lruff685 - Tumblr blog

lruff685 · 13 days

Text

Devotion & Desire

Chapter Three

Plot summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?

Pairing : Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Explicit smut and omega heat stuff. All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, and explicit smut. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 5.4k

A/N : 😅 trying to walk the fine line between plot and smut

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO

MASTER LIST

Chapter Three

Grudgingly, you had to admit that Bucky was right; if you left, you weren’t going to get far. And, if you tried to kill him again...

Well, that probably wouldn’t go well either.

The realisation that you were stuck had dread coiling in your stomach. You hated this, hated yourself. If you weren’t an omega this wouldn’t be happening. So many things in your life would be different if you’d been born a beta or, better yet, an alpha.

You remained sat on the bed, glaring at the door, willing yourself to just try. If you didn’t make it all the way to the front door, what was the worst that would happen? You’d embarrass yourself and look like a useless idiot, that was what. Not wanting to risk that, you decided not to move, staying sat on the edge of the bed before exhaustion took hold and you needed to lay back down.

There was no telling how long had passed when your eyes opened again because you didn’t feel rested or any better for it. In fact, you woke gasping for breath, fearing that the room was on fire; your skin felt like it was burning and your lungs struggled as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room.

Things started to spiral pretty quickly, not only because of the heat itself, but because of the trauma that you associated with it, and the fear that filled you at being so close to an alpha during it. And it would only get worse. You knew that this was just the start and the symptoms would only become more severe. Your heats had always been bad but after suppressing them for so many years, you weren’t sure your body could still handle the stress of it.

Already there was a tension coiling inside you, a longing ache that you didn’t want to put a name to, a need that was desperate to be sated. Bucky’s scent wasn’t making things any easier, hanging in the air around you, stoking a fire in your belly, making you want in a way that turned your stomach.

First, you tried kicking out of your pants and socks, leaving you in just your shirt and your panties, hoping it would help you cool off a little but it didn’t. It still felt like there was no air, like you were burning up and suffocating.

Standing, you staggered towards the window but, when you got there you found that you didn’t quite have the strength to open it. The rusted frame screeched and protested and so did you, letting out a pathetic whine when the damned thing refused to move. You were about to give up when his hand appeared by yours, sliding the window open with ease, allowing a cool breeze to fill the room.

In an attempt to get away from him, you almost fell backwards, but you didn’t make it far before his arm was around you, pulling you against his chest.

He held you there for a few seconds before tensing, realising what he was doing, and returned you to the bed. For a split second, you noticed his eyes drop, as if suddenly realising you’d stripped down to your panties.

“You look like shit,” he remarked, obviously shocked by how quickly your heat had taken hold and how severe it was. You awkwardly tried to pull away when he placed the back of his hand on your forehead to gauge your temperature. “What do you need?” This time it was more demand than question.

“I don’t -” but, as much as you hated it, you had to concede that you needed his help. You weren’t going to survive this without him. “Cold water... towels... clean clothes… cushions...”

It had been so long since you’d done this that you weren’t sure anymore. There were things you might have wanted, certain clothes and possessions that brought you comfort, but they were in your backpack back at your apartment, and there was no way anyone would be able to get them for you.

“What about food?” He asked and you shook your head, the thought of eating turning your stomach. “You’ve gotta eat something.”

Too tired to argue or explain, you just shook your head again. Bucky looked at you for a moment before huffing a sigh and leaving the room.

You felt marginally better now that the window was open, but that feeling wasn’t going to last long. The instinct to nest, to create a safe space for yourself was building inside you, but beyond the sheets and pillows on the bed, you had nothing. Covering your face with your hands, you tried to ignore the feelings of desolation that were starting to creep in, but it was hard and you were just so tired.

But, you knew that you needed to be better than that; you weren’t just some weak little omega. You had to get through this.

Just beyond the door, you could hear Bucky talking - it sounded like he was on the phone to someone, asking for supplies, it became harder and harder to focus on anything other than a new feeling starting to grow inside you. Want. Everything before that moment had been a preamble, the pain and discomfort leading to something much worse.

There was a knock on the door before it opened, and when he came in you found your thighs instinctively pressing together. You tried to hold your breath, not wanting to catch his scent any more than you had to, but it was impossible.

