#gotg drabble

[itsscromp]

reader having a panick attack and rocket being a kind of therapy animal to them?

Cuddle therapy

*Slaps you lovingly for this adorable idea !!!

This was your longest, hardest and mentally destroying mission yet, While you were paid very well for it all, You were hassled by the planet's media who wanted to do interviews with you. Further overwhelming you. You just wanted to curl in on yourself and hide away from the galaxy. Your last interview was your breaking point, they began to ask very personal questions, and when you refused to answer them. they chucked loads of abuse at you. Sending you back to the bowie, locking yourself in your room as your ears began to ring, tears falling from your eyes and sweat dripping. A panic attack.

But soon you then felt a weight against you, your chin being brushed by something soft, looking down it was Rocket. "Y/n... Come back to me" He said softly as he gently took your thumb with his hand, Encouraging you to wrap your other arm around him. Which you shakily did. "It's ok... It's over now, your here with me" He gently reassured you as he pressed his weight against you, hoping to ground you a bit. you then started to slow your breathing down, moving your hand to reach the top of his head, slowly petting him. As he purred from the pets. It grounded you further. Tired and exhausted, you lay down as he then curled up on your chest, allowing you to still pet him. "Thanks, Rocket..." You manage to say. "I got you, buddy... Always"

[bruisedboys]

he really is just so boyfriend. like the kind who would reach the boxes in shelves you can’t reach

he is just always into being your hero . doing things to make you swoon

peter quill has a hero complex for sure but it gets hiked up about 200% when it comes to you. he’s obsessed with doing everything for you because he knows you like it, even if you don’t actually need the help. he knows you’re totally capable of taking care of yourself but he wants to do it because he’s so incredibly down bad for you it’s sick.

yes he’s definitely the type to reach high shelves for you!!! so casually dominant of him tbh. he comes up behind you where you’re tiptoeing in front of the shelf and easily snags the box you’re reaching for. when he hands it to you he’s veryy smug about it. especially if he gets a thank you kiss, which he usually does.

he’s also always tying your shoelaces or zipping your dress or fixing your clothes for you. your shoelace comes undone while you’re out with him and he doesn’t even hesitate to get on the dirty floor to do it up for you. you put your hands in his hair and tug gently as a silent thank you and he swears he dies on the spot. and if your clothes ever ride up and threaten to show more skin than he knows you’ll want to, he’ll fix them without a word and it flusters you so much.

ugh and if you’re clumsy!!! he gets so good at catching you before you hurt yourself. if you’re about to trip he’ll catch you before you do and dip you cos he’s a dork, his arm locked around your lower back. you’ll laugh and swoon and say my hero all sarcastic and it boosts peter’s ego wayyy more than he’d like to admit.

[star-quill]

cuddling with peter and pillow talk… sighs

mmmmf pls☹️

he's definitely definitely the big spoon, one arm under your neck and the other around your waist. he holds u close to him, mumbling little phrases against ur neck in between kisses. you're absolutely blushing and thank god he can't see ur face because ur sure u would just explode.

his pillow talk wouldn't necessarily start as intimate as u think it would, it's mostly him just talking about ur relationship and how much he adores u.

"didn't think i'd end up back here to fall in love."

"u don't regret it, do u?"

"hey hey.. no no.. god no.. shit, i think i love you."

u giggled when he kissed ur neck again, burying his face afterwards and making u laugh.

"and like.. fuck, ur so pretty, so sweet.. mmf.."

you hadn't realised when u shifted ur body that u must've grinding up against him to make him groan. he did it again when u turned ur body around, straddling his thigh and curling up into his chest. the arm that was under ur neck was now around ur shoulders and the arm that was across ur waist was now over ur thigh.

"u think i'm sweet?"

u knew by asking that ur just provoking him, but u want to hear what he has to say—you just have to hear how much he wants u.

"in every sense of the word.. lookin' all sweet in those flowery sundresses u wear all the time, answering the door to the mailman like i haven't just fucked u in the kitchen like 5 minutes before.. and u taste real sweet too.."

and here he goes, the pillow talk now starting to make u shiver.

"and i mean it when i say ur real pretty too.. i see u in the garden watering the plants and i just.. i get so lost just starin' at you.. sometimes i think about calling u from inside the house, hoping u come back in and sit on my lap so i can see just how pretty u look up close.."

u drop ur head into his neck, one hand moving to grab his shoulder as he talked.

"and don't be forgettin' all those times u think i couldn't hear what u were doin' up there.."

"hm?"

"before we started doin' all this.. and i was just helping you around the house, i'd come upstairs to use the bathroom and.. shit.. the sounds u were makin' baby? sounded like a fuckin' angel's chorus.."

u just whimpered, squeezing ur legs shut around his thigh.

"could talk to u all night about how pretty and sweet u are for me but u need to sleep.. ok baby?"

"please?"

"nuh-uh sweetheart.. u need to.. fuck.."

your hand had moved down to grab him through his boxers and he just grunted in response.

"i.. i thought about you too, when u were helping me. thought about dropping to my knees and sucking u off in the kitchen.."

"you'd look pretty on ur knees, baby.. you'd look so fuckin' pretty.."

ur hand moved back up to rest on his chest, feeling him sigh when u pulled away from him. u were both getting each other so worked up but not enough to go again for round 2, the high from earlier just winding down now. then ur eyelids fluttered closed and he had managed to talk u to sleep. he glanced down and smiled when he saw ur eyes were shut. his initial plan wasn't to almost dirty talk u to sleep but he wasn't mad it happened in the end.

he placed a small kiss to ur forehead before he whispered an "i love you" into ur skin. he closes his eyes then too, not noticing the smile on ur face from what he said.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

wait damn it i dont think i was anon making that request so HIYA AGAIN 💀💀 (basically this is just restating my request)

foaming at the mouth for peter quill (per usual) so this is a peter req! so maybe smthn abt reader stealing his shirt/s like hes trying to find one and hes like okay where did all my shirts go and then he sees reader all comfy in his shirt and he just MELTS 🥰

Hopefully you can do this soon, ur like famous so u have like 1000 requests LMAO have a great rest of your week/end!

-🪐

hii again🪐!! and dw you were anon for that request😭😭 this is so stinking cute! thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌 have a great rest of you week too<3 also wanna know something funny? I have 2 of his tshirts, he left them at mine ;)

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Peter Quill x f reader

wc || 0.8k

warnings || none just fluff

masterlist + rules

taglist

There are many great attributes about Quill, and sometimes there are too many to list. But one thing in particular, is his style. Despite his knack for good music and food, there's just something about his clothes that often made you gawk. 

Over the years, Peter has acquired quite the collection of fun and funky t-shirts, most of them bought on various planets as souvenirs after a mission or even as little gifts from you. 

