#odin rambles

[carnalcrows]

KING REPOSTED OMGGGGGGG

BABYSITTER - THE SALESMAN

pairing: the salesman x male reader

synopsis: When a broke college student takes a babysitting gig, he signs up for snack time and bedtime stories—but ends up with bloodstains, cryptic employers, and an unsettling crush on the kid’s disturbingly hot dad.

content warnings: 18+, bottom male reader, blackmailing, blood, anal, breeding, creampie, missionary, mating press, dubcon, mentions of kidnapping, too much plot

word count: 5.2k (good lord)

It was a typical Wednesday afternoon when you found yourself perched in the corner of the campus café, a half-empty cup of cold coffee sweating onto the table beside your laptop. Bills, tuition, and the general weight of adulthood had a way of pressing down on your shoulders, leaving you in a constant state of mild panic. You scrolled through job listings with the desperation of someone clinging to a lifeboat.  

Barista? You had already been rejected twice due to your “lack of experience.”  

Retail? They wanted you available on weekends, which wasn’t feasible with your study schedule.  

Dog walker? Allergic to fur.  

The list grew more depressing as the minutes ticked by, until one particular post caught your attention:  

"Babysitter needed. Flexible hours. Payment upon services rendered. Serious applicants only."  

There was no company name, no attached image of a smiling family, not even a hint about the age of the child you’d be babysitting. The simplicity of it screamed sketchy, but the promise of payment dangled in front of you like a carrot on a stick. 

“Desperate times,” you muttered, clicking on the post.  

The application form was equally bare-bones, asking only for your name, availability, and a short paragraph about why you wanted the job. You quickly typed something generic about being responsible and good with kids, then hit send without much hope.  

To your surprise, you received a reply almost immediately.  

"You’re hired. Start tomorrow at 3 PM. Address: [Redacted]."  

You stared at the screen, bewildered. No interview? No background check? Either this was the world’s most desperate parent, or you were walking into a scam. A friend texted you moments later, asking if you’d found a job yet, and you decided to leave out the details when you replied, 

"Yep, starting tomorrow."  

The afternoon sun was scorching as you made your way up the steps of the quaint suburban house. The place had a sort of storybook charm—a neat lawn, pastel shutters, and a small porch swing swaying lazily in the breeze. If it weren’t for the suspiciously vague job listing you’d answered, you might have thought you were walking into a feel-good rom-com instead of a potentially shady situation.  

You knocked on the door and waited. Seconds ticked by. You shifted awkwardly, glancing over your shoulder as if expecting hidden cameras. But just as you were about to knock again, the door flew open with surprising force, revealing a little girl standing barely taller than the doorknob.  

“Hi!” she exclaimed, her voice so cheerful it nearly gave you whiplash. “Are you the babysitter?”  

“Uh… yeah,” you replied, startled by the sheer intensity of her enthusiasm. “That’s me.”  

“I’m Su-an,” she said proudly, puffing out her chest. “Come in! I was just having a meeting with my council!”  

Before you could even ask what she meant, she grabbed your hand and tugged you inside. The house was warm and cozy, if a little cluttered, with toys scattered across the floor and crayon drawings taped haphazardly on the walls.  

---

“This is Mr. Snuggles,” Su-an announced, holding up a ragged teddy bear with one ear chewed off. “He’s the president of my council.”  

“Uh-huh,” you said, nodding solemnly. “And what does the council do?”  

“Important stuff,” she said, narrowing her eyes like she was letting you in on a state secret. “Like deciding who gets cookies after dinner. Also, they voted to make you the assistant.”  

You blinked. “I don’t remember running for office.”  

“Well, you didn’t,” she said matter-of-factly. “But Mr. Snuggles said you looked like you’d be good at it.”  

Before you could protest, she shoved the bear into your hands and pointed to a tiny table covered in a chaotic mix of crayons, plastic teacups, and a single half-eaten cookie.  

“Sit,” she ordered. “The council meeting is starting!”  

---

The rest of the afternoon unfolded in a whirlwind of nonsensical games and increasingly bizarre “council decisions.” At one point, you were ordered to wear a paper crown (which barely fit) and were dubbed the “Official Snack Prince.” Your royal duties included distributing Goldfish crackers and ensuring everyone—stuffed animals included—got an equal share.  

“You’re actually pretty good at this,” Su-an said, eyeing you critically as you handed Sir Fluffington his crackers. “Better than my last babysitter.”  

“Oh?” you asked, curious. “What happened to them?”  

“They couldn’t handle the council,” she said gravely.  

---

After the meeting adjourned, Su-an decided it was time to “train” you in the art of hide-and-seek. You played along, even though she kept hiding in the same spot: under the dining table, her giggles giving her away every single time.  

“Found you again!” you said, crouching down to peer under the table.  

She gasped, genuinely shocked. “How are you so good at this?!”  

