#IT'S ALMOST 5AM WE WILDIN OUT HERE

[moskaisley]

thin walls

gif cred: @mrpascals​

rating: NC-17 lol

word count: 3.1k 

warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT!! 18+ !! graphic depictions of sex, auralism, mentions of alcohol, jealousy, dumb oblivious clownery, a lil pining, a smidge of angst at the end u know me

a/n: 

this is a side story for my ongoing series “migraine” !! 

i NEEDED to write something fun since the last part of migraine was so angsty. i really wanted to just explore them having fun together and being bros!!! just vibin!!! being young and dumb!!! and ofc their obvious sexual tension before migraine girl and mando started their romantic relationship. idk when part 5 will be out since i have finals next week, but i definitely dont want to wait a month to post it LOL 

for now, enjoy this fun and sexy romcom bullshit 

summary:

“You’re the worst wingman ever,” You tease as you kick his calf lightly.

He kicks you back, “Look, the night isn’t over yet. I bet I can get at least one of these people to talk to you.”

You ponder over his challenge for a moment, and then shoot him a mischievous grin. Reaching into a pouch on your belt, you slap some credits onto the table.

“Spoils go to the winner,” you say with a smile, “You have one shot. Blow it and we both go home, casanova.” 

ao3 link

A rough shove from behind nearly had you on your ass in the middle of the firefight. A blaster shot whizzes by your head, nearly clipping you as you struggle to maintain your balance. Another shot goes off, and you hear a body crumple to the ground. You snarl as you bring your elbow around, only for it to be caught by a strong hand. 

“Easy!” Qin’s voice echoes in your ears, “A ‘thanks’ would be nice.”

You scoff, roughly tearing your arm from his grip, “I nearly sliced you in half, crazy bastard.”

“Oi, don’t get all riled up, sweetheart. If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead.”

“I’m not your fuckin’ sweetheart, Qin.”

He grunts, waving you off in annoyance. Rolling your eyes, you turn around to proceed forward, ready to berate your beskar clad partner for not watching your back. Yet, to your frustration, The Mandalorian is already far down the hallway, Xi’an bouncing in tow.

--

You’re not jealous.

You say it to yourself when you wordlessly slip away from your coworkers upon returning to one of Ran’s hangars, ignoring their confused looks and the “Oh Mando, you’re so in trouble” from Vidar. You say it to yourself when you lazily bonk your head against the shower wall in frustration, and you nearly scream it when you hear Xi’an’s breathy giggles from his bunk. 

This had been going on for weeks now.

A scrap sheet of durasteel could probably muffle more sound than the current wall you shared with the Mandalorian. And while for the most part, he was a respectful neighbor, it was times like these that you wished you could throw yourself into dead space. The first time you confronted him about the noise, it was almost cute at how awkward he was in apologizing to you. That night, amidst the wanton moans and cries of ecstasy coming from next door, you kept hearing him shush the Twi’lek in that gentle, gravelly voice of his. Even then, every noise still drifted into your bunk, but you decided to be merciful and save him any more embarrassment by keeping quiet. (You made a note in your head, though. He so owes you for this.) Instead, you picked up an old busted radio from the market, fixing it up and tuning in during crises like these. It only connected to one station, but you’d take Val Syko’s Quenk Jazz Jams over the sounds of your partner’s pleasure any day. 

But tonight, drowning in the funky sounds of Val’s extensive music collection wasn’t doing it for you. Mando’s groan echoes dully off the walls of your room, and your thighs instinctually press together in an attempt to quell the warmth pooling at your core. You press your fingers to the bridge of your nose. It was unfair, really. Mando was getting action at least once a week, yet your pool kept coming up empty, and you refused to fuck around with any of your current colleagues. Sighing, you check your watch; the night is still young and therefore, incredibly long. Your eyes dart over to your tiny closet, pursing your lips together in apprehension. Another one of Xi’an’s moans rings in your ears.

You know what? Fuck it.

It’s almost comical how the ship falls into abrupt silence when you knock on his door. 

“I’m going out,” you say quickly before he could open the door. Silence follows and you roll your eyes. 

“Don’t wait up. I’ll be late.”

--

You’re not sure why you thought your luck would change tonight. 

