Petra Quill - Blog Posts

Mon beau chaoui, Rocket Raccoon, Rocket Kivashi, the Future Mr. Rocket Kivashi-Quill being the absolute thirstiest mother fucker over his gal Petra Jane Quill.

Rocket in any romantic relationship he gets into. (He’s the one being carried.)

The next Kiss Kiss Bang Bang Prompt is up on AO3! I’ll update it here later this evening after I get done with work. I hope ya’ll enjoy it! Here’s an image to give you a hint what it’s about.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang Prompt # 20 Put Your Ray Gun to My Head

Petra held the laser pistol she stole from the room at the ready as she ducked down, and the door to the small bedroom opened. The hallway was empty; neither the gigantic tree man, the vicious green woman, nor the small, angry, and begoggled creature were in evidence. She let out a breath of relief before rising back up and making her way down the hall. Her heart pounded as she slowly eased her way towards what she hoped was the cockpit.

Everything on this damn ship is weird, Petra thought: the small child’s clothes in the locker, the too low workbench littered with odd tools, and the thick aroma of degreaser and fir trees permeating the sheets on the bed. She side-eyed the long row of storage racks lining the hall that narrowed the slender passageway even further. She frowned and shook her head. Stay focused, keep your cool, Petra thought angrily, but a niggling thought kept tickling at her brain.

The last thing she remembered was running away with her prize before agonizing bolts of electricity arced through her nerves. Normally, a jolt like that was painful, not even close to debilitating, but being caught unawares was another matter entirely. Letting out a howl of pain, the surprise shock took her brain back in time and space, back in a time where she was helpless and terrified.

In her mind’s eye, her former tormenter, Thalisk rose above her as he advanced with the controller. When he depressed the button, she fell to her knees as the electric misery danced a wretched tune down each nerve in her body. Petra glared up at the man, refusing to give him the pleasure of watching her suffer.

The Badoon leaned down, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips as he said, “Still so willful, eyes full of hate and determination. I think I can fix that.” He flicked a part of the controller and the voltage increased. Petra fell down, chin hitting the ground with a sickening thump. She jittered on the cold stone floor, and Thalisk chuckled wryly, “Now, writhe, little girl.”

As Petra fell in this present time, the unlocked memory of horror left her open and too frightened to use her powers. She was trapped and unable to move. She was strapped down and helpless at the mercy of a sadist and a sexual predator. Petra slammed face first onto the ground, mask taking the worst of the hit. A familiar voice rang out in gloating meanness, “Yeah, writhe, little man.” Before she lost consciousness one last thought passed through her mind, Rocket?

Castigating herself for thinking about him in a moment so awful, Petra continued down the hallway to where a set of stairs spilt out of a blind turn. She didn’t like that one bit. If she went up those stairs, she would be a sitting duck. She pressed herself against the wall and mulled through her options.

She could double back, see what was on the other side of the ship or just go back to the room and lay in wait, but none of those ideas really appealed to her. Waking up in only a too-big tee-shirt and boxer briefs didn’t really help her mood or make her feel anything but anger at her captors, and she was furious when she couldn’t find her pants or jacket either. Fucking pervs, Petra thought irritably as she decided to wait at the bottom of the stair well until someone came down.

The metal was cold on her back and legs as she laid in wait, her ass was half frozen and her bare feet sore before she heard the sound of clicking claws on metal. Someone or something was making their way down the steps. Moving as soundlessly as an owl in flight, Petra positioned herself gun at the ready in a double handed stance. She had no idea how tall her opponent would be, so she decided to aim for a more certain place. As the being stepped onto the first step within sight, she was growling out, “Move one inch and I’m gonna shoot your dick off!”

Instead of a set of any kind of genitals, Petra found herself with her gun inches from the long, sloped nose of a familiar and beloved face. Rocket stared down at the barrel of Petra’s gun, his eyes almost going cross eyed to take in the unexpected threat. Kithree-fucking-hell, you’re more amazing beautiful than I remembered, he thought in wonder as he took her in, looked into her eyes for the first time in thirteen years.

