#paz vizla fanfic
Text
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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#din djarin#din djarin x you#din djarin x female reader#din djarin x reader#din djarin x reader x paz vizsla#paz vizsla#paz vizla x reader#mand’alor din djarin#the mandalorian#the mandalorian fanfic#din djarin fanfiction#the mandalorian fanfiction#mando fanfiction#mando x reader#no use of y/n#ao3 author#din djarin smut#the mandalorian smut#Paz vizsla smut
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Little one
Paz Vizsla x Fem reader
Requested by: none
Warnings: y/n gets injured, fighting with paz, enemies to lovers dynamic. I don't know what to call this story but I'm gonna make a part 2
A/n: 18+ If you don't like the warnings please don't read!
___
"I don't know why you brought me to the covert, Bo Katan I understand. But me?" Y/n asked.
Din looked over at her, all she could see was the helmet but by the way he slouched his shoulders and tilted his head, she knew what face he was making.
"What!? I would've been happy going to tatooine and kicking back with Boba and Fennec. But no instead I have to sit around a covert, being gazed upon by judgemental eyes because I'm not wearing a fuckin helmet!"
Din straighted up. "You'll be fine."
"Oh yeah? Well what about Paz Vizsla? Everytime we see him, he's either tryna rip your helmet off or fight you! He's a big guy, one day he'll win."
"I love your vote of confidence."
___
Bo Katan landed the ship on the beach, y/n's hand got closer and closer to her light saber the more they moved towards the cave.
Y/n stopped in her tracks the moment her eyes landed on the man she didn't wish to see. Paz and a few other Mando's slowly made their way out of the cave.
"You're no longer welcome here Din Djarin." Vizsla said.
"I bathed in the living waters, I bring proof." Din held up a silver cylinder.
"I stand as witness." Bo said.
Paz tilted his head. "And who are you, night owl?"
"I am Bo Katan of clan kryze."
The conversation and snide comments continued as Y/n scanned the area, watching the water, the cliffs, and the dunes. Vizsla took note of this, how patient she was with every spot she looked to, just waiting to see something.
"Y/n."
"Yeah?"
Din ushered her into the cave, She walked by Paz looking him up and down with a sneer, earning a dark chuckle.
"You'd be wise in refraining from looking at me in such a manner, little one."
___
They entered a small room where The armorer stood, and like always she was holding a hammer and what looked like a wrench.
Y/n made sure she was close to Din and as far away from Paz as she could get, which was like a foot. She gripped his arm, making him look over to her and nod.
"It's alright. They won't hurt you."
The armorer turned to them. "I wouldn't expect a Jedi to be afraid of Mandalorians."
"You're fierce worriers, I should know I live with one."
Paz Vizsla of course had to pick this moment to speak his mind.
"Coward."
He stepped back as a blue light flashed and he could feel heat at his throat. He could hear the buzzing of her light saber as they stared each other down.
"You are not our enemy." The armorer said. "You have nothing to fear."
Din leaned close to her ear, he slowly wrapped his hand around her wrist.
"Put it away, Y/n."
She kept glancing over at Paz as the time ticked by, Din was excepted back in and surprisingly so was Bo. Y/n left the cave to go back to the ship, when she heard heavy footsteps fallowing her.
"Not very stealthy, Vizsla."
He got close to Y/n and towered over her.
"If I didn't want you to hear me, you wouldn't have heard me, little one."
Paz began circling her, he leaned in close to her ear. The sound of his voice sending shivers down her spine and heat to her core.
"You have Spirit, I'll give you that. But let's see your reflex's."
Y/n heard the sound of metal, the blue light of her saber shined bright as she swung it at him, hitting him in the beskar. She spun left and hit him with the force, Paz's back hit the cave wall. Y/n ran on to the beach, she looked around in to the night. Vizsla was right behind her as she began running up the beach away from the cave and the ships.
Y/n suddenly heard the sound of a jet pack, she looked up as he landed in front of her. Their weapons clashed together, blue flashes lit up the area for all to see.
Y/n jumped and landed behind him, he turned around only to be pushed to the ground. She held him down with the force as she got on top of him. This man was really big compared to her, if she wasn't a Jedi, she wouldn't stand a chance.
"How is that for reflex's?" She asked.
The same dark chuckle left Paz, Y/n felt his hand slide up her thigh, moving closer to her heat. She sheathed her lightsaber and got off of him, turning to go back to the convert, she suddenly felt the wind get knocked out of her as she was taken to the ground.
Y/n attempted to squirm but he held her down, the weight of Paz sent heat rush to her core. He snaked his hand around her neck and brought her up so her back was against his chest. She could hear his breath in her ear, Paz's grip tightened as he got closer.
"You think you can over power me, little one? Run back to the covert, back to your mandalorian keeper." He whispered.
Y/n got out from under him and ran towards the cave, the nearly crashed into Din but he grabbed a hold of her arms.
"What's wrong?" He asked.
Y/n turned to the entrance of the covert out of breath, she stared for a minute but soon shook her head.
"N- nothing....Nothing, I'm fine."
THE END ❤️
I hope you enjoyed
Reblogs are welcome 🤗
#fyp#foryou#fanfic#foryoupage#x reader#paz vizla x reader#paz vizsla x you#paz viszla#paz vizsla x reader#paz vizsla#paz Vizsla x Fem reader#paz Vizsla x y/n
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*sees there's no Single Dad! Paz x readers*
*sighs*
*opens google docs*
#paz vizsla#paz viszla#paz vizla x reader#the mandalorian#star wars the mandalorian#the mandaloran season 3#Ragnar vizsla#ragnar#fanfic#fanfiction#Fandoms#fan fiction
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Just gonna point out a Foundling with a buyce similar in color to my Medic from In Honor.
You sly dog, having littles without telling me.
#the mandalorian#din djarin#paz vizla#star wars#the child#paz vizsla#randolorians#ragnar vizla#ragnar vizsla#the foundling#the mandalorian season 3#in honor world building#In Honor fanfic
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gif from tenor
Sacrifice
Rated T
Contains angst, a miniscule amount of fluff, no use of y/n, language
Word Count: 1.2k
Summary: A scouting mission doesn't go according to plan
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Paz said to the Armorer. “A Jedi? Staying here with us? You know what her kind did.”
“I understand your feelings toward this decision,” the leader replied, “But it is important for us to make peace with a foe from many years ago. With her knowledge, she can educate us as well.”
“I don't see how that benefits us.”
“It will help the foundlings,” she explained, “who are our future.” Paz sighed and nodded his head. “She can provide newer training methods, and history. It is important to have an open mind.”
“Perhaps.” He agreed.
“Now.” The Armorer said, satisfied with his response, “instead of brooding, how about you get to know her? Other Mandalorians have, but still keep their space. If they see you speaking with her, they would be more accepting of her presence.”
Paz nodded his head. “This is the Way.”
“This is the Way.”
“I wish I can do that,” one of the foundlings sigh. You slowly lower your hands, gently setting the three of them on the ground. You smile as they congregate to you, ready to ask more questions about Jedi, the Force, and your travels.
“That's enough,” a stern voice calls out. The three young ones turn around and see Paz gazing at your group.
“Yes sir.” The three leave, not questioning him.
You stand up and see Paz walk to you. Nodding your head in acknowledgment, you say, “Yes?” He didn't reply. Instead he analyzes you, wondering why the hell are you here with the Mandalorians. Smirking, you walk to him. “Yes, Mandalorian?” You sense a mix of feelings and emotions from the man. Curiosity, irritation, annoyance, and a dash of frustration.
“I am not here for pleasantries, Jedi.” Paz states.
You lift an eyebrow. “Then what are you here for?”
Sighing, he admits: “To get to know you. The good and bad.” Smiling, you motion for him to come closer.
“I hope you do the same for me.” You reply.
“This is the Way.”
Months have passed. Then years. The foundlings were not only trained in the way of the Mandalore, but also possessed knowledge and fighting skills of the Jedi. You became part of the clan's main scouting troop, and helped in many missions. Your relationship with the other Mandalorians improved and you gained their respect.
“Jedi, I need you to go on a special mission for me.” The Armorer says after the group celebrated a new commencement of a foundling. You sensed a couple lingering thoughts from other Mandalorians; whenever you and the Armorer spoke, it was either serious or sensitive. She motions for you to follow her, and you do.
“What is it?”
“I need you to run a solo stakeout of a group of outsiders.” She says slowly. “I noticed them arrive a couple days ago when scouting.” You nod your head and wait for her to finish. “I have spoken with Paz, him being the leader of your scouting party..." her voice trails before she continues, “he is not satisfied with the plan, especially when I told him it was just you.”
“I...I'm sorry if my presence complicates anything.” you say. It is clear to you, Paz, and the Armorer that there is a special bond between you two. Ragnar, his son, frequently jokes about it.
“I know he'll follow you.” The Armorer states, ignoring your apology. “You know that too...I'll give you more information tomorrow morning. After that, you will begin the mission.”
“This is the Way.” You whisper.
“May the Force be with you.”
After you were debriefed, you entered your T-6 and flew above the strangers’ camp, wanting to see what you were going against. From above there is a band of stormtroopers and a large tent, showing that there was an important presence.
“You see a bird flying in the sky.” You say out loud after waving your hand. You hear a majority of the stormtroopers think about your ship a bird and smile in satisfaction. After flying, you manage to find a place to land, far enough from the campground but close enough to scout safely.
As it became afternoon, yours and the Armorer’s prediction came true.
“Mandalorian,” you call out in a calm tone, “you can come out from hiding.”
Paz obeys your command and walks out of the shadows from your ship. “You knew,” he says. “I figured you expected me but I’m still surprised.”
Paz didn’t need your permission to walk and sit next to you. From your sack, you gather some food and pass it to him. You turn around as he lifted his helmet to eat it. When you hear him put it back in place, you turn back. Paz gently put both of his hands on both sides of your head and leans in close. Both of your foreheads touch and you close your eyes, knowing he was doing the same.
“I know you’ll be up before me, so please, before we sleep,” he whispers, still holding you, “be careful. If you need anything…think of me.”
“I will. I promise.” You whisper back. You gently put his hands down and kiss what would be his forehead. You both fall asleep next to each other, holding hands.
The following day, you venture out from your hiding spot to scout the Empire’s campsite behind boulders. You quietly jump between the rocks in a quick, steady pace and manage to be close enough to see the stormtroopers walk around. They are equipped with their guns, ready for action.
Seeing some near bugs, you close your eyes and connect with them asking them to walk to the troops and large tent to gain information. From the numerous voices bouncing in your mind, you put the plan together that there was a tip from someone who located the Mandalorians’ refuge.
“Damn,” you whisper.
Mandalorian, I am going to give you some important information. You reach out to Paz, The Empire is here and looking for the clan.
The bugs came back to you, giving information that was crucial for everyone know. The Mandalorians’ lives depend on it. Using the Force you free them from their duty and leave the site, ready to travel back. One day is enough. As you walk the same route back, you felt other presences around you. You take your lightsaber out of its sheath and ready yourself for a fight. Stormtroopers came from above and surround you.
“Ah, I see a lone Jedi in our presence.” A familiar voice comments. It is Moff Gideon. “I didn't expect to find one.”
“I can understand why,” you hiss, “unfortunately, it seems that Order 66 wasn't as successful as it rumored.”
Gideon growls and motions for some troopers to grab your arms. They obey him but you have a couple surprises up your sleeve.
"You ready to see what a Jedi Knight can do?" You threaten.
“I need the scouting party to follow me,” Paz tells the Armorer. When he received her message, he flew as fast as he could to warn the others about the stormtroopers, not thinking that he caused a scene when he was in the air. The Jedi protected him from the camp yesterday, and unfortunately he didn't have that luxury. “The Jedi has given me intel and it requires help from us.”
“Then go. Her not returning with you is a sign that the worst has come, or is about to unfold.” The Armorer replies coolly. “This is the Way.”
“This is the Way.”
When coming to the Moff Gideon's camp, Paz and the rest of the Mandalorians search around, looking for any surviving stormtroopers and you. Everyone gasps when they land, the damage done to the camp was tremendous. Troopers scattered, some laying in huge heaps while others dismantled. Rocks haphazardly surround the area and guns are in a burning pile.
There was talk amongst the Mandalorians as they wander the camp. Paz only has one person in mind: you. Running around the camp calling out, “Jedi, where are you?” repeatedly makes him nervous. He barely felt your presence in his mind, and did his best to locate the spot you are thinking about.
“Hi,” you heave, clutching your side. The wound wasn't deep, but deadly enough to cause serious damage. Paz runs and kneels down in front of you. He looks around and notices your lightsaber a couple feet away.
“What happened?” He whispers, gently sitting you up.
“Moff Gideon.” You rasp out, putting more pressure on your wound. Paz notices you trying to reach out for your lightsaber using the Force. It was shaking, but not coming to you. He quickly snatches it and gives it to you. “Don't worry, I'm going to cauterize it.”
“Bastard!” He hisses as you wince, watching you burn the bleeding wound with your lightsaber. “Are...are you going to be okay?”
You shake your head. “I was hit with some lasers, but managed to deflect most of them and change their trajectory to stormtroopers...” you answer, trembling. Cauterizing your gaping wound hurt like hell, but it was the best thing you can do at that point. Paz's heart skips a beat when he saw blood on your robes.
“He knows where you are...please go.” You say.
“I am not fucking leaving you.” He counters. “No, you are coming with us. I am not leaving you.”
You manage out a quiet chuckle. You felt streaks of blood run down your forehead, which he tenderly wiped off. “Healing isn't my forte...I always had trouble with that at the academy.”
“Stop talking like that.”
“Go.” You encourage, “You know I won't be able to help...I...I don't feel so good.” By this time, your wound is burnt shut, but the damage to your head and body is too hard to heal. “Just...I really hurt right now, and would like you to--”
“Stop it!” Paz growls. “You...you are my...”
“Cyare,” you whisper faintly. Paz starts shaking, holding your small hands in his. “Go.”
“My name is Paz Vizsla,” he blurts out. "I love you."
“I love you too, Paz Vizsla,” you reply. You tell him your name, and in turn he leans his helmet on your forehead. He lifts it part way and softly kisses your fingers, making you smile. Then, he stands up and raises his pistol over you. You nod your head and close your eyes.
With shaky fingers, he closes his eyes and presses the trigger. Your body went limp. Paz opens his eyes and weeps as he knelt back down and held your lifeless body close to his. “May the Force be with you.”
#the mandolarian#the mandalorian fanfiction#the mandalorian fanfic#star wars#star wars fanfiction#star wars fanfic#paz x reader#paz vizla x reader#paz vizsla fanfiction
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I Don’t Care - Paz Vizla
Anonymous said: I loved you paz vizla story!! Can we have another reader one? Your writing was SOOOO gooood for that one so I just had to request another!
AN: This is a Mandalorian!Reader fic! I hope I did the big blue boy justice!
Paz Vizla is rude, cold, and reckless. But around you, his ‘I-don’t-care’ attitude melts away.
You couldn’t see who drew the first vibroblade but the moment you heard the familiar hum, your body tensed. Muscles you hadn’t used in ages readied to launch into action. Your teeth clacked together with grit, the sound filling your ears as it resounded in your beskar helmet. Battle had hardened your bones and it had been too long since your last skirmish.
You were hungry for it.
Before you could get to it, dive right into the fray, the fight came to an end. The Armorers smooth voice rung out with the words of the Creed.
“This is the Way.”
“This is the Way.”
“This is the Way,” you echoed, letting your braced shoulders fall. Curled fists relaxed into open palms and you had to bite your tongue to keep from grumbling. You stood still as the others in front of you watched the Armorer and Din Djarin. As you were trying to listen out for what they were saying, the sound of heavy footfalls reached your ears.
The crowd of your tribe, fellow Mandalorians, parted slightly then, suddenly, all at once to make way for the hulking form of Paz Vizla. A smile spread under your helmet and you too started to push out of the crowd. Not long after you started moving, you could sense Paz’s presence behind you. Shadows cast in front of you, bulky and large, only confirmed the feeling.
Finally, you and Paz were free from the gathering mass of people. Heat from the forge trailed you both as you filed into the main tunnel. The smell of it made its way to your tongue, tarnished the taste buds with steel and sweat. Flames and metal were your only memory of home.
“This is coward’s way of the Mandalore,” Paz snapped when you both were far enough away from the beskar forge. “Djarin is a mercenary wearing our armor.”
“Paz,” you looked past him, to the side to eye at the cluster of people still lingering around the forge. “Careful.”
“I’m done being careful. I’m going up.”
Your eyes widened and your felt your heart lurch in your chest. Warningly, scared, you whispered, “Paz, that is not-”
“I don’t care.”
His words were cold, harsh, and unnerving. His words set you on edge, teetering on a cliff, balancing in the darkness of a night sky. If you fell, the plunge could kill you. If you stayed, you never would get the chance to fly. You took a collecting breath and crossed your arms over your chest.
