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andydrysdalerogers · 10 months

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Yours Submissively ~ Commitment

Steve Rogers X OFC Isabella Davis

Summary: Five Years after the events of Civil War, Steve Rogers has moved on from avenging and has started his own business, Grant Inc. He has a secret that would turn his world upside down. And he's good at keep that secret. Until he meets the woman with violet eyes that could bring him to his knees. Now his mission is to make her, his. But she is the key that could bring the world into balance... or chaos.

And she has no idea.

Series Warnings: slow burn at the beginning, smut, angst, sexual themes of BDSM, dom/sub dynamics, kidnapping, loss of virginity, (and a bunch of others that will come up)

A/N: the taglist is open!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Banners by me!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Previous: Preparations

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

Belle was nervous.

Why wouldn’t she be?

Here she was, back at the same club that set off a chain of events three months ago that changed her life. Why on earth did she let MJ and Hope convince everyone else that this was good idea?

She sat nervously in the booth, glass of champagne in hand, wearing a ridiculous crown and sash while the rest of her party was dancing. She looked at her phone and sent a message

B: Why did you let them do this to me. S: not having fun? B: not really B: no strippers right? S: I asked them not to sweet pea B: I wish I was home with you S: Me too B: less than two weeks S: And you’ll be mine B: I’m already yours S: But I get to tell the whole world B: I love you S: I love you. Try and have fun

Belle sighed and put her phone down. She decided to go to the bar to get a drink away from her group. She just needed a moment to herself. As she waited, a body stood next to her to order. “Gorgeous?”

She turned to look at the man who spoke. She squeaked in surprise. “Paul?”

“It is you! Wow!” Paul Diskant stood next to her like a dream. She swallowed when he took her in and zeroed in on her hand. “This explains a lot,” as he took her hand, her ring sparkling.

“It’s not… that didn’t happen until after,” she tried to explain, pulling her hand away.

“No need to explain Belle. I read the papers.” Paul took a swallow of his beer.

“Oh.” Belle chewed her lip. “I’m sorry. About that night.”

“What’s to be sorry for. You danced with me, and I made a move, you ran away. Obviously, there was something else going on. Why did you run?”

“Because he was there that night. Told him to fuck off but instead he proposed.” She looked at Paul with a shrug and a smile. “I love him.”

Paul smiled. “That much I gathered. So why are you out?”

“Bachelorette party. It was a surprise.” She frowned. “I thought you were back in Los Angeles?”

“I got the job in New York. I actually work for your husband’s security team but it’s my night off, so I came out with some of the guys I met.” He nodded towards a group of men who were hitting on some other woman.

“Ah, well, I’ll let you get back to them. It was nice to see you again Paul.”

“The same Belle. You’re still as gorgeous as I remember. Rogers is a very lucky man.” He gave her a kiss on her knuckles and walked away. Belle returned to her table just as shots were being served.

The next morning, Belle woke up with her head pounding, Steve flat out next to her. She sighed when she took in his boyish looks as he slept. She got up and headed to the bathroom and then the kitchen to start a pot of coffee for herself and Steve and Bucky. She was scrolling through her social media, sipping her coffee when she sputtered.

Clear as day was a photo of herself and Paul at the club last night. “Oh shit.” She read the highlights of the article. That she was there for her bachelorette and that a handsome man made a pass. No idea how the couple left it.

“Well, that’s interesting,” a voice behind her said.

Belle jumped and dropped her mug which Steve swiftly caught. “Oh my god, Steve, I can explain.”

Steve gave her an amused smile. “No explanation necessary love. Breakfast?”

Belle eyed him. “Why are you so calm? Last time I was out, you wanted to murder him.”

“Isabella,” Steve sighed, “do you remember what happened when you came home last night?”

Belle frowned as she tried to remember. When she couldn’t she looked at Steve who chuckled. “You were a little more drunk than you think you realized. I picked you up from the club and you stayed in my lap, making out with me. As I carried you in, you told me, and I quote, 'I saw Paul and I remembered why I love you so much. He’s like a hamburger and you’re like steak.' It was amusing. Especially when you decided to ride me.”

“I what?”

“Yeah, see I tried to put you to bed but you attacked me with your beautiful lips and I was putty in your hands.”

Belle hid her face in her hands. “Oh god. Steve, I’m…”

“Don’t be sorry my love. It’s my job as your husband to satisfy you in any way that I can. You needed a release and I’m happy it’s me you decided to do that with. I love you.” He leaned over to kiss her softly.

“I love you,” she replied as soon as he let go of the kiss. “Did you know he’s working for you?”

“Yes. Bucky brought me all the profiles and I saw his. Recognized him from that night.” He sipped his coffee slowly.

“And you’re ok?”

“I am. Keep your enemies close and all that.” Steve gave Belle a smirk as she frowned. “Relax love. He is part of our security detail. If he was truly a problem, I would terminate him on the spot.”

The next 12 days flew by, and Belle found herself at the Plaza hotel with her bridal party preparing for her last night as Belle Davis. The girls lounged around in matching pajamas completing every cliché thing for Belle.

“Are you nervous?” Pepper asked.

“About being in front of two hundred people of which I don’t know about 90 percent of them, or getting married? Because the answer is yes.”

“You don’t want to marry Steve?” MJ asked shocked.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… I don’t know how my dad would feel about this or how my other parents…” Belle took a big gulp of her drink. “I just wish I knew how he felt about me marrying his hero.”

“He’d be proud,” Nat quipped. Belle looked at the red head. “Belle, after everything you’ve been through and finding love in this crazy city, he would be proud. At least, that’s what I think. But knowing you, the way you handle yourself with Steve and Bucky for that matter, you can take on the world.”

“And,” Pepper started, “being the wife of a mogul is hard but I will be there for you every step of the way.”

“Plus, you have your best friends,” MJ said, “to help when we can.”

“Thank you, ladies,” Belle said as she brushed away a tear. They broke for bed and Belle laid down, knowing she needed rest. But, when you have become accustomed to sleeping next to someone, it takes a while. She pulled out her phone

B: Hi S: you ok? B: who ever came up with the tradition to separate the bride and groom should be shot. S: you can’t sleep either B: Nope. I’m cold. S: And I’m too warm. S: A sign that we are meant to be B: You ready? S: I’ve been ready. I love you B: I love you.

It’s what she needed. Reassurance that he was on the same page as herself. She looked at the photo of her father that she brought with her. “I miss you daddy.”

Morning came and with a flurry of activity. The wedding was scheduled for two in the afternoon, but it didn’t stop Belle from being busy as soon as she woke.

Steve sat in his office, reading emails and getting updates on the church and the venue. Bucky came in with a glass. “Here punk.”

“Thanks Jerk,” he mumbled taking the glass but not looking away.

“Steve. Steve!” He finally looked up. “What are you doing?”

“I’m… I’m… I don’t know.” Bucky could see if was pale and a little clammy.

“Ok punk. Ok,” he came over and sat in front of him. “What’s going on?”

“What if I am ruining her life? What if she dies because she’s my wife? Phil, would he want me to marry her? I couldn’t save him and now I’m putting his daughter in danger…”

“Whoa, slow down Steve, take a breath.” Bucky grabbed the glass of water and shoved it into his friend’s hands. “Drink,” he ordered. “Listen, I have a couple of questions.” Steve nodded. “Do you love her?”

“More than anything.”

“Ok, do you think you have done everything you possibly can to protect her?”

“I think so.”

Bucky smiled fondly at his best friend. “Then Rogers, buck up because you have to get ready to marry the girl of your dreams.”

Steve looked up at his friend. “She isn’t Peggy, right? She wouldn’t leave me there like she did, right?”

And right then, Bucky understood.

Italy 1944 “Can’t believe we’re doing this,” Steve said straightening his tie. “You sure you want to punk? Its only been a few weeks.” “We could die tomorrow Bucky. I don’t wanna wait anymore.” Steve arrived at the steps of the chapel. There was a man waiting there. “I’m sorry Captain but Agent Carter was called away. She asked me to give you this.” And handed him a note. Sorry Steve, we’ll take care of it soon. P “Well shit. Ok, I guess I’ll have to wait.” And wait he did. After Bucky fell off the train and was presumed dead, he wasn’t in the mindset to get married. Then after a couple of weeks, he asked again but Peggy said now she wasn’t ready. What he didn’t know yet was that she had resumed an affair with Daniel Sousa. Until he walked in on them just before the battle in Austria with HYDRA. Her kiss before he jumped onto the Valkyrie was a request for forgiveness. Crashing the Valkyrie felt like the only way out, but he didn’t admit it to anyone. Except Bucky.

“No pal. She’s not her. Belle loves your punk ass for some reason. And after everything she has gone through and put up with, I know this to be true.”

“Thank you, Buck. Really.” Steve drained the tumbler of liquor and got up. “Let’s get ready.”

St. Agnes Church in Brooklyn was nostalgia for so many reasons. Its where Sarah Rogers baptized her son and where they attended until the day she died. So, when Steve brought Belle to see if this would work for their wedding, she immediately said yes. Steve stood in the entry way, greeting guests as they arrived, his groomsmen escorting people to their seats. Steve had chosen not to wear his army uniform, electing a black tux with a gold waist coat and tie. His groomsmen were in the same except for a dark navy waistcoat and tie. He just finished shaking hands with the mayor when a familiar face came into view and his mood darkened. “What are you doing here?”

“I figured I could apologize and watch.” Sharon Carter shrugged her shoulder as she stopped with her date.

“I didn’t invite you.”

“Oh, I know. He did.” She pointed to the man with her. Steve remembered him as an accounting executive. “Mr. Anderson.”

“Mr. Rogers, thank you for the invitation.”

“Of course. Such a loyal employee, how could I not. You’ve been with me since the beginning, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Loyalty is such an amazing quality to have. I hope that you will continue to be loyal to me and the company.” Steve shook the man’s hand, squeezing subtly.

“Of course, sir.” Anderson could read the message. Everyone knew that Sharon had a thing for Steve. Now he understood he was tricked into bringing her. Well, nothing was going to interfere with the wedding on his watch. Not if he wanted to keep his job. “Come along Sharon.” He pulled the woman away.

Steve smirked, knowing that Anderson understood the message. The church was almost full, and a limo pulled up revealing the bridesmaids. Nat came up to Sam with a kiss before reaching over and adjusted Steve’s tie. “She’s right behind us so you better get to your place,” she said.

“Yes ma’am. How is she?”

“She’s good. Ready to be married to your dumb ass.” Nat smirked at him. “She’s a little nervous but once she sees you, I think that will go away.”

Steve kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Nat.” He hugged the other ladies and then escorted Pepper to her seat. He finally looked around the church. Belle had tried to involve him when she and the wedding planner were looking at designs, but he really had no interest. But now, he was in awe of his princess.

The church was filled with white and pink roses, sprays of daisies and hydrangeas in white, soft pink and blue. The aisles were lined with black lanterns with white lit candles and petals around them. It was classic, elegant but still understated and demur. It was he and Belle as a couple. He took his place in the front with the minister and took a deep breath. The music started, the pianist playing a version of Journey’s “Faithfully”, something both he and Belle found comforting. He hummed to himself, I’m forever yours, faithfully.

He watched as the doors opened and the bridal party made their way down the aisle. Sam and Nat, Tony and Hope and finally Bucky and MJ as the best man and maid of honor. The ladies were also in navy blue gowns but different cuts. The doors closed again and then the music changed and Steve had to smile. His girl was nothing if not surprising as the soft sounds of Adele’s “make you feel my love” played. He took a deep breath and waited for the door to open. He was ready.

Ready to commit to the love of his life.

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@sunnyhummingbee

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@peaceinourtime82

#andy's hea #andy's shenanigans #yours submissively #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers au #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #Steve Rogers x OFC #Bucky barnes #chris evans #mcu fanfiction #Steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #chris evans au #avengers au #cliffhanger queen

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the-iceni-bitch · 3 years

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Last Updated: 02/11/2024

Thinking of asking me when I’m going to update an AU or series? Here’s why you shouldn’t!

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August Walker

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(Coming Soon) Maria Hill

(Coming Soon) Natasha Romanov

(Coming Soon) Matt Murdock

(Coming Soon) Xialing

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist!!

Kinkmas 2022 Masterlist!!

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist!!

Kinktober 2021

Wade Wilson’s Special Hell

Let’s talk about dick sizes

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Rock ‘N’ Roll People In A Disco World

Part 9- Disco Ball Glitters

Intro: You and Paul start trying for your family, but it isn’t as easy as it seems…

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+) Angst.

Word Count: 4.7k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 8

The day after you and Paul agreed to start trying for your family, your contraceptive pills were tossed into the trash. You were both excited and elated, yet also nervous as this was a huge step but one you were in no doubt you wanted to take. It was like you'd given each other an extra hop in your step each day.

Through the holidays you tried, and while nothing had happened yet, you knew it wasn't going to be overnight. It was rare for it to happen that way and if you were honest, you were having a lot of fun just trying. There wasn’t a surface in your home that Paul hadn’t fucked you against, even the walls of your garage had seen some action. But the start of the New Year came and went, and there was still no baby Disco, you started to get a bit concerned something might be wrong. Paul had done his best to assure you it took lots people various amounts of time in many circumstances to get pregnant but you found yourself less and less convinced each time your period arrived.

February brought with it your anniversary, and you pushed your worries to the back of your mind, allowing yourself to get swept up in Paul’s excitement. The two of you had decided that since you had skipped a traditional honeymoon, having had your Vegas trip just prior to your big day, that on your first anniversary you'd take a good trip. With the help from your parents and slowing down on the house projects for a little while, you were able to save some money and put in a few overtime days to eventually book ten days in Cuba. Sun, sand, infinity pools with the beach and waves beyond took you to paradise where classic cars and hot Havana nights were on your calendar. You watched Paul’s skin turn a wonderful, sun kissed shade and his normally, clean shaven face sported a very healthy layer of stubble by the time your boarded your plane home, one which you were actively encouraging him to keep. You found the little extras the short beard growth had provided to be wicked fun in not only bed but when he'd sneak behind you and nuzzle your bare shoulder or neck. In fact, it had been an instigator in a few rounds recently of sexual escapades. You were sure, absolutely sure that your Anni-Moon, as Paul had dubbed it, would for sure leave you pregnant but as your next cycle came, you were reduced to tears. March, April and May came and still, nothing. You and Paul had started considering what was next, agreeing that testing for both of you seemed just a safe and easy step.

So that’s what you did, and you were both relieved and frustrated when the doctor told you that there was nothing wrong with either of you. The doctor could provide no answers on why two perfectly healthy and functioning people couldn't get pregnant. He had been sympathetic and reiterated what Paul and your mom, who you’d confided in, had told you already- that it was simply a matter of time and a healthy dose of luck. You had now become that person that was counting. Counting days and cycles, ovulation symptoms and temperatures. Your daily life had become consumed by numbers and journals, logs and apps. Sex had become less spontaneous, almost a chore the pair of you knew you were obligated to do at certain points. And when it became a chore, it wasn't fun nor exciting and it brought on plenty of arguments between you. June brought summer and with it, Paul suddenly took on the hobby of putting in your pool, just as he'd promised you when you'd bought your home. It left your garden a mess, meaning the garden parties you’d been looking forward to holding were all on hold. You’d railed at Paul for not consulting you before he’d wheeled in a set of contractors to measure up and quote for the initial hole that would need to be dug, and the frustration the pair of you were feeling simply boiled over and you had one hell of a fight. As you screamed at one another, Paul hit you with a shot right to your heart, about how this was the only way he felt he could deal with the stress he was feeling at home. As you fell quiet, he admitted he had started to feel inadequate as a husband and partner, not being able to comfort you or "fix" it like he'd always done. Simply put, his DIY projects were his way of decompressing and clearing his mind, just as your long, evening runs with Woody were a way to clear yours. His heartfelt confession had led to tears, declarations of assurances and love, and one hell of a make-up session. Afterwards, you lay in bed, sweaty and naked, cuddled up to his side and the pair of you made a vow. No more charts, no more scheduled sex. If it happened, it happened. If it didn’t by this time the following year, then you’d look into alternatives such as adoption. And for the most, you were happy with that. It wasn’t ideal, but you had a plan that you both agreed on. That was, until one day in July, life dealt you a blow that left you feeling just about as pissed off in your life as you could ever remember. You slammed the door shut as you came inside. You dropped your bag at the doorway and made your way through to find Paul and Woody soaked to the bone on the patio, a hose in his hand.

"Oh what the fuck, Paul?" You shouted as Woody came running over to you and decided that it was the perfect moment to shake the water out of his coat. “For fucks sake!” You exploded as Paul chuckled and hurried to turn off the hose. “Sorry, babe but it’s better than him being covered in dirt!” "And why was he covered in dirt?" "He was helping me dig the pool." "We had contractors for that, what the fuck happened to them." "Yes but he was working," Paul tried joking with you. "A little investigation to make sure there were no bodies buried." The look on your face clearly told him you were not amused even by one smirk of his sarcasm. He sighed, “sorry, Sugar.” You shook your head and pinched the bridge of your nose as Paul wound the hose up. “I’ll grab a towel, dry him off.” “Whatever.” You rolled your eyes, before you screwed them shut, blinking back tears. “Babe, are you… fuck… what’s wrong?” He wrapped his arms around you and you fell into him, angry and frustrated tears trickling down your face. “Y/N, talk to me…” "You want to know what's wrong?" You pulled away and stared at him, "I'll tell you what's wrong. I get back from a call and that fucking waste of blonde hair dye is there and she and Steve are all sorts of happy because guess what, she's pregnant Paul. Fucking Elphaba is pregnant." Paul inwardly groaned. He knew how much you hated the woman, and this was probably about as shitty a piece of news that you could have received, certainly at the moment. "The hag is pregnant. I swear to god Paul, she only decided she wanted a baby because she overheard me telling Ro that we were trying, which was a private conversation I may add, and...what the hell? Two months later she’s pregnant? I fucking hate her.” "Sugar..." "No. Don't 'Sugar' me. Not today. I... I'm done." "Done? Y/N what... Done?" “Yes, Paul, done. With all of it.” You shook your head and stepped out of his arms. “Right now, all I want to do is shower and drink that crappy wine Barnes brought over and stuff myself full of that crackhouse Chinese place down the street.” “Okay,” he soothed, his hands rubbing the tops of your arms, “if that’s what you wanna do then that’s what we’ll do.” You blinked and two large tears ran down your cheeks. You swallowed hard and took in the look of hurt and sadness in his own eyes, surely reflecting your own emotions as well. This was something you both wanted so badly, and only to have a blow like this set you back into quitting only showcased the anguish a tiny bit. For Paul, he clearly hated seeing you feel like this, and his inability to be there for you in some comforting was eating at him. “I'm gonna shower.” Your voice was monotonous. "Okay," he said with a soft spoke voice, a whisper that was followed by a single nod. You leaned up and gave his cheek a soft peck before you turned and headed back inside. You sat on the edge of your bed and unlaced your boots, pulling them off and tossing them in the corner as you stood. You passed your closet and removed your socks, then your tee and finally your belt and utility pants, stuffing them into the hamper. You walked into your en-suite, clothed only in your sports bra and boy short panties. You started the shower and finished undressing as the water warmed. Naked, you took a good look at yourself in the mirror. You turned to the side and gazed at your solid stomach, flat from the workouts and training. You shook your head and sighed. This was it. You were done trying. And after today's news, you weren't so sure you wanted to try again. With a shudder you stepped inside the cubicle, the water pouring over you. **** Paul dried Woody off before he rang through your usual order to the Chinese, with a few extra bits for good measure. With it being a Friday, they apologetically told him it was going to be a good forty five minutes before it was ready for collection.

With that out of the way, he had a new mission. You. He wanted to give you your space, but also be there for you because you were hurting and he wanted to heal that pain. He took the stairs two at a time, pulling his shirt off as he went. Once in the room he stripped out of his shorts, socks and underwear and pushed open the door to the en-suite where you were showering. He opened the cubicle curtain and slipped in behind you. His big hands and arms wrapping around your body. His chin dropping to your shoulder. “I’m sorry for getting so mad.” You whispered, as he held you close to him, your back flush to his chest. "It's a bump in our road, baby. We can't let her make it a full stop." “I wish it was a bump in my belly.” "Look at me, Y/N," he turned you to face him. His eyes were soft and tearful. "No matter what happens after today, I never knew I could love someone so much until I met you. We've been through so much already. And we are stronger than ever because of it." "I know, I know." You sniffed, "you're right. I just... God, I know I'm being an idiot. I just can't help it, you know.”

His tearful eyes blinked as his lips pressed to yours. "And we will too. It's gonna happen, Sugar. I promise you. And it's gonna happen when we least expect it, too. Just don't give up yet, baby, please." “I don’t want to give up,” you sobbed, “but I don’t know how much more I can take.” "Well," he continued, "we have already agreed we'd look at our options after next year. If you don't want to wait that long, then we move up that decision, that's fine, honey." You nodded tearfully against his chest as he kissed your head. "Okay." You nodded with a sniff. Paul's lips softly kissed yours. "Now, we have thirty minutes or so until dinner is ready. Can I make you feel better? Or at least distract you for a little while?" "Yeah," you whispered. "Yeah?" "Oh, yeah," you smirked. "Oh good." He grinned. "And I promise not to make you dig before I get you wet." Your body erupted in the shakes as you roared in a full belly laugh only making Paul grin wider. "I love when you make that sound, Sugar. Almost as much when you moan my name." Your laughter died down slowly and you smiled, "then make me." "What? Laugh or moan my name?" "Make me moan, Stud." "With pleasure, Sugar." His mouth pressed to yours, tongue gliding easily over your top lip. His hands roamed your back before tangling in your hair as he kissed you, pressing you into the tile wall. “God, I can’t wait to rip these horrible things out.” He muttered in reference to the hideous, pale green mosaics and you chuckled, your arms wrapping around his neck. “I know,” you whispered, your lips ghosting his, “but right now they’re serving a purpose.” "A very important purpose." He hoisted you by the palms full of ass he had on you and you were quick to wrap your legs around his waist. You giggled a little as one of your hands curled round his shoulder, the other gently brushing across the nape of his neck, fingers skating the slightly raised edges of his scar. “I love you.” You told him sincerely, eyes locked on his. "Oh baby, I love you," he smirked. His lips found your neck. "One day, I'm gonna put a baby in you, you're gonna be a mama." “Yeah?” Your head rolled back as he kissed his way up to the hinge of your jaw. “Yup.” His teeth grazed your skin, “and I’m gonna give you back rubs, listen to you moan about being too big to see your feet.” "Okay," you giggled which was met with a nip to that sweet spot just below your ear. His chest pressed into yours, pinning you to the tile, his hands roamed your thighs, his thumbs rubbing circles at the apex of your hips. “Watch your boobs get bigger.” He grinned as his mouth moved down the column of your neck to the valley of your cleavage. “That’s something I’m especially gonna enjoy.” "You've always liked my boobs, Disco." “They’re my second favourite part of you.” He agreed, his mouth moving to circle a nipple. "Your first?" You gasped at the feeling of his tongue over your skin. “Your personality, your soul.” His tongue continued to lave at your breast. “You’re just so fucking lovable, Sugar.”

You could feel the tip of his growing cock against your thigh. He was being so tender in how he loved on you, his touches so gentle, his words so sweet. He pressed into you a little, his mouth moving to your other breast, all the time continuing to whisper his praises and soft, declarations of love. It was driving you wild. Your skin was on fire, despite the cooler water of the shower. You gave a small tilt of your hips to tell him what you wanted and he chuckled a little over your nipple. Your fingers were scratching at his neck, your head back into the wall. Happy to oblige, Paul shifted his hips, slotting them into place between your legs. With a determined, slow thrust forward he slid into you and you let out a low groan at the familiar intrusion. "Oh Sugar," his weight settled against your body, "so sweet, so wet." Your walls fluttered around him. You were so swollen, every nerve in your core felt each ridge and vein of his engorged cock. He began to move, slowly at first, his thrusts deep and hard as his hands slid up between your back and the tiled wall, palms splaying against your skin. "Oh God I feel that," you were in his ear. “Yeah?” His voice was low, sultry as he drew his hips back again, pushing deep into you once more, “good?” "So good. More." You panted, your heels digging into his lower back. Always one to oblige you, Paul picked up the pace slightly, his ruts becoming faster. His cock nudged against that spongy spot inside you, the top of his pelvis rubbed against your clit as he ground into you, his body pressed as close as he could get it to yours. He nipped at your collarbone as you mewled. Your blunt nails dragged over that broad and muscular back. "I'm close, Paul." “Me too, baby.” He groaned as he slipped in a dirty little grind of his hips which left you gasping out his name, your hands clawing at his shoulders. "Fuck, right there, please, I need to cum. Just like that." His nose nudged your jaw and you tilted your head towards him, his lips locking over yours in a furious kiss as he thrust into you once more, swallowing your cries of delight. “Cum on, Sugar. Let go, baby.” And let go you did, an orgasm washing over you like you hadn't felt in a long while. It screwed your eyes shut and left your body rigid, clinging around Paul's like a koala to a tree. Your cry of his name just that, a tearful and emotional plea over your lips. “Fuck, baby…” his voice cut off as his body went stiff, his hips growing sloppy as he came with a grunt, his lips hovering over yours. The air around you was silent bar the sound of the water hitting the shower tray as Paul pulled back, his nose nudging yours. You opened your eyes to see his, shining slightly as he looked at you, his face soft. His expression told you more than his words ever could, that had always been the case. And you hoped it always would. With a smile that mirrored the one on your face, he chuckled and kissed you softly. "Don't move for a bit," you whispered. "Just hold me... Please." His thumb brushed the tear falling from your beautiful eyes as he softly smiled, "You got it, Sugar." ***** The day was like any other lately. Routine. Paul hated it, but that was life. The two of you had stopped mentioning the whole baby situation after that night you had come home so upset from shift. And Paul promised to just support you and how you felt. But that didn't mean he wasn't hiding his own failures and disappointments. He'd waited to leave for the precinct until you and Woody had returned from your morning run, something you'd taken keen too each morning as a way to release stress, along with your nightly runs and with a cup of coffee in his hand and Woody trotting to the Tahoe by his side, he headed for work. There was nothing much going down, bar an exceptional amount of paper work and case notes to file for the DA’s office on a recent robbery he’d solved. Come lunchtime, with Woody tucked under his feet and an open file in his hands, Paul plucked away on his keyboard when his cell rang. He glanced at the ID and smirked, "Hey, honey." “Paul I’m late.” He frowned, well that didn't make sense. “Huh? Late?” "Yes, late...." your voice hinted further. “Thought you’d weren’t on today?” “I should be on… that’s the point!” He frowned, checking his calendar. “Nope, I got all our shifts marked on my Outlook. You’re definitely on a rest day.” There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. “Fuck me! And you’re a detective?” “Yes, a detective not a damned mind reader, Sugar!” He scoffed. “You told me you’re late and I don’t-“ Then it hit him. The cell slipped from his hand and to the desktop, a clank as it hit the wood. "Sugar... You there?" He asked as he picked it back up. "Yeah.” "How late?" His voice wavered. "Eight days." A whoosh of air left his lungs. You'd never been this late before. A few days maybe then it always happened, but eight? That was double. And right now, held an immeasurable amount of weight in his mind. "Okay, have you.... I mean are you, are we?" He rambled, a coherent thought incapable of forming. "I don't know. I haven't." “Shit… erm… okay, wait right there, I’m coming home.” “Paul, you can’t just leave in the middle of a shift!” “Watch me. I’ll be with you in twenty.” Paul shoved away quickly from his desk, nearly tripping over Woody as he did so. He grabbed his jacket from over the back of his chair and fisted it as he hurried out. "Don't scratch it!" Sam hollered from his office as Paul dashed by, Woody running along with him. "Can't matter when it's my own car!" Paul yelled back. "No red light, Detective!" Sam yelled, sticking his head out of the doorway. Paul could only smirk as the elevator doors started to close, his eyes on Sam's. Sam arched a brow and Disco merely shrugged, the understanding clear between him and his Captain. Sam merely gave him a grin and a quick nod before he was out of sight completely.

Despite Sam's warning, top speed and a full red light on the dash got Diskant home in the promised twenty. He quickly peeled into the drive, nearly slamming the door on Woody as he exited the Tahoe, then nearly forgot to close the front door as he barged in. "Y/N?" He called out. "Sugar!" "In here," your reply came. Woody, clearly sensing the excitement began jumping around and for the second time in less than half an hour, tangled himself in Paul’s legs, sending him crashing to the ground. “This fucking dog!” He exclaimed, pushing himself up off the floor. “Hey, don’t talk about him like that!” You shouted back as he followed your voice, taking the stairs two at a time. Paul found you in your bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, wringing your hands together. He gave you a quick but firm kiss, pressing his forehead gently into yours as he kneeled between your legs, his hands covering yours. "I'm nervous." You whispered. "I don't want to.... What if it's nothing?" Paul pressed his lips to yours again, squeezing your hands, "Then we find out together. I'm right here, Sugar." He said softly. Taking a deep breath you nodded and Paul stood, offering you his hand. You allowed him to pull you to your feet and he watched as you grabbed the pregnancy test which sat on the bed next to you. As your hand curled over the box you swallowed and looked at him, he could see the nerves on your face. He knew why, the pair of you wanted this so badly. As you took slow, steady steps to the en-suite, Paul followed and you turned to him, your brow raised. “You’re not watching me pee.” You stated firmly. “Woody does.” “He also eats garbage. You can wait here.” With a light chuckle, the door closed in his face and ending the moment with a sigh, he went back to the bed and sat. Anxiously, he began bouncing his knees in wait. And as he waited, Paul began thinking. This is it, this would be the last time. If it was a no, you'd be done for sure and it'd be time to consider other options. Sensing his anxiety, Woody hopped up on the bed and sat next to his master, a lick to his chin before Paul scratched at the pup's ears and Woody led down, his head resting on now still knees. His fingers scratched at the pup's head until he heard the toilet flush, the sink water flow and the jiggle of the door handle. He watched you emerge, a look to your eyes he knew was worry and anxiousness. "C'mere," he said quietly as he watched you close the space and sit next to him. He reached for your hand, closing his fingers between yours. "I'm with you, baby." He watched you nod at him with a tear filled blink and he brought the back of your hands to his lips, never moving them. Then in what felt like the longest three minutes of his life, the timer on your watch sounded and his belly dropped out, a thick lump forming in his throat. "I'm scared," you whispered. "Me too," he replied. "You look, please," you pleaded with him, "I don't think I can." It took him a few seconds, before he managed to steel himself to rise from the bed and walk into the bathroom. You felt anxiously sick, your body a hot flash of nerves making you sweat from the inside out. This was it, the moment you were hoping would bring good news. Hoping that your hidden hopes of every time you made love and failures were over. You could see him in the bathroom, just across from you. You couldn't see his face, just those broad shoulders as he picked up the stick from where you'd left it on the basin counter. You tried to get a lock on his body language but you couldn’t. You couldn’t read him, and that that scared you as you could always normally do so. Your breathing picked up to a rapid pace as you were desperately trying to control your emotions. So many, too many to count or name were coursing through you and you wanted to speak, to yell at Paul for the answer but you couldn't. The words were stuck in your throat. Then that broad frame and those beautiful blue eyes were standing in the doorway between your en-suite and your bedroom. His eyes locked on yours and his mouth opened to speak but nothing came out, only a silent yet ragged breath. Your heart sank. You knew better than to get your hopes up. Massive disappointment filled your veins as tears of anger and frustration pooled in your eyes. And then he spoke, "I'm gonna be a dad." No, you didn't hear him right. Your head whipped up and your eyes met his, those beautiful blue looks now swimming with tears., "What?!" "You're pregnant, Sugar!" The sob that left your throat was one you'd never forget. Your body slipped from the edge of the bed and fell to the floor as your tears flooded your cheeks and your hands came to cover your mouth and your heart. In a flash Paul was by your side, fighting off Woody who was now trying to stick his nose into your face, little whines escaping him as he locked onto your emotions. "You're gonna be a mom," Paul cried as he held you. Your face was in his hands, your tears soaking his palms as you watched him cry with you. That Cheshire grin mixed with his tears and sobs of praise to you were overwhelming. The joy radiating off of him and through you was unimaginable to describe. It was surreal, it was special, it was perfect. "We've got our little Disco ball,” he stuttered as you gave a wet, happy little splutter of a laugh. His hand covered your belly as he kissed you. "We did it, baby." He cried. "Oh my God, I love you so much." “Sugar, I love you so much.” He repeated as he pressed his lips to yours and you sniffed, smiling back. “I love you too… oh, shit, Paul… we’re gonna have a baby.” With his forehead pressed to yours, his right hand cradled your jaw as his left stayed pressed ever so tenderly on your stomach.

Ten and a half months of disappointment and dashed hopes later, his eyes peered lovingly, deeply lovingly into yours.

"Yeah we are!”

****

Chapter 10 Part 1

#rock n roll people in a disco world #paul diskant x reader #paul diskant x you #paul diskant #paul diskant fan fiction #reader insert #street kings #street kings fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

207 notes · View notes

bigtreefest · 8 months

Text

Masterlist

Series

Bucky Barnes

You Catch More Bees With Honey (Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader) part of the Outta Nowhere AU

Steve Rogers

The Rainmaker (Mob! Steve x Forensic Scientist! Reader) part of the Outta Nowhere AU

Kill for Me (Lloyd Hansen x Dark! Reader, Steve Rogers x Dark! Reader)

Good Things (lost love, bbf! Steve x reader) (coming soon)

Bodyguard Steve???

Stucky

Guardian Angel (Mafia! Stucky x Bodyguard! Reader) part of the Galvanized AU

Ari Levinson

Bigger Houses (Mountain Ranger! Ari x Reader) a series based off Dan and Shay’s latest Album

Curtis Everett

Handiwork (Mechanic! Farmhand! Curtis x Bartender! Reader) part of the Outta Nowhere AU

Jimmy Dobyne

The Banes of the Ball (Jimmy Dobyne x Heiress! Reader)

Lloyd Hansen

Kill for Me (Lloyd Hansen x Dark! Reader, Steve Rogers x Dark! Reader)

Jake Jensen

Pressed Code (Mafia! Jake Jensen x Bodyguard! Reader) part of the Galvanized AU

One-Shots

Bucky Barnes

…just a quickie 🔥 Bucky can’t keep his hands off you an an event. It’ll be quick, he promises.

Steve Rogers

Sick of It ❄️💞 Steve looks good in everything and you’re sick of it

A Celebration Just For Us 💞 You want to celebrate Steve’s actual birthday

Jake Jensen

Touch My Butt💞❤️‍🔥 Dating Jake is great, he’s such a gentleman

Wait Until We Get Home 🔥 (CT 2024) You promised Jake anything he wanted if he could keep his hands to himself until you got home

Marshmallow Dream 💞🔥 A rainy day can still be a good one if the right person knows how to turn it around. Jake’s Rough Days That Should Be Me

Curtis Everett

From Both Ends 💞❄️ When work and responsibilities spill over, Curtis helps you clean it up

Morning Mewl 💞(PhD Candidate! Curtis) Curtis is nervous for his PhD defense

I’m So, So Proud of You 💞🔥 Curtis is proud of you for getting that job

Drip…and Lick 💞❤️‍🔥Curtis treats you to a truck bed date…and forgets to cut the watermelon

Pour Clueless Babes 💞❄️❤️‍🔥 (SB 2024) you and the broody bartender can’t help your want to be around each other

Why Not Both? 💞🔥 Curtis wants to treat you in your special day

Comfort Cuddles in Bed💞

Ransom Drysdale

Meet the Parents 💞❤️‍🔥 You prep Ransom to meet your family

A What in Church? 💞🔥 (CT 2024) (can be read as a continuation of Meet the Parents or stand-alone) Ransom agrees to come to church with you and your family

Details 💞❤️‍🔥Ransom can’t help the way he pays such close attention to every detail regarding you

Rainy days and cozy sweaters 💞

Lloyd Hansen

Saint or Sinner? 🔥♟️ Lloyd wants to know how much it takes for a Saint to break

Ari Levinson

Whatever You Need 💞❄️ You want nothing more than couch cuddles with Ari after a long day

Sweet Coworker Ari and the car troubles

Bartender!Ari Thots

Andy Barber

Feral-ish Homecoming💞🔥

Paul Diskant

Moving Drabble ❄️💞Paul’s job stresses you out. Late nights and LA danger are too much

Random and Extras

Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration

The Great British Baking Show With the Babes

Movie Reviews

Sebastian Stan

Chris Evans

Fic Rec Masterlist 2

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #ari levinson #masterlist #chris evans #sebastian stan #Curtis Everett #Jake Jensen #Lloyd Hansen #Jimmy dobyne

193 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Rock ‘N’ Roll People In A Disco World

Part 4- Your Disco Needs You.

Intro: Paul adjusts to life at home post the shooting.

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+) A heap of angst and feelings. He’s a soft, lil bean…

Word Count: 8k

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 3

Three weeks. He'd been home three weeks and with each hour that passed Paul felt less like himself. He was frustrated, angry, irritated and irritable. Upon his discharge from the hospital, his attending physician explained that the road ahead wasn't going to be easy and so far that had proved correct. He'd spent eight days in ICU, not to mention the few after in the recovery ward, and according to the medical team at his disposal, each day spent there in ICU was a full week of added recovery at home. Eight fucking weeks. He wasn’t even half way through. Physically, bar his vocal chords, there had been little lasting damage. Something he should be grateful for, apparently. The wound in his neck had healed well so far, leaving an angry raised pink scar behind, but other than that, to look at, there was no physical signs he’d been moments from death at all. Emotionally, however, well, he was a wreck. If it weren't the continued nightmares as his mind rehashed the horror inflicted in the line of duty, it was the constant desperation to be himself inside and out, to feel like he was HER Disco. For the first two weeks post the shooting, he'd been reduced to writing things on a notepad for Y/N and others as he couldn't speak more than a word or two and at a faint whisper or angry rasp. Over the last week, it had improved a little but still, holding a prolonged conversation was painful and he often as a result found himself reaching for that fucking notepad as a means to an end when it simply became too damned much to bear.

He hated it.

Not only was socialising his forte, but his and Y/N’s relationship usually operated with a lot of conversation as they would talk over dinner, joke when watching TV, chat or whisper to each other when laying in bed at night. And not being able to indulge in those simple things properly with his fiancée was killing him. And don't even get him going on his thoughts and anguish over the way they'd not been their usual intimate selves. From touches and sweet kisses, to sex and general intimacy, there had been none, not due to anything she'd done, but all down to him, and how he viewed himself, felt about himself. He pulled open the fridge, reaching in for the eggs and bacon before he moved to the stove, coffee brewing in the pot to the side. As he set about making them breakfast, he lost himself momentarily, concentrating on whisking the eggs ready to scramble before he heard the bedroom door click open as Y/N shuffled out into the bathroom. A few minutes later he heard her footsteps hit that squeaky board in the small hallway as she headed down to their kitchen. Soon he felt her arms around his waist, hands hooking over his chest and shoulders. Her lips pressed to the back of his shoulder. "I can take over." Quickly, Paul twisted out of her hold and raspilly said, "I can manage." She stepped back from him, and he was immediately crushed with guilt as he took in the look on her face. The way her eyes were downcast and how hard she swallowed. He watched as she blinked hard, moved her lips to say something and then she simply sighed, her shoulders dropping as she turned and left, back the way she came, down the hall and back into the bathroom. When he heard the slam of the door echo across their small apartment, Diskant threw the wooden spoon across the counter and leaned against its edge, a silent curse across his lips as let out a deep sigh.

For the last three weeks, this was how their days had started and ultimately set the tone for the hours to follow. He didn't know where to begin to try and as for Y/N, well, she couldn't try any harder.

**** The door shut behind you with a little more force than you’d meant, having slammed it by accident in your haste to escape quickly before the tears of frustration and hurt spilt from your eyes. You were trying to rationalise his behaviour, you knew he was frustrated at how his recovery was progressing, more so because physically he looked okay. But he wasn’t. He was weak, sleeping a lot. He struggled to talk for more than a few minutes at a time and the simplest of tasks seemed to leave him drained. But you could cope with that, hell, you expected it. What you hadn’t expected however, was what hurt you the most- the fact he seemed to be shutting you out. Your relationship had always thrived on the fact you had no secrets, there wasn’t a thing the pair of you couldn’t talk about but now, it was like he’d put up a wall to keep you out. And it hurt.

You turned on the shower and whilst you waited for the water to warm, you stripped off your pyjamas and made sure to pile your hair out of the way to avoid it getting wet. Once it was at the right temperature you stepped into the cubicle, closing the glass screen door behind you and tipped your face up to greet the warm spray as the water washed away your silent tears… The day had finally come and he was going home. Things were set and the car was running and waiting. He'd been able to dress in a pair of sweats, his trainers and a button down shirt, sighing as he couldn't just walk out but had to be rolled out. Words were few, and very soft, a stark difference to his typical boisterous laugh and toothy grin. But you were all thankful, thankful he was alive, thankful he was okay and healing. His parents offered to take you both home, yours and Barnes waiting for you to arrive back at the apartment. Your parents had worked diligently at deep cleaning for you, taking one less thing off your list to do, knowing the first few days home would been an adjustment period, learning how to move with one another and go about a new routine from at home therapy to outside appointments, no doubt eventually a steady stream of visitors. You honestly were fine with whatever Paul had wanted. In reality, he hadn't said much or written much on his pad of paper all morning. But you went along with it anyway. The nurse wheeled him out and you walked along his side, the feeling of relief washing over you as you stepped over the threshold of the hospital entrance and watched him breathe in his first breath of fresh air in ten days. You held back tears, thankful for your Wayfarers covering your eyes. But you didn't miss his, the way he was desperately trying to keep himself together around everyone else. He gave a nod in thanks to the nurse and slowly sat down in the back seat of his parents' SUV whilst you moved around to the other side to settle yourself in. Nothing was said, it didn't need to be, but you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as Big Jim pulled away from the curb and headed towards home. When you went to move your hand away, he gripped it tightly, looking at you with those deep pools of blue.. You wanted to reach out to him, touch him on the one place you knew comforted him, made him melt, tell him he'd be okay, reassure him, but he was to your right, therefore his sutures and bandages were along the left of his neck and you couldn't touch him there, it was still painful, raw and frail. So you let him grip your hand the whole way home, the top of it reaching his lips a few times, just so, you thought at least, that he knew you were there, reminding him he was going to be okay. That he had you. As the four of you made your way into the apartment, you remembered that Barnes, your parents and by now no doubt Sam were there waiting for you all. Sure as you'd guessed, a thundering cheer and smiles came from the living room and filtered into your kitchen. The one bedroom, small space at capacity with guests. It was not the time for a 'Welcome Home' party. As Paul gathered a moment to himself, he looked to you and signalled he needed to write something down, so you grabbed the nearest note pad and a pen, the items you always had on the coffee table that collected your lists for groceries and to do items. His 'Honey Do' list as he liked to call it. He scribbled hastily and practically shoved the pad back at you. 'Can't do this. Need time.' "Okay," you looked at him after reading, "okay." You ushered over to Big Jim and Dotty, gently telling them that he was asking for some space, and they quickly understood, saying their goodbyes as you made the rounds, hoping neither of you looked like assholes in asking everyone to leave. With deep understanding, everyone left, allowing the two of you time together. You went to the kitchen to get water for you both, sighing as you saw the fridge stocked full and a freezer full of meals. Dotty and your mother, no doubt having done all that. When you returned to the living room, just a dozen steps away, Paul was sitting on the couch, hands on his thighs, his eyes closed. "I'm sorry, I should have stepped in and said it was better to have people see you when you were ready. I didn't think...." A deep sigh interrupted you and what was an empty hand was now jotting a note again. He turned the notepad in his lap. 'I just need you.' Your lip quickly quivered and you gently leaned in to kiss his lips softly. "I'm right here." He gave you a small smile as you sat beside him.

“Do you want to shower? Eat? Sleep?" Paul frowned deeply at each of your asks. He shook his hands at you, trying to tell you to slow down. Then, you sat in silence. He slowly stood after a long stretch of nothing between you and headed down the hall to the bathroom, albeit a bit wobbly at first and when you rose to help steady him, he shrugged you off. You gave him his space, but worried about him on his own. Then you heard the click of the door and the shower running… A knock on the bathroom door dragged you from your thoughts and knowing it could only be Paul, you turned the shower off for a moment so he didn’t have to shout. “Yeah?” You cleared your throat and listened carefully. “Breakfast is waiting when you’re done.” His voice was croaky, but you picked up his words easily enough through the thin door. “Okay, give me a moment. Be right out.” You called back, no longer wondering why he didn't open the door anymore or why he locked it when he was inside. You turned the shower back on, quickly lathered up your gel before washing and stepping out, towelling down before you slipped on a lightweight robe and opened the door.

*****

He waited for her at their small kitchenette, their places set, food already plated. He admired her, how she was dressed in her robe but as his eyes moved to hers, he noticed those beautiful orbs that he loved waking up to each and every day were red and puffy, despite her shower. He watched as she moved her food around her plate, eyes cast downward at the yellow scrambled eggs, slightly runny just the way she liked them. He tried to clear his throat but it stung so he reached over the tiny table-top and touched her hand. When her eyes met his, he spoke, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...” The words died in his throat as his voice gave out and he gave an exasperated gesture mouth, a frustrated noise escaping from his nose. "It's okay," she replied, her own words catching in her throat. His chest heaved with a heavy breath and his hand flexed into a fist, redirecting his frustration to have more control of his feelings, a shake of his head. It wasn't okay. None of this was okay.

She didn't speak, she just slowly popped a shoulder with a shrug and tilted her head to the right to meet it. He could tell she was grinding her teeth, that flex in her jaw evident. She cleared her throat and shook her head, "I can't eat right now." She scooted away from the table and took her plate with her, setting it in the fridge and escaping to their room. When that door shut, Diskant rubbed his hands over his face. Things weren't going to improve between them if he didn't try to get his words out but it was fucking near impossible. And God damn it he was downright exhausted at writing it all down. He had so much to say, so much he wanted to be able to tell her but he didn't want to waste the ink. He wanted his life back. The dishes were done before they'd sat down to eat, so, wanting to give himself time and continue to give Y/N her space, he slipped into the bathroom for his own shower.

Taking a moment to figure out what exactly he was doing, Paul sighed. Shower, then figure it out with Y/N. They needed to talk, properly, even if it made him hoarse. Three weeks of struggling to just.... live and move on were enough. He brought his eyes to the mirror as his stood with his palms flat against the basin, his scar peeking out the top collar of his white tee.

He'd grown to looking in the mirror more often than when he'd first come home. His reflection made him feel somewhat of a beast, a man no longer what he once was but something of fright. The scar by no means was earth shatteringly grotesque, and Paul wasn't naturally a man of conceitedness, however, it was still a shock to see.

Not for the first him he'd wondered how it looked to Y/N. It was hideous in his mind, and he was afraid she was grossed out because of it too. The bullet had pierced through one of the places on his body where he simply relished her touch. From the friendly and tender tickle on the couch as they watched TV to the desperate way she would cling to it as she lay under him, it was just something they had shared since the start and now he held a million worries. It might hurt, maybe her touch would have lost the ability to drag the reactions it normally did, that he would have lost that special place that she only she knew about and could use to make him melt.

He was scared of his own girl’s touch, and while it was an absolute ridiculous notion, it flat out petrified him. It petrified him for the very fact that he couldn't feel ANYTHING there. Not the water that touched it, the feel of his own fingers ghosting over it or the bite of a pinch he'd given himself just to test the nerves.

He felt nothing.

He stared at his reflection, running a hand over the month long beard that had grown as of late. He wasn't supposed to shave, having been on blood thinners since his surgery, but those ran out a few days ago. Turning his head to the right, and then to the left, he sighed. Maybe he'd feel a bit better if he did…more like himself.

With a sigh he pulled the trimmers from under the sink and plugged them into the outlet. Then he started filling the sink with lukewarm water, preparing a fresh razor for use. Stripping down to his boxer briefs, he took a good look at himself, eyes burning into the mirror as he took in his pale colour, his sad eyes, the dark circles under them, no doubt result of the nightmares waking both he and Y/N in the night, and then that ugly line. He sighed as his mind travelled back to their first night home from the hospital… He hadn’t meant to push everyone away but it was overwhelming. He just wanted her. His second chance at life was handed to him and all he wanted was her, time with her. Everyone and everything else could wait. He was a little unsteady on his feet, a weak wobble really that would surely pass the more he moved but he wasn't his entirely strong self either. He felt weak, looked pale and was sporting a near two week stubble that was itchy, but there was nothing he could do about it. More pressing than the ever increasing facial hair, however, was the fact he was craving a shower. Having suffered the indignity of nothing but sponge baths and body washes in the hospital, he simply wanted nothing more than to stand under the steam of their surprisingly powerful shower, in their little bathroom and clean himself off, wash away the clinical smell of the hospital that seemed to cling to his skin.

He turned the water on first, the sound of it spraying from the shower head a joyful sound. He knew he'd have to go slow, take it easy and be gentle on himself. Paul slipped his sweats down over his narrow hips, the material pooling at his feet and he kicked them away to the corner of the space. Then, with trembling fingers, he started on his button down, swallowing back a nervous knot painfully in his throat.

By the time he was stripped down to his boxer briefs, there was a covering of steam on the mirror and he swiped at it with his hand. Then gently, ever so gently, he began to peel back the medical tape holding the gauze to his neck, knowing he’d have to replace the dressing once he’d showered. Not that it mattered, he’d been sent home with what felt like enough gauze, dressings and surgical tape to patch up a fucking army.

What he saw was not his own skin. Gone was his St. Christopher medallion on his favourite chain, one his parents had gotten him when he graduated from the Police Academy, and near where the chain would lay against his collarbone and neck was the repair hours of surgery and a week and a half in the hospital had caused him. Still, he was alive. When all was said and done, a chain could be replaced and his wound would heal.

With a final glance at his wound he carefully stepped into the hot water, and a soft moan escaped his mouth as he relished the way it felt on his skin, searing the back of his legs, his ass and lower back. He took a half step back and the water moved up to just under his shoulder blades. As the water beat down on him, he grabbed a bottle of his favoured shower gel and lathered a good amount all over himself, before rinsing and repeating the motion several times. Then, with a movement that was more reflex than conscious, he picked up Y/N's gel and turned the cap, taking a long inhale of the scent that comforted him. He felt his throat tighten and he started to panic, but quickly realized he was swallowing down a cry rather than there being a problem with his wound. He placed the gel back and turned his face into the stream of water, blinking fiercely as the tears welled and bled from his screwed up eyes, mingling with the steady droplets that hit his cheeks from the shower.

He leaned into the stream farther, allowing it to wash over his head, literally drowning out the sound of everything around him. His palms rested flat against the tile, a stretch and pull from his muscles that had atrophied during his stay. Awakening muscles and tendons that were mangled and manipulated to heal.

How long he was in there, he had no idea, but eventually, he felt the temperature starting to drop a little, signalling he'd been in there far longer than he'd intended. Reaching out, he turned the shower off and then stepped out, grabbing a towel which he ran over his head, almost snorting when he remembered his hair was no longer as short as it had been, realising that Y/N had never really seen him with hair as such before.

Because yeah, that’s what she was going to be looking at. His hair, not the huge three inch gash on his neck that made him look like some kind of fucking Frankenstein monster.

With a roll of his eyes, Paul wrapped his lower half in a towel and opened the door to the bathroom, stepping across the hall. When he entered the bedroom, he found Y/N sitting in the edge of their bed, a familiar necklace in her hands like a rosary, her knees bouncing up and down. He noted how cautiously she lifted her eyes to look at his, and didn't miss the way they quickly flicked to his wound and back to his. He felt that painful lump in his throat for again. She rose to her feet and took a step toward him.

“The chain, well... they had to cut it.” She said quietly, holding out her hand where the necklace sat. “So I got you a new one.” She held it out to him and he paused, his hand reaching towards the chain “The pendant was fine so...”

He reached out to take it, his fingers softly brushing her palm as he clasped the metal in his hands. He turned the small, silver disk over and gave her a small smile before he placed it on his nightstand.

“Do you want me to put it on?” She asked, moving to pick it up. “I can-"

With a movement that was a little harsher than he’d meant he reached out and grabbed her wrist, holding it still a few inches away from the chain. She turned to look at him, a combination of shock and puzzlement on her face as he hastily shook his head.

"Okay," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Taking a deep breath, Paul ran his hand over his face and shook his head at her. “S’okay.” Were the only words he could manage to rasp out. His eyes bored into her as he desperately tried to make her understand he wasn’t angry at her.

"I'll uh... You start getting dressed and I'll grab the bag from the hospital."

“Bag?” He half spoke, half mouthed at her, his brow creasing in puzzlement.

"The one with the bandages."

He shook his head, waving his hands. “I can-“ his voice broke and she smiled.

“Paul, it’s fine, let me...”

He once more shook his head.

“Baby...”

At that his fist slammed on the nightstand and making her jump.

Her breath was shaky and her lip quivered, her eyes instantly watering. He knew for a fact he'd scared Y/N for he'd never reacted like that in any situation with her.

Backing away from him, she held her hands up defensively and shrugged, "Okay, I'll just go get it for you."

As he recalled the memory, his head hung in disgrace, much the same as it had that evening when she’d left the room, tears in her eyes. He hadn’t meant to push her away like he had, but since that first time he’d continued to do so. And the more he did, the harder it was to stop. And she took it, never biting back or losing her patience. She accepted the fact that he showed her less affection, took everything he threw at her and then some, because she loved him. And damned it, he loved her, he loved her so fucking much it truly, physically hurt. And the thought that he was hurting her because of his inability to sort the jumbled mess in his head was killing him.

Taking a deep breath, he set out on the task he'd started. A shave and a shower. The vibration of the trimmers hummed against his cheeks and neck, trimming away the longer hairs, creating a stubble he then fully removed with his cream and razor. Then, he showered, taking his time, losing himself in his thoughts and playing back the last month in his mind. It was no walk in the park and a frustration and anger bubbled just beneath the surface, it was like he'd recognized he wasn't the same. And was fighting a never ending battle with himself to pull out of the darkness that had overcome him so he could let her light shine in. Fuck it, he needed to do it. He needed to rip the proverbial fucking band aid off and own up to his shit. Because losing her, that was absolutely not an option.

But how? Would she be willing? After all he'd put her through. He was still scared, and he knew his own limits were still there. But they had to start connecting or he was going to lose her. He felt it.

Towelling off, he disposed of his laundry in the dirty hamper and wrapped his towel around him. He looked in the mirror and again wiped off the condensation. He nodded at his reflection. Now he looked like Diskant. HER Disco. He smiled a little to himself and left the bathroom, feeling a lot different than when he'd entered.

When she wasn't in their room, he dressed in jeans and a tee, flip flops on his feet and headed down their small hall. He saw her tucked into the couch, a slouched long sleeve over her taught frame, denim shorts on those hips and legs that made his mouth dry. He could see the smoothness of them and his fingers tingle to touch them. Deep red painted toes balanced on the edge of the coffee table as she read the book she'd started recently.

He sat down next to her, garnering her attention. She looked at him with those beautiful eyes of hers. Those eyes that make him weak. Make him purr and melt and feel like he can conquer the world all at once. Those eyes that make him feel like a man above himself.

At the risk of losing his voice entirely, he began with, "I feel cooped up and it's driving me crazy. Can we go somewhere?"

A smile so genuine spread across her lips that it twisted his gut and sped up his heart. "Yeah, okay. Any idea where?"

He shook his head, "I just want to go. I want us to get out of here." He made sure emphasize the us in that reply, even if it didn't sound as so.

"Okay, let's go," she tossed her book on the coffee table and stood, grabbing her bag by the door and slipping into flip flops of her own.

****

You humoured his request, just to go for a drive. And you drove for hours, all over the place. But little did you realize where you'd end up eventually.

It was late in the day and the parking lot was emptying out. You'd pulled into a spot and turned to him, the Ferris wheel and various stands along the pier behind you. His eyes were covered by his own Wayfarers but his smile was soft and sweet.

"I'm kinda hungry, are you hungry?" You said to him, a humorous tone to your voice. Your words echoing ones he'd spoken to you so long ago, words that had become an inside joke between you.

He chuckled lightly, softly and replied with a nod as the two of you exited the car. You waited for him to meet you on your side. The second he joined you, he took your hand in his and together you walked the bike path until the steps up to the pier were accessible.

He stood at the railing, about halfway down, as you ordered two beers, two hot dogs and fries to share. The sun was just at the horizon, painting the sky in watercolour sherbet, and Paul's silhouette stood out against it. He saw you approach and grabbed his dog and beer from you, lightening your load. The two of you shacked up at a table near the games, almost the same table the two of you sat at on your first date.

“You know, I was suckered into a first date here? Guy was a total swindler, stalker too."

He swallowed his bite of food and washed it down with beer before he smiled and rasply said, "you were willing to go with me. I didn't sucker you."

“You totally trapped me.”

"You needed help, I offered," he pointed to himself, then to you and smiled, "willing participant."

"However you spin it so you can sleep at night," you sighed. "I'm just glad I fell for it."

Paul nodded, "me too." He perched his sunglasses on top of his head. "I love you, so much." He took your beer from your hand and set it on the table top, whilst pulling both of your hands into his.

You couldn't hide the obvious hitch in your chest at the outward affection. The lump in your throat hurt to swallow as your eyes welled up. "I know, I love you, too. More than anything." You fought the emotion in your words, the way they were starting to make your voice quiver.

He sighed at your emotion and shook a deep breath. “This isn't easy." He stalled, allowing his voice rest a second in order to keep trying to get his words out. "I'm not easy." He paused again. "I’m sorry.”

"It's okay," you shook your head.

"It's not." His voice was starting to give way again and you saw the frustration on his face.

“Hey...” you squeezed his hand, “I’d rather you did take it out in me than bottle it all up. I don’t like it when you don’t tell me how you’re feeling.” It broke you to watch him struggle, each and every day it broke you. And you were at the end of your rope, frayed and tired of keeping it together. You sighed. “Just take your time. I’m not going anywhere. Text me for Christ's sake!”

He chortled a bit and shook his head, "it's not the same." He brought your hands to his lips and you closed your eyes at the feeling it gave you.

You shook your head, if he wasn't going to make the first move then you needed to try. "Do you trust me?"

He frowned and nodded. “Always.”

Without words, you leaned forward, scooting yourself onto the edge of his seat bench and leaned the forearm to your left arm against his right shoulder. Your fingers scratching behind his ear. Gently you brought your right hand up his chest, slowly, delicately, over his shoulder and he flinched away from you. "Paul, please," you whispered. You could see the way his body started to shake, his breathing laboured. "It's just me, baby."

The closer your fingers got, the more his hands twitched to pull you away. You didn't know for certain what was going on on the inside, but you had a pretty good idea. On the outside, his eyes shone back at you with fear as he tried to just breathe. Then your fingertips brushed the raised pink skin that just peeked over the edge of his tee…

The pads of her fingers felt like red, hot needles the way his skin was reacting. But that was nothing compared to what was firing in his brain.

He clenched his teeth together, tried to keep his breathing calm and regular as those gentle fingers that could make him purr and sing moved delicately over the raised edges of his scar, her eyes never once leaving his. Quickly, the feeling of red hot needles dissipated and he felt nothing but a relief that washed over him from his scar to his toes. He could just feel her and that was monumental.

A deep, shaky breath rumbled his chest as he painfully swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing it all twitched under her touch. It felt the same. Nothing had changed, that familiar tingle he usually felt at her touch sparked something deep inside. The involuntary little shudder he always emitted when she hit that little sweet spot, shot up and down his spine and he felt his lips curl up on a smile as his girl beamed at him.

“See.” She whispered.

“How...” his voice croaked and the words died as he took a deep breath, giving himself a moment. “How did you know that was...” another pause before he shook his head, gesturing to his mouth.

“Because, Paul Christopher Diskant, I know you inside out.” She delicately touched him still, her nails just at that spot that made him quiver. "This doesn't change anything. Not now, not ever."

He let out a strained sob, pulling her close, his lips harshly on hers.

“Tell me about it, Stud.” She smiled against his lips.

"Let's go home," he managed before his voice cut out again.

“Is that an order or a request?” She teased.

He grinned and popped a shoulder in response.

The drive from Santa Monica to home was the most comfortable you'd been in weeks, and you could tell Paul was too. As you drove, he couldn't stop smiling, like this weight had been lifted and the fog between you cleared. His eyes didn't leave your profile, his fingers entwined between yours, never letting go.

****

His hand never left yours as you walked the short path from the garage to your little one bedroom shack, even single-handed unlocking and opening the door. You couldn't even step through the threshold before his lips were on yours, soft and slow, gentle, his tongue gliding through the opening you gave him. A kiss so deep you were sure the two of you were ethereally floating. You tossed your bag on the couch as you passed it by, toeing off your sandals as Paul gently tugged on your hand, an instruction to follow him.

Down the narrow hall you went, directly to your bedroom tucked off in the right corner at the end of it. Again, his lips are on yours and if you didn't know any better, you'd detected a slight tremble in his touch as his hands came to hold your face close to his. Your hands rested against his chest as he kissed you breathless. There was no rush or desperation behind his kiss, if anything a wanton need crept through the both of you but you weren't going to push him, no. You knew Paul needed to set the pace, for whilst you could read him like a book, this terrain was new and navigating his new emotions and fears needed to be on his time and terms.

You were just happy he was touching you again, allowing you to touch him. You missed him, missed the way the two of you were. This had by far been the longest the two of you had been intimately separated since your beginning.

His hands left your cheeks and gently gripped at the bottom of your top. You stepped back a little, raising your arms so he could pull it straight over your head. You watched his eyes soften as he looked at you, almost like he was seeing you for the first time again. You reached for the hem of his own shirt, but he took a half step back, freezing you.

“You don’t have to,” you whispered, “if you’re not ready, leave it on or... it can wait, we can wait.”

He swallowed hard and quickly his hand gripped the back of his collar, pulling the tee over his head. You took care to keep your eyes locked on his, knowing exactly what was making him nervous- his scars. As his eyes searched yours, your face broke into a smile and then he was back on you, his hands on your hips, pulling you close as his mouth claimed yours. His hands felt warm on your skin as they travelled up your sides, only letting go to move to your jaw and neck. His thumbs across your cheek, his fingers splayed around your neck and into your hair.

He kissed you with all tongue, his lips massaging against yours as he changed the position of his head, tilting it the opposite way. And for a moment he pulled away, his hands still on you, the burn of his eyes lustfully blown as they bore into yours. Then, he moved in on you again, his nose bumping against yours as his thick, flat tongue filled your mouth fully, yours submitting against it, allowing him to devour you. It was as if he was opening up your soul, tasting feeling and seeing every colour of the rainbow. You felt as if your body was going to explode with the feeling sheer desire and love flooding hours state, but above it all, happiness that he was kissing you like this again.

It left you breathless and wanting more. You actively fought the urge to rip his belt buckle open and shove his jeans down, trying hard to leave him to set the pace. But, as always, he could read you like the pages of a well-worn novel and that maddeningly smug, cheeky school-boy grin crossed his face. It twisted your insides and made your skin tingle.

His fingers wound through your hair as he backed you towards the mattress. As the crook of your knees hit the side of the bed, he kissed you again, his fingers moving to the button of your denim shorts. Your mind was excited, your body fully responding to his touch, his movements. You’d missed this. His fingertips touched your tummy and you shivered, the denim quickly falling away as you fell onto the mattress.

You watched as he undid his button and flies, the zipper echoing in the stillness of your room, bouncing off the exposed brick and vibrating in your ears. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his denims, strong thighs, arms and taught abs flexing as he crawled over you, his hands planting either side of your head. The muscles of his shoulders twitched as he lowered himself over you, his lips claiming yours in a slow dance, his tongue leisurely tangling with yours, a soft sigh escaping him.

You continued to resist the urge to touch him where you have always shown him you're there with him, that part of him that makes him sing and shiver. That spot that only you know of that makes him melt against you, submit to his lust and desires for you. Instead, as his tongue felt every part of yours, his hands caging himself over you, you tilted your hips, your hands grazing the underside of his biceps, curling around the raised skin of his tattoos. At the feel of your pelvis bumping his, he gave a little grunt, breaking the kiss, his forehead pressing to yours as he returned the gesture, his own grinding into yours, the hardness of his arousal unmistakable through his boxer briefs as it brushed against the thin cotton and lace of your panties. His words hit your ears, "need you, Sugar, so bad." You practically purred as you heard your nickname clearly and for the first time in weeks, not strangled by pain, or muted by frustration. His voice was his own once again and it caused a sting in your eyes. Your hands moved along his torso, from his ribs down to his hips, the waistband of his boxers bent by your fingertips. All whilst his lips moved over your jaw, behind your ear where you gasped before he moved down your neck, nestling soft kisses against the tops of your breasts. “You got me, Stud. Always.” At that, he crashed his lips to yours in an attempt to hide the sob you could faintly feel against your own lips.

Your hands gently cupped his jaw, holding his face to yours as the kiss grew desperate, his hips rolling into yours again. Suddenly, he moved back, kneeling between your legs as his hands hooked into the waistband of your panties. “Off.” His voice was raspy once more as he issued the instruction, yet the undercurrent of desire was unmistakable. Obliging to his instruction, you raised your hips off the bed and allowed him to pull them down, his body shuffling along the bed as he glided the garment down over your legs. His heavy hands caressed up your thighs, his thumbs drawing circles over your skin. God, did your skin burn in delight at his touch, you had to wonder and think if he felt the same. There was no denying he did, or you wouldn't be here, you'd still be at the pier, figuring out how to navigate his feelings, his fears. His body led over you, your sex and his barely touching, but yet twitching and pulsing with deep desires of need. His hand pulled down the cup of your bra, his mouth taking gentle nips against your breast as his mouth moved to your nipple, where he gently rolled it between his lips before his tongue swirled the sensitive nub. Your back arched in pleasure, one hand twisting in his hair, the other fisting in the sheets besides you. His free hand slipping behind your back to expertly unclasp your bra, allowing it to loosen around your arms. "Paul...." you moaned. His free hand reached for yours that was fisted in the sheets, pulling your fingers apart and taking your palm against his, entwining your fingers. You were more than ready for him. Like he needed you, you just needed him too. It took one rock, one hip thrust and he slid right inside. "Oh fuck," you both let out, his a good rasp and yours a whimper. It felt so good, beyond good, the way he filled you, stretched you. You wasted no time in flicking your hips up towards his as he thrust down. Your insides fluttered as you joined together each time. God, did it feel... so... fucking... good. Again and again he rocked into you, his movements needy but not harsh, as a desperate need filled you both. You lightly nudged him with a knee and together you rolled, him to his back and you over his hips, still with him settled inside you. Tossing your bra to the floor with the rest of your clothes, you rocked against him whilst he reached up and held your bouncing breasts in his hands, a gentle tweak of each nipple. The sensation sent ripples to your middle, warmth pooling at your core and you gave a soft moan of delight before you bent forward, your lips on his. The kiss was sloppy, his hips still rocking up into you as your pelvis rolled against his. You were close, you knew he could feel you twitching around him. Your lips were covering his as you slowly bounced and rocked on top of him, a pressure to your clit that was blissfully crippling.

In a sudden exertion of strength, Paul sat up and his arms wrapped around your back, holding you close to his chest, his lips moving over your collar bone and down your sternum. He was as deep inside you as he could go, bottoming out as the angle changed and he was clearly hitting a new spot that erupted your insides like a volcano. Your body shook as your orgasm boiled at its peak, with each jut of his hips against you. With one hand around you, the other moving hair away from your eyes and keeping it back by his fingers, his nose rubbed against yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he brought your lips to his. You were going to come and it was going to be absolutely amazing. Deepening your kiss, your fingers scratched at the back of his neck, just at the nape of his hairline and you started to feel him quiver. There he was, right there, like always. Your lips broke free from his and nipped at his strong jaw before kissing at the joint where it met his ear. You were careful now, despite the throws of your own orgasm starting to crash around you, to weigh your moves with precise care as you gently, delicately kissed down his neck. Your lips hit that pinkish-red raised mark and your world exploded. The blood surged to your ears, deafening you as you came, hard. Your eyes fluttered closed but the noise he made broke through clear as day, and they flew open again. Those beautiful blues were locked into your gaze as his broken whimper of your name blew into a loud groan as he clung to you, his hips stilling, his eyes fluttering shut. His noise died down, catching in his throat, his chest heaving as you felt him twitch inside of you, the after-throws of both your orgasms pulsing together. Tenderly, your hands slid up to cup his face as you kissed him softly, feeling him sag a little, and you gently pushed on his chest. You didn’t want him to release his hold but you knew he was going to be exhausted. He didn’t take much persuasion, his body boneless as he sank onto the soft mattress behind him. You went with him, your head tucking under his chin as the pair of you recovered, the only sound in the room the dying pants as you both eagerly drew breath.

His hand slipped into your hair, cradling the back of your head as you shifted and pressed your lips to his jaw.

“You okay?” You asked.

He nodded, swallowing hard as his other arm ran up and down your spine, fingers gently tracing a path along your still touch sensitive body. His lips pressed to the crown of your head.

When you'd regained the feeling of life back into to your body, you sat up, rolling off of Paul's hips, garnering a look of confusion from him. He loved when you would keep him inside you, and continue to feel the warmth of one another's bodies. You smiled softly at him, sleepily. You saw the look on his face, the look of contentment but of need and seeking comfort. It was a look you'd come to memorize as his 'I'm tired' look. Soft features, heavy eyes. Blissed out from love making or not, Paul was exhausted and you read every hint of it you memorized over the years.

"C'mere," you now rasped, your voice rattled by emotion and dry from moaning.

His lazy smirk crossed his lips and he knew that tone. He knew what was coming next. He rolled to his left and pressed his lips to yours gently before laying his head on your chest. You traced your first two fingers gently up and down his neck, along his shoulder and back up, a repeated pattern you only you had the map to.

A combination of a contented sigh with a little hum left his throat as his weight over you grew heavier, like the comfort of a weighted blanket. You blinked back the tears, because although you'd heard it time and time again, right then, it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever made.

**** Part 5

#rock n roll people in a disco world #paul diskant x reader #paul diskant x you #Paul Diskant #paul diskant fan fiction #chris evans #chris evans characters #street kings fan fic

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