“It’s a gift,” you deadpanned, earning another round of giggles.  

---

When hide-and-seek got old, she declared it was “dance party time.” She dragged you to the living room, where she plugged in her favorite playlist on an ancient speaker. The first song was a pop hit you vaguely recognized, and before you could even protest, she was already twirling around like a whirlwind.  

“Come on!” she yelled over the music.  

“I don’t dance,” you started, but she shot you a look so devastatingly adorable that you had no choice but to join in.  

What followed was ten minutes of the most ridiculous dancing of your life. Su-an moved like she was powered by pure chaos, flailing her arms and jumping around, while you attempted something resembling the robot. She laughed so hard she tripped over her own feet, and you had to catch her before she face-planted into the couch.  

---

As the day wore on, you found yourself genuinely enjoying her company. She was smart, funny, and had the kind of boundless energy that made you wonder if kids ran on caffeine instead of juice boxes.  

By the time bedtime rolled around, you were exhausted. Getting her into pajamas was an ordeal—she insisted she couldn’t sleep without her “lucky socks,” which turned out to be mismatched and buried at the bottom of her toy chest. When you finally tucked her in, she stared up at you with wide, sleepy eyes.  

“Will you come back tomorrow?” she asked, clutching Mr. Snuggles to her chest.  

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “I’ll be here.”  

“Promise?”  

“Promise.”  

---

As you made your way back downstairs, you felt a surprising sense of accomplishment. Babysitting wasn’t what you’d imagined yourself doing, but something about Su-an’s infectious energy and genuine joy made it worth it.  

You tidied up the living room, stepping over plastic dinosaurs and rogue crayons, and couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. If every day was going to be like this, maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad after all.  

---

And so, your days with Su-an became a routine. Every afternoon, she greeted you at the door like an excited puppy, launching into a new scheme or game. One day, she decided you were a dragon and she was a brave knight. The next, you were her art teacher, helping her draw increasingly absurd animals like “dog-o-sauruses” and “cat-icorns.”  

One particularly memorable day, she tried to teach you how to braid her hair. It did not go well.  

“Why are there so many strands?!” you groaned, your fingers tangled in her hair.  

“It’s easy!” she said, giggling. “You just go over, under, over, under!”  

“You sound like a cryptic math teacher,” you muttered, earning another round of giggles.  

---

The days passed in a blur of laughter and chaos, and soon, you found yourself looking forward to your afternoons with Su-an. She made you forget about your stress, your bills, and your endless to-do list.  

Still, a question lingered in the back of your mind: where was her dad during all of this? But for now, you were content to let the mystery be. After all, it was hard to worry about much when you had a six-year-old demanding you be her “Royal Snack Advisor.”

It was one of those rare evenings when the air felt just right—not too cold, not too warm, with a soft breeze that carried the faint smell of grass and distant barbecues. Su-an had begged to go to the park after dinner, and you’d caved, eager to get some fresh air and give her a chance to burn off her endless energy.

“Push me higher!” Su-an squealed as she swung back and forth, her legs pumping excitedly. You stood behind her, laughing as you gave the swing a gentle push.

“Higher, huh? What are you trying to do, touch the clouds?”

“Maybe!” she shouted, giggling as the swing reached its peak.

The park wasn’t crowded—just a few other families and joggers scattered around. It was peaceful, the kind of evening where you could almost forget the strange tension that sometimes hung around the house, the questions you tried not to ask about her father’s late-night comings and goings.

But the peace didn’t last.

As you helped Su-an off the swing and she dragged you toward the monkey bars, a commotion near the edge of the park caught your attention. At first, you thought it was just a group of people arguing—a not-uncommon sight in the city. But then you saw him.

Your heart stopped.

There, in the dim light of a flickering street lamp, was a man—the man. His tall frame was unmistakable, even in the shadows. He stood over a small group of disheveled, huddled figures, who you quickly realized were homeless people. A plastic bag lay torn at his feet, loaves of bread spilled across the ground.

He wasn’t just standing there. He was stepping on the bread.

Your breath caught as you watched him stomp down with deliberate, almost mechanical force, grinding the food into the dirt. The homeless group stared in silence, some in shock, others looking away as if too defeated to protest.

“Isn’t that Daddy?”

The innocent question cut through the haze of disbelief like a knife. You snapped your head down to look at Su-an, her wide eyes fixed on the scene with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“No,” you said quickly, your voice sharper than you intended. “It’s not.”

“But—”

Before she could finish, you crouched down and gently placed your hands over her eyes. “Let’s go, Su-an. We’re leaving.”

“Why can’t I look? What’s wrong?” she whined, squirming in your grasp.

“Because it’s not safe,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you picked her up and started walking away, her protests muffled against your shoulder.

