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#roger taylor x readers
anonymityisfunwriter · 2 months
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"Slut!"
Pairing - Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader Summary - It was perfect. Lovelorn and nobody knows. Love thorns all over this rose. You almost forgot just how hard the fall back to reality is. But if they call you a slut, it might be worth it for once.
Steve Rogers Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist
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"She goes through guys like a train-"
You immediately change the channel. The next one isn't better. You don't know why you thought it would be.
"The Stark last name and the long list of ex-lovers, that's her claim to fame. I mean, let's be honest here, she's a slu-" The tabloid reporter is abruptly cut off as the screen before you goes dark.
You look up to find Steve with the remote in his hand. He glares at the screen like the reporter was still talking, "You shouldn't be watching that."
"I'm used to it."
"You shouldn't be. It's despicable. They were - the things they're calling you-"
"A slut," you finish for him.
His eyes dart to you, that furrow between his eyebrows getting deeper and deeper with every word spoken, "It's not true. This isn't journalism, it's slander."
You weren't sure how this happened. Sure, it was only a matter of time before they found you out. This wasn't the first time. Not the second or the third either. If the press was to be believed, you were love sick. Love struck with a new man every week.
It wasn't the first time someone called you a slut. It certainly wouldn't be the last.
You stopped living your life in fear of what people would say a long time ago. Being this young was an art. And up until now, you thought you mastered it.
It was simple. You even had your rules. You followed them and no one got hurt - or at the very least, it minimized the damage.
They were going to stare at you. Strangers. Press. The flashing cameras. It came with being a Stark. If they're going to look, you gave them something to look at. You didn't so much as step out on the street with a single hair out of place. You were flawless. Always.
You were nineteen, and on the heels of a breakup with your second ever boyfriend, the first time someone spit that word at you - "slut!" It hurt, but it didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. It almost made you laugh. You realized that they didn't really care about your love life or about the trail of broken hearts you were supposedly leaving behind. They wanted a spectacle. They wanted a show. If you're going to be drunk, might as well be drunk in love.
It was easier after that. You knew the truth. The people around you knew the truth. You let everyone else believe what they wanted. You did what you wanted. You lived your life without worrying about being called a slut. They were going to call you one anyway. And if they call you a slut, you might as well make it worth it.
You gave just enough to keep them satisfied. Never anything too real. Never too much. Just enough that they wouldn't dare peak behind closed doors. Just enough to be able to live your life.
There were was a cost, of course. No one took you seriously. You dealt with the vague humiliation of the rumors constantly swirling about your hips and thighs and whispered sighs.
And though you inherited the Stark genius, no one cared about what you thought, what you had to say.
In that, the reporter was right, your love life was far more interesting than your thoughts on quantum mechanics or the military industrial complex. That was what you were known for.
For the most part, you were okay with it. You were willing to pay it all.
That was until you fell in love with Steve Rogers. Suddenly, you weren't willing to give them crumbs. You weren't willing to expose a love that felt this delicate.
You sit on the couch, huddled in your sweatpants, pensively staring at the blank screen.
This time, it was different. This wasn't a show, not a spectacle. It was real, an exposed nerve that the world decided was fair game. You were fair game and it was open season.
Steve settles beside you, draping an arm around your midsection. He kisses your temple, "Tony thinks it's probably best that you lay low for a while."
"Yes, well, my brother is the expert on PR damage control."
It wasn't the same though. You both knew it. Tony had done far worse with far more women. Yet, he would never pay the price you were paying in this very moment.
Steve's arms tighten around you like he's shielding you from the storm, "It's not right. It's not fair that you're being forced to sequester yourself. You're being punished but what exactly was your crime?"
"I fell in love with Steve Rogers, that was my crime." You fell for the man everyone wanted, the man who was in the wrong place at the right time.
"I'm sorry," he whispers against the crown of your head.
"For what?"
"You warned me this would happen."
