#roger taylor let me suck your dick challenge

[hannafuckingsucks]

Would you? (Roger Taylor x reader) Part 2

Pairing: Roger Taylor x reader

Summary: just some good ol’ hoopdiddydoo (read Part 1 to catch up how we got here)

Words: 4k

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), unprotected sex, bad writing/grammar/vocabulary (idk)

A/N: got asked for some smut, so you get some smut! feel free to bully me for any inaccuracies (car stuff etc), I love the attention. Special thanks to the supreme thirst squad™ on discord! This is for you my bitches 💖 I proofread this like once, sorry for all errors.

~

His lips felt amazing. They were so soft as he kissed you slowly. The hands on your waist began to roam a bit, gliding up and down your spine, one of them stroking softly over the curve of your hip, and then even lower to your bum.

Your arms where around his neck, holding him close.

After some time you broke the kiss to catch your breath, keeping your eyes closed. You gasped a little as he buried his face in your neck, sucking on the soft skin below your ear.

“Sweetheart” he whispered. “Y/N..”

“What?” your eyes opened and there he was, directly in front of you, cheeks a lovely shade of pink, lips puffy from  kissing. Gorgeous. A little smirk formed as he watched you come back to reality.

“Can you do me a favour and go take a shower?” He said quietly. Your eyes widened. Shit.

“Oh my god, is it that bad?” You lowered your head to sniff on yourself. Alcohol, cigarette smoke, sweat. The holy trinity of unpleasant smells. You blushed. “Rog I’m so sorry. Oh no this is so embarrassing l-” you rambled but he stopped you.

“Hey hey hey, it’s not that bad, relax. I wouldn’t have kissed you that long if it was.” He chuckled and kissed your forehead, then looked back to into your eyes. “How’s the hangover?”

You sighed, a little relieved. “Could be worse. No headache. That’s a big surprise." 

"How about this: you show me your car, I take a look at it while you take care of yourself. That sound alright to you?” He smiled, then lowered his head to your neck again. “And then.. we’ll see.. where we end up.. ok?” He mumbled in between feathery kisses.

You whimpered. How does he have such an effect on you? “What a gentleman. From the stories I heard about you from Freddie I took you more as a ‘fuck and bolt’ kinda guy.”

He raised his brows and gave you another smirk. “I would be a total liar if I said I wasn’t. But-” you began laughing at that but he just talked over you “But! Freddie told me some of your stories as well, dear. Your not so innocent yourself. So I gotta make sure you don’t run from me too quickly.” He gave you ass a little squeeze and you shrieked in surprise. Well, he’s not wrong.

“Freddie should consider to shut up about me.” You giggled.

“I’m glad he didn’t. Now come on, show me your little dung beetle.”

“Hey, no insulting my sweet car ok? He’s doing his best.” You gave him a stern look as you pulled away from him to get the car keys. Roger rolled his eyes with an adoring smile.

~

Roger was delighted when you told him that you were able to persuade one of your neighbors into letting you use their garage, were they also kept some basic tools for cars. You left him to work away and got back to your flat.

You felt refreshed and energised after the cool shower. After another cup of coffee you started to prepare some the stuff for lunch, you promised to him cook for him after all. 

It was just after 2pm when you put on some comfy red gym shorts and a loose button up. Nothing to heavy for a warm day like today. You grabbed two bottles of beer out of the fridge and headed out to look after your personal mechanic.

As you approached him he was cleaning his hands on a towel. He looked hot. Temperature wise, but also just hot to look at. 

“How’s it going, Taylor?” you asked as you strolled into the garage, offering him a bottle, which he accepted gratefully.

“I think I’m done!”, he proudly exclaimed.

“Already?”

“Yeah, nothing was really broken. Just some loose screws and one hose that leaked a little. But it should be fine now.” He grinned. “How are we doing?”

You clinked bottles and took a sip of the cool beer. 

“Great. Now that I know my car is fully functional again, even better.”

“It’s a good one. You were right. It kinda reminds me of my first car. It was a Morris Mini Minor,” he patted the hood of your Beetle, “about the same size as this one." 

"You wanna go for a ride then? For memories sake?” The suggestion making his eyes sparkle.

“You’d let me?”

“Of course!” You chuckled. “As long as you’ll let me go shotgun.”

“Oh it’d be my pleasure, lady Y/N.” He made an obnoxious bow, put down his beer and opened the passenger side door for you. 

“You got your wallet, sir?” you asked as he got into the driver’s seat.

“All on me. Ready?” His smile was intoxicating.

“Let’s go. I’ll navigate you out the city, then we can speed a little.”

“I like your way of thinking, babe.”

~

The roads were almost empty due to it being Sunday afternoon and to the hot weather. You had all the windows of the car rolled down, the radio was blasting one of your favourite stations. Roger had great fun racing absolutely nothing, and you had to remind him several times that this was a VW and not a Ferrari.

“Where’s this road taking us?” he pointed to the street ahead of you, while stopping at a crossroad.

“To the next smaller city, but if you go left we can just drive through the smaller villages there and then head back to my apartment.”

“Sounds good to me.”

He took the turn and you chatted for a while about everything and nothing. He told you about his solo projects, you told him about your work with other bands. 

While he drove, you had plenty of time to admire him. The way he smiled while talking about his music almost made your heart stop. His hands looked so beautiful on the steering wheel, the sleeves of his button up rolled up over his elbows. The buttons just done up to his mid chest, exposing some skin. His jeans fit him perfectly, the material laying tight around his legs. You couldn’t help but think about unbuttoning these trousers. Hell, why not?

He was just talking about one of the new songs as you leaned closer to him, positioning your palm on his mid thigh, feeling the strong denim.

Roger shut up immediately and gave a short look to your hand, then your face, then back to the road. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing” you smiled innocently at him, but began stroking his leg, up and down. 

He took in a sharp breath as your hand came up higher, almost reaching his bulge. “Honey I-”

“Shhh, focus on the road, Roggie” you cooed, leaning in even further, pecking his cheek, then leaving a trail of kisses down his jaw and neck. Eventually your hand reached it’s destination, right over his bulge. As you cupped it, you could feel his hard on already, and he let out a breathy moan. You stopped your kissing and popped open the button of his trousers, unzipping them.

“That’s a dangerous act your starting here, Y/N. It’s been a while since I had to  drive on the right side of the road and you’re making it a quite hard to- oh fuck” he stopped talking as you reached into his boxers, wrapping your fingers around his warm cock, but he tried his best to finish his sentence, “hard to focus.”

You freed his length from his underwear and started to jerk him slowly. It looked amazing in your hand. 

“Hmm, you know what a dangerous act is?” you whispered and licked your lips, he couldn’t help but glance back and forth between your face and the road. He didn’t answer quick enough, you got impatient, so you just leaned down and gave the head of his dick a wet kiss. 

“Shit Y/N”, he moaned, you could feel his thighs flexing.

“What is it, sweetheart?” you said without looking up at him, instead you circled your tongue around his tip once.

“You’re gonna get us killed- you aAH-” he whimpered, you sucked the head of him into your mouth once and then let it out again. While still slowly stroking his length, you sat up again to look at him with a mischievous little smile. 

“You just have to be extra careful then. I think you can do it.” Again, before he could answer, you got down to his lap and licked a long stripe from the base up to the tip with your flat tongue. His breathing had picked up a notch, but stopped for several seconds as you enclosed your lips around his dick.

The moans coming from his mouth were music to your ears and they spurred you on to take him in deeper and deeper with ever bob of your head. You alternated between taking him in as deep as possible and teasing the sensitive head with the tip of your tongue, all the while pumping him with your hand.

Roger was breathing heavily now, long groans sounding out his throat from time to time, followed by some praises. You gave him a very hard time focusing on the road, that’s why he steered a little too carelessly in a curve, the right wheels shortly got of the road, making the car shake more heavily. You couldn’t control the movement and his cock got forced deep into your mouth, down your throat. Roger couldn’t help the low moan leaving his mouth.

You gagged and pulled off of him, coughing repeatedly. Roger had the wheels back on the road again, a concerned look plastered on his face as he saw you catching your breath. “Oh fuck Y/N I’m so sorry, I got too distracted. Are you ok?” He slowed down the car and stopped it on the side of the road, then quickly he took your face into his hands to make you look at him. “Is everything alright?”

You cleared your throat once. “So much about being careful.” Then you smirked, “you loved it though, didn’t you? I heard the noise you made.”

He breathed out slowly, relaxing about because you seemed fine, but also feeling a bit of embarrassment creeping up his head. “I.. uh..”

“Tell me you liked it.” You let out in a sweet voice.

He searched your face for any signs that you were just joking around. But there weren’t any. “I did.” he whispered.

You grabbed his wrists, removing them from your face and leaned in close to his face. Your noses were touching, his eyes were lust blown, a little sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead. “Do you want me to repeat it, hmm? Now that we’ve stopped there isn’t any real danger left anymore.”

“God you are such a dirty little minx.” he groaned. The sound of his voice making a shiver run down your spine. 

“Say it.” you demanded.

“Do it again, it felt so good.” Your hand was on his cock again right as he finished the sentence, jerking him faster, harder. His eyes fell shut.

“Let me hear how good this feels.” and you went down again, giving him a few innocent sucks before letting him slide in deeper again. The tip hitting the back of your throat repeatedly.

You took one last deep breath through your nose and finally took his whole length in, your nose touching his pubic bone, and then stayed like this for some moments.

Roger was a whimpering moaning mess. He babbled incoherently, a mix of 'shit’, 'oh fuck’ and your name. His hips bucked up involuntarily and tears were forming in your eyes. You pulled your head up slightly, letting yourself breathe more freely again. 

“M gonna cum, Jesus fucking christ Y/N” He almost screamed as you lowered your mouth again. With a squeeze on his thigh you gave him permission. And boy, did he cum. A loud groan sounded through the car when he emptied his load in your throat.

He grabbed your hair and pulled you off his dick. You coughed again, but with a smile. He looked stunning, completely fucked out, but gorgeous. His jaw hung slack, his eyes were barely open and.. a tear ran down his cheek.

“Oh shit are you crying?” you croaked out, your throat feeling a bit sore. 

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are! And here I was thinking Brian was the crybaby.”

“Shut up.”

He embraced you tightly, pulling you close to him as he slowly calmed down. It took him several minutes and you just enjoyed listening to his rapid heart beat with your head pressed to his chest.

“You are.. something else.” he murmured into your hair, breaking the silence. You giggled.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Suddenly he raised his head as he heard a car drive by slowly. “Damn.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“That’s a police car. And they’re stopping.” he hissed. You sat up and looked out the front window. The cop car pulled to the side of the road in front of your car.

“Fuck, put your dick away and smile ok, we did nothing wrong.” Two men exited and walked up to your car. “Oh god fucking damn it.” You cursed as you recognized one of them.

Roger frantically zipped up his pants. “Huh?”

“I know that one. The taller one, we went to school together.”

“Is that bad?”

“Well… I uh…” you hesitated a little but just before the two men reached your window you rushed out “He was in this car with me once." 

Roger gaped at you. He knew what you implied.

"Good afternoon, do you need help here? Oh, Y/N, nice to see you again.” the guy, Max, spoke through the open window.

Roger looked into his face for not even two seconds, then snorted. You gave him a warning glance and forced a smile for the policemen. 

“Hello Max, I hope you’re doing good.” the fake nice tone of your voice made Roger giggle, he had to cover it behind his hand.

“Yes I’m well, are you two alright? Did you break down here?” he asked while looking at Roger suspiciously. “Sir, did you have anything to drink?”

“No no, everything’s fine, really, we just stoped to uh.. look at the view a little. See Roger here came all the way from England so I thought I’d show him the countryside and..”

“Could you show me your license and registration please?”

“Absolutely, officer Max!” Roger grinned and handed over his license as you pulled out the registration from the glove compartment. Max took the papers, gave Roger another unsure look, then made some steps away to check them.

“Could you at least try to be normal? He’s already fed up with me after I broke things off, I don’t want you to get called for drug testing or whatever.” you whisper-shouted at him.

“I’m sorry, but he has such a baby face. What did you see in him?” He giggled even more.

“I don’t know, shut up he’s coming back.”

“Alright, uh, seems to be fine. Please find a better parking spot next time though.” Max said as he gave you back the documents. 

“Of course, thank you. I must admit it was my idea to stop here. I just couldn’t help myself. I got so distracted by this beautiful land that I felt unsafe to drive further. So I made the decision to halt to admire it without the risk of crashing.” Roger spoke in his usual charming voice. He was so smug that you had a hard time not to slap him.

“Yeah just.. find a safer spot next time.”

“Promise! Have a good day gentlemen.” and he started the car, pulling out in the street again to continue your drive.

“Had fun there?” you asked him, the sarcasms oozing from your voice.

“I had so much fun today I can’t even begin to sum it up.” he grinned.

You just rolled your eyes.

~

“You want another beer?” You asked him as he entered your apartment after you.

“Yeah would be nice.”

“Go sit down, I’ll bring it to you." 

You joined him on the couch, two open bottles in your hand. "I promised you lunch. But we’re already nearing dinner time. Are you hungry?” you took a big sip and waited for his answer. But he just looked at you with a cute grin on his face. You lowered your bottle. “Hello? Earth to Taylor?”

Suddenly he snatched the bottle out your hand and placed it on the table next to the couch. “Hey wha-” you shrieked as he pulled you into his lap.

“I think you’ve done so much for me already, baby. Now it’s time to repay you a little.” he whispered as he peppered kisses on your neck.

You couldn’t help but melt into his touch. He had one hand on your waist, the other on your naked knee, due to your shorts. He stroked his palm over your soft skin, from your knee up over your thigh, to your hip, your stomach and then it stilled on your breast. You connected your lips with his for a needy kiss. That’s what you were. Needy. Just the simple touches he gave you remindend you how bad you wanted him.

He kissed you back with the same power, and the kiss got sloppier by the second. “Roger,” you moaned into his mouth, “please touch me.”

“There’s nothing I’d rather do.” and he flipped you quickly, laying you back down on the couch. He came hovering over you and kissed you softly again, then started to unbutton your blouse. With each button more skin was revealed and he made sure to kiss every new uncovered inch.

Finally the shirt was open and you quickly discarded it on the floor. Roger’s hands were on your tits, massaging them, making you writh underneath him. You were so responsive to his touch, he couldn’t help but grin. “Beautiful girl” he whispered, then licked over your nipple, taking it between his teeth, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. His hand glided down over your stomach to the waistband of your shorts. You whimpered.

“So eager” he said as he let go of your nipple. With both hands he pulled down the red shorts, you lifted your hips off the couch to make it easier. They joined your shirt on the floor. “That’s a beautiful pair of panties, honey. Did you put then on just for me?“

“Put them on for you to rip them off, Roger please!” you urged him. As much as you appreciated him taking his time, you just were getting impatient. “I need you!”

He didn’t need to be told twice, the weak lace material snapped easily with one pull of his hands. Quickly he put his fingers on you cunt, exploring your folds, spreading your wetness, coating his fingers in it. “Oh, did I do this?” he asked and put a little pressure on your clit. You jerked and a short moan left you mouth. “Did I make you this wet?”

His fingers were still now, you knew what he wanted. “Yes Roger, it was you, you did this to me! Now please do something about it!” You sounded almost pathetic but he loved it.

“Everything my princess asks for.” His fingers began to circle your clit, making your hips jerk into his hand. He watched you intently, remembering your every reaction to his actions. The movements of his hand sped up a bit and your eyes rolled back into your head. You knew he could make you cum with just his fingers. It felt amazing, breathtaking, otherworldly, and it was just his fingers on your clit.

“Roger!” you grabbed his wrist, making him slow down. “Fuck me properly. Now. I’m begging you.” He smirked at that, utterly pleased at how you were so desperate for him. His fingers left your clit but it took you by surprise as he pushed two of them into your pussy. A loud “Fuck” left you lips, followed by several moans. 

“Do you think you’re ready for me baby? Oh you feel so good around my fingers.” he groaned as he pumped them in an out of you slowly. Your hips started to rock onto his hand, trying to get him to speed up. 

You whined his name as he pulled his hand away from you, making you feel empty between your legs. You looked up to him as he threw off his shirt and unzipped his pants. He pushed them down his legs, directly followed by his underwear. You made grabbing hands towards him, he chuckled softly and crawled over you again.

His hard cock brushed your inner thigh and you felt like you could burst from excitement any moment. You sat up a bit and spat into your hand to lube up his length. He groaned at you action and pushed your hand away, lining himself up to your entrance. “Ready angel?” his eyes looking directly into yours, searching for any signs of discomfort, but unable to find any. You nodded, holding the eye contact as he started to push into you, stretching you out inch by inch. 

As he bottomed out he let a low moan escape his lips. "You’re squeezing me really tight, love” he hissed.

“Because you feel so fucking good” you retorted, moving your hips once, making his eyes fall shut and his mouth open. “Move, show me how good you can fuck me, sweet boy.”

This must’ve awakened some fire in him because suddenly he pulled out of you just to slam back in, making you scream in pleasure. He picked up a steady pace, not too fast, but it was hard. He grunted every time he pounded back into you, relishing the feeling of your tight warm cunt around him.

You gave up on trying to keep down your moans, now letting them roll out freely. Roger quickened the tempo after some time, making you whine higher. 

And he knew what he was doing when he pulled one of your legs up, positioning it over his shoulder. The new angle allowed him to press into a sensitive spot deep inside you.

“Christ, just like that, don’t stooooo- oh god-” you choked out between moans and whines. He was pounding you relentlessly and his hand found to your clit again, rubbing it in quick circles. It made you see stars.

“You gonna cum for me, angel?”

You couldn’t answer. You were already there, on the edge, getting pushed over by him just as he finished his sentence. Your back arched into him, vision white, hands clawed into his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut. The blissed out noises you made as you came were enough to bring him to his own orgasm, so he quickly pulled out of you, spilling his load on to your stomach.

You were both panting. Roger rested his head on your chest and you stroked his hair. The silence was beautiful, the only noise being your breaths.

Several minutes passed until he spoke up again. “How are you feeling?”

“As if I was on cloud 9. But also like I should take another shower.” You giggled. 

He turned his head up to look at you. “I wouldn’t say no to a shower as well. C'mon, let’s go!” He jumped up and held a hand out for you.

“You mean right now? I don’t know if I’m able to walk just yet, Roger.” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. Still you took his hand and he pulled you up.

“I think I can help with that” he said with a smirk and suddenly lifted you up over his shoulder, carrying you towards the bathroom. 

“Jesus Christ, first you make me almost choke on your cock and now I’m about to get my neck broken if you drop me!” You laughed.

He spanked your ass once. “Psht, I would never drop you. Also I promised you at least 8 minutes, but I’m by far not done with you yet.”

~~~

Does my moodboard make sense now? 😉

Taglist: @painkiller80 @sevenseasofskye @amy-brooklyn99 @bohemiansweede @rogershoe @loveandbeloved29

[jmeddows2]

YES YES YES 😍

This had to be my favorite Roger look. The silky soft looking waves; the necklaces; the sheer amount of thot energy he's radiating; the sunglasses 😎 ; the iconic flowery blazer; the tight af pants, which perfectly show of his lean thighs. And not to forget, his chest.

[elatedmarvel]

After All This Time, You and I (1/4)

Summary: Bucky has known you your entire life. Snapshots through the years.

Word Count:  1948

AN: Hello! Long time no see! This is for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​‘s Follower Celebration! Congrats to you Star, you deserve every single one!! My prompt was Best Friend’s Sibling. This was originally going to be a long oneshot, but I felt like the flow was better to separate it into a two-shot. Title is from Mary’s Song by Taylor Swift for obvious reasons. Thank you for hosting this awesome writing challenge Star! I had so much fun writing this!

Warnings: tiny mention of violence, swear words

“The building burning up Buck! You gotta get out of here!” Steve shouts staring down his best friend from across the bridge.

“No! Not without you!” comes Bucky’s fierce reply. His eyes scan over the wreck, trying to find something to save Stevie. 

Steve takes a deep breath and prays that the crumbling bridge will hold a little longer, and he charges across the chasm. He almost makes it to the other side when his foot gets caught on a pillow. Tumbling over, he avoids landing on Bucky, but knocks over the unsuspecting person on his right. 

You land with a thud on your hands and knees, and quickly scramble to look at your right knee. There’s a moment of silence, and the boys hold their breath waiting for the inevitable wail. 

“I’m sorry!” Steve cries before wrapping his arms around you in a clumsy hug. He really didn’t see you playing next to him, it was an accident! Your bottom lip sticks out and your eyes become more and more glassy. 

“Please don’t cry” he begs, partly because it breaks his heart, and partially because he doesn't want get in trouble. He knew what kind of hellfire Sarah Rogers could rain down.   

“We’re sorry, what can we do to make it up to you?” Bucky asks, scooting himself to face your tear stained face. He felt bad for making Steve run across the bridge, he never meant to hurt you. 

“I-I need a groom for my wedding.” you state without hesitation, wiping at your eyes. “And I can’t marry Steve cause he’s my brother, duh.” Your wet eyes turn to look intently at Bucky. 

“You can’t get married, you’re 6.” Bucky tries to argue.

“So? You’re 8! That’s only 2 years older! ‘Sides, it’s not real anyway.” you fires back, your bottom lip juts out again, ready to cry if that’s what it takes.

He’s taken a back for a moment at your reply, and blue eyes meet Steve’s pleading ones. He’d do anything for you, and of course Steve was the cherry on top. 

“Ok. Fine.”

On a rainy day in April, Steve walks you down the aisle. 

Clad in his nicest, unstained, khaki pants, Bucky’s heart skips a beat when he sees you. You’re wearing your Cinderella costume from Halloween, and some stolen red lipstick from your mom, smiling like you got an extra juice pop. Somehow, he already knows your the prettiest girl in the world.  

In front of your moms, stuffed animals and barbies, Bucky promises to always make you laugh and smile, and to protect you. You promise to always share her toys and food with him, and to make him feel better when he’s sad.

The ceremony ends after Steve pronounces you both husband and wife, and while your moms cheer and tear up slightly, Bucky leans in and gives you a quick peck on the cheek. It won’t be so bad being married to her, he thinks.