“You should care,” you fired back, “because I’m going with you.”
Paz jerked his head back and you could only imagine his wide eyes glued to you. Smug and closed-lipped, a grin spread across your features; one that Paz could not see. Part of you wished he could. Maybe then the words lodged in your chest could be said easily. Maybe then, finally, Paz could truly see you, in the way you longed for him to see you.
“Let’s go then.”
Before you could respond, Paz was already making his way towards an intersection of tunnels. You followed after him quietly as to not alert the others to your intentions. With each step, your excitement, your nerves, grew. It had been a long time since you had stepped out from the sewers, too long. You were just hungry for freedom as you were a fight.
So you followed Paz outside, into the dusk of Nevarro.
His blue armor looked dark against the orange-pink sky. Not as dark as his silhouette, which resembled deep pitch. Your eyes were glued to him so intensely, you nearly tripped up to the surface. To catch yourself, you reached out and gripped Paz’s shoulder. Instincts, hardened through traditional Mandalorian training, the same training you had endured, kicked in. Paz reached and wrapped a thick arm around your waist, pulling you to him.
“Watch it,” he said gruffly. Something in his tone was teasing though.
You rolled your eyes and punched your fist lightly against his chest plate. The beskar elements clanged together like tiny echoes from the forge. He caught your wrist, his gauntlet knocking against the metal on your forearm. You both stayed still, your body almost completely flush with his. It was sight you had longed for. Even though you couldn’t see his eyes, you could feel them intently focused on you.
“That’s not very nice,” he said lowly. You felt your stomach twist at the deep sound. Perhaps Paz seeing you was something you were not yet ready for. Wanting to relieve the feeling, the tension, you pulled away slightly.
“Spar?” You knew that Paz could sense your nerves. Your voice made it clear at the sky above you. The smell of ash and smoke was getting to you. Or perhaps it was how close Paz was to you that made your head feel light. “Paz, I-”
“No,” he replied softly. Even with his helmet’s voice modulator, there was something terribly gentle, human, in his voice. “I want to see you.”
You tried to think back to the last time Paz had been so tender, so careful.
It could have been when you were both foundlings in the Clone Wars. You could still remember the boy you met all those years ago. Or maybe it was on your first few missions together. He had saved your life and you had saved him; you worked together well. How long had it been since you had been so close to him?
You had been starved of Paz’s softness, the caring nature he only showed sparingly. Just as you were hungry for a fight, for fresh air, you yearned to see Paz and for Paz to see you.
“Paz, we’re out in the open. Anyone can-”
“I don’t care.”
Unlike the first time the phrase left his mouth, this time it was desperate. The arm Paz had around you waist slipped away and, for a moment, you were scared that you were going to lose him. So you reached out, gloved hands gripping his chest plate. Instead of falling away from you, Paz lifted his hands to yours only to move them upwards. Up and up until your gloves rested on the sides of his blue helmet. Your breath hitched at the touch.
“You care,” you whispered, find your voice, “I know you.”
Paz let out a small grunt as he lifted his hands to your helmet. There was a silent, mutual agreement between you in that moment. Then, and in the next moment as you and Paz lifted each other’s helmets off your heads. It was like a breath of fresh air.
Literally, it was. Nearly as gentle as Paz’s touch, a breeze kissed the skin of your cheeks, then your nose, then, finally, your forehead. Relief, it was a relief. Then you saw him.
“Paz.” His name come out in a whimper as you met his bright eyes.
Carefully, you both let the other’s helmets fall into the sand. Nevarro, it’s sands, it’s heat, everything, faded away until all you saw, all you cared about, was Paz. His sharp features seemed to call your name. You couldn’t tear your eyes away.
His brows, his chin, coaxed your hands into motion. Even his own hands gripped you, pulled you close. His jaw, and his lips: “Y/N.”
Your hands found their way to his thick neck and you leaned up towards him. He met you in the middle, his nose knocking against yours softly. Paz’s hands tightened on your waist as his lips met with yours. Sweat, he tasted like sweat and something sweet. He parted your lips with his and deepened the kiss until you were so close your chest plates clanged together.
The sound made you smile into the kiss. Slowly, you pulled away. Your smile turned into a grin, one that Paz could see; one that you would only ever show to him.
A sudden shout down the way, most likely a fight breaking out near the cantina, made you jump. Nerves flooded your system and you tore your gaze from Paz’s.
“We should go, before someone-.”
“No,” Paz whispered, pinching your chin between his thumb and finger to pull your eyes back to his. “I don’t care who sees.”
He pulled your lips back to his and your eyes closed on instinct. In the dark behind your eyelids you saw a future. A future with Paz, where he could kiss you like this whenever he, whenever you wanted. That was the way you wanted to go. That was the future you wanted to have and share with the man you love.
#paz vizla#paz vizla imagine#paz vizla imagines#paz vizla x reader#paz vizla fanfic#paz vizla fanfiction#paz visla#paz visla imagine#paz visla imagines#paz visla fanfic#paz visla fanfiction#sw#sw imagine#sw imagines#sw fanfic#sw fanfiction#star wars#star wars imagine#star wars imagines#star wars fanfic#star wars fanfiction#the mandalorian#the mandalorin imagine#the mandalorian imagines#the mandalorian fanfiction#the mandalorian fanfic#mandalorian fanfiction#mandalorian x reader
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@plexflexico
It was long gone since he met her and now, here they were...living, breathing, travelling, loving together.
Those rare times that his mind didn’t wander off, he still couldn’t believe it, he was married to a beautiful, fierce, indipendent, stubborn and too mouthy woman that now was his and his only. Was this always his destiny? Did he deserve all this? Sometimes he wondered..
But then when he looked at her, those moments when everything was quiet around them, all his worries disappeared.
It may not be perfect but it was real...it was something, something to keep on fighting for..
__
I really don’t know what it is but when i think about this story, everything is so clear in my mind...like i already know what to do and what to write (hence the small add)
if y’all haven’t read it yet, do it -here-
__
#plexflexico#asterism#paz vi#paz vizla x reader#this fic keep on inspiring me#the mandalorian fandom#paz vizla#paz vizla fanfic
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Homecoming Pt 4: Nevvarro Ch 5
Chapter 5
The Peace Within
Fandom: The Mandalorian, Star Wars
Characters: Paz Viszla (Paz Vizla), Gender-Neutral Reader
Words: 1.8k+
Warnings: Blood, Fluff!!!
Summary:
A little calm in the calamity.
Notes:
See? See?!? I TOLD you there was gonna be some happiness… sorta!!!
Thanks for reading! Look out for Part 5!!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Homecoming Masterlist
Sprinting down the lonely hallway, I ignored the blood dripping down my face, allowing my instincts rather than sight to guide me out of the Clan’s maze of tunnels. I didn’t know where I was, or where exactly I was going, but I knew I had to be out of the covert, away from Din Djarin and everything he believed in.
Vaguely aware of the shadowy forms darting out of the way as I passed, I kept my head down and ran. I didn’t need to breathe, didn’t need to think. All I needed to do was run. Run and forget and never feel again.
The whispering shadows thinned. The air grew cooler. But I let it all go, the only sensations I wanted were my heart beating in my chest and the soft soles of my boots slapping the smooth concrete. I didn’t stop to catch my breath, didn’t slow down to find my bearings. I ran as if it were the only thing keeping me alive.
I was so caught up in the thrill of flight that I didn’t notice the floor gradually slanting upwards. The toes of my boots caught on the treads carved into the concrete, a change from the smoothness of the hallways. But I didn’t stop to look. I just kept on running.
Until I reached a dead end. Well, not exactly a dead end, but a door. A door, guarded by two Mandalorians casually lounging against a scattering of crates. Blocking my way to freedom.
I skidded to a stop, blowing like a bellows. Sweat plastered my jumpsuit to my body, blood trickling down the back of my throat. I tried to swallow, but choked instead.
“Udesii! Me’bana? Me’viinii gar teh, vaar’ika?” the same gigantic blue-gray warrior from before asked calmly, a large gloved hand extended to show he didn’t mean any harm. He approached me slowly, a wounded and frightened creature ready to bolt. Wild and feral, my eyes were surely rolling white and my nostrils flaring in distress.
“I need… to-to get out… Now,” I panted, licking at a split in my bottom lip. My tongue came away metallic and salty, bile rising in response. The adrenaline began to ebb, and I doubled over, the pain from my injuries unfurling themselves in thorny red waves. I couldn’t help but groan.
“Easy, vod’ika. Breathe.” The blue-gray warrior angled his helmet towards his partner, speaking a clipped version of Mando’a I couldn’t understand. With a nod, the other Mandalorian took off at a light jog down the tunnel, disappearing around a corner.
The echoing bootsteps faded to nothing. His attention back on me, the large warrior squatted in front of me, tilting his visor until he knew I could see him. “What’s the matter?” he asked, his warm voice a soothing balm to my jangled nerves.
I didn’t know this warrior, and he sure as hell didn’t know me. What gave him the fragging right to ask me this?
“Naas,” I replied dryly. Mandalorians asked to find out things in a literal sense. I didn’t feel like telling him anything.
But he could sense that. “Ibac’jehaat, ad’ika. You don’t have to tell me,” he said. Unfolding himself to his imposing height, he stood straight once more and motioned me over to the crates. “Come, atinad’ika. Let me take a look at that naas on your face.”
Spent from fighting and running and ignoring the confusion of emotions, I dragged myself to the crates and hoisted onto one. I sullenly stared into space as the blue-gray Mando dug through one of the other crates, shifting the contents this way and that in his search. Soon, he held a medkit proudly aloft and plopped it beside me.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” I asked, only half-joking. I turned my attention to his hands, unable to trust anything about him, even after the kindness he’d shown me.
“Not in the least; I never could pass my basic med training,” he deadpanned as he peeled off his gloves. His hands, I was surprised to note, were a deep golden russet bordering on bronze, strong and well-defined and peppered with thin white scars. Long fingers, the pinkie and ring finger on his left hand crooked at the first and second knuckles as if they had been broken and then healed improperly, looked warm and inviting, and I had to stop myself from reaching over to trace my fingers over the backs of his hands. He angled his visor at me. I furrowed my brow and coughed, hoping he hadn’t noticed my staring.
I was rewarded with a glob of phlegm from the depths of my guts. It was unpleasant, and I gagged a little at the taste.
He must have taken it as doubt, for he tried again to assuage my imagined fears. “Really, you don’t have to worry. I can take care of a few scrapes.” The smile in his voice sent a tingle down my spine, building on the off-centering feeling of wanting to be taken care of. By him.
I swallowed the blood and the bile and the need for comfort, choosing instead to tentatively meet his gaze. “You don’t have to…” I stopped, weakly gesturing at my face with a bloodied hand.
The warrior shrugged, busying himself with the medkit latch. “We take care of our own. Now hold still, this is gonna sting.”
“But-”
“K’uur, atinad’ika. Let me do my work in peace.”
Several quick jabs with a syringe and a liberal application of bacta gel later, and I was physically feeling a little less bruised.
Packing the unused med supplies back into the kit, he pushed the trash aside and joined me on the crate, legs splayed out in front of him, boots windshield-wipering back and forth to a beat only he could hear. The quiet between us settled around our bodies in thick, feathery layers.
I could say it was a relief to sit in companionable silence. After everything I had fought against, after all the fear and the anger and the frustration that had built up over the last week, it should have been nice to just sit and not be asked of anything. But as all things with my mind, I wouldn’t cooperate.
Tense and ready to spring at the slightest provocation, I gripped the square edge of the crate, my knuckles turning white and my nails bending against the hard plastic. The silence was nerve-wracking. It got under my skin, made me itchy and restless. With no distractions and little ambient sound, the words began to fall out of my mouth, fuzzy and coarse and prickly.
“I only wanted to get off that doshing moon,” I began, voice low and grainy. “I thought… I hoped that I could. With… him.” I couldn’t bring myself to utter Din’s name. Even though we may have shared the same adoptive buir, I didn’t have to like the guy, refused to show him much respect. Not after Bosph. Not after all of our fights. “Seeing him, I thought… I thought all Mandalorians were like my buir.”
Humming softly, the blue-gray Mando cocked his helmet in understanding. “Munit tome’tayl, skotah iisa,” he replied.
I laughed feebly. “Yeah. That he is.” Slowly, I unclamped my fingers from the side of the crate and laid them, palms up, in my lap. I stared blankly at them as I continued. “Sometimes I get so… so angry, that I can’t hold it in. The more I shove it back, the sharper it gets, until, well.” I pointed to my face again. “Can’t say what he did was unwarranted. I’ve been a bit of a fragging ass, despite his best efforts at keeping me alive.”
It was the giant’s turn to laugh, the gravelly chuckle buzzing pleasantly through the modulator.
Sighing heavily, I curled my fingers into my palms, briefly digging my nails into the oil-stained flesh. “But he-he had no right. In bringing me here. I didn’t choose to be cared for by a war criminal.” I turned my hands over, rolling the knuckles into the tops of my thighs, palms slicking with sweat as I remembered. “This isn’t my cause, you… you aren’t my people.” Biting my lip, I screwed my eyes shut, the tell-tale pricklings of tears welling behind the lids frightening me more than getting caught in a blaster fight. I was not going to cry. Not now, not in front of this warrior. Not ever.
“Let me out… please. I can’t be here. I-I don’t belong.”
The words caught him off guard as much as they did me. Shifting his body to face me, the Mandalorian brought a bare hand up to gingerly cup my chin, tipping my head back until I was forced to open my eyes and look at him. “Don’t belong? Atinad’ika,” he said quietly, dropping the hand to my shoulder with a squeeze. “Gar tal’din naas jaon’yc.”
“Don’t give me that line of kovedee’osik,” I said cooly, shrugging off his comforting hand, twisting away from his warmth. There was that biting anger again, rearing its ugly head at any sign of pity or sympathy. “I don’t want to belong. I’m just fine by myself,” I lied, mostly to myself. “I’m going.”
The blue-gray Mandalorian sat staring at me for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then, slapping his beskared thighs with his beautiful hands, he stood up and strode purposefully to the door. “We can’t hold you against your will, atinad’ika,” he sighed, sliding back bolts with practiced ease. “Even if you don’t believe you are part of this Clan, we will always accept you back. No matter what happens out there.” Finished with the bolts, he turned to the control panel to punch in the code. “But one thing, atinad’ika.” His dark tan fingers hovered over the release button, helmet tilted towards me. “We aren’t the only ones who know about your buir. There are… other forces out there that also search for him. And if they find out that you are his…”
I froze. Frag. I hadn’t even thought about someone else out there to get me. “What would you have me do?” I asked, swallowing the cracks in my voice.
Lowering his hand, the Mandalorian turned to me, tensed as if ready for a struggle. “Are you sure you want to know?” he murmured, his vocoder barely registering the rich depths of his voice.
“Elek,” I replied nervously, knowing all too well what he was going to ask of me.
“Stay.”
______________________________________________
Notes:
Udesii! Me’bana? Me’viinii gar teh, vaar’ika? - Take it easy (Calm down!)! What’s happening (what’s happened?)? What are you running from, pipsqueak? [lit. What running you from, runt? - mashed the Mando’a]
vod’ika. - little sibling
ad’ika - little one, son, daughter, of any age - also used informally to adults much like *lads* or *guys*
Naas - Nothing
Ibac’jehaat, ad’ika - That is a lie, little one [what even is sentence structure]
atinad’ika - [not not a word] little stubborn one (atin - stubborn; ad’ika - little one)
K’uur, atinad’ika. - Hush, little stubborn one.
Munit tome’tayl, skotah iisa, - long memory, short fuse - said to be the typical Mando mindset
Gar tal’din naas jaon’yc.. - Your past is unimportant. (lit. Your bloodline is nothing important) [butchers the Mando’a]
kovedee’osik - bullshit (kovedee - cow-like creature the size of a bison; osik - shit {or dung, but insulting-like}) [just gonna keep on making up words until someone corrects me]
Elek - Yes
#moose writes#the mandalorian#the mandalorian fic#mandalorian fanfic#mandalorian fanfiction#star wars#star wars fic#star wars fanfic#star wars fanfiction#mando fic#mando#mando fanfic#mando fanfiction#din djarin#din djarin fic#din djarin fanfic#din djarin fanfiction#paz vizla#paz vizla fic#paz vizla fanfic#paz vizla fanfiction#paz viszla#paz viszla fic#paz viszla fanfic#paz viszla fanfiction#mando x reader#mandalorian x reader#din djarin x reader#paz vizla x reader#paz viszla x reader
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Ooo, for a prompt, maybe Paz repairing something for someone, if I may? =) Thank you for your time!
