When she looks down at her, she feels her resolve crumble, how can she possibly say no to this face? Huge eyes, red chubby cheeks and flyaway hair, the little girl is definitely the cutest four year old ever. “Hi, love.” She bends down and grins as cheerily as she can. “What do you want darling?”
She was cute. She was sexy. She was wanted. She was everything that every other high school girl wanted to be. But no one knew that inside she wasn’t actually cute. She was ugly. She was evil. She was a murderer.
He thought the way she chewed on the end of her pencil was extremely cute. She was always cute when she was deep in thought, not noticing him staring at her from his bedroom window.
Her small hands shook the very same way her feet did in her boots. His face stared at hers and his arm came up again as if ready to take another swing. She stood as frozen as a wax person in a museum, and winced as he took her face into the palms of his hands and sneered, “you’re scared? Well isn’t that cute…”
The cat was cute as a cat can be. So cute. Facebook video played for millions showed the cat’s personality, its energy, and its beauty throughout the world. Marie had become famous around the neighborhood as the woman whose cat was noted by so many people that it might have been the most looked at feline in the world.
In my mind, she’s always smiling. She never smiled that much in real life, but when she did, it had a way of printing itself into my memory. I told her that I loved her smile a hundred times. I wish I could have told her a hundred more.
I remembered the first time I saw her. We were both on the train by ourselves awaiting our stop. I wished to walk up to her and speak but I couldn’t do it. I was too afraid. But she wasn’t. She ended up sitting right beside me to speak about the book I had in my lap.
Bryson is cute. I think about that a lot, when he’s playing his ukelele and singing a song about a girl that I hope is me. His voice is so lovely. It’s my favorite sort of voice, that folksy, not-quite clear voice. I love him.
She looks at me from across the lunch room. I catch her eye, face heating up, and hide my face behind my hair. Through my periphery I watch her lean over to her friend, clad in a leather jacket and light wash jeans, and whisper one, heart-stopping word.
“Cute.”
I can’t stop smiling.
I catch her eye from across the room. Her hair is short and messy, cut just above her ears. A loose button-up shirt hugs her form, accompanied by a pair of skinny jeans. She smirks at me, just barely, and the girl besides her catches my eye with a knowing smile. She’s cute, I think. I hope she thinks the same about me.
“Yes!” She screamed into the phone. “What!” Cried all of her friends in return, after having sat on the bed watching anxiously in silence. That silence was broken with screaming, shouting and a general jumping about with happiness. “I can get her!” Clara, who had been on the phone yelled as she hung up. And the ruckus returned at fever pitch. Until Clara screamed at the top of her lungs “LETS GO!” The stream of girls ran for the car. Clara jumped in and they set off. “She’s adorable.” They whispered to each-other once they had gotten to the pet store. Clara was gently rocking a tiny Dachshund Puppy in her arms. “Oh, sweety.” She whispered breathlessly “Oh, CoCo, you are so cute. And I’m going to love you forever and ever.”
The puppies were cute. The kittens were cute. The dresses that little girls wore were all cute. Everything to Cecily Lee was so cute! Even the roses and daisies were cute.
She flung around that word like a flag of pride, while her English teacher father died a little on the inside. She asked for new socks and umbrellas and boots in just the right colors – so they could be cute! And her father obliged, all compliant and mute.
The dimple was always the start. My sister had a dimple and I always wondered why I didn’t. People called her cute — but the called me handsome or strong . . . it was never quite fit me, in my opinion — but they felt they had to say something because it was true – my sister was really cute.
Liquid brown eyes stare back at me through the cage. One side is shaved, and mangy fur lays accusingly on the table. The dog is whimpering at the needles, knives, creams and mixtures that lay beside it- and all I want to do it get it out.
“You think you can scare me with that thing? You think you’re really gonna kill me? Huh?” The old man leaned into the kid with the plastic sword’s face.
Cute is like a more comon word for adorable. Babies aren’t cute but some animals are. Being called cute is really nice. I have this friend Sarah and she is a cute angel.
At the table, i was left standing, no place for another bugger. Lets face it, i was the son who never came home for Christmas, well this is true for the past 10 years. But no guilty feeling, i was there, standing, waiting for that look, that welcoming feeling, that warm embrace. It was not going to be a good day, hell, not even with all the once regarded as cute pictures of me as a child standing at the porch.
