[new 8/2] ❤︎❤︎
oneshot masterlist | main masterlist
fluff ✮ | spice ✩ | some smut ❤︎ | much smut ❤︎❤︎
18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n | f!reader | oneshot | word count: 12,973.
rocket laments building the bowie with such thin walls between bunks. ie, you haven’t been able to get off in a while, and your neighbor knows it. see warnings below.
Rocket’s not thinking. His low-light vision is hungrily licking up the gleam of your shins and your shoulders and your hair — your big shocked eyes all shiny, your lips swollen and bitten and slick. Your panties are still slightly askew and he can see how soaked they are from here: the silken shine of wetness on the inside of your thighs, the puffy outline of that soft, bratty little cunt of yours.
“R-Rocket?”
Chest heaving, he leaps onto your bunk, clawed hand cuffing your pretty ankle and yanking. Your breath whuffs out of your lungs as he heaves you off the pile of pillows and down onto your back: t-shirt rumpling up under your shoulderblades and tits, hair splaying like a flower behind your head as he hauls you toward him. Your eyes are all glossy and baffled and maybe a little scared, and that pierces through his glaze of need and greed and wild fury for a second. It’s not your fault you have the worst-behaved little pussy in the galaxy. He reaches out to you and grips your chin, leathery fingers squishing your cheeks just a little, claws denting the flesh — but not cutting.
“I’m gonna help you out with your little problem. ‘Kay?”
When you just stare at him mutely, eyes all big and confused and kinda frightened, he grunts and crouches and reaches for your wet panties with his other hand, tapping unerringly against your clothed clit.
“This one, sweetheart. Okay?”
Your eyes flicker — he can’t read with what — and your face grows hot under his fingers. He waits, teeth gritted, muscle twitching in his jaw, nose flared and breathing in the scent of you, wet and needy.
Hesitantly, you nod.
･:*𑁍 read more on ao3 𑁍*:･
oneshot masterlist | main masterlist
WARNINGS: absolutely plotless smut. pining, angst, far too much sexual frustration. fingering, spanking and pussy slapping, begging, cunnilingus, praise/degradation, crying, overstim. variations on "slut" and "brat" (affectionate), pet names like "sweetheart," "princess," etc. i scaled back the number of orgasms but it's still a pretty unlikely number for an average humie. i apologize for my sins
lace divider by @/v6que
titlecard & support/mdni banners by me!
Summary: Long from home, the ship's air conditioner breaks, resulting in hallucination-inducing heat. Your obvious crush on Rocket doesn't make things any better.
Warnings: Inspired by a series of TMNT fics I did a while back, sexual innuendo, dirty talk, degradation, praise, illness from excessive heat, daydreaming/hallucinating, suggestive situations, sexual tension, judgment impaired by arousal, fem!reader, non specified species!reader, humanoid/anthro!reader, takes place between vol. 2 and infinity war
You were so dizzy, melting into the sofa, sprawled out with no regard for anyone else's comfort. Your head rested against Mantis's leg, while your legs invaded Drax's bubble, not that he minded. His people didn't really understand the concepts of personal space anyhow. You were all in this boat though, Gamora splayed out on the floor as it was the coolest surface in the ship. With this heat, all there was to do to bear it was strip down to the littlest clothing possible before becoming indecent and napping to make the time pass quicker.
"C'mon, you guys, cheer up," Peter forced a cheerful tone from the cockpit. "Rocket said he should be finished with the repairs on the AC tomorrow."
"Thank God," you groaned, pinching the fabric of your tanktop to unstick it from your chest. "I can't take this shit anymore."
"Yeah, I'm so sweaty, it feels like I showered in my clothes." Mantis agreed from above you, doing the same and wiggling all over to have her shirt sit right.
"But you didn't," Drax gave her a lead-poisoned stare. "I have been watching you for hours and you haven't moved, let alone gone to shower." The empath's head very slowly turned towards him, her glare and pursed lips screaming that she was done with his nonsense.
