For Itachi’s first birthday there was a small cake and an even smaller smiling baby, held in his mother’s arms. He was excited about the cake and his small chubby hands reached out for it. That small baby had no idea what was coming, he just wanted his cake.
For Itachi’s fourth birthday there was a war raging, Father was out, mother was scared. She’d smile at her son but the smile was strained. He received his first kunai set that year. It was wrapped in blood red wrapping paper.
For Itachi’s fifth birthday most of the focus was on his soon to come little brother, Itachi didn’t mind, he was as excited as his mother. She joked that his brother was his present this year. He spent the day in her lap listening to the tiny heartbeat. He thought that was the best present he would ever receive.
For Itachi’s sixth birthday Sasuke said his first clear word, the family was sitting around the table for Itachi’s birthday dinner when Sasuke suddenly said ‘Tachi!. Itachi changed his mind, this truly was the best present he would ever receive.
For Itachi’s seventh birthday he was on a mission. One of his first. His teammates gave him gifts of kunai and shuriken. They were of lesser quality than the ones he got from Nekobaa but he was grateful all the same.
For Itachi’s eighth birthday he gained the Sharingan. He wanted to forget that birthday, he lost his comerades. His father called his Sharingan a gift, Itachi thought of it as a curse.
For Itachi’s tenth birthday he trained for his Chunin exam with Shisui. Shisui gave him some bruises for his birthday. He also gave him a new katana for the exam. Itachi treasured it.
For Itachi’s eleventh birthday he received his ANBU mask. His little brother spent the evening trying on Itachi’s mask and gently tracing his new tattoo.
For Itachi’s thirteenth birthday he became an ANBU captain. His comrades all congratulated him no mention was made of his birthday. Even when he got home his parents both congratulated him on his promotion, that was the most important news. Only Sasuke remembered his birthday, he got him some fresh dango with his allowance. It was their last birthday together.
For Itachi’s fourteenth birthday he was alone. He was alone in his room in the Akatsuki hideout. He was alone with his memories of birthdays past. His memories of his family especially his baby brother. Sasuke hated him now and probably cursed this day. Itachi hated the day too, if not for his brother, he would wish he was never born.
For Itachi’s seventeenth birthday he saw his brother again for the first time in four years. He would regret that day for a long time. He had tortured his brother. ‘It’s to make him stronger’ he told himself. He could tell himself that all day, the trick was to make himself believe it. Sasuke had grown so much, he was taller, he looked like their mother.
For Itachi’s eighteenth birthday he found out he was going to die. He was diagnosed with microscopic polyangiitis. He had woken up several mornings coughing up blood. He was losing weight at an alarming rate. He felt tired all the time. For the first time in his life Itachi prayed. He prayed that he’d live long enough to die at his brother’s feet.
For his nineteenth birthday he was in remission. He could breathe easy. He had hope for the first time in a long time.
For his twentieth birthday the illness was back and worse than ever. He didn’t know how much longer he had but he knew he had to live. He had to live to die. His hands shook as he took a few extra pills and medicines and continued on with his day.
On Itachi’s twenty-first birthday he died. He finally fulfilled his wish. He died at his brother’s feet. He barely made it through the fight but he survived long enough to die. He died with a smile on his face, Sasuke would be the hero he could never be. Sasuke would be at peace and could move on with his life.
On his last birthday he gave his final gift and received none in return.
if you were wondering what reading bsd is like it's basically chekov coming in and slowly placing more and more guns on the table in front of the writer as the writer watches. and then the writer looks into the camera, breaking the fourth wall and goes "that's a lot of guns. my weapon of choice is actually a sword" and then spawns a fucking sword out of nowhere and cuts all the guns in halves
Obidei brainrot so bad I wrote a soft smut scene, feels and all. It's set post canon where they've worked things out and have recently gotten together.
Considering how loud and expressive Deidara is... it's safe to say he'd be no less in bed. Even crying if things get too heated (out of pleasure ofc). Mix that with an insecure inexperienced deeply repressed top like Obito, and every scream Deidara makes would taste like heaven. His soul that's starving for praise and reassurance would get addicted on the first tear.
Mini fic (2.3k) is E rated, obviously, so under the cut:
It wasn't their first time. Their first time has been a haze - a fever dream of which he's etched every detail into the psyche, never to vanish. Unyielding pressure and scorching friction, vice grips and slick heat. Eagerness was weaved into his entire being; it was the air he breathed, the heavy gasps they shared.
Disbelief, happiness, exploration, a complete unfolding - it's been many things, but not controlled. That not. Obito wasn’t in control of the wild burst of emotions - and not of himself.
The second has been a gift. Obito doubted it'd ever happen, self-hatred his eternal hounding, loyal like a shadow. They've been dancing around each other for years now, air between them ripe with something incendiary that the four letter word would be too reductive for. It was taut, suffocating, gripping by the throat, begging to be dissolved. The more it lingered, the madder it got him - both of them.
Deidara is a creature of a moment, wild and passionate, unquenchable in his thirst for adrenaline. Obito has been expecting him to yield to the spark laced with danger, just like he's been expecting it to pall. He expected Deidara to retreat; to call it a mistake, a product of a whim, a singular instance of succumbing to sexual frustration, hardly ever to repeat. Anything but an admission of reciprocated affections. Anything but me too.
Yet, none of that came to be. Revier wasn't shattered. It hasn't been a mistake, or a whim. Deidara wanted this - wanted him. That's the concept Obito still couldn't wrap his head around. He can't understand what lured such a dangerously attractive creature in, what could Deidara have seen in a negation of a human being; in a shadow he cast over his unparalleled flicker. In ugliness that was his razing fear.
