King Ragnar Imagines

Nothing Done

Ragnar could be an ass when he was frisky.

You had too many things to do to deal with his jackassery. As Ragnar's other wife– the one that Aslaug knew nothing of– you had a lot to do on the farm. He supplied you with a bounty of thralls for your cabin but still! You had a list of things to do. A list of things that didn't include fucking Ragnar and adding another child onto the many sons you already had.

"Do you want to fight with me Ragnar?" You ask, holding the laundry in your arms. You moved around the room to avoid him. He follows you with vigor. Its a game of cat and mouse. If you could avoid him by spinning around beams, darting when he thrust himself around the room– then you could finish your chores.

"No. It would be much better if you would give in. You could not beat me." He trills.

It would be much better– and you'd be lying if you said this game didn't have you slick and ruined. The boys outside were collecting the harvest while their father inside was clearly looking to lay his seed.

"Oh? Do you really want to find out?" You say, dropping the basket onto the ground. With a clack, Ragnar moves back. An ear to ear smile pulls at his slender lips as you shove his chest back.

"Woh–" He teases, swatting your hands away. "Are you batting me like a cat?" He muses, looking over to where your little kitten Svanr is, licking her little paws.

"You're an annoyance! Everytime you come here I can get nothing, NOTHING done!" You snarl, whipping around to jab him in the side. Ragnar coughs out, hopping on his feet with a hand to his side.

"You don't mean that, my love." Ragnar groans. "I get plenty done."

Maybe as King! But here, he just made you enraged. He came to play with his family, sew his seed in his womb and make you melt like a puddle everytime. Things were so good natured and fun– not the work, work, work that was your usual habit. You lurch your fist around to punch him– and Ragnar grasps your wrist, swirling you around and slamming you onto the bed. You thrash against him angrily, throwing your head back to headbutt him.

"You are so little!" Ragnar groans, using his body to pin you in place despite the beating headache beginning to build. "How are you so strong, hmmm?" Ragnar shoves you over, holding your shoulders down against the bed. Almost irritably you groan at the hardness of his growing arousal behind his trousers that presses against your ass.

You had to admit– you wanted the sex.

"Hurry up." You growl, grinding up against him. "I don't want to have to kick the boys out."

They would have work for some time– but if they were thirsty, they might come in. Ragnar pulls one of your wrists behind your back while the other quickly slides down his pants. Your dress shifts over your ass and Ragnar grunts in approval, the tip of his cock teasing your slit.

"You're soaked." He says. You can practically feel that cheeky smile. The fucking bastard.

"Just do it!" You snarl– and he quickly slides his dick inside of you. You gasp as he lets go of your wrist, grasping your hips and forcing himself to bottom out inside of you. You gasp, legs buckling at the edge of the bed from such a shock. You knew it was coming– but your body was never prepared after he went away raiding. Ragnar hardly gave you time to prepare, dragging your hips up to him by curling along the underside of your hips. You felt weak– but your King didn't pause for an instant, setting out a brutal pace that had your cunt squeezing him for some stability.

"I told you– you can't beat me, little kitten." He teases, if only for that amazing squeeze that he knew you would give him. You snarl back at him, legs strengthening if only to show his arrogant ass that you could so beat him! Your hips snap against his, eliciting the most delicious of huffs from his lips. Skin slaps against skin, moans spill outside to where the boys know– its not time to come inside at all.

"You're so arrogant!" Your scream comes out strangled– gasps puffing from your lips while Ragnar moves.

"You're a little late to that realization. " He tilts his head just slightly, grunting with every thrust. His legs are shaking by the slick coating his pulsing cock, pressing you harder into the bed. You fist up the sheets in your curled hands, groaning when the hands that were at your hips travel across– rubbing up against your engorged clit.

"Fuck!" You curse, guttural moans spilling out of the home. You were close... closer so with Ragnar applying such love to your clit. His thrusts smooth over the best of places, knowing your body better than a map of England.

"Are you going to cum?" Ragnar whispers in your ear, mocking. "Make a mess over your King's dick–"

You curse him. Him and that hot breath in your ear, urging you further and further. More so and more so with your walls begging him for his spunk. You feel almost disgusted with your lack of resolve, but how can you deny yourself? With all his love working your aching clit, you cant help but give in. Your orgasm swallows you up, pulsing around his member that plunges harder into contracting walls– eager for him and him alone. Ragnar gladdens you when he pushes himself to the hilt, filling you with heavy ribbons of his potent seed. He moans out shamelessly, finishing himself inside of you before he pulls out slowly, watching cum slip from your hole down creamy soft thighs.

"I told you." Ragnar reminds, a cheeky grin at his cheeks. "I. Win."