serves her king

Smutfest Bonus [FINAL FLASH EDITION] Day #9: Fantasy | Oracular Spectacular
@tpthvegebulsmutfest

oooOooo

There was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

The words had left his lips, stained with his impending hope. Somewhere deep inside of himself, he had hoped that an explosion of power would suffocate the room, and Onra would reveal herself bearing the gift of Bulma. But as he spoke them repeatedly, dribble falling to his chin at his harsh pronunciation, he felt the last thread of his sanity break, completely consumed with the idea that even though he had won the battle, he had indeed lost the war.

Vegeta pounded his fists against the blood stained carpet, splattering the substance on his cheeks due to the impact. He sunk his forehead to the carpet, letting out a gut wrenching yell that burned his lungs.

“What the hell was the point!?” he spat out, his lips ghosting over the carpet, “What was the point of saving this goddamned galaxy if I have nothing to show for it! No planet, no people, no you.” Something burned his eyes, a foreign substance that he was sure would have made him a mockery in the royal Saiyan court if any warrior was around to see it.

Tears for another. Tears for a loss.

Tears for a strong emotion that made his heart beat, although the words that expressed it would never escape his lips.

“Bulma,” he said softly, clenching his eyes tight, “you weren’t there while I was healing after all. I am a fool. I should have….I should have appreciated our time more.” He opened them slowly, gazing into the expression of Frieza’s soulless stare, and he finally powered down, feeling the energy drain out of him. He had failed to protect the only two women in the entire universe who should have mattered, so what did that make him? Was he even worthy of calling himself a Saiyan prince? Or did the fact that he was mourning so openly over their deaths strip him of his warrior nature?

Vegeta snarled, feeling the impact of too many emotions welling in him at once. He mentally cursed Onra for her not showing. And although deep down inside of him he knew that it wasn’t really her fault, someone had to take the blame for this ache in his chest. Someone had to remove the pain that he felt before it consumed him whole.

Say it.

His eyes widened as the words floated through his brain like an internal whisper, although louder and more forceful than anything his mind could have come up with.

Say it.

“Enough!” he screamed, raking his hands through his hair, “I won’t be made a fool of again!” He fell backwards and sat on his rear, clutching his scalp desperately and throwing his head into his lap. “I won’t make the mistake of thinking you’re here when you’re not!”

Set yourself free and say it.

He threw his head back and roared to the ceiling of the spaceship, feeling his throat burn as he allowed his true feelings to spiral out. Those damned words in the voice of her. Would her ghost attach to him like a scorned shadow, haunting him throughout the rest of his days? He wailed in agony, feeling like he would be unable to bare it.

Say how you feel, Vegeta.

“Fuck!” he screamed, feeling tears attach to his skin without remorse, though without his consent. “What do you want from me, woman!? Why do you torment me!? Rest in peace already and save the living for the damned!” He breathed erratically, his chest rising and falling with uneven beats, his brow sweating with stress. He sighed as he tried to control himself, feeling like he was losing the fight before it began. “How I feel? You want to know how I feel?” He felt like a madman, like his mind was purposely spinning out of control to show his own maniac reflection, his sanity barely gripping on the edge of his consciousness. He laughed in that moment, feeling like his spiking adrenaline was fleeting, settling into something more chaotic.

“Fine! I’m fucking pissed off! I marked you, I claimed you as my mate, and you showed how weak you were to succumb to Frieza’s attack so easily! I thought you were worthy of a Saiyan prince, like you could take more of a beating than just my cock pounding into you! I feel like you knew this would happen, like you allowed yourself to waltz into my life and make me feel things that I never fucking wanted to! Like you knew how much it hurt me in regards to my mother, and you thought you could fix it! You made me do things I would never do, not even for my own father, and then you left me. You made me…” he bit his lip in frustration, feeling the words choke in his throat.

Say it.

“…you made me love you.”

The words burnt his lips as he said them like acid, but he felt a weight lift off of his chest at the admission. He took a deep breath and leaned back against the wall, staring openly at the ceiling. He chuckled lightly, mainly at himself, and hit the back of the wall with his head. “There. Are you happy now? You made me love you, and now it doesn’t even matter. I would have been good to you. I would have fought nations for you. And if I could go back, I would have died for you so that you wouldn’t be lost in the darkness. A shame, isn’t it? You and all your light wasted in the world of shadows.”

Vegeta suddenly felt dizzy, and he clutched his head as a migraine settled into his brain, practically blinding him. He closed his eyes and groaned as his skull felt like it was going to split in two. And then just as swiftly as it came, it was done, and he felt lighter somehow, as if he were free of any pain of the mind and the body. He opened his eyes slowly, expecting to see the piercing white lights of the ships hallway.

