Happiest Birthday To Raccoonfallsharder! You Are The Best, And You Deserve The Moon And Stars! In Addition

OMFG… Ya’ll, I died. This is the sex pollen Rocket story we need in our lives!

you are cordially invited ★⋆.࿐࿔˚⋆˙‧₊ to the fifty-second bicentennial masquerade exhibit on exitar: a night of haunting & hedonism (hosted by the tivan group)

kinktober 2024 | navigation | fanfiction masterlist 18+ only | no use of y/n | f!reader | 2 parts | word count: pending. read book three ★࿐࿔ you are cordially invited now ★⋆.࿐࿔˚⋆˙‧₊

you'd do anything for enough money to care for your ailing mother — including agreeing to a night working for the collector. too bad you weren't more prepared to be part of the entertainment.

CONTEXT: au based loosely on mcu vibes. resourceful reader is also a bit of a nihilist (expression of apathy toward life/death). caretaker reader/discussion of ill parent/parent death. the collector & his friends are creepy bastards (seriously i did the elders real dirty in this one). sub reader / dom rocket. HEA of course. warning for a no-smut first chapter, too much lore, + unhinged plant-science.

★⋆.࿐࿔˚⋆˙‧₊ part one | tricks | thursday, october 31. you try to stay under the radar at your new temp job: one night in a gutted skull, serving devious eldritch monsters in masks. your only ally? a rather ominous wolf. (... well, "ally" might be a generous term...)

KINKS/WARNINGS: no smut (yet), very mild spice (slow-burn i guess?). warning for too much lore + unhinged plant-science.

★⋆.࿐࿔˚⋆˙‧₊ part two | treats | tuesday, november 5. caught in a maze of glass coffins and hunting for escape, you and your wolf stumble across some particularly lascivious pumpkins, resulting in something more-or-less akin to — well, possession.

KINKS/WARNINGS: wolf/bunny play, exhibitionism, voyeurism, sex pollen, noncon/dubcon*, public sex, edging & overstim, dacryphilia, begging, praise/degradation, light humiliation, come-eating, too many orgasms, biting/marking, aftercare. *neither rocket nor reader are necessarily the "aggressor" in this scenario, but have both been forced to ingest an aphrodisiac by a third party.

★⋆.࿐࿔˚⋆˙‧₊ excerpt below.

When you look down, you can see that all the tiny purple crystals and amethyst-prisms on your corset are flecked with orange now, too — microscopic tiny shreds of gold leaf clinging to your bodice. “What is it?” you ask, and some of it falls into your mouth. Strawberry pixy stix, you think, and your tongue darts out before you can stop it.  “Fuckin’—“ He shoots a glare at someone over your shoulder. “Little gift from the Erotist, I’d guess. Or the Gardener.” Something warm blooms in your belly — an answer to the hollow ache of want, a solution if you could just grasp it — and you try to wipe away the pollen cluttering up your lashes and lips like sugary sequins.  The Gardener chuckles. “I’m afraid neither of us can take credit for this one, my dear boy. The Virgin’s Calabash is a creation of the Epicure.” The woman in the onyx-studded violet veil to his right nods her acceptance of this fact, all fake-modesty.  “Legend says it was from the lusty wet-dreams of a thousand touch-deprived virgins,” the Erotist snickers.  “That is not true,” the Epicure utters from behind her veil, tossing back a sheet of darksilver hair and sniffing disdainfully. You try to scrape the sweetness off your tongue with your teeth. It tastes good — but anything made by an Elder can’t be, as far as you’re concerned. “How bad is it if I ingest it?” you murmur to Rocket, and his eyes flare up at you. “Bad. Don’t.” Shimmering pollen clings to his whiskers and studs his fur like drops of sunstone and citrine. “What we got on us is bad enough. What we breathed in — worse.” You shift uneasily. The cool, crisp air of the chamber suddenly feels soothing on your skin. “What—“ “Another myth says that their nectar was used to dose the high priests and priestesses of the Indigarr Sky Lords over a chiliad ago. It caused such a disruption in the governing temples that the order was completely overthrown by invading forces, which ended up occupying Indigarr for nearly six centenaries afterward.” “That one is true,” the Epicure says with a curve of her eyes that seems to indicate a sly smile.  It’s hard to focus, though, as something like a blush blooms on your skin and lingers. You stagger to your feet, trying to brush the gold from your layers of tulle. Your eyes dart to the swing of Rocket’s tail. If he hadn’t made it so clear that he had no interest in you — which you can’t really hold against him, given the circumstances — you might have complimented him on it. The fur is so thick — shiny and soft. You wonder what it would feel like if he let you stroke it. What it might feel like, skimming softly against your skin. You squeeze your eyes shut tight. It’s a weird thought to have — not that you wouldn’t have thought it on a better day. But right now, you need to focus on getting him out of here — not on how luxuriously ticklish his fur might feel on your clit— “Let’s go, then,” you murmur. Your throat feels tight, and something on your belly flutters. “Let’s get out of here—“ “Don’t gotta tell me twice,” he mutters. “I could already be through here if I wasn’t babysitting you—“ Your lips are tingling, and the wave of heat you’d felt a moment ago suddenly intensifies. Is it an allergic reaction, you wonder? Or a normal result of the pollen? You wave a hand at yourself, trying to fan off some of the pollen, trying to cool the rush of warmth in your throat. 