He was struck with a thousand sharp arrows, his throat filled with bile, as he took in the vision she made. The snapping green eyes were as gorgeous as new spring grass, her hair was a riot of curls, and even the murderous expression on her face filled him with hope and love. He watched in awe as her mouth dropped open in alarm and surprise, and she gasped a strangled sound that climbed half way to a sob. Her eyes filled with tears and her lower lip trembled.

The need to stop her tears had him making a terrible joke, anything to have that face light up for him again. “You’ll have to aim lower if you want to shoot my cock off, doll,” he said in the tenderest tones he’d ever uttered.

Without her helmet limiting her range of vision or his combat goggles hiding most of his face, identities couldn’t be hidden, beloved visages became clear. Her pistol didn’t waver where she kept it leveled at Rocket’s face, but Petra’s voice wobbled as she spoke, “Rock- Rocket? Is that really you?”

His throat was stuffed so full with emotions it made it hard for him to speak, the universe’s largest lump lodged in his gullet. He swallowed in a lungful of air then groaned out, “Course it’s me, baby girl. Who else would I be?”

Petra removed her finger from the trigger, hit the safety, and let the laser pistol drop from her hands and clattered onto the metal stairs. The weapon bounced noisily as it skittered from step to step, echoing horribly in the enclosed space. Her eyes were wide and shimmering with tears as Petra stood looking up mutely at the procyon. All of her body was frozen in place except for her trembling hands held up to him with the shaking awe of the disciples witnessing the return of the messiah.

Rocket’s ears rang from the violent cacophony of metal on metal. He flattened them and he winced before sighing in exasperation, “Jesus Christ, Pet, that was frickin’-” He was going to say ‘loud,’ but his mouth was suddenly occupied as Petra surged forward, grabbed his face, and slammed her lips to his.

She kissed him hard enough that when she bumped gracelessly against his front teeth, she cut her lip on them. Petra hissed at the momentary sting of her injury, but her lips never left his. She stole his exhaled breath as she used the blessing of his open mouth to deepen the kiss and lick in between his lips. The smooth glide of her tongue against his rougher one pulled a low growl of want from Rocket’s throat, and Petra answered with a moan that went right to his dick.

For the shortest moment, he could taste the holy copper penny flavor of her blood before the cavern of his mouth filled with honied sweetness and golden light. A forgotten but now remembered string of words singed his brain and bowed his back, "But if we walk in the light, as [s]he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood… cleanses us from all sin." * Rocket’s whole being burst into a wild conflagration of heated light and flame that did not burn.

Inside his body, his veins pulsed as the blood they carried transmuted into the incandescent splendor of the molten heart of a star. Petra was there in every cell of his body, her light filling all the cracks in his battered soul. As he was ensnared and wrapped in a tangle of glowing vines that cradled and held him with all the aching care and desire of a lover. He was finally home and known after being so long in the lonely void.

Rocket whined wounded noises into Petra’s unrelenting rain of kisses, dragged his tongue against her teeth, and bit her lower lip in a worshipful prayer of bone deep gratitude. She was dragon fire in his throat and lungs searing him with the intensity of her love for him and the unbearable pain of their separation. My darling love, he heard her think, Mon beau chaoui, mon coeur, stay with me, never leave me again.

He answered her words with the devotion of his mouth, promised to hold her soul between his teeth and never, never let go again. Pet, baby girl, I’ve always been with you. I told you before. We are bound. Our very particles are entangled together, and our souls are one, his heart answered back.

When he opened his eyes again, he found that she’d dragged him off of the stairs where she cradled him in her arms as she sat on the floor. She was a golden angel, illuminated with light and splendor. “I love you, Rocky. I love you. Rocket, I love you,” she chanted endlessly in the most adoring whisper he’d ever heard. Kiss after kiss was pressed reverently into the fur on the top of his head.

All of the aches and pains from earlier in the day were gone, evaporated in a searing, cleansing wash of brilliance. His hand no longer ached, his left hip was completely free of anguish, and inside of his body there was a racing and pulsing flutter of soothing butterfly wings, his mouth filled with the sweetest nectar. In the dim shadows of the stairwell, Rocket raised his hands and saw that his fur gleamed silver and bronze and his claws were obsidian daggers reflecting the stars themselves. His whole body was humming with song of Petra’s light.

