Narcissus
Warning: Slash. Excessive cursing.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
Pairing: Shriosaki/Ichigo
Word Count: 524 (only actual Drabble)
One Drabble a Day Challenge, Date: Tuesday, September 6th, 2009
Narcissus
Narcissus was a self-loving bastard who adored himself so fucking much he drowned trying to reach his own god damned reflection in a pool.
Tch, must have been a blond.
Why the fuck did I know this shit? That bitch, Rukia, had the fucking nerve 'ta accuse my King of being a narcissist when we finally came out as lovers. She was just god damned jealous because she was in love with the big chested girl, who in turn was in love with my King and had been heart broken when all her chances with my king were fucking shot down.
Tch, like she had a damn chance in the first place.
But either way it had hurt my King, so I told the fucking flat-chested girl exactly what I thought of her. It had been worth the no-sex rule my King had given to me as punishment (which was supposed to last a month but only lasted three fucking days, tch, like he could resist me).
Any-fucking-way, the fucking flat-chest had turned bright red when I told her I fucking knew she liked the fucking big-chested girl, and that she should be fucking happy because now she knew Ichigo was never going to fucking be with the flat-chested space case (or fuck her) so fucking flat-chest could, instead.
So, any-fucking-way, I look up this shitty bastard Narcissus because I wanted to fucking know what the hell the bitch fucking called my King and I came up with this shit.
My King was far from a fucking narcissist, just to let you fucking know. Narcissus was self-loving and self-centered blond bastard, and besides, my King would always be a hell of a lot hotter than the fucktard.
Besides, Ichigo loved his fucking family and his fucking friends (as much as I fucking hated it) and me. He fucking loved me (even if he wouldn't admit it) because I was me, not because I fucking looked like him. Drowning trying to reach his own fucking reflection? Tch, that sounded more like that pretty-boy thirteenth court member with the colored eyelashes or the stick-up-the-ass, what's his fucking face who was flat-chest's brother. Tch, like I fucking cared what their pansy-ass names were.
"You think?"
My King's smiling at me as I ramble on about how fucking shitty the flat-chested bitch's accusation is, he even looks up from his book (Romeo and Juliet which he is fucking reading for the twentieth time) with an amused look. I scuff and pull him into a harsh kiss.
"Fucking yes. The bitch was wrong, and besides, I fuck you, so even if it was fucking true I'd be the damn fucking narcissist. Face it king—you're my bitch."
I smirk. My King turns a cherry red and starts to smack me with his book, screeching about not calling him 'bitch' and not having sex for the rest of eternity.
Tch, like he could fucking resist me that fucking long.
And like I fucking said before, my King was no fucking, god damned Narcissus.
Tch, he was fucking hotter than that damn self-loving shitty bastard could ever fucking hope to be.