#cobra kai ponytail

[creepiecreator]

Understanding Him

Terrence Silver wasn't like the rest of the soldiers in their unit. He stood out like a sore thumb, so of course Ponytail fell into the habit of judging the other..or at least. He did at first.

This is just an exercise to get me back into writing for now, so not my best work! But enjoy your Implied Future Silvertail either way! __________________________________

Terrence Silver wasn’t like the rest of them. Seth, now nicknamed Ponytail thanks to his signature hairstyle, could pin that the first moment that he had seen him. He was taller than practically everyone in their unit, skinnier too. The man was more like a tree branch than a tree in that regard. And hence, Ponytail had given him the moniker of Twig extremely early on. Course, he knew it annoyed the hell out of the other man from the moment that it had been given too. But he didn’t exactly care either. He was friends with him, sure, but there was no doubting that Ponytail was closer to John than he was to Terry.

It wasn’t technically the guys fault. John was just more like Seth when it came down to it. They were both shorter than Terry, both of them had more muscle than him and they both came from working class backgrounds. They both had a pension for finding trouble too. Of course, the difference was John didn’t really ask for it, instead it often found him in forms of abusive boyfriends or husbands, and him getting into fights to protect their girl from them. For Ponytail, it was more self-inflicted than not. He had typically ended up causing his own problems, whether it be through pranks or saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. When his actions inevitably came back to haunt him, he would deal with it of course. He’d complain about it some, despite it most certainly being all his fault. But he’d still take it like the man he was.

Terry, he didn’t seem to be any of that. His soft hands and build made it seem as if he had never seen a day of hardship in his life, his demeanor was more fitting of a socialite rather than a soldier. It was pretty clear that he had come from money, unlike the rest of them. And on occasions, Ponytail would find himself questioning why this man had ended up out here. Why he hadn’t paid his way out of getting the draft, as the rich and famous often did.

Ponytail thought of himself as a pretty nice guy overall. And he hated to admit this, but those prejudices against the other man were exactly what prevented him from being as close to him as he was to John Kreese. He’d never once say any of those thoughts out loud though. Which seemed to, at the very least, make him a better man than the others in their unit. He had overheard what they called the taller man, both to his face and behind his back. Some weren’t the worst. Like Richie Rich or soft, other times they were slinging real insults, calling him faggot or worse. But still, when it came down to it. It was just name-calling. So when John got even with them, Seth often wouldn’t get involved with the fights himself. Instead, he’d just give the lanky man a few reassuring words here and there.

As time went on though, he started to notice more and more about the men he fought alongside. On rough nights, where exhaustion hung heavy on his bones and yet, he couldn’t quite reach the peaceful sleep his mind so desired, he learned that Twig would often lie awake at night as well, looking to be holding back tears. Ponytail could figure out what that meant easily enough. He didn’t want to be here like the rest of them, and he was terrified to be in the midst of war. Some men signed up for this, sure. But any man who reacted like that very clearly didn’t want to be here. Maybe there was a reason that the guy didn’t pay his way out of the draft. Maybe he had a family who forced him into this. Truthfully, that wouldn’t be a stretch to believe, considering how many parents he had seen back at home, dragging their older sons to the recruitment office to be sent off to fight in the jungles of Vietnam. He had taken a point to try to be more attentive after that night. Wanting to see exactly what kind of man Twig was, beyond the rumors and insults that the others had spoken. He was talking to him more than he had before, putting in more of an effort to be closer to him the same way Ponytail was with their Johnny. He had noticed how attentive Twig seemed to be to both him and John, his intelligence, and how he cared so much about them despite being terrified himself. There was no doubt in his mind. Twig was a good man, one he was proud to call his friend despite the differences between them and despite any insults or rumors anyone else may throw about.

He had no doubt in his mind that Terrence Silver was the type of man he would take a bullet for.

[theweirdcobrakaifan]

Snake and ponytail talking in the afterlife about terry and it sweet and wholesome and ponytail is proud of terry then snake fill him in on the John and terry divorce arc and ponytail is done with them both

@isindismay tell me how funny this would be lol but also wholesome

[terrence-silver]

--- Semper Fi: I just generally imagine that Terry Silver had a colossal posthumously commissioned oil painting of Ponytail somewhere all along.

x

[crimmson-sight]

whoever made this edit I'm kissing you with tonge

[poeticamethyst]

Imagine hating xolo the ACTOR because you’re a solo Robby Stan and he’s just out here doing this.. couldn’t be me

[queenjazz7]

Is it attraction to Terry Silver or Thomas Ian Griffith!?!? Help?!!?

OR BOTH

Alexa play What is this feeling? from Wicked

[hawkrine]

i think the tumblr nation will like this (hopefully) so… baby cobras /devastating

[creepiecreator]

You Are My Sunshine

This was recommended to write by @lemon-leviathan, so you can blame them

Seth (Ponytail) being Johnny’s dad is one of my favorite little Never-Gonna-Be-Canon-Headcanons if you can’t tell.

Writing requests are very much open in my inbox

____________________________________________________

Most nights in the Lawrence home were cheerful ones. The home was warm, often full of laughter and joy, holding a welcoming aura. Not because the home itself, of course. But because of those who lived within it.

Unfortunately, however. Tonight was simply not one of those nights. For both Seth and Laura knew what would be coming the next day, they both knew that this would be their final night together for god only knows how long. When his number came up for the draft they both knew that he would have to ship out soon, they both knew the risk that lay ahead for the long haired man. But he didn’t have a choice, it wasn’t like he had the money to try to pay his way out of the draft like some dishonorable politicians kid. Seth didn’t have a choice, he had to go and fight for his country, leaving his beloved wife and child behind while doing so. God-that was the worst part of it all. Having to leave them here without him, not knowing what would happen to them with him gone-above all else he just wanted to ensure his family's happiness. And it seemed that night would be the last one he could for quite some time.

You’d figure, being as young as he was, that little Johnny wouldn’t be able to pick up on any of that. After all, the little one was only two years old so far. And yet, as soon as Seth had placed the toddler into his bed, the little one started to cry.

The blonde baby was completely inconsolable, screeching bloody murder with tears running down his face, sobbing so violently that, quite frankly, Seth was concerned that he would end up hurting himself. He wasted no time in quickly removing him from his crib once more. “Aw-C’mere Sunshine. It’s okay,” The words were spoken quietly, rubbing his back and swaying from side to side. “It’s alright, daddy’s here… You’re okay, little prince…nothing bad is going to happen to you, and nothing bad will happen to you if I have any say about it, I promise…there's no need to cry,”

He listened intently to his poor baby’s crying, shoulder damp with the infant’s tears as he tried to calm the poor Johnny, his screams and sobs slowly subsiding into soft, hiccup-filled whimpers. Or at least, they did until he had tried to place him down once again, getting some baby babble that sounded quite a lot like the word ‘no’ in response before his son once again burst into tears.

Truthfully, Seth thought that maybe something in Johnny’s little head was telling him that his daddy was going to be leaving him soon. “How can such a little thing have so many tears,” He murmured quietly, once again having to take the boy into his arms to try to sooth him. “You know I’m leaving tomorrow-don’t you?” He kept his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t worry, I’m scared about it too, Sunshine. But we Lawrence men have to be brave for those we care about, got it?” He lifted the boy up into the air for a moment before swooping him back down into his arms, finally managing to get a little laugh out of the boy in between his tears, spotting his smile, Seth gave one in return. “There’s my happy boy! See, I knew you had that smile in you somewhere!” He cradled the little one close to his chest once more, knowing that when he had to wake up early the next day, that he’d be exhausted but…it was worth it to help his son. It always would be.

