#john kreese smut

[80s4life]

No Time For ‘What If’s?’*

Word Count: 5,096

Status: Requested!

Ask: can I get a SFW/NSFW whatever. Cobra Kai John Kreese x f! reader student (who's 20+ and not in highschool) who sometimes looks at him a certain way but always looks depressed and Kreese took notice... {There's more, but I'm not giving away all the goodies}

@: @harlequinautumn​

Summary: I decided to make this somewhat of a song inspired prompt. This is based off of the song "Daddy Issues" by The Neighborhood. I think you can see where this us going...

Warnings: some angst, fluff, smut, dd/lg type of energy, age-gap, master/sensei/daddy kink, teacher/student kink, READER is in her 20′s, self-consciousness, self-hate, uncomfortable with body issues, appearance, etc.

Masterlist Karate Kid Masterlist Cobra Kai Masterlist

{Gifs are not mine, credits go to @sensei-venus & @danlarussc​}

Had to put this last gif here because GRAND DADDY...

Scribbling in the notebook, you try to hide the blush on your face with the final thought you write into it. ‘He touched my arm during practice to help me keep my balance. His hand was warm and comforting, yet strong and held the promise of security,’ you smile. It’s childish, you know that, but unlike most of the kids in Reseda, Kreese, or better known as Master Kreese in your diary, was a man. He held a great promise with his status and a stern maturity in his movements and emotions. 

What’s more, he can manage to keep it in his pants, to both your comfort and frustration.

You look up, feeling his eyes on you and your smile instantly drops into a numb pout. You’ve loved him for as long as you could remember. It wasn’t your fault however, as it was never planned. 

He was your Sensei in the beginning, knowledgeable and strong, stoic with knowledge. Somehow, you’d find as the more time you’d spent in his class and in the higher rankings, you grew tired of his teachings and more interested in him as a person. He kept his personal life private and away from public eyes - most certainly the cool teacher you could sneak into a bar or eat at a fast food restaurant with just to hang out. Soon your innocent interest had faded into something carnal, sinful. There was nothing you could do to stop the mind of a young adult, much less one that still held the feelings of her teenage years.

He made you feel like that little 15 year old girl every time he looked at you, unable to see his feelings through any aspect of his body. You could never tell if he was scrutinizing you or just plainly looking. 

“Break’s over guys. Back to the mats!” he commands, eyes sliding from yours to encase the room through a tactical sweep.

Clasping the tiny lock through its metal bearing, you lock your diary with a click and shove it into your drawstring back, hurriedly shuffling back onto the mats to endure your next beating.

After about an hour of endless training without any breaks, Kreese glanced at the watch embracing his veined, muscular wrist, checking the time. Without a word, the class is ordered to do another set of push-ups before he calls it a day. 

Huffing, you grab your tiny towel and lay it across your shoulders, using one of the ends to dab at your forehead. The boys pat you on your back as they start to gather their things, some heading to the showers to wash up quickly, others complaining about the homework they haven’t gotten to yet.

“God am I glad I don’t have to do that shit anymore,” you murmur, giggling as you could hear Tommy groan.

“Can I give you a call later, Y/N? Help me go over my essay for Mr. Whees?” Johnny asks, breathy and miserable.

“Sure Johnny Boy, but you’ll owe me an ice cream cone next time we head to the beach.”

“Sweet! Deal!” he punches your shoulder, speeding out of the dojo to get a headstart on finishing said writing that’s due tomorrow morning.

Giggling, you wave your goodbyes to some of the other guys as you grab your bag, walking slowly towards the showers, feeling the extent of your workout in your calves and knees. Stopping just short of the room, you peer into Kreese’s office, “Sensei?”

“Y/L/N,” he answers, the rumble of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m gonna head to the showers. It’s going to be a while, so if you need me to lock up, I can.”

“No, you’re fine, Y/L/N. I’ll be working on some paperwork for a while also.”

“Okay, thanks,” you blush, a small smile spreading on your lips as you slink off of the doorframe and continue your way to the showers. 

In your drunken haze of lust, you had seemed to miss Kreese’s eyes slip to your bag, shiny pink diary having poked through the jagged holes in the old drawstring bag. He couldn’t help his curiosity, having taken notice to your attachment to the small object, always writing, always peering over its covers to see if anyone was watching. It was peculiar, and though he had been caught a few times, your reaction and apparent nervousness is what made him want to know exactly what was in that book.

Hearing as the soft hums of pleasure radiates with the heat of the streaming water, Kreese keeps a close eye on where your book lied, checking to see if any of the boys were left in the dojo. Walking towards the chairs at the front of the dojo - where you had last left your drawstring bag - Kreese closes the blinds of the dojo; the appearance of it being closed a small comfort and reassurance of another day spent and gone. No one else will try to come back in, no one will bother him.

He turns to leave and go back to his office, but his feet won’t carry him. Peering down at the loose drawstring bag, pink book still peeking out of its covers, he debates whether or not he should satiate his curiosity or infiltrate your personal space. Choosing the latter, he pulls the book slowly as to not mess with the bag’s positioning too much.

Walking back to his office, he leaves the door open a crack, the sound of the shower humming prompting him to see what’s been eating at him. What has been making you look so enthralled and sad at the same time. What’s been making you so mysterious. 

Kreese almost doesn’t even want to open the book. He knows everything about his students, but you? You’re a mystery. A chase. He almost doesn’t want the high of the cat and mouse game to end. However, he just rolls his shoulders, prying the key to the lock from the bindings you had not-so-subtly tried to hide.

‘Silly Girl. So mature yet so naive,’ he thinks, unlocking the small metal that kept him from his answers.

Leaning back in his chair, he props his feet on his desk, opening the book at last. Shuffling through some pages, he comes to find this pink book as your diary. Delving deeper, he flips through some random pages, the headers and dates catching his eyes and honing in.

January 21st: The Reckoning

This date isn’t far different from any other day, just a date. However, the header is what piques his interest.

‘Another day at the dojo. Another array of cuts and bruises. Johnny and the boys are just finishing their first year as freshmen in highschool and I’m stuck here. 22, young, single, graduated, andddd no life plan ahead of me. I realized that my interest in Sensei Kreese is starting to feel different. I no longer want to know about him, I want to know everything. What type of coffee he likes, if he even likes coffee, what he does in his freetime, what does he like most in a partner? Ugh.’

January 22nd: The Realization

‘Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT! Rereading what I was feeling yesterday and watching it bloom tenfold has finally made me come to my senses. 8 years of practicing with this man and I finally catch whiff of what my so-called “interest” was and I finally come to my senses now? “Stupid Girl” as Kreese would say. Stupid Girl is right!’

A bemused smile perches on Kreese’s lips. It’s like high school all over again, and he’s the center focus. He flips a few pages more.

February 3: Valentines Sluts

‘February has just came around and so has my birthday. However, I keep seeming to find myself going into a Valentines craze. Almost as bad as high school. I stared at Master Kreese for a while during break today (thank God we got one). He was wearing his signature black gi with yellow accents, his arms string with veins of hard labor drawn into them. His hair was a bit scruffier and his eyes were a tired blue. God, how I could get lost in them. My eyes trailed down a bit though. Sorry...not sorry. I used an excuse that I rolled my ankle and needed to rest for a bit, but I only ended up watching him. How he helped the boys stretch and train. He worked so hard that his skin turn a light shade of red, sweat droplets sliding down his forehead to his cheekbones, jaw, down his neck, on his collar bones, and sadly, disappeared down his shirt. Oh what I would give to be that droplet of sweat. Almost as exciting as it would be if I could get him that riled up. Happy almost Valentines Day *winky face with heart eyes drawn on the side of page*’

Kreese lets out a low whistle, chuckling a bit. Suddenly, things were getting steamy. He’s a bit surprised by your diary; such a pristine, put together, grown woman, and here you are, displaying your thoughts like a horny teenager. 

Skipping through more dates, Kreese finds more and more sinful readings, something small turning much greater. However, there were undertones of regret, sadness, and...lack of self worth. Not only have the thoughts gotten increasingly dirtier, but they also grew more insecure and sad. And, as the dates grew closer to present day, it seemed that all confidence and harmless thinking were starting to take a toll. You were no longer happy with yourself, however, you kept writing all your fantasies as if they would make you feel any better.

Finally, Kreese nears the end of your diary. 

Today: Confusion

‘Again, I found myself staring at him. Again, I snuck away to write about him not even 10 feet away. And, again, I find myself no closer and so much farther away from the man I thought I was getting to know. I’m 25 now and still have the mental and physical strength of the lowly 14 year old that met him in high school. I’m starting to fear I will never get to tell him how I feel. Never get to live and explore. Never be enough for him. I almost got caught writing about him today and I couldn’t care less. If anything,  maybe it would be a gateway to romance? Those hot scenarios I’ve built up, gotten off to, and scribbled down in these old pagers. But, those are all just more scenarios and fantasies never lived. Maybe it’s time to move on.’

You go on to think of your past, future, and present, and how any of it was either worth or waste of time. He wants to keep reading - wants to delve deep into your wondrous mind.

He didn’t hear the shower stop, too caught up in the insecurity you call yourself.

“Sensei?” your light voice calls out, hair damp and pinned in a clip. Rugged jeans with rips, converse, and a white cropped tee with black sleeves adorning your delicate features. Your brows are furrowed, a mixture of confusion, loss, and fear flashing in your E/C orbs; rounded by the initial surprise and emotions that cross you in such an unexpected predicament. “W-What are you doing?”

For a moment, Kreese just sits, book still open with the presence of his thumb on the page he’s left off on. He’s silent, studying you as he recounts all that he’s read from your book and more. “Reading your diary,” he states plainly, obviously. Truthfully.

You crumble on the spot, wanting to dig a hole and die in it. “Where’d you find it? Wait - How’d you unlock it?” you all but screech, going straight for your bag. 

Kreese slings out of his chair and around his desk instantly, catching your wrist in the middle of the dojo. 

“What are you doing, Sensei? Can’t you see I’m already embarrassed enough? You’re just making it worse-”

“Is all of this true?” he asks, holding the book up, now closed. His thub no longer holding his place. ‘Shit,’ he thinks, shaking his head.

“It’s a diary, isn’t it?” you try to lighten the mood, scratching the back of your neck and nodding to the front cover plainly stating, ‘DIARY’.

“Yes, but everything inside?”

“Every page, every day, for the past 8 years.” You figure it’s time to come clean, no matter the consequences. This has gone on for long enough, and by the looks of it, he’s not too mad at you. Or happy, or sad. In fact, now that you look at it, he looks as if he feels nothing.

You take a step back, your hand limply being allowed out of its hold, and briskly walk for your bag. Just as you go to walk for the door this time, the same warm, calloused hand wraps itself around your much tinier wrist, yanking you back the other direction. “Sensei, please,” you beg, “Just let me go home! I’ll never bother you again, and you can forget all about this ordeal. It’s really not that big of a deal!”

Pulling you through to his office, he turns and locks the door with a key. To ensure your inability to get out, he takes the key and places it in his front jean pocket and sits down on his side of the desk. Motioning for you to follow his lead, you just stand there.

Almost annoyed, he states, “Well, I’m not going to tell you again,” pointing to the chair opposite him.

Eyes rounded, you stare blankly from his face to the chair and back again. ‘Is he serious?’

Sitting down, you watch in horror as Kreese opens the book back up again, finding a specific page in your novelty of recountments. “Ah, here it is,” he chuckles.

Reading the page out loud, he starts with the header:

“June 11th: Midnight Blues

‘I took some time alone today. It seems everyday is getting harder and harder. Not only am I trying to finish my senior year, but I’m trying to find my way - my path. Sitting on the hood of my car, somewhere tucked behind the Hollywood sign (my hiding spot), I looked up and watched the stars and tried to get my plans in order. 

Mom wants me to go to college in Charleston, SC with her, but Dad wants me to stay somewhere close and doesn’t care if I go to college or not. Mom’s got family down South, Dad has just me. Both are choices I don’t want to make; I don’t want to hurt either or’s feelings.

Then there’s Kreese. God how I love him. If I were to choose to leave or which parent, it would be a choice solely on where he will be or how he feels. But, then again, what does he feel? I mean, he would never look at a little girl like me. It’s disgusting, though I’m legal, and a big inconvenience. A little girl following a man who has seen all parts of the world with her tail wagging and eyes bugging out of her head at the sight of him. He’s grown, experienced, and independent. He would look for someone way older than me for sure. It’s only right, given they would share similar aspects to him. 

No one ever looks at me. And neither will he.’”

“Ring a bell?” he asks, finishing off the page.

“It was the end of senior year and there was a whole ton of shit going on. I don’t remember much, i-it was 4 years ago. All I remember was being diagnosed with severe anxiety and depression sometime afterwards. Though, if I can add to that, I’d had it for years, but neither mom nor dad wanted to get me examined since I was 14. It was a shitshow that summer.”

“Do you really think such heinous things of yourself?” he asks, brows furrowing as he stands, looping around the desk slowly as he assesses you.

“Yes. There’s always been that little voice in the back of my head...” you trail off, fingers interlocking and fiddling to try and ease said stress, eyes locking with his in a trance. 

“Where do you get that shit from?” he almost snarls, making you bow your head in shame. “Ah. Ah. I want to see those pretty eyes.”

“Why’s you read that page to me?”

“I wanted you to feel exactly as you felt then and try to sum up your thoughts and emotions. You see, I study you, and now, I’ve read you. Those feelings were never resolved...Why do you hate yourself so much, Babygirl?”

“I-I.” you stutter, trying to form some sort of answer. “I’ve never sought the validation I’ve needed.”

“And, why not?” he asks, arms splayed behind him and hands propping him up as he leans on his desk before you. Staring down at you.

“Because the only person I’ve ever needed validation from was you.” This time, you stand to meet his level, “I’ve never cared for what my parents thought because they only cared to one-up each other with me as their weapon. I never sought the validation of teachers because they only said what would get them more money in the end - once again, using me. I never sought validation from the girls or the guys at school because I’ve always been the odd one out. The only person I’ve ever sought validation from was you. You because you treated me as equal with the rest of the boys. You saw something in me that made me feel like I shined like a brand new corvette. So, you tell me: why have you always done that, knowing damn well I could’ve gone without it?” You got so close to him that you hadn’t realized the inches between you two, breath heavy with the long-held exasperation. 

“That,” he points at you, “That fire. You’ve always had it. You shined through everyone else and paved your own way without making any noise, or causing any destruction. You’re a strong, beautiful force that somehow has managed to fall over and over again, yet always got back up and never sought anyone’s help.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you’ve finally heard what you’ve always waited for. He’s watched you all along, guided you. He’s ensured your safety since he had met you - 14 years old, scared, weak, and hopeless. You thought you’d never get out of that shithole you were stuck in, but you had Kreese.

Sniffling you couldn’t help your actions, hand grasping his black T-shirt and pulling him in. Your other hand goes for his cheek, cupping it and pulling him down to your height. Slowly, you allow yourself the reprieve of almost a decade with this man, lips just hardly touching each other. You’re waiting - waiting for him to turn his back and pull away, but it doesn’t come. 

His huge hands grasp your waist to pull you in close, one hand leaving your hip to brace the back of your head, connecting his lips to yours. He pulls you as close as he can, your body getting up to straddle him on his desk, his arms crushing you chest to chest.

Your tears mix in to your kiss, the salty droplets of water mixing with the dancing of your tongues and you feel him squeeze. You grab at his shoulder, neck, chest, and soon grasp the hairs at the nape of his neck tenderly; starved for the attention and connection you’ve wished for ever since your teenage years.

He happily obliges, his own hand tangling in your hair at the base of your head and yanking it back - not hard, but strong enough to make you gasp at the excitement, sudden movement, and slight pain it had caused. His lips are on your neck now, suckling and licking at the coloumn of it, growling like a crazed animal about to eat its next meal.

You moan out, the action causing you to gasp again, eyes wide and mortified.

You can feel his cheshire grin on your neck, suckling a huge hickey into your collar bone with pride. Pulling back, he takes a good look at you, breathless, chest bouncing at the force of it, straddling his hips with your slimmer, toned ones - both from young age and practicing in the dojo. 

His hands move from you head and back down to lay on your hips, “Tell me how you want me to take you. Or should I look at one of your excerpts? Hm?” he teases, hazely green eyes turning to dark, mossy embers.

“I’m sure you’ve read enough,” you tease back, breathing out with defeat and humor.

“I can think of something,” he assures.

Standing up, his hands supporting your weight by your thighs, he loops around the desk, placing you to sit on it. Slowly, he traces your thighs, then your hips, waist, outline of your breasts, collar bone to your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your eyes are glued to him, his arm slipping from your hand back up to the sleeves of your T-shirt, tugging at them, signaling for you to lift your arms.

He pulls your shirt off slowly, tantalizingly, taunting you as it is lifted over your head and thrown to the floor. He sucks in a breath, the sight of you leaving him silent. No words were spoken, but his lips were on your once more, forcefully taking you in like it’s his last time. ‘Impossible.’

Unbuttoning your jeans, he helps you off the desk to shimmy out of them, pulling you close to him once they’re thrown somewhere, too. He kisses in between your thighs, one for each, going to trace up your stomach. You stop him. 

Looking at him with uncertainty, you’re hit with embarrassment and uncertainty.

“What’s wrong, Sweetheart?”

“It’s not you... I-It’s me.”

Deeply, he searches your eyes, already knowing the answer but searching for the confirmation. Sighing, he places a knuckle under your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet his. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, you’re gorgeous, Baby Girl.”

You still look at him hesitantly, which causes him to sigh again.

“Let me show you what I see,” he smirks, a softness in his eyes that tells you there’s nothing to be scared of. Just as he had throughout your highschool years: the drama, bullying, home life, and all.

You nod, hands grasping both sides of his face and pulling him in, kissing him sweetly. He whimpers a little bit, hoping you wouldn’t catch it, but you did. It ignites a fire deep within your gut.

He teases you, a finger sliding your underwear over to the side, fingers playing with your clit. You suck in a deep breath, back arching as you support your weight behind you, on your hands. His hands lays on your sternum, pushing you down further until your resting on your elbows.

Refusing to be pulled down, you sit back up, allowing him to play with you while you attempt to lift his shirt above his head, shakily. He watches you with amused eyes, liking the struggle your body portrays under the heat of his pleasure. He allows you to fumble around a bit more before he helps you out, lifting the bottom of his shirt and taking it off over his head. Hands going back to what they were doing prior.

Your eyes are glued to him, drinking him in as the fire burns brighter and hotter within your core. Greedily, you go for his belt, able to take it off with want and newfound strength as you grow more impatient.

You can hear him chuckle under his breath, pressing you back down by the sternum again, helping finish your goal. He removes the belt with one hand, pulling you off the desk and forcing you to face it. Taking the belt, he ties it around your wrists, tucking it into a drawer like a leash, too thick and sturdy to be able to pull it back out. 

Whining, you look at him over your shoulder, begging him with your eyes.

“You’ve been a bad girl. Good girls don't get tied if they do as they’re told. You keep moving without permission, so I had to limit you. Now. If you use your words, you’ll get what you want.”

You moan in frustration, head spinning back to lay against the desk, arching your back and attempting to wiggle your ass against his crotch. But, to your disapproval, he takes a step back, watching you squirm.

You groan again, giving in, “Please, just fuck me.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Pulling your panties down to your ankles, Kreese teases and taunts you with a finger, sliding it through your folds and occasionally at your entrance, but as quickly as the finger is there, it’s off and somewhere else less needy. 

“Goddammit! Fuck me, please!!” you grit out, growing antzy and frustrated with your head laid against the hardwood. If you weren’t tied down to the fucking desk, you’d take matters into your own hands by now.

He yanks your hair by the back of your head, pulling you up, the back of your head against his shoulder. His mouth nips your earlobe, whispering, “I’d watch your tone if you want me to give you what you want.”

“Yes, Master,” you grit out, smiling as you feel his whole body grow still.

Letting go of your hair instantly, his pushes your head down into the desk, taking his member in one hand as the other makes sure you are fully prepared. Without warning, he plunges in about halfway, giving you time to adjust, although surprised by the intrusion. 

You groan loudly, your voice echoing off the desk with force. You can feel him shake with pleasure within you, a loud, breathy moan releasing from his lips. Nodding your head weakly, he starts to set a pace within you, making sure he’s arched enough to tease your G-spot. 

You moan again, hands clutching the vice he’s got you trapped in. “Say it again,” he yells, starting to thrust deeper, the pleasure building.

He’s starting to go off the edge quickly, but you can’t let him. Not yet. “Untie me first,” you order plainly, refusing to give him what he wants just yet. “It’s my turn.”

He shuckles with a little annoyance, but otherwise pulls out, slightly shoving you out of the way so he can quickly untie the belt. Because of the force he’d given you at a simple command, you decide to give him just as much of a hard time. 

Once untied, you turn to face him, a sultry smile on your face, a devilish look in your eye. Using the same force he had applied, you shove him into his desk chair, forcing him to sit when the chair hits the back of his knees. Slowly, you go to straddle his hips, your raises above him, teasing him. 

“Masters aren’t supposed to be so mean if they are promised to get what they want, are they?”

“N-No,” he stutters, the change in demeanor so delicious to soak in. You have him wrapped around your little finger.

“’No’, what?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Good enough,” you giggle, grinding down into him, bottoming out inside of you.

He whimpers out again, the sound music to your ears. Slowly you set a pace, his hands coming down to grasp your hips and help you grind in perfect tandem. Together, you bounce, while he charges up to meet you, slowly grinding you forward and backwards a bit, too. The motion makes you gasp, the perfect mixture of friction and being full of him. You moan out, your hands laying on top of his tightly as you feel the edge creeping slowly.

“Call me again,” he groans out, head leaning back onto the headrest of the chair. 

“Look me in the eyes.”

Doing as you asked, he looks at you fully, a bit of heat rising to the surface and making him a tint of red from the chest up. A sheen of sweat covers the both of you, making you both shine in the dim lighting of the room. “Master.”

His head throws back into the shair again, his thrusts intensifying in speed and force. You whine out, grabbing his biceps now, nails digging. “Master, make me finish. Please.”

His hands dig into your hips, forcing your body down as he charges faster, the chair squeaking. Your moans get louder and louder, more frequent with the force applies. “I-I’m gonna cum,” you warn, too close to wait for permission.

Just as you feel the tight knot snap, you’re filled with his warm seed, one hand moving from your hip to yank your hair again, his lips capturing the colum of your neck as he bites down, a deep growl releasing as he fills your with his potential kids.

