Romans & histoires Pocket Princesses Comics

The bodice hugs my small waist with a sweetheart neckline, with some gems on it. I look like a fairytale princess, even I can see the irony in that, considering how many people I have killed. I can't help smiling thinking of Maddox as my knight in shining armor, when in truth he is my bag bad wolf. I hear a slight growl of approval come through our mind-link. ‘My love keep your thoughts clean, I have your big bad wolf wanting to come claim what is ours’ I smile at this ‘Tonight my love, tonight’

“He looks like a goddamn accountant.” In our world, the Moretti family ruled the city’s underground. Adrian wasn’t just another soldier. He was the family’s most trusted enforcer—cold, precise, untouchable. And I, Isabella Russo, the spoiled mafia princess, was not about to take orders from him. So I fought him. On his first day, I set fire to his lavish villa, watching flames devour the marble walls and glass ceilings until the estate collapsed into ashes. He only looked at me once, his voice flat and merciless:

Princess Dohana turned to give him a stone cold look, "why haven't you said this all along. Do it quickly, tell Prince Terrah to make the payment." "Yes, my Princess." "You may go," Dohana dismissed him. After he left, Princess Dohana began to caress her stomach gently. "Jake, our child is waiting for your return, what's taking you so long?" As she spoke, the Princess heard some light footsteps. She stood up abruptly and glanced around. Behind her, the Prince of Paris suddenly appeared. Looking handsome and dazzling on his white suit, white shoes and a white hat, the man smiled at her. "You...what are you doing here?" Dohana asked puzzled.

After her conversation with her mother in the morning, she has spent the entire afternoon locking herself up inside these chambers. Once on the streets, she has overheard two females talking about how princesses get all they want conveniently and how they themselves still have to work even though they and those princesses are from the same race and so they should be equal. Elysia has to say they are partly right, about princesses’ lives are easy and convenient. Because now she is getting bored and wants to have fresh air outside this suffocating palace. Poor her, she thinks sarcastically.

“Go on.” Feeling a rush of excitement, I unwrapped the box, lifted the lid and once again, Les's surprise took my breath away. My eyes watered and I had to wipe them with the back of my hand to see the new set of panties Les got me. Not only were they in different designs but they each had a customized cartoon character on them ranging from, Winx Club, Totally Spies, Monster High, Pinky and the Brain, Disney Princesses, Marvel Characters and so on.

Strolled out and saw a long passage with the end leading to a T junction, she started walking, got to the end and heard rapt laughter from the right-wing, she hastened before she walked through the right-wing, it was lit with lamps hanging from the walls, she could make out the carvings now they were painted in beautiful colours, the passage opened up to the brightly lit hall that could pass for a sitting room. She stood at the entrance to take in the view, the place was well lit, there was a long wooden table at the centre of the hall, with trays of mouth-watering dishes on it, and round it sat seven men in their white gowns, all laughing and eating as they passed what looked like wine in a

Her name appeared in my mind. After a moment, the nerves in my head finally stopped stretching and twitching as if they were about to tear my skull apart. I bent down to pick up the box. It was made of black walnut wood, crafted with meticulous care. Its polished surface gleamed with a deep, warm brown tone. On the lid, delicate carvings formed the shape of forget-me-not flowers — small and fragile, yet symbolizing eternal love and memory. Each petal seemed to have been carved with endless patience, curving gently around a circle representing immortality and connection.

“Now that you mention it, it does seem to be the case. Those three princesses are known to be very talented and fond with one another. To have all three of them here. . .” These were the conversation that slipped in from the agitated crowd at the sudden arrivals. From the looks of it, the Acorn Valley was not as small as I prejudged it to be due to the little intro that Cousin Dorothy had given me. In my head, I tried to recount the names of the princesses in my head. “Princess Feng Wu, Chang Fei and Lu Peng,” I muttered under my breaths. After that look, I threw my gaze into another direction. After all, I had no business with them. All I was interested in doing was to get myself acquainted

"Blake and Primrose said they would get piercings as a birthday present for me." Primrose is lying on Blake's bed, flipping through television channels. She shrugs. "It seemed easier than going to the mall to buy a gift." You might know Primrose Johnson as the Princess of Goth and all things supernatural. Many people adore her and hope to one day experience her cutting insults and deadly glares. Some even create video compilations of her epic eye rolls and her 'no bitch' face. And they wish they were part of her girl squad, which includes Molly Haynes, Avery Walsh, and Libby Stone.

They stopped before the throne and bowed. “Greetings, Alpha. Greetings, Luna,” they said together. Polly studied them one by one. They were beautiful, graceful, rehearsed. She smiled. Too bad they’ll all be dead soon. The women gave their names: “Princess Casandra of RedBrooks Pack,” said the first one with brown eyes, her head bowed. “Princess Amira of Hoodwinds Pack,” said the middle one, with thick black hair, shorter than the rest. And then the last: