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themorningsunshine · 1 year

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Pie - eyed over you

Mafia - Baker AU

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader

Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.

Warnings - Mentions of murder and weapons

Word count - 3.3k

a/n - This is my first time writing an AU and I am super nervous (also because I have combined two things I can just not write about, weapons and cooking). Please let me know what you think.

Rain was pouring heavily on the roof of the shed and he wasn't sure if the old sheds meekly covering the building could contain them much longer. He couldn't care less.

He walks out of the building and into the rain, wiping his left arm on his dry coat to wipe off the blood covering it. The pouring rain caresses his face but does nothing to the ever-present frown on his forehead and the grimace on his lips.

He used to love the rain as a kid. The gentleness of the droplets, the smell of rain, and the puddles. It was so much easier back then. So innocent. He closes his eyes as droplets slide their way all over him. They touch him like they don't know what he has just done.

His frown deepens as images claw into his mind once again. He clenches his fist remembering how it had taken him mere 10 seconds to shoot 3 bullets straight into the man's head. The killing had become easier over the years. Picking the bullet and shooting straight into the target had become second nature to him.

What hadn't become easier was the aftermath. The guilt that somehow always gnawed its way into his heart. The question was there any other way?

With his eyes still closed, he brings his face towards the sky, daring the rain to wash away his thoughts the same way it has washed away the blood that stuck to his metal arm not so long ago.

He likes the rain for a completely different reason now.

It provides him with an escape.

From his mind.

His thoughts

The images. The man screaming, begging him to stop and he doesn't even feel disgusted by himself when he doesn't even falter. He left his men to take care of the body.

A face lingers in his mind, pushing away all the dark thoughts. His ma "Bucky "

It's like he can hear her call out to him, urging him to come back home.

She would have hated how he turned out.

But he tells himself he doesn't care.

It didn't matter what his ma would have thought about him. She wasn't here. She didn't have to know.

He snaps his eyes open when he doesn't feel the rain falling on his face anymore. He can still hear the raindrops thudding on the roofs of the buildings. He looks up to see a huge umbrella over his head, shielding him from the rain.

He frowns and follows the handle of the outrageous floral print object only to be met by the sight that was going to change his life forever.

The first thing he saw when his eyes met y/e/c ones was that they held a certain softness to them that he didn't think still existed in this world. He was almost afraid to take his eyes off yours as if he was scared that you would crumble down under his gaze.

But when he brought his eyes over your face and then the rest of you, he knew it was the most beautiful sight his eyes had ever landed on. That even the most beautiful paintings in the world didn't hold a candle to you.

"Are you okay?" You whispered, voice so gentle, it could calm the most violent of storms.

Bucky thinks those are the most precious three words he has ever heard. He nods his head, mostly because he doesn't speak too much these days and also because it has been a very long time since someone has asked him that question.

"I am walking that way and the rain is increasing, you don't want to get drenched. Walk with me?" You ask and he thinks he would burn the whole world down to the ground with a smile on his face if you asked.

He looks at the way you are pointing and realizes that's where his car is parked. He says, "Okay" and sees as you take a step towards him, covering the both of you with your umbrella, and his senses are filled with your smell. You smell like freshly baked cookies and coffee. It's his new favorite smell.

You take a couple of steps ahead before turning towards him and he realizes he is staring. He doesn't remember the last time when somebody had enthralled him so much. For some reason, he just can't get himself to look away.

"I have not seen you around before." He says only to hear you speak again.

"Yeah, I am kind of new here. Been less than a week." You reply with a smile on your face and Bucky thinks this cursed town has just been blessed.

You look around before commenting, "It's a beautiful town." And for the love of god, he can't figure out how this part of the town which is more of a dumpster with remnants of buildings all around can be beautiful to somebody.

"This is not really a safe place." When you look at him with confusion in your eyes, he continues, "Especially at this time of night." As if that explanation is enough. He straightens his back and tries to get the confident, mob aura he has around everyone. "What are you doing here?"

If his slightly changed demeanor throws you off guard, you don't point it out. You just bite your lip before speaking, "What if I tell you I lost my way?"

The chuckle that leaves him is involuntary. "Really? Lost your way?"

"Hey. In my defense, it's just been a week." You place your hand on your chest in fake offense.

"Where were you heading to?"

You put your hand in your pocket before taking out a piece of paper. "Here"

Bucky takes the paper from you and looks at it with furrowed brows. "Why are you walking this way? This place is at the other end of that alley." He says before pointing out to a dark alley.

You make an o shape with your mouth before turning toward where he is pointing. "Got it. Thanks."

When you reach his car and his driver opens the door for him, he turns back before saying, "Let me drop you." It doesn't sound like a request.

"No, no. It's fine. I don't want to be trouble. Also, I am not sure your car would fit in there." You said before tilting your umbrella towards yourself.

"I'll see you around." You tell him before giving him a small wave and walking away, a smile still etched on your lips.

Bucky stands there, watching you go, and realizes he didn't ask your name. But he'd be damned if he let you go in that alley alone. He asks one of his men to make sure that you reach your destination safely.

"Keep an eye from afar." He instructs him. Voice cold and commanding.

But the frown on his head and the grimace on his lips are a little less evident on the way back.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?" Bucky's voice bellowed around the dark room, startling everyone around him.

"S- sir, I tried." Peter bows his head before whimpering.

Steve, who has been standing beside Bucky's chair leans in to whisper, "He is just a kid, Buck."

Bucky rubs his hand over his face before looking at Peter trying his best to give him a soft look. "Okay, Peter. I don't have time for this. What exactly is the problem here? And don't tell me a full-blown story."

