Third time rereading this fic and decided to make a little something for @raccoonfallsharder 🤫 Your writing has allowed me to better my own and also expand my vocabulary <33
rocket thinks about how delicious his chubby girlfriend is.
truth is, he's finding it increasingly difficult to think about anything else.
read a soft fixation on ao3 now | ~2,720 words
for more chubby f!reader: every inch
Rocket tells himself he’s acting like some naive, moon-eyed moron — but he still can’t stop getting lost in his head about how different you are compared to him. So soft-edged. So pillowy and sweet. You’d be yielding and generous under his hands, he’s sure. Under his claws. Under his strong, hard, small body.
And between his teeth, too.
Then he forgets what he’s s’posed to be fuckin’ doing — daydreaming instead about hiding bite-marks and bruises like stolen treasures everywhere on your lush, luxurious body.
It’s almost a full quarter of this: of him, pretending not to lie in his bunk imagining you defenseless under his sharp, sensitive hands — a whole lovely skyscape for him to explore and memorize, to imprint on his fingertips. Of him, ignoring you during the wakeshift, glowering at anyone who crosses his path or yours — so darkly that even Drax notices that he’s in a mood.
And of you: tiptoeing around him, skittish of his apparent disdain. Frustrated by his refusal to look at you, and bruised by the scowls you receive whenever you glance in his direction.
And then one day — he just can’t bite his frickin’ tongue anymore.
read a soft fixation on ao3 now | ~2,720 words
for more chubby f!reader: every inch
NOTES: inspired by this ask, for a sweet nonnie ♡ as a queer lady, i could frankly wax poetic about fat femmes for hours ♡♡♡
CONTEXT: mcu-inspired, canon-divergent. starts post-vol2, ends post vol-3.
WARNINGS: short drabbly-thing, kinda stream-of-consciousness. reader is chubby, described as having wide hips, brief reference to terran beauty standards (implied fatphobia) and some insecurity. pining, body worship; suggestive with the lightest dash of smut. light biting, mention of sexual activity, brief descriptions of touching, implied oral.
Audiotransmission_7. A PREVIEW. [EXPECTED APRIL 15]
Dickhead Crewmate Edges & Overstimulates You in the Showers.
Rack & Ruin. | navigation | fiction masterlist 18+ only | rocket x f!reader x blackjack | 4/7 parts
the campaign to seduce the captain (through jealousy) continues. excerpt and warnings below.
NOTES: this is my first (and probably last) time writing m/m smut, but reader is still very much a presence between rocket and jack. anyway i hope it's tolerable lol
“Oh, she’s so into it,” Jack retorts, reaching behind himself with a free hand to palm Rocket through his pants. The latter growls and snatches that hand too, pinning them against the wall on either side of the Bunny’s face — wedging his knee between Jack’s thick thighs. “You don’t even know, Rocket.” His voice turns into a lilting, jeering little song. “She wants to fuck her strong, mean Captain so bad — she wants to get tossed around and told what to do — she’s such a good, obedient little—“
“D’you ever stop running your frickin’ mouth?” Rocket mutters, even as he feels his cock twitch and his balls tighten under his fur. He’s passing one of Jack’s hands to his other fist, pinning them both overhead between the merc’s bullet-riddled ears now. Not that Jack seems to care — he’s using the leverage to try to grind back harder against Rocket’s dick.
“Only when you put something in it,” Jack sasses back with a grin, and Rocket grits his teeth.
“How many fingers?” he snarls.
“What the fuck are you talking about, old man?”
I’m literally less than a circ or two older than you, he almost spits, then collects himself. Jack’s only more incorrigible when he realizes he’s winning. Instead, the Captain drops his voice and presses his mouth to the base of one of Jack’s long ears. The double-piercing brushes his nose. The silvery rings feel cool and smooth and strangely grounding.
“You said you finger-fucked our sweetheart so full that she had to try to run away from you,” he murmurs darkly into Jack’s ear. “So how many did you stuff inside her, you greedy fuckin’ brat?”
There’s a moment of sudden, uncharacteristic quiet, and Rocket’s belly turns over — unaccountably nervous.
“Four,” Jack says at last, grudgingly.
Rocket spine snaps into something rigid. “Four?”
“I was careful,” the hare defends, though he hasn’t resumed his wriggling and there’s no mockery in his voice. “I didn’t friggin’ hurt her—“
“Four?” Jack’s fingers are thick.
“You don’t understand,” Jack snaps, sounding more irritable than mischievous for once. “Her pussy’s so good, Rocket. I never felt anything like it. It’s so soft. And stretchy. It just wanted to hug my fingers so tight.” He leans his forehead against the wall, and Rocket finds himself leaning in too — dropping his brow to Jack’s shoulder as he wrestles with his own suddenly too-tight lungs. His hips roll, and now he’s the one grinding his dick into Jack’s taut ass and stupidly-fluffy tail. “I was soaked up to my elbow. And I think I coulda fit my whole hand inside, if we’d kept going.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Rocket curses against Jack’s leather-slick back, trying not picture it. He’s never seen Terran pussy before but he’s gotten his hands on enough humie-types to imagine the basics, and it makes his cock throb in his pants.
