After posting this about Mammon in 70s inspired fashion, I illustrated him...
💛✨️ Mammon in 70s inspired fashion (2) ✨️💛
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⚠️ Disclaimer: This is a fan-made artwork created by Tumblr user @treasureofmammon (me, lol). No AI used. The character(s) depicted here belong to the mobile game "Obey me: shall we date" and are owned by Solmare Corporation. The character's design might not be 100% accurate | Reference used. | Do not repost without permission or as your own; however, reblogs and other interactions are allowed.
You've spent the entire day surrounded by wolf children of varying ages, bright-eyed with toothy grins and more than a few questions - How come you don't have a tail? Are you going to live with us? Do you like Valko, no really, like like him? - and you've answered as many of these as possible and as graciously as you can, thankful that the gaggle of siblings and cousins and other loved ones that come as a package deal with Valko have taken a liking to you. However, the real pickle at the moment is the fact that one of the kids, aged about eight, has decided to stick to your side like glue, and when Valko finally escapes from a kitchen full of the wisdom of older women, served by force, his golden eyes narrow on the wolf boy who is now playing a handheld video game practically curled in your lap as you take a moment to rest in one of the estate's courtyard.
"Mm?" you ask, used to too much contact by now, but in seconds, Valko has scruffed the little boy by the collar and he yelps first before starting his protest.
"Hey, what's that for?! I was comfortable!"
"Haven't you heard of a little thing called 'personal space'?" Valko says, firmly.
"I asked her and she said it was okay!"
You stifle a giggle as Valko moves the wolfling in his grasp so that they're eye to eye, squinting at him as if trying to catch the lie written on his face. The boy scrunches his face as well in indignation, but he absolutely did not ask - simply inviting himself into your lap, not unlike your actual wolf many a cuddly evening before.
"And why don't I believe you?" Valko taunts.
"I don't know why you don't believe me!!! Meanie!!!"
Valko scoffs and then sets the boy on his feet who shakes his head. He gives Valko a glare, then at a momentary glance at you who still are trying to figure out how to keep your face from betraying too much amusement. And then he looks in between you two again, pouting further.
"Stop being greedy about your girlfriend! Let her be nice to us too!"
But he doesn't run back into your lap, scampering off instead onto the rest of the estate, perhaps to defame his older brother further. Valko looks flustered suddenly, his cheeks flushed a deep red, only worsened as he looks towards you.
"Don't say any-" he starts, but you beat him to it.
"He's got a point."
Valko rolls his eyes, but he takes a seat besides you for a moment, then his body straightens out on the outdoor patio bench, letting his head falls in your lap.
"Whatever. He's in my spot."
Your hand leaves into his hair.
"Are you really going to be jealous of a little kid?"
His hand catches yours in his hair, intertwining his hands with yours.
"Can't risk you running out of energy for me. Or headpats."
And on his face is that same toothy smile you've gotten so used to this weekend, but its own unique variation from the man you love.
Got em all reinstated except the before you follow page which is interesting. The email said it had been reinstated but the post says it’s now labeled and explicit and only viewable to me. Hmm.
she might let you stay (but just for the night) | robert robertson, dispatch
When you start working at SDN, the last thing you expect is to fall for one of your coworkers. It's probably a bad idea, and there are probably people who are betting on your inevitable downfall, but who can blame you when said coworker charms the pants off of you (quite literally)?
A/n: 4k words, minimal to no editing (I haven't written smut in forever and I think I forgot how) female reader; lots of making out; they both get pretty drunk; sleepy sex, lots of banter. Robert is sarcastic, earnest, and adorable. Cameos by a few members of the Z team. Special shoutout to Beef, who plays an important role in the order of events here.
Robert charms his way into your life with his dry humor and half smiles, his careless hairstyle and ill-fitting clothes. He makes you laugh more than anyone, and you’re a little bit embarrassed about the way you giggle like an idiot at everything he says. You’re afraid he thinks you’re a little dense; maybe he does, but just a little. He finds it endearing, and it makes him feel good that you find him funny.
