#rogerxreader

Rating: T+ (for now)

Summary: Reader is woken up by Roger Taylor Extra Info: If this work is received well (It's simultaneously my first Queen fan fiction and my first reader is the main character fan fiction so I am nervous!) I have a chapter two in mind. You can imagine Ben!Roger instead if you like. My main Tumblr is @fairyinabluebox but Tumblr’s broken and I can’t get my posts to go into tags anymore on that account AO3/ Wattpad

A hand ran down your arm in slow strokes. Not quite awake, you buried your face into your pillow, breathing in the mixture of your shampoo and Roger’s cologne.

Last night went in a way you never expected; Usually Roger was too busy with writing for the next album or touring to do much in the way of romance. Yet, when you had arrived, the apartment had a few candles around on the table, there had been a brave attempt at making a cheese souffle, and soft romantic music permeated the background.

rating: fluff ! evocation of sexual act ?

Please be indulgent ! That’s my first “fic” and english is not my native language !

(thanks to my school friend for the correction !)

It was an unusual morning, and light filled the room. The blanket was soflty creased against your skin. Next to you, a man was still asleep.

“Hi honey...” you whispered camly.

The blonde groaned, head in the pillow. He turned to face you and a small grin appeared on his face. His blue eyes staring at you.

“Hey babe.”

His scent was just a mix of cigarettes, and alcohol. The previous night was back in your mind. You were a longtime friend of Smile members. Roger, Brian, Fred and, newly, John were here, outside of the van, smoking softly, joking about how people were not flirting with you. It is true, you are not a loverboy, as Rog’. You’ve always loved being alone and peaceful, while the guys were always chatting around with girls.

Roger and Brian were so different this night, you thought. They were cold to each other and remained silent. Usually Brian was around Rog’, teasing him jokingly. You were not paying attention to it. Surely a fight about music, or something close. Later, after the show, Roger was punching Brian in the face, while the guitarist was cursing. He was yelling at Roger. You ran between them, separating each other. Roger was bleeding. His hands were bleeding. Brian was holding his own cheek, frowning, calming his nerves on the fact that Freddie just came in the room. You were holding Roger’s hands, panic-striken. His hands would not be able to play tomorrow. Fuck.

“What the hell? Why were you yelling at each other lovey?” Fred asked to Brian.

“Roger fuckin’ Meddows wanted to.. “ His words stopped as he looked at you. His eyes were lost in yours a second, and his mouth began again. “He wanted to date her.” You turned red imediatly, a step back from Roger. What ?  “.... He would have thrown her, after... y’know.”

“NOT TRUE BRIAN” Roger was yelling again, with his raspy voice. You could tell the blonde was blushing a little bit.

Fred glanced at you and you pulled Roger by his collar. You just looked at the van, suggesting him to go in it. He was doing it, and you followed him. After the door was close, the drummer looked at you. His eyes were lost in his mind, far away. You felt suddenly the door against your back. He was pressing you against it.

“Bloody bastard” you sighed. He just grinned and kissed you. You pushed him gently. You were so hot, inside. Your brain was just leaving you, breathless. Your eyes were fixed on his. His beautiful blue eyes.

“Why did you punched Brian ?” you asked softly, holding his chin. Your mind was back. You were holding his bleeding hands, paying attention to not hurt him.

“Because he said that i would have thrown you. That’s not true. I would have never thrown you.” he looked like a worried child. You grabbed soflty his blonde locks and smile at him. “I like you.” he murmurs.

This time, it was you, kissing him. Softly, your lips were brushing his. His hand went on your waist. You said in a low-voice “I like you too.”. A smile brightened his face. His bloody smile. His mouth went down your neck, peppering kisses in it. “And i trust you, Rog’ ”. You exhaled. “I would have let you go the next morning.” He was lowering his mouth on you. Driving his head in your décolleté. You thightenned your grip on his locks and sighed.

“Y’know, even for sex, i would’nt mind.”.

please tell me what you are thinking of it ! sorry again for the mistakes, i’m a french girl! 

Challenge: 2018 VDay Chalenge by the amazing writer and my friend and proofreader @prettyxlittlexwriter

Prompt: Feb 9: A kinky song

Song: Star Star - The Rolling Stones  and here is a live version of it, where you can see Mick riding a giant cock on stage

Pairing: FreddiexReader, BrianxReader, JohnxReader, RogerxReder

Third and final fic for today! More to come from tomorrow.

Warnings: sex, sex, sex and….sex.

The actual title of the song is Star Fucker and the reader is a groupie, do I need to say more??