"Ya know," the captain called again. "If you're hot, just think how Rocket feels. It's probably way hotter down there in the boiler, plus he's covered in fur."
"I am Groot." The sapling said, raising his head off Gamora's chest as she nodded, agreeing with him.
"I don't care that fur is like insulation, if you're hot, he's hot. And I don't see any of you trying to help him, so stop whining." Peter's light reprimand, admittedly had pulled on your heartstrings a bit. It was awfully nice of Rocket to fix the AC all by himself, even if he was the only one with the know-how to do it.
"He's right," you sighed, begrudgingly tearing yourself off the sofa, your exposed skin having stuck to it. Finally separated from the mound of leather and flesh, you stumbled over to the kitchenette and threw open the fridge before grabbing a few bottles of water. "Rocket might need some help, I'll go check on him."
-----
You had never been in this part of the ship before, slinking through halls and around protruding pipes and fixtures. It was much hotter down here, closer to the water heating systems. You had to halt for a moment, pressing your hand to the wall for stability as you hunched a bit. If you were already feeling faint, you couldn't imagine how Rocket was feeling. For all you knew, he could have passed out and nobody would have known.
Suddenly you began to make out a distant, distorted racket that echoed and reverberated against every surface. It sounded almost...melodic? Following as it became louder, it led you to a warm light that streamed out from beyond a closed door. You halted for a moment, now being able to separate the noise, which you now recognized as a voice, singing lazily. Rocket never sang in front of people and you almost felt perverted as you listened to his rendition of Silver's 'Wham Bam Shang-A-Lang'. "Now that it's said and we both understand," he softly crooned, voice carrying to far reaches. "Let's say our goodbyes before it gets out of hand."
Inhaling sharply, you finally found it in you to grip the door handle and let yourself in. Orange light flooded out of the small room and the music became as clear as it was going to get, loud enough to conceal the sound of the door opening. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.
Everyone had always been able to tell you were sweet on Rocket, and you'd never done much to hide the fact but seeing him now, bathed in marigold neon, laid flat on his back up underneath a large fixture...shirtless- it was too much for you. His fur was slicked against his chest from sweat and his jumpsuit was tied loosely on his hips, revealing much more of him than you ever could have been prepared to see. Adding to that his admittedly lovely, gruff singing voice, the scene was a recipe for an upset tummy.
Deciding you couldn't handle this, you silently tried to back out of the room, eyes trained on him like a deer in headlights. You may have gotten away with it, had one of the water bottles not fallen from the crook of your elbow, alerting him to your presence. Instantly, he rolled out from under the machine, set down his tools, and sat up, staring at you. "(Y/N), what are you doing down here?"
Now that you could see his face, you were in even worse shape. The white stripes on his cheeks were smeared with grease, whiskers crumpled, and fur unkempt. He looked incredibly rugged- more so than usual. "Hello? Knowwhere to (Y/N)?" he croaked again and waved a hand in front of him, voice hoarse from unrestricted use. "You okay?"
At last, you shook out of your trance, flustered to hell and back, and eagerly swooped down to grab the bottle. "Y-Yeah, I'm great! You're just really hot!" Rocket stared at you for a second, waiting for you to correct yourself before owning the compliment and mocking you for it. Obviously, you didn't take the hint, so that was his cue.
"Well thanks, dollface," he smirked, standing up and sauntering over to the doorway, taking the dropped bottle from you before popping off the cap and chugging it. About halfway through, he stopped with a deep, relieved sigh. "I always thought I was pretty hot but it's still nice to hear it from someone else." That's when your stomach dropped, realizing what you'd said. Time to backtrack.
"Oh my God, no!" you gasped, once again dropping what you were holding to slap your hands to your face. "I don't think you're hot!" Rocket looked at you quizzically, hand on hip. "I-I mean I do think you're attractive, b-but not in a weird way! More like a friend way!"
"Uh-huh," he teased, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorframe. "Friend attraction's the best kind, ya know? And don't sweat it, Quill says I'm hot all the time."