You were nursing your second drink, lazily twisting the straw in the glass and scanning around the cantina for anyone who could catch your eye. On your first round, there was a cute redhead who gave you a sweet compliment on your outfit, but your hope died when she slipped into a booth next to her boyfriend on the other side of the room. You let out a long, exasperated sigh, letting your head drop as you squeeze your eyes shut. This was a dumb idea. You’re gonna be listening to those two all night while Val plays that one song from Mooneyes for the thousandth kriffing time–

“Is this seat taken?”

You groan loudly at his stupid fucking modulated voice.

“I’ll take that as a no.” 

Mando slips into the stool next to you, leaning against the bar as he tilts his head.

“I wondered where you ran off to.”

“I can have my fun too, Mando.”

“Clearly,” he quips, gesturing to your lonely exasperated form, huddled over your drink.

“You’re so annoying, you know that?” 

You shove him and he laughs, head shaking at how easy you are to tease. Rolling your eyes, you take a sip from your drink. He shuffles a little, subtly leaning to the right, visor skimming over your backside. You smirk, catching him in the act.

“Hey!” You snap your fingers in front of his helmet, “Eyes up here, tin can.”

Pushing your hand to the side, he takes the hem of it in between his fingers and says, “I didn’t know you had clothes like these.”

“What? This old thing?”

Though your lifestyle didn’t allow for a big wardrobe, there were a few times you would indulge yourself in some of the finer things. The dress was oxblood in color, made of soft velvet with a high neck and open back. It hugged your body snugly, ending just above your knees with a leg slit that traveled up your thigh. It took a decent chunk from your paycheck, and you were so compelled to buy it that you didn’t even consider where you’d wear it. But you loved the way it made you feel, and it was a lovely change of pace from the typical bounty hunter getup you often sported.

“It looks nice on you,” he tells you, nonchalantly.

You swallow hard as his gloved fingers brush against your thigh. Dizzying warmth washes over you. What the hell? Drunk already?

“Thanks.”

“What’s the occasion?” He asks you, releasing his hold on your dress.

You shoot him a sardonic smile as you raise your glass, as if you’re toasting.

“I’m taking applications for a new partner. My old one was too busy getting his dick wet and I almost got shot. Had to be saved by Qin, of all people.”

“I dunno, Qin could be a worthy candidate. He seems to be very friendly with you, too.”

“Are you insane? He’s a kriffing psychopath. Almost as crazy as your girlfriend.”

“Hey, she’s not–”

You cock your brows at him and smirk.

He playfully punches your arm as you take another sip. 

“Alright, alright. I get it,” he says as you laugh at him, “Let me make it up to you. Are you trying to go home with someone tonight? I can be your wingman.”

You snort at the thought, “Yeah right. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Mando but you’re not exactly the most approachable person. And besides, no one here is really catching my eye. I think I’m just gonna go.”

You’re moving to stand up and pay until he grabs your arm to keep you still.

“No, wait. C’mon, stay. Lets–Let’s just have some fun.”

You smile earnestly at him; Mando’s insistence to spend time with you genuinely warms your heart, so you lean back to your seat and flag down the bartender.

--

Though a second set of eyes helped in checking out people that you may have overlooked, it kind of defeated the purpose when that set of eyes was known for being one of the fiercest warriors throughout the galaxy. You thought you were able to catch the eye of a particularly dashing fighter pilot, exchanging flirty glances and a little wave. But the second he saw you in an exchange with a Mandalorian, he was quick to dash out the cantina without so much as saying a word to you. Mando kept insisting you both stay, denying that his intimidating armor had any effect on your chances of getting laid.

“Mando, I’m telling you this in the nicest way possible, but you’re scaring people off.”

“Maybe they just like what they see.”

“You’re the worst wingman ever,” You tease as you kick his calf lightly.

He kicks you back, “Look, the night isn’t over yet. I bet I can get at least one of these people to talk to you.”

You ponder over his challenge for a moment, and then shoot him a mischievous grin. Reaching into a pouch on your belt, you slap some credits onto the table.

“Spoils go to the winner,” you say with a smile, “You have one shot. Blow it and we both go home, casanova.”

Needless to say, he fails. Miserably. 