Your mind raced as you carried her toward the car. What had you just witnessed? That couldn’t have been him—could it? But the silhouette, the way he carried himself—it was all too familiar.

You buckled Su-an into her car seat, doing your best to distract her with promises of ice cream and cartoons when you got home. But even as she babbled happily about her favorite flavors, your hands trembled on the steering wheel.

By the time you got back to the house and put Su-an to bed, your heart was still pounding. You paced the living room, replaying the scene over and over in your head. The way he’d crushed the bread underfoot—there had been no hesitation, no anger, just cold, calculated precision.

Who does that?

And more importantly, why?

The house was silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards as you shifted on the couch. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but between your classes, assignments, and Su-an’s boundless energy, exhaustion had taken its toll.

It was the sound of the front door slamming that jolted you awake. Disoriented, you blinked into the darkness, the faint glow of the kitchen light casting long shadows across the room. Footsteps echoed through the hallway—heavy, deliberate, and nothing like the hurried, near-silent ones you were used to from the man of the house.

You sat up, your heart beginning to race. Something wasn’t right.

When he appeared in the doorway, your stomach twisted into a knot. His usually pristine white shirt was drenched in blood, the vivid crimson staining the fabric and dripping in thick, uneven streaks. His face was ashen, his dark eyes wild and unfocused, like a man teetering on the edge of something you couldn’t name.

“Wh-what happened?” you stammered, instinctively backing away as the metallic tang of blood reached your nose.

“It’s not my blood,” he said curtly, his voice gravelly and sharp.

As if that was supposed to make you feel better.

“That doesn’t answer my question!” you said, your voice trembling despite your attempt to sound firm.

He staggered toward the kitchen, his movements unsteady but purposeful. Against every ounce of self-preservation screaming at you to stay put, you got up and followed him.

“Are you hurt?” you asked, your tone softer this time.

He didn’t respond, instead gripping the edge of the counter as if to steady himself. The dim light overhead cast harsh shadows across his sharp features, making him look even more unapproachable than usual.

“Sit down,” you said, surprised by the steadiness of your own voice.

He turned his head, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten. For a moment, you thought he’d ignore you, but then he surprised you by obeying. He sank into one of the kitchen chairs, his movements slow and deliberate, as if every step cost him.

You grabbed a damp cloth from the sink, your hands trembling slightly as you wrung it out. You weren’t sure why you were doing this—why you weren’t running out the door or calling the police. Maybe it was the way he looked, like a man who had seen too much, or maybe it was the faint vulnerability hiding behind his hard exterior.

“This... isn’t normal,” you muttered, more to yourself than him, as you began wiping the blood from his face. The cloth came away dark and sticky, and your stomach churned.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with things you don’t understand,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a warning edge.

You paused, meeting his gaze. His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them, filled with something unreadable—a mix of exhaustion, anger, and something else that sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’m here,” you said, almost defiantly, as you moved to clean his hands. “So I’m already concerned.”

He didn’t respond, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease ever so slightly.

The silence between you grew even heavier, the only sound now being the soft movement of the cloth against his skin. Your hands were shaking slightly as you worked, wiping the blood from his face, his hands, but his eyes never left you. They were intense—piercing, almost as though he were searching for something in your expression.

You couldn’t look away for long. The tension in the air thickened with every passing second, your heartbeat picking up, each thud echoing loudly in your ears. It was like being drawn into a web you didn’t fully understand but couldn’t escape from, no matter how hard you tried.

When you finally stepped back, giving him space, you thought you’d be able to breathe again. But then, his hand shot out, quick as lightning, wrapping around your wrist. The touch was firm, deliberate, sending an involuntary jolt of electricity through your veins. You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. His fingers were cold against your skin, but the intensity in his eyes made your heart race.

"Why are you helping me?" His voice was low, gravelly, and for a moment, you wondered if he was testing you—seeing if you’d reveal the truth, or maybe if you’d run.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath, but your pulse was hammering, and you couldn’t ignore the way your body reacted to his proximity. The heat between you both felt suffocating. His touch was grounding, yet it stirred something dangerous inside you. “Because someone has to,” you replied, your voice steady, though you could feel the words slipping off your tongue more as a defense than truth.

His gaze deepened, darkening in a way that sent a chill down your spine. The air between you was thick, electric, as if there were an unspoken promise between you both—a promise you knew you were too afraid to fully acknowledge. Then, before you could even react, he pulled you in close. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair with a force that made your breath catch in your throat.

And then his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was a collision, desperate and overwhelming, like a dam that had been holding back too much for too long and was finally breaking free. His kiss was messy—almost violent—as if he needed to consume you, to claim you in a way that made your knees weak and your thoughts scatter. His lips were demanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that made your body tremble.

