Sasori's a Dirty Pervert
Sasori was walking through Headquarters, minding his own Pinocchio wannabe business. However, more than one thing would have grown larger if he'd said he wasn't interested in the sounds coming out of Deidara's room. That means his nose and dick, if you didn't catch my draft. Yeah, Sasori was currently freaking the fuck out over his sexuality, and he figured the rising boner in his pants wasn't helping his case: that he was straight as an arrow for a certainty.
Straight as a heretic arrow Hidan got his hands on, Kisame snickered.
Screw fish boy, he didn't know what he was talking about. Sometimes boners meant different things in different situations. Especially with Sasori. With Mr. Woody, they were like alarms for system or alerts, or whatever. Like, right now the boner meant Sasori was hungry. Immediately, he pinched his nose and shook his head. That was a really bad lie, he grumbled.
"Yeah, Itachi," the quiet breath whispered from Deidara's bedroom, "right there. Keep it up, un."
A vibrant blush overtook Sasori's face, because he wasn't sure if that was his partner's—damn it, teammate!—usual punctual grunt, or a grunt that meant he was having a very exciting dream. But wait! Why the hell is dreaming about Itachi? I thought Deidara hated him? Sasori barely had any time to mull over this thought, because the next thing was Deidara could be heard moving around on his bed, moaning something incoherent. Sasori didn't care about incoherent thoughts; suddenly, he found himself pressed against Deidara's door, his ear shoved into the crack of the door, trying to get in a position to hear well.
"Mh, Itachi, you're good," Deidara sighed, "but I can take whatever your throw at me…un…keep at it, come on. I've got a long ways to go… You're my bitch, got that? Un."
More shuffling around on the bed.
Sasori's nose spurted a waterfall of ruby red blood, and he reeled backward at the mental image painted so vividly in his head. Stumbling down the hall like the horny pansy he was, Sasori threw himself into a chair in the dining room, joining the others for dinner. Each of the Akatsuki members looked at him with curved eyebrows and suspicious glances.
"N-Napkin," Sasori mumbled, dazed.
Itachi handed him one from the holder; there was a bright red arrow beeping loudly and blinking furiously as it pointed at the Uchiha standing next to the kitchen counter beside Sasori.
"The hell happened to you?" Hidan tossed a plate messy with teriyaki steak and other unrecognizable things at the red head.
"Oh, I, uh—nothing," Sasori finished with a clipped tone. He sniffled into the napkin, then tore off bits and stuck them into his nostrils. How had he not passed out form blood loss yet?
In the background, the blinking arrow continued its feverish and futile attempt of getting everyone to see Itachi, sitting there with a deadpan expression.
"Why's it so hard for you to talk to me, man? Jashin bless, you distance yourself like a little bitch," he sighed.
Another flaming blush crawled across Sasori's face, and he found it hard for him to control himself anymore.
"Hidan's actually right, Sasori. You haven't let us be with you lately; it's like we're not good enough for you anymore," Kisame agreed.
Why does everything seem so vaguely sexual?! Sasori nearly panicked, but held himself in check. He could handle this. Yeah, it wasn't that hard, right? Fuck! Shit! Sasori's face hit the table with a thick smack.
"Man, it's so hot in here," Kakuzu folded an offered napkin he took from Itachi and waved it in his face.
You have no idea, Sasori groveled.
"Maybe you should try taking off that retarded heretic mask," Hidan growled.
"Shut up, Hidan, I'm sick of you saying that. For the last time, I'm not a Muslim, God damn it!"
"Damn liar!" Hidan slapped his hand against the table, a sound suspiciously similar to that of two bodies heatedly pounding against each other.
"Come here, and I'll take you right now!" Kakuzu challenged, balling his fist.
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?!
"Sasori, are you sure nothing happened to you?" Itachi spoke up, sitting down in front of Sasori.
The red head slowly lifted his head, eyes dazed as he searched for the Uchiha's burning embers. Itachi's face was flushed, and there was a sheen of sweat coating his forehead, his cheeks, his neck…
"Wh-When did you get here, Itachi?" Sasori said quietly.
"I, uh, just sat down, but I mean-"
"FUCK THI-IS!" Sasori threw the table across the room and bolted as fast as he could down the dark hallway, kicking up dust, his escape eerily similar to that in a kid's cartoon.
Sasori would have to take care of his enormous (that's right, bitches, cause I'm totally customizable!) problem in his pants, whether or not he wanted to at this point.
Stupid Deidara, he whined, and Itachi, and Kakuzu, and Kisame, and my ridiculously confusing sexuality! I thought being a puppet would make life easier, but this is bullshit!
(Inside Deidara's room…)
"You like that, Itachi? Want some more? Un, take that!"
Deidara thrashed around on his bed, throwing his mouth-hand into the air above him. He grimaced in his sleep, growling and snarling obscenities.
"I've been waiting for this for years and I've finally got what I wanted! I'm gonna kick your cocky ass into next week!"
Author's Note: I've wanted to try my hand at humor for a really long time, seeing as how I suck at it. I'm more of an angsty person. But, that doesn't mean I can't try! I would really appreciate some criticism on my way of handling this genre. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!