He carried him over to the window of the tiny nursery, looking across the streets of their neighborhood, appreciating the serene moment until he felt a tiny fist curl into his hair, yanking on it to get his attention. “Ow ow ow- Oh, Johnny, Sunshine, that's daddy’s hair-” he warned, still doing his best to keep his voice quiet as he carefully moved to remove his hair from the child’s grasp. “You’re gonna be a fighter when you grow up, aren’t you?” He laughed quietly, adjusting his grip. “Such a strong little guy for someone who still looks kinda like a bean bag- an adorable bean bag though,” He lightly poked Johnny’s nose, watching as big blue eyes kept trying to force themselves open. “Awe…even right now you’re fighting the sleep monster huh…?” He started to make his way back to the crib. “It’s alright, Johnny. Sleeping is a good thing. It’ll help you grow up even stronger than your old man,”

Seth placed him down onto the mattress, sitting down on the floor beside him and reaching one finger inside, so his boy could grab onto his hand. He leaned his head against the bars, unwilling to leave his side until he was certain that Johnny wouldn’t be in distress anymore, humming a soft little tune for him as his eyes slowly slipped closed. The brunette carefully removed his hand from the child’s grip after it had relaxed fully, though he didn’t move just yet. “It’ll be okay… Daddy will be home as soon as he can, I promise… I’ll do everything in my power to make it back to you, Sunshine,” And yet, he couldn’t help that looming sense of dread that hung over him while he spoke those reassuring words to his sleeping son. Carefully moving to stand and leave the room.

He headed back down into his bedroom, sinking down onto the soft mattress beside his Laura. The poor woman had been so exhausted lately. She must have fallen asleep while he was attending to Johnny. He couldn’t help but take the time to stare at her, tracing over features with his eyes several times over as he felt sleep call his name. She was so beautiful. And such a good mother to their boy. There was no doubt in his mind… Seth would have to make it home to see them again. No matter what.

[theweirdcobrakaifan]

Terry definitely has a portrait of Milos, Margaret, Ponytail, and Snake on a wall in his house, each accompanied by selective items representing them.

Ponytail items would probably be a hair tie

Margaret would probably a design notebook or his tea cup the one he used in kk3

Milo I dont know yet, but it will likely be the same as Margret, just with a different design.

Tho snake for him maybe snake jewelry I really don’t think he does karate. I believe this boy is an artist; he probably took up art when he was with Terry. Maybe he draws cute little family pictures and terry put them on the little table underneath the photo

And if we are going more sad he has one of twig and the item would probably be the bucket army hat he wore

[terrence-silver]

Formally requesting a follow up to your married-to-his-high-school-sweetheart Twig story where he finally reunites stateside with his beloved. He gets a bit carried away in his need to convey just how much he's missed her? Maybe it gets a bit dark as he wants to possess her so deeply that no one questions their relationship again?

(You know me, there are really no boundaries on my end, so take this where you will!)

The story is a continuation / expansion of this post right here.

---

Momma Back Home Ran Out of Ink

Twig!Terry Silver x Reader

—

The limousine rushes from the airbase, his chauffeur hitting the 180 miles per hour mark.

He just about didn’t care who saw — who gawked — the image of him leaving in big style like this, his uniform the only thing lingering on him from the flight back home alongside the boxed in beige parcel on his lap — his luggage long since having been sent where he wanted it sent, meanwhile; all your letters, correspondence, pictures, perfumed paper, tokens collected from nearly three years overseas where with him. The first thing he asked for upon release to base and the one thing that stuck to him like a second skin after he was out of the cage was every bit of devotion showcased in written form; Terry Silver was only seventeen when he married you, before being deployed, technically needing parental consent to do so, and of course his old man fought the idea. Of course he waged war, of a different kind, at home, yelling and shouting until the walls practically shook, wagging his bejeweled finger and listing all the requirements of what a potential partner should be, what the acceptable age is, how life should be lived, our own kind of people being words dropped frequently, like a bomb, and Terry recalled that being his first bit of checkmate, telling his father that if he gave his consent he, like a good son, would compromise. He wouldn’t go off to the war and do something stupid and endanger his own future, like all the supposed lowlives did --- boys without prospects other than being live canon fodder were doing and the minute the signature was on paper and Terry had you secured and his, he left anyway.

He laughed then even as he was laughing now, into his own chin, all the way to the airfield.

That was then, his first ever victory.

And this was now.

And now? In the present? He needed you. He needed you badly.

Almost two years in the bush and there were nights where he’d secretly slide his hand into his green fatigues while laying in the sack during patrols, the scented envelope your letters arrived in pushed into his boxers and wrapped around his cock as he rubbed it on the tender flesh there, up and down, envisioning your fingers and lips wrapped around him instead, not minding the chafing sensation of paper on his skin. Quite the opposite; he found the slight discomfort exhilarating, cumming against the material and the itching sensation of pain, holding back groans, stashing the soaked, stained remains away and saving them for later like a lucky charm. Thing is, most of those punks never believed he was married back home in the first place, the same way his father never thought he had the guts to go against his word. Terry wasn’t sure if he preferred it that way, because it meant none of them would ever ask for your picture, never ask about you, never hassle him, never even contemplate you, convinced you were a fragment of his imagination or he despised it for being doubted. Looked down on. Underestimated. It was poetic justice when one of them would rip your newly arrived letter from his hand, jumping around like a rabid ape, giggling and reading your words aloud to everyone only to step on a landmine a week from then, losing the very leg they were jumping on in a state of mockery. Momma back home ran out of ink, they’d call it, whenever the letters were late. Somehow delayed. When they were on time, they’d say momma was diligent, writing to her son as per schedule, prodding and poking at him; it was this running gag, that his mother was posing as wife to make him look good out here, in front of the boys.

Those were the nights he wanted to kill.

Simultaneously the nights when he’d squeeze the collected envelopes of your letters harder.

Tighter. The pace vigorous and angry. Desperate.

Scrunching them around his dick until he could feel himself bleed.

-"So, married man, huh?"-

John Kreese remarked on one occasion, sitting beside him in the busy canteen, giving him a broad smile, seemingly eager and warm, the type someone gives you when they’re honest — genuine — regardless, Terry instinctively braced for more mockery, having been used to it by now. Desensitized in ways. Kreese fished into his pocket, lowering himself into the chair beside him, pulling out a photo of his own, tapping him on the back with a big, heavy hand with a gesture sudden and firm enough to be felt in Terry’s spine, John being almost twice his size where muscle mass was concerned. -"Right on!"- A sense of congratulation in his voice and Terry remembered sitting there, surprised. The picture offered to him. A girl. An introduction. Like they were equals. Two brothers. Not even his own father gave him such a welcome sensation after he’s gotten hitched; quite the contrary. He’s threatened to disown and disinherit him. Which he would’ve done too if he simply he had in who’s favor to disown and disinherit him. -"This is my Betsy. My Pasadena girl."- John explained with a twinge of visible, twinkling pride and Terry held that photo between shaking fingers, feeling his own mouth partially fall agape. Acceptance? This was acceptance, wasn’t it? A way of saying ‘I believe you, friend’. All the more reason then, for him to rush home now, in John’s name, in his own, and fuck you, on the foundation of everything that he lived through in Vietnam. The news that Betsy died. That you, on the other hand, were alive and well, and that he should push himself inside of you so deep you feel him in your bloodstream, precisely because you weren’t taken from him. That Captain Turner wasn’t announcing that you were the one who wasn’t alive anymore, during that fateful night when the bamboo cage sprung open and they were handpicked and led outside.

The car comes to a sudden halt and you’re already on the front porch, eagerly waving.

Waiting for him, having got his call, hour, date and all.

His cock twitches in his trousers at the sight of you as he rushes out, slamming the door behind him.