You should’ve pushed him away, told him to stop, told him that this was wrong. Your mind screamed at you to break free, but your body betrayed you, leaning into him instead, matching the fervor of his kiss. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you even closer, his grip tightening. Your breath was ragged between kisses, and your pulse pounded in your ears as the world outside of the two of you seemed to vanish.

When he pulled away, just far enough to catch his breath, your lips were swollen, your chest heaving. You couldn’t think. All you could feel was the lingering heat of his touch, the undeniable thrum of desire that still buzzed beneath your skin. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was something in them—something dark, dangerous, but...hungry.

His lips curved into a smirk, and it sent a jolt of unease running down your spine, mingled with something else, something deeper.

“You’re in over your head, kid,” he said, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your back.

The words should’ve been a warning. They should’ve sent you running. But instead, they only lingered in the air between you, wrapping themselves around you like a noose. You should’ve known then, but you didn’t want to listen.

And for the first time, you realized: you were already tangled up in his web, and maybe—just maybe—you didn’t want to escape.

The obsession grew in subtle ways. You’d arrive to find unexpected gifts waiting for you on the kitchen counter: a sleek leather wallet, a watch so expensive you didn’t dare wear it, a bottle of cologne that smelled like a storm breaking over the ocean.

When you tried to protest—“This is too much” or “I can’t accept this”—his expression would shift. His jaw would tighten, his eyes darkening with something that made your chest tighten.

“Take it,” he’d say, his tone brooking no argument. And you’d always comply, your words catching in your throat as he gave you a look that said refusing wasn’t an option.

Your feelings about him became a tangled mess of contradictions. Every instinct screamed that something about him was wrong. The blood, the cryptic way he spoke, the chilling bread incident in the park—they all painted a picture of a man you should stay far away from.

But then there were the moments that left you reeling. A lingering glance, a brush of his hand against yours, the way he could soften—just slightly—when he saw you with Su-an.

The first time he kissed you, you felt like your world had been turned inside out. It was sudden, overwhelming, and left you breathless. His lips were rough but urgent, like he was staking a claim rather than asking permission. And when it happened again—and again—you didn’t push him away. Instead, you found yourself leaning into him, craving the heat of his touch despite every rational thought telling you to run.

But his obsession wasn’t content to simmer beneath the surface. It began to consume him, bleeding into the delicate balance of your day-to-day life.

He started showing up during your babysitting hours, a presence that was impossible to ignore. At first, he’d just watch from the doorway as you played with Su-an, his dark eyes following your every move with a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

Then, his involvement escalated. He’d dismiss you early—always with some excuse about needing to talk to you. But the moment Su-an was out of earshot, his demeanor would shift. He’d pull you into his room, his hands firm but not rough as he guided you inside.

“You’re spending so much time with her,” he’d say, his voice low and rough, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “Don’t forget who’s paying you.”

His lips would crash against yours before you could respond, his kisses urgent and messy, as though he couldn’t stand the thought of you being anywhere else but with him.

The final straw came on a night like any other—or so you thought. Su-an had already gone to bed, and you were tidying up the living room when your gaze drifted toward the slightly ajar door of the man’s study. It was a room he rarely used in your presence, a space he kept locked most of the time.

You hadn’t intended to snoop. But the door was open, and your curiosity, already inflamed by the strange events surrounding him, got the better of you.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of leather and faintly bitter cologne. The dim lighting cast long shadows over the mahogany desk and the shelves lined with books and files. One particular folder caught your attention—it was open, papers spilling out as if hastily shoved aside.

Your heart sank as you picked up the first page. It was your class schedule, neatly printed and highlighted. Beneath it were receipts from your favorite coffee shop, notes about your usual order scribbled in the margins.

And then there were the photos.

They weren’t candid shots taken on the street or at the park. They were intimate, the kind of photos someone would take if they were watching closely—too closely. You recognized the outfits, the moments. One was of you laughing as you pushed Su-an on the swings. Another showed you sitting on a park bench, earbuds in, entirely unaware of the camera.

The air in the room felt too thick, like it was choking you. Your fingers trembled as you shoved the papers back into the folder, heart hammering in your chest.

“What the hell is this?”

The words left your mouth before you even realized he was standing in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the light from the hall. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with something intense.

The folder in your hands felt heavier than it should have, its contents seared into your memory. Photos of you, notes about your life, details no one should know unless they’d been watching you for far too long. Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, standing so calmly in the doorway as if this was all perfectly normal.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you demanded, your voice shaking.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped further into the room, his movements slow, deliberate. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing you in with the man you were starting to realize you knew far less about than you’d thought.

“I warned you,” he said, his voice low, almost soothing. “I told you not to go looking where you shouldn’t.”

“This—this is insane,” you stammered, backing up until the edge of the desk pressed against your hips. “Why do you have these? Why are you—”

“You don’t get it, do you?” he interrupted, his tone softening as he drew closer. His gaze was unrelenting, pinning you in place. “I’ve been watching over you. Protecting you. You’re... important to me.”