He brings out a side of you that you thought was lost. To adulthood. To the daily grind, to weekdays spent pining for the weekend, when you could afford to let your hair down (so to speak) and enjoy the fruits of your labor. When you start hanging out with the rest of the crew after work on Friday nights, he’s the first one to give you the rundown of the group dynamic: who’s fucking who, who has beef, who had the most successful rescues and who was at risk of being cut. He’s straightforward in a very smart, concise way. You could listen to him talk for hours.
No, really. You’re content to nurse your drink and listen to him for as long as he wants to talk. Robert, on the other hand, begins to feel a little self-conscious when you haven’t said anything for quite some time.
He ducks his head a little and flashes that lopsided grin, tapping a finger against your forehead. “You, ah…you falling asleep on me?”
You blink slowly a couple of times; a lucid smile blooms across your face. “Yeah, no. I just– I just like hearing you talk. I mean, I like the stories you tell about the heroes. You really care for them, don’t you?”
Robert scoffs and rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, yeah. I’ve kinda built my team from the ground up, you know? They’re like family at this point.” He’s pink, high in his cheekbones, around his eyes. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe he’s feeling shy. “I do. I care about them a lot.”
You nod and take a moment to look around the room; it’s warm in more than one sense of the word. Robert’s hand on yours gives you pause, and you look up at him with a soft, dreamy sort of smile. “They care about you too, you know.”
He meets your gaze. “Do they?”
“Yeah. We– I mean, I– I, um– they do.” Shit.
“Thought so,” he says. So sure of himself. You envy how secure he is in who he is and what he wants. How effortless it is for him to just be and not second guess every little decision he makes. You wonder how long it took to cultivate such confidence; part of you even speculates that maybe it’s a mask for something darker, something not quite as put together as he projects.
You wonder if you can peel back those layers. You wonder if he’ll let you in, or if what you see is what you get. You think that there’s no better time than the present to find out. And judging by the curious, inviting way he pulls you in with those eyes of his, you think maybe he wants to be discovered.
When he kisses you, it’s so easy. He doesn’t force it, but it isn’t a question, either. It’s a statement. I like you, he says with his gentle breath on your mouth and a guiding hand along your jaw. You’re pretty, he says, the hint of his tongue tracing along your bottom lip, the smallest little sound left on your cheek before his lips find yours again. So soft. His forehead pressed against yours, fingers spread under and behind your ear.
He pulls away and you follow, hungry and breathless. He presses a thumb to your lips and you open your eyes, still buzzing from the way his kiss filled in some empty part of you that you never knew existed.
“We shouldn’t, ah– we should probably stop. For now.” The soft brown of his eyes is all but lost to the hungry way his pupils dilate under the low lights; you can barely tear your eyes away from him. “They’re watching,” he says, tilting his head just slightly toward the rest of the room.
All eyes are on you, and you want to melt into the patent leather booth when they all start cat-calling and cheering. Malevola begrudgingly hands Punch-Up a wad of cash, Blonde Blazer lifts a glass in toast, and Flambae and Prism argue over who’s going to sing karaoke next.
You’ve barely been at this job for a month, and you already feel like part of this makeshift family. Falling for Robert is just the icing on the cake.
His arm around your shoulder anchors you to earth. The crew goes back to whatever they were focused on before your kiss, and Robert grabs your hand, bringing your palm to his lips.
“Wanna get out of here?”
Your eyes widen as your alcohol-addled brain tries to process what he's suggesting. Robert senses what you're thinking and squeezes your hand, a look of apology on his face.
“Oh, no! Not like that. Not. I mean, we don't have to, if you don't want to. I just meant, like, let's go for a walk or something. God.” He drags his hand down his face and blows a raspberry. “I'm not trying to fuck you.” Yet. Unless that's what you want.
