#october 2017 smutfest

[scarletraven1001]

Worth

Bulma is drowning in self-doubt following her break-up with Yamcha, but comfort comes from the strangest of places as her seemingly insensitive Saiyan house guest reminds her that she is worth much more than she believed herself to be.

A three-year gap fic. One-shot.

My entry for @tpthvegebulsmutfest

Day 3: Just This Once

Also on Ao3.

Hi there! Mind if I join the DB fandom? :)

This is my first fan work for this fandom, in spite of being a fan of the series and an avid Vegebul shipper for literally decades. Why did I decide to do this now? Nearly all in-universe fics I have read so far have painted Bulma as a sexually-experienced woman. I wanted to explore the possibility of her being the innocent one in her relationship with Vegeta. I thought that perhaps this TPTH prompt would be the perfect chance to explore that idea.

This is also my first fanfic after being dormant since 2005, so please be gentle with criticisms.

And yes, this is most definitely smut. Enjoy!

8-8-8-8-8 

Worth

8-8-8-8-8

She looked absolutely miserable.

Granted, Vegeta would never consider himself particularly perceptive regarding emotions, never mind human emotions. One glance at the woman though, and even one as emotionally-stunted as himself could see that the woman was unwell.

He had been too busy training for the androids to notice anything that went on outside of the gravity chamber. All he knew was that after the explosion that damn near destroyed him along with the ship, the woman had been even more… friendly towards him. Perhaps she felt a peculiar kinship with him after having watched over his bed-ridden form for several days. Or maybe she believed that he had gained a modicum of humanity from his humbling experience and wanted to help him ease into their world.

Or maybe, she had always been like that, and he had just never realized it until then.

He had always treated her as just another pawn thrown into his life to help him attain a goal. A tool, if you may, to aide him with his mission to attain the legendary. A tool wrapped in a sinfully beautiful face and a body that could make lesser men weep, but a tool, nonetheless.

Regardless of his opinions of her though, even he could not deny that things had changed. He was more tolerant of her, more open to spending time with her, for reasons not even he himself could fathom. Somehow, whether he liked it or not, the little witch had grown on him.

The woman had the audacity to sit with him during his post-workout meals. She fuzzed over his minor injuries as if they were life-threatening, despite all the data she had regarding Saiyan physiology that showed that nothing short of a hole through his entire torso would have any lasting damage on him. Some of the said data came from samples he had allowed the silly woman to take from his own body, just to placate her into allowing him to train in peace.

He recognized her intellectual capacity as being far superior to those of the other beings living around her. She had inventions so advanced that they had to be kept in top secret facilities as the concepts were so far beyond their time that they had to wait for specialized parts to be invented or custom-made.

She was fiery, with a quick wit and temper matched only by his own. She would allow him to vent but would only take so much abuse until she decided to fire back at him. Their arguments were always epic, a volley of insult after insult, but he derived a perverted sense of satisfaction in watching her cheeks turn red with her indignation, her chest rising and falling aggressively with her deep, angry breaths.

It did not take a huge leap for him to imagine her in other situations that would make her flush and pant so powerfully.

But she had a mate, the weakling that often stayed with her, and Vegeta accepted that he had no business fantasizing about her.

That right there was another problem: he had been celibate for far too long, and the woman was too physically appealing. Especially when she was worked up, glaring at him fiercely, a harsh insult on the tip of her tongue.

Which was why her melancholy mood from the past few days struck him as strangely disconcerting.

He started to walk past the female’s forlorn form, seated on a barstool in the kitchen. Her hair, currently a straight cut that fell past her shoulders, shielded her eyes. She had not noticed him there yet, he could still make a run for it.

‘I shouldn’t interfere,’ he told himself. ‘This is none of my business. It is absolutely not my concern if the woman drives herself mad with whatever benign issue she has in mind.’

But damn, if he didn’t miss their quarrels… Her resistance to fix the bots he ruined. Her anger had become one of the highlights of his days, but she had been so out of touch recently that she had simply sighed and walked quietly to the gravity chamber the last time he demanded she repair his bots.

He refused to believe that what he felt was concern.

She heaved a dejected sigh that was so out of character for her that he had to pause and reassess.

‘I will approach her,’ he thought, wondering where this sudden streak of compassion had come from. Whether he would regret this lapse in judgment later…

‘I will approach her,’ he asserted to himself as he began to walk towards her. ‘I will get to the bottom of this nonsense and have the vitriolic harpy back into proper form. I will indulge her human propensity for talking about her problems, but… never again. It will be just this once.’

8-8-8-8-8

“Woman.”

The rough voice startled Bulma out of her self-imposed isolation. She was so focused on her misery, on blaming herself for how things had unfolded, that she didn’t realize that her ridiculously powerful Saiyan house guest was only a few feet away and seemingly intending to sit on a stool across from her.

She watched as he sat down gracefully, then his vivid eyes settled directly on her.

She looked around and noticed that he did not set out any food for himself, which was strange. He normally only ever went to the kitchen to eat, but here he was, seated almost primly before her, not a scrap of food in sight.

‘Maybe he wants me to make some for him,’ she mused. After all, she had done that for him for quite a few times. God forbid he tried to use an oven on his own.

She started to get up to find him something to eat, when his voice, and the unexpected words said in that voice, nearly made her fall off the chair completely.

“What has been bothering you?”

She gawked at him, completely unprepared for the question. ‘So he had noticed?’ she wondered as she righted herself again, still looking at him in surprise.

“Umm… I beg your p-pardon?” she stammered.

He sneered at her before he bit out, “You have been acting like a fool for several days, and I want to know why. Your morose mood may affect your ability to enhance my training room and I want you back in form. I will ask again, and you will answer me properly this instance: What. Has. Been. Bothering you?”

Bulma didn’t know if she should be offended or be touched by his question.

She mulled over it for a bit. What brought this on? Why did he want to know? Was he actually concerned about her?

She considered him her friend, after all. Perhaps he was finally beginning to accept her as his, as well.

Her thoughts had probably started to reflect themselves on her face, as he quickly barked out, “Don’t look at me like that! I just demand to know why my brilliant scientist is suddenly behaving like such a dejected fool.”

She bit back a smile at his words. ‘My scientist?’ she thought with a chuckle, knowing that he was probably too flustered to realize what he had said.

She tried to school her features into a blank mask as she looked back at him, mulling it over. ‘He’s gonna call me an idiot if I tell him. But he did ask.’

Taking a deep breath, she whispered one word, “Yamcha.”

A raised eyebrow was all she got from the Saiyan. “What about him?”

“We broke up.”

“What exactly did you break on him and why has that made you act the way you have been acting?”

She burst out laughing, the first time in days, a kind of cathartic release from the pain that her break-up had caused her.

Vegeta snarled in confusion, and just as he was about to yell at her, she started speaking.

“Vegeta, breaking up means that he is no longer my boyfriend. We are no longer together romantically,” she smiled at him, some of her earlier grief evaporating as she watched him scrunch his face up in confusion.

“Is that the reason why I have not seen his pathetic hide for several days now? I was under the impression that he was your mate,” Vegeta asked, genuinely confused.

“Mate?”

“A lover, a life partner. Like your father and your mother.”

“Oh no, Vegeta! Not like that!” she laughed sadly. “My parents are husband and wife. Yamcha was my boyfriend. It is not the same as being a married couple, but…” Bulma looked down at her hands before continuing. “It entails a certain level of commitment. One that we no longer have, now.”

“Well,” he began slowly, seeming to weigh her words. “If this is what your problem is, why don’t you just ask the weakling to come back?”

She sighed. “It’s not that simple, Vegeta. You see, Yamcha, he… He left me.”

“He was the one who chose to abandon you?” he sounded incredulous.

She nodded. “Yes. He cheated on me. He found someone else,” she laughed bitterly before she snarled out, “Someone who fulfilled his needs.”

A low growl from her alien house guest had her looking back up, and Bulma was startled to find an enraged look on Vegeta’s face. He looked nearly insulted, indignant, and she realized that he was angry on her behalf.

“The ungrateful weasel,” he hissed. “How dare he. Have you not given him everything?”

She was surprised by the level of hatred in his voice as he kept talking, “No self-respecting man, Saiyan or not, should ever be unfaithful to his chosen woman.”

Bulma stared in astonishment as apparently, her words touched on something that was a sensitive topic for the prince.

“I am staying in your home, in your debt, I recognize this fact,” he started again, surprising Bulma further, “But I intend to recompense you by defeating the androids. That fool, on the other hand, has taken from you, and he repays you by betraying you with another female?!”

Bulma felt tears spring to her eyes, touched by his words. Vegeta seemed genuinely enraged at the concept of Yamcha leaving her for another woman.

“You are a highly desirable female on this planet. You have given him your food, your time, shelter. You have given him pleasure, your body, and he dares-”

Her thoughts screeched to a halt at those words, and without thinking, her face redder than a ripe tomato, Bulma sputtered out, “No!”

Vegeta stopped ranting, looking at her in confusion. “No?” he asked, pausing to let her clarify.

She blushed even deeper, before she looked him dead in the eyes, “Vegeta… I never slept with Yamcha.”

“Tch,” he sneered. “Don’t lie to me woman. As loathe as I am to admit it, I can hear the sounds of your copulation through your bedchamber walls. He, specifically, can be disgustingly loud.”

“But you don’t hear me, right?” she asked, the flush refusing to leave her cheeks as she forced herself to keep her gaze on Vegeta.

The look he gave her then was so absolutely mystified that she had to choke back a laugh in spite of her debilitating embarrassment.

“Vegeta, we have… Umm… fooled around. But I have never had actual penetrative sex. Not with Yamcha, not with anyone. Ever. So yes, he may have gotten some pleasure out of me, but I never…” she stammered, before covering her face with her hands and whining, “Why am I even telling you this?”

The Saiyan sat back in his chair, silently mulling over her words. He was looking at his crossed arms, and appeared to be blushing a little as well, but Bulma was far too embarrassed to even think about needling him about it.

When he finally looked back up, he had a confused look on his face again.

“Why?” he whispered, almost too low for her to hear.

“Why what?”

“You were together for over a decade. You told me this. Why then did you never fornicate?”

Her humiliation vanished, replaced by guilt and sadness once again. “I… I don’t know. I honestly don’t understand it either. I mean, I loved him. I guess I was just never ready yet. I wanted to be ready, but I just couldn’t.”

 A sob broke out of her then, and she watched Vegeta tense in front of her, obviously uncomfortable with the direction their conversation had taken.

“I knew what he wanted. I wanted it too, at some point, but I just can’t. I always froze up and stopped him before we started,” a sardonic laugh escaped her as she shook her head, looking away from his piercing dark gaze. “I was always such a flirt too, you know, back when we were younger. I’ll bet he never expected me to give him a decade-long case of blue balls.”

A hint of bitterness entered her voice as she kept talking, “I tried to fix it. I agreed to touch him, to get the edge off, as he put it. But it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.”

She couldn’t stop her next words, as she had been thinking them repeatedly over the past week. “I should have just let him do it… This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have made him wait so long. It was just sex after all, and I could have just -”

“Woman, shut up,” her eyes widened as she snapped her eyes back to Vegeta, and was surprised by the anger that had sprung back into his eyes.

“Shut up. Stop thinking this way. This is not your fault.”

A gasp escaped her as what he said sunk in. She was about to refute him, but instead, he raised a hand to stop her self-pity party, his eyes still hard, but the softest she had ever seen them, and trained directly into her own.

“Listen woman, and listen well, for I will only ever say this once, and if you repeat this to anyone, I will deny having said every single word. The most valuable conquests are always those that you have waited for and worked hard to attain. The measure of a man can be counted only with victories that were hard-fought. You are a woman of worth. The wait and the effort he would have put into courting you should have challenged him to prove himself worthy of your surrender. If the weakling was foolish enough to indulge in inferior liaisons with other females as he grew impatient waiting for you to be ready to give yourself to him, then you were right to have never given in because he was clearly never man enough for you. You are not to blame for his infidelity. Never think that his indiscretion was due to your misgivings. You cannot, and must not, force yourself to lay with anyone if you do not want to. It is your body. Your mind, your life. For such things, you must never, ever compromise.”

His eyes grew even more intent on hers, “Now pull yourself back together, Bulma. He is not worth your misery. No man should be worth your tears.”

Bulma was stunned into silence. Vegeta, the alien prince who had spent his life exterminating countless civilizations, had just told her that she was not to blame for her break up. The biggest alpha male she had ever met was now sitting across from her, telling her to never compromise her body, and a cloud of happiness surged into her chest at being told that she did the right thing, to have stood up to Yamcha and not slept with him until she was sure and ready. Tears began to fill her eyes again, but this time with relief that someone else believed that what she did was right. And he had said her name.

Vegeta looked away from her dampening eyes, then slowly stood up and began to walk out of the kitchen.

“Vegeta,” she called, her voice hoarse with her unshed tears. “Vegeta, thank you.”

He nodded at her once, then walked away, his silent steps letting Bulma know that he was headed once again to his training room.

Her heart beat faster, hope blossoming in her chest as her eyes trailed after Vegeta long after he had left her line of sight, and in the back of her heart, a part she was yet unaware of, the name of the proud prince quietly started taking root.

8-8-8-8-8

Weeks passed quickly within the walls of Capsule Corp, and before she knew it, Bulma was buried in so much work that she had no time to eat, and even less time to dwell on her break up with Yamcha.

Vegeta certainly kept her busy: between all the broken bots and demands for more improvements to the gravity room, he always managed to find something for the blue-haired scientist to do. His latest demand: a set of armor to replace the last set that he owned, the one baring the holes that reminded him of his death on Namek-sei.

He was even bossier than before, but Bulma noticed that the man was also a lot more visible. Prior to their fateful conversation in the kitchen, she would sometimes go days without seeing him, but nowadays, like clockwork, he would be in the kitchen at midnight, impatiently tapping his feet while he waited for her to prepare (mostly just reheating what her mother had made) his dinner.

He routinely engaged her in petty little arguments that ended with them screaming at each other, but she could see a peculiar glint in his eyes that she at first could not understand. All she knew was that a side of her, the headstrong little she-devil as he liked to call her, enjoyed the verbal sparring, and she began to see that he did, too. After a few more days, she finally understood… He was doing it to distract her.

He was distracting her from her misery, and it was working. It was working very well. She would never acknowledge it since she just knew he would deny it, but she was unendingly thankful to him for what he was doing. She felt her heart softening more and more towards him, and though she could feel a change coming, she still, stubbornly, refused to name it.

And if his ultimate goal was distraction, well… Those glimpses of his perfect physique while he went about his business without a damn shirt on was definitely an even better strategy.

Physically pure she may be, but her thoughts, turning more and more lascivious at a frightening pace, were another matter entirely.

She had always acknowledged that Vegeta was very attractive. If she was being completely honest, that attractiveness was one of the reasons why she invited him to live with her in the first place.

However, it concerned her how easily she could daydream about touching those delicious Saiyan muscles nowadays, when she had previously been regarded as a prude by her ex-boyfriend. Her ex, whom she had loved for nearly 15 years. And whom she knew had also loved her.

Vegeta, on the other hand… She would be reaching if she even claimed that he may care. Or was she?

Tossing away her improper thoughts, she huffed, blowing her bangs away from her face, to concentrate on fixing the latest casualty of Vegeta’s ridiculous training regimen.

8-8-8-8-8

He knew what he was doing. He didn’t dare dwell on the why’s, but he damn well knew what he had been doing. Didn’t mean he was doing it willingly, and he cursed himself poignantly for his ridiculous actions.

Bulma was now a single woman. And he had unconsciously started moving in on her now that she was unattached.

He was furious with himself. The woman should be allowed time to heal, not to have a monster like himself suddenly trying to siddle in.

It had begun as him trying to, for once in his life, make things more pleasant for another. He wanted the spitfire woman to be back to normal, and he had an idea: He knew that he, personally, always managed to stave off any feelings when he had something to focus on, and he had begun piling work onto her, hoping it would have the same effect… And it did.

The woman worked with a single-minded intensity that amazed even him, barely stopping for breaks even when he could tell that her fragile human body was close to giving out.

He didn’t wish to go as far as bringing her fucking food to her, so he found a way to get her to eat. He started finishing his training at a fixed time, demanding that she make him some food, then giving her some of the said food so she had some sustenance. A couple of weeks later, a routine had been established: they would both stop what they were doing at midnight, head to the kitchen, and she would cook while he waited, then they both ate in increasingly comfortable silence.

He wanted to blast his own face apart with his Galick Gun, livid at his perceived hypocrisy. The Prince of all Saiyans, trying to cozy up to a human woman, whom he knew was probably still nursing a broken heart. He felt like a fiend.

And worse of all, he did not understand why he was doing it, and being the coward that he currently thought himself to be, he adamantly refused to analyze his own motivations. At first he thought he was doing it to get into her pants, but he realized he was wrong when he started thinking less about what she would look like naked, and more of what else he could do to erase the haunted look lingering in the edges of her eyes.

