cringe is dead

The moment Klahadore shut Kaya’s door behind him, the gentle smile he’d been feigning snapped into the scowl he’d been wearing internally. Stupid girl, waking me in the middle of a night for a silly dream.

The young lady had been startled by a nightmare. Without her parents to comfort her, the burden had fallen to her faithful butler to bring her warm tea and retrieve her teddy bear which had fallen to the floor in her restless sleep. Klahadore wanted to vent his frustrations in a loud sigh, but the walls of the estate were quite thin for the amount it was worth.

So thin, in fact, that he heard the familiar sound of your voice cursing as he passed your bedroom door. Curiously, though, the profanity spilling from your lips didn’t sound like they were elicited by anger. They were hardly more than odd murmurs amidst a symphony of gasps and moans.

Klahadore’s face went scarlet as he realized exactly what was happening on the other side of that door. His feet rooted to the ground on the other side of your door as he glanced over each of his shoulders. Convinced there was nobody to spot him, he slowly crept closer to the door, only having a moment’s hesitation before pressing his ear against it.

“F-Fuck, please, yes. Just like- mmm, oh, yes, like that!”

Is there someone else in there? Klahadore couldn’t help the wave of jealousy that slammed into his chest. Since the moment he had laid eyes on you, he had decided you were his. Other than being kept busy with his duties to Kaya, his slow pursuit of you was entirely calculated. He needed to learn exactly how to entice you so he could stake his claim over you properly - ideally while you were begging for it.

Except now, all that planning had been thrown out the window. He had half the mind to bust the door down entirely to interrupt you and this supposed interloper, to demand whoever it was keep their filthy hands off his kitten.

But Klahadore wanted to know. He wanted to hear you cry out their name so he knew who’d he be sending to a watery grave at the break of dawn.

It was only a few moments before he got his answer. Anyone with less astute hearing would have missed it. Would have missed the way your breath suddenly quickened, the panicked shuffling of frantically grabbing a pillow, and the muffled whimper that followed.

“Klahadoooore~!!”

In a blink, Klahadore was splayed against the adjacent wall, his hand clasped tightly over his lips to trap his gasp. His face was hot to the touch and he could swear his heart was stuttering. Hearing you cry his name while you were in the throes of pleasure suddenly made his slacks uncomfortably tight.

On the other side of the door, he could hear you panting. The quick-paced metronome was soon interrupted by sharp inhales and hissed cursing. Klahadore had to bite down on his finger when he realized you were trying to push yourself further. To get more.

Klahadore’s mind raced, flashing images of what he would see if he opened the door. Your hair sticking to your forehead, cheeks flushed, pupils blown, lips swollen from biting down on them to keep quiet? He wondered where your hands had been when you were pretending they were Klahadore’s, what they had been doing just like that. He didn’t realize his hand had left his mouth until it was pressing against the bulge below his belt.

He softly sighed your name as the touch had him closing his eyes to see the fireworks he could feel firing behind them. He wanted it to be his hands that continued teasing you after your climax. He wanted to hear you purr his name into his ear instead of into the pillow. He wanted to be free of his clothing and buried deep inside you, claiming you as his territory while you told him exactly how good it was making you feel.

Klahadore would have lost himself to his imagination if he hadn’t picked up on how the other side of the door went silent. He withdrew his hand in an instant, letting it hang in the air for a moment. He knew that he ought to have fled, to have returned to his own bedroom to take care of the inconvenience in his pants.

But he couldn’t deny his curiosity.

Before he knew what he was doing, Klahadore knocked on your door. He heard a gasp from the other side, followed by a string of profane hissing.

“Uh- Who, uh, who’s there?” you called.

Klahadore internally swore. His blood had drained out of his head and for once he hadn’t thought of what to say.

“You called, my dear.”

“Kla- oh, fuck!”

After the pattering of running footsteps, the door swung open. Klahadore found himself being pulled inside before he could get a good look at you. He was finally able to focus his eyes when you slammed the door shut, using your back to barricade it. You were entirely unclothed, using a blanket wrapped around your body to conceal yourself.

“What did you hear?”

“You called for me.”

“Don’t play dumb with me! What. Did. You. Hear?”

“I heard you calling for me, kitten,” Klahadore repeated, grabbing your hand and stepping much too close. “But it was difficult to hear with that pillow in the way. How about next time you whimper into my ear instead, hm?”

Your head buried into Klahadore’s shoulder, as if doing so would hide your embarrassment. Then you tilted your head upward, lips brushing against Klahadore’s ear.

