Emma Frost Tanks Against Black PantherA

Links

Rating Details

Emma’s legs part beneath him, soft and vulnerable, her breath catching as his hands grip her hips like he’s claiming territory. Each slow, powerful thrust presses deeper, tearing through her walls, and she can’t help but gasp

Her fingers dig into the sheets, nails scraping as heat pools low, a delicious ache spreading through her core. “You think you can just break me like this?” she wonders, but the answer is already written in the way her body melts against his, every movement dragging her closer to surrender.

“Don’t stop,” she breathes, lips trembling, her voice barely more than a moan. Her eyes flutter shut, caught between resisting and falling, and she shivers as his rhythm quickens, hands tightening on her hips with a possessive grip.

A soft “mm” escapes her, a little plea and a promise all at once, as the tension coils tighter and tighter, every stroke unraveling her control. She’s caught in the storm of sensation, between the sharp edge of resistance and the warmth of giving in, lost to the pull of the fighter who’s shattered her defenses.