That night’s gig was coming to an end. You winked at Freddie and the singer approached the front row, where you were standing, your arm extended and you passed him a note saying “Can I come backstage?” Freddie nodded almost invisibly.

After the band’s bows, as you were heading backstage the security guard wouldn’t let you go through. “Please miss, you are not allowed go in there!!”

“Freddie gave me permission to go backstage, please let me pass!” you pleaded.

“I am not notified, I am sorry.” your plan was falling apart and you were about to get disappointed when Freddie appeared out of nowhere, heading to your destination as well.

“What is going on darlings?” the singer asked with a cheerful but tired-sounding voice.

The security guard spoke before you could utter a syllable. “Freddie, have you invited this girl backstage ??”

“Well, yes I have. Is there a problem?” Freddie inquired.

“I couldn’t let her pass since I didn’t know if she was telling the truth, but now you can go in there young lady.”

“Thank you!” you exclaimed and walked alongside Freddie Mercury.

“So what’s your name love?” Freddie had a very relaxed breeze accompanying him. Being around him felt very natural.

“I’m (Y/N)! Nice to finally meet you Freddie!”

“Nice to meet you too (Y/N)!” the frontman replied.

He led you all the way to his dressing room, where you made out. Freddie had taken the lead, kissing and exploring your mouth when you led him to the small bed that was in the room. That, resulted in an emotionless sex session, just you two seeking some pleasure, or in your case, looking to make your way to another band member.

The following day, you returned for that night’s gig, and faced no problem making your way backstage. As soon as the concert was over, you were hanging out with the band and the rest of the groupies. This time, you managed to catch Brian’s attention and the tall man led you to his dressing room.

The seemingly shy and composed guy transformed into an animal in bed. It was a rough sex session, him pounding in and out of you with extreme force and speed and you were grunting, panting and shaking along Brian with the strain. The guitarist seemed to be trying to let off steam he had gathered over some time period that made you wonder what it must be like in his brain.

By the third night the security guards would let you go wherever you wished. Tonight was the bassist’s turn. You were walking, seemingly absent-mindedly, when you met John going to his dressing room. You started talking to him, walking along and managing to convince him to have sex with you. The quiet boy had only one request. He wanted to go to a hotel to ensure your and his privacy. You agreed without giving it much thought. The two of you headed to a nearby hotel, got a room and discarded your clothes.

The young bassist was a romantic, and you moaned as he penetrated you so slowly and oh, so deeply you could cry from the sexual frustration. Still, this made your climax much more pleasurable and rewarding.

John was a gentleman, and insisted you slept with him that night. He wasn’t in love with you, he just believed sex should be this way. Thus, he cuddled you and you both fell asleep.

The next morning you took a shower, got dressed and the two of you parted ways.

You were heading to another Queen gig, fourth night in a row and you hoped it would be the lucky one. The one you would finally get to spend time with the man you desired. Roger Meddows Taylor.

The two of you were sitting on a couch in a living-room-like space, conversing. That was, until things started heating up and Roger ‘attacked’ your lips, getting on top of you and leaving bite marks all over your neck. He courted you, making out with you, leaving both of you almost breathless, while his hands worked to discard your clothes, unzipping your jeans and pulling them off your legs along your pants, then taking off your t-shirt, breaking the kiss only to take it off your head. He then unhooked your bra. Now it was your turn to unbutton his shirt and take off his stage tights.

You were lying, naked, underneath the blonde drummer with his huge, fully engorged cock right outside your entrance. He had buried his head on the crook of your neck, kissing you, his hand working on one of your erect nipples. He was doing everything he was capable of in order to make sure you were relaxed enough to take his length inside you, wet enough to not feel pain.

You were enjoying his treatment beyond belief, eyes closed, lost in pleasure and just as the drummer entered you, your eyes snapped open at the feeling of being suddenly like that. Indistinguishable pain and pleasure sparked through your body, when his full length had penetrated you.

The blonde boy was equally lost as he started moving inside you, eliciting moans from both you and himself that completed the atmosphere clinging around you.

A sudden gasp and then a scram of  bliss escaped you as he hit your G-spot continuously, and Roger whispered in your ear “Gonna make you scream all night…” in a low, promising tone that sent shivers down your spine.

Your bodies moved so well synchronised for an impressive amount of time, making you wonder and admire his stamina as you were uproaching the end of the first round.

A ‘Come for me!” in his earand his last push inside you on your sweet spot, was all it took to send both over the edge, orgasming at the same time, and Roger moaning “Ugh, starfucker!” before collapsing on your body.