Quill has so many tops that he couldn't possibly have use for every single one, so more often than not, you'd find yourself riffling through his drawers to steal one or five of his t-shirts. His clothes always smell so comforting and homely that you couldn't stop yourself from stealing, even if you wanted to. Your favourite shirts of his are from his slightly chubbier days. They'd feel so soft and comfortable against your skin that you'd often wear them day and night. The bigger the top, the more loved it felt. But you weren't being picky because you loved literally anything he wore. He could wear a trash bag, and as long as it smelt like him, you'd wear that trash bag too.

So today, like any other day, instead of picking your clothes from your side of the closet, you scrounge over to his side, flicking through the hangers to see what you want to wear. 'Happening' upon his grey, long sleeve with white writing, you quickly remove his other t-shirt you were wearing, flinging it across the room into the dirty pile before dressing yourself. Slipping on a pair of joggers, you make your way to the living room, plopping yourself down on the sofa, and wrapping a fluffy blanket over you.

A few short minutes later, Peter is standing in the doorway with a towel draped over his lower half, tiny beads of water covering his chest. "Ahem," he says quietly, a sly smirk on his lips. "Uh- why can't I find any of my clothes?" he asks, sounding like he already knew the answer.

"Maybe they're in the dirty pile," you playfully lie with a deadpan expression, avoiding his gaze. "We haven't done any laundry in a little while. I'm sure there's stuff in there,"

"Hm, okay, right. But the thing is, I was sorta planning on wearing this one top today," sheepishly smiling, ruffling through his wet curls. "Don't suppose you've seen a grey long-sleeve?"

"Nope, haven't seen it," you coyly grin, bringing the blanket to your neck, covering the evidence.

"Yeah?" he hums, making his way over to you. "You sure you haven't seen it?" 

"Nope," you repeat, shaking your head. 

"So if I just..." he says slowly, reaching for the blanket.

You copy him, reaching for his towel, playful eyes as you threaten to tug the fabric down. He looks down at you and shrugs. Grinning. "Do it. I don't care," 

"Okay, alright, fine. I'm wearing it," you cave, ripping away the blanket. "I couldn't help it," you bribe, sweet eyes dancing up at him. 

"How long you been stealing my clothes?" he asks, his tone full of warmth, chuckling.

"Not long," you lie. "But I really can't help it, okay, Pete? It's a problem. I can't stop myself," you say playfully, brushing over your arms as if to show your comfort. "See?"

He stares down at you, his eyes full of admiration. "Yeah? That why I have no clothes left?"

"You have tonnes of clothes. You have so many you didn't even realise they were missing," you say impishly, eyebrows quirking. "They just smell like you," you shrug, a sweet smile on your lips. "You're not mad?"

Shaking his head. "Nah, they look better on you anyway," he grins. "But, have you seen that dark blue one? The one with uh-- the um, light blue circle smile face thing?"

"Maybe... sorry. I wore that the other week," you playfully frown. "But it's clean," you bribe. "I washed it right after. It should be in that pile over there," Pointing.

"Mhmm," he says with squinted eyes and a grin.

He returns half-dressed with the t-shirt in hand, swinging it as he makes his way back to you. "I wanna wear that one," pointing to you. "I wanna smell you," he says quietly, practically inaudible.

"What?" you grin, only hearing fragments. 

"I wanna smell you, now give it," he repeats loud enough for you to hear, his fingers grabbing towards you. "I’m getting cold— look my nipples could cut glass, hurry,"

"But it smells like you," 

He boyishly grins as if he's thought of an idea. He puts on the blue top, rubbing over the fabric as if to transfer his scent before removing it and handing it to you. "Better?"

Sitting up with a smile, you undress from the top, putting on the new one as Peter did the same. He plops down beside you, draping his arm over your shoulder. "You do look cute in my clothes," he grins, kissing your temple.

@annielr @ugh09876554444 @spacetalbot @bubblezuku @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Best support friend; Rocket raccoon x gn reader

*Author’s note*

A double update? No get out of town! Truthfully I was gonna save posting this fic up once I got a Jack Kline request that has been sitting in my inbox collecting dust for almost a year or however long ago it was but I decided idk when I’ll post it up so I decided to just go ahead and post this fic up and hopefully I’ll do the Jack Kline one in the next week or so (it’s like 75% done).

So @itsscromp​ here is your new Rocket raccoon request.

Warnings: abuse, fluff, panic attacks, angst, protective Rocket, swearing, clueless ravagers. 

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@queen-paladin​

@queensdivas​

@gay-and-ready-to-cry​

@austynparksandpizza​

___________________________________________________________

“NONE OF THIS WOULD’VE HAPPENED IF YOU HAD JUST LET ME TAKE THE REINS FOR ONCE!!” exclaimed a voice.

“Well excuse me for not letting the man with the robotic eyes take the wheel.” Another voice snarked sarcastically.  I was passing through Knowhere trying to organize some supplies when I heard the sound of arguing.  I followed the voices and there were Ezekiel and Torath.

“Oh no what now?” I muttered as I walked towards them.  The two of them continued to argue as I spoke up. “Hey guys.”

“You have any idea what that shrimp Quill is gonna do to us the minute we tell you lost the cargo?” Torath said.

“I lost the cargo? Need I remind you that it was because of your glitchy eyes that you hit the ejector button sending the cargo out into the depths of space!” Ezekiel snapped again at Torath.

“And need I remind you that you are literally the worst pilot in the entire galaxy! I’ve seen beasts with half a brain fly advance ships better than you!”

“Okay guys can we please just….” I tried to cease the argument but the two stubborn, pig-headed men got into a squabble.  Fists were flying and swears were spat out.  “hey! Hey! Hey! Hey guys stop it! Stop it! Stop it!�� suddenly I caught an elbow to the nose which not only sent me to the ground but also in a flashback.

~Flashback~

I fell to the ground as a punch came across my face and I whimpered as I spat out blood.

“Quit being weak Terran! How will you ever grow a backbone if you keep behaving like a sniveling coward!”

“But sir it—” I was kicked in the stomach this time and I let out a soft but painful grunt.

“You tell me it hurts and I swear I will make your next test more painful than the last!” I whimpered and gave him a nod as he forced me to stand back up and told me to stand my ground as he kept punching and kicking me.

~End of flashback~

My chest tightened and my heart pounded against my ears.  No I-I wasn’t there! I wasn’t there anymore! I-I have to get out of here! I stood up and took off running as fast as I could. Even when I had ran into someone I didn’t stop, all I knew was that I had to get out of there.

*Rocket’s POV*

I felt someone shove pass me but just before I could snap at them telling them to watch where they were going, I saw the familiar shape of (Y/n).  Normally they don’t just run like that unless there’s something wrong or their in a hurry. And they’re usually not in a hurry.

That’s when I heard the sound of Torath and Ezekiel screaming and rolling all over each other in a brawl.  I went over to them and called out to them.

“OI SHITS FOR BRAINS!!” but not even my voice could deter them from arguing.  I nodded nonchalantly as I took out my electro-shocker gun and activated it.  I first aimed it at Ezekiel and fired one shot before firing at Torath.  And just like when Groot, (Y/n) and I first hunted down Quill, they both exclaimed as the electro-shock balls stuck to them and they were given a good shock.  “Have I got your attention now shitbags?”

