The House Always...Wins

[bettingonhouse]

Indi. Sideblog Robert House

You will be followed by MrFlayed, and any likes you receive from me will be from THAT blog...I do not have the spoons to run multiple mains, this will just have to do. Thank you for understanding.

Rules: No Godmodding, No Force Shipping, No Hate, No Guilt Tripping

About: I am Moose....I am a 31 years young trans man, I work one job and am currently dealing with a LOT of stress in real life. This is a escape for me, and I want to enjoy writing with my partners and for my partners to enjoy writing with me.

I am easy to talk to. I am easy to fix threads with. I like going right off the cuff, I do not have many triggers. If YOU..Have triggers. or YOU, need me to AVOID certain topics. LET ME KNOW. I am very flexible, and am always available to adjust my replies accordingly.

Do not make demands of me.

WARNING:

This Blog will contain heavy Sex, Drugs, Violence, Profanity, and will talk about gore. I am not always great at tagging, but I will do my best to ensure threads involving heavy topics are tagged. I also will always put Smut under a read more, and it will be tagged as LEMON, so not to piss off Tumblr.

VERSES

Prewar.

Mr. Big Screen

ReHydrated

RAIDER

Unforgettable: (transmasc)

Ex :YellowJacket (transmasc)

More To Come...

Thank you for reading, I look forward to interacting with you all. And remember. Always Bet on The House...

[kingsmemes]

「   RP MEME :   NONVERBAL PROMPTS.  mix of violent, caring, touching and non-touching prompts.  」     SEND PROMPT '+ REVERSE' for the inverse to happen. for example 'bandage + reverse' for the receiver to bandage wounds on the sender.

[ BANDAGE ] : sender bandages a wound on receiver.

[ GUIDE ] : sender puts a hand on he receiver's back to guide them somewhere.

[ WAVE ]: sender waves down receiver to get their attention.

[ SIGN ]: sender raises their hand to sign to receiver. what follows can be anything the sender desires.

[ LIFT ]: sender lifts receiver's chin to look at them.

[ LIGHT ]: sender lights receiver's cigarette/candle/etc.

[ FIND ] : sender finds receiver beaten and/or bloodied.

[ PIN ]: sender pins receiver against the wall during combat/sparring.

[ GET DOWN ]: sender tackles receiver out of the way of danger.

[ TAKE ]: sender takes a hit meant for receiver.

[ CAUGHT ]: sender finds receiver somewhere they aren't supposed to be.

[ TRAP ]: sender traps the receiver somewhere they don't want to be.

[ DARLING ]: sender touches receiver's cheek.

[ SNATCH ]: sender snatches receiver's wrist as they turn to go.

[ STAB ]: sender stabs receiver.

[ DRAG ]: sender drags receiver from point a to point b.

[ SIT ]: sender sits on receiver's lap.

[ EN GARDE ]: sender and receiver get into some kind of fight.

[ DRUNK ]: sender finds receiver drunk.

[ BLOOD ]: sender walks into receiver's room covered in blood.

[ FLOWER ]: sender offers a flower to receiver.

[ HOLD ]: sender reaches to hold receiver's hand.

[ BRUSH ]: sender brushes a strand of hair out of receiver's face.

[ NOTE: ] sender writes a note for receiver. the contents are whatever the sender decides.

[ EYES ]: sender notices receiver looking at them.

[ STOP ]: sender raises hand to signal the receiver to stop in place.

[ TAP ]: sender taps receiver on the shoulder to get their attention.

[ WAKE ]: sender gently wakes receiver from a nap or otherwise.

[ MORNING AFTER ]: sender and receiver wake up together for the first time after a night of passion.

[ BLANKET ]: sender drapes a blanket over receiver's shoulders.

[ HUDDLE ]: sender and receiver huddle together in an effort to stay warm.

[ TUG ]: sender pulls receiver away from them.

[ PUSH ]: sender pushes receiver away from them.

[ BULLET ]: sender shoots receiver in a non-lethal area.

[princessrhcenyra]

WALTON GOGGINS as COOPER HOWARD in FALLOUT "THE INNOVATOR"

[unlicenscd]

Lon watches with an unblinking gaze as Robert swallows the warm whiskey he’d poured for him, his eyes dipping down to admire the resulting movement of that delectable throat. Something alights in his eyes when he spots those bruises of his from earlier: beautiful dabs of color on a living canvas, like an unfinished masterpiece. They make his hand twitch below in desire to continue his work and deepen their hue. (In due time.) Being called ‘boss’ triggers even more of a spark in his stare. It’s all very thrilling, to be given the power to hurt and control someone as he sees fit, contrary to what the stillness of his being may communicate. His chest heaves with a deep breath used to soothe himself, air sucked in through his teeth.

