dip me in acid please this was so cute

so, ashton would be really fascinated by the way you write. he’d make you coffee and he’d lend you his big ol sweaters so you could sit there and drown in his massive ass clothes and drink coffee and like if you two went out and someone recognized you and you got really shy, he’d be kinda concerned but he’d just kind of lock your hand in his enormous ass-gripping monsters and smile and he’d be like hella proud of you for doing so well and he’d be your biggest supporter ever, like if you got your book published he’d come home with 10 copies and you’d be like “aSHTON WHAT” “but it’s so good we can give them out as presents“ and you’d just grin and i mean you’d still be hella nervous about having it out but he’d be there to support you and love you down and eat you out when you got too stressed

omg i legit didn’t even think anyone would even like send me something like this bless ur soul! 

i gOT SO CARRIED AWAY WITHT HIS FORGIVE ME SENPAI

I thought about our last kiss; how it felt, the way you tasted.

You and Luke have got this.. thing going. It’s not serious — you guys just tend to end up alone together and hey, your lips end up having a part of two. His kisses always tasted like chocolate and the faintest hint of raspberry vodka. They always leave you tingling, wishing you could have just one more. That’s always the thing — you just want his kisses sizzling on your lips, there for you to swipe your tongue over in the morning. He always felt so.. so impeccably real, like 

Sometimes I start to wonder, was it all a lie? If what we had was real, how could you be fine?

You’ve been wondering what you mean to him for god knows how long, stolen glances across the room just weren’t cutting the cake much anymore. Late night hookups leave you so cold now, you just want to be held and it’s like he doesn’t even notice. He seems fine, he doesn’t even seem to notice the desperate glimmer that plays round in your eyes when you stare over at him. God, you’re fucking sick of Luke Hemmings and the way he doesn’t even seem to care about the fact that you don’t fall asleep right unless he’s had his lips on yours, you can’t fight inevitable insomnia unless you’re buried six feet deep in blonde, quiffed locks and sky-blue hues. He’s so oblivious, it kind of hurts.

‘Cause I’m not fine at all..

The truth is that he’s been paying more attention that you thought. You learn that when he wraps his arms so tight round you, you nearly choke just inhaling his scent and it’s so glorious, so absolutely right it almost feels like being stabbed in the chest. He asks you if you’re alright when he asks you out — god, you could punch him but you can’t stop crying, can’t stop reaching up and cupping his face and pressing your lips against his in a bruising kiss that will stain the way you taste things. You can’t help but smile up at him because hell no, you’re not alright. You’re really not fine at all.

and then you have sweet romantic sex in the back of the bus bYE