Ahhhhh!!!!! Sweet Kisses! This Is So Perfect! I’m Swooning.

Swoons in anticipation.

craxis.⋆☁︎:･꧂ preview

[anticipated 7/12] ❤︎❤︎

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 15/30+ | wip | wordcount: pending. masterlist, notes, & moodboard. ART: pearl's character design | pearl & rocket's bunk

pearl considers the problem of sovereign. see below for warnings & notes.

He cocks his head: a mockery of consideration. “Could let you curl up on my lap again, like a sleepy little kitten.” She blinks, but he releases her wrist before she can say anything, tucking his gadget into the crook of one arm while he flips up the armrests on his pilot’s seat.  “I’m too — how—?” “Lots of possibilities,” he drawls. “You could just sit sideways right here so I can lean my head against those pretty tits of yours while I work and you take a nap.” He tilts his head in the other direction, measuring her blush with a curl in the corner of his mouth.  There’s a weighted pause, and then she sees the flash of one canine as his smirk sharpens into a grin. “And if you can’t sleep, we can tire you out. Get a repeat of the other night — let you rub your friendly little cunt on me till you come.” She stares at him, and she knows her eyes are too wide in her face, her cheeks too warm. She chews her lip and tilts her head: cautious.  “I — you said you wouldn’t — I know you said not to ask,” she says softly, “But I—“ She falters, voice crumbling into nothing. I ain’t gonna fuck you, pearl. “Forget what I said.” He leans forward: eyes suddenly intent, voice rasping. “You want me to take care of you? You can ask for whatever you want, kitten.” Her abdomen tightens: nervousness and fear, but also the still-burning embers of the golden firework, searing everything it touches. She can feel the hesitation in her eyes, searching his from under the dark smudge of her lashes.  His voice drops impossibly lower, somehow. “D’you wanna rub yourself on me again, sweetheart?” His tongue sweeps out and one canine flashes. “Or d’you want something else?”

from chapter sixteen. craxis. ❤︎❤︎ 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: smutty-smut while rocket wears his cute lil goggles. cockwarming. a light foray into subspace. dirty-talk. praise. mentions of gagging and one light spank. dirty-talk. use of “slut”/”whore” (affectionate). aftercare. so much dirty-talk.

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

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

A painting by the amazing artist Ksenia Buridanova that is giving me Knot vibes from Chapter 16 of Entanglement. Don’t worry though, this fucker will be so, so sorry in the near and coming future. A peek at the next chapter under the picture.

Thalisk whispered something low and growling to Knoliadin before switching back to the standard Badoon that her translator could make sense of. “I advise caution, my prince. The girl has yet to learn proper respect, proper reverence,” he warned as he made his way across the room.

“I’m sure that with your careful tutelage, she will learn quickly, Thalisk. Your methods are, no doubt, impeccable.” Knoliadin replied, an understated elegance to his words that Petra had never before heard from him.

“I do not anticipate her being an apt pupil. Insouciance seems to be bred into her bones.” Thalisk answered.

“Odd,” Knoliadin answered with a frown in his voice, “I have found her to be a quick study. She has already passed the third level of Jalwek-Pazon in a short amount of time. Consider her heritage. Consider the sort of being she is.”

Even though terror was buzzing in her finger tips, the way the two men were talking about her like she wasn’t even there was starting to really annoy her. She didn’t like how he called her a ‘being’ as if she were something other. The sound of moving fabric and footsteps yanked her thoughts back into horror.

A gentle whisper of a touch brushed against Petra’s face. She strained wildly to get out of reach, to get away from Knoliadin, but could not escape. He dragged the back of his fingers across her cheek with a barely there caress. His touch was distressing, his skin seemed to buzz against hers as if little tingling fibers were connecting them where skin met skin. “I can feel the fear pounding in your neck like a trapped animal. Be calm. I will not harm you.” When he lifted his hand away, the fibrous strings stretched, pulled, and thinned, but did not separate completely. I made her skin itch and twitch, she wanted to scratch herself bloody with her nails.

Petra flinched hard enough that she experienced a bracing shock as he traced the edge of her jaw with his thumb. It made her slump in her bonds and groan again as pain danced up her nerves. “Shhhh,” Knoliadin crooned as his hand lingered on her shoulder.

When she recovered somewhat, she made a small noise of protest as he slid his claws into her hair. “Shall I remove the blindfold? I imagine it would comfort you to see where you are.” He said as he loosened the fastenings on the sides. A rustle of fabric and Petra was squinting her eyes even at the dim lights of the room.

She couldn’t see much. She knew if she turned her head too quickly she would feel burning electric torment, so she focused on what was directly below her feet. Gleaming metal, sleek and sterile duraplastic lined counters. Machines both familiar and strange loomed like ghosts in the shadowed room. There was an IV of fluids and nutrients hanging above her head, and she was laying restrained on a padded surgical table. A medical lab. She was in the ship’s medical bay. Wide bands cuffed her wrists, ankles, shoulders, waist, and hips. An uncomfortable pressure on her head made her suspect some sort of electrodes were placed there.

