π Tiana π The Princess and the Frog π 200+ Images in Download-Link
Added 2025-05-04 17:00:04 +0000 UTCThe warehouse smelled like dust and old metal, the air thick with the scent of rain on concrete. Broken windows let the gray light in. The walls were covered in graffiti β layers of wild colors and words I couldn't understand.
And there I stood.
In my finest white and blue dress.
A silver crown still perched in my hair.
Out of place. Out of breath. Out of control.
I found him before he found me.
He was leaning against a rusted support beam, arms crossed, that smirk playing on his lips β the one that always made my heart hammer against my ribs.
"You came," he said, voice low, eyes drinking me in.
"I shouldn't have," I whispered.
But I had.
I crossed the broken floor toward him, the hem of my dress dragging through dirt and glass. My shoes were already ruined. My dress would be next.
And I didn't care.
Not when his hands caught my waist.
Not when he yanked me against him like heβd been starving for me.
Our mouths met in a messy, desperate kiss β teeth clashing, tongues tangling, hands clutching at silk and skin. My crown tilted dangerously. My dress pulled tight against my breasts, my thighs.
He didn't treat me like a princess.
He treated me like something he needed.
His hands slid under the layers of satin, gripping my bare thighs, lifting me effortlessly. I gasped, wrapping my arms around his neck as he carried me to a cracked wooden table covered in dust and old spray paint cans.
He pushed my dress up around my hips. My underwear was already soaked β from the ride here, from the danger, from the way he looked at me.
"You're beautiful," he rasped. "Too beautiful for a place like this."
I smiled, breathless. "Then ruin me here."
He didnβt hesitate.
He pulled my panties aside and slid into me in one slow, brutal thrust that made me cry out against his mouth. The crown slid from my head and clattered to the floor.
I didn't care about it.
I only cared about him.
He moved inside me β hard, deep, every stroke a claim. The table creaked under us. My dress bunched around my waist. The graffiti blurred behind my half-shut eyes.
I moaned into his shoulder, legs tightening around his waist, body trembling with every thrust. I wasnβt the princess everyone thought I was.
Here β pinned under him, taken in a place no one would dare look for me β I was his.
He made me come fast β hard β crying out against his skin, fingernails digging into his back through his shirt. I didn't care if the sound echoed through the empty halls.
I wanted it to.
I wanted the walls to hear how he broke me open.
When it was over, we stayed tangled together β his hands still gripping my thighs, my forehead resting against his, our breath mingling in the cold, ruined air.
My crown lay forgotten in the dirt.
But for the first time in my life,
I felt like I was exactly where I belonged.
