Owner whining out “good boy” as his pup fucks him rougher than he needs to. Biting down hard into his shoulder, digging nails into his hips, thrusting hard into him. Every thrust punching out another gasp and groan.
I’m so in to being trained, I want mommy to train all the bad aggressive behaviour out of me and replace it with the good submissive behaviour she wants to see in her pet
I love when men are obedient. You’re twice my size, and you know I can’t really *make* you do anything… but you’ll still do whatever I tell you to do because it makes you happy to be a good boy. Amazing. ☺️💗
some boys are just dumb dogs that bark a lot and think they’re tougher than they are and those boys need to be pinned down and put in their place by the most harmless looking women
Thinking about getting shoved around, collared and pegged by the sweetest most innocent looking woman grabbing me by the neck choking me while she fucks me and telling me what a stupid little boy I am for trusting her
I really want some fucked up pegging session right now. pin me down to the bed with my hands tied behind my back and cover my eyes and mouth with your hands. I love the feeling of hands pressing on my face whilst I struggle to see and breathe. then carelessly fuck me HARD while I whimper and squirm underneath you. I want to feel like I have no choice, I want to be completely helpless.
so for my birthday I wanna be ruthlessly tied down with straps so I can’t escape. and then suffocated by a sweet woman’s pussy until I beg for oxygen and she degrades me from above :)
This is a reply to two headcanon asks I got that were pretty similar!
First Ask
Second Ask
~
• I think it would depend on whether he thinks/knows that you like him back.
• He doesn't want to ruin whatever good friendship/relationship you two have going on. He's comfortable, but he can't help but want more.
• If he noticed some signs from you (more flirting, asking more personal questions, any physical affection), I reckon he'd ask you what you view him as.
• Like, "what are we?" That kind of thing.
• If he had no clue how you felt, he'd either straight up ask you in the most casual way, “wanna get a drink?”, or he'd ignore his feelings and continue having the comfortable relationship that you two share.
• If his friends told him that you had feelings for him, he'd be skeptical.
• How do they know? Are they just guessing? Did you tell them?
• Where are they getting this information???
• If you had expressed how you felt about him to his friends, he'd wonder why you didn't just come to him.
• You guys were close, you talked about everything. Why couldn't you just tell him so he didn't have to tell you?!
• At first, he'd be nervous to tell you, whether he knew you liked him or not.
• He's make you something small, something he knew you needed or wanted.
• Nothing too fancy or difficult to make.
• Something simple and pretty with his own flare added to it.
• You loved anything he made you, whatever it was.
• Perhaps he'd show more casual physical affection.
• Patting/resting his hand on your thigh, wiping something off your face, taking multiple glances at the little cuts and marks on your fingers and hands, eventually choosing to hold your hands for a closer look and ask how you got them.
• He wouldn't show how flustered he got, wouldn't hesitate during these actions as it had to be seen as second nature, and he certainly wouldn't show his worry for your well being over something so miniscule as a paper cut.
• On the other hand, he would fall to his knees if you confessed first.
• I think he’d honestly prefer it because then you’re going out of your way to tell him that you like him.
• Him. Rocket. The cybernetically engineered raccoon, who stands on his hind legs to reach a height of 3’1 while wielding guns larger than himself and three times his weight.
• “I like you, Rocket.”
• God, how this man would swoon.
• A creature, as beautiful and flawless as you, liking a monster like him.
• For a moment, he’d think you were lying, taking pity on him.
• You assured him you weren’t, and that you truly and deeply loved him. That you didn't view him as a monster.
• That you viewed him as perfect.
• If you listed out everything you liked loved about him, he’d cry.
• You two would have different methods of confessing.
• Doesn’t matter who confessed first.
• Because one of you eventually did, one way or another.