Every bit of air leaves your lungs as you dramatically bend forward and press your face against the table. “Thank God, because I was worried that you liked me or something.”
He laughs at that, then nudges your cheek with his index finger. “C'mon. The fresh air will feel good.”
He's right. As soon as you leave, the chill of the night air fills your lungs and you feel like a new person. Snow flurries glitter under the yellow glow of the street lamps, and your footsteps leave tracks in tandem on the city sidewalk. The snow blankets everything in a calm, soft white, muting the sound of car engines and conversations. It feels intimate, expectant. Full of anticipation.
You don't really have a destination, though you hope you end up at either his place or yours, eventually. It's quiet downtown for a Friday night. Only a few stray bar flies wander the streets with you, and traffic is sparse. In a way, it feels like the world has created this little pocket of time just for you and Robert. It's so easy. So joyful.
He's funny. Funnier than you'd realized. It isn't often you get to talk to him outside of work and away from everyone else. He's got a great sense of comedic timing and deadpan delivery. Long after your drinks wear off, you're still dizzy and giddy from his company.
But he's so earnest, too. He notices things. He grabs your hand when he sees you lift it to your mouth to blow hot air into your palm to keep warm; he wraps it in his own and and tucks it into the pocket of his coat. He steadies you with a surprisingly strong arm around your waist when you trip on a crack in the sidewalk and pitch forward.
“Whoa, there.” You’re face to face with him again. He cups your burning cheek with those lithe, cool fingers and thumbs away an eyelash from the side of your nose. So serious. So close. So irresistible. “You good?”
“I did that on purpose,” you breathe, nose to nose with the most beautiful boy you’ve ever laid eyes on. “Wanted to make sure you’d catch me if I fall.”
His eyelashes sweep low, and that cockeyed grin threatens to take you all the way out. “I’d never let you fall.”
“What if I wanted to fall, Robert Robertson the Third?”
His lips brush against yours when he speaks again. “It’s dangerous. You might get hurt.” I don’t want to hurt you.
You open your eyes to see the way his shimmer under the street lamp. “Ouch, I guess.”
You kiss him again, and again, and again. You kiss him until you can’t remember where you are. Until the streetlamp flickers to sleep and your back is pressed against a cold, unforgiving brick wall. You kiss him when he lifts your legs around his waist and sucks the tender skin of your neck. His hair is softer than you thought it would be when you card your fingers through it and pull his head back to take a bite of his jawline.
“You live around here?” he pants, hands gliding up over your bare torso. Your feet are back on the ground, but your legs threaten to give out on you when he slips his tongue into your mouth.
Do you? Where are you, even, in relation to the bar? What day is it again? “I don’t remember.” You dissolve into breathless laughter while Robert tugs down the collar of your shirt to suck a bruise into the top of your breast.
Robert laughs, too– a few puffs of air through his nose that warms your sensitive skin. “What’s your address?”
You rattle it off without a second thought. Robert sacrifices his rapt attention to you for a few empty moments while he glances around for a street sign. You watch the way his eyes scan his surroundings; your own shoulders relax when you see him breathe a sigh of sweet relief. “We’re like, two blocks away. Let’s get you home.”
He pulls you along at a frenzied, adrenaline-fueled pace, as if he knows the way to your apartment building better than you. You wait for an eternity for the elevator and seal your mouth over his as soon as the doors close behind you, only to break apart just as quickly when there’s an unexpected stop on the fifth floor. A tired looking janitor pushing an industrial yellow mop bucket boards the elevator with you, and you hide your face in the lapel of Robert’s coat in shame, though there's little that could wipe the smile off your face at this point. If he saw you making out, he doesn't give you any indication, just stares straight ahead and nods absentmindedly to whatever is playing on his headphones.