"Rocket, please..." you finally gave in, physically crumbling. "I meant like- you're probably getting hot down here and I wanted to bring you something to drink."
"I know, dollface, I'm just yankin' your chain." he laughed, pushing off the wall and walking back farther into the room to sit on a bucket. "I needed a break anyway, thanks princess."
"Princess...?"
"What?"
"N-Nothing!" You finally let out a sigh of relief, following a bit closer and sitting on the floor. "So how's it coming?" you asked, uncapping your own bottle after passing him the last one.
"Well, I've identified the problem, but I don't got the right parts to fix it. Good news is, I think I was able to work up a temporary replacement that should at least get us back to Knowwhere. I know if we can just get home, I can get a brand new part for cheap-" You weren't sure when, but at some point, you'd stopped listening, mind and eyes wandering.
" Ah, fuck, (Y/N), easy! Yeah, j-just like that, keep movin' just like that for me princess..."
"Are you even listening?" Rocket's annoyed tone brought you out of your daydream. You must have zoned out without realizing it, how embarrassing. "Jeez, you're hopeless, ya know that?" He chided, standing up and grabbing a rag to wipe his hands on.
"Sorry..." you slumped shamefully before trailing him as he got back into position. "H-Hey, is there anything I can do to help you out?"
"Hmm," he paused, laying back down on the creeper, ready to roll back under the unit. "I guess you can keep me company, hand me tools," he proposed, disappearing under the machine. Suddenly his voice dropped an octave, words echoed against metallic surfaces that made you freeze. "I know my girl is very good with my tools."
You squeaked at his sudden turn in demeanor, falling on your behind and scrambling away from him. "W-What?!"
Rocket rolled back out, propping up on an elbow, eyeing you with concern. "What, what'd I say?" he asked frantically. "What's up with you?"
"Y-You said-" you stammered, not even comfortable with repeating what you heard. "Y-You said...I'm g-good with your tools!"
He looked at you like you were the biggest moron he'd ever met. "Well, yeah?" he chastised. "You help me in my shop all the time, so I know you know which ones are which. You're good at knowing which ones to hand me." Your chest heaved as he once again returned to his position, reaching his hand out. His small fingers curled, a sign for you to hand something over. "Gimme that ratchet." Quickly, you placed it in his hand, before clicking open the socket set.
"What size socket?"
"Twelve millimeter." He answered, settling the tool on his stomach to use both hands for whatever he was doing. Scanning the set, you plucked out the shallow twelve millimeter piece and set it on his chest, waiting for him to grab it. He did and growled in dismay, giving it back.
"No, princess," he corrected, gasping through clenched teeth. "Need it deep."
"You...w-what?" you carefully asked, feeling incredibly dizzy and unable to discern truth from hallucination.
"I need the deep twelve millimeter, not the shallow one." Rocket scolded, giving a frustrated sigh as he listened to you scramble for the correct piece, profusely apologizing all the while. Finally, you found the right one, presenting it to him just in time for him to roll out from under the fixture again. "Okay, dollface," he titled his head, worried. "What's your deal?"
"Deal? There's no deal!" you played dumb, laughing nervously, hoping he'd just drop it. "I'm fine, really!"
You went rigid, watching him silently creep closer to you, unsure if this was real or not. Finally, he placed a paw against your cheek and whispered in close: "You're burnin' up, baby."
"Rocket, I don't feel good." you stated abruptly. "I-I think something's wrong with me."
"I'll say," he cooed, dragging his knuckles down the side of your face. "How about you let me change that, hmm?" The world around you began to blur, and all you could make out were his words. You understood that his hands were on you, but you couldn't say where; you couldn't feel it, you couldn't even see clearly. "Yeah, baby just lay down, lemme do all the work." He soothed seductively. "Let daddy take care of you, 'kay, (Y/N)?"
That last word, it was your name, right? He kept repeating it, like a broken record, and suddenly all the gruffness left his voice. You listened as intently as you could, hearing it morph from lustful to monotone, and then increasingly more worried- desperate even. "(Y/N)!" There it was again.
