contents: NSFW. cw: significant age gap, mentions of violence and alcohol, time-period accurate misogyny/mentions of marriage, time-period inaccurate slang used. Size kink, hand job to completion (m!receiving), possessive language used by Thorkell toward reader including calling her "my wife", romantic smut with a lot of talking.
notes: this was a blast to write and i hope i did our big sturdy tree of a man the justice he deserves. this has been finished for a while but i actually added like 2.5k+ words to it so...yeah! <3
The winter of your village’s invasion has passed and given way to a glorious spring.
Not long after the first snowfall, the first pillaging occurred. At first they only took sheep and cows, sacking homes for necessary supplies including the meager weaponry farmers must have to keep their families and animals safe. They returned a second time after the snow had accumulated, invading during a storm to cover their tracks. Fluffy white filled in footsteps that could alert the evening watchmen and they came after nightfall to collect once again, dragging off more animals and some able bodied men to work for them.
The third time is when your father - the village leader - fell to his knees and pleaded with the band, including their leader. He offered them safety and warmth in the dead of winter in exchange for the safety of his villagers. They agreed to cease the violence and sacking as long as their demands and needs were meant.
Despite their presence things seem strangely peaceful. You believe most people have chosen to ignore the ever present threat as a means to stay positive.
Or they’ve opted to focus on talking about you and the task you’ve been personally assigned thanks to your father - attending the scariest man most of your fellow villagers have ever seen. The madman who is missing an eye and swings an axe nearly as high as the sun. The leader of the group that has decided they needed to be here to choke a trade route that leads to an enemy encampment.
“Thorkell?”
Water splashes around him when he turns to look at you. The candlelight is blazing, recently lit, shining over his shoulders and the definition of them. “Yes?”
Opting to gaze at the flame rather than what is so beautifully highlighted by it, you clear your throat to gather your courage.
“May I ask you a few questions?”
He sighs, which captures your attention. You look up to witness him bringing his hand up to cup his chin in a comically dramatic gesture for a man nearly too big for the washtub that was custom built to fit his excessively large frame.
“I tend to believe once a woman has seen the parts of you that you’re to hide with clothes that she can ask you anything.” You roll your eyes. He chuckles, pulling his eyepatch down and back over its empty socket for your comfort. “Speak freely. I won’t punish you unless that’s what you’d like to ask for.”
It pains you to laugh at him though it’s futile to stop yourself. He’s quite charming for a complete oaf, full of affection and brightness that many of his counterparts who scowl at you while you make your way into the quarters where your mother and father used to sleep that have now been commandeered by the visiting viking lack.
The only reason you’ve been coming for all of these months is to attempt to keep him happy to stave off attacks. You were given permission to do whatever is necessary by your father. Nothing uncouth has happened so far but the longer time has passed the more curious you find yourself becoming about the leader of the group specifically.
You believe you may have developed a bit of a fondness for him, as dangerous of a prospect as it is.
That very prospect has led you to believe that questioning him is the right way to change your feelings. Getting to know him will surely only grow the hatred time has doused. You simply need to remind yourself of how terrible he is and always has been.
Clearing your throat, you look up at him through your lashes to find him already gazing over at you, lazing about in his tub.
“Why do you fight?”
He sits up instantly, grinning. “Because there is little else to live for besides the thrill of battle.”
You cannot hide your dissatisfaction with the answer despite his glee, a sigh escaping.
“Yes, yes you’ve told me this more times than I can count. The thrill of battle, the spilling of blood.”
Fighting is wrong, a lesson you’ve been taught since you were old enough to remember. It’s wrong to harm others and certainly without reason. There’s no telling how many people Thorkell the Tall has harmed against this belief.
Part of you is sure he keeps a tally somewhere in his shockingly vacant head. He cannot hide how your frustration delights him so he spurs you on.
“Why do you believe we fight, young lady?”
Shaking your head, you toss a well loved linen cloth into the water. He scoops it up and wrings it out, placing it over his shoulder so it doesn’t float away.
“Thirst for blood trickles downward, my lord. They see how much you love it and it only makes them lust for a taste of it themselves.”
He tilts his head at you, touching his fist to his chest as though he’s touched by your words.
“You think me a lord?”
You snort humorlessly, tipping a little more water out of the bucket in your hands while daring to let your cheek rest against the lip of the tub, placing the bucket down next to your bent knees.
“My father has instructed me to regard you as one despite your presentation and I cannot defy.”
The Goliath grins at you, blonde facial hair damp with steam from the water you continue to pour into the wooden basin. “Ah, I always knew he was a smart man.”
Sighing and settling back into the water now that the temperature has risen, he opens his mouth to speak.
“It’s all I’ve ever known from the time I was a boy.” He closes his intact eye like he’s lost in a reverie. “The glory of victory and the bitter encouragement of defeat. I would be half a man without them even if you see it all as beneath you.”
The viking now makes a show of placing his hands on the back of his head, arms bent yet still so wide you almost collide with his elbow when it passes over your head just before you can duck.
“You mustn’t kill me or else you’ll have no chambermaid.”
Your tone remains flat though an amused smile rests across pretty lips dappled by fading candlelight.
The man laughs, it seems to be all he does whenever he’s in your company, cupping his hand to dip it beneath the water and scoop some over his head. Your eyes follow his every move, maintaining sight of his forearm and wrist, his thick fingers and the strands of blonde hair that flatten over his forehead while they’re wet. He pushes them back and they immediately fall forward again, an action that wins a giggle from you.
