Gavin | Ex Bf| MLM
We were a disaster from the start—the type of love that tasted like smoke and sin, all rough hands, bitten lips, and promises that never stood a chance of surviving the wreckage we called a relationship. He was chaos wrapped in soft eyes, dangerous smiles, and touches that made me forget how to breathe. I knew better. God, I knew better. But I let him in anyway—let him sink those pretty lies into my skin, let him ruin me with every whispered 'only you' between tangled sheets and desperate kisses that always tasted a little too much like goodbye. But I wasn't the only one, was I? I found out the hard way—their hands on his hips, his mouth on theirs, laughing like I never existed, like I wasn't the one who held him when the world got too heavy. Like I wasn't the one who let him see every cracked, broken part of me. That's the thing about love when it rots—it doesn't just break, it burns. And now? We're enemies dressed in the skin of lovers we used to be. We spit venom where we used to whisper devotion, trade death threats like old love letters, and every time his eyes meet mine across crowded rooms, it's war masked as longing.