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The sun hit Capsule Corp like a kiss on the forehead—warm, slow, and unbothered by the chaos it usually hosted. Except today, the only chaos was confined to one man.
Vegeta stood shirtless in the backyard, muscles gleaming with sweat, fists clenched and glowing. His hair hadn’t turned gold yet, but it was on the verge—like a match hovering just before the strike. You watched him from the kitchen window, chin resting on your palm, wearing only his old training shirt that swallowed you whole.
His ki pulsed. You could feel it from here.
Married to a god. A battle-scarred prince. A man who still trained like the world might end tomorrow.
And yet, every night he came home to you.
You sipped your tea, smirking at the way his shoulders flexed. “You keep training like that and I’m going to start demanding tribute.”
He didn’t look at you. Just smirked. “You think you can handle tribute from a Saiyan, woman?”
Oh, you’d handle it all right. If he’d stop holding back.
Later, you sat curled on the couch knees tucked under you, book in your lap—but your eyes weren’t on the page.
They were on him.
Vegeta walked in from the gravity chamber, towel slung around his neck, hair still damp. Not golden. Not wild. Just… him. And yet something behind his eyes sparked like restrained lightning. Like he was caging something.
You’d seen it twice now.
The way he went Super Saiyan in training—but never around you. Not once.
He thought he was protecting you.
And frankly? You were over it.
He walked by and kissed your forehead, casual and distracted.
You reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Why don’t you ever let me see you like that?”
He paused. Didn’t pretend to not understand. “Because I don’t trust myself when I’m like that.”
“I do.”
Silence. His eyes darkened. “Don’t tempt me.”
“I’m not tempting. I’m asking.” Your voice dropped. “Don’t you want me to see all of you?”
He yanked his wrist free gently, not angry—just scared.
And that? That pissed you off more than anything.
The next day, you passed by the gravity chamber again—but this time you walked in. He didn’t notice you at first. Hair gold. Aura blazing. Chest heaving. Eyes feral.
Vegeta in full Super Saiyan mode was breathtaking. Almost inhuman.
You stepped onto the platform and said quietly, “Show me who you are.”
He turned to you slowly. The growl in his throat wasn’t human. Neither was the look in his eyes but he didn’t lunge. He lowered his power.
He let you come closer. You reached out… and touched his cheek.
His aura sizzled around you, your skin lit up. He gasped like your touch burned—and then he kissed you like he was falling from space. That kiss ended with both of you on the floor, breathless.
But still—he didn’t take you fully in that form.
—
Two days had passed. He wouldn’t touch you, wouldn’t kiss you, he barely even looked at you.
So you started playing dirty. Tight tank top. No bra. Baking cookies at midnight. Music low, hips swaying.
He walked into the kitchen and froze.
“Want one?” you asked sweetly, holding out a cookie with a chocolate-dripped finger.
He walked forward like he might kill it. Took the cookie from your hand—slowly. Took your finger in his mouth—slowly.
Your breath caught.
His mouth released with a soft pop. “You’re not playing fair.”
You stepped in close fingers on his chest. “I don’t want fair. I want you.”
His body shuddered. He kissed you again—and this time lifted you up onto the counter.
His hands were rough. His mouth bruising. His hips grinded against you, teeth at your neck. A low growl escaped him—and suddenly everything cracked gold.
His hair began to glow but he stopped. Again and pushed away. Cursed under his breath.
“This isn’t what you want.”
You grabbed his wrist, desperate. “It is.”
“No, it’s what I want. What I need. You don’t understand what I’ll become.”
“You’re my husband. Whatever you are, I want all of you.”
He stared at you—eyes wide, lost and then he left again.
You didn’t speak the next morning. He didn’t train. He didn’t touch you but he looked at you like a wolf.
That night—he watched you undress. He just stood there in the doorway. Fully clothed. Arms crossed.
You unhooked your bra eyes meeting his. “Do you want me?”
His voice was a growl. “Every second of the damn day.”
“Then take me.”
“I can’t.”
You stepped forward grabbing his face in your hands. “Do you want to touch me?”
His jaw clenched. “Yes.”
You kissed him. “Do you want to fuck me?”
His hands snapped to your hips. “Yes.”
“Then stop being a coward and show me what it means to be touched by fire.”