“There she is,” Knoliadin said, and Petra’s eyes flickered to her side to see him smiling down at her. He wore a dark eye patch over his ruined eye and a sleek red and golden brocade robe of Shiar wood dove silk. Before she could stop the sound, a whine spilled over her lips. “Shhhh,” he repeated, as he cupped her face, “So, you feel it too, our connection, our bond.” It was as if her cheek was threaded to his palm with squirming, writhing worms that consumed both of their flesh at once.

“You didn’t mean to create this connection, did you?” he asked, voice full of sympathy, compassion. He glided his clawed thumb under her eye to catch the first drops of moisture there.

“No,” she answered, eyes overflowing with tears.

“You did only mean to heal me? Nothing else?”

“Yes, only that.”

How else is Rocket gonna build his fuck-you disks if he can’t keep his poor dick warm?

cicatrix .⋆☁︎:･꧂

chapter sixteen. craxis. [new 7/12] ❤︎❤︎

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 16/25+ | wip | word count: pending. masterlist, notes, & moodboard | chapter sixteen. craxis. ART: pearl's character design | pearl & rocket's bunk (1) and (2) |

PLEASE check out this art from chapter one. nemotia. by @frostedwitch ♡♡ it's so gorgeous i could die. i have died, actually. i am typing from beyond the grave

pearl considers the problem of sovereign. see below for warnings & notes.

“Don’t gotta fuck just because you missed me,” he reminds her, though he sounds almost reluctant to admit it. “Shouldn’ta made you sleep alone these past few rotations, but I — uh—“ his voice breaks off and he looks away, using his empty hand to rub the back of his neck. “Just wanted to get to Sovereign quick,” he decides to say at last, though his eyes flicker like he’s hiding a different thought, and again, she could almost think he’s blushing.  It doesn’t look like a happy or excited blush, though. Embarrassed, pearl would guess. Or sad.  “No,” she protests quickly, her hand darting back out to his fur. “I missed you, and I want to. Please, Rocket?” He turns his eyes back to her, and they’re suddenly liquid-dark, pupils blown out into the sunset-red. “You want my dick or my tongue, sweetheart?” It’s a lazy drawl. “M’not gonna make you beg again right now, but you’re gonna have to at least say it.”

read more on ao3 | masterlist, notes, & moodboard

there is more to this chapter than just smut, i swear it. (but mostly it's just smut.)

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: smutty-smut while rocket wears his cute lil goggles. cockwarming. a light foray into subspace. dirty-talk. praise. mentions of gagging and one light spank. dirty-talk. use of “slut”/”whore” (affectionate). aftercare. so much dirty-talk.

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

banners & rose dividers by @/saradika-graphics pearl dividers by @/thecutestgrotto taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @glow-autumz ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @suicidalshitstick ♡ @pretty-chips

Yes, yes he could.

Rocket: Could a depressed person build this?! *gestures to the Bowie*

So fuckin’ hyped for this.

nemotia.⋆☁︎ :･꧂ preview [est feb 29] ✩

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 1/?? | wip | word count: pending.

She sits with them and presses the heels of her hands deeper into her eyes, and she tries to imagine the scent of the flowers, the feel of the grass between her fingers and toes. She traces the letters and the tops of the stones, smooth and sharp-edged.  And then, on the back of one bare shoulder, she feels that burn again: hot, scalding. Before she can even look around, the escaped wisps of curls at the nape of her neck suddenly shift. Her head snaps up and she whirls on one hip, nearly falling off the edge of the bed. “Who’s there?” Maybe no-one, she reasons — but if that’s the case, there’s also no-one to mock her for her fear. She knows she looks afraid: eyes big in her face, lips parted. She should hide it. She should. Instead, she holds her breath, and waits, but only the thunder answers in the dark. Then the light shifts on the floor, and she realizes the rain sounds different. She tears her eyes from the dark corners. The window is open. How? She’d traced every edge, looking for a crack or crevice, a lock, a lever — but now it’s open, swinging lightly on its hinges. Fear unfurls in her chest, and it’s so warm that she presses her icy fingers to her sternum automatically. “Who’s there?” she repeats, and her voice trembles. Thunder again, rumbling — but this time, when it fades, another sound remains behind: a chuckle, dark and low. Dark and low, and very, very close. Her head snaps toward the sound, and she catches the flash of something out of the corner of her eye. “Were you watching me earlier?” she asks, and that fear licks out from her sternum to the edges of her ribs, down to her shoulders and hips. “You shouldn’t be here. It isn’t—” It isn’t safe, she had been about to say — but then something grazes between her shoulderblades, like a paintbrush on her skin. Her head whips to follow it and she twists, eyes wide, lungs desperately trying to haul in air like stones up a mountainside. “You can’t — don’t touch me. It’s—” Dangerous. Another flick of the terrifyingly-soft thing again, on the back of her hand this time.  Something is moving around her in the dark. Something is stalking her. What to do? The door is locked. The closet is an open mouth of blackness in one wall, but she can’t barricade a sliding door. The open window had been a nice fantasy and she’s not ruling it out, but her curiosity is at war with her fear and she wants, more than anything, to make sure this creature or person gets out.  She knots her fist in the draping silk, gaze sifting through the shadows. Another flash of something her eyes can’t follow. She rises slowly to her feet, and reaches for the candle, and lifts it high. For a moment, there’s nothing. And then, in the dark shadows at the corner of the room, two perfect points of brilliant red gleam in the darkness: flat glowing coins, clouded with crimson. Twin blood-moons. Eyes.