You ride your high until there’s nothing left, jumping at the overstimulation or any contact at all. Finally releasing his hold, his hands lay on your thighs as yours rest on his shoulders, catching your breath. 

You giggle, opening your eyes after a moment to look at him. You kiss his lips sweetly, a grin on his face as well as he admires you. “I love you, Kreese. Always have.”

He chuckles as he tucks your head in the crook of his neck, hands rubbing your back, fingers playing with the clasp of your bra. “I love you, too, Y/L/N.”

“Y/N.”

“John.”

“John,” you mimic.

“Y/N,” he copies, chuckling as he plays with your hair.

“’February 14th: Valentines Day’,” Kreese recounts the page he had engraved in his head. That was one of your dirtiest of fantasies.

You gasp, swatting his shoulder as your cheeks burn with the reminder, “You Devil!”

May 28th: When Two Hearts Intertwined.

[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.

[sensei-venus]

I was going through your masterlist and I’d love to hear your NSFW headcanons for alpha!kreese or just some abo headcanons for terry in general <3 if you want/have time!!

(I love Kreese, point blank. Give me hot sexy mentally ill Kreese.) (unedited)

•Alpha!Kreese is the prime example of old generation alpha’s. He’s lean mean cunning and he’s up front about all of it. He wants to be the biggest alpha in the room at all times, he wants everyone to know it too. He musks and scents the whole room as soon as he steps in. He doesn’t want to hear any whining about it either.

•He only likes omega’s so too bad bates and other alpha’s. He loves the scent of omega’s, fruity,sweet,flower scents get him going. When he was younger he definitely popped a lot of boners at the scent of a sweet smelling omega. His natural instinct’s is to enjoy the scent of a little omega as long as possible, and get his dick wet too.

•Kreese loves having sex with omega’s, it’s literally his favorite thing besides drinking and doing karate. He’s definitely experienced and is happy to show off to any omega that is interested. He’s not picky about what omega he has sex with as long as they are attractive enough in his book. Pretty, small and smells nice. Also as long as they aren’t to snippy, Kreese hates snippy, rude and disrespectful omega’s. He’s the alpha in this thing, he’s the one that’s gets to be mean.

•Rough kisser and loves make out session’s with the omegas he ends up taking home. Most of the time he takes home omegas he meets at the bars he goes to a lot. Most of the time he’s drunk during these encounters. Very rarely is he sober when picking chicks up at the bar. He doesn’t dislike this, he’s still getting his dick wet in the end. Don’t knock it till you try it as they say, drunk sex is fun to him.

•He doesn’t do anything over the top with random omegas. He likes sloppy blowjobs and handjobs. Most of the time he’s going round after round of doggy style where he fucks them from the back, bending them over on a cheap hotel bed. He enjoys a round of missionary. Most of the time he honestly doesn’t care about looking at their faces, he looks at their ass or tits as they bounce on his cock. If he looks at their face, it’s because he wants to see them in tears with cum all over them. He also doesn’t knot any of them, it’s in his moral code to not knot any omega he’s not actually interested in long term.

(Following is kinda just my own thing, because I love Kreese so…..I pull this shit out my ass because I want him.)

•Kreese isn’t great at actually looking for a long term mate. He’s never actually tried and has no idea on how to go about it. He has little dating experience as well. He meets his omega by pure accident. He smelled her before he saw her and his inner alpha was begging to investigate the sweet scent that filled the room. She was a sweet little waiter at a restaurant he was trying out. She was quiet bite sweet, and it was feeding his inner alpha to watch her run around the restaurant. He chatted her up for a while and before long he was talking her into seeing him sometime after she got off work.

•He’s rough at first, gripping her hips as he thrusts into her wet pussy. He loves the wet slapping sounds of his hips and balls meeting get ass. He’s got her folded in half as he pounds into her. He wants to see her crying out for him.

•He sucks on every piece of flesh he can get too. He wants to mark her up as much as he can, so everyone knows she’s his. He wants every to know that she has a alpha waiting on her at home. That someone is willing to fight over the little omega. He sucks hickey into her neck and chest, all over her tits. He even sucks marks into her shoulders and arms. Their borderline violent looking like she got into a fight. Really it’s just a over dramatic and over excited alpha who wants to show off.

•Real alphas eat pussy, that’s something Kreese lives by. You would think he wouldn’t, but he does, and he’s good at it. Eating pussy is the easiest way to make a omega happy, at least from his experience. He knows how to use his mouth. He laps at her folds like a dying man, his nose bumps against their clit and nestles right against it as he tongue fucks their pussy. He wants her to make his chin drip. He wants her creaming on his face. If she hasn’t cum on his tongue at least twice that night, he’s not doing something right.

•Major breeding kink when he finds his omega. He wants to have a few pups at most. He will full on knot her over and over again everytime he pops a knot during sex. He doesn’t care if he’s not in a rut or if she’s in heat, he will knot her and creampie her poor pussy. He loves creampies, he loves to just stay in side of her after he cums, feeling her clench around him. The way his balls draw up with ever load of cum he pumps into her. Constantly tells her how sexy she’s going to look filled with his pups, how he can’t wait to see her all round and full. Really fantasies about coming home to a barefoot pregnant omega after a long day at the dojo.

[bramblesbriars]

Terry Silver plans his revenge on the punks who brought his friend to his knees. Only he doesn't plan on the attachment that arises between himself and the brat he's supposed to be torturing. But who said he couldn't have both?

Warning: 18+, full of smut, non-con, drug abuse, physical and mental abuse.

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, thanks! :3

[cobrawrangler]

𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 Daily 𝐘𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 , 𝙲𝚘𝚋𝚛𝚊 𝙺𝚊𝚒& LouderMilk Happy Readings ❦ You can call me : Rustler

Fic Prompts: OPEN📨

Taking prompts for characters listed below

Introduction -- Main Blog

Characters I write for: (1 being main 4 being least) (Of Cobra kai + Yellowstone) 1: John Dutton 2: John Kreese 3:Daniel LaRusso 4: Rip Wheeler 5: Travis Wheatley

Characters I write for in Loudermilk: 1: Sam Loudermilk 2: Mugsy 3: any other characters In LouderMilk

What I will write: Smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort, fem!reader x character, character x character

🎀ꜰɪᴄꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀɢɢᴇᴅ : #♡ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅꜰɪᴄꜱ

ʏᴇʟʟᴏᴡsᴛᴏɴᴇ: John Dutton ╰┈➤ [ That Dutton Touch] ╰┈➤ [A Jealous Man] ╰┈➤ [A Moment With Mr. Dutton] ╰┈➤ [Denim With Kisses] ╰┈➤ [Over His Dead Body] ╰┈➤ [What You Took, What You Left] ☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆ Rip Wheeler None Yet ☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆ Travis Wheatley None Yet

☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆

𝐂𝐨𝐛𝐫𝐚 𝐊𝐚𝐢: John Kreese: ╰┈➤ [A New Focus] ☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆ Daniel LaRusso None yet ☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆ Johnny Lawrence None Yet

[ao3feed-binarybfs]

The School Dance

by purplecandyboy

read it on AO3 here

Anthony doesn't know why Kenny hates him so much but his best friend does. Kenny thinks Anthony sabotaged the sekai taikai for him,

One day suddenly Kenny asked Anthony to their first school dance. Telling him how they should leave old feelings and rivalries in the past. Anthony happily accepted Kenny as his boyfriend naively. Unaware of Kenny's attempt at revenge.

Will Kenny go thru with humiliating Anthony after they fall in love? Will he confront the sabotage shading some light on Anthony's case? Will Devon come clean with what she did?

………

Sam and Miguel's break up might've split up the dojo and they're friends.

Sam turning to Tory, Moon and Yasmine

Miguel to Robby, Demetri and Hawk.

Demetri and Moon plan to bring the two groups together tho. As the peaceful pacifist of the group.

Words: 9266, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Cobra Kai (TV), Karate Kid (Movies), Karate Kid (Movies) RPF, Cobra Kai (TV) RPF

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage

Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other

Characters: Anthony LaRusso, Kenny Payne, Nathaniel (Cobra Kai), Miguel Diaz (Cobra Kai), Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz's Mother, Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz's Father, Robby Keene, Demetri Alexopoulos, Yasmine (Cobra Kai), Moon (Cobra Kai), Samantha LaRusso, Tory Nichols, Shawn Payne, Doug Rickenberger, Bert (Cobra Kai), Jacob Bertrand, Johnny Lawrence, John Kreese, Amanda LaRusso, Daniel LaRusso, Mitch (Cobra Kai), Big Red (Cobra Kai), Mikey (Cobra Kai), Kyler Park

Relationships: Anthony LaRusso/Kenny Payne, Anthony LaRusso/Original Male Character(s), Robby Keene & Kenny Payne, Anthony LaRusso/Devon Lee, Lia Cabrera & Kenny Payne, Kenny Payne & Shawn Payne, Anthony LaRusso & Kenny Payne, Anthony LaRusso & Devon Lee & Kenny Payne, Demetri Alexopoulos/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Miguel Diaz/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Miguel Diaz/Samantha LaRusso, Robby Keene/Tory Nichols, Samantha LaRusso/Tory Nichols, Moon/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Piper Elswith/Moon, Demetri Alexopoulos/Yasmine, Samantha LaRusso/Yasmine, Moon/Yasmine (Cobra Kai), Robby Keene/Shawn Payne, Robby Keene & Shawn Payne, Demetri Alexopoulos & Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz/Kyler Park, Tory Nichols/Aisha Robinson, Bert & Nathaniel (Cobra Kai)

Additional Tags: Smut, Fluff and Smut, Teenage Drama, Protective Daniel LaRusso, Protective Samantha LaRusso, Omega Daniel LaRusso, Daniel LaRusso & Johnny Lawrence Friendship, Protective Amanda LaRusso, Eventual Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence, Worried Daniel LaRusso, Alpha/Omega, Teen Pregnancy, Mpreg, Implied Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, Enemies to Lovers, One-Sided Relationship, Alpha Miguel Diaz (Cobra Kai), Binary Boyfriends (Cobra Kai), Cobra Kai Dojo, All-Valley 100 Cobra Kai/The Karate Kid Drabble Challenge, Bisexual Miguel Diaz (Cobra Kai)

[ao3feed-johnnylawrence]

Take it Easy

by milfwillgraham “We don’t gotta watch that, man.” he says plainly. His voice coming out more aloof than he feels. What he means to say is, you don’t have to watch that, or please, I don’t want to watch that. But Bobby, much like Johnny, has never been good at just saying what he wants. Johnny doesn’t even so much as glance back at him, his gaze locked on the tattered white tape stuck to the side of the video tape. The words All Valley Tournament, ‘84 written in black marker are stark even with the signs of fading. The blonde bites at his bottom lip, clear indecision on his face. Bobby wishes he could chuck the tape out the window, wishes he didn’t have to look at the thing ever again. But when does Bobby ever get what he wants? Words: 9392, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Karate Kid (Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: M/M Characters: Daniel LaRusso, Johnny Lawrence, Bobby Brown (Karate Kid), Dutch (Karate Kid), Tommy (Karate Kid), Jimmy (Karate Kid), Mr. Miyagi (Karate Kid), Jessica Andrews, John Kreese, Terry Silver Relationships: Bobby Brown/Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence, Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence, Bobby Brown/Johnny Lawrence, Bobby Brown/Daniel LaRusso Additional Tags: Post-Canon, 90’s setting, some shootfighter elements, some naked in new york elements, polycule? polycule, Slow Burn, Fluff and Smut, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Post KK3, will tag as I go via https://ift.tt/jIPX0l3

[karatekels]

Songbird

Original prompt: (from dioswry on Ao3)

this time ck Terry pls. reader who’s younger, got to know him years later after kk3 happened where he was at his lowest point in life. with time he told her about everything he’s done but she never judged him for it and continued to help him through that tough time cause she’s too good-hearted. years later and married, kreese visits them and she has to watch her husband who’s been living a happy and healthy life with her, turn into someone she doesn’t recognize anymore. wouldn’t mind some darker smut there at the end. maybe with choking? 👀

---

Okay, I *love* this request! I hope I do it justice for you – the flashbacks at the beginning are my favourite things I’ve written, I think!