“Fuck!” he screamed in irritation, hurtling a tremendous ki blast at a bot, only for it to dodge, with his blast ending up frying the gravity room’s control panel. The emergency lock down that Bulma had installed after the old ship blew up engaged, and he flew up and crashed harshly into the domed ceiling as the 450g gravity stopped weighing him down.

The woman’s face, smudged with what appeared to be axel grease, was immediately on the communication screen, the lockdown sequence also alerting her that something had gone wrong.

“Vegeta, what-”

“Woman, I am fine,” he flew to levitate in front of her image, quickly cutting off her rising panic. “I missed a fucking bot and blew up the controls. Now you need to fix it.”

“Dammit Vegeta, I told you to be more careful with the room! No amount of reinforcements can protect the sensitive control panel from you!” She rubbed her forehead in agitation.

“I can’t fix it today. I used some of the special spare parts on a machine that locked up in the main engine room, and I need to wait a couple of days for the parts to be delivered. You’re gonna have to find another way to occupy yourself, in the meantime.”

“Woman,” he growled threateningly. “That is unacceptable. Another day I waste not training is another day I do not get strong enough to destroy the androids. We only have less than two years to go and I have not ascended yet!”

“And I still can’t fix that thing today! I don’t have the components!” she shot back, before an idea seemingly came to her and a smile lit up her face.

Vegeta just stared at her brilliant eyes, then angrily shook himself out of whatever-the-hell-that-was when she started speaking again.

“I know! Come down into my lab and we can test out your armor!” she enthused, and he immediately perked up at the mention of his Saiyan attire. She had been working on it for weeks, saying she needed to figure out some compounds to toughen up the material while keeping it malleable enough to wear comfortably.

“Have you finished it?” he asked, barely managing to hide his own enthusiasm at seeing Bulma so animated.

“I think so. I have been testing out my prototype and it has managed to stand up to the strength tests. Your ki blasts are stronger than any artificial energy I could produce though, so I would like to see if it could withstand your ki. It is also soft enough to wear now, unlike my first failed attempt,” she laughed, and Vegeta smirked as he too recalled the unfortunate first suit that could indeed stand up to ki blasts, but was also so tough that he could not put it on.

“You will fix this infernal machine once the parts arrive?” he asked again, just to clarify.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I will fix my beautiful creation that you destroy again and again, once the parts arrive.”

Nodding once, he shut off the communication link before exiting the gravity room, heading for the woman’s personal laboratory.

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma was practically vibrating in excitement as Vegeta entered her lab. He was sweaty and a bit haggard, but like his gravity-defying hair, he stood proud and straight, looking around her lab expectantly.

Bulma inwardly groaned as she realized that her mind was currently squealing about how handsome he was, standing there in his tiny lycra shorts and those droplets of sweat clinging to his amazing body, honed and toned by years of hard work.

“It’s in here!” she called out, pointing to a box on the table beside her.

He approached her silently, peering into the box that she had opened, pulling out the blue battle suit and the white breastplate. She handed him the breastplate first, and she watched as he pulled it onto his torso, testing the elasticity.

She noted how the armor hugged him perfectly, nodding in satisfaction as it became apparent that the breastplate was now wearable.

Next, they had to test the strength. Vegeta took the armor off and held it in his left hand, then pulled back his right hand and gave it a solid punch. His punch was strong enough to start tremors within her lab, and she grinned proudly when the armor didn’t even budge.

Vegeta looked up and caught her eye, an impressed smirk on his lips. He then opened up his fist, clearly intending to try a ki blast, before he stopped and regarded her again.

“Woman, you may want to stand back,” he said softly, and Bulma nodded, going behind him to shield herself with his strong body.

He released a small ki blast, and Bulma shrieked in excitement when the armor simply absorbed the energy. Vegeta then used more energy on another blast, and another, slowly increasing intensity until he stopped, turned to face her, and to Bulma’s eternal shock, he grinned, a genuinely happy light entering his obsidian eyes.

“Great work, woman,” he remarked, and Bulma was so ridiculously happy about her success that without thinking, she laughed giddily and grabbed Vegeta around his neck in a big hug.

She felt him stiffen, dropping the armor in his hands to the floor. Realizing what she had done, she moved to release him…

Or at least, she tried to, but his arms, far stronger than her own, suddenly wound around her waist. She looked down at his arms in surprise, not quite believing the sensation of his embrace until she saw it with her own eyes.

A choked sound escaped his throat, and she looked up at his face, her own flushing at the intensity of his gaze.

He was staring at her, piercing her soul with this eyes, and before Bulma knew what was happening, she felt his lips against her own, and her heart burst in elation as his lips moved firmly, demandingly, coaxing a strangled moan from her as she heatedly kissed him back.

His hands roamed her back, caressing her arms, clutching at her sides, as his kiss dominated her, her mouth desperately keeping up with his urgent but gentle movements. She heard him groan against her lips when she moved one hand to clutch at the hair on the back of his neck, the other moving down to greedily grasp the hard planes of his chest.

He wrenched his lips away from her mouth, only to turn his attentions to her throat. She moaned deeply as her hands moved to grasp his forearms, finally feeling the ridges that she had previously memorized with her eyes.

Her sounds seemed to spur him on, as he suddenly grabbed her by the waist with his two large hands, lifting her onto her desk as she impulsively wrapped her legs around his hips. He kept kissing her, becoming more forceful, even as her nails began to rake almost painfully across his muscled back.

A near animalistic growl reached her ears and she found her blouse pulled roughly down her shoulders, trapping her upper arms against her as he continued to ravage her neck, quickly going lower, and she felt his rough tongue lapping nearly at the tops of her breasts. She cried out in delight, clutching his head with her hands, egging him on.

However, as suddenly as he started, Vegeta suddenly reared back, panic in his eyes as he held her back at arm’s length.

“B-Bulma…” he stammered, eyes wide, and she tried to reach for him, to pull him back to her, but he was suddenly gone, the only sign that he was ever there was the breeze left behind by his speed, in his haste to leave.

Numb with shock as what just transpired finally registered in her brain, Bulma slowly adjusted her top, noting that the seams had been torn by his forceful pulling. She stared down at the armor on the floor, reeling from the chaotic thoughts crowding her mind.

But the foremost thought screaming at her from inside her head, was asking just one thing…

‘What the hell just happened?’

8-8-8-8-8

It has been three days since Vegeta fled Capsule Corp, seeking the calming refuge of a quiet wilderness. He had proceeded to systematically decimate the said wilderness, and when no structure or living thing remained standing, he had morosely sat down in the center of the wide span of land, his mind in chaos, his hands itching to either do more damage or cling to the woman that he had run away from.

“Fucking idiot,” he muttered to himself, lifting his hand and sending a ki blast onto something that moved in his peripheral vision. He was a mess, he knew, but he had no idea what to do to fix this debacle that he just foolishly thrust himself into.

What had he been thinking?! He was a horrible person and should not dare to touch a woman whose hands were unsoiled by death

But she was so soft, and she smelled so good, and he had been thinking about her so much in the last few days that when she touched him, he lost his damn mind and let himself ravage her.

He thought many times about just leaving Earth altogether, so he could gather his wits about him, but something held him back. He still couldn’t identify it, this damned feeling in the back of his head, that made him impulsively touch her.

She was broken, lonely, and most likely still hurting. And he, a career assassin who never felt anything more than irritation over killing off entire races of beings, felt like an absolute ass about taking advantage of her this way.

But then he realized, he was lonely, too. He always had been. And in Bulma’s loneliness, he started seeing her as a kindred spirit who could complement his own solitude.

He needed to go back.

He blanched at the idea of going back to Capsule Corp, but he steeled himself, mentally protesting that he was no fucking coward and he can go and face the heiress whenever he pleased.

8-8-8-8-8

It was past midnight, but Bulma lay awake, unable to sleep. He was back. She knew he was back, the moment he stepped into her home. She didn’t know how, she had no ki control or detection skills to speak of, but she just knew. She felt it when he went in to take his shower. Knew his routine, that he always washed himself right after coming back from any venture, or right after his nightly meal.

And she was going to speak to him tonight, whether he liked it or not.

When he left three days ago, she realized that all the misery, loneliness and self-blame that she thought she had gotten over had all suddenly come back. Vegeta, brash and uncouth as he was, was the one keeping her sadness at bay, in ways he didn’t even seem to realize.

She didn’t know what it was about him, but she wanted to reach out to him, touch the loneliness she can feel in his heart and heal it with her own. She wanted to hold him in her arms and give him the same comfort and reassurance that he had given her when he told her all those weeks ago that her break up was not her fault.

But mostly, she wanted him here, to help her figure out why, why, she felt this way about him now, and just what this feeling was.

She had been in love before, and she knew what love was. But being around Vegeta was something different, and she couldn’t tell if it was just an intense longing or an even stronger emotion that she absolutely wished to not put a name to just yet.

He was confusing her, and she was sure she was confusing him.

But mostly, she was appalled at what she discovered as she picked up the pieces of herself after he ran off right after kissing her.

She knew, that if he had tried to have sex with her then, she would have let him have his way with her.

It made no sense, how she was so, so ready for him now, in a way she had never been ready in a previous relationship that lasted 15 years.

She was terrified, but in her mind, she knew that this awakened need would not go away until she found a way to make him touch her. She knew that her virgin sensibilities had flown out the window the moment he clutched her close to his body, and she knew that, her inexperience notwithstanding, she truly, undeniably, wanted him.

She started walking towards his room, the one he had selected when he first came to earth to live with her and her family. And as she came closer and closer to the door, she also came to the realization that she didn’t really have any plans regarding what to do or what to say to him. All she knew was that she needed to see him.

She stood outside his door, nerves frazzled as she quickly tried to come up with a way to start a conversation, to have an idea even, of what she was actually doing there.

She ran out of time when he suddenly opened the door, looking at her through narrowed eyes, his body language taut and seemingly ready for flight.

And just like that, she knew what she had to do.

8-8-8-8-8

Vegeta stared at Bulma with trepidation, stepping aside to make way for her, in a silent ascent to let her into his sanctuary. She walked in with a tiny smile, letting herself sit at the corner of his bed, gazing at him through her bright blue eyes.

He felt exposed, standing before her in only his wet hair and loose sweatpants, berating himself for feeling exposed when he knew for a fact that she had seen him wearing much less.

The woman was wearing a thin blue sleeping gown, a thin robe covering her further to protect her from the chilly night air. She appeared unsure of herself, looking everywhere but at him. She then seemed to steel herself, and she looked straight at him, finding her words before he could even think of what to say.

“I fixed the gravity chamber,” she began, her smile widening slightly. “I made some adjustments to the control panel, too. I placed a specially crafted fiberglass material over the controls. It is made from a polymer that I derived from the components I used to make your armor, as that seemed to withstand your ki blasts well enough. I’m not sure it can withstand a direct hit from you, but it can easily stand up to stray blasts. I hope it works well enough.”

“Hnn,” he nodded, uneasy at her cheerful tone and news. He was anxiously waiting for her to begin screaming at him, either for kissing her, or for disappearing without a word.

She surprised him, yet again, when her lips curved into a full blown smile, and she whispered conspiratorially, loud enough for him to hear, “Also, I enjoyed that thing we did in my lab, and I really wouldn’t mind if we tried that again.”

His jaw dropped in shock, reminded that he had initially thought her a “vulgar woman”.

“What?”

“Oh come on, Vegeta. You heard me,” she blushed deeply even as she grinned widely. “I liked it. I wish you hadn’t stopped.”

“W-woman, are you insane?” Vegeta raged, but Bulma stayed seated, seemingly nonplused in the face of his ire. “I took advantage of you there. Why aren’t you angry?”

She just smiled at him, and a blush stole across his own cheeks as he snarled, “Stop smiling! Are you messing with me?”

Her smile dimmed slightly into a more placating stretch of her lips, rather than the earlier almost tauntingly wide, full toothed grin.

“Vegeta, I am not kidding. I really did enjoy it. And I want you to continue where you left off.”

He stared at her, dumbfounded, his guilt at what he had done gnawing at him as he bit out, “Woman you are mad. You ask me to continue? Do you know how much farther I would have continued if I hadn’t caught myself?”

Bulma stood then, walking towards him with her eyes locked onto his, hips swaying tantalizingly, reminding him of how those thighs felt as he clutched them against his waist on that day in her lab. Oh, how he remembered, and now his body remembered it as well. He could feel heat rising within his chest, his mind growing fuzzy as he smelled her delicious scent more strongly as she came closer, and closer…

“Yes, I know. And I want you to,” she whispered as she closed the distance between them, and he could hear her heart beating a frantic rhythm against her chest. She was nervous, he could tell, but she was also determined. “You told me not to compromise my mind and my body. I am not compromising it now. I want you, Vegeta. And I think, you really want me, too.”

He almost reared back, but her small hand, pressed softly against his abdomen, almost felt like a balm on his soul and could not move away. “Bulma,” he started, realizing his mistake when her mouth opened for a soft, pleased gasp, obvious delight filling her eyes at the sound of her name on his lips.

“I will not insult your intelligence by lying to you and denying that I do. I would very much like to have you in my bed, woman. But tell me,” he paused, searching her eyes, “You have not allowed any human male to taint you for as long as you have lived. Why would you decide to give in to a being like me?” he asked, desperately needing her to understand that her body, her beautiful, precious body, should not be squandered on a man like him.

He felt unworthy as he thought back to all the atrocities he committed, all the cheap fucks he had indulged in, and as he wallowed in self-disgust, a voice in the back of his head kept asking him why he even cared enough about this human woman’s welfare to attempt to turn her down on such a delectable offer.

She simply smiled beguilingly at him, her hand on his abs moving up to take purchase on his chest, as the dainty fingers of her other limb moved softly across his cheek.

“I don’t know why, my prince,” she all but cooed as her face started moving closer to his own, her lips barely a hair’s breadth away. “All I know is I want this with you, and I don’t care if you never wish to come near me again, but I need you… I need to know what it’s like… I am ready. And I want to do this with you.”

Something about the way she said that she needed him, wanted him, made something snap inside Vegeta, and he growled, wrapping one arm around her waist as his other hand quickly fisted into her thick hair, pulling her impossibly close. His eyes narrowed, his desire manifesting in his gaze.

“I am no good for you woman. But I will fuck you,” he rasped out, a gasp escaping her as he smelled her arousal like a thick perfume, clinging to each particle of air in the room. “And I need you to really feel, Bulma, because it will only be just this once.”

She sighed, sagging against him as her knees buckled, before she responded, “Yes, just this once.”

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma nearly fainted as the full intensity of Vegeta’s masculinity hit her, a seemingly tactile wave of pleasure that reached her even before his lips descended hungrily onto hers. He was so warm, inhumanly so, but in spite of his heat, goosebumps sprang up all over her body as his hands began to roam, his powerful legs quickly backing her up until her knees hit the edge of his bed.

It felt as if he was everywhere at once, his body wrapping her in its force as he hastily pulled her robe off of her so he could touch more of her flesh. Her thin, sleeveless night gown might as well have been gone for all the cloth did to keep her from feeling his hands as they skimmed across her stomach, winding around her back as he kissed her with even more fervor than the last time.

His lips crushed against hers, taking no prisoners as she gasped, and his tongue swept into the recesses of her mouth like he was starved and desperate for her taste. Bulma arched up, pushing her breasts against his hard chest and he growled against her as he pushed down and made them both fall onto his bed.

She could only hold on to his arms as he assaulted her senses, and she felt a peculiar wetness between her legs, something that she had not experienced with Yamcha. She still could not understand why she hadn’t felt this way for a man she had spent so many years with, and yet she felt so much desire for Vegeta, a man whose sanity and capacity to care for her and Earth were probably tenuous at best.

The Saiyan finally abandoned her lips, moving southward, lavishing her neck with wet licks and strong nips that she just knew would leave large bruises on her skin. His hands, previously holding onto her hips and waist, moved upwards, meeting his lips that had begun to taste the skin at the tops of her breasts.

She felt too hot, but she wanted more, and she found herself uselessly pulling at her night dress in an effort to pull it out of the way so she can have Vegeta touch her more. He seemed to understand, and he reared up, grabbing a hold of her dress, before he savagely ripped it apart, exposing her body in a quick second.

He stayed above her, kneeling as he looked down at her body, his eyes feasting on her nakedness. Bulma flushed deeply as he stared hungrily at her, and she almost moved her hands to cover herself, but a low, warning rumble sounded from deep inside Vegeta’s chest and she obediently kept her hands at her sides.

When he leaned back down again, Bulma was surprised when he gave her a gentle, probing kiss instead of the hot, urgent kisses from earlier. She sighed deeply, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders as his hands continued exploring her form, until his questing hands reached down and cupped her right breast.

