#even swapping off roles fluidly so if one hand is too far away the other fills in automatically

[captorations]

i understand why and how it happened but that era where people were trying to teach kids to use keyboards in the same rigid, methodical way that adults had to learn it as it became more commonplace was. so fucking bizarre. like those stupid quizzes and games and timed typing challenges, where if you deviated even slightly from the Correct Hand Position and Which Fingers Can Touch Which Key you were considered to be failing even if it had the same effect. to anyone even slightly older or younger i probably sound insane but i assure you this was a thing

[wri0thesley]

Welcome back! I’m glad you enjoyed your trip! If you’re interested, can you write a sequel to your Team Player fic, the chapter where the reader and Prosciutto dom Risotto, only this time Ris and Prosciutto are doming the reader? Thanks, I look forward to whatever you decide to write :).

anon i am ALWAYS interested in la squadra content

Working Over (Again) - Risotto/Prosciutto/Fem Reader

afab reader, fem pronouns, slurs, facefucking, double penetration, bondage, stands in the bedroom. 5.6k!

here’s the chapter anon mentioned!

You are perfectly fine being the way Risotto Nero blows off steam. Normally, he blows off steam in a different way than most people would assume, and you and Prosciutto are there to help him with that. Sometimes, though - well, sometimes, Risotto Nero wants to blow off steam in exactly the way that anybody viewing your relationship from the outside assumes he would. 

He still wants Prosciutto’s help, of course - Prosciutto, with his low velvet voice and his stern face and his cold, blue eyes that feel like they’re daring you to answer back, is perfect for this kind of thing. And you are perfectly happy, too, to allow the roles to be switched a little bit. 

So when Risotto had come to you that morning and murmured, his voice low and heavy in your ear;

“My bedroom at eight, puttana,”

You had known from the name he had called you and the tone of his voice and the heaviness of his hand as it had trailed over your bare arm that tonight was one of those times. And you had felt a little thrill low in your stomach when, not an hour later, Prosciutto had caught your eye at a mission debriefing and you’d seen the slightest curl of his mouth as he looked at you. 

Oh, if Risotto and Prosciutto are both planning on having you at their mercy tonight … You bite down on your bottom lip, squeezing your thighs together, already feeling the tight coil of tension in your stomach. You know how well Prosciutto works over Risotto - you and he are a perfect team when it comes to getting your esteemed Capo gasping and whimpering. You can’t wait for the handsome blond to turn his talents to working you over. 

So you spent the next few hours trying not to think about it, lest you become too distracted from the mission and earn rebuke. Although you know that Risotto needs to work out his frustrations, you also know that if you misbehave, you will get more pain than pleasure. And whilst you’re not entirely averse to the former - well, you’d much prefer if tonight’s session ended with the latter. 

You are already biting your lip when you knock on Risotto’s door at two minutes to eight that evening. You do not usually need to knock - everyone in the team knows you and Risotto are an item, and you have shared his quarters with him for a while now - but it is always best to start as you mean to go on. And you mean to show absolute deference to your boyfriends. 

The door is opened by Prosciutto. You’d gotten changed before coming here into a black lace dress, and his eyes do not miss the change in garb. They skim over your chest and hips, and you see the faintest hint of lust as he regards you. Prosciutto tries to keep himself calm and unreadable. He does not always suceed. 

“Come in, bella,” he says, and steps to one side. “The same rules as always?”

“Yes,” you say. You know what this means - you do not play with danger without designing a way to get out if things get too hard. The minute the door clicks behind you, you are at Risotto and Prosciutto’s mercy. If you wish to tap out if things do get a little too intense, you use a traffic light system; green for yes. Amber for ‘I’m nearing my limit’. Red for 'stop’. 

Risotto is stern but fair. Prosciutto is … well. Prosciutto is rather fiercer than Risotto, which had proved a surprise the first time you had found yourself under his hand. Prosciutto has his moments - moments that remind you of the killer inside - in which you wonder if he might go a little too far. Risotto always stops before that point. You wonder sometimes if Prosciutto wouldn’t like to push you a little harder than you’d like to be pushed. 

The door clicks shut and a pleasant shiver goes through you at the finality of that sound. The shiver intensifies when rough hands grab a hold of your hips, dragging you backwards - and you’re aware of Risotto, melting from the shadows, finally becoming visible again. One hand snaps over your mouth so you can’t make a noise - the other hand wanders down from your hip to the hem of your dress, gathering the delicate lace in his large grip. 