It was true. You told him exactly what would happen, but even you didn't anticipate exactly how bad things would get.
You'd been with Steve for just under a year. And up until a week ago, only a select few knew. You both agreed to keep it a secret from the public. You felt protective over the love you shared, it was more real than anything else you'd ever had. You wanted to keep it to yourself, out of the hands of people that would tear you both to shreds without a second thought.
Steve felt the same. Though he was more worried about the enemies he made over the years.
It made sense to protect the relationship, to protect yourselves until you were both ready. You wanted to protect him from what you knew was lurking around the corner. Steve was still so new to the 21st century. Dating in the public eye wasn't easy. Dating a Stark wasn't easy. For almost an entire year, you used every publicity trick in the book - and it worked.
But then, you heard it, the whispers, rumors bubbled about your newest future ex-lover.
You only agreed to going public because everyone told you it was time, because they promised that the timing couldn't have worked out better than this. It was better to do this on your own terms than have it leaked.
No one knew how bad it would get.
"Are you sure? There's no going back after this," you whisper, standing in the hallway of your apartment. You could practically hear the cameras flashing outside your apartment. You'd never been this nervous to leave your apartment before. You'd been through the plan a million times. You'd be exposed to the cameras for a matter of seconds. Happy was already waiting with the door to your SUV open, ready for you to jump in. You'd walk outside holding Steve's hand - a sort of silent announcement to the world. "It won't be easy."
"I don't care," Steve promises, kissing the palm of your hand. "I'm tired of hiding. I'm proud to call you mine."
You tenderly stroke his cheek, "And if it blows up in your pretty face?"
He smiles down at you, "You're worth it."
"We'll pay the price, I guess." But deep down, you know. You'll pay the price, he won't.
The cameras had never been that loud before. Even though your announcement went off without a hitch, even though your publicist couldn't have been more pleased, not even they could have predicted how bad things would get.
It seemed like the whole world was calling you that four letter word.
At first, it was mostly online. People were mean, you knew that. You were prepared for nasty comments. Steve's most staunch supporters thought he could do better. People rejoiced in the spectacle your love life turned into. You were a laughing stock all over again. All that you were prepared for. Then some rabid fans leaked your phone number.
You decided that it would be a good time to disconnect anyway.
But it didn't end there. Not even close.
The day after you were expected to make an appearance for a charity you founded. It was just a quick 2 minute speech. And though the event had been throughly vetted, you'd never forget the way your blood ran cold when mid-sentence someone screamed that four letter word over and over again until security dragged them out. You continued until your speech was done, but there was no hiding the way your hands trembled.
From what you heard, the video was still making its rounds online.
You were expected to make an appearance two days after that. An event honoring your father. An event you poured your blood, sweat, and tears into to make sure it was impeccable, an event worthy of honoring your father. The same event you were practically uninvited from.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's just me. I come in peace," Tony jokes.
"I'm glad," you sigh. "I was worried I was going to have to get another number."
Tony sighs into the phone, "How are you holding up?"
"I've been better."
"I'm afraid I don't come bearing good news."
"What now, Tony?"
"That event you had Friday night, the one for dad?"
You pinch the bridge of your nose. You already knew were this was going. "What about it?"
"They want me to take over for you."
You bitterly scoff, "This week just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"
"You say the word and I'll tell them to fuck off."
"No, don't do that. It's for dad."
"You planned this whole thing single-handedly. You deserve to be the one up there." You don't say a word. He's right, you both know it. It doesn't change the situation you've been put in. "You are still going, right? Come on, you have to go."
"They broke into my house, Tony."
"What? Are you okay?"
"Happy just told me," you explain, sparing Tony the most gory details. "The one in L.A. Apparently, it is now covered in spray paint. You wanna guess what they wrote?"
"Where was your security?" Tony demands.
"Here. Trying to keep people off my sidewalk."
"I'm so sorry."
"I just - I don't think it's a good idea. At least until I get more security."