Instead, he was greeted to soft lulls of water and blue tinted walls, and a pillar that set in the middle of a room protecting a statue.

Vegeta stood to his knees in awe, complete disbelief surrounding him of where he ended up.

Onra’s domain.

“What the….” He whispered, feeling a small stain of hope imprint on his heart. Her statue vibrated, causing the water below his feet to quake with small ripples, and then the rock completely deteriorated, much unlike the first time.

Onra’s spirit rose from the ashes of rubble, bigger and more hypnotizing then their first encounter. Vegeta fell to his knees again, his mouth completely agape. There was no way in hell, was there?

“Saiyan Prince,” Onra spoke, her voice melodic and booming against the cave walls, “the blood of my last child calls to me from beyond the grave. It appears she wishes to come back, does she not?”

Vegeta blinked slowly, unable to comprehend what was truly going on. He nodded, shutting his mouth and clenching his teeth.

“I see,” Onra said, her phantom floating down to him. She touched the sides of his face, staring into the depths of his soul, and when Vegeta looked upon her misty features, he could see Bulma staring back at him. “The prayer you used is sacred, not meant for a warrior who is not a Seer. And especially not meant for a prince with a cold heart and warm lips. I do not answer to that.” A small smile danced upon her lips, watching the confusion in his face. “But your words have called to me. The love you have for my child has made me rethink my decision. Tell me, Saiyan prince. Do you wish to have her as well?”

“Yes.” The response left his lips before it could marinate in his brain, but he didn’t regret it. If there was an opportunity, even a small one, then he would take it. And he would not fall victim to the curse of his pride in the process.

Onra nodded, her cold wisps of hands leaving Vegeta’s olive toned cheek. “Very well. I will be willing to do this favor, but nothing is without sacrifice. You have lost your people, and you will no longer know the full Saiyan blood. To a prideful race, that is a very demanding token.”

“So be it,” he said desperately, leaning into her shadow, “for Bulma, so be it.”

“You have not heard my request. Does it not matter what I ask of you?”

“Not if you’re willing to bring her back to me.”

“I see.” Onra waved her hands in the air, blue smoke dancing from her fingertips, a single image in the middle of her palms. It was a blue planet; small in size compared to his, but large enough that Vegeta could see life of a species. They looked like he and her, but he could tell they were weak in terms of strength and power. “This planet sits at the farthest end of the galaxy. It is peaceful in nature, and the beings that reside here care more about families than wars. It is a perfect place to start the rebirth of my people, if you will accept my request.” She moved her hands again, this time showing a closer look at the life forms in their natural habitat. It looked boring, in his opinion, with the men working and the women with babes at their teet. No training, no fighting, just an abundance of peace that Vegeta wasn’t accustomed to.

“This planet is called Earth. My request is that you and Bulma reign over this planet, protecting it from any outside foes if need be, and that you repopulate the Seer people. Your children will have children, and those children will produce generations that will help this galaxy from troublesome times. The mixings of a Seer and a Saiyan will be maginificent. But outside of protecting the planet, no wars shall you partake in. You must protect the Queen, and you will serve her as a King. And you will watch over your children in my absence. And then someday, the two of you will come back to this domain and lie dormant, being to your children what I have been to you.” She pressed her palms together and the image was gone. “Do we strike a deal, Saiyan prince?”

Vegeta let the words sink in his brain. No more unnecessary fights, no tapping into the power of the legendary, no training. Just…a domesticated lifestyle and protection over his family? He swallowed hard, realizing exactly what he was giving up.

And then he held his chin up with pride, knowing what he would lose if he did not agree.

“We have a deal, Onra,” he said with confidence, “now bring her back to me.”

Onra nodded pleasantly, hovering to the top of the cave. “I am most pleased, Vegeta, former Prince of the Saiyans. Now rise and become Vegeta, King of the Seers, King of the Saiyans, King to our great Queen Bulma. Farewell.” A gush of light erupted through her, and her already smoke exterior became even more transparent. She looked down on him with a warm smile. “Finri Otula,” she said quietly, “it is finished.”

oooOooo

There was singing in his ears, or at least that’s what he would call it.

A noise of something he had never heard before awoke him from his slumber, and he opened his eyes, his lids heavy.

A bright light pierced through sheer panels of fabrics draped over windows. A yellow sun sat magnificently in a pale blue sky, completely contrasting the mornings that Vegeta was used to back home. He sat up abruptly, watching as some white flying creatures soared past the window, singing the song that caused him to wake.

“They’re called birds, apparently.”