Meet cute, a deep rooted classroom friendship has grown to this off-campus huddle over soup. The button nosed Tamil girl eats the hot-pot slowly and I fall into the depth of her ladle like one of those coriander flakes. She winces minutely when I bring up karaoke, a cute affect to subtlely let me know that I’m just a herb to tint the bite.
She batted her eyes like they do in the movies. Was it working? Not really. She glanced over at her best friend, who was oblivious to her attempt to flirt across the room with the handsome stranger. She found a hair pin in her pocket and poked Courtney in the back. “Ow!”
sometimes i like to think that i’m cute. i don’t think that i’m pretty or anything or attractive of that sorts. idk i just don’t really think about my body all the much in terms of whether i’m attractive or not. i like clothes tho. so sometimes i’ll try to put a little effort into my outfit.
in school, sometimes i think, “why are people cuter than me? that should be illegal” and i typically only think this when i see someone attractive. lately i’ve been thinking that i’m bisexual actually because i look at both guys and girls and think that they’re cute.
okay okay so also, there’s this girl right. her name is Lydia but i won’t say her last name (i vaguely remember it). for some reason?? last year in first period, she stared at me. i swear, she STARES at me. last year i had English first period, and for the whole year i didn’t notice this, or maybe she wasn’t looking at me yet. but then towards the end of the year around may or June, we get new seats and i’m sitting next to her.
i think THAT is when i start noticing she stares at me. okay okay, so i’m creeped out right. why are you staring at me? am i cute, ugly? do you think i’m weird when i share my ideas in English? i had no idea and for the whole rest of the year, i didn’t ask her. fast forward to this year right. she’s in my SOCIAL STUDIES CLASS 3RD PERIOD. SHE STILL STARES AT ME.
honestly, it’s starting to piss me off. sometime during this year i’m going to ask her why she stares at me and she better stop because it bothers me. i’ve been thinking she stares at me because i’m cute?? or she likes me?? i have no idea. she’s religious i think and goes to church, so that wouldn’t make sense right?
i have no idea but whatever. anyway, let’s swerve back onto the topic of cute. i’ve been thinking that girls and guys are cute, so i’m thinking i’m bisexual but idk. i had a few crushes on girls last year so. but i’ve never actually dated. so I JUST DON’T KNOW IF I’M BI OR NOT. tbh though, i don’t really talk about boys or girls as much as others. my friends will start talking about crushes, and i’ll stay silent or just think, “we’re in middle school guys, we aren’t old enough to date yet.” so there’s the chance that i’m asexual? honestly i don’t know.
so, you can completely ignore this if you want, i’m just venting right now and i heard that venting or writing in a stream of consciousness helps.
Cute is when you see your crush bite his lip <3
What I find cute is the way he writes so elegantly, cursive to perfection!
I think he is cute, his personality is cute, the way he speaks is cute.
She thought she was being cute, dressed up in a pink princess gown with a tiara on her head. She acted like she was coming into a great hall and receiving homage from her followers. She looked up, trying not to look at me to gauge the effect of her cuteness.
I smiled. The rooms here are dark, in the middle of this overcrowded slum. I had found the costume in a garbage can and after washing it and repairing it, had left it on the end of her sleeping platform, over her school bag.
When she woke up, she handled it with wonderment. “Where did it come from?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “Try it on.” She then slipped it on and looked at herself in the mirror.
“It’s so wonderful.” I smiled and said nothing. It was a bit of light in the dark; I didn’t want to ruin the illusion.
The rabbit looked up at her expectantly. She nervously changed hands with the cleaver. Her heart was pounding. She didn’t think it would be..cute? Her brother needed the protein. She knew it was do or die.
It was… cute, I guess. I mean, they kind of fitted together perfectly, like they were pieces of the same puzzle… but they were missing something. They were incomplete. And I had a bad feeling that what was missing was any actually feeling. Not a good sign. It all felt orchestrated and fake.
She looks up at me, huge eyes, pouting lips, red ears. I smile, she is definitely the cutest four year old I’ve ever seen. “Hi, love.” I murmur brushing back her hair. “What’s wrong?”
