Turning a guy double your size into a whimpering slut should be considered and included within self care routine of women
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@thoughtfulcopzonkpie
Turning a guy double your size into a whimpering slut should be considered and included within self care routine of women

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Hello! I have a fun idea if youâre up for it.
Rocketâs partner actively going out of their way to befriend Groot, because they know how much Groot means to Rocket and as a result Groot and the partner end up becoming besties.
Cartoon Rocket or Rivals Rocket are preferred but Iâm ok with whatever Rocket you choose for this đ
(Also I really like your writing and I hope youâre doing well)
Iâve never tried to write cartoon rocket before â at least not outside of the every!rockets. so i guess Iâll give it a crack here, my friend. thanks for the excuse! Ěâ Ěŕ´°Íâ ̏ꤎ ĚââĚ
now, as a reminder â it's not exactly a hardship to try to befriend groot. to be honest, i can't imagine a universe in which you don't try to befriend groot, even if rocket weren't in the picture.
but for better or worse, rocket is in the picture, and that raises the stakes. because if you somehow fuck up â if the universe's sweetest, kindest, most tender-hearted lifeform decides, for some reason, that you are a menace â well, then you know you've got no shot of getting the resident grumpy mechanic to soften up toward you.
do you think Rocket ever deals with sleep paralysis? It would make sense because of his history if he did. Would probably hit him worse than the night terrors đĽ
darling, i hate to say youâre absolutely right. but of course you are.
WARNING for canon-typical violence and trauma, plus lots of petnames and praise ⥠and the implication that you sleep together, though you can take that any way you want.
he doesnât understand it at first â probably thinks itâs a holdover from his dreams of being restrained while vim and theel opened him up and cut him apart, broke his bones and cut through his nerves, clamped his muscles and twisted his tendons, fastened them to various prosthetic mechanisms, and wove circuitry into his spinal column. heâd never been able to move when heâd been pinned beneath all that pain, feeling the burn of his constricting pupils beneath the hot bright lights of the lab.
so of course, he reasons â of course that paralysis follows him right into his nightmares, and then his waking moments too.
you think Rocket would reach an orgasm just by us giving attention to his hands???
babes... yes. yes, you charming, adorable, brilliant little genius with the big, beautiful brain.
obviously this imagine is gonna be NSFW... see end of post for related content, especially regarding raccoon sensory perception & touch.
GN reader | WARNING for lots of sultry foreplay, hand massaging, licking/sucking fingers, teasing, body worship, coming untouched - brief mentions of fingering and bondage.
you start with little massages after you see him shaking out his aching hands, clawed fingers all cramped from being curled around a multitool for hours.
heâll try to brush you off at first, irritable in his self-consciousness, but be patient. persistent. if you have to, pout â heâs a sucker for you when you pout, and you know he always melts under your careful, intentional, healing touch.
as usual, his walls will crumble quickly as soon as you get your hands on him. they always do for you â especially once he feels the gentle cradle of your fingers against his scarred tendons and callused knuckles. so let your thumbs sink â smooth and easy â into the meat of his palms: stretching the delicate architecture of bones and prosthetics and twisted muscle inside. heâll groan without even realizing it â unable to help himself when he can feel each velvet whorl embossed on your fingertips, stroking along his sensitive skin. theyâll light up new neural pathways like comets and meteors in his mind: all glitter and flakes of shiny metal, burning into stardust through his whole nervous system.
you have to understand that nobodyâs ever done this for him before â nobodyâs given such tender, attentive care to his mutilated, hypersensitive hands â and itâll be addictive. not only for the way it sets off bright flares of dopamine and oxytocin like chrysanthemum fireworks blossoming in his brain, and not only for the rush of serotonin, sweeter than any booze or smoke â but for the realness of it. for the perfect, unbearable closeness of you:
palm to palm, more intimate than a kiss.
you could probably put him to sleep with it, if you wanted.
but⌠thatâs not your goal.
you gently twist and tug each knuckle â more than one of them clicking and popping gently, and he sighs with relief each time. you squeeze the webbing between his thumb and palm, then knead the thenar eminence and first dorsal muscle. his grunts and groans will begin to rattle softy in his chest, melting into a purr â and when your fingertips fall across the padding of his palm like little raindrops or kisses, his head will roll back on his shoulders and his mouth tips open to the sky.