Eagerness waned a fraction, but still guided. Obito still shuddered with desire, not creeping what-if's and apprehension clawing up throat. The insatiable hunger didn't allow doubt to worm in and overtake. Unbridled lust coursed through his veins, shot chemicals to his brain and overshadowed every ruinous why.
It was their third time, and Obito could relax. Because there will be a fourth. And a fifth. And many more after. He's wanted. Why so, how so, that Obito couldn't comprehend, but it was the truth. Words can dupe, eyes can deceive, but the tactile heat of flesh didn't lie.
It was the third time he had Deidara writhing beneath him and insecurity couldn't be negated. Desire no longer turned into an animal that's been kept starved for cruelly long, and thus the doubt slithered inside, snaking around heart and injecting venom into veins. Obito had to wonder if inexperience bled into his performance. It was an absurd notion, for a shinobi of his status, a puppeteer from the shadows, hence all the more suitable. He knew how to take a life, not how to make love; how to show love. This rotten hell of a world hasn't taught him gentleness, just the depth of human misery.
Deidara didn't make such remarks, not even implicitly, but that didn't mean he hadn't noted the imperfection. Didn't have his complaints and muffled sighs of disappointment. Didn't have second thoughts. Didn't consider leaving. Obito wouldn't stop him, didn't want to clip his wings, to snuff his flame, but it would break the last vestige of sanity. It would break him, once and for all. An apt punishment for all the wrongs done upon this person, Obito supposed.
At the moment, Deidara was nothing but shallow breaths and twitches, skin glistering with sweat, spine arching up, calling for his touch. Obito couldn't deny this man a thing. He had to provide, while taking and talking. Like his soul is unslakable. Like this yearning knows no bounds. The depth of engulfing, unstringing emotions only Uchiha can come to feel, scorching in their wicked veins, blinding more than the curse of Sharingan ever could.
Deidara was taking him with thrilling pliance, hips meekly rolling back, fluttering and trembling in tandem with ragged breath. His cock bobbed and drooled over belly, pleading for attention it couldn't get. Not because Obito denied him, but because Deidara hasn't tried to touch himself. Muscles quivered and arms laid limp over sheets, toes curling and fingers flexing, like he’s lost control of own body.
It was an immensely arousing thought. Too daring, a drop of color on the black of long piling doubt, his definer. A part of him wanted to preen with misguided pride that he's reduced Deidara to a drooling, blabbing mess. The devil on his shoulder kept whispering that there must be a less delirious explanation for Deidara’s… curiously submissive state.
Heat got to him anyways. The sight made Obito’s heart clench, ache far from just mindless carnality. Grunting low, he lifted Deidara’s hips off the mattress, crossed legs high around shoulders entered from a slightly different angle.
Swift motion sharply threw Deidara’s head back, eyes rolling back into skull with every inch he pushed inside, ferocious but slow.
“Ahhhhh!”
The wanton scream made Obito jerk. Bolts of electricity wrecked chaos through nerves, heightened his breath and clenched jaw. Beads of sweat rolled down the stiff muscles, cock swelled inside the taut heat, springing grunts up his throat. Obito gulped hard, willing the heart to stop pounding. In vain, pulse kept on drumming, overriding what scant sane thoughts lust hasn't eaten away. Yet, he wanted more. This wasn’t enough.
Deidara being loud can hardly be called a novelty. He's been vocal the first two times too, clawing at his shirt with terrific persistence, demanding to be touched, used, torn apart. But this… this was different.
The dominance that Deidara wears as armor is gone. He was utterly, hopelessly vulnerable, and a taste of this addictive trust made Obito’s mouth dry. He couldn't stop looking, mapping out every contour and line of Deidara’s body, moving with feverish frenzy, rams not quite landing as intended. Golden locks spread around Deidara’s head, like a mockery of a halo, face burned like he's on the verge of fainting, eyes glittered with tears, some shed, some kept in rein. He looked ruined and was, gorgeously, painfully so.
Skin slapped against slick skin, lewd noises echoing inside Obito’s head, Sharingan burning into skull; it flared on its own, he was too gone to care. Each time his hips would meet the back of Deidara’s tights, he'd make some sort of a sound, be it a tattered gasp, long moan or a low groan. Like he's in too much pleasure. Like Obito has it in him to make him this good. There’s no way. He didn't dare hope, weave a far too tempting dream.
Biting lips in a sign of nervousness Deidara was too dizzy to pick up, Obito repeated the motion. A wave of unadulterated pleasure washed over, tipping his chin, Adam apple rippling as he struggled breathing, no air left in lungs, just fire. The noise Deidara made as he squirmed and clutched sheets did filthy things to Obito’s brain. He groaned in turn, gone.
Honest to god, he wanted to stop. He really did. He wanted to check if Deidara is alright. If he's enjoying this, or is in pain that pride won't let him admit. Obito couldn't. Hips rocked on their own, chased selfish pleasure that can’t be called anything but an overindulgence. A spoonful of bliss, for his restrained kind, could be called an act of depraved hedonism.
“Deidara,” he squinched eyes in feral concentration and groaned, wrecked.
Deidara was relentless under him. Moans and screams strained his vocal cords, promised a sore throat tomorrow; good thing the cabin is in the back of beyond, these sweet sounds are for his ears only. His hips were rocking off the bed, helplessly trying to meet the ruthless rhythm he's set, shaky sweaty hands gripping sheets and tearing, frenzied in their want. Saliva slid from a corner of lips, tears rolled down rosy cheeks as Obito took him, mercilessly. Bed creaked under his ferocity, dangerously close to snapping, but Obito didn’t care. Couldn't bring himself to care when Deidara was reacting this powerfully.
