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tiffdawg · 4 years

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Keep Quiet | A Paz Vizsla x Reader Oneshot

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 3.3k

Rating: E | Warnings: NSFW – explicit sexual content, sex, public-sex, dirty talk. Mild language. 18+ only.

Request: The first fic request from the 500 Celebration! @huliabitch requested 72 (We’re in public, you know?) from this list with Paz Vizsla. Thank you, Julia!

A/N: I’m a sucker for this big blue bitch... so this accidentally turned into a whole oneshot. Oh, and can you believe after all this time LF finally fixed the spelling of his name? Guess it’s officially Vizsla now.

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

… . …

Keep Quiet

He was late.

You’d been pacing the length of that skinny back alley in between the shop where you toiled away your days and the neighboring warehouse for what felt like hours. Really, it had hardly been longer than thirty minutes. But they were thirty excruciating minutes. The two of you met there once a week at the same exact time. Never earlier. Never later. It was a perfectly timed routine – more for his safety than yours – and he was never late.

“Where the fuck are you?” you murmured to yourself. You glanced to your right and then left, double checking both ends of the passage. Still, there was no sign of him.

Another ten minutes of pacing passed. In your frustration, you kicked a piece of scrap metal, sending it flying towards one of the empty plasteel containers from the warehouse that were scattered throughout the alleyway. It struck true and you grimaced at the noise it made, not expecting it to ring quite so loudly in the quiet night. Luckily, the only place still open in that neighborhood at the late hour was the cantina a few buildings over – and those patrons were well-occupied.

“This is supposed to be a covert meeting, mesh’la,” a deep voice rumbled behind you. Turning on your heel, you found the man you’d been waiting so impatiently for. A deep breath you hadn’t realized you were holding escaped you at the sight of him alive and unscathed. “Do you want all of Nevarro to know what we’re up to?”

“You were taking forever, Mandalorian,” you said with an overdramatic roll of your eyes, feigning nonchalance. “I can’t help it if I get bored when you make me wait.”

“Bored?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice even through the vocoder. He stalked towards you, slow and measured and only stopping when he was directly in front of you. He moved leisurely as he dismounted the blaster cannon on his back and leaned it against the exterior of the warehouse, acting as if the two of you had all the time in the galaxy. “Are you sure it was just boredom?”

“I might’ve been a little worried,” you admitted, pointedly refusing to look at him as you said it. “Where were you?”

“Do I look like someone who needs to be worried about?” he asked, ignoring your question. He drew closer until the edge of one of the cargo containers dug into your lower back. His massive form took up most of your sight, completely blocking out the rest of the world.

“No,” you sighed. You ran your hand across his blue chestplate, feeling each jagged scratch and scar marring the armor beneath your palm. He’d clearly managed to best his opponents in battles and brawls of the past. You had some faith that he would always do what was necessary to return to you. “I just can’t help myself.”

He regarded you for a long moment. His dark visor gave nothing away about his expression underneath. Sometimes you liked to believe you knew what was going on inside that man’s head, but more often than not he was unreadable to you save for what he wanted to share with you. Everything else remained hidden.

“I didn’t mean to worry you, mesh’la,” he said quietly, lightly tracing a gloved fingertip across the lines of your face. He followed the curve of your lips to the round of your cheek and down along your jaw. It was something he did sometimes in the rare gentle moments you shared with him. You wondered idly if he was memorizing your likeness with his careful touch; it seemed too deliberate to be without purpose. “I don’t have long tonight, but I think I can make it up to you.”

Slowly, his hand moved lower, down your neck and across your chest. And his sweet caresses turned into something else. Something hungry and needy. He palmed at your breast, kneading it harshly and easily tearing a heady moan from your throat as you arched into his touch.

“We’re in public, you know,” he admonished cheekily, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. From anyone else it would’ve sounded condescending. From him, it only sent a rush of arousal straight to your core.