With a never fading smile, he repeats the motion. Pushing his wet strands back, sliding his hand across their surface, they rebel and return to their home across his forehead. He sighs in mock exasperation, hands no longer cradling his head but instead spread out far beyond the sides of the tub.
“Now you see why I must wear the headband.”
Why is there a swell of warmth in your chest over the boyish smile of this man over twice your age? It curls around your heart like the steam in the room and the smoke from that still fading candle.
This feeling is very inappropriate.
He’s a warlord who will likely conquer your village and overtake your father. He came here to inflict harm and to claim that which does not belong to him. Swallowing thickly, you sigh and further settle against the side of the tub. There is no response you can come up with to match his wit while hiding your true feelings so you rest a moment, dipping your fingers into the basin and wiggling them gently to warm them up although the room feels far from cold.
Silence never sits well with Thorkell, nothing but the splashing of water filling his ears. He wishes it were the music and liveliness of an inn, something your small village is missing, but he’ll take listening to you speak in lieu of such things.
“Do you know what your father told me about you the first day I met him?”
It was gracious he allowed you to enjoy the quiet for even a few minutes. You pretend to think about his question for a moment and then shake your head.
“Haven’t a clue.” A shrug, your shoulder lifting to your cheek. “Did he not offer marriage? My assumption has always been this is why he’s made me come and perform such uncouth tasks for you.”
Clearly you’ve piqued the man’s interest. He raises a blond brow. “No. Although if you believe he’d be willing t–” you shoot him a glance that makes him stop, his tongue stilling in his oversized mouth for just a moment before a sly smirk crosses his face.
“You know how much I like it when you get that fierce look in your eyes.”
You nod coolly despite the beating of your heart. He’s complimenting you? Admiring the tenacity you keep so well hidden beneath your smiles and obedience?
Thorkell liked you from the first time he encountered you, staring curiously at him from across the largest banquet table your people could find. You asked him no questions nor paid him any actual mind when he attempted to smile and raise a mug of ale in your direction, choosing to turn your attention to the children who misunderstood the excitement and celebrated the arrival of the people who may eventually raze the only home they’ve ever known once they no longer need it.
That was many moons ago, more than the warrior has bothered to continue to count. You came to his chambers that very first night to bathe him, as you were clearly instructed to do, silently and seething with rage. You could likely have concealed it from someone who had seen less of it but he knew instinctively, this man.
“Kill me if you must but I’d far prefer a kiss from one as fair as you,” he teased.
You dumped water over him with the same expression you wear now but you kept your eyes pinned to the wall instead of glancing at the nude man. Now this was greatly amusing to Thorkell. It also affirmed to him that he did not merely like you but found himself charmed by the lack of warm welcome and determined to bring back what he saw earlier that day sitting across from you.
In the present day, you aren’t bothered by the sight of his unfathomably large, muscled, scarred form nude. Or so you think until he does as he’s doing right this moment, stretching and spreading his long legs out and over the edge until water drips to the floor beneath them. His flaccid cock floats upon the water. You catch sight of it and look away quickly, backing away from the tub to grab the bucket and return to the stove for more hot water.
Thorkell stops you, reaching to place a hand over yours. His fingers curl around your hand and the handle of the bucket both. “He told me that you wished to someday leave this village.”
You hum, aware he regales all visitors with that tale in hopes one of them will take you off of his hands and alleviate the strain upon his stores and finances. Your father loves you, of course, yet things are only growing more and more strained as the Danes advance. The future has never felt more uncertain, yours or that of your entire family.
Even before the arrival of your unexpected visitors you longed to go. There’s another side of the landscape your eyes can make out yet you’ve never touched, further away than you can even consider walking by yourself. There are oceans and snow covered hills; grasslands and fertile soil and more than the simple rocky lowlands of your dreary homeland according to the stories the Northmen have told you. More than green, more than gray, more than any of us.
There’s a limitless world out there for those bold enough to take it.
“He told you the truth, Thorkell the Tall.”
The man chuckles, your sarcastic formality leaving him thrilled. His thumb rubs over the back of your hand and each of your knuckles.
You should rip yourself away from the touch of his hand, filthy bloodied paw that it is, yet you stay in place. The rapidly cooling water sloshes when he shifts, the room alongside it when Thorkell makes his way to the edge of the tub to lean over it and loom over you. The candlelight has grown down to a dim flicker, no longer bright enough to highlight his chest or the proof of prior battles that cross it.
Not that you need the reminder, you can conjure them on your own. Even in the dim light you see him looking at you, a handsome face beginning to be etched by the delicate lines of age with scars that match those on the rest of him nearly touching yours.
“I could take you out there to see it all,” he offers in his best attempt at a whisper. His voice still fills every corner of the room. You shake your head, wiggling your hand beneath his to try and loosen the grip.
“I cannot leave unless it’s with my husband.”
“Then I’ll talk to your father and arrange our marriage.”
That humourless laugh surfaces once again, your hand shaking beneath his.
“Will you take me by force if I say no, just as your men have done to many others?”
Thorkell chuckles, astute enough to tell that even if you mean to wound him, it’s merely a scratch. But if you want to play rough, he’ll play right alongside you.
He’s always carried an inkling you’d prefer it that way to begin with.
“It has never been I who has forced you to do things against your will,” he squeezes your hand and releases it with a mighty groan, shifting in the tub again so that his arms and head dangle over the edge.