“There!” Deidara’s eyes squeezed with what Obito didn’t dare hope are tinges of far too potent bliss. It couldn't be. Couldn't.
He must have brushed against that bundle of nerves as Deidara jumped up, electrified. “Oh fuck, yessss!”
Obscene noises of praise got to Obito's ego, overloading the keyed up nerves. Hips stuttered, breath fell short, tomoe vehemently spun, recording everything. He was helplessly turned on, dick throbbing, but physical arousal paled into comparison to the storm inside chest. Before an affect this consuming, he was paralyzed. His heart was full, overbrimming. Yet clenched in unremitting anxiety, shadows of doubt staining the bliss, whispering that he's doing something - everything - wrong.
A few shallow thrusts, and Obito managed to stop. But couldn't pull out. Despite the hollowness in the pit of stomach, he selfishly couldn't part with this stolen ecstasy. Shaking and gasping for air, he leaned on elbows above Deidara, aware that the rare and costly vulnerability must have surfaced on features. It was fine, Deidara wore an echoing.
“Tobi…” it was a small soft whimper, laced with desire that made Obito’s heart swell.
Deidara opened one of those spellbinding eyes and gazed up. “Why did you stop?” he didn't grumble but did sound impatient.
Why indeed. An answer coiled and snapped inside him, but couldn't shape into anything coherent. Obito swallowed something barbed, probably the taut tension. “You…’
He stopped, hating how unsteady he sounded, how broken. Deidara didn’t rush, didn't goad. His chakra didn't emanate aggression but something atypically mellow that gave Obito confidence to keep going.
"You're reacting”, he blurted.
Deidara blinked, confused. “Huh?”
Trust him to ruin the moment. Obito groaned inwardly, beating himself over the gaffe. He willed melted brain cells to deliver anything sensible, but that was easier said than done when Deidara was gorgeously open beneath.
A grunt, strained, throaty. “You're clutching sheets... and screaming” - and it's too hot for my waning grip on control.
“And…” Obito trailed off, traced a tear stain with a pad of thumb, soaking in the warmth of Deidara’s skin. Real. Here, with me.
He was lucky to be bestowed with a partner that could read him when words fail. A hushed gasp announced when it clicked. “That I am, hm,” Deidara purred, thick and low.
Obito wasn't breathing, mesmerized by the determination in the crystal blue irises, the absolute absence of doubt. As if onto his captivation, Deidara canted head, caught his thumb between lips and sucked. Fuck.
Obito felt himself flushing, heard himself moaning. It was too much. Not just the lewd act, but the implicit acceptance. Nonetheless, it molded into the white heat, skittering up his spine. He yanked the hand away, like burned, and gripped Deidara’s waist harder, uncaring for the bruises. He thrust with pitiless force; couldn't help himself. There was no way Deidara didn’t feel the thickness pulsing inside, how badly he's broken by all of this.
His hardly controlled desire painted a warm smile across Deidara’s lips. “That's ‘cause it's good,” he arched up to twist fingers through his hair and drew in for a sloppy kiss.
It didn't last long. Drool bridged between their quivering lips, eyes intimately locked. “You're too good, hm.”
Those words undid more than the physicality itself. Obito growled. Shaking to the bone, he latched onto Deidara’s lips, pried them open with his tongue, and took, insatiably. Got a taste of heaven. Because that's what this reassurance must be - a figment of imagination, a sweet illusion of own conjuring.
His hands roamed down Deidara’s sides, settling on hips, itching to feel that this is all real. “I am?” Obito tried to smirk, but incredulity still laced voice. Nonetheless, he moved; had to.
A breathy groan was enough of an answer. Deidara's head lolled to the side, lashes fluttering and moist lips shaping a gasp of what was now, evidently, raw pleasure. A revitalizing scream didn't rip from his throat, but Obito was given a far better gift.
Deidara kneaded a spot on the back of neck that made his toes curl, lips buzzing purrs. “I'm tellin’ you, I love it. I Iove what you're doin' to me, mm,” voice hoarse, Deidara averted eyes for a moment, cheeks crimsoning.
Embarrassment didn't linger. Deidara’s gaze dimmed with thrilling boldness. “So stop thinking and fuck me senseless already!” it was half a whimper, half a command.
Rather than obeying, Obito went still as dead, breath locked, muscles clenched. Deidara… he's intentionally yield - to him. You want me. You really want me, however I may come.
Undaunted by Obito’s speechlessness and rigid posture, Deidara got a hold of his wrist and guided it to own neglected cock, melting into the flimsy contact. He taunted the clasp around Obito’s back, quivering shins resting over the width of his shoulders, and grinded up, coaxing him into sliding deeper inside.
“Come on, you dumbass,” Deidara met the unyielding vermilion of his softened eyes with unadulterated desire, and smiled, voice playfully dipping. “You do know how to make me see stars, hm.”
Gosh. “You really want me dead,” Obito groaned, deep and long, not knowing what to do with himself. "Damn..."
Captivated and defeated, he cupped the back of Deidara’s head and buried head into his neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of flames and ashes. His heart was drumming in his head, that loud Obito was positive Deidara could hear the beats of his madness. His abating insecurity, the remedy flowing through the bloodstream. The sound of hope he never thought would dawn. Not for him.
Response arrived in actions, not words. Deidara twisted arms around his neck and pulled closer, into an embrace, rhythm set slow, impossibly gentle. They finally moved in synchronicity, shallow heat no longer guiding.The simple act of acceptance, imperfect and insecurity as he is, unwound years of anguish and loneliness; replaced the despair and hatred he breathed with something tender, bordering on healing. A deeply embedded side of him that hopelessly yearned for a nullity of approval was thriving, just as foolishly besotted. Obito forgot that the heart can pound in something other than fear.