“Protecting me?” you shot back, your voice breaking. “This is stalking. This is obsessive. This—this isn’t normal!”

He stopped just a breath away from you, his height and presence overwhelming. His eyes, dark and piercing, searched yours for something, though you couldn’t tell what. Slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek.

“I can’t lose you,” he murmured, his voice almost breaking. “Do you have any idea what you mean to me–and to my daughter? You’ve become... everything.”

The warmth of his touch sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. Your body tensed, torn between the instinct to pull away and the undeniable pull of his closeness.

“Stop,” you whispered, though your voice lacked the strength it should have had. “This isn’t—this can’t—”

But he didn’t stop. His other hand moved to your waist, firm but not forceful, as he leaned closer.

“You keep saying it’s wrong,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm against your lips. “But you don’t push me away.”

His lips brushed against yours, testing, as though giving you one last chance to stop him. But when you didn’t move, when your breath hitched and your hands gripped the edge of the desk behind you, he took it as permission.

The kiss was slow at first, deliberate and searching, as though he was memorizing every inch of your mouth. But it didn’t stay that way for long. His hand slid up to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

You gasped against him, your hands instinctively gripping his shirt. The heat of him, the sheer intensity of his presence, was dizzying. When his teeth grazed your bottom lip, you couldn’t suppress the small sound that escaped you—a sound that seemed to ignite something in him.

His movements grew more desperate, more consuming. He pressed you back against the desk, his body caging you in as his lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, then down to the sensitive skin of your neck. The scrape of his stubble sent sparks of sensation racing down your spine, and you couldn’t help the way your head tilted to give him better access.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough, almost guttural. “Do you even realize what you do to me?”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing even as your body betrayed you, leaning into him. His hands gripped your waist, his thumbs brushing just under the hem of your shirt, and you shivered at the contact.

“This... this isn’t okay,” you managed, though the words came out weak, shaky.

“No,” he agreed, pulling back just enough to look at you. His gaze was dark, filled with something you didn’t dare name. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t want it.”

The words hung between you, heavy and charged, as he leaned in again, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that left no room for argument. And though your mind screamed at you to stop, to push him away, your body betrayed you, pulling him closer instead.

His hand slowly trailed to the hem of your sweatpants, lightly tugging on the strap, you flinched when his cold hand suddenly went under your boxers. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this– Su-an might-” you were interrupted with his other hand covering your mouth.

“Hush now, this room is soundproof,” he merely stated before harshly pulling your pants and boxers down with one tug. He then picked you up and placed you on the desk, pushing aside all the files and paper, which now seemed so insignificant.

“You’re hard. Are you still telling me you don’t want this?” He questions, his warm breath fanning your ear. You shuddered at the feeling, not knowing what to say, or what to do.

Before you could form words, he wraps his hand around your aching cock which was standing erect, partly due to the cool air, and partly due to what was happening.

His movements were minimal, slowly moving his hand along your shaft, while his other hand fetched a packet of lube from his back pocket. Where he managed to get that, you couldn’t tell.

He ripped the packet with his teeth, and spread the substance all over his fingers, before swiftly flipping you over, so that your ass was facing him.

Before you could utter a word of process, he had slipped a lubed finger in you. A wanton moan left your mouth at the sudden intrusion. 

“Fuck–don’t stop, please,” the man only smirked at this, slowly sliding in another finger, and then another. Three of his fingers slowly pumped in and out of you, and oh, it felt heavenly. His other hand held you up just a bit, to keep you from falling off the study desk.

Your hands gripped onto the desk, frantically trying to keep yourself upright, but to no avail. You kept slumping off, the pleasure being too overwhelming.

“Stay still for me pet, that’s it–good boy,” the praise went straight to your dick, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Soon, the man determined that you had been prepped enough, and removed his fingers. You whined at the sudden emptiness, wanting to feel full once more.

He stared at your twitching hole, clenching around nothing. The sight did nothing but turn him on even more.

He removed his belt and cast it aside, while tugging down his pants and boxers with a sense of urgency. He easily flipped you over with his strong arms, now getting a clear view of your already fucked-out face.

He merely grinned, and before you could respond, he slid into your awaiting hole. You gasped at the intrusion, the head of his cock bullying its way into your hole. He groaned feeling the way you clenched around his length.

Without waiting for you to adjust, he fucked into you like an animal in heat, holding your legs in such a way that your knees where at your shoulders.

The new angle made his length hit your prostate with every thrust, making your head fall back on the table, a loud moan leaving your lips.

 The man was savouring every single reaction, every little noise you made. “Such a sweet little thing,” he cooed. “Can’t even keep a straight head while getting fucked, hm?”

The only thing that left your mouth was a string of garbled noises. Your brain had quite literally turned to mush with how well he was fucking you.