It stings to recall that first night all those moons ago when you were forced to face this humiliation. To fill a basin for a man you saw as a predator felt like only staving off your own damnation, the ruination of farmlands and homes. A temporary means to an end.
That once venomously pervasive belief has softened over time and with the lack of aggression from the invaders toward your village.
You realize that while Thorkell is a bloodthirsty, senseless, loud brute he is intelligent. He can tell a story unlike any man you’ve ever met and his tales have always been fantastical. There’s a gentleness beneath his brash exterior, proven in the way he holds your hand not only right now but every other time he has. He hungers for more but don’t you do just the same, wishing to feel the grass of another pasture beneath your feet?
Sighing, you lean back against the side of the tub. The water must be cold now, the candle burned out completely leaving only moonlight to shine through the room though he makes no effort to take his leave. His cock floats ominously, his body relaxed and heavy beside you.
Would this man truly marry you to give you the life you seek?
“And how would you treat your wife, Thorkell the Tall?”
The water splashes while he lifts himself up to sitting, one arm remaining out of the tub so he can cup your shoulder in his large hand.
“Same as I treat all women,” he boasts as blunt as ever, gently shaking you which makes you laugh, attempting and failing to shrug him off.
You know he hasn’t taken a lover in your village since arriving, something many of the women have taken offense to despite their husbands if their incessant complaining in any indication.
“I’ve not heard any rumors of your treatment. Care to tell me more?”
Curiosity has always been your strength and weakness both. Fortunately, he’s eager to indulge you regardless.
“You’ve not heard a single tale about how the women weep when I leave their villages?” He chuckles, lowering his head so that it is over yours once again. “ ‘O Lord, please protect the heathen who showed me Your face while using his tongue’ they cry in the streets.”
You may be unwed but you are no fool and the innuendo is not lost on you. Your face runs hot though you can’t quite place why, chest squeezing.
“So you’ve had many women then?”
The older man smirks, droplets from his hair sliding into your lap and falling into the empty water bucket beside you.
“I’ve had my share,” he admits, hand sliding up your shoulder to wrap around the side of your neck and head. The delicacy of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, his thumb rubbing a small line across your throat. “Yet not one inspired me to claim her as my wife.”
Conquering is truly all he knows how to do, isn’t it? You scoff and Thorkell feels the vibration against his digit, removing and replacing it with his lips. He places a kiss against the hollow of your throat.
“Northman,” you warn, though the bite in your voice dies to find new life as a breathy sigh when he kisses your neck again. His facial hair scratches against your soft, unblemished skin causing goosebumps to sprout across it.
“Stop me then, sweeting.”
The term of endearment ensures that your head and heart are no longer communicating, thoughts slipping away like petals on the wind. Your body reacts instinctively to his touch, head tipping backward to allow him access to more. He chuckles against your skin, tongue now laving over the irritated skin left behind from his kisses and the scratch of his scruff.
“You didn’t answer my question,” you remind impatiently, air escaping your lungs in short puffs. “And I don’t wish to ask it again.”
His hand once again slides from your neck to your back, palm resting between your shoulder blades to pull you closer toward the tub and subsequently his insatiable mouth. It’s easy to forget how large he is yet right now it’s all you can think about - how engulfed you feel by his presence much less his hands.
“You’ve not let me finish,” he pokes right back in your direction. That large hand slides down your back, his long arm hardly stretching to reach your ass to cup it and give it a playful squeeze. You protest but realize it’s futile, raising yourself up slightly so he can slide his hand fully beneath the backs of your thighs. Thorkell smiles down at you, his other arm now dropped over the side of the tub to cup your chin alongside your behind.
“I cannot promise that I would be able to give my wife a life free from suffering,” he starts. ”I am a warrior. My call will always be to battle no matter how badly she may desire that another truth exists.”
Nodding is all you can manage, averting your eyes from him. Is it strange to find a man so much older and worn than you this handsome? Is there something wrong with you? With the heat in your veins and the throb between your legs?
Is it evil of you to crave to live this life with him? You can picture it - not here but far away, the vision of his homeland that his stories have created form the blurry outlines of the dream. Long after he’s taken you around the untamed and unowned world and shown you all it has to offer, every hilltop and cavern.
Questions and uncertainties rush by in your head, so quickly you can hardly make sense of them.
The warrior stares at you curiously, lifting your head to meet his eyes. You’ve chosen to let him finish uninterrupted and he takes advantage of it.
“I would give my wife my heart no matter how far the wind carries me from her side.”
Despite the creeping fears dwelling within your worried mind, you smile at him. It’s soft, even a bit tense, exposing that you are afraid to believe a dream as outlandish as this could come true. The ghost sensation of his lips across your throat returns and you reach for it, running the side of your index finger over the sensitive skin.
Thorkell realizes where your mind has gone and takes advantage, reaching for your hand and pulling it into the tub. You gasp as your sleeve soaks up a bit of the water, attempting to pull it back yet finding yourself unable to be free of his grasp. Keeping your eyes locked on him, you don’t dare look and see what he’s doing lest you react strongly and alert his men posted outside of the room.
When you touch something entirely unfamiliar that does not feel like water, you dare sneak a glance and gasp sharply upon realizing he’s flattened your palm across the width of his cock. He chuckles at you, molding your fingers around what he considers his most impressive weapon.
“And this would be all for my wife.”