“Klahadore,” you whined.

“Good kitty,” Klahadore groaned, his hands suddenly grasping at the blanket around your waist and pulling you in. “Just like that.”

You inhaled sharply, once again pressing your face into Klahadore’s neck. The way the muscles of Klahadore’s throat writhed beneath your lips as he swallowed made your knees give just slightly.

“Klahadore, I can’t,” you whined against Klahadore’s skin. “That was my second, I-”

“Second?” Klahadore echoed, his heartbeat picking up in an instant. “And was the first also to the thought of me?”

“They,” you sighed before continuing your confession, “They’ve all been. Since we met. I keep thinking about you, and when I think about you I have to… take care of myself.”

The Cute Stuff

- Felix fell first, Turbo fell harder. Felix was not immune to the antics of a cocky racer, and Turbo was not immune to the charm of an excessively polite pretty boy with those eyes.

- Turbo hurled every pick-up line in the book at Felix, who ate up every single one. Even after they began going steady, Turbo would still use them and Felix would still swoon over even the lowest hanging of fruit (“The only ten you see? Oh, Turbo, you’re so sweet!”)

- Felix’s favorite thing about Turbo is his laugh. The way it bubbles out like a fountain, how it rings at a much higher pitch than Turbo typically speaks. Turbo’s favorite thing about Felix is his eyes. How expressive they are, how easily he gets lost in them.

- Turbo loves to see Felix without his hat. He loves to tousle Felix’s hair and get it messed up, much to Felix’s annoyance. This results in increasingly elaborate schemes on Turbo’s part to remove Felix’s hat before he can figure out that his hat is about to get snatched.

- Turbo wears clothes under his racing suit, usually just a tee-shirt and biker shorts. Felix loves to steal the tees to wear under his uniform - mostly because he loves that, beneath the motor oil and burnt rubber, they smell like Turbo. But he never tells Turbo that he’s going to steal a shirt. Turbo eventually goes from being annoyed that a particular shirt is missing to smug because he knows exactly who’s wearing it.

- The second Felix puts on that pouty face, Turbo folds like a lawn chair. Anything Felix wants, Turbo will race to the ends of the arcade to get for him. Felix knows that the face is Turbo’s one weakness and abuses it constantly to get his way.

- Felix sings in the shower. Turbo will sit on the other side of the door and listen to every poorly-belted note of the best hits the eighty’s had to offer. Felix eventually realizes that Turbo is listening when he catches him whistling the same songs he’d been singing that morning. The first day after the initial realization, he was too embarrassed to sing for fear of being overheard - but Turbo barricaded his bathroom door and refused to let him out until he sang something because “I don’t care if you miss every note, it’s your voice and I like hearing it!” After that, he started singing louder.

- Turbo will and has gotten into fistfights with other characters because they insulted Felix. Felix refuses to condone the violence, but will have actual hearts in his eyes while he’s telling Turbo to stop swinging. Nevertheless, he’ll take his time lecturing Turbo before fixing any injuries he got in the fight with a tap of his hammer.

- RIP TURBO, YOU WOULD HAVE LOVED “GOLDEN” BY HUNTR/X 😔😔

The Sad Stuff

- Turbo confessed his plan to flee to Roadblasters, seeing that his game would inevitably get unplugged after the new one made it obsolete. Felix begged him not to go through with it, assured him that he’d still love Turbo even if his game got unplugged. The argument escalated into essentially Felix asking why a life with him wasn’t good enough for Turbo, while Turbo was asking why Felix wasn’t taking his fear of losing his purpose seriously.

- They broke up over that argument - Felix’s doing (“If you’re willing to abandon what we have because you’re scared, maybe we shouldn’t have anything at all!”) And for all thirty years after there wasn’t a day where Felix didn’t wonder if Turbo wouldn’t have done it if he had stayed. There wasn’t a day he didn’t regret that those were the last words he ever said to Turbo.

- This is less a headcanon and more just. A fact. But Roadblasters was, like, directly across from Felix’s console. Felix watched Turbo get corrupted.

- The headcanon follow-up to that fact: Felix never shook the nightmares from watching it happen. He has nightmares about seeing Turbo’s exposed code, about his own game getting corrupted, about getting corrupted himself.

- After the incident, Felix refused to step foot in any other racing game - they reminded him too much of Turbo. After the events in Sugar Rush, he wishes he had made that game an exception. The thought that he could have seen Turbo again, maybe even recognized his voice behind that fabricated King Candy lisp, keeps him awake at night.

