Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, use of the word “cunt”
Disclaimer: I don’t own the source material in this fanfic. That’s to whatever company or person owns it. I would never claim to own it.
Notes: There are probable influences from fandom and whatnot in this story. Written for: HTTYD Bingo @httydbingo Square: “Race To The Edge”, Kinky Things Happen Bingo “Age Difference”, HTTYD Smut Week @httydsmutweek Day 2, Feb 15: “Against The Wall.” Set during Race to the Edge some time after Triple Cross, Viggo Grimborn Lives AU.
Summary: Written for Kinky Things Happen Bingo. Set during RttE. Everything has to be a game for Viggo to win and Astrid is no different.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, manipulation
Rating: Explicit
Words: 1 567
Prompt: Reverse cowgirl
Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon
Characters: Astrid, Viggo
Pairing: Vigstrid
Author's Notes: Idk, felt like writing another Vigstrid. Can take place before Triple Cross, can also take place in a Viggo Lives AU. I left it ambiguous for everyone's enjoyment. :)
Hey there! I wanna ask you what are your thoughts on Vigstrid (Viggo/Astrid)
Thank you ❤
It's so interesting and random that I got this ask because I've actually shipped them for a really long time - since around 2018, i think. I don't post about them but I have a million things about Viggstrid in my notes that are just sitting there for me that I had plans to post but never did because despite planning them all out, I couldn't complete most them. I wasn't sure anybody shipped them until now (except for like three other people that I have seen lol) and I constantly daydream about them. They're literally my main ship. Perhaps my only ship because I only write about them.
So yeah, I love the two of them together very much. I'm insane for them even though they only properly interact in the series like...twice. You have no idea how happy it makes me when I see other people ship them because of how extremely rare it is!
Astrid Hofferson/Viggo Grimborn: hoping you never find out who i really am, cause i love you, just how you are.
Chapter one:
Ysir was only sixteen when she was married to Arne Hofferson, who at the time, was twenty-nine. She did not know the man well, aside from the fact that he would come and visit her father during the weekends and she would have to serve them mead. He was quite young, she would think, and quite handsome as well. These thoughts were innocent, she wouldn’t have expected her father to call her in one day and announce to the family that he was planning on getting her married to Arne, with her consent, of course. Her father had told her that Arne was a good man and would take care of her well, but she knew that he was really just saying that she was just a burden, and getting rid of her would leave him with one less family member to worry about feeding. She tried not to think much about it, because honestly, it made sense. They were a big family - one man running the house, with ten children to feed. Her family was poor, and she was often reminded of this fact at her husband's home:
Be thankful. When you came here, you had nothing.
And this was said to her by Frida, Arne's first wife, his first love. When Ysir had questioned Arne on why he decided to marry again, he explained to her that Frida was who he loved, and she was where his loyalties lie. He married her simply because she could give birth, and Frida could not.
Ysir often felt like Frida could throw her out of this house at any time, and what would happen then? Where would she go? Her father would never agree to take her back, not with so many mouths to feed. Bloody hell! She first thought, her eyes prickling with tears as she tried to figure out a way to get Frida out of the house. She could always throw Frida out of the house - the house did now belong to her, considering she held more power and a better position in the family because she could give birth, but then Arne would kick her out and bring Frida back in. She just couldn't think hard enough.
Eventually, she gave up, and came to realize that she didn't really care if her husband didn't love her, and saw her as an tool he would use to produce offsprings. She didn't even love her husband, heck, she barley even knew the man! So she came to a decision that she would play her role as a wife and take care of the house and bear him children in return for a comfortable bed, good food, and a roof that doesn't leak over her head.
But it wasn't so easy. Living with another woman in the house came with some complications, from the awkward conversation they'd have while preparing dinner to the uncomfortable eye contact they would make from time to time. Frida was beautiful. She had a strong face, with her cheekbones being the most noticeable feature on her face. Her brick-red hair was parted in the middle and formed into perfect waves that reached her waist. Her hazel eyes were carefully lined with kohl. In comparison to that, Ysir had a chubby face, short shaggy black hair, and bright blue eyes. There wasn't much you could say about her.