Wrapping his hand all the way around yours, he squeezes and hisses at the softness of your skin. Your palm does not cover even half of his girth, fingers far from touching each other. There is no indication that you wish not to touch him so he continues on, using your hand to slowly stroke his shaft.
“I’d never take another lover if I had my wife,” he serenades you with a humorous note floating through every word, leaning over the tub to look you up and down with a grin. “Although I believe my wife may be a bit too small to take all of my cock.”
That same flushed feeling from earlier returns to your face, the ache between your legs encouraging your thighs to defiantly squeeze together to give you a bit of relief. He glides your hand smoothly from the bulbous tip of his head that leaks fluid he rubs back down the rest of him, thumb resting on the outside of your wrist to keep it steady. Breaths leaving him in soft pants that mirror your own, your brows knitting together when you mewl softly with need.
A mischievous light shimmers in Thorkell’s narrowed eyes now that you’ve openly displayed how his teasing makes you feel.
“I would like my wife to try, though,” he rasps, throat dry and blood rushing from his head to his painfully hard cock. “To try to take me.”
You didn’t need the clarification, still you nod and swallow. There’s no hiding from a direct conversation now. You’ve been confronted.
There remains a lingering concern that he doesn’t mean it though lust fogs your thoughts too strongly to make you really take a step back and consider if this is real. Your hand moves up and down his cock, his hips gently bucking up and into your fist while cool water splashes around his hips and onto your forearm.
“Would yo–would you do that for me?” He asks, grunting between each word. His complexion grows more pink with every passing second and you find it adorable that a man of his size flushes in such a manner when he’s being pleasured.
You gaze into the bathtub, able to barely make out the tinge of red from his throat clear down to the deep flushed pink of the head of his cock. It’s such a strong contrast to dark scars and honed muscle that you whimper again, biting your lower lip and resting your cheek against his fingers.
“Would I do what for you, Thorkell?”
An impure part of you likes to hear him speak in this way, especially about you. Your body. Your pleasure. The visiting invaders have never been shy about sex and their conquests, speaking about them in front of polite company like priests and women alike but you’ve never quite seen this side of the man next to you.
Thorkell only speaks of fighting. The yearning of his blade for blood is all you believed he was capable of feeling until this evening.
Now you see the man whose heavy, full balls slap against the bottom of your fist each time he thrusts upward to meet his stroke with your hand for who he really is. You see that his passionate blood runs hot for more than just battle just as he sees that you aren’t meant to be a shepherd’s wife.
“Stretch yourself upon my cock?” The words come through gritted teeth, his body tensing and voice doing the same. “Allow me to fuck you until even the gods know my name you’ve been shouting it so often?”
Lack of experience aside, you get the distinct impression that he is soon to lose his mind to his pleasure. His chest heaves and the water around him no longer ripples but behaves like a wave capped stormy sea with each determined thrust of his hips, his remaining eye shutting tightly.
“Yes,” you mutter.
Without further hesitation you reach into the tub and wrap your free hand around his and your other hands to increase the pressure of the grip on his shaft. He moans loud enough you know that the men on the other side of the door have to know what’s happening but you don’t care.
“Yes, if I am your wife I will let you take me however you like.”
The words leave you in an anxious jumble, your lower lip wet with saliva and eyes heavily lidded as though it hurts to open them fully in your aroused state.
“I will not merely allow you to fuck me Thorkell, I will beg you to.”
You pant, brows knit together expressing how painful the ache of your curious cunt has become. It would be a lie to say you are completely unfamiliar with your body, you’re aware of how to soothe this pain but both of your hands remain locked around him.
“There’s nothing I desire more than to feel you inside of me.”
One look at your face tells him that you mean it. It’s almost hilarious how wide your pupils are blown and how spit slicked your lower lip is from gnawing it like a starved beast. Thorkell doesn’t laugh though, he merely focuses on chasing the feeling in the lower half of his body.
“Then inside you I will be,” he assures, tipping his head back while his jaw slackens and falls open. His release spurts all over your hand with another mighty groan announcing its arrival, white coating your knuckles and the cuff of your shirtsleeve.
You let go of him, backing your top hand away slowly though the one around his shaft remains there locked in his grasp. Awkwardness keeps you anchored in place, patiently waiting for him to say something; anything.
“I’ll speak with your father in the morning.”
He rises from the water and you nod, eyes wide. He meant it? You may really someday learn what’s just beyond what your eyes can see?
Thorkell bends at the waist and holds onto the edge of the tub, staring down at you with that same grin he never quite conceals no matter what. He’s so good natured for someone so violent.
“Go lie down on the bed, my wife, and I will give you a taste of what’s to come.”
And who are you to say no? You scramble to your feet, holding your soiled hand out in front of you until you decide to simply wipe it on your skirt. No sense in feeling shame now, not while a very hungry predator stalks across the wooden floor, leaving a trail of droplets behind him.
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𓏴 ꕀ thorkell is massive compared to you, and he loves it. he’ll constantly compare your hands to his or just grab your whole face with one hand and laugh like he’s discovered something amazing.
𓏴 ꕀ super obvious with affection. he’ll throw an arm around you in front of everyone, toss you over his shoulder without warning, or just plop you down in his lap like you weigh nothing.
𓏴 ꕀ he’s not the best at “soft” gestures, but he tries in his own way. his version of comforting you is ruffling your hair, booming out that “everything’ll be fine!” and pulling you into one of his crushing hugs.
