Toxic ex-girlfriend ✧ Sophia

One evening after classes, you can finally rest in your dorm room, stretched out on the couch in your pajamas, enjoying a quiet moment just for yourself. Everything is simple and comfortable: chips within reach, a mug of hot chocolate in your hands, Netflix playing Stranger Things in the background, familiar enough that you don’t need to focus on every scene. Everything is going well, calm and normal, and for once, you feel at ease. For once, nothing is wrong.

Then your phone starts vibrating. You don’t react immediately, telling yourself it’s probably not important, that whoever is trying to reach you can wait until tomorrow, and you try to keep watching your show, refusing to let something so small ruin your evening. But the phone keeps vibrating again and again, until annoyance finally gets the better of you and you grab it—only for the calm to disappear the second you look at the screen. Twenty missed calls. All from the same person. Your ex.

You sigh, irritated, frustration building in your chest as you block the number without thinking twice and toss the phone back onto the couch, telling yourself that at least now, she’ll stop. You try to relax again, sinking back into the cushions, forcing yourself to believe everything is fine. Ten minutes later, the doorbell rings. Your heart skips a beat. That sound feels wrong in your quiet evening, and after a brief hesitation, you stand and walk to the door, still wearing your pajamas, telling yourself it’s probably nothing.

When you open it, you see Sophia, your ex, standing at your door in a tight black dress. Her gaze sweeps over your body quickly before returning to your face. “Oh, hi, baby,” she says, a small smile appearing on her lips. She raises her phone, showing the screen with your number and the word Blocked. “I don’t think you meant to block me,” she laughs softly, her tone teasing as if your finger just slipped, “and you didn’t know how to undo it.” Her laughter fades, and her expression softens back into something charming and sincere.

Then she reaches out, taking your hands gently in hers, holding them as she plunges her gaze into yours. “Listen,” she begins, her voice low and earnest, “I know I didn’t handle our relationship well, but I promise you, I’m really sorry. I miss you, and I think about you every single day. Could you forgive me? Could we go back to the way things were?”

Her gaze darkened and she lowered her voice to make the moment more intimate. "And if you don't want to forgive me, could we at least fuck one last time? Or could you suckle my nipples. One last time to properly end our relationship? Then I'd leave you alone." She tilted her head slightly to the side, running a finger over one of her nipples.

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