“What was that for rodent?” snapped Ezekiel.

“First of all don’t call me a rodent, not when I can give you a second dosage of shocks. Maybe this time I’ll crank it up a notch.” That got him to shut up.  “Second of all, why was (Y/n) racing out from your general direction looking upset?”

“(Y/n) was here?” Torath asked as his robotic eyes moved around.

“Yeah she was now answer my question nimrods! What happened?!”

“I didn’t even know that she had even came here.” I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

“How do you not notice them? They’re the only Terran besides Quill!”

“Wait, is that why my elbow hurts so much?” asked Ezekiel. My ears twitched and I slowly turned towards him, my tail twitching in anger.

“What. Was that. You said?!” I sneered lowly.

“In our squabble, I—I felt my elbow hit something but I—” I didn’t even let him finish as I launched at him and proceeded to beat the shit out of him.  Blinded by pure rage.

How dare this son of a bitch hit (Y/n)! She had to live her entire life abused and tortured just to prove that she could enhance her skin into a hard-carbon shield.  Had it not been for Groot and I, she would’ve had to spend the rest of her miserable life with that sick, cowardly bastard.

I was deep in my rage that I hadn’t even felt myself being pulled forced away from Ezekiel and Quill’s voice exclaimed.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa Rocket cool it man! Now I don’t know what the hell brought this on but you need to chill out right now!”

“This spineless rat hurt (Y/n)!” I yelled.

“I didn’t know they were even here! We didn’t know they were there!” Ezekiel tried to reason as Torath helped him up.

“With the way you two were bitching at each other you couldn’t see your own noses at the end of your faces!” I managed to wriggle my way out of Quill’s hold and without another word raced off to find (Y/n).

Being reminded of any form of abuse whether it’s done to themselves or they see if, they get triggered by it and let me tell you it gets bad.  So bad that they sometimes forget where they are or whose friend of foe.  All they see is that damned doctor.

I was asking around hoping that anyone had seen them but they all proved to be a bunch of negligent losers.  That was until Mantis had said that she felt their emotions coming from my ship.  I raced back to the Milano and soon enough in the main cockpit I found them huddled up, their chest rising up and down at an erratic pace.

I could also hear just how bad their heart was racing and could smell the panicked sweat from not only their brow but also their clammy hands. I walked towards them but didn’t speak, at this point they wouldn’t be able to hear me.  But there was one way to pull them out of this…..and Quill or Drax better not be spying on me otherwise I’ll blast them halfway across the quadrant.

I sat as close as I could beside them and first gave their bicep a gentle and affectionate nuzzle.  I then placed my paw onto their forearm and using my claws I very gently stroked down the skin of their forearm.  Then going back up to the same place where I started before going back down again.

“C’mon (N/n). Come back to me. You can do this.” I muttered before their breathing slowed and they seemed to be coming back down to reality.

*My POV*

It had been forever since I had a panic attack.  If I didn’t know what they were, I swear I thought I was dying.  My vision was so blurry, I couldn’t even see my own hand in front of my face.  There was this high-pitch ringing that was constantly piercing my ears and my body felt paralyzed after I had collapsed into god knows where.

That’s when I felt something furry against my arm.  I also felt sharp nails (or claws) gently stroke down my arm.  They didn’t hurt but they did send tingles up from my arm to my spine.  Slowly the claws kept stroking down my forearm until I lifted it up and found my hand being placed on something soft.

I opened my eyes and after blinking away some of the tears as well as the haze that my vision was making, it began to focus and there I saw Rocket sitting right beside me.  His ears slightly bent backward as his eyes were looking at me assuringly and I also saw that my hand was now resting just on top of his head.

He gave me a soft nod and allowed me to stroke through his fur (knowing that it helped calm me down in the past).  After petting his head for a few minutes, I was able to unfold my legs from my chest so that they now were fully extended in front of me and I felt the tingling sensation of them falling asleep.

Rocket then rested his upperbody on top of my right thigh and allowed me to continue stroking his fur until I felt a vibration on my thigh. I looked down and as I stroked down Rocket’s neck, I could feel him purring, like actually purring.  I didn’t even know he could purr (kinda made me think back to the cats back on Earth).

“I….didn’t know you could purr like a cat.”

“This is a once in a lifetime thing. You speak of this to anyone, especially that stupid mutt Cosmo, I’ll rip your head off.”

“Thank you Rocket. This……means a lot.”

“Been a long time since you had one, figured you’d need something to help calm you down.” Rocket can be gruff and hard on the outside but when he wants to, if you look deep, deep, deep, deep down inside, you’ll find that he’s just a sweet, caring, intuitive creature who will do anything to help you out.

Even if it’s purring like a cat and having someone pet you constantly until they feel centered again.  But I wouldn’t have my best friend any other way.

[raccoonfallsharder]

rocket raccoon prompt week ✷ day six bite ✷.⁺⋆˚₊

low-grade spice & fluff | no use of yn | gn reader | minific | word count: 2,266.

“That’s — a big frickin’ scar you got there.”

Your eyes flare wide and you twist in your seat so fast you nearly spin off it, staring at the stranger who has just hoisted himself onto the barstool next to you. Not because you recognize the voice — you don’t yet, though you will — but just because it’s such a personal remark.

And you’re a little bit sensitive about the scar, if you’re being honest. It’s something of a souvenir.

Then recognition clicks in. Because there he is: short. Covered in fur. Velveteen ears and a dark mask, and a plush ringtail that sweeps behind him. Eyes like red stars.

Cutie.

You stare at him, breath sucked right out of your lungs. He’s got hesitation scrawled and sprawled all over his face: ears flicking down and tail lashing once, nervously. His claws clink against his massive, nearly-empty stein of Xitarish whiskey. 

You tear your eyes away and stare down at the ring of pearly ridges stitched into your arm — like maybe there were answers carved into your flesh there all along, and you’d just never noticed. Or like each toothmark is a lodestar, and together the circle of them can help get you home. 

“Isn’t it rude? To comment on a stranger’s scars?” you breathe out, trying to buy yourself time as all the pieces begin falling together. 

He blinks at you, and shifts uncomfortably. “Uh, Jemiah.” He gestures at the owner of The Boot, who just so happens to be your boss. “Next drink’s on me.”

“Sure thing, Rocket,” Jemiah says warmly — far more warmly than you’ve ever heard from him before. 

You feel your eyes flare wide. “You’re Rocket?” you manage to utter, eyes scrolling up and down him again. “One of the people who bought this damn skull? The pilot — the Guardian of the Galaxy or whatever?”

Somehow he looks even more uncomfortable. “Guardians of the Galaxy. Plural. We’re — a team.”

You exhale slowly — measuredly — and try to loosen all the small feathers of confusion crowding up your head, downy-soft. And as you let go of all those wisps, adrenaline rushes in to take their place: the intoxication of suddenly seeing him. Meeting him — for real this time. Having a name to put with the memory. 

Your smile blows wide. You can’t help yourself. 