You scoffed at him. “Like that’s ever stopped us,” you simpered as you reached for his belt.

That was the truth of the matter. Your meetings, hidden only by the blackness of the planet’s short night, were always a passing thing in that same dark alley. Once a week, he dared to leave the safety of his covert – where they were hiding, you could only guess – to run out to the lava fields to meet the smuggler who supplied his people. You assumed the credits came from the one Mandalorian that was allowed to walk freely through the streets, only ever stopping in the cantina to collect payment and pucks. There was an entire tribe of Mandalorians living in the city, but he was the only one that anyone ever saw on Nevarro.

Until you.

You’d caught your Mandalorian one night as you were locking up the shop. The shop owner had asked you to stay late and take inventory for him, knowing you couldn’t turn down a chance for extra credits when you were perpetually short on rent. When you’d stepped out into the alley and accidentally ran into a wall of blue armor, your eyes went as wide as one of the infamous thousand moons of Iego. Really, you shouldn’t have been there, and, considering his first impulse was to kill you, he hadn’t intended to find you either.

It was sheer dumb luck that you dodged his vibroblade. And nothing more than your loneliness-induced horniness that saved you after that.

In what you knew even then was not an act of self-preservation but rather your own troublesome curiosity getting the best of you once more, you’d flirted shamelessly with him. Your effect was disarming; both the blade and his inhibitions were abandoned. The next thing you knew, he had you pinned against the wall, skirt hiked to your waist and a leg hooked around his hip, as he pounded into you.

Apparently, he was lonely too because your illicit rendezvous became a regular occurrence. Now, it was the highlight of your week.

“I hate this stupid thing,” you grumbled as you struggled to free him. That godsforsaken codpiece was the literal bane of your existence. “It’s ridiculous.”

“You want me to be able to breed you one day?” His words sent an electric shock through your system, exciting you in a whole new way. The implication was not lost on you. You nodded eagerly, eliciting a low rumbling laugh that reverberated in his cuirass. With your chest pressed against him, you felt it more than you heard it. “Then you’ll thank me for wearing it.”

“Fine,” you conceded, “But right now, I really want your dick inside me, and this is getting in my way.”

He graciously helped you and you made to kneel in front of him, intent on tasting the pearl of precum already leaking from his head. He’d clearly missed you as much as you’d missed him. But a firm hand wrapped around your wrist and hauled you back up before your knees could even touch the ground.

“I told you we don’t have long. It’s not your mouth I want tonight,” he growled as he turned you around, bending you over the container and knocking your stance wider.

“I can work with this,” you said, throwing a smirk over your shoulder. You hastily undid your own belt and he pushed your trousers down your thighs, baring only was necessary of yourself to him. It didn’t matter that he always fucked you in a dark alley. He still seemed intent on protecting your modesty. Or what little was left of it.

Although, if you were being honest, you didn’t think you needed to worry about anyone catching you. Any creature that walked down that alley would certainly meet the end of his blade or blaster. His mercy for you was exceptional.

But one day, you hoped it would just be the two of you. No threat of strangers finding you. No layers of clothing and armor barring you from each other. No clandestine meeting in a seedy passageway. Just you and him finally alone together. Granted, it was little more than a fleeting fantasy. Just because the two of you shared that indulgent illusion, whispering deep desires in the heat of the moment, didn’t mean a damn thing. Dreams didn’t come true in the Outer Rim.

Fortunately, you didn’t have long to dwell on the notion, as the blunt head of his cock pushed through your slick folds until he was fully sheathed inside of you, knocking the air out of your lungs and every last thought from your lust-riddled brain.

“So wet for me and I hardly touched you,” he mocked. He landed a playful swat on the swell of your ass before squeezing it with a greedy hand. He was clearly in a mood that night and it lit fire in your belly, igniting flames that licked across your body. It burned even hotter as he slowly pulled out only to push deeper into your dripping cunt. He let you feel every inch of him drag against your walls as he stretched you out and filled you completely. It was the sweetest torture, reducing you to a whimpering mess.