"S-sir, the new bakery. The owner says she isn't going to pay the money. Said something about taxes and also that, 'If I don't barge in there asking for weapons, don't barge into my place asking for money.'

Some of the men standing in the corner chuckle but are rewarded by a glare from Bucky.

"I don't have time to deal with a Baker. Did you tell her that everybody in town pays the money? It's for protection." He says, voice slightly irritated. The townspeople feared him. There was no doubt about that in his mind. Hence, they sent him money at the start of every month diligently. But sometimes, out of the blue, someone would come and try to be the savior, trying to rebel. He didn't understand what they wanted. He wasn't a monster. Over the years, he had relieved some people of paying the money on various occasions.

"I did tell her that, sir. She asked me who exactly is this protection from." Peter whispered, now slightly trembling with fear.

This piqued Bucky's interest. Over the years, nobody had ever asked his men the reason behind the money. They just obliged.

Peter continued, "I told her it's from the mob. Some of us. And she said she isn't going to pay us to do the bare minimum, to be human." Bucky leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes in annoyance.

Steve spoke up, "It's okay, Buck. I'll handle this. You know they all give in eventually."

Bucky opened his eyes and stood up from his chair. "Nope, I will come with you. This is different." He then looked at Sam who was standing at the other end of the room, "Receive the order of the weapons. The delivery is scheduled in an hour."

Same nodded his head before walking out of the room. Bucky dismissed the other men and along with Steve walked towards Peter, both of the men towering over him.

"Peter, are those crumbles of pie on your face?"

A shiver passed through Peter at his cold tone and he willed himself to speak, "She gave it to me, sir. I tried to refuse. Really did. But she said that I am just a kid and don't deserve - " Peter cut himself before he could speak too much. He somehow had the habit of always speaking about stuff that is supposed to be kept secret.

A small smile found its way to Bucky's lips but it was gone as soon as it came and he patted Peter's shoulder dismissing him. "This is different." He said to Steve before walking out of the room.

And for some reason, he was sure it was true.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

"We are here, sir."

Bucky looked up from the file he was reading to his driver and then around him. It was one of the good areas of the town where families stayed, holed up in their whole little world, the darkness of the other side not fully reaching them.

Steve instructed the driver and the guard to stay in the car as the both of them walked out. "That is the one," Steve said pointing towards something.

Bucky followed his gaze and his movements faltered for a slight second. He had never seen something so - warm.

A little bakery standing between a bookstore and a cycle stand with sweets adorning its shelves looking delicious enough to lure anybody inside—soft music playing in the little speaker placed outside. People occupying the chairs outside and inside the shop, kids running around with huge grins on their faces, every one into their own little world.

It looked lively.

Bucky couldn't remember seeing something like this in the town before. Maybe he hadn't even bothered, or maybe something had really changed. With their black sunglasses and dressed up in dark colors from head to toe, he wasn't sure if he and Steve were going to fit in, but he couldn't care less.

As they walked closer, Bucky could now see most of the shop and when his eyes landed on the sole person behind the counter, his breath hitched in his throat.

Removing his sunglasses to get a better look, he stopped in his tracks when his suspicions were confirmed.

It was her.

The girl with the floral umbrella and the warm smile.

The girl who had somehow crept her way into his thoughts more than he would like to admit in the past week since he had seen her.

And she was beautiful.

He saw as you stood behind the counter, handing a box to a little girl with a huge grin on your face, the girl jumping up and down in excitement as you leaned towards her to whisper something.

He then saw the little girl run out of the bakery, clutching the box to her chest towards her mother as if it was the most precious thing in the world. When his eyes went back to you, he saw how you talked to the next customer, an old lady, with the same huge grin on your face.

He hadn't noticed that he had been staring until Steve cleared his throat, a smirk on his face. Before Steve could say something, Bucky muttered, "Stay here, let me handle this." He walks towards the stops with a calculated gaze and a perfected aura of confidence.

As he opens the door to the bakery, the smell of coffee and cookies hits him hard and a feeling of warmth engulfs him.

"How can I - " Your words die in your throat when your eyes land on the familiar figure.

Bucky could swear your smile gets wider.

You compose yourself before saying, "Hey, I know you. You are the cute guy from the other day."

Bucky frowns as he takes in your words. Cute? Did you just call him cute? He had been called intimidating, scary, and even sexy. But cute? He was furious. He was anything BUT cute. Also, was he allergic to something in the shop? Why the hell was his stomach suddenly fluttering?

He also ignores the way his heart is beating quicker at the realization that you remembered him. What was happening to him today? "I am looking for y/n l/n."

Your smile turned slightly mischievous as you replied, "That would be me."

Bucky's eyes almost widened at that. "You are y/n? The owner of the bakery?"

"Yup." You said popping the p as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And the last I checked, introductions went both ways."

You raised your hand towards him for a handshake and after looking at your hand for a moment, he shook it. "I am B - James." For some reason, he didn't want you to know who he was. The nickname might give it away.

You smiled at him again before returning your hand, a little too early for Bucky's liking, "So, James. What can I get you?"

He had it all planned. It was like second nature to him. I want my money. Abide by the rules, you don't want to know the consequences. It was the usual. But for some reason, his mouth had gained a mind of its own as it said before he could comprehend, "Cupcakes"

You looked at the huge display of baked goods before looking back at him, "Which one?"

Bucky gave the display a glance, he was sure he hadn't ever tasted most of them. "What do you recommend, sweets?"

He watches as you are visibly taken aback by the nickname. A smirk find its way to his lips as he watched red color creeping up to your neck.