Handsome fuckboy who sleeps around suddenly can't get it up. His booty calls drop him, and his friends-with-benefits don't hang out anymore. He's feeling really shitty about himself, so when an especially plain, bare-faced girl flirts with him, he agrees to go to her place. She's way below his league, he thinks, but he's drunk and he just wants to feel good. Strangely enough, when she touches him, he gets rock hard. Turns out she's a witch that cursed him with perpetual blue-balls unless she personally makes him cum. He's forced to go back to her over and over again, since he can't even jerk off or get hard from anyone else's touch. She forces him to eat her out and finger her for hours before she lets him cum, milking him completely dry with her pussy and forcing dry orgasms out of him. Eventually he becomes her fucktoy, unable to resist her every desire.
Hey babes, was wondering if you’d be up for a ‘seven minutes in heaven’ thing with Rocket and reader. The way it happens is up to you!! No worries if you’re not feeling it though, just wanted to ask how you’re doing <33
GOD IS REQUESTING ME TO WRITE???
Consider it done.
Also, I'm doing fabulous, thank you for asking, how are you? :)
~
More Than Seven
Rocket X Reader
Note: This is set just before Vol 3. You're friends with the guardians.
Words: 4.6k
Summary: Drunk, mingling with strangers, and at a random house party on Knowhere. Someone stumbles up to you with a giddy grin and asks if you want to put your name in a draw. You weren't informed what for. You just said yes.
Warnings: Language, alcohol, making out, very slight touching over clothes.
~
You weren't sure how you got there. You weren't even sure when. But what you did know, was that you were hammered.
It was a cold night on Knowhere, colder than most. Dark, with a soft chilled breeze. Neon lights brightened the streets while giving everyone who passed a stunning glow. Glass and spilled drinks littered the ground. The lights reflected off the roads, a beautiful ambience. People stumbled with their friends, partners and comrades, or even a stranger or two they met that same night.
Being passed midnight wasn't a common excuse to go home as most patrons stayed up well into the early hours of the following morning. Occasionally, sleep was ignored, and many went straight to work despite the lingering hangover that would set in quite quickly.
It was a house party, as Quill had once explained to you. Or, in this case, a building party? You couldn't pinpoint the correct terminology. Didn't matter much. You were there. At some 'building party', drinking everything you could find while mingling with faces you had only ever seen once or twice, or not at all.
Yeah, building party still didn't sound right.
Different coloured lights beamed from every direction. The music was loud, almost echoing, and it seemed every room you went into was playing a different song.
Some popular songs, some in a language you didn't understand, but mostly were from Quill's playlist. You recognised those ones.
Mouthing the lyrics with a gentle sway in your hips is what you found yourself doing majority of the night. Your eyes were closed and your mouth maintained a bright smile, unaware to anyone watching, if anyone was.
The voices of those around you became a blur. Multiple conversations slurred together and you weren't even sure who was speaking.
You tried to listen, but the music was too intoxicating, and so was the drink in your hand. Drax would surely make fun on your sloppy movements, you just knew it.
"Girl, you gonna join?"
Were they speaking to you? The pull on your wrist answered your question.
Your eyes blinked open, adjusting to the lasers and glowing bulbs around the room. Your eyes settling on a shorter woman in front of you. Her glittery cheeks and bright purple eyes stared at you.
"Me?" You asked, raising your voice to communicate passed the blasting speakers. "Yeah, sure!"
"Yeah! What's your name?" She was a lively girl, you noticed. Her four arms occupied with drinks, except two. One holding your wrist while the other held a datapad.
You had lost count how many times you had introduced yourself to someone new this night alone.
Giving your name instinctively, she entered it into the datapad. She better not be putting you up to be sold. You really weren't in the mood to run from whoever would buy you. You'd been dancing the whole night, your feet hurt!
"I'll let you know if it's you, lovely!" She pulled your wrist to bring you closer, allowing you to hear her.
With a nod from you, she moved along with a couple others trailing behind her. You watched her approach other people at the party, probably asking them the same questions she asked you.