But it wasn’t enough.

“You said we had to be quick,” you implored him as you ground back against him, begging him to move.

One of his gloved hands ran up your body to wrap around your jaw, holding you in place and forcing you to look back at him. “I still want to have my fun with you, mesh’la,” he drawled. You could almost imagine the mischievous grin that surely pulled at his lips.

“Well, when you’re done, maybe you could actually fuck me,” you challenged.

He answered your provocation by driving into you and setting an unforgiving pace. His strength and size were impressive – even more so when he used it to fuck you senseless. He was a man that was rough around the edges. A hardened warrior. And he fucked you like it. You expected nothing less. You didn’t want anything less. Even after the initial attraction gave way to a deeper affection, he always had his way with you.

“Is that what you wanted?” he snarled.

“Harder!” you demanded in response. Your desperation burned you from the inside out, threatened to overwhelm you in the best possible way. You wanted to feel him in every step, every turn, every movement, long after you parted. It was your favorite reminder of what took place between the two of you. Of course, he obliged you.

“Fuck–” he panted, his breath crackling through the vocoder, “You take me so good. You were made for this cock.”

“I’m all yours,” you sobbed as you clenched around him. “Always wanna be yours.”

He leaned over you, caging you in against the container as his heavy build pressed into you exquisitely. His palms covered the backs of your hands as he pinned you to the crate, trapping you beneath him so that you were entirely at his mercy. You gasped for breath, mouth agape as he pounded into you. At that new angle, he hit that soft spot deep inside of you that made you see stars even behind closed eyes.

“You’re splitting me in two,” you whined deliriously.

“You like it,” he grunted, punctuating each word with a thrust.

“Yes! Please– Please, don’t stop!”

“Not until you cum on my cock,” he promised. “Can you keep quiet for once?”

You nodded even though you both knew if was pointless. Still, he held out a hand and you knew instantly what he wanted. You tore off his glove and his bare hand slipped down the front of your body. His fingers circled your swollen clit with fevered intent.

Your whole body went rigid beneath him, every muscle pulling taut, until the pressure building in you finally shattered and your orgasm tore through you like a blinding white light. Your wobbling legs practically gave out under you and you would’ve slumped to the ground if it wasn’t for his weight against you holding you in place.

“It’s too much,” you babbled, pushing his hand away as a few stray tears ran down your face, “I can’t– It’s too much.”

“You’re doing so good for me,” he rasped darkly. His normally even voice had an unsteady edge to it. It was a reminder of the hot-blooded man under the cool armor. With the way you pulsated around his cock as he fucked you through the aftershocks of your release, you knew he was getting close. “Gonna reward you with my cum. You want it?”

“Yes!” you mewled.

His throbbing length stilled inside you as he filled you, painting your pussy with hot ropes of cum. As you both recovered, he rested against you for one indulgent moment as if loath to leave you. And despite the fact that you could hardly draw in a breath with his weight pressing into you, you would’ve stayed like that for hours, luxuriating in the feel of him. His movements were almost gentle as his hands skimmed up and down your sides, feeling what you would give him. You wondered if he knew the answer to that was everything.

When he finally pulled away and slipped out of you, you felt much too light and much too empty. He hiked your pants back up, leaving you only to secure the fastenings, before growling low in your ear. “Keep it in you.”

You hummed an affirmative response, unable to utter a single word in your euphoric state, as you listened to the clink of his belt as he adjusted himself behind you. You could picture him rearming himself without even needing to look. It was, after all, routine.

“I have some things for you,” you announced, gesturing lazily in the general direction of a few small containers full of rations near the shop door. When you could, you liked to put a little something aside for him to take back to his people. The shop owner had yet to notice, and you justified your skimming based on the fact that he overcharged every customer who walked through his doors. And severely underpaid his best employee. “It’s not much this time.”