She gasped into his kiss, her eyes flying open as he began to squeeze her breast. Vegeta broke their liplock, leaving her to pucker her lips in desperation for more. He merely chuckled, before he began to lick and ravish her throat once again, going lower and lower until his sinfully soft lips finally reached her chest and searchingly wrapped around one of her nipples.

She arched her back, pushing her chest closer to Vegeta’s mouth as a sharp cry of pleasure flew from her startled lips. He sucked on her breast, moving to pleasure the other as he had done to its twin.

Bulma was shaking, the pleasure already too much, and he was only at her chest! She curled her fingers into his thick hair, unthinkingly calling out broken fragments of her lover’s name.

Vegeta’s questing hands felt like they were everywhere at once, and she suddenly found that he had already reached down and was caressing the inside of her thighs.

When had she even spread her legs?! When did she lose her underwear?

She was utterly lost in sensation, and she cried out when his large, calloused hand started edging closer to her center. When he finally cupped her there, she swore that she literally saw stars.

He started kissing her lower abdomen, and Bulma’s heart skipped a beat when she realized that he was about to look… down there. She had seen that place, and it was not very pretty. She didn’t know if she wanted to buck him off or egg him on, as every touch he had bestowed her with so far had been delightful, but she was nervous about letting him see her there.

He must have felt her trepidation because he stopped, his dark eyes looking up at her questioningly.

And suddenly, Bulma, strong, outspoken and sometimes vulgar Bulma, felt her tongue turn to cotton as she tried to speak.

“Ve-Ve-Vegeta,” she rasped out, a deep flush covering her face to her upper chest. “Down there, I…”

He simply smirked at her, “Woman, just take it, alright? I told you to just feel,” he said to her, his devastatingly handsome face distracting her just enough that she didn’t realize that his hand had again travelled down to her core, rubbing her nether lips lightly, making her quake with desire.

She watched as he moved down, eyes searching for her center, and she saw a pleased smile stretch his face as he murmured, “I have never seen a human female’s sex organ before. This,” he crooned, inserting one finger inside her, making her gasp, “is most definitely much more attractive than any other that I have seen.”

Bulma couldn’t even summon enough brain power to quip back at him, as his middle finger slowly began to inch deeper and deeper inside her. She let out a keening noise as another pleasurable shudder racked her body, but Vegeta, apparently as merciless in bed as he was on the battlefield, simply smirked lasciviously, and began pumping his finger in and out of her.

“You are soaking, Bulma,” he remarked, at once embarrassing and arousing her further.

She wanted to lurch forward, thrashing around wildly, but one strong arm placed across her stomach stopped her aggressive movements. She could only watch, helpless but frighteningly aroused, as Vegeta continued to fuck her with his finger, and she could feel a strong pressure start to build up from deep inside her gut.

He increased the speed of his pumping finger and suddenly added a second one, and Bulma felt a spasm begin from deep inside her core, washing over her body until she could do nothing but scream, shocked at the feeling rushing through her body as she shook, realizing quickly that the incredible feeling washing over her was an orgasm.

She was still reeling from her release when Vegeta suddenly pulled his fingers out of her body, and just as she thought he was going to give her a chance to catch her breath, he suddenly grasped her hips with two powerful hands, pulled her towards him, and gave her center a long, languid lick.

Bulma screamed in shock, both at the action and at the pleasure he caused her. She called out his name, not really sure why, but he proceeded to ignore her as he dove down and crushed his mouth against her core. She could feel him kissing her, licking her, his tongue entering her there the way he had pillaged her mouth, and Bulma thrashed about, her arms desperately searching for something to hold onto. Her hands found purchase in his spiked hair, and she curled her fingers into the thick strands as he continued to pleasure her with his mouth.

The now familiar pressure started to build in her again, and Bulma cried out, closing her eyes as she tried to fight off the near hysteria she felt as her climax started taking over her body again.

Vegeta licked her again and again, before suddenly giving a sharp nip to the hard nub above her opening, and the pleasure that washed over her then was so intense that the scream she had been about to release got stuck in her throat, leaving Bulma a gasping mess, barely able to breathe.

She had tears standing in her eyes and she couldn’t quite believe that Vegeta, of all people, was this amazingly good in bed.

He started to crawl up her body, and for the first time, Bulma noticed that he was already naked. She had to wonder when he took his pants off, before her eyes traveled down to fully take in the glorious sight of a fully naked Vegeta.

He was, in a word, magnificent.

His body was absolute perfection, well-muscled and without an ounce of extra fat. Each muscle was well defined, covered in delicious caramel skin.

And when she looked down between his powerful thighs, oh! He was as thick, hard and perfect down there as the rest of his body was.

She reached down, wanting to touch him too, as he had given her so much pleasure and she wanted to give some back. She knew how to do this, as she had reluctantly done this for Yamcha before. But Vegeta’s hand on her wrist gave her pause, and she saw his dark eyes narrow at her before he wordlessly pushed her back to lie down onto the bed.

She didn’t resist when he moved to cover her with his body, his powerful hips cradled between her thighs, his erection pressed snug against her lower abdomen. She thought he was about to enter her, but instead, he planted his arms on either side of her, then he hunched down and kissed her soundly once again, his lips even gentler now, and as he coaxed sighs out of her with his lips, she felt him align himself against her entrance and start to push in.

She stiffened, nervous about the intrusion. He looked impossibly big to her, and despite all of her knowledge on human anatomy, she suddenly had the irrational fear that he might not fit.

His right hand started running up and down her left arm in a soothing caress, seemingly trying to wordlessly reassure her that he was going to take care of her. His tender manner in bed, so unlike his usual gruff self, made tears spring to Bulma’s eyes, and she kissed him passionately as she felt him finally enter her.

A short, sharp pain shot through her, and then…

That was it. She wasn’t a virgin anymore.

She found that she had no regrets, and as Vegeta gasped above her, she looked up into his face and was astounded at how beautiful he was right in that moment.

She was having sex with Vegeta. And it was glorious.

She felt as he pulled back slightly, then pushed back in slowly, and she looked into his eyes as he stared into her own, both gauging what the other was feeling. Bulma then smiled and reached up, stroking his cheek tenderly, before she arched up and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

Vegeta took that as his cue, and he started pumping in and out of her body, at first slow and gentle, and gaining speed as they went. She tried to keep up, raising herself to meet his thrusts, and soon, they were writing against each other, mindless in their pleasure.

Soon enough, Bulma was lost again, gasping incoherently as Vegeta took her breath away with each movement, each delicious pull and push into her wanting core. Her hands reached around him to clutch his back, his buttocks, clinging to him desperately as he drove them closer and closer to completion.

Vegeta was groaning now, his eyes closed as he rested his forehead against her own, his hips growing more and more desperate as he too started chasing his own completion.

Right as Bulma felt the climax creeping onto her again, Vegeta opened his eyes, his  gaze unwavering, refusing to let her look away as he continued to pleasure her. His hands had started getting restless, and he stroked, caressed, and squeezed each part of her he could reach as his steady rhythm started to falter, as her cries kept growing louder, and both knew that the other was oh, so close.

And suddenly, Bulma’s peak came, crashing over like a tidal wave, and in her moment of ecstasy, she felt Vegeta lose himself within her as well, her name spilling from his lips in a mix of a groan and a sigh, the sound of which, Bulma will remember for the rest of her life.

He collapsed then, half on and half off of her, his breathing hard and labored, and Bulma tangled her hands again into his hair.

She sighed, content, amazed at what sex was like, or at least, at what sex with Vegeta was like.

Tomorrow, her doubts would surface again. She would again analyze and over analyze everything that took place tonight until her head ached, but for tonight…

Tonight, she would rest and be careless. Just this once.

8-8-8-8-8

END

[malliebuu]

Escort Service:

Escort Service

 Day 3: Just This Once…

 Author’s Note: All of my 2017 October smutfest prompts are connected. I have links at the bottom of each submission for easier navigation. Enjoy!

 ..

 ..

It wasn’t meant to be taken seriously. Not at all. Especially when a male counterpart was concerned. He had bought the girls all drinks, and had been making eyes with Bulma in particular. He had showed interest in her from the start, which she had been genuinely flattered. She had never been one to turn down attention from an attractive man. When she wasn’t in a relationship, of course, and that she extremely was; single.  

 Bulma felt from the beginning it was completely unnecessary to prolong this little game he had going on. She didn’t want to fuel the fire. She originally had absolutely no intentions of leading him to believe anything would or could happen. Especially from the start. One usually doesn’t intend on making any moves based on a single drink. Though, what helped move things along, in her mind, was Juu’s pep-talk. She had spoken to her honestly. To Bulma’s shameless discovery, she learned something about herself. She was making her way down a path of seclusion, and by no way was this beneficial. No, she hadn’t for a long time. Juu was right. She didn’t need to sleep with twenty men in order to feel needed or loved. No, that wasn’t what Juu intended or wanted.

 Bulma knew she didn’t need to fool around to get Yamcha out of her system, but she could have some fun. Even if it was involved, sex between two consenting adults in a healthy environment was sometimes needed, or ‘ok’, right? No, she just needed to be herself and enjoy life as it came. She had always been the one to take life as it came. She enjoyed the ride, making healthy well thought out decisions-- sometimes-- No one is perfect.

 That woman she had left behind was fun, spontaneous, and edgy. She said what was on her mind, did what she felt necessary and didn’t give a shit what anyone thought. Not only that, but before she would have basked in the attention the opposite sex offered her. Attention was something she enjoyed and appreciated. She harnessed her strong will and enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing she could bring about the same sense of appreciation in others. She felt like the shell of a woman that once was. Juu had been even more blatant than usual these past few weeks. She had been harshly asserting her opinions from the moment her short lived relationship ended, no doubt, but Bulma needed to come back. The Bulma who everyone knew and loved needed to push past this sense of uselessness and move on. Juu was right. She needed to have fun. She needed to embrace what was happening tonight. She didn’t need to do anything dramatic, but she could be a little scandalous. Shit, maybe she would do something a little dramatic. Just this once...

 ..

 ..

 He had a nice smile. His teeth were perfectly white and straight. He had a small dimple on his right cheek when he grinned and a beauty mark just below his eye. His eyes were something of a different breed, as well. They were expressive and emotion filled when he spoke, yet there was something else; something dark. When he engaged a person it felt like he was reading the, learning their inner most darkest of secrets. It intrigued her, yet scared her at the same time.

 He was an enigma.

 Though, if there was one thing she did know about him, he was a passionate dancer.

 He had taken the lead immediately. With care, he guided her through the masses, urging her to stay close. They arrived in front of the multi-level stage located just under the DJ. He grinned again, pulling her close, brushing his lips to the side of her face. Her palms pressed tightly to his chest, feeling the heat of his breath against her face. The beat from the six-foot speakers radiated a pleasant caressed over them, causing her eyes to close.

 “I told you we were going to dance. You ready?” His silky voice inquired.

 Bulma bit her lower lip, opened her glittering blue eyes and nodded, wrinkling her nose as a hazy wave overcame her.

 He moved behind carefully pressing her bare back flush to his chest. His large palm spanned her midsection, pressing tightly only to glide her back so her round rear formed snugly against the front of his pants. Bulma’s breathing hitched in her throat, finding it impossible to breath. His actions surprised her. He wasn’t shy. Her palms extended awkwardly, finding it utterly impossible to locate a home for them. Almost as if he felt her discomfort, Vegeta leaned in, feeling his lips dangerously close to the shell of her ear.

 “Relax,” He urged, pressing his palm tightly against her stomach as he rocked their hips back and forth, finding the tempo.

 Bulma nodded, wetting her dry lips and allowed her arms to relax at her sides. Her eyes drifted downward as she felt his palm move. She watched as his fingertip toyed with the material of her blouse. She wanted to respond, but felt it was best to allow him to take the lead. Something told her he was very capable of taking the lead in all things. He seemed to be the type of man that molded things to him liking and image. Her palm then rested instinctively to his. Her hips rolled back, meeting him strongly, only added more sensuality to the mix. The soft catch in his throat told her he was enjoying her boldness.

 As the tempo of the song continued to escalate, so did their movements. His palm came down, stroking the soft flesh of her upper arm, guiding it upward and over her head until her palm rested on the thick, unruly locks upon the back of his head. His fingers spread wider upon the soft flesh of her stomach, drifting up dangerously close to the swells of her breasts. Hot breath burst from her lungs.

 “You’re beautiful,” He muttered against her earlobe. Heat pooled through her belly, nearly causing her to lose balance.  

 The hem of her sheer blouse came up just above her belly button. Bulma glanced down, feeling the remanence of cool air caress over her now bare flesh. She hesitated and quickly shifted her palm from his neck to her stomach, attempting to hide her skin. He immediately caught her wrist and pulled it back. Her suitor placed his chin upon her shoulder, running his lower lip against the soft skin of her shoulder. He was shaking his head.

 “Don’t hide. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” Bulma released a soft nervous laugh, biting her lower lip and slowly resumed their motions.

 She stayed this way for a while, caught to his chest until she made the conscious decision to turn toward him, pressed her curvaceous form against his muscled chest. He seemed to like this very much, and so did she. His palms brushed over her sides, gliding over the swells of her ass. So comfortable she became, that Bulma even made the bold attempt of stroking her fingers over his shoulders and down to his pectorals. Surprisingly she wasn’t ashamed.

 Bulma originally had no intentions of seducing this man, but thanks to the alcohol and a little physical stimulation, she was ready to leave with him at this point. She was becoming weak. The end of the highly stimulating song brought her back to reality once more, however. How long had they been embraced, dancing in this fashion?

 “I need to find my friends.” Bulma whispered into his ear, pulled back from him, giving herself some much needed time to cool down.  

 His onyx eyes were roving, however, his intense gaze fell and was replaced by a look of  concern, “You are leaving?”

 Bulma grinned softly, placing a palm to her cheek, “I have to leave at some point. It is getting late.”

 Vegeta shuffled her to the edge of the dance floor, closer to the bar where it was comparably less noisy. Lifting his watch, pressing a button and illuminating the screen, the man grinned playfully, “It is only 12:30.”

 Running a hand through her damp hairline, Bulma crossed her arms over her chest, “Look, I know what you want.”

 Gripping her palm, the dark haired man directed her toward two vacant bar seats. She sat down, sighed in sweet surrender as the pressure from her toes was quickly alleviated. He didn’t say anything to her remark. Instead he ordered her a water and himself his drink of choice-- they, of course, were reminded twice not to forget his three olives.

 Her dark haired dance partner licked his lips, taking a small swig of his freshly made dry martini. He sighed and casually leaned against the bartop.  His calculating eyes were finally glancing her way. They broke contact only once as he nodded to the chilled glass of water, indicating she needed to hydrate. Bulma smiled sweetly and took up the straw, sucking down half of the glass’ contents.

 “You know,” Bulma said, clearing her throat, “If you want to sleep with me, all you have to do is ask.” Her eyes focused on the cubes floating freely in her glass.

 She tightly gripped and toyed with the straw, finding it damn near impossible to look him in the eye at this point. Especially after what she allowed escape her mouth. Heat flushed across her cheeks, cursing herself twenty different ways in her mind, still not being able to believe she even said that outloud.

..

 Oh well, it isn’t like I am planning on marrying the guy…

 ..

 She felt him lean in. The heat of his gaze was a hard thing to ignore. His thighs straddled her crossed legs, placing his palm against the bare skin of her knee. His thumb traced circles against the flesh, leaning in closer only to cup her chin, lift her gaze and press a wordlessly, breathtaking kiss to her lips.

 She only flinched at first when he boldly took what he wanted. Though, she wasn’t offended. No, her body responded quite well. She groaned against his mouth, and even leaned in as him, attempting to take more than what he could give in such a public place. He pulled away abruptly, offering a smirk as his lidded eyes scanned her face.

 “I’m not cheap.”

 Bulma giggled, placing a palm to her lips. She went to respond, but the words died in her throat as a happy squeal broke her concentration.

 “There you are!” Juu shouted, causing the duo to abruptly pull apart.

 “Jesus, Juu, where have you been?” Bulma asked, smoothing her garments over her thighs.

 “Dancing. We figured you two needed your own space,” Juu winked, leaning in to whisper the last part, “If you know what I mean.”

 “Stop.” Bulma shook her head, shifting a watchful eye toward her handsome admirer. He was too busy sipping on his martini to even notice or care about the exchange happening between her and Juu.

 “Look, Chi-chi is done. The bouncer if force feeding her water, literally with a spoon. I told him I was going to look for you and to watch her. I don’t want to leave her for long. I think I am going to have her spend the night at my place tonight just in case, you know? Do you need me to get you an ubber? I have the app pulled up.” Juu inquired, shifting a side glance toward their unusually silent patrone.

 “You don’t have to do...” Bulma shook her head, waving her palm dismissively.

 “Too late, already ordered. Go home. Drink lots of water. Are you going to be ok if I leave?” Juu asked, wrapping an arm around her blue haired friend’s neck and placing a wet kiss to her cheek. The blonde pulled back and looked her in the eye.