The second after the door clicks closed, whatever hardened and disciplined form he’s managed to build loses shape: he leans back against the side table sharply enough to make the bottles loudly tap against one another; his shoulders slump; his head tilts upward; a hand goes up to cover his mouth as a groan tries to slip through, his mouth quickly resorting to biting its fingers to further the effort. For fuck’s sake—his cock is already rock hard again and they haven’t even really started. Transitions in this context can be difficult, he knows from experience: typically it's a time where the air of lust starts to naturally dissipate and must be coaxed back with care. If either party resists, it can be a futile effort—and he is certainly determined to earn that deep, blank, blissful look in Robert’s eyes as he had in the alleyway. He needs to get a grip and think. Sipping his own drink, he looks about the plain, typical space they have afforded to them, and begins to scheme.

The knock surprises him. For a moment, he looks about in confusion before skittering over to the door to confirm through the peephole that it is Robert’s awaiting form and not some meddling maid or room manager. Yes, of course he wants Lon’s permission before entering! How considerate and servile, like putting himself on a plate for him. He allows himself a big, hungry smile before once again subduing his affect, opening the door with a pleased but still starved look.

“You found it. Good.” At once, a hand extends to the back of Robert’s neck, firmly pulling and leading him just inside; it stays there, warm and heavy, as Lon plucks the ice bucket from him and sets it on the table by the drinks.

The room will appear mostly the same to Robert as when he left it. Lon’s briefcase has been left opened and half emptied, its internal shelves fully extended to show a peek at an array of some smaller tools within. At the bed’s far side, the room’s complementary ironing board has been stood up to display a few larger playthings in an arranged line indicating future selection and use: some of which Lon knows Robert enjoys, and others placed as utility of suggestion—and intimidation. At the bedside table is a type of lubricant that Lon knows pairs with Robert’s body well; beside it, his preferred brand of inhalant. Two new glasses of whiskey have already been poured, and Lon scoops some ice into each of them with his free hand just sloppily enough that a few small drops of liquid splash down the sides. He himself has removed his coat, loosened his tie, and rolled up his shirtsleeves.

Hand still on Robert’s neck, Lon turns to him then and cups his chin with his other to tilt it upward, surprisingly and suspiciously gentle. A thumb made cold by ice and astringent by spilled whiskey touches where the man’s lip had previously been split open. It's a soft little tap, admiring. Lon slowly leans in to kiss him—

—But the moment their lips make contact the idea of gentleness is gone. The hand at the back of Robert’s neck has moved to his head, holding firmly it in place while the other clutches tightly at his jaw to do the same. Lon kisses him with animalistic fervor—indeed, a low growl escapes his throat as he bites down right on target, re-opening the wound he’d just irritated. Blood comes forth into their mouths once again. His tongue laps at it, and his teeth bite down again, and again. When at last he grants Robert mercy and pulls away, pulling the man’s head back by his hair, there’s red smeared across his handsome little lips and dribbling still from the renewed puncture. The sight leaves Lon even more breathless—delicious, god, he’s delicious—and gives him the idea to see just how much red they can spread.

“Get on your knees, now,” he commands through clenched teeth. The moment Robert obeys he'll unzip his trousers and take out his cock, it seeking wet, warm lips of its own impatient accord.

[bettingonhouse]

The sunset he was focused on still while he held the bucket with a slightly tight grip. The anticipation of what was waiting in the room was making him forget all problems he had. Which was the perfect point of this whole thing. The arousal had only dimmed a bit, due to the seperation and such. But when the door opens and Lon is reveled again. Dressed down more, shirt unbuttoned, tie undone, shirt sleeves rolled up.

Then that large hand is grabbing Robert by the back of the neck and closing the door behind him. The knots in his stomach are tightening, as his eyes scan the room quickly. Seeing the toys and instruments Lon had laid out. The bucket is plucked from his hand and Lon is once gain being skilled at single handedly if not a bit sloppily putting ice in their glasses.

Yet, the amber liquid doesn't find Robert or Lon's lips. Robert's mouth was open slightly as his tongue swipes over his bottom lip as his eyes catch sight of more things. Noticing the items on the bedside table, before Lon's cold thumb is brushing over his lip. It's gentle surprisingly, and Robert's eyes lock on the other's again and he feels small. The tenderness isn't off putting. His eyes almost soften for a moment, as his head leans more into the other's hand that cups his cheek.