Forgot to post it here last night. If anyone wants to see drunk Deidara hitting on poor unsuspecting Tobi and trying to get into his pants while Obito’s brain cells are frying and he's fumbling the hottest creature in the existence, here's a link:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
This Friday the 13th I offer pre-war arc obidei angst cuz I love making fictional characters suffer. Post betrayal, mutual pinning and unresolved tension tags my beloved.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
ao3 is down and the wip is a bit short, I'm sharing my sinful drabble here. Whenever I see the creature that is Tobi I refuse to believe Obito doesn't have some pathetic sub fantasies. Why tease the embodiment of a cheeky dom bottom if not to be ridden crazy? He's been in charge for too long, he wants to relent power and let go.
And thus: Deidara riding the fully clothed Tobi, who's fighting for his life. Why? Because if Tobi's face won't see the light of day, dick won't either. Deidara is prideful like that. And it's revenge to see Tobi miserable.
Fic is E rated, obviously, so under the cut:
For all these empty years, Obito thought he knew hell. But was wrong. Grave wrong. This inferno writhing in his lap, wild and madly assured in his attractiveness, not afraid to get what he wants, seize it and devour it along with bones, yet tantalizingly unattainable – this is real hell.
Deidara moved in erotic waves, slowly sitting up, swiftly bouncing down on his groin, long locks of gold fluttering behind the frame, cheat heaving with heavy breaths, gleam in unveiled eye never dwindling, confident smirk never dropping. He wore nothing but heat and shivers, enhanced by assurance, Akatsuki cloak flung over frame, with a sole purpose of teasing via deprivation; as if Obito doesn’t have plenty of it.
Deidara didn’t refrain from jerking himself off, but didn’t rush towards the climax. He took his sweet time playing with himself and putting on a show – just for his eyes.
The sight seared into Obito’s brain. Imprinted, flushed fire through veins and clad the parched skin in chills of unadulterated desire; he wanted, feverishly. His cock stained with every inch of throbbing, imperative need, painfully trapped in the slacks he couldn’t take off. Too many secrets stood in the way, he couldn’t jeopardize years of careful plotting for the shallowness of the fleeting sensual bliss.
Woefully, shackles didn’t exist just in his repressed mind, but in reality too. Fine, be a bore, hm. You loss. But I won’t let you be unfair, over my dead body. If you’re not taking the mask off, you’re not taking anything off.
In other words, Deidara wanted him back. Wanted him flat on his back while he’s on top, using him, for own pleasure – far from just carnal. And Obito, as always, was weak. He was weak to this crazy man’s spark, the sultry aura that drew in, like a moth to the flame.
They settled on a mimicry of sex, and that was fine. Or so Obito hopped. He swore off indulgences in life, hence the voluntary celibacy. Temptation never tripped him till now – till Deidara. He tumbled and is yet to get up.
It can’t be that unendurable, Obito surmised roughly an hour ago, weighting if it’d be in character for Tobi to give in. In retrospect, he was, to be blunt – a naive moron.
Deidara squeezed eyes and shamelessly rubbed himself over his waist, spine arching and toes curling. A long, breathy moan slipped out, slithering straight to Obito’s groin and setting him on fire. Panting behind the mask, all flushed and sweaty in face, he raked gloved fingers through grass, desperate for an anchor. He didn’t dare put them on Deidara’s burning skin, knew he’d lose what scant sanity he had left.
A sensual snap of hips, tongue dragged up length, curled around tip and lapped on precum welling up the slit. Obito drank it all in, starved. Tinges of bliss threw Deidara’s head back, pupils going black. “What’s the matter Tobi? Got you all choked up, hmm?”
Yes. He was that much the answer had to arrive in an erratic nod. Quirk of lips suggested Deidara found his neediness thrilling, ego stroking, thus rewarded by snaking hand behind himself and palming his clothed cock. Fuck. That felt amazing. The sound he made, low and wrecked, was nothing short of undignified. Becoming Tobi, but not him.
A bout of humiliation had Obito’s cock twitching, painfully so. For a beat, he dreaded he’ll finish. Luckily, he put himself in rein under the wire, clinched muscles to prevent himself from cumming gallons, disclosing how much of a virgin he is. Ah, no. Forget the mortification of creaming his pants, the real danger is the Sharingan flickering red in the moments of loosened inhibitions. Deidara would never let him live the shame of former down, but it’s the latter that’d never forgive.
Deidara’s other hand was flat on his stomach, mouth nibbling on the drenched fabric, teasing with a ghost of contact. “Senapi…” Obito choked on gasps for air, hips stuttering, chasing pleasure that’ll bring him closer to burning humiliation. “You’re cruel.”
It was an understatement. Obito thought he was an embodiment of evil, an agent of chaos. He was wrong. Grinding down on him with a brash grin plastered on those kissable lips, luring and denying in one go, Deidara was the devil incarnate. Forget all risky plans and the red moon, this man will put him in a grave.
Little tease was pleased by his stupefaction. “And you’re stubborn as a mule,” Deidara’s chaff came deep and throaty, picking up Obito’s pulse. “If I say so, hm.”
Air was ripe with desire, addictive. The steady ties and ebbs of Deidara’s delectable chakra invited, cutting ripples tempted into lunacy. The resistance… it was futile. He had to touch. Had to. He wanted it all, under his fingers, under his tongue. Wanted to rake more than just eyes over crevices and contours, beads of sweat sliding down the oscillating skin. He’ll die if doesn’t get his hands on Deidara’s alluringly lithe body.
