Welcome to DBZ Love Garden
~ Where Saiyan Hearts Thrive ~
Fifty Shades of Son
by BloodyPaw
More by this Writer
"Mr. Son is just like all those women described him to be, he's very intimidating and charming in his own ways..." Vegeta looks at his long time friend. "He is so much more then you expected him to be, right?" The blue haired woman smiles. "...he's like...the sensation of melting hot chocolate against your tongue."
Art Source:
https://www.deviantart.com/art/Goku-tattoo-session-back-116225675
Art Source:
https://www.deviantart.com/art/Goku-tattoo-session-back-116225675
Graphic Violence
Proglogue
Vegeta's P.O.VI look up at the tall building that stands in it's mighty glory, right in front of me, the passing New Yorkers shoving and pushing me since I'm standing like an idiot and staring at the shining glasses.
I inhale and in I go, I enter an elevator along with a few workers of the famous Son company, Mr. Son, I believe he is to be some arrogant, rude man, I also imagine him being some tight ass motherfucker. Ugh I hope he doesn't have some habit like picking his teeth or his nose while in an interview, I look down at my questions and re-read them for the fifth time, I cross through one and make up a better question.
Mr. Son must be an old man, I've heard many, many, over their middle age, women speak about him, saying he is brilliant…in bed. Gross. But I will admit that he is a genius, even though I've never meet him or seen his face before, but he is the owner of the world's fastest vehicle called Nimbus, also he sells millions of Dragon balls, they can grant you any wish you want, they are shipped world wide. And just to make it more interesting, notice my sarcasm, he has the hobby of writing and selling Italian recipe books to thousands of restaurants.
Oh yes, the perfect man, he is famous, he is multimillionaire and he knows thousands of recipes, surely he shows off his wine collection to the 40 year old women before moving under the sheets. He must be old and sour and all wasted, a man who sold multiple things in just 5 years, it must've taken him years to just make all things work.
The elevator dings and the silver doors slide to the sides, oh shit I really wish I could go back home right now, these people walking around were the fancy, rich type. Elegance leaked off their shoulders, I well I was dressed in light blue skinny jeans, my old high school sneakers and a shirt with the words "I ❤ Suicide Squad!". Just great Vegeta.
"Hi can you help me?" I ask a beautiful young lady.
"Sure what do you need?" She leans forward and her blood chilling blue eyes look at me.
"I-I have an appointment with Mr. Son, for the Orange Star newspaper."
"Follow me."
I am now standing outside tall wooden doors, must be Mr. Son's special taste since all the other doors were different, I push the door open and I walk into a dark, wide, elegant office, I just realized, I'll never have something like this. It was huge! I sat down on a comfy, leather chair, crossing one leg over the other.
"Shit." I look at my pencil, I didn't bring a pencil sharpener.
"Amazing isn't she?" A husky voice echoes around the office making me jump in surprise, a light boom against the ground came closer.
"Huh?" I ask to the dark silhouette of this man who is bouncing a small ball.
"My assistant, isn't she amazing? But she still needs a few touches." His black hand grabs a remote.
Touches? What is he…? Did he make some kind of Android?! The lights turn on and I close my eyes tightly from the brightness, I slowly open them and everything I said about him being old, sour and wasted bitch slapped me hard across the face, this man was the definition of beauty, he was handsome, very handsome, he was also very young, through his black suit I could see the way the fabric hugged his muscles. Now I really wish I could go home and wear something better.
"M-Mr. Son?"
"You are?"
"My name is Vegeta Ouji, I made an appointment. Mr. Son, I would like to ask you a few questions."
He nods and here I am staring deeply into his bright blue eyes, I feel myself blush deeply when his thumb strokes his lower lip, everything on his face was perfect, I feel shaken up to my core when his lips perk up into a smooth smirk, I feel so…intimidated.
Talking to him is so intense, I can just imagine what he must be under the sheets, I now envy all those women who know what it's like.
And this was the day that I, Vegeta Ouji, age 19, fell slowly into the world of this mysterious man.