Vegeta turned to behind him immediately, realizing that he was on a lush white bed, softer than any material he had ever felt. He was convinced that he was going crazy again, but the wind on his skin and the features of her face told him otherwise.

“Bulma,” he said as if speaking her name would cause her to vanish, and he reached out to touch her.

She giggled, tucking a strand behind her ear as she bathed in the glow of the sunlight outside. “Hello, Vegeta.”

He crossed the bed instantly, throwing his arms around her waist and pulling her into a heated kiss. She moaned against him, and he relished of how alive she felt in his grasp. He pulled back and watched her, drowning in her blue eyes that spoke of many truths, that sang many songs of him.

“It worked.” He was pleased beyond anything else in the world. She nodded, biting her lip. “So this is not a fantasy? This is real?”

“No fantasy,” she ran her fingers over his bite mark, still healing against her porcelain skin, “this is the real life. We are getting a second chance on this foreign planet, Vegeta.”

He never realized how much he enjoyed the way she said his name. A hunger rose in him at the lack of contact between them for what felt like an eternity, and he pushed her back on the bed, holding her arms above her head. He looked down upon her greedily, soaking in every component of her skin that made her Bulma. His Bulma. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, crookedly, and used a hand to stroke her cheek, moving downward over her smooth flesh.

“I’ve missed you,” she breathed, pushing into his fingers, “seeing you even through the looking glass of death wasn’t enough.”

He ceased his actions with his fingers and gazed upon her. “So that was really you? You weren’t a figment of my imagination?”

She shook her head, a playful grin stealing her lips. “That was really me, Vegeta. Seers have many abilities, and the option to speak to someone that you’ve bonded with from beyond the grave is one of them. So I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

Vegeta watched her in awe, running his fingers over her bite mark. So she had been there because he marked her? His own selfish request had worked out for the better?

He smiled in his own arrogant delight and placed his mouth over the wound, kissing her gently.

She gasped against him as his tongue tickled her, his knees separating her legs. “Vegeta,” she breathed, and it gave him an ominous déjà vu’ of the last time she had said his name like that, in a circumstance such as this. That was a different time, he told himself, and the threat that loomed over us is no more. At his coaxing, he sucked on her skin a little harder at the glory that this moment gave. She was alive, she was under him, and she was his.

He let her arms go, wanting her to use her hands where they may, and kissed her again, enjoying how soft her lips felt in between his. She threw her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist, lifting her bottom off of the bed towards his cock, begging for him to enter her. So as not to disappoint, he complied, sensing her lack of patience for foreplay. He broke away from the kiss as his tip found home in her warm core, and the familiarity of her juices made him harder, if that were even possible, and a growl emitted from him that only she could produce. He would take his time, he would dance upon her flesh and make her cum. He would heal any traces that death may have soiled on her skin, and he would be gentle so as not to hurt her.

“Fuck me,” she said lowly, her cheeks beginning to flush, “fuck me like I’m yours.”

Well, shit. So much for that.

Laughing, he slowly filled her up, enjoying how her face scrunched up as she got used to him again. He breathed sharply as he put all of him inside, hanging his head low, his chin touching his chest. The grip of her legs around his waist became tighter, and Vegeta began to comply to her request as he thrusted in and out of her, stretching her walls to their capacity, his skin smacking against hers.

“Oh my god,” she said as she bit her lip, their bodies rocking against the sheets ferociously. Vegeta groaned as she clenched her muscles around his erect cock, holding him tightly inside of her. She had never done that before, but there was something territorial about it that was making him come undone. “God, I’ve missed this!” she moaned as he entered her again, the speed of his strokes increasing, her wetness dousing him with their magic until he thought he would sink into her all together.

She wailed as he pounded into her, choking on her own moans as she laid victim to the overall feeling of bliss. Vegeta closed his eyes as he basked in the overwhelmingly pleasurable feelings that she was giving him. What a way to say ‘welcome back’, he thought.

“Look at me,” her pitchy and needy voice demanded, and he opened his eyes to find her staring at him with a smirk on her features, “I want to watch you cum.”

Fuck, how good it felt to have his own words used against him.

He placed his palm on the top of her hair, running his thumb over her forehead, and used to the other to stroke her clit as he sank into her repeatedly, feeling the powerful waves of an orgasm threaten to lap him up.

“V-Vegeta~!” she wailed, and he knew that he was hitting the sensitive spot inside of her that she liked, and he felt her juices gush out of her as he stroked it carefully, making sure to run his cock over the area with every thrust.

Bulma pulled his neck down closer to her as she opened her mouth, silent words spilling out and wrapping around their bodies. He continued to stroke her hair as he watched her, their intense eye contact only adding to building heat in his lower belly. “C-Cum with me,” she managed to say, although it was low and breathy and he barely heard it.