“Did you get dressed up for us?” Risotto says, his voice low but booming, the reverberations by your ear making you shudder. His breath is hot on your neck, and you already feel ready to give into him in every sense of the word even though he’s barely touched you. “You weren’t wearing this earlier. Do you like knowing we’re looking at you, puttana?”

You nod. You can’t speak through Risotto’s fingers where his hand is clamped over your mouth. Prosciutto moves slowly and fluidly, like a graceful predator of a cat, as he takes a seat on the edge of Risotto’s huge bed. He casually crosses one of his knees over the other, his face a careful mask of boredom. You can still see that lust, though. He is not so good of an actor. 

“Clearly she does,” Prosciutto says. “She’s lucky she looks so pretty in that. Though it’s a pity it’s to end the night in ruins.” He sighs, one hand moving to his throat to pull the ascot he wears untied. “I do so hate to see good clothes wasted.”

“Surely it’s more of a waste on her?” Risotto says, and Prosciutto’s lips curl into a smirk that shows off the slightest hint of his overbite and you’re rather glad that Risotto is holding you up. You’re not sure if that smirk on that face wouldn’t make your knees buckle where you are. 

“You’re right,” Prosciutto says. “The sooner it’s off her, the better.”

And there’s a ripping sound where Risotto’s hand is, and you feel cool air hit your bare skin as your dress is rent in two. Risotto could have just undone the zipper, of course, but that lacks drama - as the scraps of lace fall around your feet and you’re left before them in just your underwear, you hear Risotto take in a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Very nice,” Prosciutto says, and he cannot hide the grin this time. “Risotto, you’re not getting half as good a view as I am.”

“Maybe we can find some other way to keep her still." 

It’s not a suggestion. Risotto’s hand peels away from your mouth, and you feel tell-tale prickling at your wrists. You grit your teeth at the strange stinging sensation as Risotto pulls the iron from your blood, and you feel the steady and assured weight of handcuffs snapping your wrists back behind you. As they do, Risotto’s heat peels away from your body, and you watch as your boyfriend goes to stand beside Prosciutto on the bed. 

You stand before them in your underwear, both of their eyes clearly enjoying the view, unable to do much other than let them look at you. 

"Come here,” Risotto intones, and you’re forced to adapt a gait that is graceless to make your way across the carpeting, coming to a stop in front of Risotto. He sits too, and Prosciutto immediately gets up - fluidly, the blond walks behind you, swapping the positions of your boyfriends. A hand comes to rest on your shoulder. 

“As lovely as you look,” Prosciutto murmurs against your bare skin. “I think you’d look lovelier on your knees.”

The hand on your shoulder presses down, and you allow yourself to be pushed onto your knees in front of Risotto. Prosciutto’s hand moves from your shoulder to knit into your hair, between the strands, so he has a firm grip of you. 

Risotto chuckles darkly, and you watch his hand go to the belt of his trousers. 

You’re squirming on the floor again as you realise what’s about to happen, and that heat deep in your core does not abate as Risotto lazily pulls his cock out of his underwear to show it off to you. It’s definitely an act, the laziness - from the ruddy head of Risotto’s cock and the way it juts out from his body, he’s desperate to be touched there. 

Your boyfriend’s cock is always a sight to see, and it’s even more of a sight when you’re on your knees. Risotto is big - you know that what Prosciutto is packing is sizeable, but even he, next to Risotto, pales. You watch as Risotto pumps his cock once, twice, and then looks down at you, his face unbothered by the wide-eyed adoration in your gaze. 

(Adoration, and perhaps a bit of fear. Though you know that Risotto would never hurt you, having Prosciutto with his hand where it is ready to control your head’s movements adds a flare of danger to the situation.)

“I think she’d look lovelier with my cock in her mouth,” Risotto says, and that’s all of the warning you get before Risotto pushes his cock against your cheek and you know that you are being bid to open your mouth. 

After you have his cock in your mouth, Risotto is content to let Prosciutto set the pace. You’re not sure what you expected - perhaps to have Prosciutto force you on and off him quick as lightning, choking you with the sheer length of Risotto’s cock, leaving you not quite enough time to catch your breath in between - but what Prosciutto chooses to do, instead, is pull on your hair slowly, so that you get to feel every inch of Risotto’s cock as it sinks behind your lips. 

“Use your tongue,” Prosciutto advises, his voice breathy. He’s getting off on this just as much as you and Risotto are, then. “Aren’t you going to show your capo how much you appreciate him?”