She leaned down then and kissed him again, softly and sweetly as if he were made of fragile crystal or candy floss. Her lips moved all over his face, laying every bit of her feelings on every inch of him that she could reach. Petra’s magic mimicked the gentle way her lips moved against his. As she ghosted kisses against the corner of his mouth

“Please,” Rocket gasped as his hands covered Petra’s own where she cupped his face, “Petra, please,” he said. He didn’t know what he was asking for, only that his need was desperate and infinite, a deep pit that could only be filled by her.

She pulled back from his face. Her skin was like sheets of hammered gold and her eyes were the green of lit boron, flickering flames of verdant loveliness. Around her head, the golden curls were the harmless snakes of a tamed gorgon, beautiful and twisting with serpentine elegance. “You’re alive,” she breathed. “I found your broken body with all of your soul ripped out of it. I thought I would never hear your voice again,” she murmured. Her eyes held the crushing weight of all those years fate forced them apart.

“Whatever, whoever you saw, Pet; it wasn’t me. I’ve been travelling the universe searching for you every day.”

Petra looked into his perfect garnet gaze and pressed her forehead to his, “Oh, God,” she said as she rubbed his ears, “I’m so fucking glad, Rocket. I’m so happy.”

He pushed her away only so that his eyes could greedily take her in, “I never gave up. I never stopped. I never quit looking for you.” He was going to say more, something beautiful and loving, but Petra cut off any more words with another heated kiss.

Rocket was distantly aware of Petra blindly yanking his goggles off his head so that she could grip and pull the fur on the back of his head with one hand and crush his body against hers with the other, clutching at his ass with fierce possessiveness. His own hands sprang up. One paw tangled in her blond curls, and the other squeezed a breast through the soft cotton tee-shirt, claws pricking dangerously through the fabric. The sound Petra made when his thumb rubbed roughly against her nipple filled him with purpose. He dragged her down onto the unforgiving metal floor so he could lay atop her, straddling her waist and all but bucking his hips against her.

Between the two beings raged a fire of need so intense that there was no room for elegance or care in their kisses. Lips met and were the desperate crash of waves against rocky cliffs. As all rational thought fled his brain, Rocket felt the savage struggle of instinct and fought the clawing scrabbling urge to bite and mark what belonged to him, what was his. “Need you,” he said between bruising kisses, begging in a voice made of broken glass and spilled whiskey, “Need to be inside you.”

Petra nodded in agreement before pushing him up as she palmed the front of his orange jumpsuit. She hissed a wretched little cry of frustration when she couldn’t figure out how to get him out of his clothes fast enough.

“Let me,” he told her through clenched teeth as he released buckles and catches, nearly hurting himself as he tore his arms out of the sleeves and rolled the cloth down his waist. He’d never moved more quickly in his life as he wiggled down her body to be between her legs again. He couldn’t wait to shimmy the briefs off of her legs; instead, he ripped them down the middle making a frighting tearing sound that had Petra bowing her back and whimpering.

Rocket stared down at her perfect cunt and wanted to weep or fuck her until she couldn’t walk. “Baby girl, you’re already that wet?” he moaned as he reached down to trace the length of her slit, shuddered at the feeling of her desire slicking his fingers.

Petra whined and covered her eyes, “Why aren’t you already inside me?” Her whole body was shaking with the desperate and overwhelming need to have him fucking into her.

“Gimme a goddamn minute, you cheeky whore,” he grinned at her as he took his cock out and began to line himself up with her entrance. His body was a tight line of barely restrained lust.

He took a deep breath, and just as he was about to thrust his hips forward, he was jolted back by Petra’s flailing hands and deafened by her screech of, “Holy shit, the tree monster is back.”

“I am Groot!” Groot bellowed in outrage, and Rocket felt his ears burning as his friend laid into him about not fucking people without their consent.

Rolling over she was grabbing for the gun, and Rocket was fighting to keep her from reaching it, scrabbling to throw the weapon as far away as he could while Petra was yanking on his tail. “Trust me, I had her fucking consent, Groot,” he wheezed as he smacked Petra’s hand to make her let go of his tail.

“Rocket gimme the gun!” Petra snapped as she tried to grab him before he squirmed free of her grip.

