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indianamoonshine · 10 months

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strawberry | EXTRAS | checkers

summary: remember the chapter in strawberry where they go to the bar? remember how i said there was a second part but i never posted it? i decided to ax it, but i’m posting it now! here’s a gift to tide you over for the next chapter!

rating: m

You’re a very competitive person. It’s ironic because you’ve played one sport (volleyball in middle school) and then quit upon finding it was too much work. As a child you dreamt of becoming a NASCAR driver (you hate watching it and no one in your family ever did) and even a lawyer (you cry whenever you argue but you relish on being right).

You love to win. And even worse: you’re a sore loser.

“Dammit!” you whine, watching as Din leans over to collect your checker. “How are you so good at this?!”

Din smirks proudly to himself. “I’m really good at guessing someone’s next move.”

The way he says it makes you believe it’s some sort of inside joke you weren’t apart of. You grimace, crossing your arms against your chest, and wrinkle your nose. Your mother always used to say you look like an angry bunny but it was a habit you’ve never been able to break. Din stares at the board, eyes scanning every possible square. You suppose you should pay closer attention too even though it probably wouldn’t make any difference.

“I’m blaming it on the alcohol,” you say, content with the excuse. It was a good one, after all.

You glance out the windows into the night. It was raining fairly hard but the wind was still, despite the steady thunder. It’s been an hour since the two of you got back and it hasn’t let up a drop.

Din’s loaned you one of his t-shirts and a pair of boxers to sleep in. When he handed you the folded clothes he flushed and then mumbled, “I’ll be in the living room...” before sauntering off. Had it been anyone else’s affection you were vying for you might’ve been offended. But you suspect his embarrassment was caught up in his own actions from earlier.

You clear your throat. “Okay, next question...” you pause. “Uh...”

“What’s your favorite movie?” Din wonders, eyes never leaving the board. He reaches over to move one of his pieces and then plops back into his seat, meeting your gaze. He looks sober now, his expression neutral and pupils clearly attentive of his surroundings.

You hum in contemplation, fingering the roughened edges of the checker pieces. The set is an antique - just something you found to pass the time in one of the chests around the cabin.

“Dirty Dancing.” You hop one of your pieces over his and smile in victory.

Din slowly raises a pair of bronzed eyes your way but he grins as though he’s pleased. “Is that to blame for your attraction to older men?”

You let out a fabricated gasp while placing a hand on your chest. “And what’s so wrong with that? Patrick Swayze is a very handsome man.”

Your competitor shrugs in agreement. “I won’t argue. He was older than her though, right?” He considers this for a moment. “I haven’t seen it in a while.”

Amazing. “I can’t believe you’ve seen it,” you chuckle in disbelief. You capture another one of his checkers. He hisses under his breath. “It’s sexy.”

Din makes a noise under his breath, though he’s now concentrating even harder than what he was before. “What is? The movie?”

“No,” you reply, watching as his deft fingers slide his piece closer to capturing another of yours. You have half a mind to give up at this point; he’s about to win anyway. “Well, yeah, but I meant that you’ve seen it. It’s a chick-flick. Most straight men haven’t. Toxic masculinity and all that.”

Your voice trails off, but Din catches it and clamps down. “How do you know my ex-girlfriend didn’t force me to watch it?”

There’s an “oh” stuck in your throat, but it chokes just before it can escape. You can only pause, your fingers hovering over your piece.

“Did you...see it with her...?” you tread, feeling very awkward.

Din watches you blankly for a moment but his eyes are jocose in nature. Then he sputters out a bit of laughter, shaking his head. “No. My best friend liked it though.”

Best friend. Din had a best friend? Not to say that Din wasn’t agreeable (obviously, as you were doing something so dull as playing checkers with him) but he didn’t seem the kind of person to form attachments. His relationship with you felt foreign enough. But a best friend? That took another degree of intimacy entirely.

“Oh?” you respond, titillated by the idea of getting to know him more. “You never told me you had a best friend.”

Din squares his jaw, an ashen expression falling upon his face and you instantly regret asking. While you haven’t known him for long, it’s the most sick you’ve seen him look.

“I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.” You wave a hand, bringing your arms back to your chest as a nervous habit.

But he just blinks once or twice, starting slowly but starting nonetheless. “Cara. She passed away a few years ago.”

•

He won, of course.

