Vegeta Kneeling Novels & Stories

Clean. Brutal. Final. The man hit the ground hard enough that Mona felt it in her chest. For a second... Silence. Then the arena exploded. Cheers. Shouts. Money exchanging hands. Chaos. Kane stood over his opponent, chest rising and falling steadily, fists still clenched. And then— He looked up. Straight at her. Mona froze. Everything else faded. The noise. The people. Gone. It was just him. Just that look.

Zeve crouched to the ground and landed a straight kick on Hikari’s jaws that sent him flying towards the audience. Oh no! The people froze in their seats. Just before he smashed into them, Zeve grabbed his ankle and slammed him on the ground, making the whole ground collapse. I could feel the tremors from the bleachers. “Holy mother of…” I raked my hair back with both my hands. “Fuck!” I exhaled. Hikari slowly got up from the rubble. That took a toll on his body. I could see him wince through his hair. Zeve kicked the solid pieces of ground at Hikari while he feebly swung his sword, crumbling them into dust.

There was nothing they could do about that at the moment. She waited as he first got down on his knees and then flat onto his belly, pushing himself backwards until he was hinged at the waist, legs hanging down, torso still on the overhang. He continued to push back until he was once again hanging from a precipice by his fingertips. This drop was a little longer, but not by much. Clare saw him hit the ground with knees bent, tuck into a roll, then come up on his feet. A landing worthy of an Olympic athlete. She actually clapped and whistled.

Tore helps Rose to her feet as well before taking a few steps back to retrieve yet another blade of his that is stuck in another dead man’s chest. A tall lean man is kneeling next to the deceased with his head bowed all the way down onto the muddy ground. The grime and slime coat his hair as he sobs and hitches uncontrollably. Kane lets go of my hand and steps over to the trembling man, stopping right in front of his quivering form.

Amidst all, Venkat was nowhere to be found. Leke made his way into the bathroom. There, Venkat sat on the floor with a week and two days bushy beard, dark red eyes and his head downcast. The unstable man was sitting on the floor, slouched against the bathtub, he was still and it looked like he wasn't breathing. There were bottles of alcohol encircling him, half of them empty. "Venkat," his friend called. "Go away," he growled, his voice hoarse.

I twisted and turned but they held me down as tge delivered their ministerations all over. “Look at you. Tough on the outside but an absolute slut on the inside. Fuck I could have your cum everyday and not get tired” All these while, my eyes had been closed as I enjoyed their attention. But when I felt something soft and slick swipe through my pussy lips, my eyes shot open as a tingle of desire shit through my spine. And nothing prepared me for the sight before me. Kael, on his knees, my thighs beside each of his face as he held them apart, he smirked at me, his mouth dangerously close to my pussy.

On your knees” he growled low and rough. I shivered at the intensity of the command, slipping off the couch to the floor on my knees. He arranged the pillows slightly apart beside my knees, standing back up. “Kneel on those, at the exact same distance” he muttered roughly, shrugging off his t-shirt and throwing it something. I exhaled, blinking rapidly as my eyes trailed his body slowly, finally landing on his almost purple cap. I gulped, my eyes fluttering back to his face.

“We’re beginning.” I force my eyes open even without my glasses. My lids are heavy, as if a winter sky presses them shut. The circle is carved into the earth, old as the trees. Symbols crawl along the stones—knots and crescents and lines that flare with the color of blood when the flames lick them. The ropes at my wrists tighten and drag, an animal’s leather, wet with something warm. Someone is kneeling just outside the ring, hood back. He looks like the countryside—scarred, sun-leathered, a grin too wide for decency. It's Victor Cruz.

Davina’s POV I watch Echo leave, his broad shoulders disappearing through the door like a storm cloud rolling out, and I’m still reeling from the fact that he knelt, he actually listened and dropped to his knees as if I were some goddess carved from fire and fury, worthy of worship on a blood-soaked altar. He knelt, actually knelt, and I’m so confused my brain’s doing somersaults in a blender.

Miller, who had hidden in an abandoned warehouse without food or water for ten days just to film this, was now insisting it was evidence. He ignored the Director's scorn. His bloodshot eyes remained glued to the screen. "Just watch." He rushed over, his finger trembling as he hit pause, then zoomed in on the image. And zoomed in again. Until the back of the neck of one of the fighters, a man called "the Beast," filled the entire screen. The fighter was being ground into the mat by his opponent, sweat and blood washing over his skin. On the back of his neck was a twisted, burned scar.