#bunniesofsteel's 500 follower celebration

[rosethornxs]

Rose!! I'm so happy for you! This is a huge milestone and it is completely well-deserved because you are incredible. Here's to 500 more! 💋

For the prompt request can I get some Din Djarin and a female reader with "Try to stay quiet, understand?" Oof. The things you could do with this... Can be smutty or not! Dealer's choice. 😘

Shawna! You are incredible! Thank you so much! I LOVED this prompt, and definitely made it spicy, but also a lil soft because I physically cannot write my men without making them care so deeply it hurts. I changed up the wording of the prompt a tiny bit, to fit the situation better. I hope you enjoy, my love!

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Warnings: semi-public sex, unprotected PiV, tiny bit of exhibitionism, hand over mouth, tiny bit of degradation (one use of 'slut,' but in a sweet way? if that makes senes, lol), I think that's it but lemme know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 643

A thin wall and a stack of crates is all that separates you from the others. Anyone could walk around the corner and see you in this compromising position — pressed against the cold durasteel with your trousers bunched around your thighs and your shirt pulled up to reveal your soft breasts.

You scramble for purchase against the wall, nails catching on the panelling as he ruts into you from behind. He’s still completely covered — armoured head to toe, except for his cock, which is buried between your thighs.

“Din—” you squeak, when he grinds against you, hitting that dizzying spot inside you.

“Shhh, sweet girl,” he whispers, barely keeping himself together.

This had started innocently enough, with a comment on how good you looked fighting imps and a playful shove — but it devolved quickly into suggestive touches, and a burning desire, and Din all but dragging you away to the barely secret place he has you now.

His helmet falls into the crook of your neck, cool against your flushed skin as he continues his quick thrusts, methodically pulling you apart with each stroke. He shifts, moving back slightly and guiding your hips with those big, gloved hands of his. Then he shoves into you again and the subtle change of position turns out to be devastating.

The head of his cock strikes something so deep inside you it numbs your mind to everything but pleasure and the feeling of him, only him.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fu—”

He cuts you off with his hand, pressing his gloved palm over your mouth to silence you.

“You gotta stay quiet for me, mesh’la. Okay?” he whispers. The metallic edge of his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

But he doesn’t slow down, no, it’s his goal to ruin you — to make you cry on his cock while mere paces away from a, hopefully unsuspecting, crowd. Part of you thinks he must get off on the risk — of being heard, of being seen. It’s exciting for a man who is constantly hidden — never seen by anyone but himself.

“Don’t want them to know what a perfect little slut you are, do you, cyare?” he grunts softly. For the filthy phrases coming out of his mouth, his tone is surprisingly sweet — words dipped in honey as they fall from his lips in this situation that is anything but sweet.

He lowers his hand to give you a chance to answer and a stuttered “n-no” bursts from your throat in a gasp.

“Good.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keeps your whines from slipping out as he speeds up, pinning you against the wall with each heavy thrust. He wishes he could kiss you now — remove his helmet and taste your sweet lips, drink your whimpers and moans. When you’re both safely back on the Crest he’ll do it — he’ll fuck you properly, all sweet and slow like you deserve, in the dark where he can use his tongue and teeth without consequence.

“Din…” you whisper, voice frantic, “Din, m’gonna cum.”

“Do it, sweet girl, lemme feel you cum on my cock.”

He reaches up to cover your mouth again and you sink your teeth into the worn leather of his gloves as he works you over the edge. Your choked whimper as your cunt spasms around him is enough to make him spill — hurriedly pumping into you until you’re both sated and panting.

When he steps back you can feel the mess he’s left between your thighs. He helps you fix your clothes, pulling up your trousers and smoothing out the wrinkles in your shirt before gently pressing his helmet to your forehead. The simple gesture is filled with meaning, it tells you just how much he cares for you and acts a a promise, that he’ll take his time with you later.

#rose's 500 follower celebration #rose's 500 follower drabbles #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic #bunniesofsteel #ask #rose answers