A Question About Fornication Is Asked. Confusion Is The Result.

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Rocket: Makin’ my way downtown.

Rocket: Walking fast.

High Evolutionary: 89P13!

Rocket: Walking faster.

Dark, dangerous, and heartbreaking. This chapter might unlock new kinks and destroy you emotionally. Beautifully written, this chapter will haunt your dreams.

꧁･:☁︎⋆. cicatrix .⋆☁︎:･꧂ chapter two. ambedo. [new 3/4] ❤︎❤︎

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 2/25 | wip | word count: pending.

the monster makes his intentions known. wyndham’s bride proposes an addendum. DARK chapter. see below for warnings & notes.

No matter how she twists and stretches on the floor, she can’t get her hands on the once-raccoon digging his knee into her spine. Anything that might have reached him is batted away easily. Thunder groans, and her captor chuckles behind her. The sound is dark and broken like gravel, and far more dangerous than the storm outside. His claws let go of her ruined chignon for just a second and she scrambles to her knees, still twisted and trapped in silk like a net-tangled butterfly.  He snickers, and his fingers clamp like a vice on her ankle, bruising and prickling even through the diaphanous layers of fabric. He jerks her toward him with such force that she sprawls again, the air slamming out of her lungs as the momentum sends her skidding her back to him and beneath him, dress sliding on the polished wood floor as he hauls her under his wide-spread legs. There’s the renewed skitter of pearls across the floor, and before she can draw a breath, he flips her — easily — onto her back. Her lungs are slammed against the ground, airless all over again. Her ribs strain. “Nuh-uh, pretty pearl.” He laughs down at her, teeth and eyes all bright and sharp in the darkness.  “W-wait,” she tries again, but he’s already dropping to his knees and straddling her torso, knees squeezing in on her ribs so hard that she can feel them creak. He’s so warm, though — a furnace — and heat radiates from his thighs and groin where they press snugly against the underside of her breasts. The part of her that aches for warmth and for touch batters against her weary survival instincts, willing to put up with the pain and the threat of imminent death if it means lying beneath him for the next few minutes. Then she remembers that he needs to leave and she thrashes against him frantically, but it’s too late. His clawed fingers are circling her neck and they tighten, claws sinking in at her nape. His tail lashes behind him: a dark plume, painting the shadows. She flies her fingers to his wrists, trying to peel his grip away even as bright spots swim back into her eyes like little supernovas and moons. Her hips buck beneath him instinctively, wriggling, lips parted and bloody and begging for air. Tears burn in her eyes, streaming into now-loose curls at her temples, and she kicks and tugs helplessly as the hands that shouldn’t be this strong, but are. There’s another skeletal flare of lightning, and she can see him again: narrow, scorching red eyes, teeth bared and gleaming, all scars and wet fur. Metal flashes in the electric light. Horrifying, yes. Not in and of himself, of course — but what it all means. All the pieces that had come together the moment he’d entered the little halo of golden candlelight.  Herbert had kept her in the dark, but now she knows.  Now she knows. And her thudding, panicked heart is broken.

read chapter two. ambedo. on ao3 :･꧂

WARNINGS: arguably one of the darkest chapters. things will get better before the chapter’s end. dubcon (wyndham’s bride is very into it but there’s definitely an argument for coercion here), lots of non-affectionate degradation and name-calling (slut, whore, etc), bad dom/sub dynamics, choking, hair pulling, pussy slapping, spanking, overstimulation. single, brief threat of mutilation. use of claws. continued references to non-sexual child abuse and grooming. animal/pet death. canon-typical violence.

sorry babes, this chapter is mostly a direct pull from the og oneshot. it's also almost twice as long as a normal chapter because i couldn't find a good place to cut it. but i hope you enjoy anyway?? enjoy seems like a weird word but yeah

꧁･:☁︎⋆. masterlist, notes, & moodboard .⋆☁︎ :･꧂

some explicit statements or references ✩ abbreviated explicit sequences ❤︎ detailed/prolonged explicit sequences ❤︎❤︎

Amen and preach on.