She felt like an uninvited quest in the house, moving around the house, around the bedroom, in which she slept alone most days for Arne usually slept with Frida in a bigger bedroom, upstairs. She felt like a fly, unwanted and annoying. That is, until now. Everything would be different with the birth of this baby, she assured herself. She would no longer feel ill at ease, no longer insecure.
Almost against her will, Ysir glanced towards the doorway, where Frida stood, a hand on her hip. For an instant, the two women locked gazes. The air around them felt thick and slightly yeasty, like rising dough. They had shared a room for twelve hours, with Frida helping the midwife with towels and water. Frida averted her gaze. She nodded towards the baby.
"Why doesn't she make a sound?" Frida said, with a hardness on her face that hadn't been there before.
"Yes. Is there something wrong?" Ysir turned ashen. Having had six miscarriages in only a few years, each more devastating than the last and harder to forget, she had been extremely careful throughout this pregnancy.
"Can I hold her?" Asked Ysir, holding the sides of her hair softly, an anxious habit she had picked up over the past year. "She...she's not crying. Why is she not crying?"
"Oh, she will cry, this girl," the midwife said in a decisive tone and instantly bit her tongue. She herself was worried. Her words echoed like a dark omen.
An awkward silence settled over the room as the first wife, the second wife and the midwife all stared at the baby with expectant eyes.
The midwife took the baby to the other side of curtain, and Ysir could hear rapid movement alongside the midwife's heavy breathing.
"Please," Ysir sighed, speaking to no one in particular as she rested her head against the pillow and closed her eyes. "Please!" She cried out again. Every night since she found out she was pregnant, she would talk herself to sleep. It was comforting. Just to mumble things to her self, especially about the baby.
My baby will be kind, and loving. Everyone will love you. She would speak to her slightly swollen belly, happily. My baby will be beautiful. You will make a difference. You will be gentle and soft. You will be beautiful. I will love you. You will love me. We will be happy.
But it was different today, she was crying. After months of being cautious with every step she took and after months of isolating her self in her room to stay away from all that was toxic - Frida and Arne- just so this baby would live. Just so this baby could arrive safe and healthy. "Please!" She cried out. My baby will survive.
At last! Whoever it was she was crying out to had answered her prayers. The baby had started crying- shrieking. The baby had started shrieking. The voice of the child echoed around the house and into the neighbor's house. A series of "Thank Thor!" And sighs of relief could be heard from the other room, where Arne and his family with a couple of his friends were waiting.
The midwife began to panic as the fierce baby began to move uncontrollably in her arms, kicking and waving her arms and legs in the air. The midwife clumsily handed the baby to Ysir, whose eyes were filled with tears.
The baby stopped crying and her big blue eyes had widened as it stared at the women above who was smiling down at her. The baby blinked and her head shifted a little to right, now staring at the Frida, who now stood next to Ysir. Then her gaze went back to Ysir and again she began crying.
You see, while Ysir was screaming in agony for the past twelve hours, this little one was conversing with herself instead of trying of escape from the womb.
What is wrong with you? Her heart said. They're all waiting for you! Come one! Kick!
Her gut said, Oh, I like it here. It's warm and cozy. I don't want to go!
Her heart protested, Don't be silly! Why stay in a place where nothing happens? It's so boring.
But why leave a place where nothing happens? It's safe here. Her gut said.
Sometimes where you feel most safe is where you least belong. Her heart countered. No turning back.
No turning back.
She finally reached a conclusion, she would go with the heart. And finally when she pushed out, and was taken behind the curtain, and the midwife had slapped her bottom once, twice and she began crying. She hadn't expected it to be this fucking cold! She began shrieking.
Ysir chuckled at the exchange she had with her baby when she had quieted down. Frida had opened the door and slipped outside - no doubt to give the news to her husband - their husband.
A couple of minutes later, Arne entered the room. Smiling, he approached the bed. He looked at the baby, at the second wife, at the midwife, at the first wife, nodding at her, and finally back at the baby.