-"Terry! Sweetheart! Baby!"- 

Your arms open towards him, he doesn’t even know when he’s managed to cross the street that separated the parked vehicle from your house by a narrow road, but it’s one of those things a man does in a trance, he supposed. Instinctually. Naturally. The body didn’t need reminds to breathe at night, while it was asleep. Organs didn’t give out while he was dreaming. Having nightmares. Thinking of you. They’d just seamlessly continued to do their own thing, without reminders needed. He figured it was the case now. Terry ran to you because nothing in the world could’ve made more sense. Your soft hands encircle his face, holding his cheeks, gaze scrutinizing every feature riddled with the sheen of warm tears. You speak, exasperated, and he’s heard your voice before. In the sound or rifles. Gunfire. The rare quietude of the night. Nothing beat hearing it live, like piecing together a puzzle from memory. -"Terry, you’re here!"- You speak through gasps, like you couldn’t believe the sight of him. He changed. He was aware he changed. Internally. Externally. In every way possible. The widening of your eyes testifying as to how much exactly. He supposed he did it for himself. For you. For all the people who ever doubted him to the degree they’d fail to imagine him a married man because they couldn’t reconcile he had it in him, leading him to go to Korea after the war and take even more time away from you — make that ultimate sacrifice of discipline and willpower if it only meant how he’d look the part of everything he started being convinced he could be. -"Let me look at you!"- Your stare riddled with happy tears travels up and down his uniform in shock once you release yourself from an embrace he’s reluctant to break — allowing you only so much breathing space, backing you further away from the front yard, the lawn and further up the porch, causing you to walk backwards. Too happy to notice it too. Terry wasn’t looking at his surroundings. He was only looking at you. At this point, a car could’ve pulled up from the roadside and he swears he could’ve stopped it with desire and power of tenacity alone for daring to interrupt him. -"I swear, you got taller somehow! They've been feeding you good out there!"- You chuckle out, trying to alleviate the situation, observing his head and reaching back, finding a wisp of hair tied at the nape of his neck, tenderly tugging at the strands, needing to stand propped up on your toes to even touch him.

Quite the contrary to your endearing, adorable statement; you couldn't even imagine half of the things he was forced to eat 'out there', as you put it so poetically.

He grins at the fact.

He'd much prefer eating you, though. Right now.

 -"This is new too. I like it!"-

You remark, a smile revealing a row of teeth behind a pleased lip, eying his locks.

 -"It’s just like you described it!"-

You add, twirling a curl of hair around your finger and he unwittingly thinks of Ponytail. From his letters, you assumed the tied, long hair was simply a fashion choice, but Terry doesn’t allow himself time to fall behind any longer and get distracted by explanations, hoisting you up without warning, there and then on the sidewalk and lifting your body up, towards his shoulder, eliciting a jolted cry of surprise from you as he balances you by grabbing unto the back of your hips, right beneath your buttocks. He doesn't linger. Ponytail wouldn’t want him to linger either, in fact. Ponytail would want him to fuck your brains out right about now, regardless of the fact that he frequently believed getting married at seventeen is either some Redneck nonsense or Waspy nonsense, never anything in between. You either had to be trailer park destitute or richer than God to be pulling things like that, he'd theorize. Terry nearly cackles at the idea, beaming at the recollection. -"You like it, huh?"- He remarks with a contented hum, sauntering in wide strides towards the house, practically carrying your body forward, his nails digging into the flesh of your ass, feeling the tender skin there through the fabric of your clothes and underwear. It takes a cosmic amount of self-control not to throw you against the front porch wall and screw you right against it, in view of the entire street, letting everyone who accidentally caught ahold of the sight that you’re his. That he did it. That it was his fucking right to do this. You were his wife and he was consummating his marriage. 

The front door slams shut behind him.

He puts you down, cornering you against the nearby wall.

When the buttons of your blouse snap scattering across the floorboard, with each rolling and tumble of the fasteners disappearing under chairs, tables and cupboards like so many ants, Captain Turner’s voice echoes through his mind.

-"So help me God, you got us into this shit, and you’ll pay for it."-

His grimace flashes before Terry’s eyes, obscured by the shadows of the canopy.

His fingers unbuckle his belt like they had a mind of their own, seeking your warmth.

Your cunt hidden underneath layers of fabric.

 -"I’ll make you pay for it, kid."-

His familiar voice repeats and rumbles inside of his brain and Terry isn't certain what way he'd rather fuck you, trying to quell the noise inside of his head, yet simultaneously embracing it gladly, hoping that in some weird way, everyone he was intrusively remembering could hear him. See what he was doing right now. That they were witness to it, as they should've been, as he was getting ready to claim you and preform for each and every one of them, including you, purely so they'd all understand this was real. This was his wife. He was having her. A big collective 'screw you' to the very lot of them --- every doubter in his life so far. He grabs you underneath your hips, effectively lifting you up and spreading you, up against the wall. Thank fuck for the practicality sundresses, because your whole wetness falls open like the most delicious treat inside of a wending machine, the scent of you salty and pungent. Delectable. Soaked and obscured by the thin fabric of your panties. He could see exactly where you were split. Yearning for him. It's child's play to dig into the material and rip it open right in the middle, exposing you for him. You shriek. -"Those bozos out there will seem like a kitten in comparison and by the time they walk through to get you, you’ll beg them to finish you."- His commanding officer had the tendency of saying, moving as close as the tightly confined space of their shared cage allowed back, believing in equal measure retribution as he threatened him, even though Terry knew it was more than a threat --- it was a promise. The buzzing sound of his radio station alerted the enemy to their position out in the wild, endangering the whole platoon and the only reasonable conclusion was for the unit to take the matters of justice into their own hands and ensure clumsy little Twig pays dearly for his negligence. Code Red. Extra judicial punishment. The idea that he isn't safe outside of the cage as much as inside of it. That his own compatriots would make him suffer as much as the Gooks would've and that it would've been John and him against all of them. But, he was here. He was alive. He was devouring you.

-"That little missy of yours? Swear on my heart and hope to die, you ain't never seeing her again except in the front pews while they put to rest whatever's left to ship home of you of you and your ass."-

Turner threatened in his thoughts and you moan, lashed with velvety hot licks.

Hips bucking against Terry's mouth.

The thought of seeing you again was the chief reasons why he felt he survived.

To have someone tell him even that will be taken away from him?

He wondered how he stayed sane. If he was sane at all.

Sane? What was sane anymore?

-"I still own whatever's left of you and your ass."-

The words come out of his mouth of his own volition, repeating lines he's heard before, halfway paying homage, halfway mocking his commander's statement. Lines address for him initially. Reframing them. Causing you to moan from above him once his mouth separates from the slick moisture of your pussy. -"When I'm done."- He adds, once he catches his breath, letting you slide down against the surface of the wall right back into his embrace, not giving you too little or too much pleasure, rather just enough to make you suffer. You huff, breathless, hair falling over your forehead shiny with sweat, mouth partially open in delight, partially on the precipice of inhaling oxygen, like you were on the verge of saying something while he was feverishly massaging your slit with the tip of his cock, easing himself in. He's grown in every way he could. Even his cock would need time to re-adjust to your cunt. But, he knew you'd like that. You'd like that very much. He would too. -"I know this isn't the right time, Terry, but your dad --- he's called and called and called. Almost every day. I just think you should know. Even before we were told you were MIA."- You practically gasp your words once he's inside of you, rocking back and forth --- there was something very amusing, remising about family mid-sex, but admittedly, he barely gave you time to properly greet him after such a long time being away and so much shit he had to get through to merely come back alive, practically hoisting you up and carrying you inside, never even giving you time to say too much. -"And what did you tell him?"- Terry practically purrs, inhaling the scent of your neck. -"What did my hole tell him?"- He corrects himself, allowing himself to laugh. So? The old man did maintain some contact with the only daughter-in-law he'd ever get. He promised Terry he'd never utter a single word directed your way. Clearly, it was a short lived promise. The same way the threat that pa' would disown him if he went to 'Nam was. Funny how people tended to capitulate in strange ways when faced with someone who took the matter of agency into their own hands.