“And then she was still all snug and tight later, when I had her climb up and ride me,” Jack says. The almost-marvelling tone in his voice melts back into a taunting drawl. “Sweet, too — of course. All worried about hurting me, about making sure I got a chance to come. You should’ve seen her, Rocket. Glazed eyes and these cute, stiff little nips, so worried about whether I was having a good friggin’ time — asking if I’m sure I don’t wanna fill her little pussy up with cream.”
Rocket shakes his head slowly against Jack’s shoulder and snakes his free hand down between them, fingers finding the button above Jack’s curled tail so he can unsnap the slick leather pants. They loosen and sag around Jack’s waist before Rocket turns his attention to his own pants.
“She’d be so good for you, Rocket. A perfect little princess. An angel—“
“Four fingers,” Rocket growls, and reaches around to press all four of his own digits into Jack’s mouth.
excerpt from Audiotransmission_7. [EXPECTED APRIL 15]
Dickhead Crewmates Edges & Overstimulates You in the Showers.
WARNINGS for this chapter: mm smut. anal. edging/denial. filthy dirty talk. d/s vibes (rocket doms (or attempts to), jack's a bratty sub). mention of fisting, sort of? mentions of aftercare (unsatisfied). angst.
Rack & Ruin masterlist.
18+ only | rocket x f!reader x blackjack | 9? parts | wordcount: pending. navigation | fiction masterlist
you have two ridiculous, impossible, extremely-silly crushes. one is on an audio-porn performer whom you've never met, but whose growly voice brought you comfort during a low point in your life. the other is on your fucking boss.
which is why you really don't have the bandwidth to start crushing on the captain, too.
CONTEXT: mcu-based with inspiration from the comics. mostly post-vol3 with references to major past events. while blackjack and rocket do have a pre-existing relationship, the focus is on reader in this story. limited physical description of reader / she does have hair.
skulls dividers and support/mdni banners by @/saradika-graphics | titlecard, ombre green, and ombre glitter dividers by me!
Audiotransmission_5. A PREVIEW. [EXPECTED MARCH 17]
Bounty Hunter Tracks You to a Dive Bar (Then Fucks You Stupid).
Rack & Ruin. | navigation | fiction masterlist
18+ only | rocket x f!reader x blackjack | 4/7 parts
jack tells you how he plans to use you. part one.
excerpt and warnings below.
NOTES: uhhhh look. somehow audiotransmission_4 has become 4, 5, and 6. i am still aiming to keep this at seven transmissions (jesus) but who the fuck knows. that said, i can't imagine it being more than ten. i'm so sorry. would you believe this began as a fucken oneshot
“So, clover-blossom?” Jack purrs. His leather-painted palms stroke up and down your thighs, fingers pinching the fat at your hips, kneading, smoothing away. “You gonna let me tell him?”
You hesitate. Lift the corner of your lips in an attempt at a joke. It wobbles. “Better you than me?”
He snorts.
“I don’t want to make him uncomfortable,” you spill out in a rush, a little desperately. “Or mad—“
“I dunno, honey.” Jack clicks his tongue against his teeth, squeezing his fingers into your flesh and fat and muscle again. “Like I said, your Captain is hot when he’s mad.”
You squirm under his massaging, kneading hands. The Captain is kinda hot when he’s mad.
“And if he’s uncomfortable, it’ll only be because he’s not using any of the holes we’re so graciously fuckin’ offering him.”
Your breath puffs out of you: a startled laugh, a nervous exhale. Your lashes flutter as your eyes dart away from him, looking for something you can distract yourself with. “I’m trying to be respectful.”
Blackjack huffs and shakes his head, and when he steps away, you feel it: the absence of him on your skin. On your body. Your fingers cramp against the blankets and bedsheets, holding you back from reaching for him. He drifts to your endtable, humming that strange tune again, slanting you a wicked clicking wink as he runs one furred finger across the arch of the headband.
“He’ll like that,” Jack drawls. “You, trying to be all respectful. That bastard lives for being treated deferentially. And hell knows he won’t get that from me.”
His eyes are heated. Scorching. If you touched those ruby lenses, they’d singe your skin. Everywhere they touch feels like a burn.
“Another reason why this works,” he coaxes gently. “You’re perfect for us. Made for us.”
You squirm again, thigh pressing tight against each other in his absence. “You’re really sure?” you ask uncertainly, and his stare narrows.
“Don’t overthink it, clover.”
The words are a dark order: the leader of the Black Bunny Brigade, used to being obeyed. You don’t hear Jack sound like that very often — it’s rare now that he’s no longer leading the Brigade, and he’s almost never directed it at you — but it does something to you. God, your panties are ruined, and your leggings are well on their way to unsalvageable.
“You got anything else you wanna tell me?” Jack prods with another quirked war and inquisitive glance. “Any questions you wanna ask?”
You lick your lips. Your mind scrambles.