Thankfully, you're only two floors away from your apartment. Your hand has been in Robert’s for so long that both your palm and his are sweaty and warm. You pull him to your door, fumble with your keys, and tumble inside. When you're met with the first indication of resistance this evening, you falter and gasp, taken aback by how he hesitates.
“I should probably get home. Beef, he–” He combs a hand through his hair and looks adorably apologetic. “Fuck, I forgot about Beef. I need to go. He's probably pissed at me.” He laughs in spite of himself. His dick is throbbing from being hard for the last hour at least. It makes his head swim and his thoughts cloudy, irrational. He looks at you, at the mark he left on your neck, at the way you lick your kiss swollen lips and look up at him through your eyelashes.
Maybe Beef will be okay for a little while longer…or maybe his guilt won't let him linger in your doorway much longer.
“Look, I gotta at least go take him outside to piss. I'm so fucking sorry. I'd feel like the world's shittiest dog dad if I didn't.” He thumbs your chin and kisses you, lingering longer than he should.
“I could come with you,” you offer with a shrug, suddenly feeling like maybe this whole thing was a bad idea. You've got a habit of rushing into things that inevitably break your heart, and now you're afraid that you got too caught up in whatever feelings you've been feeling and maybe Robert is looking for an easy way out. Of course his dog is the perfect excuse. “Unless, I mean, you don't– you'd rather just go alone. I understand.”
He looks at you with those melancholy eyes and exhales slowly. “My place isn't…it's kind of a mess right now.” Fuck. Shit. Fuck. “Not that I don't want to be with you. I do. Fuck, I want to so bad.”
The relief that washes over you makes your fingertips buzz and your heart skip. “Oh god, so do I,” you exhale. You sling your arms around his neck and kiss just beneath his ear. “Go get Beef and come back. I'll wait up for you.”
“You serious?”
You nod. “As a heart attack.”
Robert smiles. “He snores really loud.”
“So do I,” you counter.
“Okay, yeah. Okay. I'll be back really soon. I swear.”
You kiss him one more time and step back, shutting the door halfway between you so neither of you are tempted to keep stalling. “I'll warm the bed for you.”
He laughs. You close the door and crumple to the floor. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest; you're trembling from the inside out. You try to steady yourself, to breathe deeply– in through the nose, out through the mouth– but it does little to remedy how keyed up you are. You have no idea how far away Robert lives, or how long it will take him to get back to your place. In a panic, you also realize that you have nothing to feed a houseguest of the canine variety, and you briefly consider running down to the 7-11 on the corner to buy a handful of Slim Jims.
Instead, you do a little box breathing, grab a glass of water and a few ibuprofen, and kick off your shoes on the way to your bedroom. I’ll just lay down for a minute, you tell yourself. Oh, the naivety isn’t lost on you, but as you peel your jeans off and slip under the covers, the intensity of the evening bears down on you. I’m gonna close my eyes for a second. Just for…a second…
Robert arrives less than 20 minutes later to find the door to your place unlocked. He knocks a handful of times first. He even calls, but when you don’t pick up, he tries the door, thinking maybe you were too distracted to remember to lock it. With Beef cradled in one arm, he pokes his head in and calls your name in a hushed voice. When you don’t answer, he steps inside and shuts the door, lets Beef down to sniff and poke around, and toes off his shoes before making his way around your place.
He says your name again, opening the bathroom door. “Nope, not there,” he says mostly to himself, though Beef waddles along with him. He looks down at the dog and shrugs. “You think she’s okay?”
Beef’s answer is to sniff the air and trot toward your bedroom. The door isn’t shut all the way, and there’s a faint yellow glow of a bedside lamp that filters into the hall. “Good boy,” Robert says, bending down to give the dog a healthy scratch behind his ears.