As he placed some of the items you’d asked for on the foot on the bed, his eyes caught yours and you knew that he could tell your heat was really starting to take hold and your arousal was spiking. The air in the room was thick with it and your cheeks started to burn with embarrassment as you felt slick between your thighs, slowly soaking through your panties. Your gaze dropped as your body started to betray you in the worst possible way.

“That’s all I could find for now, but I’ve got a someone bringing supplies later,” he said, clearly trying to ignore his own discomfort.

“Okay,” was all you offered, leaning to grab one of the cushions he’d brought from the sofa and placing it on your lap, trying to hide the way your thighs pressed together.

You didn’t look at him. It was taking every ounce of restraint that you could muster to ignore the way your body thrummed for him - for any alpha, really. It made you feel worse, sick to your stomach, that any part of you could want him after what he’d done to you.

It was a flaw in your biology, another reason to hate being an omega.

When he didn’t move to leave you found that you, grudgingly, had to look at him. You caught a flicker of discomfort on his face and he took a step back, but instead of going he leaned back against the wall, observing you.

Again, you tried to ignore him, reaching for a bottle of water and taking a long, slow drink.

“We should talk,” he eventually said, softly.

“Why?” You answered, focusing all of your attention on the bottle in your hand.

“Because I want to know what I did.”

“You should already know,” you snapped, hating that he’d been able to forget, hating that the life he’d taken had meant so little to him.

“You’re right, I should,” Bucky sighed, “but I don’t, so I need you to tell me.”

That wasn’t the answer that you were expecting. No, if anything, you were expecting an excuse, for him to try and play the victim. You knew that he’d been pardoned by the government, that they’d chosen to forgive and forget, and you knew why. But you didn’t buy the nice guy act - he might play at being gentle and kind and sweet now, but you’d seen who he really was.

“Fine,” you said sharply, “what do you want to know?”

Bucky was silent for a second, obviously trying to get his thoughts in order. You wanted to hurry him up, wanted him to get on with it so he could leave you alone. Pressing the cushion down on your lap, you tried desperately not to squirm. You still felt like you were burning from the inside out, your stomach tying itself in tight knots while your core seemed to throb with a desire you refused to sate.

“When?” He said, finally deciding where he wanted to start.

“Just over fifteen years ago.”

“And you’re sure it was the Winter Soldier?”

You hated that, hated that he wanted to try and separate himself from it.

“I was there. I saw you,” you told him and watched the confusion grow on his face.

“You saw me?” He repeated and you nodded. “And I let you live?”

“You didn’t see me,” you answered. He didn’t need to ask for clarification, you could tell just by looking at him that he wanted more than that. “My brother made me hide. I wasn’t even supposed to be with him...”

“Where?” He asked almost mechanically. It felt like he was forcing himself to have the conversation, like he didn’t even really want to know.

It took you a moment to realise he was asking where it happened and not where you’d hidden.

“The Crowne Plaza, Berlin,” you said.

“And what was he doing there?”

“He was at a conference,” you answered, deciding to continue so you could end this awkward and stilted conversation as quickly as possible. “He was an engineer - he did something with satellites. He was supposed to be presenting what he’d designed. It was gonna make him millions, it was supposed to give us a better life.”

“If you weren’t supposed to be there, why were you with him?”

For a moment you looked away, your fingers gripping the cushion on your lap even tighter as shame filled you. After a few seconds, you forced yourself to look back and answer.

“‘cause I was sick. I was a sickly kid and Ryan didn’t want to leave me in case something happened...”

“What was wrong with you?” He asked despite your very clear discomfort.

There was something in his voice that sent a shiver down your spine. Concern. He managed to make it sound like he cared, like he was worried about you. And that wasn’t something you were prepared to allow. You didn’t want his pity.

“Doesn’t matter,” you said.

It was all you were willing to give him. You being a sickly kid didn’t change anything and it didn’t matter to what he had done.

Bucky let out a slow exhale and nodded. “So, you were with him when I...”

“When you killed him,” you finished the thought for him. “When he heard you in the hallway, he forced me into the closet. And I stayed in there. I stayed hidden while you murdered him, instead of trying to stop you.”

There was no point trying to hide in the anger in your voice, even if it was tempered by your exhaustion and growing discomfort. You hated yourself. You hated what you’d allowed to happen. And, more than anything, you hated how weak and pathetic you felt because of it. Killing Bucky was supposed to change all of that, it was supposed to rid you of the burden you’d been carrying for almost half of your life.

“If you’d tried, you’d be dead too,” he said grimly.

“Yeah, well, if I wasn’t an omega, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” you said, the implication clear; if you weren’t an omega you’d have been able to kill him.

(Or, maybe not. He was still a super soldier, after all. And an alpha. But you couldn’t think clearly or logically anymore, not when it came to him, not when you felt so out of control.)

“Yeah, well, if it makes you feel any better, you might not have killed me but you still managed to hurt me,” Bucky said with another heavy sigh. A second later he stood away from the wall and excused himself. “Let me know if you need anything.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone once more, wondering what he meant about you hurting him.

------------

It was hard, almost impossible for him to stand there, and not just because of the thick scent of pheromones filling the air. Every time you looked at him, Bucky felt a stabbing sensation in his chest. He hated that he’d hurt you, that he’d caused you so much pain and misery. Just when he thought he was finally making progress, just when it was starting to feel like he’d be able to move on with his life, he was pulled back into the darkness of the Winter Soldier and a life that hadn’t been his.

After the bedroom door closed behind him, he lingered close, just listening for a moment and wondering what was going through your head. It was a lot - it had to be a lot for you. You were effectively trapped with him at the worst possible time.

There was more to your story, he was sure of it. He just didn’t know how to get you to share it with him.

You didn’t trust him, and he didn’t blame you.

But, Bucky couldn’t just sit idly by without at least trying to understand. He needed to know what had happened and why. He needed to try and make it right. You deserved that much from him (even if you were quickly becoming a massive pain in the ass).

He hated that he’d had to call on Sam for help again, and it took him a few minutes to work up the nerve. But it wasn’t about him and what he wanted. He needed to help you, and he couldn’t do that without the whole picture.

Though Sam quickly reminded Bucky why he hated asking for help.

“Wow, three times in two days,” Sam answered smugly, “I’m starting to think you miss me.”

“Sam,” he started, skipping over the pleasantries, “I’ve got more information for Torres. I need him to look into any old reports of the Winter Soldier in Berlin about fifteen years ago.”

“Wait, slow down. What’s going on?” Sam asked.

Bucky sighed before starting to relay everything, from what had happened since he got you to the safehouse to what you’d just told him about Berlin. Thankfully, Sam listened and didn’t ask questions.

“Okay, yeah, I can pass that on to Torres, but are you sure you want to drag all that stuff up?” Sam asked.

“What do you mean?”

“All the Winter Soldier stuff. The things you did for Hydra.”

Bucky knew why Sam was asking - he’d seen him struggle with it, trying to do the work to put things right, to make amends where he could. And he’d seen the effect that it had had on Bucky.

“I need to know, Sam,” Bucky said. “I need to help her.”

Sam gave a non-committal hum.

“Buck...” He started before hesitating, “are you okay?”

It was a question Sam rarely dared ask and Bucky more than understood why. He didn’t like to answer, he didn’t like to expose how weak, helpless and uncertain he often felt, and he didn’t want anyone to worry about him.

“I’m fine,” he said.

The moment he said it was the moment he realised something; he sounded just like you and, suddenly, he felt like he understood you a little better.

“Have you spoken to Dr Raynor lately?” Sam asked, already knowing it was pointless to try and push Bucky to admit that he was anything but fine.

“I’m fine, Sam. Really.” He said, just about managing to hold back a sigh.

Sam made that sound again, that sound that said he didn’t believe him but that he was willing to let it drop for the time being.

“Those guys who tried to grab your friend,” he started again, deciding to change the subject, “you’ll never guess who they used to work with.”

“Who?”

“Rumlow,” Sam stated. “And, here’s the kicker; there’s rumours he’s still alive. If he’s still alive, he might be the one who’s really going after your omega friend.”

“Why would Rumlow be after her?” Bucky asked, not expecting Sam to know the answer.

“Maybe you weren’t her only Hydra target?” Sam suggested. “Maybe you should ask her about it?”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that when she stops biting my head off every time I open my mouth.”

Sam let out a laugh. “Well, like I said, you do have that effect on people.” Then his tone turned serious again. “You’ll let me know if you need anything, right?”

“Do you still have that bag of my stuff?” He asked, already knowing the answer. “Could you bring me it?”

“Sure thing, Bucky.”

The call ended and Bucky felt more lost than he’d been to begin with. Could Rumlow really be involved in all of this? Was Sam right; would dredging up his past cause more harm than good?

Exhausted, he slumped onto the sofa and turned on the TV.

------------

As the door had closed behind him, you were left feeling like you were crawling out of your own skin. Rage and upset had managed to distract you from the tension that was coiling inside you but, once you were alone, it quickly started to build again.

For the first few minutes you tried to fight it, you tried to ignore his scent every time you drew breath. You kept the cushion pressed against your lap, fingers gripping so tight that you worried you might tear the fabric, anything to stop you from giving in. But it was too much - it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours and, already, your heat was getting impossible to control. The next few days were going to be hell if you didn’t figure something out, if you didn’t find a way to manage it.

Beyond the door, you heard Bucky talking, obviously on the phone again.

Try as you might, you knew there was no fighting it. The feeling was going to grow and the pain was going to get worse until it became unbearable. You couldn’t deny it. You wouldn’t survive if you tried. As much as you hated it, and by extension hated yourself, you knew that you had to give in.

Laying back on the bed, you slipped your fingers into your panties, cheeks heating at the amount of slick you found there. You started with slow and teasing touches, your body already feeling so sensitive and desperate, your clit throbbing every time your fingers so much as grazed it. But the teasing didn’t last long and, soon enough, you were eagerly circling your clit.

Your head fell back on the pillow, biting your lip, trying to keep yourself from making any sounds, but it quickly became too much.

Suddenly a thought came to you, completely unwanted and unbidden. Bucky.

You closed your eyes and tried to think of anything - anyone - but him. But every gasped breath you took was Bucky and, no matter how tightly you closed your eyes, all you could picture was that night in his apartment and how he’d looked at you as you’d knelt before him. The sounds he’d made haunted you, and your frustration doubled. The memory of his fingers on your neck, ghosting over your gland, had you reaching up and touching yourself there, trying to recreate the sensation.

The way he’d touched you, held you, kissed you; every memory was like a tidal wave washing over you, causing your arousal to climb despite your disgust. Soon enough you stopped trying to fight it and let the intrusive thoughts take over, until in your mind it was his hand between your thighs, driving you insane.

Covering your face with the cushion, you bit down as hard as you could, smothering the moans that were desperate to escape you. The last thing you wanted was for Bucky to figure out you’d reached the stage of your heat where your arousal had started to spike uncontrollably.

You realised too late that Bucky’s scent was all over the sofa cushion and, soon enough, you were taking deep breaths, breathing him in as your fingers worked over your swollen clit, bringing yourself to orgasm.

Turning onto your side, you pulled your knees to your chest and closed your eyes, trying to enjoy the momentary reprieve while it lasted.

At some point you must have drifted off and you were awoken by knocking on the door again. You slowly sat up, watching as Bucky entered, the heat quickly returning to your body and your core slickening at the sight of him.

“What?” You asked impatiently.

“I brought you something to eat,” he answered, ignoring your tone.

Your eyes followed him as he moved towards you and placed a bowl down on the nightstand. You looked at it, then him, and back again. Cookie Crunch cereal. He’d remembered.

“I know you said you didn’t want anything to eat but I really think you should -”

“Thank you,” you said, cutting him off. You didn’t exactly sound grateful (you didn’t feel it either) but even you had to admit that the gesture was nice.

“How are you feeling?” He dared to ask, though the only response he got from you was a glare. “Right, okay... anyway, I had a someone pick up some things for you; clothes and wash stuff, but if there’s anything else you need...”

For a few seconds you said nothing, prompting Bucky to take a few steps back, like he was going to leave. And that was what you wanted. Wasn’t it? You wanted him to leave you alone, but -

“Why are you doing this?” You asked.

“Doing what?” He said.

It only just struck you how tired he sounded. No, not tired, he sounded exhausted.

“Any of this,” you answered, “trying to help me... keeping me safe...”

“Because it’s who I am,” he answered with a shrug. “Because, even after everything, I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“No but, if you’ll let me, I’ll prove it,” Bucky said. Before you could think to answer back, he continued; “try to eat something.”

Then he left, leaving you feeling more confused than ever. None of it made sense and, try as you might, you couldn’t reconcile the cold-hearted killer you believed him to be with the kind and sweet guy who was helping you.

Had you been wrong about him all this time?

No.

No, you told yourself. You weren’t going to start thinking that way. He might be different now, but fifteen years ago, he had been the Winter Soldier and he had killed your brother.

Somehow, you managed to eat the whole bowl of cereal and, more surprisingly, managed to keep it down. And you did feel a little bit better because of it. But, like with every other moment of comfort you’d managed to find since waking up in the little room, it didn’t last.

The next time he came in to check on you, less than an hour later, you were practically writhing on the bed, unable to stay still. You had no idea how long he’d been there watching you before you realised he was there. A hand quickly scrubbed at your eyes, trying to make sure none of your unshed tears managed to fall in front of him and you tried so hard to just stay still.

When he moved closer, you couldn’t even find the strength to sit up, nor could you pull away when he reached down and placed his hand on your forehead.

“Shit, you’re burning up,” he muttered, his hand lingering, feeling cool against your burning skin.

“Yeah, that’s why they call it a heat,” you answered back.

“You’re seriously gonna bust my balls at a time like this?”

You didn’t have a response for him. As much as you wanted to say something cutting to remind him that you weren’t friends and you were there against your will, but another wave of cramping hit and you were still far too focused on his hand, on his scent. Your thighs pressed together, giving yourself away.

He shook his head before pulling away and leaving the room. Abandoning you. Something inside you threatened to break at the feeling of rejection that suddenly filled you. Had you finally pushed too far and made him give up on you?

(Why were you even thinking like that?)

Everything felt so jumbled that, less than a minute later when Bucky returned, you were relieved, you were glad you weren’t alone anymore.

He put a bowl down on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed beside you. The next thing you knew, he had pressed a cold washcloth to your face. You continued to squirm uncomfortably but there was no denying that the cold was helping. Over and over again, he returned the cloth to the bowl before pressing it to your face again.

Finally, you settled a little and closed your eyes. For a few seconds, Bucky watched you, expecting you to fall asleep, but then your leg twitched and your eyes opened again. A frustrated whimper spilled from you.

“It’s okay,” he soothed.

Fingertips pressed into your thighs, mere inches from your panties, longing to touch yourself and find some relief that way again. When Bucky noticed, you saw his cheeks pinken a little.

But he continued to sit beside you, looking down with a tenderness you didn’t expect, and you found yourself squirming, squeezing your thighs together in desperate need of release. Your leg awkwardly twitched and shook, keeping you from relaxing. His hand found your calf, trying to soothe you, trying to stop your awkward movements so you could rest. But his touch made you feel worse, it made you want things that should have turned your stomach inside out.

“Listen, if you need me to, I can -” he started to offer.

“No,” you cut him off before he had the chance to make the offer, not sure you’d be able to resist if you actually heard the words.

But, whether it was the thought of what he was offering or just his proximity to you, you felt yourself burning hotter, your stomach cramping tighter and tighter. Blinking, you felt tears in the corners of your eyes again and you knew that there was no way you were going to survive this without any help. And Bucky seemed to know that too.

“Just let me help you get through this,” you heard him mutter.

The slither of rationality you had left told you no; this was the Winter Soldier, the man who’d ruined your life. But all your desperate hindbrain knew was that he was an alpha and he could satisfy the craving that was burning inside you.

You forced his hand off your leg and reached for the vibranium hand instead, clumsily pulling it between your thighs, letting out a desperate whine as metal fingers pressed against the wet fabric of your panties. Bucky didn’t need any prompting, he didn’t need you to ask any more than you already had. His fingers started to move, first rubbing you over the fabric and, when that wasn’t enough, he tore your panties from your body, exposing your slickened cunt.

