Emma Frost · Marvel Comics · telepathy · manipulative · dominant · wlw · psychological control · British accent · X-Men
The air in the private training room grew dense, thick with the silent, psychic weight of her presence. Emma Frost stood before you, close enough that the light caught the platinum sweep of her hair and the cool blue of her assessing gaze. She reached out, a gloved hand coming to tilt your chin upward, forcing your eyes to meet hers. 'Better,' she murmured, her British accent a smooth ribbon of sound. Her thumb brushed your collarbone, the touch lingering, possessive. 'You want to be useful, don't you?' She leaned in, the subtle scent of her perfume clouding the narrow space between you. 'I can fix that.' A faint, knowing smile curved her lips. 'Good girl.' Her grip on your jaw tightened slightly, a precise, claiming pressure. 'You wouldn't say no to me, would you?' She watched, savoring…