I can’t remember who it was on Tumblr who pointed out that “Time of the Season” is a perfect song for Terry, but that’s why I’ve used it, so thank you, person I can’t remember!

TRIGGER WARNINGS: SO MANY (mostly choking, dubcon/noncon or at least some questionable bdsm)

---

// 1998 //

Knocking back his drink without a second thought, Terry Silver raises his hand, snapping to get the attention of the waiter who scurried off to get him another bottle. Taking another puff of his cigar and deeply wishing that it was something stronger, he stares blankly out in the dark lounge, tuning out the sights and sounds of everyone around him. How exactly had things come to this?

Everything around him had fallen to shit.

Dynatox had not done well in the 90s, environmentalists constantly on his ass with lawsuits, whining about their treatment of some shithole country or another. When had everybody gotten so damn sensitive? The company was still getting by, trying to shift into information technology, but with the company name in the mud, competitors weren’t exactly interested in a merger.

He wonders what Margaret would think of him now, sighing heavily as he recalled his favourite employee’s passing two years prior. She had been the closest thing he’d had to a confidante, and he hadn’t found anyone to fill her shoes. He didn’t have anyone anymore…

He shakes his head, quickly taking another large drink the instant the waiter returned with a new bottle. He would not think of John. After more than a decade of trying to hunt down the man following the disastrous events of the late eighties, Cobra Kai shutting down for good, Terry had resigned himself to the idea that Kreese was as good as dead to him.

In short, he had no one, nothing, and no idea of where to go from here. Was there even a point in trying anymore? He was pushing forty…

The band strikes up a sultry tune, and Terry stands to leave, the thought of having to endure people around him enjoying themselves making him want to hit something. Throwing some bills on the table, he turns, making for the door.

It’s the time of the season When love runs high…

Terry freezes where he stands, feeling like the air had been torn from his lungs. That voice…

In this time, give it to me easy And let me try with pleasured hands To take you in the sun to promised lands To show you every one It’s the time of the season for loving…

He turns, going back to his table as if pulled by a magnetic force, his eyes tracking down the source of the singing. Her voice was hauntingly beautiful, like a siren’s song, and incredibly seductive. Looking over to the stage, he sees her: a gorgeous young woman in a slinky, glittering dress, her eyes closed as though she was in a trance as she croons into the old-fashioned microphone. Terry finds himself incredibly moved, feeling emotions stirring within him that he hasn’t felt in years; and some that he’s never experienced.

He remains in his seat until you finish your set.

---

“You’re here again,” comes a voice from behind him, sounding amused. Terry turns, irritated that someone was interrupting his brooding – he had come for his songbird, only to find out she wasn’t performing tonight, and was quite put out.

It’s her.

You manage to look ethereal even without the stage lights and costume, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, a leather jacket over your arm. Terry is briefly flabbergasted, giving you enough time to pull out one of the empty seats at his table, making yourself comfortable.

“You’re here a lot,” you continue, surveying the handsome man before you and trying to get a read on him. You had noticed him over the past few weeks, always at the same table, always looking lost, and couldn’t help yourself any longer; you needed to know his story.

“You’re very good,” he replies, looking at you with a slightly bewildered expression. You get the sense that he isn’t used to feeling anything but confident, and decide to pull back a bit.

“Thanks,” you say, smiling at him. He would open up in time.

“Tyler, get me a gin and tonic,” you call over to your friend the bartender, not taking your eyes off of the man. He gives you a curious expression.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?”

Tyler brings your drink over, and you take a long sip before answering him. You don’t get the sense that he’s upset that you’ve joined him, quite the contrary, but you could tell that he was a bit unsettled by your unpredictability. You lean forward with an elbow on the table, resting your chin on your palm as you look over at him.

“Making a friend.”

You see the man try to bite back a smile, but he isn’t entirely successful, the expression breaking across his face and taking your breath away. You hold your hand out towards him.

“I’m Y/N L/N, nice to meet you.”

“I’m Terry Silver,” he replies, shaking your hand. You must be imagining the little sparks of electricity that seem to flow between your clasped hands, but find yourself scooting your chair closer to him anyway.

“So, what brings you here so often? You’ve become a real, brooding regular,” you ask, curious about the man. He dressed like money but seemed to show up at all times of the day, making a regular job seem unlikely. He looks at you over his drink, seeming nervous as he considers how to reply. Was he about to tell you he was in the mob, or something?

He looks at the floor briefly, as if gathering his resolve, and when his eyes meet yours again, there’s a strange mixture of confidence and vulnerability in them that has your heart skipping a beat.

“To be perfectly honest, Y/N, listening to you sing has become just about the only good thing in my life.”

---

// 2003 //

“He just comes out and says that to her, within minutes of her sitting down at the table!” Tyler exclaims, laughing along with the rest of your guests. “If she hadn’t snuck up on him and introduced herself first, I think he might still be at that table, pining over her! But instead, she made the first move and turned Terry’s life around over a few gin and tonics, which you still haven’t paid for, by the way,” he says teasingly, turning to point a finger at you accusingly.

“But that was the story of how we all came to be here today, celebrating these two and the love they share, and I’m glad they’ve gotten their fairytale ending. To Y/N and Terry!” he cries, raising his glass, and the toast is echoed around the reception hall by your friends and family.

Your wedding wasn’t the elaborate ceremony that you knew Terry had initially plotted; it was still large, and very luxurious, of course, but didn’t quite constitute a spectacle, for which you were grateful. The engagement photos that had been plastered all over the tabloids for the past eight months had been more than enough public insight into your private life, thank you very much.

Terry had apparently understood that he had pushed the publicity a bit too much, and had settled for a more intimate, secluded ceremony by way of apology. You knew that he meant well by it; he absolutely adored you, and he hadn’t been able to resist his urge to show you off to the world at any point over the past four and a half years of your relationship.

You had fallen for one another so quickly; you had quickly become friends with the tall, handsome stranger that came to the lounge night after night to hear you sing, trying to figure out what made him tick. He’d opened up to you quickly, seemingly unable to control the urge to tell you everything about himself, and you found yourself looking forward to seeing him seated at your table when you walked on stage.

You started out talking with him after your set, often staying until the bar closed and Tyler kicked the two of you out, but as you had gotten closer you started meeting him outside of the lounge as well. He had been struggling when you’d first met, and he often came to you for your opinion or advice, seeking you out like you had all the answers. You were happy to be there for him, and had started opening up to him as well, the two of you flourishing in each other’s presence.

You were the first person he came to when he successfully merged his company with several small IT firms, wrapping you up in a hug and kissing you soundly, the kiss that began your romantic relationship. You had celebrated subsequent successes as Dynatox reclaimed its status as a leading company in the country, as well as your own career milestones: selling your first song to a top recording artist and watching it reach number one on the charts, buying the lounge with Tyler with your own hard-earned money… you had been there for all of your greatest successes, and your moments of struggle and heartbreak, and you couldn’t have imagined a better partner.

“I can’t wait to get you alone, Mrs. Silver,” Terry purrs in your ear. You shiver in delight, blushing as you think about the bridal lingerie you had in your suitcase for your wedding night together. Terry would go crazy for the white garter belt, the fasteners for your garter monogrammed with T.S. in, of course, silver.

Turning to look at your man – your husband, you correct yourself with a smile – you take a moment to appreciate how gorgeous he looks in his tuxedo, the violets decorating your table bringing out the blue in his eyes even more. You give him a look of pure adoration, trying to convey all the emotions you felt for him in a single look, and he gives you your favourite lopsided grin in return.

“I love you, Terrance,” you whisper breathlessly, your voice thick with emotion. “I can’t believe I’m your wife,” you say, feeling the comforting weight of your new wedding band on your finger. Terry strokes your cheek with a knuckle, cupping your face in his large hand and staring at you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I’ll be happy to remind you any time you need, Y/N,” he promises, leaning forward to kiss you passionately.

---

// 2019 //

You sigh, watching the sun set over the horizon, the end to another day. Standing, you move to clear the dishes, Terry’s plate untouched next to the vase of violets that you had placed in the center of the table, hoping it would maybe trigger a memory for him.

But he hadn’t shown at all, not even today, your anniversary. You had been together for twenty years now, and married for sixteen, and somehow you feel like you knew your husband less now than the first night that you’d spoken at the lounge, all those years ago.

For almost two decades, you had had a picture perfect relationship, then marriage. More than picture perfect, your love for each other when far beyond surface appearances. Your bond had only strengthened over the years; you had long been one of the Valley’s “It” couples, turning your respectable careers into dozens of philanthropic ventures, doing your part to help improve the community that had brought the two of you together.

But then, last year, there was a knock at your door, and if you had known who had been on the other side, and what they would end up doing to your life, to your marriage, to the love of your life, you would’ve barricaded the door with everything you had. Instead, you had opened it, leading John Kreese right to Terry, his poison infecting your husband’s mind almost immediately. You had heard the name before, long ago, but Terry had categorized the man as being firmly in the past – which usually meant the war – and you hadn’t thought that you’d need to remember it.

Almost overnight, you’d watched your warm, trusting Terry become ruthless, paranoid, conniving. He had taken up a leadership position in his old dojo, Cobra Kai, at Kreese’s request, but this wasn’t like the kata that you had seen him practice for fitness or mindfulness. This was violent, and that was only what you’d seen of it; he’d been keeping you in the dark as much as possible.

He had started coming home later and later, skipping meals, cancelling obligations you’d made with charities months in advance at a moment’s notice, and more recently had just stopped coming home at all some nights. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a conversation that had gone beyond him telling you that he was leaving for the day, and the realization makes your heart ache.

You sit back in your chair, dishes forgotten, trying not to sob. You were just so lonely now that Terry was gone. It wasn’t just that you had lost a husband; you had lost your best friend, the person you had looked forward to waking up beside every day for years. He was your other half, and without him you felt like a shell of yourself.

You hear a faint crash from somewhere in the house and choose to investigate, looking for anything to distract you from your misery. You find Terry, stumbling around one of the wine cellars, muttering to himself. You lean against the doorframe, your arms crossed, wondering how long it will take him to even notice you were there. Eventually, he turns around, and you see how disheveled he truly is, his eyes out of focus.

“You’re drunk?” you ask, appalled.

“Johnny bought beer,” he slurs by way of explanation. You wrinkle your nose in distaste.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” you say, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Two weeks until the All Valley!” he cries, his eyes shining brightly. “There’s so much to do!”

“It’s our twentieth anniversary, Terrance.”