trace the creases in his palm. tell him that some terrans believe they can read a personâs life-story there, like lines of poetry that his translator chip canât decode. and when he jerks a little, like he wants to snatch his hand away in fear, hold on anyway. let your fingers skim the long sloping curve of his headline, then soothe the scars scattered across his heartline â each one denoting one of his terrible sorrows. glide your touch over the uncurving slant of his lifeline, and when the tension in his hand softens, whisper to him that such a straight line means heâs slow to trust.
let him grumble back:
it donât matter. i trust you.
squeeze his hand in pure, unthinking adoration, then lift it to your mouth: press a reverent kiss to his pulse, hidden under velvet fur and delicate skin. feel his fingers spasm and curl, all startled reaction and an impulsive grasp for hope. watch him over the vulnerability of his wrist as you drop your lips again to the heel of his palm, and then to the heart of it.
pause. give him a moment. if heâd thought his neurons had lit up before, it wonât begin to compare to this. for a moment, heâll think that maybe something in his cybernetics is short-circuiting. his hands feel full of sparks â hot and glittery as stars â and theyâll travel in flashes up his arms and into his spine, singing into the base of his brainstem. heat will flood over his face, pink and panting under his fur. so go ahead â uncurl his fingers one at a time, dripping kisses on each phalanx as you go: three apiece, each one a gift or a prayer. each one intentional, because you know him well enough to recognize the way his thighs will tighten under his jumpsuit and his garnet eyes will somehow go glazed and intent all at once. the way his tail will twitch, like itâs the one part of him he canât fully control â like it wants so badly to stroke along your inner thigh.
later, maybe youâll use this knowledge to both of your advantages: stealing him away during a lull in the chaos of the Guardians by lacing your fingers between his and rippling a spit-glossed thumb over the knuckles. shuffling him sweetly and discreetly into a mechanical closet so you can lick his palm â filthily â while he hisses at you through gritted teeth, just anxious enough at being caught that you figure heâs already halfway to coming. youâll nip and nibble at the tips of his fingers, then suck them deep into your mouth: one at a time, none of them long enough to make you gag â but dangerous nonetheless, with their sharp claws pressing into the wet pad of your tongue. youâll slurp on them with a smirk in your eye: following him to the grated floor when his knees buckle, wrapping your tongue around him, laving and loving on him. itâll be your new favorite thing: making him come â like a fuckinâ amateur, he curses afterward, every time â practically untouched in his blue jumpsuit.
later, maybe youâll figure out that with enough foreplay, he can make himself come while he finger-fucks your tight humie hole: curling and searching till he finds that special spot inside you, drumming and strumming it while he pumps his digits slickly inside, till you both growl and groan and cry out at the same time, low and grateful.
later, maybe heâll even let you lay him on his belly while you tie his wrists tenderly to the foot of your shared bunk, each joint carefully corded in Krylorian silk, holding his palm vulnerable and his fingers unfurled.
but for now, all you have to do his hold his blown-pupil gaze while you drop your soft, wet mouth around two of his fingers: worshipping them and all the things theyâve created, all the ships theyâve piloted, all the ways theyâve touched you. wanting to ease the old surgical aches justâ
just a little, if you can.
his clawed toes will curl, and his already-dark eyes will go wide and disbelieving. his fur will ripple over his body as his hips buck without his permission. his thick plumy tail will lash the air just once â and thank kâythri heâs already sitting down, because heâs pretty sure a hundred-thousand volts of pleasure will be weaving into and ricocheting up his spine.
and when he comes in his pants for the first time â sticky and warm and distantly shocked at his own apparent greenness â all heâll be able to do is look in your wide, delighted humie eyes, each one reflecting a hundred endless skies, and think of how much he fuckinâ loves you.
not for the way you set off bright flares of dopamine and oxytocin in his brain â not for the rush of serotonin, flooding out his system, sweeter than any booze or smoke.
but for the realness of it.
for the perfect, unbearable closeness of you:
palm to palm, more intimate than a kiss.
RELATED POSTS ~
info about raccoon sensory perception + lowkey spicy rumination
another headcanon/imagine about raccoon sense of touch
rocket & love languages (imagine)
threaded convo on raccoon hearing/touch
recent #rfh headcanons nav | fanfiction | headcanons & imagines m.list
ive been thinking, what do you think rocketâs love language is??? >3<
hey bby. i've been thinking about you a lot lately and i hope youâre doing well ⥠i've been thinking about this question a lot, too. itâs such a good one and iâm so glad you asked!
i wrote a little about rocket's gift-giving tendencies a while ago, and briefly touched on love-languages in general. but i think it might be hard to parse out what he's like when you first meet him, you know? he's so damn prickly, keeping everyone at arm's length. his words are always so sarcastic and dry that they're practically crackling apart. plus, one time, you tapped his shoulder for something, and he startled and bared his teeth at you in a full-snarl before recognizing you.
doesn't like to be touched, you'd noted to yourself.