“The cutie has a team,” you murmur under your breath, and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks when his eyes sharpen on you. He shifts on his stool, but his shoulders relax a little, and the corner of his mouth twitches. 

“Don’t listen to him, Jemiah,” you call out. “His drink’s on me.”

Your boss ducks to hide his grin even as the cutie in question — Rocket, you think, with a pleased little grin — grimaces. “Wait—“ he starts.

You click your tongue and shake your head, cutting him off and grinning. “Not a chance. You bought this stupid skull out from under the Collector and made it a tolerable place to live? There’s no way you’re buying the drinks. I have to show my gratitude somehow.”

You drop your lids to half-mast and raise a brow, hoping he knows that you’re happy to show your gratitude in a few other ways as well. The risk of offering brings a nervous little buzz to your belly. 

As for him — well, you get the sense that he’s a guy who doesn’t let himself flounder very often, but right now his face is flickering between so many emotions that you can’t possibly catch them all. Shock, and then a brief flash of something like smugness, followed immediately by a flash of narrow-eyed skepticism — then a sort of uncertain hesitance, a brief twinge of humor, and finally, a cynical half-sneer. Then he starts right back at the beginning and does it all over again.

It’s fascinating.  

“Did you know,” you say slowly when Jemiah sets down the fresh drinks, “that I work here at The Boot?”

The stranger — no longer a stranger, you suppose; no longer just the cutie — no, Rocket pauses in his cycle of expressions, takes a slug of his new stein of whiskey, and shakes himself out. 

Where the hell does he put it? you wonder. The stein is as big as his whole torso, you think.

But he doesn’t seem buzzed at all. Instead, he casts you a measuring, sideways glance, entirely too alert for your tastes. 

“You don’t say,” he drawls at last, one brow raised as his spine eases a little more.

“Mmhmm,” you say mildly. “It’s my day off.” You pause meaningfully and take another sip of your own drink. “Didn’t used to get days off in Exitar. Or anywhere else on Knowhere, as a matter of fact.”

His eyes track your hands, and flick to your face. 

“Guess the difference is all thanks to you,” you tell him lightly, and tilt your glass toward him. “Here’s to the happy change in leadership.”

He studies you, and waits till you set your drink down again. 

“So. Uh. How long you worked here?” he asks — as if he didn’t already have at least some idea.

You grin into your glass. “Long enough to have developed a very strict set of rules for my survival.”

His ears flick. You’re glad he’s indulging you — playing along for now. “What’re the rules?”

You lean back. “I’m glad you asked,” you tease, and splay out one hand so you can count them on your fingers. “Number one. Avoid the Collector at all costs.”

He snorts. “Well, guess you’re not a complete idiot,” he mutters, and then slashes his red-amber eyes at you and flinches, like he thinks maybe you’re going to be offended. 

But you only wink at him. Not a chance, cutie.  “Number two. Never hide all your units in one place — or on one datacard.”

A smirk curls the corner of his mouth and his nose twitches.

“Three. Always lock your doors behind you. And four, Don’t walk home alone from the Boot.” The smirk slides off his face at that and his eyes flash, so you rush along to the next rule, hoping to lighten the mood again. “Five. Always get customers’ money before you hand them their booze.”

There you go. The little curve is back at the corner of his mouth, even if his brow is still furrowed — almost like he’s distressed. 

You lean sideways and nudge him with your elbow. “And finally, number six.” He looks up at you and his ears tilt, eyes locked on yours like glimmering red stones. You lean so close you know your breath will flutter in the curve of his ear, and you drop your voice to a whisper. “Don’t try to break up fights.”

The pilot rears back, nearly tumbling backward off his stool, and you reach for him before you both catch yourselves. Reeling your outstretched hand back into yourself, you instead gift him a reckless grin and turn to your drink once more.

“It’s not a comprehensive list,” you tell him pragmatically, “and it isn’t in any particular order, but it’s kept me alive this long.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Rocket says, and his voice is suddenly raspy and low. “Even that last one?”

The laughter surprises you, fluttering up behind your ribs and escaping between your lips, soft  and velvety and hushed. 

“I only broke that one once,” you tell him, lifting your glass to your mouth and half-hiding your grin behind it. You can tell your eyes are sparkling, though. “And it’s not like I ever regretted it.”

He makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Sounds like you got a story.”

“Mmm,” you acknowledge, and you keep your voice playful. “It was years ago, now. I knew all the regulars back then — well, I still do, but more of them were jackasses back in the day. And this guy comes in — someone I’d never seen before. Swaggering, carrying a cannon twice as big as himself. Maybe — three feet tall? A true Short King.”

He’s got his stein to his lips and he chokes on a mouthful of whiskey, sputtering. “A what?”

You ignore him, still casting him that teasing half-smile and raising an eyebrow. “He had pretty eyes, and I remember him being more foulmouthed than a landlocked Ravager.”

“Pretty — what?” 

“Keep up, Rocket,” you taunt lightly, tapping a finger to the air just an inch away from the top of his nose, and his eyes go narrow. Everything on his face is suddenly promising retribution, but you’re reckless with glee now.

And you’ll be happy to pay up if he actually comes to collect. 

“I told him that I needed payment up front when he ordered—“

“Get the money before you hand them their booze,” he echoes Rule Five, eyes still hunting you, and you nod with mock-approval. 

“You get it,” you say with a chuckle. “Anyway, his response was just to swipe another patron’s datacard right in front of me and hand it over.” You can still fucking see it: his challenging half-grin, one brow raised.  “I think I stared at him for a full thirty seconds, but this cutie just smirked up at me. Brazen as fuck.”

You laugh softly at the memory, and Rocket — who might as well be your new landlord, you’ve realized — grumbles something under his breath. 

“Anyway, I was kinda smitten,” you admit with a little curve in your mouth, still buzzing the inside of your belly. 

It’s the truth, too.  You’d never thought that raccoon can get it before, but there you were. 

And here you are. 

To your surprise, Rocket goes quiet at that. The pilot of the famous — or infamous — Guardians of the Galaxy, and one of the new owners of Knowhere: still and silent for a long moment. 

Maybe he’ll slip out of his chair and leave, you think, and the flutters in your belly twist in sudden regret. Maybe you’ve scared him off. 

But when he speaks, his voice is like crystallized maple syrup: rich and gritty, waiting to crumble and melt and scrub against your skin.

“He’s why you got into a fight?”

You weigh out your options here. What to say? You’d lost sight of the cutie thanks to his height and the constant surge of new customers, and you’d sort of forgotten about him in the moment, to be honest — though you’re sure you’d have remembered later, alone in your shitty little room — but then you’d heard the sudden cacophonous boom of his enormous augmented cannon. There’d been screaming and crashing, and you’d woven yourself  between the bodies toward the sound. Just to assess, just to figure out what kind of danger you’d been in—

Fucking B’darl — the worst of your regular patrons — had entered into view and suddenly hoisted the cutie right up into the air before slamming him down into the orloni fighting ring. 