He rocked his hips into her faster, she returning the steady rhythm, and he felt her body begin to shudder. She cried out his name as she came, soiling the bed with the river of her orgasm, and he rode out the pleasured waves with her, thinking of how he never wanted to lose this again.

They attempted to catch their breaths together as Vegeta collapsed on top of her, feeling his seed flow into her with ease, her body accepting it with the grace of the queen she was. He rested his cheek against her breast, relaxation beginning to wash over him as he settled into her lush pillows, and he heard Bulma give a contented sigh.

“Thank you,” she said, her words slurring and he knew she was most likely sleepy, “for bringing me back. For all of this.”

He nodded, unable to find the words to accompany how he really felt. She had heard him on the ship, and in his mind that was enough for him to say it. His actions, his body, their sex would speak the rest, and he hoped she didn’t demand any more than that.

“So this is our new home, huh?” Her eyes roamed over their room, the pristine white walls and the marble floors, the high ceilings draped with sheer curtains that matched the windows, the outside of their home covered in lush green grasses that seemed to carry on for acres, decorated by purple and red flowers. “Onra sure outdid herself.”

“Would you expect anything less for royalty?” he asked with a smugness to his voice, he too feeling the effects of an oncoming nap beginning to possess him, “You may be new to this, but I can assure you this is how we should live. I would resurrect that rock and demand her to fight me if she put us in anything less than this.”

“Don’t disrespect her, Vegeta,” Bulma teased, running her deft fingers through his scalp, “she would more than likely win that fight.”

“Hmph,” he retaliated, “then she wouldn’t get those children she asked for.”

“Children…” Bulma let the word play off of her lips, marinating on how that sounded, “Me a mother? And you a father? She was crazy to trust us.”

“Who else will do it?” He lifted himself up so that he was directly looking down on her, “Who else is suitable to birth an entire nation?”

“I suppose,” she smiled, wrapping her arms around his thick neck, “although that sounds like a lot of work.” She rose an eyebrow and looked at him seductively. “Perhaps we should get started again? Time waits for no one.”

He kissed her in compliance, knowing her words had never been more true, and lost himself inside of her, playing out this fantasy of a life that Onra had given them with the determination to never let it slip from his grasp. She was his Queen, and he her King, and together they would remain until destiny called them back to the domain to watch over the children they created.

And for the first time in his life, Vegeta felt completely happy.

Fin

oooOooo

And that is how life was created, ladies and gentlemen. Forget every theory you’ve ever heard, the only Big Bang that caused life on Earth was the one between Bulma and Vegeta.

Ha ha…so anyways…

Thank you all for reading my first Smutfest fic to the end! While I did not use the first prompt for this piece, (see my other short fic entitled Talk Dirty for that), I hope you guys still enjoyed it none the less. Thank you for all the likes and comments and lovely reviews. It really made my day. If you’re new to my works and this is the first piece you’ve read by me, I hope you will continue to follow me if you’d like.

Thank you to The Prince and The Heiress community and the lovely mods who helped organize this event, and also thank you to every single participator who made me being single a living hell for the last week :p

Until next time, friends!

@lovelyladylysa

It was often that she saw the Lady Arryn in some sort of fit. No, not a fit…more a displeasure, as if she was deeply unhappy and sometimes it overflowed as a goblet which could not hold it. An unhappiness Genevieve found strange, for she had her son and her husband, Jon Arryn, was good and honourable; Genevieve liked him, liked that there was someone in this city who could be trusted, who was a good soul, a good person. 

“My Lady?” Genevieve called, cautious, stepping towards where Lady Arryn had perched herself in her upset. “Can I help you? Do you have need of something? Something I can do? Or bring perhaps?”

She serves her king

“You do not love the woman. I know that, Davos, I am not blind. My lords mislike her too. Estermont thinks the flaming heart ill-chosen and begs to fight beneath the crowned stag as of old. Ser Guyard says a woman should not be my standard-bearer. Others whisper that she has no place in my war councils, that I ought to send her back to Asshai, that it is sinful to keep her in my tent of a night. Aye, they whisper … while she serves.”

“Serves how?” Davos asked, dreading the answer.

“As needed.

