Izaiah Bridger

So fucking annoying.

Izaiah rots away in his dorm room, planted in front of his set-up. Many monitors beam blue light onto him, the clock having already ticked past midnight. He was lucky enough to be able to have a dorm on his own, considering no one wanted to live with him. Izaiah was a known klepto, so the RAs felt it safer to keep him in his own isolated space. His long, lithe fingers tap away at the mouse button, flicking through your newer social media profile he’d found. A strange mix of emotions swirl within him. Frustration, because you were such a thorn in his side. The way you beamed in every picture, all the friends you had, the way that anyone who interacted with you seemed to take a liking to you. Matched with this need. Of course, you had to be in his class. It was like the moment he saw you, he fell into a well of desire for you. He was determined to have you, but determined to not be vying for your attention like other guys.

He stares intensely at a photo of you from a few months ago. A soft smile on your face, sat on the other side of a small table in a local coffee shop. It looks almost smug. Izaiah can’t stop the blood from flowing straight to his dick. He imagines you with that same smile on your face while he fucks into you on his unmade bed, driving your body into the mattress with his hips. He could imagine the languid movement of pushing his cock into you, while that soft smile spreads to a wide one, overwhelmed with pleasure. His head swims with the idea of your lips saying his name.

Izaiah clicks to the next couple of pictures from a vacation you’d taken to a beach town. You in that cute bikini he’d overheard you talking about to some of your friends. It had been on sale, he remembered. He’d gone to the same store just to feel the fabric beneath his fingers to imagine peeling it off of you. He'd stolen it straight off of the rack, picking the one he imagined to be your size. It was still sitting on his desk.

Izaiah sits back a bit, his hips pressing forward while he pulls the edge of his hoodie up. He exposes the bottom of his stomach, unbuttoning his boxers to let his cock spring free. His free hand grips the base of it, his eyes drifting down to watch himself harden. A soft growl leaves his throat while he directs his attention back to his computer. Seeing your perfect tits in that fucking bathing suit made him wild.

What a slut, posting this kind of shit so everyone can see and ogle her. She craves attention. Well, she’s got mine.

He’s clicking through your pictures, his brain overwhelmed with the mix of disdain for you and undeniable hunger. Izaiah strokes himself while looking at even the most mundane pictures of you. He clicks through his bookmarks to open another social media page of yours, more family oriented. But, there’s something about your sickeningly sweet smile that always pushes him over the edge. It doesn’t take him long to spill into his own hand over a candid picture of you in the college’s library. Izaiah's nerves are on fire from imagining you without the form fitting dress you had on in it. He tips his head back against the headrest of his bucket chair, a low groan leaving his lips while he rides out his own orgasm. He catches his breath before he decides that he’ll be going to the library first thing in the morning. Izaiah had notes in his phone about your schedule. Things he had caught onto from watching you from a distance and keeping a keen eye on your social media. At nine o’clock in the morning, he would be sitting there, waiting.

---

Izaiah keeps his promise to himself, stirring from bed and throwing on his usual. Oversized black hoodie and black pants. He uses his fingers to brush his hair and snatches his glasses from his nightstand. He dresses unhurriedly and grabs his backpack before heading out to the library. He makes it about ten minutes early, sitting on a bench outside and waiting for you to show up. Izaiah realizes how predatory this is, and he doesn’t care. Anything to see you, to sate this strange well of feelings he had for you that somehow came together to form an obsession. He stands by, bouncing his leg to try and stave off the aggressive thoughts. He slips himself an Adderall, intent on focusing on you when he made it. He would pretend to study so he could watch you, the pill increasing his awareness. He intended to make note of your ticks, of the little quirks, something to jack off to later. And then he sees you.

You.

Izaiah’s grip on his backpack turns to a white-knuckled grip while he watches you with that stupid smile on your face enter the library. Not a care in the world. Like you were unaware of someone waiting to pounce. He’s not slick today, not hanging around for a second while he hops up to follow you in. He watches while you, completely lackadaisical and blissfully unaware, break off from him to go grab a book you need to study. Izaiah sets his things down at the table he knows you like to sit at. He pops open one of his notebooks and pretends to read his chicken-scratch notes. His glasses slide down his nose a bit while he reads the same sentence over and over. That’s when he hears the sound of a chair across from him sliding out, his eyebrow arching before he meets your eyes.

You.

“There are plenty of other places for you to sit." His voice is low, tone bitter, despite the fact that he feels like he could damn near be frothing at the mouth.

Here you fucking were.