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academics: raccoons learn primarily through touch. two thirds of the sensory perception areas of their cerebral cortexes are devoted to interpreting tactile data. if they handle something, they can remember it for years. they have hairs (vibrissae) at the top of each claw on their forepaws, which function similarly to cat whiskers and allow them to identify objects before their paws even make full contact with it. their hands become even more sensitive in the water, which is why they often wet objects or âwashâ their food. it helps them remember which kinds of items might be useful and which are edible.
me: rocket fucks you & eats you out in the shower
Rocket Raccoon Fanart inspired by this post; https://www.tumblr.com/mandorlaentity/820522845388128256/saw-this-on-some-content-aggregate-obviously
Real quick turn around for me, couldâve probably taken another day but hyperfixation hit so here we are. I made gender inclusive language options in honor of pride month o/ use this as a computer background or blog backround if youuu want; just tag me if you do~
FUCKING AMAZING~
(you can find an additional version that i fucking adore in the original thread)
anyway i am fucking dying this is PHENOMENAL
I thought of a potentially cute scenario. Imagine if you're painting your nails but then you run out of nails. You see rocket on the couch, either taking a light nap or doing something on his datapad. You get the idea to sneakily try to paint his nails so you scoot over as if you just wanted to be closer. Then right as youâre about to start he speaks. He either says something like "if you think you're being sneaky... you're not." Or "if you're gonna do that, you better use pink." Idk there's so many possibilities đ¤Ł.
Do with this as you will, it just popped into my head randomly đ¤Ł
bby i hope you like this. i loved writing it. it does have a pinch of pining involved and ends on a lil cliffhanger but holy shit it was fun to daydream about. thank you and i hope you enjoy~
electric blue.
maybe you usually just paint your nails in a protective, nourishing clear gloss, or a neat crescent-moon french-tip. maybe you like to go solid black for the drama. maybe, once a cycle, between missions, you clean off your nails and do your little manicure and paint them a vivid new rainbow-color.
it's a weird terran quirk, rocket decides. he's seen people with all sorts of colors of nails and claws and talons before, but he's never seen anyone waste so much time painting âem. pete tells him it's common on terra. people even go to fancy dens where experts clean and shape and paint tiny images on humie nails. file âem, buff âem, dazzle âem with plastic gems â sometimes even craft whole new synthetic claws out of somethinâ called acrylic, for no good reason other than aestheticals.
yeah. weird.
and it frickinâ smells bad, too.
Hehe cute
thanks, friend!! it was so much fun to write âĄ
I'm writing a fic that consists of little vignettes in a matriarchal world in which sexual harassment, groping, and creeping on men by women is frequent. Is there any sort of scenario or scene that you would want to see in there? Any time period or setting as well. Trying to get evil domme women's input mwahaha
Hmmm, I think it'd be interesting if men got slutshamed or were forced to cover up lest they temp women. Bioessentialism is also interesting to see reversed, like "men's minds are weak and they shouldn't have any power" or "men's bodies are designed to serve women." Could also be cool to see men take on the childcare roles or be denied jobs on the basis that they're men. Women calling men "males" and women "women" would also be funny. Victimblaming is also cool to see, like if a man is groped on the train and tells a woman, she scoffs at him and asks what he was wearing and if he smiled at her. Casual, insidious ways men are denied autonomy will always be interesting to me.
Sweet Butcher - Simon the Butcher x GN!Reader (NSFW)
spent weeks off and on writing simon smut to get through the horrors (college), had to put it aside and focus on everything else, and came back pleasantly surprised to an almost complete fanfic with just about everything I want in a simon smut fic. Enjoy.
You bring out a sweeter side of the infamous butcher.
Contains: smut (no minors please and thank you), gn!reader, sub top simon, touch starvation, virgin simon, praise kink, shameless pwp
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Back in the Swing of Things - Simon the Butcher x GN!Reader (NSFW)
fuck it's happening i wrote simon getting a little amorous in victory spoils and now i need to write full on smut
Simon's ready to get back to the things he loves.