His father told him to leave the whole Karate-Vietnam business behind too.

And then he went and bought John his first dojo, as a gift.

What was the old man gonna do about it?

Get angry twice?

-"I told him the same thing every time."-

You mutter into his ear with what sounded like infinite tenderness.

Gentleness peppered with the shadow of desire.

-"That deep down, against all odds, I know you're okay."-

Terry looks at you then, separating himself from the precipice of your throat riddled with kisses that he was certain would bruise red by tomorrow, You knew he'd be okay. You knew? You told his father that? Even if he wasn't okay and had to come home in bits and pieces he'd drag himself back tooth and nail. John wouldn't let him fall behind. He'd carry him out there on his back and Terry knew that much. That's why you and him were the two most valuable people in his life. His best friend and the woman who deserved to live inside a returning soldier's locket forever as a memento. Still inside of you, Terry takes a second to tilt his head and smile. He's been doing a lot of that lately. The palm of his hand pressed against your cheek. If anything, you killed his father with kindness, believing in him when nobody else did and keeping the faith of his return even in the face of adversity. If anything, you showed your complete and utter quality. Your devotion. The very idea nearly made him salivate. The things he wanted to do to you bypassed imagination and description right about now, but Terry starts with the practical aspects of it all, grabbing the elastic lace holding the two cups of your exposed brassiere and tugging at it hard enough to allow the ribbon to snap, coming undone, exposing your chest, allowing the top to slide down, limp, lacking support. You gasp. He's had waking dreams about your tits. Imagine them every time he set his head down on any makeshift surface that could double as a pillow. But, now? He finally had the real deal, reaching out, and kneading with both hands. -"It's good my little robot's been so diligently answering the phone and taking care of correspondence."- He praises, tugging at your firm nipples --- one and then the other, listening to your breath hitch at the contact. What conversation happened happened; now that he's home he'd make use of the marital bedroom the right, proper way, holding nothing back. After all, you and him had all the time in the world now. Terry's arms envelop your waist, dragging you forward with him, down the corridor, never taking his eyes off of you. Your color drains from your face once he speaks and he didn't blame you. In fact, all of this was deliberate. He didn't know if he meant his words figuratively or literally anymore.

-"Considering this is only just the start and we're not leaving that room until you're wrecked and dead."-

Terry hums with deliberate provocation and lulling self-satisfaction.

Trapping you in an embrace, stripping pieces of clothes from you and himself.

Or rather, ripping --- slamming the bedroom door once you were inside.

Leaving the abject chaos of the foyer floor behind.

[captainquake42]

> ♡ °. INKED UP

♡ part one

☆ kwon jae sung x fem!reader

> summery:

you go to robby and dimitri’s room hoping to have your twin brother robby come with you to get a tattoo unaware that they lost their room to kwon.

OR kwon struggles with his normally good english in front of a pretty girl

> notes:

never get a tat if you are going to sweat a lot in the next two ish weeks, like at a karate tournament, you don't want it to get infected.

also, this is my first x reader, so if ya'll would let me know how I did :)

if you feel a part two // part three

also posted on my ao3

> 1.4k written by:

S A R A H

You adjusted your high ponytail, your fingers tugging at the elastic band to secure it in place. The hallway of the hotel was quiet, save for the soft hum of the vending machines around the corner. Your sneakers barely made a sound as you bounced lightly on the balls of your feet, excitement buzzing under your skin.

This would be perfect. Robby had been moody since he saw that Tory had joined up with Cobra Kai again.

You opened up your notes app to make sure you had the right room. You already had it memorized but double no triple checking never hurt anyone. You looked up from your phone and yep, the numbers matched up.

You knocked your knuckles against the door and immediately heard a muffled voice and shuffling noises. It was probably Dimitri stumbling around to get decent. Your lips ticked up thinking about it.

You had Robby go with you to get your first tat, mostly because of where you were getting it but also because you didn't wanna go alone. It became tradition after that, every time you went to get a new one he would go with. He didn't get to skip out just because it was a little impromptu tat in barcelona, or because he was pouty

The Sekai Taikai Tournament had been interesting so far and it was only night one. Eli already got in a little pissing match with the cute male cobra kai captain who's name you didn't know.

Speaking of, the door opened and your brother nor teammates were on the other side, instead the cobra captain stood there in a black compression shirt and gray sweats.

If your weaknesses was an outfit it would be that. The shirt made his arms and shoulders look nice. His hair was styled in a way that reminded you of a character from a volleyball anime you watched, which might be a little racist to think since the guy was asian but whatever that's not the point.

“ Um,” You said eloquently, showcasing your intelligence. “ I don't suppose that you became friends with my teammates, did you?”

He made a face. “ No. You lost?” His korean accent was thick and hardy.

You look down at your phone again. “ Nope, this is my brother's room unless he was fucking with me by giving me a random one.”

He looked thoughtful, his head tilted while he stared at you. Then “ was.”

“ What do you mean?”

He looked at me. “ Your brother, miyagi do's captain?” He asked.

“ Yeah that's him! Robby.”

“ Then was. Made bet. He lose. I win. I got room.”

That son of a-. “ He lost his room in a bet?”

Now he looked a little smug, his mouth quirked up.“ Yes.”

“ I can't believe him, fucking dumbass.”

The hallway seemed to stretch longer as you processed that. You couldn’t believe Robby. The sheer stupidity of losing his room in a bet? You huffed pressing your lips together and crossing your arms. You were never gonna let him live this down.

The Cobra Kai captain leaned casually against the doorframe, his smirk firmly in place, he was enjoying this far too much. His arms crossed in a way that made his already broad shoulders seem even more imposing. His compression t clung to his torso like a second skin, and his sweats hung low on his hips, leaving a bit of skin revealed completing a look that made your traitorous brain short-circuit for a split second. But only for a second.

The guy’s smirk grew, and his gaze flicked to your face with something like amusement. “ You mad?”

“ Mad?” Your brows raised wondering where he got that from.

“ Your cheeks are pink.” He offered. “ Mad, no?”

You couldn't help it, you laughed. “No. It wasn't my room, I just think he's stupid.”

“ You say it.” He shrugs. “ Not a good bet taker.���

“ You think he sucks at betting.” You grinned.

He nodded proudly. “ Yes, sucks.”

You watched as his ears turned pink when you laughed. “ I agree.”

“ Here for room or just brother?”

“ I was gonna make him come with me to get a tattoo but since he's not here it looks like i'm going alone.” Something you weren't very fond of, but it was already getting dark and you didn't have time to go hunting for your twin. “ I'll see you later.”

You turned to leave but stopped when his voice reached your ears. “ Wait.”

You looked over your shoulder. “ Yeah?”

His expression shifted, his confident smirk slipping, his brow furrowed like he didn’t like the idea, and his next words came out haltingly. “ You… no go alone.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden concern in his tone. “ What?”

“ Not good. Alone, not safe.” He stumbled slightly over the words, his composure cracking. “ I go.”

“ Don't think I can handle it?” You asked curiously.

“ I don't doubt you, but you small, men are not.”

“ So you want to, what? Protect me?”

“ Yes.”

“ You?” You couldn’t hide your surprise. “ Why would you do that? Aren’t you, like, Cobra Kai’s big bad captain? Shouldn’t you hate me or something?”

His eyes rolled, his earlier confidence returning. “ Not hate. I bored.” His smirk reappeared, though his ears stayed pink. “ Plus, beats sitting in here.”

He pulled on his hoodie, shrugging. “ You want to go alone? Get lost in city? Not smart.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “I think I can manage to find a tattoo parlor without getting lost.” You shook your phone at him. “ Directions on my phone and all.”

He raised a brow, clearly unimpressed with you. “You sure? Phone say this your brother’s room. Was wrong.”