Never once did he give up. He pushed forward and reached his goal. He made it through thick and his with just a smile. He was depressed, but never showed it. Everywhere he went his smile was brighter than the sun. His words would kill. He was called gay. He was called a man-slut, bitch. yet, he didn’t give up. He never gave up. He never looked on the bright side, but one day he reached for the stars and achieved.
Her eyes shone a bright red under the contestant moon. Her life in danger from everything. She was small and petite. Scars everywhere, abused, yet she stood proud of where she was and nothing would ever change her, no matter how big or small her action was. She know that one day, she would be the one to change the world for the better.
She is the cutest person ever. But what I hate is that’s she is taken. I love her and I can’t ever get her off my mind. Sh’e perfect, but she doesn’t see that. She sees someone other than herself.
There was no way to describe the effect the small girl had on her. Suddenly, Jane’s head was pounding – absolutely throbbing with the need to console the young child, wrap her in her arms. The only problem was, the girl was completely fine, joyful even. There were no tears. Just this strange urge of Jane’s to comfort.
Cora is the cutest thing in my life. I love hearing her talk (her verbal skills are amazing). And she does funny things, like wearing a princess dress, a safety vest, goggles and a tiara.
The way her eyes light in get dark. The way her lip curls at the ends and she pouts slightly when embarrassed, her shoulders hunching over to make herself even smaller than she already is. The blush that dusts across her cheeks before spreading like wildfire across her face. I tell her she’s cute and she acts cute in response.
Aww can we have that one? said Sarah pointing to an adorable puppy looking at her with big, innocent eyes. “Are you sure this is the one you want” asked her mother. “yes” she said.
Girls think I am cute. I like when girls think I am cute.
When she looks down at her, she feels her resolve crumble, how can she possibly say no to this face? Huge eyes, red chubby cheeks and flyaway hair, the little girl is definitely the cutest four year old ever. “Hi, love.” She bends down and grins as cheerily as she can. “What do you want darling?”
Aww! isn’t that CUTE
I taw a big puddy tat
King Ezekiel’s
I can’t believe it
new Walking Dead cast member
that’s not Aussie-Brit!
[Don’t be so stupid that you get yourself or
your “friends” killed or hurt this Halloween.
It happens each year. Still, have fun]
– ! HaiBOOO-Man !
She was cute. She was sexy. She was wanted. She was everything that every other high school girl wanted to be. But no one knew that inside she wasn’t actually cute. She was ugly. She was evil. She was a murderer.
He thought the way she chewed on the end of her pencil was extremely cute. She was always cute when she was deep in thought, not noticing him staring at her from his bedroom window.
Her small hands shook the very same way her feet did in her boots. His face stared at hers and his arm came up again as if ready to take another swing. She stood as frozen as a wax person in a museum, and winced as he took her face into the palms of his hands and sneered, “you’re scared? Well isn’t that cute…”
The cat was cute as a cat can be. So cute. Facebook video played for millions showed the cat’s personality, its energy, and its beauty throughout the world. Marie had become famous around the neighborhood as the woman whose cat was noted by so many people that it might have been the most looked at feline in the world.
In my mind, she’s always smiling. She never smiled that much in real life, but when she did, it had a way of printing itself into my memory. I told her that I loved her smile a hundred times. I wish I could have told her a hundred more.
I remembered the first time I saw her. We were both on the train by ourselves awaiting our stop. I wished to walk up to her and speak but I couldn’t do it. I was too afraid. But she wasn’t. She ended up sitting right beside me to speak about the book I had in my lap.
Bryson is cute. I think about that a lot, when he’s playing his ukelele and singing a song about a girl that I hope is me. His voice is so lovely. It’s my favorite sort of voice, that folksy, not-quite clear voice. I love him.
She looks at me from across the lunch room. I catch her eye, face heating up, and hide my face behind my hair. Through my periphery I watch her lean over to her friend, clad in a leather jacket and light wash jeans, and whisper one, heart-stopping word.
“Cute.”
I can’t stop smiling.
I catch her eye from across the room. Her hair is short and messy, cut just above her ears. A loose button-up shirt hugs her form, accompanied by a pair of skinny jeans. She smirks at me, just barely, and the girl besides her catches my eye with a knowing smile. She’s cute, I think. I hope she thinks the same about me.
