When A Girl Is Stressed And Overwrought, There’s Nothing To Be Done But Grind Down Good And Hard On

Or have him fuck the shit out of me… I’m not picky.

The art is so lovely and the story is super hot!

"Um, what do ya suggest then? Mister expert?"

"What you do best…" Peter leaned down, and Rocket caught the light shining off the curls. Mentally he took back all the bald jokes he ever made. There were even strikes of amber mixed with the blonde. "Test things out… see for yourself… if you can use me as a cure."

Rocket took a deep breath. Was it getting hot here in the hangar or what? "All right. It was funny. I get it. Now knock it off." Rocket tried to back away, played it all as a joke. Even if his dick had different ideas. At this point the thing has laser focus.

"I ain't yer type at all."

Peter's first instinct was to creak a joke but something in Rocket's face told him now wasn't the time. Firming his nerves, Peter reached out and took Rocket's hand in his. Allowing a second for Rocket to reject him or not, pain having been his teacher, Peter rubbed his thumb over Rocket's knuckles. The contrast of size was considerable.

"Says who?"

A collab with the wonderful @bbasmos for the lovely @nerdy-and-dedicated!

-sorry for the delay. I still recovering from a slumping depression.

Agreed 100%

I live in a country, where straight-up Nazi’s, with torches, marched on a campus founded by Thomas Jefferson, shouting Nazi slogans, wearing MAGA hats, saying “Heil Trump,” and attacked counter-protestors last night/this morning.

So for the record: Fuck white-supremacists. Fuck Nazi’s. Fuck the current administration that emboldens their actions. Fuck the people that voted for them. Black lives matter. Lesbians, Gays, Bisexuals, Transexuals, Asexuals, Nonbinaries, and everything in-between have the right to exist in public spaces. Women have the right to abortions. ISIS is NOT representative of Islam. We need single-payer healthcare in this country. Minimum wage needs to be AT LEAST $15 an hour.

And if you have a problem with any of that? Unfollow my ass.

I adore this. I can totally see Rocket rocking some kid-sized sneaker skates… 🚀 🦝 👟

Rocket: Hey! Tall people! If we're walkin' together, please take into consideration my tiny legs! I can't keep up with you! Please think of my tiny legs — I don't wanna be joggin' to keep up with your leisurely stroll, you FUCKING TITANS!

Peter: Just get a pair of roller skates and hang onto my sleeve! We don't have all day.

I’m dying right now. Dying of anticipation. Pray for me y’all.

momophobia.⋆☁︎:･꧂ preview

[anticipated 3/19] ✩

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 27/40+ | wip | wordcount: pending. masterlist, notes, & moodboard | navigation ART: pearl’s character design | pearl & rocket’s bunk | heartspur scene | chapter one. nemotia. art by @/frostedwitch| rocket & pearl snuggle | adorable pearl x rocket selfie by @/starriidreams | sexy, evocative waterlily pearl x rocket painting by @/hibatasblog ♡ | NEW! rocket combs pearl's hair

bathtime confessions. warnings below.

“Sweetheart.” Pearl shifts on the copilot’s seat, nuzzling toward the sound of his voice, and Rocket lets his knuckles kiss her cheek again. He sweeps back a handful of hair, and plucks the cold compress from where it had nestled in her matted curls while she’d slept. Everything in him stretches for her, down to a cellular level. 

“Hmm?” she murmurs, soft as kitten-fur. He closes his eyes, and inhales: waterlily, clean canals, bone-dust and salt and blood. The scent of her, even tangled up with so much pain and fear, grounds him. At least she’s  still here, not left on HalfWorld or Cyxlore, not— not a broken, abandoned corpse on Knowhere.  His gut twists and his tongue suddenly feels thick and swollen, his whole mouth slick and sour. The space behind his eyes tightens and prickles.  “C’mon, doll,” he murmurs. “Lemme get you—“ Lemme get you somewhere safe and soft. “Lemme get you into bed.” She sits up slowly. The f’saki underneath her seat stirs. Her ponytail had been lopsided from the first moment he’d seen her in that stolen bootlace — tilted as drunkenly askew as she had been — but half her hair has loosened, falling in ragged tangled loops and knotted ringlets next to her face. He tries to keep his hands to himself now — she can’t possibly be interested in him touching her again; at the very least he should probably try groveling first — but he can’t keep himself from carefully cupping her chin in his fingers and tilting her face this way and that. There’s the cut on her puffed lip and the graze on her swollen cheekbone, the bloody divot above her brow that Drax had pulled closed with a steri-strip. It all reminds him too much of the cuts he’d left behind on her body that first night — the brutal, repeated thud of her head against the floor — and his throat throbs when he tries to swallow.  But she just looks at him with sleep-blurred moonsilver eyes, all soft and unfocused and timid. I just need to think, and I can’t with you looking at me like I’m some kind of monster.  Something slides right between his ribs, so piercing and sharp that his shoulders hunch convulsively and he curves inward, almost staggering under the arrow of it. “Are you okay?” she asks softly. The words bounce gently around the glass bubble of the cockpit, hushed between the shadows and stars.  His eyes gloss over. “Yeah, sweetheart. Come to bed with me?”

from chapter twenty-eight. momophobia. ✩ ‬ cicatrix masterlist.⋆☁︎:･꧂ navigation | fiction 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: infinite angst (& comfort). woundcare. discussion of animal surgery, and medical & (i would argue) psychological torture. lots of non-smutty naked/partially-clothed intimacy and the occasional dirty thought (because rocket).

