bring-us-the-girl asked:

Yeah, but Jean didn't die during an event that most likely ends with the recreation of a completely new multiverse. I doubt any death in Secret Wars is permanent. I mean, all the 616 heroes not on the life raft are also most likely "dead"

i get wut ur saying and i agree but then u brought up reed’s life raft and now im lmao bc can we talk about the people reed brought with him

he chose them bc they’re either close friends and family or they’re super powerful and could probs kick ur ass just by lookin at u

but then there’s peter quill and he’s none of those things and he barely knows any of these ppl and

he’s so uncomfortable with every1 and the entire situation that all he does is make jokes

Dirty Dancing: Peter Quill x Reader Smut

Dirty Dancing

Request for owenslilecho. Written to the following tracks from the ‘Star Lord Love Songs’ playlist: Come and Get Your Love (Redbone), Crazy In Love (Beyonce), Yayo (Lana del Rey).

Redbone’s ‘Come And Get Your Love’ blared through the ship, courtesy of the new sound system (and iPod) you had convinced Peter to allow you to install. The song was a little too ‘old school’ for you, but you liked it anyway.

You were dancing with Peter Quill. It had started out as silly fun after a drink or two – you’d started metres away from each other, and then ended up dancing together.

You weren’t exactly dancing in what your mother would have called a ‘civilised’ manner, either. In fact, you were pretty sure she would disown you if she could see you. You were practically grinding your butt against his crotch, his hands wandering.

He turned you around, passing it off as a little spin. You looped your arms around his neck, continuing to sway to the music.

If you were reading this situation right, you were pretty certain that the tension in the room could be cut with a knife.

“You have a very nice face,” you informed Peter.

“Thanks,” he replied, “but I think it would look nicer between your thighs.”

You choked.

“Y-you… what?”

“You heard me.” he smirked.

“Real smooth, Quill.” You rolled your eyes, “is that how you normally get a girl into bed?”

“Well… sometimes. Though, to be honest, I have absolutely no intention of making it to my bed.” He winked at you.

Oh, lord. You knew where this was going to go, and the idea excited you. After weeks of subtle flirtation and dirty remarks, you were finally going to cave in.

“The floor doesn’t exactly look comfortable, though,” you say, playing coy.

“I really wasn’t thinking about the floor,” Peter informs you, and before you can form a decent reply, he has you against the wall. As your back hits the wall, the song ends, changing to one of your more ‘modern’ songs.

“Gotcha.” Peter says in a low voice before his mouth meets yours. The kiss is passionate – deep, hungry, and sensual. His tongue dances with yours, seeking dominance.

One of his hands pins your wrists above your head, the other roams your body, finally gripping your waist.

His lips leave yours; he leaves a trail of kisses and little bites down your neck, nipping at your collarbone. He releases your wrists and unbuttons your blouse.

You gasp as he leaves tiny lovebites on your breasts, licking and sucking your nipples. You arch your back into him, sighing his name.

His mouth returns to yours as he yanks your panties down, leaving your skirt on.

The kiss becomes sloppy and uncoordinated as he unbuttons his pants and pulls out his cock. You reach down to touch him, entirely unsurprised that he’s just as big as he’s claimed to be.

How the hell is that going to fit inside me? You wonder briefly.

That thought vanishes when his fingers slowly begin to work their magic on your clit, then inside you. You begin to tremble as he works you closer and closer to your climax.

Just as you get close, though, he removes his fingers.

You let out a little whine of disappointment, which is replaced with a drawn out moan as he slides into you slowly, so as not to hurt you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you.

He starts out slow at first, gentle, shallow thrusts that still manage to be unbearably sensual and pleasurable, especially when combined with the little kisses he plants up your neck.

“Oh, god, Peter…” you whimper, “that feels so good…”

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he murmurs in your ear.

“I want you to fuck me…” you say.



“I can’t hear you…” he teases.

Harder, Peter… fuck me harder!” You moan, and he complies, thrusting deeper and harder.

Your nails rake up his back, under his shirt, and the room is filled with your little moans and gasps, almost loud enough to hear over the music.

You are so fucking beautiful,” Peter groans in your ear as you reach your climax.

You moan his name as you reach your high, trembling as you ride it out.

He continues to pound into you until you feel his whole body tense, feel his cock twitch inside you.

“Cum for me, Peter,” you whisper into his ear, stroking his sweat-slicked hair and kissing his neck.

He does; it’s a beautiful sight. He groans and curses and you’re filled with the warmth of his release.

Fuck.” He groans as he carries you to the couch.

You both collapse onto it, still tangled in each other’s arms.

“Well,” he says after he’s caught his breath, “I suppose now’s a good time as any to ask if you wanted to go get some dinner later?”