Chucking the gun over Groot’s head, it sailed far down the hallway to where no one could possibly reach it and shoot anyone. “Every one, calm down. No one has to get hurt here,” he cried out to the two beings he loved more than any others.

“That tree tried to kill me,” Petra retorted hotly as she tried to sit up and cover herself with one hand.

“I AM Groot,” Groot answered sharply and pointed at Rocket’s exposed sex.

Rocket slapped his forehead in annoyance and snarked, “Stop accusing me of shit I didn’t do. She was practically begging for me to dick her down.”

“Rocket!” Petra exclaimed, her face a glowing ember of red coal.

Before he could explain further, there was an ominous thump against the ship and the com system blared, “This is the Nova Corps. You have fifteen seconds to reply to this query, or we will blow up this heap of junk you call a ship.”

* 1 John 1:7 "But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin."

TRACK # ?

Moonage Daydream

Song by David Bowie

I'm an alligator

I'm a mama-papa comin' for you

I'm the space invader

I'll be a rock 'n' rollin' bitch for you

Keep your mouth shut

You're squawking like a pink monkey bird

And I'm bustin' up my brains for the words

Keep your 'lectric eye on me, babe

Put your ray gun to my head

Press your space face close to mine, love

Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!

Don't fake it baby

Lay the real thing on me

The church of man, love

Is such a holy place to be

Make me baby

Make me know you really care

Make me jump into the air

Keep your 'lectric eye on me, babe

Put your ray gun to my head

Press your space face close to mine, love

Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!

Keep your 'lectric eye on me, babe

Put your ray gun to my head

Press your space face close to mine, love

Freak out in a moonage daydream, oooh!

Keep your 'lectric eye on me, babe

Put your ray gun to my head

Press your space face close to mine, love

Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!

Freak out

Far out

In out

Just Petra hanging out with Tony Stark…

Entanglement Chapter 16: You Turn Me On (I’m a Radio) coming out Friday. Hold onto your favorite stuffed animal or pet… it gets a little dark. Trigger warnings will be posted at the end like always.

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.”

Here’s a sneak peek at Entanglement chapter 15. 🚀 🦝

When Rocket and Lethys entered the lecture hall, a hiss and rumble of voices erupted around them. Lethys walked as if he were a king, proud and tall, but his ears swiveled catching the odd whispered word or snide remark. His upper lip lifted towards one particular humie who quailed at the sight of three-inch long canines.

Tail bristling, and chest so tight even the metal there ached, poor Rocket heard more clearly than his father: “Look at that thing,” “Am I truly to believe that creature is a Tekton,” “I can’t believe these two were even allowed into the building,” and “Let us hope they have had their shots.” It took everything that Rocket had inside of him to keep from either latching onto the rich wool of Lethys pantleg or fleeing the room.

His crimson eyes swept the room, searching for even one friendly face. Just as he began to harden his heart against the whole assembly, a bald, short, and aging man and a willowy tall and thin woman stepped into the aisle. “Rocket, my boy!” the older man smiled in true welcome, and Rocket recognized the jovial voice.

“Professor Stollwizer?” he guessed from the rich baritone of his favorite teacher.

“Yes, indeed! It is a pleasure to finally meet you, young man,” Professor Stollwizer smiled his bushy mustache moving with his lips.

“Nice to meet you, Professor,” Rocket said with his best manners, voice clear and free of accent as he could manage.

The little man shook Rocket’s hand with real affection before offering his hand to Lethys. “Sir, your son is the most brilliant scholar I have ever had the good fortune to teach. You must be so proud of him,” the man enthused.

Lethys guarded expression smoothed into one of beaming pride, “I am most proud of him and his achievements,” he agreed, his massive paw completely engulfing the man’s small hand.

“Ah, Rocket, Mr. Kavashi,” Professor Stollwizer smiled broadly as he gestured at the thin woman next to him, “This is Professor Rikthi. Rocket, you will be the teaching assistant in her introductory physics and mechanical theories classes.”

Professor Rikthi bent down to offer her hand to Rocket. She had an ageless face, a monocle, and a soft, kind voice, “I’ve heard how hard of a worker you are, Rocket. I’m sure we will get along well.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain about that,” interjected a middle-aged Xandarian who eyed Rocket and Lethys with a sneer of derision as he pushed up his glasses and shoved his way past Professor Stollwizer. “It hasn’t yet presented any proof that he is the true author of the paper submitted,” the man continued in an annoyingly nasal voice.

