#h0lyfilth

[loveshard]

"How close do I have to get before you admit you want me here?" / theo & blake!

flirtacious sentence prompts (@canniblood)

Blake could have dismissed it, ignored Theo’s bait, but instead the sound forced his lips apart. He refused to appear startled or react, only his gaze betraying him. He couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking to Theo’s mouth. Even in the dimmed light, he could see that Theo’s lips were stained dark, a thin crust of blood scabbed at the corner. No wipe, no shame. Just hunger and audacity. Wetting his own lips, he tried to keep his posture loose, searching for the right balance of indifference and invitation. But Theo’s proximity made his nerves prickle, every molecule tuned to their want. If Blake got hard from that, it was nobody's business. It wasn’t like Theo didn’t expect it, didn’t want it, didn’t orchestrate every move to wring that exact reaction out of him. Still, he held his ground. Couldn't help but savor the power, the attention. It was a drug, and he was always inclined toward excess.

"Jesus, you never quit," Blake muttered dryly, as he curled his lip, but the edge was soft. He curled his hand around Theo’s shirt, twisting the thin cotton against his knuckles. Wanted to push him away, but he yanked Theo closer, chest to chest, acting purely on instinct. Their mouth was close enough that Blake could taste the hunger on his tongue, copper-sweet, something more than blood. It made his gums itch. "You think if you get close enough, I’ll break?" He let a smirk bleed into his expression, releasing his hold to only push on Theo’s shoulder, putting enough effort until they were flat on the bed. Head cocked, Blake made a show of examining him, slow and cold. If Theo wanted to play, Blake would draw out every second. He leaned in, bracing a palm beside Theo’s head, just out of reach, letting his breath fan out, waiting for them to break first. He slid his other hand up the inside of their thigh, fingers grazing denim and muscle, and then just barely brushing the seam of their fly. "Not how it works."

[coastercruushed]

@h0lyfilth sent in: Brushing their hand lightly against the other's as they talk. / from miles....

mapplethorpe was very excited! he's decided that the topic of discussion would be dinosaurs. specifically? jurassic park. "like, i know realistically, we should learn from the books because they were way more fucked up than the movies. so every time i read an article about how they got like, some kind of DNA from something long gone? i'm like, has jurassic park taught you nothing?!" yeah, he's very much so on a tangent. though, he seems to become speechless whenever miles' hand brushes against his own. ( oh, his face immediately turns red. ) a soft smile as he moves to link his fingers with miles'.

"sorry, i went off on a tangent."

[loveshard]

[ 23. ] sender playfully steals something from receiver, initiating a chase. "come and get it, then." / willow & clementine!

a yellow sunrise [mixed actions ask prompt]

"Come and get it, then." Willow didn’t need to be told twice. The old, slightly worn deck of tarot cards was her favorite, one she’d had since high school. Found in a metaphysical shop in Portland. She barely allowed her own family to touch them, all in the name of bad juju. She was already kicking off her platform sandals, tossing them somewhere underneath the coffee table. The rug felt cool under her feet as she darted after them, arms reaching out, fingers wiggling, ready to snatch back her prized possession. "Clem, you absolute menace! I will hex you if you bend a single card!"

The cramped apartment became an obstacle course—around the sofa, past the cluttered bookshelf, over the throw pillows strewn across the floor. Willow laughed too hard to chase Clementine properly, arms flailing more than reaching, breath coming fast in bursts that felt good in her chest. "You’re gonna mess up the energy of the deck! I’m serious! My aura is gonna be all janked for weeks!" Willow dashed past the bookshelf, knocking a stack of vintage horror novels to the floor, and skidded around the arm of the velvet loveseat before she felt the air get knocked out of her. She will openly admit, time and time again, that the Iversons were not built for cardio.

Willow stopped, bracing her palms on her knees, heart pounding more from the fun of it than the exertion. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her eyes bright with the kind of pure, ridiculous joy that only came from moments like this. "Okay, okay. Fine," she relented with a huff, throwing herself onto the couch. "Please, my dearest, sweetest, most terrible friend, can I have my deck back before you smudge the energy with your greasy little fingers?"

[graverises]

slipping   your   hand   into   theirs   in   silence / susie & julie

VIOLENCE IS ALL SHE HAS EVER KNOWN. it’s surrounded her since the cradle and left an everlasting mark deep within the grooves of her mind, dooming her to this twisted fate of abuse and generational trauma. she didn’t always want it to be this way. the last time she had ever felt a glimmer of hope was when she still held onto the innocence of childhood, although that didn’t last long — it never does. the cycle repeats like a cursed omen, and she’s strapped to the seats of some sick carousel that derails from the tracks and never stops spinning. how could she have ever thought that she would be better than the actions of her father? it feels like a mockery, but the path she befalls numbs those parts of herself that feel shameful, and instead she learns to embrace the darkness from within. after all, it was always meant to turn out this way.