Thank you for this. I might end up adding more to this down the road.. but I needed this. <3
You hadn’t seen Paz in years. It wasn’t that you were mad or upset with him. Quite the opposite. He was someone you considered to be one of your closest friend regardless of how long it took for him to show up at your door. Sure, there was part of you that always wanted him to be more but the ideals he held were so steadfast you never thought it was possible. So, you were always a roof over his head and a friendly smile when he needed it.
With his lifestyle, it meant that you likely wouldn’t see him often. Part of you knew that someday he would just stop showing up but.. that was far too painful to think. Regardless of how long it had been, you couldn’t bring yourself to accept that he wouldn’t come back.
When you walked up to your small home, you noticed that there was a light on inside that you didn’t leave on. That was something you always made sure of; no wasting of the energy you had access to.
Someone was in your home.
You pulled your blaster after quietly setting down your bag near the door. With a deep breath, you pulled the door open slowly, pulling your blaster up knowing that it was going to be loud as the hinges squeaked. When they didn’t you glanced down but started moving forward slowly. You left the door open and took a few steps in but dropped your arm as soon as the blue armor came into view.
“Paz?”
The man turned around, his visor looking at you. Your face broke into a smile and you sighed.
“Stars, Paz. You scared the hell out of me.”
He stood up and walked to you, pulling you into a bone crushing hug. You hugged him back and laughed as he set you back on your feet.
“Sorry to scare you, mesh’la. I must have gotten here soon after you left for the day.”
“You could have come to town and gotten me.”
“I uhm.. not really a good idea. I need to lay low and I was really hoping..”
“You are always welcome here. Come sit with me and tell me how you’ve been for the last few years.”
“Mind if we sit at the table. I’ve been kind of fixing.. well.. everything while I waited.”
“Ah, so you’re the reason my door didn’t squeak.”
“Guilty.”
You gave him a huge smile and sat next to him at the table. He was tinkering with your larger comms device. It has been broken for as long as you could remember but right before your eyes it turned on and beeped. For some reason, it made you so happy seeing Paz sit in front of you fixing the things in your life that had been broken.
“You know you could have just sat here without fixing everything right?”
“Wanted to keep my hands busy.”
You finally looked at his armor and saw all the dings and burn marks on it. Tentatively you reached out and touched a particularly nasty mark on his chest plate. He balled his hands into fists, so you went to pull away, but he grabbed your wrist, keeping you in place.
“No, don’t.. please don’t be afraid of me. It’s just… been a rough few days.”
“You’re okay. Do you.. want to talk about it?”
“No, but you deserve to know why I’m here.”
“You don’t-“
“They’re all gone. All of them.”
“Your clan?”
He nodded once, shifting his hand so it was on top of yours, holding it gently to his chest.
“It was the guild. The fucking Imps wanted a child and our bounty hunter went and got him.”
“A child!?”
“He didn’t.. didn’t know it was a child when he went there. He got the reward then realized he made a mistake. He was an ugly little thing, but he didn’t deserve whatever the Imps want to do to him. But the guild doesn’t care about right and wrong.”
“This is how your armor got beat up?”
“Yeah, and how I lost everyone. I got out of there and just.. didn’t know where else to go. This could put heat on you, mesh’la. I don’t think the guild will come looking for me but-“
“It’s been years since you’ve been here. I doubt anyone even knows who I am. You’re safe here. And look I know you’re this big tough warrior, but everyone deserves a safe place to be.”
“Thank you. You’ve always been kind to me.”
“That’s what friends are for, right? I know that your creed is important to you, so anytime you need space or time to be alone just tell me. I’ll get to work on cleaning out the spare room for you. It can be yours for as long as you want it.”
His hand closed around yours and he brought his forehead to it, resting it against the back of your hand.
“I don’t deserve you or your kindness. But I appreciate it. How can I repay you?”
“No need.”
“Please. I can’t just stay here and not repay you.”
“Well, you already fixed a ton of stuff for me. I could use some help keeping things running around here.”
“Anything. Just tell me and I will fix it. I’ll move things or carry things. I just..”
“Don’t worry, Paz. Please don’t worry. We will figure it out. Until then, just relax. You can have the bedroom if you want. Why don’t you go take a shower and relax for a while? The door locks so you can rest assured I won’t try to come in.”
“I trust you, mesh’la. I don’t think I would be here if I didn’t.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here Paz. You’re safe here and you will be able to rest up for as long as you want.”
You stood and looked up at him as he stood as well. He moved forward and gently put his hands on your upper arms.
“I’m sorry it took so long for me to come back.”
You smiled and shook your head.
“You have a lot of time to make it up to me.”
“Yeah, I do. That is exactly what I plan to do.”
Tag list: @mapplestrudel @cannedsoupsucks
Please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed
#paz vizsla x you#paz vizla#paz vizsla x reader#paz x you#paz viszla#paz vizsla#star wars#fanfic#the mandalorian#starwars#ask#ask maiihem#ask cora
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Hand to Hand Practice
helo its another Paz Vizsla x f!reader!
MINORS DNI
Crossposted to AO3
Rating: 18+
Length: 2.2k
Warnings/Tags: SMUT, sparring, rough sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, PiV, creampie, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), slight spanking, somewhat of a size kink? Please let me know if I missed anything!
NSFW UNDER THE CUT
Thump.
Your back hit the floor. The breath was knocked from your lungs from the impact. That bastard--he threw me!
“Come on girl, that’s the best you’ve got?” Paz taunted you from a few feet away. You huffed, swiping a hand across your forehead to wipe away the sweat that dripped from your temples.
“You know I can’t throw you around, Paz,” you snapped back at him, glaring venom at the ceiling. His amused chuckle crackled through the vocoder. The dark T-visor of his helm appeared above you, looking down at your prone form. Paz held a hand out for you to take. His palm dwarfed yours, and he pulled you to your feet with seemingly no effort.
You groaned, feeling your spine pop as you stretched. Paz moved back to his spot. He bent his knees, crouching slightly and distributing his weight in a defensive stance. He beckoned you forward with a curl of his fingers. “Again.”
There wasn’t much room to spar in his ship, so Paz had shoved everything not bolted down to the sides and tossed a few heavy blankets on the floor in place of a mat to spare you from being thrown straight onto metal. Because you were thrown. Quite often. Paz let you get a few hits in before bodily lifting you and ending your assault. You were a good shot with a blaster, one of the best--you were hardly ever in close-quarters combat. You knew the basics, but hardly ever used them or practiced. One bounty got too close for comfort, and you sported a new scar on your arm because of it. After it healed, you asked Paz to practice with you, maybe teach you some new maneuvers.
And to teach you, the big Mandalorian challenged you to take him down. You couldn’t knock him off his feet, he easily weighed over 300 pounds with his armor on. Trying to get him to move was like barreling into a tree. The best you could hope for was to outmatch him in speed, and not let him pick you up.
You shook out your arms, bouncing on the balls of your feet. Paz had taken his beskar off--save for the helmet--so he was only in his padded armor and you wouldn’t break your knuckles throwing punches. He cocked his head, and you knew he had a smug smirk on his face, waiting for you to launch yourself at him again. You moved.
You dodged the swipe he took at you, instead landing a hit of your own on his side. Paz was unfazed. He laughed, making another grab at you, which you danced back to avoid. The two of you circled each other--you, waiting for an opening; him, countering every movement. The next time you darted in for a swing, Paz grabbed your arm. He easily twisted you and had you pinned. You struggled against him knowing it would do you no good.
His hand settled at the base of your throat--not squeezing, just lightly resting there. You froze like a spooked tooka as a bright spark of pure arousal settled in your core. Oh, Maker…. He knew exactly what to do to have such an effect on you. Paz was so big--his hand was so big, dwarfing the delicate line of your neck. If he applied the slightest bit of pressure you would probably melt into the floor and then wither away from embarrassment. You wouldn’t be able to bear looking him in the face--visor? ever again. His thumb traced a light line over your collarbone. Heat flooded your face and you swallowed thickly.
“I win,” his rumbling voice murmured right by your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You steeled yourself, shaking off your feelings and stomping them out of your mind. “Again.” Then his arms tightened, drawing you back against his chest. Something thick and hard pressed against your lower back and you squirmed, pulling a groan from him.
Of course, sparring got him hard. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t work you up too.
“One more round,” you insisted. You ‘accidentally’ pushed your hips back against his erection as you squirmed out of his arms. Paz grunted, letting you go. You didn’t expect to win this round, even with his new distraction, but you didn’t want to. If you worked him up enough, maybe he’d snap. The thought of what he would do sent a delicious shiver down your spine.
You readied your stance. Paz did not pull his punches, not that you expected him to anyway. This was a game to him. He did manage to surprise you, though. For as big as he was, he could be fast. You had just ducked out of his reach when you felt him grasp your hips, and then you found yourself on your stomach, fall cushioned by the blankets. His weight settled on the back of your thighs. You couldn’t even twist to try and throw him off balance--he had you pinned.
He slowly leaned down, resting his weight on his forearms on either side of your head, caging you in. “Did you even try that time?” His fingers traced down your spine, then the warmth of his hand slid up under your shirt, teasing your skin. “Or did you just want this?” and he rolled his hips for emphasis, grinding himself against your ass and making you gasp.
When you didn’t answer, he chuckled. “Yeah. I thought so.”
His hands continued to skim up your sides, each touch building warmth in you. When you wriggled and whined, he paused. “D’you want this off, baby?” he asked with a light tug on your shirt.
“Please,” you breathed. Paz chuckled, then guided your shirt up and over your head. Your bindings followed shortly thereafter. He traced a finger down your spine, making you shudder. You tried to subtly press your thighs together to take the edge off, but from his seat on your legs, Paz felt your muscles tense. He tutted, rubbing his fingers over your clothed pussy, the barest hint of pressure making you all the more desperate.
His fingers hooked in the band of your pants and tugged lightly. His weight shifted off you and you lifted your hips to help him pull your pants and panties down, leaving you bare beneath him.
“Look at you,” he rumbled, palming your ass. “Pretty girl.” The gentle smack against your flesh made you gasp. You shifted your hips back against him, trying to entice him to move his touch to where you were wet and warm and dripping for him. Paz was a tease, but he was also not the most patient man. His fingers dipped down to your heat, rubbing light circles over your clit before pulling back to tease your entrance. Then he pulled away.
Your confused noise cut off as the warm glide of his tongue swiped through your folds from behind. A wanton moan left your mouth as your hips arched up, off the blankets piled on the floor, trying to grind back against his face. Paz’s big hands spread you apart, holding you open for him as he explored you with his tongue. Each lick, suck, and kiss was a warm wave of pleasure suffusing through you, building until you were squirming against his hold.
“Paz, Paz, please--” you choked out, teetering on the edge. He wouldn’t give you that last little push you needed to reach your high. You moaned, hips bucking against his hold, desperate for the final bit of stimulation your body craved. Paz held you steady, giving you pleasure as he saw fit.
“Cum on my mouth, pretty,” his voice, deep and gravelly and not filtered by the modulator, sent an extra spike of pleasure through you. His lips wrapped around your clit and he hummed, the little vibrations doing enough to coax you into orgasm. You weren’t bowled over by sensation as you sometimes were; instead, this orgasm was a slow, thick, rolling wave of heat spilling through you, spreading through your limbs and leaving you loose and boneless.
You just knew Paz had a self-satisfied smirk on his face seeing you blissed out and jelly-limbed on the floor of his ship. You hummed as his weight settled over the back of your thighs once more, the rough canvas of his pants dragging against your sensitive skin. He didn’t strip, instead opting to pull his cock from the confines of his clothing.
The thick length of Paz’s cock rested on the cleft of your ass. He groaned at the sight, your plush rear and the peek of your dripping pussy from between your thighs, his cock nestled between your cheeks, showing just how deep he would reach sheathed inside you. You tried wiggling your hips, enticing him to fuck you, but the steady weight of him on your thighs and his hands on your waist held you in place.
“This what you wanted? You didn’t wanna train--y’wanted to get fucked,” he punctuated his words with a thrust, grinding his cock against you.
“Yes, yes, fuck me--please, Paz, want you--” you babbled, hands fisting in the blankets beneath you. You rocked your hips against him. Paz’s breathing stuttered, and then he was spreading you open to watch as he sank his thick cock into your wet heat.
The press of the head of his cock had you gasping into the blankets, and then as he buried himself inch-by-inch, you couldn’t stop the little moans and whines that left you. You tried to relax your muscles, taking as much of him as you could, but your cunt spasmed around the intrusion. He grunted behind you, feeling your walls flutter around him as they stretched to accommodate his length. When his hips touched your ass, you shuddered, stuffed to your limit, the ache turning into a pleasant warmth licking at your core.
Paz rocked his hips slowly, only sliding an inch or so out before thrusting back in, and you clawed at the floor. You lifted your hips to the best of your ability, pushing yourself back against each thrust. He started slow--every time was like the first time, you were so tight around him, especially in this position. He didn’t want to hurt you--not in a way you didn’t ask for.
He squeezed your ass, massaging your hips and tugging you flush against him. He stopped moving, holding himself still while encouraging you to roll your hips against him. "That's it, baby, fuck yourself on my cock,” his voice was rough and dark, sending shivers through you. You whined, driving yourself back harder, desperate for more stimulation. You squeaked, trailing off into a moan as his hand cracked against the plump flesh of your ass. “You want more? Needy thing.”
He fucked you, and when Paz fucks, you’re gonna feel it for days. His hips pounded down into yours, each thrust sheathing his cock deep in your core and driving against that spot inside you that made you clench around him. Raw pleasure shot through you like unrefined electricity, burning bright along every nerve. Your toes curled in the blankets beneath you. The muffled sound of his clothed pelvis meeting your bare skin, mixed with the wet noise of your arousal, filled the ship. Each brutal snap of his thrusts drove you closer and closer to the edge, breathless moans torn from deep in your chest. The walls of your cunt fluttered around him, strangling his cock.
“Gonna cum for me, pretty baby?” When you didn’t answer, one of his hands wrapped around your jaw, tilting your head back and forcing your back into an arch. The angle made him spear even deeper into you and you nearly squealed. “I asked you a question.”
“F-fuck, yes, please, please, please--”
He shoved his hand between your hip and the floor, wrapping around your front so his big fingers could rub circles over your clit while he continued to fuck into you. He pressed demandingly at your clit and your legs trembled while you grasped desperately at anything within your reach to ground yourself, unaware of how loud your moans had grown. The dam of your orgasm finally broke, and you soaked his cock and the blanket beneath you as you came. Devastating waves of pleasure rocked through you and you clenched helplessly around his cock as he fucked you through it, his fingers continuing to tease your clit and making you jerk in his hold.
The tight, hot clamp of your cunt around his length had Paz following shortly behind you. Half a dozen shallow but firm thrusts, and he came with a rumbling groan as he sheathed himself inside you.
You trembled beneath him, flushed and sweaty and so, so deliciously boneless from the intensity of your orgasm. Paz gently pulled out, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back. You whimpered at the loss of his warmth, the comforting weight of him on your body.
“Easy,” he murmured. “‘M right here.” He would have laid down beside you, except the floor wasn’t the most comfortable, even with the blankets he had thrown on it--so instead he maneuvered you into his arms and lifted you with ease before placing you in his bunk. He quickly stripped off his heavier clothes before crawling in next to you and wrapping you in his arms. You curled into his chest, legs resting on either side of his.
Tentatively, you rocked your hips, the slickness of your combined releases dripping from you easing your motion. Paz squeezed your thigh in question and in warning. You grinned devilishly up at him.
“One more round?”
#paz vizsla x reader#paz vizsla x you#paz vizla x reader#paz vizla x you#paz vizsla#paz vizla#the mandalorian#the mandalorian fanfic#the mandalorian fanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction#my writing#star wars#star wars fanfic#star wars fanfiction#reader insert#no y/n
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Little one Pt. 3
Paz Vizsla x Fem reader
Requested by: @canadian-snow-queen @kchavez666 💗💗💗
Warnings: FLUFF!! Protective!Paz, Possessive!Paz, swearing, violence, use of a firearm.
A/n:If you don't like the Warnings please don't read! PLS KEEP MY COMMENT SECTION AGGRESSION FREE!
PART 4 WILL CONTAIN SMUT 👀
___
Din had asked the rest of the Mandalorians if they would join him in his fight against the pirates on Navarro. They had all agreed to help, after Paz Vizsla's glorious speech. Y/n was sitting in the ship next to Paz and the other Mando's, they were to be dropped out of the ship and onto the planet surface. Y/n was leaned over, her elbows rested on her legs, lightsaber in hand. She rolled it around in her hands, memories of the past flooding her brain. When she was training, Yoda teaching her the force, he was a wonderful master. He was fair and patient, always taught in intricate detail, showing her everything.
"Do or do not, there is no try." She whispered.
"What did you say?" Paz asked.
"Word's from a wise man. A great man....and Master."
She felt a hand rest on her back, gently rubbing circles.
"If you're afraid-"
"I'm not. I want to fight along side the man I love."