He’s never lost a game of checkers in his life. Not even before he joined the Creed and Guild. He’s been a natural in the field of strategy for as long as he can remember so it wasn’t a surprise when he captured your last checker. You’d grumbled - and he found it endearing - but then climbed into his lap like it never even happened. All is forgiven.

The two of you talk for around five minutes before he watches you yawn, pretty mouth forming into an “oh”. He knew then that the two of you were finally sober enough to sleep. He kisses your forehead while you drag him into his bedroom.

He tries to ignore Cara. He hasn’t thought about her ever since her death - ever since she was killed in a crossfire he’d started. He’d blamed himself ever since, tossing and turning in his sleep until he went without it for over forty eight hours and then literally fell over with fatigue. And it wasn’t that he wishes you wouldn’t ask him questions, he just...

Well, Din wishes he would’ve just kept his damn mouth shut. The less you knew of the things he’d done or the people he’d met during his past, the better. You were safe in your ignorance even if it shredded him to pieces every day.

You crawl into bed with him, your thighs as soft as the silk you’d worn earlier (and now hangs over the bath tub to dry). When the lights have been turned off he presses you close to his chest, your right ear leaning against the brick surrounding his thumping heart. Din rests his chin at the top of your head, closes his eyes, and inhales the scent of his shampoo in your hair. It suits you better.

Because of course it does, even if it’s masculine it still somehow smells just like you.

He whispers your name and presses a small kiss against your temple. “I really like you, too.”

#din djarin x reader #din x reader #strawberryfic #din djarin #mando x reader #mando x y/n #mw1

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indianamoonshine · 2 years

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Strawberry | Chapter 16 | Powder Room Liaisons

Summary: A little footsie can get you a long way.

A/N: This doesn’t give much plot but it’s my gift to you for having to wait for so long! Have some explicit smut! And as always: NO MINORS!

TAG LIST: @t3a-bag @lumimon47 @dodgerandevans @hallway5 @dancingwiththeplanets @steeevienicks @orneryscandallousandevil @ficthots @gaiusfrakkinbaltar @reginagina-blog1 @loveme-tenderly @lastphoenixrising @rattlemyb0nes @rebellou @alljusthumans @gaiuswrites @lovecatsnotpeople @literallydontlook @the-ginger-hedge-witch

Breakfast was strawberries, lilac honey, and leftover ham from last night’s dinner.

The table this morning was just as chatty as it usually was, though not without the usual morning-dewed banter that volleyed back and forth betwixt Rhea and Charlotte. Any time earlier than nine in the morning was when their ice was usually the thickest – their glacier usually thawed after the morning’s meal when their tummies were full of sickly sweet syrup and pomegranate seeds.

You’d only been up so early because Din woke you. While this had been your own personal request (a self-promise made with good intentions), it was almost worth getting caught by your father sneaking in even if it meant just one more hour of sleep. Din almost caved in too until he took a gamble by whispering, “Oh fuck, I think I heard someone coming up the front porch…” in your ear. Needless to say, it scared you straight out of bed and shimmying into your silk shorts that had been left abandoned on the floor.

Your dad prepared breakfast this morning which was an event akin to Haley’s Comet – it happened every once in a Blue Moon. It wasn’t to say your father was a – well, “traditional father” – but he did, however, work on the farm before anyone got up. While your family didn’t own heavy livestock like cattle or horses, you were the proud parents of some asshole chickens and roosters. He used their very eggs for breakfast today – speckled, brown, and plain ‘ole white. Logically, they shouldn’t taste very different, but you were always keen on the brown hens yourself.

You’d only known your dad made breakfast today – not just because he bragged about not burning the ham for once – but because you’d almost walked straight in his line of vision while trekking back from Din’s cabin. It had been light enough that you felt safe to do so on your own; the raccoons and any other suspicious wildlife had gone back into their burrows by then. While you’d been concerned about getting your hind chewed by, what is essentially the Midwestern Koala, you’d overlooked the possibility of encountering a much more dangerous beast: a pissed off farmer. And not just any farmer, but a dad who realized his youngest daughter was sneaking out of his best friend’s bed.

Fortunately, you spotted him just in the nic-of-time and hid behind a haystack.

“How were the ladies this morning, dad?” Charlotte asks, forking her slice of ham.

He snorts, rolling his eyes. He already looks beat and it’s only nine in the morning. “Stubborn as always.”

You smirk while taking a sip of your water. “Of course they are – you’re taking their eggs.”

Your father shrugs. “Maybe they’re pissed they aren’t getting the special treatment they usually do this time of year.”