“He,” growled Lethys looming over the man, “My son is a person, a male, he is not an it.”

“It,” the man snarled back, uncowed by Lethys’ size and ferocity, “Is an animal, a sick joke being played on our university by this preposterous creature,” the man indicated to Lethys then and smiled meanly. Every cell in Rocket’s body longed to hide behind his father from this sharp man that reminded him too much of his Sire. “How long did it take you to train it to wear clothes? Stand on its hind legs? There is no possibility of this little monster having authored-”

“Enough-” interrupted Professor Stollwizer in booming voice at odds with his cheerful seeming mien. “I assure you that no one else but Rocket Kivashi could have written the thesis in question,” Professor Stollwizer frowned up at the man, “I advised him extensively during the writing process, his voice has always been the same, writing style the same, intelligence unrivaled by any person I’ve ever met-”

“Shall I tell you how easy it would be to fake a voice, old man? Are you so far into your dotage that you actually believe this preposterous lie?” the angry man hissed. He pointed at Lethys, “The only thing that surprises me, is that you planned this ruse so poorly. Couldn’t you have engineered something that looked more convincing? I can see bolts sticking out of its face.”

Rocket barely controlled the instinctive reaction to touch the metal on his cheeks. Heat burned his face, and he wanted to cry, but just as he was about to open his mouth on a silent sob, a memory flickered in his mind.

The evening before he’d stood on the stool in Petra’s bathroom combing his face fur, trying to style it in a way that would cover the metal there. As he grew older, Rocket’s fur grew more and more luxurious, but it still didn’t cover that hateful metal in his face. He sighed and considered using some of Petra’s hair gel, but thought better of it when he remembered that it accentuated her curls but did little to control them.

“Whatcha doin’?” Petra asked appearing behind him in her nightshirt.

“Oh, nothing,” he tried to lie.

“Rocky, you were combing like you wanted to pull out all your fur. What are you doing?” Petra countered as she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Standing like this, his head was just below her chest; if she leaned forward any closer, she could rest her breasts against the top of his head, a thought that made his embarrassment flare even hotter.

“People will see the metal in my face, see what a freak I am,” he whispered watching Petra’s face in the mirror.

She frowned then and used her hands to turn him to face her. “There is nothing about you that makes you a freak, Rocky. Besides lots of spacers have mods.”

“What will I say if people ask about them?” he asked her, so many things he had to cover for, think of excuses for.

“Tell them to mind their goddamn business, is what you’ll say,” Petra replied with real heat, “Tell those rude motherfuckers to fuck right off.” She searched his face and found him still uncertain and lost. Petra leaned in close and slowly, purposely pressed a kiss right over both protruding metal implants. “You tell those assholes that your girlfriend kisses your beautiful face so much you had to your cheeks reenforced, that you’re just that irresistible to her.”

Rocket’s eyes went wide and he whispered, “No one would ever believe that. I don’t even believe that. I-”

Instead of answering him with words, Petra lowered her face and pressed her lips to the metal collarbones holding his shoulders back, kissed the metal bars that squeezed his chest. “I will kiss any part of you to convince you otherwise,” she whispered against the scarred naked skin around the outer ribs. “So don’t you even care about what anyone thinks about your body but me.”

Inside of Rocket’s chest fear turned to anger, because, the truth was, his appearance didn’t and shouldn’t matter. Lethys and Petra loved and accepted him, and that was all he needed. This fucker’s opinion didn’t matter at all. “It is too my paper,” Rocket found himself declaring loudly enough that the whole hall went still. “I wrote every single word, and in my defense I’ll prove it beyond doubt.”

Every eye was swiveled his way, every human face staring at him in either disbelief or shock except for Professor Stollwizer and Professor Rikthi who smiled warmly. “Ask any question you want about my paper,” Rocket said casually as he walked to the stage. Before he stepped up the first stair, he shot back over his shoulder, “Of course, that’s assuming that you can understand the complexity of the work in question.”

#rocketraccoon #peterquill #petraquill #Entanglement

Preview of Petra Quill from the fic Casino Royale- cue Rocket dying.