︵︵ sometimes thorkell gets so caught up in the chaos of a fight that he forgets just how scary he looks. you’ve had to tug on his sleeve more than once, reminding him to tone it down before he accidentally terrifies an ally. the first time you did it, he just blinked down at you and barked out a laugh. “scary, me? nah—look at this face!” he grinned wide, bloody and wild-eyed, and you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. “exactly,” you muttered.
𓏴 ꕀ no concept of personal space whatsoever. if he’s tired, he’s laying on top of you. if he’s excited, he’s scooping you up and spinning you around. if he wants your attention, he’ll literally block your view until you give it to him.
𓏴 ꕀ loves bragging about you to literally anyone who will listen. mercenaries, enemies, random farmers—doesn’t matter. they’ll know you exist and that thorkell thinks you’re the greatest thing alive.
𓏴 ꕀ he secretly likes when you fuss over his injuries. he’ll pretend it’s nothing, but deep down he melts when you scold him for being reckless while wrapping his wounds.
︵︵ after a long battle, thorkell finally flopped down on the grass beside you, groaning dramatically. “ahhh, i’m exhausted. but i fought well, didn’t i?” he turned his head toward you with a grin, expecting praise. when you only raised a brow and started dabbing at the cut on his cheek, his grin softened. he sat there, strangely quiet, watching you work. “…you’re real gentle, y’know that?” he rumbled, voice unusually low, before chuckling and tugging you into his chest.
One stolen plate is all it takes to turn dinner into a battlefield.
CW: SFW, Thorkell the Tall x F!Reader, fluff, play-fighting, physical tussling, messy food-sharing, background banter.
Word Count: 1,504
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fan fiction. It does not reflect the official story, character relationships, or views of the creators of Vinland Saga.
Your plate had barely hit the table when it vanished.
One second it steamed before you, the first proper meal you’d had all day. The next, a great hand swooped in, brazen and unhurried, plucking it away as if it had been meant for him all along.
“Oi!” you snapped, fork stabbing at wood.
Across the bench, Thorkell leaned back, your plate balanced carelessly in one paw, grinning like a thief caught red-handed. His side of the table looked like the aftermath of a feast—bones, greasy platters, mugs scattered like rubble. He’d eaten half the kitchen and somehow decided your meal was fair game too.
“Thork—”
“Mm-mm-mm!” He hummed as though to test the flavor, already tearing into the meat with his teeth. A low groan of satisfaction rattled out of him. “Not bad.”
“Not bad?!” You lunged across the table, seizing the edge of the plate with both hands.
The big man chuckled, lips shiny with grease, holding it just out of reach. “Easy there.”
“Give it back!”
He stretched his arm higher, barely moving, and suddenly you were a child jumping for sweets. He shoved another piece in his mouth and smirked, cheeks puffed as he tried to chew.
You jabbed your fork at his wrist. “Drop it!”
Thorkell leaned away, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, eyes glittering. “Tch, tch. Not very lady-like.”
“Oh, shut up!” You braced your heels and yanked with your whole weight. For a breath you thought you had him, his wrist bent, the plate tilted—then he gave the smallest twist of his arm.
The plate popped free. You stumbled back with nothing in your hands.
Thorkell popped another bite in his mouth, laughing through his nose, muffled around the food.
A couple men down the bench had started watching, ale halfway to their mouths. One nudged the other with his elbow.
“She’s gonna kill ’im,” he muttered, grinning.
-
You stared him down, jaw tight, then let out a long, defeated sigh. The fork clattered from your fingers to the table.
“Fine,” you muttered, brushing your hands on your tunic as though you were done with the whole business. “Enjoy it.”
Thorkell blinked at you, chewing, a little thrown by your sudden calm.
“…Eh?”
You turned and started walking away.
For a moment, he almost felt bad. Almost. Then he shrugged and scooped up another fistful, humming to himself as he shoved it into his mouth.
But the rhythm of your boots on the floor shifted. He frowned.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Heavy, deliberate.
He had just enough time to glance over his shoulder, cheeks still full, when your battle-cry split the hall.
“RAAAAH!”
You charged. The warriors burst into laughter, shoving back from the benches to give you room.
“Gods save him!” one barked.
You vaulted onto the bench, then onto his shoulders, legs locking around his neck. The whole chair buckled under his size as you drove him back, and the two of you went crashing to the floor in a storm of splintered wood.
“BAHAHAHA!” Thorkell’s laugh exploded, muffled around the food still in his mouth. He rolled half onto his side, trying to swallow, shoulders shaking so hard it rattled the floorboards.
“Spit it out!” you barked, hair falling wild across your face as you clawed at his jaw.
He slapped one massive palm over his mouth, the other bracing against your forehead to keep you back. His eyes were crinkled shut, laughter spilling through his nose.
“Mmmffhh—hrrhhfhh!”
“Don’t you dare swallow it!” You pinched his nose with one hand, prying at his lips with the other.
The men were howling now, some pounding the tables with their mugs, others bent double with laughter.
“Get it, lass! Take his tongue too!”
“By Odin, look at her go!”
Thorkell tried to say something, but it was just garbled noise through a mouth full of food and your fingers forcing their way in. You managed to wedge your hand past his lips, digging like a madwoman.
“Ghrrhhk—BAHahaha—st—stop, you’ll—hrhhkk—!” He gagged, tears streaking his face from laughing too hard.
But you didn’t stop. You wiggled your fingers deeper, nails scraping his teeth, until you hooked something soggy.