“Like a date?”

Exactly like a date.”

You smile.

“I’d love to.”


“You gotta know it. It’s electric boogie woogie, woogie.” Peter sang as he was dancing to an unfamiliar song in his room. He was completely immersed into it that he barely saw you leaning on the door and watching him.

“What….are you doing?” you asked, so fixated on his repetitive movement . Peter has danced in front of you many times. You’ve seen it all the modern, the groovy, and the down right embarrassing, but this was…intriguing.

“Never heard of the Electric Slide before?” He asked.

“The what?”

“Electric Slide? Marcia Griffiths?1976? It’s a huge hit at parties.” All you did was shake your head, not having a single clue at what he was hinting at. ”All right. Come here.” He turned the music back on and dragged you to the center of the room.

“Look just go along with the rhythm okay? Now, side-step right tap, side-step left tap, three steps back tap, forward tap, backward tap, and turn.” he said.”See? Nothing to it.” You started to grin, as you got the hang of the dance. Peter was right, this dance was a hit, it was honestly quite addictive. You didn’t think you could stop. 

“Thank you music guru for enlightening my mind once again.” you said as you headed back to the control center to make sure Rocket wasn’t up to some funny business. Who know maybe he’s learn to lighten up if he tried the dance. “Hey Rocket!” you yelled

“NO. I’m not doing the stupid dance Quill taught you. NO!”

Cold Shoulder (Star Lord Reader Insert)

Anon Request: yeah yeah i know hot guys with domestic pets are hot and cute at tHE SAME TIME ITS PATHetic but what about a really fluff fic about you giving peter the cold shoulder and he decided to get your attention so that you’ll talk to him by mimicking your actions idk thats pretty cute

Words: 577

Warnings: none

this is a short lil fluff fic and I’m sorry that this is so bad because I’m no good at the sweet stuff ya know what I mean??? 


“(Y/N), c’mon, I already said I was sorry!” Peter whined. You ignored him, continuing to sit on your bed and clean your gun. “I’m not going to leave until you talk to me.”

Beforehand, you and Peter had gotten into an argument about something that, quite frankly, you didn’t even remember. So, because Peter Quill was the biggest baby in the galaxy, tore up your favorite book. Pages splayed across the ship’s floor and, in response, you slapped him in the face. He stormed off into the cabin, you stormed back to your bunk.

Even though he was your boyfriend and you loved him a lot, he could manage to piss you the hell off.

An hour or so later, he came out, acting as if nothing had ever happened. He was being all sweet and cool, blasting his music to which only fueled your anger. However, when you weren’t giving in to his angelic attitude, the sad excuses for apologies started coming.

So now, back in present time, you ignored his words, his annoying poking, and focused on cleaning and organizing you weapons. To be honest, it was the only thing keeping you from punching him in the face.

“(Y/N).” No reply. “(Y/N).” Nothing. Blocking him out was gradually becoming more easy… until he plopped down on your bed next to you, took your gun out of your hand, and started cleaning it himself. You knew what he was trying to do, so you went for it without a word. He pulled it back, out of your reach.

You gave in. “Peter, give it back.”

“Peter, give it back,” he mimicked, his voice going so high you almost laughed.

“I don’t sound like that. Now give it back!”

I don’t sound like that. Now give it back!

You sighed, rolling your eyes and running your fingers through your hair. He copied your movements, flipping his imaginary long hair and smacking his lips together, letting out a much more bigger, dramatic sigh than your own. God, he sometimes he was such a bother.

“Enough already, Quill, c’mon,” you whined, reaching for it once more. He pushed the gun away and, again, he copied your words but didn’t follow.

“Fine, whatever,” you groaned, getting up to leave. However, he snaked his arms around your waist and you were pulled down into a seated position in his lap. “Let go of me!”

Let go of me!” he girlishly shrieked. Peter then started tickling your side with one hand, while holding you steady with the other.

“Stop it!” you giggled uncontrollably.

Stop it!” he went. “Say you’ll talk to me and I will.”

“Never,” you barely got out through your gasps for air. He went to tickle your other side and you couldn’t take it anymore. “Okay! Okay! I’ll talk to you!”

“You will?”

“Yes!” you squeaked.


“Yes! Peter, please!” you begged, tears forming in the of the corners of your eyes. He stopped, but held you in his lap still. You exhaled, still laughing a little.

“I’m sorry about your book, okay? I swear, I’ll get you another one,” Peter reassured, leaving a little kiss on the nape of your neck.

“You better, or else I won’t be talking to you for a while,” you warned while kissing him back on the cheek. Truthfully, you couldn’t stay mad at him for long.

“Then I’ll just do this,” he replied nonchalantly, just before tickling you again.