~~~

School sucked for Bucky today. Steve got into a fight with Zemo, which lead to Bucky getting in a fight with Zemo. That punk couldn’t even breathe right, it frustrated Bucky to no end that he couldn’t stop being stupid. Turns out, being punched in face hurts more than it looks in the movies. And of course, his parents weren’t thrilled and took away his TV privileges for the week, which meant he couldn’t find out what happened on his favorite show the Howling Commandos. Last week was even a cliffhanger! Captain America and the Winter Soldier were stuck on a plane with bombs on them and fast approaching Manhattan! 

Wallowing, both Steve and him were relegated to “use their imaginations” and playing in the backyard. Bored out of their minds, they played hide and seek, a babies game really if you asked Bucky. But, Steve was nice enough to let Bucky hide first, and Bucky couldn’t say no to that bruised face.

So here he was, climbing the ladder to the old tree house, hoping Steve wouldn’t look here right away. Sniffles drew his attention you, crying softly in the corner with your knees to your chest. You were blasting music from your walkman, Endless Love from what Bucky could hear. It was really bad then. His chest hurt seeing your red rimmed eyes, and crawled next to you. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked lowly, taking her headphones off of your head and pausing the song. You didn’t look him in the eye, but leaned into him more when he put his arm around you. 

“Stupid boys.” you sniffle. Wiping your face, you finally meet Bucky’s worried eyes. “Jake dumped me for Sierra, cause she always has chocolate snack packs in her lunch.”

“That weasel! Want me to rough him up a little?”

“Thanks, but I think you and Stevie are in enough trouble as it is.” you chuckle, placing your head on his shoulder. He gently rubs his hand up and down your arm, wishing he could take away your pain. 

“I could pretend to be your boyfriend, make him jealous your going out with a 6th grader.” he offers.

“You can’t be my boyfriend, you’re already my husband!” you joke. His eyes go wide, remembering your lovely wedding ceremony and the massive amounts of cake you both ate at the “reception”. 

“Hey! That’s right! Technically you were cheating on me with him! I want a divorce.” he jokes, bumping your shoulder with his. 

You giggle and place a hand on his, “Please forgive me! It’s been so hard being separated from you now that you’re in middle school! He didn’t mean anything! Promise!”

You both erupt laughing so hard that Bucky falls over and brings you with him, which makes you both laugh even harder. Managing to calm down, he places a kiss on your forehead and hugs you closer to him. His heart does a funny dance in his chest, but he ignores it. You’re so warm against him, and your shampoo smelled so good, he could lay here with you forever. 

“I guess I’ll forgive you this once, but don’t let it happen again.” he says solemnly. 

You nod, hair tickling his face, “It won’t, you’re the only one for me Bucky Barnes.” 

~~~

 The room’s getting dark, but he couldn’t be bothered to get up and turn on the light. Not when Lional Richie was pouring his heart out. He couldn’t go down to dinner, his whole family had heard her breaking up with him. Did Dot really have to come over and break things off in the driveway? It would kill him to see the pity in his mom’s eyes, and sit through the uncomfortable talk with his dad about his feelings. He knew they were worried about him, and wanted to help, but he couldn’t stomach facing them.

They hadn’t been going out for long, but being dumped for the first time, he didn’t know how to handle his heartache. Honestly, he didn’t know if he was even heartbroken, or just wallowing in self-pity of being blindsided by the breakup. 

A knock on the door brought him out of his misery. Must be his mom, bringing food up to him like the saint that she was. He stands up slowly, acutely aware of how his muscles ache from being curled in a ball for most of the day, and stretches as he makes his way to the door. 

Your bright eyes stare back at him when he opens the door, and in his shock, he takes in the box of pizza you holdand the enormous bag of junk food. 

“What’re you doing here?” voice cracking from underuse. 

“Steve told me what happened with Dot. I brought pizza and your favorite snacks and movies. I can drop them off and leave though if you would rather be alone?” your voice hopeful that he won’t turn you away. Like he could, he’s never turned you away before and he won’t start now. 

A small smile makes its way onto his face, and he opens the door wider so you can come into the bedroom. Your grin soothes the ache in his chest. You put the pizza down on his nightstand and cue up Star Wars. Getting cozy on his bed and patting the spot next to you, it seems like you fit right in. He didn’t need to be asked twice. 

By 4 AM, he’s forgotten all about what’s-her-name, and his earlier self-pity and heartbreak. Not when Star Wars was playing in the background and your blinking sleepily at the TV, head on his shoulder. 

~~~

“Bucky, we have a situation.” Steve announces, flopping onto Bucky’s bed. Bucky looks up from the laptop in his lap with a confused stare, waiting from Mr. Dramatic to explain. He didn’t have time for his antics, his last college final of the semester was due next week.

“Y/N’s prom date bailed on her, and it’s tomorrow.” was all Steve said, and looked at Bucky, waiting for what he knew would happen now.

“That dick.” Bucky replied, mentally searching for his tux. “If I leave now, I can make it with enough time to shower and get ready.” And he hops off the bed, grabbing his duffle bag, he stuffs whatever he may need for the impromptu trip home. Steve just stares at him with a smile on his face like the little shit he is. 

A 5 hour drive home, shower, frantic search for his tux, and a quick power nap later, he knocks on your door. He wishes he could photograph the look of surprise on your face, your jaw literally drops when he see him in his tux.

“Bucky?!” And he swears he forgot how beautiful you were. Literally glowing, and he doesn't think it’s from the makeup, he can’t help himself as he takes in your dress. You’ll be the most beautiful one there, no contest. “Hey doll.” he smirks at you, still amused by your shocked state. He can tell when your brain catches up when your eyes soften as you look up at him.

“What are you doing here?” you ask in a soft voice. 

“Taking you to prom, what else would I be doing?” and he can see you calculating in your head. 

“Bucky, you must have driven all night!” you exclaim. Bucky loves when your eyes grow wide, it’s so cute.

“It’s fine, who needs sleep?” he says as he steps inside, past your frozen, and shocked state. Steve must have told your parents he was coming, he can see your parents waiting with the camera in the living room. 

“You told me you were going to work on your final all weekend.” you fire back, closing the door. 

“This is more important to me.” and he can tell you don’t quite believe him. You have a scowl on your face that reminds him of when you would catch him stealing a piece of candy as kids. He’s pretty sure you think it’s intimidating, but he finds it adorable. 

“I promise that I worked on it already, and I’ll be ok.” and he presses a kiss to your forehead. “You look beautiful.” your glad your foundation hides the sudden flush of your face. 

“You’re not too shabby yourself.” you tease back. But really, seeing him like this does inexplicable things to your heart. He’s so handsome, and he had driven all night to take you to prom. You could just kiss him. 

Taking your hands in his, you look into his eyes. “Thank you.” you say earnestly. 

And Bucky knew in that moment, he would drive days to get to you if needed.

Part 2 

[stormtrprinstilettos]

Just a little thought I had a moment ago while seeing Roger and his drums - Imagine wanting to learn how to play the drums and (any era) Roger is more than happy and willing to teach you. He tells you to take a seat on his lap with your back to him. He places the sticks on your hands and starts guiding your hands and once you know some moves, he puts his hands on your hips and you start grinding on him. The rest is up to your dirty mind 😏.

Decided to knock these two awfully similar requests out real quick. (Pun maybe intended? I’m not sure.)

No direction in life. Wasting your life while the world goes by. No motivation. No interests other than partying all night and sleeping all day. You have the lecture you hear almost every day during your semester break from your parents memorized.

“Give me something to do then,” you challenged them one day. They weren’t wrong. You had no desire to do anything constructive with your time, because it took away from your rest and recuperation periods between social events.

Your dad was quite proud of himself when the idea popped into his head. His buddy had been feeling a bit down lately, not having much to do with his spare time, and long ago you mentioned that you wanted to learn how to play the drums.

You were a bit hesitant about it all. Roger Taylor. The man you’ve had a crush on for years, ever since your family moved in next door. He and your dad had become great friends, and your two families were always mingled, even going so far as to taking holidays together. It was cute at first, but the older you got, the more intense your thoughts would get when you’d see him, and it made you act like a complete idiot around him. He ate it up. It made him feel good about himself.

You wanted to back out of the lessons, but you knew if you did, your parents would nag you even more. So you went, to his house, in his little studio, just the two of you, and you were miserable. During the first lesson, he was so nonchalant about everything, and he would joke around with you and tease you and… It was hard. So incredibly hard not to let your hormones take over. But there was absolutely no way you could be that brash. Not with him.

By the third lesson, you realize that your hormones aren’t going to play nice, and if something isn’t done about it, you’re going to lose your mind. The way you see it, things can go two ways. He can ignore whatever advances you make – and you have to be really careful with how you go about this – or he can shoot you down and you go home, embarrassed and mortified and never see him again.

He’s not making it easier on you. His looks are getting more intense and linger for just a moment too long. His hands rest on your shoulders just a little too much. He stands just a little too close. Sometimes his voice gets a little too deep in your ear.

So when it came time for the fourth lesson, you decide that it’s now or never and opt to dress a bit more for easy access. Nothing fancy. Just those shorts you noticed him appreciating when your families were down in Ibiza the month before, and that tight tank top you wore with them. “I’m sorry I’m late,” you say when you walk in the door, purposely late so he would buy what you’re trying to sell. “I had to run to the shop and didn’t have time to go home and change.”

He just shook his head and laughed before escorting you to his studio. His looks are lingering even longer now. His comments treading that fine line between safe and dangerous. One of you has to make a move… It’s just a matter of who is going to be the first to cave.

You’re going to make sure he’s the one who does. When you sit at the drum set, you make sure he has to touch you. Only you get more than you thought you would. “No,” he laughs. “You’re sitting all wrong.” He tugs your arm for you to stand and takes a seat and taps his lap for you to sit down and you start to nervously giggle. “Come on, don’t make this awkward.”

You sit down and he moves your hips to put you straight. “I’m sorry,” you apologize, but you’re not sure what you’re apologizing for.

“You’re alright,” he chuckles, still holding your hips. “Double hand shuffle, 4 on the floor and keep it going,” he says.

You start pounding away at the drum, using a lot of arm movement, maybe on purpose. “No. Use more of your wrist,” he says, moving his hands from your hips to your wrists. “You need a firmer grip,” he says, tightening his hand.

One of the sticks slips out of your hand and falls to the floor. “I’m such a klutz,” you groan and bend down to pick it up, not realizing that you’re giving him a show when you do. Or maybe you do. Okay, you do. That’s why you bend over, slowly, making sure your moves are subtle. He’s trying to be subtle, too, but his hands grip your hips again. Maybe he’s just trying to make sure you don’t fall. Or maybe…

He adjusts you back on his lap when you sit back up, only this time he’s shifting you closer, not exactly in the proper position, making your ass press slightly against his crotch. “Now let’s try this again,” he says in a lower tone than he was speaking in before. “Comfortable?”

You smirk to yourself. Finally, he gets it. He gets what you’ve been trying to let him know for the past two weeks of these silly drumming lessons your father somehow convinced him to give you. You don’t care about playing the drums anymore. You keep showing up only because you want to get closer to Roger.

It’s hard for both of you to focus on drumming now. Not that either of you want to, but you’re both pretending to try. Your ass is pressing hard into his crotch and you can feel him start to get hard. “What about the floor?” you ask trying to sound innocent, but he isn’t buying it. He doesn’t care.

He starts to tap the peddle with his foot, still holding your waist, and you bounce just a little bit on his lap. You easily pick up on what he’s trying to do. You start to over exaggerate your movements, bounce up and down on his lap harder and harder as his cock get even harder and starts to press into you.

You lean back against him and he rests his chin on your shoulder, giving him a perfect view of your tits moving up and down right in front of him. He continues to harden as he stares at your breasts, not even trying to pretend anymore. You grab onto his legs to stay still as he starts to bounce his leg up and down with more vigor. He moves his hands from your hips and grabs on to your tits, and you hear him quietly groan in your ear.

“Is this part of the lesson, Mr. Taylor?” you whisper. He nuzzles his face in your neck and groans again as his grip on you gets harder.

His jeans are restraining him and making him uncomfortable. He pushes you to stand so he can quickly unzip them and pulls you back down. “Just relax,” he whispers in your ear. “Relax.”

You start grinding yourself on him without his coaxing. His groans are getting louder and he moves a hand down to your stomach before he stops. “You can go lower, you know,” you giggle. “If you want to.”

His face is still nuzzled in your neck and he takes a deep breath trying to snap himself out of this, but he can’t. “Do you want me to?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for your answer. He knows that’s a stupid question. He slides his hand down under your shorts, under your panties, and he takes another deep breath. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groans, and you giggle.

“That feels nice,” you whisper, enjoying the feel of his slightly calloused fingertips gently rub on your already wet lips. “But I know you can make it feel better.”

He moves his fingers to softly toy with your clit, and you let out a quiet whimper. “Better?” he asks, and you can feel his smile on your neck. “You don’t need much convincing, do you?” Slowly he pushes a finger down to your entrance and groans again as he gently slides it in. “You’re so wet. And so tight.”

You slide yourself down a little and reach one of your hands behind you and feel around for his cock. It’s not difficult to find. And when you do, you slide your hand underneath his briefs and start to rub it. “Mr. Taylor?” you ask.

“That feels good, Y/N,” he mumbles. He pulls his hand out from your shorts and cleans his fingers off. “But I need more of this,” he whispers in your ear and nudges you off of his lap. When you stand in front of him, he pulls down your shorts and panties in one move before standing up behind you and moving you to sit back on the stool.

He gets down on his knees in front of you and smiles as he spreads your pussy lips with his thumbs and takes a big lick all the way up your slit. His tongue dives straight into your hole for a taste of your sweetness then moves gently up to your clit. “Oh!” you gasp, wiggling your hips. “That feels amazing.”

He pulls back and slides a finger deep inside you and looks up from between your legs. “Have you ever had someone do this before?” he asks as he works a second finger into your pussy.

“No,” you whimper. “No never. My boyfriend never…”

“So you’re telling me no one’s ever licked you here?“ You squirm and gasp as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, a little harder and a little faster each time.

“N-no, Mr. Taylor,” you gasp.

He smirks. “Looks like there are all kinds of things I can teach you,” he groans as he lowers his head back down. His tongue starts to lick around his fingers before finding your clit again.

“Yes! Yes!” you cry out as your body starts to shake. “Oh god! Don’t stop!” Roger suddenly picks up speed on your clit and you scream as you cum, harder than you’d ever made yourself cum before as works over your body.

He had taken his dick out of his pants at some point, and you can see him stroking it, long and hard. He catches you watching him as you come down from my orgasmic high. He stands in front of you, still stroking his cock, and looks down. “Have you ever…?”

He can’t even finish asking. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” you quietly say as you run your tongue up his shaft several times while squeezing his ball gently with your free hand. You suck lightly on the head as you look up at him and smile.

“Oh fuck, Y/N,” he groans, watching you look up at him with those eyes. “You just can’t get enough, can you?”

You pause from your sucking but keep jerking his cock. “Is this a problem?”

“Absolutely not,” he tells you as he grabs your head with one hand and guides your mouth back down on his dick.

You giggle and moan as your head moves up and down, his hand running through your hair with your every motion. Your eyes gazed up at him letting him know you’re enjoying this. But he pulls back unexpectedly and pulls you up again.

“Hold on,” he tells you as he bend you over the drums. “And steady. Don’t want these to fall over.” He adjusts you so you’re at the right at the height for him to stand behind you and pound away. “Now be a good girl and let me teach you some new moves,” he tells you as he starts rubbing his pulsing tip against your pussy making it nice and slick.

“I don’t like being good,” you giggle as you move your hips, forcing him inside.

“Clearly you don’t,” he laughs, burying his cock inside you, his hands gripping your hips as you moan with glee as he starts pulsing into you from behind. “Does your boyfriend fuck you like this, Y/N?”

“No,” you groan, your voice shaking as he slams deeper inside you. “I’ve never been fucked like this before.” He pulls you back into him and gives you a playful slap on your ass, which only serves to encourage you to push yourself further onto his dick. “Go harder. Please,” you beg.

“I’ll show you hard,” he growls. He can’t go faster, but harder he can do. Your ass is bouncing like it did when he slapped it, only now it was from his hips beating into you. “I’ll teach you how to be properly fucked.”

“Teach me, Mr. Taylor!” you shout out. “I want to learn everything.” You squeeze his cock with your tight pussy, him filling every inch of you. You start jerking when he reaches a hand down and starts rubbing on your clit as he relentlessly pounds into you. He knows you’re close to cumming and holds you still while digging fingers in to keep you in place.

“I’m close,” he groans.

“Fuck me, Mr. Taylor,” you whisper. You’re shaking. “You feel so good. I love your cock. I need to cum.”

“Then cum for me,” he groans. “Show me how much you love my cock.” That’s all you needed to hear to make you gush. Every muscle in your body clinches before releasing very slowly. “I can’t hold out much longer.”

“Then cum in me,” you tell him. “It’s okay. I want to feel it.” He doesn’t need more encouragement. He pulls you hard back to him and pushes himself in as far as he can go, exploding everything inside you as you both let out loud moans.

He carefully pulls himself out and planted small kisses on your back shoulders. You stand and face him, completely worn out with a smile on your face. He grabs the back of your head and leans down, kissing you softly, all while smiling. “Maybe don’t tell people what you’ve learned today, huh?” he jokes.

“Don’t worry,” you giggle. “Our little secret.”

Permatags: @clogwearingspacepoodle @briansfatbottomgirl @culturefiendtrashqueen @jennyggggrrr @shutup-sorry @dontstopmemeow @letmelivetaylor @tommyleeownsme @ziggymay @drowseoftaylor @mariekuuuuuh @biscuit-barrel @givemequeen @luvborhap @quirkydeaky @capsparrowtara @vousmemanqueez @vanitysfairr @langdonzvoid @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @thigh-your-mother-down @toomuchlove-willkillyou @lauravic @loveandbeloved29 @catch-a-deak @rogxrtaylxr @formylife-stillahead-pityme @michael-loves-chickens @fat-bottomed-babe @tenement-funstah @mydeakydoesme @onevision198091 @lokimercuri @delilahmay39 @amor-libre @brianssixpence @rogers-pink-sparkly-converse @shadycupcakefox @theatrefreakgirl @fflowerxchild @spacedust1124719 @amcquivey

[theyrealllegends]

Anything Goes Tonight (Roger Taylor x Reader Smut)

My little thingy for @queens-n-roses writing challenge and I’m excited, waaah! Congrats again on reaching 2k, Zoe, you deserve them so much! (I feel like I could’ve done you way more justice and I apologise if anyone hates this concept but yeah, this is what I came up with)

The song I chose was “Anything Goes” by Guns n Roses and it seemed so fitting for this, so I just went with it: 

Synopsis: You’re Brian’s girlfriend and even though you’re both very happy together, there’s something in Roger that makes you lust over him like nothing else. However, you both wouldn’t make a move on each other without Brian’s agreement. Which he might or might not be giving you at one of Freddie’s parties!

Warning: so, my song kind of demanded it which isn’t an apology, just a reason if you needed one: I tried to make it as smutty as I could and of course I hope you like it, but please as always, don’t read this if you’re not 18+!! (English isn’t my first language so please have mercy!)

Enjoy, loves!

Roger was looking at you through his lashes, his eyes half closed as he leaned his head back, exhaling a lung full of light grey smoke. You looked at the cigarette between his fingers and his other hand, clapping a rhythm on his thigh. You liked the look of his fingers, they weren’t as long and thin as Brian’s and his rings really sparked your imagination.