Rhea stops chewing, eyebrow raising. “You’re not gonna show them this year?”

He shakes his head. “No. Too busy with the crops. Maybe by next year I’ll have a sow.”

You hum under your breath, listening as Rhea and Charlotte laugh at the idea of your father shoveling manure. Rhea supplies the table with the – admittingly hilarious – mental image of a cow being hoisted onto a crane to have their hooves worked on. Even Din laughs at this, his dark eyes crinkling and bright smile like one of legends.

Maybe it was a bad idea, but you take a strawberry to your lips and barely graze its shiny skin with your teeth, focused in on Din’s charming laugh. It doesn’t take long for him to notice and he does everything he possibly can to pretend he doesn’t; you can tell by the way he avoids eye contact with you altogether. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat as covertly as he can.

Bullseye.

“Din, you remember when we went cow-tipping?” your father asks, his voice alight with melancholy. His eyes glaze over a bit, visiting a memory shrouded with time.

Rhea almost looses her mind at this. The unexpected anecdote causes her to choke on her sip of water and she coughs before saying, “That’s an actual thing?”

Din tries to contribute to the conversation, allowing a few sparse words here and there. But he’s suddenly preoccupied with the foot you slide up his leg, thigh-high sock slipping off your calf just slightly. When he casts you a glare, it’s frustrated and almost scornful.

If it weren’t for the obvious tint of red in his face (a blush only lovers can detect) you’d suspect him to be angry with you for the display even though no one can see. Din’s emotions don’t usually run easily across his face, but he clenches his jaw as you trail your foot up farther.

The jubilant conversation has not faltered though it was just background noise now. You continue to maintain eye contact with him, foot now dangerously close to a rather obvious bulge…

Din tenses his jaw, widening his eyes just slightly as a warning. Don’t you dare, the expression shouts.

Unfortunately for Din, you were something of a brat.

He lets out a strangled grunt when you press your heel against his cock, bowing over the table just slightly. You smirk in victory but pretend to focus on your meal and not notice, stabbing a piece of ham with your fork. Din attempts to camouflage his groan with a cough, taking a rather large gulp of his coffee, and apologizing immediately.

“You alright?” your father asks him.

Din nods, pretending to clear his throat again. “Yeah, just swallowed my spit wrong.”

You raise a brow, pushing your food around your plate with disinterest. “I hate it when that happens,” you mock.

🍓💗🍓💗🍓💗🍓💗🍓

You were going to be the fucking death of him.

As soon as everyone leaves the kitchen, the day officially begins. Mark had decided to go back out to the farm and continue to wrestle with the chickens. “They still need tending to”, he declared before rising from the table. Rhea and Charlotte stowed away in their bedrooms, the doors locked shut behind them.

Once Mark is far enough away, Din is free to watch you clean up the table with a pair of vengeful eyes, swallowing every inch of your still-sleepy form. You scrub at an old pan with every ounce of elbow grease you can muster, blowing a strand of hair out of your eyes. Doing the dishes shouldn’t be such a seductive act, nor should the concentrated expression written so plainly on your face.

Din clears his throat, startling you out of the engrossment your task requires. When you turn to face him with an eyebrow raised he starts for the hallway.

“Come here,” he says under his breath. It’s a bit ragged, towing the line between exasperation and pure adrenaline.

You put down your rubber gloves hesitantly, stepping away from the sink, and following him. Your steps are timid as though he’s prepared to scorn you for something. In a way, he supposes he is.

“Wha…” you begin.

Din covers your mouth, a muffled shriek barely audible between the cracks of his fingers, before shoving the two of you in a nearby bathroom. He flicks on the light and immediately lifts you upon the cool, laminate surface of the counter.

It looks like the bathroom hasn’t been remodeled since the fifties. A white, floral wallpaper covers the walls – the kind of wallpaper that’s a bitch to tear off. On his right is a toilet with a pink, terry cloth rug beneath it. He’s reminded of the bathroom at one of his foster homes.

“Din!” you whisper. “What are you doing?”

He’d like to say so many things with so few words.

But he doesn’t say a word.

He just kneels. 🍓💗🍓💗🍓💗🍓💗🍓

When you pulled your little stunt this morning, you hadn’t expected this to be his reaction.

You’re glad it is though.

Din’s torn your sleep-shorts off completely, tossing them haphazardly behind him. The moment his lips touch the inside of your right thigh, you gasp a little out of instinct. He hasn’t shaved in a few days so the sparse facial hair framing his jaw tickles you a little; usually this would cause you to giggle and thrash against him with playful protest.