So he did, void of soundness – seized Deidara’s hips in a vice grip and yanked down hard. He wanted it to bruise, needed marks to never heal. Wanted to imprint his desperation, showcase power he deliberately yielded. Show that he can, just won’t.
With a hitched gasp and marginal widening of eyes, Deidara allowed it all. Even clasped his wrists and guided higher, up the tapering of his waist, over the defined lines on chest, to the erected nipples and stitches, enjoying the shaky tugs and rolls. Deidara was incredibly sensitive, pats had him squirming and moaning in Obito’s lap.
Sucking in a shuddering breath, Obito wished he could pull gloves off and soak in Deidara’s heat with bare hands. Wished he could pull himself out, stroke to take off the edge, then enter the tight warmth and -
Blood rushed south, electricity gulled hips into bucking up. “Shit,” a wrecked groan. Balls were flush against base, heavy and achingly full, head drenched and jerking with Deidara’s bounces, heat pooling in gut alarming. Gritting teeth, Obito threw head back onto the soft grass, pleaded the earth to open and swallow him whole.
Because this was hell. The degrading denial that lit his flame. Deidara was right. His pent up body – he– got off on this. Got off bad. The powerlessness that came with submitting that he, the mastermind, cannot allow. In that aspect, Tobi himself, meek and accommodating, was a perversion itself. The need he’s tried to scrub, but fruitlessly.
Touch didn’t linger at the waist. Boldly confident in his beauty, Deidara wanted him to map out every plane and muscle of his body. He bit lower lip and gazed at him through thick lashes, guided down to strong thighs spreading over lap, then around to the curves of his behind – the cheeks that rubbed over the agonizing tent in Obito’s pants.
Fuck. Obito gulped hard, throat rippling and corners of eyes stinging from how much he needed. He was wrong. That was way worse. Ignorance is, indeed, a bliss. Now he knows what he’s missing. What he could be fucking senseless if only he…
“Deidara… please,” brat had him discarding Tobi’s silly tones, voice gruff, rich in lust. “I need – ah fuck,” twinges of pure agony contorted Obito’s face. He was gone. Ruined.
Deidara fluttered, eyes impossibly wide. He noticed, no way he didn’t. The shift from the shill highs to the low timbre was as good as an admission. Strangely, Deidara didn’t appear ticked off, but tickled. His thighs trembled, breath spiked, cock pulsed and leaked in waves, showcased how much glee he derived from having between his thighs, humbled and defeated, each twitch imbued with mad lust.
Not batting an eyelid, Deidara let the tongue on hand lap up the underside; slobber over the tip, all lewd sounds and breathy moans, and take it in, as deep as possible. Obito made a funny noise, erection bobbing, drooling in tandem with those sinful mouths. Deidara was crazily casual with those obscenities. It did nasty things to Obito’s brain.
He wanted to be there. Or inside Deidara’s facial mouth, shut him up for once. Or inside his ass, fuck that attitude out of him. And he could, possessed ample power to flip him over and subjugate. Deidara clearly yearned for that, hoped the bossiness will tee Tobi off and get him ravaged. He wanted sun to rise with his legs above head, needs more than satisfied and mind blissfully vacant.
Obito did none of that. He played along, like a good boy that Tobi is; yielded, let the cheeky brat degrade him, use like he’s nothing but an object. Except, this wasn’t Tobi any longer – this was all him. This was the perverse desire he’s trusted he’s expunged.
“Yes, that’s what I wanna hear, hm,” it was a dark, rumbling purr, slithering up Obito’s bones like barbed wire and baring of all secrets and lies. “Good boy,” Deidara droned, sensually flickering tongue over glossy lips.
Obito swore he nearly came. Holy shit. Those two words undid, absurdly, coiled tension tight in the pit of stomach, sent electric buzz through nerves and curled toes. He had it bad for Deidara’s praise, even if coated in mockery. He wanted more. Needed.
Grinding on him, Deidara felt the violent pulsations, grasped what stirred the flow without an ebb. “You like that, hm,” it was a statement, teeming with swollen pride.
A titter, then a snarl. “You nasty dog,” Deidara spat with feigned disgust. Ah, degradation made him throb too. Maybe he just had it bad for this firecracker.
“All this time you’ve been acting like a fool, slacking off and getting on my nerves, mm. But you were anything but a fool. You’ve been lusting after me, like a starving animal. You think I didn’t notice? Tough luck, it took me a bit, but I did, hm.”
A tiny gasp, then a languid roll of hips, twinges of friction lolling Obito head to the side. Deidara grabbed the sides of the robe, unhurriedly lowering it down waist. “I know you want to stick it in me. I know you want me on all fours, screaming your name, hm.”
Yes yes yes, that’s exactly what he’s been doing. What he wants. Deidara is dead on. He’s been fantasizing. He’s been losing his mind. He’s been lusting for what he can’t have. Imagining Deidara in all sorts of positions, pride discarded along with clothes, that beautiful face of his twisted in pain laced pleasure.
And the unattainability of it all, fuck did it make Obito stupidly hard.
Spurred by the realizations, Deidara lowered over him, patted up the clothed muscles on his stomach and chest, then roved up sternum to the rippling Adam apple. “You can Tobi. You can pull your dick out and fuck me. Sure you can, mm. I can feel how much you want it,” whispered filth into his ear, void of shame.
“But this,” slender fingers curled over the edge of mask, but didn’t yank. Other hand cupped the back of Obito’s skull, roughly stroking through short hair and teasing the black elastic of the mask.
Insidious touch drove a lethal thrill up Obito’s spine, squeezed tight around throat and sucked air out of lungs. Deidara couldn’t see him, but did nose out how broken he was. “It has to go too, hm.”