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad you've got Steve there. At least I know he'll keep you safe."
You almost smile. Tony was never his biggest fan, but you mostly credit that to him being an overprotective big brother. And the situation you'd found yourself in did nothing to win Tony's over good graces, "It's not his fault, Tony."
"It kinda is, but I digress. Listen, we'll figure this out, alright? I'll go streak in front of the Tower if that'll take some heat off of you."
And though you effectively doubled your security in the last two days, nothing would change anyone's mind about you. You were the villain tainting their hero.
You broke down after that call, violently sobbing against Steve's shoulder. He just pulled you in even tighter.
It reminds you of why you're doing all this. So you can be together, out in the open. That in a world of boys, he's a gentleman.
You squeeze his hand, "You're worth it."
"I'm not worth having your reputation torn to shreds."
And maybe they're right about you. Maybe you do get love struck. Maybe his eyes are like the world's strongest liquor, and it went straight to your head. Maybe you do get love sick. Sure, your life has momentarily fallen apart. It's magic, madness, heaven, and sin, all rolled into one. But if they're going to call you a slut, it might be worth it for once. "But what if all I need is you?"
Steve Rogers Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist
As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛
Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a
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excuse me?????? when did this happen??????
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kravinoffslvt · 4 months
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haven’t seen any pr for Kraven yet so…
watch the movie, byotch
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nimaiwe · 2 years
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Is it me or Eddie Munson looks like a love child of Joe Mazzello and Ben Hardy
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magickcandie · 6 months
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I Want To Break Free
Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader
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You were invited to set by Roger. You had heard the song and loved everything about it; to John’s writing, Freddie’s singing, and you had heard that Roger decided on the theme of the music video. You assumed that somehow, a car would be involved. Boy were you wrong! When you were let in, you noticed John first in an old lady outfit with grey hair! Brian was seen next drinking tea in a set chair, wearing a pink nightie and rollers thrown in his curls. Of course seeing Freddie in a pink top and black leather skirt seemed so crazy, he seemed to be a natural in it. “You know, if you wanted to raid my closet, you could’ve asked!” You laughed. Doubling over, clutching your stomach as if that’s ease the pain of laughter. “Where’s Roger?” “I haven’t seen him yet. Maybe ask her.” John said, pointing to a blonde woman talking to a set director. You ignored the giggles coming off the boys and went over her. What you saw sent you into a fit again. When you tapped her shoulder, Roger turned and looked at you, smiling. A thin layer of pink lipstick on. “What’s… what’s going on!” You said in between laughs. You grabbed the counter to steady yourself but sunk to your knees anyway.
“I told you it’s make Y/N laugh!” Roger said, grabbing your hand and helping you stand again. “Roger set all of this up to try and get you to laugh. Or really seeing if you’d laugh.” Freddie leaned on John’s shoulder, throwing a leg in the air. “Don’t we all look great!” “You’re definitely something. The wigs, makeup, it’s all so great. You look beautiful,” you said to Roger, hooking his chin in your hand. “Kiss?” You leaned in to kiss him. “I’m staying for the entirety of filming. I wan to see how this plays out.” You laughed again, finding an empty chair to watch. And what a show it was. You had come to see John reading a newspaper and scowling at the others. Brian had a new costume piece; bunny slippers. Freddie danced around with a Hoover. God, this is why you loved these men. And especially Roger Taylor. Setting this up just to see you laugh and smile.
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itsshawtyfellas · 1 year
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I'm still not over how fucking hot Ben looked as Roger Taylor in borhap.
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johnlennonswifey · 10 months
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Since I haven’t been posting, I’ve decided I’ll make a little list of some of my favorite fics!!
🎸= All time fav
——
THE BEATLES-
John Lennon
70s!John x Reader 🎸
Mustache John x Reader
Paul McCartney
Paul x Reader (love letter) 🎸
Paul x Reader (Part 2 of 2)
George Harrison
Jealous!George x Reader 🎸(literally my fav fic ever)
Comfort!George x Reader
George x Reader (somewhat Friends to lovers?)