“Why are you looking at Roger like that?”, Brian asked you, his voice low and his hand was gently going up your thigh until his fingertips found the hem of your skirt. Brian knew. He knew damn well because he’d seen not only the look on your face but also what could happen if he let you go ahead. 

I've been thinkin' 'bout Thinkin' 'bout sex

You were happy with him. Of course you were, he was bloody sexy and an incredible good guy combined. If it hadn’t been Roger you would’ve never ever looked at another guy. Deaky and Freddie were in their band as well but your panties didn’t get wet for them the way they did for Brian - or Roger. You couldn’t deny it and the only thing holding you back was Brian, most times at least. One time, you’d all been piss drunk and there was weed involved, you believed, he’d let you make out with his friend and that same night, he’d fucked you harder than you could’ve ever asked him to. You’d loved it, god, only the memory gave you goosebumps. You were sure it was because seeing you with Roger had turned him on. Which turned you on even more. 

Always hungry for somethin' That I haven't had yet

Roger looked over to Brian, who was whispering something to his girlfriend. That same girlfriend he’d kissed when his friend gave her the freedom to and that same girlfriend he wanted so bad. He hadn’t had a girl like her before. She was incredibly pretty and incredibly self assured, her sharp tongue leaving him without a comeback often enough. Her hair was always perfect even though he could tell she wasn’t even trying and her clothes never left too much room for imagination while never making her look cheap. He’d describe her as classy, actually, sitting in Brian’s lap with a glass of whisky. He winked at her, when she locked eyes with him again while her hand moved into Brian’s hair. He was willing his friend to let her have some fun with him, nothing else - he wouldn’t want to steal what was Brian’s, ever, but he knew shagging you would just be fucking great. He felt bad for wanting you, one of his best friend’s girlfriend, so bad but he couldn’t help it. He just hoped Brian would agree because otherwise he wouldn’t make a move. Both of you had something to lose, after all. 

Well maybe baby, you got somethin' to lose Well I got somethin' I got somethin' for you

You joined the boys for the after show party and you loved it. Freddie knew how to get everyone shit faced and it was exactly what you’d needed after a stressful first month in your first real job after uni. You’d danced with Fred, Deaky and Roger like there was no tomorrow, alway feeling Brian’s hands on your hips and making sure to tease him with your movements, leaning into him to create the lightest friction ever. It was working, of course. It was after three and after a lot of Scotch for Brian when you found yourself in a bathroom, Brian stumbling in after you and pressing you against the door, kissing you wildly. Your two tongues danced with each other, before he slowly let his lips wander down to your jaw, following it up to your earlobe and from there going down to you neck, leaving some wet kisses there, sucking on the skin before he started to pull you skirt up so that he’d have better access to you before he let himself sink down onto one knee. His lips went from your knee upwards and you got goosebumps when he finally reached the soft skin on the inside of your thigh, so close to your core you could feel his hot breath through your panty. His beard was tickling your sensitive skin a little and when he pulled down your underwear, you quickly moved one of your legs over his shoulder to kind of sit on his face when his tongue finally met where you’d wanted it all the time. Your fingers curled into his hair and you felt him moan when you pulled it lightly, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. You rocketed your hips against his face slowly feeling how Brian got more eager to give you what your wanted. Your inside started to heat up, pressure building in your chest and you moaned lightly, trying to catch your relieve soon. It didn’t happen though because of course someone had to walk in on you and you let out a loud “ouch” because they also banged the door into your shoulder heavily. 

“Shit, sorry”, Roger said, before he spied Brian getting on his feet again and you pulling down your skirt as quickly as you could. He just grinned and licked his lips, before he stepped in and locked the door behind himself. “I came here to pee but since you two are here I don’t think it matters that much anymore.”

“Admit it, you saw us”, Brian teased him, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Maybe”, Roger shrugged it off, approaching you. “You alright, love? You seem shaky?”

“You bloody bastard”, you mumbled, leaning into him when he offered you an arm to keep you steady. He chuckled at your words before he turned to Brian.

“What’s the rules, Bri? My way? Your way?”

Brian gave in with a sigh. “Anything goes tonight”, he said, freeing you of your relationship’s boundaries for the next couple hours. 

“You better do me good, Taylor, give my man a show.”

My way, your way Anything goes tonight

Roger just snorted before he spun you around to lean in and kiss you. Your eyes fell shut, waiting for his lips to meet yours. “You’re at my mercy now”, Roger whispered instead and you only felt his hot breath on your face, knowing he wouldn’t let you be in charge that night. “Now be that little slut you were acting like the last weeks and get on your knees”, he demanded and you didn’t hesitate to follow, eager to please him while Brian leaned onto the door and watched in silence, his arms still crossed over his chest. Roger opened his belt and you pulled down his pants and his briefs in one grip, your mouth already watering at the sight of his long and thick, veiny dick. Roger inhaled sharply and gripped a handful of your hair when you went all in on him, letting his tip slip as far down your throat as you could and he loved it. You didn’t know though because he did his best not to let you know, still remaining quiet when you started bopping your head up and down his length, wanting to please him in desperation, picking up a deathly pace. “Enough”, he just forced out between gritted teeth, close to his high if he was honest. 

“You didn’t enjoy -?”, you wanted to know but he shushed you with a movement. 

“I want you to stay quiet. Now let me take off your skirt”, he went on, his voice dangerous, hearing it was enough to give you goosebumps. He unzipped your skirt, pulling it down your legs with your panties and kicking it away so that both of your clothes formed an unnecessary pile next to the marble counter. His hands on your hips, Roger guided you a few steps backwards and lifted you onto said counter, softer than you’d expected. His lips moved to your neck and your were aching to touch his dick that was poking your thighs. He pinned your hands down on the cold stone though, his lips close to your ear now. “You did amazing, love. Let me know if it’s too much.” You nodded in silence, knowing that Brian couldn’t hear him over the music that was still invading the bathroom. Roger started to move his fingers closer to your pounding core, going up your thigh so slow you thought it might kill you, desperate to feel him and hungry for a high. He swallowed a moan when he finally slid a finger into you, not expecting you to be so hot and wet for him. He added another digit quickly, pumping in and out of you as fast as you’d done to his cock and your head fell back between your shoulders, your weight resting on your arms you’d propped up on your elbows on the counter. You bit your lips, trying your best not to make a sound and Roger grinned because he could see you struggling. “Use your words”, he teased you in that same low, dangerous voice. “You close?”

“God, yes”, you sighed and he added his thumb to your clit, rubbing quick circles. “Fuck, Rog.” You wished he’d free your boobs and kiss them, your chest moving quickly in rhythm of your hectic breathing. The moans didn’t stop escaping your parted lips now and when you started coursing and then only repeating his name like it was a prayer, Roger knew you were about to get what you wanted. Except that that wasn’t what he wanted to give you right now. “What -“, you whined when he removed his fingers. “No, I want to -“ He shushed you by putting the three fingers he’d used on you in your mouth and Brian had to swallow hard when he saw you sucking your juice from them. He took a mental note to himself to definitely do that at some point, especially when he saw how much Roger loved it. Roger bit his lip before he took a step back, urging you onto your feet again with shaky legs. 

“Look at you”, he told you, before he softly propped you against the counter again. He opened your blouse button by button from behind and you looked at your heated face and your hair that was a mess already, your eyes only sparkling with desire. He bent you over the stone counter again, your nipples hurting in the best way possible when they met the cold surface and Roger got a condom from somewhere behind you before he entered you moaning. Your eyes rolled back into your head and you gripped on the edges of the counter like your life depended on it. He filled you out completely, stretching you a little and you couldn’t wait for him to hit all the right spots while Roger’s jaw clenched by how hot and tight you were. He bloody loved it and he gripped your hair to force your head up a little. “I said look at you. Watch me fuck you.” 

“Go ahead then”, you teased him and saw a grin spread on both of your lips before he thrusted into you, hard. You had to hold back a cry and it was incredibly hard to keep looking at your flushing face when he picked up a fast, hard rhythm and pleasure washed over you. Your lips parted and your hot breath made the mirror in front of you fog up a little. You clenched your teeth together in an attempt to control your breath because you wanted to see Roger’s face: his eyes were glued to your the whole time and his brows were furrowed in pleasure, his lips parted just like yours had been. You had to look away some seconds later because only looking at him could’ve made you cum that moment and you wanted to make it last as long as possible. 

“I want you to cum on my cock”, Roger told you, his voice hoarse and his thrusts lost their rhythm, their pace picking up a little more until you had to bite your fingers to keep yourself from screaming. His sloppy movements hit you exactly where you needed him and you knew you’d come for him when Roger could feel your walls clench around him, making you tighter and pulling him with you into the high. A guttural moan left Roger’s mouth while you were pressing his name out through your teeth over and over again, still shaking while he held you throughout your high. “Fuck, y/N”, he whispered and leaned down to kiss your shoulder. “You alright?”, he asked when he looked at your face in the mirror and saw the tears in your eyes.

“‘M fine. That was great”, you replied weakly, whining when he pulled out of you and you lost the full feeling he’d given you. 

“Thought so, too”, Roger said, helping you stand. He leaned in for one last, soft kiss before he took a step back and your hands fell back to your sides because both of you knew this was over now. “I’ll leave you alone.”

Brian was with you after he’d locked the door again and you hugged him tightly, wrapping your arms and your legs around his body. 

“Don’t ever let anyone do me except you”, you whispered, your voice shaking. Suddenly you felt dirty and like you’d just betrayed him. “Your way is so much better than anyone else’s. I love you, Brian. And I’m sorry, I feel like I pushed you to let him go ahead on me and now I regret it.”

“I love you too, y/N”, he whispered, kissing you softly. “Don’t be sorry, my love. Everything’s alright and I’m glad you like me better in bed, really. I’ll eventually get my revenge.”

“I’m excited for it”, you whispered back, glad that he was so sweet and understanding even though in your opinion, you didn’t deserve it. 

“It might involve ropes or my belt.”

“Or a tie?”

“If you’d like that.”

“I’d more than like that”, you smiled before you kissed him again, eager to get home now. 

Tied up, tied down Up against the wall

[gayspamer]

Lady Drummer

A/N: I hope you enjoy it :) let me know if you do and also if you don’t, feedback is well received.

Pairing: 70s!Roger Taylor x Reader 

Context: This is a college AU situated around 1970, I tried not to include much details about the place or clothes to avoid mistakes.