"I - uhm" You take a breath to compose yourself. Get it together. "These red velvet cupcakes just came out of the oven and they are kinda my favorite. So.." You look at Bucky with excitement in your eyes and he likes how passionate you are about your work.

"I'll take a box."

You smile at him before bending down to pack a box of the delicacy and he watches how you oh-so-gently pick up each piece before placing it inside the box with practiced precision.

When you hand over the box to him and your hands brush, you feel the sparks through your spine once again as when you had shaken hands.

When he puts a hand in his pocket to retrieve the money, you cut him off. "Don't worry about it. It's on the house."

Bucky smiles a little before replying, "Sweets, you keep giving free goods like that and you'll have to close the shop soon." He says in a teasing voice.

"I'll let you in on a secret, James." You lean towards him as if it is the most secretive thing in the world. "This is a business strategy."

He frowns a little, trying to cover the fact that he was getting too comfortable with how close the both of you were, before saying, "How's that?"

"The first order is on the house but then you come again. And again. It's really profitable."

There is this - innocence and purity in your voice that reminds him of a little child. Of old times. Easier times. And he just stares into your eyes for as long as he can, as if they could help him escape, become a portal to a time long lost.

You don't dare to move either. His eyes are the prettiest shade of blue you have ever seen. They have this intensity to them as if hiding the stories of a lifetime and you just can't get yourself to look away. You have always loved a good mystery.

Bucky clears his throat, bringing the both of you out of the daze as he brings the teasing tone back to his voice, "What makes you think I will come back?"

You chuckle a little before giving a proud smile. "Oh, you will, James. I trust my cupcakes."

He gives you another small smile as he takes a step back. This is the longest conversation he has had with a person outside his line of work in a very long time. Everybody was just too scared but he couldn't care less.

"Goodbye, sweets." He says before letting the new customer who had just entered go ahead.

"Goodbye, James. Until next time." You add with a wink.

Bucky walks out of the bakery, his initial motive forgotten completely. From the outside, he turns back to look at you for the one last time and watches as you say something that makes the teenage boy laugh while taking out cookies from the shelf.

A moment later, you look towards the window and your eyes meet for a fleeting second. You smile at him and give him a small wave.

Bucky turns around to walk towards his car when he notices Steve standing a few feet away with a knowing smirk on his face.

Bucky rolls his eyes before muttering with clenched teeth, "Don't"

Steve doesn't ask about the money and Bucky is glad. He isn't really sure how he would answer. Whatever happened wasn't what he was expecting. You weren't what he was expecting.

As he slid into the back seat of his car, the image of your smile when you were that close to him lingered in his mind and he couldn't stop the way his lips had pulled slightly upward.

When the car started driving, and with Steve on a phone call, he opened the box of cupcakes and picked one to take a small bite.

As he takes the first bite, the softness and the sweetness of the cake engulf him and leave him wanting more. He doesn't remember eating something this good in a long time.

And for many reasons, he will definitely visit again.

Next part

4K notes · View notes

freedomfireflies · 11 months

Text

Theirs*

Summary: The fourth part to Mine*

Your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, has returned home after being away.

The first thing on his agenda?

Your punishment.

Word Count: 6.3k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content, so please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*

“Don’t look at me like that.”

Swallowing a huff, you straighten up from where you’re knelt on the bed. Your innocent doe-like eyes silently pleading with Harry to simply give in.

However, he merely crosses his arms and leans his tall body against the doorframe to the bedroom. “I know you’re getting ready to say something bratty, and I’m gonna tell you right now…don’t.”

You frown. “Har—”

“No.” His tone is cool but firm. His expression is unreadable. And despite the way you’ve attempted to present yourself to him, he remains unfazed.

He doesn’t allow himself to drink in your submissive stance. Or the revealing lingerie you’ve worn just to tease him. Or even the way you've kept your head bowed since the moment he walked in, just to tip the scales in your favor.

In fact, when he first came home and found you here, he’d simply cleared his throat and announced he was back.

And that he was ready for that talk.

You try again. “Har, I just—”

“What did I just say?” he reminds you, brow cocking upward. Your third warning. “I want you silent. You are not to speak until I allow you to do so. Is that understood?”

You push your lips into a wounded pout and nod once.

Pleased with your reaction, he rewards you with the softest of smiles. “S’a good girl. It’s my turn to talk right now. And your turn to listen. And I want you to listen very closely. Okay?”

Another nod.

He straightens up and takes a beat. He allows you to wonder. Allows you to anticipate what he might say.

Anticipate how much trouble you’re in.

“Do you understand why I ask you to do certain things?” he begins. “Do you understand…why I expect your obedience?”

You blink up at him, forcing a captivated expression so he knows you’re listening.

“Because there are only a few things in the world I cannot control,” he continues. “But you…I will always control you."

Your cheeks warm.

“I control your body,” he murmurs, pushing off the wall to step closer. “I control your pleasure…and I control your safety. I will always…control your safety.”

He reaches the edge of the mattress and takes your chin between his fingers. With a firm squeeze, he looks down, and your heart races inside your chest at his touch.

You haven’t felt it in days.

And it sets your entire body alight.

“I will always protect you, sweet girl,” he says, and despite the dominant edge, his vulnerability manages to slip through. “I will always take care of you. You…are my number one priority. Whether I’m here or there. And I need you to know that.”

His thumb brushes down your bottom lip, and he plays with it as he gazes at you. In a way so loving, and so devoted…you feel yourself clench.