Your jaw dropped, cheeky little-. “ No fair.”

He shugged and his hands slipping into the pockets of his sweats while he leaned closer. “ Nervous?”

“ Nervous?” you echoed, narrowing your eyes at him. “ About what?”

He shrugged, the movement casual but the teasing shine in his eyes was anything but. “ Pretty girl, late night, strange city. Many reasons.”

“ Pretty girl?” you repeated feeling your cheeks pull up in a slow smile before you could stop yourself. “ You think I'm pretty?”

His cheeks turned pink, but his grin didn’t falter. “ I say what I say.”

Your chest felt warm and the corner of your mouth quirked up despite yourself. “ You’re something, you know that?”

“ I know.” His confidence was borderline infuriating, but there was something endearing about the way he wouldn't look you in the eye when he said it. Like your words had affected him more than he wanted to admit.

“ Alright, Captain,” you said with a mock sigh of defeat, “ if you’re so worried about me getting lost, maybe you should just come with me after all.”

“ Good idea,” he said immediately, pushing off the doorframe and stepping into the hallway.

You blinked. “ Wait really, you actually want to come?”

“ You invite,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“ I was joking!”

“I wasn't,” he replied, slipping on a pair of sneakers that were sitting next to the door. “ What tattoo, you getting?”

“ I'll tell you what. I'll tell you what I want, if you tell me your name.”

“ My name?” He looked at you like you should know it. “ It's Kwon Jae Sung. Call me Kwon. And you?”

Like the song? “ You don't know my name?” You teased, sticking your hand out.

He looked at confused.

“ Oh duh.” You said to yourself resisting the urge to palm your forehead. “ In america we shake hands to greet each other.”

Kwon smiled and made a noise of understanding and let you take his hand. Immediately you could feel his calluses.

You shook his hand sharply, your dad always told you that having a strong grip was important. “ I could just call you, so-yeon.” Kwon said.

“ What's that mean?”

“ No fun if I tell you.”

You made a face and scoffed. “ That could mean bitch in korean for all I know.”

He shook his head, smiling and put his hand over his heart. His eyes wide and innocent. “ I would never.”

You told him your name, “ The tattoo I'm getting is gonna be really small, I'm putting it on my wrist it's a little panda.” You opened up pinterest, to show him a picture of it.

“ Cute,” he hummed. “ Like you.”

The line was cheesy but had you blushing anyway.

[cobra-wives]

this is so (boot)camp

[petr1kov]

i'm so so glad that they brought silver back for cobra kai like, he's so delightfully over the top. i'm mesmerized by him. i want more deranged millionaire saturday morning cartoon core villains with a ponytail and an unhealthy homoerotic relationship with their co-villain they also kinda hate. we need more silvers in these bleak times

[theweirdcobrakaifan]

He such a cutie ughh

[eemcintyre]

Wicked Game (Terry Silver)

TW- bondage, sadism/masochism, crying, dacryphilia if you squint, denial, control, overstimulation, humiliation, gagging, power exchange/imbalance, allusions to objectification/human furniture, hurting oneself for another’s pleasure; reader is inexperienced/a virgin, age gap, sub drop.

Summary- Terry Silver takes an interest in one of his adult students; an innocent and inexperienced girl with an obvious crush on him. After they start a relationship, he invites her to explore her interests in power exchange and sadomasochism.

IT'S FINE OK EVERYTHING'S FINE I'M FINE. Anyway this one goes out to all the TIG sluts like me and please be kind because I'm beiNG VERY VULNERABLE RIGHT NOW xoxo please and thank you

It was thoroughly unusual to see the Cobra Kai dojo so quiet. Normally, as the most popular dojo in the Valley since the resurged interest in karate, the building hummed with activity from its large number of youth and adult students. But this afternoon, the only people in sight were a few members of what appeared to be a cleaning crew.

Thinking about it further, Y/N realized it made more sense- it was just the start of a new school year, so the younger students were probably busy acclimating to their classes and the adults with such children were just as busy taking care of them. The next tournament also wouldn’t take place for months. Y/N decided that she was thankful for the quiet, as she had begun to worry about the number of people who witnessed her frequenting Sensei Silver’s office and what they might start to think about why that was. Especially because, if their wondering led them to more scandalous lines of thinking, they wouldn’t be wrong.

She made her way past the cleaning crew, trying her best not to undo their progress on the floors as she made her way to the opposite end of the spacious main room, toward the entrance to a stairway. She knew this flight of stairs well, having traveled up the steps many times over the last few months- the dark grey corridor, dimly lit by cool fluorescent lights, would be an ominous and mysterious tunnel, did it not lead to the thrill of Terry Silver’s personal attention.

From the moment Y/N had joined the dojo’s adult class, Terry had taken a special interest in her training, engaging in what seemed to be more one-on-one teaching than he gave to his other students. He also took an interest in her personal life, asking about what she did outside of their classes and checking in with her anytime she seemed to be having an off day. And while Y/N kept it within her innermost thoughts, she wouldn’t lie to herself that she did enjoy the special attentiveness. While the chances of it leading anywhere were slim to none, she’d been pining for Silver from afar since the beginning.

It wasn’t just something, it was everything about him- the fact that he was so much older than her; learned, well-rounded and traveled and still able to move like he was in his prime. The long, soft-looking curls of hair in his unique, trademark ponytail and the frosty blue eyes that she could feel in her knees. The smallest bit of praise on her technique or obedience to his commands would give her butterflies for the rest of the day. It had all earned him a starring role in the imagery of her night and day-dreams.

As someone who had dated very few people in life thus far, let alone ever had sex, these dreams were ones she’d never had about anyone else and didn’t fully understand. While observing his demonstrations to the class of various moves, Y/N found herself imagining, even wishing for that carefully cultivated and controlled strength to be directed toward her. He seemed to relish the thought of inflicting pain on his enemies, and she found it exciting to imagine him experiencing that same relish because of her. But the idea that she might want someone to hurt her was totally foreign, and trying to sort out the feelings left her confused and disgusted. She didn’t know much about that sort of lifestyle, but she knew that it was generally frowned upon as gross and unnatural. Thus, rather than explore it deeper, she tucked the matter deep inside and tried not to analyze it, merely shyly enjoying the thrill.  

As well as she believed herself to be hiding this array of conflicting feelings, Terry could see right through and, as a result, was taken with the need to possess and deflower her innocent, unsuspecting sweetness. The idea that this reserved, weak little thing had so obviously never been touched, or really romantically pursued by anyone before, but was head over heels for him, who at this point had seen and done it all, was downright intoxicating. Every time he caught her staring at him and she quickly looked away, cheeks flushed and hands fumbling, he felt drunk with power and arousal. Thankfully his gi was long enough to cover what she did to him until he could take care of it. 

One evening's particularly challenging session of board breaking had left Y/N with a bloodied hand full of cuts and splinters. After the rest of the students filtered out of the building, post-attending to their own wounds, Sensei Silver took it upon himself to bandage her hand.

As they sat in closer proximity than ever before, her hand firmly clasped by his own in order to wrap it, she’d expressed how embarrassed and disappointed she was to have torn up her hand so badly without managing to break even a single board. Expecting a lecture from her strict teacher, she was shocked when he, while holding a steady, scrutinizing gaze, replied:

“I’m quite pleased with how hard you worked today. Board breaking doesn’t happen overnight; you have to toughen up your hand first.”

He emphasized his words with a light shake of her wrist as he finished his bandaging work. She managed a small, slightly comforted smile, but found herself unable to return the intense eye contact, glancing down at her knees.

“So, why did you do that?” he asked, finally breaking the heavy silence.

“What?” She stared, disoriented, noticing that he hadn’t yet let go of her hand even though he’d finished tending to it.