You do. You lick kitten licks along the shaft, running your tongue across the veins in Risotto’s cock, trying to elicit more than a sigh from your stoic capo. His cock nudges the back of your throat and you try and relax the muscles, attempting to let his full length in - but even you, with much practise with Risotto’s size, do not quite manage. You gag, and Prosciutto pulls you back. 

He clicks his teeth at you, his words dripping with derision, dropping to his own knees behind you but staying higher up than you are. You feel hot heat digging into the middle of your lower back as he does it - concrete proof that Prosciutto’s cock is just as desperate for some attention as Risotto’s. 

“You can do better than that, can’t you?” He asks, and you nod and hum - and win a grunt from Risotto, as the vibrations send pleasant rumblings down his cock. Risotto shifts on the bed, his hands coming to rest behind him. You know that he wants to grab your hair and fuck your face in earnest, but he isn’t going to undermine what Prosciutto is doing - and Prosciutto is still moving you slowly along Risotto’s cock and making sure that you’re made aware of every perfect inch of it. 

You kiss his cock, drool around it, lick and suckle and take it as far as you can, but Prosciutto’s attentions don’t allow you for a proper rhythm. You’re not surprised when, after a few more pumps, Prosciutto pulls you off of Risotto’s cock completely. He keeps a hold of your hair as he stands back up, the pull sending zips of pain-pleasure down your spine. A squeak escapes you as you’re dragged back onto your feet, and Prosciutto pauses.

“Green?” Risotto asks, from his position on the bed - and you admire him, for having his hard cock in one hand and a look in his eyes that you know is saying 'if you need to stop, we’ll stop.’

“Green,” you affirm, and Prosciutto resumes dragging you. He tosses you onto the bed face first, and you bite back a gasp at the show of unbridled strength. You know that Prosciutto is strong - you’ve seen those defined muscles in his stomach and chest - but you sometimes forget how strong, especially when he’s beside Risotto. 

Prosciutto crawls onto the bed beside you, and clever fingers work to undo the clasp of your bra. Your underwear is held together at the sides by silky ribbon laces, and Prosciutto’s long, slender digits make quick work of that as well. They’re pulled away from you, and you’re utterly bare before them - and all Risotto has done is get out his cock, and all Prosciutto is done is untie his ascot. 

“Look how wet you are,” Prosciutto says, and those same fingers curl into the soft flesh of your thighs, spreading them apart for Risotto to get the full view of your glistening sex. Prosciutto exhales, a sound that’s at once derision and at once horrible arousal. “You really do love being pushed around, don’t you? For all you sneer at Risotto about how he needs to be held down and fucked … you need it just as much, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, and Prosciutto laughs harshly. Risotto’s laugh joins him after a moment, deeper and lower and shivering with suggestion in a way that makes you feel utterly breathless. 

“Well,” Risotto intones, and hands fasten about your wrists just above the handcuffs. He pulls you up as though you weigh nothing (though your weight is a constant fear, a bugbear on your mind, a whisper that 'perhaps they are only pretending to love me’) and settles you on your knees on the downy comfort of the bed. “We can arrange for that.”

Prosciutto smiles at you, his eyes burning icy blue, and he shrugs off his suit jacket. 

“Do you think Prosciutto is handsome, amore?” Risotto murmurs low into your ear. “I know I do. I know that watching hum fuck you will be the treat it always is. I’m sure he won’t be gentle with you. I think I’d like to see him be rough.”

“Please,” you breathe out, and Prosciutto laughs again. His jacket is gone now, and there are those muscles that you think about more often than you should. 

Though Prosciutto has been a part of your relationship with Risotto for months now, sometimes you still play on the taboo nature of him joining you - and every time, without fail, it makes your throat go dry and all of the moisture in your body travel to somewhere rather more southward. 

Prosciutto has unzipped his trousers now, and is pushing them down. They’re tossed carelessly aside - these are the only times you ever see Prosciutto be careless with his clothes. As your eyes travel down to his underwear, you can see that he has more pressing matters on his mind, and your cheeks flush. Prosciutto smirks to see you looking where the fabric is tented, and he’s even slower as he pulls those down pas his hipbones to reveal his cock. 

“Look how hard you’ve made him,” Risotto murmurs. “It’s your duty to take care of that, you know.”

“I know,” you breathe. Risotto maneuvers your body forward, like a rag doll, positioning your knees either side of Prosciutto’s thighs - leaving your thighs helplessly spread and Prosciutto’s hard cock scant inches away from your entrance. 

“Ride him for me, cara,” Risotto says. “And that’s an order.”

So it is. 