“I expect your obedience because it’s the only way I can know I’m keeping you safe,” he whispers. “That I’m keeping you cared for. That you’re okay even if I’m not here. So when you go against my direct instructions…it scares me. And do you want to scare me, mama?”

Your head shakes quickly as a whimper gets caught in your throat.

“No. I didn’t think so,” he just about coos, smiling softly. “So you understand why I have to punish you now?”

Your lashes flutter like butterfly wings and you nod, practically reeling as your thighs squeeze a bit tighter together.

“Good,” he hums proudly, hand dropping from your face. You just about pout. “And you’ll take it, won’t you? Take it like the good girl I know you are. Until you learn…not to do it again.”

You nod again, fingers curling into your palm as you resist the urge to reach for him. You understand why he’s doing this. And you appreciate it more than that. This is one of your favorite scenes with him and you’re practically shaking with anticipation.

But…you also wish you could hug him. At least greet him properly and welcome him back before jumping into everything else. Kiss him tenderly and tell him how much you missed him. How happy you are that he’s safe.

That he’s come home.

You imagine this is why he’s refusing to let you do just that. He has to know how much you want it and is instead using this cold, distant demeanor to aid in your punishment.

It’s rather smart.

Pleased with your response, he smirks. “I know you will. Gonna be so good for both of us, aren’t you?”

Both.

Your eyes widen while the flip in your stomach turns into a full-blown circus as you look up at him.

However, he merely glances over his shoulder toward the hallway. “Grab her.”

You don’t have the chance to fully process his instruction before Asher is slipping out of the shadows and making his way into the room.

You thought he’d left after Harry got home but you suppose it makes sense why he didn’t.

And you aren’t about to complain.

You watch him stride toward the bed, and he shoots you that gentle and playful grin of his as he begins to crawl behind you on the mattress.

Your breathing becomes rather sporadic as he loops his hands under your arms and guides you onto his lap. Then, he turns you around until your face is buried in the duvet and your ass is in the air.

And he keeps you there, strewn across his legs, and vulnerable to Harry’s hungry eyes as the room falls silent.

You hear the sound of a belt. The familiar but chilling clanging of metal and brushing of fabric as it’s pulled from Harry’s body.

And you know what happens next.

“You ready, sweetheart?” you hear Asher whisper, soft lips grazing the shell of your ear as he dips down.

You shiver, whining slightly as you nod.

You don’t see him, but you hear Harry slowly walk around the edge of the bed. He’s trying to tease you. Make you squirm. And it works because you’ve never felt so needy and pathetic in your life.

Rough fingers find your skin. Dancing up the backs of your legs and toward the cheap, skimpy thong around your hips.

You’d hoped him seeing you in such suggestive clothing would lighten his mood.

Apparently…you were wrong.

But it seems to still be working in your favor as Harry’s large palm smooths over your ass in an almost tender fashion. It’s warm, and slow, and tantalizing. The simplest of touches and yet…with him? It’s everything.

You relax at the feel, mewling thankfully at the relief you find in his touch.

This makes him chuckle under his breath. “Miss me that much, mama?”

You nod quickly, eyes squeezing shut as he moves for the material disappearing between your cheeks.

“Wrapped yourself up all nice and pretty for me, hm?” he continues before he finds the ribbon of your corset and begins tugging it playfully. “Are you my welcome home present, sugar?”

You whimper.

“You are,” he decides in a gentle purr. “And you do look so pretty. Doesn’t she?”

“Very,” Asher says, and you feel him slide his hand across your back so he can hook it onto your hip and keep you cemented to his thighs.

You’re almost thankful you can’t see them. Their voices alone are about to ruin you and you know their faces absolutely would.

“Tell me, sweet girl…” Harry calls before his finger wraps around the thong and he guides it away from your body, “…did you think this would work? Think I’d forget about your punishment just because you got all dolled up?”

Yes. “Mm-mm,” you mumble quietly, head shaking as you try to obey his rule about staying silent.

“No?” His grip on the fabric gets tighter as he continues to pull. “Then you wore this for yourself? Or for Asher?”

You resist the temptation grind against Asher’s leg as you exhale shakily.

“Speak,” Harry commands, and you glance to the side.

“Wore it for you,” you admit sheepishly to the two men awaiting your reply. “Wasn’t trying to be sneaky…just missed you and wanted to do something to show you that.”

He considers this for a very brief moment. “Are you being honest with me?”

Your lashes flutter and the silence in the room is deafening. “…no.”

You can practically hear them smirk to themselves as Harry hisses, “Didn’t fucking think so.”

With that, he snaps the panties off, forcing you to gasp as you squirm from the sudden force.

God, you wish you could see him. Wish more than anything that you could watch the muscles in his throat constrict from the anger you’re sure he’s trying hard to tame.

He’s always beautiful, but perhaps he's the most beautiful when he’s outraged. And every feature on his face is twisted into a malicious sneer as he inflicts his displeasure on anyone unlucky enough to witness it.

Maybe this is why you enjoy your punishments so much. Because his pain is always worth it.

The leather of his belt slides down your cheeks before traveling along your leg. He’s warning you. Giving you a moment to prepare. Something that almost seems thoughtful, but you know is only intended to worsen your apprehension.

And it works beautifully.

“What are you gonna do?” he asks as he continues gliding the material across your backside.

“I’m…I’m gonna count,” you recite in a small voice. “And…apologize.”

“That’s right,” he agrees. “And who…are you going to apologize to?”

Your mouth opens, ready to reply before you think his question all the way through.

“Both of you,” you finally answer, and he hums.