Warnings: SMUT (MUST BE +18), Bottom Roger!, Dom Reader, Drinking and smoking. Beware of grammar mistakes (not a native English speaker)

Word count: 1.8k~

Nine o’clock on a Friday, you were chatting with your best friend and she kept trying to convince you to go to a party with her. Not that you didn’t like to party, you loved to, but today was not your day, college was awful and your asshole philosophy teacher decided it would be a good idea to leave homework for the weekend.

“I’m telling you Nina I need to study and do this stupid work” you explained to your friend who even made the effort of going to your room just to get you to go out today “Anyways, what is so special about this so called party?”

“First of all, you can do that work tomorrow and second it’s not a so called party it is a party Y/N, it is one of the biggest ones of the semester we must go.” Nina argued “I promise you we will have fun and probably get laid”

“Get what? Ok fuck you? I’m not that desperate” You clarified

“Then forget that part Y/N, come one it will be fun, I promise” she begged now looking at you with puppy eyes

“Fine, but if I get bored or it is too much, I will leave” You warned

“Sure sure, get dressed now” Nina pressured you, it was not that late but the party was a bit far away from the dorms.

Nina helped you choose your clothes, she almost knew them all, you’ve been best friends since junior high school. You went with a black short skirt and a colorful shirt. In the way to the party Nina talked to you about this guy she liked and apparently he was going too, it all made sense now, she just wanted to go because of him, she always managed to convince you to do things.

When you arrived to the place you noticed it was indeed a big party and your social anxiety started kicking in, at least you were with Nina. You walked in, there was a table in the entrance with some closed beers in it, you took two for you and your friend.

“Cheers, I guess” you said to Nina while handing over the beer.

“Cheers!” She joyfully answered, but you were almost able to hear her over the noise.

“Hey, I am going to look for the guy I was talking about, go meet people” She yelled and left without giving you a chance to get mad.

You thought of leaving but if you went all the way to get there might as well stay for a bit, since the place was a frat house you started walking around, when you found the kitchen you were about to finish your beer so you entered hopeful to find something else, and you did, there was around twenty beers in there so you grabbed one. You were about to leave when one of your favorite songs started playing. It was ‘stuck on you by Elvis Presley’. You decided to stay in the kitchen and fake play the drums just to have fun, you got so much into it you closed your eyes and for a moment you forgot about the world.

“Hi lady drummer” A soft pitched voice brought you back to the world, you opened your eyes to find a long haired blond guy looking at you with a beer and a cigarette in his hand “So do you play the drums or am I being fooled?” he asked and you couldn’t tell if he was making fun of you or hitting on you.

“I kind of play” You hesitated in that answer

“Show me” He stated with confidence

“Show you what now?” You asked confused of what was he asking for, there was no drums nearby if that was what he wanted

“Show me that you play” He reassured “There is a drum set upstairs”

“Is that you trying to take me up stairs? Because you don’t even know my name mate” You replied a bit mad, he was not polite at all

“Yeah true, sorry, I guess I got carried away, not everyday I meet a woman who can play the drums. I am Roger Taylor” he explained smiling “And you are?”

“I am Y/N, nice to meet you” You smiled back “Now, care to show me that drum set?”

“You better know how to use it” He joked opening the kitchen door for you and taking your hand to guide you upstairs

“And here it is” He said when you got to the room with the drum set in, there was also a guitar and a bass, it all made you wonder if he had a band or something but you didn’t care that much to ask

“Cool, then let me show you how bad I am” you joked knowing you were actually pretty good at playing the drums, you walked across the room and sat down looking for the drumsticks

“Here they are, love” he said handing them to you with a smile

“Here we go” you mumbled more to yourself than to him, you started playing some random solo you remembered from your high school band, it turned out really great but the face of Roger when you finished and looked at him was a surprise for you. He was genuinely without words.

“How was it?” you asked already knowing the answer

Roger walked towards you while biting his bottom lip “It was amazing but I do think it’s my turn” he said getting closer

You stood up and handed the drumsticks, with one hand he took them and with the other he softly touched your waist with a smirk on his face “thanks, love”. His touch made your whole body shiver. He sat down and the first second he started playing you realized he really knew how to play the drums, he totally hypnotized you. Looking at Roger while playing the drums was hot, he was so into it he started sweating, he was really passionate about it. His voice threw you back into reality.

“I see you liked it” He was already standing up and facing you, he was so close you could feel his breath “but you were good too” he winked at you

The fact that he was so close and how his attitude drastically changed made you all hot and bothered “You are in fact good, Roger Taylor” You managed to say without looking at him

“Yeah? Then why don’t you look at me?” He teased. He put his hand on your cheek and made you look at him “Come on, if you don’t look at me I won’t believe you” he was getting closer by the second

“I said you are good” You repeated, almost like a challenge, feeling his nose touch yours

“Now, I believe you” he smirked and leaned closer, your lips crashed together kissing softly. He pulled you closer taking you by the waist, he started to move his hands around your body, softly grabbing your bottom. He was going slow, way too slow, you decided you were the one taking the initiative. Luckily there was a sofa in that room so you grabbed him by his shirt and threw him on the sofa

“If you like what you see you’ll have to earn it” you told him starting to unbutton your shirt while walking towards him “Why don’t you take off that beautiful shirt of yours?”

He immediately took his shirt off and then tried to put his hands on your waist but you stopped him “Not so fast blondie” you teased with a smirk on you face “No touching until I tell you so”

You started kissing his neck slowly going down his body, you could feel his breathing going faster with anticipation of where your mouth was getting to. You stopped when you got to his pants. Slowly you started to unbutton them pulling them down to let his hardened length out. You gave it a few strokes licking your lips at the thought of having him inside your mouth. He passed a hand through your hair to encourage you. “Patience is a virtue my boy” you said right before passing your tongue over in hard cock with a really slow pace just to tease him

“Fuck Y/N…” he was already moaning.

“What did I just say about patience?” You teased his tip with your tongue

“Please” he begged

“Please what? Use your words Roger”

“Please suck my dick Y/N, I need those perfect lips around me” He admitted biting his lips

“Fine, just because you asked nicely” You agreed right before taking his length all in

“Fuck” he mumbled. You started moaning and the thought of Roger feeling your vibrations around him made you wet. He passed his hand through your hair and you fastened your pace, you could hear him moaning your name. You took him all in one more time until backing off to breathe and take your pants off. While you did that Roger couldn’t help but to touch himself.

“Need help with that?” You asked while adjusting yourself over him, now naked.

“Can I touch now?” He asked looking firmly at your chest “They are perfect”

You got your chest closer to his face you could almost feel his breathing “What’s the magic word?” you provoked him with a smirk on

“Please Y/N” He begged, you took his hands putting them on your chest he started massaging them and kissing them, giving your nipples special attention. He was good with his hands way too good, you needed him inside you, now.

“Roger… I need you, now” You breathed. He obeyed you and adjusted himself to enter you. You took him in without hesitation “Oh fuck Roger” you moaned at the feeling of him filling you up like that. His hands were now on your waist helping you move around his cock. You started riding him so hard the only thing you could hear where moans and the sound of your bodies slapping. He was making you feel so good you were on the edge.

“Y/N… fuck.. I am near- fuck” He was barely able to talk between moans. You started kissing his neck knowing you would leave a mark there

“I am close too, Roger. Come on, cum with me” You ordered and fastened your pace, he adjusted and was now hitting you in the right spot. “There… fuck.. keep going” you managed to whine.

Suddenly you felt his hand spanking your ass, that pushed you to the edge. You weren’t able to control yourself anymore when you screamed his name while riding your own orgasm. All you could feel now was pleasure and his hot body crashing into yours. He thrusted a few times more until moaning “Oh God Y/N”, he filled you up with his hot juices. Roger pulled out and you changed position sitting down next to him.

“Fuck” You said trying to catch your breath

“So...not only you good at drumming but you are a good shag too” Roger admitted lighting up a cigarette, the view of him smoking was indeed hot.

“I could say the same thing to you blondie” You replied remembering what your friend Nina said about getting laid tonight, “That bitch was right” you thought with a smirk on your face.

[oohlovergirl]

Say You Won’t Let Go [ROGER TAYLOR x READER]

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

Word count: 2749

Summary: It’s your and Roger’s anniversary, and you reminisce on your relationship and history with him. 

Contains: FLUFFINESS

A/N: This is my submission for @queens-n-roses 2k writing challenge (congrats on 2k! (Except I think you’re already on 3k now!!)). This fic is inspired by James Arthur’s Say You Won’t Let Go. I hope you enjoy! Also: I want to apologize in advance for the typos!

You wake up to kisses to your face, your neck, your shoulders. You let out a tired laugh before blinking the sleep from your eyes. Once you finally open your eyes, you’re met with Roger next to you in bed.

“Happy anniversary, beautiful,” he says. 

“Happy anniversary, love,” you whisper back, stroking the hair out of his face. He closes his eyes at your touch. The soft morning glow made by the gauzy curtains, the birds chirping outside, and Roger’s comforting presence make you feel at peace, and you revel in the quiet morning. 

The silence is broken by small footsteps rapidly approaching your room.

“Hi Mummy!” your daughter says. She stops when she sees Roger, her eyes lighting up. 

“DADDY!” she yells, jumping onto the bed and into his arms. Roger was gone for two weeks for a business trip, and she was asleep when he came in last night. 

“Hi Princess! I missed you!” Roger says, peppering her face with kisses. She shrieks, swatting him away. “Hey, I got you a present,” he says in a stage whisper. 

“Really?” she asks, tiny hands gripping onto his shirt. 

“Yeah, you wanna go see it?” he asks while getting up.

“Yeah!” 

“It’s in the garage.” And then she’s sprinting out of the room. 

“What’d you get her?” you ask with a quirk of your brow and small smile on your face. 

About two seconds later, you find that he got her a new bike. A two wheeler bike, actually. And now you’re currently leaning against the front door wrapped in a fluffy robe with a cup of coffee in your hand as you watch your husband try to teach your daughter how to ride the bike. Watching them makes you feel… nostalgic. Perhaps it’s because of your anniversary, but you start thinking about you and Roger, and just exactly how you two got to the place you are today. 

–––––––––––––

Your eyes glowed at him, and he felt an unfamiliar feeling tug at something deep in his chest. 

“Who is that? Roger asks Brian under his breath, slightly tilting his glass towards you. You’ve been eyeing each other for what seemed like hours. From the moment he arrived at the party, actually. Watching you in that long black dress with the thin straps and the low back. The way you cross your legs and how you lick the drink from your lips after you take a sip. The way you laugh at a joke your friend tells you in your ear. You, watching him in his dark sunglasses. The way he smirks into his glass. The way he looks at you as if you’re the only girl in the world.