Y/n's gaze met his visor, she gave him a soft smile as she gripped his arm. The large door underneath their feet opened and she looked down to the rocks.
"You don't have a jet pack." Paz said.
"I don't need one."
The chairs dropped from under them and they plummeted it the ground, Y/n landed on her feet with no trouble. The Mandalorian's flew above and headed towards the city, she looked up and a pirates smaller ship caught her eye. Y/n jumped, using the force to go higher, she landed on the top of the vessel, startling the piolet.
With the blue flash of her lightsaber, the ship was going down. She split it in two and jumped off, landing on another one, in which she did the same thing to.
Just before it could hit the ground she leaped off and landed next to Paz in the city, swinging her saber to deflect blaster fire. Vizsla watched as she swiftly moved, knowing when and where the shots was coming from. It amazed him, she suddenly jumped and landed with a boom, knocking over a group of pirates.
Y/n came back to him and took his blaster cannon, aiming at the pirates in the tower. She fired at them until all that was left was a hole in the side of the building and a cloud if smoke.
"This baby is awesome. Imma have to get me one of these." She laughed, handing it back to Paz.
The battle went on, most of the enemy ships were destroyed when one of them locked onto Y/n and started chasing her through the city, shooting at her everytime she accidentally came out into the open.
Soon the relentless pursuit ripped all the energy from her, and she was shot in the side. Paz heard her cry and bolted towards her position, when he saw her laying in the dirt he faced his cannon towards the ship and fired, taking the entire front of it off.
He ran to Y/n's side, picking her up and bringing her into the school. Paz laid her down on a bench, taking a look at her wound. Y/n's eyes slowly opened when he whispered her name, she flinched, feeling the pain.
"Fuck." She cursed.
"It's alright, I'm here. I need you to stay awake, you're loosing a lot of blood."
He stayed with her until Din came plowing in with a good portion of the Mandalorians and Greef Karga. They brought her into the infirmary, Paz held her hand the entire time. Her eyes never left him, her gaze occasionally drifted down his large form, but never did it falter or look to anyone else.
A shock of pain made her cry out when the doc pressed something to her wound.
"Paz!" She shreaked.
He got close and gripped her hand tighter.
"I'm here, Little one. I'm right here."
Y/n buried her head in his shoulder and kissed the fabric that covered his neck, the gesture making his heart beat faster.
___
Y/n sat in the covert, staring at the fire. A Mandalorian male watching her from across the cave, making her feel uneasy.
"Got an issue there, Bub?" She asked, not looking up from the flames.
He stood slowly stalking over to her his helmet tilting, he crouched down beside her and gently turned her face towards him.
"I see why Vizsla is so drawn to you." The Mando whispered. "Your beauty is beyond any other."
The look in Y/n's eyes made him chuckle. She looked like she wanted to kill him, but he knew she was far too weak. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, he was leaning closer when he felt a blade being pressed to the back of his neck.
"Take your hands off of her." Paz's voice growled from behind the man.
"Vizsla." The Mando turned to him, still crouched. "Have you claimed her yet? I haven't heard you voice it."
"She's mine." Paz's tone got deeper the longer the other Mando stayed next to Y/n.
Suddenly the man swung his spear at Vizsla, Knocking him back. Going at him again, he was pushed backwards into the fire. His cloak went up in flames forcing him to shrug it off his shoulders.
The man charged again, stabbing at Paz but missing every time. He was thrown against the wall and was about to swing again when he felt weight against his throat, he coughed attempting to breath but it was impossible.
He fell to his knees, causing Paz to step back in shock and confusion. The other Mando looked to Y/n, Paz fallowed and saw Y/n with her hand raised to him.
The look in her eye was pure anger, the color slowly faded in and out from e/c to yellow then back to e/c. Y/n's arm dropped and she fell on her side. The other Mando gasped for air and sat back against the cave wall.
Paz came over to her, taking her in his arms and carried Y/n to their shared room. He set her down on the cot and brushed her hair out of her face.
"You never cease to amaze me." He whispered.
A weak smiled spread over Y/n's face and her eyes fluttered open. She reached her hand out, running it down his side, feeling his muscle. Paz's breath hitched when he felt her hand stop at his clothed cock. She slowly palmed him through his flight suit, making him lean forward.
"Amaze me, Vizsla." She moaned, biting her lip.
He came closer, his voice so close to her ear.
"You're playing with fire, Little one."
THE END ❤️
I hope you enjoyed
Reblogs are welcome 🤗
#fyp#foryou#fanfic#foryoupage#x reader#requested#paz vizla x reader#paz vizsla x you#paz vizsla#paz vizsla x reader#paz Vizsla x Y/n#the mandalorian x female reader#the mandalorian x y/n#the mandolorian x reader#the mandalorian season 3#the mandolorian x you
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You want Paz requests? I’m in love with the man, I think of him all the time.
Did you ever experience someone telling you they like you as a joke when you were a kid?? I definitely did.
I can imagine big strong thicc man Paz telling me he has feelings and would like to court, and me just getting upset because I think someone put him up to it as a joke. I’d legit cry. Little bit of angst, some fluff when they talk it out, the whole nine yards
Real Love, Baby
Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Mandalorian!Reader
Word count: 1.2K
Warnings: Bullying, kids are cruel, probably some emotional trauma, a smidge of violence, angst, a sprinkling of fluff, a lack of proof reading because I’m ✨impatient✨
A/n: Oh man I had my own brand of emotional manipulation back in the day but that’s the worst, I’m so sorry that happened to you but we’re gonna turn it around in here! Hope this is what you were looking for! Cue “Real Love Baby” by Father John Misty!
Masterlist
Having grown up in the covert alongside him it felt like you’d known Paz forever. You didn’t get the chance to speak much or work together often anymore but you had always thought those formative years together had given you somewhat of an understanding of one another.
Believe it or not Paz wasn’t always as popular among the covert as he was now. He was big and clumsy as a child and didn’t know how to control his emotions. You had both been made laughingstock in all the school yard games, the butt of every joke. You doubted he even remembered it now, how you two had been forced to look out for one another back then. There was still one time you couldn’t get out of your head when after being humiliated in front of just about the entire class he had beaten up the kid who had asked you out only to laugh in your face the moment you stuttered out a yes. He had endured the punishment for once again losing his temper and starting a fight and he’d done it for you. You had never known how to thank him properly for it.
Since then he’d been deemed useful by the tribe. He’d gained their respect through brute strength and growth of character and now he practically ran the place. He was compassionate and strong willed, brilliant with children, a provider if you had ever seen one and a surprisingly good leader. He was everything the tribe needed and more which was why you were so taken aback by the words tumbling out of his mouth now.
You paused, unable to control the quiver to your jaw or the way tears had begun to blur your vision as the memories came flooding back to you.
He was supposed to be different. He knew better. And here he was telling you he loved you? No.
“Kriff, Paz I know you’re popular now but I thought at least you would have the decency not to pull this old stunt on me.” You managed to choke out, thankful for the helmet which now at least helped you hide the hurt that felt like it was ripping you up from the inside. The hurt because what he thought of you actually mattered. The hurt because you had worked so hard to push yourself past the phase in your life where you let peoples words cut you deeper than any vibroblade and here he was knocking you right back into it. The hurt because you wanted him to mean those words more than you had ever wanted anyone else to and instead here he was making some kind of sick mockery out of how famously unlovable you were just like all the rest of them had back then.
“And to think I spent all this time trying to figure out how to thank you.” You scoffed, turning on your heel to escape back down the hall.
Paz’s mind reeled. What had he done wrong? He made the mistake of reaching a hand out to grab your wrist—any attempt to get you to stay, to let him figure out what to say, to explain—Bad move.
In the blink of an eye you’d managed to twist out of his grasp and quite literally sweep him off his feet with the collapsible spear that lived on your person at all times. Jabbing it towards him as he attempted to recover from the breath that had been taken from his lungs upon his impact with the floor, you leaned over him, the crown of your helmet almost touching his when you spoke again.
“Who put you up to it?” You managed to grit out trying your best to maintain the upper hand but your voice gave out and you knew even through the vocoder he couldn’t have missed that pitiful gasp of a sob that managed to sneak past your lips.
Realization struck Paz almost as hard as your foot which came to press his chest plate back down when he tried to sit up.
“No one, mesh’la”
“Bantha shit,” you spat out and he felt the words slap him across the face and truly sting despite the visor in between you at the thought that you believed what you were saying. The idea that some stupid little kids back in school had convinced you you were unworthy of love or warmth or affection. For a second he was seeing red all over again. It was like he was back in school watching them poke fun at you for being compassionate and kind and wearing your heart on your sleeve in a way he’d seen no other mandalorian do. You were so strong, and so brave and so real and they’d forced you to bury it, hide it all away so they wouldn’t pick it to shreds. He could see it now, still there, scratching at the surface, bursting at the seams to be free and it made him all the more confident of the words that were falling out of his mouth.
“Don’t let them win.” He said softly, remembering the words you had told him when you were young and the same kids who tormented you kept trying to taunt him into fights they knew he would get in trouble for. A sudden wave of guilt flooded over him at the thought that the only reason they gave you such a bad time back then was to get to him. “You can’t let them control your happiness like this forever.”
“Paz…” the words failed you as the spear went limp in your hand, your shoulders falling and a heavy sigh rattled through your chest. “You can’t seriously want me…” you shook your head, staving off another wave of tears but you didn’t resist him this time when he moved to sit up, nor when he tugged you down to sit in his lap, a large gloved hand guiding your chin so you were forced to look straight at him.
“See that? Those are their words, not yours.” He hummed, a low warm thing full of softness and care that made your heart ache. “And I’d really like to hear your words when I ask you this question.”
A second stretched into another as you grappled with the idea of what was happening. With the reality of what he’d said earlier and the weight that he had actually meant it despite all that you had been convinced of. You allow yourself a hesitant nod, ready for the laughter to start booming from all around you but instead a large warm hand slides beneath the lip of your helmet to brush a gloved thumb against your jaw line.
“Would you please allow me to show you what it’s like to be loved for real?” Paz asks and he can feel the smile that tugs at your lips beneath his hand before you speak in a voice that is yours and yours alone.
“Yes.”
Masterlist
#paz vizla x reader#paz vizsla x gn!reader#paz vizsla x you#paz vizla#paz vizsla#the mandalorian fanfic#paz vizsla x reader
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Are You in Or Out?
Rated: Explicit
Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY
Warnings: good lord y'all here we GO-- smut, explicit language, violence and mentions of blood and gore, injuries, unprotected sex (don't be a dick, wrap that stick!), oral (m&f receiving), blindfolding, vaginal and anal fingering, vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, spit is used as lube but for the love of GOD doNT DO THAT, there are some dom vibes on Paz’s end
Summary: The job you’re on takes a turn for the worst--Paz comes to your rescue and you're brought to the Covert. There you meet Din Djarin. though during a good natured sparring session, you’re suddenly stuck between an age old rivalry that spirals out of hand. Hopefully an agreement can be met.
a/n: hey...how y’all doin....SO lemme explain you smthn. I said helmets must be OfF--giv me them LIPS BABEY so this is a slight AU in which mandos can see other mandos’ faces. ya get me? I also tHot that it would be nice and fun to set the timeline 5-6 years BEFORE the plot of the Mandalorian so we gots a younger din here. anyway, as always enjoy and I hope you like!!
Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—
Some as little as burning your finger on the nozzle of a smoking blaster or tripping over your own shoelaces. Simple things. Mindless things.
Nothing that could ever compare to the catastrophic decision of picking up bounty hunting as a reliable source of income.
The little ones were easy—tax evaders and deserters of the Empire—most who’d yield and gladly follow without complaint just at the sight of your blaster pointed between their eyes. And the gag of it is—most of the time you never bothered to load the damn thing.
Reckless.
An invitation for disaster.
But skirting that precarious edge, one little slip up away from plunging head first into inevitable trouble is better than Bracca. Stars—anything is better than Bracca. There’s no glory in bounty hunting but there’s even less in ship scrapping. Abysmal pay in exchange for risking your life on rain slicked metal with only the Ibdis Maw to break your fall.
The guild you work for is considerate—scratch that. Greef Karga is considerate. Sure the flirting is a touch unbearable but it saves your ass in the long run. All easy money bounties set aside for you in exchange for a cheap drink, hollow laughs and sugar sweet smiles.
It’s enough credits to get by—more than plenty to rent a room and charter a ship.
But there’s only so many bounties to capture within the limits of the guild and oh so many people the empty blaster trick works on. And so the credits begin to thin; it gets too expensive to buy off a pilot and the debate over buying food or being able to pay for your room becomes more frequent than the scraprats that skitter inside the walls.
It’s suicide to snag a higher paying bounty because....well—these bounties shoot back.
Whatever.
Might as well die trying. Who knows, maybe you could score big time if you manage to pull this off.
Maybe.
-=-=-=-
You’re not sure who’s more surprised—Karga when you asked for the bounty or yourself when he actually gave it to you.
“Are you sure, kid? This could—“
“End in a fiery shitshow? Yeah—I figured that,” you sigh, swirling your drink with a little complimentary toothpick. “But I need the money.”
“Hah! You’ve got guts, girl.” He flashes you a smile and smooths down his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Tell you what. The last assignment was just taken but I’m sure if you run you could catch him. Work somethin’ out.”
Jumping from your seat, you throw on your coat and toss a couple credits onto the table to cover the drink. “What’s he look like?”
“Big fellow—Mandalorian. You’ll know when you see him.”
You shout your thanks over your shoulder and hightail outta there. The landing docks aren’t far, you can see them from here. It’s finding the guy that could pose a problem.
If he hasn’t already left, you bitterly think.
However, it seems the universe is on your side today. Karga was right. He is big. Stands out like a sore thumb against his ship that glitters dully in the overcast sky. Kinda like an oversized blueberry. A yellow and blue blueberry….not important—
“Hey! Hey, you!” You’re so close, just a couple yards away. You swear and hurry up your pace as he steps onto the loading ramp. “Big guy! Large...blue man?”
You trip over your own feet as he turns his head. Fuck—
No way are you gonna be able to bargain with this guy. Built like a fucking AT-AT and probably just as stubborn. After all, no one would ever be dumb enough to come between a Mandalorian and their quarry. You grimace, and suck in a breath—
Before a word even leaves your mouth he interrupts with a steady, unwavering;
“No.”
Your brows furrow. “I didn’t even say anything!”
“I know what you were going to ask,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I work alone.”
Ok, then. You didn’t want to resort to begging, but you’re kinda running out of options here. You take a steadying breath and plant yourself at the bottom of the ramp. “C’mon man. Look—I’ll let you take seventy percent of the cut and I can—“
“You’ll let me?” He repeats, the staticky tone of his voice dropping into an edge more cutting than broken transparisteel. The metal platting on the ramp vibrates from the weight of his step to move closer; Stars it takes every fucking inch of willpower to hold your ground. “You’re lucky if I let you leave with your life. Get lost.”
Fuckfuckfuck—you should listen. You wanna fucking run for the hills and never look back in case he comes looking to purge your name from the kriffing galaxy. You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. Too bad—you’ve dug your heels so far into this empire of dirt and false bravado that your only way out is continuing to poke the sleeping bear until he snaps your spine or caves.
You have to crane your neck to glare into that dark strip of his vizor, seeing as he’s invited himself into your personal space. “No.”
“No?” He mocks, now toe to toe with your scuffed up boots.
Your teeth clench, a scalding flush burning through your cheeks and all the way down to your chest. He’s toying with you—finding amusement in your stubbornness and apparent lack of braincells for challenging him. “You don’t scare me.”
The man hums, a deep purr that rumbles through his entire ribcage as he raises his gloved hand. You curse yourself for flinching because surely he’s about to crush your skull like a fucking grape, but no. All he does is fix your rumbled collar then pat your cheek.
“I don’t need the extra baggage.”
“I’m not baggage,” you sneer, slapping his hand away. “I can handle myself.”
“With an empty blaster?” He points out, tipping his head to the side. “Your parlor tricks won’t do you any good on this job.”
“I’m a good shot!” You sputter, placing your hands over you hips and mustering up your best glare. “W-when I have ammo…”
“Right.”
Meeting Paz Vizsla, could have gone far better, to put it into the most simplest of words. Jagged and hard to settle into a routine around each other for the journey to Nar Shaddaa in a tiny, old, and cramped freighter ship. Most cycles you have to wedge yourself beside a cargo crate to sleep. In addition to that, how it’s able to break through the atmosphere let alone fly is beyond you—an entire mystery on its own.
At least you’re able to sit in the spare seat inside the cockpit—one of the only places available to stretch your legs. The only problem is that it’s also where Paz Vizsla likes to lurk (well, not lurk—it’s his ship and it’s where he can comfortably fit but—to each their own).