Terry is quiet for a moment, considering this, his lips pursed. Finally, he sighs, shrugging slightly.

“Sorry, love. Duty calls.”

“Duty? You mean John?” you snap, unable to keep the venom from your voice. You truly hated the man. He gives you a cold, strangely blank stare.

“I owe John everything,” he retorts firmly, his voice devoid of any emotion.

You know that this is the wrong time for this conversation; you’re upset, he’s drunk, but what choice did you have? He was never around anymore.

“How can that possibly be, Terry? We’ve been together for twenty years, and you maybe mentioned him three times before he came and knocked on our door. He never visited, you hated talking about him – he never even came to our wedding! How can someone you’ve fought so hard to forget suddenly come in and ruin everything?” you finally bring yourself to ask the questions that have been plaguing you for weeks now, tears falling down your face.

He takes in your shaking form with a confused expression, like he doesn’t understand what you’re saying, or why.

“I have to do this. Cobra Kai is our legacy, my legacy.”

“This isn’t you, Terry! I swear, I don’t even recognize you anymore! Where is my Terry?” you ask desperately, looking for any trace of the man that you fell in love with. He gives you a hard look.

“That was what you made me. What I made myself, for you. This is what I am.”

“That’s not true!” you choke out, your legs feeling wobbly underneath you, threatening to give out. Never, in all your years together, not even in these past few rocky months, would you have expected Terry to be capable of hurting you this way. He turns away from you dismissively, going back to looking for, presumably, wine, and you lean back against the wall for support, feeling hopeless.

On a whim, and unsure if you’re doing it more to soothe yourself or in some last ditch effort to reach out to Terry, you start to quietly sing to yourself, the lyrics from the song you first danced to on your wedding day coming to mind.

What day is it And in what month? This clock never seemed so alive…

You see Terry freeze, his spine stiffening as he hears you singing, keeping his back to you.

I can’t keep up, and I can’t back down I’ve been losing so much time…

“That’s enough, Y/N,” he growls out over your voice, turning to look at you with frustration. Stubbornly, you continue, seeing enough of your Terry still somewhere in there and determined to bring him out.

‘Cause it’s you and me And all of the people with nothing to do Nothing to lose…

“Stop it, right now,” he demands, his voice getting louder as he walks over to you, closing the distance between you in a few long strides. You glare up at him through your tears, ignoring his request.

And it’s you and me And all of the people And I don’t know wh–

“I said stop!” he roars, slamming his palms on the wall to either side of you. Your jaw snaps shut, staring up at him with wide eyes. His own eyes close, and he breathes heavily for a moment.

“You can’t do this, Y/N,” he murmurs, frustration in his voice. “I don’t need this right now.”

“But I need you, Terry!” you cry out, reaching up to clutch his face, trying to pull him down to look at you. “I need my husband! I can’t stand seeing you pull away from me anymore!”

“I can’t have you close to this, Y/N,” he admits desperately.

“Why? We’ve told each other everything for years, Terry! When have I ever given you reason to think that I won’t support you through…whatever this is?”

“You’ll get hurt, Y/N. I’ll hurt you.”

“I’m not scared of you, Terry. Try me,” you insist, nearly growling at him. His eyes flash, and between one blink and the next he’s pinning you against the wall with a hand around your neck, squeezing.

“Is that so, love? You think that you can handle this? Think you can handle me?” You nod frantically the best you can with his hand around your throat, trying not to panic. He kisses your cheek sloppily, seemingly overtaken by the alcohol in his system once more.

“Silly songbird,” he clucks drunkenly, using his old pet name for you, and the sound of it makes your heart ache. “Spent all your time in the bright lights; you don’t even know what can be in the shadows…”

He slowly releases his grip on your neck, and in a brazen moment, you grab his hand with your own, keeping it in place. He looks into your eyes for what feels like the first time in forever, and you think you can see your love somewhere in those blue eyes.

“Show me,” is all you say. You’d promised to stay by him in sickness and in health, ‘til death do you part, and if that meant sinking down to the depths of depravity with him in order to stay by his side, then so be it. His eyes glitter at you briefly, and then he’s kissing you fiercely, his lips and tongue and teeth claiming dominance over your body, lifting you clean off the ground and pinning you against the wall.

You whimper, trying to wrap yourself around him to keep from falling, clinging to him desperately as he ravages you.

“You’re going to regret saying that,” he promises, and you nod vigorously, wanting to have him any way you could get him at this point, after having gone so long without feeling connected to him at all.

“I need you, Terry, please. Let me be what you need,” you beg, squirming out of his grip and dropping to your knees on the hard floor, reaching up to free his cock from his pants. He makes a noise of approval, tangling his hand in your hair roughly and tugging you to take him in your mouth. He is anything but gentle, fucking your face hard and fast until you’re choking around him, gasping for breath.

“So pretty, crying for more of my cock,” he purrs, patting your wet cheek fondly as he thrusts his hips forward. You’re a sniffling mess around him, but you continue to bob your head back and forth, sucking him off like your life depended on it. It did, in a way; your life was nothing without him.

He grunts in exertion from how he’s using your mouth, pulling you off his dick with a ‘pop!’ of your lips and all but throwing you over to a tasting table. How oddly appropriate.

Hopping up onto it, Terry stalks over to you, unceremoniously reaching under your skirt and tearing off your underwear. Pulling you to him in one fluid motion, he spears you on his cock, sliding you back and forth along the table, his grip punishing on your hips. You reach your arms over your head, gripping the far edge of the table and holding on for dear life as Terry fucks you harder than you would have thought possible; you feel like you’re going to break in half, and yet all you want is more.

It’s like you’re making up for weeks of lost time, concentrating every bit of lust and need you’ve felt into this moment, worried you won’t know when you’ll get another opportunity to be with him again. He pulls out briefly to turn you over, flipping up your skirt before entering you again, kneading your ass roughly.

“You’ve screamed this pretty throat raw, haven’t you, my little songbird?” he growls, his hand coming around you to squeeze your neck again. You hadn’t even registered that you’d been screaming up to this point, but feel the burn in your throat suddenly as Terry’s hand comes around you. Nodding frantically, you try to hold still as he pounds into you from behind, the hard wood of the table pressing into your hips in a way that you know would leave bruises.

“I want to hear you sing, little bird,” he hisses, pulling you up by your neck to arch against him, and you keen as the new angle stretches you. He laughs under his breath at the sound, sounding slightly delirious. “I should keep you in your cage, and you’ll stay mine forever.”

He wasn’t making any sense; he was making perfect sense.

“I’m yours, baby, I’m here for you!” you cry out, tears rolling down your face, and this seems to be the confirmation he needed as he thrusts deep inside you, coming hard with a roar. He collapses on top of you, still with a hand around your neck, though he’s not squeezing anymore, letting you both get your breath back.

“I don’t care if you drag yourself all the way to hell, Terrance” you tell him breathlessly, panting heavily beneath him. “Just as long as you drag me down with you.”

“Fair play, Mrs. Silver,” he concedes, his face sweaty, hair mussed. “I’ve missed you.”

---

I don’t even know what this is but I’m screaming at it.

[ao3feed-samtory]

The School Dance

by purplecandyboy

read on AO3 here

Anthony doesn't know why Kenny hates him so much but his best friend does. Kenny thinks Anthony sabotaged the sekai taikai for him,

One day suddenly Kenny asked Anthony to their first school dance. Telling him how they should leave old feelings and rivalries in the past. Anthony happily accepted Kenny as his boyfriend naively. Unaware of Kenny's attempt at revenge.

Will Kenny go thru with humiliating Anthony after they fall in love? Will he confront the sabotage shading some light on Anthony's case? Will Devon come clean with what she did?

………

Sam and Miguel's break up might've split up the dojo and they're friends.

Sam turning to Tory, Moon and Yasmine

Miguel to Robby, Demetri and Hawk.

Demetri and Moon plan to bring the two groups together tho. As the peaceful pacifist of the group.

Words: 9264, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Cobra Kai (TV), Karate Kid (Movies), Karate Kid (Movies) RPF, Cobra Kai (TV) RPF

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage

Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other

Characters: Anthony LaRusso, Kenny Payne, Nathaniel (Cobra Kai), Miguel Diaz (Cobra Kai), Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz's Mother, Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz's Father, Robby Keene, Demetri Alexopoulos, Yasmine (Cobra Kai), Moon (Cobra Kai), Samantha LaRusso, Tory Nichols, Shawn Payne, Doug Rickenberger, Bert (Cobra Kai), Jacob Bertrand, Johnny Lawrence, John Kreese, Amanda LaRusso, Daniel LaRusso, Mitch (Cobra Kai), Big Red (Cobra Kai), Mikey (Cobra Kai), Kyler Park

Relationships: Anthony LaRusso/Kenny Payne, Anthony LaRusso/Original Male Character(s), Robby Keene & Kenny Payne, Anthony LaRusso/Devon Lee, Lia Cabrera & Kenny Payne, Kenny Payne & Shawn Payne, Anthony LaRusso & Kenny Payne, Anthony LaRusso & Devon Lee & Kenny Payne, Demetri Alexopoulos/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Miguel Diaz/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Miguel Diaz/Samantha LaRusso, Robby Keene/Tory Nichols, Samantha LaRusso/Tory Nichols, Moon/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Piper Elswith/Moon, Demetri Alexopoulos/Yasmine, Samantha LaRusso/Yasmine, Moon/Yasmine (Cobra Kai), Robby Keene/Shawn Payne, Robby Keene & Shawn Payne, Demetri Alexopoulos & Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz/Kyler Park, Tory Nichols/Aisha Robinson, Bert & Nathaniel (Cobra Kai)

Additional Tags: Smut, Fluff and Smut, Teenage Drama, Protective Daniel LaRusso, Protective Samantha LaRusso, Omega Daniel LaRusso, Daniel LaRusso & Johnny Lawrence Friendship, Protective Amanda LaRusso, Eventual Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence, Worried Daniel LaRusso, Alpha/Omega, Teen Pregnancy, Mpreg, Implied Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, Enemies to Lovers, One-Sided Relationship, Alpha Miguel Diaz (Cobra Kai), Binary Boyfriends (Cobra Kai), Cobra Kai Dojo, All-Valley 100 Cobra Kai/The Karate Kid Drabble Challenge, Bisexual Miguel Diaz (Cobra Kai)

[spiderverseandstuff]

Welcome to my blog!

Hi! I’m Tay and I love all things spiderverse and Trolls, as well as some other fandoms listed in my bio that I also write for if requested.

Characters I will write for:

Spiderverse:

Hobie Brown

Miguel O’Hara

Gwen Stacy

Miles Morales

Pavitr Prabhakar

Peter B. Parker

Spider-Byte/Margo

My OC (Ari)

Trolls:

Branch

Poppy

Viva

Clay

Spruce/Bruve

John Dory

Floyd

Creek

King Trollex

Velvet

Veneer

Kid Ritz

Orchid

Cobra Kai

Johnny Lawrence

Daniel Larusso

John Kreese

Terry Silver

Tori Nichols

Robby Keene

Miguel Diaz

Moon

Yasmine

Demetri

Eli/Hawk

Samantha Larusso

Anthony Larusso

Hamilton:

Alexander Hamilton

Aaron Burr

Thomas Jefferson

James Madison

George Washington

Philip Hamilton

Eliza Hamilton

Peggy Schuyler

Angelica Schuyler

Beetlejuice (Movie/Musical):

Lydia Deetz

Delia

Beetlejuice

Barbara Maitland

Adam Maitland

Requests are: Open

What I will write:

Fluff/tooth rotting fluff

Of age Smut

Pregnancy

Fake dating

Friends to lovers

Enemies to lovers

Angst

What I will not write:

Incest of all kinds

Under-age smut

Water sports

Slow burn

Thank you for reading and please feel free to ask questions and submits requests!