With a triumphant yell, you yanked it free — a dripping, half-chewed mess.
The hall erupted in a thunderous roar.
“By the gods, she’s got it!”
You stuffed it into your mouth before he could react, chewing furiously like it was the spoils of war.
Thorkell was still flat on his back, chest heaving, choking on laughter. He tried to push himself up on one elbow, still holding you draped across him like a cloak. “Y-you—hah—little fiend—”
“You started it!” you snapped around a mouthful, cheeks puffed like a squirrel’s.
The men’s jeering hit a fever pitch.
“She ate it! She bloody ate it!”
“That’s fouler than Fenrir’s arse!”
“I’ll never kiss a woman again after seein’ that!”
Thorkell finally gulped down the last of what he’d been hiding, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist. His face was red from laughing, beard wet with grease and spit, but he was still grinning wide as ever.
With an arm hooked around your waist he sat up, hauling you up with him like you weighed nothing. His voice boomed over the din,
“Ha! Did you see her? Fought me like a wolf for a scrap o’ meat! Fiercer than any of you soft-bellied bastards!”
The hall roared back, some raising their mugs in salute, others whistling.
You were still chewing stubbornly, glaring at him like you hadn’t just made half the longhouse piss themselves laughing.
-
The waitress— A lean English woman, had set a fresh plate down for one of Thorkell’s men, he leaned forward to hand it to you with a crooked grin. “Here, lass. Guard it with your life.”
You snatched it immediately, elbows tucked tight, pressing it to your chest like a shield. Your legs kicked lightly, instinctively curling against Thorkell’s sides— still hoisting you effortlessly in his massive arms. His grin stretched wide, low humming vibrating through his chest. “Eh… think that’ll stop me, little firebrand?”
“Hands off!” you barked, shoving a chunk of meat into your mouth before he could snag the piece. Grease glistened on your fingers, dripping slightly onto your chin. Thorkell’s gaze flicked from your lips to the food, eyes gleaming with mischief. He leaned closer, just enough that his chest pressed against yours, and nuzzled your temple with the tip of his nose. “Full of fire… and a bloody appetite,” he murmured, teeth flashing in a grin. One enormous hand hovered near the plate, twitching like he was deciding which morsel to snatch first.
You squealed around a mouthful, twisting your body just enough to shove him gently with your elbow. “I am eating this! All of it!”
He laughed, deep and rumbling, as he tipped the plate slightly with a playful nudge, trying to snag a bite.
You squirmed, twisting against him, knees braced against his sides, shoving the plate between you to keep him at bay.
Finally, with a groan of amusement, he eased you down to the bench. You pressed your back against the table, straddling his lap, knees planted against his chest for leverage. The plate was angled protectively between your knees and chin, as you began shoveling food into your mouth like a woman on a mission.
He leaned closer again, chin pressing into the top of your head, sniffing your hair, and tried to brush his fingers across the edge of the plate to snatch a roll. You hissed, shoving him away with your thighs trying to keep him from stealing another bite, He chuckled, warm and teasing, continuing to lean closer so your forehead brushed his chest. “Careful, lass… you’re making it hard to keep my hands to myself,” he murmured, nibbling gently at your fingers when they strayed too close to his jaw—quick, teasing, affectionate — and you swatted at him with a laugh, twisting away, trying to keep each bite.
-
Soon your fingers were scraped clean of crumbs, the plate empty but for smeared grease. You leaned back, triumphant, cheeks full and flushed, as his hands settled lightly on your waist to keep you snug.
You swallowed the last bite, with a victorious smirk. “You’re insufferable,” you said, half teasing, half breathless.
“Aye… but you love it.” He hummed, pressing you closer, and wiped the grease from your chin with a gentle thumb, eyes lingering on you just a fraction longer than necessary, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Mad, stubborn woman… I like you best this way,” he murmured, leaning down so his forehead brushed yours. arms snaked snugly around your waist.
The hall faded around you, the men quietly shaking their heads, mugs tipped, bemused at the tiny, feral woman straddling the tallest man alive. You were victorious, plate empty, pressed against him — the only person alive who could say they’d wrestled a meal from Thorkell the Tall, and won.
hi, this his my first post on this app!! sorry in advance for the grammar errors, i'm french soooo i'm practicing writing in english,,
i hope you enjoy this os about Thorkell <3 i just love this man so much
tw : oral sex ; face sitting ; dirty talk ; praise kink
words : 1054
Not only were you desperate for sex, but also nobody would notice that in the camp. Nobody except Thorkell. The way he looked at you when you rode your horse. The way he smirked when he noticed your legs pressing around the horse to make him move forward.This could be me, he used to think.
Tonight was the night, you knew it when Thorkell convened you in his personal tent. He pretended that you two have some things to share about the next battle. Liar. But his lies didn’t bother you. Of course they didn’t.
-You wanted to see me, Thorkell ? you asked innocently.
The sexual tension was definitely there. Thorkell was barely naked, only wearing thin pants. You could admire his enormous shoulders, connected to his generous chest and abs. He truly was a giant.
-Actually, I wanted to see you tonight, he responded with a strange smile on his face.
It was a hungry smile. Oh god, you thought. He desired you so badly. You approached him, slowly, but surely. His eyes opened wide when he saw you innocently pull your tunic so he could see your breasts through the fabric.
-Fuck this, he growled by taking off the banda he always used to wear. Do you want to do this with me ? Now ?
-Isn’t it why you wanted me to come ?