Slowly, as his voice became more clear, the cloudiness in your vision dissipated and your senses began to return. Your cheek burned against hot metal, and you could feel patting on your face. A figure hovered over you, close enough to breathe on you. "Goddamnit, (Y/N), wake up!"
"R-Rocket...?" you stuttered, recognizing the figure. "What's going on...?"
"Nevermind that," he hushed. "Lay back down," Suddenly, he turned away from you, yelling out the door, presumably to the oncoming footsteps stampeding down the hall. "In here!" Your eyelids began to get heavy as the world began to fall away again. The last thing you remember was being lifted into the air by a second, hulking figure, then nothing.
-----
You awoke in your bunk, arctic air breezing by your face. What had happened, how did you get here? Where was Rocket? Your fingers twitched, sore from lack of use and the tips of them caught the sensation of something foreign. Multiple fibers connected to one source, soft in mass but wirey when you singled one out. Letting your hand travel up the organism, you froze, realizing you'd answered one of your questions. Glancing down, you found Rocket, curled in a ball at your side. That was odd, you did share a room, but Rocket never slept in your bunk.
Your movements must have roused him as he stirred under your touch, slowly unfurling himself and stretching out. "You're up," he noted, smiling a bit. "You'll be happy to know the AC is fixed."
Now that you took notice of it, the room was cooler, cold even. "Wow," you yawned, smiling back sleepily. "How long was I out for?"
"About eight hours," he copied, yawning as a reaction to seeing you do the same. You halted a moment, confused.
"Wait, I thought you said it'd take you another day to fix it?" you rubbed sleep from your eye waiting for his explaination.
"Nothin' an all nighter couldn't fix." He laughed exhaustedly, curling back up into your side. You'd usually question his sudden cuddliness, but it made your bed that much cozier. "Honestly, your little heatstroke..." his voice softened a bit. "It scared me a little. I was worried about ya."
"Heatstroke..." you repeated. "That makes so much sense," At least now you had an explanation for all those hallucinations from earlier. Though you were glad to be well again, Rocket's attention was nice, even if it was all in your head. "That explains me hearing and seeing things that weren't there down in the boiler. Sorry for acting so weird.." you confessed sheepishly.
"Don't be sorry," he chuckled cockily, eyes peacefully resting. "We'll definitely be having a lengthy, private conversation about all that after I catch up on some sleep." Your stomach dropped at that, imagining all the terrible outcomes that could result from said conversation. "And for the record, dollface, I do think you're very good at handling my tools, ya know," he smirked, nuzzling your ear. "When you follow directions."
Your stomach did flips as your head began to feel heavy again. "I-I must still be hallucinating...I swear I just heard you say-"
warnings: nsfw, explicit sexual content, sneaking in at night, roommate risk, semi-public/being-quiet kink, needy behavior, teasing, grinding, oral buildup, penetrative sex, dirty talk, & light dom energy
—
the house is dead silent at 1 am, the kind of quiet that presses in on you like a weight, broken only by the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen downstairs and the occasional creak of the old wooden floors settling. marlon’s place—well, their place, since rocket moved in a few months back to make filming easier—is one of those cramped two-story rentals on the edge of the city, with thin walls and doors that never quite latch right. the streetlights outside filter through the blinds in rocket’s room, casting long, slanted shadows across the messy bed, the scattered camera gear on the desk, and the posters of indie bands peeling at the edges.
you’d been blowing up his phone all night—texts starting innocent like “miss u, when’s marlon crashing?” but escalating quick to “need u so bad rn, please come over” with a string of thirsty emojis that made him text back “can’t, marlon’s still up editing clips. he’ll hear me leave.” but you couldn’t wait. the ache had been building since that afternoon stream where you watched him in the background, tall and lanky in his black hoodie, curls falling over his eyes as he adjusted the camera angle for marlon’s chaotic rant. something about seeing him like that—quiet, focused, but with that soft smile when marlon cracked a joke—had you restless, touching yourself under the covers but stopping because it wasn’t him.