There’s a net of tension still woven between you—each interaction like tiptoeing over eggshells. Though, like all things, it becomes simpler. There’s not exactly any ongoing conversations—you don’t want to pry into a life you know nothing about—it’s not your business despite the cumulation of questions that linger in the back of your mind. You know when to take a hint—not every person is willing to indulge you about their livelihood, and surely not something as secretive and well guarded as the Mandalore.
Familiarity is what you want to call it. Comfortable with each other’s presence with small talk speckled in throughout the never-ending vastness of hyperspace. Compared to the infinite turmoil in your life, slippery footholds and uncertainty—Paz Vizsla is steady. In a way— predictable and safe in the confines of this ship.
You’d even go as far as to label him kind, a friend maybe—if you look past the grumpiness and rather poor taste in corny jokes. You know it’s stupid, no doubt stemming from the deep ache of loneliness that comes hand in hand with staking it out on your own in the galaxy; but you can’t help but wish that this could be a new normal. Not some once in a lifetime thing where you both part ways, fade into the recesses of memory and leave it at that.
If things go well—and rarely do they on a job—maybe you’d pluck up enough courage to ask him if you could stay. There’s no harm in it…right?
-=-=-=-
Well—the cynical part of you was right.
It did end up in a fiery shit show.
Turns out the stupid quarry you’d been tracking excelled in long range weaponry. A former marksman for the Empire to be exact. Guess that tidbit of information wasn’t pertinent. A need to know sorta thing, if you will.
You feel the molten bolt of plasma connect with your side before your ears pick up the sound of a weapon firing, like a crack of lighting in the empty alleyway. And before your body even connects with the duracrete, Paz is returning fire. A brilliant neon red against the hazy blur of shadowy buildings.
Kinda weird how knocking the back of your head hurts worse than the literal blaster wound burned into your side. Shock maybe. Or the heat from the plasma cauterized each veins and artery it tore through and ate away at flesh and nerves. Hm…
You’re sprawled in a wet pool of something—either your own blood or a puddle of stagnant gutter water and damn—you’re wearing your favorite shirt.
It doesn’t matter at this point…
You’re choking on your own air from the big ass hole blasted into your diaphragm, so to say things are looking grim is an understatement.
Nar Shaddaa isn’t your first choice to kick the can on, but hey—not everyone gets the luxury of dying on Naboo. And just as you’re ready to slip away into that sweet, sweet abyss, it seems your fellow armored friend has other plans.
The beskar is freezing against your cheek after he deadlifts you off the duracrete—you remember that plain as day. That and the hushed rumble of Paz’s voice insisting you save your dwindling supply of air instead of apologizing to him—or ordering you to stay alive for kriff’s sake. It’s impossible to argue with Paz—like trying to bite through durasteel, and while those beckoning tendrils of eternal slumber are mighty tempting, you cling to your life with all the strength you have left. After all, inconveniencing someone with a corpse is such a party foul to the highest degree.
The rest is muddled—like dredging up silt and clay in a murky river that just leaves you with a pounding headache between your eyes. It’s a terrible mess of pain and bouts of temporary consciousness, mistaken with fever dreams and yup—more pain. The only consistent is Paz—hovering nearby or settled beside you—through thick and thin as you heal.
There’s no solid reason your brain can conjure as to why he brought you to the Covert—it’d have been easier to just dump you at the nearest hospital and be done with it. You’re not his responsibility and you’re too afraid to ask what it means. Too many possibilities—too many answers you aren’t in the mood to face or untwist.
And so you leave it be, set aside for another time—which brings you to the present day…
You’re splayed over your little makeshift cot, feet propped up on a spare pillow as you scour through a cheesy Coruscanti gossip magazine. It’s years old—the only piece of entertainment you could find other than a weapon in the Covert. And seeing as a massive hole had been blasted through your ribcage, picking up the clever art of throwing vibroblades or shooting targets to pass the time was out of the question.
Even if you’d rather fall into a Sarlaac pit than stare at the wall for hours on end yet again—it hasn’t been all that bad. It’d taken weeks before you regained enough strength to sit up on your own, let alone walk—and walking is putting it lightly. It was more of a stiff legged shuffle better suited on a two hundred year old woman seconds from disintegrating into dust at the mere hint of a breeze.
Not to mention—your right lung was all but shredded. Ripped apart from the plasma bolt and miraculously reconstructed by a more than questionable bacta tank, hopeful thoughts and well wishes. To this very day you still sound like a broken air filter.
Eh.
Could be worse.
At least you aren’t dead.
Just another setback that adds on the growing pile of reasons why never to leave the Covert. Free food, free board and mild entertainment to top it off. Paz had stayed at your bedside for the most part while you recovered—stuck with babysitting your sorry ass until you regained a bit of mobility. The times Paz hadn’t been at your side to stave off the boredom, it was up to you to find your own fun.
Snooping is what Paz had labeled it—but you saw it more as an adventure. You met Din Djarin exploring (lost is what you actually were) in the dimly lit underbelly of Nevarro, after all. Yes, you may have scared the ever loving shit out of the poor guy and yes, he may have singed off your brows with a five foot jet of fucking fire—but hey. No one got hurt.
And you made a new friend. Sorta…Din is difficult to read, subtler in his soft spoken words and quiet demeanor. A bit like a skittish loth-cat at the start, but nowadays it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the same space as you or hovering over your shoulder, awfully curious in whatever it is you choose to do. Like Paz, Din isn’t overly fond of sharing much information about himself but he never complains after you regale tales of your own vastly fascinating past. He seems interested enough—tilts his head a tick to the right when you speak to indicate that yes, he’s listening despite the unforgiving dark line of his visor.
There are others in the Covert too—some so elusive you have a hard time believing they exist. Shadows of what they once were before the rise of the Empire. And so, you count yourself lucky that you’d been introduced to two others—Aeris Fenn, a young man nearly as tall as a Wookie, and a woman named Ives Arrey; her armor a flashy green—damn near florescent in the light.
They’re nice enough company. Aeris is a chatterbox, his wit sharper than a blade but lacking in any forethought before he speaks. Ives is the far opposite—rolls each sentence in her mouth before she voices it, but in no way is she angelic. Maker—you’d bet your entire left asscheek she’s behind each bad decision and silly shenanigans Aeris sticks his nose into. He never learns—not after a harsh chiding or cuff around the helmet from Paz or the Armorer could dampen is childlike enthusiasm or steer him away from repeating the same mistake over and over.
Though if you read one more kriffing sentence of this garbage magazine you’re about to invite chaos himself to entertain you. Good thing too because just as you sit up to find the red armored Mandalorian—Paz rounds the corner and steps into your little broom closet that hardly passes for a room.
“Paz!” You greet, tossing the magazine over your shoulder. “Please tell me we’ll be doing something interesting or else I might start ripping my hair out. Or maybe commit a heinous crime—haven't decided yet.”
Paz grunts and shakes his head. “You’ll be doing neither. But today we’ll be sparing—hopefully that will curve your boredom.”
You scrunch up your face. “Sparring? Er, no thanks—I choose life.”
“You breathe funny since your injury,” he says, jabbing a finger between your ribs. “And all you’ve been doing lately is laying around.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you sneer, tucking your arms over your chest. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be running laps with half a lung.”
“It’s like stretching a muscle, you need to gain your strength back.” He retorts. “This will be good for you.”
You groan and flop back into bed. “I don’t wanna. I was pretty much dead like three cycles ago—cut me some slack, man.”
There’s a brief silence as if he’s mulling over your words, but he’s stubborn. You crane your head to look at him as he says your name with a deep sigh attached to it.
“Truthfully, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.” He says it quietly, fragile even, like he’s still expecting you to tip over and die on the spot. You very well might.
You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.”
You feel his heavy stare through the helmet. “What happened to you that night was a mistake. It wasn’t preventable but the least I can do is teach you basic selfdefense.”
You gripe out your complaints but you know you’ve been beat—and well, a bit of your agreement is based on guilt.
Damn it.
-=-=-=-
It’s weird to see Paz without his heavy duty gear—like seeing him naked or a crab without a shell. The only piece he continues to wear is his helmet and padded gloves and under clothes, but it’s still weird. Strange enough that it shocks you tongue into remaining still instead of bitching about this.
He leads you to a wing of the Covert you’ve yet to discover and ushers you through the doorway. The floor is padded, a bit smaller than you expected and already occupied by none other than Aeris Fenn.
It’s a whole other kriffing shock to the head seeing him without the plates and layers of fabric and beskar too. The armor makes him bulkier—fuller and much more intimidating. Now, with only his black underclothes on, Aeris could be the spitting image of a sentient tree. Willowy limbs that stick out like branches as he stretches on the padded mat. He lazily swings his head around as you greet him, his face still covered by the black beskar painted with streaks of red.
“So you choose sparring over knife throwing?” Aeris snorts. “And to think I thought of you as a friend.”
“You think I chose to be here?” You say, grumpy and still upset at the choice of activity. Really, a brisk walk around the Covert would’ve been fine.
Aeris shrugs. “Ah, and I see you’ve roped in my favorite vod. Tch, he uses his fists instead of his words to teach. I wish you luck—you’ll need it.”
You open your mouth to retort but Paz beats you to it.
“Leave.”
“I’ve just arrived, actually,” Aeris scoffs, folding his torso over his other leg to stretch. “Perhaps you could reschedule. After all—our guest is quite free most days.”
Welp—you’re perfectly fine with that. Problem solved.
You spin on your heel and make a break for it but Paz snatches your wrist and pulls you back to his side. “Aeris.”
“Paz,” Aeris mocks, tipping his helmet to the side.
Paz exhales, a long, tired sound and grovels out another plea in clipped Mando’a. Aeris languidly stands and brushes off imaginary dust from the front of his pants. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t understand your accent.”
“Boy—“
“No, no, it’s alright.” Aeris sighs, waving his hand in a mopey display as if he were told that his birthday party were canceled for the fifth year in a row. “I’d have trouble speaking too if my enormously thick head were cooped up in that little bucket of yours all day.”
You wince.
In the time you’ve known Paz Vizsla, he’s never been one to launch into rash decisions fueled by anger—he lets it simmer and build like an oncoming storm over the ocean. Devastating once it reaches land.
Aeris bobs his head and inspects his black leather glove, picking at a loose thread on the inseam over the thumb. He clicks his tongue. “Or'dinii—you’re going to kill her.”
Your offended scoff is ignored as Paz steps forward; jutting his chin up to even out the few inches Aeris holds over the man. “You still haven’t learned to shut your mouth, boy.”
The tension surges and crackles like a volt of electricity through the air—unresolved and ready to ignite with the sparking embers of Paz’s growing irritation. It’s not a fight Aeris Fenn will win. He’s volatile and hotheaded—but his expertise is in long range weaponry. Precise, deadly and swift—not whatever this little pissing match is heading towards.
Aeris clicks his tongue as Paz digs a fist into the black fabric of his shirt. Paz yanks him forward, the metallic clink of their helmets colliding an unpleasant scrape that pierces your eardrums. Aeris snarls out sharpened words in Mando’a as his willowy fingers shoot up to curl beneath the lip of Paz’s helmet.
In the blink of an eye, Paz lifts Aeris up by his collar and launches him across the room like he weighs nothing more than a couple of down pillows. His helmet meets the wall with a resounding clank, chipping some of the red paint outlining the visor. Ouch.
Like a kicked dog, Aeris clambers to his feet, still dazed and swaying and for a fearful second you think he’ll retaliate. But with whatever braincells he happens to possess today—he instead spits out a venomous curse that even yourself would hesitate to repeat. He leaves without another word, bristling with rage.
Your flash Paz a questioning stare. “The hell was that about?”
Paz waves it away with an irritated grunt. “His heart is in the right place but he is young. Aeris doesn’t understand his place in the Covert yet and I doubt he will for years to come.”
You frown. “Poor guy…”
Paz mutters something under his breath. “Enough distractions. We’ve wasted enough time already.”
“Y’know…I think that’s enough excitement for today. I think I’ll be going now—“ Your last ditch attempt at weaseling out of this is quickly thwarted the moment you turn your back.
You wheeze as the heel of Paz’s palm shoves into your shoulder blade, the force of it sending you stumbling to the ground. “Paz—“
“Go on. Hit me,” he orders. You squeak, narrowly avoiding the well aimed kick that skims the top of your scalp.
You scramble to your feet, skirting out of range of the oncoming right hook. “So you attack me instead?”
“How do you expect to catch quarries who are bigger than you?” He presses. You hiss as the points of his knuckles dig into the meat of your shoulder.
You dance out of reach and rub your arm, a dull throb flaring up in the muscle. “I dunno—electrocute them?”
“Not if they take you by surprise.”
You screech as his knuckles skim your cheek. Adrenaline pierces you veins and you wildly throw a flaky punch that wouldn’t even impress a toddler. He catches your fist with ease, his entire hand dwarfing your clenched fingers. “You can do better than that.”
You snarl and struggle to rip your hand back. “I’m a scrapper. I don’t fight.”
“No,” he retorts. You fall onto your ass as he abruptly lets go of your hand. “You’re a bounty hunter.”
You roll your eyes. “Hardly—why can’t I just stay here?”
Although there’s nothing to see with that swatch of black covering his eyes, you can certainly feel the look he’s giving you. A deep sigh hisses through the vocoder. “You can stay here—“
A triumphant smile splits across your face—
“—but not without contributing where it’s due.”
You puff up your cheeks and let out a dismayed stream of air. “Booo—lame.”
He sighs again and helps you off the floor. “Even if you leave the Guild, what I’m teaching you is helpful.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “I’ll give you a call after I use your invaluable skills to beat up some thug.”
Paz ignores your comment and turns on his heel. “Let’s go through it again. This time use your front two knuckles instead of your whole fist.”
As your eyes land over the stretch of tight fighting fabric over his back an idea pops into your head. It’s a petty move but getting a punch in is fruitless—like trying to beat up a brick wall. You don’t fancy a broken hand and your knuckles are already bruised and swollen to the point where it’s hard to bend them.
And so, without any forethought and with a running head start, you launch yourself onto him, your arms coiling around his neck. It does the job—takes him by surprise and makes him tip to the right.
Aha! Yes!
Your reign of victory is short lived, however—
He latches onto your forearms strung around his neck and yanks. And much in the same way he threw Aeris like a sack of potatoes—you’re no different. For a short stretch of time that feels kriffing endless; you soar through the air, your directional whereabouts violently ripped out beneath you and equally nauseating in the same breath.
Why you ever agreed to this—you don’t know.
Your shoulder blade connects with the mat first, leaving behind a dull sting as you roll and tumble with uncontrollable momentum. Oh, yeah—you’ll feel that in the morning.
Groaning, you thank the Maker that your body eventually settles into a miserable little pile of limbs and pain. But, it seems whatever higher power that lingers in the edges of the galaxy hasn’t decided to put you out of your misery just yet.
A bulky shadow blocks out the dim lighting overhead, and for a brief anxiety ridden moment you’re afraid it’s Paz. You roll onto your back with a pathetic groan, a beg for mercy on the tip of your tongue—but as your eyes flutter open they’re met with an entirely different man.
Din Djarin looms over you, his head cocked to the side as you blink in dumbfounded bewilderment. Ah, hell—
You swallow, a furious heat bitting at your cheeks. “Uh…fine weather we’re having…”
“We’re inside,” he states with a brief glance up to the ceiling.
You purse your lips. “Huh.”
With a pensive hum he offers his hand, you sigh and roll over, accepting his gloved hand. He hoists you up easily and adjusts your rumpled collar. “You ok?”
“Pfft, yeah,” you groan, rubbing your throbbing shoulder. “Never better.”
The low grumble of your name is a cross between disbelief and irritation. Din jerks his head, his attention zeroing in on Paz. “Are you trying to kill her?”
“She isn’t made of glass.”
“She is still recovering—“
Normally you’d intervene, but their bickering is tiring and it gives you the excuse to lie down. By the time one of them caves you’ve counted exactly one hundred and twelve weird ceiling stains. They should get that checked out.
“Very well,” Paz snarls, cutting through your wandering thoughts. “You teach her.”
Din scoffs, his shoulders drawn tight as he stomps over to your splayed out self. “Get up.”
“Geez, fine,” you grumble, not in the mood to test his patience further. “Since you asked so nicely.”
Later he’ll no doubt apologize but right now? He has to prove a point. Din cuts right to it, moves in close to place your clenched fists in the right stance and nudges at your feet until they’re a bit wider than hip distance.
“You have to get in close with a bigger opponent,” he says, stepping into your space until your fists are close enough to touch his chest. “We don’t have much range here—easier to break our guard too.”
“Right. And how would you suggest I do that?”
“You’re always beating me at cards.” Din says, tipping his head to the side. “You have a clever mind. Use it.”
“But I always cheat.” You point out, dropping your guard to swat at a stray hair.
He catches your wrists and returns them to where they ought to be. “Quick enough to get away with it.”
You make a noise of uncertainty but do as you're told. Din takes a couple steps back and with a rough order you begin.