“If you didn’t realize that what you did today was part of strengthening your hand, then why did you push yourself to the point of bleeding? There were plenty of other students who knew the purpose of what they were doing and still didn’t push themselves that hard. Why?”

The only answer she could give didn’t entirely make sense to her, and yet she knew it was true nonetheless.

“I guess… I wanted to please you, Sensei, by trying as hard as I could. You always say that fear, pain, and defeat don’t exist in this dojo, and I would have felt like I was giving in to those things and letting you down if I didn’t keep going. I was just trying to do what you told me.”

“So, what you’re saying is that you willingly hurt yourself because you thought it would please me?”

She found herself increasingly distracted by his prolonged, firm grip on her hand, although she didn’t try to extricate herself. She reddened, dizziness and heat twinging and twisting in her stomach. It was such an odd way for him to describe it, and yet it wasn’t untrue.

“I… I guess you could say that… maybe. I don’t know…”

He backed off of the subject after that, not wanting to alienate her by pushing too far and too fast. She was going to require a delicate approach.

But over the following weeks he made it clear that he was just as interested in her as she was in him, and she came to the realization that dating him might not be as remote of a possibility as she’d thought. When he finally proposed the idea of going out, she was hesitant. Not only had her small number of previous partners never included someone so much older, who was so intense and intimidating and also an authority figure in her life, but she didn’t want to ruin the good thing she had going with her Cobra Kai lessons if things didn’t work out between them. But she had taken so few chances in her life, and she decided it would be stupid to pass the opportunity up just because she was scared. This was the dojo where fear did not exist, after all.

They ended up going out for dinner one evening soon after and having a wonderful time, and then one wonderful time quickly led to another and another. Though the time that had passed was short in comparison to how slow she usually moved, they were getting more serious with each other than anyone Y/N had ever dated. But, in addition, she noted that something felt off, like it was lying unaddressed, simmering below the surface.

One night, while at his place after the day’s karate class, Terry was eager to experiment by testing her reactions to the subject of mixing pain and pleasure once again.

As the two of them were making out on the sofa in his study, he dug his thumb into a bruise she’d incurred during a sparring session. She shocked herself when she groaned into the kiss, half in pain and half to express the strange way it warmed her stomach and made her throb. She glanced up at him in alarm and he smirked triumphantly.

“That feel good?” he asked, and she froze. “Like it felt good splitting your hand open on those boards?”

“No…” He quirked an eyebrow at her skeptically, knowingly, warning her to tell the truth. “Yes… I don’t know.” She squirmed as he remained unmoving, unblinking.

“It’s alright, you know. Everyone feels conflicted about it at first, but lots of people are aroused by pain, obedience, deferring control to someone else.” She opened her mouth but couldn’t force any words out. He continued. “Do you want to submit to me? Wouldn’t it feel good to be protected, and cared for in every conceivable way; for someone else to make the decisions? You seem to long for it, and I can provide it.”

“I-I don’t know how- what all is involved…”  

“Well, I’m a teacher; I can teach you. If you’re curious, we can explore that side of yourself- together.” When she made no reply, he spoke to one of the fears he knew was gnawing at her. “No one but us would know. The risk is minimal- either you’ll realize it’s not the right fit for you, or you might feel more fulfilled than you ever have in your life.”

She couldn’t argue with his logic. And, so far, the chances she’d taken with Terry had paid off. What was another one? 

~

“Sensei,” she uttered the title loudly enough for him to hear, but softly enough to not disturb him if he was working on something important.

“Y/N,” he immediately looked away up the contents of his desk to her before flicking his wrist to glance at his watch. “Good, you’re right on time.”

It was thirty minutes before the start of the evening’s karate class, as he’d requested a couple of days before. He wouldn’t say why but did assure her that nothing was wrong. From the way he’d acted when making the arrangement, she figured that it was another invitation to explore their new dynamic, in which case she was still extremely nervous, but in an excited sort of manner, still self-conscious of her body and everything she wanted him to do to it.

For her very first foray into the practice, he’d suggested that, since she liked serving and following orders so much, she should assist him at his home office by holding and carrying papers and anything else he needed, including even making and bringing him drinks. The second time, he’d used her as a footstool while he read a book. Once, he had forbidden her to speak at all during a class, and most recently, they’d made out while her hands were tied. And he had been right- she was a natural. Relinquishing control to him was somehow incredibly exhilarating and a massive relief at the same time.

As Y/N approached his desk, he also rose from his chair, meeting her just in front of the desk and leaning languidly against it. He didn’t say anything else, wanting to study her expression as he maintained the silence. Shifting her weight from side to side, a weak smile twitching at her lips, he could tell that she was burning with curiosity and nervousness while trying to appear still casual and playful.  

“Why the early meeting?” she asked, not wanting to be assumptive if it was not, in fact, for romantic purposes. “And why here? Class starts before too long…” Her eyes flitted anxiously from his daunting form to the discomfortingly quiet room around them.

“Oh, this won’t interfere with class. I have something special for you in mind today. A different training session that I think is going to do you a lot better.” He intruded even closer into her personal space, reaching to grip her shoulders, and she looked up to meet his gaze, her heart thudding as she was enveloped by the scent of his cologne. “Instead of being with the other students today, I have a solo practice for you.”

“Okay,” she murmured, half in agreement and half as a question.

“Come here.” He was intent on preserving the feeling of mystery and anticipation. Taking her hand, he led her to a door off to their side.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere you won’t disrupt the rest of the class.”

“What will I be doing? What is this?” Y/N laughed softly, trying to break the tension as her hands became damp with sweat, but he wouldn’t grant her any reprieve and clue her in. He just opened the door, revealing a small closet. While it also housed shelves of miscellaneous office supplies, her attention was primarily drawn to the center of the space, where a chair was positioned, a black duffel bag placed at its side.

“Sit down,” he ordered, and she proceeded shakily to take a seat in the chair, hands folded tightly together in her lap. While he still stood near the doorway of the closet, pacing, he continued speaking:

“This is a test of endurance. Not only will it help you with your Cobra Kai training, but it’s going to help you outside of that as well.”

Finally, he unzipped the mysterious duffel bag, and her mouth went dry when he pulled out several strands of rope.

“Ah, ah… just relax,” he instructed as she began to fidget uncomfortably in the chair, like she was about to get up. Stepping behind her, rope in one hand, he used his other free one to place a steadying touch on her shoulder.

“Do you remember your safeword?” he asked calmly. If Y/N was truly uncomfortable, he always made it clear that she should use it, as trust and safety were to be at the core of such a dynamic. Especially if he wanted to continue in his delicate approach to shaping her into his dearest little slut. She nodded, making a visible but not entirely successful effort to relax into the chair and his touch.

“This is for your own good,” he noted, beginning to loop the rope around her shoulders and arms, as well as her wrists, securing her upper half to the backboard of the chair. “Although I won’t deny that I enjoy seeing you like this.”

Moving to kneel in front of her, he joined her legs to the front two chair legs, spreading them slightly apart as she, torn between obedience and panic, squirmed feebly in the chair. She continued to sputter frantic nonsense phrases and he noted that her eyes were starting to water as he double-checked the secureness of the binds. Tight enough to contain her and give a slight burn, but not enough to bruise. Perfect for her first of such an experience.  

He removed another item from the duffel bag and Y/N let out a soft whine, her shaking growing more intense at the sight of a vibrator wand.

“Darling, I need you to focus.” He said firmly, using the last piece of rope to attach the vibrator to the chair, situated between her parted legs, snug against her clit over her underwear. His cock twitched in his pants when he saw that there was already a wet spot.

“You’re going to sit with this vibrator on your cunt while the rest of us are having class downstairs. You will not come.”

She began to let out an alarmed cry, a tear escaping down the side of her face, and Terry was reminded of the final touch needed to complete her 'look.'

“Oh, that’s right…”

He rifled through the bag for the last of the needed items, revealing a ball gag. That’s when Y/N really started to struggle against the ropes, but by then there was no point. As tears began to slide down her face at an increasing rate, she recoiled when he bent to lick them from her cheek. She was so incredibly disgusted with herself for how turned-on she felt in such a humiliating moment; the mix of emotions was so overwhelming that she wanted to run away somewhere and hide. 

“Wait!” she exclaimed as he held up the gag, about to fasten it behind her head, and, just in case she was about to safeword, he paused. “But h-how… I don’t think I can. What if someone comes in?”

“No one’s going to come in- they won’t hear you if you’re gagged, and I’ll have you safely locked inside with the lights off,” he smirked.

“I’m scared,” she pleaded, her voice cracking. “I feel so strange, and good, and gross and I don’t know what to think or do…”

“See, that’s why this is exactly what you need,” Terry replied knowingly, stroking the side of her head. “Don’t try to analyze everything right away. I need you to trust that you’re safe to leave all that to me- for at least a little while. You don’t have to see the bondage as limiting you. While your body is restrained, you can concentrate on your mind- but not for thinking and analyzing. The restraints are giving you the freedom to let go. Let go of your control and all of your worries. Your only responsibility is to do what I’ve asked you to do; to please me.”

“But isn’t that like being defeated?” she asked, recalling how defeat did not exist in Terry’s rulebook for life.

“Not at all. Not when you do it willingly and intentionally,” he replied simply, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

Finally, she stilled, studying him thoughtfully through her glassy eyes. She was already so lovely like this; he could hardly imagine how beautiful she would be once he’d thoroughly exhausted her and erased every anxious, doubtful thought from her head. When several seconds stretched without her protesting further, he moved again to place the gag in her mouth. He was pleased when she parted her lips obediently. 

“I need you to be strong for me. However, if you reach the point where you need to safeword, you have this…” He pulled a small button device from his pocket, nestling it in her tied fist. “It’s good to challenge yourself, and I believe you can handle it. But I can’t have my little fighter taking on too much and really hurting herself, physically or emotionally. Good girls challenge themselves and try their best, but they also need to take care of themselves so they can fight the next day.”

He paused, leaning into her close enough for their faces to almost touch. His tone and expression were grave. “You press this and I will end class immediately and come up here to get you. Understood? Understood?”

She nodded and he took this as his go-ahead to turn on the vibrator. Though it was only on a medium setting, she immediately tensed back up and bucked her hips against the tip.

“Baby, you need to pace yourself,” he chuckled, placing his hands on her hips to still her. She whimpered softly, overwhelmed by how embarrassed and powerless she felt. 

“Now, just focus on the movement and rhythm of the vibrations for me. Nothing else exists. Pain, fear, defeat, your job, other people… It’s just you denying yourself for me. Just allow yourself to float in the delicious in-between state of pleasure and pain, of tension and relaxation, and let me do the thinking.”

In an admittedly devious move, he placed a firm, hot kiss to her neck before getting up, drawing another oh-so sweet muffled and tormented whine from her throat that made his cock leak.

The lock clicked on the door behind him, leaving Y/N to the total darkness and the longest hour and a half of her life.

The hardest part definitely wasn’t not to think- very quickly, she found it almost impossible to think of anything else except the unrelenting pulses of vibration against her clit. Terry hadn’t specified what would happen if she failed to stop herself from coming, but she figured that there would be some sort of punishment and preferred not to find out what exactly it would be. As she clenched around nothing, she could already feel slick absolutely gushing from her pussy onto the seat under her. It was almost a gift that the uncomfortable feeling of the spit that had started dripping down her chin provided some distraction.

Y/N wondered just how ruined her shirt would be by the end of this, and about having to walk out of the dojo probably looking a sight, but this thought evaporated as she felt a new, more intense pressure building in the pit of her stomach. All of the sudden, the intensity of the pleasure had her fighting with all of her resolve not to come, eyes twisted shut, struggling to pull her hips even a millimeter away from the head of the wand. Just as she thought she might fail, a drop of sweat fell into her eye, jolting her more firmly into focus again.

She wanted more than anything to please him, to be a good student and do him proud; put that beautiful smile on his face and be the reason for it. She also wanted to prove to herself that she had the strength and self-control to fulfill what had been asked of her and what she now asked of herself.

Initially, Y/N had been able to roughly estimate how long she had been left, but eventually she lost all track of time. Upon reaching that point, she finally fully allowed her thoughts to drain away like the slick that coated her underwear and the chair beneath her, giving up all wondering when Terry might return and letting go of the worry she had about how she might look by the time he arrived. All that mattered was that she was not allowed to come.

When she finally heard the click of the door’s lock again, she was pulled from her haze by the light that sliced into the complete darkness of the closet, making her squint. Eventually she managed to focus in on Terry, her eyes filling with tears. The man who was both her challenger and protector, assailant and healer, whom she’d made herself so mentally and physically vulnerable for, was here to rescue and tend to her.

The sight that greeted Terry was nothing short of divine. His angel was drenched in sweat, saliva, and slick, and apart from the occasional twitch against the vibrator, had given up struggling and appeared to have little, if any, coherent thought. When her blank gaze finally fully readjusted to the light, he grinned down at her.

“Everyone is gone now; the dojo is closed.” He gave her a moment to process what he had said, crouching before her to fully appreciate how mussed-up and flushed she looked, inhaling the heady scent of her perfume combined with the smell of sex and the warmth radiating off of her.

“Did you come?” he asked, not yet turning off the vibrator. Her head lolled back and forth in an attempt at a shaking motion.

“Good.” He said in a nonchalant tone that, despite her not thinking it was possible, made her more turned on. It was as if they were discussing traffic or the weather. He studied the darkened crotch of her underwear: “Mm, you’ve really soaked through your panties, though. You must be enjoying this even more than I thought.”

Her stomach dropped as the vibrator continued to run and he fixed her with a mischievous look.

“In that case, since you’ve been doing so well for me, I guess I can let you stay here a while longer. I have plenty of other things I can do. How does that sound, darling?” This time Y/N shook her head more frantically, trying to say ‘no’ through the gag. He pretended not to understand her, even though it was intelligible enough.

“What was that, baby? Oh, you’re welcome.” He got up and headed toward the door once more, noting that she still refused to safeword as he closed and locked her in again.

Y/N had never felt so helpless in that moment, consumed by the darkness again and the now seemingly endless torture of the wand’s rhythmic vibrations. She tightened her grip on the button in her fist, knowing that she could end it all at any time, but did not press it. She was determined to last it out until he decided that she was done. After all, she’d made it this far, right?

In that moment, something about the helplessness and the increasingly hazy mental state she was plummeting into became freeing. He had all of the power and that was okay. It meant that she wasn’t responsible for anything except the one thing he’d asked her to do. Nothing else mattered. He really was helping her; this was good for her, to have no expectations or concerns; to humble herself by fulfilling demands rather than making them and be patient to accept what she was given. 

Just as she had reached this stage of tenuous acceptance, she was surprised and confused when the door slid open after what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Terry entered with a glass of water, a towel, and first aid supplies in his hands.

“Sweetheart, I’m joking,” he laughed softly, bending down at her feet to set down everything he was carrying. “But you did so, so well for me.” Finally, he removed the gag from her sore jaw, the ball pulling strands of saliva with it. She gasped from the soreness as well as the relief.

“Just come for me now and we’ll be done,” he said, switching the vibrator to the highest setting and controlling its position with his hand instead of the rope, leaning in close for her to rest her head on his shoulder. “Let it all out for me...”

Within moments, he felt her shake as violently as the restraints would allow, warm and sticky come coating the tip of the vibrator through her panties.