He should probably just leave. It’s definitely a bad idea to stay, to crawl into your cozy looking bed with the patchwork quilt and well-loved pillows that probably smell like your shampoo. You’re passed out– belly on the mattress, arms tucked under your pillow, mouth open just enough that you really are snoring. He chuckles, leaning on his shoulder in the doorway to just…admire you. Is this creepy? It’s probably creepy. Definitely creeper vibes. He pulls his bottom lip under his front teeth and shifts his weight to his other foot. I should go home. I’m going home. “Beef,” he whispers. “Beef, where’d ya go?”
“Stop it, that tickles!” Your voice is muffled, sleepy. Robert sees the shape of you curl into itself and Beef, with his paws on your bed and his long, red tongue licking your face. You laugh and turn your face into the pillow, halfway between asleep and awake.
“Aw, Beef, no! Come on!” Robert scoops him up with one arm; Beef's little legs kick like crazy as if he's trying to run and jump on your bed. You flip the covers down away from your face and squint at Robert, as if the light in the hallway is the light of a thousand suns.
“Sorry, I must've fallen asleep,” you say, pushing yourself up to sit and rub your eyes, then yawn. Robert thinks he's never seen you more adorable than you look right now.
“It's okay. It's really late.” Beef almost lunges out of his arms. “You wanna see her, buddy? Wanna see if she really snores louder than you?”
You laugh and reach your arms out. Robert deposits Beef into your lap, where he circles a couple of times and flops down, looking up at you expectantly. You scratch the top of his head and smile up at Robert. “Guess this is where he's sleeping.”
“Damn. Missed my chance.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder toward the door. “I'll just crash on your couch and give you two some privacy.”
“Don't be silly.” You pat the space beside you and yawn again. “There's room for you, too.”
“I don't exactly perform well with an audience.” Robert yawns too, then slips under the covers, giving Beef a look that accuses him of having the fucking audacity. The dog just grunts and closes his eyes.
“Does this mean we aren't gonna do it?” you ask, turning to Robert, touching his cheek.
“Not unless you wanna kick out our third wheel. He's kind of a mood killer.” Robert shifts to his side and rests a hand on your thigh over the blanket. “Do you want to?”
You sigh and lift Beef under his front legs to look him square in his funny little face. “Listen, I know you just got here, but your dad and I have some business to attend to.” You walk him to the door and set him down in the hall where he looks up at you, wagging his tail. “You can sleep here when we're done. Just…give us a little while, okay, Beef?”
The dog cocks his head to the side, sneezes, then waddles off down the hall to investigate the rest of your apartment. You shut the door and fall back into bed where Robert waits for you, sleepy and slow and warm. You curl yourself into his arms and let him kiss you until you're warm all over again.
It doesn't take long to get back to where you left off. And now that you're alone– truly, utterly alone– you waste no time whatsoever in getting reacquainted with him. He’s stronger than he looks, and you’re pleasantly surprised when he tugs you over him and you straddle his hips as your palms plane his torso under his t-shirt. Robert reaches up to cup your cheeks and pull you down for a kiss at the same time you grind down; he groans so beautifully into your mouth as you slip your tongue over his.
“God, you feel good,” he whispers, hands at your waist to guide you as you roll your hips and unbutton his pants. You both gasp when you wrap your hand around his cock and give it a couple of languid strokes. He is warm, weighty, velvet soft in your hand. Your entire body reacts, anticipating the way he will feel once he’s inside you.
“So do you,” you reply in kind.
The next few moments pass in a cloudy haze. Sleep deprived, lust-driven, you revel in the way his skin slips against yours, the tender, almost reverent way he kisses you. His hands are everywhere– cupping your cheeks, molding your breasts, skirting across your abdomen and between your thighs to where you are warm and wet for him. He makes the most intense eye contact with you when he curls a finger against your clit. You whimper when he slides it in; your body accepts him so easily it would almost be embarrassing if you didn’t need him so badly. He curls the digit, then slots another one in beside it. You arch your back and grab his waist, raising yourself up just slightly to align yourself with his cock.