Then came what he was expecting, and he hisses in response, his hands moving to clutch at Lon's shirt as his eyes close shut tight. Groaning in their kiss, the feel of the other biting his lip over and over, causing the wound to reopen, to feel Lon tear open a new wound over his bottom lip. To crave that pain, as his hands clench at Lon's shirt. A reaction to the painful stimuli, his body's first reaction wanting to push the other away, but his deeper desire just grips the other's shirt tighter. The tongue running over the cut he chases with his own, as the blood seeps and and gently streams down his lip and over their tongues. That strong iron taste from earlier was back, but this time it was his own blood they got to enjoy. And to Robert it was more intoxicating, just how eager Lon was to taste him.

When his head is pulled away, his eyes open again and he is panting from their kiss. His lip slowly trickling blood down his chin. The painful throbbing that he felt pumping through his bottom lip, was matching what his dick felt like. It was throbbing and hard as well. Though his dick was a laughable size if they were comparing. But it was certainly hard, and Robert was wet, he can feel the heat pooling between his legs. Feel that stupid stickiness that is soaking through his briefs. His hands are still gripping the other's shirt, his chest heaving a bit as he tries to catch his breath. But then Lon is demanding he gets on his knees.

fuck.

It sent a shot to his core, and he was dropping to his knees in a instant. Using Lon's shirt to help anchor himself a bit so he didn't drop so hard and hurt his own knees. Head still tilted upward as Lon's hand in his dark hair has him looking up at him like a twinkle eyed pornstar on his knees right now. Robert's hands were scarred slightly, not entierly as soft as most might think. Running down the others chest and releasing his shirt his hands begin to praise the other's body.

Robert's face was red, he was flustered and hot, and he was eager to be used. Tilting his head a bit into the others hand, wanting whatever was given to him. Gentle or harsh, Robert was desperate for Lon, his breathing was labored, as he is trying hard not to just be a filthy whore. One hand is stroking over Lon's cock for as long as he can, before he knows the other will lose patience and shove it down his throat. If Lon was pent up especially because it had been over a month since their last encounter. Then Robert may have to withhold more often, because he was really enjoying how desperate they both seemed to be for one another. Robert was so eager to be used, to become nothing but a tool for the other's pleasure. But is also fully aware that as much as Robert was here to be used he was also getting plenty out of it himself. This was much preferable than his drunk back alley encounters anyways. This lasted much longer, and in the end, was much safer.

Robert gnaws a bit more on his bottom lip, letting the blood seep and trickle down him more as his hand rub's Lon's cock through his pants. He's daydreamed a few times about their past encounters and, being used in the past.

"Use me." Abuse me, fuck me, please

Robert groans as he looks up to the other with a slight desperation to his brown eyes. he doesn't say the last few things, his hand shakes a bit in eagerness on the other's erection. He was barely holding it together, he was so desperate for the abuse, for the agression, for the praise, but most of all. For the sick pleasure of it all.

[bettingonhouse]

Age: 14

Age: 54

40 years difference and he still the same conniving bastard.

[bettingonhouse]

Like this for a Lyric starter.

[bettingonhouse]

" This is a very bad idea." Gemma

"Well, trusting a raider is rarely a good idea, but you seem to be out of options...And i am running out of patience..So you can either...Get with the program, or, find someone else to help you."

Robbie says as he has to reload his gun. Looking over his shoulder and around the corner to see a few more Legionaires patrolling nearby. He uses the building as cover and pulls himself back out of view.

"Now, if you are with me, go play bait and try and lure them out a bit closer. There's only four."

[bettingonhouse]

❛ you'll be lucky if you can make it to fucking breakfast. ❜ montana

Robbie was admittedly in very bad shape, he got his ass slashed apart by a Deathclaw that had ventured from Quarry Junction. His breath comees in weak weazes and he just looks to the other in a pained silence.

"S-Stim..Pak...P-pleasee."

