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honestsycrets · 7 years ago

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Irreplaceable XI: His Only Queen

See my masterlist for the rest of the series.

Warnings: NSFW... very minimal breastfeeding kink.

A/N: Well now, that escalated quickly.

You took his kill.

Ivar could have done it, he could have killed Sverri. For his Kitta and his boys. Instead his beautiful wife leapt in to save him. Or so he looked at it. When he thought of it, perhaps you did it out of mercy in thinking how he would finish him off. The bodies had been immediately buried while Ivar made his decision. Faksi was an immediate choice to bury. Sverri out of obligation. You were torturing him. Not only did he control your father’s lands, but now, you controlled Sverri’s. There was discussion around whether he earned them. After all, you finished Sverri. Weren’t they… your lands?

You weren’t sure you wanted them. They came with blood drenched on your hands, buried deep within the one man that could have truly loved you without conditions.

Two thralls were being prepped and while they were, you hadn’t come to speak to Ivar. As a husband, he knew what his duties were. He was to be supportive to you. You lost your father and a newly acquired lover. Both of which Ragnhild and you sewed burial clothes for. It was incredibly personal and he couldn’t understand why you would want to make such things for Sverri. You should have left it to Sverri’s thralls.

Instead you slaved over a brilliant green overtunic, embroidered with the images of feather’s of Freyja’s cloak. He overheard what you said. That if Sverri had the cloak, perhaps his love might reach you in your dreams. Or something amazingly sappy that he had no time to listen to, lest he dig up Sverri himself and deface his body.

Which he thought of. Numerous times.

But he wouldn’t... because he loved you.

His heart squelched with foreign disgust as he thought of Sverri. Sverri didn’t love you: he was obsessed with thought of possessing you. Ivar drags himself towards his new and only shared room with you, finding your eyes were a raw red with tears. Nothing had changed in the last nine days.

“Wife.” Ivar calls out in the doorway, eyes glazing over your pricked fingertips. You glance up with tired eyes, finishing the embroidery on a set of clothes for your father. You had worked day and night and finally-- it was done.

“Yes… Ivar?” Your voice was scratchy and tired.

Ivar jerks his head towards the other room. “Aslaug is sleeping. Come bathe.” You glance back to the bassinet before out to your husband where his body lay in the middle of the room. His body had been ailed with such great pains since your father fell ontop of him, cracking many bones. You followed him to a large tub where Ivar had thralls heat warm water over an open flame. As you stripped and slid in, Ivar pulled up a chair beside you, pulling himself up with a great deal of straining. Your head drops against the rim of the tub.

“I’m not going to make you stay.” He says. “But I don’t know where we go from here.”

You didn’t know what was next. How the pain that built up in your heart the last week could be erased. Or how you could forgive Ivar for the past years of your life being in such straits. You only knew that the you from ten days ago? That you still loved Ivar but also loved Sverri. Most of all, you loved your family. A little piece of which, would never be the same without Faksi.

And what of Kitta? Did she belong in your heart?

“Did you know about all the things she put me through?” You were talking about Kitta. Of course... he knew within reason why she did what she did. She was latching onto anything she could to turn him away from you. It had worked-- with her constant lips in his ear.

She slept with your brother. I hear her begging for him on raids. I want to see Hvitserk fuck her.

“She lied to me about somethings. I saw others.” Ivar recalls how strongly she eluded that Hvitserk was the one that took the one thing he wanted from you-- your virginity. At first, he didn’t care but the more he bonded to you, the more he craved it. The more he craved it, the more he resented you for giving it away. It could have been his.

Perhaps that was why you slept in bed with Hvitserk-- to make him more jealous than he already was. As if such a thing was possible.

“Why didn’t you protect me?” You say, lowering your head into the water. Your eyes peep out against the line of water. You were his wife, the one who made children with him and brought them up beside him. Shouldn’t... you be the one resting peacefully at night? Instead of wondering what Kitta’s next jab would be, verbal or whispers in Ivar’s ear, strangling you.