You’re a little too eager sinking down onto Prosciutto’s cock - your core has been aching to be filled by something all day, and to be given what you want this early in the game when usually you’d be spanked and flogged and teased for it before you’re allowed anything coming near you? Well, you sink down onto him all in one go, and find yourself gasping at the sudden and unexpected stretch. 

Prosciutto smirks at you - God, that damnable smirk. Prosciutto is one of those men who is entirely aware of how gorgeous he is, and he’s always known how to use it to his advantage when you and he have Risotto at your mercy. You’d wondered how it would feel to have that charm directed at you - and then you had, and you’d found that in the right circumstances you needed to be dominated just as much as Risotto did. 

Slowly and deliberately, Prosciutto rolls his hips once at the same time as he moves his arms, crossing them beneath him like he’s relaxing in bed alone and not like one of his partners has his cock buried as deep in her as it will possibly go. 

Risotto huffs out a breath of laughter, and you almost start at the hot breath that curls over the nape of your neck. 

“He wants you to impress him, cara,” Risotto says, and one finger delicately traces a line down your arm, coming to rest on the pulse point beating a rhythm in your wrist. You think for a moment that he’s going to take the handcuffs away - but he does not. That would be too easy for him. Instead, he finishes his sentence. “Better not disappoint, then.”

Doing your best to keep your balance, you lift yourself up a little on your knees, managing to get a bit of height before you come back down. You’re shaking, but you do it again - up, down, up down. Eventually, after a few pumps, you manage to establish a bit of a rhythm - and though you aren’t getting much of his cock out of you with each thrust, you find a way to move your hips as you ride him that wins a swallow from Prosciutto, a bob of his throat, a sharp intake of air. 

You manage to keep that going for a few minutes, before Risotto makes his presence known again, and you feel a mouth kissing at your neck at the same time as big, warm hands slide around you to cup your breasts. 

“Nice view, Prosciutto?” Risotto asks, his mouth very close to your skin. You bite back a moan as one of Risotto’s hands squeezes your breast hard enough to leave bruises - but when forefinger and thumb squeeze your nipple, teasing it to a hardened point, you do not succeed in being quite so quiet. 

“Even better now,” Prosciutto growls, his body shifting beneath you. His arms are still crossed under his head, but you can see muscles jumping in them now. You know that he wants to reach out and grab a hold of you, fucking into you until he can come inside, but that will not do whilst you’re at his mercy. 

Instead, he watches. 

Risotto touches you and kisses you with the knowledge of a man who knows your body as well as his own. Fingers slide into the spaces beneath your ribs before they go back to your chest. His mouth lathes hot warm trails of kisses and licks over your neck and your back, making you shiver and stutter in your rhythm. 

He opens his mouth to say, amused;

“Easy,” and your breath catches in your throat as he pinches both of your nipples at once and you feel your walls squeeze Prosciutto. 

“She liked that,” Prosciutto comments, his tone conversational, and Risotto chuckles. He squeezes again, toying with them, plucking them a little further out so they stick out from your body like hard points. 

“Maybe I should pierce them,” Risotto growls low into your ear, and oh, that sends another shock through you. “Then everyone would know what a puttana you are for pain, hmm? I think they’d look pretty.”

“I do too,” Prosciutto says, his eyes focused now on where Risotto is toying with your breasts. Risotto’s teeth graze your shoulder and you feel yourself clench again. With Risotto so close to you and with the handcuffs still on you, you haven’t been able to get proper leverage and as such have been unable to get a proper rhythm going - every time you think things might be going fast enough to stoke that part of you that’s begging for release, you lose the chase. 

You huff out, bouncing on your knees, and Risotto says;

“Oh. She’s getting impatient.”

“Patience is a virtue, bella,” Prosciutto says, raising an eyebrow, as if the way he’s gritting his teeth every so often and the way his eyes are flashing don’t tell the tale of a man who is just as impatient for his own end. “Impatient girls do not get their reward, do they?”

“Please,” you say, as Risotto’s hands travel down and rest on the curve of your hips. “I need to …” Your face is red. You never have trouble using lewd words when you’re teasing Risotto, but when it’s your own peak that’s on the line - you find yourself coming over shy. You find yourself struggling to say it. Perhaps it’s the embarrassment of being so needy. 

Whatever it is, you can see the way that Prosciutto is looking at you and you can sense the fire of Risotto’s eyes on your back, waiting for you to crack. 

“What do you need?” Risotto urges, and his teeth graze your earlobe and you think you might melt into a puddle right there. You’ve stilled, still with Prosciutto inside you; and as you flush and falter, you feel his cock twitch inside you in interest. You know that both Risotto and Prosciutto could keep you here for hours - even when they’re feeling desperate, neither of them will give in. 