Soon, you felt your orgasm wash over you like a waterfall, but the man didn’t stop. Instead, he fucked into you harder, a bulge forming in your stomach with every thrust.

He lightly pressed on the bulge, which made you squeal– the overstimulation doing too much to your head.

He kept rutting into you until he felt his climax. When it came, his thrusts slowly started to stutter. Without warning he emptied his load in you, painting your gummy walls white.

He kept you on the desk, without pulling out as you whimpered, feeling so, so full.

With your mind in such a disarrayed state, you didn’t notice him slip a small ring onto your finger.

“Now you can’t leave me–or Su-an, ever. Poor thing needs a mother after all.”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.

[carnalcrows]

this is gold

[fyeahghosttrick]

Odin Helgheim drew Sissel in my copy of the newest Ragnarok book 😁 (I get the feeling he has played the game as he wrote "God lesning" (lit. Good reading) as "gooood lesning" like Cabanela would have)

[unsat-and-strange]

this Friday seems like a good day to install some more emergency exits

image id: a pen sketch of Thor and Odin from the bifrost incident. thor stands in the bottom center of the paper, back to the viewer and face in profile to the right. he is a heavyset man with a beard and long hair, with an angry expression. his right hand and both feet are covered in pink blood. his right hand holds a hammer above his head. behind the hammer the drawing is split vertically. the right side is colored in completely black, except for a few white stars, with darker tentacles barely visible. the left side has Odin, after her transformation into a snake monstrosity. her body twists down towards the bottom left of the drawing with another loop in view in the top left. her mouth is full of very sharp teeth and is open very wide as if she's about to eat Thor. one pink eye is visible, staring down at Thor. the background of the left side is full of jagged pink lines, like lightning or cracking glass. a few of the lines overlap Odin's rough line work. end image id

[carnalcrows]

first slide is what happened to gi-hun, right? RIGHT??

[carnalcrows]

Going on a small haitus for a week bc of pre boards 😭😭

Will start with the Salesman fic requested by 🥀 anon once I get back !!

[acrystalwitch]

I often worry about why the gods spend time interacting with me and other people.

I feel I am lesser than them, and like… why would a god hang out with a human?

But I think honestly..it’s just such a pointless question to worry about. I could wonder all day every day and use my worries to invalidate my own practice. but it wouldn’t change anything.

Because they are there nonetheless, because they have answered questions and prayers. And because I can feel their love and sometimes their displeasure too.

Whether I feel worthy of these interactions really is irrelevant at the end of the day. Because they are happening and I should just be happy for that.

[maccreadyswife]

Him: you better not be tampering with the evidence at the murder site of Odin when I get home

Me:

[anthurak]

The Surprising Similarities of Little Red and Odin

So this was originally going to be another ‘how Ruby could be an Odin allusion’ post, but in the process of brainstorming, I ended up landing on what feels like a more fun broader topic:

Namely the very interesting similarities in the stories of Little Red Riding Hood and Odin, and the fun potential overlap these two folkloric figures could have when writing fantasy stories.

First off, there are a lot of surprising similarities between the two.

Little Red Riding Hood is a girl known for wearing a hooded cloak (a ‘riding hood’) who wanders through the woods to visit her grandmother, and is menaced and potentially eaten by a monstrous wolf.

And funny enough, basically all of these traits can be found in Odin in one way or another:

For one, Odin has a well-known penchant for wandering Midgard in disguise, as a mysterious hooded figure. Indeed, a hooded cloak is one of Odin’s most well-known visual traits. And just like Little Red, Odin is ALSO menaced by a monstrous wolf in the form of Fenrir, who likewise devours Odin during Ragnarok.

Even Red Riding Hood being a girl has some surprising overlap.

See, we often think of Odin as being this wise, old bearded patriarch of the norse gods, but in reality a lot of that image is the result of more modern depictions attaching elements of Zeus and the christian God to Odin, who doesn’t have nearly as much of those elements as many modern depictions would have you believe. For example, Odin is way more of a loner and trickster archetype who’s often off questing for knowledge.

Fun fact actually; basically our only pre-christian written source we have on Norse mythology comes to us courtesy of the Romans and the contact they had with the Scandinavians via trade routes. Specifically one General Tacitus, who wrote an ethnography in about 98 CE of the Germanic peoples Rome was trading with, which includes some descriptions of the gods they worshiped, which is again pretty much our earliest written source on the Norse pantheon.

Now the thing to remember here is that in these accounts, the Norse gods are referred to as various Roman gods. This was a thing the Romans did with basically every other culture they encountered as a means of cultural assimilation; conflating that cultures’ gods with whichever of their own gods the Romans thought were similar enough, basically saying ‘your gods are our gods’. For example, the accounts seems to refer to Tyr as Mars (aka Ares), likely due to both being war gods, and Thor as Hercules, probably due to both being super strong and giant slayers.

