Miles Morales Mask Moving Eyes Novels & Stories

There never existed two people in the world with vocals like Marchesa. Marcelo swept back the hair that stood in his eyes, brought his mask down to his neck. A vicious look on his face. But Marconi knew he couldn't demonstrate fear at that moment. Ever since he opted for that seat, Marcelo coming back had been his biggest nightmare; especially when he put a price on his head. Now, the devil was here, looking bruised and bartered from every corner but the look in his eyes could have had Lucifer himself running. He looked soulless.

He's seen movies where secrets were spilt in offices like this, maybe he would escape without saying much or maybe it actually worked the way it was shown, you can't control what you say. "This session is for thirty minutes, I know you understand," Macklemore explained, his jaw moving peacefully almost as though each time he spoke, he precisely placed them at a particular point not to exceed or go above them. His beards covered a major part of his face, leaving some part of his brown skin visible. Andre also found his curious black eyes disturbing, almost enough to put him off the edge. "So you have to get comfortable else it would be a waste coming here," I hope it was. Andre's subconscious

I kept his eyes off my mind, refusing to look at the man’s face, refusing to let him see the cold, hard rage hiding behind Luna’s mask. Outside, Mateo walked calmly into the main floor of Club Máscara. He had driven his Audi sports coupe through the narrow streets of Madrid, but his demeanor remained entirely composed. He hadn't bothered to put on the velvet mask provided at the entrance. He walked in with his bare face exposed, his sharp jawline relaxed, and his dark eyes observing the room with a quiet, patient focus.

Her eyes locked with his wide and horrified eyes from his mask. She had been caught.

I mused out loud, then pressed my lips together with wide eyes when I heard Miles growl. I had my finger hovering over a picture with a clear view of my mask, but it also had a clear view of Alexi’s dick going into my mouth. Definitely not a picture you want your mate to see. “Do you miss it?” Mick asked flatly. “Not really,” I shrugged. “I was just wondering.” “The correct answer is no, Chloe,” Cortina sighed. “I don’t miss the work,” I tried not to roll my eyes. “The mask was what gave me my first taste of freedom though. Freedom with my body.”

"Umm—" "Of course you're in." I haven't yet decided it but he want me to take a yes. He was wearing a mask, made by Abaca fiber, too. He seems to have a cough or something. I can't see his whole face. But, his silver lightning eyes was sharp that doesn't miss a thing. I think he wants to befriend with me. He almost touched my skin so I managed to move a litle bit away from him. Who is this guy?

he yelled suddenly making Michelle jump up "I'll kīll her, fûck it!' he spat rushing to his car. He got in and resumed driving like a lunatic "Oh saviours "Michelle lowered herself on a seat. She dipped her face in her palm allowing fat tears to roll down her cheeks "Melanie, please be okay. Please" she clasped her hands together praying sliently Graveyard Cartel** "Go for an eye surgery already" Eros said to Tikka as she wore another pair of glasses

His eyes were stretched wide, his face contorted in agony as he howled, “What… what are you doing? Let me go! I need to save them! YOU BASTARD! I… I’LL KILL YOU! SOMEONE HELP!” “Anyone… please… someone help me…” His voice had gone hoarse, blood seeping from the corners of his mouth. But still, he wouldn’t stop. Stopping meant there was truly no hope left. Tears spilled from his wide eyes, mixing with the blood. It was impossible to tell which was more—blood, or tears. Then, the video cut to a new scene. A face wearing a white smiley-face mask filled the screen. The figure was clad in white, the smiling mask covering their features completely, giving nothing away. Yet somehow, everyone who lo

Miles's head hit the metallic locker and he gripped the back of head with both his hands. "Asshole. You motherfucker. What did you say to him huh? What the hell did you say to him?" Moura gripped his jaw tightly making him hiss in pain. His glassed rolled down to his nose tip. He was breathing heavy that caused glasses getting foggy. "Tuld wvo?" Miles asked as Moura's grip was tight on his face. "You are fucking being clever now." Moura didn't let him stand straight and he was pushed to the locker one more time this time Moura's hand on his jaw controlling full motion of his body.

Too much like something from a nightmare rather than reality. Annie really looked into the box. And screamed. A broken sound came from somewhere deep in her chest. Because inside the box, wrapped in tissue paper like something precious, like something meant to be unwrapped with care on Christmas morning, was a head. Mr Morales's head. His eyes were closed. His face was almost peaceful except for the unnatural colour of death. His reading glasses were still perched on his nose—those glasses he wore just last night when he hugged her goodbye, when he promised they'd see each other soon, when he called her his daughter again after sixteen years.