Heh. Figured. Behind the mask, lips molded into a sour smile, acknowledging defeat. Whatever you want. Except that. Anything but that
Silence filled with broken gasps was as good as no. Deidara, the brat he is, had to rub salt into wound. He dug fingers into his shoulders, brought their groins together, hot flesh on wet cloth, and rubbed.
Friction was raw, too sharp for Obito’s scattering thoughts and heart thumping in ears, pulse that’s gone wild. White static skittered over limbs, tore skin and drilled into marrow. He’s never felt something this… poignant. It was exciting. Dangerously so.
Deidara was close, his moist breath bounced off Obito’s mask, orange reflecting in the glassiness of blue irises. Ah, it was too much. This gnawing hunger inside. It’d be easy to yank mask to the side, tangle fingers through brat’s hair and pull him in for a merciless kiss. It’d be so easy, but costly. Too dangerous, too undoing. It was exactly the forbidden nature of this stolen moment that spiked Obito’s desire.
Deidara’s grinds dwindled to the whisper, head canting, bangs revealing the other crystal blue eye, gleaming with crazily attractive itch for dominance. “Come on Tobi,” a dulcet drone, raspy enough to set his heart in motion, “do you really peg me for a fool?”
Aroused beyond belief, Obito didn’t register the implication on time. With a thick purr, Deidara straightened up, straddled him properly in a couple of tries, swell of ass pressing over his trapped cock, swelled with aching need. It seared, scorched so fucking bad. Obito swore he nearly teared up. Waning control was severed. No better than a mindless animal, he groaned and rutted into the heat he desperately wanted to bury himself in.
Bounces seemed startle, but not for long. Assurance renewed, Deidara pressed on. “Akatsuki didn’t take you in for your dashing looks or perverted kinks, hm,” his whisper was hoarse, mock spot on; cheeks flushed, hand languidly pumping at the base and kindling the green envy in Obito’s chest.
“I don’t know… what you’re hiding, but I know you are hiding something,” tattered gasps and trembles suffused with tapered desire, yet Deidara went for the jugular; how nerveracking. “I know there’s someone wiser behind this silly mask of yours. Someone capable, someone attractively powerful.”
Without a warning, Deidara cupped him, and squeezed hard. Obito jerked, bit tongue to muffle the cry, pain and pleasure etching into features. His eyes rolled back, drool escaped from the corner of lips, brows furrowed and whole body tense, packed with frustration. The worst of all was the dulled throbbing behind eyelids, the vermilion that’d ruin everything. He had to keep that curse in check more than unruly hormones.
Little minx drank it all in, mask of no account, and thirsted for more. So he squeezed again, and again, wanting Obito to tip. The sensation of the moist heat drove up the wall, tongue lapping over where the tip strained the fabric rendered Obito a goner.
Deidara inched closer, smile all teeth and dimples. “But whoever is there,” his nails patted over the hard ridges of the mask, echoed like a death knell in the cage of Obito’s skull. “He’s perfectly content being used and humiliated.”
Despite himself, Obito smirked. How right Deidara was… it was terrifying.
ao3 is down and the wip is a bit short, I'm sharing my sinful drabble here. Whenever I see the creature that is Tobi I refuse to believe Obito doesn't have some pathetic sub fantasies. Why tease the embodiment of a cheeky dom bottom if not to be ridden crazy? He's been in charge for too long, he wants to relent power and let go.
And thus: Deidara riding the fully clothed Tobi, who's fighting for his life. Why? Because if Tobi's face won't see the light of day, dick won't either. Deidara is prideful like that. And it's revenge to see Tobi miserable.
Fic is E rated, obviously, so under the cut:
For all these empty years, Obito thought he knew hell. But was wrong. Grave wrong. This inferno writhing in his lap, wild and madly assured in his attractiveness, not afraid to get what he wants, seize it and devour it along with bones, yet tantalizingly unattainable – this is real hell.
Deidara moved in erotic waves, slowly sitting up, swiftly bouncing down on his groin, long locks of gold fluttering behind the frame, cheat heaving with heavy breaths, gleam in unveiled eye never dwindling, confident smirk never dropping. He wore nothing but heat and shivers, enhanced by assurance, Akatsuki cloak flung over frame, with a sole purpose of teasing via deprivation; as if Obito doesn’t have plenty of it.
Deidara didn’t refrain from jerking himself off, but didn’t rush towards the climax. He took his sweet time playing with himself and putting on a show – just for his eyes.
The sight seared into Obito’s brain. Imprinted, flushed fire through veins and clad the parched skin in chills of unadulterated desire; he wanted, feverishly. His cock stained with every inch of throbbing, imperative need, painfully trapped in the slacks he couldn’t take off. Too many secrets stood in the way, he couldn’t jeopardize years of careful plotting for the shallowness of the fleeting sensual bliss.
Woefully, shackles didn’t exist just in his repressed mind, but in reality too. Fine, be a bore, hm. You loss. But I won’t let you be unfair, over my dead body. If you’re not taking the mask off, you’re not taking anything off.
In other words, Deidara wanted him back. Wanted him flat on his back while he’s on top, using him, for own pleasure – far from just carnal. And Obito, as always, was weak. He was weak to this crazy man’s spark, the sultry aura that drew in, like a moth to the flame.
They settled on a mimicry of sex, and that was fine. Or so Obito hopped. He swore off indulgences in life, hence the voluntary celibacy. Temptation never tripped him till now – till Deidara. He tumbled and is yet to get up.
It can’t be that unendurable, Obito surmised roughly an hour ago, weighting if it’d be in character for Tobi to give in. In retrospect, he was, to be blunt – a naive moron.