read book three now ★⋆.࿐࿔ kinktober 2024 | navigation | fanfiction masterlist

purple support/mdni banners by @/cafekitsune gold rose & masquerade dividers by @/sweetmelodygraphics

And I am emotionally wrecked… these babies got me in the feels.

cicatrix .⋆☁︎:･꧂

chapter seven. starlorn. [new 4/22] ✩

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 7/25+ | wip | word count: pending. masterlist, notes, & moodboard | chapter seven. starlorn.

pearl pleads her case. see below for warnings & notes.

He expects a soft little laugh. He thinks, even a few hours ago, he would’ve gotten one. Instead, she leans forward, her fingers curling over her  bare toes, her knees pinned between her chest and the starpane. And her eyes — her eyes are suddenly big and glossy and wet, gemstone-tears suddenly balanced on her lower lashes. It feels like someone’s broken through all his ribs, gripping his heart in a vibranium fist. “Don’t make me stay on Cyxlore,” she says softly. “I won’t try to make you take me if you — if you really don’t want to. But I’d rather be here. With you.” A soft inhale. “Please.” His stomach drops out. You ready to beg yet? he suddenly remembers asking her on the rain-slick floor of her Arete cage. Well. Here she is, begging, and he’ll be an ass if he ignores it. And an ass if he accepts it.  The line of her nose and cheeks gleam with starlight. The blanket around her shoulders shifts down, pinned between her back and the cold metal wall, and the soft curves of her breasts press against her thighs. The Monster can see the shape of them, rounded and squished at her sides through the sleeveless armholes and under the edge of his too-small Sneepers shirt.  She’s so far away, and he can see her dying all over again. Lylla on the floor of the Arete; Madame Lavenza in the rainy courtyard of HalfWorld. Haunting and haunted, cold as ghosts and skeleton-bones and lifeless stars, as distant and unreachable as the edge of the universe.  Come back to me, pretty pearl.  He swallows. 

read more on ao3 | masterlist, notes, & moodboard

okay, we're reaching the next phase. an agreement has more-or-less been established. hang on with me till chapter eleven or so and we'll start moving into real plot i promise??? (okay don't hold me to that)

WARNINGS for chapter seven: self-injury (biting), continued references to grooming and confinement. rocket’s explicit running commentary and the faintest whisper of d/s vibes. brief mention of bondage.

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.

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

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

Preview of Petra Quill from the fic Casino Royale- cue Rocket dying.

There are 2 types of Rocket fans

Original:

Mon beau chaoui, Rocket Raccoon, Rocket Kivashi, the Future Mr. Rocket Kivashi-Quill being the absolute thirstiest mother fucker over his gal Petra Jane Quill.

Oh my god! That drawing is everything! She’s so beautiful and suggestive. Rocket is probably completely and happily at her mercy here.

Me: they deserve the best. To be happy. To have love and peace!

also me, writing them:

The duo becomes a trio…

heartspur.⋆☁︎:･꧂

[anticipated 6/7]

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 12/25+ | wip | wordcount: pending. see pearl's character design.

rocket and pearl get in a fight. rocket shares a secret. warnings below.