You turned to those around you with furrowed eyebrows and a sway in your step. "What did she, uh ..." You looked behind you and saw the girl move deeper into the crowd. "My name ... on the datapad?"
The guy you spoke to leaned his pointed ear near your mouth. "Huh?"
You held his shoulder with your free hand to stabilise yourself. You felt his hand hold your waist, holding you steady. "My name! What did she need my name for?" The slur in your words remained but it seemed you spoke clear enough.
He spoke next to your ear, "a draw! You might picked!" His three fingered hand tightened on your waist encouragingly. You nod, trying to think. Things were blurry. Thinking's hard.
"For what?"
He leaned his ear to you again, eliciting a frustrated groan in your throat.
You asked again. "For what? The draw! What is it for?"
He leaned back after hearing you. "Oh!" He paused. "No idea!" He stood to his regular height and let his hand fall from your waist before facing the others he was talking to beforehand.
Thinking it couldn't be something horrible, hopefully, you left it, allowing yourself to dive back into the party and finishing your drink.
There may be a small chance of you getting picked for whatever the draw was for, but there was probably at least one hundred creatures attending this party. Inside the building, or lingering outside, or every on the roof.
How many people were picked? Did everyone eventually get a turn? A turn for what?
Yeah, thinking is hard.
The thought of potentially having your name chosen quickly left your mind once another drink found your lips.
The songs continued and the lights seemed to get even brighter.
You danced with new friends and some familiar faces, while also rejecting a couple guys' offers to find a 'quieter spot' to hang out.
Time flew by. You guessed an hour, but you couldn't be certain.
A hand grabbed your wrist, hastily pulling you off the dance floor you had found yourself comfortable on. You forced your eyes to focus on the same girl from before, now pulling you to who knows where.
It happened so fast, making your head spin. Your drink was taken from you -- what the fuck, give it back -- and the girl's three other hands pushed you through an open door into a dark room, possibly the only room in this place without LEDs and a disco ball.
The music became muffled and your eyes were fuzzy, even in this pitch black room. Your hand draped passed the doorknob. Locked.
You reached around for a light switch. Were you dumb? Where was it?
The alcohol effected your senses, but you were well-aware that being in this particular situation wasn't the safest option during this current night.
"You have seven minutes!" The girls voiced yelled from the other side of the door.
Your eyes narrowed. "Seven...? What...?" You exhaled with a slight sway. Choosing to lean against the wall behind you helped a little.
"Might wanna sit down, doll." A gruff voice slurred from below you. "Don't want you fallin' on me."
Your eyes wandered blindly around the small room. "Rocket?" Your eyes looked around your feet, as if you could see anything through the pitch black. "Why is the door locked?"
Your back slid down the wall while feeling a small hand on the side of your calf, like he was letting you know where he was sitting so you didn't kick him as your legs sprawled out in front of you.
Or he was subconsciously making sure you didn't fall.
But that was just a theory.
You didn't spot his shrug, a reply to your previous question. "Some chick pushed me in here before fetchin' you. Ain't been here long."
From where his voice came from, you guess he was sitting across from you. You brought your legs close and crossed them. Only then did Rocket let his hand fall back into his lap.
"You haven't tried unlocking the door?" You asked. "I thought you were like... a master at machines, or something."
"I am." Not a single beat was missed. "That's a doorknob."
"Didn't think a lock on a wooden door would be harder to crack than the Kyln."
"I wasn't drunk when I was in the Kyln." He looked around the closet, still surrounded by darkness. The music pulsed from outside the room as it seeped through the gaps around the door. "And the lights were on."
"We can't even turn the lights on?" Your hand felt around the wall beside you.
"The switch is on the outside."
"Of course it is."
A slightly awkward silence took over the small room as only the sounds of your legs crossing could be heard. Your knees almost grazed Rocket's by how limited the space around you was. Through the muffled music, you could hear his breathing. It was heavy. Just a bit. Probably from the alcohol. You noticed your breathing was similar.