 “Yeah, I was planning on leaving here soon anyway.” Bulma offered a reassuring smile.

 “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Her friend whispered in her ear enthusiastically. Something told her it was more mocking than anything.

 “Don’t you worry. I won’t.” Bulma retorted in a sing-song voice and shoved her away, “Go back to Chi. Call you tomorrow!”

 “Love you!” Juu called over her shoulder as she ran in her heels toward the exit.

 Bulma took one more swig of her water before standing abruptly. Shifting her skirt down her thighs, she turned to face him. One arm was rested casually upon the bar top, the other resting upon the top of his thigh. His dark onyx eyes focused upon the olives garnishing his drink. Biting her lower lip, she turned toward the nearest bartender currently washing glasses and waved for a pen. Taking up the pen and a napkin, Bulma quickly wrote down her address.

 “If you are staying around the area later.” Bulma glided the napkin toward his half full glass, “I, uh, don’t live far from here. Only if you want to, of course.”  She uttered softly, tucking a soft strand of her hair behind her ears in a nervous fashion.

 His index finger traced the edge of the napkin, casually looking up to meet her stare. The corner of his lip quirked, amused by her behavior.

 “Look, I don’t usually do this… um.” Bulma whispered, continuing to nervously chew her lower lip.

 “I am not judging you.” His gruff voice cut her off, “We all have needs.”

 A soft, knowing smile formed on her lips, “Uh, ok, well, I am going to go. Nice to meet you.”

 Lifting his martini glass up to his lips a coy grin formed, “Remember what I said earlier.”

 Confused, Bulma nodded her acknowledgement, wordlessly drifting toward the exit. She didn’t dare turn back to get one last look. Once she knew she wasn’t in his line of vision, she closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, questioning her sanity. Was she crazy? Giving this man she had only met a few hours ago her personal address. Offering to come to her home and fuck her? Yep, she was insane.

 ..

 Shit. Shit. Fuck. Fuck.

 ..

 Almost making it to the door, a warm hand gripped her wrist only to spin her around. Vegeta cupped the back of her neck, kissed her deeply and pressed his lips tightly to her ear.

 “Go home. I still have half a drink. Get into the sexiest lingerie you own. I will meet you at your door. Make sure you are wearing it when I arrive.” Slowly, his palm drifted over the middle of her back, descending until he cupped her rear end tightly in his palm. Bulma released a surprised gasp, looking him intently in the eye. Her lips dropped open, eyes wide as she nodded her understanding. He released her and left her without another word.

 …

 Jesus… what am I doing?

 …

 ..

..

 Up next: Striptease

..

:Day 1_Day 2_Day 3_Day 4_Day 5_ Day 6_Day 7_Bonus Day 8_Bonus Day 9:

[ibitchytimemachine]

Real Men Don’t Make Sandwiches

anenglisheducation

How a well-constructed sandwich brings together two unlucky and unlikely souls: first Vegeta, the prince of a dead race who has bound himself to Earth for honor; the other Krillin, a lowly monk who just can't catch a break. A comedy. Sorta.

Read on Ao3 or on fanfiction.net.

As always, my thoughts below the cut, Spoilers!

Ok so I had just finished my submission for Smutfest, and I needed something refreshing to read. So I was looking through some recs (I can’t recall where I found this one) and I came across the idea of a VegetaXKrillin Buddy Cop-esque comedy. I honestly hadn't ever thought about this pairing, but it works. Krillin’s cautious and twitchy characterization works really well with Vegeta’s tsundere. I must say that this is in no way a romance. Ok so maybe a bromance, the true Bromance we need in fact. 

The prologue did not pull me in. From the tags, I had this idea about the story being this ridiculous amalgam of situations and after reading the prologue I have to admit I almost stopped reading. But just like with anime, I had to give it the three episode swing and I pushed through. I have to admit after the prologue it gets much better. 

So I just mentioned the tags. The Ao3 tags are a work of art

This really gives a sense of the dry humor that you will find in the story. It is simply hilarious. You have to have a dry wit with a touch of slapstick to really appreciate the beauty of the humor, which I must admit describes my humor perfectly. If you read the tags and think “WTF?!” and giggle a little, you will probably like this story. 

This story really does revolve around sandwiches. Krillin just falls into the job of making tens of sandwiches a day for Vegeta. Krillin is living at CC, we find out later why, and one day Vegeta is hunting down a chef to create food and there is Krillin making a sandwich. So thats how it starts. Vegeta gets lots of sandwiches and Krillin tricks him into answering questions in exchange for said meals. 

Vegeta wants to kill Krillin, because of course he does. When he thinks about Killing him though he remembers the delicious sandwiches and falters, thinking that if he does kill cueball, he won't get the delicious sandwichy goodness. SO this of course leads Vegeta to believe that pig, one of the meats on the sandwiches is some sort of poison that is supposed to calm him down. 

Theres no action (until the end of the story but we will get there in a minute). Really the story takes place in the kitchen, Vegeta eating sandwiches, trying not to kill Krillin and then taking a bite and realizing how he doesn't want the sandwiches to stop so he decides to spare him. This internal monologue happens several times. Each time is funny because it sounds so much like Vegeta. This writer has pegged the characterizations of both of these characters. Krillin is timid, until he's not, he is even tempered, rational, kind. Vegeta is an asshole. Bulma makes a few appearances and her characterization is also spot on. She's demanding and overbearing, but not in a bitchy way (until she is a bitch, but that is also on point for the character), and she pegs issues the characters are having with little real input from them. 

A few of my favorite jokes. 

1. Vegeta starts to believe that Goku has adopted all of earth as pets. He then comes to the conclusion that since Vegeta doesn't want to kill Krillin that he has adopted Krillin as his own pet. (this leads to a fantastic moment in the second to last chapter if you wanna know about it, READ THIS STORY)

2. Theres this moment that Krillin is telling him about his fight with Bacterian. Krillin is talking up how bad this dude smells and is leading up to the no nose punchline, the best part of this whole interaction is when Krillin is talking about Some people who have some of their senses crosswired, (certain sounds you see colors etc) and Vegeta just blasts out “oh yeah synesthesia” Ok so I am not a great story teller, but trust me, in context this is gold. 

3. Vegeta grants Krillin a favor and Krillin hugs Vegeta. This goes about as well as you can imagine. 

Vegeta is suffering from major culture shock. Realistically he knows nothing about Earth except people are crazy. At one point he tries to teach Krillin to eat. There is a goldmine of this long build up of slightly ridiculous that ends with this burst of crazy that is leads to these one liners that are hilarious. I went back to find a few that would be funny to put in here for the favorite jokes parts, but without the build of the context they are super flat. 

The driving force of the story lay in the sandwiches and the questions Krillin asks. Krillin asks a question and the Vegeta has this inner monologue that lasts an enormous amount of the chapter. Vegeta argues with himself in these monologues. He fills in some of the gaps about the PTO, and his life. The world building in this story is beautiful. I read a comment on FF that this reader considers the background canon, but honestly, its really good. My favorite bit of lore concerns the creation of the Saiyans. The creation myth is told in one of Vegeta’s inner monologues, and really it is fantastic. I could get behind this as a creation myth for the Sayians. I don't wanna spoil this because it is really phenomenal. 

So the three things this author has done well is characterization, world building and humor. 

I will say the last few chapters were not my favorite. There was this wonderful build to the end and with the revelation of why Krillin is around CC so much. This is a heavy moment. Krillin is not eating, he has withdrawn, he has been resurrected twice, which means he has died twice, he's a pity party of one. He's suffering from depression. Throughout the story you get the sense that something serious is wrong with Krillin, and it all comes to a head when he tells Vegeta to just get it over with and kill him. Of course Krillin doesn’t want to die but wow this was an emotionally charged moment of the chapter, and really for me the turning point of a chapter that up until then I thought was meh. This was a beautifully written moment because this writer really paints the perfect picture of someone who is depressed but is being forced to put on the airs of normalcy.  Anyone who has ever felt with soul crushing depression, and has had to force themselves through it knows that eventually it all just blows up. You either end up in bed not moving, not eating, not sleeping (or sleeping too much) doing nothing, or you loose your shit and yell and scream and make an ass out of yourself. It was a slow burn to this point, but worth it. Event hough I said the first part of the chapter was not my favorite, I don't think you could really change it. You see this is the climax of the story (duh) and there is a mood shift. Krillins depression is coming to a head and he can't really handle the situation anymore. So the once odd couple, slightly light hearted banter is replaced by Krillin having an emotional meltdown. It is really wonderful writing. 

The last update was a year ago on October 31, 2017. The story could very well be finished at this point, however the writer has set it up to have another two parts. The story on FF is complete (except for the continuations) and it is being moved over chapter by chapter to Ao3. As the chapters get moved over, they are being edited. The edits are for spelling and grammar only (as far as I can tell). The unedited chapters on FF.net are not bad, but there are some errors. None of these errors are bad enough to break the immersion of the story so if that is something you are worried about, don't, unless you are one of those people, then all I have to say is you shouldn't be reading MY reviews because I know how bad of a writer I am. There are 23 chapters on FF and I think as of this posting 13 on Ao3. The last chapter was uploaded to Ao3 about a month ago, so hopefully the writer is gonna begin writing again once they are all moved over.  

Either way. I 100 percent recommend this story. Its funny if you have a certain kind of humor. It is smart. The world building is fantastic. Characters are on point. The build is fantastic, not only to the emotional climax, but also the build to the punchlines (and they just keep on giving). No really go read this story... Plus sandwiches. 

If you liked this review, after you check out this fic, head over to my A03 and check my stuff out too!

[dovechim]

friday the 13th (m)

anonymous asked:

“I’m going to break you tonight.” Dom!Jimin - PLEASE OML I live for Dom!jimin ❤️

anonymous asked:

For smutty Jimin fics... I know it isn't one of the ones listed in part 4 - but this has been going through my head all day: "I’m going to break you tonight." Dom!Jimin slays me.

➾ 4/13 of jimin’s smutfest 2017

➾2.2k

You’re currently glaring across the room at Joy, who’s doubled over in laughter on her bed, and it doesn’t seem like it will stop any time soon. You’re beginning to feel a little insulted, actually, because it’s not even that funny, and what’s wrong with wearing a necklace with a cross on it to the club?

It is Friday the 13th in October, after all.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, it’s just- I can’t believe you’d wear that to the club,” Joy dabs carefully at her under eyes in order to catch any smears of mascara. “It just seems so… ironic, don’t you think? We’re gonna be making out with boys and slutting it up for them and all, do you really wanna have that on your conscience?” 

Joy doesn’t understand, is all. You’ve had a bad history with Friday the 13ths, and considering it doesn’t even happen all that often, you feel like it’s more than justified for you to take the necessary precautions. The last time you went out on this ill-fated date, you got robbed of all your valuables and stranded by the roadside, and while walking home you twisted your ankle and got splashed by a car that was speeding by.

“I mean, I just wanna stay safe, that’s all, I know you’re not superstitious or anything but it’s better to be safe than sorry,” you cross your arms over your chest, and this entire defending yourself thing is getting old, fast. “And wait- I’m not gonna be ‘slutting’ it up!”

“Not even if there’s a hot guy breathing down your neck ready to fuck you into next year?”

You wave her away nonchalantly. “Maybe, as long as they’re not gross and creepy. Sometimes I can’t even get myself to cum, so how can some guy I’ve only just met do any better?”

Joy only shrugs as she grabs her bag from her bedside table, heading for the door. “Who knows, if you meet someone good tonight, maybe your perception of Friday the 13th might change.”

*

Maybe it’s because of the cross around your neck, you can’t be entirely sure, but you manage to get to the club in one piece, even manage to make it to the bar without anyone spilling drinks on you or groping you.

It’s nice to be casually throwing back shots with Joy- that you have to admit- even though she’d all but dragged you out tonight. It doesn’t seem like many other people share in your superstition about Friday the 13th, because they all seem to be carefree and happy.

Either that, or already beyond drunk.

Once you feel slightly more lightheaded, you let Joy drag you to the dancefloor and lose yourself in the music that seems to engulf every single sense, the same way that the crowd of people seems to swallow the two of you up. It’s hard to keep track of each other in this mass of sweaty bodies grinding against you, but Joy gets swept away by a tall stranger in no time.

She gives you a subtle wink to let you know that she’s okay, and so you let her go without a word.  

Seeing as she’s already occupied for the rest of the night, you start to head back to the bar, thinking of nursing a drink for a while till it’s socially acceptable to leave, or till you feel you’ve made the most out of the exorbitant cover fee you’d had to pay- whichever comes first.

The bartender gives you a glass of water and you accept it, downing the contents in one shot before heading to the washroom to freshen up. When you start to follow the signs on the walls towards the washroom and it leads you to a secluded back room of the club, you start to question if this was really such a good idea after all, and you remember why you don’t go out on days like this.

You’ve never been to this club before, but you’re definitely not coming back now that you’ve seen how poor their facilities are. It’s a little suspicious how there aren’t any other patrons waiting to use the washroom when normally there are lines for it, but you brush the concern aside and push open the creaky door. 

Even though Joy would probably laugh at you if she heard this- if you even make it back alive to tell her- you clutch the small cross hanging from your neck and shoot up a small prayer.

The flush of the toilet seems a lot louder and more menacing in the total silence of the darkened hallways, and while a part of your rational brain knows that nothing bad can really happen while you’re still on club premises, your heart thuds away frantically in your chest. Your arms are wrapped tightly around yourself as you make your way back to the main part of the club.

Somewhere along the way, amidst the growing volume of the music from the dancefloor, your ears detect the sound of footsteps behind you, and you start to speed up, eager to get out into the crowded and noisy dancefloor, when you trip over your platform heels in your haste.

A hand grabs your arm from behind, pulling you backwards and saving you from doing a faceplant on the floor. Terrified out of your wits, because you surmise that this must be your stalker, attacker, murderer, you swing your arm around, hoping to hit the stranger.

But the stranger must have better eyesight than you do in the dark, because your hit misses.

“Nervous, are we? Calm down, I’m not a murderer,” the voice comes from the darkness behind him, and you can only see his silhouette. The stranger loosens his grip on your arm immediately once you’ve regained your balance, and the act alone calms you down a little.

You take a few steps forward, hoping the stranger will follow you into the light where you can see his face, and he does. Immediately your attention is drawn to his bright pink hair, tousled and pushed back off his forehead, and his plump lips stretched into a smirk that he wears with ultimate confidence.

“S-sorry, I thought you were-“ You begin to stutter, too fixated on the way his jacket hangs off his frame oh-so-casually.

But he’s blatantly checking you out as well, eyes lingering on the silver cross that hangs from your neck before trailing down to the criss cross straps of your bralette that dip down across your chest to emphasize your cleavage. His gaze makes you feel like he’s devouring every inch of exposed skin available, but the way in which he keeps his distance politely doesn’t make the whole thing come off as creepy or sleazy.

“Sorry I almost hit you back there,” you take a deep breath and try initiating conversation again, if only to distract yourself from how his chest looks moulded to his shirt.

The stranger only smiles and runs his fingers through his hair with a shrug. “It’s alright. Shouldn’t have creeped up on a pretty girl like that, my bad.”

“N-no, it’s my fault really, I’ve had a bad history with Friday the 13th, actually,” you admit with a wry smile even as your cheeks heat up from his compliment.

He seems amused to hear this, raising an eyebrow in response. “Oh really? Like what?” 

“Well, my friend ditched me to go get laid and I nearly get mugged by a handsome stranger, so that’s how it’s going so far,” you shrug casually, internally cheering when you manage to sneak in a compliment in return.

He only chuckles in response, holding out his hand for you to take. “How ‘bout I turn the tables then?” 

His invitation is too tempting to resist, so you slip your hand into his and let him lead you back to the dancefloor, and the crowd of bodies forces the two of you to press up against each other. The stranger’s chest is to your back, and from this position you can almost feel him right up against you, even though space is limited and he doesn’t try to take the opportunity to grind on your ass or even place his hands on your waist. 

His respectful distance sets you at ease, and you take the initiative to close the distance between you, letting your back hit his chest first and turning your head to him to whisper in his ear.

“By the way, I didn’t get your name. I’m ______.”

“Jimin.” The stranger grins once he feels you back up against him, and only then does he place his hands on your waist.

You can feel the way his hips move fluidly behind you, and even though you can’t dance to save your life, his hands on your waist guide you along to his movements, and you have no trouble following the beat at all with his help. Wanting a little more intimacy, you turn around to face him, looping your arms around his neck and watching as his eyes drop to your chest again.

Jimin is fixated on the little silver cross on your chest, and you take the opportunity to press your lower body against his. His lower body feels sturdy, and he takes the chance to wedge a thigh between your legs, and you almost moan at the way your panties are dampening just from that action alone.

“Tell me, are you a good girl?” He pants into your ear, and you can almost feel the wet lave of his tongue against your neck. “Did your daddy tell you to wear that cross so that boys won’t try to fuck you?” 