so you showed up anyway, parking a block away and texting “outside ur window. let me in?” from the shadows of the backyard. rocket’s face appeared in the upstairs window a minute later, pale and wide-eyed, mouthing “what the fuck?” but he snuck down anyway—barefoot, in those gray sweats that hang low on his hips and a faded band tee, creeping through the back door like a thief in his own house. “marlon’s asleep in the living room,” he whispered, voice low and urgent, grabbing your hand and pulling you inside quick. “he passed out on the couch mid-edit. if he wakes up…”
you didn’t let him finish, already pressing close in the dark kitchen, the cool tile under your feet contrasting the heat building between you. “i’ll be quiet,” you promised, but even then your voice was breathy, hands sliding up his chest. he shushed you with a finger to his lips, leading you up the stairs—each step a careful, agonizing test to avoid the creaky spots he knew by heart. his room was at the end of the hall, past marlon’s closed door, and when he finally eased the door shut behind you both, locking it with a soft click, the tension snapped like a rubber band.
you were on him immediately, backing him against the door, hands everywhere—fingers threading through his messy curls, tugging just enough to make him exhale sharp. your lips found his jaw first, soft and insistent, trailing kisses down the line of his neck, over the faint stubble that scratched against your mouth. “god, i missed you,” you murmured into his skin, voice muffled as you nipped at his collarbone, hands roaming lower to palm him through those thin sweats. he was already half-hard, twitching under your touch, and the way he sucked in a breath made you grin against his throat.
“fuck—wait,” he whispered, but his hands betrayed him, sliding up your sides under your shirt, thumbs brushing the underside of your bra. you ignored the hesitation, kissing his face all over—cheeks, eyelids, the bridge of his nose, then capturing his mouth in a deep, hungry kiss that had him groaning low into it. your palm pressed firmer against his cock, stroking through the fabric in slow, teasing circles, feeling him thicken and throb. “please, rocket,” you begged between kisses, voice a whine already, “need you to fuck me. been thinking about it all day—your hands, your mouth, this—” you squeezed gently, and he bucked into your hand with a choked sound.
he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and hooded in the dim light, cheeks flushed under the mess of curls falling over his forehead. “marlon’s right downstairs,” he said, voice rough but steady, that quiet confidence slipping in like it always does when things heat up. “he’s a light sleeper. if he hears us…”
“i’ll be quiet,” you promised again, desperate, grinding against his thigh for friction. “please—i need it so bad. just fuck me quiet.”
he hesitated for one long second, glancing at the door like marlon might burst in any moment, then nodded—slow, decisive. “okay,” he murmured, hands moving to your waist, guiding you backward toward the bed. “but you gotta be quiet. no sounds. bite the pillow if you have to.”
the bed creaked faintly as you both tumbled onto it, rocket hovering over you, his tall frame caging you in. he kissed you hard then—deep, consuming, tongue sliding against yours while his hands worked your clothes off. your shirt went first, tossed to the floor, then your shorts and panties in one smooth tug, leaving you bare under him. he sat back on his heels for a moment, just looking—eyes raking over your body in the low light, cock straining obvious against his sweats now. “so fucking pretty,” he whispered, voice low and controlled, pulling his tee over his head and shoving his sweats down just enough to free himself.
he was hard, flushed dark at the tip, precome beading already as he settled between your thighs. you reached for him, but he caught your wrists gently, pinning them above your head with one hand. “slow,” he said, smirking a little—that rare, teasing edge he gets when he’s in control. “wanna make you wait for it.”
you bit your lip to stifle a whine, nodding frantically as he released your hands and slid down your body. his mouth found your neck again, sucking lightly, then lower—kissing between your breasts, tongue flicking over a nipple until you arched, a tiny gasp escaping. “shh,” he warned, breath hot against your skin, hand clamping gently over your mouth for a second. “quiet, remember?”