Contains: trying a simon lives au this time, gn!reader, touch starvation, premature ejaculation, cowgirl (the position), reader's unspecified hole
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craving more sad wet cat simon here's some cuddling
My sweet baby angel who i offer my life. I've never wanted to take care of a fictional character as much as simon.
Contains: hurt/comfort, fish mutations, gn!reader
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Tall Space Person - Simon the Butcher x GN!Eldritch Being!Reader
People wanted a continuation of little muse so here it is. Sorry this title isn't as creative we're switching to the point of view of a guy who labeled things "buncha rocks" and "weird asstubes"ďżź
Simon finds himself alive and awake from what must have been a dream... right?
Contains: alternate universe, interdimensional weirdness, simon's huge crush on giant space reader intensifies, less hurt but more comfort, ptsd
Little Muse - Simon the Butcher x GN!Eldritch Being!Reader
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Some people are writing reader as an eldritch being that saves simon/gives him a peaceful afterlife/etc and i wanted to do my take on it. This version came to me as I was working on my custom Simon doll. And the fact i keep picturing the reader as some kind of a space giant.
You mend a broken mortal and give him a small respite.
Contains: gn!reader, eldritch being reader, non-sexual nudity, hurt/comfort, simon with a crush on big celestial beings
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Simon trying to see wtf is making that tapping noise on the submarine
Maris:
Can't believe I haven't used this yet genuinely

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Bonded Pair
Summary: After barely surviving an alien that took over your space crewâs bodies and turned them into grotesque monsters, you find yourself being rescued by more friendly rock-looking aliens who take care of you and tell you that youâll have a fellow human companion once they know youâre okay. But in order to know that, you have to make friends with another, less conventional looking, one first.
Warnings: Gender neutral reader (as in there is no mention or specific gender, gendered pronouns, or anatomy). Mentions and description of violence, death, murder, and body horror, and the reader having witnessed it first hand. Reader has survivorâs guilt. Possibly ooc Simon near the end. Some use of âinsert name hereâ abbreviations but thats because of how the Eridians talk, I swear its not the cringe kind. Simon and reader trauma dumping. Simon and reader needing therapy. We slow burning up in those bitch.
Authorâs Snip: This was supposed to be based off of this idea I had where another fic inspired me, but the Simon portion of this was getting really long and Iâm a little rusty with my fic writing so I wanted to be done with it. I will make a part 2 eventually if you guys really like it. But yeah this was supposed to be Bloodymary x reader but itâs just straight up a Simon x reader slow burn right now.
Notes: The reader is meant to be an homage/reference/based off of John Carpenterâs 1982 film The Thing but instead of it taking place in Antarctica it takes place on a ship like in the first Alien film. Just so nobody gets confused :)
Iâll shut up now. Enjoy! And donât be afraid to request. Reblogs appreciated but no pressure.
Word Count: 2.1k
It was awful. Horrible. A living nightmare. It all started when your crew found a lost spacecraft that went radio silent and shut off its tracking system a while back. It was a research and lab vessel, just like yours. It was weird. The second to last message sent was a rudimentary recap of its findings, claiming that they found âsomethingâ that they were unable to fully describe, but were currently evaluating it. Then the very last one was a panicked distress signal. The person sending it wasnât making any sense. They just kept saying âThis thing is killing us. This thing is taking us!â before it abruptly ended and went dark. You werenât there to retrieve it. The protocol was just that all space vessels were to become recovery vessels upon discovering a distressed or lost one, so contact was made. It was an odd find. There was only one dead crew member found out of the supposed nine near the command board, a researcher. But it was reported that the ship's incinerator seemed to be hot from having been used. Your medic took the body in for an autopsy and your captain ordered that all data and logs be taken in for analysis to see what happened. Thatâs when all hell broke loose and things turned to shit. Once that Thing made itself known and started running rampant no one was to be trusted. Anyone could be infected and you would have no clue until they deformed into something grotesque and tried biting your head off. After a few run ins and deaths, your captain went crazy with paranoia. Maybe you all went crazy.
It Just⌠Slipped
Summary: In which Simon's accidentally voices his thoughts aloud when he is with Captain!reader who rescued him from the Iron Lung during one of their wormhole jumps
Pairing: Captain!Reader x Simon
Word count: 1350
Warning: Suggestive, nothing explicit, but you know what's happening. It's more poetic than down and dirty, but just to be safe, minors DNI.
Credit to @vesperthebagel for the blinkie!