Ringo Starr
Teddy Boy!Ringo x Reader
Ringo x Assistant!Reader
Ringo x Reader (fluffy)
Ringo x Reader (Married, dinner with parents)🎸
QUEEN-
Roger Taylor
Roger x Reader (childhood friends to lovers)🎸
Roger x Reader (fluff)
Roger x Reader (fluff and more,(Roger gets hurt)) 🎸
John Deacon
John x Reader (John is readers handyman, I love this fic with all my heart pls read it)🎸
John x Reader (Series, 6/10 parts are out, I definitely recommend reading)🎸
Brian May
Brian x Reader (fluff)
Brian x Reader (Queen becomes a Hit)🎸
Brian x Reader (fluff)
Blurbs-
Beatles Blurb
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full-alone-probably · 11 days
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develop-even · 12 days
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michelle-is-writing · 3 months
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Protector, Warren Worthington iii
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Word Count: 4.5k~
I had been best friends with Warren ever since I met him.
Throughout our years in school, Warren and I had always stuck by each other's side. We hung out together, ate lunch with each other, and nearly forgot about all those people around us who would point out his wings to hurt him. It was like we were in our own little world, and in a way, we were.
We met in the second grade while our class was in the library. While looking for a book, I found Warren, huddled up behind a bookshelf in the elementary school library. He was red in the face and crying as he held his knees close to him. Instantly, I noticed his wings, of course - how could I not?
However, this didn't stop me from going up and asking him what was wrong. I can still remember the way his curls bounced against his scalp as he turned his attention away from his lap and up to me, quickly wiping away his tears to cover up his emotions. Despite being so young, he knew how to expertly do this as he pretended that nothing was wrong and he wasn't crying merely thirty seconds ago.
"What's wrong?" I asked, sitting beside him. I saw him tense up, his back straightening up as he laid his legs out in front of him instead of hugging them to his chest.
"Nothing," He instantly answered me, once again, pretending as if everything wasn't as it seemed.
Instead of saying anything more, I let the boldness I had as an eight-year-old takeover and pulled him into my arms, his figure becoming even tenser. Although, he didn't pull away, and instead, just stayed in that position until I spoke up.
"The kids are mean to me too," I told him, his breath catching in his throat. "And they shouldn't be because you seem pretty cool," I explained with a smile as he turned his eyes up to look at me again. "No one else here has wings, and they're really pretty."
From then on, we were practically inseparable. We weren't seen without each other, and despite bullies picking on us, we didn't let their words bother us. Even as we got older, nothing changed, and in spite of living in an expensive house with nearly triple the amount of space that my house was, Warren chose to stay at my place most nights. His parents didn't care about what he did, and my parents were more than happy to have him over.
When we reached high school, our friendship turned into an actual relationship between two lovebirds (no pun intended). Now we really were inseparable.
However, this changed one night when he went out to grab something from the store. I was sick, and needed medicine; so, being the thoughtful boyfriend he was, he decided he would go out and get some. I guess we underestimated how much mutants were hated in the area as Warren never came back.
Now it's been three months since he disappeared.
Every night since, I went searching for him, only to return to some hotel or hostel without him. I don't know what came over me tonight though. For all my life, I've always been told to avoid putting myself in dangerous settings, and yet, all of those lessons were cast away as I heard people screaming and hollering down an empty and dark alleyway while in Munich. My searching had taken me far away from home, but I wasn't going to stop until I found Warren.
Following the sounds of excitement and fury, I found a hidden door that led to what seemed to be a fighting ring. People surround the caged area, but I push through them, ignoring their waving arms with money held high. I stop at the metal fence separating the people from the ring, only to gasp in horror as my eyes fall over the white, fluffy wings I've loved for many years.
