++ Broken Records ++
--Ashton Irwin a.u.--
Description
She, griping her small fragile arms with her cold hands as tears fell freely from her dull green eyes, wanting to scream out as loud as her frail throat could manage, wanting to grab the blade that was just on the dresser beside her, it was getting harder and harder for her to breath, she wanted to be with him, needing his voice, his touch, she needed him more then anything else, he helped her through this, but now he's not here, she lets a cry out as she sinks to the floor, holding her head in her small hands, wishing there was some other way out, because he showed her a light, but as soon as it was there, the lighter ran out of gas, and the light began to flicker, no matter how much both of the screamed for each other, it was out of their power.
He, staring at the small box with a thin red ribbon held shut, wondering why he let his arms get this bad, they've never been this bad, tears fell from his already red eyes, his hands being controlled by something else as he reached for the small box, already untying the ribbon, letting it fall to the floor and finding himself fixated by the sight of the shiny cold metal blade lying there in the box, his thoughts flashed to her for a moment, and he wondered if she was there with him right now, she would stop him, she would hold him and let him cry, He wished she was there with him now, to stop him from doing this, tears fell from his eyes, he let out a weak cry, he couldn't do this without her.
An Ashton Irwin Fanfic.
WARNING:
MATURE AUDIANCES ONLY. 18+
Graphic Smut // Drug use
Read at your own risk
---- preview ----
"Sweetheart..." he began, his large hand snaked behind your back to your neck, cupping your jaw. His eyes flickered as they looked in yours, holding you still. He smiled, that smile you loved so much, his face came inches from yours. You felt the breath of his nose on your lips, frozen in your spot.
"I've wanted this the moment I laid eyes on you", he confessed.
Oh.
Your lips had a mind of their own - before he could say anything else, they were on his. Those lips you've carefully studied for four months, now. The lips he was constantly putting chap-stick on. The ones he bit just a bit during interviews when he was nervous. He tasted like weed, mint, and him. His lips were silky, his movements were harsh yet soft, and you remember thinking: I could do this for hours.
You felt his hands freeze and then grip your waist, pulling you closer to him so you were chest to chest. Frantic, you grabbed his face and licked his bottom lip, a tiny moan leaving your mouth, surprising him when you rolled your hips on his. Without even hesitating, he pulled back at your noise, his wild eyes on yours, dark.
"Yeah?" he nodded slowly, consenting to this.
Your lips attached to the spot under his ear, sucking it gently and quickly, making him huff and pull you closer.
"Please touch me, Ash"