“Good.” He pulls the belt away from you. “I think eleven strikes should suffice. Three…for each day you disobeyed me. Three…for each day you disobeyed him. Four…for the fact that you thought you could get away with it by wearing this…”

He falls silent, and your thighs clench.

“And an extra…” he murmurs, “…because Asher deserves to see how pretty you look when you cry.”

Your eyes just about roll back and before you have the chance to feel thrilled…the belt cracks through the air and lands on your ass.

The sharp contact makes you jolt as you choke on a whine and lurch forward.

And the subtle sting is quick to trickle beneath your skin as he leans back, and you can't help sighing contently.

God, you've missed this.

“One,” you whisper, eyes locking onto the wall across from you. “I’m sorry.”

Another strike.

“Two.” Your fingers curl around the duvet as you steel yourself. “I’m sorry.”

Another strike.

With each additional whip of his belt against your skin, you’re forced into the light of pain and pleasure.

He gives you about fifteen seconds between each one. He wants you to feel it. Wants you to pray for it to be over.

And you do want it to be over. Only because that means he’ll finally be through with your punishment, and he’ll actually touch you. Hold you, kiss you, be with you in the way he hasn’t since he left.

You continue counting down, and as you do, the pain begins to linger. Not just from the spanking, but from the way your clit viciously grazes Asher’s leg whenever you jerk forward. And you try not to squirm, you really do, but the emptiness you feel between your thighs overwhelms you.

You’re sure Harry can tell. You’re sure Asher can tell. And he attempts to help you by squeezing your hip as you whimper from the forceful contact and apologize for the fifth time.

And then…everything changes.

Harry’s aim lowers and the firm leather meets the place where your thigh and butt connect. It lands there, right across the dip with a loud smack, and your ears start to ring.

You gasp louder than you have before. It’s hard, and it hurts, and the tears instantly pool in your eyes.

Your voice shakes as you say, “Six…I’m…I’m sorry.”

Harry pauses, and you assume he’s assessing your reaction before he does it again. Right in the same spot.

You yelp as your lip quivers, and the water begins to run freely down your cheeks.

God, it hurts. He always makes sure to make it hurt, and you have to appreciate him for it. After all, he promised punishment.

This is it.

“Seven,” you just about sob, your knuckles going white from how hard you’ve begun to grip the blanket. “I’m…I’m…”

You can’t get the word out. Can’t seem to force the syllables from your tongue as Harry tsks disapprovingly.

“Come on, sugar,” he tuts. “You were doing so good. Don’t make Daddy angry now.”

Your head shakes quickly as your eyes squeeze shut. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

He makes another noise, this time of appreciation before you hear the belt cut through the air.

Again lands the strike to the same abused spot, and you cry out as you seize up, writhing over Asher’s lap.

You feel Asher’s hand leave your hip before it’s suddenly ghosting across your face. His fingers quickly slip under your chin, and you sniffle as he guides your head toward him.

You can see the hesitation in his expression as he studies you, his thumb brushing across your soaked cheek as he looks back to Harry.

“Boss…” he calls quietly, almost as if in warning.

But Harry simply clicks his tongue. “No, she’s fine. She can take it. She’ll take it. Know she will. Gonna be our good girl.”

You attempt to nod, despite Asher’s hold, and when you hear Harry get ready to go again, your features twist into an apprehensive wince.

Asher frowns.

The belt slaps across your skin as you whimper and brace yourself against Asher’s body, almost as if trying to escape.

In turn, he tightens his hold as you cry a bit harder and nuzzle your face into his arm in an attempt to catch your breath.

“Count, mama,” Harry reminds you, and you swallow a pitiful whine as you begin blubbering the number.

“Har,” Asher tries again, interrupting your apology.

“She’s all right. And she’s gonna count. Just like I asked,” Harry replies, and you hear him run the leather through his hand.

Your bottom burns from the harsh whips, and despite how hard you’re trying to obey, your body seems to have other plans.

You’re overstimulated. Emotionally, physically, mentally. The pain from the spanking, the pain from the grinding against your cunt, the pain from knowing Harry’s keeping himself from you.

And you know he loves this. Know he loves to watch you weep for him. Because of him. After all, these are the only tears of yours he permits.

If you cry for any other reason outside of his attempts to pleasure you…all hell breaks loose.

So you allow yourself to cry. You allow yourself to get even further worked up as the tears pour, exactly the way he loves.

You sniffle once more as you stutter out the apology and curl yourself as close to Asher as you can, completely settling into the submissive roll.

To this, Harry hums before you hear him ready the next crack of his belt.

Your muscles instantly recoil when you hear the way it slices through the air, face scrunching up as you prepare for the contact.

Then, suddenly…something changes in Asher’s touch.

“Harry,” he snaps loudly, in a tone you’re sure you’ve never heard him use before.

The strike never comes.

The room falls silent.

Your soft sobs begin to subside.

You hear something hit the floor, and you wonder for only a moment what it was before a pair of hands are gripping onto your waist and gently turning you around.

You’re pulled from Asher’s lap as Harry scoops you into his arms, one palm coming up to cup your cheek to guide your attention to him.

“Okay, all right,” he murmurs softly. Soothingly. “It’s okay. Do you need to use your safe word?”

You take a minute to find your voice, frowning some as your bottom continues to radiate heat and soreness from the way you’ve been sat on it.

But Harry doesn’t rush you. He keeps you secure against his body, eyes soft and words comforting.

After a moment, you swipe your fingers through the stains on your face and shake your head. “No. No, I don't need to use it.”

“Are you sure?” Harry’s voice is stern but full of compassion. “Mama, you know I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know,” you whisper, offering a small smile. “You didn’t. I mean…not in a bad way.”