"So," you began. "Why are we in here?" You shuffled to get slightly more comfortable, relaxing in your spot on the floor as best you could.
"You gave your name to that four-armed girl, right? The one that pushed you in here?" He asked, like he was building up to a point.
You nod your head then quickly answered, remembering he couldn't see you. "Uh, yeah. I didn't know what it was for, though."
"Smart move. Giving out personal information to strangers." You could practically hear him hide a smile.
You threw your hands up into the air. "Sorry I was being nice. Didn't know I was being put into a fucking raffle." You narrowed your eyes at him. At least, you thought you were looking at him. Were you glaring at the wall? "Why'd you put your name in if you didn't know what it was for?"
"Unlike you, I asked what it was for, and I said no. Drax thought it would be funny giving her my name. She left before I could say anything."
You nodded again. Rocket's explanation made sense. It didn't need a vocal response. Although, you still needed to know why you were locked in a damn closet.
"What did she say? The girl, I mean."
"Some shit Quill taught a bunch of people. Some Terran thing. Two people, locked in a room, kinda weird, if you ask me." You could hear Rocket fiddle with his nails. You recognised the tiny clicks. It was a little action, something he did during a moment of peace and possible need for distraction. "Some freaky stuff happens. I wasn't interested."
"Not gonna lie, I thought you would be." You shrugged. Your attention went to your own nails, focusing on the feeling rather than what you could see.
"Why?"
"I don't know." Another shrug. "You seem like that kind of guy." Your hands paused. "No offence."
"Thanks." His sarcasm dripped from his mouth. You swore you could almost see the light from the cracks in the door shine against his exposed canines. "I didn't care for it. I already got my eye on someone."
Your hands froze and your eyes snapped fully open to look at him. You've never been so grateful to be in pitch black, unable to see and unable to be seen.
Rocket liked someone. And it wasn't you. Because if it was, he would've told you, wouldn't he? You would've seen it, right? Sure, he was nice to you... ish. He let you borrow his tools, he helped you out, occasionally. But for him to like someone else? You wouldn't lie, it stung. You didn't think it would, but it did. It hurt.
"I saw you lookin' at someone too." His voice went low.
You tried to look at him with your eyebrows furrowed to show your true confusion, hoping he could see. Even if the light was on, he wasn't looking at you. He instead stared down at his freshly clipped and filed, blunt nails.
"Who?"
"You seemed pretty comfortable with his hand on your waist."
You thought back to that brief interaction. It had lasted mere seconds and you didn't even get his name.
"He seemed pretty comfortable too."
"Rocket, what are you getting at?"
Why did he care? Had he been watching you? You didn't even know he was at this party up until this point.
Expecting a smug answer, you remained silent, waiting for him to continue poking fun at the innocent encounter he coincidentally witnessed.
"Nothing. Doesn't matter." His words seemed extra slurred when he mumbled his reply.
Deciding not to pry, you leaned back against the wall and turned your attention back onto your nails. Silence overtook the room once again, a little more awkward than before.
Seven minutes. You had definitely been stuck in this closet for more than seven minutes. Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to try to leave. Or better yet, want to leave.
"So, who is it?" You thought making conversation again might ease the tension.
Rocket didn't reply but his ears stood up. His silence convinced you to continue.
"The girl you got your eye on. Or guy, I don't judge." You raised your hands in surrender. Your ears caught his light snicker. That was good, right?
"Well... she's a real piece of work. Stubborn little shit."
"You two must get along great."
He laughed a little louder. That was definitely a good sign. But that's just what you assumed. You could never be too sure with him.
"Yeah. We do."
He shuffled in his spot to let his legs relax in front of him. You could feel his warmth next to your crossed legs, pulling them tighter, if that was even possible. You weren't sure you liked the familiar hot sensation between your thighs, worried that even he could sense it.
You weren't even sure you liked having a thing for the drunk creature in front of you. It was confusing and annoying and almost impossible to understand.