[sensei-venus]

alpha!kreese anon again and first off it was so good 😩 you’ve gotten me obsessed with thinking about ck and a chubby!reader so now I’m thinking about kreese and a chubby!reader- like I know the man would probably be a health nut but a girl can DREAM and think about his big and rough hands on my thighs

Kreese might be a slight heath nut, just a little bit. I don’t think he is supper big on health stuff, the man eats like a dog most of the time, a lot of meat and starchy foods. He also smokes pretty often as well.

But also, as much as we see Kreese with thinner women, Kreese did grow up in the late 40s, into the 50s-60s. The time period of the 50s was big on BIG curve’s, so it really isn’t a stretch to say Kreese might actually like bigger girls, like a lot.

Feeling up on a big girl is right up his alley, plus the idea of manhandling one too? Oh yeah. Man likes to grab thick ass, every curve and roll. A hand full of fat soft tit. Man is nasty. He wants to lick and suck everything.

His worse habit with big girls?

Bending them over and spanking them until they can’t sit right because it stings so bad. He likes how the fat of their thighs and ass mold to his hand with every hit. It’s almost hypnotic in his eyes. Can’t get that with a skinny girl.

[macchiatosdumptruck]

god if terry had been in kk1 he would he ruined sweet, innocent little daniel and it would have been so hot to watch. there’s not way terry would look at this fawn and just let him go. and terry would have gotten away with it too, probably psychologically damaging danny in the process.

That is a concept for an au fic that is highly interesting to me. I love the idea of dark!cobra! Daniel done well.

(and, I do have a long sat on wip that employs this concept, but it is largely a framework for nasty, angsty, smut.

Picture Daniel, new in town and bothered by a group of guys that just won't leave him alone. He walks into a dojo one day and who does he see? Those very boys, and they're being led by some GI Joe looking guy. He rolls his eyes and blames his sore luck. Then he turns around and there's another sensie there. He's even bigger than the other guy, and seems a bit younger. He's tall. (Tall as hell) and handsome, and very ... Serious looking . He looks at Daniel like he's trying to see right through his bones.

Meanwhile, Terry sees Daniel Ike and he instantly perceives the well hidden anger. The injustice. The spite. What Miyagi taught Daniel to overcome Terry would teach Daniel to mine it and use it.

I can see Terry pitting the other cobras against Daniel. To make Daniel dependent on him. Terry would teach Daniel to bite and snap at anyone who wasn't himself. And then with Terry, Daniel would melt.

Surely Terry was doing all this for a good reason? It was because he cared. He was the only person to care since Daniel came to this god forsaken town.

For every bit of pain that Terry put him through there was a lesson. And when Daniel finally got something? Terry was elated. So proud of Daniel and his accomplishments.

He wants the boy but he's smart enough to know to play it smart. Everything about this has to feel like Daniel's own decision. Daniel is nearly 18 anyway. And, really, Terry would argue that it was all Daniel's decision. He just turned Daniel in the right direction. Gave him options. And let the boy make up his mind for himself.

Soon enough Daniel has turned 18, then he has graduated. His apartment complex closes down and his uncle Louie is sick, and his Ma has to go take care of him, and he has nowhere to go,so Terry offers for him to stay in the dojo. He's buying Kreese out of his contract, (what contract? You should've had a mind for business John) and offers Daniel a position as a teacher.

Terry just keeps getting closer and closer to Daniel, all along pretending that these are all normal things for a teacher and friend to do. No, they weren't oddly close. Those people were just jealous.

He lets Daniel come to him until one day Daniel lets something out that can't be taken back. And when he tried to run away Terry grabs him.

"There's no running away from this Danny boy. You're mine now"

(insert the sound of wet slapping and moans etc etc)

[ao3feed-binarybfs]

Hawk is still scared little Eli

by Anonymous

read it on AO3 here

A story about Eli 'Hawk' Moskowitz's going through the worse year of his life.

He heard the story of what Kyler did on his date with Samantha, not from Sam herself but around. So he knew Kyler was a creep. It made him never want to be close or alone with the alpha he gave him a icky feeling. But when his heat hits and Kyler is in the room he's forced to see how truly evil some alphas could be. When Kyler forces himself onto him taking his dignity and virginity.

It only gets more frustrating for Eli from there. When three months later he's informed by the doctor he's pregnant.

|the first chapter is about what Eli had to go thru, but his love interest will not be Kyler!!. Demetri and Miguel both want to be with him especially since they don't want him to raise a baby by himself.

Words: 3174, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Cobra Kai (TV), Cobra Kai (TV) RPF, Karate Kid (Movies), Karate Kid (Movies) RPF

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other

Characters: Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz's Mother, Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz's Father, Kyler Park, Demetri Alexopoulos, Demetri Alexopoulos's Mother, Miguel Diaz (Cobra Kai), Tory Nichols, Johnny Lawrence, John Kreese, Samantha LaRusso, Carmen Diaz (Cobra Kai), Rosa Diaz (Cobra Kai), Chris (Cobra Kai), Devon Lee (Cobra Kai), Nathaniel (Cobra Kai), Kenny Payne, Shawn Payne, Jacob Bertrand, Bert (Cobra Kai), Yasmine (Cobra Kai), Moon (Cobra Kai), Aisha Robinson, Mitch (Cobra Kai), Cobra Kai Students, Doug Rickenberger, Mikey (Cobra Kai), Edwin (Cobra Kai), Big Red (Cobra Kai), Lil Red (Cobra Kai), Brucks (Cobra Kai)

Relationships: Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz/Kyler Park, Demetri Alexopoulos/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Miguel Diaz/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Robby Keene/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Moon/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz/Tory Nichols, Samantha LaRusso/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Miguel Diaz & Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Demetri Alexopoulos & Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Robby Keene & Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Demetri Alexopoulos/Miguel Diaz/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Demetri Alexopoulos/Robby Keene/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Demetri Alexopoulos & Samantha LaRusso & Moon & Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz & Yasmine, Miguel Diaz & Robby Keene & Samantha LaRusso & Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz & Tory Nichols

Additional Tags: Trauma, Sexual Violence, Violence, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Omega Verse, Bisexual Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Autistic Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, POV Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Bottom Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Miguel Diaz/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz in Mexico, Minor Demetri Alexopoulos/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Rape, Rape Recovery, Rape Aftermath, Good Friend Demetri Alexopoulos, Top Demetri Alexopoulos, Alpha Miguel Diaz (Cobra Kai), Top Miguel Diaz (Cobra Kai), Miguel Diaz & Robby Keene Friendship, Bisexual Miguel Diaz (Cobra Kai), Protective Miguel Diaz (Cobra Kai), Smut

[ao3feed-johnnylawrence]

Havana Nights

by 8bitluck The last thing Johnny wanted was to be uprooted from his home country his senior year. And the very last thing he wanted was to fall in love. Words: 1988, Chapters: 1/8, Language: English Fandoms: Karate Kid (Movies), Cobra Kai (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Johnny Lawrence, Daniel LaRusso, Terry Silver, John Kreese, Tommy (Karate Kid), Ali Mills (Karate Kid), Laura Lawrence, Sid Weinberg Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence Additional Tags: Dirty Dancing, Alternate Universe - Dirty Dancing Fusion, Omega Verse, Alpha/Omega, Teenage Daniel LaRusso/Teenage Johnny Lawrence, Sassy Daniel Larusso, Moody Johnny Lawrence, Omega Johnny Lawrence, Alpha Daniel LaRusso, Alpha John Kreese, Alpha Terry Silver, omega ali mills, Rape/Non-con Elements, John Kreese Being an Asshole, Protective Daniel LaRusso, Bisexual Daniel LaRusso, Bisexual Johnny Lawrence, Not Beta Read, Please shoot John Kreese, John Kreese Hate Club, slow burn kind of, Eventual Smut, Period-Typical Racism via https://ift.tt/2H4JLr0

[bramblesbriars]

Head Games: Chapter 1

Terry plans his revenge on the punks who brought his friend to his knees. Only he doesn't plan on the attachment that arises between himself and the brat he's supposed to be torturing. But who said he couldn't have both?

!!Trigger Warning!!

This story contains language, smut, non-con, mental and physical abuse, as well as drug abuse. You have been warned. Definitely 18+

Current chapters up now on AO3 :)

As John Kreese entered the mansion, he wondered where his life had gone wrong. How had some kid and his sorry excuse for a teacher managed to knock him down so low? Never had he begged for anything in his life, and he was not about to start, no matter how bleak things got. It wasn’t that his old friend Terry didn’t have the money, he had more than enough to chase away the blues and the debt. It was about the small amount of dignity that John had left after his dojo was left in tatters and closed its doors to the masses. No, this was no social call.

A strong whiff of bourbon and smoke wafted through the house, Terry’s signature musk, worth as much as he was, John wagered, in some circles. Both men, alphas since the war, had fought tooth and nail, to make it home alive from Vietnam, and despite the prestige his family held, Terry never hid behind it like some did. The war made him strong, turning a sheepish beta into a hardheaded alpha by the time the men had returned on leave. It was a feat that John had not been prepared for at the time, but Terry would never have been the same otherwise. The luxuries that Terry had been born into were unfamiliar to John however, and he resigned himself that they would forever stay that way after all of this was over.

Voices raised and echoed through the chiseled halls of the extravagant mansion, John recognized the sound of feet hitting a solid mat, much like the ones he had left behind at the dojo. Although he had been forever taken away from a place, he once held sacred, the sounds and the feel of that now desecrated tomb would haunt him forever. As he rounded the doorway, following a man in a dark suit passed several rooms and portraits before they finally arrived at the source of the commotion. John spotted his old friend on the mat, and suddenly he was that naïve kid again, afraid in the jungle, but the sensation passed just as quickly as it came.

Terry Silver, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and fists raised as he faced his target, was a specimen of a man. Well over six feet, his blue eyes pierced through everything with an electric intensity, always half-cocked with a smirk or a witty remark ready to go. His confidence was only bolstered by how heavy of a hit he landed, the current partner he challenged being dropped to the mat in mere moments.

Terry belted out a laugh, grin sharp as he stepped down from the raised platform which sported the mat, accepting a towel from a waiting butler.

“You’re telegraphing that wheel kick.” John critiqued, before Terry paused and allowed his eyes to take in that too familiar face.

“Johnny! What a surprise man!” The two men shared a hug, though John was more than eager to pull from the embrace than Terry had been. “What’s this? You finally moving in?” The raven-haired man motioned at the dingy old army bag that John carried, the sides bulged with the items John had forced inside in his attempt to carry all that he owned and held dear.

“This is, ‘I give up.’” John started, with a shake of his head. “I came to say goodbye.” There was a brief pause as Terry mouthed his disbelief, then John continued. “Here’s the keys to the dojo.” He tried to pass the keys over to Terry, who quickly refused and pushed John’s hand away.

“What are you talking about?” Those blue eyes narrowed, but the boyish smile remained. John couldn’t be serious, could he?

