Handsome Kakashi Without Mask Novels & Stories

Jensen frowned, and asked softly, "Did he do anything to you?" Kisa shook her head frivolously. "That guy must be him. Hehehe…he thought he could get away with it, wearing a mask. Does he think I couldn't recognize him? You know…even if he turned into ashes, I could still easily recognize him…" Jensen listened attentively to Kisa's drunken slurs as he wiped both of her hands, face, and neck with a towel.

Why was he seeing two extra? The said extra, were standing there with their heads bowed. One was quite tall and lean with dark brown hair neatly packed into a high ponytail. He was dressed in simple clothing, giving him a sunny aura. There was a face mask on his face so Ryu couldn't recognise him. The other was sitting on a wheel chair. He had ash blonde hair and cute features. Ryu recognised him as the oldest son of the Yamaguchi family. Yamaguchi Kento.

His full lips, slightly parted to reveal a teasing glimpse of straight white teeth, were curved into a lopsided smirk that somehow managed to appear both wickedly sensual and insufferably smug all at once. But it wasn't his state of wanton undress, wasn't the mouthwatering display of his tattooed body that stretched in an elaborate, winding trail from his thick, corded neck down across his abdomen and laid bare before her hungry stare that had stunned Serena into such silence. No, it was the fact that he wasn't wearing his customary mask, leaving his striking, inhumanly beautiful face bare and exposed for the first time since she'd known him. Serena couldn't believe her eyes as she drank in

Seeming pleased with me abandoning the idea of touching him, Kaden lifts the mask off his face and throws it away. And I regret my words from earlier. A trail of blood trickles from his temple, over his lids, and down his cheek and jaw, giving him a strikingly dangerous edge. But that’s not why I regret telling him to show me his features, it’s his face, dammit. And how utterly handsome he is. If he looked creepy earlier, then now, he’s a downright cruelly beautiful monster as he brutally drives in and out of my mouth. He’s definitely not the type who finishes fast, even with the maddening rhythm he’s going at.

I had just finished my story, embellishing a few unimportant details (like telling them I had felt like exploring, and not that I had been spying on the celebration I refused to attend), and now we were seated in silence staring at each other. “Are you sure you didn't see his face? Not even a side view?” Vimon finally broke the silence to ask. They had both assumed the intruder was male, and I found myself agreeing with them. I shook my head in reply to her question, his mask had made sure of that. “ No tattoos either?” Kane asked. “ Or birthmarks or even scars, anything that would help identify him.” I started to shake my head..... and stopped midway. A certain image had suddenly popped int

The man with a mask over his face. *

He groaned, chest heaving. “Name,” he barked, voice sharp. “J-Jake,” I rasped, throat raw, hands clutching my neck. He loomed over me, a fucking predator, his presence choking me. I flinched as he reached down, bracing for the end. But instead, his fingers brushed my lip, slow and teasing. I gasped, eyes snapping open to see his mask pulled down, revealing a face too damn perfect—sharp jaw, full lips curled in a sinister grin, moonlight carving out every angle.

He shook his head and held my chin to make me look at him. “No… she doesn’t hate you. I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. Golden wolves don’t lose their calm easily, and if they do, there’s always a big reason behind it.” I looked at him with teary eyes, and that’s when I noticed he was fully dressed—unlike me. Even his face was covered by a mask. I felt my cheek burn with embarrassment. “When did you put your clothes on?” I asked, squirming in his arms as I realised I was naked.

My eyes flutter open, close, and open again until his face comes into focus. He knelt in front of me, one hand steady on my back, the other patting me slowly. An oversized matte-black blazer draped over his broad shoulders, clean fade to short curls, sharp jaw shadowed by mustache and goatee. A black mask cut high across his nose, revealing emerald eyes. Even half-hidden behind the black mask, I could tell he was devastatingly handsome. Across the hall, Moni is already surrounded by guests, clutching her stomach dramatically, tears streaking her face.

Not yet. Just as I was about to step away from the wall and force myself into the crowd, a figure emerged from the sea of masks and gowns. He was tall, his broad shoulders accentuated by the tailored black suit he wore. His mask was simple yet striking— a deep obsidian with silver accents that caught the light as he moved. His hair was dark, neatly styled, and his eyes, though hidden behind the mask, seemed to pierce through the shadows, locking onto mine. My heart skipped a beat as he approached, his movements calm and deliberate. He stopped a few feet away, bowing slightly in a gesture of respect.