Someone Needs Attention
Deidara x Reader. Established Relationship. Playful Punishment. Spanking. Teasing. First Person POV. 18+ Only!
The afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of our shared apartment, casting golden streaks across the floor. I had been teasing Deidara all day, light jabs about his art, his pride, his explosive temper. But today, something was different. Instead of his usual scowl or a dramatic threat to turn me into a "work of art," he simply smirked, his blue eyes glinting with mischief.
"You’re asking for it, hm," he drawled, his voice low and laced with amusement.
Before I could react, he lunged. I shrieked, bolting across the room. My laughter echoing as I dodged around the coffee table. Deidara was fast, far faster than I’d anticipated. His long strides ate up the distance between us, and I could practically feel the heat of his intent.
"C’mon, is that all you got!" I taunted, darting into the kitchen. He followed, his movements fluid, predatory. I swerved around the table, but he cut me off, herding me back toward the living room. My heart pounded, not from fear, but from the thrill of the chase.
I feinted left, then right, but he was relentless. His hand grazed my arm, and I yelped, giggling as I barely slipped away. The apartment felt smaller with every passing second, and my options were running out. In a desperate move, I tried to wedge myself behind the sofa, squeezing into the narrow gap.
Big mistake.
The space was tighter than I’d thought. My hips got stuck, and I wiggled uselessly, my laughter dying into breathless gasps. Deidara loomed over me, his grin triumphant, his voice a purr. "Nowhere left to run, hm?"
I was trapped. Completely at his mercy. And judging by the way his eyes darkened with satisfaction, he knew it.
"100% open for you," I admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper.
His chuckle was dark, promising. "Good."
Deidara’s fingers traced the curve of my waist, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. I was still half-stuck behind the sofa, my breathing ragged from the chase, but the heat in his gaze pinned me more effectively than any physical barrier. His thumb brushed against the fabric of my shirt, slow, deliberate, as if he were savoring the moment.
"You do realize," he murmured, leaning in so close I could feel the warmth of his breath against my ear, "that teasing me has consequences."
I swallowed hard, my pulse racing. "And what’s the consequence?"
His lips curled into a smirk, and his hand slid downward, his fingers grasp my hips.
"This, hm."
Before I could respond, he pulled me free from the gap, his strength effortless. I tumbled against him, my body pressing flush against his. The hardness of his chest, the way his arms wrapped around me. It was intoxicating. His other hand found my chin, tilting my face up to meet his.
"You’re mine now," he growled, his voice rough with desire.
I didn’t get a chance to retort. His mouth crashed down on mine, hungry and demanding. The kiss was fierce, possessive, as if he were staking his claim. I melted into him, my hands gripping the front of his shirt as I kissed him back with equal fervor. The taste of him, the way his tongue explored my mouth, it was overwhelming in the best way.
He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down my jaw, his teeth grazing my skin. "You should’ve known better than to run from an artist," he whispered, his voice thick with amusement and something far more primal. "We always catch our muse."
His hands slid lower, gripping my hips as he lifted me effortlessly, settling me onto the edge of the sofa. His body pressed between my thighs, and I could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his touch set my skin on fire. His fingers traced the hem of my shirt, teasing, before slipping underneath.
"Deidara, ah!" I gasped, but the protest died on my lips as his mouth found my neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin.
"Shhh," he murmured against my throat. "Let me show you the consequences."
And then, with a smirk that promised both pleasure and chaos, he deepened the kiss again, his hands roaming freely, igniting a fire in me that I never wanted to burn out.
The fabric of my shirt tore with a sharp, satisfying rip, the sound echoing through the apartment as Deidara’s hands worked with deliberate roughness. Cool air hit my exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze as he took in the sight of me, breathless and flushed. Before I could react, he grabbed my wrists, his grip firm but not cruel, and bound them together with a strip of cloth he’d torn from the ruined shirt.
"Deidara, you-" My protest was cut short as he turned me and pushed me forward, my chest pressing into the soft cushions of the couch. The position left me vulnerable, my heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and excitement. I could feel the weight of his body behind me, the way his breath hitched as he leaned in close.