His eyebrows pull together, almost in disbelief. “Are you being honest with me?”

“Yes,” you say truthfully. “I promise. I don’t need to use it. I’m okay. You know I always take it for you.”

It’s his turn to smile, and he does so with a quiet chuckle. “I know, sweet girl. But what did I say? You always come first. And I won’t tolerate you allowing me to hurt you past what we’ve agreed on. I would never forgive myself.”

“I know,” you echo, leaning closer to brush your nose against his. He sighs gratefully as his lashes flutter. “I promise. I don’t need to use it. I’m okay. You’d never hurt me. I promise.”

For a moment, he simply internalizes this vow. Allows you to snuggle into his chest as he wraps himself around you and helps you calm down.

The two of you have only ever struggled with something like this once before.

You had slipped into your subspace after a particularly overstimulating session. Harry was intent on working out some of his frustration with you and you had been more than happy to oblige.

But soon, he lost himself in the punishment. In the way your body bent to his will. And you were too far gone to stop him. Unable to use your safe word despite the fact that you might have needed to. You just wanted to make him happy. So you allowed him to continue and didn't give it a second thought.

Once the activities had ended and you pulled yourself from the submissive state, you told him. Told him what you had almost told him before you floated away.

And it fucking ruined him.

He was guilt-stricken. He’d sunk to his knees and begged for your forgiveness. The first time he'd ever gotten onto his knees for you outside of sex. He kissed your hands, and hips, and stomach as he whispered his remorse into your skin. As he pleaded with you to allow him to make it better.

And you held no ill-thoughts or feelings. It certainly wasn't his fault. He had absolutely no way of knowing and you know he'd never do it on purpose.

But things changed after that. Agreements and understandings were made. Harry knows your limits and rules just as you know his. He keeps a close eye on you. Always. Looking for any signs that you're depleting yourself for his pleasure.

Thankfully, today this is not the case.

Today…this is everything you want.

When you’ve finally managed to relax your muscles, you lean back, and Harry smirks before running his thumb under your eye.

“My precious girl,” he whispers, and your skin warms. “Told you you’re beautiful when you cry.”

You glance down at your lap as you grin before your attention drifts to the left, where Asher still waits.

His expression is hard and filled with concern. It’s a look you’ve seen before, but only ever in the context of their work.

Today, this is a direct result of what happened only moments ago, and your heart aches when you see how worried he looks.

“You’re okay?” he repeats, and the sound of his voice is rather coarse as he looks between you.

“I’m okay,” you repeat as Harry’s hand drops back down to your hip. “Promise. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His lips purse. He seems to be struggling to vocalize his unease and you shift in Harry’s lap so you can fully face the man beside you.

“I’ve never seen you get that angry with her before,” he tells his boss, and Harry nods. “Never seen her cry like that before. Felt…felt wrong to see her in that kind of pain and not do something.”

You feel a rush of adoration for your protector as Harry hums his understanding and squeezes your waist.

“I know,” Harry agrees. “I should have warned you earlier. But I’m glad your first instinct is to protect her. Even from me.”

Asher’s eyes fall to his hands.

You frown. “It’s okay,” you murmur again, crawling a bit closer. “This is just…what we do. It’s what we agreed on. We have a safe word and a system in place so I can always communicate with him.”

And while you’d hoped this would help, it seems as though it does absolutely nothing to comfort him as you settle onto your knees in front of his legs.

He keeps his focus down, almost as if punishing himself, so you slip your fingers beneath his jaw to guide his face to yours. Exactly like he had done to you earlier.

When you finally see him, you feel gutted by the weary pull of his expression.

“Ash,” you murmur, and he chews on the inside of his lip. “I’m okay. I like it when he makes me cry. Like it when he hurts me.”

You imagine he’ll be a little put off by such an admission, and for a moment, he simply blinks at you.

And then…his gaze darkens, and his teeth scrape together. Almost as if restraining himself from thinking about it.

You smirk to yourself. His reaction is quite telling, and you swallow a chuckle as you turn to glance over your shoulder at Harry.

He seems to be thinking the same thing you are, and he grins smugly before nodding his chin at you.

With this permission, you scoot a bit closer to Asher and tighten your hold on his cheeks.

“I’m okay,” you whisper again, and he releases a deep breath. “More than okay.”

He relaxes in your hold, and you use this as encouragement to move in. Your lips ghost down his neck. Hovering over a prominent vein before they finally make contact, and you feel him stiffen.

You press your mouth to his skin, and you can feel the pounding of his pulse as you linger there. As you let him realize what you’re doing.

Your kisses travel down. Soft and slow and rather innocent.

“I’m okay,” you repeat quietly between each one. “So okay.”

You’re simultaneously calming him down and working him up. You can feel the way he begins to unwind, subtly leaning into you as you let one hand travel to his chest.

It’s strong. Broad. Firm. Even through his dark t-shirt, you can feel the quick breaths he’s taking. The way he’s beginning to succumb to your intentions.

You smile.

He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t rush you. He lets you explore whatever you’d like as you scratch down his pecs and lick just below his jaw.

It makes him shiver and you feel rather proud of the way you can ease his upset through such a simple touch.

Then, Harry clears his throat, and calls you back, forcing you to break away from the right-hand man.

Asher’s expression is hazy when you finally see it. Lashes fluttering as he swallows a sigh, and you offer a soft grin before turning back to your boyfriend.

“You like taking care of him, don’t you, mama?” Harry murmurs, hand coming out to smooth up your thigh.

You nod bashfully.

