#dragon ball z fanfic

[spilledbeans116]

Just In Case

(Vegeta x Reader)

Vegeta x fem!reader -6,207 Words - SFW - No use of Y/N

Fan of Vegeta x Bulma? Find an alternate version here! (The first parts match up!)

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This fic is based on a headcanon I have involving the prince and his constant need to wear gloves. I'm putting this here as a side note, but the first chapter is a bit violent. I hope you all enjoy it.

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    Nappa was smiling, as proud as a warrior-nanny could be given the circumstances. Vegeta had aced his first mission under Frieza’s rule without a single hitch, having wiped out an entire planet on his own in just a couple hours. They had hit three more after that, completing twice the work of an adult saiyan could have mustered up. And what, he was only 6? Never before had such latent power been shown in such a young saiyan; his power already rivaled Nappa’s own. On late night’s when the bar was full and Raditz and Vegeta were in bed, Nappa would sit and brag to the other soldiers of Frieza’s army how talented the kid was.

    The bar was dim, the tables around having been emptied as all the patrons gathered around Nappa and listened to his tales. Among them were Ginyu, Burter, and Jeice, all three of whom were rolling their eyes at the display.

    “You should have seen the way he shot through that thing! It was almost three times my size, maybe bigger!” Nappa hiccuped, taking a swig from his mug before slamming his fist on the bar’s counter-top. “It was incredible!”

    From around the corner, a young saiyan who should have been in bed smirked. His smile quickly faltered however, as someone else spoke up.

    “Psh, right,” Ginyu laughed, giving Nappa a shove. “Like a kid could take down one of those on his own. Even Guildo struggles with them!”

    “No, Nappa’s being serious, I saw it myself!” Another soldier yelled, slamming his drink down on the bar. “The kid is a beast! A monster!” 

    Vegeta nodded, crossing his arms and leaning through the doorframe a bit to watch as the older men debated his feats.

    At that Ginyu and Burter laughed, “please! He’s an ape!” Ginyu snorted. “You think that monkey could actually do that on his own? He’s weak, just like his old man. Maybe he got lucky, but nothing more than that.”

    Vegeta clutched his cape and held it at his sides, his anger overtaking him as he fought not to run in there and sucker punch Ginyu in the face; he had already learned once that it wasn’t a good idea, and wouldn’t make an idiot of himself again. Ginyu didn’t believe he could do that? Didn’t think that Vegeta could fight his own battles or overtake a stronger opponent? Fine. He would prove he could; he would show everyone exactly what he could do. And he wouldn’t stop until they believed him.

—

    Months had passed, but for Vegeta, time moved strangely. It felt fleeting and yet too long at the worst of times. Then again, he was still only a child. He had already gotten stronger, not that anyone but Raditz or Nappa noticed and he didn’t give a damn what they thought. Each day and night was the same, he was degraded by the Ginyus to his face and behind his back. His family was gone, his home was gone, and his race was all but eradicated. He was the last remaining saiyan royal and ruled over two; he wasn’t the strongest on the ship nor was he even close to beating Frieza… yet. That day would come, he reassured himself. Until then he was destined to be miserable, to spend everyday fighting to be better only to get no recognition from anyone. That much responsibility and pain weighing down on a child surely wasn’t healthy, especially not when they were forcing themselves to do even more than everyone else.

     Vegeta couldn’t keep track anymore of how many planets he had slaughtered. Their cries of mercy fell on deaf ears. At night, he had nightmares about the faces of those that had met their end in his hands. He wondered who they were, what lives they lived. He was doing to them what had happened to his own home. He tossed and turned each night, enough for Raditz to complain to Nappa that it was keeping him awake.

    Soon he turned 7, still a child in the eyes of a saiyan. After each fight he felt dirtier and dirtier, and visited the showers once, twice, three times a day. The soldiers on the ship joked that the prince was a germaphobe. He was too royal for their peasant germs. He was killing without purpose, without a fight and the guilt was eating away at him slowly, crumbling his sanity with each life he took. He was 8 when it happened.

    Nappa was heading to the bar before he stopped. Something in him, some primal, strange instinct, told him to go to the boys room. He rushed down the halls and to their room, where Raditz was snoring loudly with his arm draped across his face. Vegeta, however, was gone. He couldn’t ask anyone else if they had seen him, as he’d surely be punished for roaming parts of the ship he shouldn’t without Nappa present.

    Vegeta had gotten back late from a mission and decided to go take a shower. His body was covered in blood, none of which was his own. He watched as the red water swirled down the shower drain and slowly became pink, scrubbing his body with a bar of soap as he grunted to himself. Arms, chest, legs, feet, tail, and finally his hands. He lathered the soap between them, watching the bubbles form up and over his hands before rinsing them off in the water. To his surprise, the water revealed the blood was still there.

    “Damn shit must have stained them,” he huffed, turning off the water and drying himself with a towel. He quickly wrapped it around his waist and made his way to the sinks, grabbing his toothbrush and lining it with toothpaste. Until he saw his hands again. No longer tinted red, they were coated in blood. The fur on the end of his tail began to spike as he stared at it, quickly flipping them around to see if he had any open wounds. He ran the water and shoved his hands under it, scrubbing at the blood to get it off. 

     “What the hell!” He snapped, watching as nothing changed. He began to scratch at it, trying to peel it off to know avail. He hissed as he turned the water up, the heat becoming blistering hot as he started to claw at his own hands in a desperate attempt to get the blood off of himself.

    “Why isn’t it coming off!” He yelled, starting to get louder and louder as he grew more desperate. He felt filthy as his consciousness weighed down on him, his sleep deprived body and nightmarish life finally getting the better of him. “Get it off me!”

     Nappa knew he had to be in the showers, as it was the only place the kid ever went to when he wasn’t in the dining halls or his room. With how late it was, the dining halls would have closed ages ago. As he made his way down the corridors of the ship he could hear something. It was quiet at first, but slowly became louder and louder as he got closer to the men's showers. He could hear Vegeta, screaming out in pain. Nappa shot off and slammed through the door to the bathroom, following the sounds of the hysterical screaming until he found the prince by the sinks. Vegeta was sobbing, hands burnt red from the water. 

    “The hell has gotten into you!” Nappa yelled, ripping him away from the sink. He was going to scold the prince when he saw the claw marks all over his hands. Vegeta tried to shove him away, crying out for Nappa to let go of him but it all sounded like gibberish to the older saiyan. 

     “What are you doing!” Nappa yelled at him as Vegeta slammed a hand against his face, trying to make his way back to the sink. “You’re hurting yourself, what are you doing!”

    “I CAN’T GET IT OFF!” Vegeta screamed between sobs. “MY HANDS! THEY’RE COVERED IN BLOOD I CAN’T GET IT OFF!”

    “Vegeta there is no blood!” Nappa yelled, grabbing his wrists and holding him still. “But there’s going to be if you keep tearing at your skin!”

    “DON’T TOY WITH ME NAPPA JUST GET IT OFF ME! PLEASE I CAN’T- I CAN’T DEAL WITH THIS PLEASE JUST GET IT OFF!”

    Nappa grabbed the prince and his clothes, clamping a hand over his mouth as he ran out of the bathroom and back towards his room. Vegeta dug his nails into the flesh of Nappa’s hand, sinking his fang’s into Nappa’s palm as the older saiyan grunted in pain. Vegeta was still trying to scream but Nappa’s hand remained firm, refusing to let anyone see the prince like this. The door to Nappa’s bedroom slammed shut as he locked it and tossed the prince on the bed, who immediately tried to book it back out the door. Before he could grab the doorknob, Nappa was in front of him, blocking his escape in the dark room. Vegeta beat his fists against Nappa’s chest, trying and failing to shove him out of the way. Nappa knelt down, taking Vegeta’s hands in his before sliding a pair of white gloves over them.

    “Look! There’s no blood! Now please Vegeta quit it!” He turned the prince’s hands over slowly, showing that nothing had seeped through. “See? You’re fine!”

    Vegeta glanced down, a sniveling mess as he turned his hands over on his own and studied the gloves. They were white, pristine, new, and soft. They cooled his burning hands and the silken fabric felt nice against the cuts he had created. “Th-there’s no more b-blood?”

    “None, Vegeta. There isn’t any blood. Okay?”

    Vegeta nodded as Nappa stood up slowly, making his way to his cabinet and pulling out gauze and ointment. He applied it to his palm first after cleaning it with a towel, Vegeta’s fangs having taken quite the chunk out of his skin. Then he bandaged it, sliding his gauntlets on over after so the prince wouldn’t see the reddish hue that would seep out soon enough. After tossing the towel, he made his way back over to Vegeta, who had calmed down remarkably and yet was still standing in the same spot Nappa had left him. He was staring at his hands, eyes lidded as sleep finally began to overpower him. Nappa grabbed him under his armpits and lifted him over to the bed, setting him down and getting the ointment ready. As he began to pull off Vegeta's gloves, the prince started screaming again, kicking Nappa away and tugging them back down.

   “NO!” He cried out. “NO YOU CAN’T TAKE THEM OFF!”

��   “DAMN IT VEGETA I NEED TO MAKE SURE THOSE SCRATCHES DON’T GET INFECTED!”

    “NO! I’M YOUR PRINCE, I DEMAND YOU WILL NOT TAKE THESE OFF! EVER!”

     “Vegeta,” Nappa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t keep them on forever you’ll have to-”

    “I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT!”

    “Vegeta I swear to-”

    “THAT’S AN ORDER NOW DROP IT!” Nappa didn’t say anything after that, handing the prince his pajamas and turning away. Vegeta changed quickly, grunting when he was done. Nappa frowned at the sight of the prince wearing gloves with his pajamas, but chose not to push it further. They’d deal with it in the morning and go to see the doctor then as well. 

    “Do you want me to walk you back to your-”

    Vegeta was quick to cut him off, voice trembling as he ran his hands together in his lap. “Can I stay here tonight?” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper as he refused to meet Nappa’s eyes. Nappa looked down at the prince, an ache in his chest as he stared at the child that was forced to carry so much; but he was just that, a child. He shouldn’t have had to do any of this, not until he was much, much older. He should have been in the palace right now, spending each day training under his father to be the next king, not turned into a killing machine by a freak that regarded them as nothing.

    “Of course, your highness. You can stay here for the night.” Nappa quickly went and changed into his sleep shorts, scooting Vegeta over enough so he could fit along with him on his bed. The prince held his arm tight, body trembling as Nappa laid awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together whatever the hell had just happened. Even after Vegeta had finally dozed off, Nappa remained awake, unsure with what to do with the prince.

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    As time went on, Vegeta learned to live with it the best he could. The cuts he had caused on himself that night healed over, leaving small scars to forever remind him of his own shame and guilt. The blood he saw on his hands never truly went away after that but he learned to pretend he couldn’t see it. With time he was able to remove his gloves, but only for short periods before he’d quickly slip them back on. Just long enough to shower, trim his nails, or give the gloves a quick wash.

     After everything that happened on Earth, after what he did to Nappa, it was as if he were a kid again. The gloves would not come off. Ever. He had killed the man who gave them to him, who had tried to shield him from himself. For what? A power move? Now the gloves themselves were another reminder of his sins, but he found himself unable to swap them with a new pair. Now he was living in some Earth woman’s home after embarrassing himself in front of Frieza and a low level saiyan piece of scum. He slaughtered the Ginyu force, which was a bit of a two edged sword for him. Kakarot was gone at who knows where and he was stuck here, failing to do anything substantial. He had truly lost all meaning to his life.

     The gravity chamber the blue haired woman had helped build was where he spent most of his time. It gave him a break from dealing with everyone, including you. You were the most confusing out of everyone that was on this idiotic planet. He could never get a proper read on you. You were too… upbeat. He didn’t like to dwell on what he thought of you, and unfortunately found himself thinking of you during training at the worst of times.

    He had put his hand up to guard his face at the last moment as the battle bot shot at him, successfully blocking it but not without slight damage to his glove. There, on his right hand, was a clean tear.

    “Shit!” He yelled. “Damn it damn it damn it!” He blew the robot to bits before it could do anymore damage, throwing on his shirt and making his way back towards Bulma’s house. He felt sick as he glanced down at it, the deep red shade staring back at him through the slit.

    He made his way in through the back door, speed walking through the living room and down the hallway to where his bedroom was located. He didn’t have spares, he had never needed a spare. He searched around for anything that could be used as a makeshift glove. He ripped apart shirts and tried to cover it to no avail, too stressed to tie the knots properly with one hand. He shoved the fabric under the glove, only to rip it further. “Shit!”

     He didn’t know how to sew, he was a prince for the Gods’ sakes. He felt sick at the idea of what he was going to have to do but quickly realized there was no other option. He was going to have to ask for help.

—-

    You were sitting at Bulma’s kitchen table, waiting for your friend to get back from her date with Yamcha so the two of you could go shopping. You were sipping a glass of apple juice, the only thing in her fridge at the moment in terms of drinks. The coffee maker was on the fritz ever since Vegeta tried to beat the shit out of it to get it working. Apparently the glowing blue button wasn’t obvious enough for saiyans. You paused mid sip, wondering if perhaps he was partially colorblind. Your thoughts trailed off as he was suddenly standing in front of you, arms crossed and glaring in your general direction.

    “Juice? Seriously? What are you, five?” he frowned, opening the fridge and looking around for something.

    “Good morning to you too, your highness,” you grunted, raising the cup to your lips. “I was going to have coffee but for some reason the machine is broken.”

    He huffed in annoyance but said nothing else. You could tell he had just finished training as he was a dirty, sweaty mess. The singe marks across his suit only proved your point further. “There’s nothing in here,” he frowned, slamming the fridge door shut.

    “Yeah, I heard someone has been staying over and eating everything,” you replied, taking out your phone and scrolling through it. “I have no idea who it could be though.”

    Either he didn’t notice your sarcastic tone or he didn’t care. “Tell the other woman to go get more food then,” he snapped. “It’s not my problem.”

    “You could go get it yourself.”

    “With what money?”

    You rolled your eyes, “You’re a prince, aren’t you?”

    He slammed a hand down flat on the table, leaning beside you to try and meet your eyes. “The hell do you mean by that?”

    Without looking at him you opened your text messages, Bulma’s name quickly popping up. “What do you think?” He tried to glance over at your screen to see what you were going to text her before you shifted the phone away; it was like he was a child. “Do you mind?”

     “Are you texting her? Tell her to get the vanilla protein powder as well, I won’t eat the chocolate one. It’s disgusting.”

     “Yeah yeah sure,” you sighed, instead typing “his royal majesty is awake and grumpy. Please get here soon.” She replied by laughing at your message before sending a picture of her and Yamcha laughing in whatever breakfast restaurant they were in. For now, you were stuck with him.

    “She’s with the beta-male, isn’t she?” He frowned. You nodded.

     “They’re on a date I think? I don’t know, sometimes it’s hard to tell.”

    You were surprised to hear him chuckle at that. “True. However I’d say they’re made for eachother. They’re both annoying and a pain in my ass.”

     “I’ll agree with that first part,” you giggled, setting your phone down and glancing over at him. You took another sip of your juice glass while he looked out the window. “Want me to make you a PBJ or something?”

    “Sure. While you’re at it can you pour me some juice as well and put it in a sippy cup?” He grunted, turning to face you and making an effort to roll his eyes. You don’t know why you even bothered.

    “Just trying to be polite.”

     He seemed like he wanted to say something else before he looked down at his hand. He began to fidget with his gloves a bit, the white things worn to death. When Bulma had offered him new ones he refused, rather rudely you might add, so you chose not to mention them. When designing new training outfits with her for him, gloves were always discussed but never elaborated on. “When is the blue-haired woman coming back?”

    You shrugged, “not sure.”

     He sighed, and for a moment, he sounded relieved. You went to ask him what was up before he started talking.

     “You’re a woman,” he grunted, pulling out a chair and sitting beside you. “You sew, right?”

     Ever charming, this one. “Fuck you but yes, I sew.”

     “I need you to fix my gloves,” he grumbled, continuing to mess with the one on his right hand.

    “I can just make you new-”

    “No,” he snapped, cutting you off quickly. “I need them repaired.”

    “Fine,” you said curtly. “Just leave them by my door and-”

    “No, you'll fix them now.”

    You crossed your arms, “Vegeta I don’t just carry a sewing kit on me.”

     He stared at you blankly before his eyes moved to your purse, which was resting on the back of your chair. “Then what the hell is that for?”

     You pinched the bridge of your nose and inhaled sharply as you chose to ignore his question. “Why should I help you in the first place? You’re not exactly-”

    “Please.” The word was uttered so quietly, so pathetically, you were almost positive you had dreamed it. There was no way on Earth that Vegeta had said ‘please’ to you of all people. You skimmed over his face to find he was looking at the table. After a few moments and your lack of response, his eyes snapped up, his face flushing a bright red. “Stop staring at me like that! I’m not going to repeat myself damn it! It’s embarrassing enough!”

    You blinked a few times, trying to hide the shock as you spoke, “come on, I have a kit in my room.” You placed your empty juice glass in the sink, beginning to walk towards the spare room Bulma had designated as your own. 

    The sound of his boots clicked across the wooden floor as he followed you. He was embarrassed to admit he found himself admiring your outfit. It was rare he ever saw you in anything besides casual or training clothes. Today, however, you seemed to be stepping it up. He felt his ears begin to heat up as he stared at your ass and hips before quickly looking at your hair. “Why are you dressed like that?”

     “Like what?” You frowned, glancing back at him. 

    His eyes briefly shot to yours before he glanced away. “You’re… dressed nice.”

     You almost tripped when he complimented you, “oh, uh, thanks.” You said, clearing your throat. “Me and Bulma are going out later.”

     “Why not wear your training gear? What if something were to happen?”

     “Then I fight in this,” you shrugged. “My clothes aren’t what makes me a fighter, Vegeta. Plus with you guys around I’d only get in the way.”

    “Sure, but you’re already weak enough as is. Extra protection wouldn’t hurt.”

    You didn’t know if he was trying to make sure you were safe or simply making fun of you. “With how burned your suit is from the training bots, I don’t think armor makes much of a difference in the grand scheme of things.”

    He simply grunted, watching as you grabbed the handle to your room. You opened the door and made your way to your desk, pulling out a drawer and rummaging around for your sewing kit. Vegeta stood in the walkway, staring at the floor before you pulled the kit out and set it on top of your desk. You tilted your head at him as you sat in your office chair, motioning for him to take a seat on your bed.

    “I’ll stand,” he frowned, stepping in apprehensively and making his way over to you. He had never been in your room before; he never had a reason to be in it. It was very… you. He wasn’t sure how else to describe it. It had your scent and although he’d never admit it, he liked it. It made a shiver run down his spine.

    “No, you’ll sit,” you countered. “I sew better sitting, and I don’t want you looming over me while I do it.” You flicked on your small lamp and smiled at him softly.

     He grumbled under his breath, something about how he doesn’t ‘loom’ over people, before sitting on your bed carefully. He was trying to sit as close to the edge as possible to be somewhat polite. It creaked a bit as he did so, one of your plushies tumbling over and onto the floor. He sneered at it before you picked it up and set it back in its place.

    “Alright, let me see it.”

    He shoved his hand in your direction and you stared at him as if he were an idiot. “Vegeta you’re really starting to piss me off, give me the glove.”

    “You can fix it as it is,” he snapped. “I’m not taking it off.”

    You crossed your arms again and leaned back in your chair. “Are you trying to fuck with me? Is this a prank or something?”

    “Why the hell would I do that!” He yelled, clenching your quilt in his fists. He heard the snapping of threads and quickly relaxed his hand. Whether from the glove or the blanket he wasn’t sure, but neither seemed like good options to damage. “This is serious! Do you think I’d ask you for help for fun?”

    You wheeled your chair closer to him, motioning for him to place his hand in yours. He held it out hesitantly, palm facing the ceiling as you took it carefully in your own. A shiver ran up his spine once as he watched you trace the tear with your finger tips before he quickly looked away.

     “I should be able to stitch it up, but I’m worried I’ll poke you with the needle by accident.” Vegeta didn’t say anything after that, face slightly pale and body tense. You squeezed his hand softly, “I need you to tell me what the deal with the gloves is. I won’t judge, and I won’t tell anyone else.”

     “Like I’d trust you,” he snapped back as he ripped his hand away. “This was a mistake.”

    You shook your head, setting his hand back in his lap as you began to thread the needle. “You don’t have to tell me I guess, but it would make everything easier. Maybe I can go get a spare glove from some-“

    He was quick to cut you off, growing more and more agitated the longer he stared at the open slit in the fabric. “I should've just done this myself. God forbid you be good for someth-”

     “Vegeta, I am trying to help you!” You yelled, finally having had enough. The prince seemed taken aback by your sudden outburst as you slammed the needle on the desk. “The first thing you do in the morning is belittle me, complain, and act like you own the place! Well you don’t! You treat me like shit, my friends like shit, and I still wanted to help you! Don’t get mad at me for trying to do something you asked me to do! If you want to do it yourself, fine, take my fucking kit and leave.” When you saw the look he was giving you, you immediately felt bad. His eyes were wide with shock, mouth slightly agape. It was the first time you had seen him make an expression that was anything like this.

     You went to start apologizing before he ripped the damn thing off and tossed it at you. It thumped against your cheek before landing in your lap. You grabbed it and waved it at his face haphazardly.

     “You didn’t have to throw it at me!”

    “Just hurry and fix it!” He yelled back, crossing his arms and refusing to meet your eyes. His hand was shoved under his armpit as he tapped his foot rapidly against the wooden floor.

      You quickly got to work, the prince growing more and more impatient as you fixed the tear. “Would you hurry up?”

   “I’m trying! I want to make sure it’s done properly so I don’t have to redo it!”

    He leaned forward slightly to watch you work. It was impressive how quick you were with it, precise as the needle wove in and out of the fabric with ease. He watched as you bit your lip and began to tap your foot just as he had. He watched as your hair slipped down from behind your ear before you quickly pushed it back into place. Your eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim lap light, and his heart began to race. For a moment and a moment only, he finally relaxed. Then you were pulling the seam closed, tying the knot and smirking at your work.

   “Here, it’s done now you can-” He snatched it from you in an instant, struggling to put it on. You rolled your eyes, “a thanks would be nice.” He slid it on quickly, finally breathing a sigh of relief as he stared at the now closed seam. He could barely tell there had been a hole at all. He opened and closed his hand slowly to watch the fabric shift and ensure your work was good. Then he fell back on your bed and stared at the ceiling.

    You wheeled over to him again, watching as he shut his eyes tight and laid limp against your mattress. “Thank you,” was all he mustered up.

    “You’re welcome.” You replied, surprised he had even said anything. Your tone was soft when you spoke again, and he hated how it made him feel. “You can lay here as long as you need to.”

    Your phone went off in your pocket and you pulled it out quickly, finding a text from Bulma letting you know that she was home and going to take a quick shower. You stood up to leave before Vegeta sat up quickly, grabbing your wrist.

     “Can you stay?” He asked quietly, the glove soft against your wrist. You nodded, and quickly sat back down in your chair. He made his way once again to the edge of the bed, leaning his elbows against his legs as he clasped his hands together. He looked down at them, hunched over as he thought of what to say.

    “Ever since I was a kid,” he started, voice so low and deep it sent a shiver up your spine. “I have been a killing machine. It’s what I was made for and it’s all I’ve ever known.”

    You got up slowly and he paused before you nodded for him to continue. You shut and locked your door before walking back over to him and sitting in your chair. He nodded in thanks before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

    “I don’t have many memories of my father, and the ones that I do have are… complicated. Nappa raised me, if you could even call it that. Raditz was more of a nuisance than anything. Our goal was to survive, and one day I wanted to become powerful enough to beat Frieza. What a joke” He scoffed, shaking his head and looking back to the floor.

     “At first, taking lives was easy for me. I was doing nothing more than what I was assigned; I started to do more, go beyond what was required of me. The only one to praise me was Nappa, and even then it was never to my face. I was ridiculed and mocked, but it only pushed me farther, to do better. It was never what I wanted, but more so what needed to be done.”

    He didn’t know why the hell he was telling you this; he had never told anyone this. And yet now it was as if he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t shut his mouth long enough to think about what he was doing. “What was once hundreds went to thousands, then millions. I was eradicating races in the blink of an eye. Soon they weren’t just obstacles to me, but people with faces and lives I had ripped away from them. I had so much blood on my hands; I still have blood on my hands. So much blood that I will never, ever be able to get off.”

    He opened and closed his hands once more, the sounds of the fabric shifting in his grip. “I’m not a good man. Hell, I've never claimed to be one. But now Frieza is gone and it feels like everything I’ve done, everything I worked towards for years, was for nothing. The things I see in my sleep, what I feel when I’m awake, what I’ve gone through was for nothing.” He stopped for a moment, voice and tone becoming so quiet and serious you couldn’t believe it was the same person who had spoken to you just minutes ago. “I haven’t been able to look at my hands the same way since I was a child.”

     He finally looked up at you, eyes lidded as he smirked. You realized he was on the verge of tears. “Do you know how sad that is? A beast scared of his own damned hands. I’m a damn disgrace to my people.” He laughed after that, wiping his eyes and setting his hands back down. “Look at me, a prince crying in front of a damn lower life form.”

     You reached out hesitantly, tapping his hand with your fingers apprehensively. When he didn’t pull away you continued, scooting closer to him and pulling his hand up to lay between you both.

   You carefully ran your hand over his, sliding your fingers up and under the glove before pulling away slowly. You looked at him again, waiting for him to react or move away, to tell you to stop. Vegeta shut his eyes tight but didn’t pull away, his face pale as you set his glove carefully in your lap. To your surprise, his skin was soft, with yours perhaps being even rougher than his. Then again, you suppose that made sense if the saiyan never fought without them. 

    You traced your nails gently over his palm, studying the grooves in his skin and how neatly trimmed his nails were. “Well,” you started slowly, his breathing coming to a pause. “I don’t see any blood now.”

    Vegeta opened his eyes slowly, looking at your face carefully as you studied his hand. You were so delicate with him it made his breath hitch in his throat. 

    “Sure, maybe there was a lot there in the past, but not anymore. You can’t change what happened, but you can acknowledge it and move on, try to do better this time around.”

     When Vegeta looked at his own hand, he almost gasped in shock. It was his hand, as normal as any other. He looked back to you as you ran your thumb over top of his, gently moving your hand back and forth from his wrist to his knuckles.

     “You haven’t done good things, Vegeta. But I don’t think you’re a bad person. I think you need time and care to heal, and the first step towards that was acknowledging what we talked about today.” You paused, thinking carefully over your next choice of words before smiling softly. “I think there’s good in you. No, I know there is.”

    He watched the way your hair tumbled down and around your face, and how gentle your stare seemed to be. You weren’t repulsed or disgusted, but caring and considerate. He felt a blush rise first to the tips of his ears and then his cheeks before he pulled his hand away and slid his glove back on. He stood up after that, walking briskly across the room without turning back. He unlocked the door and opened it, pausing to think for a moment. Then, he made his way down the hall, wondering what the hell had just come over him as his heart raced out of control.

    A few days later he came home to find a second pair of gloves folded neatly on his bed along with a note, “just in case <3.” His face flushed as he went to crumple it up, but upon reading it just one more time, he found he couldn’t. He shoved it in the drawer of his bedside table, grumbling under his breath as he left to go train.

[signofthestriking]

Gonna start posting art set in my OC AU's first book. Probably good to start with chapter 1-

This one interaction snowballs into a committed friendship between two Saiyans who don't know shit about their alien blood. And hey you can read all about it here!:

[st-dorothy-minority]

another piccolo/gamma 2 scene

****

“Ohhh boy, you weren’t kidding.”

Two stepped up into the top level of the house, gazed around the circular area in awe, took in the obnoxious amount of plushies covering the floor.

“I keep trying to tell her I don’t like them and certainly don’t need anymore,” Piccolo groused.

Bending down to pick one up, Two looked it over and suggested, “Why don’t you just get rid of them?”

“Pan likes to play with them whenever she’s here; otherwise, I would.”

“And good guys don’t make kids cry, so I can appreciate that,” Two replied with a cheesy grin as he commenced a slow stroll around the area, picking up and dropping plushies along the way.

“I knew you would.”

Settling on one with a little more heft to it, Two tossed it up and down casually in his hand, and said, “Learn something new about you every day, King Piccolo.”

Piccolo smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. “I told you, I’m not a king.”

“No?” Two replied jokingly. “You sure about that? All the data I have on you says differently.”

Stretching his arm across the access hole in the floor, Piccolo snatched the plushie from Two’s hand and brought it back to himself, amused at the surprised look on Two’s face.

“Hey! What was that for?!” Two pouted.

“It’s getting late. Shouldn’t you be headed back?”

“Trying to kick me out?”

In a flash, Two hurled a new plushie Piccolo’s way, who successfully blocked it with his arm. The rapid barrage continued, with Piccolo ducking and dodging as they continued this impromptu nonsense.

“That all you got?” Piccolo teased.

“You’re lucky I care about Pan too!” Two retorted. “Otherwise, you’d be feeling it!”

Piccolo laughed. “Tell the truth – You think they’re cute and don’t want to hurt them.”

“Take that back!”

Just as Two was about to launch another one, Piccolo grabbed him by the wrist, pulled him over to his side of the room, pushed him to the floor, and pinned him down. Two’s eyes were wide and stunned, to which Piccolo grinned proudly.

“Looks like I win.”

Regaining his bearings, Two had the Namekian flipped over in an instant and kept him in place by sitting on him.

“Not a chance,” Two snickered.

They stared at one another, delighted smiles on both their faces, each wondering how in the world they’d allowed themselves to get this ridiculous together. In less than a minute, however, there was a subtle change in the cheerful atmosphere. Gradually, their expressions softened into one of affection and without any further thought, Two leaned down and kissed him tenderly.

-----

A/N: Maybe I'll just be posting random scenes for this AU slow burn fic XD this is fun!

[hotvegetasoup]

Close Encounters: Chapter 11- Mine

The newest chapter of my Vegebul fic is up :) this is my first time writing smut!

Full chapter in the link below. The link has 18+ content you’ve been warned!

Link

Preview:

Bulma talked in her sleep. She also tossed and turned quite a bit, and when she was really exhausted, she sometimes snored. She normally would put her long blue locks into a messy bun atop her head, but usually it would come undone while she slept. She had four or five sets of sleep clothes, but her favorite set was a matching top and shorts with little strawberries printed on them. She had a small birthmark on her lower back. She kept a small notepad and pencil on her bedside just in case she woke up with a new invention idea. These were all things Vegeta had learned over the last several weeks, as he had spent every night with Bulma in her chamber since he returned to Capsule Corps. 

“Stop…those are my shoes…” Bulma mumbled in her slumber. Tonight, Bulma wore a purple nightgown that had yellow flowers on it. He quite enjoyed it when she would wear sleep clothes like this one, since they didn’t leave much to the imagination. Vegeta was still a man after all, and he wouldn’t deny the opportunity to gaze at the woman in scantily clad outfit. Vegeta quietly chuckled as he watched her turn over, swinging one of her legs over him. She always fell asleep before he did, so he just started observing her behavior. He found it rather amusing.

Humans were very strange creatures. They were very similar to Saiyans in appearance, aside from their lack of tails and hair growth patterns. Their skin was also much softer, or at least Bulma’s was. He reached over and caressed her face as she slept. Thankfully, there was no scarring from the injuries she sustained after his nightmare induced outburst. It had only been about two months since then, but he still hadn’t truly forgiven himself.

[spaycesicklerecs]

Summary: Vegeta and his eight year old son Trunks go back in time to warn the past of the Androids' arrival. When the machine needs repairing the two of them are stuck. At least the past has good food! There's just one problem... Bulma begins to fall in love with Future Vegeta, instead of his younger self. Can Vegeta ensure his son's birth, defeat the Androids, and save the world?

Rating: Mature 

Status: [multi-chapter] W.I.P

My Opinion: Really interesting take on the time travel trope.

[blossombriefs]

Fluffy Headcanons | Vegeta Edition

-Vegeta isn’t exactly the “fluffiest” guy but he tries his best in his own little ways.

-initially, when you first met, you thought that he hated you but he just struggled to express his emotions properly. spending more time with you helped him understand human emotions a little bit better and garner more of an understanding of human social cues.

-it took him a while to warm up to the idea of physical affection - hugs, cuddles and kisses - but he really loves how warm it makes him feel inside.

-he’s VERY protective of you. Any time you’re out in public you can surely find his arm around you or his hand in yours. He loves showing everyone he’s your partner, it fuels his pride even more.

-when he over exerts himself from training he loves collapsing into your arms. Any time he finds himself hurt or injured, contrary to his prideful ego, he feels comfortable enough to come to you for some help.

-you find yourselves double dating a lot with Goku and Chi-Chi. You and Chi-Chi get along reasonably well and Vegeta is happy to put his underlying envy towards Goku on the back burner for you to have the cute date nights you love.

[mewracle]

do you think namekians on earth get seasonal depression bc there's only 1 sun instead of 3

[icezeebee]

Happy ending under cut

Tada~

I really enjoyed @teapartyspilled ‘s Lyney fic, so I just had to draw some things. ✌️I reblogged it right before post this so you can easily find it.

[teach-pass-write-hold]

https://renee-890.suduso.com.cn/iw/Vpo3Aeu

[spilledbeans116]

Just In Case

(Vegeta x Bulma)

Vegeta x Bulma - 5,965 Words - SFW

Fan of Vegeta x Readers? Find an alternate version here! (The first parts match up!)

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This fic is based on a headcanon I have involving the prince and his constant need to wear gloves. I'm putting this here as a side note, but the first chapter is a bit violent. I hope you all enjoy it.

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    Nappa was smiling, as proud as a warrior-nanny could be given the circumstances. Vegeta had aced his first mission under Frieza’s rule without a single hitch, having wiped out an entire planet on his own in just a couple hours. They had hit three more after that, completing twice the work of an adult saiyan could have mustered up. And what, he was only 6? Never before had such latent power been shown in such a young saiyan; his power already rivaled Nappa’s own. On late night’s when the bar was full and Raditz and Vegeta were in bed, Nappa would sit and brag to the other soldiers of Frieza’s army how talented the kid was.

    The bar was dim, the tables around having been emptied as all the patrons gathered around Nappa and listened to his tales. Among them were Ginyu, Burter, and Jeice, all three of whom were rolling their eyes at the display.

    “You should have seen the way he shot through that thing! It was almost three times my size, maybe bigger!” Nappa hiccuped, taking a swig from his mug before slamming his fist on the bar’s counter-top. “It was incredible!”

    From around the corner, a young saiyan who should have been in bed smirked. His smile quickly faltered however, as someone else spoke up.

    “Psh, right,” Ginyu laughed, giving Nappa a shove. “Like a kid could take down one of those on his own. Even Guldo struggles with them!”

    “No, Nappa’s being serious, I saw it myself!” Another soldier yelled, slamming his drink down on the bar. “The kid is a beast! A monster!” 

    Vegeta nodded, crossing his arms and leaning through the doorframe a bit to watch as the older men debated his feats.

    At that Ginyu and Burter laughed, “please! He’s an ape!” Ginyu snorted. “You think that monkey could actually do that on his own? He’s weak, just like his old man. Maybe he got lucky, but nothing more than that.”

    Vegeta clutched his cape and held it at his sides, his anger overtaking him as he fought not to run in there and sucker punch Ginyu in the face; he had already learned once that it wasn’t a good idea, and wouldn’t make an idiot of himself again. Ginyu didn’t believe he could do that? Didn’t think that Vegeta could fight his own battles or overtake a stronger opponent? Fine. He would prove he could; he would show everyone exactly what he could do. And he wouldn’t stop until they believed him.

—

    Months had passed, but for Vegeta, time moved strangely. It felt fleeting and yet too long at the worst of times. Then again, he was still only a child. He had already gotten stronger, not that anyone but Raditz or Nappa noticed and he didn’t give a damn what they thought. Each day and night was the same, he was degraded by the Ginyus to his face and behind his back. His family was gone, his home was gone, and his race was all but eradicated. He was the last remaining saiyan royal and ruled over two; he wasn’t the strongest on the ship nor was he even close to beating Frieza… yet. That day would come, he reassured himself. Until then he was destined to be miserable, to spend everyday fighting to be better only to get no recognition from anyone. That much responsibility and pain weighing down on a child surely wasn’t healthy, especially not when they were forcing themselves to do even more than everyone else.

     Vegeta couldn’t keep track anymore of how many planets he had slaughtered. Their cries of mercy fell on deaf ears. At night, he had nightmares about the faces of those that had met their end in his hands. He wondered who they were, what lives they lived. He was doing to them what had happened to his own home. He tossed and turned each night, enough for Raditz to complain to Nappa that it was keeping him awake.

    Soon he turned 7, still a child in the eyes of a saiyan. I’m the eyes of anyone, really. After each fight he felt dirtier and dirtier, and visited the showers once, twice, three times a day. The soldiers on the ship joked that the prince was a germaphobe. He was too royal for their peasant germs. He was killing without purpose, without a fight and the guilt was eating away at him slowly, crumbling his sanity with each life he took. He was 8 when it happened.

    Nappa was heading to the bar before he stopped. Something in him, some primal, strange instinct, told him to go to the boys room. He rushed down the halls and to their room, where Raditz was snoring loudly with his arm draped across his face. Vegeta, however, was gone. He couldn’t ask anyone else if they had seen him, as he’d surely be punished for roaming parts of the ship he shouldn’t without Nappa present.

    Vegeta had gotten back late from a mission and decided to go take a shower. His body was covered in blood, none of which was his own. He watched as the red water swirled down the shower drain and slowly became pink, scrubbing his body with a bar of soap as he grunted to himself. Arms, chest, legs, feet, tail, and finally his hands. He lathered the soap between them, watching the bubbles form up and over his hands before rinsing them off in the water. To his surprise, the water revealed the blood was still there.

    “Damn shit must have stained them,” he huffed, turning off the water and drying himself with a towel. He quickly wrapped it around his waist and made his way to the sinks, grabbing his toothbrush and lining it with toothpaste. Until he saw his hands again. No longer tinted red, they were coated in blood. The fur on the end of his tail began to spike as he stared at it, quickly flipping them around to see if he had any open wounds. He ran the water and shoved his hands under it, scrubbing at the blood to get it off. 

     “What the hell!” He snapped, watching as nothing changed. He began to scratch at it, trying to peel it off to know avail. He hissed as he turned the water up, the heat becoming blistering hot as he started to claw at his own hands in a desperate attempt to get the blood off of himself.

    “Why isn’t it coming off!” He yelled, starting to get louder and louder as he grew more desperate. He felt filthy as his consciousness weighed down on him, his sleep deprived body and nightmarish life finally getting the better of him. “Get it off me!”

     Nappa knew he had to be in the showers, as it was the only place the kid ever went to when he wasn’t in the dining halls or his room. With how late it was, the dining halls would have closed ages ago. As he made his way down the corridors of the ship he could hear something. It was quiet at first, but slowly became louder and louder as he got closer to the men's showers. He could hear Vegeta, screaming out in pain. Nappa shot off and slammed through the door to the bathroom, following the sounds of the hysterical screaming until he found the prince by the sinks. Vegeta was sobbing, hands burnt red from the water. 

    “The hell has gotten into you!” Nappa yelled, ripping him away from the sink. He was going to scold the prince when he saw the claw marks all over his hands. Vegeta tried to shove him away, crying out for Nappa to let go of him but it all sounded like gibberish to the older saiyan. 

     “What are you doing!” Nappa yelled at him as Vegeta slammed a hand against his face, trying to make his way back to the sink. “You’re hurting yourself, what are you doing!”

    “I CAN’T GET IT OFF!” Vegeta screamed between sobs. “MY HANDS! THEY’RE COVERED IN BLOOD I CAN’T GET IT OFF!”

    “Vegeta there is no blood!” Nappa yelled, grabbing his wrists and holding him still. “But there’s going to be if you keep tearing at your skin!”

    “DON’T TOY WITH ME NAPPA JUST GET IT OFF ME! PLEASE I CAN’T- I CAN’T DEAL WITH THIS PLEASE JUST GET IT OFF!”

    Nappa grabbed the prince and his clothes, clamping a hand over his mouth as he ran out of the bathroom and back towards his room. Vegeta dug his nails into the flesh of Nappa’s hand, sinking his fang’s into Nappa’s palm as the older saiyan grunted in pain. Vegeta was still trying to scream but Nappa’s hand remained firm, refusing to let anyone see the prince like this. The door to Nappa’s bedroom slammed shut as he locked it and tossed the prince on the bed, who immediately tried to book it back out the door. Before he could grab the doorknob, Nappa was in front of him, blocking his escape in the dark room. Vegeta beat his fists against Nappa’s chest, trying and failing to shove him out of the way. Nappa knelt down, taking Vegeta’s hands in his before sliding a pair of white gloves over them.

    “Look! There’s no blood! Now please Vegeta quit it!” He turned the prince’s hands over slowly, showing that nothing had seeped through. “See? You’re fine!”

    Vegeta glanced down, a sniveling mess as he turned his hands over on his own and studied the gloves. They were white, pristine, new, and soft. They cooled his burning hands and the silken fabric felt nice against the cuts he had created. “Th-there’s no more b-blood?”

    “None, Vegeta. There isn’t any blood. Okay?”

    Vegeta nodded as Nappa stood up slowly, making his way to his cabinet and pulling out gauze and ointment. He applied it to his palm first after cleaning it with a towel, Vegeta’s fangs having taken quite the chunk out of his skin. Then he bandaged it, sliding his gauntlets on over after so the prince wouldn’t see the reddish hue that would seep out soon enough. After tossing the towel, he made his way back over to Vegeta, who had calmed down remarkably and yet was still standing in the same spot Nappa had left him. He was staring at his hands, eyes lidded as sleep finally began to overpower him. Nappa grabbed him under his armpits and lifted him over to the bed, setting him down and getting the ointment ready. As he began to pull off Vegeta's gloves, the prince started screaming again, kicking Nappa away and tugging them back down.

   “NO!” He cried out. “NO YOU CAN’T TAKE THEM OFF!”

    “DAMN IT VEGETA I NEED TO MAKE SURE THOSE SCRATCHES DON’T GET INFECTED!”

    “NO! I’M YOUR PRINCE, I DEMAND YOU WILL NOT TAKE THESE OFF! EVER!”

     “Vegeta,” Nappa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t keep them on forever you’ll have to-”

    “I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT!”

    “Vegeta I swear to-”

    “THAT’S AN ORDER NOW DROP IT!” Nappa didn’t say anything after that, handing the prince his pajamas and turning away. Vegeta changed quickly, grunting when he was done. Nappa frowned at the sight of the prince wearing gloves with his pajamas, but chose not to push it further. They’d deal with it in the morning and go to see the doctor then as well. 

    “Do you want me to walk you back to your-”

    Vegeta was quick to cut him off, voice trembling as he ran his hands together in his lap. “Can I stay here tonight?” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper as he refused to meet Nappa’s eyes. Nappa looked down at the prince, an ache in his chest as he stared at the child that was forced to carry so much; but he was just that, a child. He shouldn’t have had to do any of this, not until he was much, much older. He should have been in the palace right now, spending each day training under his father to be the next king, not turned into a killing machine by a freak that regarded them as nothing.

    “Of course, your highness. You can stay here for the night.” Nappa quickly went and changed into his sleep shorts, scooting Vegeta over enough so he could fit along with him on his bed. The prince held his arm tight, body trembling as Nappa laid awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together whatever the hell had just happened. Even after Vegeta had finally dozed off, Nappa remained awake, unsure with what to do with the prince.

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    As time went on, Vegeta learned to live with it the best he could. The cuts he had caused on himself that night healed over, leaving small scars to forever remind him of his own shame and guilt. The blood he saw on his hands never went away after that. With time he was able to remove his gloves, but only for short periods before he’d quickly slip them back on.

     After everything that happened on Earth, after what he did to Nappa, it was as if he was a kid again. The gloves would not come off. Ever. He had killed the man who gave them to him, who had tried to shield him from himself. For what? A power move? Now he was living in some Earth woman’s home, after embarrassing himself in front of Frieza and a low level saiyan piece of scum. He slaughtered the Ginyu force, which was a bit of a two edged sword for him. Kakarot was gone at who knows where and he was stuck here, failing to do anything substantial. He had truly lost all meaning to his life.

     The gravity chamber the blue haired woman had helped build was where he spent most of his time. It gave him a break from dealing with everyone, including her. She was the most confusing out of everyone there was on this idiotic planet. He could never get a proper read on her. She wasn’t like any woman he had spoken to before. He didn’t like to dwell on what he thought of Bulma, and unfortunately found himself thinking of the damned woman during training.

    He had put his hand up to guard his face at the last moment as the battle bot shot at him, successfully blocking it but not without slight damage to his glove. There, on his right hand, was a clean tear.

    “Shit!” He yelled. “Damn it damn it damn it!” He blew the robot to bits before it could do anymore damage, throwing on his shirt and making his way back towards Bulma’s house. He felt sick as he glanced down at it, the deep red shade staring back at him.

    He made his way in through the back door, speed walking through the living room and down the hallway to where his bedroom was located. He didn’t have spares, he had never needed a spare. He searched around for anything that could be used as a makeshift glove. He ripped apart shirts and tried to cover it to no avail, too stressed to tie the knots properly with one hand. He shoved the fabric under the glove, only to rip it further. “Shit!”

     He didn’t know how to sew, he was a prince for the Gods’ sakes. He felt sick at the idea of what he was going to have to do but quickly realized there was no other option. He was going to have to ask for help.

—

     Bulma was in her lab, a sweaty mess as she tinkered with the broken training bot that lay before her on her work desk. Her hair was glued to her skin and she sighed, wiping her forehead with her arm and setting down the wrench that was in her hand. Her yellow overalls hung off her arms as she attempted to cool herself off, her white crop top sticking to her body. She pushed out her desk chair, rolling and spinning across the room to her fridge. She opened it and pulled out a can of beer, pulling the tab and cursing as it foamed up and over her hands. She licked it off quickly before shaking out her hand and wiping it on her pants. She’d call someone in to clean up what had spilled on the floor later.

     Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out, glancing over the text from Yamcha as she took a sip. “Caught up with some friends, will get there when I can.” She rolled her eyes, shoving it back in her pocket and not bothering to give a response. She didn’t know what to make of her weird situation-ship with him, but she did know that this was one of the reasons they weren’t actually dating. He was just too immature sometimes for her to handle. Canceling plans last minute, leaving her waiting for him to show up; she deserved better than that. She deserved a prince.

     She laughed at that, shaking her hand and taking another drink before rolling her chair back to her desk. She had a prince living with her, and it was nothing like what she pictured. Sure, he was handsome and strong, but he was more of a pain in the ass than anything. She wanted to feel like a princess, not a maid. Yet here she was, cleaning up another one of his messes. She began to reconnect some of the wires in the bot before she paused. The sound of boots stomping their way into her lab made her roll her eyes long before he even began to speak.

    “Woman!” As charming as ever she noted. “Woman! Where the hell are you!”

    “In here your royal highness,” she huffed, picking up a screwdriver and unscrewing a latch in the machine. Oil sprayed out and covered her hands before she yelled and covered it with a rag. She sighed as the oil pooled around the table, the rag only soaking up half of it. “Damn it!”

    Vegeta came to a halt in the doorway of the lab, arms crossed as he looked her over. She was a dirty mess, grease stains coating her clothing and her hair curling up slightly from the humidity of the lab. He frowned. “You look like shit.”

    She spun around to face him, crossing her arms and glaring at him. “So do you.” Her eyes glanced over his form, noting the burns and tear marks in his blue one-piece outfit. “I just made you that suit, how is it already torn up?”

    He bristled, the hairs on the back of his neck beginning to stand on end. “It’s not my fault it’s shitty material.”

    “Maybe you’re just bad at dodging.”

    “You’re ridiculous! Do you know how annoying-”

    She rolled her eyes again, turning back to her work as she removed the rag and tried to mop up the rest with a clean one. “What do you want, Vegeta? I’m busy.”

    “How dare you cut me off!” He snapped. He stomped over to her, slamming his hand down on the table. She didn’t look up. “Who the hell says I need anything from you!”

    “Why else would you be here?” The two rags were tossed in the bin by her feet haphazardly, flicking oil on the prince’s boots. His nose crinkled up as he leaned against the desk and once again crossed his arms.

     “I destroyed another one of those robots.”

    Now it was her turn to get upset, slamming her hands down on the table and standing up abruptly, startling the prince. “Are you kidding me! So what, you need a new suit and new training aids?”

     “Maybe if you built them stronger I wouldn’t have to keep coming into this mess of a lab and telling you to make more!”

    She took a step towards him, jabbing a finger into his chest, “maybe if you weren’t such a dick you could realize that’s what I’m trying to do! These materials don’t just grow on trees!”

    He didn’t like how he felt as he tried to hold her gaze. He didn’t like how he felt with her standing so close to him either. He could practically feel her breath against his face as she spoke, and those eyes; it sent a chill down his spine. He turned away completely, huffing as he continued, “whatever! That’s not even why I came in here!”

    “Then get to the point so you can leave!”

     He began to fidget with his glove on his right hand before glancing at Bulma over his shoulder. “I need you to fix my glove.”

    “Done. I’ll make a new pair in a day or two now can you please-”

    “No, I said you need to fix it. Not replace it.”

    She groaned, running a hand through her hair and leaving oil streaks, “fine! Just leave it on the desk and I’ll get to it!”

    “I need it done today. Now.” He grunted.

    Bulma stomped her foot, “what do I look like to you!”

    Vegeta turned, running his eyes over her before once again meeting her gaze. His tone was cold as he looked at her with a bored expression. “Do you want my honest answer?”

    That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “That’s it! Find someone else to help you, I’m done!” She shoved the chair back into the desk, making her way past him and to the bathroom down the hall. He ran after her, shouting all the while.

    “Woman stop!” She did not. “I’m serious, would you just wait a minute!” The door to her bathroom slammed shut, locking behind her with a click as Vegeta banged his fist against it. “Open the door this instant woman!”

     Bulma turned on the sink and lathered her hands and arms with soap before scrubbing off all the oil and grime from her work in progress. She pretended she couldn’t hear the prince as he had his little temper tantrum outside the door. She splashed the water over her face next, drying it off with the hand towel hung up on the rack beside her. She glanced at herself in the mirror, her hair still a mess but at least she didn’t feel as gross. She’d have to take a shower later to get the rest of it off. Suddenly the prince was quiet, and she smirked as she realized he must have left. However, she would have been wrong.

    “Please, woman. I need your help.” His tone was quiet, so quiet she thought she might have misheard him. Perhaps she was hallucinating. She opened the door suddenly, spooking Vegeta for the second time today. He was close, and she could smell the sweat on him each time she breathed in. Somehow, she didn’t mind it. She liked being this close to him.

    “What did you just say?” He couldn’t meet her eyes.

    “Don’t make me repeat it,” he grumbled. “It’s already embarrassing enough.”

    “Come on, I keep my sewing kit in my room.” She brushed past him, a shiver running up both their spines from the contact as her bare arm brushed against the tears in his suit. Both, of course, ignored it. Vegeta walked with his hands by his sides before quickly tucking his hands under his arms again in his typical fashion.

    She glanced over her shoulder at him, frowning slightly at how disheveled he looked. Was it because he had pleaded for help? When he noticed her staring, his ears flushed. “What the hell are you looking at!”

    She shrugged, “I’m not used to this side of you. I’m committing it to memory so I remember you have a soul sometimes.”

    “Oh you shut it!” Her overalls were practically falling off her waist now, and the prince found it hard to concentrate on anything besides her hips. Just another thing to distract him during training. He grumbled a couple curse words under his breath as she stopped to open the door to her room. Stepping inside, the place was a wreck. Random items strewn about the floor, a mix of papers, gadgets, trash, and so much else. Her bed wasn’t made and a pile of laundry sat in the corner. Somehow, it was fitting.

    “Your room is disgusting. How do you live like this?”

   Bulma shrugged. “You keep me busy enough that I don’t have time to do much else. Besides, most nights I sleep in the lab.”

    Vegeta made a face as he stood in the doorway and leaned against the frame, “is it really my fault?”

    She raised an eyebrow as she rummaged around through her desk drawers, kicking aside a pile of magazines to get to it. “No Vegeta, I’m just joking with you.”

    “I thought you had maids?”

    “I don’t like them messing with my stuff. It’s… organized chaos.” She offered.

    “I agree with the chaos part.” He huffed and looked at her walls as she bent over, studying the posters she had pinned up everywhere.

    “You can come inside you know,” she chuckled, pulling the kit out and setting it on the table. “You can take a seat on my bed. I don’t want you hovering over me while I work.”

    “I don’t hover!” He snapped, floating off the floor to avoid stepping around the mess entirely before sitting on the very edge of the bed. Beside him lay a bra, which he quickly covered with the bedsheet before he began to turn pink. Bulma giggled at his reaction as he began to turn more red. “What are you laughing at!”

    “You. Has the mighty prince Vegeta never seen a bra before?” She snorted, threading the needle and turning on her desk lamp.

    “Why the hell do you care!” He replied. “Of course I have! Tons even!”

    “Mhm, sure,” Bulma snickered. “Alright, now pass me the glove.” Vegeta stuck out his hand and Bulma set the needle on the desk. “No, seriously. Hand me the glove.”

    “You can work on it like this,” he replied, glancing at the tear before quickly turning away. He seemed pale now.

    “Vegeta, I’m not great with sewing and I will stab you repeatedly with this needle. Give me the glove.”

    “You’re a woman! How are you bad at sewing?”

    “WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN!”

    “DON’T YELL AT ME!”

    “This was a mistake,” Bulma snapped, starting to stand up. “I agree to help you and for what! For you to treat me like shit? You asked me for this, you dingus! I’m choosing to do this! Just like I choose to let you live here! Like I choose to feed you, clothe you, and give you a little playroom like a stray cat! Even though you ruin all my shit and treat everyone like trash! If you don’t want my help, for fuck’s sake get out!”