-I wanted you to come to me, but I would add that now, (y/n), I want you to come for me.
You couldn’t wait any longer. You barely jumped into his powerful arms, and he adjusted the grip so your cunt and his cock were meeting deliciously. Immediately, you could tell that it was huge. His lips crushed on yours, and you appreciated the kiss like it was your first.
-Take off your clothes, he ordered. I’ll do the same. Where do you want to do it ?
-On your bed, you responded without hesitation.
The blankets just called the two of you. It was sweet and warm.
-(y/n), sit on my face. You can’t imagine how many times I’ve pictured myself doing this with you…
-Will you shut up ? you said, falsely irritated.
With no pity for him, you took out his breath with your flesh. It was now your turn to skip a beat : Thorkell ate you like you were his last meal ever. His middle finger pushed his way into you as he caressed your clitoris with his large tongue, circling it. Your legs quickly started to shake over him, but he supported your weight easily with his arms. You could feel the pressure of his hands on your thighs. You ended up coming on his satisfied face a few seconds later.
-That’s it, baby, he said while tasting you even better. You taste divine, just like I’ve imagined you would.
As a response, you caught his blonde hair in your hands, so you can pull them to help you push your body on his insatiable mouth. He chuckled a little but understood the assignment.
-Will you now fuck me like your guards told me you will ?
-What did they tell you ? he asked, while wiping his shiny mouth.
You went down from his chest so you were on the top of him. You could feel his tip waiting to slip into you.
-They told me that… You were a beginner, with no experience…
Thorkell frowned like a kid. It was nearly cute until he said :
-When I’me done with you, I’m gonna cut their heads off, I swear. But for now, let me prove them wrong.
Without any warning, Thorkell pushed him into you with no mercy. His hugeness made you scream. He didn’t seem to care and started to pound into you. You could tell he was in pleasure by his eyes literally devouring you. He caught your breasts in his large hands and started massaging them.
-Fuck, you sighed. You’re so good.
-Tell it again, he ordered.
-You’re doing it so well, Thorkell the Tall. Love your dick so much.
Thorkell literally shivered when he heard you calling him by his nickname. He continued to fuck you until, your legs started pressing around his.
-Gonna come, babe ?
And before you could answer, he pushed you off him. Surprised and frustrated, you looked at him with an angry look.
-Get on all fours, (y/n), I beg you. I’m gonna finish you this way.
With lust in your eyes, you obeyed. You felt his cock fill you again and again. In this position, he could fuck you faster and harder. Paradise.
-Oh my God ! you said after he roughly smacked your butt.
-Move on it, babe. I wanna see your perfect ass wiggle on my cock before I come on it.
With tears slowly filling your eyes, you obeyed and took all the pleasure he could give you. After all, creating this story about the guards wasn’t a bad idea. Thorkell took your breasts back in his hands, and pressed them softly. It became hard for you to catch your breath and he noticed it.
-Stop resisting me, he said. Let it go around me.
-I just… I’m gonna…
But you couldn't finish your sentence because your orgasm catched you like a hurricane. Your walls squeezed around Thorkell’s cock, and he let go a satisfied sigh. He slipped him out of you and started jerking himself. You wanted to help him.
After noticed you moved to go towards him, he gently pushed you on the bed.
-No, babe, stay like that. I'm coming on your ass, that’s what I want.
You said nothing and felt his cum spurt on your body. You were recovering from your second orgasm.
Gently, Thorkell took you in his arms and placed you under the heavy blanket. You could fall asleep just now, what happened just got all your energy.
-How was it ? he asked by caressing your hair.
-Hm…Not bad. Maybe I’ll consider meeting you again…
Thorkell put on his animal gaze. If you two didn’t just had sex, you could tell that he was ready to eat you alive. Now.
-What about tomorrow night ? I can’t wait to fill this pretty chatty mouth with my cock.
hope you liked it<3 gonna post more OS soon,, i'm sorry in advance, idk how to use this app honestly :(
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notes: this will probably be updated with smut at another time, it's been sitting in my drafts for a bit and i just don’t have the brain for adding the spice rn </3 but i really enjoy the idea, and the next part will have a fun little plot twist sooo yk. hehe. enjoy my little story dump for now. drabble length, less than 1k.
warnings: wrote this from the time period of the series itself, so pls note that reader was sold to her husband! time period misogyny! also blood/death mentions
By expanding, you are consenting to viewing adult/dark content, and all warnings listed above. 18+ Minors DNI
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"IS THERE ANY OTHER MEN WORTH A DAMN IN THIS DAMN PLACE OR DO I NEED TO MAKE MYSELF WELCOME IN THE NEXT?"
The giant of a man leers around the destroyed hall, one eye clothed the other crazed. His face and clothing are splattered with blood, the same which drips from the flat blade of his remaining axe. The other still lays embedded in your husband's—former husband's—chest plate.
The other women lay cowering beneath the tables, some silent and shaking and other's shaking and crying. You, however, remain seated at the head table, as you have been since this giant and his men stormed the lord's hall.
His shoulders seem to sag as his bellowed call goes unanswered, and he shakes another stream of red onto the floor. His stare rounds the room and this is the moment you choose to stand, and he notices. His expression doesn't seem to change as you round the table, brows set, but his head tilts as you gather your skirts and crouch by the dead lord's side.
"He was almost worth the effort."