[breastfedless]

somebody get this fucking guy

[bettingonhouse]

ooc: i really do enjoy writing House, but I am very aware I am not good at cannon House. So I do apologize for anyone following me hoping I'd be a better at cannon or whatever. I apologize, if you followed me and were disappointed by my characterizations. But I am also having a great time just, having fun with him, like a lot. So, thank you to anyone still sticking around for my mess with him.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR RESURRECTIONS, BOTH GOOD AND BAD *  assorted dialogue for that moment when a character comes back to life... but did they come back as themselves, or did something go wrong? adjust as necessary

how long was i out?

it was dark, and i heard voices. i was trying to get out.

don't look at me. i don't want you to see me like this.

tell me the truth. how long was i gone?

who brought me back?

i don't remember what happened. one second i was there, and the next...

you were out for quite some time.

don't worry. i've got you.

i saw you die.

i can't live with myself if you're gone.

i don't know how to function without you here.

wipe those tears away.

i'm right here! there's no need to cry.

something feels off about you.

are you sure you're all right?

you don't sound like yourself.

that wasn't supposed to happen like that.

your death was all my fault.

i never should have gone in there alone.

can you please tell me what happened?

no one is telling me how i died.

i didn't hear anything while i was out.

that was a bit weird.

i'll be fine. just have to deal with this nasty bump on my head.

is that my blood or someone else's?

you were not supposed to do this.

he was supposed to stay dead!

this was never meant to happen this way.

i think you made a mistake in coming back.

i can't live without you.

i'd really like to avoid dying again if i can help it.

is this the first time you've died?

there must be something we can do to bring them back.

i think i can heal them.

death is only the beginning.

maybe you should have stayed dead.

is that really you?

don't ever leave my sight again.

there you are! welcome back! how was it, being dead?

did you see god?

are you the one i should blame?

let's just hope there aren't any consequences to this.

you never should have interfered.

i don't really feel like myself.

ever since i died, i've been feeling sort of strange.

that's what death does. it puts things into perspective.

is death something we should be able to reverse in the first place?

this is a very bad idea.

why can't you just stay dead?

please reverse the spell.

i'm not ready to say goodbye.

[spectralish]

what if we're mathematically intertwined,,,, haha jk,,,, unless,,,,,

[nightlydisease]

[spectralish]

messy messy

[unlicenscd]

By the time Robert situates himself enough to speak, there’s a freshly lit cigarette between Lon’s fingers and lips, his body standing only a short distance away as he watches his men finish up. He’s thinking and overseeing; the corpses are out of sight, but he still needs to make sure the next van of supplies arrives before he can leave the site himself, and there’s the concern with what to do with Mr. House once he gets his hands on him again… Splitting things here gives him some time to plan logistics and balance them with his own desires—the latter of which always outweighs in the end, but it's still a game he must see through. He smiles when Roberts tells him where to go and gives a little wave with his fingers to indicate he’s heard and understood, eyes ever-wide and dark.

Similar to what he’s gathered about Mr. House, Lon presents himself as a man of expensive and timeless taste but is often more than happy to settle comfortably at the bottom level of society’s grime. It would have made no difference to him had Robert picked a presidential suite or private office or even the back of his car: by giving him the choice and opportunity to scope the place out before getting started, Lon is allowing the other man the opportunity to control his surroundings. Within the mystery of what the night otherwise has in store for his mind and body, it’s an issue of longevity: Lon doesn’t want him tapping out before he’s through with him.

Their luxury cars may stick out among the paled, peeling state of the motel’s walls and furnishings, but Lon waltzes right up to the establishment with the ease of expectancy, as if it’s a second home. In one of his hands is a bag with what sounds to be glass bottles, in the other a large black leather briefcase that Robert will certainly recognize. Both will be utilized for their pleasure and consumption. Spotting Robert’s tie in the window, he walks right up to its associated door.

When the other man opens it, he’ll find him very close, hardly having to take a step to enter the room—which he does immediately, a sinister grin on his face, without so much as a hello. “Forgive you?” he asks, confused. His eyes quickly look the man up and down and he can see what he means; a dismissive sound leaves his lips, indicating disappointment.

He pushes past Robert to put down his things. “Go and get ice, will you? We’ll need it.” He bends to pull two glasses and a bottle of whiskey from the bag and immediately utilize them, ice or no ice. Robert will find one glass pressed into his hand filled with the amber liquid, and an expectant Lon smiling down at him in wait to do as he’s told.

[bettingonhouse]

It was something to get used too, but not something he didn't enjoy. Lon was rather intimidating in a good way, and the way he commanded the space was refreshing. Robert to the world is presented at this very eager man. A man with multiple ladies on his arm, and who is always being seen around town as a young playboy. But, not very many knew that the real Robert was in desperate need of some grounding. So far, Lon was very good at keeping him grounded. And he certainly wasn't bored enough yet to let Lon go so, here he is. A bit flushed at the other coming in so close and so hot. With those damned eyes that Robert thought only he himself had perfected. It was a hunters stare and it was hot as hell.