- If Sour Bill had told “King Candy” that he had locked Felix in the Fungeon, Turbo would have dragged him just outside the game’s field and permanently executed him.

- Whenever Vanellope comes to visit, Felix will always be courteous to her, but will refuse eye contact with her. Looking at her too long reminds him too much of the night he saw Turbo die all over again.

The Fun Stuff (NSFW)

- I’m gonna start with the obvious. Felix bottoms, to the surprise of absolutely fucking nobody. He tries to keep quiet, to be polite. Unfortunately, Turbo doesn’t believe that being quiet during sex is an option, and makes sure the entire arcade knows how good it feels to be the one fucking Felix. After their nights together, Felix always adjusts his hat a little lower when he sees anyone else - not that it hides how his cheeks go scarlet. Curiously, though, he never asks Turbo to be quieter when they’re together…

- After the first time they slept together, Turbo stole one of Felix’s hammers (a new one spawns in his hand if he’s not holding it when the quarter drops, anyway). Felix almost fainted when, after a week of searching everywhere for it, he saw it on Turbo’s shelf “with the rest of my trophies!”

- Felix retaliated the next time they slept together, stealing one of Turbo’s spare helmets and displaying it with his medals. When Turbo saw, within seconds he was fucking Felix against the dresser on which it rested.

- Turbo once asked if the head of a hammer “counts as a flared base.” Felix bribed the surge protector to lock Turbo out of his game for the next week.

- So Felix thinks saying “boo” counts as having a “potty mouth.” Obviously, whenever Felix apologizes to Turbo for swearing after saying something that very much is not profanity, it will go one of two ways: A, Turbo will hit the obvious, “I’m gonna fill your mouth with something else so you don’t say such naughty things”; or B, Turbo will tease and tease him, not allowing him to cum until he says an actual curse word.

- Speaking of which, hearing Felix swear during sex is music to Turbo’s ears. He quickly discovered that the most effective way to make Felix curse is overstimulating him. “Just say ‘fuck’ one more time, baby. You make that dirty word sound so sweet.”

- While Felix is distracted by his impromptu shower concerts, Turbo will steal his towel and refuse to give it back (“All you have to do is come out and take it from me!”). It invariably results in a tug-of-war match over the towel that ends with them having to grab a new one anyway because the one they were fighting over got… stained.

////////////////

You had always been restless. A nomad. A thief. The stickiness of your fingers had started with petty things - unattended coin purses, fruit that was piled just a little too high on a merchant’s cart - but tonight, as you were wandering the docks of a village you hadn’t bothered to learn the name of, the sight of an anchored pirate ship had you feeling particularly bold.

Mounds of treasure shone in the candlelight, seeming to be calling out your name. You only brought two small sacks along with you - enough to get a decent meal with plenty left over to gamble, but not enough for them to miss. Not from this massive pile.

You took your time filling the bags with coins and jewels, carefully placing them in individually so they wouldn’t make a sound. You heard footsteps creaking above and tied off the bags, trailing back the way you came for a seamless escape before those footsteps would catch up to you.

This is going smoother than I-

Your thoughts were interrupted by the soft sound of scraping metal. It was when you felt the tip of a blade pressing at the base of your skull that your heart skipped a beat. Ice ran through your nerves stemming from the point of contact, your blood running just as cold as it slowly trailed down, stopping behind your heart.

“I thought I heard the scurrying of vermin down here,” a low voice purred into your ear. The pressure against your back increased just slightly, not enough to break your skin but enough to snag the fabric of your vest. Your breath hitched as you heard the threads pop, your grip on the bags tightening. “Drop it.”

Your only other option being a sword through the chest, you let them hit the floor. The blade left your back, only for it to meet your shoulder. Despite your terror, your head slowly turned for your gaze to meet the tip of the…

That’s no sword.

Your eyeline traveled up the thin blade, the furthest you were able to see with your back turned being the fur glove to which it and four others connected. Your spine stiffened as you realized you hadn’t just been caught by some nosy grunt - you had become the prey of Captain Kuro.

His blade gently traced a line starting at your shoulder, running up the side of your neck, and stopping at the tip of your chin.

“Come now,” Kuro hummed, a soft rumble. “Face me properly, won’t you?”