You stayed like that for a couple of minutes to catch your breath and regain your composure before adressing him. “Why did you call me starfucker when you finished?”

“Hmm? Oh…” he turned to face you, “because you are. You fucked with my entire band, my three best friends. You are a starfucker, aren’t you?”

“Ughhhhh…” you couldn’t accept it like that, and Roger saw that, thus he got up, offered you his hand and led you to the turntable, searched through the vinyls until he found ‘Goats Head Soup’ the Stones’ album and played Star Star for you.

The words ‘You’re a star fucker, star fucker, star fucker, star fucker, star’ echoed in your head, and you attacked Roger’s mouth, whispering in his lips “Honey, I’m open to anything, I don’t know where to draw the line…”

Roger reciprocated and depened the kiss on the course to round two…

I hope this didn’t have any spelling or grammatical errors, but I’m sure it does. Anyway…

This either made you cringe or I really hope you  enjoyed this……fic. Although, since you probably belong to the kinkiest, horniest and previest Queen fandom that obviously wants to fuck with all four members, this must have been heaven for you no matter what mistakes it had, or how poorly written it is….

Since smut fics are quite difficult for me to write, I am desparate for feedback. So pleeeeeeeaaaaase tell me what you thought of it with an ask (anon or not), private message, comment, even with a like. I don’t care whether it is bad or good, I wanna know if it’s worth losing so many hours of studying for school lately to write 14 fics.

words: 1607 words (woohoo!)

rating: fluff, a little bit of smut (but it stays soft!)

please be indulgent, english is not my native language ! :)

tagging some of my fav tumblr writers @drowseoftheafternoonsundays  & @borhapmusings

tell me if you liked it or want to be tag!!!!

You were sitting on a sofa, looking at the crowded pub. Claire, your long-time friend had pushed you to go on a date with a friend of her. You were clearly uncomfortable, looking at the ground, playing with your own fingers. Claire was gone, waiting for this man outside of the pub, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Theses previous months were not that good, you remembered. Your boyfriend, Chris, left you, because you were cheating on him. It was your fault but you were pretty sure that you would have done it someday: you were a sex-addict, and it was difficult for you to have a “normal”, healthy relation with someone. However, Chris has not been indulgent and had put you down, telling you that you were sick. It was pretty traumatizing.  In the months followed by your loss, you were back into your depravity: in stranger's beds, drinking a lot, and smoking a lot. It was hard to be far from it. But now, Claire was here, presenting you “a nice guy” as she has described him.

You saw them walking back in the pub. He was looking good: long blonde hair, light beard, sunglasses, fur coat, flare pant. His lips were pink and a little bit chapped. His hands were musician hands, you thought. Not a guitarist, his fingers were not that long and thin, but maybe a drummer. The microscopic scars at the sides of it were telling you that. Your eyes went on his pants, and you forced yourself to look at his face, not wanting to lose yourself already. You smiled at him and he answered by the same sweet smile. Claire was looking at him, a hand in his coat.

“So, darlin', let me introduce you to Roger!” Claire was a little bit overexcited.

“I could have introduced myself, Claire” Roger chuckled “Nice to meet you, hm..?”

“Y/N” you answered. It was so natural to do presentations. But your brain just wanted his reward, and you knew it. You hated it.

You both sat down and Claire already left you, looking for alcohol. Claire didn't know the fact that alcohol was your only friend, during the previous months. There was an awkward silence. He took off his sunglasses and smiled at you. His smile was electrifying.

“You're a drummer, aren't you?” you asked suddenly. Surprise was on his face and he smile even more.

“Yeah, in a band called Queen, hope it will get bigger.” he paused “how do you know it? Do you know my band?” he looked like a child, happier than ever.

“Hum, no, sorry…. Your hands are just drummer's hands, y'know.” you grinned, a little bit sorry. You have seen hundred of different types of hands, running on your body. His reaction was pure gold.

“It is even better! Someone new!” he chuckled a little bit and look at you. “Let me try to guess stuff! In my opinion you are …. a baker!” he was playing, you could see it in his eyes. His body was relaxed, and he had took off his coat. He was wearing a flowery shirt, so trendy.  

“No...” you were laughing “I'm a writer.” you smiled softly, a hand on your own knee. Claire came back with drinks and stopped your chat.

The night was good. You were almost not thinking about how much you wanted to fuck him. After four tequilas, you decided to come home. Roger wanted to chaperone you. You were walking together, side by side. He was smoking lightly, and humming a song. You were boiling, inside. Silence was between you, as you clenched your fist, trying to control yourself. It was so hard, lord. He grabbed suddenly your hand, smiling.