“I am Groot.” Rocket turns toward the sound instinctively and she watches his neck crane back, ember-eyes flying wide. Groot smiles down at him softly from behind her. “I am Groot.” “Got it,” her survivor says shortly. “I’m Rocket. Now. I hear you got a frickin’ bounty on your head—” “I am Groot,” the Taluhnisan says. “Yeah,” Rocket snaps. “I got that—” “Sorry,” pearl intervenes, flushing. “I should have explained. He’s — it’s Taluhnisan. The language. You just don’t understand it — yet. But you will,” she adds hurriedly, and she can feel a hopeful, rueful little smile blooming in the corner of her mouth. “You will,” she repeats. “I think you’ll pick it up so quickly—” “So he can only say one frickin’ thing?!” “No — sorry,” she apologizes again, “I’m not explaining well. He’s saying a lot right now, and he understands everything, but Taluhnisans have very inflexible larynxes. So his apparent vocabulary is, uhm — limited? To, well, I and am and Groot. In exactly that order.” “I am Groot,” the Taluhnisan says unhelpfully. Rocket sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Unbelievable,” he mutters. “Okay, morons. Who’s holding the bounty?” “I am Groot.” “Uhm—” A noisy groan bubbles up in his lungs. “I’ll just look it up, I guess,” he snarls, and lifts his datapad to scan the Taluhnisan.  Whatever he sees on the screen is apparently less-than-ideal, because he spits out a curse that only reads in her translator as some kind of facial parasite — then repeats it a number of times.

from chapter thirteen. heartspur. ✩ 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: canon-typical violence against animals.

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

Furious excitement exploding in my brain.

june aspirations

saturday, june 1: cicatrix .⋆☁︎ :･꧂chapter twelve. ochisia. ❤︎

tuesday, june 4: the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip. [headcanon part four + masterlist] ✮

friday, june 7: cicatrix .⋆☁︎ :･꧂chapter thirteen. heartspur. ✩

tuesday, june 11: the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip. [headcanon part five] ✮

friday, june 14: ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ fistful of sunlight [oneshot for @starriidreams ] ✮✩ tumblr machinery from rocket prompt week ✷.⁺⋆˚₊ ✮✩ ao3 crosspost

tuesday, june 18: the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip. [headcanon part six] ✮

friday, june 21: cicatrix .⋆☁︎ :･꧂chapter fourteen. ghough. ❤︎

tuesday, june 25: the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip. [headcanon part seven] ✮

friday, june 28: cicatrix .⋆☁︎ :･꧂chapter fifteen. soufrise. ✩

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

other things i'm working on for july and beyond...

warm compress ☾.༊·˚⋆⭒[oneshot] ✮

cicatrix .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ chapter sixteen. craxis. ❤︎❤︎ chapter seventeen. keyframe. ✩ chapter eighteen. attriage. ❤︎‬❤︎‬

florescence❀, chapter five year four: formation. ❤︎❤︎

⭑˚.⚘𖡼𖥧𖤣 windfall, part three: candied apples. ❤︎❤︎

･:*𑁍✧˚₊ overheard on the bowie. oneshot. ❤︎❤︎ ︎

✩࿐࿔ take what you need. [taking requests] ✮

other future projects

Here’s a sneak peek at Entanglement chapter 15. 🚀 🦝

When Rocket and Lethys entered the lecture hall, a hiss and rumble of voices erupted around them. Lethys walked as if he were a king, proud and tall, but his ears swiveled catching the odd whispered word or snide remark. His upper lip lifted towards one particular humie who quailed at the sight of three-inch long canines.

Tail bristling, and chest so tight even the metal there ached, poor Rocket heard more clearly than his father: “Look at that thing,” “Am I truly to believe that creature is a Tekton,” “I can’t believe these two were even allowed into the building,” and “Let us hope they have had their shots.” It took everything that Rocket had inside of him to keep from either latching onto the rich wool of Lethys pantleg or fleeing the room.

His crimson eyes swept the room, searching for even one friendly face. Just as he began to harden his heart against the whole assembly, a bald, short, and aging man and a willowy tall and thin woman stepped into the aisle. “Rocket, my boy!” the older man smiled in true welcome, and Rocket recognized the jovial voice.

“Professor Stollwizer?” he guessed from the rich baritone of his favorite teacher.

“Yes, indeed! It is a pleasure to finally meet you, young man,” Professor Stollwizer smiled his bushy mustache moving with his lips.

“Nice to meet you, Professor,” Rocket said with his best manners, voice clear and free of accent as he could manage.

The little man shook Rocket’s hand with real affection before offering his hand to Lethys. “Sir, your son is the most brilliant scholar I have ever had the good fortune to teach. You must be so proud of him,” the man enthused.

Lethys guarded expression smoothed into one of beaming pride, “I am most proud of him and his achievements,” he agreed, his massive paw completely engulfing the man’s small hand.

“Ah, Rocket, Mr. Kavashi,” Professor Stollwizer smiled broadly as he gestured at the thin woman next to him, “This is Professor Rikthi. Rocket, you will be the teaching assistant in her introductory physics and mechanical theories classes.”