    For the first time ever, Bulma witnessed a look of shock take over the prince’s features. His eyebrows were raised as he stared at her, finally speechless. She felt bad for yelling at him but she needed to get it off her chest. Before she could say anything else, she was surprised to feel the glove slapping into her face before falling in her lap. “YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO THROW IT AT ME!”

    “JUST HURRY UP AND FIX IT!” He shouted back, shoving his hand under his armpit as he began to tap his foot anxiously. She was going to comment on that but shook her head, grabbing the needle and getting to work. The faster she was done, the faster he would leave.

    Vegeta found himself focusing on her to help calm his nerves. He watched the way thin strands of her hair would fall in front of her face before she quickly tucked them back behind her ear. Or how beautiful she looked as she concentrated on patching up the glove, biting her lip occasionally before she would relax again. Something about her drew him to her, and he hated how his heart raced when she was around. Suddenly she was speaking to him, bringing him back from his thoughts.

    “It’s done,” she said as she tossed it back to him. He grabbed it quickly and immediately slid it on before opening and closing his hand a few times to ensure it wouldn’t tear again. He couldn’t even tell where it had been, and sighed as he spread out his arms and flopped back into her bed. She scooted over to him in her chair, bumping his knee with hers. “A thank you would have been nice.”

     Vegeta remained silent, shutting his eyes and ignoring what she had said. Her eyes softened as she stared at him and wondered what he was thinking. “So what’s the deal with the glove?” She asked quietly. 

    When she didn’t answer again she sighed, standing up and turning to walk out. “You can stay here as long as you need to then. I’m gonna go take a sh-”

    A firm and yet gentle grip took hold of her wrist and she froze, glancing back to see the prince was once again sitting up straight. His eyes were pleading as he spoke, “please don’t leave.”

    She nodded, surprised at how gentle he was with her. She sat back down and crossed her legs before he let go of her wrist. He leaned forward, his elbows against his legs as he clasped his hands together. He looked down at them, hunched over as he thought of what to say.

   “Ever since I was a kid,” he started, voice so low and deep it sent a shiver up her spine. “I have been a killing machine. It’s what I was made for and it’s all I’ve ever known.” He looked to Bulma for reassurance before she nodded. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t have many memories of my father, and the ones that I do have are… complicated. Nappa raised me, if you could even call it that. Raditz was more of a nuisance than anything. Our goal was to survive, and one day I wanted to become powerful enough to beat Frieza. What a joke” He scoffed, shaking his head and looking back to the floor.

     “At first, taking lives was easy for me. I was doing nothing more than what I was assigned; I started to do more, go beyond what was required of me. The only one to praise me was Nappa, and even then it was never to my face. I was ridiculed and mocked, but it only pushed me farther, to do better. It was never what I wanted, but more so what needed to be done.”

    He didn’t know why the hell he was telling her this; he had never told anyone this. And yet now it was as if he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t shut his mouth long enough to think about what he was doing. “What was once hundreds went to thousands, then millions. I was eradicating races in the blink of an eye. Soon they weren’t just obstacles to me, but people with faces and lives I had ripped away from them. I had so much blood on my hands; I still have blood on my hands. So much blood that I will never, ever be able to get off.”

    He opened and closed his hands once more, the sounds of the fabric shifting in his grip. “I’m not a good man. Hell, I've never claimed to be one. But now Frieza is gone and it feels like everything I’ve done, everything I worked towards for years, was for nothing. The things I see in my sleep, what I feel when I’m awake, what I’ve gone through was for nothing.” He stopped for a moment, voice and tone becoming so quiet and serious Bulma couldn’t believe it was the same person who had spoken to her just minutes ago. “I haven’t been able to look at my hands the same way since I was a child.”

     He finally looked up at her, his eyes lidded as he smirked. That’s when she realized he was on the verge of tears. “Do you know how sad that is? A beast scared of his own damned hands. I’m a damn disgrace to my people.” He laughed after that, wiping his eyes and setting his hands back down. “Look at me, a prince crying in front of a damn lower life form.”

     She reached out hesitantly, tapping his hand with her fingers apprehensively. When he didn’t pull away she continued, scooting closer to him and pulling his hand up to lay between them both.

   Bulma carefully ran her hand over his, sliding her fingers up and under the glove before pulling away slowly. She looked at him again, waiting for him to react or move away, to tell her to stop. Vegeta shut his eyes tight but didn’t pull away, his face pale as she set his glove carefully in her lap. To her surprise, his skin was soft, with hers perhaps being even rougher than his. Then again, she supposed that made sense if the saiyan never fought without them and she only worked with her bare hands.

    She traced her nails gently over his palm, studying the grooves in his skin and how neatly trimmed his nails were. “Well,” she started slowly, his breathing coming to a pause. “I don’t see any blood now.”

    Vegeta opened his eyes slowly, looking at her face carefully as she studied his hand. She was so delicate with him it made his breath hitch in his throat. 

    “Sure, maybe there was a lot there in the past, but not anymore. You can’t change what happened, but you can acknowledge it and move on, try to do better this time around.”

     When Vegeta looked at his own hand, he almost gasped in shock. It was his hand, as normal as any other. He looked back to Bulma as she ran her thumb over top of his, gently moving her hand back and forth from his wrist to his knuckles.

     “You haven’t done good things, Vegeta. But I don’t think you’re a bad person. I think you need time and care to heal, and the first step towards that was acknowledging what we talked about today.” She paused, thinking carefully over her next choice of words before smiling softly. “I think there’s good in you. No, I know there is.”

    He watched the way her hair tumbled down and around her face, and how gentle her stare seemed to be. She wasn't repulsed or disgusted, but caring and considerate. He felt a blush rise first to the tips of his ears and then his cheeks before he pulled his hand away and slid his glove back on. He stood up after that, walking briskly across the room without turning back. He unlocked the door and opened it, pausing to think for a moment. Then, he made his way down the hall, wondering what the hell had just come over him as his heart raced out of control.

    A few days later he came home to find a second pair of gloves folded neatly on his bed along with a note, “just in case <3.” His face flushed as he went to crumple it up, but upon reading it just one more time, he found he couldn’t. He shoved it in the drawer of his bedside table, grumbling under his breath as he left to go train.

[signofthestriking]

Pssssst

*slides you shameless advertising for a dbz fanfic I wrote*

Propaganda under the cut lol

It's OC-driven and my ocs are cool :D

There's a group of teens trying to fix all the bullshit problems of their elders, well-meaning or otherwise. And there's elements of teen angst within all that. Hell one of the early motivations is "I'm going to find the Dragon Balls because my dad refuses to tell me what the Saiyans were like and I'll go to the ends of the Earth to spite him for it."

It's a lower-stake start without any planet-level threats, in case you want to start small. Literally tho the conflicts of the first arc are pretty minor and somewhat comical, before the serious shit sets in.

If all goes well, this will be the first part of an ongoing series! And a very long one at that. One that goes places you wouldn't expect DBZ to go to.

I leave a shit ton of hints for future books/plotlines to think about while I write book 2.

There's a magic-user and I fully intend on keeping her important and relevant even if she isn't a combatant. Fairies also exist. Magic is real and that is both a blessing and a warning.

Two of the main characters canonically met over the internet, and one of them stumbled onto it by complete accident while visiting a library for the first time. It's also kinda implied that they met on the hellsite itself

There's a scene where 6 facets of the same guy sing the Fortnite Battle Pass sea shanty.

There are chapter titles like "Soup So Bad You Return To Your Past Life" and "Let's Set Shit On Fire"

There's another scene where those same 6 facets argue over the complex morality of a certain spider alien, and their host has to listen to all of it.

I wrote a shit ton of new lore for Universe Seven to get into

I can't think of any more propaganda lol, if you want something fresh and kinda wacky then check this shit out

[st-dorothy-minority]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Dragon Ball Rating: Explicit

[amelheth]

Bad Boys

Goku haters kidnapping Shin to keep catnip away.

I really hope there was a fanfic about these 5.

Frieza being owner of car and annoyed leader of gang. Sassy, likes nice shiny stuff, can be a b@#h, is a sniper of group.

Zamasu, self centered second leader of group. Often go forehead to forehead with Frieza on decisions. Is the heavy support of group. Likes peaceful tea parties and clean freak.

Broly, ignorant beefcake that usually ignores orders if they are too complex. Likes wrestling and is a sadist. Muscles and raw power of group. Hates wearing a shirt so is bare chested.

Pilaf, brains of group, one to strategize or build stuff that is broken. Often pushed around by leaders, but Broly likes him for being silly. Likes comfiness and usually evades battles.

Shin, the prisoner of group, usually doesnt care that he is kidnapped and usually cuffed. Criticizes group actions but geniunely can advice and help em with internal turmoil and problems. Ends up becoming unofficial part of group cuz others like and cares for him.

[druh19]

oii, adoro seus icons <3

vi você fazendo de mbti, poderia fazer alguns de personagens infp??? ficarei muito grata!!

Espero q goste, amore ✨✨

༝ INFP characters icons |like and reblog if saved|

[rumblebat]

2nd place was (one of my top favorites) Piccolo! The sexy Namekian himself! Please enjoy the story and look at the rating! >w<

rating: [MA-X] - for a mature audience cw: smut/nsfw, implied afab reader with gender neutral pronouns, implied reader is buzzed/tipsy, breeding, implied piccolo/king piccolo, language, slight yandere theme, very VERY horny Piccolo word count: 1,822

sneak peek: The Demon King glared down at you, grabbing you by the hair. "Speak up, bitch…I don't think I heard you."

x | x (you are here) | x | x | x | x | x | x

Zarbon waltzed over to you, nudging you out of your chair. With a faint grumble, you turned away from your conversation with Goku to the handsome green prince.