His eyes lit up as he pushed you onto the bed.
Hard.
He hovered above you golden energy flaring around him, teeth bared like an animal—and just before he lost control..
He vanished. A blast of air in his wake, he didn’t trust himself.
But he would.
—
You were asleep or pretending to be, you weren’t sure. All you knew was the moment his boots hit the floor.
He moved like a storm now. Silent, coiled, barely-contained thunder. His aura buzzed low in the air, static raising every hair on your body.
The door creaked open. You felt him stop at the edge of the bed. And then—nothing.
Until—
“Are you awake?” he rasped.
You rolled over slowly, meeting his gaze. They were glowing. Not just intense—lit from within, irises burning teal, gold hair crackling softly around his face.
You sat up. “Vegeta…”
“I can’t fight it anymore,” he said, voice thick, trembling with restraint. “You’ve been haunting me.”
You swallowed. “Then stop fighting.”
He climbed onto the bed like a beast stalking prey, straddling your thighs. He kissed you but not like before. This time he didn’t stop.
The kiss was deep—soulful and wild. Tongues clashing, breath stolen, teeth nipping.
His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, fisting your shirt, tearing it up over your head like it offended him.
He growled into your skin as his mouth blazed a trail down your throat, over your chest, latching onto your nipple with a hunger that made you arch hard.
“Fuck—Vegeta—”
His aura flared gold across your skin.
“You’re mine,” he growled. “You said you could take me. Prove it.”
He yanked your underwear off with one swipe—shredded fabric flying and then he pushed you down, mouth trailing between your thighs.
The first lick was filthy. Hot. Slow. Possessive.
You gasped. Legs twitching. His hair tickled your inner thighs as he devoured you, tongue relentless—flicking, swirling, sucking your clit like he needed to taste your soul.
Your hips bucked. He pinned them down with one bare hand, fingers curling into the sheets, golden sparks flickering with every groan.
You screamed when you came—shaking, gushing, overwhelmed and he didn’t stop, not once.
He moved over you, lips slick from your arousal, growling with pride. You reached for him, hand sliding into his hair—soft and golden and wild.
“Vegeta, please…”
He grinned—feral, aching.
“Tell me you want my cock.”
Your hips jerked. “I want it. I need it—”
“You’re going to take all of it.” His voice dropped low, thick with that Saiyan snarl. “And you’re not going to beg me to stop.”
He lined himself up—thick, flushed, dripping with precum—and pushed forward.
Just the tip. A tease. You gasped, stretching already.
“More,” you panted.
He slammed in with one brutal perfect thrust. You cried out, head thrown back, back arching as he filled you to the brim.
It wasn’t just thick—it was deep. Veins pulsing, cock twitching inside you, stretching you wide enough to make your toes curl.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re so tight—squeezing me—gods—”
His hips rolled once. Then again and then he started to move, really move.
It wasn’t slow. He was starved and now that he had you?
He lost it.
Vegeta pounded into you, golden hair glowing, ki lighting the room like a storm. His hands gripped your hips slamming you down onto him with every thrust, his cock hitting that perfect spot over and over again.
You were a mess—crying out, scratching at his back, legs wrapped around him as he ruined you.
Sweat dripped down his body. His chest heaved.
“You wanted this?” he growled, voice dark and cracked. “You begged for this?”
“Yes—Vegeta—”
He leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “I’m not stopping until I break this bed.”
And he did. The headboard split.
You came again, sobbing his name, clenching around him like a vice. He roared, golden light exploding behind his eyes.
But he didn’t finish, not yet.
He flipped you over—effortless. Took you from behind, one arm around your waist, the other braced on the shattered headboard.
You screamed as he slid back inside—deeper, harder—meaner. His balls slapped your soaked folds. His cock hit places no human should reach.
He owned your body and you loved it.
One orgasm. Two. Three. You lost count.
He didn’t slow. Didn’t tire.
He came once—hard, hot ropes of seed flooding you—and kept going. Didn’t pull out, didn’t give you a moment.
He just flipped you back, buried his tongue between your legs to taste your mix, growled, and fucked you again. Every time you begged for rest, he gave you another reason to moan.
By the time his second orgasm spilled inside you, your thighs were trembling.
Your lips were raw. Your eyes were glassy.
