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abyssalcunters · 1 year

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CHAPTER 3 THE BIRD FUCKIN GETS IT

Irene, when she had first arrived on the landship, was the subject of much interest. An Iberian Inquisitor, resigning her title to join Rhodes? One associated with the mysterious, misunderstood Skadi and Specter, no less? For a brief, overwhelming period she was the talk of the town.

Not infrequently during that time, she was asked every thinkable variation of “Is Skadi really like a walking Catastrophe?” by almost every other resident of Rhodes. It confused her! Sure, Skadi was inhumanly strong, but so were the other Hunters. She, and they, were still mostly human, just a little more, right? Nothing to compare to world-shaping forces of nature.

So she thought.

read on ao3

It dawns on her, now, as Skadi braces one hand beneath her knee and effortlessly folds Irene in half, that there might be something to those stories.

She bucks her hips unconsciously as Skadi’s teeth find her neck again, blunter than Laurentina’s but no less deadly feeling as she lines Irene’s carotid with the barest shred of restraint.

Briefly, Irene wonders how it would feel if she bit down. She knows, logically, that there would be no way she could survive that, but some deep, hidden away facet of her throbs at the idea.

She closes her eyes as Skadi rocks their hips together, as Laurentina squeezes a breast just tight enough to sting, and sees them both painted in blood.

Her hips twitch. She whines, low and desperate, as Skadi pulls away from her throat to nose at her ear.

“Do you want,” she murmurs, breath short, a guttural, primal quality to it that sends a full-body shiver down Irene’s spine, “do you want me here?”

She brushes her knuckle over Irene’s hole and she jolts, hips twitching upwards into unsatisfying nothing, keening pitifully at the denial. She does; she wants, desperately, but all her wrung-out mind can think to do is to try and pull Skadi closer. To bare her throat to her Hunter, and let herself be hunted, but trying to move Skadi is like trying to will gravity to lessen its pull.

A sharp tug at her hair brings her briefly back to coherence, shivering as Laurentina traces a finger along her jaw.

“She asked you a question, my pretty little bird,” she says, fingers firm in Irene’s hair as her other hand, precise with long practice, squeezes just under the corners of her jaw, “Answer her.”

Irene’s moan hitches in her throat, pitching an octave up from something lustful to desperate as Skadi brushes against her again, and nods as furiously as she can against Laurentina’s fist in her hair.

Laurentina’s grip tightens, and Irene’s heart leaps into her throat.

“Words, birdie.”

“Please,” Irene chokes out, and the dam breaks. “Please, Skadi I want you I need you to touch me there, I-” she sucks a breath between her teeth as Skadi’s finger brushes, presses more firmly, then retreats once more, the repeated denial welling tears at the corners of her eyes, “I need you in me Skadi please I need you to- to fuck me, please-”

In a blink, Skadi is on her again, slick fingers rubbing tight circles, wrenching a sob of torture relieved from Irene’s throat as she kisses away the tears rolling down her cheeks. “Okay, little bird,” she murmurs, “Okay.”

Skadi works her open with tender expertise, one finger gauging, massaging, coaxing choked whines; two pushing deeper, twisting, receding to do it again. She curls her fingers with each thrust, milking full-throated moans along with dribbles of pre that Laurentina wastes no time in spreading back down over Irene’s clit, thumb brushing insistent just under her tip.

Irene melts.

She sinks deep, both Hunters hands on her, in her, sinks into the haze of submission, of being taken care of, into the anticipation that Skadi will fuck her soon, Irene sinks. There is safety to be found here, of all places; bruised, bleeding slightly, breathless and dizzy with arousal and with an absolutely destroyed pair of panties, Irene finds safety in- or on, in one case -the hands of those who not long ago would have instead been at the end of her blade.

But here she is theirs, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it but her. Between two dangerous, vicious, destructive, violent, deadly, wholeheartedly loving people she finds control, and gives it to them willingly. Irene offers her heart to them with open palms, and trusts them to do right with it.

