˙˚ ᕱ⑅ᕱ bunny ɞ˚˙

Right now though, the only person’s breath she wanted to hear was the one belonging to a short and dark haired pale girl talking animatedly to her friends. She was wearing pastel clothes, one hand clutching her phone, the other thumbing her purse strap. 

Bridgette’s eyes grew distant, vivid images of that girl’s thin but wide smile stretched around her strap. Bridgette wondered the colour of her eyes, hiding behind thick rimmed glasses, how they’d look all teary and hazy. 

Look at me look at me look at me look at me look at me, her brain was spiraling. Lighting spreading through her veins, her fingertips twitching with the need to touch, adore, consume.

Bridgette’s eyes quickly scanned the area, spotting a bench and willing her legs to guide her there immediately. 

She sat down, her hands underneath her thighs, to hide the trembling, as she closed her eyes and titled her head back, exposing her neck to the vibrant sun. The warm red she was seeing behind her eyelids matched the fire in the pit of her stomach, the taste of blood on her, now bitten raw- and when did that happen- lips.

In and out, in and out. Everything is under control.

Bridgette took out her notebook from her bag, that heavy, overloaded bag packed with all types of essential items. A water bottle, her wallet, a backup pair of headphones, bandaids, hydrogen peroxide, wipes, a cleaner for her glasses, large sized gloves, a second tshirt, pads, a notebook to write down her thoughts.

She clicked the tip of the pen before she began compiling a list.

Approach her in a public space, strike a conversation about being new

Offer drink of choice as thanks for the company

Play up the awkwardness and loneliness

Exchange numbers

Play the long game.

The curly haired girl frowned for a moment in concentration, trying to find any gaps in her plan.

What if she’s taken? 

That can be changed with a little nudging.

What if she’s straight?

A broken plaything doesn’t have a sexuality.

What if she’s boring?

Ugh. That would be the fucking worst case scenario. Vanilla with the personality of wet cardboard…

Bridgette looked up, her dark eyes searching all around the street before she spots Her. Still talking all excitedly with her friends, her dark hair shining like a jewel, begging to be stolen.

She got back on her feet and started walking towards her, trying to inconspicuously follow her path, putting on her headphones and looking at the stores lining the street, a path towards salvation, towards pure ecstasy. Towards Her.

In the next second the girl turned around, accidentally locking eyes with Bridgette for a moment before her gaze continued to roam, finally reaching their destination of the street sign, looking confused.

Bridgette felt her cunt clench.

She looked at me she looked at me she looked at me I want her I want her I want her fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck I need to rape her until she cries and begs for help.

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Bridgette finally reached the university library, looking around before her gaze zeroed in on Her. She was Beautiful.

Her head low, almost kissing the library table. Every now and then she would hiss from between her teeth and frantically scribble something in her notebook, her laptop screen giving her glasses an unnatural shine.

She was Perfect.

Manic, stressed, a little fidgety. Bridgette would calm down her nervous system, get inside her mind then break her from within.

Casually, trying not to glance at her, Bridgette approached the non-fiction section, grabbing a book about butterflies. Something slightly interesting but not enough to distract her from her goal.

Soft cover with a shiny overcoat, a huge butterfly picture on the page, Bridgette approached the table where her Love was sitting, putting on an awkward smile, adapting a slightly hesitant gait. 

“Apologies for interrupting, could I possibly sit here? I promise not to bother you”, she asked, her voice smooth, calm, in contrast with her physical language screaming “Awkward nerd in need of soft handling”. The perfect bait.

The girl, what a girl, lifts up her head in a flash, her eyes widening. Bridgette clenched around air, trying to calm down the urge to bite her. 

“Of course! Ye-yes it’s fine, there’s space for everyone around here!!”

Gosh, her voice. Crystal clear smashed ice cubes sliding over her skin.

She scrambled to clear some space on the round table from all the school supplies sprawled across and gestured towards the chair, smiling widely at Bridgette. 

Bridgette casually brought her hand to her lips, acting like she was wiping them. Meanwhile the incisors in her mouth were making themselves known in the sensitive side of her fingertip.

Between the second and third blink directed towards the Beauty, a lifetime of fantasies passed thorough the curly haired girl. On her back, on her knees, ass up, pussy spread, ribbons tying her fidgety hands and feet. A gag decorating her glossy lips. Vibrators on her clit, Bridgette’s fingers in her little cunt.