Butterflies Stories Novels & Stories

He asked. "Butterfly," I replied. He smiled and cupped my face. "Ivanna and butterfly.. only these names belong to you nothing else… You're my butterfly who had beautiful wings to fly. Some people call butterflies an insect or even get afraid of it but that doesn't decrease her beauty. It's just random people's shitty thoughts… Ignore them like butterflies do." I kept listening to him silently, gasping every word he was saying. At this point of time, I'm not in a state to understand anything or say something but his words are soothing.

Of course, with a little card like this: Dear Cara, This is the world’s largest butterfly, whose female wings can span up to 280 mm. They flutter in the air like pixies dancing in the sky. Do they resemble the ones that triggered the butterfly effect in the A****n rainforest? (Haha…just kidding, they only dwell in New Guinea:p) …… So I was quite astonished by this seemingly ordinary gift. I pressed the DV boot button and expected to watch my dad’s new “Amazing species” videos. But the DV storage file was blank.

that world, dragons.She spent her days in a radiant natural palace made of mountains and ice.Sitting alone. Not that she knew anything else.Thus time passed, until, on a hot spring day, a butterfly flew between the mountains and glaciers, and as if it were only there for this cause, it lands on the wrist of the fairy.The fairy has no reaction at all, nor does she move, she stands there as she has for a long time, staring at the blue and black wings of the butterfly. This one stays there for a few moments, spreading its wings as if it were going to stretch just to close it then, suddenly as if it had changed its mind, flaps its wings again, and passes through the colossal columns of ice, dis

There was a beautiful blue butterfly on the porch railing. I wanted to capture it and put it in a glass jar, even though I shouldn't. Daddy always told me that rubbing the powder off a butterfly's wings made it impossible for them to fly. I didn't want to hurt the thing; I just wanted to look at it a little longer. And as soon as I walked up the porch, it would fly off, and I would never see it again. The butterfly flew away, as predicted, and I had only made it up the first step.

Her voice was small and barely a whisper – the temptation to close her eyes and start her slumber was like a siren’s call for her. Upon her command, a flock of black butterflies immerged from the darkness of her room. They heed their master’s command and from the accumulated shadow within the flock, a floating egg was seen. It was placed under their master’s arms as if she was curling around it – protecting it. With the command being delivered, the flock of Slaughter butterflies entered Cent’s shadow, waiting to be called again – the taste of angel flesh still lingering their predatory instincts.

EMMA God, the air in the house felt thicker than the humid summer night pressing against the windows. I was still buzzing from dinner—too much wine, too many lingering looks, and way too much skin on display. I’m Emma, twenty-one, fresh out of college with a body I knew turned heads: tight, athletic from years of running and yoga, perky C-cup tits that loved showing off under thin tank tops, and an ass that filled out my tiny cotton shorts perfectly. But tonight, the real heat wasn’t coming from outside. It was coming from her—my stepmom Sarah—and him—my stepbrother Jake.

Then I opened my legs wider for him, resisting the overwhelming urge to close them. “Touch yourself,” he ordered, voice low and rough. My face burned with humiliation, but I obeyed again. My fingers moved between my folds, smearing my abundant juices around my swollen clit. I closed my eyes tightly, unable to bear the intensity of his stare. “Open your eyes,” he snapped. “And do not hide your moans.” I obeyed, releasing my bitten lip as I circled my clit faster. Soft, embarrassed whimpers escaped me despite my best efforts. The wet sounds of my fingers filled the room, making everything feel even more degrading.

His eyes, focused and sincere, carried no hint of flirtation, only a quiet, thoughtful intensity that made me follow his gaze. The butterflies were in various stages of life. Some were emerging from their cocoons, struggling to break free, while others had already spread their wings in vibrant colors. The introduction board on the side reads: When a butterfly emerges from its cocoon, it's also strengthening its wings to get ready for flight. As it breaks free, fluid from its body flows into its wings, helping them grow stronger.

Caspian: The living room was quiet except for Adrian’s excited voice as he recounted a story about something he had seen near the garden, something about a glowing butterfly, and how he thought it might be magical. How much I wanted to explain to him that he was the one who was magical, that the butterfly was simply responding to him.

There were only owls and eagles in that forest, flying from tree to tree. A web of spiders ensnared the butterfly as she attempted to fly from her perch atop the enormous, dry tree. Despite her best efforts to free herself, her lovely wings remain stuck in the web. In my attempt to release the butterfly from the spider web, I moved closer to that enormous tree, but the butterfly perished before I could release the trap.