King Ragnar Imagines

Gimme Gimme

At the minimum, it was one huge bottle of mead.

But if he was being honest, it was probably more. The wedding feast had gone on probably longer than it should have. Good food and even better company meant that they had spent way too long throwing back drinks. Combining that with Floki's small teases and his Athelstan looking like a meek mouse that he needed to impress, he was staggering on his feet. Maybe hitting the doorframe to the very house he built for you with Floki's help.

"Tha's a door." You slur despite the fact that you were probably worse off than he. He kicks open the door with his boot, causing a delighted giggle to spill off of your sweet lips. Your arms are around his neck as he supports you in his arm. You edge up to catch his lips in a kiss; shit the honey must have been extra sweet this year in that booze.

"I see it." Ragnar grumbles. He staggers in and kicks the door, missing once, before it slams shut. With a grunt he shifts you over his shoulder and locks the door. Finally, he was sick of this wedding shit. He crossed the door and now all that was really meant to do was his favourite part– solidifying this marriage with sex. Dropping you onto the bed, you rut around in the furs before stretch your hands out to him.

"Gimme!" You shrill.

Ragnar cocks his eyebrow up at you. "Gimme what?" He asks, bending his head slightly.

"You!"