I say this every time I argue for raising the minimum wage. I never hear anyone else say it and I’m glad I found this.

If you build your business and your bonus on the backs of others who you don’t pay a living wage you don’t deserve to be in business.

Ya’ll… read this filthy perfect fucking fic. ⚡️⚡️⚡️🎆🎇🎆🎇 I give this a 5/5 ⭐️s and a spicy rating of 3.5/5 🌶️ s. Like if Masterpiece Theater did porn. 👏 👏 👏

᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊°.⋆｡✶˖ the bounty ⌖˖✶｡⋆ part two of evasive maneuvers ✶ book two of kinktober 2024

evasive maneuvers | kinktober 2024 | navigation | fanfiction 18+ only | no use of y/n | f!reader | 2 parts | word count: pending. read part two ✶ the bounty now ⌖˖✶｡⋆

a bird in the hand... WARNINGS: dom/sub vibes, restraints & bondage, continued dirty talk, use of a cloth gag, gunplay, electricity play, forced orgasms, overstim, fantasies of dubcon/noncon, dacryphilia, tech/sex toys, nipple & clit clamps, painplay, subspace, aftercare, biting/marking.

“Little birdie.” The words are soft — admiring. “Such a sweet thing for me.”  The praise melts through you: a second wave of heat on the heels of the first one, though this is softer and more syrupy — silvery-sweet. When he coasts a light fingertip over the line of your cheek, you lean into his hand — nudging into the curve of his palm, grateful for the soothing warm balm of his approval. His hand lingers even as he lifts himself from your torso, fingers coasting along your jaw as he steps to one side and then moves down between your thighs. He holsters the modified electroshock baton into a loop at his hip, and gently pries your knees apart. The way you’re tied makes it impossible to resist him — not that you have much will to do so, anyway.  “It’s one of the things I thought you’d promise me, when I was imagining catching you in Xandar — that you’d be so good for me. That you’d do whatever I frickin’ told you, with your big weepy doe-eyes.”

The baton crackles blue, casting him in a silvery halo — hovering just an inch over the soft curve of your belly. The metal wand doesn’t even touch your skin — just ghosts lightly through the air over your flesh — and the electricity still sings through you, contracting every muscle, sending your abdominals into wrenching, clenching spasms — sending your pussy into wet spasms, too. Your teeth grit into the fabric stuffed in your mouth, and when the baton lifts from your skin, you find yourself sucking on the cloth: whines crowding up your throat, tears cluttering up your lashes.  Your hips roll toward him without your permission. Rocket just grins, of course. You can see the moon-white flash of his teeth through the blur of your lashes. He’s still got the baton grasped in one hand as he spreads your knees wider, skating the other palm through the slipperiness between your thighs.  “Yeah, sweetheart, I knew you’d like a little shock or two. You’re such a sloppy mess down here. And look at that clit, all cute and twitchy.” His grip tilts, and the baton taps just below your belly button. Your body snaps into a bridge, every nerve careening wildly, pussy fluttering madly. Then the electricity leaves and you’re melting into the mattress, shuddering and shivering with waves of heat and cold. Your tits tremble with each breath, clamped nipples pulsing heat with every thud of your heartbeat.  “Good girl,” he croons, and you watch with a wide wet stare as his baton dips lower, the rounded tip dropping just beyond your range of vision. “Eyes up here, buttercup,” he croons, and your gaze snaps to his burning stare. 

read part two ✶ the bounty now ⌖˖✶｡⋆ evasive maneuvers | kinktober 2024 | navigation | fanfiction masterlist

gray support/mdni banners by @/saradika-graphics | silver sparkle divider by @/strangergraphics

So fucking hyped for every single word. #reading goals list.

future projects.

november 2024 onward

part one | main masterlist

below you can find the stuff i am working on, in order of (hopeful) release date. i have a lot of simultaneous projects so these will be coming out slowly over the coming months. thank you for bearing with me ♡♡ you are better than bonfires and s'mores and fireflies.