Professor Rikthi bent down to offer her hand to Rocket. She had an ageless face, a monocle, and a soft, kind voice, “I’ve heard how hard of a worker you are, Rocket. I’m sure we will get along well.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain about that,” interjected a middle-aged Xandarian who eyed Rocket and Lethys with a sneer of derision as he pushed up his glasses and shoved his way past Professor Stollwizer. “It hasn’t yet presented any proof that he is the true author of the paper submitted,” the man continued in an annoyingly nasal voice.

“He,” growled Lethys looming over the man, “My son is a person, a male, he is not an it.”

“It,” the man snarled back, uncowed by Lethys’ size and ferocity, “Is an animal, a sick joke being played on our university by this preposterous creature,” the man indicated to Lethys then and smiled meanly. Every cell in Rocket’s body longed to hide behind his father from this sharp man that reminded him too much of his Sire. “How long did it take you to train it to wear clothes? Stand on its hind legs? There is no possibility of this little monster having authored-”

“Enough-” interrupted Professor Stollwizer in booming voice at odds with his cheerful seeming mien. “I assure you that no one else but Rocket Kivashi could have written the thesis in question,” Professor Stollwizer frowned up at the man, “I advised him extensively during the writing process, his voice has always been the same, writing style the same, intelligence unrivaled by any person I’ve ever met-”

“Shall I tell you how easy it would be to fake a voice, old man? Are you so far into your dotage that you actually believe this preposterous lie?” the angry man hissed. He pointed at Lethys, “The only thing that surprises me, is that you planned this ruse so poorly. Couldn’t you have engineered something that looked more convincing? I can see bolts sticking out of its face.”

Rocket barely controlled the instinctive reaction to touch the metal on his cheeks. Heat burned his face, and he wanted to cry, but just as he was about to open his mouth on a silent sob, a memory flickered in his mind.

The evening before he’d stood on the stool in Petra’s bathroom combing his face fur, trying to style it in a way that would cover the metal there. As he grew older, Rocket’s fur grew more and more luxurious, but it still didn’t cover that hateful metal in his face. He sighed and considered using some of Petra’s hair gel, but thought better of it when he remembered that it accentuated her curls but did little to control them.

“Whatcha doin’?” Petra asked appearing behind him in her nightshirt.

“Oh, nothing,” he tried to lie.

“Rocky, you were combing like you wanted to pull out all your fur. What are you doing?” Petra countered as she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Standing like this, his head was just below her chest; if she leaned forward any closer, she could rest her breasts against the top of his head, a thought that made his embarrassment flare even hotter.

“People will see the metal in my face, see what a freak I am,” he whispered watching Petra’s face in the mirror.

She frowned then and used her hands to turn him to face her. “There is nothing about you that makes you a freak, Rocky. Besides lots of spacers have mods.”

“What will I say if people ask about them?” he asked her, so many things he had to cover for, think of excuses for.

“Tell them to mind their goddamn business, is what you’ll say,” Petra replied with real heat, “Tell those rude motherfuckers to fuck right off.” She searched his face and found him still uncertain and lost. Petra leaned in close and slowly, purposely pressed a kiss right over both protruding metal implants. “You tell those assholes that your girlfriend kisses your beautiful face so much you had to your cheeks reenforced, that you’re just that irresistible to her.”

Rocket’s eyes went wide and he whispered, “No one would ever believe that. I don’t even believe that. I-”

Instead of answering him with words, Petra lowered her face and pressed her lips to the metal collarbones holding his shoulders back, kissed the metal bars that squeezed his chest. “I will kiss any part of you to convince you otherwise,” she whispered against the scarred naked skin around the outer ribs. “So don’t you even care about what anyone thinks about your body but me.”

Inside of Rocket’s chest fear turned to anger, because, the truth was, his appearance didn’t and shouldn’t matter. Lethys and Petra loved and accepted him, and that was all he needed. This fucker’s opinion didn’t matter at all. “It is too my paper,” Rocket found himself declaring loudly enough that the whole hall went still. “I wrote every single word, and in my defense I’ll prove it beyond doubt.”

Every eye was swiveled his way, every human face staring at him in either disbelief or shock except for Professor Stollwizer and Professor Rikthi who smiled warmly. “Ask any question you want about my paper,” Rocket said casually as he walked to the stage. Before he stepped up the first stair, he shot back over his shoulder, “Of course, that’s assuming that you can understand the complexity of the work in question.”

#artists