His words are the filthiest you’ve ever heard, and combined with his rock hard thigh grinding into your core, you’re almost sure that you’re already dripping for him. 

“No,” you decide to play along, giving him a small smirk of your own. “I can do whatever I want, as long as daddy doesn’t find out.”

Jimin’s hands tighten around your waist in response, and you relish the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin. On a particularly hard grind, you can feel his erection against your lower stomach, and you slide your hand down to grasp his wrist, tugging on it firmly as you lead him off the dancefloor.

He follows obediently as you lead him back down that deserted hallway, and your heart is pounding in your chest, only this time with exhilaration and slight disbelief at what you’re about to do. You stop in your tracks and whirl around to face him, dropping to your knees as you look up at him.

It’s clear what you’re offering to do, and Jimin moans when your hands make their way to his zipper. From your position he can see the way that silver cross sits on your chest prettily, the way your bralette straps dip teasingly and disappearing into your cleavage, but that’s all he can focus on especially when you start to wrap your hot mouth around him, tongue flicking against his head.

He tastes salty and full of desire as you swallow his length down your throat. You can feel the saliva start to pool in your mouth already, so you coat the remainder of his length with it, letting it get nice and messy. Jimin fists a hand in your hair and you can see his eyes start to glaze over especially when you swallow around his cock.

“Fuck, you take cock so well, does your daddy know how dirty you are? Where did you learn to swallow cock like that?”

You’ve never been one for dirty talk, always finding it too cringy and cheesy like in porn, but the way Jimin growls when you deepthroat him makes you soak through your panties.

He starts to gently thrust into your mouth, and you obediently sit back on your heels to allow him to fuck your throat as you stare up at his already fucked out form. You can see the way his thighs are quivering in his tight leather pants, every single muscle tensing in his pleasure, and the warm throbbing on your tongue tells you that he’s about to reach his high.

“Shit, I’m close already, your mouth is so fucking amazing babe,” he sighs as he strokes your head gently to make up for the last couple of harsh tugs. “Where can I come? In your mouth? Do you want to swallow?”

You nod in response, the best you can while your throat is still filled with his cock, and he mutters a low curse to himself as he pulls out and begins to stroke his length over your outstretched tongue.

Strings of cum land neatly on your tongue, and you’re thankful that Jimin is good at aiming even when he’s in the throes of ecstasy. The bitter taste of him fills your mouth, and you wait till he calms down from his high to look down at you, see the ropes of his semen on your tongue before you make a show of swallowing it all down for him, opening your mouth again to show him your clean tongue.

“Fuck, you’re going to be the fucking death of me, angel,” he reaches down to help you up from your position. “Let me return the favour?”

“As long as my daddy doesn’t find out,” you realise that this turns him on even more when his eyes darken, and his gaze drops to the cross on your chest once more.

“I’m going to break you tonight, babygirl.”

Friday the 13th has never been better.

[lovelykotori-fa]

Summary of Art

Well another year is over. It's always interesting to see what I did.. damn..  I should draw more fanarts in 2018!! But also variety is good.. a lot of short comics.. and finished projects .. ongoing projects as well. :D Thank u so much for your support <3 It really means a lot for me. I made a lot of new friends I don't wanna miss! You know who you are!  Also looking forward to get to know more ppl! January:  Bra with Plush-Veggi Bra was announced to be in DB Super! February: TPTH Smutfest - 01 - Toys My entry for the Smutfest in February March: Short Comic - Memories - Page 5  My short comic "Memories" was published April: Onna and the Baka Commission like "The lady and the Tramp" May:  DBZ (VegBul): Proof of Love - Ch. 7 Page 24 just working on Proof of Love  work continues! June: Commission: Snooker AU  Snooker AU July: DBZ (Vegebul): At the right Moment - Page 28 "At the right Moment" continues and is finished! August: At the right Moment - Cover (new) A new Cover for "At the right Moment" September: Samurai AU - Vegebul "Samurai AU" based on that history video October: DBZ (VegBul): Proof of Love - Ch. 8 Page 39 More working on PoL and finished Chapter 8 which means half of the story is told November: Bulma My tribute to Hiromi Tsuru December: Waiting for Santa One of my christmas fanarts 2016: 2016 Art Summary 2017: 2015 Art Summary

[novaliane-san]

Day six: Guilty pleasure

Sketch for the 2017 October Vegebul Smutfest hosted by @tpthvegebulsmutfest

Because Bulma being  in control all the time is awesome, no doubt, but having a hasty Veggie every now and then is life!  

Bulma: But...but we are on the office! *gasps*

Vegeta:....So?

Bulma: You...Idiot... *moans*

[ladyvegeets]

Letting Go - 1 Soft Blushes

Written for the 2017 October Vegebul Smutfest hosted by @tpthvegebulsmutfest

“In the process of letting go you will lose many things from the past, but you will find yourself.” - Deepak Chopra

1 - Soft Blushes

Vegeta loathed the lilac ceiling tiles in what Bulma had come to dub ‘the recovery room’. An appropriate name, given it was where Vegeta found himself when he overdid it during training. The first time he woke up here had been perplexing to say the least. In a fit of rage to achieve the Super Saiyan form, he had destroyed the gravity machine and himself. Waking up with an oxygen mask on was familiar, but where he expected to be suspended in a healing tank, instead he was laying in a bed with his blue-haired host at the bedside table next to him, asleep. That had been… odd. Vegeta left as soon as possible to resume training, much to Bulma’s ire. He didn’t know why she cared so much, or why her concern irked him like a fly buzzing around his head. [Read more under the break, or over on AO3]

He continued to push himself to his limits. Further injury was inevitable, and on this backwater planet without a healing chamber that meant suffering Bulma’s first-aid. She tended to him while he did his best to ignore her, counting the tiles overhead and pretending that her presence didn’t invoke something within him.

But she did, and it was troubling. Vegeta wasn’t used to emotions that couldn’t be categorized as anger, disappointment, indifference, or amusement at the expense of others. Bulma fit none of those, making him feel… differently. Vegeta didn’t like different. He didn’t trust it. So he tried to ignore her, glowering with suspicion as she chatted to him in the recovery room, her soft fingers stroking his arms more than he thought was necessary while applying his bandages. He ground his teeth whenever she gave him long looks with her twinkling baby-blues that had his stomach knot and his blood pressure spike.

What feeling was this?

Nausea?

Whatever it was, it was unnerving. Especially as he couldn’t figure out her motivations. Those who had helped him in the past had done so because of one reason: fear. Fear of him, or fear of Frieza. But she wasn’t afraid. It was unsettling, especially because he couldn’t dismiss her as being too dense to comprehend the monster she housed. She knew precisely who and what he was. She was smart. The longer he stayed in her house, the more he came to grudgingly realize that fact, and the more unsettled he felt. She fixed the gravity machine whenever it malfunctioned, and she invented the battle drones after he had complained of needing a bigger challenge. Her cleverness also extended beyond machines. She had wit enough to engage him in repartees, so much so that he found himself watching what he said about her. And she had a tempter to match his. But more than anything, he hadn’t failed to notice that Kakarot’s little friends all deferred to her despite her pathetically low ki.

She was important, and dangerous. Her girlish smiles and fluttering eyelashes hid fearsome intelligence and power. In retrospect, it made sense. Any half-decent operation needed at least one person with brains, and Kakarot and his ragtag team of delinquents certainly didn’t fit that bill. But she did. Bulma was the Frieza of Earth’s little empire.

He couldn’t let his guard down around her.

Which is why the next time Vegeta hurt himself and Bulma tried sticking him with a needle, he grabbed her hand and slammed it — and her — against the nearest wall. He barely needed to flex his fingers to get her to drop the weapon, the needle falling harmlessly to the floor.

“If you try that again, woman, I will end you,” he growled in warning, pressing the full length of his body against hers to show he meant his threat.

Her eyes had flown impossibly wide, her breathing accelerated. Fuck, it felt good to dominate her, to crush her soft tiny frame under his. Too long he had played the meek house guest, but no more. It was time to remind her that he was not one of Kakarot’s little buddies that she could boss around.

“Try what?” She asked, her voice breathless in what he hoped was fear. “Vegeta, it was just a local anesthetic.”

“Says you,” he countered, refusing to admit he didn’t even know what an ‘anesthetic’ was. From her tone it was something benign, but like hell he was going to take her word for it or let her jab him with a foreign substance.

“Yes, says me,” she replied wryly. “All those with a medical degree, raise your hand.”

Both their eyes looked up to where Vegeta had her hand pinned high against the wall. Bulma smirked. Vegeta grimaced, and looked back at her.

“Cute,” he snarked, a little miffed that she was cracking jokes when she should be begging for her life. “But your charms won’t spare you if you try and drug me again.”

She sighed. “Vegeta, if I wanted to drug you, I would have done it to your food.”

…Shit. She had a point.

Not that he was going to admit that.

“I can smell food that’s been tampered with,” he bluffed. It wasn’t entirely a lie, he did have a good sense of smell but it wouldn’t save him if she spiked his meals. Earth’s food was still foreign to him. Half the things he ate he couldn’t place the flavors of, it would be so easy for her to poison him. Was he really going to have to start mistrusting his food? She wouldn’t dare, would she?

“Oh, Son has a good sense of smell too,” she replied, her voice strangely quieter than before. “Is that a Saiyan thing?”

Ah good, she bought it. “It is,” he confirmed. Their faces were so close that their brows nearly touched. “Saiyans are superior to you pathetic humans in all regards.”

Her throat bobbed. “…How much can you smell?” she asked nervously.

He loomed over her, inhaling deeply against her temple for show. “Everything. I can smell the morning dew in your hair. From yesterday.”

Her breath hitched, and she lowered her gaze. She touched his chest with her free hand, in a feeble attempt to push him away.

“…I think you should let go of me now,” she whispered.

His eyes narrowed, suspicious not only of her request, but the strangely meek way she asked it.

“Why?”

She fidgeted and he tightened his hold on her wrist, suspecting some duplicity.

“Ah,” she whimpered, her eyes fluttering up to meet his. They were dark, her pupils two black moons as endless as space, burning with something he had never seen before but wanted to lose himself to. The softest of blushes stained her cheeks. And there, so faint he almost hadn’t noticed, something sweet, feminine, and intoxicating perfumed her skin.

Holy shit.

He let her go in shock as though her skin burned, his own face turning red with realization. She lowered her gaze, tightened her lab coat about her and left. Vegeta stood alone in the recovery room, still bleeding, hurt, and now gutted with the knowledge that Bulma had been aroused in his arms.

~xox~

[scarletraven1001]

Truly Mine

He may have never said the words, but Bulma knew in her heart and soul that the arrogant Saiyan prince, the love of her life, loved her too.

A seven-year-gap fic, post-cell. One-shot.

An entry for @tpthvegebulsmutfest

Day 7: Afterglow

Also on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12443826 

Hi again, fellow DB fans!

I received such kind words from everyone when I sent in my last TPTH entry, so I was inspired to write one more!

I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I loved writing it.

Lots of smut ahead!

8-8-8-8-8

Truly Mine

Bulma was still trying to catch her breath.

She was absolutely exhausted, but that wonderful feeling of lethargy was overpowered by her pounding heart, bursting with so much emotion that the sensation of it kept her from falling asleep.

She looked down at the flame-haired head resting on her chest. He nuzzled her breast, giving it a soft, almost innocent kiss. Their legs were tangled together amongst the unruly navy sheets of their bed, while his arms were wrapped tightly around her waist. Her own arms hugged his neck, one hand lovingly caressing his upper back, the fingers of her other hand playing idly with the hair on his nape, damp with perspiration from their vigorous activities earlier.

Sex with Vegeta was always mind blowing, but there was something phenomenally different about this time. This time, she knew, felt with every fiber of her being, that they had made love.

She looked down and peered into his face, her heart melting at the sight of his closed eyes and serene expression. He was vulnerable at the moment, the look on his face such that his heart was openly displayed for her to see, and she was honored to know that she was the only one who would ever see this side of her husband.

Her husband.

She lifted her left hand to gaze once more at her ring. She still couldn’t believe it.

Bulma Briefs was now a married woman. A wife.

Vegeta was now her husband. She was now the wife of Vegeta.

The words repeated themselves in her head, as she still could barely wrap her head around the concept.

Another wave of emotion flooded her chest and tears began to well up in her eyes. She was so incredibly happy that she almost couldn’t bear it. She felt like she was floating, and only Vegeta’s weight on her oh, so sated body kept her from flying off.

He lifted his head from her chest then, an intense look in his eyes as he gracefully crawled up to be at eye level with her. He lifted his left hand to gently caress her cheek, and on that hand, her eyes caught his own ring glinting against the darkness of their bedroom.

He kissed her then, the touch of his lips so sweet and full of feeling, that it made the tears standing in her eyes finally fall. She was so full of love for this man that she finally uttered the three words that she had always known in her heart, but had never before had the courage to say.

“I love you…”

He simply narrowed his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath, almost as if he was hiding a gasp, and he dove in and kissed her so passionately that she felt his answer even if he stubbornly still refused to say the words.

His hands started roaming her body again, delicately holding her hips, tickling her waist, and as she felt herself giving in to what she knew would be another rousing session, she thought back to the happenings of the past month that led them to this peaceful moment of bliss.

8-8-8-8-8

“Do you want to get married?”

The question was so sudden, so out of field, that Bulma could do nothing other than stare dumbly at Vegeta. She nearly dropped the dented bot she had been fixing, it suddenly felt so heavy that she would have thought that the gravity chamber she was standing in had been activated.

Her heart suddenly stopped, and then just as quickly restarted, hammering painfully against her chest, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she did, indeed, hear him right.

“Did you just-”

“Woman, just answer me. Do you want to or not?” he snarled at her, looking uncomfortable, standing just out of arms reach for her.

Her scattered wits collected themselves with frightening speed as she took a deep breath, pushing a lock of her short blue hair behind one ear, and carefully choosing her words.

“Why are you asking me?” she asked, her voice soft but unwavering.

Vegeta pointedly looked away from her as he answered, “You were on the phone with one of your asinine friends yesterday, talking about the marriage of those two imbeciles that you always watch on the television. You told her that you had always wished for a large marriage celebration. Now, I will not, even under threat of disembowelment, agree to a large celebration. However, I am not opposed to marriage if you want it.”

Bulma stared in shock at her extraterrestrial lover. A deep red crept into his cheeks as he continued to look everywhere but at her.

“V-Ve-Vegeta,” she stuttered, amazed at this highly unexpected but very exciting turn of events. “Of course I want to. I would absolutely love to. But… What about you? I don’t want to put you through this if you don’t want this.”

“Tch,” he sneered. “I would not have asked if I was so opposed to it.”

“But… but… Do you know what marriage means? You’re not just asking because you overheard me say that I want to, are you?”

Vegeta finally turned to look at her, a light blush still dusting his cheeks.

Bulma wanted to squeal at how cute he was being, but she wisely refrained. This moment was serious, dammit.

“Your wanting it has influenced my thoughts on the subject, yes. But I am not against the idea. I might as well. We have a child, a powerful one, and I need him to be a rightful heir. As empty as my title has now become, the boy is a prince of an entire race, and he must be able to hold that title, even on principle alone.”

Bulma almost sighed. Did she honestly expect the man to profess his undying love for her and drop down on one knee, offering her a ring? Of course not. This was probably the closest she will ever get to hearing him say that he actually does want to marry her and isn’t being coerced into it.

“Additionally, I think I would prefer to be able to call you my wife. Then you would be truly mine, am I correct?”

Bulma actually gasped in shock at what he said, but quickly covered it up with one hand.

“I-I,” she stammered, looking at him through wide eyes. Her stare appeared to make him uncomfortable as he looked away yet again, then turned away from her to leave the room.

“Wait!” she called out, an arm extended in his direction as if to pull him back. “Wait, don’t go. I… I would love to marry you, Vegeta. I really would,” she said, smiling widely in her giddiness. “Let’s get married.”

He turned his head slightly, regarding her out of the corner of his eye. “Yes. Let us marry. And make it soon, Bulma,” he said, walking out of the room, leaving Bulma with a head full of thoughts and unable to concentrate on anything for the rest of the day.

8-8-8-8-8

Wedding preparations were difficult, more so due to the fact that the wedding was to be kept practically top secret. Vegeta had no marriageable identity to speak of, being a literal illegal alien. Strings were pulled, debts of gratitude called in, and all the connections held by her influential family were utilized as Bulma worked to make a fake identity for her husband-to-be.

The legalities involved in marrying an alien was, in a word, a bitch.

But she pushed on, and exactly three weeks after they agreed to marry, Bulma held in her hands a fake birth certificate, fake school diplomas and a real passport for one Mr. Vegeta, the sovereign prince of a now-defunct small nation of people who had lived deep in a rainforest in the south.