What’s interesting is that the account seem to refer to Odin, the leader of the pantheon, not as Jupiter/Zeus, but rather as Mercury, aka HERMES. A tricksy traveler who among other things, shepherds the dead to the afterlife. I mean if that doesn’t tell you that comparing Odin to Zeus is pretty far off the mark, I don’t know what does.

So with that tangent out of the way, most interestingly for the purposes of this discussion, Odin has a surprising number of feminine traits. Odin seeks and takes the council of women (in particular the Nornir, from whom he learns the prophecies of Ragnarok), something noted to set him apart from the other male gods. And he even learns and practices the art of witchcraft, something practiced specifically by women in Norse mythology. There is at least one instance of Odin even being specifically called a witch, or at least a ‘male witch’, again a specifically feminine term. Plus there’s the fact that Odin is often noted as not being as much of burly fighter like most of the Norse gods, and is instead much more of a crafty schemer.

So taken all together, I think we can really start to see the similarities.

In fact, I think it’s not so hard to believe that the original folktale of Little Red Riding Hood could have some folkloric connection to Odin. As in, if we followed the tellings and retellings of Little Red Riding Hood back through the generations far enough, we might arrive at, among other places, people telling stories of Odin and Fenrir.

BUT, this post is not about making conspiracy theories about folklore, mythology and European oral history.

It’s about pitching fun and interesting ideas about the potential of blending together Odin and Little Red Riding Hood.

Obviously I’ve already talked a fair bit about the fun allusions and parallels Ruby Rose has and could have to Odin; cool and mysterious hooded cloak, use of a spear-like weapon, a character journey with a major emphasis on a pursuit of knowledge and answers, defiant refusal to accept any kind of ‘fate’ of the world (see her contrast with Oz), death symbolism, and of course the possibility of getting a sick eye-patch in the future.

But even outside of RWBY, I think there’s so much fun potential for more general fantasy stories with twists on fairy tales:

I mean everyone’s always re-imagining Little Red as some huntress or ranger with an affinity for or some other connection to wolves.

But just picture a take on Little Red Riding Hood who, in addition to the red hood, penchant for wandering the woods and a complicated relationship with canines, also happens to be a nerdy, goth trans girl who practices witchcraft and has a sick eyepatch and a pair of pet ravens and uses a walking stick that turns into a badass magic spear and she’s also a crafty schemer and a bit of troll and also might sometimes be plotting a war crime or two.

I mean if you ask me that sounds pretty sick. :D

And finally, if you happen to the kind of LOTR fan who remembers that Odin was one of the main inspirations for Gandalf, then yes this means there IS in fact at least a bit of mythological precedent for Big Naturals Gandalf XD

[koskela-knights]

AW2 Characters x You NSFW

A bunch of random NSFW HC's for some of the AW2 cast x You 👀 I try to be as gender-neutral as possible! (Includes some kink and rough sex descriptions)

Alan: He is very eager to please you. Often checking in with you, asking if you're still liking it when he goes down on you or when he's inside you. He is pretty vanilla at first but if you two get to know each other better, he'd like to explore and experiment with some kinks. Turns out being tied-up and blindfolded gives him a certain relaxation he doesn't often experience and he 100% trusts you in this vulnerable position.

Saga: She's a good and attentive lover. She likes to kiss you a lot during sex. Kisses vary from sweet, gentle kisses, to long and sloppy kisses to quick smooches peppered across your skin. The nape of Saga's neck is very sensitive and she likes you teasing that spot when she's on top of you. After sex, she is really into cuddles and hugging. Depending on how intense you've got, she'll suggest taking a shower or a relaxing bath which may or may not lead to more intimate moments together.

Casey: Casey can be very passionate in bed. Or he gets you off quick and dirty depending on the occasion. He prides himself in his skillful hands. Casey won't admit it but he loves it when you play with his tie when you ride him. He prefers missionary or any position that allows him to look in your eyes when he fucks you or the other way around. He'd been hesitant about anal at first but after some experimentation, he really likes it. Especially because of you.

Zane: Zane is unsurprisingly an adventurous type. He is quick to explore new things with you. As much as he likes to direct, and be the artist, he also loves to be underneath you and turn his body into your canvas (he definitely wants to explore the multiple facets of impact play with you with him being on the receiving end). He somewhat has a fascination with hands and isn't ashamed to worship them in the bedroom (or elsewhere 😏) Shame, in general, is not in Zane's dictionary. He's definitely willing to try out that secret kink you have.

Scratch: This man fucks nasty and dirty. He is rough and can easily manhandle you. Sex against the wall while holding you up is no biggie for this beast. He always has a strong grip on you (reminding you whom you belong to) and likes to dig his nails into you as he fucks you into the mattress or into the couch. His thrusts are erratic and vigorous each time. Biting is often involved too. Scratch likes to cum inside you. Don't be surprised if you end up all marked after he's done with you.

