bulma and vegeta fanfiction
Yaoiii xd No quiero saber que tipo de Yaoi 0. The light in the bathroom clicked off, and Vegeta stepped naked into the dark room. You have to like, take care of them you know. When I see him, I tend to think it's true. Vegeta headed to the bar and ordered a Vodka.
“At the right Moment” new Cover
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A favor En contra 5 15 votos. A favor En contra 5 5 votos. A favor En contra 5 21 votos. A favor En contra 4 4 votos. A favor En contra 3 3 votos. Desperate, almost anxious for any kind of attention Vegeta had managed to get into more scrapes than anyone thought humanly possible. All had given up on Vegeta. Maybe Kakarot was his birth name. His happy-go-lucky attitude had gotten him out of some tough situations and thrown into others.
All the while the man on the other side of the punching bag had been by his side, either fighting alongside him or punching Goku in the face.
Chichi was already mad when I left. Vegeta nodded, picking up his cell phone from the top of his gym bag. After a few seconds of staring at it he grunted and put it back down. The apartment was dead silent when he entered, the air smelling of the food Bulma had brought over from the restaurant.
Vegeta swallowed, then turned down the hallway towards his room. Maybe in the morning. Showering with the water as cold as possible distracted his mind, but that only lasted for as long as the shower did. The moment he stepped out, the heaviness settled back into his thoughts. Maybe sleep would help. After laying awake and staring at the ceiling for half-an-hour, he realized that it would only be her that occupied his dreams that night.
And that made him uncomfortable. What were his feelings for her? Bulma was very pretty, so there was that, obviously. And she was smart. And kind to him, as he was to her. His phone was charging on the nightstand beside him. The two would normally text until she fell asleep.
It made him feel hollow inside without that contact. Quickly, he put the phone back on the nightstand, tucking his hands behind his head. Why was his heart racing?
Bulma always responded to his texts. Was she angry with him? She had every right to be if he was being honest with himself. What a selfish asshole he was. Gawked at her like some clueless, love sick teenager-.
Then the incoming text bubble appeared. Vegeta inhaled loudly, sitting straight up in bed, completely transfixed at the silly gray bubbles.
Everything would be alright. When the sun began rising he was fast asleep, phone held tightly against his chest, just in case it vibrated against him. And a special thanks to my gorgeous ladies dragondancer28 and itsmandymo for reading over this. Vegeta was no stranger to the concept, but Bulma was testing his limits of endurance as she ground her little hips against his lap, her lips brushing achingly sweet over his mouth.
He did his damnedest not to take control. That would defeat the purpose of the exercise. Be in the moment. It was the sharply exhaled swear word that awoke her. Bulma shifted under the mountain of cream colored downy comforters, turning to face Vegeta who had stubbed his big toe on the corner of the dresser with bleary-eyes.
It was three in the morning she foggily registered. And as she slowly became more awake the more miffed she got. Why had her husband had come in so late? Normally, Bulma would have enjoyed her muscle-clad brooding husband getting naked, but after being awoken so suddenly it just left her angry. Have a nice time? He just shuffled off to the bathroom, closing the door behind him and then turned on the light.
Huffing, Bulma flopped onto her back, arms crossed over her chest. The gentle whoosh of the shower started behind the bathroom door followed by the smell of his shampoo.
It was earthy smelling, funnily enough: He never mentioned it, but the fact he washed with it everyday let her know how much he liked it. The water ebbed and Bulma could hear him moving around the bathroom; The clink of his toothbrush, the opening and closing of a drawer, the crack of his neck as he rolled it. Each sound so familiar to her now.
The light in the bathroom clicked off, and Vegeta stepped naked into the dark room. Bulma watched his silhouetted form make its way to the bed, lifting the covers and crawling into bed beside her. He smelled wonderful, his body still slightly damp from the shower. God knows you need every minute of beauty rest you can get. You never train this late. Bulma felt her heart began to pound. Vegeta was actually trying to communicate?
What the hell was going on? Old fears of him leaving began to rise, why else would he be so willing to talk? Why was his pause so long?! Bulma snapped her mouth closed, trying to keep the insults she had ready to escape contained. Training helps me think. I…needed to work some thoughts out.
And then took a nose dive straight into her lower intestine. Normally Bulma was a quick thinker, a genius of not only creating marvelous inventions, cracking codes and physics, but she was also pretty quick with a one liner for her surly alien husband.
For some reason though, the connections in her brain were not functioning. He was teasing her Bulma realized. Trying to change the subject. Avoidance thy name is Vegeta. And where were you for that? Out traversing the galaxy training. His quiet reply caught her off guard. As I no longer have a planet to rule, that is you and Trunks. You have to like, take care of them you know. And Trunks would be so much older. Startled, Bulma raised her head. He was staring at her, eyes hard.
This caught her attention. Sniffling now, Bulma kissed his cheek. Bulma raised herself back up to straddle him, eyes drinking in the naked Saiyan below her. He was a fine specimen, all hard muscle and power. But now she saw something else that had only recently began to bubble unwillingly to the surface; humanity. True, he was her husband and the father of their child.