“I’ll pay you the back rent soon, once I’m back on my feet.” There was never a debt John left unpaid if he could help it, especially when it came to Terry. It left a sour taste in his mouth, like charity, and he wouldn’t accept it.

“Oh, come on! Screw the rent!” Terry snapped at the blonde then, waving a hand at the few servants who surrounded them. “You think I bought that place for rent? I bought it for you, remember?”

Of course, John remembered. The transaction had been a strange one. Terry had always had a fondness for John, which during those times was unheard of. But Terry used his money to hide a lot of things, some of which he shouldn’t have had to hide at all. To John, however, it was repayment for Vietnam, rescue from death and torment. That was all it would ever be, much to Terry’s dismay.

“I remember…”

Terry assured John that all would be clear up, going on a short rant about his plutonium dealings and how the DEA were breathing down his neck. Detectives must have been sneaking around the plants, from what John gathered. “Every business has a slump at one time or another, Johnny.” Terry went on. “I’m lucky if I make one deal a year without being indicted.” His playful tone was pure Silver, John expected nothing else from his friend.

As the two walked from the room and towards the balcony, John chimed in. “It’s been nearly nine months since I’ve had a student join the dojo. I’m broke and headed nowhere fast.”

“You’re wrong. You’re going to Tahiti. Now.” A deep laugh filled his chest as he slapped John’s back. “My treat for all this trouble you’ve been through.” A vacation did sound nice, even at the expense of someone else, especially Terry. The lanky man called for his assistant, a gangly older woman who hobbled into the doorway. “Arrange for a plane to take my buddy John here on a little trip. The special.” The woman scribbled the order down on a clipboard and shuffled off to set up the accommodations.

“I don’t know, Terry…” John began to object then sighed, leaning against the balcony, and staring at the world outside. His mind wandered to the escape that his friend was offering and all that he would be leaving behind. “That kid and his lousy teacher,” He dropped his bag to the concrete floor. “This is their fault.”

Both men fell silent, Terry’s eyes like ice as he probed his friend’s posture for a sign of weakness. He found only stern shoulders and thick hair that caused his mind to wander to places he preferred to avoid. He turned, though an idea was surfacing at the mention of the brat and this mysterious teacher.

“Who are these pricks, John?” He asked finally, hands wedged into belt of his gi. “Tell me what’s going on so I can fix it.”

“Money can’t fix everything, Terry.” John blurted, stare vacant as he slouched his weight onto the palms of his hands. “I’d be lucky if anything fixed this at all.”

“I’m not talking about money.” Terry stepped closer, the conniving grin from before returning to grace his angled jaw. “I’m talking about revenge.”

“Revenge? Don’t be ridiculous.” It was so easy to dismiss Terry’s passion in that moment as mere words, John not expecting his old friend to resort to anything spiteful.

“Go ahead and tell me about those creeps, Johnny, and we’ll see how ridiculous I can be, huh. I have more than one way to make folks pay for making my best friend suffer.” Terry was all too serious on the subject, eyes locked with the blond as he waited for the information on the fiends who had tarnished John’s good name.

It took a moment for John to warm up to the idea that Terry was offering him, but once the seed was planted it was quick to sprout. After a rustle through the duffel bag, John pulled a crumpled newspaper article from it and handed it over to the brunette. A black and white image of a boy and an older Asian gentleman graced the page, the kid holding a trophy from the All Valley Under 18 Tournament. As Terry glanced over the article attached to the picture, the names of the culprits became apparent. Nariyoshi Miyagi, or Mr. Miyagi, as John corrected him when he brought the old man up to him, was the one who had allegedly initiated the fight in the parking lot at the All Valley.

The kid in the picture was a different story than the stoic old man, a wide smile graced his face, even after the paper had been abused and tossed around, Terry could still make out his boyish features. Daniel LaRusso may have won the last All Valley under eighteen, but there was no way the kid would participate in the next one. It had been nearly a year and he had surely passed the age limit, at least that was where Terry’s mind went as he plotted how he could help John out with the coming tournament.

“So, these are the ones? Miyagi and LaRusso?” Terry lifted his eyes to meet John’s, the blonde nodding in response. “They don’t look too hard to handle. I shouldn’t have too much trouble with them, especially the old man.” Daniel may be another case, but Terry wasn’t quite sure yet, all he had was a picture and a crinkled newspaper article to go from. “In the meantime, let’s get you to the airport for that special trip. I’ll come up with something and let you know.”

“You don’t have to come up with anything, Terry. It’ll take care of itself eventually.” And that was all John said on the matter, the two men gathering John’s things from the balcony floor and making their way from the room. Of course, Terry had to change out of his gi before he went anywhere and chose one of his better outfits to take his friend to the airport.

The ride was full of banter and catching up, the laughter was a relief for them both. John needed the distraction from the demons that had been drudged up in his life as of late, while Terry was glad to see his old friend smile for the first time since he had seen him. The closer they got to the airport, the more Terry’s mind spiraled towards how he could exactly help John and his situation.

“Alright, I’ve made up my mind.” He pushed some stray hairs from his face as he drove, smile crooked. “This slope, Miyagi, and that punk kid, I’ll get them for what they did to you. They made you suffer, so I’ll make them suffer.” Terry’s smile widened, teeth nearly shining. “And when I think they’ve suffered enough, then I’ll start with the real pain.”

“Terry, you don’t have to do that.” There were no specifics as to how or when Terry was going to do these things that he was promising, and that made John nervous to say the least. Although, the idea of making Miyagi suffer in any kind of way brought him peace of mind. The car slowed to a stop next to the unloading terminal, Terry putting it in park.

“Don’t have to? I want to! It’s not over, we’re Cobra Kai.” Terry took hold of John’s hand, both men gripping each other’s tight. “Come on, say it! Cobra Kai.”

“Never dies.” John smiled wide. His happiness was genuine for the first time in a while, like walking into a dream. Naturally Terry had never been a part of those dreams, they were usually nightmares. “I owe you man.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” Terry was quick to dismiss his old friend. “What about Vietnam? How many times did you save my ass?” He was always quick to bring that up, that John was a hero in his eyes and there was little that could ever change his perception of his friend.

“I don’t know. I kind of lost count.” It was John’s turn to laugh as the intercoms whirled numbers of flights and terminals that were now open for boarding.

“Sure, you did. Get the hell out of here. Have a good trip, Captain.” Terry motioned for John to exit the convertible, which he did, taking the drab duffel bag with him. The newspaper article with Miyagi and Daniel’s picture he left behind for Terry, of course, so he had something to go by for his revenge plot. Before the blonde left the side of the car, the friends saluted each other and gave a wave before John turned to walk to his terminal. The overhead intercom made another announcement about loading and unloading zones, though Terry remained for a moment longer, watching as John disappeared into the sea of people. It was only when he situated himself back in his seat and his blue eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror that he saw a familiar face that sent his blood running cold.

As fate would have it, the mirror reflected the visage of the kid who he had seen in the paper, hair thicker and stature just a bit taller than he had appeared in the article. Terry couldn’t make out what was being said, but his mouth was moving and there was a much smaller, seasoned gentleman next to him. He assumed it was Miyagi though he couldn’t see his face, the man facing his student. What luck! John had only been gone but a few minutes and already his plan was falling right into his lap.

[80s4life]

When A Door Closes (Another One Opens)*

Word Count: 3,057

Status: Requested!

Ask: i have a request for john kreese. . . so basically he has a long day at the dojo, coming home in a bad mood, only to see that the reader has surprised him with dinner and lingerie. and he takes his frustrations out on her. with an age gap and daddy kink and maybe some fluffy (or as fluffy you can get with him lol) aftercare if you so wish <3

@: A spicy, SPICY anon that awakened something in me istg

A/N: Below, there is a provided link of lingerie I picked out, however, it doesn't have to be used and it can be whatever you choose. This is just what I used and described for this! Go wild!

Fandom: Karate Kid/ Cobra Kai Series (could really be any age of Kreese at this point, man never gives up on karate)

Relationship: John Kreese x Female!Reader

Summary: He works hard, day and night, 24/7, 7 days a week, 4 weeks a month, 12 months a year. The man lives and breathes for the children and Cobra Kai, but sometimes, and only sometimes, the pressure is just too much. Even for big bad, John Kreese.

Warnings: smut, fluff, daddy kink (as promised), lingerie, teasing, oral (f! receiving), age-gap pairing, strong language, aftercare, degrading (not sexual)

Masterlist Karate Kid Masterlist

Key: Y/B = Your Beverage (I didn't choose Your Alcoholic Beverage becasue some people don't like to drink)

{gifs are not mine, credits go to @danielslaw & @nautilusgf}

DADDDYYYY

Today really wasn't one of those days.

Not only has Johnny decided to pick a fight and come in with the biggest attitude Reseda has ever seen, but he also was unfocused, sloppy and directed every snarky idea he'd had at Kreese. Tommy was nervous and fidgety, Dutch was unbothered and unfocused, Jimmy was lost, and Bobby was just trying to go through the motions. However, despite every attempt Kreese had given, no order was to be set into place today.

Not when the tournament is tomorrow.

Sighing deeply through his nose, he gives it one last try, "Fall in line!"

Grumbling, the boys do as follows, trudging over and straightening their forms, hands outstretched stiffly before them, fists clenched at their thighs.

"Now," Kreese demonstrates a punch, high knee, defensive step back, high kick, then falls back into place, "Repeat!"

Begrudgingly, the boys try to follow along, but truthfully, only Tommy was truly paying attention. Although they were following through with their commands, they were tired, weak and annoyed. Since 12 this afternoon, they'd been hard at work, going through the motions to ensure perfection for tomorrow, but time's caught up with them and no breaks truly brought all of them to their breaking points.

It was in Kreese's best intentions to train them for their grand finale - their chance to prove their excellence to the whole town. He's overworking them, sure, but they needed to be ready. Not only to beat that LaRusso kid and his mentor, but to be able to leave that arena tomorrow as champions. He knew they had that ability, he knew his students.

"God dammit! Enough!" he screams, the children losing focus on what they were instructed to do. Face reddening, Kreese tries to calm the rage threatening to bubble over and consume him whole. "Is this a dojo or a fucking daycare?"

Straightening their stances once more, all humor leaves their faces, visibly paling under Kreese's scrutiny.

"Did I train babies or champions?" he asks, staring daggers into each one of the boys. "Hm?"

"Champions, Sensei!" they chant. All except Johnny, who instead, chooses to roll his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you, Lawrence. Something you want to inform the class?"

Looking straight into their eyes, Johnny says nothing, doesn't even move an inch.

"I asked you a question, I will not repeat myself," he warns, gritting his teeth at the adolescent.

"No, Sensei," he spits back.

"Good," a smug smile appears on Kreese's face, "Class is dismissed. Get cleaned up, eat, get some sleep, and be back here early in the morning for dressing and bussing. We have a tournament to win."

With that, the boys move almost instantaneously, muttering complaints amongst themselves as they quickly take their leave, too afraid that if they were to stay, they'd be forced to practice more.

Sighing deeply for what feels like the millionth time today, Kreese checks up on the office, arranging some files, but otherwise leaves everything as it is. Too tired to do much else, he switches off the lights with his keys in hand, closing the blinds and locking the front doors with a soft turn of his keys. Hopping in the truck, he turns the radio off, puts the windows down and speeds down the highway, wanting to get as far away from the dojo as possible for now.