You wanted his lips on yours, you always did. The way technology was second nature to him, allowing him to create anything from anything in minutes, sometimes without even looking.
Oh, how you would love for him to use those hands on you however he wanted. To have you gasping, begging, thighs open, pleading for more, or less, or to just keep fucking going.
But he wouldn't do that with you. Not when he was doing it with someone else.
And, unfortunately, that’s all you could think about.
"You feelin' alright?"
Rocket's voice caught you, bringing you back to the dark room you had been locked in for definitely more than seven minutes. "Started to sway there."
You leaned your back against the wall, stablising yourself while letting your eyes focus back on whatever was in front of you, thinking it would be Rocket. Yet, when you truly did focus, his presence was beside you, his hand on your thigh.
How long were you thinking about him fucking you? When did he move next to you? Fuck, you were out of it.
You weren't on the floor with alcohol poisoning.
You weren't doing dumb shit from how drunk you were. Or were you?
"Yeah, I'm fine."
So out of it, all because you wanted him so, so bad.
"Do I make you uncomfortable or something?" His grip on your thigh loosened.
"No!" You replied a bit too quickly, your instinct being to quickly place your own hand on his, keeping it on your thigh.
With a pause, you would've both looked into his eyes and avoided his gaze, if it wasn't for the surrounding darkness stopping you from doing both. You felt your hand stay on top of his for longer than necessary, so you removed it as soon as the doubt entered your mind.
"No, you don't make me uncomfortable."
You had prepared for the small weight to leave your thigh, to leave that spot in particular, cold. But it didn't. His hand not only stayed, it went further. Just a bit further to your inner thigh, closer to your knee than you core, technically.
"You sure?"
You weren't sure how to respond. Not with words, at least. What would you say? What words would you use to communicate the feelings that you hadn't even understood yet. It was painful, pitiful in your eyes. Especially when your body answered his question for you. Your hips being the first to move on their own. Not by much, just an inch or two, shuffling forward the tiniest distance, almost trying to pull his hand closer.
The shuffle made his hand slide up your thigh by, again, just an inch or two. By accident or intention, his or yours, his hand had moved.
But that was all it did. Due to the lack of response, you wondered if this subtle movement had been too much.
Too much for him.
Rocket was never the biggest fan of physical contact. You didn't even need him, or anyone else, to tell you that. It was plainly obvious with the way he kept his distance from others in many ways more than one; swatted hands that came too close to his head, and even the way he'd slam the door when entering a room by himself.
Rocket didn't like physical contact.
So why had his grip gotten tighter on your thigh?
"Rocket-"
"How you feelin'?" He asked.
Not what you thought he'd ask.
"What?"
"You're zoning out, and if you're gonna throw up, I'd like to know so I can move."
That earned a small chuckle from you, lightening the mood of the small closet.
"No, I'm not gonna throw up. Thank you."
You could almost sense him nod, along with his hand placing two pats on your thigh to acknowledge your answer.
The muffled music sounded clearer, and your head wasn't spinning nearly as much as it was when you were first shoved into the room. Your eyes seemed to have adjusted to the darkness, now able to make out the outlines of the clothes hanging up and the boxes sitting on the floor.
And the more you thought about it, Rocket's voice seemed less slurred too. Perhaps he was sobering up at the same pace you were.
"Sorry."
His hand was now closer to the middle of your thigh rather than the side of your knee. With your leg slightly bent, thinking his hand would leave but it only brought him closer.
Whether it was on purpose, or he was blind to the tension, his thumb brushed soothingly over your clothes.
"For what?"
You couldn't think of a single thing that he needed to apologise for. At least, not to you. Not right now.
"For bringing up that guy. And how he was holding your waist. S'none of my business."
You had honestly forgotten about that. You had forgotten about everything, really. The warmth of his hand was the only thing you were focusing on. So for him to apologise for something so miniscule, something that had left your mind a short while ago, to know that it hadn't left his mind...