"Odin! I thank you! You've accepted my prayers."
"A girl," Ysir said softly, in case he was not yet aware.
"I know. The next one will be a boy. We will name him Eric." He ran his fingers across the baby's forehead. "All that matters is she is healthy. Thank Odin! This baby is not mine, nor is she yours. She was sent a gift."
Ysir stared at him with pure confusion in her eyes. Suddenly, she was seized by a feeling of apprehension, like a wild animal that was about the walk into a trap. She glanced at Frida, who was standing by the entrance, lips pursed so tight they were almost white as her foot tapped impatiently against the floorboard. Something about her demeanor suggested that she was overjoyed and excited, suspiciously excited.
"This baby was gifted to us by the the Gods!" Arne said.
"All babies are," murmured the midwife.
Arne then held his younger wife's hand and look her straight in the eyes. "We'll give this baby to Frida."
"What in Thor's name are you talking about?" Ysir rasped.
"Let Frida raise her. She'll do an excellent job. You and I will make more children."
"No!"
"You don't want more kids?"
"I am not going to let that woman take my daughter."
Arne drew in a breath, then released it slowly.
"Don't be selfish. The Gods have given you this baby. Be grateful. You were barley scraping by when you came to this house. Come on, It's not-"
"This was her idea, wasn't it?" Ysir interrupted him - something she had never done before. "Did she come up with this?" Or have you two been plotting for months? Behind me back."
"Don't be stupid. You are young. Frida is getting old. She will never have a child of her own. Give her a gift."
Ysir shook her head, and kept doing so. Arne sighed and leaned over and held her by the shoulders, pulling her close to him. Only then she became still.
"You're not being rational." Arne said, his palm softly rubbing Ysir's back. "We're all in the same house. You'll see your daughter everyday. It's not like she will be going away, for Thor's sake."
Trembling to hold back the pain ripping through her chest, Ysir covered her face with the palm of her hands. "And who will my daughter call 'Mummy'?"
"What difference does it make? Frida can be Mummy, and you'll be Auntie. We'll tell her the truth when she gets older, no need to confuse her little head now. When we have more kids, they will all be brothers and sisters anyway. They'll be running riot in the house. You won't be able to tell who belongs to who. We'll all be one big family."
"And who is going to nurse the baby?" Asked the midwife. "The mummy or the auntie?"
Arne's head shot up towards the midwife as he stared at the nosy woman with annoyance. He sighed and dug into his pocket, bringing out a small sack of five gold coins.
"Here." He handed her the sack. "A token of our gratitude."
The midwife smiled and nodded, stepping back.
"Let me name her." Ysir said. If she wasn't going to raise the child as her own she could at least live happily with the knowledge that she was the one that named her.
"Well alright then." Arne said. "We will make the decision together."
"I was thinking," Frida said, her eyes fixated on the baby, "For the past few months, that if it was a boy, we would name it Erik, like Arne said. But since, she's a girl, we could name her Camicazi. It's a beautiful name."
"Oh, that's quite a lovely name. I like that." Arne said, happily, and the midwife nodded in agreement, standing behind him.
Ysir blinked. It was a beautiful name. But she wasn't going to give Frida the privilege of naming her own baby.
"No." Ysir said, strong and clear. "I will name her. By myself.
Arne and Frida exchanged glances.
"Oh." Frida sighed, "Of course." She then sat down on a chair, pushing it towards the right, so she could be next to her husband.
Ysir felt pressure as the midwife, her husband, and his wife stared at her, waiting for her to decide.
She looked at her baby, who was staring back at her. She is beautiful. Ysir thought. The baby rolled around, the sunlight reflecting on her rosy cheeks.
"Astrid." Ysir said. "It was also my grandmother's name. And...she's beautiful, just like her."
"Astrid..." Arne repeated and then looked at Frida who nodded back at him in approval. "I like it. It's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl."
"Astrid!" He said again as he took the baby from Ysir's arms and lifted her in air. Frida laughed, "Be careful! She's not toy!"