"You knew this was coming," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. His free hand slid over the curve of my back, slow and possessive, before resting heavily on my lower back. "You wanted it, hm,"
I bit my lip, my body already arching into his touch. The truth was, I had known. The chase, the teasing, it had all been leading to this. And now, with my hands tied and my body pinned beneath him, there was no escaping what came next.
His hand left my back, and I heard the sharp "crack" of his palm connecting with his other hand, warming it up. The sound sent a jolt of electricity through me. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself, but the first strike never came. Not yet. Instead, his fingers traced the curve of my waist, teasing, taunting.
"Count them," he ordered, his voice a low growl.
I swallowed hard, my voice barely a whisper. "Yes."
The first smack landed with a sharp "thwack". The sting blooming across my skin like wildfire. I gasped, my body jerking forward, but his hand was already there, rubbing the spot to soothe the burn. The contrast of pain and pleasure was intoxicating, and I could feel myself melting into the sensation, my body already aching for more.
"One," I breathed.
His chuckle was dark, satisfied. "Good girl."
And then his hand came down again.
The second strike landed with a sharp smack, the heat spreading across my skin like liquid fire. I bit back a moan, my fingers curling behind my back as I forced myself to count.
"Two," I gasped.
Deidara’s hand rubbed the spot, his touch almost tender before he leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. "Such a desperate little thing," he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. "Teasing me all day, begging for attention. Did you think I wouldn’t do anything about it, you little pest ?"
I squirmed beneath him, but his grip on my bound wrists tightened, holding me in place. "I-I wasn’t begging," I stammered, though the way my body arched into his touch betrayed me.
His laugh was low, dark. "Liar." His hand came down again, harder this time, and I yelped, my toes curling. "Three."
"Naughty girls who can’t keep their mouths shut, hm," he continued, his fingers tracing the curve of my hip, "need something to occupy them. Keep them out of trouble."
The fourth strike was swift, the sting sharp. I whimpered, but the sound was half-lost in the couch. "Four."
His hand slid up my back, his touch possessive. "You have been asking for this. Don't lie," he taunted. "All that sass, all that fire. You wanted me to put you in your place."
I couldn’t deny it. The way my body responded to him, the way my skin burned under his touch, it was undeniable. The fifth strike landed, and I gasped, my voice trembling. "Five."
Deidara’s fingers tangled in my hair, pulling my head back just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, hungry. "I guess you're my little pet project to train, to teach. And after this?" His voice dropped to a growl. "I’ll make sure you’re far too busy to cause trouble."
The sixth strike was harder, the sting radiating through me. I cried out, but his hand was already there, soothing the burn. "Six."
His other hand slid down, his fingers teasing the waistband of my pants. "Or maybe," he murmured, his voice a dark promise, "you just need a real lesson in obedience."
The seventh strike made me jerk forward, my breath coming in ragged gasps. "Seven."
Deidara’s chuckle was wicked. "Such a greedy girl. Always pushing, always testing." His hand came down again, the eighth strike sharp and unrelenting. "Eight."
I could feel the heat pooling low in my stomach, the ache between my thighs growing with every strike. His hand rubbed the spot, his touch almost reverent. "You take it so well. Of course you would, hm," he murmured. "Maybe I’ll have to spank you more often."
The ninth strike was the hardest yet, and I cried out, my body trembling. "Nine."
His hand slid between my thighs, his touch teasing, maddening, and after a moment, it was gone. "One more," he growled. "And then we’ll see how well you can behave."
The tenth strike landed, and I gasped, my body arching into the couch as the final sting bloomed across my skin. "Ten," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Deidara’s hand rubbed the spot, his touch gentle now, soothing. "Good girl, hm," he murmured, his voice soft but laced with promise. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. "Now, let’s see how busy I can keep you." His fingers traced the curve of my hip, his voice a dark whisper. "Let's see how mouthy you get with a cock stuffed down your throat."
I could feel my mouth watering already.