“I need to come,” you breathe out, whisper-soft. 

“I can’t hear you,” Prosciutto replies, immediately, his blue eyes boring into you with such intensity you wonder you aren’t being seared. “Speak up, puttana.”

“I–I want to come!” You repeat, louder - and Prosciutto’s eyes are still boring into you, and Risotto’s hands do not move, so you continue speaking, your words falling over themselves in their eagerness. “I want to be f-fucked! I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk and make me come over and over again!”

Risotto’s lips curl into a smile where they’re pressed against your neck. 

“You should have said sooner,” he says, and like that, you feel the handcuffs that were previously around your wrists dissipate, warmth in your wrists where the iron cells seem to melt back into your bloodstream. “But … amore. Don’t you think you better finish what you started first?”

One of Risotto’s hands motions to Prosciutto, who is still beneath you. 

“Ride me, then,” he says, his eyes flashing dangerously. “Show me that you deserve to come.”

Risotto’s heat eases away from you, and you move your hands properly to either side of his shoulders so that you can have proper leverage. This time, when you pull your sex off his cock, you almost let it slip out of you - and then, you sink onto it again, your breath catching at the feeling of emptiness and then the feeling of fullness. 

“Good girl,” Prosciutto says, his eyes glittering - and you keep the rhythm. 

For a few moments, the only sound in the bedroom is the sound of you and Prosciutto - skin on skin, body on body, your breathing beginning to climb in rapid intensity. You’re chasing the high of an orgasm that you can feel in the very peripherals of your vision, and you don’t intend to stray from that goal - and then, you hear the wet slick of something and you turn your head. 

Oh. 

Risotto has a tube of something clear and viscous in one hand, and his cock in the other. You can see that his cock has been thoroughly slicked up, and you feel a low twinge in your stomach as your body clenches around where Prosciutto’s cock is buried inside. You pause in your rhythm, the orgasm that was so close ebbing away, as you watch Risotto with wide eyes. Your larger boyfriend approaches you. 

“Seen something you like, bella?” Prosciutto asks, and you tear your eyes away from your advancing boyfriend to the one currently beneath you. Prosciutto chuckles at your blown eyes. “I can hardly blame you. Here.”

Almost effortlessly, Prosciutto sits up, dragging you with him so that his back is against the headboard. His hands rest affectionately on your thighs. 

“I’ll take pity on you,” he says, leaning in, his breath tickling your ears - and though his tone is affectionate, you know his words are designed to make you feel blushing and dirty. “Because you clearly can’t think when a man’s cock is offered to you.”

“Prosciutto,” you breathe, and he puts a hand under your chin to tip your face up to his as he pulls back. 

“Ah, amore,” he says. “We’ll fuck you until you can’t walk, just like you want us to.”

“Please do,” you say, and the bed dips as Risotto approaches the two of you. A hand pushes down on the centre of your back and you lean your body against Prosciutto’s, your breasts pressing against his chest - and then, Risotto’s hands are spreading your ass cheeks apart. The cool wetness of lubricant is poured over the pucker of your rear, making you jump a bit at the coolness - and making Risotto chuckle. 

“I have an amazing view,” Prosciutto drawls, his chin on your shoulder - and you wonder for a moment what a lewd picture you must make, with Risotto’s jutting cock so close to your ass and his dark eyes focused entirely on preparing you to take him. 

On cue, a finger slips inside you. It’s slick with lube, but it still steals your breath - and when a second one joins it, a huff escapes you, and you swallow back the moan of surprise. Those fingers rock inside of you for a moment, rubbing along your inner walls, scissoring slightly to stretch you out. 

It’s a peculiar feeling, having Risotto’s big fingers inside you at the same time as you still have Prosciutto’s cock buried as deep in you as it will go. You feel very full - but you know it’s nothing compared to how full you’ll feel when it’s Risotto’s full length in your ass, so you breathe through it. 

You’re surprised when Prosciutto whispers, turning his head so his words tangle in your hair;

“Still green?”

“Still green,” you affirm, and Risotto’s fingers pull out of you with an audible pop. Prosciutto shifts you gently, and you bend your body, curving your spine, presenting your ass to Risotto as best you can. Your boyfriend grunts out a noise of approval - and then, you feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against you, and your fingers go to cling to Prosciutto’s broad shoulders. 