“Yes!” She screamed into the phone. “What!” Cried all of her friends in return, after having sat on the bed watching anxiously in silence. That silence was broken with screaming, shouting and a general jumping about with happiness. “I can get her!” Clara, who had been on the phone yelled as she hung up. And the ruckus returned at fever pitch. Until Clara screamed at the top of her lungs “LETS GO!” The stream of girls ran for the car. Clara jumped in and they set off. “She’s adorable.” They whispered to each-other once they had gotten to the pet store. Clara was gently rocking a tiny Dachshund Puppy in her arms. “Oh, sweety.” She whispered breathlessly “Oh, CoCo, you are so cute. And I’m going to love you forever and ever.”
The puppies were cute. The kittens were cute. The dresses that little girls wore were all cute. Everything to Cecily Lee was so cute! Even the roses and daisies were cute.
She flung around that word like a flag of pride, while her English teacher father died a little on the inside. She asked for new socks and umbrellas and boots in just the right colors – so they could be cute! And her father obliged, all compliant and mute.
The dimple was always the start. My sister had a dimple and I always wondered why I didn’t. People called her cute — but the called me handsome or strong . . . it was never quite fit me, in my opinion — but they felt they had to say something because it was true – my sister was really cute.
I hated when people called me cute because on some level, I felt that it meant that I wasn’t good enough to be beautiful.
Liquid brown eyes stare back at me through the cage. One side is shaved, and mangy fur lays accusingly on the table. The dog is whimpering at the needles, knives, creams and mixtures that lay beside it- and all I want to do it get it out.
cuties with booties always get me to do my duties
“You think you can scare me with that thing? You think you’re really gonna kill me? Huh?” The old man leaned into the kid with the plastic sword’s face.
“That’s real cute.”
Cute is like a more comon word for adorable. Babies aren’t cute but some animals are. Being called cute is really nice. I have this friend Sarah and she is a cute angel.
At the table, i was left standing, no place for another bugger. Lets face it, i was the son who never came home for Christmas, well this is true for the past 10 years. But no guilty feeling, i was there, standing, waiting for that look, that welcoming feeling, that warm embrace. It was not going to be a good day, hell, not even with all the once regarded as cute pictures of me as a child standing at the porch.
Meet cute, a deep rooted classroom friendship has grown to this off-campus huddle over soup. The button nosed Tamil girl eats the hot-pot slowly and I fall into the depth of her ladle like one of those coriander flakes. She winces minutely when I bring up karaoke, a cute affect to subtlely let me know that I’m just a herb to tint the bite.
She batted her eyes like they do in the movies. Was it working? Not really. She glanced over at her best friend, who was oblivious to her attempt to flirt across the room with the handsome stranger. She found a hair pin in her pocket and poked Courtney in the back. “Ow!”
sometimes i like to think that i’m cute. i don’t think that i’m pretty or anything or attractive of that sorts. idk i just don’t really think about my body all the much in terms of whether i’m attractive or not. i like clothes tho. so sometimes i’ll try to put a little effort into my outfit.
in school, sometimes i think, “why are people cuter than me? that should be illegal” and i typically only think this when i see someone attractive. lately i’ve been thinking that i’m bisexual actually because i look at both guys and girls and think that they’re cute.
okay okay so also, there’s this girl right. her name is Lydia but i won’t say her last name (i vaguely remember it). for some reason?? last year in first period, she stared at me. i swear, she STARES at me. last year i had English first period, and for the whole year i didn’t notice this, or maybe she wasn’t looking at me yet. but then towards the end of the year around may or June, we get new seats and i’m sitting next to her.
i think THAT is when i start noticing she stares at me. okay okay, so i’m creeped out right. why are you staring at me? am i cute, ugly? do you think i’m weird when i share my ideas in English? i had no idea and for the whole rest of the year, i didn’t ask her. fast forward to this year right. she’s in my SOCIAL STUDIES CLASS 3RD PERIOD. SHE STILL STARES AT ME.
honestly, it’s starting to piss me off. sometime during this year i’m going to ask her why she stares at me and she better stop because it bothers me. i’ve been thinking she stares at me because i’m cute?? or she likes me?? i have no idea. she’s religious i think and goes to church, so that wouldn’t make sense right?
i have no idea but whatever. anyway, let’s swerve back onto the topic of cute. i’ve been thinking that girls and guys are cute, so i’m thinking i’m bisexual but idk. i had a few crushes on girls last year so. but i’ve never actually dated. so I JUST DON’T KNOW IF I’M BI OR NOT. tbh though, i don’t really talk about boys or girls as much as others. my friends will start talking about crushes, and i’ll stay silent or just think, “we’re in middle school guys, we aren’t old enough to date yet.” so there’s the chance that i’m asexual? honestly i don’t know.
so, you can completely ignore this if you want, i’m just venting right now and i heard that venting or writing in a stream of consciousness helps.