“Oh, that’s Y/N,” Brian replies. Feeling like he’s had enough of watching you from afar, he downs the rest of his whiskey, slams down the cup on the bar counter, and makes his way over to you. You watch him with a smirk as he approaches, bringing your wineglass up to your lips. 

“Hello, I’m Roger Taylor,” he says, hand outstretched. 

“Hi Roger Taylor, it’s nice to meet you,” you say, gently grasping his hand. 

“I didn’t catch your name?” 

“That’s because I didn’t say it.” He smiles.

“Y/N, my name is Y/N.” You look over his shoulder to see your friend waving at you to go. “I have to go, but it was really nice meeting you, Roger Taylor,” you say before standing up, shimmying your dress down as it rode up, and walking down to your friend. And before you reached your friend, you turn around and blow him a kiss with a wink. He smiles to himself, heart beating a little faster than usual. 

–––––––––––––

You guys meet again at another party. His eyes immediately landing on you when he arrives. You look the same as he saw you last, sitting in the back with a wineglass in your hand. This time wearing a red dress. 

And then a few drinks later, he finds you gripping his hand as you guys make your way out of the party. 

He feels as if his heart is soaring out of his chest, and you both are chasing after it, your hand gripped tightly in his, weaving in and out of the bodies in the crowd. You tilt your head back and laugh, your other arm reaching up, finger tips trying to reach the sky––reaching up and taking hold of his heart. And he never wants you to let go. 

He’s brought home so many girls. But this time, it feels different. 

He slams open the door and immediately pushes you up against it, mouth already on yours in a frenzied kiss, a little sloppy as you’re both intoxicated, but neither of you care. Too intoxicated with the feeling of one another. The way his hands grip your hips, fingers calloused from years of drumming rubbing at the exposed skin of your waist. The way you tug slightly at his hair, the way your lips feel so soft on his. 

He taps your thighs, signaling for you to jump, and you wrap your legs around his waist. You bump foreheads a little, and you break off the kiss with a giggle. You feel him smiling as he presses his lips to your neck. 

You two fall into his bed. He hovers over you, hips pressed into yours, lips sucking a dark bruise onto your collarbone.

“Rog,” you say in a breathless moan. He stops to drop his head onto your chest, groaning. At how beautiful you are. At how much he loves the way his name falls from your lips. You wrap your legs around his hips and roll over, so you end up straddling him. He smirks up at you, hands coming to rest lazily at your hips. You grab the bottom of his shirt and pull it up. He sits up to help, pulling it up and completely off of himself. Reaching a finger down, you trace his collarbones, his abs. He shivers, exhaling sharply. 

“Where did this come from?” you ask, skimming over the thin white scar on his hip. He looks down. 

“Bar fight.” 

“Bar fight? Tisk tisk,” you tease.

“I was seventeen! And the guy was an asshole!” he says defending himself while laughing. 

“How’d you get that? Looks pretty serious.”

“He sliced me with a beer bottle after I threw a tomato at him,” he says, his eyes crinkling. 

“Wait you threw a tomato at him?” you ask, incredulous. 

“Mhmm, when he grabbed the beer bottle, I grabbed the closest thing next to me and just hurled it.” You burst out into laughter, falling onto his chest. He wraps an arm around your back, burying his face into the crook of your neck, and you can feel him laughing as well.

And the previous actions cease. You’re on your sides, facing each other, hands propping up your heads. Both of you now too involved in talking about your lives. Childhood stories. First kisses. Favorite movies. His time in his band. Your family. 

But in the middle of him telling you about the time he pranked Brian, you’re hit with a wave of nausea. You gag, slapping a hand over your mouth before hurtling out of bed and into his bathroom where you promptly empty your stomach into his toilet. By the time you’re done and dry heaving over the bowl, you notice Roger behind you, holding your hair out of your face while rubbing soothing circles on your back. You wipe your eyes before turning around and giving him a small smile. He smiles back. 

“Let’s get you to bed, love,” he says softly as he holds your shoulders, leading you to his bedroom. He puts the covers over you, turns off the lamp on the bedside table and is about to leave (to sleep in his guest bedroom), but you stop him with a hand on his forearm. 

“Can you stay with me?” you whisper, eyes already half-closed. His throat is dry, heart tight in his chest. 

“Yeah,” he clears his throat. “Yeah, of course.” 

–––––––––––––

You and Roger have been seeing each other for a few months now, having become really close friends––who also hook up sometimes (a lot of times). He just met you for some breakfast as he spent a night at your place after you called him at two a.m.

“Morning mates!” he says with a big smile as he walks through the studio doors. 

Brian narrows his eyes at him from his perch on the sofa. 

“What?” Roger asks.

“You smell like a vanilla candle exploded on you.” 

“I spent a night at Y/N’s,” Roger says nonchalantly, not even looking up as he’s busy tying his shoes. 

“Are you two dating? I’ve never seen you so interested in a girl for this long.”

“Thanks Bri, you make me sound like a right dick.”

“It’s true!” Brian says with his hands raised. Roger sighs. Because it was true. He’s never been this interested––hell––he’s never felt this way about any girl before. Ever. 

“I don’t know. She makes me feel––she makes me feel whole,” he mumbles. In any other situation, the rest of the boys would have teased him for being so cheesy, but this time is different––this statement felt really serious. Really real. And so they just sit there in silence. Brian’s brows furrowed, his lip pinched between his fingers. John has a small smile on his face as if he knows something that everyone else doesn’t know of. 

–––––––––––––

“Hello, gorgeous,” a brunette man says, sitting down at the bar stool next to yours. You look up from your drink, not interested, but he seems nice and he was easy on the eyes. You wouldn’t pursue anything more with him other than this flirty banter.

But what you don’t notice is that Roger watches you with narrowed eyes from his seat on the stage, hitting his drums just a little harder than usual. Brian looks over from his guitar playing. 

“Settle down, Rog,” he says with a frown. 

Right when the last song ends, Roger stands up quickly, so quickly that he knocks into one of the cymbals, and stomps off the stage.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says coming up from behind you as he grabs your waist. You jump a little in surprise. 

“Hey Rog,” you say, confused as he wraps an arm around your shoulders almost protectively.

“Who’s this bloke?” he asks with a sneer.

“This bloke is a very nice man named Edward,” you say. 

“Oh––I’m sorry––I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, sorry,” he says before excusing himself from his seat. You whip your head around, face burning. 

“Outside,” you hiss before stalking towards the exit. 

“What the fuck, Roger!” you yell once you’re once outside. 

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence. 

“You can’t––you don’t get to be like this,” you say with a sigh––the unsaid words hanging in between you two. And his voice gets stuck in his throat, conflicted between telling the truth and hiding behind a joke. 

“I––I––that guy seemed like a dick,” he mumbles. 

“Yeah, but that’s my decision to make!” you say, throwing your hands up. 

“Why are you like this?” you ask, but you know. You want him to say it. A pause.

He stays silent. You scoff and feel tears prick at your eyes, disappointment tugging at your heart. 

“You know what, Rog, you are selfish. You’re a selfish prick. I’m gonna go home. Call me when you stop acting––when you figure out what this,” you wave your hands around, “is.” 

“Wait––Y/N!” you turn around, and he grabs your face, pressing his lips onto his. And even though you’ve kissed him multiple––too many times to count––this one feels different. 

“I’m in love with you Y/N Y/L/N. And I want to be more than friends––more than what we are right now.” You smile, grabbing his face gently. 

“I love you too, Roger.” 

–––––––––––––

He walks back into the room with two mugs of steaming tea. And he stops in the doorway. Seeing you, sitting on the bed, hair messy, eyes still puffy with sleep. The light streaming in from the window encompassing you in an ethereal glow, he knows this is it. He quickly grabs the small box from the shelf next to him. 

“Y/N?” You turn to him, and you see him on his knee. Your heart stops. 

“I love you more than anyone and anything in the world. You’re my best friend, and you’re the love of my life. There is no one else I would like to spend the rest of my life with. Will you marry me?”

You nod, speechless and don’t realize you’re crying until you feel the tears run down your face. And you climb out of the bed, your legs getting tangled on the comforter. And you stumble into his arms. 

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes!” And he lets out an exhale, laughing. Tears pricking his eyes, and he clears his throat. 

“Did you just use two of your song titles while proposing to me,” you ask through sniffles, slightly muffled as your face is pressed into his shirt. 

The next day, you announce it to the band at dinner. 

“Welcome to the family, Y/N,” Freddie says with open arms. 

–––––––––––––

You blink, and you’re back in the present. Mind focusing once again at the scene in front of you. 

“Daddy, I’m scared,” your daughter says, voice trembling, hands white knuckled on top of Roger’s. 

“It’s okay, Sweetheart, I got you.” 

“Promise you won’t let go?”

“Promise I won’t let you go.” 

Permanent taglist:

@thefirstkillerqueen @hysterical-queen-trash @clara-who@ladycataztrophe @ghost-in-love 

[stedes-black-bonnet]

My Baby Does Me: Chapter 25

POV: John Deacon x Reader; this is our very first Brian May chapter!

Notes: Masterlist.

Warnings: profanity and anxiety?

Abstract: Brian tries to get Roger ready and out of the house.

--------------------------------------------------

Adapted from the observational notes of Brian May dated 8th of June, 1981. Time: 18:47. Location: Roger Taylor’s London townhouse “The Painted Lady”:

“Accessorizing,” Roger responded. He put a pair of sunglasses down; he was still holding a pair and had one on his face. There was something funny about his voice Brian May didn’t like. Misdirection, Brian thought. It was a half-truth, it was the explicit “what” of the question but not the implicit “why,” and it was clear Roger didn’t want anyone to know the “why.”

Roger took his piercing gaze away from the mirror, away from himself, and turned to look at Brian. He said, indignantly, “What does it look like I’m doing?” It wouldn’t be the first time Roger Taylor had used a one-liner to cover something up.

“Like you’re trying to make us late for the meeting.” Brian said, attempting to level with his best and oldest friend.

“Never.” Roger turned back to the mirror, removing one pair and trying another.

“The meeting you don’t want to go to.”

“You don’t want to go to it either; stop acting all high and mighty; it isn’t like this a secret dick-sucking meeting.”

Brian rolled his eyes behind Roger.

“I saw that.”

“Yeah, genius; I meant for you to; I do know how mirrors work.”

Roger held up two fingers behind him; it wasn’t a peace sign. “If it were a dick-sucking meeting, I’d be ready posthaste.”

“Depends on who's doing the sucking.”

Roger paused his cycle of trying on glasses and said, pensively, “not sure in this situation who’s giving and who’s receiving, hey mate?”

