( veniialsins )
with her red lipstick & steel stilettos, the young banshee likes to believe that she does not belong to anyone — not her parents or her lovers or her friends. no one has ever been granted any control or ownership of her.
but if anyone were to obtain her in that way, in all of her entirety, it would be allison judging from the pleasurable shiver which runs down the length of her spine at those words.
stepping closer to allison, she presses her lips to hers, drawing back only to breathe a quiet ;;
’ prove it. make me yours. ’
perhaps her words are from a deep seeded place of utter jealousy. or maybe, she genuinely thinks of lydia as hers. regardless, she's only certain of the fact that she doesn't want anyone else having her. she is in fact hers. without any fight, she caves into the kiss. giving her all, she wants lydia to know what she's been missing out on as of late. whether she'll grow to regret this later or not is irrelevant. she doesn't care she NEEDS this.
nothing, she says absolutely nothing. actions go further than words anyway. needfully, she shoves the petite girl against the nearest wall; not once breaking their contact. lips hungrily graze those of which have filled her mind for weeks, lacking the prior gentility. lydia may not be able to give her more, but that doesn't mean she's going to make it easy for her.