“Which one of you was I supposed to protect?” Ivar suggests. By Veifnr’s birth, you both were picking at each other like birds at an apple. It wasn’t until you cursed her that... it changed. Ivar began to pull back, Kitta began to get all of his time and you? You had no more babies for years. Even so, you had to admit that you weren’t being quite so kind to Kitta either. But saying ‘she started it’? You’d sound like Uxi.

“I… I don’t know.” You slide down into the water. “I’m so confused. Sverri… he loved me. Didn’t he?”

Ivar bites his tongue, trying his best to keep his cool as you spoke. Even after you betrayed him-- after you let Sverri’s tongue taste you, enjoy you and love you, he still wanted you. It burned him to no end to know that he did when you might not want him.

“He was obsessed.” Ivar responds. You glanced up to him as Ivar’s arms fold in his chair, raising his chin. “Faksi told me he wanted to marry you when I proposed. But I bet you regret that now.”

If not for Ivar’s proposal-- Kitta would still be alive. If not for Ivar’s proposal-- Faksi would still be kicking ass during raids. And if not for Ivar’s proposal, perhaps Uxi, Veifnr and little Aslaug would be Sverri’s children. Or perhaps not. Perhaps it would be he that would be heated from rejection and setting off to steal you. Would you think him as sweet as Sverri?

You sink deeper into the waters. “No.”

“No?” Ivar repeats, sharp as he sits up in his chair. “What do you mean no?”

It escapes him what there was to say no about. After all, you could have had life so much easier on yourself if you had just rejected him: moved on. Ivar leaned forward as you swam to the ledge of the pool, long hair tumbling into it’s warm waters like a vision of Freyja himself. Faksi’s rumbling laugh echoes in his mind. She hails from Freyja. Why did he listen to him?

“The gods chose you for me.” You say, sighing. “I could keep my lands and moved on. But… I don’t want to leave. I don’t want my babies saying their father was the great Ivar the Boneless-- and have no face to account for it.”

Ivar reclines back in his chair. “Great. Obligation for the children then.” He sneers, half hoping for something more.

“And!” You wag your finger at him. “I realize... I still love you.”

Ivar snaps his head back to you. “What?”

You sank back into the water and with it, the last string of his patience burning along with it. Ivar grasp the cup of mead nearest he, thrusting it across the wall across him. “Then WHY would you fuck him?!” Ivar roars.

You stand up abruptly in the bath. Hands at those round hips he loved so much. “The same reason you FUCKED Kitta every time I needed you!”

“My wife predated you! What would you have me do? Leave her? I loved her!” He snaps out, slamming his fist on the arm of his chair. You step out of the bath, distracting him with your curves. Ivar stares at the water spilling in drops across your stomach, down your hips.

“Grow a fucking pair and make her respect me! I am the mother of your three children!” You screech, hands in fists at your sides.

“You certainly didn’t act like it when they walked in on you riding his fucking tongue like a cheap whore, now did you?” Ivar bites back. He sees the look whip across your face. A mixture of pain and hurt, before it morphed to something more. The quick jab of his tongue left you crossing the room quickly, snapping his jaw around with your open palm before he could move up in his chair. The strike against his cheek was so sharp that it snapped his face around, a red outline on his pale skin.

“I am not just a daughter of Freyja, a mother or a piece of ass that you can choose when to want.” Ivar glances up to you, finding that your eyes were hard. “I am (Y/N). Your wife and queen. And you, Ivar the Boneless, will respect me as much.”

Ivar bobs his head, turning back up to face you. There’s something different-- completely. Over the last week he saw the changes. You wouldn’t let him claim ownership of you. You went under his nose to try-- even if it failed-- to save Sverri. Now? You were standing up to him. So much of Kitta’s own traits reflected in you, and yet, all he could see was you. She was like a dull memory, ever fading away. Ivar’s tongue flicks against the corner of his mouth, thrusting himself off of his chair and onto you.

