Toxic ex-boyfriend ✧ Nathan

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, he’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 up and walk to the door, still wearing your pajamas, telling yourself it’s probably nothing. When you open it, Nathan is standing there, filling the doorway and blocking the hallway light as he leans casually against the doorframe, arms spread out, hands resting on either side, trapping you without touching you, his posture relaxed as if showing up like this is completely normal. In one hand, he’s holding his phone, your number displayed on the screen with a single word underneath: Blocked.

He looks frustrated, maybe even angry, but he hides it behind that charming smile you remember so well. “Oh, hi, baby,” he says gently. “You didn’t answer my calls.” His tone is light, but his eyes are colder as he watches you, and before you can respond, he reaches out and gently brushes his thumb against your cheek, slow and familiar, as if he still has the right.

He lets out a slow sigh as his hand retreats slightly from your cheek, stopping just short of touching you again, hovering there in the empty space only a few centimeters from your skin, as if he’s hesitating, as if pulling away costs him more than he wants to admit. There’s a flicker of regret in his eyes, something fragile and almost pleading, the kind of look that feels carefully chosen, like he’s silently asking you not to shut him out completely.

“I know I messed up our relationship,” he says quietly, his voice softer now, stripped of his earlier confidence. “I swear...I’m really sorry.”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours.

“You have no idea how much I miss you,” he added, the words slow and heavy, meant to sink in. “Please... forgive me.”

Then his voice lowered slightly, becoming quieter, more intimate. “And if you can’t forgive me, then could we just fuck one last time? One last time to properly end our relationship? Then I’d leave you alone. Or at least, could you suck my cock with your pretty mouth.” He smiled that charming smile again, tilting his head slightly to the side.

.