“Mm. I know,” he coos, hooking his fingers under your knees to help guide you back onto your ass. “But we’re not done with your punishment, are we?”

Your head shakes.

“No,” he agrees, glancing behind you toward Asher. “And I don’t think we’ve quite forgiven you yet.”

Asher clears his throat and slips his fingers around your upper arms to tug you down until your back meets the mattress.

Your head is laid between his thighs as Harry crawls down your legs, slowly pulling them apart so he can settle there.

And you know exactly what happens next. Know exactly what Harry expects of you, and there’s a catch in your throat as you glance up toward Asher.

In turn, he looks down at you with his familiar, teasing smile before brushing his knuckles across your cheek. “Say your prayers, sweetheart.”

The muscles in your stomach quiver beneath your corset at the salacious tone of voice just as Harry is lifting your hips and bringing you to his mouth.

You stumble over a moan and your eyes roll back as your nails scratch down the blanket beneath you. He’s wasting no time, instantly nipping and licking at your cunt as if he’s been deprived of it for weeks.

And for the two of you, three days feels about the same.

It’s all a blur from here. You can’t focus on anything else but him.

Them.

The way your boyfriend groans into your pussy as he licks you clean while his right-hand man keeps you glued to the bed.

And every time you squirm, Harry leans back to smack his hand against your clit, forcing you to cry out as you writhe away.

But Asher is there to make sure you don’t get very far, instantly bringing his hand to your jaw as he tuts, “Uh-uh.”

You’re already so worked up that it only takes a couple more minutes of sucking and teasing for you to reach your first orgasm.

And it’s everything. Overpowering and complete, despite the fact that what you really want…Harry hasn’t given you yet.

You hope he does. Hope he fucks you into oblivion but something tells you…that’s not in the cards tonight.

Once you manage to blink the stars from your eyes, Harry glances up at you, and you flush when you see the mess on his chin.

“Say it,” he hisses, curling his hands around your hips in warning.

You swallow and work to find your voice. “One…I’m sorry.”

“Good,” he growls before bringing two fingers closer. “Again.”

He slips in without warning, pumping himself through just to shove you back up the precipice of pleasure.

And it works. It so fucking works. You arch off the bed and struggle in his hold as you whisper his name.

He curls when he knows you can’t take it anymore. Strokes and thrusts and sucks on your clit until your muscles begin to ache. Until the tears have returned and the pain has slipped in beside the euphoric bliss.

The coil shatters moments later and Harry slaps his hand down your cunt when you come without warning him first.

“Two,” you blubber, throwing your arms over your face to hide. “I’m sorry.”

“Again,” he orders, even though he gives you no choice in the matter before diving back in.

And it hurts.

It hurts exactly the way you both love. You’re raw and sore and so overly sensitive but you revel in it as you cry once more. As you gasp for air and drag your nails down Asher’s thighs to ground yourself.

You hear him chuckle before he takes hold of your wrists and tugs them above your head.

Now, you really have no choice but to take it.

Harry adds a third finger, and the stretch makes you buck up. He responds to this disobedience by pinching your clit until you just about scream from the agonizing sensation.

But it pushes you into your third and you barely stammer out the number and apology before he’s slipping in a fourth finger and flattening his tongue against you.

And the sounds he makes. The sounds you make for him. The sounds of everything.

But then he spits, and you decide then that you’re never going to disobey him again.

You try to keep your eyes open but it’s so hard. So hard to do anything else but think of the feeling in your belly. Between your thighs. In your head.

It’s only when Asher reaches out to brush his thumb down your lip that you peer up.

“There she is,” he murmurs, and you whimper at the salty taste of his finger. “So sweet when you apologize.”

You’d likely respond if you could but you’re coming for the fourth time before you quite get the chance.

Now, it’s harder to catch your breath. Chest heaving and body trembling as Harry’s incessant teasing begins to slow.

“Four,” you finally sough through gentle sobs and hiccups. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry…I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

Harry eases himself out, quickly lifting to his knees so he can crawl up the length of your body and bring his face to yours.

He dips down and kisses you. Slow and gentle. A stark contrast to his previous forcefulness and you instantly melt beneath his mouth.

God, the way he tastes. His tongue is coated with your arousal and he shares this delicacy without a second thought. He pushes each drop into your mouth before his fingers find your throat, and curl around the delicate base.

His pointed squeeze tells you to swallow, so you do. And you’d swallow everything he ever gave you if that’s what he wanted.

But soon, he stops. He knows you’ve slipped away from him and after he takes his lips from you, he snakes an arm under your back and pulls you up.

His movements are tender. He doesn’t want to startle you or hurt you. He just wants to hold you as you swim through the haze of your submissive headspace.

But keeping his kisses from you feels like the cruelest thing he’s done all day. He must still be upset. You must not have done a good enough job. He must have wanted you to keep going but you didn’t and now he’s sad and hurt.

“M’sorry,” you mumble again, nuzzling your face into his neck the moment you’re sat upright. You can’t look at him. Don’t want to see the disappointment. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m sorry—”

“Shh,” he interrupts in a quiet but authoritative hush. “No more of that. You’re okay. Did so fucking good, mama. I’m so proud of you.”

You whimper as you curl into his chest, already half-asleep from the overexertion.

But he keeps speaking to you, lips pressing into your hair as he hums his approval. “Took your punishment so well for us,” he says. “Knew you could.”

His fingers rub against your hip before he moves to the corset. He pops the buttons free and undoes the ribbon until he can pull it from your body.

Now you can breathe a bit better, and the cool air feels good against the sticky sweat coating your stomach.