It’s not the first time you’ve had Risotto inside your ass, but with a man that big, every time feels like the first time again. Risotto is slow as he works himself in, inch by slow, stinging inch - and though Prosciutto and Risotto never give over their characters as the dominators, they let you breathe through it. Both of them know your limits. Perhaps they know them better than you know them yourself. 

“There,” Risotto murmurs, and his hips press flush against your ass, and he’s buried inside you to the hilt. “You feel so good, troia. You’re such a good girl for me.”

“For us,” Prosciutto says, and Risotto growls in agreement. 

Prosciutto moves first. His hips draw a slow circle, and you moan aloud at how good it feels to be filled. 

You are utterly filled. You can feel both of them, their entire cocks inside you, and you know that they can feel one another. Prosciutto makes that abundantly clear when Risotto pulls out a little and he lets out a whistling breath through gritted teeth. 

You can feel every twitch and pulse of their shafts within you, and though they had made it seem as though they wanted you to be an active participant, it soon becomes clear it’s their prerogative and they keep you between them like a rag doll as one pushes in and one pulls out. Your body attempts to arch away in the face of all of this new sensation - too much sensation, almost - but it has nowhere to go, only succeeding in making you fit more snugly against whichever man you arch towards. 

There is friction and fullness and the feeling of being one with both of your boyfriends, and as they hold you in between them and play you like you’re a fiddle, you lose ability to do anything except be fucked. Prosciutto’s cock buried to the hilt. Risotto’s cock, so far inside you you fear he might split you apart. Prosciutto. Risotto–

“Eyes open, amore,” Prosciutto orders. “I want to see you when you come.”

You force yourself to keep them open as the two slowly establish a rhythm and as the pace begins to climb in fever pitch and intensity. Risotto is huffing out barely restrained noises of pleasure, whilst Prosciutto looks into you like he could strip your soul bare. Perhaps he could. You’ve always liked the idea of interrogation play–

One of Risotto’s hands snakes around you both, wrapping around your middle, a finger diving between your folds in the little space that he has to move. 

“You’re going to come first,” Risotto says, and it sounds like a threat - not that that dampens your arousal in any way. “You’re going to ask before you do. Do you understand, puttana?”

He strokes over your clit, which has been aching for stimulation, and you nod with your breath barely managing to stay in your throat. 

“Good,” he intones, and nips at your neck, and he begins to rub and toy with your clit in the same way he played with your nipples earlier. It does not take long for the orgasm that’s been dimly hovering around you to build after that. Before you know it, the heat is gathering low and tight in your stomach and your thoughts are jumbling in a mess inside your head, and you manage to keep eye contact with Prosciutto as you gasp out;

“C-can I come?”

“Hold on,” Prosciutto says, a smirk on his perfect lips, and of course he tells you to come on when he can feel how your walls are pulsing and fluttering around him! When he’s driving into you so mercilessly! When he can feel Risotto’s cock, separated by barely any of you!

“Please!” You whine, bucking desperately. You don’t know what might happen if you do come without the say so, but suddenly you’re fighting against Risotto’s fingers as they roll your clit with practised ease. 

“No,” Prosciutto says, “Hold on–”

You don’t. You feel the dam break, heat creep over your entire body, and your resolve crumble to ash as waves of pleasure wash over you. You feel your channel tighten around Prosciutto, and your eyes squeeze closed reflexively as your orgasm hits with an intensity that leaves your thighs trembling. 

“You were doing so well,” Risotto growls - and then, your body is a free-for-all. 

Both of their hips rock into you, their growls reaching a fever pitch, their cocks dragging against every over-sensitive nerve inside you. Your body is helpless between them–

You shouldn’t be surprised that Prosciutto breaks first. His hand digging so hard into your hips you wouldn’t be surprised if he drew blood with his nails, he pants out your name at the same time as his cock twitches and you feel hot come fill you. He continues to rut into you, working out every last drop of his release, leaving your sex warm and heavy with his load - but it’s clear that was his last hurrah, and he tapers out, cock still inside you but his chest heaving. 

Risotto folds his weight over you, his lips brushing your ear. 

“My turn, then.” He says. 

“Amber,” you whisper - aware of how heavy he feels inside your ass. Aware of how sore you feel after coming. Aware of how Prosciutto is still holding onto you.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promises - and although he carries on fucking you, his pace relaxes. He doesn’t drive into you with intensity so great it makes your eyes water. And you realise he’s getting just as much out of enjoying the feel of you - hot and tight and you, most of all - that he did out of fucking you. 

Risotto loves your body. He loves it when you bring him to the edge. He loves bringing you to that same feeling - but most of all, he loves you.