Rose: She may not be as experienced but she is keen on making it work for both of you. She knows what she wants and knows what feels good for her body so she doesn't shy away from guiding you and telling you what to do. Rose is very vocal, be it pleasuring you or being pleasured by you. She owns a magic wand and is always enthusiastic when she gets to use it together with you. She definitely would want to try things out that she's read in fanfic at some point.

Anderson brothers: Don't let their old age fool you. Sure, there used to have more energy in them but viagra and other things exist for a reason. Tor likes to dirty talk while Odin might be a sweet talker, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you ride him. Tor likes you giving him handjobs and Odin likes you playing with his sensitive nipples. The Andersons like to get creative with sex toys that aid them when their own mobility might be restricted. The toys definitely enhance the sexperience. The Andersons are sure to rock your world.

Koskela brothers: Jaakko is a gentle lover but can be rough if you want him to be. He's into fucking you passionately, making each thrust count. He loves it when he gives oral and gets your juices all over his mouth and beard. Ilmo is less experienced and pretty touch-starved. With just the right touches you'll turn him into a whimpering, needy, leaking mess. Initially, he'll act cocky but feels pretty insecure about his skills. He is vocal and once he gains more confidence, likes to whisper naughty things in your ear. Both Koskelas know some spots to take you anywhere 😏

Tim: He is definitely fun in the bedroom. Novelty sex toys aren't alien to him😉 He can be a bit distracted at times, getting ahead of what you're doing but pay enough attention to his body with your hands and mouth and he's all yours. He likes it when you mess with his hair and get it all tangled up and messy. He enjoys caressing your shoulders and back. After sex, Tim basks in your body heat as he rests his head on your chest to hear your soothing heartbeat.

Estevez: She has a good strap game and will be patient and assisting if it's your first time receiving. She'll guide you through the different steps if necessary. If you're on top, riding her, she likes to make you beg for affirmations and makes you work to earn your praise and kisses. Estevez likes you eating her out. She loses her speech when you bury your tongue deep inside her or twirl it around her clit. She will pull your hair as you go down on her.

Door: This man has thighs for days and prefers it when your head is between them, and you looking up at him. He likes to fuck you on his desk. He easily takes the lead and is a smooth talker. A skill he has honed throughout the years as a talk show host which he happily uses to make your fantasies come true and ingrain new desires you didn't know you had before.

YY Ilmari: In a similar vein to Scratch, Ilmari is a rough partner. He is probably into choking and definitely into knife play. He fucks you steadily but as he gets closer to his climax, will become erratic and desperate. He likes to grab your shoulders as he presses himself against you. Mainly enjoys topping or receiving oral but if he gives, he makes sure you'll feel it and he won't go easy on you. He likes to cum in your face and dirty you all up.

[chaoticelegant]

Sometimes life isn’t fun, and then sometimes your boyfriend buys you little carved crows

[carnalcrows]

THIS IS LITERALLY WHAT THE GI-HUN FIC IS GONNA BE HELP 😭😭

i need to top a divorced man im his mid fourties and make him cry . need to give that distant father a prostate orgasm so earth shattering he blushes thinking about it while washing his singular set of dishes in his one bedroom apartment

[onyxedskies]

something something the awakening trio’s intense struggles with identity and feelings of belonging because they never got the chance to figure out who they actually were since they were fighting for their lives as kids and teens and were brought to an alternate world where they had to hide their identities so overall they have no clue who they are beyond being weapons

[carnalcrows]

NEED TO WRITE A FIC WITH THIS MAN GETTING RAILED ASAP

(its happeningggg)

guys he’s so cute when he’s eating he looks like a little sad hamster 😭😭 s1 gi-hun my husband come backkk the kids miss you 😭😭

[indiestsnake]

sometimes I get confused when people are really active in the community of a game they haven’t played. it just doesn’t make sense to me, how does one get fixated through wiki articles? might just be a personal attention span thing.

but. anyway. it’s a thing I didn’t get for a long time.

then I remembered that God of War: Ragnarok exists.

[unsat-and-strange]

I'm still stuck on the bifrost incident. I'm still stuck on thor, finding out your former best friend, the person you saw publically executed for the murder of another friend, is still alive. Finding out that not only was she still alive, her mind is completely lost, taken by who knows what horrible means, taking any chance she had of even resting in the end. Realizing the ruler of your world, a woman you probably deeply respected at some point, was the one responsible. And not only that but she was the cause of the rapidly approaching death of your universe. Running into Loki, hating what she's contributed to, loving who she used to be to you. All you can do is wish each other a good death. Finally finding odin again, knowing you won't win this fight, all you can do is bring this woman to some semblance of justice. And the stars claim you both.