Deidara squeezed eyes and shamelessly rubbed himself over his waist, spine arching and toes curling. A long, breathy moan slipped out, slithering straight to Obito’s groin and setting him on fire. Panting behind the mask, all flushed and sweaty in face, he raked gloved fingers through grass, desperate for an anchor. He didn’t dare put them on Deidara’s burning skin, knew he’d lose what scant sanity he had left.
A sensual snap of hips, tongue dragged up length, curled around tip and lapped on precum welling up the slit. Obito drank it all in, starved. Tinges of bliss threw Deidara’s head back, pupils going black. “What’s the matter Tobi? Got you all choked up, hmm?”
Yes. He was that much the answer had to arrive in an erratic nod. Quirk of lips suggested Deidara found his neediness thrilling, ego stroking, thus rewarded by snaking hand behind himself and palming his clothed cock. Fuck. That felt amazing. The sound he made, low and wrecked, was nothing short of undignified. Becoming Tobi, but not him.
A bout of humiliation had Obito’s cock twitching, painfully so. For a beat, he dreaded he’ll finish. Luckily, he put himself in rein under the wire, clinched muscles to prevent himself from cumming gallons, disclosing how much of a virgin he is. Ah, no. Forget the mortification of creaming his pants, the real danger is the Sharingan flickering red in the moments of loosened inhibitions. Deidara would never let him live the shame of former down, but it’s the latter that’d never forgive.
Deidara’s other hand was flat on his stomach, mouth nibbling on the drenched fabric, teasing with a ghost of contact. “Senapi…” Obito choked on gasps for air, hips stuttering, chasing pleasure that’ll bring him closer to burning humiliation. “You’re cruel.”
It was an understatement. Obito thought he was an embodiment of evil, an agent of chaos. He was wrong. Grinding down on him with a brash grin plastered on those kissable lips, luring and denying in one go, Deidara was the devil incarnate. Forget all risky plans and the red moon, this man will put him in a grave.
Little tease was pleased by his stupefaction. “And you’re stubborn as a mule,” Deidara’s chaff came deep and throaty, picking up Obito’s pulse. “If I say so, hm.”
Air was ripe with desire, addictive. The steady ties and ebbs of Deidara’s delectable chakra invited, cutting ripples tempted into lunacy. The resistance… it was futile. He had to touch. Had to. He wanted it all, under his fingers, under his tongue. Wanted to rake more than just eyes over crevices and contours, beads of sweat sliding down the oscillating skin. He’ll die if doesn’t get his hands on Deidara’s alluringly lithe body.
So he did, void of soundness – seized Deidara’s hips in a vice grip and yanked down hard. He wanted it to bruise, needed marks to never heal. Wanted to imprint his desperation, showcase power he deliberately yielded. Show that he can, just won’t.
With a hitched gasp and marginal widening of eyes, Deidara allowed it all. Even clasped his wrists and guided higher, up the tapering of his waist, over the defined lines on chest, to the erected nipples and stitches, enjoying the shaky tugs and rolls. Deidara was incredibly sensitive, pats had him squirming and moaning in Obito’s lap.
Sucking in a shuddering breath, Obito wished he could pull gloves off and soak in Deidara’s heat with bare hands. Wished he could pull himself out, stroke to take off the edge, then enter the tight warmth and -
Blood rushed south, electricity gulled hips into bucking up. “Shit,” a wrecked groan. Balls were flush against base, heavy and achingly full, head drenched and jerking with Deidara’s bounces, heat pooling in gut alarming. Gritting teeth, Obito threw head back onto the soft grass, pleaded the earth to open and swallow him whole.
Because this was hell. The degrading denial that lit his flame. Deidara was right. His pent up body – he– got off on this. Got off bad. The powerlessness that came with submitting that he, the mastermind, cannot allow. In that aspect, Tobi himself, meek and accommodating, was a perversion itself. The need he’s tried to scrub, but fruitlessly.
Touch didn’t linger at the waist. Boldly confident in his beauty, Deidara wanted him to map out every plane and muscle of his body. He bit lower lip and gazed at him through thick lashes, guided down to strong thighs spreading over lap, then around to the curves of his behind – the cheeks that rubbed over the agonizing tent in Obito’s pants.
Fuck. Obito gulped hard, throat rippling and corners of eyes stinging from how much he needed. He was wrong. That was way worse. Ignorance is, indeed, a bliss. Now he knows what he’s missing. What he could be fucking senseless if only he…
“Deidara… please,” brat had him discarding Tobi’s silly tones, voice gruff, rich in lust. “I need – ah fuck,” twinges of pure agony contorted Obito’s face. He was gone. Ruined.
Deidara fluttered, eyes impossibly wide. He noticed, no way he didn’t. The shift from the shill highs to the low timbre was as good as an admission. Strangely, Deidara didn’t appear ticked off, but tickled. His thighs trembled, breath spiked, cock pulsed and leaked in waves, showcased how much glee he derived from having between his thighs, humbled and defeated, each twitch imbued with mad lust.
Not batting an eyelid, Deidara let the tongue on hand lap up the underside; slobber over the tip, all lewd sounds and breathy moans, and take it in, as deep as possible. Obito made a funny noise, erection bobbing, drooling in tandem with those sinful mouths. Deidara was crazily casual with those obscenities. It did nasty things to Obito’s brain.
He wanted to be there. Or inside Deidara’s facial mouth, shut him up for once. Or inside his ass, fuck that attitude out of him. And he could, possessed ample power to flip him over and subjugate. Deidara clearly yearned for that, hoped the bossiness will tee Tobi off and get him ravaged. He wanted sun to rise with his legs above head, needs more than satisfied and mind blissfully vacant.