You hadn’t thought about it — about anything, really — just thrown yourself through the crowd, toward the fighting ring. By the time you’d gotten there, B’darl had the cutie pinned to the miniature arena’s floor by the throat.  Both the orloni and the f’saki had cowered back, blood-soaked and wounded, from the sudden interference in their battle-to-the-death. 

Looks like you wandered outta the ring, the fucking brute had sneered.Time to go back to brawling with the other vermin, you little monster. 

B’darl had lifted his other fist, easily the size of your entire head.

My money’s on the f’saki, though. 

You’d surged between them without thinking, latching onto B’darl’s massive forearm, knocking his fist to one side.

You shrug. “It was worth it,” you tell Rocket mildly, and take another sip of your drink.

His eyes drop to the ring of teethmarks in your arm again. He opens his mouth to speak, and you cut in.

“My own fault,” you tell him. “I should’ve known the cutie could handle himself. I got in the way.”

You can still remember how his firelight-eyes had stared up at you from behind a mouthful of flesh and blood, stunned and maybe horrified, teeth sunk almost to the bone.  In a worse timeline, maybe you’d have tried to rip your arm away. But here, in this one, you’d curled around him instinctively. Protectively. 

And then he’d reached around you smoothly and snagged B’darl’s ion pistol, and you’d heard the gun go off as he’d squeezed the trigger, blind.

“My only regret is that I lost sight of him in the aftermath,” you tell him with a shrug. You try for a teasing smile but it suddenly feels strained, tense on your mouth. You’d been too flushed with adrenaline when you’d first started this conversation. Now, suddenly, the nerves are present: rattling and twitching behind your sternum. Your fingers shake a little and you clamp them onto your glass. “Didn’t even catch his name.” 

He doesn’t say anything, and you squeeze your eyes shut. When you finally get the fluttering in your vagus nerve under control, you hazard a look up at him. 

His eyes are on your forearm though: the circle of silken raised marks, just three shades lighter than the rest of your skin, and strangely — almost prettily — translucent. His finger reaches out: dark and clawed, his touch like warm leather. You go so still that you can’t blink, can’t even breathe as he paints a ring of warmth on your skin, looping the circlet of scars onto his fingertip like pearls threaded on a string.

The flutters are back, full-force. 

Slowly, Rocket drags his gaze up to yours, sunset-eyes glowing.  “Cutie works.”

@hibatasblog deserves so much more & better than this little ficlet but i am dedicating it to them anyway because they regularly call rocket "short king" and i cannot get it out of my head. deepest love to them & all their writing (please do yourselves a favor and check out their ao3 fics if you have not already)

look i just feel like (1) rocket is a cutie and if you say it in the right tone, he'll be flattered enough to not kill you and (2) there's no way he'd ever forget the stranger who jumped into a fight on his behalf — and probably got scarred for it — back before he met the guardians. which is when the og encounter takes place fyi. forget about the fact that i don't think we know if he had ever been there before gamora brought them along — i headcanon that where two or more lowlifes gather, so too there is rocket.

sidenote oh my god i literally cannot stop with the increasing wordcount. day seven (when i eventually get around to it) is gonna be SHORT. it's a promise/challenge to myself. anyway i think my writing quality peaked with machinery and i'm sorry this is so late

day five. machinery. ✷ day seven. home. rocket prompt week masterlist ✷ main masterlist rocket raccoon prompt week list

taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @glow-autumz ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @suicidalshitstick ♡ @pretty-chips

[shyficwriter]

8 & T - Yondu X daughter reader ❤️

Thanks for the prompt! 8. Snow down back of neck T. Tickling [Send me a prompt and I'll write a drabble]

***

"Zip up your jacket." Yondu scolded you flatly as he locked up the ship.

You ignored him and continued chattering about the winter festival that would be happening in the nearby town the next day and how excited you were to see the lights. "I read that the trees look like mini nebulas they're so bright!"

Yondu had decided to take the crew on the rare vacation that wasn't on Contraxia. Currently most of his men were in the town drinking it up and the two of you were heading to join Kraglin and Peter by an out-of-the-way ice-fishing hole that Yondu was familiar with. He had sent them ahead to set up while he and you stayed back to repair your collapse-able fishing rod.

Yondu knew the repair would have actually only needed maybe five minutes to complete, but hey, it got him out of having to saw holes in the frozen lake and he knew you wouldn't complain either.

Now the two of you were on your way to join them, following the tracks they had left in the snow.

"Eh- probably exaggerated to bring in tourists," Yondu said, responding to your earlier comment about the lights.

"Can't you let yourself be excited for once?" you half-whine, half-tease.

Yondu glanced at you with a grin. "Nope."

You playfully punch him in the arm.

He returned your playful punch, and told you again to zip up your jacket.

Again you ignored him, a mischievous grin forming on your lips as you allowed yourself to fall behind in your pace just long enough to quickly grab some snow from the ground before recovering your pace to rejoin him at his side.

You turn the subject towards a job you knew was coming up after this vacation would be over, asking about the planet it was to be set on. This, of course, was just a means of distraction before you enacted your mischief. Nothing big. Just a little snow down his back... heck, you could probably blame one of the trees overhead for it.

Yondu starts to answer, and you think you're in the clear to pull off your prank, but the second you go to raise your arm he reaches out and grabs your wrist, making your hand open on instinct and drop its snow.

He turns to you with an eye roll and a smirk, still holding your wrist. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice? You gotta be sneakier than that, kid."

It takes a second for the shock to wear off, but once you recover you return his smirk with one of your own. "Or have a good backup plan!" and with that you swung your other hand up over his shoulder and shoved the other handful of snow you had grabbed down the back of his coat, sure that you possibly even made some of it go down into the back of his shirt.

Yondu's eyes widened and he recoiled as soon as the cold hit his skin, immediately releasing your wrist so he could reach back and attempt to fish out any un-melted snow- though of course that was a lost cause.

In the meantime you just stood there, laughing your ass off.

After a moment Yondu turns back toward you and narrows his eyes. "Betcha thought that was real funny, didn't ya? Real proud of yerself, ain't ya?"

Still giggling, you nod. However, your giggling slows once you notice the look on his face.

He steps towards you and just glares at you for a moment. By now you had stopped giggling and started to wonder how many toilets he was gonna make you clean back on the Eclector for your little stunt.

The silence hung for a good couple moments before Yondu spoke. Eyeing you, a playful smirk played on his features as he asked, "Thought I told you to zip up your jacket?"

You only just had time to look down before Yondu lunged for you, his hands quickly flying past your open jacket, latching onto your ribs, and sending you into hysteric laughter as you tried to fight him off.

You squealed out a "No! No fair!" as he continued to tickle the snot out of you.

"I think it's more than fair, missy!" he laughed. "You ignored me twice about zipping up your jacket, and then you shoved snow down my back! Far as I'm concerned that's three strikes against ya right there! If anything I'd say I'm going soft on ya!" with that he moved his hands up to tickle under your arms, which practically made you scream as it was one of your worst spots.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" you squeal out, grabbing his wrists, but unable to push him off you.

