Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Prompted VegetaBulma ❯ Worries Erased ( Chapter 9 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Oneshot prompt was: "Bliss".
Disclaimer: I do NOT own DBZ or any of the characters. They belong to Akira Toriyama.


It had only taken a little over forty years of his life, but he was finally “happy”. He had finally come to terms that Kakarot would always be one step ahead of him. Something that had always plagued his mind, and kept him on edge for so many years. Finally being able to let it go after all these years almost made him feel lighter.

Of course after all he’d went through with Buu was a real eye-opener. He’d actually done something…selfless, and it hadn’t even helped the situation. He’d willingly sent himself to Hell, and it was all in vain. Then only to be summoned back to try to defeat Buu yet again, and to run into Kakarot who had somehow regained his life.

He gave a low growl at his thoughts. If Kakarot hadn’t been there, though, Earth would’ve been destroyed. He never would’ve regained his life, not that it mattered to him. No, his life was worthless and pathetic compared to theirs. It was the only reason he had done everything he could to destroy that pink blob.

“There you are, Vegeta,” her voice cut through the haze of thoughts.

“Where else would I be?” He looked up at her as she approached the bed.

She gave him a soft smile. “Well, I looked in the GR. That’s usually where you’re at, remember? Do you need to talk about anything?” she asked as she swept a hand through his coarse hair.

“No.” He caught her wrist and pulled her on his lap. “I was just thinking.”

She giggled and rubbed her nose against his. “That’s never a good thing.”

He didn’t respond, just ran a hand over her short blue locks, before leaning over to rest his nose against her neck. He subtly took in her scent. It was something he did a lot these days and determined that he would never get his fill of it.

Her arms locked around his neck as she shifted closer to him. She wanted to ask what he was doing and why he was behaving so oddly, but she was afraid of scaring away his new found gentleness toward her.

“Where’s the boy?” he breathed against her neck. His hands lowered to cup her bottom, and press her fully against him.

She gave him a soft moan, her lips finding his ear. “Does it really matter?”

He chuckled before giving her neck a quick lick. “I don’t feel like being interrupted. I may accidentally kill the boy if he comes barging in or banging on the door again.”

“Vegeta,” she scolded as she pulled her head back to look at him.

He gave her a sinister smirk. “He’s not let us have a moment’s peace. It’s starting to getting old.”

“Well, he only wants to spend time with his father. I figured you’d be happy that he’s actually excited about being trained.”

“Tch. I normally would be, woman.” He turned his head to the side, ignoring her curious eyes. “It’s just that I haven’t had any time with you. Every time I try, he appears out of no where,” he grit out.

Her hands played with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Well, he went over to the Son’s for the night. Said something about wanting to try a new technique with Goten or something,” she said airily.

His hands cupped her face, his thumbs smoothing over her cheeks. His normally hardened expression softened. “Good,” was all he said before attacking her lips with his own.

His kiss was hard and bruising but passionate, and Bulma pressed her body as close as she could to his own. One of his hands moved to the back of her head, keeping her lips sealed over his as he lay back. Her eyebrows raised and she moaned at the submissive position he was taking. Of course with his hand holding her head, she got the very big hint that she should not do or say anything to ruin the moment.

She straddled his hips and ground against him. Her hands moving from around his neck, over his shoulders, to finally stop at his upper chest. She pushed lightly, and he finally loosened his hold on her head. She looked down at him, licking her lips.

She was so used to his roughness. He would usually just toss her on the bed and take control. Even if he did let her on top to ride him, his hands would control the movement and speed of her hips. Of course she never complained because he’d always made sure that she was more than satisfied at the end of their sessions.

Now, though, his expression was soft. There weren’t any frown marks lining his face and his eyebrows weren’t knitted together. “I love you,” she spoke softly before dipping back down to kiss him lightly.

He once again cupped her face with both hands and pushed her face back from his. He couldn’t say those words, and she knew it. So he kept his intense gaze locked with hers. He watched as she took a breath and held it, probably worried that she’d said the wrong thing.

It wasn’t like it was the first time she’d said those words to him. No, he’d heard them quite often in the last seven years. Every time she’d used them, he’d always given her a cold shoulder or just ignore them. In the last few years, though, he’d just accepted them and usually rolled his eyes or scoffed at her.

“Bulma,” his voice low and soft. His eyes lit with lust and some new found emotion.

She smiled and fell on him, hugging him. She couldn’t contain her happiness at that one word, his acknowledgement of his feelings for her.

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She snuggled closer to him, pressing her lips against his sweaty chest. He lightly ran a hand up and down her spine, blissfully unaware of the look she was directing up at him.

Too caught up in his thoughts at how well everything had turned out. How’d they’d gotten over the hump of his outbreak at the tournament. He’d not been surprised that she was angry and even a little frightened when they’d returned home those few weeks ago. After they’d put Trunks to bed, she’d confronted him about it, and he hadn’t wanted to tell her anything. Of course, she always had a way to make him give her some kind of answer, and he had been sure that she was using Trunks to avoid him after she’d gotten his dark answer.

So, as he now lay with her in the afterglow of the re-consummating of their relationship, he couldn’t be happier with the way things had turned out.

“Vegeta, I was thinking.” Her fingers worked a path over his chest, circling his nipples.

He looked down at her, watching as she bit her bottom lip. This could not be good.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to give Trunks a little brother or sister.” A hesitant look on her face.

The blissful bubble that had surrounded him suddenly popped at her words. His face settled back into it’s usual scowl, his muscles hardened, and his hand stopped it’s soothing caress on her back. “You want another brat?!” he all but shouted.

She pulled back slightly, taking him in. This was the Vegeta she knew and loved, not that she didn’t enjoy the free reign he’d just given her, but that wasn’t who he was. “Yeah. It would be really nice if we could have a girl,” she said in a neutral voice.

“A girl?” He didn’t want to burst any dreams but…. “Having a female offspring is very rare for Saiyans.”

“Hm, well it’s a good thing I’m not Saiyan.”

He watched as her eyes got that glow in them, telling him that she was set on her decision. “You won’t get upset if it turns out to be another boy,” he told her firmly, knowing damn well that she had her heart set on having a girl.

She ran a hand up his neck and rubbed his cheek, while her other hand traveled lower on his stomach. “I won’t. I’m just glad we have the opportunity to make another one.”