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

banners & rose dividers by @/saradika-graphics pearl dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

Rocket: [Referring to Blackjack] He’s selling us out!!!

[Rocket starts strangling Blackjack but is pulled off by Lylla]

Lylla: Rocket Stop!!! There has to be a reasonable explanation! At least give him a chance.

Blackjack: Thank you Lylla… I’m selling out.

[Lylla starts strangling Blackjack and Rocket crosses his arms and smiles smugly]

Why do I love this dynamic sooooooo much?

Y’all. Y’ALL. I’m losing my mind over this. Fans self as I try not to ignite in a grand conflagration of flame. 🔥 Rocket, go slay that sweet storyteller pussy. 🚀 🦝 🍆 🍑 💦 🦷 😜

year five: dispersal

part three preview ✿ coming wednesday 4/30

florescence❀| navigation | fanfiction masterlist 18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n | f!reader | 5+/6 years | word count: pending.

seeds of second chances.

“Well, this is definitely where I’m gonna fuck you, then,” Rocket growls, and the words are soft and smoky against the rumpled bedroll. 

A shiver — ticklish-soft, like feathers and fur — floats up your spine. You let out a shuddery breath and turn back to hold his shining eyes. With the festival tonight, you’d never started a fire in the hearth, and Rocket is just a dark and threatening shadow to your weak vision in the night. Without the fire to throw his ruby-cabochon eyes into glow, you can barely pick him out in the shadows.

“‘Cause I missed you, storyteller.” 

Your ears strain. You’re sure he takes a step toward you. 

“You and all your pretty words. How stubborn you are. How smart you are. How damn sweet.” 

The words float toward you, and your abdomen clenches tight, even while something stings your eyes. 

“I missed you too,” you admit. Your voice wobbles, and you scrunch your nose and lick your lips, trying to keep your words measured. “I — so much, sweetheart.”

“I know, babygirl.” He tsks against his teeth — takes another step toward you. Some small shard of light must catch his eyes, because they flash like copper moons — three paces further to the left than you’d thought.  “Wouldn’t have believed it a few circs ago, but you miss me every time I’m gone, huh?” His voice roughens — grows hoarse, with something you’re sure is regret. You’ve heard it lingering against his teeth enough times to recognize it. “I was starside for so frickin’ long this time, too. Wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d given up on me—”

“Absolutely not,” you hiss, wounded by the words. The dark silhouette of him raises its hands in mock-surrender, eyes flashing like garnets as he slides another foot forward. “You promised—”

“I know, princess,” he purrs. “I did. But my promises haven’t meant much to most people before now. Groot’s prob’ly the only one who ever believed in ‘em before.” Another careful, measured stride. “The whole frickin’ time I was out there, I was thinking of you. Wanting to get back — tell you how much I love you. Lick that mark I left you.”

Your fingers flutter up to the pearly ring of scars, and your pussy suddenly flutters and dampens. You take a step backward, further onto the bedroll.

“Could bite you a new promise,” he croons dangerously. “One where I don’t gotta leave you behind again.”

Your cunt spasms now, and something beneath your sternum does too: heart clenching just as needily.

“I want that,” you agree breathlessly. “I want that too.”

“Right here,” he continues. “Gonna fuck you and bite you right on this damn bedroll. Can’t tell you how many times I wanted to before.”

Another loping stride toward you; another quick crimson gleam of lava-hot eyes. Your bare toes curl against the softly-crumpled blankets and quilts.

“Wanted to fuck you in this bed for so long, babygirl. Probably since the first morning I came in here  — following a stray fuckin’ flerken — and saw you layin’ there, all soft and messy.” His voice dips low. “Like that damn pussy of yours.” 

You hear him — breathing in, slow and steady. Inhaling your scent like a hunter.

“I missed her, too, storyteller,” he admits, and when he steps toward you again, he’s got the look of a predator caught in his eyeshine once more. It sends a shiver up your spine. “An’ I can tell by the way she smells that she missed me back.”

from chapter six year five: dispersal, part three [anticipated 4/30] ‬❤︎‬❤︎ florescence❀| navigation | fanfiction masterlist

WARNINGS for this chapter: touch of primal play, touch of somno, light bondage/blindfolding, torn clothing, The Tail™. tons of dirty talk. light painplay, nipple-play and tit-slapping, marking (claws, teeth/biting), praise, light degradation, "slut" (affectionate), lots of overstim, masturbation, cunnilingus.

“The only chance we got is to get to the other side of the universe as fast as we can and maybe, just maybe, we'll be able to live full lives before that whack-job ever gets there.”

rocket & groot leave their friends behind on knowhere, despite the latter’s protests, and end up hiding out on a nothing-planet (with a non-extradition policy) at the edge of the shi’ar galaxy.

flower divider by @/thecutestgrotto • planet divider by @/edensrose • mdni & support banners by @/saradika-graphics • moodboard by me! ♡

Cute Rockstar.

Hay Amor (There’s Love)

I lost some art due to some carpet flooding. So I hope to repost what I can on here.

By @bbasmos!! I adore this story so much! It throws everything at you that you could want. Sadly, I don’t have all the art that I made for this fic anymore, but I’ll attempt to salvage what I can. It wakes a google translate but it’s so good that not even google can deter it!

You know you have a problem when you see the gang everywhere. Tell me you don’t see this too.

Bear= Drax

Fox= Gamora

Raccoon= Rocket

Bunny= Peter

Squirrel= Mantis

Bluejay= Nebula