AND THAT DARKNESS LINGERS IN HER GLASSY, BLOWN OUT PUPILS as her gaze fixates on the lifeless body sprawled by her feet. drops of crimson fall from the sharp edge of the knife she wields, pooling at the tip before finally splattering onto the grass below. the ringing in her ears are proof enough that the drugs in her system are beginning to taper off, relinquishing the manic frenzy one ragged breath at a time. julie doesn’t remember what happens when she experiences these episodes; it’s a drug - induced psychosis that becomes a blur within her subconscious, and it’s as if she becomes someone else entirely — ( or is it her true form that comes out to play? ) she’s always flirted with the fine lines between what’s real and what’s not, but perhaps it is both and neither all at once. frank was just the missing piece to bring her to this truth. she owes him everything — and now look what happens when you sell your soul to the devil.

susie’s hand slips into hers and fingers entwine almost instinctively, the warmth of @h0lyfilth's skin seeping down into the bone. it becomes a grounding force as the euphoria dwindles, the gravitational pull of reality weighing heavily upon her shoulders. julie doesn’t dare to peek over to see her expression because she already knows what she’ll see; she knows susie like the back of her hand, and the concerning energy is palpable between them. she can’t do it. no, not today. not on the anniversary of her father’s death. ( the blood on your hands still feels warm ). “ . . . help me clean this up? ”

[liftedrelics]

@h0lyfilth sent: "Well, what do you think?" / theo & cassidy

It's about ten p.m. maybe? He's lifting his arm to check a watch that doesn't exist on the back of his wrist and confirms to himself that the night is still young. He's been mixing everything from cocaine to opiates to alcohol, and even a little rat poison he found under the kitchen sink. Actually ....he might have taken the whole box of that particular item and washed it down with some unmarked chemical he found alongside it.

He's a little tipsy, something he took was finally doing it's intended job and he knows it by the way he's sliding along the wall down the hallway towards the bedrooms. The Irishman doesn't exactly know where he's going but it's better than the overstimulated sounds of yelling, cheering, people talking over one another, and the music being so loud he could feel it in the vibration of the wall he was sliding forward against.

"Just like ....two more steps." He says out loud to encourage himself to make it to at least the closest door which he hopes has a large comfortable bed he can occupy and not a bath tub, although if a bathroom was the first place he wound up he would be willing to accept the inevitable fate of spending yet another night in the cold embrace of porcelain.

Fingers wrap around the doorknob and twist, stumbling into the door and tripping over his feet. Luckily, he's able to hold his upright posture and not fall face first into the pool of blood creeping it's way towards his feet. He's sobering up almost instantly and he locks eyes with another ......vampire. That's a vampire alright, and with a with a disappointed and defeated tone he asks "Aw, what in the hell you gotta go and do all this for then?"

[liftedrelics]

@h0lyfilth sent: [ 3 AM ] for our muses to slip out after the party & grab food / stack & mary!

It's the year of 1992. You remind me by Mary J. Blige is playing on the stereo, and Mary Davis is moving through the crowd like she's floating. Slipping between couples dancing on the main floor of the house throwing a large party in a college town. She can feel the hunger in her throat, dry like a desert as if she hasn't tasted the rich comfort of blood in days.

She eventually finds her target, schmoozing it up in the kitchen with a few college boys ripe for the picking. Slender digits slide across the length of his shoulders from one end to the other, and she drops her head to rest her chin on the left one with a devious little grin. "Baby, I'm really gonna need ya to hurry this up" She starts, forming a little pout knowing it might help to push things along. "I'm gettin real hungry, and I don't think I got the patience in me to wait any longer."

[wastheheart]

wait … won't they hear us ? / melissa king

@h0lyfilth (thank you!)

Esme grins against the woman's neck, pausing as if contemplating before capturing skin between teeth and sucking against her pulse point. It takes everything in her not to pierce such soft flesh, the pulsing beneath the skin maddening, both the desire to taste blood against her tongue, and the way it quickens with Esme's actions.

Melissa's pulse rate increasing sees Esme pulling away with a satisfaction to her that rests in a smile. She gently moves to wipe hair away from the woman's face, leaning in as she tucks it behind her ear to meet her lips to Melissa's own.

"Yes," she mumbles against kiss stained lips, "but don't you want them to know how good I make you feel?" It's a nightshift; moreover, Melissa happens to be working at the same small hospital as Carlisle. And if Esme wants anyone to hear Melissa moaning her name, it's Carlisle. Who knows, perhaps she might be moaning both before the end of her shift.

A hand dips beneath the fabric of Melissa's shirt, unclasping her bra with extraordinary ease. Impatiently, her hand abandons the map of Melissa's back to study her breasts, cupping and kneading malleable flesh as her thumb brushes over her nipple.

She has always appreciated beauty, and Esme can't wait to appreciate her. Create beautiful sounds and reactions, witness the primal and the rawness of desire.

The thumb of Esme's other hand traces against the silkiness of lips, Melissa's hot breath hitting her hand. "And it would be a crime not to— you make such adorable noises, after all."

[wastheheart]

❝ is that a threat, or a promise? ❞ / elias moore

@h0lyfilth (thank you!)

The whites of her teeth glint against artificial light. There's the scent of cigarettes; the sting of alcohol accompanies it at the back of her throat, but hey, the music is swinging and Esme has never lived in Chicago before, let alone met another species of vampire.

She's not the only one who's intrigued. In between his shifts at the hospital, they've been keeping tabs on those who are familiar and yet distinctly different. Part of her wonders if the Volturi know, but Esme much prefers to think they don't. It adds to the thrill of this specific moment, fingers hooking underneath the band of Elias' trousers as he asks his question.

Her teeth graze his neck, a hum low in her throat as she ponders her answer. Well, the attraction of these particular vampires is evident. Some would say that this was merely for research purposes, and both Esme and Carlisle are renowned for being thorough.

But what's an excuse when they can both admit that this particular species are gorgeous? It's not exactly hard to see why Esme can't possibly resist the man she has conveniently caught in the greenroom.

She deliberately unclasps his belt followed closely by his pants' button. Pulling away, she catches his gaze before unzipping his fly, her gaze intense and unflinching. Leaning in, she whispers, "can't it be both?" against the shell of his ear, her teeth nipping at his lobe and her fingers easing the band of his pants down from his hips.

How rude. She hasn't even given him the chance to take off his shoes.