Clash of Kings, Ch. 42

On the King of Mirkwood's Guard

Elvandaruil stood at the gates of Mirkwood, guarding them as the rest of the force was out patrolling for the gigantic arachnids that haunted the Forests surrounding the Elven kingdom of Mirkwood.  She always despised it when she was assigned to merely guard the gates.  She more often than not traveled with the rest of her warrior kin to fight the strange beasts.  More and more were spotted coming closer to the gates of Mirkwood which troubled all of the elves who resided there.  Mirkwood elves were known for their deadly skills on the battlefield and the sometimes ruthlessness of their nature.   The king of Mirkwood himself had an ill reputation for being cold and arrogant.  She served her king without question though, knowing that she was lucky to be in such a high position in the Mirkwood Guard.  She kept her position for her parents who died in battle, hoping to keep their memory alive.  She also kept it for her sanity, the pain over the loss of her parents still festering like a wound in her heart.  Her parents died alongside the Queen of Mirkwood, a death which had changed Thranduil and turned his heart colder than she remembered,  

TITLE: In Loki’s Service

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter One

AUTHOR: Nachelle

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine being brought from Earth to Asgard to be a servant at Loki’s palace, Loki being king of Asgard. In the beginning you are expected to dress and act just like the other servant girls, but after a while, because he takes a liking in you, Loki allows…

RATING: PG

NOTES/WARNINGS: Mild swearing, if any. I’m trying to write this, since the idea got good response. Know that I’m not the greatest in long stories, so if there is anything, just tell me.

————————-

The street buzzes with life, the sunny Saturday afternoon bringing out many to enjoy the weather. You walk down the street, loving the warmth that has finally come around. The spring has been far too cool for your liking. The sun reflects of the high glass buildings and throw its light down to street level, creating a beautiful golden light show. You pass through a group of students, when suddenly a hand takes your wrist in an iron grip. In the next moment the city is replaced by a wide open field, yellow grass as far as your eyes can see, except a burned spot under your feet, met at the horizon by the blue sky. Your heart rate raises. The grip on you is still there and you turn to see who it is. Before you get the chance a pillar of blinding, golden light envelopes you both and you feel a sucking in your stomach.

Keep reading

Gift #02 - Sweet Domesticity

For @theicecreambattle, this one is based on something you reblogged recently that focuses on the fact that Regina and Robin are always touching each other in some way. 

Rated M (if you squint)


They’re always touching in some way, something she’s only recently really noticed and she’s unsure as to why it’s slipped her notice with it being so glaringly obvious and it’s not just him that has to touch her whenever she’s near, she finds herself doing the very same thing. They’re always reaching for one another, usually just hands but sometimes it’s her fingers curling around his forearm, his palm resting upon the small of her back or their shoulders touching where they stand. A constant physical connection. 


It’s a subconscious thing, something she isn’t even aware she’s doing until her fingers are scratching lightly at his scalp, ruffling through his hair absentmindedly whilst they watch a movie with the boys, his palm warm with fingers swirling aimlessly upon her thigh. 


Whilst she loves his more obvious touches; the mouth he brings to an aching nipple, the teeth he scrapes across her collarbone, the scruff of his jaw scratching deliciously over her delicate skin when he brings a thumb to skate over her practically throbbing clit. It’s these little, domestic gestures that really have her heart swelling because never, in any life, has she ever been able to reach this stage of love with anyone. 


With Daniel, every touch had created a fire, a burning in her groin that only ever served to confuse her. The King had taught her the things her mother had and she’d never wanted another’s touch on her body if pain was all it brought. Graham was almost numbing in the mechanical way he moved about her. His will was his own but there was never a passion between them, a care in some moments perhaps (a care that frightened her more than anything) but nothing like what she has with Robin. 

They still find themselves wrapped up in one another for hours at a time, often pulling apart to find that the sun has risen whilst they’ve been writhing together and she doubts her passion for him will ever dwindle nor his for her but these kinds of touches, sweet, simple and affectionate, without truly knowing, they’re all that she has ever been searching for. 

But the thing is, that when Anne says “Forgive me”, it’s not just because she has accued him of having an affair with Ninon, but also because she asked in the first place.

Sure, the rosary was her gift to Aramis, but Queen or not Queen, he is free to do with it as he pleases, because it was a gift.

But by going there - confronting him, asking him if Ninon is his lover - she admits that she cares. She shows that she is jealous. She becomes the one to take them both to this new level in their relationship - from secretly admiring each other from a distance to openly showing there might be something there.

But there can’t be anything there. She is the Queen and she is married and Aramis serves the King, her husband. She has maneuvered them both onto thin eyes and knows that she did so to no avail.

And still she can’t help this little smile before she leaves. Because it is so obvious that no matter how awkward it might have been, Aramis is happy. She compliments his compassion and his eyes shine as he smiles at her, how can she not smile back?

So yes, their relationship has taken a step forward in this brief scene and I love that it’s been Anne to do it and not the charming, flirtatious musketeer.