you nodded, eyes pleading, and he moved lower still—kisses trailing over your stomach, hips, inner thighs. but he didn’t go where you wanted, just teasing close, breath ghosting over your core until you were squirming, thighs trembling. “rocket—please,” you whispered, voice barely audible, hands fisting the sheets.
he finally shifted up, cock heavy between your legs, and instead of thrusting in—he teased. the head of him pressed against your folds, sliding slow through the slick heat, up and down, coating himself in you. every pass nudged your clit, sending sparks up your spine, but he didn’t enter—just rubbed, deliberate and torturous, watching your face with that focused intensity. “feel that?” he murmured, voice steady, hips rocking in shallow motions. “so wet for me already. dripping all over my cock.”
you were a mess—whiny, yes, but trying so hard to keep it in. tiny, muffled whimpers slipped out despite your best efforts, hips bucking up to chase more friction, but he held you down with one hand on your thigh. “uh-uh,” he said softly, smirking again. “be good. stay quiet, and i’ll give you what you want.”
the teasing went on forever—or it felt like it. his cock gliding through your lips, parting them just enough to stretch the entrance without pushing in, the thick head catching on your clit over and over until you were shaking, tears pricking your eyes from the build-up. “please—inside,” you begged in a whisper, voice cracking, nails digging into his shoulders. “need you—fuck me—please—”
he groaned low at that—quiet, controlled—and finally, mercifully, lined up. “okay,” he breathed, pressing the tip in slow, inch by inch, stretching you open. the fullness made your eyes flutter shut, a soft moan building in your throat, but you swallowed it down, biting your lip hard enough to taste blood.
he bottomed out with a quiet exhale, forehead pressed to yours, holding still for a moment to let you adjust. “fuck—you’re tight,” he whispered, voice rough now, hips twitching like he was fighting not to move yet. then he started—slow at first, long strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, building a rhythm that had the bed creaking faintly under you.
you tried—god, you tried to be quiet. clamping a hand over your own mouth, burying your face in his shoulder, but the way he fucked you—deep, steady, grinding at the end of each thrust—pulled tiny sounds from you anyway. muffled whines, shaky breaths, the wet slap of skin on skin that seemed deafening in the silence. “shh—baby,” he murmured against your ear, not slowing down, “marlon’s gonna hear. bite down if you need to.”
you did—teeth sinking into his shoulder, stifling a cry as he picked up pace, fucking you harder now, the tension coiling tight in your core. his hand slid between you, thumb finding your clit and rubbing firm circles, and that was it—you shattered, clenching around him hard, body arching as the orgasm ripped through you. you managed to keep it mostly silent—a choked gasp, trembling limbs—but a small, high whine escaped, echoing in the room.
rocket cursed under his breath, thrusting through it, his own rhythm faltering. “fuck—gonna come,” he whispered, burying deep one last time and spilling inside you with a low, guttural groan—quiet, but raw. he collapsed half on top of you, both of you panting, sweat-slick and tangled.
for a minute, it was just breathing—the house still silent, no footsteps from downstairs. he kissed your temple, pulling out slow, and you whimpered softly at the loss. “you okay?” he asked, voice back to that soft, shy tone now that the heat was fading.
you nodded, pulling him close, but then—a creak from the hallway. both of you froze, hearts pounding, as marlon’s voice grumbled distant from downstairs: “rocket? you up?”
panic flashed in rocket’s eyes, but he smirked a little—nervous, amused. “told you to be quiet,” he whispered, kissing you quick before scrambling for his sweats. “stay here—i’ll handle it.”
and just like that, the night wasn’t over—but the risk made it all the sweeter.
･:*𑁍 overheard on the bowie
[anticipated august 2]
18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n | f!reader | oneshot | word count: TBD.
rocket laments building the bowie with such thin walls between bunks. ie, you haven’t been able to get off in a while, and your neighbor knows it.
i am having too much fun writing this because apparently while i ultimately want to be a benevolent god who gives rocket only happy endings, i apparently have no qualms with torturing him with sexual frustration in the meantime.
nsfw after the cut | FULL FIC NOW POSTED
He’d looked up at you, your eyes all shiny and plush lips framing the words, Can I help you with something? Do you need anything? and the only words that had come to his mind were, Sweetheart. Can I help you?