Prosciutto leans forward, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, as you press a kiss to his cheek to move your hips a little for Risotto. Prosciutto loves you too, you realise, and you feel warm and tender–

Risotto gasps out your name against your ear as he spills inside you, pumping you slowly but just as full as Prosciutto did. Your entire body feels full of their release. Risotto’s hips slow as he rides out the final weak spurts of his come, and then he gently eases out of you. You move your knees just a little, letting Prosciutto’s softened cock slip from your well-filled sex. 

You collapse against Prosciutto’s chest, breath heaving. 

Risotto chuckles as his warm hands stroke over your back. 

“Green?” He asks, and you make a noise low in your throat that, if someone were listening close enough, sounded just about like “green”. 

Your punishment for coming before you were allowed to would have to wait until next time - but, as Risotto pulls you gently off Prosciutto, murmuring something about clean-up and aftercare - you’re secure in the knowledge that next time will be just as good.

[harryscustomguccisuit]

001. Last Time

A/N: I haven’t written in a really long time but this quarantine got to me so I kind of spouted off on this little thing last night. I might turn it into a series if enough people want it! I’ve up to the third part written, so, we’ll see! Let me know what you think. (: 

Trigger warnings: mentions of death, murder, blood. 

word count: 1886 words.

��Look at us. We’re covered in someone’s blood and we’re talking about fucking morality.” 

The scene couldn’t be mistaken for anything but a crime scene. A couple of chairs that had been overturned in the struggle and the man in question was slumped over in an armchair. He wasn’t dead yet but his death was going to (hopefully) be quick. Neither Y/N or Harry could guarantee that it would be painless, though. He certainly had screamed through the events that left him slumped in a chair but it wasn’t anything that the two haven’t heard before. It was, without a doubt, the nature of the beast.

“You really think morals apply when we’re dealin’ with someone like him?” The man cocked an eyebrow, his eyes moving from a spot on the wall to look at the girl who sat on top of the counter next to him. Both were adorned in black clothing. It wasn’t exactly the most unsuspicious looking clothing, seeing as they were prancing around in all black but it did conceal the blood that was on their clothes. While it was minimal, they still couldn’t take any chances. If someone saw them (even though it was edging on night time), the whole assignment would be over and it would be the two of them in a situation like the man slumped in his recliner.

Her nose scrunched upwards, hands curling around the edge of the counter as she leaned forward slightly. “Don’t know what to think anymore, if ‘m honest with you.” The words were barely a murmur but it meant that the conversational topic had come to an end. What else could be said? She knew very well where he stood and he knew that she had been slowly forming a different opinion.  Y/N knew morals were a gray area and she was well aware that, in some cases, morals were flimsy. Tit didn’t always equal tat. 

He shook his head once, his mouth opening as if he was going to challenge her statement with his own point of view but he thought better of it. “We should get going, can’t sit around here much longer,” he announced. The sound of her feet hitting the ground jerked his attention towards her, lips parting as he stepped back from where he was standing against the sink. Their job wasn’t over yet; not until this place was burned and they had gone home to rid the smell of smoke and guilt from their bodies. 

The two didn’t make another sound as they moved fluidly through the room. They worked like clockwork; taking out a match, striking it and dropping it against one of the curtains in the room. It lit up rather quickly and they made their way toward the back door, fingers brushing each other. They knew they had to be quick but they didn’t rush. They had done this enough to know just how well it would spread. He opened the back door, nudging her through it. “You first,” he mumbled softly. He always sent her first. Was it because he wanted her out first of the smoke-filled room or was it because he did not want to take the hit if someone was waiting for the two of them outside?

She stepped out into the porch area, her head turning minimally as he came up behind her. His hand pressed into the small of her back, his other hand tugging on the door shut. The two of them didn’t think the neighbors would notice the beginning of the fire. It was a rather run-down neighborhood. More than a good handful of the houses were vacant and the two of them were well aware that in places like this it was better to keep your head down than to go about sticking your nose in other people’s business. 

By this time, the darkness was slowly creeping in and they wore it like a cloak. It kept them hidden, let the two of them pass through the street quickly and quietly. They had parked at the home of a friend somewhere close by. They knew the man and the man knew what business they were doing around here -- it was a commensalism-type relationship between the two. They parked their car, got the job done and all he got was the notion that the two of them would be gone from his neighborhood soon. 

The two of them walked in silence but their pace was quick. The two of them had a role to play until they got back to their shared apartment. Then they’d be normal again. Just two people who lived together and liked to have bonfires with sullen looks on their faces. Y/N was always the one who stayed out there the longest. Harry had long since given up trying to cheer her up after one of these escapades, even though he wanted to do something. She just seemed too miserable about the subject. He never understood -- that was their job. They’ve worked together for a few years now and, well, the mood dip had only happened recently. 