Four-year-old Trunks sat on the living room couch, staring widely at Bulma as she spoke on the phone to the people in their local court office, arranging a date for her and Vegeta’s wedding in front of the city’s judge. Her son was scrunching his face in concentration, listening hard, and Bulma wanted to pinch his chubby cheeks as she mentally squealed at how cute her baby was.

He was looking more and more like Vegeta every single day.

Also acting more and more like his father, as his face turned down into a fierce scowl, apparently giving up on understanding what was going on that had his mother so excited. He jumped off his chair and flew off, and Bulma watched as he flew through a window and headed straight for the gravity room.

Plans finalized, Bulma put the phone down and headed for the kitchen to check if any food had been laid out. Her mother, Panchy, was out and had left the cooking to the chef bots.

Panchy was also ludicrously excited about the wedding, that even the disappointment of not having a large celebration did not deter her. She still insisted on taking care of all the jewelry and clothes-shopping needed, and Bulma had to seriously sit her down and swear her to secrecy lest her ditzy mother let it slip to someone and caused a media-frenzy.

Oh, the paparazzi would just love to finally see the elusive father of the little eventual heir to the Briefs fortune.

Upon entering the kitchen, Bulma found enough food to feed an army and thought that it may be enough for her son and her fiancé. In her head, she had been calling Vegeta that since his proposal of sorts, and she smiled as she realized that only a week from then, exactly a month after their agreement, she can finally call him her husband.

The smile was still firmly in place as she called her two favorite boys to come in for dinner.

8-8-8-8-8

The day of the wedding was finally upon them, and Bulma kept shifting nervously in her seat. She was already dressed: a simple, sleeveless, v-neck white dress that reached the tops of her knees, with a thin blue belt and matching blue shoes. She had on some very simple white-gold earrings and a matching bracelet, and she anxiously kept looking at the stairs leading up to the bedrooms, waiting for Vegeta to finish dressing up so they can go.

There was also the matter of the rings. Panchy had been in charge of the jewelry, and her mother had steadfastly refused to show her the rings, insisting that she wanted it to be a surprise.

Trunks was sitting, unusually timid, on a chair in front of her. He knew something exciting was about to happen and looked restless, but she had given him extremely strict instructions to sit still and keep his tiny suit clean for the upcoming ceremony. She had tried to explain the marriage to him, but the four-year-old didn’t seem to care, and merely shrugged, saying “It’s all the same to me. You are my mama, and he is my papa.”

When Vegeta finally dropped down from the stairs, Bulma released the breath she didn’t know she had been holding. He was wearing a navy blue suit and leather shoes, and perhaps, she was just feeling sentimental on this day, but she didn’t believe she had ever seen him look more handsome.

The wedding itself went numbingly fast. A quick trip to the courthouse, and it seemed to Bulma that they were suddenly standing in front of the judge, who was holding up a book that was symbolic of an old marriage register. They signed their paperwork and did not have to go through the vows that she just knew would make Vegeta very uncomfortable.

However, time seemed to stop when the rings were finally revealed to Bulma.

Panchy had given the rings to Trunks, so he could hand it to the judge when the judge called for it. The rings were in a simple blue velvet box, and the judge opened it without preamble before handing it to Vegeta.

The Saiyan then looked at Bulma, his eyes intense, almost as if he was in battle, before he turned the box so that the rings faced her.

She gasped, words escaping her as she stared in disbelief.

Two simple platinum rings were delicately placed, side by side, inside the small jewelry box. This would not have been unusual, except for the tiny symbol carved into the center of each ring.

It was a symbol that Bulma had only seen twice, but knew like the back of her hand.

The royal Saiyan crest was inscribed into each ring, its clean lines and curves distinctive and unmistakable.

Vegeta had absently drawn the symbol on a sheet of paper once, before they had even gotten together, and he had turned away in embarrassment when she asked him about it. She saw it again once more, when she was cleaning his room after they had been sleeping together for some time, and he finally told her of the significance of the emblem then. She knew he treasured the symbol, a sign of his heritage that was now forever lost.

She never would have expected him to have it carved into their wedding rings.

“Vegeta… this… oh my,” she whispered in awe, lifting her eyes to look at a blushing Vegeta, who was clearly uneasy but stubbornly refusing to look away. Bulma heard her mother giggling, and she glanced at the blond woman, realizing that she, and maybe even her quietly smiling father, were in on the plan.

Bulma reached for the larger ring, holding it up while Vegeta did the same with the smaller ring. At the judges cue, they placed the respective rings on each other, and she barely held her tears back as the judge continued reading the rest of the words to proclaim them married.

The judge finally announced that they were now officially husband and wife, and gave the signal for the Saiyan to kiss his new wife. Never one for displays of affection, Vegeta reached up to cup her cheeks in his hands, before he stood straight and gave Bulma a chaste kiss on her forehead.

The lavish meal that her mother had organized for the wedding celebration afterwards was an exercise in excess. Bulma happily watched her son and new husband systematically decimate the food, while her parents and their few loyal household helpers enjoyed more normally-portioned meals along with her.

She felt a bit guilty for not inviting any of her friends, but she knew that Vegeta would not be comfortable with it, and she decided to let them all know that she and Vegeta had married in the most casual way possible the next time she saw them all.

As the day turned to night and all the inhabitants of Capsule Corp had slowly drifted off to bed, Bulma remained in the living room, with a very snuggly trunks wrapped in her arms. Her leg was falling asleep as his weight rested mostly on her thighs, and she slowly shifted to try to lift him up to bring him to bed.

A pair of muscled arms reached for her son, and Bulma looked gratefully up at Vegeta as he effortlessly lifted the heavy child.

“Go on up to our room and get ready for bed, woman. I shall take Trunks to his room and will be with you shortly,” he said as he turned to leave.

Bulma looked up from where she sat, and a giddy sort of delight filled her as she realized that tonight would be their first night as husband and wife.

She rushed up the stairs and hurriedly showered, slipping into a thin blue negligee and matching panties that reminded her of the ones she had been wearing the first time Vegeta took her to bed.

‘This will be another first,’ she thought dreamily, as she quickly ran a brush through her hair, then moved quickly and excitedly to their bed.

When several minutes had already passed and Vegeta still hadn’t returned, Bulma began to worry.

‘Is he not coming up to bed? He said he was going to follow me… did something go wrong?’

Just as worry had begun to set into her mind, the bedroom door opened to reveal her man, still wearing his pants and undershirt from the wedding.

Bulma stood up, intending to walk over to him and pull him to bed, but she stopped mid-step when he suddenly turned his dark eyes her way, staring at her so intently that she felt a small shiver go up her spine.

He approached her slowly, his gaze pinning her to spot, and she found herself unable to move even as he stood only inches away from her. He didn’t touch her, he was so still, and Bulma could have sworn that he was barely breathing.

She kept staring into his eyes, and the world could have exploded behind her, and she would still not have been able to look away from him.

“Vegeta,” she whispered softly, tentatively breaking the silence. He didn’t speak, but his hands slowly rose up to grasp her upper arms in answer.

His eyes started to burn with a feral intensity that Bulma now knew all too well. Vegeta was hungry, hungry for her, and before she even had the chance to gasp, he had pulled her to him, crushing her in his arms as his lips slanted possessively against her own.

Bulma immediately kissed him back, her tongue sliding between his teeth as his own greedily explored every crevice of her mouth. She moaned in delight as his hand began to roam her body, one hand resting on the small of her back as the other slid up and tangled between the blue strands of her hair.

His lips left hers and began to trail down her cheek, stopping momentarily to nip at the edge of her jaw, before planting a wet kiss onto her throat. She whimpered as he began to suck, his mouth leaving a trail of rapidly darkening marks onto her skin.

‘I should start wearing scarves. I’m getting too old to be showing off my hickeys,’ she thought in a daze, her hands dancing around his shoulders as she tried to grasp the hard muscles that she had now completely mapped out in her mind.

“Bulma,” she heard him groan, the sound of his voice filling her with a carnal kind of thrill, and she whispered his name in response.

He pulled away from her then, his lips moving away from her body so slowly that she thought he seemed reluctant to stop kissing her. He looked deep into her eyes again as he brought his hands down to grasp the bottom of his shirt, lifting it up and off him swiftly, and Bulma’s hungry eyes took in the familiar but eternally arousing view of his perfect torso.

‘He is so beautiful,’ she thought as she drank in the sight of the body of the man that was now, by all rights, hers.

He moved to grasp her hips, and Bulma was surprised when she realized that his hands were shaking slightly. She looked up at him in concern, but he silenced her questions with a gentle kiss, his lips lingering sweetly against her own as he slowly, tantalizingly lifted her night gown from her body.

His hands seemed to stop and start as he undressed her, lifting the hem of her dress above her hips, pausing there while he moved closer to plant a soft kiss on her shoulder. His hands moved again, pulling the cloth to bunch up below her breasts, as he moved his hot mouth to lick languidly around her collarbones. He pulled up again, this time completely freeing her of her clothing, and he dropped the gown to the floor before quickly encasing her soft body within his powerful arms, his lips once again seeking out her own.

She moaned into the kiss, completely aroused at his unusually tender movements. Her hands moved down to undo the button on his pants, but he stopped her as she began to pry the garment from him.

She pulled back from the kiss and looked at him questioningly, but he said nothing, and only held her by the waist as he slowly eased them both onto their bed. He had her partly on the bed, her knees hanging off the edge, and he kneeled down before her, his legs around her, his knees trapping her thighs closed.

Vegeta leaned down, his hands once again resuming their almost reverent trek around her body. He caressed her arms, his touch so soft and gentle that Bulma felt like he was paying homage to her body. He then propped himself up on one arm as he swooped down and captured her lips again, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he kissed back with gentle fervor. A groan escaped her as his other hand softly cupped and then teasingly squeezed her right breast.

She felt like putty in his hands, and she mewled as his kisses traveled lower. She felt him shift his legs to place one knee between her thighs, and her hands moved to stroke his upper back as he moved down to take one of her aching nipples into his hot mouth.

She hissed, getting more and more aroused by his actions, and she softly scraped her nails against his back. She knew that he loved her breasts, and she let go of him to pull her arms over her head to lift her bosoms just the way he liked it. He growled at her actions, his arms reaching up to hold her upper arms still as he kept smothering her breasts with his lips, sucking strongly enough to make her gasp and arch her chest to push her mounds further into his mouth.

He stopped worshipping her chest long enough to look up into her eyes and smirk at her, before he moved lower, nipping her stomach as his hands stroked her all the way from her breasts, down the sides of her waist, and down further to gently but firmly hold her hips.

He knelt on the floor now, as he slowly pulled her panties off of her, carelessly discarding the piece of cloth. He lifted her hips to the very edge of the bed, and his eyes met hers as he gently cupped her center, one finger moving to gently tap her clit.

She gasped in delight as the said finger began to slowly roll her bud around in a gentle motion that he knew both excited and frustrated her. She rolled her hips as her hands moved, one of them moving to clutch the sheets as the other grasped his hand that was still on her hip.

He inserted a finger into her then, and she whimpered his name, both still looking into each others’ eyes as he pleasured her with his hand.

A second finger joined in and Bulma groaned, no longer able to keep her eyes open as she threw her head back and panted from her husband’s actions.

“So wet for me. You are so ready for me, aren’t you, Bulma?” He whispered lasciviously as his other hand released her hip to join the one at her core. Bulma couldn’t even speak as she felt him open her with two fingers of one hand, and the other one pushed in to pleasure her more thoroughly. Her pants turned into moans as her hands lifted up to grasp the sheets beside her head, desperately looking for something to hold on to.

He increased the speed of his pumping fingers, and when a thumb joined in to vigorously roll her clit, the breathless sensation of an incoming orgasm began to wash over her, making her cry out.

Without stopping what he was doing, Vegeta leaned down and covered her core with his mouth, his tongue sweeping across her nether lips. His fingers moved out of her only to be replaced by his firm tongue, and Bulma cried out as he lapped at her relentlessly.

She peered down, the sight of his flame-haired head bobbing between her thighs so erotic that a shudder went through her body, pushing her closer to that wonderful edge.

Another lick, another press, and he pushed his fingers back inside her as his sinful mouth moved up, pressing the flat of his tongue against her button. His lips then wrapped around it and after one hard suck, Bulma screamed as a mind-numbing orgasm washed over her, her thighs shaking as she convulsed in pleasure.

Amidst her post-orgasmic haze, she watched Vegeta get up and oh, so slowly push his pants down his hips. Her starving eyes widened as he kicked the offending garment off, her mouth watering as she found that her naughty Saiyan had once again foregone underwear.

Vegeta crawled over her and Bulma eagerly used her arms to push herself up to lie down in the middle of the bed. When they had moved up enough that their whole bodies were now on the bed, she raised one arm to quickly push Vegeta to make him lie on his back.

He grinned at her, a cheeky lifting of one side of his lips, and he obediently fell onto his back.

She eagerly straddled him, leaning down to plant a breathless kiss on his lips. Her hands, hungry for his skin, moved greedily to stroke and caress every inch of him she could reach as her mouth moved downward, lapping at his chest, teasing and tasting the hard planes of his body.

Her hands reached below her, mapping a familiar path down to the tantalizing indentation between his abdomen and thighs. She traced the thin line of hair from the bottom of his stomach, a sexy trail leading to the part of him that no one on earth but her is allowed to see.

Her fingers wrapped around him. He was as thick and powerful here as the rest of his body, and as her fingers worked him, he released a strangled groan of pleasure as he lifted his head to look down at what her hands were doing to him. Up and down, she moved her hands, trying her hardest to fully wrap her small hands around the whole of him.

She could feel her breasts heave as she panted, as hearing the sounds of his pleasure, and knowing it was her who gave him pleasure, aroused her even more. She then leaned down and licked him, and he hissed, the sound dissolving into a growl as she took the tip of him into her mouth.

She sucked noisily, humming and moaning as she tasted his delicious essence on her tongue. She peered up at him, only to find him looking at her, his gaze focused on her as she took delight in pleasing him with her mouth.

She felt his member twitch, and suddenly, he had pulled her off of him, his arms wrapped around her once again as he pushed her to lie back down onto the bed. She blinked when he reached up and pulled down a pillow, and he lifted her head with a gentle hand on the back of her neck to place the soft linen under her head.

He crushed her to him again, his lips finding hers as their legs passionately tangled together. One of his large hands moved down to lift her left leg against his hips as he situated himself between her thighs, spreading her wide open.

He broke the kiss, looking intently into her eyes as one of his arms moved up beside her head, and he braced himself on an elbow as his fingers delved into her short hair.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face close to hers as his other hand moved down, and holding himself, guided his member into her waiting core.

“Vegeta!” She gasped as he slowly pushed in, his body stretching her insides so deliciously, and she greedily clasped onto his every inch as he entered her all the way to the hilt. His hips locked against her own, he groaned, a long drawn out sound of pleasured agony that sang to her heart and pulled a strangled moan from her own lips.

A hand moved to clutch her hip, the tips of his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her buttock as he still stubbornly refused to pump his hips. Instead of moving, he simply pressed their bodies closer together, pushing her deeper into the plush mattress with his body.

A sharp, almost physical ache formed in the pit of Bulma’s stomach as he continued to gaze at her, his eyes narrowed in concentration as his body pulsed within her, her own moving to clench sweetly against his delicious intrusion. She gasped as pleasure filled her, the sensation of their bodies simply melded together taking her breath away.

His hand in her hair moved down to gently cup her cheek, his eyes so unbelievably soft in that moment that Bulma had to choke back a sob. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

Then, he began to move.

He pulled back with his hips, but the rest of his body remained as flush against her own as possible. It was almost as if he needed to touch as much of her as he could, all at once. Bulma moved against him, taking his cue, grinding her hips against his own as she writhed against his wonderful body.

One hand snaked around her waist, pulling her even closer against him as they moved against each other. Deep, guttural moans escaped him, the pleasure making him grit his teeth, but he did not close his eyes, continuing to look only at her face.

Bulma, who did not possess nearly the same amount of control, had closed her eyes, his name escaping her lips in broken syllables that got more and more garbled by the minute.

“Oh- oh! Vegeta,” she panted breathlessly. She opened her eyes to gaze at him, the look in his eyes and the expression on his face overwhelming her completely. “Ah! You feel so good! You are so good! You are so beautiful, Vegeta… Oh!”

Soon enough, she was moaning incoherently, trying hard to keep her eyes locked onto Vegeta’s as he kept his face so close to hers that their breaths intermingled sweetly. His air was her air, his gasps were her gasps, and every exhaled endearment, sigh and wail was shared between them, both oblivious to anything other than each other.

He suddenly cursed, before he reared up and grabbed both of her hands, pulling them up by the wrists, until both of her arms were trapped above her head, his large hands swallowing her palms in his. Their fingers entwined, Vegeta braced a knee down as he moved against her vigorously, chasing that edge that was hovering only just out of their reach.

Bulma was breathing hard, almost sobbing, as her husband continued to pump in and out of her, his movements fast, but gentle and unhurried. He leaned down to plant a kiss between her brows and he strained against her, his heartbeat thrumming hard against her chest as they both neared that inevitable tumble into ecstasy.