Obito did none of that. He played along, like a good boy that Tobi is; yielded, let the cheeky brat degrade him, use like he’s nothing but an object. Except, this wasn’t Tobi any longer – this was all him. This was the perverse desire he’s trusted he’s expunged.
“Yes, that’s what I wanna hear, hm,” it was a dark, rumbling purr, slithering up Obito’s bones like barbed wire and baring of all secrets and lies. “Good boy,” Deidara droned, sensually flickering tongue over glossy lips.
Obito swore he nearly came. Holy shit. Those two words undid, absurdly, coiled tension tight in the pit of stomach, sent electric buzz through nerves and curled toes. He had it bad for Deidara’s praise, even if coated in mockery. He wanted more. Needed.
Grinding on him, Deidara felt the violent pulsations, grasped what stirred the flow without an ebb. “You like that, hm,” it was a statement, teeming with swollen pride.
A titter, then a snarl. “You nasty dog,” Deidara spat with feigned disgust. Ah, degradation made him throb too. Maybe he just had it bad for this firecracker.
“All this time you’ve been acting like a fool, slacking off and getting on my nerves, mm. But you were anything but a fool. You’ve been lusting after me, like a starving animal. You think I didn’t notice? Tough luck, it took me a bit, but I did, hm.”
A tiny gasp, then a languid roll of hips, twinges of friction lolling Obito head to the side. Deidara grabbed the sides of the robe, unhurriedly lowering it down waist. “I know you want to stick it in me. I know you want me on all fours, screaming your name, hm.”
Yes yes yes, that’s exactly what he’s been doing. What he wants. Deidara is dead on. He’s been fantasizing. He’s been losing his mind. He’s been lusting for what he can’t have. Imagining Deidara in all sorts of positions, pride discarded along with clothes, that beautiful face of his twisted in pain laced pleasure.
And the unattainability of it all, fuck did it make Obito stupidly hard.
Spurred by the realizations, Deidara lowered over him, patted up the clothed muscles on his stomach and chest, then roved up sternum to the rippling Adam apple. “You can Tobi. You can pull your dick out and fuck me. Sure you can, mm. I can feel how much you want it,” whispered filth into his ear, void of shame.
“But this,” slender fingers curled over the edge of mask, but didn’t yank. Other hand cupped the back of Obito’s skull, roughly stroking through short hair and teasing the black elastic of the mask.
Insidious touch drove a lethal thrill up Obito’s spine, squeezed tight around throat and sucked air out of lungs. Deidara couldn’t see him, but did nose out how broken he was. “It has to go too, hm.”
Heh. Figured. Behind the mask, lips molded into a sour smile, acknowledging defeat. Whatever you want. Except that. Anything but that
Silence filled with broken gasps was as good as no. Deidara, the brat he is, had to rub salt into wound. He dug fingers into his shoulders, brought their groins together, hot flesh on wet cloth, and rubbed.
Friction was raw, too sharp for Obito’s scattering thoughts and heart thumping in ears, pulse that’s gone wild. White static skittered over limbs, tore skin and drilled into marrow. He’s never felt something this… poignant. It was exciting. Dangerously so.
Deidara was close, his moist breath bounced off Obito’s mask, orange reflecting in the glassiness of blue irises. Ah, it was too much. This gnawing hunger inside. It’d be easy to yank mask to the side, tangle fingers through brat’s hair and pull him in for a merciless kiss. It’d be so easy, but costly. Too dangerous, too undoing. It was exactly the forbidden nature of this stolen moment that spiked Obito’s desire.
Deidara’s grinds dwindled to the whisper, head canting, bangs revealing the other crystal blue eye, gleaming with crazily attractive itch for dominance. “Come on Tobi,” a dulcet drone, raspy enough to set his heart in motion, “do you really peg me for a fool?”
Aroused beyond belief, Obito didn’t register the implication on time. With a thick purr, Deidara straightened up, straddled him properly in a couple of tries, swell of ass pressing over his trapped cock, swelled with aching need. It seared, scorched so fucking bad. Obito swore he nearly teared up. Waning control was severed. No better than a mindless animal, he groaned and rutted into the heat he desperately wanted to bury himself in.
Bounces seemed startle, but not for long. Assurance renewed, Deidara pressed on. “Akatsuki didn’t take you in for your dashing looks or perverted kinks, hm,” his whisper was hoarse, mock spot on; cheeks flushed, hand languidly pumping at the base and kindling the green envy in Obito’s chest.
“I don’t know… what you’re hiding, but I know you are hiding something,” tattered gasps and trembles suffused with tapered desire, yet Deidara went for the jugular; how nerveracking. “I know there’s someone wiser behind this silly mask of yours. Someone capable, someone attractively powerful.”
Without a warning, Deidara cupped him, and squeezed hard. Obito jerked, bit tongue to muffle the cry, pain and pleasure etching into features. His eyes rolled back, drool escaped from the corner of lips, brows furrowed and whole body tense, packed with frustration. The worst of all was the dulled throbbing behind eyelids, the vermilion that’d ruin everything. He had to keep that curse in check more than unruly hormones.
Little minx drank it all in, mask of no account, and thirsted for more. So he squeezed again, and again, wanting Obito to tip. The sensation of the moist heat drove up the wall, tongue lapping over where the tip strained the fabric rendered Obito a goner.
Deidara inched closer, smile all teeth and dimples. “But whoever is there,” his nails patted over the hard ridges of the mask, echoed like a death knell in the cage of Obito’s skull. “He’s perfectly content being used and humiliated.”
Despite himself, Obito smirked. How right Deidara was… it was terrifying.
