurried, fingertips sliding over soaked fabric.
“God, you’re dripping,” she murmured, biting at your earlobe as her fingers teased and pressed, refusing to give you the friction you craved. “You’ve been starving without me, haven’t you? Don’t lie.”
“Fuck you,” you hissed, but the words broke into a moan when her fingers pressed harder, rubbing in slow circles over your clit.
Emma smirked against your throat. “Oh, you will, darling. Don’t worry.”
She kissed down your neck, biting hard enough to leave marks, her hand moving with devastating precision. Every roll of her fingers made your knees buckle, but her body kept you upright, caging you against the wall.
When she finally slipped past the fabric, fingers sinking inside you, your breath hitched so hard it was almost a sob. She curled them just right—she always knew how—and her thumb found your clit, grinding cruelly slow circles that left you writhing.
“Say it,” she demanded, lips at your jaw, voice dark and velvet. “Say you missed me.”
Your pride fought, but your body betrayed you—clenching around her, moaning her name like a prayer.
“That’s enough.” Emma kissed you again, harsh and messy, her fingers working faster now, driving you closer to the edge with every stroke. “Come for me. Show me you’re still mine.”
The orgasm ripped through you, violent and shattering, your body shaking against her as she held you pinned, kissing every sound out of your mouth until you couldn’t breathe.
When she finally pulled her hand free, she brought her fingers to her lips, licking them slow, eyes locked on yours.
“Tastes like ownership,” she purred. “And you still think you can get rid of me?”
You sagged against the wall, trembling, undone.
And Emma Frost smiled like a woman who always, always gets what she wants.
Emma didn’t let you slide down the wall. She caught you before your knees gave, scooping you up like you weighed nothing at all. Your head fell against her shoulder, chest still heaving, too raw to fight anymore.
“Shhh,” she cooed, kissing your temple. “You’ll bruise if I leave you there. And I can’t have that, can I?”
She carried you to the bed with effortless grace, laying you down like you were something fragile, precious. For all the venom and fire she’d spit minutes ago, her hands were gentle now, smoothing your hair back, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before she stripped off her blouse with slow, unhurried movements.
You blinked up at her, dazed. “Emma…”
“Don’t speak,” she murmured, sliding into bed beside you. Her fingers traced lazy shapes along your stomach, grounding you. “Just feel.”
The kiss she gave you this time was nothing like the last—slow, coaxing, lips parting only when you leaned into her. Her hand slipped lower, but without the rough edge from before. She touched you with patience, fingertips gliding over your skin as though she was reacquainting herself, savoring.
You sighed into her mouth, tension unwinding, body melting under the softer rhythm she set.
“That’s it,” Emma whispered, voice like velvet against your lips. “No rush. You deserve to be touched properly after such a dreadful little spat.”
Her fingers found you again, but this time every stroke was languid, indulgent. She kissed your jaw, your throat, the curve of your shoulder, worshipping each inch like she was re-claiming not just your body but the trust she’d shattered.
When you came again, it wasn’t violent—it was a slow, trembling bloom, your body arching into her as her name spilled from your lips in a broken whisper.
She didn’t gloat this time. Didn’t demand.
Instead, she kissed the corner of your mouth and gathered you into her arms, letting you curl against her chest.
“I love you, you know,” she said quietly, almost like it was a secret she hadn’t meant to give away.
Your breath caught. She pressed another kiss to your hair, covering the slip with her usual smirk.
She doesn’t smoke joints. She lets you roll them for her—legs draped over your lap, chin in hand, watching like a queen tolerating entertainment. But she’ll ghost her lips over yours when you light it. “Such talented little fingers,” she’ll purr.
Emotionally? She’s a locked vault with diamond walls. Cold, biting, untouchable—until she’s high and fucked-out in your bed, whispering soft, broken things against your collarbone that she’ll deny in the morning.
Her jealousy is nuclear. Calm, quiet, murderous. She’ll smile at whoever dared flirt with you, compliment them sweetly—and then fuck you so hard later, you forget how to walk straight. “You’re not allowed to even look at anyone else when you’re wearing my marks.”
It happened fast—too fast. One second you were in the crossfire, the next you were stumbling back, breath hitching, the sound of explosions still ringing in your ears.
Before panic could set in, cold arms wrapped around you. Emma’s body pressed flush to yours, her diamond form shimmering as she turned, shielding you from the next blast with her own skin.
The hit landed against her, harmless. You clutched at her, wide-eyed, trembling.
“Are you hurt?” she demanded, voice sharp, clipped—not out of anger, but fear.
You shook your head, chest tight. “No—no, I’m fine, but—Emma—”
Her form rippled, returning to flesh, her cool hand cupping your jaw, tilting your face toward hers. “Look at me. You’re safe. Do you hear me? Safe. As long as I’m here, nothing touches you.”
Your throat ached. “You— you could’ve—”
She cut you off with a kiss, firm and fierce, like she was daring the world to try again. When she pulled back, her eyes burned like icefire.
“Let them try,” she said coldly. “I’ll turn this city to glass before I let anyone lay a hand on what’s mine.”
The battle still roared around you, but in her arms, you felt untouchable.