"Warren..." I hear his name being whispered through my lips, tears forming in my eyes as I look at his hurt and pained figure. Fighting for his life against another mutant, he spits blood from his mouth as he wipes away the blood forming on the cut across his cheek. The tattered t-shirt he wears, the same thing he wore the night he disappeared, barely hangs onto his shoulders by a few strips of fabric, the band emblem on the front no longer being recognizable. His arms have fresh bruises forming all along the skin while fading bruises covers the visible parts of torso. How the hell did he get here?
Too shocked to move, I watch as Warren throws a punch at the other mutant, only to hit the fence in front of him, the silver eliciting sparks as soon as Warren touches it. "Shit!" He yells while the blue mutant seemingly teleports to different parts of the cage, only to receive the same treatment as Warren did. Hearing his voice after so long makes me nearly choke on the air in my throat, the tears now falling freely. Seeing Warren makes me want to rip through the fence and save him, but seeing that the metal fence is electric, I can't simply do that.
Blinking the oncoming tears away, I glance in every corner of the underground hideaway and try to find something that might resemble a control panel. It isn't until I see a switch box on what seems to be a surveying floor that I begin running to it, successfully climbing up the steps to the higher level and stopping in front of it. Gazing back to the fighting ring, I see Warren shouting at the dodging mutant while people standing around the cage yell out vile words of hate and absolute greed.
"Warren!" I shout his name as loud as I can, placing my hand on the handle to the electrical switch. Instantly, his head darts toward the voice calling his name, every inch of his being relaxing once he sees me. I smile at him before nodding, his eyes following my hand as it begins pushing the handle downward. Just before the electricity goes out, I see Warren's dirty wings perk up just as the entire underground arena goes pitch black.
In the darkness, the people's screams die down while the clinging sound of the fence being ripped apart follows it. Mere seconds pass before I familiar arms wrap around me and tug me close to their body, Warren's wings flapping rapidly as he lifts us into the air and to the hidden door I entered through. Once we're outside, we quickly run as far as we can before stopping in another alley, far away from the other one.
As soon as we stop, Warren wraps his arms around me and pulls me close to him, his lips immediately attaching to mine in a fervent and much-needed kiss. His hand on my waist never falters in its hold on me, and instead, it squeezes the flesh there as if he were testing if I was real or not.
"I'm here," I tell him, sliding my hands down his face as endless tears fall from his cheeks and onto my hands. Staring into his tear-filled eyes, I can't help but cry tears of happiness as well. "I'm right here."
Nodding, Warren folds his wings behind him, slightly wincing at the pain of them conforming against his back. "Fucking hell," He mutters, placing his forehead against mine, his eyes closed. A few seconds pass of him just holding me before he kisses me once more. "I've missed you so fucking much."
Our sweet reunion is cut short by a black vehicle slamming on their brakes at the end of the alleyway. "Warren," I say his name, concerned at the sight in front of us. Warren turns around, only for his wings to burst out again, shielding me from seeing anything. Peeking under one of the long feathers, I see two men leave the vehicle before one of them points at Warren.
"That's him!" The man yells, "Get him!"
In an instant, Warren swings around and wraps his arms and wings around me, protecting me from the flurry of oncoming bullets. What appears to be eight shots sounds throughout the alley before the same car speeds off again as Warren begins to topple over. Was he shot?
Trying to catch him before he falls on his face, I wrap my arms around Warren and hold him up for a few seconds, only for his size to take over mine and fall to the side. Landing on his back with me on top of him, Warren waves his hand at me while shaking his head, his eyes shut. "I'm fine," He mutters, his voice now suddenly tired and drained.
Eyes wide and concerned, I turn him onto his side and look over him to see blood pouring from his wings. Between the layers of feathers, I find what seems to be four bullet wounds, causing me to practically lose it as the crimson liquid touches my hands. "No, no, no, no, no," I mutter uncontrollably as I place him onto his back. "Warren, Warren," I repeat his name, running my hand against the side of his face, his own blood smearing across his flawless cheek. "Warren, don't go to sleep!"
