Flamingo 5 Blade Razor Novels & Stories

We just passed the 12 weeks mark. “Rissa and Gabe will help you practice and get used to it.” I just nodded and pulled the knife from its sheath. It was beautiful in its own deadly way. I didn’t know shit about knives, but I was sure you can kill pretty easily with a blade like this. “The blade is a high density silver alloy, so don’t cut yourself,” Gabriel chimed in. “I won’t.” I gave him an offended look as I put the blade back and closed the box on it.

VIOLET POV It feels so strange, the sensation of the blade against my skin. Long strokes, then short ones, his fingers spreading me open to run the razor between my lips. I trust him so much that it’s easy to relax. I stare in fascination, not fear. Watching him, watching the way he’s so careful and precise, watching the smile on his face as he shaves me bald and makes me so tender. I flinch as the razor dips between my ass cheeks, and then I giggle for being so silly.

To defense his quick attack, Hoshi swayed his double edges blade in ice pick grip. The double edges blade was design to enhance the tip of the knife. This bevel gives the blade an ability to pierce and break deeply into its subject. It's usually use for skinning animals; thus, isn't it the best weapon to beat a beast like HongYoonChoi's prime slayer.

My finger ran across the blade, instantly cutting me. “Ouch,” I whispered. Of course, Fluffy came in, sniffing and whimpering, to come into the pool. “I’m fine, just a cut,” acting like he understood me. Creed must keep his beard trimmed with these. All five were lined up in perfect rows. If he could do his beard, maybe I could do my legs?

"I'll take your life, in memory of my brother!" After saying this, Jim emitted a beast-like roar. The blade in his hand instantly expanded many times over, flames filling the entire mountain forest, startling numerous birds and animals. "Hundred Flame Fury Slash!" A stunning fiery red streak flashed across the sky in the mountain forest, meeting Sebastian. Yet, it wasn't just the color. The blade was sharp and fierce, flames like a volcano, carrying an unrivaled force. It descended upon Sebastian with overwhelming power. Sebastian clearly felt the surrounding air becoming scorching. What was even more dangerous was the Snow-Cutting Blade, approaching in the blink of an eye.

Two blades in a sheath. John even got goosebumps, and his hands reached for the blades themselves. His blades! Flawless, perfectly balanced, made of a special alloy, the secret of which only the Coven knew. Jon took out each of the blades and ran his hand over them lovingly, as if they were the most precious thing in his life. The blades were somewhat reminiscent of a Japanese sword - a katana, but slightly different from it. The same narrow and ideal, but still with their own secret, which no one is supposed to know about, except for the Hunter himself.

“Gotta make sure.” After a minute I returned the favor, working up a lather and running my sudsy hands over his chest, his back, his neck, and his arms. I loved the sensation of my fingers tracing the outlines of his powerful muscles, feeling his firm, taut flesh as my soapy hands glided over him. Once I was finished he rummaged around in his shaving kit and pulled out a razor, one of those snap-on kinds with the five safety blades, and a can of fancy shaving cream with French on the label.

Vincenzo pulled out a white hand towel and cleaned up the blood on the knife before dropping it and picking up another one. My eyes widened a little as I saw the blade in his hands. Spyderco Matriarch. Vincenzo rarely used this blade on anyone because in his words 'he wouldn't waste his favorite blade on mere situations.' The blade was only ever seen when the boss was enraged. And I knew the moment was now. I could see that he was barely controlling his rage.

The impact sent him crashing to the ground of the cage. The crowd cheered crazily, screams erupted all around me. "BLADE!" "BLADE!" "BLADE!" I pulled out my custom-made blade gleamed with a savage hunger under the bright arena lights. The polished steel bore the name "Capone," etched into the metal like a proclamation of death. Its edge was as sharp as a serpent's fang. It looked eager to cut, having tasted the blood of many before. The handle, wrapped in black leather, felt like a coiled snake in my grip, ready to strike with deadly accuracy. This blade wasn't just a weapon; it was a merciless instrument of brutality, a symbol of my unrelenting power in this world.

It was strategy. Finally, I picked up the razor. It was straight-edged. Handcrafted. Japanese steel. A tool passed down through generations of artisans. Lethal and elegant—like me. It felt comfortable in my hand, a natural extension of my will. I applied the shaving cream with a badger-hair brush, the foam blooming across my jawline in thick, white swirls. Each stroke of the blade was slow, controlled, and deliberate. I carved the stubble away, inch by inch, revealing the clean, marble-smooth skin beneath. No nicks. No hesitation. Just unwavering focus.