He’s faster than Paz—bats at your guard in quick bursts and steps away when you attempt to hit back. It’s a dance almost—somehow elegant in its brutality of bruises and flashes of pain as you move around one another. Compared to Din, Paz is almost clumsy but unpredictable. Din—despite the rapidness of his attacks and evasiveness, becomes predictable.
He steps to to left—you follow. He rocks onto his toes to jab his fist forward and that’s where you find a break. Punching Din’s helmet won’t do you any good but catching the juncture of his shoulder with your elbow is completely feasible. Too bad that you’re not the only one with a clever mind.
Din uses the momentum of your attack to catapult you to the ground—his own body rolling with you in order to capture you in a headlock of sorts. This sucks. After this you’ll never be setting foot in this Maker forsaken room again.
Din tightens his elbow that’s looped around your throat as you squirm and flail, trapped against his chest. He grunts as your elbow digs into his ribs but holds steady and snakes his free arm across your front, pinning your limbs to your body in an unbreakable vice. All mobility is cut off as his knee pushes between your thighs, locking your leg out into an uncomfortable and frankly quite awkward angle.
Inhaling a shaky breath, you arch as the crown of his helmet skims along the curve of your throat; the bite of beskar frigid and startling against your flushed skin. You can see his visor out of the corner of your eye; glittering and dark like the polished obsidian on Black Spire and endless like the greedy maw of a black hole.
Your breath hitches as he shifts and curls his head closer to your ear. His voice rumbles low and deep through his chest and vibrates against the delicate cartilage. “Yield.”
However much your pride wrestles with the sensible part of your brain, it’s all for naught as you jerk your head in defeat.
In retrospect you should’ve said something—used your voice or made some kinda sound because suddenly Din’s forearm digs alarmingly hard into your windpipe. He read the stuttered jerk of your head as another pitiful act of defiance but no. Nope.
Here you are—asphyxiating.
Not exactly what you had in mind, being strangled by a Mandalorian and all—but a chokehold where you could very well die was not it.
Fuzzy darkness begins to shade the corners of your vision, lightheadedness and a curious warmth that prickles down your spine settling low in your belly. A raspy gasp manages to slip through your blocked off airway, and stars why does this feel good?
“Din—”
Paz’s sharp bark is distant above the ringing in your ears and it all stops.
You gulp in air that burns your throat like refined fire whiskey—hunched over the mat as a large palm rubs soothing circles over your upper back. You cough and roll over, sounding like a dying animal run over by a speeder then hit with a spiked club to polish it off.
You’re quickly herded into Paz’s arms and pulled into his lap. Still wheezing and attempting to recover lost oxygen, whatever Din is trying to say translates into an indiscernible hum against the ringing in your ears.
“I’m fine,” you mutter, though neither of them care to listen. Like bristling wolves, snapping at each other’s heels.
“Apologize to her,” there’s not so much as a centimeter of room to argue. “Now.”
It’s nice of Paz you suppose—defending your honor and what not, but you’re not a vengeful person. It was an honest mistake and you want to explain that so Din quits looking like a kicked puppy, yet the sudden touch over your ankle stops you. All the times Din has initiated contact it’d been a friendly pat to your shoulder or ruffling you hair, and while touching your ankle isn’t exactly scandalous it’s certainly an odd place to put your hand on.
Your fingers clutch Paz’s shirt as you eye the man lingering at the bottom of your feet, his gloved thumb unconsciously rubbing patterns into the exposed skin between your boot and your pant leg. “Cyare—I’m sorry.”
You blink and lick your lips. Interesting. “I-I don’t know what that word means.”
His hand inches higher, resting on the swell of your calf. “Sweetheart…darling…loved one—“
There’s a shift—a dark undercurrent that none of you should be dipping your toes into. There’s a million and one things to say or do to sever this at the root, but are you going to? Nah.
Din’s thumb now rests over your knee, goosebumps following in his wake. “Should I keep going?”
It too hot—stuffy with both of their heavy stares locked on your flushed face. You squirm and glance up at Paz who only offers an impassive stare. Great.
“I can make it up to you,” Din continues, his hand stationary—a warm weight even through the fabric of your pants. “If you let me.”
Your mouth feels drier than the desert on Jakku. This…nothing good could come out of what Din is hinting at. This is uncharted territory—launching yourself into the great unknown without any idea of what’ll fester and grow if you agree.
It’s not like it hasn’t crossed your mind—it’s just…it’s never been both of them at the same time. These men are short-tempered, an open flame to jet fuel with deeply seated ire woven into the very fabric of their beings. You’ve barely scratched the surface on the inner workings of their mutual hostility, but you’re bright enough to question if this will make it worse. Tinder and brittle twigs feeding and enabling the hungry flames of rivalry to spiral and consume with chaotic brilliance of a dying star—
But, oh—
Isn’t it worth taking the risk?
You suck in a grounding breath and slowly extend your leg that Din touches, gingerly skimming the toe of your shoe along the inseam of his inner thigh. “H-how would you…make it up to me?”
Din preens at your answer and shuffles closer, lifting your legs so that they rest in his lap. Devotion drips off his words like a fine liquor as he toys with the laces on your boots. “Anything—say it and it’s yours.”
Sparks of molten heat race down your spine and metastasize in your lower belly, spreading through each vein and artery like a some sort of invasive ivy. You spare a look up at Paz as he shifts.
“Go ahead, girl,” Paz assures. “Answer him.”
It’s an unspoken, buzzing sort of thing like the static air before a storm, crackling and surging with pent up energy. You all know the implications of what’s to come—but it’s your words, quiet and steady that irons that nail into your coffin.
“Take me like you mean it.”
The next few moments pass in a dizzying blur, a mess of anticipation as your shoes are yanked off, your pants following soon after and tossed into some unknown corner of the room. Paz helps you out of your shirt, a shiver wracking through your body from the chill, leaving you bare save for your underthings. Yet the warmth that seeps through his shirt and his hands that linger over your ribcage do a lovely job at making up for the cold.
Din shuffles closer and brings his fingers up to cup the side of your face, lowering his head to rest the crown of his helmet on your forehead. “Wanna touch you.”
Your breath hitches as Paz’s hands sweep up your torso, cupping and kneading your breasts. “Y-you already are touching me, Din."
Paz snorts as the rough leather of his gloves scrape over your skin and unhook your bindings. You hardly hear Din over your own whine as Paz rolls your hardened nipples between a forefinger and thumb.
“I want to feel you—without the gloves,” Din clarifies, fighting to keep your attention on him. “Will you let me?”
Maker that shouldn’t even be a question. You moan out your approval, delighted that both of them decide to slip off the padded fabric. Din touches your bare thigh the same moment Paz returns his hands to your tits and it’s exhilarating. The rasp of their bare palms against your flesh is addicting—something so foreign and warm compared to their usual armor and thick layered clothing.
You arch into Paz’s hand as it curls around the base of your throat, a tentative pressure but still heavy. “You’d let us do anything, wouldn’t you? Needy little thing.”
“Yes,” you croak, already debauched and falling apart at the seams. “Anything.”
You’re all too happy to fade away in the embrace of the larger man but the other participant is far from letting that slide. Din grabs your hand, guiding it towards the front of his trousers, the drawstrings already loose and easy to pull aside. He groans and twitches as your fingertips flirt along his navel, then curl over the waistband, tugging his pants the rest of the way down to pool around his knees.
You reach for the already impressive outline of his cock pressing against his boxers, but Paz cupping your cunt through your underwear just before you touch Din is distracting. You gasp and arch as Paz digs the heel of his palm against your clit, electrifying ecstasy zipping down your spine with each touch.
There’s a twinge of guilt after Din huffs and drags your limp wrist back to his cock, this time encouraging you to palm him by guiding your actions with his own hand until you lazily oblige. Din’s quiet grunts, gravely against the vocoder do nothing but throw more jet fuel to the fire inside your belly. The growing urge to actually touch him gnaws and corrodes the forefront of your brain. With a firm yank his boxers are quick to join his trousers and Maker—
Fuck—
Will he even fit?
Din is thick, rosy brown and flushed at the tip and beginning to curl towards his bellybutton. A bead of liquid shines at the tip, dribbling down the underside as he wraps his fist around the base of his length. He gives himself a languid stroke before he, once again, reminds your hand of what it’s supposed to be doing. Din is searing in your palm, molten and stiffening to hardened steel in your grip.
“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Din hisses as his head rolls back onto his shoulders. “S-so pretty holding my cock.”
Your desperation tears at your insides, insatiable and Maker— you wanna taste him. You want to hear every little stuttered moan and feel each twitch of his hips as he claims your mouth as his own.
But before you’re able to ask Din if he’d be willing to fuck your throat, Paz grips your knee and slings your leg over his thigh, murmuring praise as he peels off your underwear. Paz’s hand snakes down to your pussy and runs two thick fingers through your already slick cunt, then delicately parts your folds.
It’s like a fucking bomb going off as his thumb grazes over your swollen clit. His forearm locks tight around your waist, keeping you in place as you arch and tremble. Paz is feather light and teasing, as he strokes over the little bundle of nerves in a painstakingly slow rhythm.
“Paz—“
He nudges your cheek with his helmet and chuckles. “You’re so sensitive, vaar’ika. Such lovely noises too.”
Paz trades in his light touches for using his two fingers instead. They form a relaxed ‘v’ shape, trapping your clit in between the digits as he massages in a steady up and down motion. You cry out, every nerve shocked and flooded with saccharine pleasure, shoving you so treacherously close to that precarious edge of release.
You have no fucking chance as a different set of fingers, leaner in length but just as bulky, carefully prod at your entrance. Din’s pointer finger slides into your cunt, quickly adding a second as your core clenches and stretches for him. The dual sensations over your clit and Din’s fingers steadily pumping and curling inside you send you hurling into that dazzling white-hot pleasure.
Throwing your head back, you cry out—a jumbled mess of their names or just nonsense— pleasure crackling out from your core and all the way down your legs. Your cunt tightens like a vice around Din’s digits, your legs twitching as your high dips into prickly overstimulation. You whine, and swat at Paz’s hand, Din pulling out his own fingers a moment later and wiping your wetness on the inside of your thigh.
Your head rests in the crook of Paz’s shoulder as your breath fans across the side of his helmet, fogging up the metal where the blue paint is chipped and scraped away. The shirt he wears smells a bit like sweat but the underlying scent of him is comforting—worn leather and something crisp, like fresh laundry. You don’t mean for the words to slip out—
You know better than that, but everything feels muddled and silly and, and, and—
“I wish I could kiss you.”
It’s like dousing ice cold water on a pile of smoldering coals. A silence, petrifying and like the inhale before jumping off a cliff and into a rocky sea, ensues. Stupid, stupid, stupid—
Paz shatters the fragile suspense with a rich laugh that burns away all the icy worry making itself a home in your ribcage. He moves his arm up, his fingers gripping your jaw to fix your gaze onto the other Mandalorian. “You want his mouth on you too?”
You whimper and nod, but it isn’t enough.
“Use your voice vaar’ika,” Paz hums, pressing the crown of his helmet against your cheek. “Tell us want you want.”
“I-fuck—” Paz’s fingertips sneak up your torso, rough callous catching deliciously on your skin. “I wan’t your mouth on me. B-both of you.”
Paz chuckles and releases his hold on your chin. “You’ll have to be blindfolded, sweet girl.”
Din scoffs, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. “Like she’d want to see your face anyway.”
“Please,” you mewl, turning your head to curl into Paz’s neck. It’s not ideal, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. “I don’t care. I need—“
“Patience, little one,” Paz purrs, rubbing up and down your bare sides in a soothing manner. All it does is stoke the flames. “You’ll get what you want.”
Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—
You can feel his cock, firmer then tempered durasteel and poking into your lower back. Oh, hell—these men are going to ruin you.
You’re nudged forward, your vision going dark once your shirt is securely tied around your head. The knot traps a few hairs that pull sharp against your scalp but the measly pain is worth it. Oh so worth it.
“Is it too tight?” You hear Din ask, concern lacing his gravely vocals.
You wave your hand in dismissal. “S’fine.”
“Cant see anything either, right?”
You squirm, your patience spreading thin. “Din, please.”
“Fine.” There’s no bite to his tone and under different circumstances you’d have more composure. Acknowledge that they’re putting their religion, their whole being into your hands—a fragile trust that could so easily be shattered.
Your ears pick up their subtle movements, their helmets landing onto the thin mat with soft thunks. With bated breath you wait for them to jump into action, seize every spare moment to taste your skin and breathe the same air. But—
“You need a haircut, vod.”
“And you need to shave.” Retorts Din with bitter indignation.
“It’s hardly even stubble.” He chortles. You giggle and twist away as he scrapes his prickly cheek up and down your neck. “Besides—she likes it.”
There’s another lull, and with the blindfold everything is amplified—the quick and quiet breathing of Din on your right and the slide of fabric against skin as Paz shifts. Your attention is captured by Din’s bare palm, warm and calloused like weathered leather left out in the afternoon sun. He caresses the outside of your thigh in smooth, longing strokes, enraptured by the softness of your skin. You whimper and let your leg fall open, exposing more of your thigh for his curious exploration.
The sudden touch on your cheek is jarring. You know Paz is there—it’s not an easy thing to forget the solid chest you’re leaning against but it’s hard to focus. Difficult to settle on one thought before it slips away like grains of sand between a clenched fist. Paz’s touch is heavier than Din’s, ambitious and greedy but…mindful. Even as his fingers spread along your jaw and drag you into a deep, mouthwatering kiss. It’s…stars—
There’s nothing that can describe this. No word that could ever hold a candle up to the way his lips, plush and soft, move against yours. His nose brushes against your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his warm tongue sliding against the seam of your bottom lip.
You whine and bury your hand into his hair as Paz groans, a low rumble in his throat. You wonder what color it is, but carding your fingers through the curls atop his head suffices for now.
Your curiosity is abruptly ended as Din’s hand snakes around your forearm. You’re forcibly yanked away, only to be met with another pair of lips. Din murmurs an apology at the sting of his teeth bumping into your upper lip, but the pain is hardly the first thing on your mind.
Din’s kiss is devouring—
Scalding and bright—the galaxy, a thousand suns, all there ever will be and all that ever was. The way his lips move against yours is a devastatingly sharp contrast to the steady, syrupy sweet kiss Paz offers. Desperate and eager to surround you in his own arms—steal away any lingering thought and replace it with him. Din Djarin—
You gasp as Din’s teeth nibble and pull on your bottom lip, only a moment before he surges closer, wrapping his hand around your jaw to hold it open as he licks deep into your mouth. Breaking for air, Din tangles his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck and yanks, baring the column of your throat. His travels down, the tender kisses morphing into teasing nips and lingering sucks that’ll turn into tender bruises in the morning.
Din hovers over your breasts, his heated breath and cooling saliva the catalyst to the goosebumps that rush over your skin. He lightly tugs on your nipple using his teeth, then plants a sweet kiss over your sternum.
“Can I taste you?” Din murmurs, his lips ghosting over your flesh. “Maker—wanna put my mouth on you.”
“Din—“ A different set of lips latching onto the juncture of your neck and hijacks your train of thought. Wipes your mind clean until Paz is the sole thing you can consciously focus on.
Paz laves his tongue over the shell of your ear and urges you to lean back against him once more. Your nose scrapes against his stubble as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his hips lazily rolling his hardened cock into your backside.
“Or…” Paz rumbles, capturing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You marvel at the sheer size of his palm—astounded still when he leads his and your hands to palm his cock. “I could give you this. Fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming for me.”
It’s a punch to the gut. Why the fuck do you have to choose? You squirm as Din points his tongue over your nipple then sucks it into his mouth.
Working through the fog in your head, the answer is clearer than fucking crystal. Because who in their right mind would turn down a Mandalorian’s request to eat you out? Not you, that’s for sure. “Din—want your mouth.”
Din huffs in triumph and slips between your legs that part to accommodate his broad shoulders, leaving no patch of bare skin untouched and worshiped. You shiver as his tongue circles around your bellybutton then retreats. Din settles his head beside your knee and mouths a kiss there.
You whine his name and buck your hips, heart beating wildly in your ears. The teasing is unbearable and, stars—if he doesn’t start now—
He nibbles on the inside of your thigh, laving his warm tongue over each mark he leaves behind, buffering the sting of his teeth. Din snake his hands under your ass, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he heaves your cunt closer to his mouth. Din’s thumbs part your soaking pussy, his breath hot fanning over your cunt. His tongue his scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit.
Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through you. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—fuck. Fuck, you need more.
Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are obliterated; nothing but the warmth of his tongue, and his lips, devouring you as if he were a man seconds from death and you’re his saving grace. That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade into smoke—but you’re not going anywhere. Not even a million credits could convince you to push Din’s head away.