His words and actions now however spoke something different. The change had been slow, but now he seemed almost content to spend time with her and Trunks, despite the grumbling and sometimes hostile nature he displayed he would almost always give in to her or their sons demands. Bulma took this as a way in which he had avoided arguments, but maybe it meant something different after all. His reaction was immediate.
She was vaguely aware that she liked that pair, but what his hands were doing to her now quickly made her forget why she even bothered wearing them in the first place. Vegeta folds his arms tighter around his chest, sinking further down into his seat.
An impatient groan escapes his lips, as soft as a sleeping breath, but still earns him a scowl from his wife. Her sapphire eyes burn the color of gasoline fire and say all of the words hidden behind the confines of her lips, making him turn his head away.
He ignores her, and instead decides to make a mental list of the worst moments in his life. A tolerable ending, but their beginnings will always stain his tongue with acid. He feels a palm on his thigh and he whips his head back to his left, expecting to meet the cooling eyes of his hot tempered spouse.
Bulma expects him to be dutiful and pay attention, but Vegeta knows the boy is just as bored as he is. In fact, if a certain doppelganger of Kakarot were not keeping him company right now, he is sure that Trunks would be playing away on the noisy game he likes to carry around. Or even better, causing some sort of mischief. Vegeta cocks an eyebrow to this, wondering exactly the woman has planned.
Chaotic, undoubtedly, but interesting. Vegeta turns his attention to the stage finally, peering over the heads of rows of parents and children alike.
And short people, no matter how powerful, struggle to see past taller men who refuse to take better seats. He grunts louder this time, even letting a curse slip from his dirty lips. Several parents turn around in their seats and glare at him.
Their faces go whiter than his tense knuckles and they turn around with no further complaints. He grins wickedly as he sits with no regret. He never tires of putting inferiors in their places. A miniature Bulma walks across the stage past her peers, her chin aimed pointedly high in the air. Vegeta has heard Bra complain about then to Bulma at bed time before.
Her actions prove her words true as she glides to the microphone, earning attentive eyes from the audience and her peers. An arrogant smile —his arrogant smile— steals her face as she looks over the crowd. Her eyes land on his and she smiles and waves, a look of sincere glee coming over her features. The stage lights hover over him and he grits his teeth. He sits with patience until the light is back on Bra and then finally grumbles under his breath. So I hope you enjoy this play! Me and my Mama worked real hard on it!
Vegeta is interested now, but the curiosity turns to vile as he watches Kakarot, Gohan, Piccolo and Krillin take center stage. They all seem embarrassed to be here, especially Piccolo.
He does a double take at first. So he flew to Earth to rule over the people there. Prince of all Saiyans! And I will whoop your butt! Send you the fiery pits of hell? Gohan dramatically falls to the stage, claiming he has been defeated. He turns to look at Bulma briefly, unable to believe that she would agree to help Bra with this inaccurate play.
Vegeta scoffs at his pathetic mannerisms. Vegeta swallows away the compliment, mildly upset it penetrated his mind in the first place. He watches the two prance about and shoot fake lasers at each other. Goku is losing on purpose, and Vegeta relishes in how satisfactory the feeling is. So he became the prince, no, the king of Earth. And he even found his queen in the audience! A ghost of a smile plays on his lips. Bulma is a devious genius.
Drop that zero and get with a real man, pathetic woman. Yamcha runs daintly towards Oolong and they hug, although Yamcha has to bend down to embrace him. She tries to laugh off her nerves by complimenting Bra on her creative imagination. Vegeta lets out a heartfelt laugh, focusing unwanted attention on him. The Briefs women have definitely outdone themselves.
Her face is beaming as she approaches, running straight to Vegeta and hopping in his lap. Vegeta smiles and stands, seeing no reason to stay for the rest of this catastrophe. He gets it; these children like their inadequate fathers and their boring jobs of teachers and salesmen. But had their fathers ever saved the world?
Ever brought them back to life? Then he has no interest in praising them. He cradles Bra in his arms as they exit, and leans in close to her ear so that only she can hear. Can you name some of your favourite Vegebul writers? I'm looking for some new fics to read! D And if anyone else would like to add onto this please do! A breathless gasp fell from her lips as she was roughly grabbed by the arm and spun around, and as she opened her eyes, Bulma stared straight back at herself in the mirror again.
Vegeta was right there behind her, a muscular arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against him, allowing her to feel every inch of him through the thin material of her dress. The way others look at you? His nose pushed into her hair. I can give it all to you. Whatever it was, he knew where it was coming from: He finally got up, angrily picking up the boxers that lay on the ground.
Blue hair… He would tell himself it was because he stood up to quick that his heart skipped a beat. Not those things at all. And the spell was broken. A light knock came on his front door. Beside him, his phone buzzed, the preview of a text flashing across he lock screen: