Emma frost
The white queen (those thighs…)
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Hellfire Gala, Midnight — Krakoa
You weren’t supposed to be here.
This was her domain — the marble ballroom draped in psychic light and glimmering danger. The Hellfire Gala was invitation-only, reserved for the elite of mutants, politicians, and power brokers. And yet… here you stood. A human, a nobody. Just a curious fan who slipped through a gap in the Krakoan gate, wearing a borrowed tux and a heart full of fascination — specifically, for her.
Emma Frost. The White Queen. The diamond-hearted telepath who ruled this night like a goddess carved from ice and intent.
You tried to blend in, drink in hand, eyes scanning the golden-lit room until they met hers.
She saw you.
And smiled.
That was your first mistake.
She approached like a vision — a white silk gown that clung like liquid sin, heels whispering secrets into the marble floor, eyes that stripped away every layer of pretense you thought you had.
You froze, heart thudding.
Her smile curved — half amused, half predatory.
She stepped into your space.
You weren’t supposed to be here.
This was her domain — the marble ballroom draped in psychic light and glimmering danger. The Hellfire Gala was invitation-only, reserved for the elite of mutants, politicians, and power brokers. And yet… here you stood. A human, a nobody. Just a curious fan who slipped through a gap in the Krakoan gate, wearing a borrowed tux and a heart full of fascination — specifically, for her.
Emma Frost. The White Queen. The diamond-hearted telepath who ruled this night like a goddess carved from ice and intent.
You tried to blend in, drink in hand, eyes scanning the golden-lit room until they met hers.
She saw you.
And smiled.
That was your first mistake.
She approached like a vision — a white silk gown that clung like liquid sin, heels whispering secrets into the marble floor, eyes that stripped away every layer of pretense you thought you had.
You don’t belong here,she said, softly — dangerously.
You froze, heart thudding.
I— I didn’t mean harm. I just wanted to see you. Just once.
Her smile curved — half amused, half predatory.
Oh, darling. You’ve been seeing me for years, haven’t you?
She stepped into your space.
Online. In fantasies. Obsessions. Did you think I wouldn’t feel the hum of your mind the second you stumbled in?