At my heartbroken plea, Warren opens his eyes, frowning at the sight of tears pouring from my eyes. "Don't cry, my love," He begs, his voice even weaker than before. He lifts a hand to my face, doing the same to me just as I had done to him. I quickly place my hand over his, holding it there as I feel the warmth in his skin begin slowly leaving it. "I... I love you..." He whispers, his eyes closing once again.
Just like a few seconds ago, I feel every ounce of sanity leave me as I watch the love of life wither away in front of me. "Warren, don't do this to me!" I shout, the tears now falling like a waterfall. I could barely manage not seeing him for the three hellish months when he was missing - I can't live the rest of my life without him.
"Warren!" I scream his name again, utter desperation being the only recognizable thing in my voice. Releasing a sob, I push my head against his chest and hear his still-beating heart. However, I know that if I don't get him to a hospital within the next few seconds, his heart won't continue beating like that. But what hospital will even help us?
"Ma'am?" I hear a woman's soft voice coming from the end of the alley, causing me to jerk my head up and see a blonde woman standing twenty feet away. Concerned, she walks closer to me before kneeling beside Warren and me, the knees of her pants becoming stained with his spilled blood on the alley ground. His wings are the first things that catch her focus, making me want to hold him closer.
"Please, don't hurt him," I beg her, my hand holding his hand a bit tighter. "He-he's a-" The woman cuts me off.
"He's a mutant," She points out, looking over at me. Still crying, I nod once, watching as a small smile appears on her face. Within a short second, the fair skin she once had transforms into blue flesh with darker blue scales, her eyes turning yellow and green while her hair changes into a much brighter orange/red.
"It's okay," She assures me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I am too, and I can help."
Her words, not to mention her sudden change of looks, shock me, but I nod at her, ready to do anything this woman says if it means saving Warren.
"Where's his family?" She asks me, her hand remaining on my shoulder as she kneels on the ground beside me.
"Me," I quickly answer her, tears still falling from my eyes. "I am his family."
"You're not a mutant," She points out, shaking her head with squinted eyes as she looks at me a bit confused. "And you care for him?"
"He's my best friend, the love of my life..." I answer her, my heart clenching as the words leave my lips. "Please, you have to help us!"
The woman nods, giving me a small, encouraging smile. "Kurt!" She abruptly yells, a teenage boy with blue skin and carvings appearing behind her with a blue puff of smoke following. I instantly recognize him as the other mutant in the pin with Warren earlier, and in spite of this, he doesn't try to get back at Warren while he's down.
Pulling his hand to get closer, she makes him get on our level before wrapping his arm around her and me. The stranger, Kurt, then wraps his other arm around Warren's almost lifeless body and tugs him a bit closer as well. "Get us all to the mansion nurse's ward - now!"
With the woman's last words, Kurt somehow does so, causing us to suddenly be in a nurse's station only a second later. This all confuses the living hell out of me, but with Kurt having a tail and red eyes, and not to mention blue skin like the lady, I don't know if I should be questioning the normalcy of anything at the moment.
Immediately, three scrubbed nurses rush up to where we are and pick Warren up from the ground. "He was shot, multiple times," The blue woman quickly explains, standing up from the ground. "He'll need blood, and you need to act quick."
Listening to her, the three nurses nod before taking an unconscious Warren back to what I could guess is surgery. Numb, I sit on the cold tile floor as I reach my blood-covered hands up to cross my arms and hold myself, my eyes stuck on the swinging doors that Warren was just carried through. Beside me is Kurt as he places a consoling hand on my shoulder, giving me a small smile.
"He vill be alright," Kurt assures me, his words helping me out a little. Giving him a small nod of my head, I take his held-out hand and stand up with him. "That is Raven, by the way," He adds as the woman from before moves to stand in front of me, taking my hand in hers despite it stained crimson.