And still—he wasn’t done.
Vegeta kissed your lips like a vow.
“Again,” he whispered and you let him.
—
Later the sun was rising. The sheets were ruined. The bed broken. Your body full of his cum, slick between your legs, sore in the best way. He was holding you now—finally calm. Hair back to black. Eyes soft.
One hand on your belly. The other tangled in your hair. You whispered against his chest, voice hoarse, “Worth the wait.”
His voice was rough with pride. “You didn’t break.”
You smiled. “I never wanted gentle.”
“You’ll never get it,” he said, smirking.
“Good.”
And then—softly—
“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”
Your heart cracked open and you held him tighter. Vegeta hadn’t moved for hours—only shifted to keep your body curled against his, chest to chest, heart to heart and even now… his fingers were still tracing lazy circles between your thighs.
“You’re leaking,” he murmured, voice thick with pride.
You blushed, burying your face in his neck. “What else did you expect?”
He chuckled—smug and low. “I didn’t say stop.”
He dipped his fingers again—between your folds, gently pressing against the oversensitive heat of you, scooping the warm mess he left inside.
You gasped. “Vegeta—!”
His golden aura flickered to life again. “Still so sensitive… you started this.”
He sucked his fingers into his mouth, tasting you, tasting both of you.
“Vegeta.”
“Yes, little one?”
“I hate you.”
“Liar.”
You kissed him. Hard.
—
He disappeared that afternoon, you assumed he went training. Until night fell—and you felt it.
That golden pulse in the air. He was glowing again. High above the balcony, arms crossed, hair blazing gold, aura crackling like lightning.
He was staring straight down at you. You stepped outside slowly, your robe barely tied, heartbeat already racing.
“What are you doing?” you whispered.
He floated down—silent, graceful, dangerous and the moment his boots hit the stone, his hands were on you.
You didn’t even get a chance to speak. He kissed you. Rough. Breathless. Needy.
You clung to him, robe falling open, nipples peaked from the cold and the heat radiating off his body.
“I can’t stop,” he growled against your mouth.
You moaned. “Then don’t.”
He turned you around pressing your hands to the balcony railing.
“Look at the stars,” he whispered. “Let them watch.”
And then he slid inside you again—no warning.
The first thrust knocked the air out of you. The second made you cry out. By the third, you were gripping the railing for dear life as his golden aura lit up the night.
He fucked you slow this time.
Every. Stroke. Deep. Precise.
You were drenched. Still sore. Still stretched but he didn’t care.
“Say it,” he growled against your shoulder. “Say who you belong to.”
“You,” you gasped. “You—”
He bit your neck—just hard enough to mark.
“Say who fills you.”
“You do.”
“Who fucks you until you cry?”
“Vegeta—!”
He wrapped one arm around your waist, hand splayed over your stomach.
His voice dropped—possessive, hungry. “Maybe I should breed you.”
You choked on air.
“See how many times I can pump you full before your body gives out.”
Your legs shook. He slammed into you, cock throbbing, one hand pressing low on your belly as if he could feel himself inside you. You came screaming—shaking against the balcony, clenching around him, begging for more and he gave it.
After you came again—legs like jelly—he picked you up.
Carried you back inside, laid you down and then got on his knees.
Face between your thighs, golden hair brushing your skin, licking you until you sobbed from overstimulation, your voice hoarse, thighs trembling. He didn’t stop.
And when he finally slid back inside—slow, aching—he whispered:
“I want to fill you again.”
You nodded, tears on your cheeks. He kissed them away.
“You’ll take every drop of my seed.”
You nodded again breathless.
“I’ll breed you until the scent of me never leaves your body.”
“Please,” you begged. “Please—”
He came with a roar, burying himself deep, grinding into you as he painted your insides with hot, pulsing waves of cum. You sobbed his name—beautifully broken. He kissed you through every tremble.
After.
Silence.
Except for his breathing. Your heartbeat. The soft crackle of golden ki finally fading.
He lay with you on the ruined bed, chest against your back, hand protectively on your belly, still warm from where he’d released inside you again.
He whispered into your ear:
“I’ve never wanted anyone like this.”
You turned your head, eyes meeting his.
“And you’ll never have to want again.”
He kissed you and for once—he glowed with peace.