Arne and Frida laughed as they took turns in holding the baby. Ysir sighed and leaned her head back, silent tears dropping down her face. She wish she could be as happy as them.
Arne held Astrid and opened the door, walking to the other room, where the rest of the relatives and his friends were waiting. His voice echoed around Ysir's head.
"Astrid Hofferson!" Arne happily yelled. "Her name is Astrid Hofferson!"
Okay, poll time! I’m writing Viggo/Astrid for day 17 of Kinktober. (I’m using an alternate prompt though. Heh.) Anyway, I can’t decide if it should be pre-volcano Viggo or post-volcano Viggo. It won’t have a huge impact on the story, but I really just can’t decide! So I’m leaving it up to you fine folks.
Title is subject to change, especially since I’m still working on the fic and may already have one with this title. (I know how to find out relatively easily through ao3. I just haven’t had the spoons to check yet.)
Anyway, this is the beginning of day 17 of Kinktober! (I’m jumping around so I can have fun and don’t burn myself out). The prompt I’m using is an alternate prompt: fisting. The ship is Viggo/Astrid. Definite nsfw under the cut.
It was Astrid who had proposed the idea. Viggo, usually the extremist in bed, the one wanting to challenge his partners, had been taken aback at first. Was she sure?
Astrid was very sure. She'd spent many a night (and sometimes an afternoon) imagining it. They'd take it slow, of course. They would have to to not injure her. Even without injury it was going to hurt, and potentially badly, but she wanted it. She wanted Viggo's whole hand in her.
And she'd been too nervous to bring it up, thinking that perhaps she was crazy to want such a thing. He was a big man. She looked so small next to him, and she could feel small when taking his cock. The thing was monstrous, especially in comparison to her. Viggo had been surprised she'd wanted any vaginal penetration with him at all, given his size.
But Astrid liked challenging herself, and gods she really loved his cock, even when the head of it was against her cervix and she felt an ache all the way around to her back.
She was crazy for wanting him to fist her, but the thought of it always had her wet and squirming in an instant. She would have no choice but to touch herself, rub at her swollen clit and finger herself as best as she could. She often came before she even finished that fantasy. In her mind, Viggo would get a fourth finger into her, and it was all over from there. The orgasm was always intense from these fantasies, but not enough.
Because all it was was a fantasy. She wanted to change that, wanted to experience the real thing.
But now Viggo was just staring at her as if she'd grown a second head. He still held her tight, big hands on her ass to help keep her in his lap. He was sitting with her straddling him. He still had his pants on, though they did absolutely nothing to hide the massive bulge of his erection between his legs. Astrid was completely naked. She'd undressed herself in a hurry, feeling all hot, anxious about telling Viggo what she wanted.
She was worried he wasn't going to give it to her.
"I… I could fist your ass," he said after some consideration. "It's much more accommodating to size than—"
"I don't want you to fist my ass," Astrid interrupted. She grabbed him by his cheeks, one smooth, the other rough and scarred. She unconsciously moved her hips in a steady grind. "I want you to fist my pussy." She said it like an order, and maybe it was. Good gods, she wanted it. No, she needed it. Needed it bad.
"It's going to hurt," he warned her.
Astrid scoffed. "I'm not stupid. You think I haven't thought this through? Do you know how long I've been waiting to say this?"
Viggo quirked an eyebrow. "How long?"
Astrid clenched her teeth in frustration and made a growling sound. Her hip movements were very much deliberate now. Her wetness was being spread over his pants and her core throbbed with need. "I'm not doing math right now, Grimborn."
Viggo laughed affectionately, then gave her ass a small slap that had her yelping in surprise. "All right, all right, I suppose I'll indulge you."
Fire speared straight through Astrid's body. She was going to get what she wanted!
"As if that's the worst thing ever." Her voice had gotten low and husky.
Viggo chuckled, gave her a quick peck on the lips, and then was standing with her in his arms, easily lifting her weight. She wrapped her arms around his neck to hold on, knowing he was taking her to the bed.