"Yeah, bet you're really sorry. Sorry that you got caught, and sorry that you didn't zip up your jacket when I told you too!" he laughed.

Through your hard belly laughter you manage, "I give! I give up! I'm sorry!"

"Ya gonna do it again?"

"No!"

Yondu finally released you. "That's what I thought. Now get your jacket zipped, it's cold out here."

Still giggly, you finally obey his command and zip up your coat. "That was so mean!" you whine, punching him in the arm again.

"Yeah, you deserved it, brat." He answered with a smile and pulled you into a side hug and ruffled your hair. "You're lucky I didn't decide to bury you in the snow and leave ya there."

You simply stick out your tongue in response, and after he playfully shoved you in the shoulder in response to that, the two of you continue on your way to meet the others at the fishing hole.

[sincerelykarai]

Wake up!

Authors Note: This is another Oneshot of Rocket ^^ btw this was inspired by that one scene in helluva boss Ghostf*ckers so kinda spoilers for that? Just read at your own risk ig 🤷‍♀️ Also its angst with a side of hurt/comfort!

Trigger warnings: Gore, Violent depictions,swearing and other stuff like that

He doesn't even remember how this happened. One minute he was in the Milano safe and sound in his quarters, the next he was small and fragile, running around the lab. It seemed like eerie, endless hallways with dim, flickering lights and rusted cages. He could hear other animals whining, howling, but it was all muffled compared to his paws hitting the metal ground beneath him and the sound of his heart pumping blood which was rushing through his ears.

"You can't outrun me, 89P13!" Rocket heard the High Evolutionary shout, and he felt his heart as if it was in his throat, choking out any air. He continued running, hallway after hallway without stopping. He stopped once his legs gave out with a tremble, panting as he caught his breath even if he heard the scientists coming after him. It wasn't long before he started running again, turning through hallway after hallway before he felt something shove him, and he tumbled into the ground.

"What the..?-" He mumbled, before noticing the similar white rabbit above him, with the multiple thin metal legs. "Floor? What are you-"

"HOW COULD YOU?!" Floor screeched, her voice sounding more metallic and her body coated in warm, red blood. "Rocket got floor killed! Rocket got floor killed!" She repeated over and over again in the high pitched, screeching voice.

"What?! No, it was an accident I swear!-" Rocket exclaimed but Floor tried to swipe him, digging one of her sharp legs into his arm, hot, stinging blood dripping down his arm. Rocket took off running again, this time limping slightly and leaving a trail of blood behind him.

"No, no no no no-" He chanted in his head. "Just a dream just a dream just a stupid fucking dream-" He continued running, hallway after hallway, he felt like a rat stuck in a maze.

"Rocket?" Lylla called out, and he froze in place.

"Lylla!" Rocket almost broke into a sob, running into her arms, even if they were cold and made of metal, he could still feel the love and warmth in them.

"Lylla, I- I was having the worst dream-" He practically cried, as Lylla quietly shushed him, running a metal paw through his fur.cHe finally felt safe....

Until he felt something dripping down his fur.

He glanced up, only to see Lylla's face mauled, covered in blood and flesh and bone. "Why'd you do it?" Is all the face said, but the odd sweetness in her tone sent chills down his spine. Soon her whole body was falling apart, blood coating his paws.

"Wait wait wait- Lylla please! I'm sorry please don't go!" Rocket sobbed, trying to grab onto her but there was nothing to grab apart from the raw feeling of bone. "LYLLA DON'T GO!-" He screamed, before everything faded to black.

"Rocket, wake up!" Quill shouted, shaking Rocket awake.

Rocket woke up with a gasp, his chest heaving and his fur damp with cold sweat. "I- where-"

"Dude, you're fine. It's me, Quill." *He reassured him, holding his shoulders.

"But.. Who's Lylla?"

[caesarhamato22]

I just got such an random thought with Rocket and Reader.

NSFW at the end.

~

Imagine you’re a nail tech- HEAR ME OUT.

Obviously, on Knowhere, I can’t imagine there being a salon of any kind (maybe there is, idk) but you’re a nail tech with your own salon.

It’s small and welcoming, and people of all species visit to relax and take a break.

After hours, Rocket will come to your work while you’re closing up and sit in one of the chairs, waiting for you to be done so you two could have a date night or to go home to have back-breaking sex.

Occasionally, you’d clip and file his nails. Not all the time since most of the time he’d do it himself.

You tend to be the one to ask to clip them since you do it for a living. And you liked pampering him every now and then <3

When it’s him asking you, he mostly asks because he knows you enjoy holding his hands. He also gets to make many dirty jokes about how he’s going to use his freshly blunt nails on you later.

And by later, he means right after you’re done.

Always starting with a kiss over the table, leading into him fingering you in the backroom.

He’d have you finishing all over his hand, just for him to lick his fingers — or have you suck them for him — before inspecting his claws, a mix of your remaining cum and saliva making them shine.

“Always makin’ me look so damn good, princess.”

~

Idk how or why I thought of this but I might expand on it who knows

Hmmmmm

I changed that last line so many fucking times

Taglist:

@aliasrocket @shybabylovestmnt-blog @scholastic-dragon @beckalias

[itsscromp]

Okay so I have this idea rattling in my brain,

Rocket raccoon with reader (anthro fox) who's been his best friend for awhile even before they met the rest of the team. Reader has a weird little habit of brushing her fingers through rockets fur to smooth it out and kind of just tiding and grooming his fur before bed or as a sign to head to bed

(this is probably a bad idea but i saw your Rocket raccoon requests and thought I'd share) p.s drink lots of water and have a good day <333

-🐀 Rat anon (if u do anons)

Bedtime routine

Nice to meet you🐀 Rat anon :D *sips water* refreshing, And no it's not a bad idea at all I like it. Could I be able to do this as a gender-neutral reader as well ??

You and Rocket have known each other for a very long time, Even before the guardians were formed. You both have similar backgrounds, falling victim to the high evolutionary's experiments. When you two escaped counter-earth, you only had each other to rely on.

One of the things that you normally do to sort of calm yourself down but in a way to help Rocket is you groom your nails through his fur. Just to help tidy it up a bit before bed. This was no different tonight.

Once you finished your tasks and washed your fur, You slipped into your pyjamas and went to go find Rocket, Finding him working hard on a project. Knowing that once Rocket was working on a project he would never come out of it. So you walked over and began to groom the back of his head, He tensed up a little before relaxing once he realised it was you.

"I know y/n, But I gotta get this finished before the next mission" He lightly grumbled, trying his best to not lean into your touch.

"Rocket, come on... You promised me that you'd try to go to bed a little earlier, I don't want to deal with your cranky ass tomorrow" You chuckled as you moved to groom his tail.

Usually, you would groom his tail cause one calms you down the most, the other being hearing Rocket purr. "You know I hate that fox." He said in between his purrs, That's a nickname he usually gives to you, you in return calling him Rocky.

"Please... It'll still be here tomorrow" You pleaded once more as you looked at him, giving your almost puppy eyes to tell him.