“Aahhh…! Thank you! Thank you, Sensei…” she cried in his ear through strangled moans that gradually decreased in volume as she rode out the aftershocks of her orgasm. Her invocation of his title made his cock jerk, and he bit back a growl. As the most intense climax she’d ever experienced faded, mixing with the feelings of confusion, disgust, and submission, she burst into tears. It was complete sensory overload.  

“Shh, it’s okay. You can cry if you need to,” Terry crooned as she clung to him. He cradled the back of her neck with one hand while starting to untie her with the other. Once she was entirely free and her sobs subsided a bit, he reached for the glass of water and raised it to her lips.

“Drink this- I don’t want you dehydrated,” he said as she sipped from the cold glass, staring at him with blissed-out, puffy eyes. Once she’d had enough to drink, she sucked in a shaky breath and collapsed into his arms.

“I’m so proud of you, angel,” he praised her, rocking her back and forth like a child and pressing delicate kisses all over her face. After cleaning her with the towel, he set to fixing up wherever it hurt, applying healing lotion and ointment to the spots on her arms and legs where the rope had burned, and stroking her cheeks until most of the marks from the gag had faded.

“Okay. All better,” he sighed and she sniffed, having stopped crying. He tilted her chin up so that she was looking directly at him. “Now, are you proud of yourself? You should be proud of yourself.”

She blushed. He was happy with her. She had succeeded in doing what he wanted her to do. She responded to his pleased grin with a soft smile that made her face glow and imbued his chest with warmth.

“Just don’t ever trick me like that again,” she pouted. 

“That was rather mean of me, wasn’t it?” he conceded with a small laugh, unable to hide the fact that he was a bit gleeful rather than entirely apologetic.

“Mhm,” she added petulantly, burying her face into his shoulder.

“I can’t make any promises there, doll,” he replied slyly. “Not when you make it so much fun to toy with you.” He squeezed his arms around her a final time and they shared a kiss before he shifted his posture.

“Alright, let’s get you something to eat. Easy now.” He helped her stumble to her feet and guided her out of the closet.  

[creepiecreator]

Thought about ponytail writing a letter to terry before he died?

Ponytail's Letter

my apologies, this damned thing took forever to get down properly! But overall it was a ton of fun to write!

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Terrence had seen it all with his own eyes. He had seen that bullet pierce Ponytail’s skull, saw his blood and brain matter scattered over the grass, seen his best friend offer to fight in his stead to keep him alive, saw his superior die in a pit of cobras. He had seen it all, with wide, trembling blue eyes. Yet he had never shed a single tear, too scared of taking his eyes off of what little he had left to do so. He was so incredibly scared that he’d lose John too, so scared that he’d lose his own life. The young man hardly even blinked the whole ordeal, terrified of what could happen in that oh so brief moment of darkness. 

But this…Oh, there was something about this that absolutely broke him. He knew he was safe now, away from the gunfire and death, and yet. This letter, folded so neatly in his hands still brought him more despair. Knowing that it would be the last time he would ever get to hear from his deceased comrade on the battlefield was just too much for him. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t bring himself to open it, instead keeping the paper on him, treating it as though it was nothing less than a holy relic ever since their superior had given it to him before they left the humid jungles of Vietnam to head back to a home that now felt just as foreign as the jungle had the first time he had boots on the ground in that hell-hole of a country. It had been a few weeks now, and home still didn’t feel like home, and that letter still remained unopened. He knew it was stupid not to want to open it, after all, it was just a letter. Terry knew it couldn’t hurt him. He knew that no matter what, Ponytail was long since dead, rotting away on some jungle floor where he couldn’t do anything about it. God, did that thought kill him. All he had left was that damned letter. And he both wanted to see what was inside so badly, and simultaneously didn’t. He supposed the thought process was similar to Schrödinger's cat. As long as the letter was unopened, he knew that there was still words left to say between the two, however one-sided they may be considering how Terrence knew he couldn’t respond to the other, and that made it feel as though the other was still with him. Who was to say, that when the letter opened and the words were read, that the version of the man in his head would still remain alive? Though, it seemed that the more liquid courage he consumed, the more stupid that idea seemed. Terry downed his third glass of undoubtedly inconceivably expensive whiskey, setting the crystal glass to the side to once again pick up the letter, holding it oh so carefully in his hands and just simply staring at the piece of paper for god only knew how long before gingerly opening the letter, and beginning to read. Hey, Twiggy

Listen, I dunno how long this is gonna be, I don’t know how much longer I can write without waking anyone up. But I have to do something about this. I don’t know why, but I don’t have a good feeling about tomorrow. Call me superstitious but, I have a feeling that I’m not gonna be coming home from this. I keep telling myself that that’s fine. It’s war, I know not everybody's gonna make it home. But hell, I’m still scared. It feels like the end of a movie coming up, and you know it’s gonna end, but you just don’t want it to because when it does, you won’t be able to ever watch it or experience anything else related to it again. Does that make sense? Anyway. I wanted to write this just in case I’m right about this. I want to finally put everything to paper in case I can’t be on that flight home with you guys. I want you to know how damn important you are to me. I didn’t exactly like ya too much at first, I’m sure you picked up on that. But hell, did you grow on me. You’re so much smarter than you give yourself credit for, you ain’t that strong sure, but you could always improve that. What you have is something that can’t be taught, as dumb as writing that sounds. You’re real smart, and charismatic too. I think you don’t know just how skilled you are, Twig, And it's important to me that you hear this from me, because I’m pretty damn sure that this is the only way you’ll ever get it through your thick skull that you have your own skills, you don’t gotta keep comparing yourself to Johnny and me. Just live your own life, exercise your own strengths, and you’ll be successful, mark my words. Speaking of John. Please just stick together. I know we’re all close enough, sure. But I know that you two will be just fine if ya stick together, and I think that will bring me some piece of mind. You both compliment each other's strengths, as cheesy as that sounds. If you two support each other when you can, I figure that you’ll both be fine there and that means I could rest easy without having to worry about you two. And really, I’m pretty sure I’ve earned that much yeah? It sounds like Johns about to wake up if I keep writing much longer. I knew this flashlight was a little too bright. So I better finish up here.

I know I asked a lot of you so far in this letter, sure. But I have one more favor, okay? One friend to another. Please just remember me. I know I am probably not making it out of here, war likes to do that to people, but as scared as I am of dying, the thought of being forgotten really does scare me more. All I want is to not be forgotten, and for you and John to live and live well. You two deserve great things in life, getting to know you two has been the highlight of this dreary bullshit that is this jungle. Stay alive, stay well.Ponytail.  …. Of course Ponytail had thought he wasn’t going to be going home. Of course he did-looking back on it the slightly older man had been acting odd the day they had set out to complete their mission… He should have called him out on it, not that it would change anything logically speaking. He was fairly certain, all things considered, even if he had gotten sent back in time that Ponytail’s death may have been inevitable, the poor man. He hadn’t deserved that. None of them had. And yet, at least he had met the two of them. Even if he had lost Ponytail, he had still gotten to know him. He supposed he should be thankful for that.

He took a deep, shaky breath, one hand moving to rub his eyes to prevent himself from crying. He had to at least attempt to keep himself together. But God help him, that lump in his throat and that stinging pain in his eyes just grew more, those tears swelling up in his eyes until the dam finally broke, breaking down into a crying mess in the confines of his own home despite willing so strongly for it to just stop, for that heavy weight sitting upon his chest to go away, it simply stayed there.

Terry knew he had only had Ponytail for a brief moment in their lives, yes, but that man, with how stubborn and stupid he could be, how strong and charming he was, had left an undeniable hole in his life. One that he never would have had if he had not gone to Vietnam, one that felt as though it could never be fixed with any of the money in the world.  And yet, he knew damn well that even if he could fix it, he wouldn’t. Because that overwhelming, crushing grief was proof that Ponytail had existed. He had existed, and he had touched and affected so many people. Terrence would never let that be forgotten.