The first person he goes up to must’ve been guilty of something. Because as soon as the Mandalorian stalks around the corner to his seat, the poor soul tosses his drink at him and dashes out the door. The metal man stands for a second in shock, and you see his shoulders slack as he lets out a defeated sigh. He rounds the bar back to you, Corellian rum dripping off his helmet and all over his beskar. Your stomach hurts trying to suppress the laughter building inside you, but you couldn’t help it. Your hand flies to your mouth as you snort loudly, laughing so hard that tears almost form in your eyes. You didn’t expect the night to go this way and your endeavors for a hookup had failed terribly, but it still made you happy to spend time with your friend all the same. 

“That wasn’t fair. Let me try again.”

You struggle to form a response between your laughs, “No–no way! I–I can’t watch that again.”

“C’mon, I didn’t even get to try. Gimme another chance.”

You shake your head, taking your credits off the table and slipping them back into your pouch. 

“Nope, rules are rules, Mando. Let’s just get outta here.”

“No way, I refuse to give up so–”

“She asked you to leave, buddy.”

You turn to look at the new voice, confused and a bit irritated for interrupting your exchange with Mando. You’re met with green eyes, strong shoulders, sexy scruff, olive skin, and a very dashing smile. Your retaliation dies in your throat, and your lips curl into a smile. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Mando didn’t pick up on this though, “No, it’s not like that. We were just–”

“He was just going, actually. Right, Mando?” You look back at him and give him a wink, “I think I’ve had enough of you today.”

His helmet tilts upward in surprise, and then he chuckles lightly.

“Okay, then.”

He slides off his stool, gesturing to it for your new friend before walking out of the cantina. You watch Mando walk out the door, and the man takes over his seat.

“Was he bothering you?”

“No, actually,” You give him a sweet smile, “He’s a friend.”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, “Friends with a Mandalorian, eh? What’s that like?”

“Well, they make awful wingmen,” you joke. 

“Is that so?”

“Why? Looking to take his place?”

“No, I’m here to buy you a drink.”

Catching your bottom lip with your teeth, you smile and your heart flutters.

“What’s your name?”

“Deo.”

--

He presses you up against the wall of the cantina outside, hands snaking up your waist and lips pressing hard against yours. Deo grabs and pulls at your flesh, slipping his tongue in your mouth and you moan against him. It’s been so long since you’ve felt someone this way, and it makes your skin sing in pleasure. When he pulls away, he keeps his forehead up against yours, breaths labored and heavy.

“So, mine or yours?”

A devious grin crosses your lips, “Mine.”

“Lead the way, sweetheart.”

You take his hand into yours, clinging to his arm for balance. The drinks have finally caught up to you and there’s a pleasant buzz warming your body as you try your best not to stumble through the streets. As you make it back to the Razor Crest, you stop in front of the side gate, opening the hatch as Deo’s hand meets the small of your back. You pull him up into the loading dock, and he digs his face into your neck, biting at the skin as you press buttons on the door panel. When it shuts, he pushes you up against the wall of the ship, sucking at the skin beneath your jaw and grinding his pelvis up against your ass. You try to suppress a mewl, as you push off the wall and turn to him. 

“Not here,” you whisper.

“Why not here?”

A muffled whimper comes from further away, and both of your heads abruptly turn to the source of the noise coming from behind Mando’s door.

Deo looks back to you, brows furrowed, “You sure this ship is yours, honey? Looks occupied.”

“Roommate. He won’t bother us, though.”

You shove him off of you and saunter over to your own bunk door. You turn around and beckon him to come with a single finger.

“C’mere.”

--

Your dress, along with Deo’s clothes, was left forgotten on the ground of your tiny room. He was quick to the draw, pulling your legs up so they wrapped around his hips and holding your ass for support. He pressed you up against the wall, pushing his cock inside you. You moan loudly, relishing in the feeling of his length filling up your pussy and the pressure of him crowding you against the metal. 

And that’s when you realize–

Deo is fucking you up against the wall you share with Mando. 

The mere thought of it makes you clench tighter around him and the smile on your face is downright devilish. Your partner can hear every lewd noise you make, just as you’d heard his, and it drove you crazy. Your body flushes with heat, wetness pooling at your core. Your arms pull Deo tighter against you, burying him deeper inside and mewling against his neck.

“Maker, you think he can hear you, honey?”

“Probably,” You let a breathy laugh against him, “Thin walls.”