"Can I help you?" You asked, slightly annoyed. Your semi-buzzed state only seemed to heighten your senses. Everything seemed to annoy you more and more, and Zarbon only made it worse.

He made a disgusted face and rolled golden eyes, pointing a freshly manicured finger to the closet. "Your services are requested in the closet…(y/n)." He said, a slight hint of sass as he said your name.

You looked over, tilting your head. "Me? Tsk…whatever." You said, taking your nearly empty glass of booze and chugging it. Saying your goodbyes to Goku and the others, you made your way to the closet.

You grunted and bumbled inside, sucking your teeth as the door struck your backside. "It's too damn dark in here! Zarbon is such an ass…not even telling me who's in here." You mumbled to yourself, cursing at the emerald-haired man. Your hands trailed along the wall, at least trying to find a light switch or something. Instead, your dainty hands skimmed across a chiseled, yet soft, chest.

You quickly moved away and stumbled back, "Ah! Hello?!" You called out. The body that occupied the same space as you grunted. "Quit being so loud. You're giving me a headache."

'That voice…' You said to yourself. "Piccolo?" You asked, "What the hell are you doing in here…?" The Namekian didn't say anything. He stood quiet for a few minutes, pondering the next thing to say.

"Since I don't get out much, in Goku's terms. He wants me to try something out. Like…parties. Ugh.." Piccolo placed his back to the wall, slowly siding down to the floor. "I honestly don't get this. Why are two people in a dark room, let alone a closet? What the hell are we supposed to do? Strain our eyes?"

"Talk…maybe kiss. Fuck, even." You said bluntly. Hearing a slight choke coming from Piccolo made you giggle. "Not used to it huh?"

"Of course, I'm not! You think I go around and lounge in people's closets?"

"I'd let you!~" You cooed at him.

Piccolo blinked, evidently unimpressed with your usual reply. "You are a strange one. I knew you'd say something like that…" He chuckled to himself before creeping over to you. The atmosphere around you suddenly changed, becoming denser. Your breath caught in your throat. "Well…" Piccolo's voice was gruff, nearing your ear. "If we are supposed to do those things. Why don't we get started…?~"

You sat there, shocked, and quickly got kicked out of your daydream when a slimy, thick tongue scrapped across your neck. A hefty shiver rushed over your body. "You taste better than I thought…" Piccolo whispered. Your face was quickly heating up. The Namekian sat beside you, then grasped your waist. He firmly placed you on his lap. "I want to take my time with you." He huffed.

You felt like you were going to burst. This was all you ever wanted! Piccolo's trained hands slowly made their way up your shirt and to your chest. You let out a soft groan, feeling his calloused hands play with your sensitive buds. Your hips slowly started to grind on him. To your surprise, he was fully packing. Minus the gags you hear from Vegeta.

You heard him groan, causing you to grind harder onto him. With whatever liquid confidence you had, you leaned over and placed a lustful, drunken kiss on his lips. He groaned and pulled you closer to him. His usual cool body was burning up. Piccolo's eyes slowly started to fill with desire.

With a slightly aggravated grunt, Piccolo picked you up again and placed you on the floor. He mounted over you and leaned down, kissing you back deeply. He slowly started to place his hand into his bottoms, pulling out his well-endoubt member. You placed a hand on his chest, causing his attention to be focused mainly on you again.

"Am I…going too fast?" He huffs. You shook your head, reassuring him with a delicate stroke on his arm. You gently push him up onto his knees and stand up. He follows your lead, "Stand still for me and try not to be too loud, okay…~" He nods and tilts his head, feeling you get lower. "What are you doing (y/n)? - !!?" Piccolo grunted and nearly fell back on his knees.

You moaned as you slid Piccolo's member deeper into your mouth. He let out a low whine and placed a hand on your head. You closed your eyes and pulled back, but before you could fully move away. Piccolo growled and jammed his way back into your mouth.

You squealed and grabbed onto his gi bottoms. He panted heavily and bucked his hips into your face. "I'm…sorry, but I need this!" Piccolo gasps harder, moaning out loudly. You were gagging and gurgling for him to slow down but to no avail. He threw his head back and let out a deep, throaty moan. Your eyes slowly roll back.

The light that peeked from under the closet door, enhanced the thin layer of sweat that coated Piccolo. Your teary eyes watched in awe as he rode out his orgasm in your throat. After a few minutes, he pulled away. Hunching over you to support himself on the wall, he opened his eyes to stare down at you. "Alright…" he started, picking you up and placing you against the wall. "Why don't we get started for real?~"

Your breath quivered as he easily undid your pants. You quickly moved around in his muscular arms to help him. He only chuckled and exhaled, sensing your pheromones. You looked back up at him, your buzz was slowly fading but you didn't feel like you needed it. Piccolo's dark eyes leered upon you, only making you feel smaller than usual. His gaze was similar to a wolf's, longing as if he was hungry for something.

You wrapped your arms around him. Immediately, he pushed you more against the wall before he slid you down onto his throbbing cock.

You both groaned at the feeling. He grits his teeth, feeling as if he won't be able to fit inside of you. "You're..so damn tight!" He exclaimed. You whimpered under him, feeling too full to speak. Without hesitation, he vigorously pounded into you. You squealed out, covering your mouth. Piccolo was losing his cool quicker than he had hoped. His mind grew foggy. He didn't feel like himself. He felt more feral.

You could feel him in your stomach. You squeezed your eyes shut as he kept brutishly thrusting into you. When he stopped, your eyes slowly opened, and looked back at him. Piccolo's pupils were blown out. His chest heaved. You studied what you could of him in the dark. Before you got a word out, he swiftly positioned you on the ground.

"You make a monster out of me (y/n)…" The Namekian snarled, raising your legs higher. He nearly had you in a pretzel. Your knees easily touched your ears. He eyed you more and more, taking in every piece of you. "I could take you for all myself…I wouldn't let you see the light of day again…~ You could be all mine." He leaned back over you, caging you in the mating press. With a keen foresight, he jammed his cock back into you. You threw your head back and cried out his name.

Piccolo couldn't help but laugh, mercilessly hammering into you. Your g-spot was being beaten and bruised. "Prepare for a heavy pounding, human…I hope you don't mind - but I won't be going so easy on you anymore. Now that I know you can take my cock!" He huffed out, mewling and howling at the feeling. You were so wet and accepting, he needed more. He wanted to be in you forever.

Piccolo bit his lips and jolted, cumming quicker than expected. He pummeled you more and more, drooling at the slick feeling. Quickly, he sat up and adjusted himself. He held you down, propping himself on one knee while resting his arm on the other. Without leaving you, he easily placed you into doggy and quickly picked his pace back up. "I'm not letting a single drop of my cum leave you! And neither shall you, got it?" He asked sternly. The heavy claps for your skin contact nearly drove you wild. You couldn't answer until a firm smack across your ass woke you up. "Answer me. Now." He ordered. You whimpered more, tears practically coming from your eyes. You nodded your head and looked back at him. Piccolo hissed, feeling you get tighter as he slapped your rear.

He started to get more amped. Latching onto your hips with his nails, he continued the rapid onslaught. You wanted to wail out, scream for him to slow down, cry out the intensity of this. However, you couldn't help but melt with each thrust. The fact that he can send you to King Kai's planet and back then to Namek was crazy to you. Your insides started to burn up. "K-keep…hitting that spot!~" You panted out, trying to make your voice heard. The Demon King glared down at you, grabbing you by the hair. "Speak up, bitch…I don't think I heard you." You nearly came on the spot but roared out. "Make me cum!! Please! Let me cum!~"

Piccolo grew a wicked smile and chuckled darkly. Nearly putting you in a chokehold but still easing up for you to breathe, he clashed his hips to your ass harder than ever. "If that's the case, I'll happily oblige but say my name!" You were biting your lip so hard, you thought you were drawing blood. He snarled and used his other hand to pinch your hardened nipples. "Speak!"

He really did it now. His gruff voice, his larger body hugging onto you and the nonstop feeling of his dick tip kissing your cervix. You were quickly unraveling. "D-Demon King!~ Please fucking me harder!~ Make me c-cum!!~" He whined, riding out your orgasm. Your hips tried to match his pace but were shaking too much to keep up.

Piccolo on the other hand was a drooling, barking mess. He moaned out, feeling your walls tighten around him. "Oh..o-oh fuck! Fuck (y/n)!! That's it!~" He ruts himself as deep as he can go and cums, pumping you full of his hot seed. With each thrust, Piccolo's eyes looked down to see his seed spewing out from inside you. He grew hungry again as he watched a creamy ring around his cock form.

He placed his hand under your chin and pulled you back. He placed a deep kiss on your lips, sliding his thick purple tongue in; "You sure know how to treat a King…Let's see what else you're capable of.~"

**Please do not repost/claim/edit my stories story & title card by @rumblebat character(s) (c) Akira Toriyama tips + commission | wattpad