"It's okay. I didn't think much of it. Plus, I think he was just making sure I didn't fall."
Another nod came from him as a response. A silent nod. A painfully stoic, still nod. You weren't sure how much more silence you could take. How much longer of this you could endure. Why couldn't his hand on your thigh go any lower? Why did he have to be with that girl that he mentioned a short while ago? The one you knew nothing about, other than how fucking stubborn she apparently was.
Why couldn't he be doing whatever he does with her ... with you?
"Can I kiss you?"
Fuck. Fuck, wait-
The words fell from your mouth the moment you thought of the question. You weren't meant to ask it out loud. Shit, you weren't even meant to be thinking about him in that way at all, especially not when he had a girl.
You didn't even know her name and you despised her. That's kind of petty, isn't it?
Despite the beats of the music from the other side of the door, the closet got eerily quiet. Not even a few seconds had passed before you regretted asking your question, even if it wasn't on purpose.
His hand was still on your thigh. That's good, right?
His right hand, on your left thigh, still resting yet his grip was slightly tense, but his thumb had stopped brushing against you.
You wanted to leave. You wanted this stupid fucking door to be swung open so you could leave and pretend you didn't just embarrass yourself by asking some dumb fuck question that you knew would be answered with a flat out 'no'.
You hear an inhale. It was quick, and so very quiet, it was impressive that you had caught it.
A slight shuffle, and his hand is gone. Cool air replaced the previous warmth and your breath hitched as you worried if you had ruined, what seemed to be, a pretty decent conversation you were having with your friend.
You look down. Somehow, you could make out the floor and your legs in front of you. Though, only the outlines.
A small hand held your face, the right side on your face, bringing your attention forward.
His lips were soft. Much softer than you thought they'd be. How could lips this soft make daily comments so vulgar?
With furrowed brows and closed eyes, his lips were on yours, placing a gentle kiss without much movement. At the slightest sign of you melting against him, he exhaled through his nose and his thumb began brushing against your skin once again, just below your eye with a careful instinct to not scratch you.
Even when his nails were blunt, just like they were then, you knew he could.
On one knee and one foot, Rocket was your height. Your hands slowly made their way to hold his face. Your fingers relaxed against his soft fur when you felt his tongue graze your lips, a silent wish for more than just some measly peck. Your lips parting for him and your hands pulling him closer as his tongue connected with yours, eliciting a soft sigh from your mouth onto his.
His right hand reached your waist as his body attracted to yours by instinct. Your back leaned against the wall as Rocket shifted himself to gain easier access to your lips.
With one of your hands still holding his face, the other travelled to his neck and squeezed him tenderly and slow. He sighed against you, releasing a low groan as his arm wrapped further around your waist.
"Fuck yeah, you can kiss me."
You felt his words and his smile against your lips, sending waves through your body as you arched your back in an attempt to feel more of him.
The kiss only got more fervent as you actually engaged in the silly Terran game you were originally in here for. The taste of him was something you wanted for so long. Every time you hung out with him, every time he explained a weapon or part of the ship to you, you just wanted him.
Wanted him to keep talking to you. Wanted him to keep paying attention to you. It seemed immature at times, but you couldn't help it.
You liked him. And that's that.
"Why did you take so long, princess?" His lips now trailed your jaw.
"What do you ..." Your head tilted back, exposing more of your skin.
"I was close to just kissing you myself if you didn't end up asking me."
You shuddered at his breath, the grazing of his teeth against your neck as his warm pecks grew passionate.
"I didn't think ... I thought you didn't want to."
"Was my hand on your thigh the whole time not enough of a hint?"
His arms circled your waist as you felt more of his body press against you. You shuffled forward feeling the building warmth build between your thighs again.
"And don't think I didn't notice that little trick before. I almost broke right then and there when your hips moved up."
"So why didn't you?"
His lips stopped before he pulled back and studied your expression as best he could, using whatever light peered through the cracks of the door.