When Lon brushes past Robert, he lets out a slow breath from his nose, the smell of the other's cologne was very intoxicating, as was the sight of that Leather briefcase. Which,, had some very fun toys in it last time. So His heart beats a bit faster at the sight of it. Admiring the others bent over form for the moment before his brows shoot up with surprise to see the glasses and whiskey. It was a bit touching that Lon remembered what he liked.

Then Lon is pouring him a glass of the amber liquid and putting it in his hand, and telling Robert then to go get ice. It was Robert's turn to be the lacky he supposed, he made Lon and his boys clean up his mess. It's the least he can do...Especiall y if it's just for cause to get him out of the room so Lon can set up.

A hum and a pause for consideration if he was going to really do what was asked of him. He takes his time to appreciate the liquid in the glass. Smelling it, before he swallows the contents down in a single polite gulp. His throat burns but in a way he enjoys, before he sets down the glass on the table near them both.

"Alright, you are the boss."

Robert tells Lon simply, giving him that control, even as it makes a shiver run down his spine for giving it up. He bites on his lower lip a bit, can still feel his split lip from the punch, and the bruise has darkened his lip just slightly. But he heads out of the room for now to go and get a bucket of ice for them both. He would return a few minuets later, taking a bit longer, just incase Lon needed more time to do, whatever it was he was doing. Knocking on the door to be let back in when he is back. The sun was setting, and made the him squint a bit as he admired the pinks, purples oranges and violets blending gently together. Vegas was about to come to life. And so was this seedy motel room.

[toprotectandscrve]

Vicious Season 2 Sentence Starters

“ Why am I always better at the things you don’t want to do? ” 

“ You’re making that rug gay just by standing on it! ” 

“ Oh, and just so you know, your husband’s gay. ”

“ One day, I want what you two have. ”

“ When the time comes, I’m so going to enjoy burying you. ” 

“ I think my kneecap fell off, can you find it anywhere? ”

“ Just sit there and suck on a walnut. ”

“ I think this is the first time I’ve been here and not wanted to throw up. ”

“ The only way you’ll be required to be nude again is if you’re donating your organs. ”

“ I guess I’m going to have to face being alone sooner or later. ”

“ You selfish little wanker! ”

“ If I die first, I don’t think you’ll be able to survive without me. ”

“ Watching you behave like a whore entertaining sailors on leave is not my idea of a good time. ”

“ There isn’t a single body part in this room that needs to be seen in the light of day again. ”

“ I have an angry voicemail from Dame Judy Dench that begs to differ! ”

“ You’re like two peas in a pod, if peas could be horribly cruel to each other. ”

“ For God’s sake, nobody wants to have sex with you! ”

“ You’re very dear to me, and I wouldn’t want anything to get in the way of that. ”

“ I just heard a hissing lisp as if a homosexual balloon were slowly leaking air. ”

“ Is there a professional coming to do your makeup today? Because you certainly need one. ”

“ Isn’t that a bit non-traditional? ”

“ She would have been much better off as a lesbian. ”

“ It’s all right, I’m here. I love you. ”

[bettingonhouse]

@toprotectandscrve continued from here

Robert shouldn't be so cruel, especially so late in the evening. Jasper was one of his only companions at the House estate. Unfortunately his parents died when he was 2 in a terrible car accident. And he was left in his older brother Anthony's care. But Anthony was fifteen years older than Robert, and had no affection for the boy. Anthony was never home, he had Jasper. Anthony would tell himself, and any other staff, and he had all the money in the world. As his father had been a wealthy man before his untimely death.

Robert often was tinkering and disassembling things. He's gotten quite a few bad shocks and nearly took off a finger once. But it never deters him. As for instance he was currently sitting at the dinner table and had various electronics which are in various states of put together. Some are entirely dismantled with every piece of it clearly laid out. Be it a microwave, a hair dryer, anything of electronic nature he had to see how it operated, would often put it back together. And things he didn't want to put together how it was, will often turn into something entirely different.

"I'm sorry Jasper, that was rude of me."

Robert was young only 14, and he was more focused on school and his little robotics at the moment. But he had no friends apart from the staff of the home.

"What I meant to say was-" He thinks for a moment trying to find the words.

"I find it hard to picture you romantic nature, I don't think I will ever understand why people like other people and wish to see one another in a state of undress for pleasure."

Robert gives a shrug as he continues to unscrew the microwave's door off it's face.

"Let alone, did i think that people of your...Age...Were still active..."

Robert pauses his thoughts though and then narrows his eyes a bit.

"I find everyone rather dull though, so perhaps that is more a problem just for myself."

Robert was at least self aware that he knew he was...Different. But he chalked it up that he was far more mature than everyone around him and didn't know how to act around anyone his age.