Soon he sighed as he put the gadget down and hopped down from the bench. "Alright alright fox" He chuckled. The two of you nuzzled your muzzles against each other before fist bumping. "Goodnight Rocky" You then moved to the shared bunk bed you had.

Rocket usually had his own ways of showing his affection for his best friend, when you were falling asleep, he would climb up to the top bunk where you are and curl up to you, which you instinctively do as well. laying their, cuddled up drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

Taglist: @callofdudes @fun-k-board

[bruisedboys]

okay but. thinking about peter quill teaching you how to fly his ship. he gets you in his lap in the pilot’s seat and reaches around you to show you the controls, murmuring the names into your ear as he points. he wraps his hand over yours where it rests on the joystick and helps you take off like 2 inches off the ground. and he’s sooo into praise so when you touch down (not so smoothly, the entire ship shakes but he’s not going to mention that) he gives you a smiling kiss and murmurs that’s my girl :)))

[star-quill]

would love ur nsfw peter headcanons!! x

omg omg okok

he loveloveloves when u ride his thigh. like he adores just watching u tremble above him, hearing u whimper while u bury ur face in his neck. he's encouraging u the whole way, praising u and having his hand on ur back to rock u back and forth. when u do come, he praises u even more ("good girl" "doing so good baby" "so pretty for me sweetheart").

is rough but likes to go slow and watch u squirm. fills u up to the hilt and slowly drags himself out of u, smirking when u desperately try and grab at him to push himself back in. he will go slow at first until u whimper out "more please i can take it please" and then he will just pound into u. ur gonna have a few bruises on the back of ur thighs tomorrow but it's all worth it when he's making u feel this good.

oh and he's big and he's heavy. every time before he fucks u, he will push against u and let his dick lay on ur skin, showing u just how deep he's gonna get when he's all the way in. then his size kink kicks in when he's like "u think u can take all this baby?".

he purposely does anything to rile u up and get ur attention, knowing how easy it is to push u into submission. whether it's just walking around the house shirtless, or going for a workout in the back garden while ur watering the plants. next thing u know, ur hands are grabbing at his curls while he fucks u against the shed door outside.

man spreader. comes over to sit next to u on the couch, his legs spread out while ur sitting with urs tucked under u. then ur eyes fall to his crotch, his thighs and he catches u looking. "u want something u just gotta ask for it baby.". u blink a few times before turning back to watch tv. he's a menace and u know u'll end up in his lap before the program's finished anyway.

eats pussy and is fucking amazing at it. his nose, tongue and facial hair is the best combination when he's buried between ur legs. u prefer when he does it in bed or on the sofa, knowing that the few times he's done it in the kitchen, u almost keeled over from ur legs shaking so much.

he loves when u act like a brat. purposefully pissing him off at neighbourhood barbecues and then feigning innocence when he pulls u up on it. silently giggling when he takes u home and pushes u on the bed. u immediately start getting undressed before u see him standing there, arms crossed. then he speaks "good girls get fucked, brats have to do it themselves." then he watches as u touch urself for him, stopping whenever he tells u to, which only prolongs ur orgasm. but don't worry, once he does let u come, he makes sure to fuck another two out of u afterwards.

loves to touch u up. he's always got to have a hand on u, nicely in public but at home it always goes between ur legs. he loves when u lay across his lap, ur head resting on his thighs while his hand worms it's way through ur legs, his fingers feeling though ur folds. ur hands just grab at his arm, holding on while he fingers u to orgasm, and then one more orgasm until ur spent and out of breath in his lap, curling into him. his hand comes up to wrap around ur waist, pulling u up into him. it's almost always late at night when this happens, then he lifts u up and takes u to bed.

if he's fucking u missionary, he will wrap his hand around ur neck, squeezing gently so as not to hurt u but still make u feel it's there. ur hands grab at his wrist and u just choke out a whimper. his thumb rubs at ur skin as he praises u ("ur being so good baby" "such a pretty lil' thing" "u feel so good honey, takin' me so well").

can and will coax multiple orgasms out of u until ur absolutely spent and he has to rub ur back until u calm down again. ur body is just limp when he's done with u and u love it. u love when he has to take care of u afterwards, him carrying u to bed and softly massaging every part of u until u sigh out. he may be a little rough but his aftercare is top tier.

slightly possessive in public but u love it. he always has his hand on u, always calling u "his girl" or "my girl". u always slightly turn it around in bed ("am i ur girl?" "am i ur pretty lil' baby?") knowing it makes him even more turned on than before.

do not wear a sundress around this man unless u want fucked whenever u do. u took him shopping once and picked out a few to try on in the dressing room. he just sat outside, waiting for u to show him. but once u showed him the first one, he just absolutely had to have u in it, following u back into the cubicle and pushing u against the wall. he bunched up the dress around ur waist and fucked u right there, his hand over ur mouth to stop u from making any unusual noises.

mmmfmfm i have more but like this is already a lot

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hey I'd really love it if you could write smth about like jealous!peter quill or just him being overly possessive like maybe like you're just friends at the moment and you guys are at this club and like idfk the avengers team could be there 😭😭 and one of them starts flirting with you abd you flirt back and shit ans just how u think peter would react- anything basically with him being just jealous and shit omg thankyou in advance 😭😭

hii!! omg I love it and had fun writing it!! thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌 *I didn't mark it as mature, tumblr did :/ *

jealous

Peter Quill x f reader

wc || 0.7k

warnings || none, just quill being a lil jelly

masterlist + rules

taglist

After the Battle of Earth two years ago, you and the other Guardians remained quite good friends with the Avengers you had met. Every so often, you and the team would be invited to parties at their temporary compound. As it was such a long journey from Knowhere, you all tended to decline the invitations, much preferring to remain in the comfort of home rather than travel halfway across the galaxy. But, as it was coming up the anniversary, you felt as though you were obliged to make an appearance considering what you had all been through. 

-

Rocket lands the Bowie on the landing bay just outside, and you all stand from your seats, stretching your tired legs as you straighten over your clothes, preparing to exit the ship and join the rest of the party. You turn to Quill, sweetly smiling as you extend a hand, silently asking him to take it in his. He laces his hand into yours, firmly shaking as a boyish grin spreads across his lips. 

"No—" you sigh, pulling your hand from his. "You weren't supposed—ugh,"

"What was I supposed to do?" Peter questions, his tone full of sincerity as he watches you walk away with the girls.

"You were supposed to escort her off the ship, Pete," Rocket says flatly, walking past.

"I am Groot."

"I am not a moron." Quill protests. "Drax, you hearing this?"

"You are a moron Quill," he replies simply, following behind Rocket and Groot.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What is this? Gang up on Quill day? Look, I didn't know she wanted me to help her. I thought she wanted to shake my hand, that's all."

"Then go find her, idiot." Rocket adds, nodding Quill along.