Skadi does, by wedging one terribly strong hand beneath Irene’s hip and bodily flipping her onto her stomach.

Laurentina laughs that tinkling, musical laugh of hers, tossing her panties aside before settling, legs spread, right in front of where Irene’s face is pressed to the mattress, “Oh, Orca, you really do have the best fucking ideas sometimes, dont you?”

Skadi’s satisfied smile is tangible against Irene’s hip as she kisses over it, hands trailing up Irene’s thighs drawing soft hums of appreciation before a sharp, pitched gasp as she hooks her thumbs under the crease of Irene’s cheeks and spreads her, gentle but inexorable.

Irene whines, embarrassed at being so exposed but more so at how she can feel herself dripping onto the sheets, each minute shift of Skadi’s fingers rippling needy twitches over her hips. Then Skadi dips her head, and drags her tongue hot and wet against her, and Irene’s arms give out.

She licks again, circling, tip of her tongue just dipping into Irene’s stretched out hole, and Irene whines brokenly as Laurentina tugs her head up to rest on her thigh.

“Don’t you think she’s waited long enough, Orca?”

“Mmm,” Skadi hums in lieu of response, pressing one last kiss to Irene’s twitching ass before sitting back on her heels, “Sorry, little bird… you looked delicious.”

Irene can only pant into Laurentina’s lap, whining as Skadi fingers more cool lube into her, not conscious or caring of how she’s drooling a little, or how when Skadi’s fingers brush just so inside her again she twitches and leaks on the sheets.

Skadi pulls away, briefly, and Irene half-sobs at the emptiness, clenching around nothing, digging her fingers into the meat of Laurentina’s thigh, but then Skadi’s clean hand is tangling itself in her hair and she’s pressing the head of her cock up against her and Irene whimpers, involuntary, trying to push herself back onto her but Skadi’s grip on her hip is iron, holding Irene exactly where she wants her as she rocks forward, gentle, easing her into it.

Breath catching in her throat, Irene tries to say something, anything, to beg for more for faster for anything more than this agonizingly careful pace. It comes out as whimpers, mumbled, incoherent against Laurentina’s skin, but through some divine providence (or perhaps Skadi just being really good at sex) she squeezes Irene’s hip once and snaps her hips forward, controlled, and hilts herself fully in her.

Irene’s whimpers turn to moans, full, deep, throaty, and as Skadi sets her pace Laurentina’s hand replaces Skadi’s in her hair and tugs her head firmly between her legs. Irene gasps, the tug sending static racing down her spine, hands coming up from where they were uselessly gripping at the sheets to hold Laurentina’s hips as she kisses unrefined, desperate, hungry at her folds.

Laurentina hums in appreciation, meeting Skadi’s eyes for a moment. “Seems like our- mm -our birdie here is hungry for more, hmm?” Her fingers tighten in Irene’s hair, forcing her to look up, “Should we fuck you senseless, darling?”

Irene nods, furiously, and Laurentina laughs, sharp and hungry, and yanks her face closer by the hair, hips rising to grind, hard, against Irene’s tongue.

Skadi bends forward to mouth at the nape of Irene’s neck, breasts pressed against her back, giving her a moment to adjust to Laurentina’s face-fucking.

Then she draws back, leaving Irene whimpering into Laurentina’s pussy at the loss, before pounding back into her, demanding, wringing the pleasure from Irene’s desperate, pliant body, quiet huffs of breath against her neck in time with Irene’s sobs of pleasure at each savage thrust.

It’s all Irene can do to keep her mouth open for Laurentina, head swimming with the ease she’s handling her, at the fact that she’s being useful- that she’s being used -that her body can be the vessel for these women’s pleasure. Laurentina rocks against her mouth with abandon, spreading slick over Irene’s lips, tongue, cheeks, chin, the tip of her nose bumping against her clit on each upstroke and Laurentina sings her delight, unabashed and bright.