november 2024

untitled Domestic Scenes in Space Travel finale. 18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n | f!reader | length pending | word count: pending. The Nineteenth & Twentieth Visits. Series Finale. based on Guardians of the Galaxy (2019).

unnamed cozy autumn oneshot tbd | rocket x tbd | ?? | word count: pending. tbd

december 2024

borealis additions tbd | rocket x tbd | ?? | word count: pending. tbd

january 2025

★♫｡°𝄞☕︎✎▤ other duties as assigned▤✎☕︎ 𝄞°｡♫★ 18+ only | rocket x f!oc | ?? | word count: pending. natasha romanoff is an administrative nightmare - a fact that does not go unnoticed by the (interim) captain of the milano. First she demands that the remaining two guardians of the galaxy be reachable via a primitive terran messaging system, and then she can't be bothered to read the frickin' emails. thank fuck she's hired a new assistant. mcu-based, slight au, begins five months post-snap; rocket x oc email romance/LDR (lol); slow burn + probable smut with feelings.

february 2025

love is blind: andromeda 18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 5 parts | word count: pending. rocket has broken out of twenty-three prisons. this one will be no different. slow burn + probable smut with feelings. mcu/comic medley (kinda au?)

earlier future projects...

part one | main masterlist

all support/mdni banners by @/saradika-graphics star fairylights & cottagecore dividers by @/saradika-graphics lip & strawberry dividers by @/saradika-graphics cocoa mug & leaf garland dividers by @/thecutestgrotto tree dividers by @/strangergraphics

Beautiful and sweet.

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip. part one. prepare for departure.

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip masterlist previous part | next part [est may 21] | main masterlist

angst, comfort, friendship, & fluff for @hibatasblog rocket & wanda | part 1/6 | word count: 1371.

rocket gets a very-important mission from danvers and needs a partner to go with him. enter the witch.

It is a well-documented fact (I know you know) that in the comic books, many of the marvel ladies have a thing for Rocket Raccoon. How could they not? Eyes like red beryls and pyropes, teeth and wit both so sharp they can kill long before the perfectly-aimed gravity-blast. Intuition off the charts, not to mention the things they've heard he can do with that tail...

Alas, this is not the comics. This is the MCU, some time between 2018 and 2023.

And while everything else remains more or less the same, Wanda Maximoff was not turned into ash.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Rocket says, rolling his eyes.

Wanda isn’t sure what to call him. He looks like a raccoon, but insists that he isn’t one. Maybe he’s an alien. Maybe he’s something else. Either way, he’s rolling his eyes at Natasha, so hard that his whole head rolls with them.

“Look, I got a very important mission from Danvers, and Nebs is busy right now, working with Kraglin to make Knowhere a more hospitablistic place for Snap refugees. D’you wanna fuck over a bunch of Snap refugees, Nat?”

He crosses his arms and raises a brow up at the new leader-apparent of the Avengers. If Wanda hadn’t felt so — nothing at all, actually — she might have let a smirk curl the corner of her mouth. He’s kind of a brat, and he knows how to get under peoples’ skin. When she’d been a child, she would have found that entertaining. Endearing. She supposes she’d used to have a soft spot for scrappy survivors. Then she’d had to stop having a soft spot for anything but her brother.

Then —

“Goddammit, Rocket. Go to Washington, then. I don’t care. But we still need the Benatar.”

His challenging look turns into a glower. “Fuck off, Nat. What am I supposed to do, then? Drive your frickin’ car?”

Natasha flaps a hand at him distractedly from behind her desk. “Yes, that’s fine, take the car—”

The look he gives her is withering. “I can’t reach the fuckin’ pedals, Nat. So unless you’re giving me permission to take the whole inefficient machine apart an’ put it back together to suit my needs, you’re gonna have to—”

“I can’t spare anyone, Rocket,” the Russian snaps.

“And I can’t be alone right now,” he snaps right back. Wanda’s eyes flick back and forth between them. 