“What — what’s your plan?” you ask softly. “I know you said for me to just — to get to know him. But I don’t like — it feels like we’re trying to trick him, and I don’t know if I like that—“
Jack takes a step back toward you — then leans his elbow against the bed. His eyes stroll over you lazily: your dilated doe-eyes and bite-swollen lips. You feel his gaze linger where your stiff nipples press against your tunic like hot, swollen little buttons — then it drags down your soft belly, resting hungrily at the juncture of your thighs. Back up: so tactile you can feel it, scraping and teasing and torturous.
He sucks his teeth. His silvery earrings clink against each other.
“I can tell you,” he says slowly. His hands drift to your hips, testing their give. “But — counterproposal — you let me play with you while I do.”
Your breath catches in a hitching hiccup. He squints at you, and grins.
“Would you like that, pretty clover?”
He stretches out one hand, his finger catching on the outer seam of your pants and tracing it along your hip. His voice drops lower.
“Would you let me fuck you tonight, I wonder?”
“Y-yes,” you whisper. “I think so.”
His smirk tilts ruefully. “Gonna have to be more sure than I think so.”
You swallow. Jack studies you a moment longer, then tips his head.
“That’s okay,” he soothes. “We’ll have fun for now, while I tell you how we’re gonna bring down your Captain. Anything else, you can decide on later.” His voice drops lower. It’s melodic, in its own way — struck tones on a metallophone. “First thing I’d do — if you were on board — is get you naked.”
You think he means, if Rocket were here — but it doesn’t stop you. The buzz in your chest from earlier is back, electrically-charged and waiting, and you refuse to be a passive player in your own seduction. You lurch forward — a little gracelessly — reaching for the hem of your tunic and peeling it abruptly over your head. You fumble a bit — get stuck in the sleeves with your face covered, just for half a second —but by the time you’re throwing the discarded clothing to the floor, you realize that Jack’s spine has snapped rigid, no longer leaning on the edge of your bed. Both mechanical eyes are nearly as wide as yours, and far more alert — both ears are dropped into a comically-expressive trail down his back. His mouth is parted, nose twitching spasmodically as he stares.
“Like that?” you ask shakily. It’s not that you’re nervous, you tell yourself firmly, even though it tastes like a lie. It’s just that it’s been a very long time since you’ve been half-naked in front of someone. Your ex, and then nothing for a long time. And then the voice of Rakk n’ Ruin.
No flesh-and-bone person, though — not for circs.
Jack tilts his head. “Close,” he says cautiously, like he’s talking to a skittish animal. Both palms raise in submission, before one drifts toward you — obvious and slow, like he’s suddenly afraid you’ll dart away.
“Fuck you’re pretty,” he murmurs, hushed and half-haunted, like he doesn’t even realize he’s said it aloud. One glossy, silky finger lights gently on the skin of your scapula, right next to your bra strap — then sweeps slowly over the arch of your shoulder, its path hugging the band of cloth till it skims the top of your breast. He’s entranced, staring at the place where he makes contact with your skin, at the little ripple of satin barely covering you. The look on his face — shellshocked, amused, enchanted — reminds you that most of the human-types out in space don’t wear brassieres. This one is a flimsy scrap that doesn’t provide even an ounce of the support a basic Terran-style bra boasts, but at least it gives you the comforting illusion of security.
Or it did, till Jack looked like he wanted to shred it with his sharp incisors.
“You want to get rid of that thing too, honey?”
excerpt from Audiotransmission_5. [EXPECTED MARCH 17]
Bounty Hunter Tracks You to a Dive Bar (Then Fucks You Stupid).
WARNINGS for this chapter: dumbification in the audioscript (more warnings to come). descriptions of rabbit-inspired genitals. so much teasing. so much dirty-talk. nipple-play, texture play, seduction, threesome fantasy, manipulation.
Rack & Ruin masterlist.
18+ only | rocket x f!reader x blackjack | 7? parts | wordcount: pending.
navigation | fiction masterlist
you have two ridiculous, impossible, extremely-silly crushes. one is on an audio-porn performer whom you've never met, but whose growly voice brought you comfort during a low point in your life. the other is on your fucking boss.which is why you really don't have the bandwidth to start crushing on the captain, too.
CONTEXT: mcu-based with inspiration from the comics. mostly post-vol3 with references to major past events. while blackjack and rocket do have a pre-existing relationship, the focus is on reader in this story. limited physical description of reader / she does have hair.
skulls dividers and support/mdni banners by @/saradika-graphics | titlecard, ombre green, and ombre glitter dividers by me!
"Desperate for the familiarity of destruction, Rocket kicked open the nearest filing cabinet and, screaming, proceeded to obliterate everything inside it. J0100 looked on, utterly terrified."
It Really Sucks to Have Friends - Chapter 28: The Xandarian Job: Part IX by TheGreyCoincidence on AO3
I've been wanting to draw this scene for a long while! Rocket going berserk on the filing cabinet is so funny. I think poor J0100 (Blackjack) is a little traumatized lol.
Also a bonus inspired by Chapter 20:
The name swap gets me every time XD
@coincidentalscribbles I remember this is your birthday month so consider these a gift! 🎁 🥳
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