"This is the Xavier mansion," She explains to me, "You're safe; we won't hurt you."
At her words, I nod. "I know," I tell her, giving her a small smile. "I trust you."
Smiling back at me, Mystique's eyes flicker behind me before her mouth slightly parts, her hand holding mine slightly faltering. "Who is this, Raven?" I hear a soft British voice speak up, causing me to slowly turn around and see a man in a wheelchair now in front of me. His eyes quickly catch my blood-covered hands and arms, shock taking over him. "Dear heavens, what happened to you, dear?"
I go to answer him, but my voice defeats me in doing so. Instead, Mystique speaks for me. "Charles, her and a fellow mutant were shot at in an alleyway when Kurt and I were passing by. He has wings, that's where most of the bullets hit him," She explains to him, "She has no ill will toward any of us - she just wants her boyfriend to survive."
A few seconds pass before the man, Charles, nods, staring at me with a frown. "I'm sorry to hear that, love," He tells me, giving me a single nod. "Raven, help her get cleaned up and fetch some fresh clothes for her as well," With that, Charles wheels himself out of the room and into the hallway where he enters the room at the end.
In a puff of blue smoke, Kurt leaves Mystique and me, letting us head to what I presume is her room where she wets a washcloth and begins rubbing the drying blood from my arms. "He will be alright," She tells me, saying Kurt's exact words from moments ago. "Trust me."
I nod at her words, but I can't believe them myself. What if Warren isn't okay? What if one of the bullets when through his spine and he's now paralyzed? I couldn't see all of his wounds so I don't know where they all hit him, minus the few I could see in his wings. What if the nurses and doctors can't do anything and he dies on the table? I can't bear to lose him - not again.
With my arms their original (s/c) color, I change into a pair of pajama pants and matching top with a school emblem given to me by Raven before walking with her to Charles' office. Stopping in front of his desk, Mystique and I watch as the man from earlier sits at his desk with his attention stuck on the novel stuck in his hands. However, it doesn't take long for him to notice our presence and put the book down with his glasses following.
"(Y/n), is it?" Charles asks me, turning his attention up to me. Surprised, I hesitantly nod as he speaks up once more. "No need to worry, dear," He assures me with a smile despite my caution. "I'm able to read minds and communicate through them as well," Charles further explains. "Raven and I were talking while she helped you with your arms and hands,"
"I understand you've been through a lot in the past hour, so I won't force you to talk about it," Charles tells me, making me let out a small sigh of relief. "But I am a bit concerned over the fact that you were in such a predicament that your partner was shot," Holding his hand out, Charles waits for me to place my hand in his. "I won't scour through your brain and look at everything you've ever seen or done - I just want to see what all transpired tonight."
Hesitating, I bite my lip in thought before shakily putting my hand in Charles, his touch being warm and welcoming. I feel as Charles does what he told me he would do, the images of the past month flashing before my eyes. Warren's disappearance, me finding him, and helping him get out are all shown before me like a home movie shot from my perspective. Because of this, I gasp a little, shocked at Charles' ability to do such a thing.
Slowly slipping his hand from mine, Charles' eyebrows furrow in thought before flashing his eyes up to mine, confusion written all over them. "You're a human with no powers or anything," He points out, slightly pausing in his words. "And yet, you've always loved a mutant?"
His words come out as a question, but to me, they're a true statement. I love Warren - I always have - and nothing about him will ever change that. "He's human just as I am," I tell Charles, giving him a small smile. "but, with wings," I further add, my smile growing sad as I lightly shrug. "How could I not love my angel?"
My words washing over him, Charles smiles back. "I like you," He tells me, Raven putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Your friend, I think he'll pull through. After all, he has a great incentive."
Because of Charles' words, I smile and give him a nod of thanks just as a question rises to my mind. "What... what is this place?" I ask, gesturing to the overall building. I know it has to be an establishment of some sort going by the built-in medical wing and wide hallways.
