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Hashirama hummed optimistically as he walked through his home. He was mopping around the house using a cleaning pad mop, finding it a lot more convenient than the old school mops he used to use.
Hashirama had his wireless headphones on, listening to his favorite playlist as he cleaned. He thought about dinner plans, knowing it would be time to cook it soon.
As he continued to clean, his music was interrupted by a phone call. He grabbed his phone from off the counter, seeing an ‘unknown caller’ id.
Normally, he didn’t answer unsaved numbers, but something in his gut told him to answer. So, he did.
“Hello? Yes, this is him…I’m sorry, WHAT?!?!” Hashirama exclaimed, dropping his hold on the mop as it fell to the floor.
“Oh my G-are you kidding me?!?!” He was in absolute shock.
“Okay, alright. I’m on my way right now. Thank you, sir.” Hashirama hung up the phone with an irritated sigh.
“That man is going to wish he could stay in that cell for the rest of his damn life…” He huffed to himself, grabbing the keys to his car and slamming the front door behind him.
He quickly drove off down the street towards the police station, feeling the fury coursing through his veins.
Why was Hashirama so pissed, you may ask? Well, it was simple, really.
His husband, Madara, had just gotten himself arrested.
When Madara was let out of his cell by an officer, he could feel his heart pounding with nervousness.
His tough, monotone expression may not have shown it, but he was a man that was terrified for what was to come.
Everything happened so fast; first Hashirama was dragging Madara by the hand to their car, and then they were in their bedroom.
Madara had his arms crossed stubbornly across his chest, a look of irritation on his face.
“Look, he was the one who ran his mouth. It’s not my fault that I actually took him up on his offer to fight him.” Madara said unapologetically.
He was no punk, after all. Hashirama was fuming, glaring down at his husband with pure fury.
“Madara, you were fighting over being cut in line!” Hashirama exclaimed. Madara huffed through his nose, rolling his eyes.
“No, it wasn’t just that, Hashi. It all started when that son of a bitch decided to cut me off at the light, and then had the nerve to steal the parking spot I was going to park in.” Madara recapped.
Hashirama massaged his temples. Madara’s storytelling was not helping, honestly. If anything, it just made Hashirama more and more annoyed with the man’s fiery temper that clearly needed to be reigned in.
“Madara, we’ve talked about your road rage and anger issues many times. What ever happened to all of those helpful tools you learned about in anger management?” Hashirama asked.
Madara scoffed. “Frankly, my love, all of that went out the window when he kicked my motorcycle.” He said. Hashirama sighed exasperatedly, running a stressed hand through his hair.
“Madara, I understand how frustrating that sounds. Don’t get me wrong, I would be angry too. But with how experienced we are in martial arts and self defense skills, we need to be a lot more careful and mindful when it comes to physical fights.” Hashirama reminded him.
“You could have seriously injured that guy. From what I heard, you really did a number on him.” Hashirama said, lifting an eyebrow at the man.
“If he decides to press charges, you could face some serious legal troubles. What the hell were you thinking, Madara?!” Hashirama exclaimed in a rare case of him lifting his voice out of frustration.
Hashirama was typically a very optimistic and gentle soul. He had a warm smile and kind eyes, along with a generous and patient personality. Madara considered him his better half, as he was the exact opposite.
However, Hashirama was no pushover. He would read you the riot act and lecture you until you wanted your ears to dissolve into dust.
He also had quite the talent for keeping his stubborn and occasionally mischievous husband in line.
As stated before, this was not the first time Madara’s anger had gotten him into deep trouble.
Unfortunately, sometimes trouble just seemed to follow him. Other times, Madara had practically welcomed it with his occasionally impulsive and eventually self-destructive responses.
“Alright, fine. I am sorry for how I handled things. I shouldn’t have lashed out on him like that.” Madara said.
Hashirama placed his hands on his hips, giving him a pointed look. “And?” He asked.
Madara sighed. “And for keying his car.” He added. Hashirama didn’t even know about that part! The man facepalmed.
“Oh for the love of-that’s not what I was talking about, but we are definitely going to come back to that.” He said, fixing the man with a serious look.
Madara groaned, tilting his head back out of irritation.
“Hashirama, how can I apologize for fighting him when he was asking for it?! He kept on egging me on to fight him! I couldn’t just stand there and take it!” Madara exclaimed.
Hashirama shook his head. “No, Madara. You could have just walked away. You should have just walked away.” He reminded him firmly.
“You didn’t see how he was acting-“ Madara was swiftly cut off.
“No, I didn’t. You’re absolutely right, sweetheart. I don't know that man, I’ve never seen him before, and I honestly don’t need to. For all I know, he could be a man who has absolutely nothing going for him in life, who has absolutely nothing to lose.” Hashirama said, looking directly into Madara’s eyes and cupping his cheek.
“You, on the other hand, I do know. Very, very well.” Hashirama said, his voice sounding more gentle than before. “So, I know that you actually do have a lot to lose.” He said.
