Dragon Ball: We are... parents?

"Uh… that doesn't go there, Goku."

At the sound of Bulma's voice, Goku turned around with a nervous smile, quickly placing Bra's tiny clothes inside the closet before shutting it.

Three months had passed since Bra's birth, and during that time, Goku and Bulma had grown even closer—not just as a couple, but as parents. They had done their best to raise their daughter together, learning along the way.

That didn't mean they didn't make mistakes. There were plenty of times when Goku forgot to change her diapers, or Bulma lost track of feeding times. It was a learning process, but they tackled it together.

Goku had kept his promise, training only during the night while Bulma and Bra slept so that he could be with them during the day. Now that three months had passed, it was time to move, something they had finally done the day before.

Bulma had promised her parents she would visit every other day, which reassured them. To adapt to their new life in the mountains, she had come well-prepared, bringing a variety of capsules containing everything they needed—food, water, clothing, and even multiple forms of transportation. Since Goku's small house wasn't big enough for the three of them, Bulma had used one of her capsules to set up a much larger home beside his old one.

After spending half a day organizing the move, they decided to rest and leave the real unpacking for today, which was why they were currently tidying up Bra's nursery. They could only hope this sudden change wouldn't affect their daughter too much. Growing up in a completely new environment might be difficult for her… but they would make sure she adjusted well.

"I think that's the last of it," Goku sighed, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. "What is this?"

He was wearing a black tank top with blue pants and his usual combat boots, while Bulma had on a red-and-white striped shirt, shorts, and red sneakers.

"Here, you've earned it," Bulma said, handing him a glass.

Goku took it, examining it curiously before downing the whole thing in one gulp. He instantly regretted it.

What the hell was that?! he thought, resisting the urge to spit it out. Did Bulma just poison him with that weird drink?

"Did you like it? I thought I'd test the blender, so I made you a smoothie. You've worked hard all morning," Bulma said with a bright smile.

"W-Well… it was delicious," Goku replied awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. He decided lying was better than facing a grumpy Bulma.

"I'm glad! I'll make another one for you whenever you want," she chirped before rising onto her toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to heat up lunch, so go take a shower."

"Hmm… I'd rather swim in the lake. It's much more refreshing," Goku said, stretching his arms behind his head.

He immediately swallowed his words when he saw Bulma's sharp glare.

"Did I say lake? I meant shower! Haha!" he corrected himself quickly.

"Now that you're a family man, you need to start acting like one, Son Goku," Bulma scolded before heading toward the kitchen.

Goku slumped his shoulders in defeat. So long, lake baths and river diving… Goodbye, fishing naked…

 ---

Bulma opened the fridge, taking out several containers of pre-prepared food. She planned to heat them up in the microwave and eat with Goku once he was done showering.

She never imagined her life would turn out this way. Here she was, in the kitchen, preparing a meal for Goku while their daughter slept peacefully in her crib.

She had never pictured herself as a housewife, though she did appreciate the advice Chi-Chi had given her. Still, she was Bulma Briefs—the smartest woman in the world, a leading scientist at Capsule Corporation.

She had even moved her lab to this remote location so she could continue her research. Whenever she needed help from her father, she would simply fly to West City. But none of that took priority over her new role as a mother. Her family—Goku and Bra—came first now.

Bulma chuckled to herself as she pulled out more food. "I doubt this will be enough for Goku."

Their relationship had grown in many ways over the past few months. At first, she was always the one to take the initiative when it came to kissing, but Goku had slowly started doing it on his own. He used to ask permission before every kiss, but in the past few weeks, that had changed. Now, he seemed much more comfortable with her.

However, Bulma knew that their relationship would eventually need to go beyond just kisses and hugs. They had already built emotional intimacy—it was only a matter of time before it progressed further.

Her cheeks burned at the thought. "What am I even thinking about?"

Who could blame her? She was in love with Goku, and it didn't help that he had a statuesque body sculpted from years of rigorous training. Any woman would be tempted. She was only human, after all.

She wanted more, but she didn't want to rush things and risk ruining what they had.

Bulma sighed. She would let Goku set the pace, just as she had before. It had taken him time to realize his feelings for her, but he had gotten there on his own. If and when he was ready to take the next step, she would let him lead the way.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Hmm, that smells good," Goku said from behind her.

Bulma turned around and froze. Her face turned as red as a tomato.

"What's wrong, Bulma?" Goku asked, blinking in confusion.

Bulma's entire body stiffened. Why did he have to walk in shirtless?!

Water droplets slid down his well-defined chest, his muscles flexing subtly as he stood there in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His clueless, innocent expression only made it worse.

Goku pointed at her. "Bulma, you have—"

Bulma's eyes widened. She followed his gaze and groaned. Some breast milk had leaked through her shirt.

She clenched her fists, internally cursing the universe. Even with the breast pump, this still happened sometimes. The worst part was that Goku had noticed.

"I-I'll fix it later, but answer my question!" she stammered, trying to keep her focus. "Why did you come in here like that?!"

Goku looked down at himself, then back at her. "I just got out of the shower and thought I'd grab some water before getting dressed."

His words barely registered in Bulma's mind. She wasn't listening anymore.

Instead, she lunged forward, crashing her lips against his.

To hell with waiting… This body is mine! she thought fiercely as she deepened the kiss.

Goku barely had time to react before he felt Bulma's tongue slip past his lips. He hesitated for a moment before instinctively responding, mirroring her movements.

Months ago, he wouldn't have known what to do. But things were different now.

Goku's tongue met Bulma's in a heated dance, their movements intertwining like two serpents entranced by the melody of a charmer's flute.

A strange, unfamiliar feeling surged through him, primal and intoxicating. It was an instinct buried deep within him, a wild urge that whispered to him, urging him to claim her, to hold nothing back. He wasn't sure where it came from, but the more Bulma pressed against him, the stronger it became.

He tried to rein himself in, tried to resist the overpowering force that demanded he take her completely, but Bulma wasn't making it easy. Her lips trailed down to his neck, kissing and gently nibbling at his skin, sending a shiver through his entire body. His breathing grew uneven, his pulse quickened.

If this continued, there would be no turning back.

Yet, deep inside, something told him he didn't want to stop.

Bulma didn't want to stop either. Every inch of her body burned with an overwhelming need, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. The rational part of her mind—the one that warned her to slow down, to think—was quickly fading into the background.

Desire had taken hold of her, but it wasn't just lust. It wasn't just about physical need. This was different. This was about Goku—about the man she loved, about showing him everything she felt for him in a way that words never could.

I love you, Goku.

The thought surfaced in the haze of passion as her fingers traced the hard planes of his abdomen, moving lower, drawn to the towel hanging loosely around his waist.

She wanted to make love to him, not just have meaningless sex like before—when she had been too intoxicated to understand what she was doing, and he had been too inexperienced to comprehend it.

This time, it would be different.

This time, she knew what she felt.

This time, she loved him.

And as she stood there, her body pressed against his, her hand just about to pull away the last barrier between them, she was ready to give herself to him completely.