“It’s always too much. I can’t accept this.”

“If you don’t take those rations, the Jawa’s will,” you reasoned. You finally righted yourself and moved to stand beside him. “Maker knows those greedy little scavengers get more than their fill around here.”

“I don’t want you in trouble,” he murmured as he inspected your offering.

“I’m the one who always has to do the inventory, so one will ever know.” This was a familiar conversation, repeated almost every week. You stepped closer to him, trying to get him to look at you again. “Please let me help you.”

“In your dishonor, you are honorable, mesh’la.” You thought he might’ve meant to tease you, but there was something sincere in his words. And when he held out a hand to you and pulled you into his chest, only to touch his helmet to your forehead in that unique gesture of affection, you knew his appreciation was genuine. “You spoil me,” he whispered. It was only just loud enough for you to hear.

“I care about you, Mandalorian,” you said, leaning into his embrace. You wrapped your arms around his middle as best you could, unbothered by his armor. That was him, after all.

“I’m going to take care of you one day.”

“How about we just take care of each other?”

“Always so stubborn,” he grumbled, but there was no menace to his words. A quiet moment passed between the two of you as you both savored the other person’s presence. When he did pull away, you swore you felt his reluctance. He gently cupped your chin as if to ensure you were paying attention to his next words. “I’ll see you next week, mesh’la.”

“Try not to be late.”

“You’d still wait for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Always,” you answered with a soft smile before tilting your head to place a kiss on the palm of his hand. He nodded once and took his leave.

You remained stuck in your place as you watched the man you loved disappear into the darkness, knowing full-well that your desire for him could never be satisfied by a hurried late-night tryst. Only when his figure was gone from your sight did you finally start the long walk to your empty apartment.

… . …

You’d given up on your agitated pacing weeks ago. The incessant wringing of your hands had given way to idleness shortly after. And you’d all but stopped listening for the sound of heavy footfalls. Now, you just sat slumped against the shop door creating your own constellations with the stars hung in the sky above.

You still waited in that alley every week at the designated time, usually lingering for hours. You vowed freely to continue to do so. If you didn’t, you feared he’d never be able to find you. You certainly had no idea where to look for him. You didn’t even know his name. So, you did what you could; you waited. You waited and you tried not to count the days since you saw him last.

Fifty-six.

And it’d been fifty-two days since the showdown between the Bounty Hunters’ Guild and the Mandalorians. You knew he would be counted among them – he didn’t strike you as one to shy away from a fight. He was someone who lived for the action.

You’d heard the battle from your apartment. Blaster fire woke you in the dead of night, but like the countless other occasions a fight broke out in that city, you’d dismissed it as just another day on Nevarro. It wasn’t until you heard the gossip in the market the next morning that you’d learned what happened.

While the city had quickly repaired itself after the bout of violence, your heart wasn’t healing so easily. That night marked eight long weeks – two whole months – since you saw him last. You knew what that most likely meant.

He wasn’t coming back to you.

And yet, you waited. Your worry for him that last night when he was late was almost humorous to you now. Now, all you did was wait for him. Patience was a virtue you learned the hard way.

As the moon passed its zenith, you reluctantly pushed yourself to your feet, slung your pack over your shoulder, and started off. At least for that night, it was time to give up.

Of course, it was probably time to abandon that futile exercise completely. It only caused your heart to break all over again week after lonely week. That was a cold truth to accept. As you tried to blink back the tears pooling in your eyes, you lashed out, kicking a piece of debris littering the alley. The old binary motivator crashed into the warehouse wall with a bang.

“Mesh’la.”

You froze in place at the sound of the one word you wanted to hear most, certain that you were imagining the sound of his voice.

“What have I told you about keeping quiet?”

... . ...

Mando’a Translation

Mesh’la: beautiful

... . ...

Thank you for reading!

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#500 celebration ⚡️#paz vizsla #paz vizla #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x you #paz vizla x you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #fic: keep quiet

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