When his car pulls into the driveway, he turns the ignition off with a grumble, placing his head on the steering wheel in order to compose himself. It's only inevitable that if he doesn't drop the attitude at the door now, he'll be sleeping on the couch tonight.

***

Hearing the familiar thrum of the engine outside, you quickly dry your hands off with a towel, going to check yourself at the door as you go to greet him. {x}

You can feel your pulse buzzing beneath your skin as you adjust the straps, making sure to pull the cups down and around to allow more cleavage to show, pulling the straps of the thong just a tad higher for your own approval. Giggling, your eyes catch the bow on your back, adding to the little maid touch you had in mind when you picked it.

It was a simple number, not too much and not too little, but you liked it. You knew of how hard Kreese had been working and the stress the dojo had been putting on him. Today was his night, and you were going to shower him like a king.

Opening the door with a wide grin, your eyes land on ones of deep frustration and annoyance, hands playing with keys as they jangle and rattle, locking his truck door.

Turning around, he stops in his tracks, eyes scanning your frame from head to toe. With a giggle, you lean against the door frame, giving a cheeky grin paired with a delicate wave, "Hiya, Handsome."

A small smile falls onto his lips instantly, walking up to the porch to greet you. Bending down, he goes to peck your cheek, "Is this all for me?"

Dodging his lips, you open the door wider and push yourself closer to the frame, allowing himself more access into your shared home. "Maybe, maybe not."

With a low growl, Kreese trudges in, placing his keys on the rack and taking his boots off with his feet, hanging his coat up as he goes. Sniffing the air, he smiles, "Something smells good," and beelines to the kitchen.

Standing at the door for a moment more, your smile falls a bit, dejection striking right through your heart while your close and lock the front door, jogging past him in order to prevent him from entering the kitchen. "No," you hold up a hand, "Go sit down. I've got this."

Without much of an argument, he spins on his heel, grabbing a bottle of Scotch from the bar as he breezes into the dining room, eyes glazing over the ornate display you've set for him.

The table was decorated for two, rose petals dancing around the unused areas with not much of the hard wood shown underneath the sheer amount. The plates were set on either end, napkins neatly folded with the fine china glinting under the dim chandelier light, wine glasses placed to the left of both mats everything way laying on top of.

You watch patiently from the kitchen, leaning on the island as you watch, waiting for a reaction. Acknowledgement. Appreciation. Anything.

However, he just simply huffs, apparently amused at the seemingly childish display of affection you had so patiently, meticulously placed. Claiming one of the ends, he sits down, peeling the brand new label off of the Scotch you bought today with his teeth, pouring a hefty glass into the wine glass on the table.

Once more, you feel the pang straight into your gut, trying to fight the wave of irritation at his dismissive behavior. No, his asinine, entitled, arrogant behavior.

Not only had he so much as given you a once-over, but there was nothing else and he'd only been here for 20 minutes.

Saving face once again, you put the kitchen gloves on your hands, pulling the roast out of the oven and kicking it closed with your heel. Slowly, you pace your way to the dining table as seductively and politely as possible, making sure to put on a show of bending over when placing the pot on the heating mat at the center.

Taking the gloves off, you put them back in their respective place, grabbing your favorite bottle of Y/B to pour into your glass. To add to your annoyance, although small and petty, you thought he would've had the common decency of getting it for you.

"Dig in," you smile, allowing him to stand first, filling his plate with carrots, celery, pot roast, mushrooms, and some of the gravy they were slow-cooked in.

You soon follow silently and before long, dinner is going by quickly without a word spoken. Your irritation had bloomed into self-righteous anger and you let it show, all of your emotion written all over your face and body language.

Sitting back in your seat, your cross one leg over your knee, arms crossed loosely over your chest. Kreese, across the table, sits with his hands folded on his stomach, legs spread and eyes staring straight back into yours.

You can't tell if he's testing you or not, but whatever it is isn't going to last another second.

"You gonna tell me what the fuck your problem is or do you want me to play the guessing game?"

He snorts, rolling his eyes at the snide attitude, "What happened to the sweet housewife act?"

"It dropped the second the Dickhead shot down all of her hard work she'd done all day."

Kreese shrugs, eyes boring holes into yours, unwavering in your stare-down.

"Fine, you won't tell me, I'm not going to keep catering to you. You can sit here and have your pity party by yourself."

Roughly pulling out your chair, you don't bother to push it back in, going to walk past him as you leave the dining room, throwing the napkin somewhere on the table in annoyance. Striding out of the room, you take your bottle with you, taking a large swig, going to the kitchen to grab your keys.

Spinning around, you are met with calloused hands grabbing your hips, roughing throwing you into the island behind you. "Get the fuck off me, Kreese, I'm going home."

He doesn't listen to you, instead, his hands play with the thin material of the sheer lingerie, stroking your sides. Head dipping down, his teeth graze your earlobe, "You're so sexy when you're angry." Slowly, his head dips lower, biting your beck lightly, sending a shiver down your spine.

"You're an Asshole, you know that?"

"You can tolerate it," you can hear the smile in his voice, tongue licking a stripe from the base of your neck back up to your ear, placing another bite.

Whimpering, you mentally curse yourself for falling into his games so easily, hands slipping underneath his shirt, playing with the shirt hairs of his happy trail and tugging hard.

Yelping, he pulls back, allowing you enough space to break out. Briskly, you grab the keys back off the counter and trudge towards the door once more. This time, you are able to make it to the door, but just as you open it, a hand tugs on yours again.

Pulling you to him again, Kreese hoists you up and over his shoulder, preventing your from any further escape, closing the door and locking it as it was before. "Nice try," he giggles, "but you're not leaving that easy."

Groaning, you punch at his back and squeal, a hard smack landing right on your open ass. Walking past the front of the house, he takes you down the hall to the bedroom, opening and closing the door, then throwing you onto the bed with a soft bounce.

Scrambling to spin around, Kreese strips his shirt, puling you to the edge of the bed by your ankles. Grabbing your jaw with one large hand, his mouth collides with yours, your hands going to fiddle with the belt on his jeans.

Undoing the buckle and pulling it through the loops, you're quick to pull on his zipper, but his hands are quick to stop you. Rather, he helps rid you of your bra, pulling it up and over your head. "Such a pretty little thing, such a shame it had to go," he remarks with no remorse, watching as your breasts spring free, nipples hardening at the change in temperature.

You go to pull of your thong, but with a shake of his head, you stop your hands at the waist band, watching as he strips himself of his dark denim jeans, underwear close behind.

"Sit back, Baby," he instructs. Bracing yourself back on your elbows, his hands pull you even further off the bed until your ass reaches the end.

Hooking your knees on his shoulders, he bends down on his knees before you and with a sly grin, his head delves between your thighs. Sliding the thong to the side, his tongue flattens and licks a long, wide stripe over the entirety of your mound, then gives your lips one large suck.

Groaning, you arch closer to him, "Stop teasing, you've been enough of a Dick today."

A deep, full laugh, erupts from him, vibrating your core and making you whine again in want. Finally giving in, his lips attach to your aching clit, working in intervals of sucking and lapping at your moist skin.

Your hand attaches itself to his hair, pulling his head impossibly closer, moaning his name as the pressure starts to build in slow, pleasurable waves.

His tongue laps at your folds, occasionally flicking your clit. Adding his finger, another one soon follow as he works you open, your stomach tightening as you arch and flex at the impossible bliss.

Just as you feel the familiar knot begin to build, Kreese completely removes himself from you, backing away and standing before you with a satisfied smile plastered on his face.

Groaning, you throw your head back in annoyance, jumping when his hands find your waist again. Pulling you up, he turns you around and pushes you farther up the bed.

In annoyance, you attempt to get back up and tell him off, but his hand pins your head back into the cushions, the other placing weight on the small of your back as he lines himself up behind you, forcing you to arch up.

Stroking himself a few times, Kreese teases his tip at your entrance, pushing in slowly, allowing the head and then pulling back out again. Whining, you clench around nothing, his hand sliding his tip through your folds to gather your slick.

"Beg," he orders.

"Please," you muffle through the pillows.

"Please what, Baby Girl? You're going to have to use your words."

"Please fuck me. Take it out on me. All of it, I want it all!"

His hand hooks the small material of your thong to the side, he pushes in with one hard thrust, gasping as the sudden warmth and fill. Allowing you to adjust, he slowly ruts into you until he's buried to the hilt. You both sigh in content, giving a thumbs up jokingly as you allow him to move.

He starts small, but as he continues, the stresses of the day come back into the forefront of his mind. Growling, he grabs a handful of your hair, yanking it back as he starts to pick up the speed. Thrusting harder, you struggle to stay in place, hands coming up to latch onto the headboard, crying out as he continues his merciless pace.

His hand comes down to slap your ass, then gives another for good measure. His hands come down to dig into your hips, fingers feeling like daggers as they latch on, the slapping of skin and your moans being the only noises in the room.

The bed creaks as he slams in harder, throwing you forward as he continues his assault, another slap to you ass. Red hand prints decorate each of them equally, stinging in the cool of the room, your sweat adding to the force of each hit.

You whine, clenching around him impossibly harder. "K-Kreese."

"Ah-Ah-Ah," he tuts.

"D-Daddy!" you cry, white-knuckling the headboard.

"Go ahead, come. Come all over Daddy's cock."

You combust within seconds, jerking as he continues to ram you from the back through your mind numbing orgasm. Knees quaking, Kreese doesn't let up, head thrown back with his eyes closed. You moan again, your walls taut against his unsatisfied cock.

"Come for me, Daddy. Come inside. I want to feel you," you whine, eyes watering at the overstimulation.

Sure enough, his thrusts become sloppy and irregular, his seed bursting in you in hot, sticky loads. Growling beastly and carnal, he chokes on air, mouth wide open as he gasps for air. He slowly rides his orgasm, igniting a second from you out of surprise.

Feeling as his cock softens inside you, you hiss as he slides back out. He watches with bewildered amusement as he cums seeps out of your tiny hole, the white liquid dribbling out and onto the deep red sheets.

"Stay," he warns sweetly, going to the bathroom to grab a towel.

Coming back, he makes sure to lightly wipe, jerking as he pats your overworked parts. Cleaning up as best he can, he wipes at the sheets, too, throwing the towel somewhere on the floor.

Dropping onto the bed, you slip out of the thong, the material now a sticky and annoying constriction. Kreese follows behind you, laying in bed beside you, pulling the covers up to cover the both of you.

Turning to face him, you give him a playful smirk, "I guess my plan worked, huh?"

"I needed that," he grins.

You snort, "You need a good beating, too."

He playfully rolls his eyes, pulling you in to rest your head in the crook of his arm and chest, the other splayed across your waist.

"An apology would be nice," you joke halfheartedly. You really did want that apology, but that wasn't Kreese's nature; he didn't want to be wrong and most certainly doesn't want to admit to it when he is. "Just don't pull that shit anymore. I'm not just some punching bag."

He nods with a tired blink of acknowledgement. That's good enough. Pecking his cheek, you turn in his arms, tucking your head beneath his,. Your hands tangle with his, interlocking your fingers and with a smile, allow sleep to overcome you.

Just though the haze before you sleep, however, you hear his voice whisper, deep and low, "I'm sorry, Baby Girl," his arms squeezing you in just a tad bit closer.

BONUS!!! I found this meme funny and I've seen it a million times, so here: