#Paz Vizsla smut

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

title: at his side (in his bed)

pairing: mand’alor!din djarin x female reader x paz vizsla

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 2586

chapters: 1/1

summary:

They call you the whore of Mandalore.

Nothing more than the woman at side of the ruler of New Mandalore, Din Djarin, a pretty little prize that he likes to share with with his General Commander, Paz Vizsla.

Mandalorians have always been good at keeping their secrets.

AO3

author’s note: this is just filthy. if you enjoy, please consider leaving a comment as they really make my day 💕

content warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), explicit language, writer considers din his first name, alternate universe - Mand’alor din djarin, use of Mando’a, threesome (MFM), degradation kink, pet names (sweet AND derogatory), explicit breeding kink, spitroasting, unprotected p in v, oral sex (m&f receiving), come play, semi-public sex, dom/sub undertones, bratty reader, fingering, no plot just smut. let me know if any are missing!

Your mind has drifted as the political proceedings occurring around you continue to drone on with no end in sight. You’re not even sure why you’ve been brought here. It’s not like you’re being paid any attention.

As if conjured by your thoughts, a gloved hand grips your thigh beneath the heavy stone table. Fingers curl into the gauzy fabric of your gown. You have to bite your lip to prevent your face from giving any sort of indication that something salacious is occurring beneath the keen gazes of the gathered leaders.

“We will not agree to those terms. The mines are plentiful. We have no use for the imports offered by Dulvarra,” the deep modulated voice of the man beside you comments easily.

Din Djarin. Mand’alor. The ruler of New Mandalore.

You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He sits reclined in the high back stone chair, an elbow propped on the armrest. His visor remains trained on the Nemoidian representative while his hand creeps further up your thigh.

His fingers brush against your center, causing you to inhale sharply. This is one of the Mand’alor’s favorite games. He enjoys watching you squirm, trying to keep your thoughts straight and your whimpers caged as he works you beneath a table or in a crowded room. His helmet picks up your quiet sounds, amplifies them for his ears alone, and he revels in the opportunity to make you fall apart at the seams.

He lifts your leg, placing it across his knee, the cold bite of beskar against your skin forcing you to stifle a gasp. The gowns he has you wear are sheer, the bodice adorned with the crystals mined from the planet that was once thought uninhabitable in its destruction. They gleam around your neck and waist, pulling the layers of delicate fabric together to cover your body only just enough to not be obscene.

His hand explores beneath the fabric that covers your core, a gloved finger running through your slick folds. You swallow harshly, slumping against your seat, curling your fingers into the stone armrest. He circles your clit once, twice, before dipping lower and pressing to your soaked entrance. All the while, he appears stoic and unbothered, aided by his anonymity and power.

The Nemoidian’s eyes flick to you. It’s brief, and for a moment you think it goes unnoticed.

You should have known better.

Din’s hand leaves you to grasp the hilt of the Darksaber from his utility belt. A broad body shifts into a defensive stance near the door.

Paz Vizsla. Al’verde. General Commander of New Mandalore.

You wrap your hand around Din’s vambrace. His visor turns to regard you. You try to convey with your eyes what you are not permitted to with words.

The room is silent during the exchange, but bursts with noise when the Mand’alor turns his head to Paz and gives him a curt nod.

The whore of Mandalore, the voices murmur.

You have learned to ignore them. The speculation circulates around the mysterious leader of the once forgotten planet rather than it does you, a human he rescued from a slave trade ship. A pretty prize for the new ruler.

Nothing more.

Paz approaches the table, standing at rest behind your seat. He holds a hand out to you.

With a lingering glance at the Mand’alor, you take the General’s offered hand, leather warm against your skin. He holds an elbow to you for you to grasp as he leads you from the table, the weight of a dozen curious eyes on your back.

The man at your side is silent, muscles tense for a fight that will never come here in the empty halls of the new palace of Mandalore.

“How are you this evening, General?” You ask, fingers curling against the canvas of his flight suit.

“Well enough,” he grunts. He has always been a man of few words, your Paz.

“You know, I’m not sure I need an escort just to return to my quarters,” you comment.

Paz turns his head, the dark visor of his helmet free of expression as he says, “Do not play dumb. It is unbecoming.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“I am not in the mood,” Paz growls. You smirk.

“A shame,” you murmur, letting go of his elbow to walk ahead of him, adding an extra sway to your hips.

He catches up to you in a few steps, his arm circling your waist as he pulls you back against his broad body, his grip on you as solid as the beskar pressing against your exposed skin.

“Do not test me, veriduur,” he says. Whore. “Do you need to be reminded of your place?”

“My place,” you hiss, “is beneath the Mand’alor. Perhaps you should be reminded of yours, t’adyc.” Second. A reminder and a threat.

Paz turns you roughly and crouches, the press of his pauldron into your stomach the only warning you receive he lifts you in the air. You struggle against him, an exercise in futility, as he carries you down the hall, the echo of his steps and the smack of your palms on his armor the only noise to be heard.

The doors to your quarters open with a whoosh of air and Paz enters, taking immediate course for the large bed in the center of the room. The breath leaves your lungs as he tosses you onto the mattress, immediately tugging you by your ankle until your legs hang off the side of the bed, his wide hips keeping them pressed apart.

“Not so mouthy on your back,” he comments as he removes his utility belt and codpiece. “I suppose that’s why the Mand’alor likes you so much.”

“He seems to like my mouth just fine,” you reply with a raised brow. “I could show you, Al’verde.”

He works his flight plants over his hips. Though the helmet shields his face, you can imagine the fury twisting the man’s features. You’ve not seen him, not with your eyes, but you are intimately familiar with the feel of his lips between your legs, the drag of his stubbled chin across your skin.

His cock slaps against his thick middle when finally freed. “I would rather teach your cunt a lesson,” he growls, fisting his thick girth.

“Not one it hasn’t learned before, I’m afraid,” you reply, a deep sigh escaping your lips. Paz removes his gloves, scarred and calloused hands immediately ripping at the fabric of your dress to expose your body to him.

“Kriffing brat,” he snaps, slipping his fingers against your wetness, probing at your aching entrance. “Does my vod always let you get your way?”

Your back arches as his fingers slip into your tight heat and you fight to keep your sounds contained, wanting to drive Paz to fury with your insubordination. His fingers drag against your walls as he withdraws and lands a harsh smack against your clit that has you crying out.

“I asked you a question, atin dala.” Stubborn woman. The lilt of his voice is pleased now that he’s broken a sound from you.

“Of course he does,” you tell him, voice breathy. “His little prize. He’d do anything to keep me happy.”

He slides his cock through the obscene wetness coating you, his modulated groan like music to your ears. The fat tip of him pressing to your entrance, forcing your body to accommodate his size with a harsh thrust into your heat.

“Paz!” You shout, back arching from the bed as your fingers seek for desperate purchase against the smooth metal of the armor over his shoulders. He’s kind enough to hold still and let you adjust.

“That’s it, sweet little whore. You scream my name,” he growls as he withdraws slowly, thrusting back inside just as slow. “Who’s fucking your pretty little cunt?”

“Y-you, P-Paz,” you stutter. Your breasts bounce with the power of his hips, the fabric that once covered your nipples loosening and falling free in his ferocity.

“Does the Mand’alor fuck you like this? Hmm?” He asks. He uses a hand to grip the back of one thigh, pressing your legs so wide it almost hurts. “Tell me, does he fuck you better than me?”

To compare the two men would be unfair, the comparison of a sun versus a dark moon. Paz is harsh, hateful words laced with lust spilling from his lips when he’s buried to the hilt inside of you.

Din, despite his hard edges, is soft with you. Gentle touches and sweet words murmured against your skin.

Where Paz can break you apart, Din can put you back together. You crave both in equal measure.

“It is not a competition, vod,” a familiar deep voice says. You turn your head, the familiar figure of the Mand’alor emerging from the shadows. How long has he been there?

“Says you,” Paz grunts. “Words of a loser, isn’t that right?”

Din only chuckles.

You whimper when you hear the clink of armor being removed. Paz gives a particularly hard thrust that has you crying out and you hear the large man chuckle.

Din smooths a thumb across your lips. “Open for me, cyar’ika.” Sweetheart. The endearment makes your heart pound and brain go fuzzy as you obey. “So good for me. For us.”

“Speak for yourself, vod. She’s been nothing but a brat,” Paz says. “Guess she just needed something to keep that mouth occupied.”

The tip of Din’s cock slides against your tongue, the salty taste of him exploding across your taste buds. You moan as he slips deeper.

“Go dark,” Din commands roughly. Paz groans.

“No,” he replies, hips picking up speed, chasing his release.

“It was a command, Al’verde,” Din snaps.

Paz grumbles, his hips going still as you whine around Din’s cock. “You may blame your riduur for having to wait for your release.”

Riduur. Your husband.

It was known by very few that the whore at the Mand’alor’s side was actually his wife. Din keeps the knowledge close to his chest, knowing what an adversary may do with the information and never wanting harm to befall you on his behalf.

“Gone dark,” Paz confirms. He slides his cock nearly free from your body before slamming back inside with such force it shifts you up the bed.

“Di’kut.” Idiot. Din withdraws his cock from your mouth before removing his helmet. His eyes remain fixed on you as he stands from the bed to remove the remaining pieces of his armor.

“Make her cum,” Din says as he returns to your side, gripping a breast in one hand as he leans forward to wrap his lips around one tight nipple, flicking the sensitive nub with his tongue.

“That another command, Mand’alor?” Paz grunts. He maneuvers your body better to his liking, pressing your thighs together and draping your legs against his shoulder.

“Yes,” Din replies. His hand slides down your stomach to swirl his fingers around your clit. You shout, throwing your head back against the mattress in a drawn out moan of both men’s names.

“That’s it, cyare,” Din says. “Be good and let go. Paz won’t fill you up otherwise.”

That thread of control you still had snaps and your release washes through you, your muscles going taut as you clench around Paz. The man growls, a feral sound that makes you pulse and flutter around his length as his own warm release floods your body.

“Very good, mesh’la, get every drop from him,” Din murmurs. You whimper as he stretches to plant a kiss to your lips. His strong nose brushes yours tenderly when he pulls back.

Paz withdraws. You feel the warmth of his body leave yours, the slow trickle of his cum from your entrance making you blush. Din’s fingers slide through the mess, gathering it up and pushing it back in as you gasp.

“Return to your post, Al’verde. Our guests have left,” Din says to Paz, eyes never leaving yours. His fingers continue to work your over sensitive cunt as you whimper and writhe against him.

Paz rights himself in his armor before turning to leave. You hear the telltale clang of metal hitting a wall, followed by a litany of curses from the large man. Helm still dark, he’s collided with a wall.

“Kriffing wall,” he says, giving the offending architecture a curse before locating the door and exiting.

Din moves himself between your legs, the warmth of his hands trailing up your thighs leaving goosebumps across your skin. He grins down at you, boyish in the vulnerability he displays for you.

“You never did answer Paz,” he says casually, even as he settles on his stomach and trails his lips across your inner thigh. “Does he fuck you better than me?”

“No, my love,” you whine as his tongue swirls around your clit. He chuckles darkly.

“That’s what I thought.”

He eats your pussy like a starving man, more enthusiasm than finesse in his eagerness to please you. Because while he may be Mand’alor by battle and blood, you are the one he bows to in this life and the next.

Your hips move against his mouth, your fingers tangling in his thick dark hair. He works his tongue against you until you’re a whining mess, begging for his cock as he just shushes you for your impatience.

Finally, he sits up. His chin is glossy with your juices and his eyes are glassy with lust as he grips your hips and turns you on your belly, yanking your ass in the air.

He doesn’t waste time sliding inside of you, the length of him stretching you in a different way than Paz’s own thick cock did not. You gasp, fingers tightening in the sheets as he pounds against your backside.

“My riduur,” he says reverently. “Ner kar’ta.”

My heart.

“Din,” you moan. “Gedet’ye.” Please.

He groans, fingers curling into your hips in a manner sure to leave the shadows of bruises by morning. His thrusts grow more powerful, hitting a spot inside you that has another orgasm building so quickly your head goes fuzzy with the rush.

“I’m going to fill you to the brim,” he grunts. “Leave no room for failure in making you round with our child. Our future.”

Your cry is muffled against the sheets as you pulse around him with your release, so powerful that you collapse to the bed, only his broad hands on your hips keeping up for his use.

He presses deep inside you, coming with a shout of your name in the dark of the room. His cock pulses inside you, another wave of warm release filling you as you whimper his name.

Din removes himself briefly in order to help you lay on your side before settling in behind you, slipping his softening cock back inside your pussy.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” Din says as he presses his lips to your shoulder.

“I love you,” you repeat to him.

You’re both quiet for a moment. You trace patterns against the tan skin of the arm that he has around your middle.

“Din?” You ask.

“Yes, cyare?”

“What if the baby is Paz’s?” You ask. It’s a valid concern. Din likes sharing and you like to be shared.

“My only concern is how insufferable my vod will be,” he says.

You giggle, the tension easing from your shoulders.

“Rest now, riduur. There is more to be done tomorrow.”

Din Djarin tag list: @huffle-punk @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @mydailyhyperfixations @fake-bleach @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @kirsteng42 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @leeeesahhh @hopelessromantic727 @endlessthxxghts @str84pedro @brilliantopposite187 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @garbo-lesbo @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @uncassettodiricordi @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @dreamingofdaddydin @bearsbeetsbeskar @dindjarinslegs

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[whiskeynwriting]

Cabur

Paz Vizsla x Female reader

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Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, breeding kink, lactation kink, tiny daddy kink (I mean c’mon it’s me), oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, pregnancy, allusions to exhibitionism, cum play, tattoos, hickies, established relationship, marriage, brief mention(s) of reader’s hair but no description, fluffiesssss because he’s my big blue teddy bear

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A/N: pov - you have Paz’s first child

As always there’s tons of Mando’a with the translations right beside where it’s used because I’m obsessed with it.

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Paz Vizsla Masterlist

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His lack of empathy is surprising, to an extent. But it’s not for lack of love, rather, a surplus of his senses. Focusing solely on this one goal, he holds you, grabs you, his motions rough and unforgiving. Every grab is possessive, his movements the product of his body’s full exertion. Your own feels raw, wet and used, but it’s everything you’ve ever wanted from him. He’s overwhelmed, and so are you.

“I’m going to take this body,” He grunts lowly, heavy breaths forced out of his nose. “Breed it and make it mine.”

“Paz,” Gasping, you reach for the blankets, searching for their grip in the darkness. 

It’s dim in your shared room, so far beneath Nevarro’s outer crust. Your surroundings are nearly black, but not entirely. He still wanted to see you, and you him. But the dimness has a purpose, serving to keep his facial features hidden from you. 

Repeatedly, you’re shoved into the mattress, feeling Paz absolutely ravage you. Both of those strong, calloused hands are centered on your hips, fingertips digging into the skin. His pelvis slaps against your backside with each deep plunge, your warrior’s chest heaving with passion. 

“Shh… cyar’ika, it’s okay.” He coos to you in that deep, desire filled voice. He’s quieting your cries, your pleading whines. “You can take it.” (Sweetheart) 

And then he’s pulling you up, linking one strong arm around your naked torso to pull you flush against him. Here, he stills, nuzzled his nose into your neck, and then your cheek. Still pressed entirely inside of you, he groans, twitching against your walls. 

Whispering gruffly into your ear, your soon-to-be tells you, “This is how it’s going to be… and this is what you wanted, isn’t it?” And you suppose he’s right, you couldn’t have expected anything less after you’d vehemently told him yes. “Now lay back down for me, lay beneath me…” Paz finishes, not allowing you a chance to speak. He knows you’re too dumb right now to do so, anyway. 

But outside of your bedroom endeavors, he didn’t consider you to be that way. Although, he did at first glance. Your introduction was… strange. Strange and uncommon. You’d been hiking the lava flats on Nevarro’s surface, finding and climbing the rare rock formations. And during an outdoor excursion, a group of Mandalorians stumbled across you, Paz being one of them. They’d claimed to be on a hunt, and immediately declared you foolish. What idiot would climb the crumbling lava flats? But as he sat back and watched, he saw how capable you were. He saw how expertly you navigated the terrain, the strength you had in your arms and legs, and the wherewithal to notice the Mandalorians without losing your grip. Coming down from the small mountains, you took a step back, stumbling into Paz’s chest. And before you could even utter a small hello, he was speaking - how did you do that?

It was then that you’d hooked him, you had his attention, his interest. And the more he discovered about you, the more impressed he became. Which genuinely shocked him, considering you show your face. 

“Gorgeous girl,” Paz huffs out above your body, “My gorgeous girl.” 

Maybe Paz could get over the fact that you didn’t follow the creed; he’s learned to respect your decision to show your face. But on the opposite end of that, that meant everyone else got to see you, too. And all those turning heads, it just didn’t sit well with him. It was something he couldn’t tolerate. Especially when those stolen glances often came from his own brothers. 

“Mine,” He seethes, dominant hand lifting in the air only to land firmly on your ass and fist it in his palm. “Mine.”

From the moment he brought you into the covert, every helmet turned your way, and their eyes haven’t left since. The excessive attention sharpened his senses, his possessiveness growing with every second. He never let anyone influence you, physically, emotionally, he made sure nothing could touch you. You’ve given his life so much more purpose, even more so than following the creed. You’ve promised him a legacy. 

And then, he asks you something that makes your heart pound, feeling him duck down to be even closer to your body. With his broad chest pressed into your back, he groans, whispering, “Do you like knowing my helmet is off?” 

The mere thought of his naked face made you quiver. He’s handsome, handsome in a way that would just kill you and you’ve never been more certain about anything.

“Like knowing how close my face is?” He continues, holding onto you tight. “How close my bare skin is to you?”

Paz’s voice is low as he says it, hot breath fanning over your ear. And it makes his own heart pound, being this vulnerable with you. He’s never been this vulnerable in his entire life, not with anyone, not even in private.

This purpose, his proposal, was made in private, with only the Armorer in attendance. He’d asked for her blessing first, as was custom. She was also to witness it. And while this was all perfectly intimate in every way, now, he didn’t want anything to be private. 

If he could, he’d fuck you in the gathering hall, for each and every Mandalorian to see. He’d take you in public, for anyone to see. As far as he's concerned, there’s nothing stopping him from pulling you aside in the market and claiming you in an alley. But most importantly, he wanted the covert to know. He was claiming you, mind, body, and soul. You were to be one for the rest of your lives, for eternity, and he didn’t want a single member of his tribe to be unaware of that.

“Yes,” You finally breathe out desperately, your voice cracking. “Maker, yes - yes Paz.” Even imagining your soon-to-be’s face feels wrong, sinful, but you can’t help it. Especially when he’s so close. Turning your head, you nuzzle gently into him, feeling the scruff on his cheek. But even this sweet gesture doesn’t distract him from his duty to you, to his house. 

“Paz, you - you’re,” Gasping, you cry out for him, eyes pinching shut. “Baby, you’re deep.” 

Sliding one hand around to your lower pelvis, he grunts, thick fingers finding your throbbing bundle of nerves. He only presses on it, and it’s enough for you to jolt back against him, shoving your hips into his body.

“Now I’m deeper.” He growls smugly, left hand still cemented to your hip. But he’s not as deep as he could be. 

Paz’s absolute favorite thing is bending you in half, making you even smaller than you already are to him. And now that he’s close to your body, he pulls out, massive hands gravitating to your hips as he yanks you around.

Plopping down onto your back, you sigh, a blissfully dumb smile on your face as he parts your thighs, sliding right back inside. It’s easy, your entrance slick and sore from him but ready, ready to be bred by him. And with your legs splayed open around his waist, he groans, thick fingers unforgiving on the thin skin of your hips. But then he’s reaching down, palms finding the bottoms of your thighs and shoving them toward your chest. Your knees flex up toward your breasts, thighs laying over your stomach and chest as he bends you in half. 

“Feel it deep?” And Maker, you could get lost in his voice. You have before - you are right now.

With heavy breaths, he releases one hand from your leg, using it to press into your lower stomach. He does so harshly, deeply, listening to your quiet yet pleasurable unff. He can feel himself, feel his tip prodding against the calloused skin of his hand. 

“That’s right where I need to be.”

Lifting your legs onto his shoulders, he presses his entire weight down into you. It forces you into a mating press, feeling him drive directly into your cunt, into the deepest parts of you that he can reach. 

Regardless of Paz’s pure strength, his brute force and mountainous size, you still yearned for him. Yearned for him in ways that could only be described as a sense of emotional aching. He’s breathing heavily above you, this mountain of a man, and it hurts your soul that you still cannot see him. But every inch of you can feel him, and for now, that makes up for it. And with this bulk of a man surrounding you, protecting you, you don’t think you’ve ever felt safer in your entire life. It’s clear to you, just as it always has been, that your place is here, beneath him.

But while you’ve never seen his face, and likely never will, he’s let you see every other inch of his body. He’s kept himself pure in that way and you’ve never pressured him to do otherwise. Never even asked for his name until he gave it to you, when he finally brought you home. And you’ve adored his body since the first night you saw him, his thick and bulging muscles, the tattoos covering so much of his skin. All over his chest, his sides, his thighs. His entire back is covered in them, his arms decorated with complete sleeves of intricate design. It made you shiver, seeing your warrior covered in this, in the stories of his past and his ancestors achievements. When he’s older, you're sure he’ll be included in the Mandalorian’s design. He’s everything a warrior should be, everything a father should be.

“Mesh’la,” He’s suddenly moaning out, head tilting down. “Mesh’la dala.” And then he’s leaning further in, kissing your ear while he declares, “A mesh’la buir.” (Beautiful, beautiful woman. A beautiful mother)

No one has ever stolen him in this way, his body and mind entranced by you. It’s taken everything in him to respect his creed, the thing he loves more than life itself, to not show you his face. And he has to remind himself that he should love it more than you, but he isn’t so sure anymore. 

The way Paz fucks you is sweet but raw, pure sexual instinct filling every ounce of his being. And while he’s fucking himself into you, he starts rambling, going on about your body, how well you take him, how well you’ve always taken him. 

“You will look angelic with my baby inside you.”

Leaning further into your body, his mouth finds your breasts, his lips warm and wet. They drag over your smooth skin, lips briefly sucking a nipple in. 

“And when these fill, mm…” Groaning, he lifts himself, biting into the space between your shoulder and neck. “Fill to the brim with sweet milk… so round and swollen… I will relieve them for you.” His promise makes you pulse around him, lips parting from your wanton moans. “I will suck on them when they are ripe and round in my hands, nourishing my ade into warriors.” (Children)

“Paz,” Gasping, you reach for him, clinging to the broadness of his shoulders. “Baby.”

Briefly, he mouths at them, worshiping their curves with his tongue and lips. He loved to lick them, suck on them as if they were already spilling with milk. His favorite thing was to fondle your chest, your beautifully soft and enticing curves. They drive him mad.

And between his filthy words he also promises himself to you. He promises to devote himself to you, telling you how in love he is with you, how badly he wants to become one with you, how badly he wants to breed you. He’ll stay by your side for the rest of his life, and whatever comes after it. He’ll watch you carry his children, raising them to be warriors alongside him, as many as you can make. He tells you that you’ll be a blessing to his family, to his clan. You already are.

“Alright, little one, my precious thing… daddy’s - ngh, daddy’s gonna cum, gonna fill you up…”

“Daddy…”

Forcing himself inside, an enormous breath leaves his chest, his girth throbbing against your walls and stuffed in to the hilt. You can feel the muscles in his abdomen twitch and curl as he presses himself against you, body weight crushing you comfortably. Sharp jerks perform from his pelvis, his biceps and forearms shaking as he groans. And you can feel it, the warm flood of his seed inside you, the thickness of it clinging to your inner walls and calling for home.

“Cyare,” Comes your lover’s deep, deep voice. “Ner cyare.” (Beloved, my beloved)

Leaning further in, he nuzzles you, rubbing his nose over your cheek affectionately. But you want more, and so you reach out for him. Grabbing onto those scruffy cheeks, you bring him in, finding those lips once again. 

“Ner riduur,” It comes out with a small cry, an emotional breath. (My husband)

“Soon.” Paz promises with another sweet kiss to your lips. 

And before you can say anything more, he’s pulling out with a groan and sliding down your body. Glancing down, you’re hoping to see him. But all you’re met with is darkness. Though, you already know what’s there, the sight of his glorious body. Thick and bulging muscles slick with sweat, shaft still half-hard and ready for you again. Paz’s girth was thick, veiny, and was always shiny with you after spending time in bed. 

“Baby…”

It’s not even a true thought, just something he does instinctually. Two fingers slide into his own mouth before moving through the mess he’s made of you, scooping any remnants up before plugging them between your legs. He wants to keep everything inside, but he also wants to make you cum. Sex with Paz wasn’t just about him, he always wanted to remind you of that. 

A low hum shivers through your entire being as he opens his mouth, tongue rolling forward to flick your clit. With his fingers stuffed inside, he curls them, warm mouth enveloping your pleasure center as he does it.

“Paz,” With your hands moving down, you quickly find his hair - it’s wavy, full of thin curls that make you grin. Absentmindedly, you wonder what color they are. You often daydream about him. Though, it’s hard to think about anything when he’s sucking on your clit.

He pleasures it, swirling his tongue around your most sensitive space until your juices begin to mix. Paz appreciates your hums, your girlish noises. Oh, how they come out so nice, pretty melodies swimming through the air. They give him clues, along with your fidgeting hips, to how close you are, how badly you’re wavering just on the precipice. And he knows how to coax you into that sea of bliss, with whatever part of himself he wishes. 

“B-Baby,” You’re stuttering, head falling back as your eyes close. And then he groans, feeling your nails dig into his hair. “Ner cyare, ner cabur…” (My love, my protector)

It’s almost like you’re working him, instead of the other way around. Because as soon as you utter those words, he’s hard again, mouth moving to devour you.

“Perfect,” He grunts, his entire body lighting up right alongside you.

His broad palm squeezes your thigh, massaging the meat of it while the fingers of his right hand keep his seed inside you. And while he’s focusing on handling you, you cling to him, grabbing onto his hair, his broad shoulders, anything you can. Your pelvis thrusts up against him, his moans muffled by it. 

It shivers through you, the entire sensation of it. Your insides hug the thick fingers penetrating you, your hips seeking more of his wet mouth’s touch. It’s almost as if your insides turn to jelly, your muscles giving out as he grabs onto your legs. And as you gradually begin to come down, the motions of your body slowing to a gentle roll, he finally detaches himself. 

“Cyar’ika,” A wet gasp is punctuated by the smack of his lips as he lifts himself from your center, crawling back over your body again. (Sweetheart)

Before his mouth returns to your lips, he lowers to your stomach. Paz’s scruffy chin and soft lips find the skin of your belly, placing gentle kisses. Both of those strong hands cup it, too, rubbing the area just above your pelvis. 

“Gedet’ye.” He whispers, eyes closing. Slowly, gently, he places his forehead against your belly, a sweet kiss to the child soon to be there. (Please)

And then he’s returning to you, that loving mouth finding your own with the wetness of your cunt smearing across your chin. Fervently, he kisses your face, all over it, every inch he can reach. And then his mouth is lifting to your temple, rubbing over your soft hair. But while Paz’s soft side is beginning to show, your more ravenous attributes are still out to play.

Continuing to miss the sight of your soon-to-be’s glorious body, you duck your head down, leaning forward to connect your lips to his skin. His thick pectorals are what you’re first met with, placing a sloppy kiss before biting in. And it makes him groan, his head dropping down. He wishes he could see you, too; you’ve always been the prettiest sight. But the two of you knew that when in bed, you had two choices. Helmet off, and in complete darkness, or, helmet on, with your bodies on display. And tonight, you both wanted kisses. 

“Dush dala…” Your lover grumbles, reveling in the feeling of your love bites. But his words are enticing, they betray him. (Bad girl…) 

Lifting your hand, you squeeze the muscles of his chest, sliding around to his bicep. And with his positioning, he’s still between your legs, his wet shaft sliding along your inner leg as he releases a deep, rumbling sigh. And you wonder if he’s hard again. You wouldn’t exactly mind it. 

“Have you practiced?”

“She has.” Paz answers before you even can. And it’s not out of a feeling of ownership or anything linked to misogyny. It’s because of his excitement. And you smile when she looks to you, wanting to confirm this.

“I have.” With a small nod, you keep your grin.

And it’s true, you’ve been practicing your Mando’a for years. You’re quite confident in your skills; even in front of the armorer, you have no sense of worry or fear. This is where you belong. Even if you cannot take the creed yourself, you are welcomed here. From now on, you’ll always be here with him. 

“And you wish for this trinket to be embedded with your words?” 

“I do.” Paz nods, handing the small piece to her. 

He never liked for you to go above ground, not without him, anyway. And so, he liked to bring you small gifts. Paz would be nothing if he weren’t as protective as he was doting. Nearly every day, he’d return with a present of some kind, flowers, beautiful stones, new books to read or songs to sing. His most recent gift was this ring. 

She chuckles. “I do not need it, not again.”

“Oh,” He sighs beneath his breath, looking down at the ring. “Right.”

It’s funny, you think. Funny and cute, just how nervous he is. She forged the ring, of course she doesn’t need to see it again. Made with the most sacred material, beskar. The closest you’ll ever come to taking the creed. Though, it isn’t plain; the precious steel has been painted a dark blue. And sitting atop it, a stone of aquamarine. Light and dark blue hues to match the House you will soon belong to.

With a small giggle, you reach forward, placing your tiny hand in his. “Cyare,” (Beloved)

And this seems to shake him out of that anxious state, his head immediately lifting to look at you. You, of all things, of all beings, that belongs to him, was made for him. He’s sure of it.

“Cyare.” He whispers gently in return, fingers curling around your hand. (Beloved)

“Are you ready to take your vows?” She then asks, turning her head toward you as she adds, “Are you ready to join with House Vizsla?” 

“Yes.” Is your immediate answer, looking directly into her visor with confidence and pride. 

“Are you ready to welcome this woman into your clan?”

“Yes.” And you swear you’ve never heard him speak so softly, so genuinely. Already, his voice has such sentiment behind it. 

Before this day, you discussed how your ceremony would go, since it had the slightly altered addition of your ring. And you decided together that it would go on first, with your vows to follow. So, that’s exactly what he does. 

Sliding it onto your left ring finger, Paz takes a breath, both hands quick to hold yours soon after. And then he nods, looking into your eyes. Together, you verbalize your vows, your promises, your intent. 

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde.” (We are one together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors)

With a wavering inhale, you release your emotions, taking your hands away from his and lifting them to the back of his neck. Paz’s strong palms find the small of your back, bringing you in just as you do the same to him. 

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.” Comes your hushed voice, eyes pressing shut as his forehead meets your own. (I love you)

He brings himself down to you, arms fully wrapping around your midsection as he gives you this gentle keldabe kiss. Quietly, he returns your loving words with just as much sentiment, his own voice faltering a bit. You can feel the firm squeeze of his hug, can hear the small, disbelieved chuckle he emits. 

“Thank you.” Suddenly turning your head, you give a firm nod to her, tears of joy springing in your eyes. She could have refused, had she deemed it appropriate to do.

“Thank you,” She responds, stepping forward. And now, Paz looks at her, too. “For aiding in the continuation of our most precious House.” 

Easily, naturally, his gaze returns to you, one warm palm reaching out to cup your face. “Riduur.” He nearly purrs, thumb stroking you lovingly. (Wife)

While meeting that familiar visor, the armorer speaks once again. As you gaze into the other’s eyes, she informs you of your results. 

“They have been delivered.” 

“Let us go.” He whispers to you, free hand reaching for your hip.

Nodding, you sigh, an eager smile forming on your lips. “Yes.” 

On the way back to your small, underground home, you’re greeted by many congratulatory cues. Proud nods, hands shaken and laid on shoulders as you pass. Vambraces clang together as you walk through the halls, echoing the sound of respect and admiration, and Paz couldn’t be more proud to have your hand in his. 

“What if it is negative?” You whisper to him, watching as he opens the doorway.

“Then we will continue trying.” He replies simpy, ushering you inside. 

Grinning, you eye the envelope, wandering aloud, “And what if it’s positive?”

A low hum vibrates into the air from behind your form, feeling those strong arms wrap around your midsection shortly after. Leaning down, he rests his chin on your shoulder, the metal of his helmet smooth and warm. 

“Then we will continue trying.” He rumbles, his tone sending a shiver up your spine. 

Displaying your amusement is your girlish hum, the thought of Paz breeding you without end a fascinating thought for both your mind and body.

The news of pregnancy was delivered via message, either physical or holographic, in Mandalorin culture. It was done this way for privacy purposes. The discovery of a pregnancy within a tribe was often an emotional revelation, and while you’re sure the entire covert will celebrate, you wanted to do so together, first. That is, if it’s positive. 

“Open it.” Paz then commands, nodding once toward the envelope. 

And with shaky hands, you do, inhaling a breath of confidence. His presence doesn’t leave you as you reveal the paper holding your results, his hold on you becoming tighter as the two of you read on. 

And the news is more overwhelming than either of you anticipated. 

This early on, you expected negative results. Though, it’s not like you hadn’t been trying before Paz’s proposal. But to immediately get a yes, a positive result, made a bout of tears spring to your eyes. 

“Paz…” 

But he’s already dropping to his knees. This ginormous hunk of a man falls behind you, arms still encircling your body. Turning in his hold, you grin, staring down at him.

“Cyar’ika.” And he almost sounds like he could be crying. (Sweetheart)

Immediately, his forehead is on your belly, his shoulders shuddering slightly. He’s nuzzling into you, rubbing his helmet over your covered torso, wishing with everything in him that he could rip his helmet off to kiss it, to kiss you.

“Thank you,” Your lover expresses, both in basic and traditional Mando’a. “Vor entye.” 

Lowering your hands, your tears follow, dripping onto his helmet as you hold the back of it, cradling him against you. “Paz,” Your voice is quiet, already cracking. 

Cabur, protector, and not only for you, but now for your child, too.

“Ner dala riduur, buir be ner adiik.” It’s like he can’t contain himself; whenever he was overcome with emotion, Mando’a became his only tongue. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.” (My beautiful wife, mother of my child. I love you)

He’s thanking you, praising you, repeating his love for you. Your doting husband, the love of your life. And soon, you’ll have a mini version of him. 

“Paz,” Chuckling, you adjust your hold on his helmet, tilting his eyeline up. “Did you read all of it?”

“I read positive.” He says, then shrugging and shaking his head. “What else is there to read?”

Smiling sweetly, you stroke the cheeks of his helmet, forever wishing it were instead his skin. “We are having a son.”

For a second, he stills, a pause in time. “A… son.”

And it’s not the fact that he wouldn’t be just as happy to have a daughter, it’s the fact that you already know the gender. It just makes everything that more exciting, that more real.

As soon as he’s standing, he’s hitting the switch, consuming you in pure darkness. The heavy thud of his helmet jostles the dirt floor, distracting you briefly before both of those broad hands grab your face. And a kiss like this doesn’t show lust, it shows love.

“I love you,” Paz’s deep voice rumbles, body pressing against your own. “I will always love you.” 

Just like that, just that easily, he’s pulling you into bed. But not for sex, for your warmth and presence. He strips down to his kute, you in your underclothes, too, before he wraps you in his arms beneath the blanket of your bed. You wouldn’t have the smallest clue by looking at him, but Paz was one, giant snuggler. It’d always been his strongest love language, physical touch. After all, it was the one sense he was denied the most. 

“You’re such a teddy bear,” Laughing, you wriggle against him, cuddling right into his hold. “I wish I could see you.”

It comes out before you can even stop it. You’ve never said anything like it and as soon as it comes out, you regret it.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Paz.”

“Don’t be.” His voice soothes you, shaking his head softly before kissing your temple. “If I were you, I’d feel the same way.” 

Something about that truly touches you. Not once did you ever expect to hear anything like that come from him. 

“R…Really?”

He only nods, releasing a small hum. “I wish I could show you. I’m not afraid to admit that.”

“Will… I ever know?” 

And to this, he smiles. “When you give me a baby,” He says, bulky arms holding you tight. “You’ll know when you see them.”

Inside, your heart chokes with affection, body curling into his chest. And while facing you, he holds you, legs intertwining with your own. And he can feel the curl of your lips against his skin, pressing forward briefly to kiss him.

“What should we call them?”

One warm hand runs down the back of your head, a low, thoughtful hum coming from him. 

“Ixtal,” He then decides on with a firm nod. “For a girl.”

“Ixtal Vizsla.” You accounce, your tone voicing your favor of this name. “What about for our boy?”

“You tell me, cyar’ika.” Paz coos to you, rubbing your back sweetly. (Sweetheart)

And you smile. You were wondering if he’d ask. 

“I like Ragnar.” 

[adancedivasmom]

Fuck Around and Find Out

An April Fools Smut Fic inspired by the Bad Sex Awards.

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explict 18+ (By proceeding to read beyond this point you are agreeing that you are 18 years or older)

Warnings: Very bad smut (that's the whole point of this writing challenge), pure filth, porn without plot, unprotected P in V sex, creampie, breeding kink, slight degradation, and truly awful cringey synonyms for male and female genitalia and semen throughout.

Word count: ~500

A/N: I've read some hilarious April Fools Smut fics today and thought, what the hell, I'll give it a go. I figured if it's awful, I'll just blame it on the challenge. Hope this makes you laugh. Unbetaed, and yeeted into the world like the future child of Paz and reader. 😘

If the Maker themselves had told you that you’d be in the position you’re in right now, you would have said they were insane.

But here you are, getting fucked boneless by the most intimidating warrior in the covert.

White hot pleasure explodes through your body as you claw at your wet, ruined sheets. You are powerless to do anything other than take the fat girthy schlong of the beast of a man behind you.

You’ve lost track of how many times Paz has blown his thick choad inside you. How can one man produce so much baby batter? It was beyond your comprehension.

It seems like you both have been going at it for hours now, with no indication of Paz slowing down any time soon.

You only have yourself to blame, really. You just had to tease him, had to challenge him. Well, this was taking “fuck around and find out” to a whole new level.

Paz grabs your hair, causing you to arch your back ridiculously as he pushes past your cervix and spills his hot spunk directly into your womb again with a roar.

How could he possibly fit more in there? If he kept this up, you would be dripping his cream of meat from your snatch for a week.

Surely he must be done with you, but no. In a move that has your mind reeling, he pulls out of your sugar walls and flips you onto your back.

You whine like a massiff bitch in heat and shamelessly beg him for more. You just can’t get enough of his one-eyed trouser snake.

Before he does anything else though, Paz bends down to get a bird’s eye view of his handy work.

To fuck with him, you clench your inner muscles and push a wad of his splooge out of your ruined meat flower.

“Oh no you don’t,” he playfully scolds you. “We’re not wasting one drop,” he says as he pushes his hot nutt back inside you while you keen at his words.

The next thing you register is your knees being thrown over his broad shoulders, heels on his back, as Paz plunges his fuck stick back into your soaked clam.

“Hang on, cyar'ika,” he warns as he starts to move again, determined to rearrange your guts. “You’re not leaving this bed until you’ve been successfully bred like the good little cum dumpster you are.”

The moral of the story, never tell a Mandalorian like Paz they are too old to get it up. Or that they are past their prime and probably shoot nothing but blanks. They will make it their mission to prove you wrong.

And to be honest, that was just fine and dandy with you.

[tarrensbookmarks]

Star Wars

➼ Kino Loy ‣I Want You to Show Me Weak by tarabyte3 Kino Loy x F!Reader

➼ Din Djarin/The Mandalorian ‣Still of Your Hand by moonlight-prose Din Djarin x F!Reader ‣Sleepy Sex by saradika Din Djarin x F!Reader ‣Home Is Wherever I'm With You by saradika Din Djarin x F!Reader

➼ Boba Fett ‣Dance of the Desert Snake by seriowan Boba Fett x F!Reader ‣Maybe I Just Wanna Be Yours by saradika Boba Fett x F!Reader ‣Ex Libris by daimyosprincess Professor!Boba Fett x F!Librarian!Reader

➼ Paz Vizla ‣Bold by flightlessangelwings Paz Vizsla x F!Reader

➼ Cad Bane ‣Expensive Tastes by eloquentmoon Cad Bane x Rich!F!Reader

➼ Crosshair ‣Insufferable by thrawns-babygirl Crosshair x F!Reader [Part One] [Part Two] ‣Show Me by thrawns-babygirl Crosshair x F!Reader ‣Keeping it Casual by clonecyare Crosshair x F!Reader

dividers by saradika-graphics

[bitchin-beskar]

Training

Rating: Explicit Pairing: College!Athlete!Roommate!Paz Vizsla x Fem!Reader (Bunny) Warnings: Cockwarming!!! That's it that's the fic! ... jk theres a little more to it. Paz has a huge dick we all know it, and boy does he know how to use it. mentioned oral (f) receiving, mentioned fingering, overstim, big dick, dirty talk, mentions of continued overstim, dick so good u wanna cry, free use arrangement. AGAIN. IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT FREE USE OR ANY OF THE OTHER THINGS ARE, YOU ARE TOO DAMN YOUNG. DO NOT READ. DO NOT INTERACT. GO AWAY. Literally Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Exactly what it says on the package. Word Count: 2.1k A/N: Here is another oneshot in the CAR!Paz au! This came about due to an ask sent in by @catsnkooks during this fun lil sleepover weekend! Feel free to send things to my inbox this weekend (or really any time!) This was intended to be a drabble and ended up being just over 2k, so uh, yeah. It's fine. I'm fine. I just wanna thank @catsnkooks, @tailorvizsla, @firstofficerwiggles, @mysticalgalaxysalad, and all the anons who have been encouraging the thirst for this wonderful au! Also thanks to @maybege whom without I likely wouldn't have even created this au, and I'm also gonna tag @ronnieiswriting, bc they sent me a lovely little dm about this au and I finished this tonight instead of waiting as a lil treat for them! Please lemme know what you think, I appreciate all the love y'all have given this au so far!!

Gods, he was gonna split you in half.

You stood completely naked, on shaky legs, in front of Paz where he was sitting on the couch, his chest bare and his sweatpants tugged down just enough for his cock to spring free, resting against the taut skin of his stomach, flushed and weeping. He looked far too composed for a man who’d just spent the better part of an hour fucking you on his fingers and his tongue to prepare you for what he wanted you to do.

It was fucking infuriating.

It was also hot as hell.

His lips curled into a cocky smirk, as if he could read your mind. You were very pointedly trying to keep your eyes trained on his face, which was made all the more difficult when he wrapped his hand around his cock, slowly stroking himself. You couldn’t help yourself as your gaze flickered down to where his hand was wrapped around himself. Even with his own hand, he still looked disproportionately large, and not for the first time, you wondered how exactly your poor pussy was going to survive this... exercise.

“What’s wrong, bunny?” Even his voice was cocky, and even though Paz was your best friend, you felt a very strong urge to strangle him. Still, there was that little voice in the back of your head that was salivaiting at the mere thought of getting him inside you.

You were unreasonably proud at how steady you managed to keep your voice, given what your body had been subjected to and the looks he was leveling you with. “You’re not gonna fit, Paz.”

He didn’t answer right away, instead holding the hand not wrapped around his cock out to you, a silent request. You didn’t hesitate to step forwards and place your own hand in his, letting him tug you forward until you were standing inbetween his legs. Even like this, with him seated and you standing, you were looking him in the eyes. Paz was just that big.

“Don’t worry about that, bunny,” Paz said as he used his grip on your hand to encourage you to turn around, his hand moving to grasp your hip as he pulled you closer to him. You let him guide you, fingers clenching and unclenching in anticipation. He paused for a brief moment to swipe his fingers through your folds, an approving hum leaving him when he deemed you were still wet enough, before returning those fingers to his cock, slicking himself up with your release. Then, he was pulling you down, letting your weight rest mostly against his chest as he notched the head of his cock at your entrance. You sucked in a breath at the sudden pressure, but made an effort to relax.

He made a soft shushing noise, his hand helping to steady you as he began to lower you down, the pressure increasing slowly until the head of his cock was suddenly inside you. You gasped slightly at the intrusion, your thighs tensing at the unfamiliar sensation. You’d had sex before, certainly, but your ex was a much smaller man. Even your toys had never been quite this large.

“P-Paz?” You breathed, voice shaking.

He immediately paused, and you could feel as he kissed the back of your bare shoulder briefly. “Yeah, bunny?”

“W-What if… what if you… d-don’t… what if you don’t…” You trailed off, suddenly embarrased. You were likely far less experienced than his previous partners, and you wondered-not for the first time-how exactly this arrangement was going to affect your relationship with Paz.

But Paz seemed to know what you were trying to say. He tutted softly, brushing his lips against the length of your throat, his smile soft against your skin. “Don’t worry, bunny,” he murmured, starting to work you down again, his cock slowly sliding further and further into you as your mouth fell open at the stretch.

“I’ll make it fit.”

The cocksure tone of his voice made you clench, and he immediately shushed you again, placing both hands on your waist and sitting up from where he’d been lounged against the couch cushions. You made a concerted effort at relaxing again, and you slipped a little further down his length.

The sensation of being slowly stuffed full of Paz’s cock was something you honestly had never imagined you’d get to experience. It was currently defying all expectation, and you weren’t entirely sure you’d make it to being fully seated on his cock without passing out from the pleasure.

He eventually got you about halfway impaled on his cock when he seemed to hit a barrier, and you immediately winced at the uncomfortable feeling. Paz once again stopped immediately, his hands tightening slightly around your waist. You felt a keen sense of disappointment, and you suddenly felt the slight urge to cry. You’d known you weren’t going to be able to take all of him, and he was going to be so disappointed-

“I wanna try something,” he suddenly said, his tone not disappointed like you’d expected, but contemplative. “Trust me?”

You blinked, unsure as to where that was coming from, but nodded nonetheless. You probably should’ve been a bit more cautious with answering, because Paz suddenly slid his hands down from where they’d been resting on your waist to wrap his fingers around the backs of your thighs, and lifted.

A squeal of shock escaped your mouth and your hands flailed as you were suddenly supported only by his grip on your thighs and half of his cock in your cunt. He pulled your thighs apart, so your legs were no longer between his own, but dangling on the outsides of his own thighs. Pulling your legs apart like this surprisingly eased the pressure in your cunt, and he slowly began to lower you more, and your pussy greedily sucked him in.

He was completely supporting your weight with just his hands and forearms, and your brain could not comprehend the strength he must be using to hold you like this. But you couldn’t deny, it was far easier for you to take him in this position, and before you’d quite processed that, the backs of your thighs were resting on the tops of his, and his cock was completely buried in your pussy.

You sucked in a sharp breath, leaning back so your upper body was supported by his chest and you could rest your head against his shoulder. Paz stroked his hands up and down your thighs, humming appreciatively. Your own legs were trembling from the strain and effort it had taken for you to take him.

For a few moments, the two of you just sat there, adjusting to the sensations. You were honestly shocked that you’d managed to take all of him, and you felt a not insignificant amount of pride. Still, it was overwhelming to be that full, and you couldn’t help but brush your hand over your abdomen, feeling like he was in your stomach he was that deep inside you.

Paz chuckled, the vibrations jolting you slightly and shifting his cock slightly inside you, making you whimper quietly. One of his hands came up to cover yours, the size of his hand dwarfing your own.

“Can you feel me here, bunny?” At your nod, Paz pressed down slightly, and you gasped as the change in pressure made sparks of pleasure light up your nerves. “Yeah, you can. How does it feel?”

It took you a few tries to reply, your throat dry and your tongue heavy in your mouth. “I-I feel s-s-so full.” There was truly no other way to describe it, the sensation so unfamiliar but also one you were quickly coming to love.

“Hmm, I bet,” he responded, sounding far too smug and full of himself. He slowly spread his thighs, forcing your own legs further open.

With the way your legs were hooked over his thighs, and the way you were impaled on his cock, you had no choice but to let him move your body the way he wanted to. You felt your cheeks warm at how exposed you were like this, naked and spread open on his lap, even in the emptiness of your shared apartment. You tried to squirm a bit to get more comfortable, and he shifted underneath you, tilting his hips up further into yours somehow, but also easing some of the strain in your lower back as he did so.

The fullness inside of you had you clenching and unclenching, your muscles unused to this position and trying in vain to adjust. Paz didn’t seem to react, although he did wrap his arm more fully around your waist and brough his other hand up to stroke at where the two of you were joined together. Your eyes rolled back in your head as his fingers found your swollen clit, rubbing at it gently.

“P-P-Paz,” you stuttered, voice shaking violently. “P-Paz, s-so much, t-t-too m-mph!”

He’d jerked his hips slightly, just enough to barely count as pulling out before he settled back deep inside you, cutting your protests off with ease. He sped up his fingers, and you thought he might be enjoying the way you trembled uncontrollably on his lap.

“Jus’ need you to come one more time for me, bunny,” he slurred, voice low and thick in your ear. “It’ll help you take me a bit easier, don’t worry. Just gimme one more, okay? I promise it’ll help, it’ll feel so good bunny. You trust me, don’cha?”

You nodded shakily, turning your head to press your sweaty forehead against the side of Paz’s neck. “O-O-Okay, Paz.”

He pressed a kiss against the top of your head, and his fingers sped up again. You’d been on the edge since he began to fuck you onto his cock, and you honestly didn’t need much more stimulation before you were coming again with a low moan and weak twitches of your hips.

Paz hummed appreciatively, his fingers sliding through the mess you’d made between your legs and around his cock. You were tingling with overstimulation, feeling flushed and sweaty and you probably looked a mess, but it was only Paz here to judge you, and you got the feeling he didn’t mind, especially when he was directly responsible for your wrecked state.

“You did such a good job, bunny.” You preened at the words, feeling a sense of accomplishment. “Such a good girl for me, giving me another. You feel so good coming around me like that.” He paused, the silence heavy, and you abruptly felt very much like prey, like the nickname Paz had bestowed upon you implied. You didn’t have the time to contemplate it before he continued.

“I lied, bunny. I’m sorry, but you just felt so good.” His fingers trailed back up to your throbbing clit. “I wanna feel that again. Wanna feel your lil’ pussy trembling around my cock. I wanna feel you gush around me.”

You mouth fell open, and your hands tried to reach down to pull him away but he was quicker, the arm that had been around your waist coming up to grip your wrists in one huge hand, bringing them up so your restricted hands were pressed into your sternum. He tutted softly, spreading his legs just a little further and restricting your movement just that little bit more.

“We agreed on the rule, bunny. You let me do whatever I want, whenever I want. Isn’t that right?” He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing to whisper in your ear, tormenting you.

“And I wanna feel this pretty lil’ pussy absolutely strangle my cock again. I wanna feel you come and come and come until you can’t anymore. And then I wanna fill you up, wanna fill you up so full you’ll feel me dripping down your thighs for weeks. I wanna see you on campus and know you can still feel me in your fucking guts. I want you to sit with your friends and all you can think about is how I feel inside you right now. Any time a guy even fucking looks at you I want you to remember how this feels. I want you to remember how hard you came with my cock in your lil’ cunt.”

He stopped for a moment, breathing harshly in your ear as he quickly worked you towards another orgasm, and you almost couldn’t hear his next words over the uncontrollable whimpers and moans that escaped your throat as he abused your poor cunt.

“You’ll never be able to fuck anyone else and not think of me, bunny. I’m gonna fucking wreck you.”

[anxiousotters]

I don't even go here but I simply must know about PaxAxe child of divorce au?

AHHHHHH PAZAXE MY BELOVED THANK YOU FOR THE ASK <3<3<3 (I’m so normal about them I swear)

In this AU, Paz and Axe (who were never married in the first place) have split custody of Ragnar due to some convoluted mandalorian adoption laws after Paz was falsely declared dead, and now they’re learning how to co-parent

“Come on,” Paz says gruffly. He turns and heads up the stairs without so much as a backwards glance. Axe rolls his eyes, but follows him up to the roof. “Sit.” The man orders. Axe shoots him an irritated look, but does so, folding himself down onto the smooth sandstone ledge and letting his legs dangle over the side. Their pauldrons clink together as Paz settles into the space beside him. For a moment, neither of them say anything as they watch the sun set over the ridge. “Do you want to talk about it?” “No thanks.” “Suit yourself,” Paz shrugs. Out of the corner of his eye, Axe sees him pull a flask from his belt. Paz turns away slightly, tipping the lip of his helmet up and— Axe quickly averts his gaze. He didn’t see anything, but the casual air of the gesture— and the subsequent trust it implies— makes his heart skip a beat. “Here,” Paz says, nudging the flask into Axe’s hands and breaking him out of his thoughts. “Drink.” “Has anyone ever told you that you’re quite pushy?” Axe grumbles as he takes a pull, even though he uses it to hide his quietly pleased smile. The tihaar burns on the way down. He’s not sure if he’s imagining the lingering warmth of Paz’s lips on the bottle.

[adancedivasmom]

What? Excuse me… what?!?!

Holy hell, this was the hottest smut I’ve read in quite some time.

It’s like you’ve read my mind and took my deepest filthiest fantasy with Paz and Din and brought it to life. Hnnngggg 🥵

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. ❤️

permission

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader x Paz Vizsla

Word Count: 3.3k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You belong to Paz … but there’s something about Din Djarin. He’s on your mind constantly.

Warnings: threesome (m/f/m) | I’m taking great liberty with the Death Watch’s rules (Din takes his helmet off in front of Paz) | Din and Paz have a difficult relationship | mentions of alcohol | semi-public sex | voyeurism kink | oral (f receiving) | use of a blindfold | use of restraints | mentions of breasts (no size though) | overstimulation | multiple orgasms | unprotected p in v sex | masturbation (m) | a bit of spanking | a bit of anal (f receiving) | creampie

Notes: I had the idea for this fic somewhere toward the end of Mandalorian S3 and then it took me a while to find the time to write it but here it is 🤭 shoutout, as always, to Dani @alexturner for reading this in advance even though she definitely isn’t a Paz girlie.

***

The air in the private booth is stuffy, filled with laughter, with cries and music, with the sounds of metal jugs hitting wooden surfaces, spilling their contents over tables and hands. The only thing separating you from the commotion beyond is a thin curtain, only there to give the occupants of the room a semblance of privacy.

It’s just you and Paz tonight – he sits perched on a wooden stool that groans under his massive body every time he shifts. You sit on his lap, cool beskar steel pressing into your thighs through your thin pants. And then there’s Din Djarin, whom you have known for as long as you’ve known Paz, maybe even longer. Memories begin to blur when you hop from planet to planet, from system to system.

With one hand, Din lifts his helmet so his chin and bottom lip are exposed, and takes a sip from his drink. Paz mirrors him, shifting his weight and you with it. You lean closer to him for some purchase against his hard chest, looking at a spot just behind Din’s head, at a brown stain on a gray wall, at a lamp barely bright enough to illuminate a little corner, at a small bug scurrying down from the ceiling. You look anywhere but at Din’s visor, anywhere but at the macrobinocular viewplate that hides his piercing eyes, those eyes he can’t keep off you, that have been on you ever since you all sat down. As long as you find other things to focus on, his gaze doesn’t hold any power over you.

Keep reading

[corazondebeskar-reads]

Kinktober 2023 - Day 7 (Din Djarin & Paz Vizsla)

For Manda'yaim

Din Djarin x f!reader, Paz Vizsla x f!reader, other unnamed COTW Mandalorians x f!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Now that they have reclaimed their homeworld, the Children of the Watch resurrect an ancient ritual to secure the future of their people. Reader is one of the volunteers chosen to bear the next generation of Mando'ade.

Warnings: Dub-con, CNC, Reader is consenting but unable to withdraw consent, Bondage, Gangbang, Drugged sex, Unconscious sex, Anonymous sex, Children of the Watch are a cult, cult behavior, ritual sex, breeding, breeding rituals, creampies, unrealistic amounts of cum, vaginal plugging, p in v, gratuitous use of Mando'a, religious imagery, no y/n

Inspired by @absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 prompt list

also on ao3

The chamber is cold. It is deep in the belly of the mines, and not even the fire in the hearth can warm the small waiting area. Your beskar’gam, save for your helmet, is tucked away in the wardrobe, and you’ve donned the gauzy black shift left folded neatly on the shelf. Now, all you can do is wait.

You don’t have to wait long. The door to the main room slides open. The Armorer stands in the doorway, intimidating as ever, though you do not fear your alor. She says nothing, but you follow her out into the ceremonial chamber.

It’s domed, completely crafted of smooth, dark stone. She brings you to stand on the bridge before the chamber’s enormous entrance. The bridge rises from the hall outside but is seamless where it turns to obsidian. Even the stone dais in the center looks like the room was carved around it.

Stripped away to reveal the greater purpose beneath.

The bridge leads into the water rather than over. The slow flow of the stream encircles the center platform, but to cross, one must enter the shallow pool at the foot of the path.

The Armorer stands at the edge of the water. Your heart is pounding so loud you think you can hear it echo in the chamber.

“Do you wish to proceed?” she asks, lilting voice as commanding and regal as you remember.

“I do.” You hope your faith rings solid beneath the waver of your voice.

If she doubts you, she does not show it.

“Very well. Do you willingly offer your vessel to the Ka’ra, to accept the manda within you, for Manda’yaim?”

Will you let the kings of old grant you the very essence of your people for the good of Mandalore? Of course. “Oya manda.”

“Oya manda,” she agrees, something warm seeping from under her cold, unmoving composition. “Step forward.”

You do, bare feet brushing softly against stone, until you are within reach. Her hands find the lip of your helmet and unlatch the seal, lifting its heft from your neck. Frigid air creeps up, but you shiver more from being exposed than the cold.

She holds your helmet in one arm and steps back into the water. You follow, surprised to find it generously warm. As you settle on your knees, the water lapping up to your waist serves as a balm to your nerves.

You take the curved pot from her other hand when offered and drink of the hot tea within before sinking it below the stream at your knees. The water rushes into it, desperate to fill the gap it left behind. When you raise it, the excess flows over your fingers.

The drink has settled in your core, warmth flooding your veins. You will leave the fears behind there, to be swept from the chamber on the ebb and flow.

The Armorer takes it and holds it aloft. “None shall see your face but I, and when you leave these waters, you will be granted cin vhetin.”

She tilts the pot, warm water rushing down your face.

“Vor entye,” you pledge as the last rivulets drip down, looking at the Armorer through sodden lashes.

“You owe no debt,” she corrects. “It is the reward for your sacrifice. Rise.”

You stand and follow her onto the platform. A thick pad is laid atop the tall stone table. You shed the robe and take comfort in that she sees your bareness as devotion and not transgression.

The haze of the tincture that laced the tea nestles around you. Like when your buir used to carry you to bed after long days of training, when you didn’t last through the songs around the fire past twilight. You climb onto the table, and your body is pliant as she secures it into place.

The thick straps are for your safety, not imprisonment. They keep you tethered to the table and to Manda’yaim while your soul drifts between realms. You pray the Ka’ra won’t find you lacking.

You are secured on your knees, spread wide, and your arms forward in supplication. Your head is held bowed, and the veil is secured to the restraint.

The expanse of the galaxy is settling in around you. You don’t fight it when your vision fades.

There are two men in the room. Two of your vod. They wear no helmets and will be cleansed in the pools before returning to the surface. But no barriers can be permitted between you, and the chamber is sacred.

They don’t look at one another out of respect. They will come and go in pairs, taking turns to feed your womb and ensure your safety.

The Mand’alor is the first to give sacrament at your altar. When the doors are shut, he lifts his helm and anoints himself from the sleek pot. Behind him, Paz remains concealed. He will not shed his helmet until it is his turn, and so he will remain on the bridge to stand guard.

As Din crosses the waters, he pauses to take in your prone form. The swell of your ass in the air, the arch of your spine. The sweet, tender core of you, softly parted for him. He reaches up to run his fingers through your folds. There’s a light dew, there, but you are not ready.

“Don’t tell me this is your first, vod’ika,” Paz calls.

Din disregards the taunt, stroking through your lips until he finds the gem at your apex. With one hand gently rubbing your cheek, he spreads you open a little more and tastes.

“I don’t think that’s generally part of the process,” Paz notes.

“Shut up, vod,” Din sighs. “Should we not be grateful and ease the passage? Besides, she’s sweet. You’ll miss out.”

“I’ll have my turn,” Paz says gruffly.

“Ah, but only after she tastes of me.” Din grins smugly when Paz groans.

“Get on with it. I want to spend as little time with your naked shebs as possible.”

Din returns his lips to your cunt. He could admit he was being a little selfish, but he truly did want to shoulder some of your burden. Couldn’t leave his martyr to suffer. You or the others who had volunteered to bear the future of their planet.

When he’s certain you can take him without difficulty, he withdraws his mouth and fingers, though savoring the way you linger on his tongue.

When he sinks into you, the pleasure he had coaxed from your body eases his way. You accept him, welcome his offering, and he can’t help but devote his attentions to your pliant flesh. Soft moans slip through your peaceful exhalations. Your warm cunt clenches around him, your hips gently rocking back to meet him. You serve your Mand’alor even in sleep, and he bathes you in praise.

You’re submerged. You swim in the Living Waters, and breathe it in as easy as the air. The voices on the surface are low and rumbling, and you drift lower, free to explore, knowing your vod are on the shore. They won’t let you drown. The water is so dark, but when light breaks through, the beskar veins beneath you are all alight.

There is pressure all around you, like a cradle. And you are so, so full. You think maybe the Waters will keep you, consume you. The current fills you, and you let it sink you down, down, down.

Back in the pool at the foot of the dais, Din cleanses his cock of you, but not his soul.

He slides the helmet back over his head and gives a nod to Paz. “For Manda’yaim.”

“For Manda’yaim,” Paz dips his head to Din. When the Mand’alor turns to respect his vod’s wishes, he removes the helmet.

They are both grave now. Bare, but more encumbered than while clad in full beskar'gam. All teasing and taunting has been swept away in the meandering stream.

Not to be outdone by Din, Paz also brings you to your peak with his lips and tongue against your clit. He doesn’t dare lick into you, not out of an aversion to his vod’s taste, but to preserve as much of the Mand’alor’s seed in you as possible.

Paz is broader than his vod’ika in all ways. He expects to find some resistance when he enters you, but the tightness and heat almost make him spill early. That wouldn’t do, not when he would have to hear about it for all of eternity.

He’s brash and impulsive but never uncaring, so his fingers seek your clit as Din’s had. But as he finds a steady rhythm, an unbidden sadness blossoms in his chest.

He’s fairly certain he knows who you are, though he shouldn’t dwell on it. And though he holds no anger to the rest of his vod who will make their tributes to you today, he does wish you’d told him. Or Djarin.

They could have had you, just the two of them, if that’s what you wanted. And who better to gift you a life than the Mand’alor and his General?

Despite the undercurrent of regret, he feels proud. Proud that his vod’ika would give herself to the tribe, would sing the oldest song of their people, and receive nothing less than pure manda in reward. And the image of you, belly round beyond your beskar, sends him over the edge, fingers digging into your hips as he fills you.

It’s long after the sun has set when the Armorer and the Mand’alor return to the chamber. It matters not, as no light can reach you in the depths under the sacred city. This time, when Din approaches the dais, he is fully armored, helmet in place. He takes a box from the Armorer and opens it to reveal the sizeable, solid beskar plug and lifts it from the silky cushion.

You’re overflowing, your body simply unable to contain the twenty or so loads you were offered, their consecrations dripping obscenely from your red, swollen cunt. You jerk against the bonds and moan, half pleasure and half agony, when he parts your lips with one hand—the only part of him left bare.

The plug finds no resistance, but it does displace some of the cum, oozing down your leg. No matter, Din thinks. Most of it remains, and he’s certain he will not have been spilled, not with his seed at the deepest of your core. When the plug is in place, he uses the pot to cleanse you, to bring you back to the surface.

When you begin to stir, he leaves.

Mando'a translations (in order of appearance): Manda'yaim - the planet Mandalore Beskar'gam - Beskar armor alor - leader Ka'ra - the stars/ancient Kings from Mandalorian mythology Manda - the collective Mandalorian soul Oya manda - a Mandalorian saying showing eternal solidarity cin vhetin - a blank slate (here used to indicate that the removal of the helmet is forgiven for this ritual) Vor entye - formal "thank you" carrying a debt of gratitude buir - parent Vod - brothers/sisters (in arms/loyalty, not literal) Mand'alor - the ruler of the Mandalorians Vod'ika - little brother Shebs - ass (Source: mandoa.org)

[djarins-riduur]

if you’ll excuse me for a second-

*SCREAMS*

okay. this has me shot and wounded and aching because what the fuck do you MEAN IT IS WESTERN PAZ AND HE IS HUSBAND MATERIAL. i definitely wanted to fight him full on fisticuffs.

but he had me the second you wrote:

“Clearly this isn’t teaching you any manners. I’m going to have to do a better job.”

and then he DOES. like holy fuck i need some ice water.

Welcome Home

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x F!Reader (reader is petite, with no other descriptors)

Word Count/Rating: 3.3k / Explicit 18+ only

Notes/Warnings: Western!AU, Paz & Reader are married & both are hot heads/combative (but they love each other v much), size kink, oral sex (m receiving), penetrative sex, v light amount of spanking, more or less make-up sex, I have my own image of what Paz looks like and you all have to deal with it

Summary: Your husband finally comes home after 3 weeks. Surely you're going to welcome him home with open arms?

You don't turn when the door opens. Not for the familiar chime of his boot spurs, nor for the shuffle of his jacket and hat. You act as though you haven’t heard him – facing the window, focused on the same plate you’ve been washing since you heard the first footstep on the porch.

It's irritating how perfect this moment should be. Golden light streams through the dusty windowpane, bathing the kitchen in warmth. The enticing smell of dinner still lingers in the air. There’s plenty left for Paz. Even after three weeks you found yourself unable to adjust your portions to one.

You can feel his large presence behind you – waiting for you to turn and greet him. He probably expected a big homecoming. Fantasized about you running into his arms, kissing him desperately, crying tears of joy. It's happened before. Unfortunately for him, the Henderson boys ran by ten minutes ago to let you know they saw him riding back into town. Their warning ruined any surprise, not that you would have given him the satisfaction anyway.

Paz crowds behind you, placing his hands on your hips. You hate how quickly you want to melt into his warmth. To fall backwards into his broad chest and let him sweep you off your feet. It’s infuriating what he can do with a single touch.

You manage to find your resolve, slapping at his hands. "Get off me, you brute."

Paz chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in tighter. "Why so full of venom, ner riduur'ika?"

You let go of the plate to push at his arms. It’s futile, but you're unwilling to give up the fight. "You know damn well why. Now get off me."

You struggle further, trying to escape his vice-like grip. It's all for nothing. Paz spins you around to face him, an arm still firmly around your middle. Even through layers of clothes, you can feel the shift of his muscles.

Upon seeing his face, you gasp. Some is as you expected it. That annoying self-sure grin, the healthy start of a beard, the playful shine in his bright eyes. Some is not. There’s a new, healthy scar forming along his cheek to match some old ones from long ago.

"What did you do?" you demand.

"Now why do you automatically assume I did something to cause this?" 

"Because that's always the case. I'll bet Din doesn’t have a single scratch on him."

"Thanks to me he doesn't." He says it with a strong hint of pride and that only sets you off more. 

You push and shove at Paz, but he's still unwilling to let you go. In a further act of humiliation, he picks you up with ease and sets you on the counter. You're directly face to face like this. Nowhere for either of you to hide.

"Darlin’, would you please tell me what's gotten into you?" Paz asks. His voice is gentle. You know he's trying to calm you and you hate that it's even slightly working.

"You." 

Paz laughs. "That can be arranged if that's what you're mad about." You try and fail to kick him.

His hand wraps around your calf, a harder look settling into his eyes. It would scare you if you didn't know him so well. Hell would sooner freeze over before he did so much as pluck a hair from your head.

"I didn't come home to be name-called and kicked, so you're going to tell me what's the matter or I'm not letting you leave this counter. That clear?" 

You resent the heat you can feel pooling low in your stomach at his command. Even worse is that he knows it too. All your buttons have long since been discovered and Paz knows just how to press every one. 

There's no getting out of this. Paz stares at you expectantly, willing to wait this out. The anxious soup churning in your stomach rolls and the fire burning in your veins dies only a little at the realization of there being no escape. He has you pinned.

You're not ready yet to talk. Instead, you reach out towards his face, inspecting the new cut that mars it.

You're happy to note it's clean despite the thin layer of dirt and grit that otherwise clings to the fine lines of Paz’s face. It doesn't seem as deep as his other scars and may even fade in due time. All in all, it's not as bad as it could have been. That doesn't make it any better.

You hate this feeling in your gut. The knowledge that your husband lives a dangerous life. Today it's a small cut, tomorrow it's his guts spilling on the cold, hard ground and becoming food for vultures. Paz doesn't know the terror that seizes you when Din crests a hill before he catches up. The thought every time that this is the time he doesn’t come home.

Your voice is small, half mumbling. "You promised."

Paz leans in towards you. "What was that?" he asks, voice still this side of mean.

You take a deep breath, resteeling yourself. "You promised."

Hot tears well at your lashline unbidden. Paz's face becomes wobbly, but you can see the confusion and concern written across it. The anger deep within your chest is reignited. It’s worsened when a tear finally falls and Paz gingerly wipes it from your cheek.

"You said you would talk to me before you took another job."

"I said I would try to."

You punch him hard in the shoulder. It doesn't hurt him in the slightest, but it's satisfying all the same. "Don't play word games. You promised me. You said you would and the next thing I know you're off with Din again."

"I left a note," Paz says, his chest puffing slightly. 

"And what a note it was," you spit back. "Gone on a bounty hunt. Be back soon. You'd think you went out to the saloon for the night with all the information you shared."

"I'm getting tired of going over this with you."

"That's why I asked you to talk to me before you leave,” you shout. 

Paz leans down to get directly in your face. The gray of his irises darken, like clouds before a thunderstorm. “You want to watch that tone, little miss?”

“I'll watch my tone as soon as you stop being an asshole. Oh wait, that'll never happen.” You try to push him away only for his arms to circle around you, pulling you flush against his body. 

Your legs are spread wide to accommodate his frame. You swallow a moan as your center is pressed against the bulge in Paz's trousers. Refusing to allow your baser urges to control you, you feign disgust instead. “You're a pig.”

Paz pulls you impossibly closer. One of his hands finds its way to the base of your skull, effectively scruffing you like a cat. “You had better find your manners real quick or I'm going to find them for you,” he grits out.

“Good luck.”

His lips are rough on yours. The kiss is more a clash of teeth and tongue than anything romantic. You detest the way your body easily betrays you and yields to his advances, but it has been a long three weeks without your husband. And there's no need for you to make things easy on him either.

You hook both your legs around his and pull them tight. He can't get any closer, but you still feel the way the pressure makes him stutter. You mimic his hand, pushing your fingers into his toffee colored locks, and pull him into you. He moans but then moves back from your embrace.

“Clearly this isn't teaching you any manners. I'm going to have to do a better job.”

Without any warning, Paz then lifts you up in a fireman's carry and hauls you off to the bedroom. You shout and pointlessly drum on his back to put you down. He responds with a smack to you ass that you can feel through your skirts.

Paz drops you onto the bed without ceremony and quickly positions himself over you. His large frame fills your vision entirely. The fabric of his shirt is pulled tight against his muscles, providing you with a delightful show, and you notice the obvious flush running down his neck. 

“Now I'm going to give you one more chance here, darlin’. You get yourself undressed right now and with no fuss, or I'm going to tear that pretty dress right off you.”

A rush of desire courses through you. As tempting as that sounds, this is one of your newer outfits and you'd rather not spend tomorrow trying to mend it back together. 

You shamelessly start to undress. Paz's gaze is heavy and eager. He looks exceedingly pleased with himself, convinced that you've decided to show him some manners. Poor cowboy doesn't know what you have planned.

Paz removes his vest and shirt, pulling back from his position over you. It provides the perfect opportunity. As he leans back over your now bare form, you quickly kick your feet up and plant them firmly on his chest. Despite Paz's size, your legs are powerful enough to keep him at bay.

His eyes widen in surprise for a moment before clouding over again. “Just what do you think you're doing, mesh'la?”

Your smile is wicked. “Nothing, riduur.”

You trail one of your hands along your body – Paz's eyes tracking them like a bounty that's close to getting away. You can feel the rumble in his chest as you slowly wind downwards.

“Don't you dare,” he warns as your intentions become clear.

You disregard him entirely and continue your path, not stopping until you've sunk a finger into yourself. The noise Paz makes is choked. Your pleasure doesn't last very long.

After only a few strokes, Paz makes his move. He backs away from your legs, quickly catching one under his arm and tearing your hand away from yourself. You would think the way his chest heaves is purely due to anger if it weren't for the obvious tent at the front of his jeans.

His large hand cups and covers your sex. You wait with bated breath to see what he'll do next. “Looks like I've got my work cut out for me,” he says and plunges one of his thick fingers into you.

Another day and you'd be embarrassed by how wet you've gotten. It's an afterthought at the moment. One of his fingers feels better than any and all of your attempts to feel full while he was gone. The noise he pulls from you is wanton and needy. 

“This what you need?” Paz asks. “Something to fill that little pussy of yours? Will that stop making you act like a goddamn brat?”

As good as you feel, your anger hasn't been snubbed out. “You think that's filling me?”

You watch as that comment makes something bigger within him snap. It makes your heart race with anticipation. In a flash, Paz has taken a seat on the edge of the bed and stretched your body over his knees. You hardly recall the feeling of his grip around your ankles.

His hands are greedy – touching and grabbing at every inch of your flesh. Just as you're about to make another comment, his hand comes down hard on your ass. You jump, hissing at the sting.

“Is this what happens when I'm gone for too long?” Paz asks. His hand cracks over your ass again. “You forget your manners?” 

You anticipate another sharp smack, but he surprises you with a soothing touch. His hand then glides over your curves and he presses two fingers into your pussy. The slight burn of the stretch is perfect. “Forget who this cunt belongs to?”

There's nothing gentle about the pace he sets. It's punishing, making your arousal drip down your thighs. He adjusts his fingers to find your clit, nearly overwhelming you completely. There's nothing you can do in this position but take it.

Your orgasm inches ever closer. Paz’s fingers glide over that spot you can never seem to find yourself, making you clench around him. His demeaning tsk glides past your ears. He changes his rhythm slightly and just as you're about to make that final leap he stops – going so far as to remove his hand from you entirely.

You whip your head around to glare at him over your shoulder. The look on Paz's face makes you finally understand Din when he calls it punchable. “Only good girls get to cum,” he says, punctuating his words with another light spank. You could really kill him now. Unluckily for him, you are capable of much worse.

You're not blind when it comes to your husband. You know his virtues just as well as his faults and although it has improved, his pride is still easy to take advantage of.

“Do you want to be good for me, mesh'la?” Paz asks. It's sweet that he thinks he has the upper hand.

You don't answer. Instead, you crawl off his lap and move to take off his trousers. Paz thinks this is a good sign. He really ought to know better. Maybe three weeks away made him forget who he belongs to.

His position on the bed is perfect for you. The self-sure grin tells you he doesn't suspect a thing. It's easy to further distract him by trailing gentle kisses along his body. You're relieved to see no further injuries he may have been stupidly trying to hide. It wouldn't be the first time.

You smile as Paz's eyes slip closed. He's so predictable.

Rather than settling yourself between his legs or on his lap, you turn around. He doesn't even catch on until you have his wrists pinned with your feet. You wrap your lips around his cock, humming as you hear Paz growl with frustration. In this position he's only able to look – not touch.

The pace you set is just as unrelenting as the one he used on you. He can do little more than moan as you overwhelm him with pleasure. 

Although there's no way to know for certain, you know Paz can't take his eyes off of you. Even if he wants to, the temptation is too strong for his eyes to close. You're so tantalizingly close, so fully on display, that he's powerless. It's not long before his bravado crumbles.

“Dar- darlin’ please. You've made your point, just, ah, let me touch you.”

You don't give into him just yet. As sweet as he sounds when he begs, you aren't satisfied yet. His hips jolt as you redouble your efforts. You missed the weight of him on your tongue and the ache in your jaw. 

“Please,” Paz continues to beg. “I can see the way you're clenching, let me take care of that for you.”

You can feel your wetness dripping down your leg at this point. Paz tenses beneath you, his breath hitching. You're finally able to take your revenge. 

You pull off of him, only leaving your hand to lightly squeeze at his base. You even sit up slightly, hiding yourself from his view. You sacrifice your pin, but it's worth it with your objective already achieved.

Paz wastes no time. You're flipped onto your back, his large frame once again filling your vision. “Are you going to be a good boy for me?” you ask, throwing his words back at him.

Thankfully he looks more amused than annoyed. “Can't help yourself can you?”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to you. “Just shut up and fuck me already.”

His lips muffle your moans as he pushes into you. He groans back in response, relishing the way you open up to him. Despite his size there's no resistance. Neither of you will last long like this.

Words are beyond you both. Your nails dig into the meat of his shoulder – the other hand tangled into his hair. Paz holds you steady with one of his big hands on your hips. He trails hot kisses down your neck and onto your chest, no doubt making bruises rise. Normally you'd care more about making him stop. You do have an appearance to uphold in town.

Pleasure overwhelms you, your face twisting with it. There's no time or point in giving him warning. Paz lets himself go as you do, your peaks combining into one.

You miss his weight as soon as he rolls off. He lays back onto the pillows and you're quick to follow, using his chest as yours.

It's quiet as you both come down from your highs. There's a tension that still lingers in the air.

You trace idle loops above his heart, taking note of a few more grays making themselves known in his smattering of chest hair. You're unwilling to burst this small bubble just yet. Paz does it for you.

“Care to tell me what had you all worked up?” he asks. “I'm smart enough to know it wasn't just this.”

“What makes you think this had anything to do with it?” you challenge. 

Paz squares you with a truly incredulous look. “I'm not that stupid, neither.”

You sigh. He could have at least given you both a moment longer in the afterglow. “I already told you in the kitchen. You said you'd talk to me before you left again.”

He scrubs a beleaguered hand over the uninjured half of his face. “S'not like I really had the time, darling. We have to move fast when a trail gets picked up or we'll lose ‘em. Either to distance or other hunters.”

“I am not asking for much, Paz. A bit more of a warning. A kiss before you saddle up and ride out. Nothing more.”

You wish you could ask for more. Ask him to never take another job – to never leave you again. To hang up his holster and spurs to live out a nice, quiet life with you until you're old and gray. You can't though.

Asking for him to change would be asking for a different man. All you can do is sit by, pray to any higher power that might exist, and hope that he'll come home to you. A moment's more time with him before he leaves again doesn't feel like too big a request. It's not too much change.

Paz still looks frustrated. He pulls you off of his side and onto his body so that you're on top of him. His hand reaches up, thumb brushing over your cheek. You do the same, but make your best attempt to smooth away his worry lines.

“I can't have you asking me to stay,” he finally says.

“What?” You don't understand what he means.

“If I agree- if I tell you when and where I'm headed, you can't ask me to stay.”

“Paz, I don't-”

“If you ask me to stay, I won't go and I can't have that. Din can't have that. He needs a partner to make sure he'll come home to his boy and I'm the only one dumb enough to join him every time. So I can't have you asking me to stay.”

Your anger finally dissipates as his words sink in. He's still not completely forgiven, which you'll be sure to let him know, but you can allow yourself to soften. There's a look in his eyes you've never seen before. It's almost fearful.

“I won't ask you that,” you promise. “I just need you to share a little more with me.”

You run your fingers through his hair, noting that the curly ends are starting to become just a bit too long. Maybe you'll convince him to sit down for a trim tonight before he takes matters into his own hands and shaves it all clean off.

“Thank you, riduur.” Paz smiles. “Now, can I get my proper welcome home?”

You scoff and swat at his chest, this time far more playful than before. “There's some dinner on the stove for you,” you tell him, pointing to the kitchen.

Paz grins, wide and sharklike. “I've already got my meal here.” 

A/N: Yeah I'm aware this being a Western AU wasn't a major component here but that's why this is my fic so ya know, I can do what I want

[whiskeynwriting]

Carnal Conviction

Paz Vizsla x Female reader

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Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Alcohol consumption, sex work/stripping, size kink, spanking, hair pulling, hickies, voyeurism, f|f activities, female masturbation, oral (m receiving), unprotected vaginal sex 

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A/N: I enjoyed this way too much, WAY TOO MUCH!!! Thank you always to my amazing beta-reader @thesleepingmusicneek (she’s literally the BEST)

Verd - Soldier/Warrior. Pronounced (vaird)

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Paz Vizsla Masterlist

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At this point, it’s comfortable for him. The surrounding setting has become a place he prefers, an establishment he can relax in. Above all other patrons, Paz and his brothers were favored. The owner respected the creed, and that respect also radiated to the employees. Whatever the Mandalorians needed, the owner gave. There was also the small expectation of protection that came with this type of treatment that the Mandalorians were more than happy to provide. But tonight, Paz didn’t have anything like that on his mind. 

When he first began to frequent this place, the lights and music were easily overbearing. It became difficult to see at times and this coupled with the loud sounds disoriented him. This, on top of the drinks being served, dulled his senses. But these drinks also helped to calm him, and arouse him. 

Instantly, he’s greeted by multiple women working this particular night. Their pretty smiles, the way they nibble their lips and reach for his pauldrons, it did wonders to him. How amazing it was to be so utterly wanted, and wanted by many. 

“Hey, Big Blue.” One woman greets, grinning up at him. 

Glancing down, his head rolls to the side a bit, hand coming up to gently tap her chin. She always was so flirtatious. 

“Elara.” He returns kindly, that deep voice shivering down her spine. She knows all too well the type of pleasure he can bring. 

“You sound tired,” She pouts, running a hand down the armor covering his chest. “Why don’t you come relax with me?”

Beneath his Beskar, he grins. “Let me get a drink.”

Her moue expression does nothing to stop him as he walks off, sure that she’ll return to her stage. When he’s ready, he’ll come find her. But for now, he wants to watch. 

This was something relatively new to him, these voyeuristic tendencies. It only began when he entered the club, and never occurred outside of it. The dancers here didn’t just strip, they were usually active with each other, too. Seeing two women kiss, touch each other, it made his body run wild. And within the club’s private rooms, he’s even had women touch themselves in front of him. That was something incredibly new for him. He never was one to have sex with multiple women at once; when he was ready to take someone back to a room, it’d always be just one. But on the stage? He loved watching those women interact with each other. 

Free of payment, as usual, Paz grabs his choice drink before walking toward the area where the women perform. Usually, he’ll drink it in private before engaging with one of the girls. With a short grunt, he takes a seat, spreading his legs and leaning back against the comfortable chair. 

Tonight, he can identify each woman by name. Helia and Vega, two dancers who frequently touched each other, Nova, with her long brown hair and curvy body, Trina’s gorgeous red hair and tight body. And then there were his favorites, girls he’s taken in private rooms many times. Venus, Cybele, and of course, Elara. It’s been years since a new girl has appeared, but it’s not like he minds.

He can feel his heartbeat rise as he watches with intent, Nova eyeing him as she dances. Sliding down the pole, she spreads her legs for him, trailing a hand down her thigh. Visibly, his head tilts in her direction, breaths becoming deep as he eyes the dainty piece of fabric keeping her modesty. It’s been quite some time since he pulled her aside, maybe she’ll be the one for him tonight. But this thought is fleeting, his attention now turning to the back curtains. Venus appears from behind the shades, grinning brightly with a certain excitement jumping through her veins. And then, she’s turning back around, reaching through the drapes of fabric to pull on a small pair of hands. 

And then, you.

Paz has never seen you before. 

Immediately, he’s intrigued, sitting up a little straighter in his chair. You look heavenly, so feminine and sweet. He’s already imagining your taste to be just as pleasant. The way your body wears your little costume, it’s taking his fucking breath away. The top holding your breasts together crosses over your chest, looping up around your neck. And leading his eyes down the path to your cleavage is a thin, silver chain long enough to touch your ribs. Thin fabric is looped around your hips, holding up a longer cloth that drapes between your legs. A teasing piece of fabric, incredibly thin, but just enough to hide your sex. Two silver chains also hang around your attractive waist, twinkling beneath the stage’s many lights as you sway. 

Paz has yet to see a woman in this space wear something like this, and he’s sure no one would wear it as well as you; nobody here has your body type, and he’s already dying for a taste of it. The pieces cradling your plump breasts and what he’s sure to be heaven between your legs, are almost like petals to him. Petals covering the true beauty of the newest and brightest flower. One he’s ready to pluck from the garden. 

In what appears to be a comforting gesture, Venus brings you in, cupping your face as she delivers a graceful kiss. Instantly, Paz feels himself fully harden, adjusting his position as he takes in a heavy breath. He watches as you smile against her lips, hands lifting to her upper chest, sliding down along her breasts. As you trail down her body, Paz witnesses you squeeze her chest, and outwardly groans from it. And when your hands land on her hips, curling around to cup her ass, he all but loses it. 

“Ready for me?” 

Turning, he’s forced out of his sultry haze as he now faces Elara once again. 

“Who is that?” He asks, avoiding her question. 

Pointing in your direction, Elara follows his hand, sighing dramatically as she rolls her eyes. Hands on her hips, she stares at him. “Of course, you want the new girl.”

“How could I not?” Easily, his visor returns to you. “Where did you find her?”

Watching the way you kiss Venus, your tongue sliding out as she leads you toward the center of the stage, Elara releases another breath. “Coruscant.”

“There’s no way you found her on Coruscant.” Paz scoffs, eyes unwavering.

“We did!” She claims, continuing with, “But she’s originally from Naboo.”

“There we go.” Paz responds smugly. “That makes much more sense.” 

“So… you want her?”

“Fuck yes.” His response is instant, voice full of lust and anticipation. But then, his tone becomes stern, authoritative and demanding. “Bring her to me.”

For as demanding and cocky as he was, the girls were surprisingly taken with Paz. Maybe it had something to do with his height, his large body, his bulging muscles, his heroic armor. 

As you reach for the nearest poll, Elara hops up onto the stage. While approaching you, she watches as you slide onto it with ease, your lean muscles flexing as you move over the smooth, tall metal. And beneath his Beskar cover, Paz is wetting his lips at the sight of it, the sight of you. The way you dance is elegant, seductive, swaying your hips to each note swirling through the club’s current song. 

When the older woman walks up to you, she easily grabs your attention. Leaning in with a smirk, she whispers into your ear. And then, your eyes are flickering over to him, going wide before a bashful smile takes over your pretty features. And then, Paz sees you blush. Oh maker, he’s going to wreck you. 

Elara speaks to you again, her mouth moving though Paz can hear none of her words. Turning back in her direction, your smile doesn’t leave, now nodding eagerly. There it is, he has you.

Observing you from a distance, Paz soon sees you close that gap. Slowly, you make your way down the stage steps, strutting languidly in his direction. And as you make your way over, he eyes every inch of you, taking his time roaming your body. He can’t wait to feel you pressed up against him, grinding over his lap, your pretty face just inches from him. 

“Hi,” Your demure nature only serves to heighten his want for you. “The girls say you’re interested in me.” 

“Very much so.” Exhaling the words, he leans back in his chair, arms resting up on either side of him. 

An air of confidence just radiates from him, his large stature quite intimidating. But not daunting. And as you move closer to him, the excitement of it all continues to heighten. Standing between his spread legs, you lean in, hands resting on his pauldrons as you begin to situate yourself over him. 

“I’ve never had a Mandalorian before.” And that admission sends him. 

“I’ve never had you before.” He easily returns, voice airy and raspy. 

While climbing onto his lap, Paz restrains himself from moving, allowing you to get comfortable on him. Your knees bend, resting on either side of his hips as you situate yourself, hands sliding down to his chest once you’re settled. 

“Guess we’ll both have a first tonight.” 

Mere inches away, your chest now rests before him, taunting him. Your thighs tighten on either side of him, now lifting yourself to grind over his crotch. The action is slow and soft, gentle, hips swaying in graceful circles while your pretty face holds that enticing grin. 

“Can I have your name?” Your voice is sweet as you say it, hands rising to either side of his helmet. 

In the blink of an eye, this man’s hands are on your own, quickly dropping his drink onto the side table. Paz witnesses your movement pause, your face full of caution. Amidst his bruising grip, the Mandlorian’s low voice rumbles, “The helmet stays on.” 

At this, he expects you to run, to curl in on yourself and completely regret the action. It’s happened with the other women here, they all reacted that way when it first happened, before they got… used to him. And it’s not that he meant to scare you, it was just his natural reflex.

To Paz’s utter shock, you smirk, leaning in to kiss the space you’re sure his lips are beneath his outer, metal skin. And it fucking melts him. At this very moment, he knows all you want to do is please him. With his chest tightening, his fingers do the opposite, loosening their hold on your much smaller wrists. 

“So,” Returning to your seated position, you wiggle your hips over him, grinding your bare clit down onto his codpiece. “Your name?”

He’s genuinely stunned by your casual response, but takes it in stride, nonetheless. For a beat, he thinks on this name business. No one here knows his name, not the girls, not the owner, no one. And honestly, nobody’s ever cared to ask. Mando was tossed around to pretty much every Mandalorian to ever walk a planet’s surface. 

“Verd.” He finally decides on, wanting to give you an actual name. Although, the Mando’a word isn’t exactly a name, more of a title. But it’ll do for this scenario. 

“Verd.” Repeating the word only prompts your grin to grow, hips rolling over his. “I like it.” 

When you repeat the word, something is set alight within him. Hearing you speak Mando’a makes his pulse quicken, his throat running dry while he watches you dance. And suddenly, he feels your hands on his own, guiding them toward your angelic body. Even though his gloves are rough and worn, in desperate need of conditioning, you place them on your hips. Inside, Paz’s heart pounds against his ribs; he wants to explore you further.

“Do you want to touch me?” 

“Will you let me?” He questions in response, fingers tightening ever so slightly.

“Yes.”

As soon as you say it, his hands are on your ass, fingers pushing aside the cloth to grab at your bare skin. It makes you gasp, feeling him haul you forward, shoving you back and forth over his lap. Appearing strong wasn’t any type of facade with him; Paz’s muscles were clearly capable of moving you in whatever way he wanted. And you move with him, leveraging yourself on his shoulders while rubbing your chest against his. Your breasts press against the smooth firmness of his armor, head dropping down to the cowl around his neck. 

“I want to see you…” Breathily, you beg for him. “Some of you… can I?”

Paz can feel your fingers fumbling around the cloth, slow and careful as you wait for his answer. Disrespecting someone’s religion or creed was never a trait you harbored. 

Swallowed thickly, he decides yes. “Yes, you can.”

Once he gives you permission, you find a loose piece of fabric, pulling it down to expose his skin. Leaning in, you press your lips to him, tongue poking out to drag a simple, sultry lick. And the way he groans makes you feel like you’re on fire, his head tilting back when you bite into him.

“Mm… pretty thing.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Curling into him with a bashful grin, you giggle, the sound flowing through him. 

“Gorgeous.” He grunts, flattening his feet on the ground as he grinds up into you. Although, he can’t feel much through his codpiece. He’s going to need a room with you. “Perfect body…” 

Leaning upright again, you sigh, taking both of his hands away from your ass and lifting them up to your chest. Lazily, his head lolls to the side, chestplate rising and falling with vigor as you guide him to cup your breasts. 

“Fuck…” Squeezing them with a groan, his helmet moves side to side. “Tell me what you like.”

“You.”

“Yeah?”

Nibbling on your lip, you nod. “Yeah… big, tall…” And then you’re reaching for his arm, hand sliding down his bicep. “Strong.” 

With a disbelieved scoff, Paz questions, “When the hell did you get here, huh? How the fuck did I miss you?”

“You haven’t missed anything; it’s my first night.” 

Again, that familiar shiver down his spine. It prompts him to further massage your chest, head tilted up as he admires you.

“Is this your drink?”

Turning to the side, he eyes his still-full glass. “Yes.”

“Not too thirsty?” 

This small observation provokes a certain thought in his mind. Reaching for it, he hums thoughtfully, lifting it to your lips. “Drink it.”

And you do so without hesitation.

While Paz holds the drink up to your mouth, his free hand continues to touch your glorious chest, trailing down the center of it and through your cleavage. 

“Yes…” Listening so well already. 

“Maybe I can return the favor sometime.” Comes your suggestive response, watching as he sets the glass down once again.

“Not likely, sarad’ika.” He replies, easily dismissing your comment. (Little flower)

“Hm… I like the way you speak.” 

But then, all too abruptly, you’re standing. Rising from his lap, you take one last look at him. 

“Maybe I can hear it again sometime.” 

*

*

*

The way you left Paz had him wanting for more, and that’s exactly what you were going for. Throughout the night, you watch as the other dancers approach him, wanting to rub themselves over his armor and sit on his large lap, not dissimilar in the way you moved with him. To your surprise, though, he was having none of that. He spent his time watching you.

After you left him, he approached the bar once again. Ordering another glass of his favorite liquor, he then went to a private hall to down it. Here, he eyed the back rooms, listening to the gentle moans already flowing from the intimate spaces. He thought about what you’d do in those rooms, what he could do to you. He’d kill to see you naked, watch your tiny little fingers slither down to your sex, parting your lips for him, rubbing yourself for him. He imagines you’d spread your legs wide before coming to sit on his lap, riding his cock until he painted your insides white, staining you with his remnants. 

He could feel it in his veins. He needed to have you, and he needed to have you tonight.

Returning to the center hall, his eyes immediately find you. Multiple men watch as you dance, some of them his own brothers, too. You’re sliding down one of the poles, leaning back against it as you squat and spread your legs. And then, one of your hands is sliding down through your hair, over your shoulder, and onto your breasts. 

Taking his seat, your warrior watches as another girl brings you to her lips. Holding your cheeks, she kisses you, your hands lifting to touch her chest. He can see the way your thumbs stroke her barely covered nipples, the way you prop up your thigh between her legs. And when your tongue lays out, he finds himself wishing for a kiss. He’d love to feel your lips, your tongue, and on any part of him. Maybe tonight, you’ll be gracious. 

All at once, you’re making him feel special, walking in his direction with your eyes on that intimidatingly dark visor. Staring into his eyes, into his goddamn soul, you squat down, thighs parted as your hand lowers to rub yourself. 

Did she read my fucking mind?

Promptly, he stands, turning to find the owner. With his sudden movement, you’re worried you did something wrong. It dulls the excitement of the night for you, watching him strut off down the hall again. 

But once he’s in the office, he’s dropping a sack of Republic credits onto the desk. 

“I want her.”

“Who?”

“Your newest girl.” Paz presents with confidence. 

“You don’t have to -”

“I want to pay for her.” He insists, knowing you deserve it. “I’ll be in room six.” A lucky number of his. 

“How quick?” The owner calls out after him, listening to Paz’s gruff, “Quick.” 

Again, Elara is tasked with pulling you aside. And your internal excitement is once again set ablaze. Knowing you didn’t scare him off makes your smile glow, your stomach fluttering with butterflies. And now, he wants a private room with you? Maker, you can’t get to that room quick enough.

“He’s already there.”

“In room six.” She smirks, hands finding her hips. “What do you think?”

“Are you kidding?” Baffled she’d even ask, you scoff. “Of course I’m going!”

“He’ll be quite a treat.” Your coworker offers a knowing look, with only a pinch of jealousy. “Have fun.” 

“Wait,” Reaching out for her arm, your shyness appears once again. “What, um, what is he like?”

Instantly, her smile blossoms. “Demanding, and rough.”

A wave of anticipation rushes through your limbs, tongue poking out to timidly lick your lower lip.

“And he likes when you show off a bit.”

With that, she’s leaving, returning to her place on stage to satisfy the other men in the crowd. You wonder what that means, showing off, but you’re sure to find out. The only place you can go to now, is room number six.

There is power in this, you do have a choice. You know exactly what goes on in those rooms, and if you didn't want that, you’re more than allowed to reject him. The owner made sure of this; the safety and comfortability of his employees were among his top priorities. But honestly, you’d be a fool to reject this. To not enter this room, to not indulge carelessly in this man… would be a genuine waste. 

The club’s rhythmic sounds begin to fade as you walk throughout the establishment, making your way to the back hall. The curtain covering room six’s opening has been pushed to the side, its warm yellow hue pooling into the dark corridor. He’s expecting you. And with each step, you can feel your excitement, can feel the rush of adrenaline in your veins, your ears ringing with a wild heartbeat. You’re meeting with a man you met mere hours ago, and you’re going to let him take you. 

“Hi again,” With a cheeky grin, you tilt your head, eyeing the large, blue man.

That visor of his noticeably tips, analyzing your stance. The way your hips sway could convey nervousness, or excitement. And he chooses the latter, that grin of yours exposing your playfulness. 

“Will you join me?” 

The tips of your teeth find the thin skin of your lip, nodding as you step in. But only once or twice, just enough to be inside. Your timid nature entices him, your innocence. 

Standing, this bulk of a man makes his way over to you. Reaching out, the warrior’s gaze holds your own as he closes the curtain, sealing off the room. And his towering form, that stoic expression, steals every word from your lips. It seems all you can do is stand beside him, watching his every advance. 

With gentle motions, Paz undoes and removes his codpiece, revealing to you the black underclothes that lie beneath. The immediate movement of your eyes, and the quick expression you give, flatter him. Beneath the metal mask, he proudly grins, a single hand dropping to grip the tent you’ve given him. But before you can even truly admire him, he’s turning, walking back to the wide couch so he can take his seat once again.

“Come.” He then commands, voice soft but stern. Patting his thigh, he completes his request with, “Show me what you can do.”

His words offer encouragement, power, traits you snatch from the air as you approach him with interest. And once you’re close enough, his dominant hand reaches out to you, finding the delicate slope of your waist. But you reject this small advance, turning in his grasp. With your back facing him, you sit, sliding your backside along his lap. 

All too easily, those covered eyes watch your hands. Slender fingers begin to undo the top tied around your neck, exposing your breasts once it falls. With a huff of arousal, he leans forward, pressing his armored chest to your back while reaching for your breasts. Warm, smooth metal presses to your cheek as he fists your tits in both hands, visor peering over your shoulder to gawk at them. And then he releases a groan, a sound that quickly turns into a growl.

Rough, just like Elara said.

A gasp escapes you when you’re pulled backwards, this warrior now resting back against the couch. Both of those meaty arms stay wrapped around you, gloved fingers plucking at your perked buds. And then, one is leaving, lowering to loop behind your knee so he can pull your leg up.

“Show me.” He demands breathily, voice already ragged. “Show me how you like to be touched.” Slinking your legs over his knees, he parts them wider, only a single piece of cloth hiding your most sacred parts. 

“I like how you’re touching me.” Smirking devilishly, your eyes close, body squirming on his lap as he rubs your chest. But then, his most dominant hand is grabbing your wrist and yanking it down between your legs.

“I said show me.”

Demanding.

“Verd…” And for a moment, he’s confused. That is, until he remembers the name he’d given you.

“Ner verd.” Paz corrects, “Say it that way.”

Without question, you do, wanting to satisfy him. “Ner verd…” (My warrior…) 

And for some reason, the fact that you don’t even know what you’re saying excites him that much more.

Leaning over your shoulder, he watches with hunger as you pull aside the last remaining piece of fabric. Though, he can’t see as much as he’d like at this angle; in the past, he’d had women sit across from him on this couch. Paz would have them spread their legs, exposing themselves to him while demanding they get themselves off for his entertainment. And when they were done, he’d run a hand down their sex, fingers playing with their overstimulated lips. Later, in the privacy of his own home, he’d taste it. And regardless of your current position, he knows he’ll do the same with you. 

“That’s it…” Now, he approves, watching two little fingers tap against your clit. “Beautiful, sarad’ika.” (Little flower)

With a small, confident chuckle, you continue, the two of you watching as you pleasure yourself. Both of Paz’s hands stay on your chest while you do it, covered eyes witnessing the way you rub your reddened bud, the way your fingers play with your lips. 

“You’re a teasing thing, aren’t you?” He hums, helmet rubbing against you softly. Giving you a single nod, he then suggests, “Tap it again… I love to see you twitch.”

On command, you do as he says, chest rising and falling beneath his hands. And the blue warrior groans when he sees it, this ginormous man shifting beneath you. 

“Yes,” Paz huffs harshly in your ear, adrenaline and arousal mixing within his body. “You listen perfectly.”

“Baby…” It comes out as a whine, and it drives him wild inside. 

“Pretty thing,” He hums contemplatively. “Pretty noises.”

“Touch me,” Unexpectedly, you begin to beg, turning your face to look at him. It’s as if the anticipation building inside your chest has burst, body unable to harbor any remnants. “Please.”

“Oh…” Regardless of whether or not you’re aware, Paz holds your gaze, lowering a hand from where he’d been massaging your breast. “Like this, mesh’la?” He inquires, entirely sarcastic as he knows this is the spot, he knows this is just what you like. (Beautiful)

“Yes,” Arching back against him, your hips thrust up into his touch. While reaching for his forearm, he begins to rub you faster, listening to the soft squelch your center begins to emit. “Yes - yes.”

Writhing in his arms like a fish from the sea, you’re surrounded by nothing but blue, fiercely entrancing blue. Every sound you make goes straight through him, radiating into his chest, his pelvis, the throbbing shaft between his legs. Collectively, your actions brew a sense of pride in his belly, knowing he’s brought this out of you. Like a seductive siren, you’re singing a song, reaching out to consume him entirely. 

“Maker, you moan like such a fucking whore.” Spitting the words through gritted teeth, he grunts behind you, the tips of his fingers rubbing through your entrance. The hand still on your chest, grabs at you firmly, metal face pressing against your flesh. Oh, how desperate he is for it, for touch. You can see it so clearly, and you wish he’d let you give it to him. 

“Ner verd…” Gloved fingers brush over the peak of your breast, caressing the pebbled flesh. “Let me touch you, please.” (My warrior…)

“Come here,” Paz complies, finding a new weak spot with this name.

Strong hands gravitate to your hips, guiding you up from his lap. Moving with his momentum, you turn, completely naked for him. And to his utter shock, he pauses, breath caught in his throat. While his face is hidden, you can practically feel his amazement, one hand sliding up to caress your stomach. 

“Just like that,” He coos quietly, admiring your advancement in the absence of his own. “Get on top of me.”

Settling over his broad thighs, your hands find his helmet, bringing him in. Unknowingly, you offer an incredibly intimate sentiment; you touch your forehead to his. It’s as close to a kiss as Paz is going to get, as close as he’s ever come to it. 

“Please…” Dominant hand grazing his metal chest, it follows a line down to his pelvis. And when you settle over his lap, finally palming the stiffness of him, his hold on you tightens.

Harshly, thick fingers dig into your skin, his hips rocking up into your hand while releasing a soft moan. Something tingles inside your belly, listening to this gentle sound. Not a grunt or harsh groan, but a sweet release of breath.

“Hm…” Lips quirking into a grin, you express to him, “I want it.”

With bated breath, you wait for him, now feeling a particular wetness seep through beneath your hand. The moment stills, seconds now confused with centuries. Though, it’s not agonizing, this wait; it’s thrilling. 

The pads of his covered digits then rub circles along your skin, his chest dipping with a breath as he finally says, “Then take it.”

Nimble movements unzip his covering, length hot and stiff against the knuckles of your hand. Without losing his gaze, your fingers move to his base, slowly sliding around his girth and feeling the coarse hair littering his skin. Paz’s own hands move, too, still on your hips as he helps lift you above him. Resting up on your knees, the two of you glance down, eyeing the treats you’ve each been given. 

Helmet tilting up, Paz grins upon seeing your amazed expression. You’ve never seen a man like this, so veiny and thick, tip bulging and prominently crimson. The hairs around his shaft and base are damp, from either sweat or prespend but truthfully, you’re hoping for a mixture of them. You can practically smell it, him, his sweat and natural musk taking over your senses. And your mouth waters from it, wishing desperately to crawl down his body so you can put your lips on him. 

“Sarad’ika,” Paz calls gently, finger prodding beneath your chin and tilting it up toward him. “Don’t make me wait.” (Little flower)

“Can I…” Trailing off, your gaze lowers again. Paz sees the way you lick your lower lip, the way your eyes widen from the sight of him.

With a chuckle, he encourages you. “Be my guest.”

Once he allows it, you scramble down from his lap, falling to your knees while settling between his. Mesmerizing is the look in your eyes, eager is the movement of your lips. Leaning in, you’re immediately licking him, tongue flattening as it drags up the underside of his cock. It surprises him, just how quick you are with it, a startled gasp easily spilling from his lips. And while your mouth begins to pleasure him, your hand pumps the rest of his leaking length. 

“Perfect…”

Pulling back, your hand slides up, thickest digit thumbing over his slit. It forces a jolt of pleasure through him, a single hand coming down to grab the back of your head. The other, however, falls to his base. 

“You like this?” He asks lowly, stroking himself. And when you nod, curiosity overtakes him again. “What about this?”

Smacking his dick against your mouth, he watches you moan. Those gorgeous eyes of yours flutter closed, lips parting as  he continues. 

“I like it…” Grumbling, the timbre of his voice prompts a small wave of pleasure to rush through your hips. “Just like that, smacking it against your pretty doll face.”

Truthfully, you’d stay like this as long as he asked. On your knees between his spread legs, naked body on display while he tapped his dick against your face. Some taps are harder than others, and then there were softer hits, ones that allowed him to smear his precum over your lips. 

“Take it.” Applying pressure to the back of your head, he guides you onto him once again. “Ngh, ri-right there, right down your throat.”

The ridges of your tastebuds can feel every inch of him, every vein that throbs beneath the weight of your tongue. And now, he feels himself fully thicken within the hot cavern of your mouth. But you can’t take the entirety of him; all around, he was more than sizable, his width stretching your lips to your limits. Already your jaw aches, and he hasn’t even started thrusting yet. Simply, he holds you there, keeps you pressed as far down as you’re willing to go. As the seconds pass, you can hear him grumble, hand petting lovingly at your hair. Violently, he throbs against the hot suction of your mouth, his tip entering your throat. Every pulse that runs through his erection is powerful, the pound against your mouth prompting a moan from the depths of your chest.

“You’re drooling.” He notes casually, head cocking to the side.

Just barely, you’re able to look up at him, tears already dripping from the corners of your eyes. It’s a wonderful sight, especially when you reach up to stroke the remaining length. Every bit of skin he shows has been touched, kissed and licked and sucked on until he just couldn't take it. And that’s exactly how he likes it.

The tiny fist you wrap around the base of his dick makes him grin, continuing to stroke your hair as he says, “You’re so pretty like this.”

For how rough he could be, this man also seemed to have a sweet side. Maybe he was like that with everyone, or maybe he was just like that with you.

Streaks of mascara run over your cheeks, lipstick smeared from the spit dripping down your chin. The makeup you’d worked so hard on, ruined. All from him, and it’s been done in his perfect vision. Just how he’d pictured you - on your knees, crying for him, mouth stuffed to the brim. 

“Pretty little mess.” And with the way he says it, you’d think it was an insult.

The hand once petting your hair now grips it at the crown, shoving his hips up toward your mouth. Forcefully, you gag, the motion completely unexpected. But you take him as best you can, the hand around his cock now joining the other atop his thigh. It’s done to brace yourself, but he isn’t having any of that.

“No,” Paz growls, shoving your hands away. “Keep your hands down, keep them off of me.” 

Obediently, you lower them both, resting loosely behind your back. And now that your hands are gone, both of his find the back of your head, repeatedly forcing you down onto him. Every thrust is accompanied with a harsh grunt, cock stiff and hot as it repeatedly punches into your mouth. His tip, red and dripping, strikes the back of your throat with every rut, every erratic and animalistic movement. 

There’s nothing else for him, not in this moment. Right now, every bit of his attention is given to you, to your body and mind and everything you can bring him, everything he can bring you. Since the moment he laid eyes on your mesmerizing form, he knew he’d have you. One way or another, he was going to make you his; add you to his collection of girls. And this is just how he pictured it, even better, really. You’d already touched yourself for him, and so willingly dropped to your knees, too. He can’t remember the last time a whore sucked him off. Usually, sex was just sex; even here. Sure, he’d have his fun, but oral was never part of the deal. After a little bit of teasing, every woman here immediately got to business. But not you, and he’s liking that. You’re taking your time to satisfy him.

“Ugh,” With a wet gasp, you pull away, but only once he’s allowed it.

Every breath is ragged and hoarse and Paz’s are nearly just as rough. Allowing you this reprieve, he expects you to take it. But you’re full of surprises tonight, almost immediately diving right back in.

“Sh…” He says to you softly, gloved hand grabbing your jawline and chin. And when you look up at him, your expression is filled with such a sweetly sickening innocence. “Up.”

Climbing up his thick thighs, you find yourself wanting to meet his mouth. As if he’s thinking the same thought, his fingers move across your chin, sliding upward a bit. Using his thumb, he parts your lips, watching as you grin. With a single, simple shake of his head, he murmurs, “What I wouldn’t give to taste these lips…”

“Would you give your creed?” Teasingly, you return, mere inches from his metal skin.

“Not a goddamn chance.”

And with that, he’s reaching down and hauling you up and onto his lap. Your giggle is mixed with a tasteful gasp, hands reaching for those broad shoulders once again. Although you can’t kiss him, you can kiss his helmet, which you find comfort in doing. Pressing your lips to his metal cheek, you sigh blissfully against him. Somehow, it brings you closer to him.

Both of your warrior’s hands find the wonderful expanse of your backside, fisting it with a satisfied hum. Rocking you forward, he’s successful in brushing your smooth cunt against his shaft, another rapturous noise coming from him. 

“Are you ready for me, hm?” It doesn't take long before you’re moving of your own volition, grinding against his tip and rubbing yourself all the way down his length. 

“Mhm,” Forehead rubbing against the side of his helmet, you sigh, something similar to a tiny whine. 

Pulling you forward onto his chest, he grunts, lifting you enough to slide his tip against your entrance. Using your hold on him as balance, you take the lead, reaching down to angle him as he begins to slide in. Easily, Paz sinks inside, every single inch slowly but surely becoming enveloping by your welcoming walls. It’s almost unfair, the expectation of this. He’s monstrously thick and pounding against your thin, sensitive skin.

“Oh,”

“Yes.”

Dragging hotly against your inner walls, he’s already stretching you to tears halfway in. Painted fingernails dig into the cowl covering his skin, wishing to touch him, to kiss and mark him. You’re certain if you pushed it away, there’d already be beautiful discolorations from your lips. 

“Don’t worry, ner sarad’ika…” Paz grumbles, his hands moving over the curve of your waist. One finds purchase on your hips, while the other rises to the back of your head. With gentle force, he pulls you into him, feeling your arms loop entirely around his neck. “We’ll make it fit.” (My little flower)

“Verd,” Whimpering, your arms shake as he lowers you even more. “Ner verd.” (Warrior, my warrior)

“There you go,” Your correction forces a sense of pride to grow within his chest. “So good…”

“Fu-uck,” The cry is broken and breathy as it spills from your lips, sitting firmly on his lap.

He’s entirely inside, your ass resting against his scrotum. Even through his Beskar, he can feel the heavy rise and fall of your chest, can feel the shift of your thighs as you spread even wider to accommodate him. But then, you’re wincing, something that quickly concerns him.

“What?” Rubbing your back, he sighs, feeling your walls clench hotly around him. “Tell me.”

“Mm,” Timidly, you whimper, one hand dropping to press against one of his tassets. 

“Oh,” He realizes, hands dropping down to remove the armor that must be pinching at your sweet skin. And once the tops of his thighs are uncovered, you shimmy against him, rubbing over the black fabric still covering his bulky body. 

Once he’s set the plates aside, his hands run up and down your arms. “There…” He says comfortingly, hips rocking up into you. “Keep going, keep going.”

Shifting your hips, you gather yourself enough to sway against him. With both palms pressing against his cuirass, you steady your breaths in order to find a rhythm. And quickly, you do, alongside your warrior’s own eager movements. It brews inside him, the need to have you, to stretch you out and fuck you in a way you’ll remember; mold your insides to him, steal your breath and captivate your complete attention.

“That’s it, sweet little whore.”

“Baby,” His words do something ungodly to you, mixing with every ounce of exciting sin. 

“Look so fucking good,” His words are breathy, body moving with yours quite smoothly. “Impaled on me.”

“Yes, yes.”

The man beneath you is big enough to lift you entirely before dropping you right back down, cockhead hitting the deepest parts of your sex. His ridges rub along your insides in the most delightful way, pressing up against the spot that makes your eyes roll and your hips sway. 

“Can, can I, please…” Pawing at the covering around his neck, Paz becomes impatient, reaching up to rip it off completely. 

With a breath of relief, he continues, hand returning to your ass with a harsh spank just as you move to his neck. Your body shakes with his force, the motion repeated as soon as your lips attach to his neck. You’re bouncing down on him, ass slapping against his clothed thighs. 

“Fuck,” Growling, he almost can’t keep himself from doing it again, slapping your cheeks just to watch and feel them jiggle. “Fuck yourself onto me, just like that.”

His voice is deep and demanding, yet sincere and encouraging. Adrenaline rushes through your body every time you hear him speak, that slightly muffled and almost staticy voice doing wonders to your aroused state of being. 

“Ner verd,” Digging your teeth into his skin prompts another quick spank, one that sends a shrill giggle straight from your chest. “Yes.”

The slightly muted sound of your naked thighs against his covered legs begins to reverberate through the room, skin against skin echoing when you bring yourself down to his pelvis. He seems to enjoy it when you mark him, sucking on his skin with a fierce sense of determination. And when you’ve deemed one spot complete, you lick it sweetly. More than you can even fathom, it satisfies him.

“Sweet thing,” The smile in his tone is evident. “My new favorite girl.”

Wrapping both arms around you, their strength prevents you from any more movement. Instead, he pulls you onto him, pistoning his hips up against your sex. The pure power and force behind his working muscles leaves you fighting for breath. And alongside his flattering words, you find yourself smitten with him. 

The overwhelming sensation of him claiming your weeping cunt makes you see stars, makes you cling to him like you’d die if you didn’t. His panting breaths even fan out beneath his bulky mask, brushing over your skin and giving you a subtle taste of him. Floating through your head is the thought of his tongue, how he’d taste if you ran your own across it; how would he kiss you? How would his lips feel? How would they move?

“I want to claim you.” Voice deep and rumbling, he goes on to say, “Fill you to the brim with nothing but my seed.”

“I want that,” Nodding, you cling to him, his body firm and strong and Maker, how did you get him? “I want it.”

“Fill this sweet cunt, plug it with my cum.” It’s almost like he’s rambling, talking himself up to the point of an earth-shattering orgasm. “Say it to me.”

“Hm?”

“Th - my name. Say my name.” Amidst his excitement, his clouded mind, he’d almost forgotten. 

“Ner verd.” And the way you say it makes his entire existence float away with something akin to yearning, longing. (My warrior)

Inside, you feel fuzzy, needy and tingling with overwhelming bliss. The way he fucks up into you is sloppy, desperate to cum inside the warmth you’ve given him. You feel like a toy, nothing but entertainment for him. And you’re more than fine with satisfying that expectation. 

Driving his hips upward, something in him seems to break. Choking on his own breaths, he grunts, seeking out your wet warmth as he releases inside. 

“Soft fucking insides, so warm and welcoming - fuck. I’m gonna cum in it,” Squeezing you in his arms, his hips stutter, jerking against your core. “I’m gonna cum inside…”

“Y-Yes,” Dragging your nails down his neck, you witness the evidence of your own pleasure painting his skin red. 

The force of his high brings on your own, rutting over his lap as you try desperately to rub your clit onto him. It brushes over his pelvis, over the coarse hairs littering his base as you shake in each other’s arms, wanton moans floating freely through the room and out into the hall. Rope after rope fills your channel, the white liquid flooding your most sensitive space. And it milks him for every drop, clenching around his girth as your own high wrings every bit of pleasure from your limbs. Shivering through your body, he holds you through the overwhelming pleasure of it, listening to your feminine moans and reveling in the fact that he’s caused them. 

One hand then drops to your backside, squeezing you kindly once again. Giving you an easy tap, he clears his throat, sighing into relaxation. It’s obvious when he calms, body slumping slightly into his seat. Resting back against the cushions, he urges you to lay on his chest, smiling to himself when you do. It’s always comforted him, this brief sense of intimacy after sex. 

His next words are genuine, a promise he intends to keep. “I’ll be seeing you again.”

[notsentimentalll]

Main Masterlist

I'll be constantly adding more master lists, while also constantly updating the existent ones!

NONE OF THIS FANFICTIONS ARE MINE!

Again, i've been reading for a while and I want to keep track of the best things I've read, while also sharing.

Joel Miller Masterlist

Paz Vizsla Masterlist

[maybege]

Drained

Summary: Donating blood suddenly has a very different meaning.

Pairing: vampire!Paz Vizsla x fem!!Reader

Wordcount: 3.9k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, explicit sexual content, dry humping, blood

Happy October everybody! I hope that autumn is treating you well and if it is not, that I can make you feel a little better with this Halloween-y Paz piece. As always, this is an AU that has existed extensively in my mind for a very long time, so it was fun to actually write something about it lol I hope you enjoy it and if you do, please leave a comment or a reblog, so we can all freak out about what a hot fun guy vampire!Paz is.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

The night air was crisp as you made your way to one of the most exclusive clubs in the whole city and your choice to wear high heels felt stupider with every step you took over the wet streets of downtown but it was too late to change your mind now. In more ways than one.

You threw another look at your phone, where your navigation app guided you down yet another dark alleyway until you arrived at a door that couldn’t look further from trustworthy if it tried.

But as you pushed the door to Vizsla’s Speakeasy open and made your way behind a deep red velvet curtain, you were suddenly enveloped in pure luxury. You could make out leather tufted booths in the candlelight. The walls were dark but shimmery, looking soft to the touch, and more than one wall was covered in golden picture frames. Jazz music played in the background, though you could not see a live band, though maybe they were just hidden in the depths of the bar.

The place was packed – so packed, in fact, that you were surprised you hadn’t heard the commotion outside. Those brick walls must be very thick, indeed.

Trying very hard not to think about the fact that you were surrounded mostly by vampires, you made your way to the bar which was set up on the long side of the room. A tall woman stood behind the counter, looking busy. The shelves behind her were stacked with easily hundreds of liquor bottles, creating a colourful backdrop.

“Uh, hi, I am here to, uh, to – “

“New donor?” the gruff woman asked, not stopping her work of wiping down the counter.

You nodded quickly, trying to make yourself feel tall and confident and hoping that no one saw how tightly you were gripping your bag.

Marylin had sworn on her new designer bag that blood donating was one of the safest things one could do (“and it gets you bags like these!”). Considering how long you had worked together, it was kind of tragic that it took four years and her floating into work with that cherry red bag that you had seen in a window one day and had dreamt of ever since to ask her where she had all that disposable income from.

After all, you both worked the same job.

“Oh, that is easy,” she grinned, “I am donating blood.”

It was common knowledge that the streets of the city belonged to the creatures of the night. At least it had been that way ever since you could remember. Your grandparents sometimes still talked about the time before vampires and werewolves suddenly appeared at every corner, drastically changing life as they knew it.

The time of change was something neither of your grandparents ever talked about. It must have been rough. But somehow, after years of tensions and deaths and protests, it all settled into something that everyone could live with. And part of that was that the cities were flooded at night with people that previously had to hide. There were establishments specifically for them, where like and like mingled, and from a young age you were taught never to go out at night.

As you grew older and actually moved from your parents' place in the peaceful suburbs to the city, you knew that nighttime was not as dangerous as they had made it out to be. The interest vampires and werewolves had in actually tearing you up was overrated and you could still go out for an after-work drink or celebrate your birthday by going out until the sun rose. There were just some streets you tried to avoid.

But a huge part of why it was no longer so dangerous was because blood banks existed. And not the kinds to save people’s lives. Although, in some way, they did. Vampires no longer having to hunt and drain innocent bystanders entirely of their blood to survive made the biggest difference in being able to share a society.

You could go to any hospital and donate blood just like in old times and, just like in old times, you were compensated with a small fee. Charitable work, truly.

Unless you wanted to get a cherry red handbag, pay off the medical bills inherited from your childhood, finally afford an apartment bigger than a shoebox, or invite your friends out for dinner sometime.

Then, you wanted to go where Marilyn directed you. Into one of the vampire-owned locations where said vampires would splurge a lot of money on getting blood that was not vacuum sealed in a medical-grade plastic bag.

“It is like a very unusual cocktail bar,” your colleague had explained, showing you her neck and wrists to make her point about how no marks were left after a few days, “And I have never felt safer anywhere else. Just try it and thank me later!”

Which is why you were now standing in front of a woman who looked nothing like how you imagined a vampire to look. She was wearing normal clothes, for one, and her tattoo sleeve did not make her look very immortal. “Name’s Steph,” she introduced herself. “Care for a welcome mocktail while you wait?”

“No, thank you.”

She nodded. “Mar sent you, right?”

It took you a moment to realize that Mar was Marilyn and you nodded, nervously looking around. There was no official dress code but you were happy you ended up going with the black pumps and the little black dress. Everyone here looked like they were dripping in understated wealth. “She said she wouldn’t be here today.”

“Nah, she only comes on Tuesdays,” Steph explained and set the glass down, “But you’re not here to see Mar.”

No, you were not, and the reminder made your throat feel very dry.

“There is no reason to be nervous,” she smiled, “The first donation is always with one of your more senior guests. They have more experience with feeding off someone alive and can control themselves if you show any signs of discomfort. If you feel in any way unsafe, just say Geronimo, and I will come and make sure you are okay, okay?”

You nodded, biting your tongue to ask how she was supposed to hear you over the noise.

“I am sure you want to get to know who is going to be assigned to you tonight – Pat!”

A woman turned around with the happiest smile you had ever seen. Her dark hair was in a tousled updo and heavy diamond earrings swung when she turned around. Though that was not what you focussed on. There was a small trail of blood down her throat and you wondered if you should tell her. How hard was blood to get out of clothes anyway?

“What’s up?”

“Where’s Djarin tonight?”

“Oh, he's gone camping again,” she explained, “He asked Mr Vizsla to take over, he should be here somewhere, I just saw him …”

“He is right here, ladies,” a deep voice said right behind you and you turned around.

You were not sure what you had been expecting. Certainly not this specimen. He was tall. And broad. And handsome.

Oh fuck, why is he so handsome?

Mr Vizsla was the biggest man you had ever seen and if you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was a werewolf. He had a strong, stubbled jaw and his dark hair was swept into a hairstyle that made you think of your grandmother's movies. He wore an all-black suit with the first few buttons undone, which meant you got a peek at his chest and the gold chain that was around his neck.

“She’s the newbie that was assigned to Djarin tonight.”

You met his gaze and immediately knew he had caught you ogling him. Shit. But then his eyes roamed over you and you swallowed, trying to stand a little taller even if your feet were already killing you. This was the most beautiful man you had ever seen and everything in you wanted to impress him. The side of his mouth quirked up into a charming smile.

“I'll take it from here,” he announced and held out his hand to you, “why don’t we get you somewhere more comfortable, darling?"

You followed him silently through the bar that seemed to much deeper in the building than you had originally thought. At one point, you even passed the band. You spotted his face in a few pictures, several of them black and white.

He looked older than you but he didn’t look old. Not like he had lived entire millennia. Maybe he hadn’t. Was it considered rude to ask vampires their age?

“Did you read the pamphlet?” he asked when he stopped you both at a small and empty booth. His hand was warm and dry, you could feel a few callouses at his fingertips and you wondered if he worked. Or if he had always been a … businessman? Bar owner?

You nodded, listing off every bullet point that had been on the online info sheet Marylin (Mar, apparently) had forwarded to your email. “I made sure to hydrate plenty, am not taking any blood thinners and my last check-up at the GP did not show anything wrong with my bloodwork. I should be good to donate blood.”

“Good,” he nodded, “do you have any questions before we get started? Anything at all?”

You shook your head. You knew why you were here but why did it suddenly all feel so fast?

His strong hand wrapped around your wrist and you let your eyes drift over the tattoos on his knuckles and the girth of his fingers and … damn it, how could one man be so … handsome? You had always thought of vampires as pale-faced, porcelain statue versions of humans. But he looked … rugged, and warm, and real. And pretty damn sexy.

“Do you have a preference?”

“What?”

With burning ears, you realized you hadn’t listened to a word this handsome stranger had said. He realized it too because he had that cocky smile again. “Don’t get distracted by my dashing looks, sweetheart,” he teased you, “This is important.”

You nodded numbly, still watching your hand in his. “I will take a bite at your wrist first,” he repeated gently, “Some people have a strong preference for where to bite and we find that it is a good test to see how you feel afterwards. I usually suggest the non-dominant hand but maybe you already have a preference?”

“No, uh, non-dominant is fine,” you murmured, holding out the hand in question.

Mr Vizsla did not look away from you though. His dark eyes were filled with mirth as he patted the spot right next to him. “Might be a bit more comfortable if you're closer,” he said and you looked down at the big space between your bodies. He was right, you knew that, but you also knew that your heart was not just racing because you were nervous to give yourself over to a vampire. No, you were pretty sure that the closer you got to him, the likelier you would be to embarrass yourself.

You really did not want to embarrass yourself.

Not even a second later, you could feel his thick thigh press against yours. Your heart skipped a beat and you wondered if he could hear it. It had been too long since anyone touched you and of course, it had to be at the most inopportune moment that you realized that.

“No need to be nervous,” he assured you, “If you feel in any discomfort if you want to stop for whatever reason, just say Geronimo and Steph is right there to punch me off you if you feel unsafe.”

“Steph?”

Who was Steph? All you could focus on was the sight of him gently cradling your hand and brushing his mouth over your palm. The touch was so gentle, yet so intentional, it made your thighs clench. His lips brushed over the inside of your wrist and your breathing stuttered. “Think of nice things,” he winked at you before his teeth sank into your skin.

An image flashed in front of your eyes. Nice might be the wrong words to describe it. You saw him – felt him, more like – bent over you, driving into you from behind. Your eyes rolled back, hands fisted into white sheets. It was warm, you were in the tropics somewhere, but that did not bother you. Because the man behind you fucked you so good you were crying, begging him for more and all you could see was –

“How are you feeling?”

You blinked, feeling dizzy at how violently you were pulled away from an idea that felt so real. What was that?

The dark-haired man still had your hand in his and you could see two little drops of blood forming on your wrist. It did not hurt, not really, except for a dull throbbing in your veins. You frowned, trying to clear your head of the image that had been so real for a moment that your body still craved being filled by … him.

“Good,” your voice felt hoarse and you swallowed, trying to get rid of the sudden dryness in your throat. He had no business looking so devilishly handsome with his lips stained dark from your blood.

Your neck would be next, you knew, and immediately your mind was filled with pictures of you in his lap, closer than what was probably appropriate. Then again, it didn’t exactly seem like society’s rules were followed in this place.

He shifted in his seat, his legs spreading and your eyes involuntarily darted to the bulge hidden by his slacks. With the dim lighting, you shouldn't have been able to see anything but still, you imagined to see a very distinguishable something between his legs.

And then an idea popped into your head that you could not get rid of.

“Would it – would,” you swallowed again, trying to find the courage to ask what you wanted.

“What, darling?” he asked, his tongue darting out to lick over the puncture wounds on your arms. You gasped at the feeling. Maybe someone should add spontaneous arousal to the side effects section of that pamphlet.

“Can I – Could …”, you stopped short, frustrated at how nervous you were.

“You want to straddle me?” he suggested his legs spreading the tiniest bit more and you could feel your core pulse at the sight of it. Shit. Fuck. Damn it.

“Is that very inappropriate?” you rushed out, “I am sorry, I don’t mean to put you into an awkward position and –“

“Hey,” he murmured, his hands on your waist gently guiding you to him “Whatever makes you feel the most comfortable, all right?”

You took a deep breath, “All right.”

His large hand was on your neck, gently cupping one side so you could rest your weight against it, offering him up all this space. There was faint music in the background and you could feel his breath wash over the sensitive skin.

Your breathing stuttered, your heart raced and you shifted closer to him, your core settling over his which made you even more.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your jawline, the tip of his nose over your neck, “It is like I can hear your thoughts from here.”

Your laugh sounded breathy even to your ears but before you could worry about how you wanted to make sure you were not being a nuisance; his teeth sank into the soft skin of your neck.

The images returned almost instantly.

This time it wasn’t him behind you in the tropics. This time it was right where you were sitting. But instead of straddling him, you were kneeling between his legs, your mouth wrapped around the girth of his cock. You were caged in by his thick thighs, you could feel the heat of his body at your shoulders, his hand at the back of your head, pushing and pulling you on his shaft.

Good fucking girl, he rumbled in your mind and you gasped out a moan. With a particularly deep thrust, he hit the back of your throat and you gagged, your eyes eager to find him even through the tears.

The scene morphed and you were somewhere else, wearing next to nothing. There were people all around you, club music pounding in your ears. You wore a mini-dress with an orange pattern looking like it came out of one of those retro shows. But that was not what you focused on, no.

You were on him, his cock nestled inside you as he faintly talked with other people and you were just there, moving in minuscule thrusts as he kept his hands on you, his mouth occasionally on your neck, whispering things you could not hear but knew were dirty.

Oh fuck. You wanted to pull away, feeling your pussy getting wetter. At this point, you would not be surprised if you had left a wet patch on his pants. But you would be really fucking embarrassed.

The burning in your cheeks made you want to jerk back, get off his lap and run away to move to the other side of the county.

Don’t, sweetheart, you will hurt yourself.

Your eyes flew open, seeing nothing but the dark corner of the ceiling. He was in your head. Was he in your head?

You are in my head?

His mouth did not leave your throat and his other hand landed on the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. Right onto the growing bulge in his pants.

Believe me, that’s my first time, too, his voice sounded amused, almost, don’t stop on my account. I quite enjoyed the little picture show.

The hand on your neck spanned wide and suddenly he was tilting your head differently and your eyes fell closed, returning to the images in your minds – and in his, too, apparently.

Your hips started moving on their own accord, grinding against his prominent erection as you found yourself chasing a high you had not felt in a long time.

Fuck, sweetheart. You could faintly hear him groan against your neck and you bucked against him again, the pressure on your clit delicious. The hand on your back wandered lower, to your ass and with how you were moving against him, it was easy for his fingers to slip under the hem of your dress.

Please, Paz, you thought, your pussy aching when his calloused fingertips brushed the lacy edge of your panties before finding the wet spot between your thighs.

Come for me, sweetheart, his voice commanded in your hand.

Countless scenarios flashed in your head, each one more pleasurable than the last but all of them too quick to focus on one. Even if you had wanted to, you would not have been able to form a coherent thought as your orgasm crashed through you.

When you came back into reality, his tongue was on your neck, closing the wound just like on your wrist before. Your thighs felt uncomfortably wet and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“Well, that was a first,” Paz breathed and you blinked, trying very hard to be present. The high you were still floating on came crashing down when you realized you were still sitting on his lap and you had just come in front of this, essentially, stranger when that had really not been the plan.

Fuck, you had to get out of here before he kicked you out. How could you have dropped the ball so badly on this?

“No movement,” his hand flexed your back, stopping you from clambering off him, “We don’t want you to get dizzy. Stay here for five-ish minutes and we will see how you feel after some aftercare.”

“A-aftercare?”

He nodded, his fingers brushing over your neck. “A mocktail and the pastry of the day,” he elaborated, “I think it’s croissants today. “

You really liked croissants.

“I am so ashamed,” you whispered, your eyes firmly fixed on his collarbone, “I am so sorry. I promise I will never come back. When Marylin explained donating blood, it didn’t sound like – I wasn’t prepared for –“

“Please do come back,” he interrupted you gently, fingers tipping your chin up until you had to meet his dark eyes, “It – What happened is rare. And I never heard of both happening at the same time.”

Your puzzled expression was enough for him to continue.

“Some people are more … sensitive,” his deep voice sent a shiver down your spine, “When it comes to feeding from them. And I have heard of the odd pair where there was a telepathic connection, but I’ve never – haven’t experienced either. There is no reason to be ashamed. Clearly, I was affected too.”

Your cheeks burned at the memory of that one image that you were certain your head hadn’t come up with.

“Though I have to warn you that if you do come back, I might ask you to be assigned to me every time,” he teased, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. You wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. When he spoke, his fangs did not seem all that prominent but would it be different if you kissed?

“I – I wouldn’t mind that, Mr Vizsla,” you admitted quietly.

He scoffed, “Call me, Paz, sweetheart, please.”

The arrival of the waiter interrupted any further conversation and Mr Vizsla (Paz) gently eased you off his lap until you were sitting right next to him. Although the movement was slow and minimal, a wave of dizziness still washed over you and you understood why he had kept you from fleeing.

“Drink,” he offered you the fancy glass and you took it. His arm was draped around the back of the booth right behind you and you felt both comforted and nervous by how close he was.

“Slow and steady,” he murmured as you gulped down the fruity mocktail. His forehead was almost leaning against your temple and you had to resist the urge to just … relax into him.

This felt like the best sex you ever had and yet this man was virtually a stranger. But there was no hesitation in his gentle touches as he offered you the plate with the croissant and there was no flinching on your part when he put his arm around your shoulders.

Was it possible to feel such deep trust in someone you had met only once?

His phone rang and you watched as he pulled it out of his pocket, the sizable screen dwarfed in his hand. A frown formed on his face and your smile fell.

“I am so sorry, but I need to go now,” he announced with a frown on his face. With you still sitting down, he seemed even bigger and you looked up at him with big eyes. Somehow, you had hoped that he would stay. That you could get to know him more.

“So soon?”

“I have to be home in time to feed the cat,” he replied.

“You have a cat?”

“Yeah, her name is Biscuits and if her dinner is late she will start killing any mice she can find and I will not spend my eternal life digging small gravesites.” As if to prove his point, he unlocked his screen and showed you a picture of the fluffiest cat you had ever seen. Biscuits seemed a fitting name.

“Will – will you be here next time too?” you asked before you could lose your courage.

“Oh definitely,” he grinned, “Remember what I said, love, you’re stuck with me now.”

[mysticalgalaxysalad]

Hiiii my dear ❤️ as a fellow Paz lover, can you pleaaase bless us with your thoughts about how Paz would absolutely love and spoil his beloved when she comes home from an awful day of duties? Like those big hands are NOT just for swinging that massive gun around. He’s got to give the most amazing massages! 🥺🥺🥺❤️

Oh god yeesssss 😌😍

The man could move mountains with his hands. You come home, pretty much tired and it shows on your face. Paz comes to greet you with a soft kiss, making you purr and hum happily. He hugs you tight, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you bridal style to the couch. You giggle and try to get up, but he stops you gently, smirking.

"My princess is tired and needs to rest. I can take care of you, mesh'la, just let me."

You feel touched by his care and of course you let him. Paz runs a warm bath for you, full of esential oils and a lot of bubbles. He washes you, massages you and you completely melt into his hands, working wonders on your body. Not to mention he gets a little bit handsy, making you moan softly 😏

After the bath, Paz cooks for you the best meal you ever had and you both have generally relaxing afternoon, cuddling in bed, kissing, until the kisses turn more passionate. Paz slides between your legs, looking at you with mischief.

"You seem to look better, my mesh'la, but you need some more rest..."

He kisses his way up your inner thighs, marking them all over with his love bites and hickeys. You're at this point restless, needy mess.

"Mmmm, Paz..."

"Yes, beautiful? Is there something you want? Use your words, pretty one..." he teases you, hovering over your wet pussy.

"Fuck.. I need you, Paz.. Please... I want you so bad.."

Hearing you begging this nice, Paz decides to reward you with putting his mouth on you and doesn't stop, until you cum at least three times in his face, before destroying you completely with his cock.

At the end of the day, all stress is forgotten and you peacefully sleep in Paz's strong protective arms.

[bitchin-beskar]

Interrupted

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: College!Athlete!Roommate!Paz Vizsla x Fem!Reader (Bunny)

Warnings: Whoo boy there’s a few. SMUT. I feel like I shouldn’t have to say that, but this is basically ALL smut. Free use agreement, and talk relating to that. [BC THIS IS FREE USE, EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS BETWEEN PAZ AND READER IS CONSENSUAL. THERE IS NO NON-CON HERE]. Choking, biting, dirty talk, fingering, some rather rough fucking, creampie, slight dumbification (affectionate) (ex: being fucked stupid), mostly clothed sex, reader is called “good girl”, praise kink, aftercare, post-sex cuddles. Mixture of fluff and smut, but some parts of this got kinda yearning/angsty, so I do apologize. Semi-bittersweet/yearning ending. Idk if I got it all, but that’s the gist.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: So this started as a tiny idea that grew and grew and grew until it proceeded to consume my every waking thought for the past week. (This is all thanks to @maybege, @tailorvizsla, @catsnkooks, and literally anyone else who reblogged/voted/sent in ideas or thots. This is all their fault.)

Mainly, this is a modern day AU in which Paz is a college athlete and your best friend/roommate who you enter into a free use agreement with. (FUN SIDE NOTE: IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT FREE USE MEANS YOU’RE TOO YOUNG TO BE READING THIS. GO AWAY.) 

This was originally intended to be a oneshot. I am now currently plotting a series, so this idea will not be going away any time soon. Please feel free to come yell at me in my dm’s or inbox about this! I welcome the thots! 

I hope you enjoy! Please lemme know what you think, I’d really appreciate it!

Paz had to fight back a groan at the sight of you, standing there in the kitchen as you worked on finishing the dishes from making dinner that night. You’d prepared some kind of casserole, which was currently baking in the oven, and you stood at the sink with the water running as you washed the pots you’d used to prepare the ingredients.

The whole apartment smelt incredible, but that wasn’t the only thing making Paz’s mouth water. You were dressed in what had to be one of his old training shirts, considering how it hung on your frame. The neckline was slipping off one shoulder, the sleeves came almost to your elbows, and the hem of the shirt brushed against your thighs, hiding the swell of your ass. He couldn’t tell if you were wearing shorts underneath the shirt or not.

Fuck, he hoped you weren’t.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, but that was about to change. He didn’t bother waiting for you to finish, he didn’t have the patience for that. He’d dropped his hockey bag and gear in the foyer and toed off his shoes and socks, so it was on bare feet that he padded silently across the tile floor of the kitchen to press the length of his body against your back, his large hands coming up to grip your waist and pull you back against him.

You started violently, dropping the pan you’d been washing back into the soapy water with a shriek, and he couldn’t help but lean down to bury his chuckle into the curve of your neck. Your hands reached out to shut off the water and you hmph’d loudly, even as you sank back into his embrace.

“Gods, Paz, you couldn’t give me some warning?” You bemoaned, your tone one of tired exasperation, likely from the fact that this was an argument you had almost every day–sometimes even multiple times a day. “Bells. I’m gonna put bells on you, I swear.” 

Paz smirked, baring his teeth, and nipping playfully at the sensitive skin on your neck as his hands began to roam, enjoying the way you squirmed in his grasp. It was damn near impossible for you to stay mad at him, and he took advantage all the time, like the asshole he was. 

“Where’s the fun in that, bunny?”

You sighed in a way that told Paz you were rolling your eyes, although your sigh kicked up in pitch as one of his hands snuck under the fabric of his shirt to cup your tits, revealing that you were indeed not wearing shorts. His other hand splayed across your belly, palm huge and warm as he pressed your hips roughly back against his. He watched over your shoulder as your soapy, wet fingers curled around the edges of the sink, clearly trying to ground yourself in some way.

His fingers began to pinch at your nipples, switching back and forth so neither was left unattended, the soft breathy sounds escaping you were like a symphony to his ears. You always vocalized so beautifully when he played with the sensitive parts of your body. It had almost become a game to him, to see how many different sounds he could wring from you in one go.

“Paz–” you said, warning clear in your voice, even as he rolled your nipple between two huge fingers. “Paz, we don’t have time–” your voice cut off with a squeak as he nipped harshly at your neck in remonstration.

“What’s the rule, bunny?”

Paz’s voice was a deep rumble in his chest, and you felt it vibrate through your body as well, and you closed your eyes, perhaps in an attempt to block him out. But you and he both knew just how impossible that was. All you could sense was Paz.

And he knew it. Bastard. 

“C’mon, bunny rabbit. What’s our rule? I know you know what it is.”

The hand on your belly had begun to creep downwards, and his fingers were now toying with the elastic on the waistband of your panties. He was absolutely right, as usual. You knew damn well what the rule was, as it was something the two of you had agreed on shortly after beginning your stint as roommates. The whole situation was convoluted as hell, but in the end, it had come down to you not having a way to pay rent in a traditional manner, and Paz’s joking offer had turned to something more serious.

“Paz,” you whined, not sure what exactly you were asking him for. You knew you should be asking him to stop teasing you when dinner was about to be ready, but your body wanted what Paz was promising.

Paz’s hand finally stopped torturing your breast, only to pull out completely from under the shirt and come up to wrap around your throat, his hand so large his fingers easily reached the sides of your neck. He forced your head back, his grip tightening just enough to restrict airflow, but not enough to hurt you, only to prevent you from taking in a full breath. It made your legs go weak. He pressed his lips against your ear, whispering his next words.

“The rule, bunny. Now.”

Your own hands came up to grasp his wrist and forearm, although you made no moves to remove his hand from around your throat. It took you multiple tries to get the words out, but eventually you managed.

“Th-That I let you do whatever you want, when-whenever you want.”

You could feel his lips curling into a wicked smirk against your ear as his fingers tightened just a little bit more and his other hand finally crept past the fabric of your panties to cup your pussy, his middle finger easily slipping between your folds.

 “Good girl.”

You keen loudly as he strokes through your folds, the rough calluses on his hands providing a delicious friction. You were gasping for air as he held you, even as you did your best to try and grind down on his hand between your legs. He kept his tight grip on your neck until you started to see black spots at the edges of your vision, when he abruptly let go. Then, two things happened simultaneously.

First, you sucked in a deep breath, the feeling of your lungs filling with air after being restricted to only shallow breaths euphoric and almost orgasmic in of itself.

Second, you realized his grip on your neck had also been partially holding you up, and without that safety net, you slumped against him, which only pressed your cunt harder against his fingers, sending sparks of sensation shooting up your spine and causing you to cry out in shock and arousal.

Paz lazily slid two of his fingers into your cunt, slowly pumping them in and out as he ground the heel of his hand against your clit. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, and your hands flew to the counter to scrabble for something to ground you, fingers tightening almost painfully on the edges of the sink basin once more. It never mattered how much the two of you did this, it always felt like the first time.

“Are you gonna keep being a good girl for me, bunny? Gonna let me fuck this pretty ‘lil pussy?”

Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, worrying the flesh as you tried to hold back a moan. Paz had discovered how much you loved dirty talk–specifically his dirty talk, and who could blame you, the man had a voice made of sin–and you hadn’t had a moment’s peace since.

Paz nipped at your ear, mostly to bring your focus back to him. “What happened, bunny? Aren’t there any words inside that pretty head of yours? Or am I just being too distracting?” As his voice dropped lower, Paz cupped your tits again, this time over his shirt which added an extra level of friction as he tugged at your nipples. The air whooshed out of your lungs, and you gasped desperately for more as you tried to form a reply that wasn’t just begging him to get on with it and fuck you already.

“Hmm, I guess I don’t really need your permission, do I?” His hand withdrew from your panties, making you let out an involuntary whimper at the loss, your pussy clenching around nothing. You hated the feeling of emptiness now, especially when you knew what it felt like to have him inside you. “After all, you’ll let me do whatever I want, whenever I want. Isn’t that right, bunny?”

Gods, you really should answer him, but you couldn’t seem to make your mouth work. Luckily, Paz wasn’t waiting for an answer, or permission. He stepped back a half step, just enough for him to have enough room to pull his cock free from his pants. He didn’t bother undressing either of you, clearly not patient enough to wait. He simply yanked the fabric of the shirt you were wearing up over your ass and jerked your panties part way down your thighs. With one hand on his cock, he placed the other in the center of your back and bent you over the kitchen sink, groaning as he watched you subconsciously present for him, spreading your legs slightly.

You gasp softly as you feel the head of his cock nudge gently against your slit, swallowing harshly as you feel Paz just stroke your folds with his cock, coating the head in the slick wetness that had begun to pool there. He teased you by slowly beginning to press against your opening, only to back away at the last second.

It felt so good, but it also wasn’t enough. You knew it, and he knew it. Finally, he notched the head of his cock at your entrance, and with just a little bit of pressure, the head of his cock popped in your cunt, and he began to sink into the waiting warmth.

Your mouth fell open, but no sound came out as he began to stretch you with his dick. Paz wasn’t a small man by any estimation, a fact which applied to all of him, as you’d learned when you started this little agreement. No matter how much he used your body, how much he fucked you, it was still a stretch to take him every time. You were always so tight around him, something he loved to praise you for.

“Shit, bunny.” You shuddered at the wrecked sound of his voice. “Shit, shit, shit, you always take me so fucking good.” His hand left the small of your back to grasp at your hip, helping to rock you back so he could sink further into you. His fingers spread wide over your hips and gripped tight, easily controlling the pace as he forced you to take inch after inch. You could feel your legs beginning shake and you were suddenly grateful for the extra support of the kitchen sink, because without it you’d surely be collapsing into a puddle on the tile floor.

After what felt like forever, you finally felt Paz’s hips press flush against your ass as he bottomed out inside your cunt. He held himself still for a moment, his thumb idly brushing against your side as you once more adjusted to the feeling of being stretched and filled. You’d never tell him, but a part of you always ached whenever he wasn’t stuffed as deep inside you as he could get. He’d only tease you, and you’d much rather he spent the time fucking you, especially since you knew one day, you’d have to let this agreement go.

Just as you were becoming adjusted to the sensation of being filled to the brim, and your fingers were starting to uncurl from their death grip on the sink, Paz decided that was the perfect time to move. He pulled his hips back, not enough to leave the warmth of your pussy, but enough that when he thrust back in, his hips slammed against your ass, pushing you up on your tiptoes as he shoved you further into the counter with the force of his thrust. The action punched a choked gasp out of your throat, which only seemed to spur him on as he began to fuck you in earnest.

He never pulled all the way out, preferring to only withdraw part way before burying himself back in your cunt, and the effect of the short, sharp thrusts was devastating. It felt like you couldn’t get enough air into your lungs, every new breath punched out of you by the force of his hips colliding with your ass. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the kitchen, and you felt tears begin to well up in the corner of your eyes as he fucked you like he’d never get the chance again.

He felt so big from this angle, impossibly so. It felt like he was in your throat he filled you so good. It made sense that his favorite position was bending you over random pieces of furniture or planting you on your hands and knees on the bed.

“That’s it,” he grunted, his voice deep and gruff and sending shivers down your spine. “Just take it, bunny. Take it.” You wanted to respond, whether with some smartass comment or a plea for more you weren’t sure since your brain had begun to melt, but you didn’t have enough air in your lungs to form anything other than whimpers and moans.

Those whimpers and moans just about turned to screams when Paz seemingly decided that the leverage he already had wasn’t quite enough, and released your hip with one of his hands, only to reach out and grasp your shoulder, using his new grip on your body to pull you back even harder onto his cock with every thrust of his hips. With this new leverage and the slight change in angle, he began to pummel upon that spot deep inside you that made you see stars, and your eyes began to roll back in your head.

Suddenly, a loud beeping filled the kitchen, and it took you longer than it should to realize the timer was finished on the oven, and that it was time to take the casserole out. It took even longer for your tongue to try and form the words to tell him.

“P-P-Paz,” you stuttered, voice breaking in time with his thrusts. “T-T-The f-f-food!”

His dark chuckle seemed to fill the room, and he somehow, impossibly, picked up the pace, punching little “uh, uh, uh’s” out of your throat with rough thrusts. You were honestly worried about the kitchen sink breaking underneath your grasp.

“I don’t think so, bunny. I’m not finished yet, and neither are you for that matter.” You let out a weak little moan at his words, not quite processing exactly what he was saying, but knowing somehow that he was going to explain it anyways. “Tell you what. If you can tell me the name of the dish you made, I’ll stop and let you take it out of the oven. What do you think bunny? Does that sound fair?” His voice had taken on a kind of condescending tone, and had you had your wits about you, you probably would’ve smacked him for it. As it was, you could barely register the tone, much less the words.

“Well? Do you have an answer, bunny?”

 He suddenly stopped thrusting, letting go of your shoulder in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you upright so that your back was pressed tight against his chest. His nose brushed against the side of your head as he whispered in your ear.

“What’s the name, bunny? Just gotta answer me, that’s all you’ve gotta do.”

Fuck, you had no idea what he was asking you. While he’d stopped thrusting, he was instead choosing to grind his hips into yours, ensuring that you felt every ridge and vein of his cock brushing up against your walls, making your muscles clench and your thighs tremble. There was only one name that was in your mind and making its way past your lips with the state you were in.

“P-Paz?” You muttered, voice quiet and more than a little dazed. He smiled, you could feel it against your neck where he’d begun to place kisses, but it wasn’t a cocky smile like you’d seen him give to fangirls on campus or the news reporters who came to comment on his games and interview the players. No, this was his smile that was just for you, the smile that you saw when he stumbled out of bed in the mornings sore from practice the previous day to see that you’d made him breakfast, or when he came home in a snit, and you didn’t do anything except open your arms to offer a hug. It made a fire burn low in your belly, made you feel as though you’d done something right, something to be proud of, that maybe you were worthy of love and praise.

“That’s it, bunny. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” As he began to thrust again, although at a more sedate pace than before, his free hand left your hip to creep down to your pussy, feeling the way you stretched obscenely around him, his fingers brushing along your sensitive folds, before playing with your swollen clit. “That’s my good girl.”

You preened at his words, and you finally let go of the sink with one hand, to reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair as he continued to lavish kisses on your neck. You desperately wanted to pull his lips to yours, to remind yourself of what he tasted like, but the small part of your brain that wasn’t hazy with pleasure cruelly reminded you that kisses weren’t part of the agreement. Paz was free to do whatever he liked to your body, but kissing wasn’t on the table. It had been your choice, your decision, to try and prevent your heart from fracturing more than it already had. Of course, it probably didn’t matter in the end. You were already in far too deep. You could only hope that when he inevitably found out, he’d throw you a life raft instead of leaving you to drown.

Your attention was quickly brought back to the here and the now as Paz began to circle your clit roughly with his fingers, his hips snapping against yours a little more urgently than before. You realized with a start just how close you were, the way your muscles were beginning to tense up, the way your belly began to tighten, and your thighs began to shake even harder. Paz was clearly close too if his accelerated breathing was any indicator. 

“Are you gonna let me come in this pretty ‘lil pussy, bunny?” He breathed in your ear, the cockiness in his voice just barely covering up the begging in his words. “Gonna let me fill you up like a good girl? Like you deserve?”

Oh, that sounded so good. It was something you and Paz had talked rather seriously about at the start of all this. He’d never made it a secret that he didn’t really enjoy condoms, but he also said they were non-negotiable in all of his relationships, until this whole agreement with you. He’d said it was a mix of trying to prevent pregnancy and avoid STDs, but when the two of you had actually sat down to discuss what all your little roommate agreement would entail, and you’d offered to go on birth control so he could forgo the condoms, he’d been struck dumb for a good minute. You both had gotten tested and had decided to regularly get tested even though you weren’t planning on sleeping with other people at the moment, and the new implant on the market boasted a 100% pregnancy prevention rate since its debut a few years earlier. So, condoms had been nonexistent during your agreement, which had led to the discovery of Paz’s… fixation.

He loved coming inside you. You were pretty sure it was his favorite part of the whole agreement. You knew he wanted kids one day, and you figured the idea of him coming inside you fed into that desire of his. It wasn’t hurting anything, so you’d never discouraged it. In fact, you also enjoyed it a surprising amount, far more than you’d ever expected. With your ex, Parjai, the idea of him fucking you without a condom had always made you squirm, but never with Paz.

You weren’t examining why that was too closely. Nope. Not at all.

A particularly harsh snap of Paz’s hips brought you out of your head and back into the moment. You realized he was waiting for you to answer him, and you nodded your head, not trusting your voice not to break if you tried to answer him verbally.

Paz moaned deeply at your answer, his thrusts picking up the pace as he worked your clit, attempting to get you to come before he did. “Gods, my bunny ‘s so good to me,” he slurred, sounding suspiciously punch-drunk. “Gonna let me fill ‘er up, gonna let me come inside. Gonna lemme fill ‘er so full everyone knows she’s mine.”

You weren’t sure if it was just good timing, or if his words actually pushed you over the edge, but as he growled the word ‘mine,’ the coil snapped and your whole body stiffened up as you came, and you came hard.

Clenching uncontrollably on his cock, you began to tremble even harder in his hold, your legs practically useless. You surely would’ve collapsed if not for Paz. Luckily, his arm was a band of beskar around your waist, and he kept you pressed tight against him as your whole body shook with your orgasm. You figure it was the sensation of your release that triggered his own, and with an almighty growl, he came too, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm as he fulfilled his promise and filled you up.

Every rough, unsteady, uneven jerk of his hips pushed you closer and closer to overstimulation. You were often closer to being overstimulated rather than under-stimulated with the frequency that Paz indulged in your body, and sessions like this only made it worse. Paz seemed to love how shaky you got when you were overstimulated, how much your legs trembled, how broken your breathing sounded. There was a reason he’d made sure you picked a safe word, because when he got in the mood, he wouldn’t stop for anything short of the world being set on fire.

Finally, he stilled inside of you, his fingers stopping their torturous assault on your abused clit. You sagged against him, eyes shut as you felt your heart rate begin to slow and your breathing even out. Paz simply held you tighter, his arms wrapping more securely around your stomach and pulling you back against his chest. He always became a cuddle-bug after sex, something you’d secretly been thrilled to discover.

The sound of your name falling from his lips drew you out of the haze you’d settled into, and you hummed softly to signal that you were now paying attention or attempting to at least.

“Thank you, bunny,” Paz said, his voice soft and low, a true sign of how relaxed he was. “I really needed that today.”

You made a face, your nose scrunching up slightly as your brain sluggishly thought over his words. “Y’don’ need t’ th’nk me, Paz,” you slurred, your tongue feeling far too heavy in your mouth. “‘m here, y’know. F’r you.”

He chuckled, the sound surprisingly self-deprecating. He could get maudlin sometimes, after your little sessions. It seemed like today was one of those times, and had you been more coherent, you would’ve pressed. But you weren’t, so you didn’t.

When he spoke, the traces of self-deprecation were gone, and back in place was the cocksure attitude you’d grown used to from your best friend-turned-roommate/fuckbuddy.

“Did I fuck all the thoughts outta your pretty head, bunny rabbit?” You frowned, or tried to, at least. “Awe, that’s ok,” he crooned. “Just lemme take care of you, now. You take such good care of me, it’s only fair I return the favor.”

He slowly pulled away, managing to keep you upright while he rearranged his and your clothes in an effort to look like he hadn’t just fucked you stupid. Just as you were beginning to sway dangerously, your legs feeling far too much like Jell-O, he picked you up bridal style, and began to carry you out to the couch.

You should’ve been content to just stay cradled in his arms, but something was nagging at you, something important, if only your brain was capable of forming coherent thought. Like usual, however, Paz seemed to know your mind better than you knew it yourself. He placed you gently on the couch, pressing his lips briefly to your forehead before pulling back. Your eyes slowly opened, and you whined quietly at the loss of his heat. He only smiled down at you.

“It’s alright, lemme just go and take the food outta the oven, bunny. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Ah.

Right.

The food. 

You’d honestly forgotten. 

You felt like you should be mad at him for distracting you, and likely burning dinner, but you couldn’t muster up the energy to express anything other than exhausted satisfaction. You sank down into the couch cushions, eyes falling shut again as Paz left to go take care of the food. Your body ached pleasantly, and you honestly could’ve fallen asleep then and there if it weren’t for the promise of Paz coming back to cuddle with you.

It felt like no time at all–although your current perception of the passage of time was unreliable at best–that you felt your body being carefully lifted again as the warm, muscled form of your best friend slid onto the couch behind you. He was always so gentle, unbearably so sometimes, and this was no exception. He settled into a reclined position, with you lying mostly on top of him, your face able to easily nestle into the crook of his neck. He slung an arm across your waist to better hold you, and the last bits of tension drained from both of your bodies near simultaneously.

Now that you were fully settled, you felt yourself beginning to drift off to sleep. As you teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, you whispered quietly into heated skin.

“Love you, Paz.”

As the blanket of sleep fully settled over you, you missed his equally soft, and strangely melancholic response. 

“I know, bunny. Love you too.”

[firstofficerwiggles]

Absolutely hilarious!! Bad smut writing at it's finest!!

I lost it complete at "thick choad" and that was just getting things started. I also love that you used "meat flower" too 🤢 which as I found out is a real thing in Star Wars (it's a carnivorous plant).

Excellent work!! 😂😂😂😂😂

Fuck Around and Find Out

An April Fools Smut Fic inspired by the Bad Sex Awards.

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explict 18+ (By proceeding to read beyond this point you are agreeing that you are 18 years or older)

Warnings: Very bad smut (that's the whole point of this writing challenge), pure filth, porn without plot, unprotected P in V sex, creampie, breeding kink, slight degradation, and truly awful cringey synonyms for male and female genitalia and semen throughout.

Word count: ~500

A/N: I've read some hilarious April Fools Smut fics today and thought, what the hell, I'll give it a go. I figured if it's awful, I'll just blame it on the challenge. Hope this makes you laugh. Unbetaed, and yeeted into the world like the future child of Paz and reader. 😘

If the Maker themselves had told you that you’d be in the position you’re in right now, you would have said they were insane.

But here you are, getting fucked boneless by the most intimidating warrior in the covert.

White hot pleasure explodes through your body as you claw at your wet, ruined sheets. You are powerless to do anything other than take the fat girthy schlong of the beast of a man behind you.

You’ve lost track of how many times Paz has blown his thick choad inside you. How can one man produce so much baby batter? It was beyond your comprehension.

It seems like you both have been going at it for hours now, with no indication of Paz slowing down any time soon.

You only have yourself to blame, really. You just had to tease him, had to challenge him. Well, this was taking “fuck around and find out” to a whole new level.

Paz grabs your hair, causing you to arch your back ridiculously as he pushes past your cervix and spills his hot spunk directly into your womb again with a roar.

How could he possibly fit more in there? If he kept this up, you would be dripping his cream of meat from your snatch for a week.

Surely he must be done with you, but no. In a move that has your mind reeling, he pulls out of your sugar walls and flips you onto your back.

You whine like a massiff bitch in heat and shamelessly beg him for more. You just can’t get enough of his one-eyed trouser snake.

Before he does anything else though, Paz bends down to get a bird’s eye view of his handy work.

To fuck with him, you clench your inner muscles and push a wad of his splooge out of your ruined meat flower.

“Oh no you don’t,” he playfully scolds you. “We’re not wasting one drop,” he says as he pushes his hot nutt back inside you while you keen at his words.

The next thing you register is your knees being thrown over his broad shoulders, heels on his back, as Paz plunges his fuck stick back into your soaked clam.

“Hang on, cyar'ika,” he warns as he starts to move again, determined to rearrange your guts. “You’re not leaving this bed until you’ve been successfully bred like the good little cum dumpster you are.”

The moral of the story, never tell a Mandalorian like Paz they are too old to get it up. Or that they are past their prime and probably shoot nothing but blanks. They will make it their mission to prove you wrong.

And to be honest, that was just fine and dandy with you.

[whiskeynwriting]

Y'all, not to toot my own horn or anything but TOOT FUCKING TOOT this Paz fic is coming along so fucking nicely 🤤😍🥵

"Carnal Conviction" coming 6/19!