Because the worst part of it is — you’ve been so unlucky.
He continues to stare at the dark ceiling, palms resting on his chest, and wishes he’d stolen Pete’s zune. Stick the little headphones into his ears and distract himself for a little while.
“Slow down, princess,” he mutters into the shadows. He’s usually got no qualms against eavesdropping in general but he wouldn’t try to listen in on this. Unfortunately for both of you, there’s no world in which he can avoid hearing it: the steady soft schlick-schlick of your pussy lips rubbing wetly against each other, or maybe your fingers, if you’ve got them stuffed cutely inside your pretty hole. Your shallow, reedy little breaths, puffing over lips he’s sure you’ve bitten raw. The rustle of the blankets as you shift and try to adjust yourself: legs opening wider, he imagines. Or maybe he’s wrong and you’re not going too fast and hard at your little clitty: maybe you’ve hit the right pace for yourself, and your knees are locking and your toes are curling and you’ll both — finally — get some relief tonight.
But nope. He can hear you, winding yourself tighter and tighter, higher and higher, more and more desperate. A quiet, pitiful little whispered word — “please” — to the gods, like they’ll finally take mercy on you. But he’s listened to you enough times that he can pinpoint the moment that your desperation turns into frustration, and then despair. There’s a sad little muffled whimper — pressed into a handful of blankets, he’s sure — and then the sounds of your strokes slow, and finally cease. A soft, miserable sigh, and the whisper of skin on skin — you rubbing your thighs together in resignation, he suspects.
He rolls over in his hammock and screams into his pillow.
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Domestic Scenes in Space Travel series
A Kinktober 2023 Interlude
18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n | f!reader | oneshot | complete | word count: 1,786.
rocket wants something to remember you by while he’s away. just a short little ficlet with no plot whatsoever. we jump right into the smut with no prep so uh be prepared for that i guess. during kinktober we say "fuck everything - including plot.” based on day 13 of @flightlessangelwings’ Kinktober 2023 Prompt List ~ recording.
WARNINGS: smut. begging. orgasm delay, references to exhibitionism, little bit of impact play, dirty talk, praise, use of "slut"/"whore" (affectionate). the sex is (extremely) consensual but there are some dubcon elements (specifically the recording itself - it gets sorted). this oneshot doesn’t really fit with the overall sweatshirt girl timeline (somewhere between installment 4 and 5, except nothing should happen between 4 and 5 lol) but just roll with me k?)
read Proof on ao3 ❤︎❤︎
excerpt below the cut.
Fuckin adorable sweatshirt girl art by @blueberrysquire
Domestic Scenes in Space Travel series
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“Fuck, sweetheart - “
You’re on your forearms and knees, back arched deep and breasts pressed into the thin mattress of the berthstyle bunk. Your pussy is tilted upward, high and dripping, while Rocket palms your fleshy hips. His filed claws dig deep - not cutting, but they’ll leave behind bruised little teardrops all over your skin. Still, it’s the only way he can haul your ass against his pelvis the way he wants, burying himself in your noisy, slick cunt as deep and hard as possible. You’re mewling, nipples dragging against the sheets with every thrust. You can feel that your thighs are drenched down to your knees, and you stretch your arms forward, trying to push your hips harder into Rocket’s, to get him even deeper.
read Proof on ao3
dividers & banners by @saradika-graphics | moodboards by me!
18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n | f!reader | 3/3 parts | word count: 44,521.
COMPLETE. back to main masterlist.
wind·fall /ˈwin(d)ˌfôl/ noun. an apple or other fruit blown down from a tree or bush by the wind; an unexpected piece of good fortune.
semi-shy touch-deprived reader tries to avoid meeting knowhere’s intimidating captain. is profoundly unsuccessful.
based on a prompt by @creativepromptsforwriting: The apartment she moved to has a beautiful, well-tended garden. After a while she finds out that her neighbor is the one tending to the plants and she decides to help him out one day.
mcu-based, post-volume-three. see warnings below.