You looked at him confused, almost longingly, for a serious answer as to why he also kept you waiting so long.
"I wanted to make sure I wasn't dreamin'."
You stared at him and all you sensed was the truth. You felt his radiating vulnerability, something you rarely, if ever, spotted Rocket displaying.
"Well you're not dreaming ..."
Your reply surprised yourself almost as much as it surprised him. Your hands cradled his face, your thumb now brushing his fur peacefully. He leaned only an inch closer.
"You sure?"
He remained still, waiting.
"I promise."
That's all it took for him to bring his lips back to yours. Parting and reconnecting over and over, the sounds of tongues and mixed saliva would disturb others, but it was like a fucking song to you.
His hands eagerly lowered to your waistband as yours gripped his shirt, tugging to both take it off and pull him impossibly closer.
"You have no idea how long I put up with this fucking feeling, having to wait so long ..." Your voice was breathless.
"I got some idea." His knuckles brushed against your stomach. "I've been waiting since day fucking one, princess."
The jingling of keys broke through everything around you before multi-coloured lights filled the tiny closet. You squinted your eyes while your hand provided an extra shield from the blearing LEDs as the music became clear and the voices of others bounced off the walls and through your ears.
"I totally forgot about you two!" A girl, the one you met before with four arms, looked down with beady purple eyes from where she stood in the doorway, datapad in hand. "That was way more than seven minutes, fuck, sorry guys!"
Rocket's hands left you, but he stayed in his spot beside your seated form.
"All good ..." You assured with a twinge of confusion from her sudden appearance, almost forgetting that you had actually been locked in the small room.
"Yeah, we're good." Rocket pat your thigh twice. It was different now that you could actually see him. His eyes on the girl, his hand on your thigh, it was almost like a reality check.
A really good reality check.
As you stood more stable than before, Rocket's eyes tracked your movements the same way he did when you first sat down.
You left the closet, fixing yourself on the way towards the front door.
"Wanna come back to my place?" Rocket's voice was clearer now, speaking from behind you.
Standing outside the vibrant building, surrounded by fresh air brought a near level of sobriety to both of you.
You thought over his offer, obviously wanting nothing more. But guilt stopped you like a punch to the face.
"What about your girl?"
You eyed him. Perhaps you could finally get the name of the girl Rocket just cheated on with you. But his face showed only a brief pause. He looked over you, observing your shivering hands that you unwillingly clenched into fists, and your pleading eyes that were begging for many more answers than one.
"Baby, I was talkin' about you."
You fists weakened and your lips parted. No gasp from you was needed, and your body only showed minor signs that you didn't know what to believe. But you could actually see now. You weren't in that dark closet anymore, and you could see he was genuine.
"That whole time, I was talkin' about you. And I didn't lie. We do get along, and you are a stubborn little shit." The smile he wore looked good on him. "And I'm askin' you; do you want to come back to my place?"
He stood beside you, waiting for your decision to follow, or to leave.
You knew what you wanted.
Fucking hell, you knew exactly what you wanted. You had wanted it for a long fucking time. This douchebag that was snappy to everyone, but the tiniest bit less snappy to you. All the little things he did in your favour made you want him in an embarrassingly large amount of ways.
And this whole time, he wanted the exact same thing.
You replied with your own smile, matching his, "yeah. I do."
- A bit of a showcase to Moon's Gravity abilities (drawin' people upsidedown is hard oof) also Rocket's outfit is from his 2016 Comic called "Grounded" (basically if Rocket was stuck on earth) highly recommend reading it! It's so damn funny!
Also @raccoonfallsharder did an x reader fanfiction based on the comic called "The Very boring Adventures of Space Pilot And Sweatshirt Girl" And it's so fucking good like I seriously recommend!!
Lemme know if y'all want me to explain Moon's character, personality and backstory more! <3
Witch please @thoughtfulcopzonkpie - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