This is the first time you’ve been truly naked in front of both men, but you don’t have the mental awareness to care right now.

Instead, you cling yourself to Harry’s body as he chuckles and runs his palm up and down your bare spine.

When the throbbing in your cunt has begun to subside, you hesitantly peek out from where you’ve hidden yourself in Harry’s collarbone to look between them.

Your eyes are wide and hopeful, lips already trembling as you ask, “…forgive me?”

Asher and Harry exchange a certain look you can’t read before Harry mumbles, “I forgive you, sweet girl.”

You smile brightly with this before looking to the second man.

He’s fighting a chuckle. “I forgive you, too, sweetheart.”

And you’re so thrilled. So happy to have made them happy that you hum contently and squeeze Harry’s hand in yours.

But this tender moment doesn’t last as long as you’d like before Harry is shifting you from his lap and back into Asher’s.

And after passing you off to his right-hand man, he disappears from the bed altogether, leaving you to watch him go with a curious look.

To help ease your confusion, Asher wraps his arms around your middle and pulls you into his chest.

“He’s gonna come back,” he tells you, tucking his chin just over your shoulder. “Gonna hold you till he is, okay?”

You nod quickly and nestle into his embrace.

And Harry does in fact return about a minute later, a washcloth in his hand.

There isn’t really much to clean up, but the warm compress always helps soothe those lingering twinges of pain.

So, he moves onto his stomach as Asher reaches down to pry your thighs apart and make room.

With an abundance of caution and adoration, Harry brings the towel to your swollen pussy, softly stroking the sensitive region.

He goes over your thighs, your stomach, your clit. He doesn’t rub or pull, and anytime you grimace, he stops.

But the warm water helps relax you even further until you eventually sigh as you unwind between Asher’s arms.

And Asher smiles against your temple.

When Harry’s through, he makes a trade. He hands the cloth to Asher while Asher hands you to him.

And once you’re back in Harry’s possession, Asher returns to the bathroom to discard of the towel and grab some lotion.

He then brings it to Harry as Harry gingerly guides you onto your stomach so he can begin.

The next few minutes are quiet but filled with love.

The soothing lotion is massaged over your backside as the sting from the spanking slowly dissipates.

You’re happy he’s not dragging you into the shower like he normally does. Not that you don’t enjoy the soft, lazy kisses under the water as he runs a loofa down your body.

But right now…all you really want is to get under the covers and fall asleep on his chest.

You want to welcome him home.

And a part of you is upset by the way you haven’t been able to show him how much you really missed him. Get a taste for yourself. Take him down your throat as he groans and gives you everything.

But you suppose this is part of your punishment. There will be other times for that.

Today…you had some repenting to do.

Once Harry is through, he flips you back around and kisses you. He tells you everything words never could. He paints his infatuation with you across your tongue and you couldn’t be happier.

After laying down beside you and pulling you into his chest, his fingers stroke delicately through your hair. Effectively lulling you into a blissful reverie.

“Want to talk to you about something, mama,” he mumbles quietly as you roll your head back to look at him. “Would that be okay?”

You nod.

“Both of you…actually,” he corrects before glancing toward Asher, who’s leaned against the wall watching. “Figured now might be a good time.”

Asher’s brow raises.

“You know…” Harry begins, returning his attention to you, “…that all we want to do is protect you and keep you safe…yeah?”

You nod again.

“And you know…we’d do anything for you,” he continues, pressing his palm to your cheek as he cups it lovingly. “Do anything to make you happy. Make you feel good. Yeah?”

Your answer is to turn your face and press your lips into his hand as he smiles.

“Good,” he whispers, stealing another curious glance at Asher. “Then I want to know…if you’ll let us do that. If you’ll let us make you feel good. In a way we maybe haven’t before.”

It takes a moment for you to realize what he means, but once the insinuation finds you, your breath hitches.

“Don’t have to answer right away,” he tells you calmly. “I know I’m asking a lot, sugar. And you know I don’t like to share you.”

A quiet moment passes as he leans down to place a kiss to your forehead.

“But I’ll share you with him,” he whispers. “Because I know he’d take care of you, too. And you’d take care of him, wouldn’t you?”

You nod quickly, heart hammering inside your chest.

“I know,” he smiles. “But you can say no, honey. You can always say no. I just think…you deserve to have all your little holes filled. Deserve to feel so fucking good. In every way you can. And I think that…is worth sharing you for.”

Your nails begin to scratch down his shirt as the image appears like a mural inside of your mind. Already, you can feel yourself clench from the very idea of being filled by them. From the idea of both their hands, and lips, and voices. The idea of getting to touch them, and be with them, and take them.

“And I know how much he wants to,” Harry adds, tossing a rather sadistic smirk across the room at his friend. “He’s told me before that he’d do anything you asked him to. Do fucking anything to feel you.”

Your eyes widen.

“S’that still true?” Harry asks his partner, and you can hear the taunt within the question.

Asher clears his throat quietly and straightens up, seemingly a little hesitant. “…yes.”

Harry chuckles before returning his attention to you. “So, I want you to think about it, okay? No right or wrong answer, sweet girl. Whatever you’re comfortable with, we’ll—”

“Okay.”

He pauses. “Okay?”

You tug your lip between your teeth and nod fervently. “Okay. Yes, I…I want to. I’ll…whatever you want. Do it. I’ll do it.”

He breaks out into a large grin. “Oh, that’s our fucking girl,” he just about growls before surging forward to kiss you.

And you bask under his praise. Under the possessive title you wear proudly.

You love to be his.

And you will always be theirs.