As you slowly shuffled your feet in an attempt to comply, he used his free hand to adjust his glasses with his palm. The dim candlelight danced along the blades adorning his glove as he flexed his fingers, as if to flaunt the manicure that was surely about to cut you into ribbons. When you were facing him properly, the only part of his dark eyes you could see was the hunger in them as they ran you up and down, lingering on your trembling hands.

“Do I frighten you, little mouse?”

You felt your heartbeat pick back up, as if attempting to fit the rest of its capacity into the next few minutes in which death was certain. You slowly nodded, not even sure if your voice would work if you tried to use it. Kuro towered over you, the blades on his hands were extended to the length of his forearm - no shit, you were frightened. The one on your chin ran up your cheek, pressing in just enough to catch the skin.

The hiss you produced twisted your face into a grimace as the salt lingering in the air snuck into the cut and blood began trickling down to your jaw. Kuro chuckled before letting the blade rest perpendicular to your throat. He brought his offhand to lift your fingers with the blades.

“Look how you quiver before me,” he murmured, staking a step closer so your noses almost touched. The shaking of your hands only got worse with the proximity as your breath came in shallow gasps trying to get air in your lungs, which seemed to be trying to shrivel up to hide. “Dirty sneakthief.”

“Ple-Please,” you whimpered, your voice choked into the octave above which it normally rang and a mere fraction of the volume. “Please spare me.”

“Spare you?” Kuro echoed through a bitter laugh. “And why would I do that, little mouse?”

“Please, I’ll- you’ll never see me again,” you groveled. You felt the blade against your face slowly retract. “I’ll put everything b-back, and I- I’ll run far, I won’t tell a soul where you are, I’ll keep my m-my mouth sh-shut!”

With a cold chuckle, Kuro grabbed the back of your collar, thankfully with the claws fully at rest inside his glove, and lifted you off your feet. He admired the way your legs thrashed, trying to get your feet back on the ground and failing miserably. Then you were moving, almost impossibly fast. Your eyes squeezed shut tight as the cold ocean breeze made the wound on your face feel like it was being ripped open all over again.

You didn’t open your eyes again until you were still. You were still dangling from Kuro’s grasp, staring into the stars, despite your head hanging downward. As you frantically whipped your head around to reorient yourself, your stomach sank to the sand miles below your feet as you realized that, while you had been busy looting, you hadn’t noticed the swaying of the ship had gotten more intense as they had been untethering it from the anchor at the dock. Now, on the deck of the ship, it was obvious that surrounding you was nothing but water reflecting the midnight sky.

“See? Nowhere to run,” Kuro hissed into your ear before setting you on your feet and shoving his hand between your shoulder blades until you collapsed against the railing. You wrapped your hands around the pole and tried pushing back to no avail - his back was pressed against yours, breath hot on your ear as he caught his breath from his short sprint. “Keep begging. I like how it sounds.”

A fearful whine whistled from the back of your throat. “Please spare me,” you repeated. “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything, hm?” Kuro mused, his entire frame now resting against your back and his bladed hand slipping to your front and resting just above your abdomen. You felt a jolt from the contact, the way you flinched shifting your body to where you felt something prodding right against your tailbone. “You’re lucky I enjoy toying with my prey.”

The pressure at the base of your spine became even more obvious as Kuro somehow leaned closer, his tongue running up the trail his blade had left, cleaning off the blood that hadn’t dried yet. Your face went pale as you realized what exactly you had offered in exchange for your life. He’d do more than ‘enjoy’ toying with you - he’d get off on it.

The hand against your back moved to your shoulder, yanking you forward before slamming you back against the railing now facing Kuro. The stars in the sky seemed to drown in the darkness of his gaze. You were frozen, unable to break away from the eye contact, let alone his grip. All but one of the blades resting on your stomach retracted before the remaining one slowly dragged down your closed vest. The fabric ripped it its wake, exposing your skin for Kuro’s examination until it stopped at the top of your trousers.

“Let’s see what all you have stashed away, hm?” Kuro murmured into your ear, darting out his tongue to catch the fresh blood that was trickling down your cheek. He took his hand off your shoulder, biting down on the tip of his glove and pulling it off with his teeth. His hand was hot, too hot, as he ran in down your chest where your vest had been torn.

He slipped the fabric off your shoulders one by one, the cloth getting caught in the breeze. The sound of it rippling was soon quieted by the water in which it descended. A shiver ran through you as the wind joined Kuro’s hand in stroking your heaving chest.