Natasha grits her teeth. “You said this was a mission from Carol?”

“Yes,” he hisses, tapping one booted foot impatiently. 

She closes her eyes and sighs heavily, leaning back in her chair and pressing her fingers into her temples. “Fine,” she says at last, drawing the word out — petulantly, Wanda thinks from a great distance. “Find someone who’s willing to go with you and I’ll tell you if I can spare them.”

Rocket doesn’t hesitate. Without moving anything but his arm, he’s brandishing a single dark claw in Wanda’s direction.

“I’ll take the witch.”

Five years earlier — in the first days after the Snap, before they’d left all their hope on 0259-S with Thanos’ headless body — everyone else had belonged to somebody. Cap and Nat had each other, and Nat had Banner and the arrow-guy. Rhodey had the rich guy who thought he was a genius, and the rich guy had that other redhead. Thor had maybe lost the most, but he had Banner too, and his buddies from Sakaar. The Dora Milaje had their whole sisterhood. Only Danvers might have been on her own — but as far as Rocket had been able to tell, Captain Marvel hadn’t seemed to have a lotta close ties she was mourning.

But Rocket — Rocket had nobody. 

Again.

Nobody except Gamora’s sister, whose name he’d kept forgetting.

Of course, there was the witch. 

Disproportionate number of redheads on this planet, he remembers thinking bemusedly.

He hadn’t been able to remember her name for a while either, but unlike everyone else on Terra, she’d seemed almost as alone as he was. And he hadn’t been able to help but watch her, his eyes slanting sideways to stare at her as she’d sat by herself across the room, hands anchored around upper arms. He couldn't make out the color of her eyes — they’d seemed impossibly dark, with rage or grief or something else, something haunted.  

Except for when they’d smouldered like furious banked fires. 

She’d never said a frickin’ word, either: face blank and beautiful as a statue’s. Her silence had felt more surreal than any other stupid thing he’d encountered in space, which he supposed was probably just because he’s spent the last four years with a family of weirdos who’d never seemed able to shut the fuck up. 

Still. He’d tilted his head when the other avengers had walked past her — watched as they’d seemed almost to forget she was even there. They’d barely talked to her, and once, when they’d been ordering lunch, they’d missed her entirely.

Uh — you didn’t ask the witch what she wants, Rocket had said to Nat awkwardly, and the assassin had blinked and her eyes had hunted the whole room before they’d finally focused on the other woman — like she hadn’t even known where her fellow-Avenger was. 

No. The witch had been an outcast. And Rocket has always known something about outcasts. His whole frickin’ family — both, some small part of his brain had tried to speak up before he could smother it; both families were made of the unwanted — his whole frickin’ family had been outcasts and misfits. It had made some part of Rocket’s heart suddenly stretch in his chest. It had reached with grasping fingers, trying to hang onto something he’d already known he’d lost.

Family.

The next day, Rocket had cleared his throat and told Gamora’s sister that he was gonna go starside to touch base with Kraglin on the Third Quadrant — to see if he still exists, he hadn’t said, but he’d been pretty sure the cyborg had picked it up. 

“You wanna come, Blue?” he’d asked — wincing when his nonchalance had been too thin to be believable. But the Luphomoid had inclined her head, eyes dark and steady. When that had been squared away — surprisingly a hell of a lot easier than he’d thought — he’d  shuffled to his feet, and headed to the bench outside the compound, where the witch had been sitting since sunrise.

He’d stood in her line of vision and stared at the sky too, shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, tail trying to tuck itself underneath him. It had probably been a full twenty minutes before he’d felt her eyes on him.

“I. Uh. I heard you lost your robot-boyfriend.” The words had been as clumsy as an orloni drunk on fermented Asgardian figs, but he’d been trying.

The witch’s eyes had flared, crimson-bright. “Robot?” she’d repeated dangerously.

Rocket’s ears had flicked back and he’d taken a step away, into the grass: hands extended, palms out.