Her body began to seize up, her toes curling in as her head arched up and off the pillow, her voice going hoarse as her whimpers melted into groans and her groans turned into screams.

‘I love you!’ she screamed in her head. She had never said those words to him yet, but she had known for years that she loved him with everything she was and more. She would die a thousand deaths to see him smile.

‘I love you, Vegeta!’ she thought deliriously as his body made love to her soul. His movements tonight made her want to shout the words out, but she caught herself getting tongue-tied around the unfamiliar words, and she keened a wordless plea for more, instead.

She said his name repeatedly, like a benediction falling from worshipful lips, and he answered back, her own name carelessly falling from his mouth as his barriers crashed down around them, broken into dust by the swirl of their emotions, the intensity of their lovemaking.

He ground his hips against hers, and a particularly hard twist broke her, sending Bulma spiraling into completion, his name echoing within the walls of their room as she screamed it with all of her heart.

She convulsed powerfully, the tremors going up and down her spine, and she had yet to come down from her high when she felt Vegeta begin to lose control above her, his hands grasping hers almost painfully as he chased his climax, until he finally reached it.

“Bulma!” he gasped out as his face contorted in near pain, his whole body shuddering against hers, and she felt his essence flood her deep inside.

He began to lose his balance, a shocking turn for the nimble alien warrior, and she slipped her hands from his loosening grasp to hold him gently around his chest, guiding his spent form down, and he, without hesitation, moved down to rest his head against her bosoms, his breath fanning harshly against her chest.

And Bulma, lost in the sensations of what had to be the most amazing sex of her life, grinned as she stroked his arms and basked in an amazing, nearly spiritual, afterglow.

8-8-8-8-8

Now, as Bulma felt Vegeta lift himself up to begin another round, she couldn’t help the shit-eating grin that spread across her face as he began to ravish her body once again.

Oh, he may not be able to say the words just yet, but she knew, deep in her heart, that he loved her too.

She was his wife now, and as he put it, “truly his”.

However, now, as he loved her with his body once again, she realized…

He was truly hers, too.  

8-8-8-8-8

END

[scarletraven1001]

Healing

He did not quite understand why, but perhaps the reasons were insignificant. All Vegeta knew for sure was that he needed Bulma to keep healing him, and that he wanted her to be his forever.

A prequel to Truly Mine. 

Seven-year gap fic, post-Cell.

An entry for @tpthvegebulsmutfest

Day 8 Bonus Prompt: Soft Caresses (One day late)

Also on AO3

8-8-8-8-8

Hello everyone!

I had the idea for this story right after posting Truly Mine, but I caught the flu and wasn’t able to finish it on time. Sorry if it is late!

I hope you all enjoy this little fic of mine, because I surely enjoyed writing it.

Thanks to all of the wonderful members of this fandom, this smutfest was so much fun and I look forward to the next time!

Smut ahoy! :D

8-8-8-8-8

Healing

8-8-8-8-8

Vegeta had been thinking about it for a long time. Perhaps a few months, but he was never quite sure if he should ask her.

He was also looking for a sign – any sign from the universe – to tell him that he was not insane to want to ask her for something like this.

He argued that it was logical to want such a thing. He had never experienced such an extended period of peace before… As much as he loved the thrill and devastation of battle, he apparently also appreciated quiet moments of contemplation, and partaking in meals that were much more palatable than military rations.

And as much as Vegeta was loathe to admit it, he discovered a part of him that was simply content with such a life.

Was it truly so ridiculous to desire a normal life after all the bullshit he had lived through? To not hate the dullness of days not filled with only war and gore?

Would he be considered sentimental if he admitted that he relished being able to slowly train a four-year-old son that was rapidly showing the potential that his future counterpart had already realized?

Would his brethren call him weak if they knew that he wanted to make Bulma his wife?

If Freeza had not destroyed Vegeta-sei, Vegeta knew that he would have been the planet’s ruler by now. He was more powerful than his father, and the older Vegeta would have handed the throne to him as soon as he exhibited his full strength. He would have been king, and would have been given the full pick of all the females in the planet to find a suitable queen.

However, that wasn’t how things had played out, but he did not regret not being granted a harem to choose from. There was only one female in the universe that he could imagine sharing a throne with, and that was the blue-haired hellion that shared his bed every night.

He knew that he wanted her. He wanted her to be there waiting for him at home whenever he left to train. He looked forward to talking to her, even during those times when all they did was bicker. He liked watching her when she was taking care of his son. And he certainly enjoyed their carnal activities far too much, a lot more than he was willing to admit.

He wanted her to be, unquestionably, his.

He knew that Earthlings had a ritual of sorts wherein they declared each other as formal mates before a crowd of gathered colleagues. A marriage, or wedding, they called it.

He had seen such a ceremony on the television before, on those “reality shows” that the Woman adored so much. They stood before a man in a large cloak and exchanged rings as a sign of their devotion.

He had not missed the slight sheen in her eyes as she peered at him out the corner of her eyes sometimes, after seeing such a spectacle unfold. She thought he didn’t know that she glanced at him whenever a proposal was shown on her programs.

He knew she would say yes, if he asked her to marry him.

But should he?

The sign finally came to him one day, as he was leaving the gravity room and heading to the kitchen for a snack.

The Woman was in the living room, on her phone, excitement pouring out of her as she chatted with one of her friends. They were talking about one of her silly television programs. He was about to walk past her when their conversation struck his interests and he decided to listen in, swiftly concealing himself behind a wall.

“Oh it was such a sweet wedding, wasn’t it, Launch?” she asked.

Vegeta heard the response through the phone, a soft timid voice. “Yes! It was so romantic! Jon was so dashing and Leslie was so beautiful! ”

“Oh my gosh, yes! The flowers, the beautiful dresses! And the wedding gown, I would kill to be able to wear something like that. Though I’d bet I’d look better in it than her!”

Soft laughter came from the phone at that. “Oh you probably will! When you ever do get married, Bulma, it would be an even bigger wedding than that one!”

Vegeta did not need to see his Woman to know that she had sobered at those words. The voice that came out was still just as cheerful as before, though.

“Yeah… maybe. If I ever get married. I’d always dreamed of having a large, grand wedding. With blue flowers everywhere… I’d wear a white dress with blue accents, maybe blue shoes just to mix things up!”

“Oh yes!” the other girl gushed. “And your adorable little Trunks would be your ring bearer. And Vege- oh Chaotzu, put that cat down, you know I’m allergic! I- ah-ah…”

“Oh no,” Bulma whispered.

“AAAHHH-CHOOOO!”

Bulma seemed hesitant when she spoke again. “Umm… Launch? You ok?”

“Bloomers?” a different voice answered, huskier than the one before. Vegeta wondered what happened to the other girl.

“Yeah, it’s me,” and Vegeta knew she was rolling her eyes.

“Hey, what’s up?” the new voice asked again.

“Oh, nothing. Just called to say hello. Well, I gotta go now. It’s about time for Trunks’ snack, and he gets cranky if he doesn’t get to eat.”

“Well alright. Squish his cute little cheeks for me, will ya? And pinch your man’s tight round cheeks for me, too.”

“Launch!” Bulma laughed, scandalized, and Vegeta wondered why the other woman thought his cheeks were tight and round. As far as he knew, his face was rather sharp and severe.

“I’ll see ya round, Bloomers.”

“Yeah sure. Bye,” Bulma replied as she put the phone down.

Vegeta decided to spy on her then, and as he peered at her through the side of the wall, he was taken aback by the dejected look in her eyes. She sat down on the couch and heaved a large sigh, and he could tell that the conversation she had with this Launch person had upset her.

He realized then that she wanted to get married. She dreamed of being a part of those celebrations with dancing and cake and large puffy dresses.

Vegeta knew his limits. He could not handle more than the bare minimum social interactions, but he still would like to have her become his wife.

He hesitated at the thought of a large gathering, but looking at how wistful she now looked as she looked out the window in the direction of his training room, he knew that she would be pleased if he asked her. That she would agree if he asked her.

A strong pounding rhythm started in his chest as he gazed at her, the sunlight streaming in through the window hitting her cheeks in just the right angle that she looked nearly ethereal.

He was not sure about what these nagging feelings of need, of want, were that kept pestering him to make her smile, but what he did know was that he wanted her to lose the apprehension in her eyes whenever talk of marriage rang within their vicinity.

The Woman lacked for nothing, and that was normally a good thing as he, Prince he may be, had nothing material to offer her. He had only himself to give, and he knew that if she had him, truly had him, she would be happy. He was not so daft as to not know that the woman wanted him, too.

All he had was his pride, his honor… and was it not dishonorable to keep a woman that was not his?

Right then, he decided… She will become his wife.

8-8-8-8-8

A half-assed plan started forming in his mind right after they had their evening meal. Bulma was smiling again, patiently wiping at a belligerent Trunks who insisted on placing his food in and around his mouth.

She laughed at the boy’s silly antics, and the sight of her happiness struck a nearly painful shard into his heart. She was so vibrant, so beautiful, so kind… she deserved to be happy at all times.

He excused himself early, and Bulma looked surprised as she looked up between him and his not-quite-empty plate.

“Is everything alright, Vegeta?” she asked in concern.

“Yes, everything is fine,” he replied. When she looked unconvinced, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and added “I am simply tired from training today. I wish to retire early.”

“If you’re sure,” she muttered.” I’ll just give Trunks a bath, then I’ll be up there with you, ok?”

“Good night, Papa!” his son chimed in, waving at Vegeta as he stiffly climbed the stairs.

‘The boy should have an official title,’ he mused absently, knowing that a marriage would benefit him in that sense, as well.

He took a quick shower while Bulma was away, then quickly dried himself and put on a pair of soft boxers. Before heading to bed, however, he went into the closet and reached for a small box that he had tucked at the very back. He opened the box, and in it, he fished out the piece of cardboard that held his last absent-minded doodling of the royal Saiyan crest.

He looked at it intently, and he knew that he wanted Bulma to bear his crest after they were married. But how?

He thought back to all the things he knew about a human union, and he knew that he needed the crest to be discreet, but significant, in the ceremony.

‘The rings,’ he suddenly remembered, and he grinned as the solution came to him. He would have the crest emblazoned onto the rings. After all, the rings were to be the symbol of their union, and he wanted their marriage to be guided by the royal Saiyan name. An earthling union, taking over the Saiyan throne.

The woman’s mother, who thrived in buying nonsense that she placed all around the house, should have the resources to ensure that the crest can be placed onto the jewelry.

He pulled the cardboard out before he closed the lid of the box and placed it back in its place as he felt Bulma’s ki approach the bedroom. He stuck the drawing of the crest under the mattress of the bed, planning to retrieve it the next day, after Bulma agreed to become his wife.

After all, before planning the logistics of a wedding, he should probably ask her first, shouldn’t he?

He sat down on the edge of their bed, trying his best to look nonchalant while just stiffly sitting and doing nothing.

Bulma entered their room, her eyes immediately seeking him out as her forehead furrowed in concern.

“There you are,” she smiled, approaching him carefully, her hand already lifting to touch him. She was a smart woman, and Vegeta knew that she could tell that something irregular was going on.

Her gentle touch on his shoulder sent tingles through his whole body, her lips now pursed as she studied him from head to toe.

“Vegeta, are you sure you’re alright? You seem on edge,” she asked, her other hand reaching up to place itself against his bare chest.

The soft caress of her caring hands woke something primal within him as he looked up, a fierce possessiveness taking hold of him as he held her hand against his chest, looking up to gaze deeply into her eyes, looking for the reasons behind his desire to have her only to himself.

“I am fine, Bulma,” he whispered, and one of her eyebrows lifted in question at his soft tone. “Go on and take your shower. I will be right here waiting for you to come to bed.”

She looked quizzically at him but did as she was told. A few minutes later, a freshly washed Bulma emerged from their bathroom, wrapped tightly in a fluffy blue towel.

A strong pulse resonated from within Vegeta’s chest as he followed her movements across the room with his eyes. He could feel his body begin to heat up as he stared at her, seeing her naked curves even through the towel as the image of her nude form was now irrevocably emblazoned into his mind.

She turned to head for the cabinets to fetch some clothes, but Vegeta quickly stood up, and before Bulma had the chance to open the cabinet, he had her pinned to the wall, her back against his chest, her arms trapped by his own as he turned his nose down to her neck to take a deep breath of her scent.

“Ve-Vegeta?” she asked breathlessly, turning her head to regard him out of the corner of her eye.

He caught her gaze as she did, and very slowly leaned down, deliberately making his now harsh breaths fan across the side of her lips.

“You don’t need to get dressed, woman,” he breathed out, and he felt a shudder run through her at his words. “For what I have planned for you tonight, you won’t be needing any clothes.”

He turned her then, making her gasp at the swift motion and ferocity of his movements. He swallowed any words she may have said with his hungry mouth, his tongue urgently sweeping in to dominate her own, while his hands moved to divest her of the towel and forcefully pull off his shorts, feeble barriers to his ardent attentions.

He grabbed her by the hips, hauling her up, not breaking their kiss. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, as he brought one hand down to cup her buttock, pulling her flush against him. One of his arms wrapped possessively around her waist, his large hands spread wide across her back.

He groaned as her core rubbed tantalizingly against his lower abdomen, and a small whimper escaped her when he tried to pull her even closer, his chest rubbing against her sensitive breasts.

He pulled her away from the wall, stumbling towards their bed as Bulma began to cling longingly to him, her long nails leaving thin welts along his upper back.

He braced one knee against the corner of their bed before falling onto it back first, Bulma releasing a small “umph” against his lips when she landed on top of him.

He then rolled them over so we was atop her, his elbow bracing his weight while his hand remained grasping her back, hugging her close to him. He groaned into her mouth before pulling back from the kiss to look at the woman.

His woman.

He looked at her through hooded eyes, taking in her heaving chest and swollen lips, and he finally figured out the reason why he wanted her in his life for good.

He knew now, and the knowledge hit him like a ki blast straight to his chest. He finally understood, but saying it, even within the confines of his mind, seemed so ridiculously out of character for him that he had to physically shake his head to get rid of the thought.

But of one thing he was sure, and this much he was willing to admit: He wanted to make her his wife, because he wanted her to be his.

He looked back into her eyes as she raised a hand to his cheek, the tentative touch, the soft caress of her fingers simultaneously destroying his barriers and strengthening his resolve.

He kissed her again, this time a soft touch of his lips against her own, as his hand cupped her breast, gently kneading the soft globe as she arched, throwing her head back in delight.

A soft moan escaped her and he delighted in the beautiful sound of her voice. He watched her throat bob, her voluptuous chest heaving more heavily as the hand on her breast moved to trace a path down her stomach, leading to her waiting center.

He used his knee to spread her thighs, his questing hand headed unerringly to that glorious part of her that only he had the right to claim. He cupped her with his hand while his mouth swallowed her moans, keeping the sounds of her pleasure for himself.

He used two fingers to spread her open, and his middle finger delved carefully into her damp center. She hissed in pleasure as his lips left hers to taste the sweetness of her neck, and he laved her throat with open mouthed kisses as he penetrated her core with a single digit.

She keened in delight as he moved his hand in circular motions, his finger feeling around her inner walls. His lips found her nipple and he sucked the pink bud into his mouth, toying with it until it was red and aching.

He played with her nether regions until her breaths had that stunted rhythm that told him that she was close. He reared up and kissed her again, and she whined his name against his lips as his thumb pressed insistently against that hard nub above her opening.

“Aaaah… Vegeta, I- I…” she stuttered as his lips left hers, and he realized that he too was breathing hard, painfully aroused by the way her fingers clutched desperately at his wide back. One of her hands had reached up to tug at his hair as her hips bucked against his hand, chasing the release that they both knew was just out of her reach.

“Come for me Bulma,” he panted, his breathy demand fanning across her face as he pressed his forehead against her, wanting to be as close to her as possible as he watched her face contort with her pleasure.

His voice seemed to help her reach her breaking point as her whole body spasmed, her body squeezing his fingers in a loving grip as she arched her back and screamed her release.

Her voice, full of passion and longing, was a balm on his soul, soothing his chaotic thoughts, and he wanted nothing more than to be deep inside her right now.

He pulled away from her body slightly as the hand that had pleasured her reached up to grasp himself. He rubbed himself against her nether lips, the sensation sending shivers up and down his back, and he growled low in his throat as he began to push in.

He looked back up at her face as he entered her, purposely moving as slowly as he could bear so he could relish each inch of her as he pushed in.

He was already breathless with longing as he observed her while she watched his body sink into her. Her eyes were narrowed, intent on watching them become one, watching him claim her body as he would soon claim her name.

As he secretly wished to claim her heart.

When he was fully seated inside her, she looked up at him again, and the look in her eyes at that very moment melted him from the inside. She looked so dazed, almost awed, her mouth open slightly, her throat pulled in as she took shallow breaths through the haze of pleasure that he was putting her through.