Then it trailed down to your legs, as if to pat you down. Despite the fact that your life was still very much in jeopardy, you couldn’t help but be entranced by the movement of his bare hand as it brushed up and down, pressing into the fabric as he searched you for any treasure you may have pocketed. When his hand began kneading into your inner thigh, you couldn’t help the moan that slipped past your lips.

Kuro’s eyes flicked up to meet yours in a burning glare. He rose back to his full height, making you feel as though you were shrinking beneath his gaze. The sole extended blade resting on your abdomen was suddenly lifted and pointed to the floor in front of you.

“Eager to obey, aren’t you? Now be good and kneel.”

Your motivation to comply had less to do with survival instinct and more with the way his voice was starting to drip from your ears into the pool of heat beginning to collect below your stomach. It was shameful, being putty in the hands of a pirate captain. Even more so that you were enjoying being threatened by him.

But the shame only made it burn worse.

Kuro took your wrists into his hands, his gloved index finger carefully extended outward as if to avoid unintentionally wounding you. It was a clear message: you were only safe as long as he allowed you to be. He raised your hands above your head, pressing them into the cold metal railing. You didn’t bother trying to writhe out of his grasp as he bound you to it with a thin, coarse rope - doing so would guarantee he would slash your wrists regardless of intention. Instead, you simply looked up at him through your lashes with a pitiful expression.

“There you go,” he cooed down to you, eyes hooded and a smirk on his lips. “You’re behaving now, aren’t you? Much better than all that naughty stealing you were up to.”

You nodded feverishly, unable to tell the difference between the terror and anticipation running through your mind. The blade carefully lowered to part your lips as he reached for the clasp of his belt. You watched, almost hypnotized, as his bare hand slowly worked it open. The garment began to slip, catching on the bulge inches from your eyes.

You felt the blade on your lips lightly scraping across them to gather the saliva slipping out the corner. He retracted it until only a couple inches were out and brought it to his lips, licking it clean. This time, you did struggle against your restraints - not in an escape attempt, but to get closer. Kuro’s ungloved hand tangled into your hair, tugging your head back and resting the shortened blade against your neck.

“Behavior like that is making me think you wanted to be caught,” he growled, twisting the hand in your hair until tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes. “You didn’t really think you’d make it off my ship with your virtue intact, did you?”

“I…” you panted, unable to keep your thoughts straight. “I just want to- to be let go a-at all.”

“Oh, well now, that depends on how well you can follow directions, doesn’t it? You need to earn your freedom.”

You let out a pant in relief when he let go of your hair, your head falling forward and your eyes on the ground. Your face was burning with the shame, but your desire burned brighter.

“Look up at me properly, little mouse,” Kuro commanded.

You lifted your gaze and had to blink a couple of times for your eyes to focus on the throbbing tip of his cock. Looking down it, there was no use concealing your anxious whimper. You should have known from the size of his hands… it was fucking huge. Kuro snapped his fingers, the sound echoing off the water below.

“Properly!”

You craned your head upwards to meet his disapproving glare.

“Troublesome little thing… I’m doubting your ability to, as you put it, keep y-your mouth sh-shut,” Kuro purred, mocking your panicked stuttering. “Clearly, if you can’t keep your eyes focused, I couldn’t possibly trust you to keep your pretty mouth in check. Now, open up and let me help you keep it stuffed.”

You did as you were told, sticking out your tongue as far as it would go. You let out a quick sigh of contentment when it just barely managed to nudge the blushing head. Just as quickly as it began, the contact was ripped from you as his bare hand struck your unscarred cheek before rooting his hand in your hair once more and shoving his cock down your throat.

“Little brat,” Kuro hissed, his grip on your scalp tightening as you choked on a whine. He drew back just slightly, breath hitching when he felt the air puffing from your nose. “Rushing things won’t get you out of my claws any sooner. Now, beg me to let you go.”

You tried to repeat your plea for release, but it was quite difficult with your mouth full and a blade to your throat. When all that came out was muffled mewling, Kuro retracted the blade and pulled your head forward to bury his cock in your throat again. He held it there until you gagged around it, then thrust out again. He craned your head upwards to admire the sight of your tear-streaked face and the string of spit connecting the head to your panting lips.

“Please let me go,” you hoarsely whispered, throat already sore despite the look in his eyes telling you he was nowhere close to finished using it. “Please, Captain Kuro.”

With an almost annoyed grunt, Kuro wrapped his gloved hand around your throat before leaning his hips forward to brush your lips with the head of his cock, which was now glistening under the starlight with saliva and precum.