Could U Terminate Everyone? thanks
Cute is when you see your crush bite his lip <3
What I find cute is the way he writes so elegantly, cursive to perfection!
I think he is cute, his personality is cute, the way he speaks is cute.
She thought she was being cute, dressed up in a pink princess gown with a tiara on her head. She acted like she was coming into a great hall and receiving homage from her followers. She looked up, trying not to look at me to gauge the effect of her cuteness.
I smiled. The rooms here are dark, in the middle of this overcrowded slum. I had found the costume in a garbage can and after washing it and repairing it, had left it on the end of her sleeping platform, over her school bag.
When she woke up, she handled it with wonderment. “Where did it come from?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “Try it on.” She then slipped it on and looked at herself in the mirror.
“It’s so wonderful.” I smiled and said nothing. It was a bit of light in the dark; I didn’t want to ruin the illusion.
fluffy, baby animals, small, adorable. Warm, safe, relief, no stress or worries, relax hot chocolate
The girl patted the toddler’s head. He cooed at her, before cutely spinning in circles and flopping down onto the soft grass.
The rabbit looked up at her expectantly. She nervously changed hands with the cleaver. Her heart was pounding. She didn’t think it would be..cute? Her brother needed the protein. She knew it was do or die.
It was… cute, I guess. I mean, they kind of fitted together perfectly, like they were pieces of the same puzzle… but they were missing something. They were incomplete. And I had a bad feeling that what was missing was any actually feeling. Not a good sign. It all felt orchestrated and fake.
She looks up at me, huge eyes, pouting lips, red ears. I smile, she is definitely the cutest four year old I’ve ever seen. “Hi, love.” I murmur brushing back her hair. “What’s wrong?”
Never once did he give up. He pushed forward and reached his goal. He made it through thick and his with just a smile. He was depressed, but never showed it. Everywhere he went his smile was brighter than the sun. His words would kill. He was called gay. He was called a man-slut, bitch. yet, he didn’t give up. He never gave up. He never looked on the bright side, but one day he reached for the stars and achieved.
Her eyes shone a bright red under the contestant moon. Her life in danger from everything. She was small and petite. Scars everywhere, abused, yet she stood proud of where she was and nothing would ever change her, no matter how big or small her action was. She know that one day, she would be the one to change the world for the better.
She is the cutest person ever. But what I hate is that’s she is taken. I love her and I can’t ever get her off my mind. Sh’e perfect, but she doesn’t see that. She sees someone other than herself.
There was no way to describe the effect the small girl had on her. Suddenly, Jane’s head was pounding – absolutely throbbing with the need to console the young child, wrap her in her arms. The only problem was, the girl was completely fine, joyful even. There were no tears. Just this strange urge of Jane’s to comfort.
Cora is the cutest thing in my life. I love hearing her talk (her verbal skills are amazing). And she does funny things, like wearing a princess dress, a safety vest, goggles and a tiara.
So cute!
my son, kitten, 작고 어리고 여린 것들은 귀엽다 사랑스럽다. 덩치 큰 사람이 어울리지 않게 섬세한 행동을 할 때, 귀여움은 자신이 예쁜 것을 의식하지 않고 자연스럽게 엉뚱한 행동을 할때 문득 느껴지는 것 같다.
The way her eyes light in get dark. The way her lip curls at the ends and she pouts slightly when embarrassed, her shoulders hunching over to make herself even smaller than she already is. The blush that dusts across her cheeks before spreading like wildfire across her face. I tell her she’s cute and she acts cute in response.
Aww can we have that one? said Sarah pointing to an adorable puppy looking at her with big, innocent eyes. “Are you sure this is the one you want” asked her mother. “yes” she said.