Madara began to feel guilty as he looked into his husband’s sad eyes. He knew that Hashirama only wanted what was best for him, and getting himself arrested clearly wasn’t a good idea.
“You’re right, my love. I should have done the mature thing and just ignored him. Road rage doesn’t solve anything, and neither does fighting.” Madara said. “I’m sorry.” He apologized, taking Hashirama’s hands into his own.
Hashirama smiled softly, leaning forward and placing a kiss to Madara’s lips. “I forgive you, honey.” He said.
Madara figured that they had effectively talked things out, so he began to move towards the door.
“Ah ah ah, not so fast.” Hashirama took him by the hand yet again, stopping him from leaving the conversation early.
Madara looked at Hashirama in slightly nervous confusion. “What? We talked about everything and you said you forgave me.” He said.
Hashirama nodded. “Yes, and I do forgive you.” He said, moving towards their bed.
“However,” Hashirama took a seat on the edge of the bed, patting his lap.
“We still need to have a different kind of conversation.” He said, giving Madara an expectant look.
Madara groaned loudly, running a hand over his face.
“Oh, come on! Hashi, can’t we just let this go? I swear I won’t ever get in a fight with anyone ever again. You have my word.” Madara swore.
Hashirama nodded, clearly unphased by his words. “That’s great, and I am proud of you. I am going to hold you to that.” He said.
He used his finger to firmly motion his husband towards him. “Now, bend over my knee so I can finish teaching you this lesson.” Hashirama ordered.
His tone made it very apparent that this was not, in fact, a request.
So, knowing that there was no way to get out of this dreadful situation, Madara reluctantly and slowly walked over to the other man. He paused, standing right beside his lap.
His pride wouldn’t let him bend over himself, gritting his teeth in mortification.
No matter how many times he found himself ass up over his husband’s lap, it never got any less humbling.
Unfortunately for him, Hashirama wasn’t one to dawdle.
So, he immediately found himself face down over his knee, courtesy of Hashirama himself.
Hashirama rested one hand on Madara’s back, using the other to swiftly tug his trousers and underwear down.
“Ughhh…” Madara groaned, wishing the floor would just fucking swallow him up at this point.
“I am very disappointed in you, Madara.” Hashirama said sternly. Then, he lifted his palm and landed it across Madara’s bare behind with a loud slap.
“Shit…!” Madara cursed under his breath, glaring down at the floor.
Hashirama was the sweetest, handsomest, most patient man Madara knew.
Yet, he was somehow the most terrifying man he knew at the same time.
“I expect so much better from you.” Hashirama said, his calm tone clashing with his painful swats.
The smacks were steady and even, packing a sharp sting every time his palm landed.
Madara grunted and winced, accepting the spanking with as much grace as a grown man over his husband’s knee possibly could.
“If I swear that I’ll never get arrested again, will you let me up?” Madara looked back at Hashirama, attempting to negotiate mid-punishment.
Hashirama snorted softly, his hand never stopping. “No, but nice try.” He said, heating the man’s bottom up with a new set of smacks.
Madara yelped, gritting his teeth as he faced forward once again.
He decided that he was going to take this punishment as stoically as physically possible. He was a Uchiha; he was as strong as he was stubborn!
Even if he did do something to warrant consequences, he wasn’t going to crumble.
Emotions were for the sensitive, like Hashirama when Madara brought him his favorite sushi home.
Although, that memory always made Madara smile. Hashirama’s adorable beaming face always warmed his cold, dead heart.
As the spanking continued, Hashirama kept note of the progress he was making. He could see that Madara’s bum was beginning to go from pale to light pink.
‘Good, we are getting somewhere.’ Hashirama thought with a silent nod.
This meant Madara was properly warmed up. Now, they could move on to the real part of the punishment.
Suddenly, Hashirama helped Madara stand back on his feet.
Confused, Madara lifted a surprised eyebrow at the man.
That was it? No, it couldn’t have been. There was no way him getting arrested for fighting and being sent to jail warranted such a short spanking. Which could only mean one thing: Hashirama wasn’t through with his ass.
As Madara’s watched Hashirama stand to his feet and unbuckle his belt, all of his questions were answered at once.
Tilting his head back in despair, Madara ran a stressed hand through his long black hair. “Oh, fuck me…” He cursed, running his other hand over his face.
Hashirama gave him a slightly sympathetic look.
“I’m sorry my dear, but you’ve earned this. After all you’ve done today, consider yourself lucky that I’m not rubbing oil on your backside beforehand.” Hashirama said, making Madara blush and exhale heavily through his nose.
A wet spanking was not a joke. So, Madara refrained from making a sarcastic comment, not wanting to push his luck.
Hashirama would only accept so much sass from him, after all. Madara sighed, looking at Hashirama for further instruction.
“Lie on the bed.” Hashirama said, nodding towards the bed and doubling the belt.