“Please,” you murmured, letting the first letter kiss his tip. “Please, I’ll be obedient, I’ll let you use me however you- mmph!”

“You’ll let me, will you?” Kuro growled as he thrust in and out of your mouth at a leisurely pace. “Very cute, how you think you have a choice. You’re at my mercy whether you like it or not.”

That should have scared you. That should have made you want to bite down and let him kill you rather than defile you. It certainly shouldn’t have driven you to release the tension in your jaw and start running your tongue over every inch it could reach of the cock violating your throat. If it was so painful, so terrifying, why did you start to moan like you were being fed a sublime cut of meat?

Kuro’s grip on your throat tightened as he picked up the speed of his thrusts. “I can feel myself in your throat through my glove.”

The buzz of your whimper around his cock elicited another spurt of precum, his thrusts pulling out further and slamming back in harder so you could taste it properly. The bittersweet taste was all it took for your hips to start twitching, the aching between your legs unable to be ignored any longer. Kuro stilled your hips with the tip of his boot, pressing it down precisely where you were throbbing. The pressure made your breath hitch, your throat drawing even tighter around his cock.

“Fuck, you really do like being used like this, don’t you?” Kuro taunted, his tone condescending but his vocal cords tighter than before. Being called on the pleasure you were deriving from having your throat used like a toy only made you start to grind against his boot in earnest. It was like scratching a bug bite - the temporary relief only made the burning worse when he lifted his boot with a mocking chuckle. “How filthy of you, little mouse.”

You clenched your hands, distantly wishing you could use them to grasp at his hips. To get him deeper. You could feel his heartbeat echoing against your tongue and his strokes became less calculated, and somehow even less restrained. You were shamelessly humping against Kuro’s boot now. He had already ripped your dignity away - there was no use in concealing how his doing so lit up every nerve in your body.

“Beg,” Kuro demanded.

“P- ack!”

“Beg!”

“Mmm! Mmph, hnng~!”

“Beg- me- to- ruin- you!”

Without so much as giving you a chance to continue your attempts at pleading, Kuro’s gloved hand constricted your throat as if to genuinely strangle you and his bare one pulled your head forward until your nose was buried in the hair trailing down his abdomen. For all the cum pouring down your throat, all your tongue felt was the pulsing and twitching of his cock. The pressure of his boot against you increased tenfold, the pain and the pleasure writhing together in tandem and threatening to snap that taught wire inside.

It wasn’t until there were spots in your vision that Kuro released his deathgrip on your throat and tilted your head back as he withdrew from your mouth, one final burst of cum escaping onto your tongue before he clasped his bare hand over your lips. He held up a finger as he stared into your half-lidded eyes, which began to water as you tried to simultaneously get air through your nose and hold the cum in your throat. It took incredible willpower to still your hips beneath Kuro’s boot, knowing exuding the effort would result in cum running out your nose as you tried to breathe with your mouth full.

Kuro took a single step back, the loss of contact drawing a pathetic whine from your throat. He knelt down to meet your eye level, extending the blunt side of blade on his index finger to rest atop the small wet patch that had begun to spread at the front of your pants.

“Swallow.”

The gulp of your throat was obscenely loud, echoing once or twice through the air. The taste, the feeling of it running down your throat, the soft scrape of the blade against your core through the fabric - your breath was stolen from you in loud cries of pained ecstasy muffled by his hand as you were gasping through your nose to get air in your lungs while the broken, practically touchless orgasm tore through you. Your bound hands smacked the railing several times as you tried to simultaneously fuck yourself against the blade and avoid mutilating yourself with it.

As you finally began to quiet down, he released his hold on your mouth, allowing you to hang your head forward as you drew in ragged breaths. The cool night breeze only furthered your humiliation as it seeped into your soaked trousers. You felt Kuro’s blade gently drift up your stomach until it rested under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

“What a mess,” he chided, smirking. “I suppose I’m a man of my word.”

Kuro leaned over you, his hands going to the ropes around your wrist before pausing, looking down at you.

“Although… I never said I’d let you go just yet.”

Your eyes widened, you head snapping up to meet Kuro’s wicked grin. You wanted to protest, to beg even sweeter for your freedom, but your throat was absolutely spent - it couldn’t produce anything more than a broken whimper. He laughed as he lowered his arms and kissed the scar on your cheek. Then he stood and turned on his heel, walking a few paces before turning his head back to address you.