Quackity Face Novels & Stories

My soft angel replies as we await our turn for food from the serving hatches. “Oh yes, until the screaming bunker rooster woke me up,” Quinn replied, her grey-blue eyes flitting between us. She pointed a long, painted red nail straight at Mireille’s face. I panicked, misreading her scowling gesture for violence until she smirked, her teeth still perfect despite her ruined smile. “That’s you by the way. You’re the sex rooster.” “Leave her alone, Quinn!” Dee laughed, tugging Quinn’s pointing hand away.

‘Doesn’t he know that Quack is a Rank 8 Evolved One? On the other hand, Lucas' face remained composed as if nothing had happened. He sauntered over to Quack, who was on the floor. "I said that you're not just useless but are also a pitiful weakling. Why can't you just believe me?" Lucas looked at Quack calmly. Quack heard it, and he stared hard at Lucas before peeling himself from the ground. "Just you wait and see!" Quack used his finger to point at Lucas; it meant that he was asking Lucas not to flee and wait for him as he summoned his men.

"Sometimes I question why I'm friends with you." Later at lunch, Connor was already sitting at our table with his lunch. I walked over and sat beside him. He turned slightly, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek while placing a hand on my thigh. "Have I told you how cute you look in my shirt?" I shook my head, taking a bite of my taco because food is more important than responding with words. He chuckled to himself, "You're adorable." I smiled, with a mouthful of taco, because like he said, I'm adorable.

I left Riley behind, crying after me, because I could hear Andy whisper in my ear. “Keep walking, Daddy. Don’t look back.” After Riley and Leo were both sentenced to prison, a cosmetic surgery specialist named Suzanne Jones contacted me. “Mr. Quince, I can perform reconstructive surgery for you and restore your original appearance.” At first, I had given up. I thought I would live the rest of my life with this face. However, Suzanne’s words made me decide to try once more. She said, “I think your son and parents would be very happy to see you restored to your old look.”

It looks harder than his younger suns. Across the pit, Old Quincey’s face drains from red to a sickly white. His fingers grip his knees as he begins to worry whether his son will even stand up after the first blow connects. "Quick, capture the muscle! How many lords in New York carry a pelt like this? Move!" "Haha, this face-slap is glorious! The fools who voted for Quincey are going to have swollen jaws tomorrow. How could a male this primal be interested in other males? Stop the jokes!"

Iris asked and dread pulled in the pit of her stomach from the way her face twisted. “You don't think you are pathetic?” “I think you are pathetic.” She spat and got another wack in the face that sent her head reeling for a few seconds. “We had a deal, human, we had a deal!” She said calmly into her face. Slowly holding her head in her hands, Quinn managed to look up at her, holding her cold stare. “I held my part of the deal, Iris.” She forced out, trying to get her focus back and determined to fight back.

A small and stray tear fell on the screen as I looked down at the selfie Raph and I took together, our faces scrunched in two comical pouts, still remembering that specific moment. “...hey, show me your best bitch face! *camera clicks* Hey, that’s not a bitch face! You look like a constipated duck!” My lips escaped a small giggle, the look on his face momentarily flashing before my eyes, leaving behind the saddened reflection in my mirror, that small smile wiping away just as quick as it came, replaced by another few, bitter tears. Placing the phone back on the make-up table, I wiped away the salty wetness on my cheeks, suddenly feeling the small tingle on the inside of my wrist, my eyes shi

It was the picture-perfect definition of polishing the knob. Massimo's last venture into Quinn's face hole was a hard plunge deep into her throat. Her eyes bulged as she choked a bit. Still, she managed to roll her tongue around his massive manhood. The outline was visible in her cheeks. She placed her hand around the base of his schlong and slowly pulled it out like a sword swallower pulling out the long, menacing weapon. It sounded like a champagne bottle being uncorked.

I have to recall my years of stringent training under my father's wrathful gaze to keep a straight face when he is near. Unfortunately, Katrina isn't as trained as I am, and I watch her face turn sickly green when he nears the table; her cute little nose is scrunched up, and her mouth is pursed as if she's trying to hold down vomit. It's hard to contain the chuckle that threatens to escape due to her facial expressions.

They all grin wickedly at the look on my face. “What?” I hear gasps erupting all around me and I lower my head with a quiet growl. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! “Fuck!”