With your hand wrapped around him, the head of him pressed lightly just against your cunt, you grin at him where he lies under you– flushed, panting, reverent, ready. “Sure you’re not too tired? I’m tired,” you tease, yawning loud and long with a squeeze to his cock.
He barks a disbelieving laugh and laces his hands behind his head. “Yeah, maybe we should get some sleep instead.”
You’re throbbing, he’s leaking. “I’m on the pill, by the way. You know, for when we fuck in the morning.” Your heart is racing so fast you can barely catch your breath.
“Noted. Glad we got that cleared up.” He grins at you, and you want to combust. You shift just a little and it sends a jolt of pleasure straight up your spine. “Well, goodnight, then.” And before you can give him a snappy comeback, you’re flipped suddenly on your back as he hovers above you, slipping a hand over your thigh and behind your knee to wrap your leg around his waist.
“You coming in?” you breathe, so close you can count his freckles; the tip of his nose gently butts against your own.
“Yeah.”
He moves with a quiet intensity, all breath and lithe strength. It’s exactly what you imagined it would be and yet nothing like what you were prepared for. His kisses border on desperate, but you meet them in kind, fingers kneading into the muscles of his back, shoulders, and torso with each thrust. You’re at his mercy, it seems. So you hang on desperately as he pulls and molds you ever closer to him as if he wants you under his skin. Maybe he does. Maybe you’re the first real thing he’s felt in so long that he’s afraid of letting go.
You’re insane for this, he tells himself, in awe of how you feel, how alive and pretty and eager you are. He can’t bring himself to stop, let alone think straight about anything with the way you’re squeezing around him and moaning in his ear with every stroke.
Somehow, he manages to hold off until you cum. Your hands are in his hair, your mouth open against his neck as you cry out and lock your legs around him as if you’re afraid he’s going to stop. You jolt when he thumbs your clit, and that’s all he needs to cum. The eye contact nearly kills you when he pulls himself upward to watch your face, still moving, unhurried strokes that make the most obscene, wet sounds between you. It makes you laugh, which makes Robert laugh, and it’s a total body experience. From your head to your toes, you’re alight, aglow, amused, still aroused despite having one of the best orgasms of your life. Robert thinks he’s never been quite so content.
He flops onto his back and you roll to your side, resting your head against his chest. His heartbeat thrums against your ear; he lets his arm fall around you and rubs gentle patterns across your back. “Good sleep,” he says.
You reach for your phone and squint at the screen. 5:47 AM. “The sun will be up soon. Wanna go to the diner at the corner and get coffee?”
Robert’s eyes are closed. He hums in the most content way; his chest vibrates and you curl closer, pulling the blankets up over both of you. “In a second. Just let me rest my eyes first.”
You press a kiss to the center of his chest and hug him tighter against you. “Yeah, good idea. Maybe a shower, too.”
🪻 Ellis, who loves the plush of your cheeks. He grabs them and pinches gently when you're pouting, kisses them over and over just to feel the softness press against his face.
🪻 Ellis, who is surprisingly strong for his build. Who picks you up at random like it's no big deal. The first time he lifts you onto the counter you're stun locked, and he genuinely can't figure out what's going through your head. Pouting, he asks: "Did I grab you too hard? I'm sorry, I'll be more gentle."
🪻Ellis, who enjoys sharing food with you. Who views food as a way of bonding over anything else. Who doesn't understand why you're hesitant to eat in front of him at first. Who watches your face as you eat with awe, pupils blown wide and heart hammering.
🪻Ellis, who thinks your hugs could cure any ailment he has. He loves the way the softness of your body molds against his hard edges, so warm and pliant, his hands gripping onto the fat of your hips and squeezing just enough to feel the squish between his fingers.
🪻Ellis, who fucks you leaned back on his haunches, so he can watch the way your belly jiggles with every thrust. He apologizes when you cover your face, chuckling between moans. "I'm sorry... hah... you're just so cute like this."