But not today.

Logical thoughts form on your tongue but they fall short, clustering at the end and ultimately dissolving. Din inches your underwear down with deft fingers in a flurry of motion and, just when you think he’s going to toss those aside too, he does something very unexpected.

He considers it for a moment – considers doing away with them completely. You can see the gears in his head turning, a maniacal plan forming. Instead, he tucks the pair in his jeans for safe keeping.

“Oh shi…” you start, but you can’t get any further than that.

Din grabs your hips and pulls you to the edge of the counter, your thighs splayed open on either side of his head. The movement burns your skin and chafes you just slightly but it’s a small price to be paid. He presses three separate kisses to the soft flesh near your core before ultimately taking your clit in his mouth and sucking hard.

It is unstoppable that your eyes roll into the back of your head, fingers raking through Din’s thick hair and pulling just slightly. He growls against you when you tug, his forearms encasing your calves against him more firmly. You’re unable to move, unable to speak. Pathetic mewls bubble in your throat and then fizz like pop when you try to release them.

He pulls away, your arousal evident against his lips. He looks as though he’s just drank from the pond. You can’t help but blush crimson.

“You think you can pull a stunt like that and get away with it?” His voice is…authoritative. Demanding.

Sexy.

You whine, shifting above him to dull the ache he’s leaving behind.

Din growls, taking a finger and stuffing it inside your pussy. The stretch burns just slightly despite having had sex last night. A weird, choking sound cuts off your answer when he curls it towards him.

“Answer me.”

You shake your head, eyes clenching shut. “No. I’m…”

Din raises his brows teasingly, mouth curved into a slight grin. “What, baby? Use your words.”

“I’m sorry,” you relent.

You’re not sorry in the fucking slightest.

“That’s it…” Din smirks. He inches another finger beside the first, supporting you when you arch into his grasp. “That’s my girl.”

🍓💗🍓💗🍓💗🍓💗🍓

He has to hold you upright so you won’t fall.

He’s stepped between your legs and inched his cock inside already, cradling the back of your neck so you don’t slam it against the mirror. Your thighs have knocked over the toothbrush holder upon the floor, the contents of it spilling on the tile. Din’s also positive you’ve shredded the wallpaper with your fingernails but he’s far too enthralled by the wet slap of your cunt.

It’s…rougher than usual. Protective. He’s not been this aggressive with you until now. You’re enjoying it though, squealing wordless jargon in his shoulder as he pistons his hips against yours. It lasts for five minutes before he notices the twitch of your insides and the way your eyes go soft, lashes fluttering, and kiss-bitten mouth dropping open.

You press your forehead against his, trying to conjure up something to say.

“I know, baby…” he coos, pressing his lips against your temple. “I know…”

When you cum, you shudder around him without noise. Your arms wind tightly around his neck, pressing yourself as close to him as physically possible. Afterwards, you sag in his arms, body pliable and soft, and let out a glorious whine only he can hear.

Din grunts, your aftershocks jolting his cock like electricity thrives in his veins.

“Please, baby. Please…” you whisper in his mouth, lips touching and your breath exchanging. “Please…”

He makes a noise like he’s just been punched in the stomach. “Where…”

“Wherever you need it. Please…” you beg, tilting your head back against the mirror. You’re spent.

Finally, Din cums with a stifled howl. His teeth graze the skin of your neck before biting down just enough to cause you to yelp. Ropes of his seed coat your insides and he experiences the way your pussy so greedily sucks it in.

There’s a moment of silence that falls upon the bathroom. The two of you remain in one another’s arms, his lips still on your skin, tongue gently nursing the unintentional bruise he left. There isn’t a notion of life behind the bathroom door, indicting the two of you have gotten away with this.

He’s terrified that one day your luck may run out.

For now though, you pull back from him with a great and heavy sigh. When he looks into your eyes, he sees the way the irises glitter in the light and how rosy your skin is. You never look the same after each orgasm – equally as beautiful but different still. This time, a flush appears on your collarbones.

The both of you stare at one another for a moment before you crack a pretty grin and snort as though you’re trying to hold in a giggle.

“What?” he asks you with a grin. He wipes a bead of sweat from your forehead.

You giggle some more. “I have no idea.”

#din x reader #din djarin x reader #strawberryfic #mando x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x you #mando x y/n #din x you

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