Despite the pain in his bones, he wrestles you down, gloves pulling at your knees to spread them apart and finally he would sink between them like he hadn’t in so fucking long. Your legs knock closed, enraged when you found he was between them. Ivar’s forearms pin your head in place with nowhere to go. He quickly sank his teeth within your neck tugging and pulling with hot pain streaking down your body.

His hips grindup against you despite your nails pulling at his thin overtunic, scratching at his back as he travels lower, pinching your nipples and tugging them. Your teeth ground together, grinding when you felt your breasts drip milk in between his eager digits.

“You’re leaking!” Ivar laughs.

“I fucking hate you so much! You asshole!” You shriek back. Ivar’s hand palms your naked sex, the bath having given him perfect access to your cunt. Your hips swell into a buckle, struggling against those wonderful digits that knew your body too well.

“I thought you loved me.” He works his fingers in between your slit, aiming for a button much sweeter. As his fingers moved to stroke your clit, your hips keep rolling against his. As if you could get him off.

“I take it back!” You shout out, gasping when Ivar’s fingers entered your cunt, prodding your tight entrance. “You made me-- agh! Made me choose!”

So you weren’t lying to him when you said you hadn’t fucked him. You felt just as tight as he left you last. Ivar rasps a laugh, popping off your breasts with a wet smack of his lips. His fingers slip out from your cunt, sucking the juices. He rolls his eyes, pulling his pants down. “Why did you choose me? Hm? You could have slit my throat instead.”

As soon as his trousers are pulled under his ass you felt full. His cock fills up your cunt, every crevice like you were made just for him. Ivar groans, savouring the moment only seconds before he sets out a quick pace by the waving motion of his hips. You fist his tunic as Ivar moves, huffing angrily to yourself that you missed this-- whether it was the sex or your ass of a husband.

“Don’t blame me for making a shit decision. You should have picked him!” Your legs hook onto his hips, desperate to keep him close. It limited his range of motion, especially with his legs as they were, but you didn’t care. You need his sole love and affection even if it was manifested anger and chaos at the moment.

“Because you’re fucking mine! That’s why!” You shriek. Your words cause Ivar’s dick to slide out of your warm cunt. Your hand shoves between your bodies to line him back into place. It’s half affectionate-- begging for more of his cock. Ivar hisses when your legs around him, pulling him closer in without letting you go.He sinks back in with no other choice.

“Yours?” Ivar asks, bucking up your chin with his nose. He latches onto your neck, suckling tender red marks across your throat. You hiss, scratching along the back of his neck now as his hips begin to stutter in pace-- some thrusts quicker and more forceful than others.

“I didn’t fight with that fucking bitch to lose you without my say so.” You snap. “You’re mine, mine, mine. You’re my king. My fucking king.”

Ivar groans as your fingers jerk back his head, teeth popping off of your neck with a hot sting. Instead you bring your teeth to his throat, leaving harsh bruising bites all over. Your hips arch up into him, welcoming Ivar’s thrusts as he shivers, claimed by your nips across his jaw now. The motion presses friction against your needy cunt and before long, harsh waves of pleasure soaked through your sensitive cunt and shoves you over.

“Let me go. I’ll fill you with child if you don’t.” He warns. His demand goes unheard.

“Shut the fuck up.” You snap back through eyes that were tightly shut. Ivar’s dick seeks out the rest of your sweet orgasm before he would allow himself to fully let go, sinking his dick deep despite his words. Ivar shudders with your legs pressing him tight, ensuring that he couldn’t pull out. Your sickly saccharine smile catches his eye as your hips tilt up into him, walls spasming around his cock. He felt trapped-- and the feeling was too good to admit to. For all the times that he made you take his spunk, now you were here making him give it to you. Ivar curses harshly, spurting his seed through your willing walls. As he came back to reality, his forearm props him up as he fought for breath.

“I expect you’ll call me that now... if you stay.” Ivar grunts as your legs fell limply from his waist.

“Hm? What?” You groan, turning hazy eyes up at him. You turn to shove him over onto his back, taking his hands to pin above his head.

“Your King.” He says, glancing across your curling sex-slicked hair. “Now that you are my one and only Queen.”

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