Skadi is quieter in her intensity, hot breath in hissed exhales washing over Irene’s hypersensitive, painted neck in a scorching balm as her fingers dig new bruises into her hips. Like Irene has noticed before on the battlefield, she is single-minded in her focus, determined.

Unstoppable.

Irene’s whole body shakes as Skadi thrusts into her, hands on her hips enough to almost wrap around her whole waist, canting her hips up to fuck her tip against Irene’s prostate with each unforgiving thrust, driving her up and up and up and she’s almost there, her vision fuzzing white at the edges, sparks dancing down her spine, and her legs give out.

She sobs, agonized, she’s so close, but Skadi doesn’t miss a beat in hooking hands up under the crease of her thighs and lifting Irene’s ass back where she needs it, the angle allowing her to somehow hit deeper, strokes over Irene’s g-spot winding white-hot need though her gut, dragging screaming moans out of her, babbling nonsensical, incoherent pleas in Iberian into Laurentina’s crotch, prayers not to her God but a greater power.

Then Irene’s world splits, and she screams, orgasm coursing through her like a tsunami, convulsing in their arms- or trying to. The Hunters’ hands remain firm, even as Irene shakes apart between them they continue, Skadi fucking her, thrusts growing shaky as Irene clenches around her, Laurentina’s cries peaking as she grinds deeper into Irene’s already dripping mouth.

Distantly, through the staticy haze of overstimulation, the overwhelming supernova of heat bursting through her, Irene registers someone crying.

Then Laurentina’s thighs clamp around her face, pressing against wet tear tracks as she keens in her ecstasy, the lack of air and Laurentina’s heady scent blurring her senses into one unbelievable concentration as Skadi, still holding her off her useless legs, digs her teeth into Irene’s shoulder, snaps her hips deep, spilling hot bliss into her, and Irene comes undone.

She comes around to the murmur of quiet Ægirean; someone had shifted her so she was sitting across Laurentina’s lap, head resting delicately in the crook of her shoulder. She blinks away the haze lingering in her mind, opening bleary, slightly unfocused eyes to see the bright red of two otherworldly predators staring back at her.

Laurentina smiles, softer than any Irene has seen from her before, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she looks down at this fragile woman in her lap. “Welcome back, Irene.”

Her throat is killing her. Irene taps her head tiredly against Laurentina’s shoulder in lieu of response.

Skadi smiles, slight, tender, brushing her fingers through Irene’s hair, soothing her aching scalp. “I will prepare the bath.” Irene blinks. “To clean,” Skadi clarifies, as if Irene didn’t understand, then: “Like Shark said. We want to take care of you.” She presses a kiss to Irene’s head before standing, and Irene tries to ignore how her eyes prickle at the sentiment.

“Look at her,” Laurentina says, shaking her head in mock exasperation, “drawing a bath? She’s gone so soft, here on land. Then again,” she glances down at Irene, meeting her eyes, “some things here are worth all the other bullshit.”

Then Laurentina leans down to kiss her, gently, fingers weaving into her hair. Irene comes up for air, still a bit short of breath, resting her forehead against Laurentina’s neck.

She’s filthy; face mostly coated in Laurentina’s slick, Skadi’s cum trickling out of her and down both of her legs. She’s battered; bruises painted over her throat and shoulders, slowly drying blood laced across her collar and over her breasts, hips and neck and everywhere in between sore from being so thoroughly used. She’s exhausted, wrung out physically and mentally, and she still can’t move her legs.

“Yeah,” she says, the lump in her throat and welling at the corner of her eyes squeezing her voice into a whisper, “it really is worth it.”

Irene, former Inquisitor, now simply a woman, for the first time she can remember, says “It’s worth it” and means it.

#arknights #nsft #ummmmmmi dont have anything witty to say this took everything outta me tonight chat #enjoy. bird boning

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