It is hard to think about but, at one point, they were both good at their jobs. Well, they both are still good at it. They’re the best their boss had got but that didn’t mean they were both enthusiastic anymore. Harry liked his paycheck; an easy way to make enough money to coast him until the next job. And, he wasn’t a bad person but he did like the quick, fast and painless way this happened. Sure, he threw a few punches but there was some sort of satisfaction that came from having a man slumped over in his seat at his mercy.

However, Y/N was a different story. She was once enthusiastic about it. The grin painted over her lips as she played the part of the vulnerable girl that she would always roll her eyes about later. She liked to rant about it with her head in his lap as they sat on their living room floor, a glass of wine close to her hand and his own holding a beer bottle. That’s when he first reckons he fell in love with her. 

After their first little mission, sometime after they had moved in together, she had popped a bottle of champagne for the two of them, poured it into red solo cups and giggled with delight as she passed him a solo cup. A celebration, she had called it. He wasn’t much of a champagne drinker - he liked the occasional beer, usually hard liquor but he was when she passed him the cup and looked at him almost expectantly. Y/N swore up and down she was not a lightweight but, after a few glasses in, her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were bright. A cup sat discarded and, somehow, the two of them had wound up on the floor together. Her head was in his lap, hair tangled from where he had been carding his fingers through it. Her lips were slightly parted in the smile that made her seem brighter than she was, small freckles dotted across her cheeks. One of her hands grabbed onto one of his, measuring the difference between the two of them with the way an astronomer studies the stars.

That’s when he decided that he’d never love anyone as much as he loved her.

“We never finished talking about morals,” she spoke as soon as they rounded the corner, dragging him out of his thoughts. The sight of the house with their car parked in front of was a welcome one. It wasn’t too far.

“We had a job to do.” His response was quick, his voice clipped. “Besides, love, I told you earlier. Morals don’t apply when you’re dealin’ with people like we do.” He tried to soften the biting tone from moments before. She could hold her own and he very well knew that. She’s put him in his place for a multitude of things. However, he also wanted to be gentle with her. He could be harsh -- too harsh sometimes. And he was, by far, very afraid that he’d wind up hurting her in some way. 

“Don’t you think that all, like, people should be given some sort of benefit of the doubt? We don’t know if they really did what we’re told that they did.” The words tumbled out of her mouth as if she had been thinking about them for a while. He didn’t have to think twice; he stopped, grabbing her wrist and pulling her near him. There was a confused look on her face and he rested his other hand against her forearm. 

“You don’t say those things, Y/N. Do you hear me?” He spoke, his eyes boring into hers. “You can’t say those things.” He felt like he was scolding a child; she knew better than to say something like that. He glanced around for a moment before lowering his voice significantly. “You know what’ll happen if you do.” 

A warning. He was giving her a warning in the nicest way possible. 

She pulled herself out of his grip, shaking her head. “Whatever.” She brushed off his words with what looked like without another thought. “We have to get out of here.” She gestured to the car, turning on her heel and taking off down the sidewalk. He quickly followed after her, pulling the car keys out of his pocket. By the time he had circled around to the driver’s side of the car, she had gotten inside already, buckled up her seatbelt and had turned her face away. 

Harry couldn’t resist tapping her thigh after he had roared the engine to life, leaning over the center console once she looked his way to steal a kiss. A I’m glad we both made it kiss. His lips were soft against hers and it took her less than a second to press her lips back against his, her hand coming up to press against his cheek. 

The kiss went on longer than it was expected to in the first place but that did not bother either of the car’s occupants. He was the one who pulled away first, pushing a strand of hair out of her face and back behind her ear, not even caring that they were still in front of someone else's house. It was risky, yeah. No one was supposed to know that they were more together than they were. Her hand rested against his cheek, her palm curving his stubbly cheek and her thumb brushing against his cheekbone. Their lips were still rather close, still so that it felt like they were swapping breaths. 

“Let’s go home, yeah?” He asked her softly as she nodded. “Let’s go home,” she agreed, her voice softer than before. Harry’s hand stayed on her thigh as her hand moved to rest on top of his. He turned over his hand just to intertwine their fingers together and she responded by giving him the softest of a squeeze.

For a moment, things between the two of them seemed okay. But things in their world changed rather quickly. One moment, someone was there. The next, someone was not. 

All it took was a moment.