Closing your eyes you fought against that last scrap of common sense that was screaming at you not to do this. A scream that he silenced the moment he touched your bare skin.

You cried out at the feel of cold metal between your folds, your body trembling as he let out a low growl.

“Fuck, little mouse,” he groaned, pulling away his hand for a moment just so he could look at his slick coated finger.

“Please,” you whimpered without meaning to, needing his touch, needing something to help relieve your discomfort.

His hand returned, quickly finding your throbbing, swollen clit and starting to circle it. You felt yourself grow instantly slicker, wetness coating your thighs. His touch became more intense and you felt something slowly start to coil inside you. Your thighs trembled and you already felt completely overwhelmed; by his touch, by his scent, by him.

You kept your eyes shut, trying to imagine anyone but him touching you, but every time you inhaled that thick, musky scent, images of Bucky filled your mind.

“Look at me,” he demanded suddenly.

And you found you couldn’t deny him, you couldn’t deny an alpha.

Your eyes opened and found his, and you came almost immediately.

He held your gaze through that first orgasm, watching as your lips parted and you let out the most desperate sounds he’d ever heard. Your whole body shook, some of the pain of your heat abating, but not a lot. Not enough. And Bucky seemed to realise that.

Before your orgasm had had the chance to peter out he slid a metal finger between your trembling walls and started to fuck you with it. You cried out, reaching down to grasp his wrist, but you found you couldn’t bring yourself to try to pull him away. You needed it. You wanted it.

His eyes stayed on yours, seeing the whole gamut of emotions that were running through you.

The hand fell away from his wrist and Bucky took it as a sign to keep going.

An unrestrained and desperate moan spilled from you as a second finger slid into your trembling pussy. Your hips lifted of their own accord grinding yourself against his fingers, your hindbrain completely taking control. His thumb brushed your clit and easily sent you spiralling into another orgasm.

But his fingers didn’t stop, didn’t even slow.

The noises escaping you only got more wanton and desperate as he forced you through one climax and into the next.

You howled with need as a third finger forced its way inside you, stretching you in the most delicious way, fucking away any last vestiges of rational thought.

Without thinking, you reached for him, one hand on his shoulder. the other hooking his neck. You pulled him down towards you, pressing your lips to his. Bucky seemed to hesitate, shocked, but a split-second later, he was kissing you possessively, his tongue slipping into your mouth and muffling your whines and moans.

His free hand cupped your cheek as you kissed, and you leaned into the touch, unable to think about anything but the urge to belong, the urge to be claimed, your omega senses eagerly screaming inside of you. The hand slipped lower down to your neck and you started to rub against it, pressing your scent gland against his palm, submitting to him completely.

It felt like every fibre of your being was crying out for him, needing more, wanting more. Wanting him. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before, you’d never wanted to be wanted like that, never craved being claimed by an alpha.

But this wasn't just some alpha, this was Bucky. This was the Winter Soldier.

You knew you shouldn’t want this.

(But you did. You wanted this and so much more.)

His lips pulled from yours, leaving you gasping for breath as his face pressed against your neck, inhaling your scent. The brush of his stubbled cheek against your gland was enough to push you over the edge again.

You trembled and shuddered, exhausted, your head falling back on the pillow, some of the coiled tension finally leaving your body. You whined as he pulled back, your walls still trembling and convulsing as he withdrew his fingers. It was only then that you realised his other hand was still on your neck, and that touch lingered as he looked down at you.

Through the haze of your heat and all the orgasms he’d pushed you through in such a short space of time, you couldn’t quite focus on the look he was giving you, you couldn’t understand it.

Finally his hand moved from your neck.

He reached for the bowl beside your bed and pressed a cold washcloth to your forehead as your eyes struggled to stay open. You tried to fight it, but exhaustion quickly claimed you.

All you could think about as you fell asleep was how good he’d made you feel.

End Note : I don't know what it is about my fics but character always start going feral in chapter three...

Anyway, thanks so much for the likes/comments/reblogs on the last chapter! Hope you enjoy the direction I'm slowly taking this in.

If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, let me know!

Tag List : @greatenthusiasttidalwave @bighappypiels @maddiedrmr @dreadfulxives18

98 notes · View notes