Peter makes his way inside the compound to search for you, immediately bumping into people he doesn't recognise. "God, this music is awful," he mumbles, adjusting his jacket as he makes his way to the bar upstairs. Quill hears a familiar Asgardian bellow of a laugh as he walks up the steps, following the sound, he sees the back of Thor with his arm draped over the shoulder of a woman- a girl, Quill's 'girl'.

He rushes over, abruptly interrupting the conversation. 

"Oh hey, Quill," you say slyly, leaning into Thor as you bat your lashes at the clearly jealous-looking guy standing before you. 

"Good to see you," Thor greets, extending a hand. "Missed ya, buddy,"

Peter swats his hand away. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. What uh—what you doing?" he asks inconspicuously, gazing around the busy room with his hands on his hips. 

"He was just telling me a funny story," you pause to laugh, tapping Thor on the chest. "You should tell him. He'd love it."

As Thor described the humourous events of the story, you watched Peter's face begin to contort, barely keeping his composure, his nostrils practically flaring as he stared at your lingering hand. Keeping your eyes glued to Quill's, you taunt him further, lightly circling your hand over Thor's muscular arm as you engage in the conversation. 

"Tree?" Thor pauses the story as he catches a glimpse of Groot above the swarm of people. "One minute," he says, slipping from you. "I'll be right back."

"What the hell was that?" Quill whispers, his tone full of irritation. 

"What was what?" you ask, crossing your legs as you pat the now-empty space beside you, silently urging him to sit.

"You're such a dick," he chuckles, sitting close beside you, his hip pressed to yours as he drapes his arm over your shoulder.

"Yeah, well... so are you," you snicker, resting your hand on his thigh, slowly leaning into him. "God, this music is awful," 

"Right?"

You and Peter sit together in comfortable silence as you gaze around the room of unfamiliar people, watching the conversations play out as you snuggle into one another's side. Both of you avoiding the daunting question. The question of your undeclared situation.

"We really should mingle," you say begrudgingly, tapping him on the leg.

"Ugh," he groans, slipping from your warmth and standing up. He extends a hand, patiently waiting for you to take it. Lacing your hand in his, you shake it with a smug grin across your lips.

"What? I thought you wanted me to shake it," you laugh heartily, wrapping your arm around his side as he leads you through the crowd of people.

"You really are a dick."

@annielr @ugh09876554444 @spacetalbot @bubblezuku

[grapefiesta]

Plushie

After napping on the couch with Rocket in your arms, you drag him to your room to get a well-deserved sleep.

═══════════════════⋆☆⋆═══════════════════

As you grab Rocket and lead him to your room, the Raccoon lets out a soft chuckle.

"Alright, alright. Don’t have to drag me.” He says in a playful tone. 

He doesn’t try too hard to resist, though, and after a few seconds of being dragged around, he gives up and lets you do all the pulling.

You kick off your sneakers when you reach the room, before jumping onto the bed and patting the place next to you, "Come on Racoon boy. I haven’t slept that well in years. You're my new plushie now." Cuddling him you fell asleep.

═══════════════════⋆☆⋆═══════════════════

[raccoonfallsharder]

rocket raccoon prompt week ✷ day seven home ✷.⁺⋆˚₊

fluff | no use of yn | gn reader | drabble | word count: 661.

Home had been a shining city on the far horizon for most of Rocket’s formative years: distant and gleaming under an impossible blossom-blue dome. Unreachable. Untouchable. He’d left any hope of it behind, a dozen cannon-shots or more before he’d ever even stepped foot off the Arête. No. Rocket had gone straight from the cages and right into his escape pod, out into a sky that had suddenly seemed much less beautiful and much more forever. 

And so home had always been a far-away thing, a thing he could never go back to, a thing that — like love, like peace, like a restful night’s sleep or body that didn’t hurt — Rocket could simply never have. A thing that hadn’t been meant for him. Like the screws slowly grinding away at his bones or the muscle contractures he’s always fighting in his hips and chest, home had just become another old ache that he’d grown to barely notice, except when he’s on a planet where the weather is bad. 

And then, one shift — when it was just you and him — he’d been trying to work the knots out of his shoulders. You’d reached out with dancing fingers and a query on your lips — a gentle little sound of offering — and he’d gone as still as a moon pinned between two gravity wells. Your fingers had felt light as little birds, perched on his shoulders weightlessly, and you’d guided them into a rolling series of rotations. Then you’d tugged him between your knees, and kneaded every small stone you’d found lodged under his skin and fur. 

When he’d finally gone as molten and buttery as a beeswax candle on a warm day, you’d murmured another little question. He’d blinked at you blankly — completely disconnected from anything but the feel of his body, pliant for the first time in possibly his entire life — so you’d pulled him onto your lap and continued your little ministry of touch until he’d fully curled up, his tail a wreath of feathery brushes around you both. His back had pressed itself into your hands as you’d worked your thumbs into the base of his spine: freeing the tension from his hips, beckoning it out of muscle and bone, letting it dissipate into the air between your fingertips. Your hands had been so warm that even all the metal plates and bolts deep inside had suddenly felt like a part of him — had suddenly matched his own body temperature — every piece slotting together inside him with a rightness he’d never known before. The air in his lungs had turned into little pearls and gemstones, spilling up into his throat like jeweled gravel. He’d made a noise — some kind of rumble — and it had startled him until your hands had soothed over him again and you’d whispered something that had sounded like you’re just purring. 

He’d never say any of this in front of the others, never let them know about this: about how soft he is for this, for the warm quiet circle of space in your arms and on your thighs. He’d never climb into your lap like this if they could see it; never make a nest out of your body-heat and burrow into the loose thick folds of your sweatshirt. He  only does it on the shifts when everyone else is asleep, or planetside, or away. 

It’s not that he’s ashamed. It’s just — this is something special and precious and small, and if he looks at it too closely or acknowledges it exists, he may never have it back. But for now — for these moments that he can only measure in the soft wash of his breath or the thrum of his pulse in his wrists, the steady sound of your heartbeat holding him together like gravity — for now, it’s touchable, and attainable, and real — 

Moreso than any shining city on the far horizon, glimmering against the sweep of a blossom-blue ocean and a forever sky.

i did it! i brought my wordcount down! this was just a fun little exercise in writing whatever weird shit came to my mind so sorry if it makes no sense but i figured i'd indulge my inclination toward purple prose (get rekt literary critics). anyway this was fun and i am very much in favor of many future rocket raccoon prompts & prompt weeks, and thank you for creating this and bringing it to my attention, @frostedwitch ♡♡♡

i will be putting out a masterlist for this set of prompts sometime next week probably. i really hope you enjoyed reading as much as i enjoyed writing! ♡

day six. bite rocket prompt week masterlist ✷ main masterlist rocket raccoon prompt week list

taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @glow-autumz ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @suicidalshitstick ♡ @pretty-chips

[elegant-fleuret]

im going on a 6 hour train ride today, if anyone sees this and wants me to like idk doodle them/their OC or give me a prompt for a drabble??? not promising that any will be good but I don't want to watch my partner play destiny on his dumb stream deck

preferably GotG, but doesn't have to be rocket specific.