“Hey, m’not trying to be a dick,” he’d protested. “I think I might be part-robot myself.” He’d stabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward the Benatar, where he could feel  his new blue companion staring holes in his back. “Gamora’s sister’s almost all-robot, too.” 

He could also feel the sister in question rolling her eyes. 

“M’just saying,” he’d muttered at both of them, hunching his shoulders and half-turning to kick a patch of grass. “Some of us are solo now.” He’d gestured at the cyborg again. “Might be good to stick together.” 

“I was used to being solo,” Nebs had pointed out, and Rocket had winced. “You’re the one who got attached.”

His ears had flattened. “Whatever,” he’d growled. “Just thought — whatever.” He’d spun again, kicking more grass, and muttered bitterly under his breath. “So much for trying to be the captain. So much for trying to look out for the damn strays.”

“You’re the stray,” Nebula had replied with a mutinous jut of her chin — and how the fuck had she heard him? That wasn’t standard Luphomoid hearing range. 

Rocket had cursed whatever aural implants Thanos had given her. 

Then the witch had made a strange sound behind him — a little huff of breath.  A disbelieving, agonized little shred of laughter.

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip masterlist previous part | next part [est may 21] | main masterlist

During a watch party for Avengers: Endgame on Twitter, Markus revealed the idea to team Wanda with the Guardian of the Galaxy captain actually made it into several versions of the film's script. "We had whole drafts with Wanda on a road trip with Rocket," Markus wrote, "but after the Vision plot in Infinity War, nothing we came up with was anything but wheel spinning for her character." CBR

#rocketraccoon #peterquill #petraquill #Entanglement

Ahhhhhh! Groot!

hailbound. .⋆☁︎:･꧂

[anticipated 5/24]

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 10/25+ | wip | wordcount: pending.

pearl adopts a stray. rocket falls for a sovereign. warnings below.

When they’d parted ways, he’d tucked a comm in the pocket of her leggings — warm fingers tugging at her pants in a way that had made her skin sing — and had told her to use it if she ran into any trouble, and not to talk to strangers, as if she were a child. She’d glowered at that — glowered, an expression she’s sure hasn’t made in years — and it had startled her to feel it.  Rocket had only grinned tauntingly, but then followed the smirk with an, “I’m frickin’ serious, doll,” before loping away in the other direction.  And now here she is, with two soft stretchy pairs of shorts rolled up and gripped in one fist and a bottle of morningtea palmed in the other, pausing at every painted cupboard door inlaid in the quartz-streaked rockface walling the city streets. She’d noticed the cupboards the other day, and she had been curious, but all that curiosity had been forgotten in the blissful chaos of the clothes and the food and the hair.  Now that she has a chance to study them, she marvels. The few cupboards that are open this early in the morning reveal small stadiums of fifty or sixty clear-glass and tin-smithed cups, each cradling a votive as blue as a pale spring sky on Terra. Anywhere between five and ten candles are lit in any given cupboard, and little tin plaques are anchored into the rock walls beneath the cupboards, etched with the tactile written language of Cyxlore as well as Kree, Shi’ar, and Skrull translations.  SHRINE OF THE SYBILA NIX ORA Pearl tilts her head, shuffling through the glossary in her head, trying to find the name — but she comes up empty. Herbert hadn’t cared much for planets like this one: no real political or cultural merit, he’d usually sniff dismissively. She tries to interpret the little shrine, and a shadow moves across the space, making the delicate flames seem brighter. “I am Groot.”

from chapter eleven. hailbound. ✩ cicatrix masterlist.⋆☁︎:･꧂

a story about scars. two survivors learn about themselves, each other, hope, and the universe. a freakish little monster visits the high evolutionary’s bride on her wedding night. an adventure of intergalactic proportions ensues. aka raccoons make plans; the universe laughs.

WARNINGS for this chapter: still just rocket's anxiety.

fluff ✮ | spice ✩ | some smut ❤︎‬ | much smut ❤︎‬❤︎‬