sincere: DGM: Lenalee's back to the viewer ([bleach-szayel/mayuri?] my mayuri doll)
Kay ([personal profile] sincere) wrote2008-06-11 12:53 pm
Entry tags:

It's [not] your birthday!! sunshade

Happy [belated] birthday,
[livejournal.com profile] sunshade!

You wanted Nnoitra and Nel, and so here is possibly the worst birthday fic anyone has ever written.
Warning: Nnoitra continuously insults everyone with female parts.



"Women are useless," Nnoitra said, deliberately loud. He could feel her approaching, even though he hadn't seen movement or heard footsteps. Somehow his skin responded to her presence. He hated her for it, and so he lashed out the only way he knew how.

"Sir?" Tesla inquired, hesitant, his eyes on some point behind Nnoitra. Normally, Nnoitra wouldn't stand for it, but he wanted her to know that he knew.

"Useless," he repeated, savoring the word, her imagined wrath. "The only thing they're good for is fucking, and they can't even do that without whining and crying."

But when she passed them, her expression was composed. She said only, "That means you're doing it wrong, Nnoitra," and swept on, her Fraccion snickering in her wake. He whirled, snarling about how she should try him and see for herself, but she never turned around.

He loathed her so much it was hard to breathe, and he was reduced to little snarling gasps of air.

It should have worked. He denigrated her entire sex, used the most debasing and cruel words he could find, and yet she never blinked a long, dark lash -- never lowered herself to his level -- never became something touchable, something he could sully and ruin and claim. Always too good for him, the bitch.

What did he have to do, paint her a fucking picture?

He once went so far as to bring it up where it would surely most humiliate her, interrupting a discussion in the throne room to sneer, "If she knew her place, we'd be done with this conversation and she'd be bent over the table with her legs in the air by now."

Ichimaru's grin widened and Tousen shifted, a scowl taking his features as he moved his hand to his blade, but she only watched him with her eyes lazy and dismissive, her reaction no more involved than Aizen's -- for Aizen chuckled, as if humoring an uncontrollable child, and said mildly, "Nerielle, I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to find better company."

"I don't mind your company," she said, "but I think the discussion might be more productive if I left. I think Stark will represent my interests well enough, so..."

"You're excused," the shinigami said grandly, like a lord bestowing a favor upon his vassal, and the bitch bowed to him. But they all ignored Nnoitra.

Nnoitra slammed out the doors the moment they shut behind her; he didn't know what Aizen thought of him and his behavior, but who the fuck cared what Aizen thought. "Is that what gets you wet?" he called after her. "Pretty words, arrogant airs? You think he'll screw you? Like he'd ever dirty himself with a whore like you.."

She kept walking, without looking back, and his lips twisted back in rage. "Pitiful," he said. "There's so little woman in you that you can't even react. If you didn't have such great tits, you'd practically fucking be a man."

Finally she paused, and he let himself revel in the moment that was surely about to come, but she only looked back at him with her bored eyes and she said, "You're the one who's pitiful, if you think such generic insults will make me crack."

His fingers curled around the shaft of his zanpakutou, and he thought about flying at her back, thought about tearing into her and feeling hot blood over his hands, finally having her at his whim instead of nipping futilely at her heels.

But she was stronger than he was.

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