A distinctly modulated groan echoes from behind you and you can’t suppress the grin that spreads along your lips.

Bastard.

You pull at the base of Deo’s neck, and guide his head to your chest. He nips and sucks at your collar bone, leaving another mark along your skin. Lifting a hand from your ass, he brings it to your breast, kneading it in his hands and running his thumb over your nipple. You whine as he begins to pinch it in between his fingers while he fucks up into you. Coincidentally, Mando’s moans reach your ears again only seconds later. 

So we’re playing this game, are we?

You squeeze Deo’s shoulder, the knot in your lower belly getting tighter and tighter the more you focus on the noises coming from the next room over. You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help the image of your partner holding you like this, fucking you relentlessly against the wall you shared. You wonder if he looks anything like Deo; does he have the same green eyes? Or are they brown? What about his lips? How do they feel against yours? Your neck? Your cunt? You imagine that it’s his hands clutching and squeezing your soft flesh, his cock stretching you open, his stupid fucking voice whispering praises in your ear. 

“F–Fuck! I’m gonna cum,” you panted, pressure building up inside you, aching for release.

You swore, you heard Mando’s breath hitch behind you.

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.”

You nearly scream as you come undone around Deo, waves of pleasure washing over you. In your haze, a single thought crosses your mind: Mando was chasing his own release as well.

You know it, you feel it.

So you moan again.

--

“I had a good time tonight.” 

“I did too.”

You hug your body tightly, the air of the hangar was cool against your skin, and you were clad in only a thin shirt and shorts. Deo is holding your upper arms, smiling softly at you as you shivered.

Brushing a strand of hair away from your face, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“We should do this again sometime,” he whispers against your skin, “Maybe, somewhere without your little roommate?”

You giggle, warmth heating up your cheeks.

“We’ll see.”

He bids you goodnight, and you walk back into the Crest, shutting the ramp behind you. You’re turning to go to bed when the sound of your partner’s door makes you freeze. The Mandalorian emerges, free of his beskar armor save for his helmet. He stops when he sees you, surprised by your presence at this hour. You stare at each other in silence for a few moments. 

And then you snicker, and he does too.

A pleasant feeling blooms in your chest at the sound of his laugh. You take a few steps closer to him, letting your arms fall to your sides.

“So,” he begins in a low voice, “You didn’t hear any of that, right?”

“Hear what?” You ask him, innocently, “I was a little preoccupied.”

“Really? I didn’t notice.”

You hold a hand against your mouth and giggle. 

“So,” he murmurs, “Who was he?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Mando cocks his head to the side, and you swear you see a glint of mischief flash along the t-shape of his visor. 

“Well, if I’m not mistaken,” he starts, taking a step closer to you. Your heart picks up in pace.

He gently pushes aside the collar of your shirt to reveal deep red marks blooming along your neck. Your stomach flips at the feeling of his bare fingers along your collarbone. Your throat goes dry.

“You owe me some credits.”

He stays still like this for a moment, and you take a deep breath, his touch feeling electric against your skin. When he goes to remove his hand, it’s instinct when you reach for it, clutching it and holding it in place. You feel him tense beneath you as your fingers wrap his palm. You swallow hard, drinking him in beneath the lowlight of the ship: the shine of his dumb helmet, how he towers over you, the warmth of his presence. 

You squeeze his hand, and to your surprise, he squeezes it back. His thumb traced over your fingers, and in your boldness, you gently pull it towards your cheek. 

“Mando?” you hear Xi’an’s voice call from his room. 

You shut your eyes tight, heart dropping to your stomach. Her call felt like ice water dumping over you, killing the warm, fuzzy feeling that engulfed you only moments earlier. You drop his hand quickly. You hug yourself, fingers buzzing so wildly with nerves, you need to hold it close to keep your hand from shaking. You clear your throat and shoot him a weak smile, avoiding his gaze. Bristling past him, you stop in your doorway and whisper.

“Goodnight, Mando.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

-

i imagine deo as jake gyllenhaal when he played mysterio just less of a crackhead. :)

taglist

@bella-ciaao @tiffdawg @peggers-n-beggers @sinnamon-bunn @adlerorzel-blog​ @theocatkov​ @paryl

thank u for reading, space cowboys <3