He sinks two fingers into your clenching hole and curls his fingers, stroking and curling his fingertips to make you sing. Zeros in on that little spot that causes the involuntary twitches of your leg and wrenches embarrassing, high pitched mewls that fill the room. You’re careening towards your high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.
“Shit—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must hurt. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.
Your release unfurls through your body like sticky molasses—smoldering embers that seep into each limb until they’re heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to think and at this rate your brain is as good as gone.
You pay only a fraction of attention to Din as he kisses his way back up your body and lands a final one over your lips. His thumb grazes over your chin, his gravelly words of praise cutting through some of that foggy haze, how good you were, how fucking delicious you tasted when you came on his tongue. You taste your own arousal on his mouth as he noses your cheek and captures your lips in another kiss.
“Are you done?” Paz asks dryly, much too barbed to be thrown your way. You groan when Paz jostles your limp body as he hoists you back into his lap.
“Just starting, actually,” Din quips. “Why don’t you hand her back over? I’ve got some more things I wanna try.”
Paz scoffs and secures a heavy arm around your middle. “Greed will get you nowhere.”
“Neither will your arrogance.”
“Shut up—both of you,” you interrupt. Your voice is raw and choppy but it does the job. “Just fuck me already.”
For now their little spat is sidelined—it’s not worth ripping off that bandage of a temporary truce. There’s a chaste moment of quiet, like they’re considering tearing into each other’s throats instead, but with a touch to Paz’s thigh the standoff fizzles out.
“We need to work on your manners,” Paz suggests, curling his large, calloused hand around your neck in a loose hold. “I believe it’s please fuck me.”
Maybe if you weren’t practically a pile of brainless goo, you’d argue. See how far you can push—though this time you fold. “Please fuck me. P-please—I need it.”
Seemingly satisfied with your answer; Paz wedges a hand between your bodies to grip his cock and run the tip through your folds, soaked from you own wetness and Din’s saliva. The head of his member nudges at your entrance, and wether it’s his size or the fact you can’t see anything—you panic.
Your hand shoots out, nails harpooning into the meat of his forearm. “W-wait—you’re too b-big.”
Paz freezes and moves you up his lap and presses a kiss over you hairline. “We can stop. Just say—“
“N-no, I’m fine,” you assure, planting an apologetic peck on his stubbled jaw. Stopping is the last thing you want to do—it was just…overwhelming. A sensory overload testing the very fringes of your being. “Go slow?”
You feel his head bob in compliance as he moves you back to where you’re hovering over his cock. You relax this time, not as many alarm bells clanging through your head as your cunt flutters around the fat tip and then that glorious, first thick inch. Paz’s thumb bumps over your throbbing clit, coaxing your pussy to take him further.
“Yeah, that’s it vaar’ika,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your neck in quick pants. “Taking my cock so fucking well. So nice and pretty.”
Your pussy flutters, fresh waves of arousal hot and burning.You nearly keel over when Paz starts shallowly rocking his hips, easing your body the rest of the way down his length until the back of your thighs touch his. Maker—how the hell is he all the way inside? You can feel him in your fucking guts—
“See?” Paz purrs. He sucks a bruise into the meat of your shoulder and pushes his palm against your lower stomach, making the fit even tighter. “Fits fucking perfect.”
The noise your cunt makes pulling out and the debauched moan that filters through his vocal chords is obscene. If anyone where to walk by, well—it’s certainly not training that’s going on, for the better lack of words.
Paz holds true to his word—keeps his pace limited to deep, languid thrusts that brush up against something that makes your whole body shake—like strumming a golden chord molded to a musician’s fingers. Fuck—he’s doing all the work too. Lifting you by the swell of your hips and pulling you down onto his cock with a rough buck of his hips.
Abruptly, he slows to a gentle rocking—quick to lock you in place as you thrash and roll your hips. “Paz—n-no. Keep going. You n-need to—“
Paz silences your please with a wet, open mouthed kiss. “Our friend looks lonely. Why don’t you use that pretty mouth and suck his cock?”
Din.
You hear the man curse in Mando’a, probably some stab at Paz—
But with a pat to your outer thigh, you don’t need any more prompting—you’d give up your left hand to get a chance to suck him off. With the help of Paz, you’re eased onto your hands and knees, shocks of white-hot pleasure zipping through your core at the change of angle. Like this Paz is seated deeper inside, stabbing into each spot that makes you sing.
Fuck—your arms are shaking—only able to hold yourself up for half a click and then you’re sinking face first into the floor, ass in the air as he fucks into you. Paz clicks his tongue and wraps his arm around your front, pulling you back up from your slumped position.
“I told you to suck his cock, girl. Not take a nap.” Paz accentuates his words with heavy, well measured thrusts—the kind of force you know will leave your whole lower half throbbing and sore in the aftermath.
You whine as Paz grabs a hold of your jaw, digging into the tender joints until your mouth falls open. “Good. Keep it like that.”
Paz’s hand falls away, replaced by a softer touch. The pads of Din’s fingers hook under your chin, guiding and tempting you nearer to what rests between his legs, hot and heavy and large.
You feel the tip of his cock, flushed and pulsing, rest on your bottom lip. You lap up the beads of sticky precum with kitten licks that morph into suckling the entire head. Din grunts out your name and tangles his hand into your hair as you tongue at the ridged frenulum. He never forces you to swallow down more of him—lets you cradle the first few inches in the wet warmth of your mouth and languidly roll the pad of your tongue around him.
You want to take him deeper, let Din fuck your throat raw, but your jaw already aches. Your lips are pulled tight around his shaft, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on the mat below. You’re not sure if you could take more of him without the danger of your teeth catching or dislocating your jaw. So you manage like this—hollowing out your cheeks and and using the momentum of Paz’s thrusts to pleasure Din.
It’s frustrating—it must be each time you let his cock slip out of your mouth to breathe or the fact Din isn’t able to fucking fit his cock into your mouth. Annoying that you aren’t able to think properly to help him out a bit ore when that said brain is being fucked straight outta you, put through the wringer and then body slammed onto duracrete.
Din cups your cheek, strokes over your skin with his thumb and maneuvers himself out of your mouth. You whine and lean into his palm, his touch addictive like smoldering coals in the dead of winter.
“You want me there instead of him?” Din purrs, using the tips of his index and middle fingers to tilt your chin and drag you into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck you like you deserve.”
The profane imagery of Din between your legs instead makes you clench tight. It only takes a couple seconds and a few more feverish kisses before you’re nodding to his request. Paz mutters a swear, hesitates, and reluctantly pulls out, leaving your cunt empty and aching with need.
Din, however, is speedy—quick to hoard you to himself and yank your legs over his hips so that you’re draped on his lap. He jumps straight to the point, no fancy maneuver or drawn out teasing—just grabs the base of his cock, slides the flushed tip between your folds and sinks into your cunt. Even after your pussy had been stretched and molded around Paz’s length, you struggle to take Din’s entire cock into your aching center. It’s easier than Paz but, Maker—not by much.
You whine, harpooning your fingernails into his shoulder once he bottoms out. Din snarls a curse and latches his teeth onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, prickly pain shooting directly to your belly. “Fucking tight. H-how—fuck.”
There’s no time to adjust before Din sets a pace, harsh and desperate—his hands digging into the flesh of your ass for better leverage. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end before it could be yanked out from under him. Din’s staggered exhales below your ear are interlaced with subdued moans that start low in his ribcage then dip into a higher, airy pitch. A delicate sound you’ll guard closer to your chest than any secret you possess for the rest of your life—precious and yours.
Din turns his head to steal a kiss. “You feel fuck—fucking good. Wanna feel you cum around me. S-squeezed so fucking hard around my fingers—“
You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Heat sizzles down each vertebrae in your spine, burning up each and every cell with the brilliance of a wildfire. Stars, this is gonna destroy you.
Din’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of blistering warmth that knocks you off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs. Your nails dig into Din’s back as you shake and grapple for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.
“Good girl,” Din praises, pace faltering from just how tight your pussy squeezes and flutters around his cock. “S-such a fucking good girl for me.”
Regaining some semblance of control, you realize he’s still fucking going—still rock solid and throbbing, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release. Your arousal turns sharp, like rough cotton over a fresh sunburn as it dips into overstimulation. It’s not unpleasant but Din has to slow his hips to a delicate roll for you to recover.
In the time it takes to inhale, a different calloused hand kneads into your lower back then smoothes up your spine. A second later you feel the scrape of Paz’s stubble prick along your exposed shoulder as his tongue drags along your sweat dampened skin—all the way up the curve of your neck and ending at the shell of your ear.
You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but as Paz crowds closer the tip of his cock pokes at your other hole. With a surprised mewl, you tense and shy away—but he follows, molds his chest against your back to sandwhich you in. The hand gripping your bicep jumps to your neck and pulls your head against his shoulder.
Two of Paz’s fingers dip down the curve of your ass and brush along the puckered skin—far less jarring this time. “Do you want to be fucked here too?”
Maker—
You’re gonna fucking explode.
Stuffed to the brim already, it’s hard to imagine Paz cramming himself in along with Din. A little red light blares in some corner of your mind but it’s quickly soothed as Paz plants soft kisses over your cheek and jaw. You trust him—there’s no reason to think he’ll hurt you or push you to the point of pain.
You catch his mouth with a kiss and rock your hips back. “Y-yeah, ok. I trust you.”
You feel his smile curl against your cheek. “Don’t worry vaar’ika—I’ll take care of you.”
Paz strokes your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses the crown of your hairline as you sink into him. With his ring and middle finger, he pushes past the seam of your lips. “Suck.”
You obey, sealing your lips around his two digits and coating them in your saliva. Paz pulls them out with a pop and moves them between your legs, and with the added wetness dripping from your cunt, the first finger is easy enough. The second and third have you gasping as he scissors them and stretches your tight hole wider. You claw your nails into Din’s shirt—and he’s no better—Din’s own hands are clamping around your hips, struggling to keep still and biting back moans each time your cunt constricts.
Your hips begins to meet the thrusts of Paz’s fingers as your body familiarizes the feel of him there. It’s a deep thrill that rushes up through your spinal cord—much different from anything you’ve felt before.
“You like this, don’t you?” Paz goads, chuckling when you whine as he extracts his fingers. “I think you’re ready to take my cock, yeah?”
You shudder and nod, your voice no more than a squeak as it pilfers out. Paz strokes the top of your head and tips you forward into Din’s eager arms as Paz slicks up his length in a mix of precum and your dripping arousal. He touches the swell of you ass in warning, lines himself up with your hole and wedges the tip of his cock inside of you.
Involuntary tears dampen your makeshift blindfold as Paz buries himself deeper, his rumbling tone urging you to relax—relax even though your mind is drowning in an ocean of arousal and swirling emotions you have no hope to pin down and analyze. It’s for the best—thankful as Paz bottoms out that it wrenches you back to a feasible reality you’re able to manage.
“Shit—I-I’m gonna die—“ You sob, writhing at just how full you are. But there’s nowhere to fucking go—
“Easy,” Din breathes, and you wonder if he’s said it to keep his own head on his shoulders. “Easy.”
Din’s gravelly rasp cuts through the fog in your head, and stars—you sound like you’re fucking dying. Your wheezy breaths and lightheadedness would certainly suggest that—but no…no, you’re fine. Better than fine.
A rush so acute and devastating launches up your spine as Din’s patience cracks. He experimentally rolls his hips and that’s the end of it. You’re swallowed up in that riptide you fought so hard to avoid—fuck. You won’t be the same after this. How can you?
You can feel them both, separated by a thin wall as they sprint towards their own highs. You’re never once left empty—Din reaches the end of you as Paz pulls out and while there’s not exactly any finesse involves it’s the best fucking thing you’ve felt in your entire life. There’s no bickering—no teasing and you’re struck with an idea that makes you clench tight around both of them. You wouldn’t mind if this was the way they decided to settle scores or finally see eye to eye.
This time you can’t discern your high—just a constant overflow of ecstasy and dazzling arousal like an imploding supernova. You cry their names—sob and shake in their hold with such fervor that Paz traps you tighter between them to keep you still.
“Fuck—you get so fucking tight,” Paz growls, blunt nails digging into your hips. “And so fucking wet.”
His fingers touch the inside of your thigh and stars—he’s right. “I get to fuck your cunt next time—see how much you’ll drip for me.”
Even if the blindfold were off—there’d be nothing to see but a white wash of nothing. Blinded by pleasure and bursting at the seems.
Jealous, Din steals your breath away with a kiss, licking and nipping at your swollen lips until you whine his name. His jagged pants fan across your chin—chapped lips and patchy facial hair tickling across your bottom lip as you breath the same air.
Din whispers your name like a prayer, his fingers clutching tight around your thighs as his pace starts to flounder to choppy jerks. “Shit. I-I’m close—“
Your fingers twist into his hair. “Yeah—ok baby. Let go.”
Din’s teeth sink into the base of your throat and cums. His seed coats your insides—hot and copious and fucking shit—if there’s a next time you want him to cum in your mouth.
You don’t get time to relish Din’s stuttered gasps of your name, laced with praise and a show of a tender and bleeding heart before Paz is gathering up your hair in a tight fist and jerking your head up. “You—you want me to cum too? Say it.”
Without a breath of hesitation you beg for it, cry and arch into him. It does the trick—
Paz is loud—shouts a thunderous roar and buries his cock deep into your hole. Din is still recovering from the aftershocks of his release when Paz pulls out after what seems like ages pumping you full. His cock no longer there to plug you up, his cum begins to dribble out and mix with the mess between your legs. Your legs shake and you wobble--crying out as Din slips out, your body dreadfully empty and aching.
You're lowered to the mat by Din and if you weren't still trying to formulate words, you'd thank them. Lips dart over your cheeks and hairline, and for once nothing needs to be said. It’s nice...the radiating warmth from their bodies and the simmering flush through you body is something you could get used to. But you’re no stranger to the shifting tides of the future.
You shrug it off.
Your eyes are heavy and with one of them stroking your hair and the other your thigh, you drift to sleep. Later—later all unspoken things and disastrous words can be dealt with tomorrow. You must be dreaming when it’s said--careless and bold, but the words nestle into your heart and sprouts with fear.
“You love her, don't you?”
translation:
vaar’ika--pipsqueak
or’dinni--dumbass idiot
vod--brother/comrade
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Masterlist
** contains smut
18+ - fiction which is adult and with heavy themes
G - sfw- GENERAL audiences
Star Wars universe
Hux
Star wars fairy tales - sleeping beauty G-rated
Grease Monkey - Gn!reader x hux G rated
of tea and timings **- Hux x F!reader regency au (A03) G-rated
Braided ** Hux x F!Reader 18+
Paz vizla
Blushing little flower(plus sized reader) ** 18+
Kylo
Shifted Masterlist **- ongoing Kylo x reader 18+
MCU
Dr strange
10,000 nights Masterlist ** - Dr strange x Diabetic!ofc 18+
Exactly what I predicted** 18+
Bucky Barns
Bucky x reader - moulin rouge inspired au G-rated
Loki
Corrupted - Slytherin!loki x gn!reader g-rated
BBC ghosts (all my ghost stories will be G-rated)
Humphrey
Saint like (humpfrey x f!oc)
Real stand up guy - part 2 of saint like (written pre series 3)
Don't tell the brides maid - part 3 - coming soon
The broken cupboard - school au
Harry Potter
Remus lupin
smelling sweet (GN!diabetic reader) G-rated
Bill Weasley
million times over** (bill x reader) AO3 18+
Pokemon
maxie (team magma)
just skip to dessert ** ( maxie x adult villian oc) 18+ AO3
One Piece
Mihawk
The flower and feather - coming soon
HEADCANNONS and RANDOM SPOTIFY SONGS
Random Spotify Songs - Star Wars Men
more on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vintage_Beast
#master list#armitage hux x reader#kylo x reader#remus lupin x reader#dr strange x reader#smut#star wars fanfiction#mcu fanfiction#harry potter fanfiction#paz vizla x reader#humphrey bbc ghosts#ghosts bbc#diabetic fiction#bucky x reader#bbc ghosts fanfic#maxie team magma#matsubusa pokemon#pokemon villians#rainbow rocket#bill weasley x reader#one piece
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It’s missing Paz Hours
I personally think he’d be a big softie with his s/o and would love to just shed the armor and cuddle when he’s on the covert
Special thanks to @firstofficerwiggles for inspiring me to finish this piece 💕
#the mandalorian#paz vizla imagine#paz vizsla fanfiction#paz vizsla imagine#paz vizsla x reader#din djarin#din djarin x reader#star wars#fanfic#the mandalorian x reader#mando x reader#paz vizsla x oc#Meena foran#my art#procreate
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An Old Love Doesn’t Rust
Ship: Paz Vizsla x Din Djarin
Fandom: The Mandalorian/Star Wars
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: yearning, two idiots in love trope, feelings, detailed smut (18+), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), oral sex, porn with feelings, fluff, romance, set after Chapter 16
Summary: Din accepts his fate with the Darksaber on the Mandalore. While preparing a ball for Mandalorians, he unexpectedly meets an old friend from the past and feelings come on the surface.