⭑˚.⚘𖡼𖥧𖤣 collects Parts One through Three.
Part One. Sugared Violets. 𖤣𖥧𖡼⚘.˚⭑ groot attempts to parent-trap his dad. ✩
Part Two. Crystallized Ginger. 𖤣𖥧𖡼⚘.˚⭑ nebula talks some sense into the captain. ❤︎
Part Three. Candied Apples. 𖤣𖥧𖡼⚘.˚⭑ thievery in the garden.❤︎❤︎
WARNINGS: rising sexual tension and possible secondhand embarassment in part one. flirting, teasing, and rocket's filthy fantasies in part two. smut in chapter three (see chapter heading for warnings).
no skin color, hair texture, or body shape/size specified in this work - the bodies depicted above & below are solely present to show off the damn dress.
some explicit statements or references ✩
explicit scenes or fantasy sequences ❤︎
long, detailed, and graphic explicit content ❤︎❤︎
deliberately smut-free, mostly or entirely platonic ✮
florescence❀ (a meetgroot*)
year four: formation ⋆˚✿˖°
[NEW 9/24] ❤︎❤︎ my very long and ongoing birthday gift to the rocket fan community ~ thank you for sharing this space with me ♡♡♡
florescence❀ masterlist | read year four on ao3
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read year four on ao3 | florescence❀ masterlist
navigation | fanfiction masterlist | art masterlist
18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n | f!reader | 5/6 years | word count: pending.
everything blossoms. rating increases. see warnings below and on ao3.
“I like it,” he interrupts quickly, his voice somehow straddling the knife-edge between sharp and raspy. “I frickin’ — I like it.”
Your smile tugs wider on your lips. “Yeah?”
He shrugs, and his burnt-ruby eyes shift away to some hidden shadowed corner of the cottage ceiling. He huffs a breath — almost a scoff, if not for the strangled yearning you can hear folded into the sound.
“I mean. It’s fine. Whatever.”
You chew your lip, and take a page out of his book, dropping your lids to half-mast and gazing at him through hooded eyes, lashes heavy. “I bet I can think of some other things you might like.”
He blinks. “Okay.”
You feel the curve of your lips twitch again, cheeks lifting your eyes into soft crescents. Oh, he’s not getting it. At all. You’re surprised, based on the heat you sometimes see gathering in his lava-glowing eyes — the knowing smirk that so often tilts the corner of his mouth and presses one fang into his lip. But he seems only perplexed as you lean forward, eyes flickering with something dark and warm before he shutters them. They fly wide when you lift yourself to your hands and knees, pupils following to eclipse that ring of molten red as you slowly begin to crawl toward him. You tip your back into a little arch, letting your hips roll and sway as you lope toward him on all fours. His eyes get bigger and bigger — the beautiful soft brows of his mask arching higher and his pupils swelling and blooming like dark moons, catching firelight and fickering into flat copper coins as you move through the room, all the way until you’ve knelt yourself right at his feet. It’s a spot you’ve sat in a hundred times before, curved at the base of the chair you’d long ago decided was his — but it’s different now. You know it is, because you’re making it different. You coast your fingers against the bottom hems of his jumpsuit, up the outer seams on his calves, and then dance your fingertips over his knees — watching his sharply-drawn inhalations through the feathery haze of your lashes.
“What are you doing?” he asks, and it’s almost choked.
“Sweetheart,” you purr. “I’m trying to seduce you.”
read more ao3 | florescence❀ masterlist
WARNINGS: dirty talk, seduction, striptease, fellatio, praise to the nth power, body worship, nervous rocket, implied dom rocket, dirty talk, mentions of sex toys and anal play and tit-fucking and The Tail, (accidental?) sensation play/marking with claws, use of "slut" (affectionate), mentions of creative positions, aftercare, outdoor sex, lots of feelings. a near break-up.
“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! ♡