“Not at all.”

Roger sighed, “Nor am I.” He resumed his task most diligently.

“This whole ordeal is a mess.” Brian wasn’t sure if he was talking about the meeting or Roger.

“Yep.” Roger tried another pair, “And I’m in no rush to get there to see who I have to suck off.”

“Look,” Brian exhaled, “Just pick a pair and let’s go.” Examining his friend closer, he made an observation he didn’t like one bit. Brian slowly sat down on the bed, hands on his knees of his burgundy corduroys. “Are you wearing the same clothes as last night?”

“Oh.” Roger said, looking down at his white shirt and black tuxedo pants. It was the crestfallen nature of the “oh” that Brian didn’t like. He didn’t like it one iota. Roger should have been ready for this meeting hours ago. Sure, they had all had their fair share of alcohol at last night’s party, but something as insignificant as a hangover had never stopped Roger from managing his obligations, or spectacularly rising to the occasion.

“Oh,” he repeated, “So I am.”

“Are you alright?” Brian wasn’t sure his friend had even noticed what he was wearing. Roger not noticing what he was wearing would have been like a leopard not recognizing the spots of her children, or a model not recognizing a designer’s new collection. It would have been sacrilegiously embarrassing.

“What?” Roger asked, distractedly. He was still looking at his pants, feeling the tuxedo stripe with his nimble fingers.

Did he hear me? Or did he just not want to answer? Brian couldn’t decide. Roger had seemed defensive, to say the least, since arriving. Something was afoot, and Roger was doing his level best to keep it from him. Brian was troubled by this; they told each other everything. Had since they were kids. What was going on?

Brian clapped his hands above his head.

Roger turned around at the sound. The image of him holding two more pairs of sunglasses would have been amazingly comical if it hadn’t been deeply peculiar and disturbing in an off-handed way that was almost nonchalant; Roger was a bit too keyed up to pass for nonchalant even on his best days. There was nothing good about this situation. God, Brian thought; this on top of the record meeting. He knew he was being tested, though to what purpose, he wasn’t sure. His patience was wearing quite thin.

“What are you doing, mate?” Roger asked, trying to make Brian sound like he was the crazy one; mate was a nice word Roger used to intimidate people. He used it to butter people up. He used it to get his way. To charm.

“Just testing.”

“You know,” they said in unison, “just science stuff.” It was said in the tones of two people who had been making the same joke for most of their lives. Small smiles played across their faces, but were quickly replaced by slight frowns; it was hard to fool someone who knew you better than anyone else on the planet.

“Well?” Brian said, serious once more, “Are you gonna pick out something to wear so we can press on, or are you gonna walk in looking like yesterday’s newspaper?”

Roger didn’t respond. He just looked at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from himself.

His eyes were a white-grey.

They used to be blue. A blue so disarming it stopped people in their tracks. Quite literally stopped people in their tracks. Women and men--it didn’t matter; he was utterly disarming, entirely charming. Those eyes, he thought, are they mine? They can’t be. I had blue eyes. Had blue eyes. He sounded insane. Eye color doesn’t just change. He put on another pair of glasses and ran a hand through his once blond hair.

His hair was now a mousy grey that didn’t do him justice. Naturally a blond, and now entirely silver at 32. Life, it seemed, wasn’t fair.

His eyes, however, bothered him the most. When you look in the mirror and see yourself, what you see should be known, familiar, and safe. And it should be all these things instantly. It is like an instinctual check and balance automatically confirming yes this is me. You look in the mirror and know what you’re going to see every time you do it. You shouldn’t look in the mirror and see someone you don’t recognize. Your appearance shouldn’t be strange, mystifying, and forgotten.

When you look in the mirror, you know your eye color. You know you are yourself because of your eyes. Roger might as well have been looking at an alien in the mirror. He was foreign to himself. A stranger in a land that was all his own, full of his possessions and people he knew, and places he should recognize. Everything here was knowable to him, and yet it was all suddenly unrecognizable, like discovering a brave new world that wasn’t new, and he certainly didn’t feel brave. Where had the color gone? Where are my blue eyes? What is blue?

Brian was talking.

“...I can see it now, the Great Roger Taylor walking in like yesterday’s trash.”

“Why don’t you pick out something for me, Bri?” Roger asked somewhat shyly, but there was a twist in it; a hidden barb that was attempting to obscure his true desire. Brian knew Roger well, and he could spot a mile away the slathering of his old charm spreading thickly over that innocent-seeming question.

“What are you playing at?” Brian asked, genuinely curious, if not entirely concerned. According to memory, Roger had never on any one single occasion ever asked someone else to pick out his clothes for him.

“What? Don’t you want to arrive on time?”

“Yes--”

“Well, we both know it’ll take me ages to pick anything out at this rate.”

“Are you drunk?” Brian asked, truly confused at his friend’s behavior.

“Is that a trick question?”

“Is that?” Brian retorted. “Oh, wait--they all are from you.”

They stared each other down. Roger looked normal, per se. His hair was a bit more haphazard than usual; had he just woken up? It was well past mid-day, and into the evening. His clothes were wrinkled in the very specific way that happens when you’ve slept in them. Nothing about this made any sense; Roger didn’t sleep one off in his bed, he slept one off in his car, or in the backs of bars. And what about when he had walked in? What had it been, Brian questioned. The broken lamp. There had been a broken lamp on the floor. Brian had been friends with Roger long enough to have witnessed his temper a great many times. It was all flash and very little substance; the opposite of Roger on the daily. You didn’t need to bring the flash out when you glowed by default.

And the glasses. Well, this wasn’t strictly abnormal behavior, the desire to accessorize perfectly matched Roger’s history and personality absolutely. What was bizarre was Roger’s hesitancy; he wasn’t the kind of man who couldn’t make up his mind. He wasn’t indecisive about where to go for dinner, about his favorite sports team, about what song was bad or what band was garbage. Roger was so good at making up his mind he’d help you make up your own mind too, whether by charm or demand.

“Well?” Roger said, spreading his arms wide, bending them slightly at the elbow. It was a signature move. It said, simultaneously, go ahead--challenge me, are you a fool, and don’t you love me.

“I’m not playing games with you today, Rog.” Brain sighed and laid down on the bed. “The dinner meeting is going to be hard enough without you speaking in riddles.”

���Fuck the dinner.”

“You know we have to go; Miami will be there.”

“Fuck him, too.”

“That’s a lot of fucking you’re doing.”

“Watch it.”

“Ooh strike a nerve?” Brian mock-whined. “My most ardent apologies.”

“Yeah, mate, I don’t believe you as far as I could throw you.”

“Ditto.”

Roger took off his sunglasses that used to be green. He walked slowly over to the closet, nearly ready to admit defeat; his least favorite thing to do. He had never been less excited to look in his closet; and that included the time Freddie had filled it with origami cats on a lark. Those had been all sorts of colors, too. Took him ages to get rid of them. Roger kept one, though; it hung on his refrigerator downstairs. Would it still be orange? He didn’t know. It was too sad to be considered. Too sad to confront. Too sad to think about.

Roger thought he was going to be sick. Throwing up in the closet couldn’t make it much worse? Maybe it would add some color? That the thought of throwing up in his closet, his actual favorite room in any of his homes, caused him such skyrocketing hope made him feel substantially worse. Roger held the doorknob without turning it. Something was wrong. And then, on the periphery, he saw it. He saw them. He reached for one.

“Need some help with your knob?”

Roger had frozen.

He looked at the modernistic floor-to-ceiling bookshelves ensconcing this side of his bedroom’s wall. The longest wall of the entire room, in fact. It was a lengthy wall that was carried like theme throughout the rest of the first floor. The entire bedroom was very long, and not wide at all--almost cramped. With the vanity at the end of the bed, and the closet perpendicular to that, and the master bathroom across from that, the length was the winner of the room; every architectural choice in the home had been Roger’s, and he enjoyed exaggeration above common sense, especially in art. And above all else, he considered his home art.

The shelves had been built around his closet door. The closet itself was quite cavernous, “lovely, dark, and deep” he’d quip, and larger than any of the guest bedrooms. Roger’s home in London wasn’t as large as Jim and Freddie’s--it was honestly hard to be larger than their home--but Roger’s was full of exacting details he had hand-picked and planned all on his own. He genuinely needed his homes to be aesthetically pleasing in all aspects, and, as an artist who appreciated beauty and color as he did, he had a very particular level of taste he found second to none and entirely his own. His home was designed around one simple principle: what was beauty and how could it translate into color and light.

Roger also loved to read. He had a vast collection of books he had actually read that wasn’t just for show. Reading, as much as women and art, were his main sources of inspiration. Every world, anywhere anytime was accessible from a book; words painted pictures across his mind from them, and those paintings were made of color. To him, this was magic. Words being able to make someone feel something, to see something, to visualize, to empathize, that was magic and that was power. It was why he wrote songs; to touch people.

So, when Roger had reached for a book at random to toss at Brian for implying he needed help with his dick, he had finally put himself in a position to really look at his collection of books. That’s when he had frozen, hand on book, unmoving, yet silently panicking within. His heart rate had doubled, and he knew he was hyperventilating. He knew he was going faint.

His books, as you would have guessed, were organized by color.

They were organized. By color.

This made the wall, quite literally, art within art. The books themselves were each a work of art, and yet organized just so made the wall aesthetically pleasing to a level that it could have been installed in a museum, especially on the scale and height of his walls. Art in all aspects of life.

Though, naturally, when he had noticed his wall-long installation, usually singing with color, he saw with a most agonizing confusion and head-spinning sorrow that it had turned to greys, blacks, and whites.  

And he hadn’t been able to move. He hadn’t been able to think. He could barely breathe.

He wondered, is this what dying feels like? For his world had closed in entirely and collapsed in a whirlwind of colorless torture. None of it made any sense. He was sweating, so not dying, he figured. Maybe he wanted to die? He laughed, then.

Roger finally moved, bringing some momentary relief to Brain, who was growing more and more worried by the second. Though, what Roger did next dashed those hopes away.

Roger turned from the closet, and proceeded to vomit all over his vanity.

-------------------------

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[hannafuckingsucks]

My mother: any new men in your life?

Me: ..no

Mom: ah you don't need one. Just asking out of curiousity. I like how you don't let a man dictate your life, you're still young and ....

Me: *barely listening*

Me: yeah totally

[hannafuckingsucks]

guess how many brain cells I have left

[hannafuckingsucks]

lmao Roger’s dick am I right ladies? 🤪 (I had to.)

why yes YOU ARE absolutely rIGHT

also I'd like to suck it please?