rocket x reader - he’ll hear you
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.