Madara complied, laying face down on their bed. He grabbed his pillow and buried his face in it, knowing he was going to need it to muffle the noise that was bound to eventually leave his lips after this part of the punishment.
Hashirama gently rubbed Madara’s back before he started.
“I’m starting now.” He said softly in warning. Madara braced himself, squeezing his pillow tight in anticipation.
SMACK!
The loud slap rang throughout the room, making even Hashirama himself grimace.
He felt bad for having to punish his husband like this, but he knew that it was his responsibility to keep him in check so that nothing like this would happen again.
They both agreed to this system, knowing it worked for them. It didn’t make having to tan Madara’s hide any easier, though.
Madara yelped into the pillow in response. The belt felt like it had lit his ass on fire, and that was only the first lick!
Hashirama’s aim was very precise as well, making Madara’s ass a perfect target.
“I never want to have to punish you for this again, Madara.” Hashirama said, landing two more painful smacks.
Madara shouted, his muffled voice still quite audible. “So, you need to make sure that it never happens again.” Hashirama stated, landing another set of two swats right below the ones he had previously landed.
“Ouch! Ah! Yes, Hashirama! It won’t!” Madara exclaimed.
Hashirama hardened his heart as he continued, wanting it to be over. However, he knew that not disciplining Madara thoroughly enough would just lead to worse, more serious consequences in the future.
Consequences that even Hashirama himself wouldn’t be able to help Madara get out of.
So, he continued landing the belt across his husband’s rapidly reddening bottom until it was as crimson as the cherry pie filling Hashirama used mere hours ago to bake.
He would make sure to cut Madara a nice big slice after this was all over.
At this point in the punishment, there was both good news and bad news.
The good news was that they were almost finished. The bad news was that this meant it was time for Hashirama to make Madara’s upper thighs and sit spots match the same shade of red as his behind.
This, of course, was the most painful part of the punishment.
“We are almost through, sweetheart.” Hashirama said, gently stroking Madara’s long black hair as he heard soft sniffling coming from the pillow Madara’s face was buried in.
“Just a few more, then we can put this all behind us.” Hashirama said.
“Don’t say ‘behind’…” The quietly grumpy voice said.
Hashirama chuckled lightly, shaking his head. Madara was so unintentionally funny. “Sorry, babe.” Hashirama said.
Then, he tapped the belt against the man’s upper thighs before landing it with a loud slap across the sensitive skin. As expected, Madara hollered loudly in response.
Wanting the punishment to finally be over, Hashirama swiftly landed the belt in a pattern across the man’s undercurve.
Soon, his entire backside was sore and hot to the touch. Then, it was all over.
Madara quietly bawled into his pillow, his shoulders shaking with sobs. Hashirama neatly put his belt back on before laying down on the bed next to
Madara, gently playing with his hair and wrapping his arms around him.
“Shhh, it’s okay, my love. You took your punishment very well. It’s alright, you are forgiven. Just breathe, sweetheart. Easy now…” Hashirama cooed, allowing Madara to sob against his chest as one of his hands went down to softly rub his sore bum.
“I’m hiccup s-sorry, Hashi. I’ll n-never sniff d-do it a-again…” Madara cried brokenly, clinging to Hashirama for dear life.
Hashirama continued to whisper sweet nothings, consoling him and reminding him that everything was okay now.
“I know, Madara. I know. Shhh…sh sh shh…” Hashirama whispered, resting his chin on top of his head and placing a gentle kiss on Madara's forehead.
They laid there on their bed, entangled in a loving and peaceful embrace.
Once Madara’s tears had finally ceased, Hashirama continued gently playing with his hair, running his fingers through it and enjoying Madara’s presence in his arms.
“Good thing I made dinner before you got arrested, hm?” Hashirama said with a playful smile.
Madara rolled his eyes, making Hashirama chuckle. “Yeah, well I won’t be able to sit while eating for a long time anyways.” Madara sighed.
Hashirama sat up and got off the bed, walking into the bathroom to go get something.
When he returned, he had a bottle of cooling lotion in his hands.
Squirting some into his palm and rubbing his hands together, he gently began rubbing it all over Madara’s sore behind and upper thighs.
Madara gasped at the cold sensation before quickly relaxing, his body no longer tense.
“I’ll be nice and let you use a pillow to sit on while you’re at home.” Hashirama said with a smile once he had finished massaging his husband’s bottom, gently patting his left cheek to signal that he was done.
“I love you.” Hashirama said, gently cupping Madara’s cheek as the man sat up and fixed his boxers with a grimace.
Madara didn’t even bother with his trousers, not wanting to feel the extra discomfort across his tender sore ass.
“I love you too.” Madara said, looking into Hashirama’s eyes to let him know he was being sincere.
He knew that Hashirama always felt terrible after delivering a spanking, so he made sure that he knew there were no hard feelings.
Madara gently cupped Hashirama’s cheek, kissing him on the lips. Hashirama leaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck.
The rest of the evening was lovely, both men enjoying their delicious dessert…
The pie was good too, of course.