chapter one [est 2/29] ✩

꧁･:☁︎ ⋆. cicatrix .⋆☁︎ :･꧂

wyndham’s bride lands on counterearth in time to prepare for her wedding. an unexpected guest arrives. warnings: discussion of non-sexual child abuse and grooming. brief mentions of suicidal ideations. animal/pet death. canon-typical violence.

inspired by mary shelley’s frankenstein; or, the modern prometheus. 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. 

enemies-to-lovers (as per frickin’ usual, only one of these idiots think they’re enemies, and tbh the enemy part is pretty short-lived.) while the beginning of this fic is dark (please check warnings for each chapter), we always get happy endings here. most chapters will contain super-smutty commentary at the very least. this fic is a longform expansion on wyndham; or, the galactic prometheus (day 31) of °˖✧♡kinktober 2023.

much like Window Across the Galaxy ✧*:･ﾟ , this fic is pure wish-fulfillment. i'd like a sexy space raccoon to rail me and then let me be stupid-sweet to him.

WARNING for dubcon/hate-sex (at the beginning), mentions of childhood grooming & abuse (no CSA), and brief suicidal ideations. please pay attention to all ao3 warnings/tags for every chapter.

if you’d like to join my fanfiction taglist, please comment or send me a message or ask! ♡

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

Buy her more panties you naughty raccoon!

tiris.⋆☁︎:･꧂preview

[anticipated 8/16] ✩❤︎

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 18/40 | wip | wordcount: pending. masterlist, notes, & moodboard. ART: pearl's character design | pearl & rocket's bunk | heartspur scene chapter one. nemotia. art by @/frostedwitch

rocket and pearl develop something of a tradition. the trio argues, and the kylosian has a request. see below for warnings & notes.

She stutters to a halt, feet nearly tripping over themselves in surprise once she realizes what they’ve walked into. Sparkling lingerie drips glitter from every wall and glass dais: shades of gleaming yellow and bronze, rose-gold, silver and champagne. Frothy ivory laces, sparkling with platinum threads and studded with iridescent Spartoi crystals — so tiny that the fabric twinkles. Gleaming, rippling silk panties layered thickly with ruffles, tied low on the hip by wide shining bows: flouncy and frilly, made from sleek fabric the color of iolites and dark honey. Rocket almost salivates on sight, imagining the silk under the ruffles becoming dark and slippery from pearl’s soft, dripping cunt. There are garters and bustiers and camisoles studded with fine sprays of sapphires and citrines, quarter-cup brassieres and ouvert knickers that damn near short-circuit his brain, and a whole line of lingerie made from filigreed gold metal-work that he immediately dismisses as too rigid and unforgiving to be allowed to come close to pearl’s flesh.  “What—“ “Special treat for me,” he repeats with a toothy grin. Her lips part, moonsilver eyes rounding out, a perplexed little noise curling in the back of her throat.  “I thought you meant a new firearm,” she utters, her voice breathy and uncertain. “Or something for the Dreadnought—“ “Nope.” He lingers on the n and pops the p, smug and drawling. “I’ve been thinking about seeing you in some of this fancy shit for a while.” He grins up at her. “I’ll be workin’ nonstop on the final model till it’s done, but I wanna know what you’re gonna wear for me on our first night in our new ship.”

from chapter nineteen. tiris. ✩‬❤︎ 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: rocket’s a degenerate. dirty-talk and teasing while panty-shopping, with the threat of being overheard. brief description of fantasies. angst.

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

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

Rocket: Makin’ my way downtown.

Rocket: Walking fast.

High Evolutionary: 89P13!

Rocket: Walking faster.

Love this. Peter by himself would 100% die.

Wanna Ride?

Happy Mermay!!! prompt Kelpie just one more. I’m happy for prompts. I get to feel them out without stress.

Tiny Rocket doesn’t trust it. Trusts Peter to stay alive even less.

✷ You Were Meant for More ✷

Why do I love this dynamic sooooooo much?