Words: 3.2k (what the fuuuck, i have never written this much for a oneshot, holy shit, i impressed myself at this point)
It was difficult to settle without him.
After Din let Grogu leave with Luke, he felt empty. He knew that he’ll miss his son. And that Grogu will miss him too. But there was something, that he needed to do. Din looked at the Darksaber and sighed. He wasn’t ready for this, but this was the Way.
Few months later…
„..and these flowers will be there…“
Din was already exhausted. As the Mand’alor, he was throwing a ball for his fellow Mandalorians. And it was pretty big event. His assistants were talking too much and at some point Din caught himself to be dived deep into his memories. Especially in his memories for certain bigger boy in dark blue Beskar armor…
Paz Vizsla. The name of a man Din thought of very often. Of his best friend. Oh, how much Din wanted to see that big blue di’kut again! In those rare moments, when Din dared to be vulnerable with himself, completely honest, he missed Paz in ways he would have never thought he would. He missed his deep voice, when Paz was talking about practically anything he had on his mind, his wholehearted laughter, when he and Din had gotten away with some mischief, his like dark night sky blue, shiny armor, his touch, when Paz patted Din on the back, when Din was choking on a piece of juicy fruit…
Din was so caught up in his thoughts and feelings about Paz, that he didn’t notice his right hand Mandalorian in purple Beskar saying him something. He remembered himself only after Mandalorian patting him on his shoulder.
„What’s going on?“
„Sir, I think it’s time to prepare for the event,“ Mandalorian nervously stepped.
„Oh yes, that ball,“ Din sighed and got up. „Thank you for noticing me,“ he nodded at Mando and left to prepare for the night.
Later that evening…
„Ladies and gentleman and others, welcome to the ball,“ Din, dressed in his silver Beskar armor, which was shinier and overall looking better than usually, started his first speach as the Mand’alor. All Mandalorians, also dressed in their shiny armors, listened to him very attentively. Djarin didn’t speak for too long, although he seemed to be very calm and confident, his heart was nervously pounding in his armored chest. He spoke about what he thought was important and from his heart.
„And now, let’s the fun begin. This is the Way,“ Din finished his speech with Mandalorian creed, and everyone could feel the smile in his voice.
„This is the Way,“ Mandalorians chanted cheerfully. Some of them even chanted Din’s name. Din blushed a little and smiled under his helmet. As he was watching his fellow vods having fun, he caught sight of very familiar blue color. And he felt suddenly his heart to stop.
That familiar blue color could originate from the only one source. In that moment, Din knew, who it was. It felt like Maker had heard his most secret hopes and dreams. Maybe…maybe he could be happy again.
Stunned Din watched his long lost friend Paz talking to Bo-Katan. Suddenly, he felt a lump forming in his throat, his mouth dry like Tatooine sands. Will Paz still remember his friend from childhood? And how did he leave Nevarro? Where had he gone after that shooting? Din’s head was full of questions he hoped he’d get answers to soon.
„…and then we saved Grogu and I lost the Darksaber,“ Bo-Katan grumpily rambled about their adventures to her new object of complaining, Paz, who really tried to listen to her, but he kept daydreaming, just as Din.
„So, who’s the new Mand’alor?“ Paz interrupted Bo-Katan’s venting, much to her annoyance.
„Look for yourself, big blue boy,“ she smirked.
Paz groaned. Something about the way she said „big blue boy“, irked him. He was about to say something ironic to her, when he noticed she left. Good, at least I’ll get some peace now, he thought. But not for long. When he turned to see the famous Mand’alor, he froze.
Paz would not have been much happier for his helmet than in the very moment he saw Din on the Mand’alor throne. His dark, sparkling eyes went comically wide, plump, soft lips, which had never kissed yet, slighty parted. It felt like all his thoughts, words were thrown out of Paz‘ head. He couldn’t even tell, what exactly he felt at that moment. Relief, happiness, doubt, that Din would not remember him, or something, that made his lower parts tingle? Probably all at once, if Paz would be absolutely honest with himself. And maybe something more. There was always something more with Din.
As the ball continues, Din felt himself very tired. But since he saw Paz, he could say, that something in the air changed. He also knew, that he wouldn’t be able to sleep without talking to Vizsla, but it seemed Din couldn’t get to him. Every few minutes someone wanted to talk with him.
While politely conversating with another Mando, he caught Paz‘ visor staring at him and suddenly the world stopped existing. It was like each other of them could see each other’s sould and it was intense and burning. Din’s breath hitched and his blood changed into something similar to molten lava.
He politely excused himself from discussion and nodded at Paz to follow him. He headed to a small part of garden, protected by a bunch of bushes with beautiful, soft looking bloody red flowers with thin petals and honey-sweet smell. Mand’alor didn’t turn his back to see, if Paz was really following him. Paz was.
When they got into that secret garden spot, Din slowly turned to Paz. His whole body lightly buzzed with nerves and sweet anticipation. For a few minutes, there was a silence, filled with a tension and something else. Promise.
They stared at each other for a while. Then Din moved and Paz moved too and they hugged like their lives depended on it. Mand’alor sighed happily. Paz‘ strong, big hug provided him security and comfort Din never knew he needed. Untill now. And when he got a taste, he could never get enough.
„Djarin, so you’ve made it to the Mand’alor,“ Din could feel the grin and proud in Paz‘ raspy voice. He, after all, was grinning like a fool himself under his Beskar bucket. „I see you’ve made it pretty good too, Vizsla,“ Din said, then he whispered softer. „I thought you’d died.“ His black visor met Paz‘ one.
„Y-yeah, i was succesful with leaving Nevarro, but I had to stay low since then,“ Paz explained, his voice sounded little bit choked. „Otherwise I would get in touch with you, but I thought it would bring you unwanted attention from those kriffing Imps and I - I didn’t want to endanger you, Din,“ Paz‘ voice got softer and softer with every word spoken. And I was afraid you wouldn’t remember me, Paz thought of.
Din was awestruck from what he just heard. After a minute or two, when he regained his composure, he spoke again, voice filled with an emotion he couldn’t quite entitle. „You could never endanger me, ner vod,“ and before he could stop himself, Din’s hands grasped Paz‘ helmet carefully and he stepped on his toes to clink his silver bucket against Paz‘. Din didn’t think about it twice. It somehow felt…so right.
To say Paz was overwhelmed, was a big understatement. He knew since he had seen Din for the first time after such long time, there had been something between them. He could feel it with his whole body, mind, soul. It was syrupy thick and sweet and hot and so intense, it consumed him. It brought emotions in Paz, which he wouldn’t even dare to call it.
So, he just stood there, absolutely dumbstruck, and gulped dry. His heart was pounding in his chest. Before he could do anything, Din let go of him. Paz was still quietly processing, that his best friend just kissed him in Mandalorian way, when Din did another thing, which took Paz Vizsla’s breath away. Din Djarin, the new Mand’alor, took off his helmet.
Paz knew he should scold Din for what he had just done. Broken Creed atc. However, he couldn’t bring himself to do so. All he could do right now, was to think about how Din looked so beautiful in the moonlight. His dark brown eyes, deep as the galaxy surronding them, reflected the light of stars above them. His helmet hair were wet with sweat and full of soft curls. And the pink, plump lips…Stars, Din was a sight for gods. Paz slightly shuddered. His mind was flooded with very tempting pictures of Mand’alor himself, writhing beneath big blue Beskar Mandalorian, his mouth creating perfect ‚O‘ shape, as Paz hit that heavenly spot inside Din, which made Din see not stars, but whole galaxies…His body reacted to these images very precisely and he was thankful for his codpiece, as he was already hot and throbbing in his pants.
Din noticed Paz‘ quietness and his tremble. He had no idea, why it happened, but he slowly started to be afraid, that Paz was disgusted by what he had done. Oh, if he only knew…
There was a flesh of insecurity in Din’s eyes and Mand’alor took a step back. This alarmed Paz, who got into his protector mode. „What’s wrong, cyare? Did I hurt you? Oh, kriffing hell, I didn’t-“ Paz would probably continue in his rambling, if he didn’t see Din’s surprised look with a hint of hope. And Paz realized, what he said. But there was no way in hell for him to take it back. Paz simply couldn’t hold himself anymore.
„Yes, Din, cyare,“ and now was time for Din to be in shock, because Paz copied his gesture with taking off the helmet. Din gasped, when Paz came closer and slowly, as if Din was made from a fragile materiál, caressed his blushed cheeks. His whole body throbbed with need. „So beautiful,“ Paz whispered and lowered himself to Din’s face. „You-you’re very pretty yourself, Paz,“ Din answered and looked at him with silent plea. Paz obeyed. His lips touched Din’s and it was burning like a wild fire. Slow, gentle kisses quickly turned into more needy, hot sensual ones. Both men after a while groaned into each other’s mouth, and that just spurred them more. It was sinful and passionate and just everything they wanted.
„We should také this somewhere private, Djarin,“ Paz panted into Din’s ear, when he licked his earlobe and sucked it. „Ye-yeah, we should- oh, kriffing stars,“ Din groaned, when he felt Paz‘ lips on his neck, sucking a mark on his tender spot. Under Vizsla’s touches, Din quickly changed into needy, trembling mess, he was so touch-starved.
Finally, Paz reluctantly let go of Din, picking his helmet. When Din got his helmet too, he nodded at the man with blue Beskar to follow him. They quickly walked through garden, too eager to feel each other’s body. After few minutes, which felt like eternity, they got into Din’s private quarters, and the moment the door closed behind them, they were on each other again.
They eagerly stripped of Beskar, it was laid randomly on the floor. Neither of them cared. Paz sucked another mark into Din’s neck and tugged on his T-shirt to pull it off of Din. When Din was half bare before Paz, Paz also took his shirt off. „Mmm, so beautiful,“ whispered, as he was kissing every inch of Din’s tender skin. By the time Paz got to his nipples, Din was a panting mess, back arching into Paz. „Shhh, Din, I know, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, ner cyare, let me take care of you.“ With those words, Paz sucked one of Din’s erect nipples, licking and carefully biting it slowly, while kneading the other one. Din let out a loud whimper, his hand went straight into Paz‘ soft, fluffy hair. His body shook and Din thought he could cum just from his nipples being sucked.
Paz paid the same attention to the other nipple as well and Din’s groans of pleasure got louder. When Paz felt Din’s nipples gor enough attention, he slowly kissed, licked and bit Din’s torso to his stomach and lower abdomen. „O-oh, it feels s-so g-good, Paz,“ Din panted, while Paz sucked few more hickeys into his skin. „And it will be better, love,“ Paz purred and tugged on Din’s pants. Din lifted his hips, so Paz could get rid of it. It was also tossed on the floor and Paz turned to Din’s rock hard cock, leaking precum all over.
„Holy shit,“ Paz whispered to himself, as his mouth watered at the sight. He couldn’t resist to lick Din’s length and taste him like the best lollipop. The sinful groan he let out, went straight to Din’s cock and Din thrusted his hips instinctively. „S-sorry,“ he exhaled. „Don’t have to be, love,“ Paz winked and let Din slide into his warm and wet mouth. Din’s mouth shaped perfect ‚O‘, as Paz‘ mischievous tongue licked along Din’s velvety dick. He never felt anything like this. Everything, what Paz did to him, made his blood change into wild lava and reduce him into whimpering puddle. And after one particularly good suck Din found himself teetering right on the edge. „P-Paz, I-I think I’m gonna-“ That was when Paz let him slide of his mouth with loud ‚pop‘.
Din pushed himself up on his elbows and with loud disappointed grunt looked at his lover. Paz shushed him again. „I will také care of you, my sweet boy, do not worry,“ he also undressed and bared himself to Din. And at the sight of naked Paz, Din lost his ability to speak. Paz was big and thick and beautiful. And very aroused. Paz pumped himself few times, smearing his precum all over his cock. „Do you have lube?“ „In a nightstand,“ Din nodded, his voice raspy from moaning. Paz found a small bottle and squirted a good amount of gel on his fingers. „Will you let me take care of you, Din?“ Din nodded again, opened his legs slowly and leaned back on the bed, trying to relax for Paz. Paz smiled and kissed him.
„That’s my good boy,“ he purred and at first he just touched Din’s hole with his wet fingers. He looked at Din’s face for any sign of discomfort, but when he didn’t find any, he carefully pushed one finger in. Din closed his eyes and grunted. It was slightly uncomfortable, but eventually he got used to Paz‘ fingers sliding in and out of him. It also helped that Paz used a lot of lube too. All this time Paz was praising him. „My sweet boy, take my fingers so good. Oh, you’re so beautiful, my love.“
Din felt absolutely wonderful. Paz‘ fingers always hit that one spot inside him, that made him keen and lean into Paz‘ touch. „A-ah, Vizsla, yes, yes,“ Din moaned and grabbed the sheets beneath him, as if to anchor himself. After earlier edging, he was worked up and felt on the edge of heavenly pleasure once again. But Paz had apparently other plans and stopped stimulating Din.
„Paaaz-“ Din pouted and looked at him with almost teary dovey eyes. Although he quickly shut himself, when he felt Paz nudging at his entrance. Paz took the lube again and squirted a lot of it all over his cock. „I-I’ve got you, Din, my love,“ Paz whispered and slowly entered Din. He groaned deeply and when Paz was fully seated inside of Mand’alor, he leaned to kiss him passionately. This allowed him also také a breath, because of how tight and warm Din felt around him, Paz felt like he might combust right and there.
After a short while, Paz set slow, sensual pace. If Din thought this couldn’t get better, he was painfully wrong. And also painfully hard. But Paz proved his earlier words, when he grasped Din’s beautiful weeping cock and started to pump him. Din’s moans and grunts got two octaves higher, and under normal conditions, he’d be embarassed for it. Now he couldn’t care less. Not when Paz was looking at him, as if Din hung all the stars on the sky himself. Not when Paz‘ sight was full of passion and so much love for him. That was moment Din knew he was done for.
„I-I love you, Paz,“ Din panted and his one hand caressed lovingly Paz‘ scruffed cheek, while the other one hugged around his strong, broad shoulders. „Y-you do?“ Paz‘ hips slowed for a second and he leaned his forehead against Din’s in Keldabe kiss. „Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, Din,“ he growled, his pace quickened again, his hands pumping Din matching the pace of his hips. At this point Din was almost screaming from intense pleasure, and Paz was very happy about it. „Now, be a good boy for me once again and cum, Din, let me feel you, ner cyare,“ bigger man mumbled into Din’s ear and slightly sucked it.
That praise sent Din over the edge and oh, did he cum. With a loud groan of Paz‘ name and curses in Mando’a, he climaxed all over Paz‘ hand, his stomach and some of his cum even made it to his neck and chin. The sight of climaxing Din and the feeling of him clamping hard around Paz, triggered Paz’s own orgasm and he climaxed inside Din, panting Din’s name, before he collapsed on blissed out Mand’alor beneath him.
They both laid like that for a short amount of time, listened to each other’s heart. Then Paz slided out of Din, and smaller man whimpered weakly at the loss of him. Paz chuckled. „I’ll be right back, mesh’la,“ he stated and in a while he came back with warm cloth to clean Din. But he had to admit to himself, it was pretty hot to watch his load leaking out of Din. After Din was cleaned, Paz cuddled to him and tucked them both under soft blanket. Din happily sighed, soft smile on his face. He never felt as relaxed as now, laying on Paz‘ chest.
„You did so well for me, Din, I’m proud of you, my love,“ Paz whispered lovingly into Din’s hair, peppering him with kisses and caresses, where he could reach. Din’s smile got bigger and it tugged on Paz‘ heart. He always wanted to see that gorgeous smile. Then Din spoke quietly.
„Did-did you mean it, Paz? Do you love me?“
„Yes, I do, Din. I’m never leaving you ever again, my love, I promise,“ Paz kissed Din’s forehead, nose, both cheeks and finally his lips and it was so soft and full of love.
„Stay with me, please,“ Din asked, kissing Paz‘ handsome face. Paz smiled, and it was biggest, happiest smile, which made him look so much younger and light-hearted.
„With my biggest pleasure, ner Mand’alor.“
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anyone who wants to be tagged in this, just let me know and i’ll add you :D i just forgot who else wanted to be tagged in my fic, i’m sorry for it :(
#Paz Vizsla#Paz Vizla#Paz Vizsla x Din Djarin#Paz Vizla x Din Djarin#Din Djarin#Heavy Infantry Mandalorian#Mando#The Mandalorian#Star Wars#fanfiction#smut#fluff#romance#love#feelings#fandom#my art#my writing#my fanfiction#fanfic#whoooo boy#holy shit#so much yearning#and hotness#and feelings#and everything#also#3.2k words?????#what the hell :DDD#i'm still processing i wrote this long oneshot
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