She looked so absolutely besotted by him that he had to close his eyes against the onslaught of feelings that swept over him.

He could do nothing but brace himself on the bed, hands planted firmly beside her head, as he finally began to move within her.

He started a slow and steady rhythm that had her mewling in delight beneath him. She closed her eyes, utterly vulnerable, entrusting her frail body to his powerful one.

Her hands traveled gently up and down his body while her legs wrapped firmly around his hips. She was fighting to meet his every thrust, her head thrown back in ecstasy as her body undulated erotically with his movements.

He wanted to lose control, but the soft caress of her hands all over him made him calm down enough to take it slow.

He was straining against her, fighting an inner battle with the demons of his past as he tried to reconcile what he had come to feel for her with the evil man he had known himself to be.

The Vegeta he knew was not someone who cared… Not someone who delighted in long kisses and languid touches. He was not someone who patiently pleasured a woman as her sounds pushed him to arousal. He was selfish, angry, vengeful and malicious.

But as he moved with Bulma, writhed almost desperately against her softness, he began to understand that the Vegeta that he had known had changed.

That the Vegeta that he was, had been changed by her.

He should hate it. Should rage at how soft he had found himself becoming.

But as he watched her wail in agonized rapture beneath him, he knew he could never begrudge her for what she had done for him.

She had begun to heal him. The physical scars of his past would forever mark his skin, but the woman he was holding, loving with his body, was trying to heal the scars that had marred his spirit.

His heart pounded harder against his chest at his realizations, and he moved with her with a desperate urgency, wanting to reach her soul with his actions.

“Ah! Bulma,” he gasped, leaning down onto his elbows so he could kiss her lips, her hair, her cheeks.

Her whole body was flushed a lovely shade of red, and the vision of such a beautiful creature straining against his body made his control snap, and of their own accord, his hips began to piston in and out of her in strong, powerful thrusts.

“Vegeta!” she moaned, the end of his name muffled as she bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. One of his hands reached up to gently wipe the blood away, and he stuck his finger in his own mouth to taste the life essence of the woman who had shared his bed for the past five years.

Closer… closer… he wanted, needed, to be closer to her.

One of his arms reached down to hook one of her legs around his elbow, opening her wider so she can feel more of his passion.

She cried out at the change, her previously gently questing hands now clinging tightly to his neck, his stomach, his arms… pulling his hair, her nails scratching thin trails across his back.

She was so close… so close. He could feel it in the way she tightened sweetly around his body, could hear it in the way his name sounded less and less like a word and more and more like moans and pleading whines.

He reached down with one hand to press against her clit, and Bulma finally exploded, screaming his name so loudly that he knew he would hear it all the way into his soul.

He strained against her then, and he heard her whisper encouragements and endearments into his ear as he raced to the finish, to join her in rhapsody.

“Vegeta… give it to me. Let me feel you. Come for me,” she breathed.

And suddenly, he was lost.

He cried out, his head thrown back as he reached that amazing zenith that only Bulma could take him to.

His head was empty, but his heart was overflowing as he shuddered in a powerful orgasm. In that moment in time, there was nothing else that mattered except for her… Nothing except Bulma.  

He was still shaking as he came down from his high, and he pushed up with arms that felt like jelly so he could move to lay beside her on the bed.

She too was still panting, but she turned to him with a grin.

“Wow! That was amazing!” she gushed, a dreamy smile on her face. “Really, that was something else! You have outdone yourself, mister!” Bulma added with a giggle as she turned on her side to rest her head on his chest.

Vegeta just grinned back at her, as one of his arms slowly snaked beneath her to hold her close to himself. He found himself unable to stop touching her.

His hands, so used to bringing pain and destruction, were now leaving reverent, soft caresses all over her arms, back and sides.

She curled up against him, her breathing already evening out as her exhausted body geared up to go to sleep, and Vegeta closed his eyes, ready to join her.

His last thoughts as he drifted off to slumber were, ‘Tomorrow. I will ask her tomorrow.’

8-8-8-8-8

End

[malliebuu]

Escort Service

Day 2: Heated Glances

Created for: @tpthvegebulsmutfest

 Author’s Note: All of my 2017 October Smutfest prompts are linked. Previous and future prompts will be tagged at the bottom of each submission for easy navigation. Thanks for reading!

 …

 …

 Bulma laughed loudly, reaching out her palm to cup Juu’s. Her bodacious blonde friend playfully danced without a care in her red bottom pumps, extending her palm to gain a dance partner. The blonde winked saucily at her, attempting to pull her up from her seat. The azure haired woman, reluctant, shook her head and pulled her palm back, attempting to glue her rear end to the bar stool. She was fearful as to what her friend had planned. It was never good when a particular look was plastered upon her face. She was up to no good.

 “You need to dance. That is your third vodka tonic! There is NO way you aren’t feeling good enough to dance.” Juu’s voice shouted over the intense thunder of the speakers. The DJ had just begun, triumphantly wooing the crowd. The quiet dance floor was now brimming with boisterous noise and gyrating forms.

 “Your hair looks amazing, that top and your sexy skirt has all the men staring. Why not shake that ass!” Juu pulled hard, forcing her to stumble upward.

 Bulma pulled her fitted skirt down, as she tucked a strand behind her ear, “Giving me no choice, huh?”

 “What?” Juu asked, cupping her ear.

 ..

I know you heard me…

..

 Bulma wasn’t amused. Though, amusement wasn’t slacking a few feet from them. Chi-chi was bouncing innocently all over the dancefloor with her full beer cupped tightly in her palm. A squeal of delight echoed, though, no one noticed. The bodies crowding them were so far inebriated that emitted loud noises were a typical and frequent occurrence.

 “I am so happy to see you dancing!” Chi grinned childishly, her cheeks rosy and eyes glossy.

 “Dance with me, lady. You’re my girlfriend tonight,” Juu whispered in Bulma’s ear.

 “I am totally fine with that,” Bulma agreed, raising her palms high in the air as her favorite radio hit came on-- as if it were fate.

..

 Dance like nobody's watching… you deserve this. Fuck him anyway...I don’t need him to be happy…

 ..

 Bulma grinned playfully, feeling her liquid luck take hold. She was, no doubt, flushed. Even though she had minimal clothing on her body, a sheen layer of sweat was already forming on her body due to the closeness of each rocking body. Not to mention, she was liberating herself and enjoying the art of dance to the fullest.

 Juu forced Bulma forward, taking her by the hips and rolling them in a seductive rhythm. Chi-chi followed suit and gripped Juu’s mid-section as the girls sang along and danced to the rhythm of the beat. They continued this way for through three songs. If it wasn’t for the liquor, Bulma’s feet would have been noticeably screaming at this point, but thanks to this little ingredient she felt absolutely nothing and walking in her stilettos was a piece of cake.

 “Anyone need a refill? This one's on me. You already bought dinner, and all three rounds. I need to do something for you two!”

 “B,” Juu scolded, placing her palms on her hips, planting her foot dramatically.

 “Ah! Nope! Don’t do that. Chi, what will it be! Juu, you look thirsty.” The blue haired woman pulled her cash free from her bra and took a few steps backwards, not giving them nearly enough time to answer.

 “I need another Corona.” Chi shouted quickly, turning and resuming her ridiculous dance poses.

 Juu raised a brow, crossing her arms over her ample cleavage, “Surprise me.”

 “That is a dangerous game you are playing, lady!” Bulma pointed.

 “I’ll survive,” The blonde stuck out her tongue.

 “We shall see.” Bulma mocked.

 Turning on her heal, Bulma drifted up to the fluorescent blue bar lip and leaned forward, arms pressed tightly to the sticky surface. She pulled back, resting her palms there instead, hiding her disgust well. She wasn’t surprised. She raised a finger to alert the bartender she was ready with her order. The female nodded her acknowledgment and held up her own finger as she finished filling two pints of beer and pushed them toward the throng of people.

 “I need a Corona and two shots-- jagerbombs, please.” She opened her palm, holding her cash and counted her large bills. She usually only carried credit on her, but the bars these ladies took her to were cash bar only. She had be sure she brought smaller bills... Keeping it below the bar, Bulma quickly counted how much cash she had on her. She had completely forgotten she didn’t leave her larger bills at home. Fear consumed her as she realized she didn’t bring anything lower than a fifty. Her eyes slowly ascended, watching the women who had already begun her order.

 ..

Shit…

..

 “Um, excuse me! Can you break a hundred, or a fifty?” Worry engulfed her.

 The bartender glanced up as she topped the jagerbombs with red bull. Her shots fizzed and bubbled, nearly spilling over the edge. The bartender broke her concentration and her pursed her lower lip, “Um, I don’t think we take anything over a twenty.”

 “You’re kidding right?!” Bulma retorted rudely.

 “You’re all good, though.” The bartender shouted over the bustling noise erupting from behind her.

“What do you mean?” She asked, offering her a quizzical look.

 “They were taken care of.”

 Bulma’s chin pulled back as she pursed her lips, glancing over her shoulder as her two friends were still dancing on the floor, paying no mind to what she was currently doing at the bar top.

 “Who--”

 “Here you go. Do you want lime for the Corona?” She inquired quickly, taking notice that five more bodies were now crowding her work space. The bartender’s attention was quickly dwindling.  

 “Uh, sure.” She shook her azure crown, carefully lifting her shots and gripped the neck of the Corona bottle.

 Her eyes scanned the bar top, carefully looking over the congregation of bodies. Her blue gaze skimming until they fell on the heated gaze of one person in particular. Where most were in their own world, enjoying the nightlife, this individual stood out. His eyes were calm, yet calculating. He was watching-- he seemed to be good at observing. She watched as he sat quietly upon a bar stool closest to the wall, avoiding the boisterous mess that was currently bombarding the four bartenders working tirelessly to dish out their alcoholic beverages.

 She paused a moment, lips parting. He glanced upon her unblinking. His fingers carefully stroked the stem of his martini glass as he tilted his head to the side and offered a soft toying grin. Bulma pursed her lower lip, presenting a soft grin of her own. Quickly Bulma turned on her heel and headed as far away from the bar as she could before anyone could stop her to tell her they were mistaken about her free drinks. Not only that, but she was fearful the culprit, or in better terms, the pantie-chaser, would decide to follow her to the dance floor-- only to further disrupt her evening. It must have been pretty clear that she was perturbed because Juu read her like a book when she arrived back.  

 “What is wrong?” Juu asked, cupping the shot Bulma offered her carefully in her palms. Chi-chi wasn’t paying attention, she gripped the neck of her beer bottle and drifted off into the black abyss.

 “Nothing? Why?” Bulma shook her head, releasing an amused chuckle. She tried desperately to relieve her face of any residual tension.

 “You look... disturbed?”

 “How do I look like that? I am having fun, remember?” Bulma retorted quickly, raising her shot to alert her prying friend she was ready to take the damn thing.

 “You are totally lying. What gives?” Juu grinned playfully, looking her up and down. She took notice to how tense she had grown.

 “We had our drinks paid for.” She quickly blurted.

 “Ok, so what? Was the guy or girl good looking? ” Juu glanced over Bulma’s shoulder. Bulma placed a palm to her forehead, feeling overwhelmingly embarrassed, “We need to at least thank them.”

 “Juu! No!” Bulma begged, placing a palm to her shoulder, forcing her friend backward as she took deliberate steps toward the clamorous bar. The jolt created by her blue haired friend only slightly disrupting her stance. Juu released a loud, playful laugh, wrapping a arm around her friend’s neck and placing a soft kiss to her rosy cheek.

 Bulma frowned, not at all pleased by this attempt, “I told you I didn’t want to do that this evening. Don’t force me to speak to someone. I am still…” Her eyes softened.

 Juu placed her palms to her friends round cheeks and shook her head, “Honey, you need to get over Yamcha. You aren’t allowing yourself that. I am not asking you to disrespect yourself. I am just asking you to have a little fun.”

 “I don’t think this is the time or pla…”

 “B, stop. I am just saying. Live a little. You are out and about for the first time in months. Are you having fun?” Juu asked, stroking her friend’s blue locks behind her ears.

 “Yes, very much so.”

 “Ok then, just keep having fun. I would never allow you, or force you, to do anything that would force you down a silly path like… well… you know.”

 ..

 Like the one I took when I fell for Yamcha?

 ..

 Bulma felt her hardened features relax. Juu was right. She need to relax. She wouldn’t ever be able to move on and resume her life if she kept thinking about all the things she could have done, been,  or what she needed to ‘fix’. Yamcha had made up his mind. He had left her. He had left her for someone else and was very clear that he had no intentions of getting back together. The little voice in her head, the voice that kept her stationary, would whisper in the back of her mind that this was typical. That he would be back and she would, again, be in the comfort of this…’relationship’.

 ..

 Facade…

 It was a facade…

 ..

 “Which one do you think bought us the drinks? We really should express our gratitude?” Juu asked, pulling her friend flush with her voluptuous frame.

 Bulma shook her head, nodding to the flame haired man seated in the shadows, eyeing the two women carefully. He looked to be on his second martini.

 “Martini drinker, huh? He has a nice, masculine face. That jaw line, B. So,” Juu paused, gripped her friend’s arm, “What are you waiting for?”

 “I am not waiting for anything.” Bulma gaped.

 Juu turned, raising her shot glass in the air and nodded to him. She nudged her friend in the ribs. Bulma released a squeak of surprise, raising her own glass high in the air, providing her gratitude. If it was even him.

 Her onyx haired admirer straightened his back, leaning back against the wood paneled wall, flashed a grin and nodded.

 “It was him.” Juu chuckled, “To a great night!” She shouted, standing straight to face the uncomfortable woman at her right.

 “A great night,” Bulma reiterated. The blonde clanked her shot glass. Instantaneously both women downed their delicious shots, basking in the sweet burn traveling down their throats and warming their bellies.

 The cerulean haired woman opened her blue orbs, licking her lips and glanced over Juu’s shoulder, making eye contact with the dark haired mystery man still watching her. Why was he by himself, anyway? Was he meeting someone here? Did he get stood up? Even if that wasn’t his story, Bulma couldn’t help but pity the loneliness she felt when she watched him keeping to himself and drinking quietly in the corner of this rowdy bar scene.

 “You want another one?”

 “No,” Bulma said softly, handing her empty shot glass to Juu, “Hold this.”

 “What are you doing?” The blond asked, befuddled as she watched her friend prim herself.

 “I’ll be right back.”

 “Are you going to talk to him?” Juu gasped, feeling a sense of pride, “Bulma, are you going to answer me?”

 Bulma pushed passed her baffled friend and walked toward the empty side of the bar where he sat. She couldn’t believe she was actually allowing her legs to carry her where he was sitting. He didn’t look her way, not once as she seductively walked toward him. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Bulma stood in front of the man who so generously bought their drinks. Her hip propped against the bar lip as she leaned forward, pressing her breasts to her crossed arms.

 “I take it you enjoyed your drinks?” A deep voice beckoned her immediate attention to her right.

 Bulma glanced up surprised, eyes widening and her lips dropping open as if attempting to find the right words to respond.

 His dark eyes shifted upward as he took a swig of his beverage. He was sizing her up, she could feel his heated glance sliding across each curve of her body.

 Since he felt the need to size her up, she couldn’t help but return the favor. Her eyes curiously maneuvered across the damp bar top until they fell upon his relaxed form. He was wearing sophisticated get-up. The top bottom of his dress shirt was undone, offering her a glimpse of, what looked like, a chiseled torso. Catching her eyes lingering too long on his physique, she moved her line of vision toward the busy bar top instead. Her cheeks instantly blushed. What was she, and untired virgin? He probably thought her feeble attempts of conversation pathetic.  Though, she had made her worthless trek all the way over to him. She wasn’t about to back down now. Nope. She would look even more pathetic.

 “Do you want to dance with us?” She inquired, without much thought. She didn’t want to look his way. She was genuinely afraid to see what his response was to her innocent question. It would be in the expression, which is why she avoided looking directly upon him.

 “Dance?” He asked, leaning forward as if whispering a secret.

 “Yes,” Her eyes drifted back toward him, boldly looking him in the eye.

 To her shock his soft chuckle was followed him an unexpected response,“As long as I get to dance with just you at some point.” He said after a long pause.

 Bulma felt an intense wave of pleasure roll through her as his silken voice caressed over her like the softest of fingertips.

 “Is that ok?” His thick brow raised.

 “Yes,” She breathed.

 “Then what are we waiting for?” He asked, watching her from over the rim of his martini glass.

 ..

 ..

 Up next: Just This Once

..

..

:Day 1_ Day 2_ Day 3_ Day 4_ Day 5_ Day 6_ Day 7_ Bonus Day 8_ 

Bonus Day 9:

[novaliane-san]

Sketch made for the 2017 October Vegebul Smutfest hosted by @tpthvegebulsmutfest

[novaliane-san]

Sketch made for the 2017 October Vegebul Smutfest hosted by @tpthvegebulsmutfest