Tuxedo Kamen Novels & Stories

He stared at me before smiling again, "you have no idea what I'm capable of piccolo gato." Did I hear correctly or did this man just call me a cat? God I felt so angry, I could scream. "Who do you think you're calling a c-" " -hush, he placed his hands on my mouth. We're here..." I listened to the environment, it was dead quiet. I was really at my place but, how did he manage to pass the security? I wanted to ask but then I remembered the hand on my mouth, my face went hot. I stared at him as he held my mouth, my pulse racing and my face red. I had no idea why, but he felt more visible under the moon light. I could see his face a little more closely this time and holy fuck, he looked divine.

He also had horns sticking out of his head. The other, Taifū, was a tall man wielding a long slim blade. He had a long nose, two wings, and was carrying two additional scabbards on his left and right side. He was wearing a kamishimo, resembling the outfits of old samurai. The difference being his bare bird like feet, and the lack of a kimono underneath, showing his chest. Taifū spoke in a loud, screeching voice. "You're just a monster playing hunter. You don't deserve anymore than this!"

Ren looked at the speaker. It was Jinx. Her avatar was a sleek, cyber-ninja construct. She wore matte-black stealth plating, a hood pulled low over a digital mask that displayed a shifting neon smiley face. Currently, the face was rolling its eyes. Twin monofilament katanas were strapped to her back. "Relax, Jinx," the second figure rumbled. "The man’s got a life." This was Tank.

But I see him. Damien Cross. Six-foot-two of tailored perfection in a Tom Ford tuxedo that probably costs more than the car I sold last year just to make rent. Dark hair styled like he just rolled out of bed—except it's deliberate, carefully crafted carelessness. Gray eyes that I used to think could see straight into my soul. Turns out they were just cataloging my weaknesses.

It has ruffly drop sleeves that leave my shoulders bare, the tendrils of hair escaping my up-do tickling the creamy skin on display. “Damn, Kaden has good taste.” He whistles in appreciation for the garment gifted me. Then he twirls me in a move that brings my back tight against his chest, his cheek pressed to mine as he scent-marks me. “I wish I had time to fuck my cum into you, leave it dripping down your legs so everyone would know who you belong to, but this will have to do.” As if on cue, the bedroom door opens and two rambunctious toddlers in little tuxedos run in, followed closely by Kaden, an exasperated grin on his face.

I remember King Victor being a broad-shouldered sloucher with a well-groomed beard and a slight paunch, like an extra from How to Train Your Dragon dressed in an expensive suit. The man we approach is not King Victor. This man, whoever he is, stands tall and straight. This man wears a tuxedo like the concept of tuxedos was invented because of him. I can’t look away from the sharpness of his clean-shaven jawline or the intense gray of his eyes, which lock on mine. His black hair is short and parted at the side, and a hint of silver touches its strands.

The curtain—made of mat—flapped open and some able-bodied men walked into the room. The Snake skin cloak and the falcon feather on their helmet, marked them out as the royal guard. They were twice the size of the hut and their heads would have burst out from the roof If they hadn't hunched their features. Their bare chests were vibrating like the current of a flowing river, matching the soulless gaze that covered the chalk circled eyes. Confusion as well as fright wrapped Ejima's agony. Even as she dragged the mat to hide her nakedness, she could perceive the anger emanating from their gaze.

Sometimes people can't see their own shinigami so they would come to the shop and see if they have one. "Karma are you ready?" Kaname says knocking on my door. "Yea you can come in," I said pulling a sweater over my head. "Karma what are you wearing?" Kaname gives me a look of disappointment. "What's wrong with it?" I said looking in the mirror, "Is it the jeans? I knew it, should've gone with the black ones," "You can't wear an oversized hoodie, wait is that mine?" "Maybe," "I've been looking for that hoodie for 6 months," Kaname attempts to pull the hoodie off of me.

my mother introduced to me. Itsuki was an attractive male from Nippon who could have been... in fact a male idol. His aesthetic ran similar to one of the modern ages. With an oversized denim jacket and black jumpsuit. He matched his outfit with combat boots. He had the rich dark hair of his ancestors and pale skin. His hair was cut just into his eyes that hid how dark they were from me. Itsuki's mate was Aoki. I could sense it. They were paired entirely by fate herself.

I tap on a red button and stroll in. There's a towering figure staring at the sight of the city from the glass walls. His muscular arms are tucked in his pocket, his long legs hidden in a tailored black Armando tuxedo. He's large, a little taller than me, and his muscles look like they'll rip the tux apart in seconds.