“Do not clench, love.” he said. You looked at him and bite your lips so hard it was bleeding. “and you're bleeding. Be careful.” His tone was amused, as a grin was on his angelic face.

Your mind was abruptly back, and you stopped walking. You looked at him, letting his hand go, and you touched your lips, blood on your fingertips. You sighed loudly.

“Please, Roger, promise me one thing.” you asked, looking at the blood and then at him as he nodded. “if I’m trying to get you in my room, stop me. Please.” you were nervous, telling him that.

“If you want.” he smiled softly.

Okay that was weird. First, you had begged him to do not fuck you, and then, he accepted. He opened his mouth as if he was going to talk, then, closed it. He reopened it a while later, when you were walking again.  

“Your friend, Claire, told me about… your problem, and Nick...” you interrupted him “it's Chris.” you were focused on his talk, as he resumed “… well, Nick or Chris, he was a filthy bastard.” he laughed “But yeah, guess I can hold myself from shagging you. You are… interesting.”

Months went by, and you and Roger were meeting a lot. You were dating but, not exactly. He was kind to you, never provoking you on a sexual side. Your relation was based on a strong friendship, movie nights, and chaste kisses. It was surprising that Roger did not touch you during these long months, sleeping in the same bed, knowing by now his reputation.  You were clean: no sex, no alcohol and some smokes but it was fine.

Queen was becoming popular and tonight was their last gig in London. Your friend would be gone outside of England while you stayed here. You were at the bar, seated on a chair, waiting for them to get down of the scene after the show. Roger came to you, smiling. He was wearing a small leather jacket, nothing under, and a forest green flare pant. You were drinking lemonade, holding your glass firmly. You were obliged to put it down on the counter when the drummer kissed you softly, a hand on your waist.

“You stink, and you're all sticky.” you laughed, hearing him groan. You put his hand far from your skin and smiled at him. “You were marvellous, as always!” You were trying to keep a certain distance, not tempting you.

The rest of the band was coming to see you. Freddie left a peck on your cheek, and Brian squeezed your hand softly. John waves at you, a bright smile on his face. They were all a bunch of tease about your relation with Roger. They commanded beers and chatted with you all night. You could see Roger distracted by groupies, talking to him with awe. You hated that. Roger should be so frustrated he would go fuck these groupies one day, you thought. You needed to change that, but you were afraid of wanting more.

You lighted a cigarette outside. You were mad at those girls. Roger had seen that. He was smoking too, looking at your eyes.

“Stop being grumpy.” he whispered softly, closer from you. You felt the smoke of his cigarette on your face and cough a little. You look at him. He was so close, and since a long time, you could feel your lower belly burn a little.

“Fuck...” you murmured, without knowing it. He suddenly kissed you, keeping you against him, with tenderness. You were officially dead.

“I'm gonna miss you babe...” he brought his lips on your neck. You tried to push him back, but, your brain wanted it so badly. It has been almost 9 month since you fucked someone.

“Me too but… Take me home. Now.” you said abruptly. You were breathing loudly, eyes lost in your vice. He understood exactly what you wanted.

The front door was pushed with violence. You two were trying to strip yourselves while not falling. Moans and groans filled the dark place. A hand went on the light and turn it on. He looked at you, taking a short calm moment. Your hair was messy, your eyes were full of lust and your lips were rosy at the hot make-out session you've made, trying to get home.  You smiled at him and jumped. You were laughing, as Roger was holding you firmly, kissing your neck.

“I've always dreamed to shag you. But know what? I'm gonna love you tonight.” He kissed your collarbone and you shudder under his touch and his words.

“You're dirty, Rog'.”

You were in the bed, naked, against your man. You were drawing little circles on his skin with your hand and petting his hair softly with the other. You were both panting from that fuck you just had. It was intense, and full of love. But at the same time, none of you has said I love you. Roger was looking at you, smiling a lot. You were just somewhere else, because of the loss of the action. But you knew it: you couldn't shag all day long. He turned back a moment, taking a smoke on his mouth, and handing you one. He lighted both cigarettes and pressed a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“Pretty good sex and then, cigarette. A perfect routine.” he smiled.

The crème blanket was crumpled against and under your body. His hand went on your waist, his eyes on your uncovered breast. Your eyes where closed, head in the pillow.

“Stop looking at my birthmark, Roger...” you blushed a little bit. You hated that birthmark but you couldn't do anything against it. You heard him smile. The fabric was softly creased as he went closer, kissing slowly your birthmark. You hissed at his mouth, and put one hand on his lock.