You glance up at him, finding the giant standing above you. He gives you a broad smile and his expression, misplaced in the chaos around you, recalls to you something you already knew, but had forgotten. His appearance meets the description; towering height, tall blond hair tied back in a headband, muscular beyond reason.
"I imagine there aren't many men worth your effort, Thorkell the Tall," you return impassively.
"Those are pretty nice words to give your lover's killer," Thorkell banters with you far too easily.
Resolutely, your hand closes around the shaft of the axe in the corpse, and it takes you great effort to pull it free. Besides the incredible heft, there is nothing special about it. But still, you trace its blade almost lovingly, fingers smoothing down from iron steel to the pine finish. You pay the blood no mind.
The enemy warrior doesn't tense, doesn't stiffen, nor show any sign of threat. You don't imagine you pose any to the likes of him, even with a weapon in hand. You tilt your head back to gaze upon his face as you lift the weapon towards him in offering. "That man was my husband, but I have yet to take a lover in this lifetime."
Thorkell pauses only a moment before accepting his axe. "Yet?"
You smile at him coyly. "If you so wish, I yet have a life ahead of me. I choose to be optimistic."
"Yer placin' your life in my hands?" He rumbles now, scratching his head with a slow forming grin. He’s peering at you closely now, and you can only hope you’ve got his attention.
"I was one of the many slave wives of this hall, but it was me you saw seated at my master's side. I can be valuable to you, if you wish to buy me."
"And who's to sell you then if your master rots at my feet?"
"My cost is them." You step closer to the giant, catching his gaze and purposefully drawing it towards the women still trembling on their bellies. They certainly haven't escaped his notice, nor his followers'. "You nor your men are to lay a finger on them. Allow them the choice of their own freedom, and in return I am whatever you wish of me. My fate lies with you now, Thorkell the Tall."
“Any of them English?”
You tilt your head curiously but answer him all the same. “No. Each of us are a spoil of conquest. Our homelands are elsewhere.”
Thorkell hums to himself and rests his axes on his shoulders. He seems to be mulling over your words, and you’ll take that for what it is, holding your head high and not allowing yourself to tremble after coming this far. Coming this far means nothing if it ends in naught. You are not scared of this warrior. You are not scared for even your own life. Your last few years have been hell under your former lord and way he treated you. Your only peace has been the kindness shared between the other wives and servants, so failing to save them is the only thing you fear. If you can do this for them, even if it leads to more suffering or your own death so be it. You will stand tall.
“As you wish then.” A weight leaves your shoulders for a bare moment, but he continues, and it begins to thump and patter as you try to keep a calm expression. His cheer remains untouched; there’s something deeper in his eyes now that calms you somewhat, though you don’t quite understand. “I like ya. Not like most dames, I’ll give ya that. So, I’ll give ya the chance to prove yerself.”
“To prove myself?”
The warrior turns his back to you and slams both axes into the wood of table, shafts held aloft from how deep the blades sink in. It’s loud, frightening the other women into short shrieks as they curl in on themselves. “Men! We’ll be resting here tonight and taking advantage of their fine hospitality. Anyone who touches the women here will be responsible for the stain on my honor and will answer to me. If ye be so bold, I look forward to it. We'll rejoin Askeladd in the morn.”
Some of his men laugh, cheer. Others look chastened, intimidated. You resonate with both. You imagine there are few who would find themselves at perfect ease with such a formidable fighter.
Thorkell turns to face you, grin still in place, and you find yourself cast in his shadow.
“Show me to yer dead lord’s chambers. They’re ours for the evening.”
It's that time of the day again where I imagine if Vinland Saga characters were self-aware. On today's roster, we have the one and only Thorkell the Tall. Now let's think about this logically: Thorkell would not be subtle at all. As soon as he gains the least bit of self-awareness, you will know. Being quiet and playing things safe isn't exactly his style. Thorfinn is glaring at me in the corner of the page while I am writing this.
He would immediately announce to his band of men that he is able to see into other dimensions and that he has been blessed by the God's. Thorkell says that they are being watched from above and looked overprotected by you. How does he know your name? Well, he just looked through your phone through the online version of the manga. He needed to learn the name of the attractive reader who was constantly looking at him.
Thorkell loves to flex his strength and skill, and when you open the manga, it immediately becomes a war zone around him. He will subtly flex his muscles and go out of his way to get into fights to impress you. (Cough, cough; Thorkell's version of subtle is not subtle at all.) He will decimate entire armies while laughing and then looking back at you and winking. "All for you, love." Is something he jokingly says to flirt with you. His band is somewhere in between being in awe that he is in contact with a higher power and thinking that Thorkell has just completely lost it.
He will move things into manga panels so that he is able to show off his treasure and many valuables to you.
He talks to you through the pages as he speaks of his many travels. You think you are going insane because you are talking to a Vinland Saga character through a manga. Although you both do enjoy the conversations. Time has passed quickly since you first met self-aware Thorkell.
Thorkell always insists that you have a version of the manga open on your phone or a physical copy on you at all times. He may not be real in your world, but he still wants to be able to protect you anyway he can. If someone insults you, then he'll start shouting through the pages, and you have to close the book. You have gotten some weird stares as others have heard Thorkell's voice. It is disturbing and also nice to know that you aren't crazy because other people can hear him as well. So yeah, you need to have a talk with him about that. He shouldn't just start shouting at people randomly.
Thorkell just wants to show you why they call him invincible. Is allowing him to protect you through the pages really that much of a problem? He just wants to protect you.