"This," Charles states, pointing his finger to the ceiling while his eyes remain on mine. "Is Xavier's a school for gifted youngsters," He informs me before nodding his head once. "This is a school specialized for children with mutations such as Warren, or Kurt, whom you met earlier."
Furrowing my eyebrows together, another question comes to mind. "Why have I never heard of this place before?" I ask, receiving a small smile.
"We're a relatively small school," Charles simply explains, "Ultimately, if your boyfriend would want to join, he could - now, you're not a mutant, but the unique and understanding attitude you give off, I'm sure we could work something out for you too."
His words make my cheeks turn pink in response to the compliment as I thank him, turning my eyes toward the ground as I try to fight the ever-growing smile on my lips. Just as I do this, I see Charles put a hand to his forehead as his eyebrows furrow before looking over at Mystique with a smile. "Raven, take her back to the medical ward," he tells the fiery-haired woman. "It seems that her friend was easily operable and now they're just waiting for him to wake up."
Almost immediately, I turn and follow Mystique out of the room with my pace just a little faster than hers. Soon enough, we walk through the doors and directly to the beds where only one of them is occupied, and the sleeping body in it is Warren's. The window behind him shines down on him with the bright and early morning sun highlighting his now washed and pure white wings that lie behind him. The sight is a complete contrast to what I saw only an hour ago with the almost black sky darkening everything around us and only emphasizing the dirt and grime that covered Warren's perfect wings.
"We told you he'd be okay," I hear Mystique's gentle voice beside me say, causing me to nod with an onrush of tears rising in my eyes. They were right, and my Warren is okay.
Moving closer to him, I sit beside Warren on the bed and take his hand in mine, his unconscious body unresponsive toward my touch and his perfect face never changing. "I'll let you two be alone," Mystique speaks up before doing as she says and walking back toward the door. Once I hear the swinging door shut, the tears residing in my eyes quickly fall over the barrier and down my face as I try to hold in my sobs.
When you love someone, you never want to see them in pain or hurting, and when they're laid up in a hospital bed with consciousness being a waiting game, it hurts you. It physically hurts you to the point where your chest feels heavy with dread, and your stomach feels sick with worry. It's terrible, and I wish there was something I could've done to protect Warren from getting shot.
"I'm so sorry," I sob, turning my eyes away from him and toward the floor. Raising my free hand to cover my mouth as the sobs tumble out, I don't notice Warren's hand gently squeezing mine until I feel the bed beneath me slightly moves.
Immediately looking back over to him, I see his eyes flutter open and quickly dart to me, confusion taking over his tired face as soon as he sees my crying form. "Why..." Warren slowly starts speaking, his voice raspy and scratchy with sleep. "Why are you crying, love?" He finishes his question, now trying to sit up.
"No, no, baby," I usher him to continue lying flat, moving to stand on my knee on the side of his bed before pushing his shoulders back down onto the mattress. Despite this, he still doesn't listen and moves to wrap his arms around me before pulling me fully onto the bed and holding me to his chest. Finally, Warren does lie back down, but in a matter of seconds, his wings are fluttering around me like any other time I'd be on top of him. My eyes quickly catch sight of the now bandaged wounds, and now that I get a better look, I see that there was one more bullet-wound than I initially thought. "Warren, your stitches!"
"It's okay, love," He sleepily responds, leaning his head back to look up at me with a happy face. "I'm so damn happy to see you," Warren confesses, his eyes gazing over me as if I were a precious gem.
If it weren't for the nurses cleaning the dirt from his face and body, I wouldn't have been able to assess the full damage the fighting ring did to him. Above his left eye is a healing bruise that covers a majority of the side of his forehead, and his bottom lip is split, making it swollen. On top of all of that, his green eyes are sunken in and practically taken over by dark circles.
Still, he continues staring at me, acting as if nothing is bothering him until a look of confusion fall over his face. "Now, are you going to tell me why you were crying?" Warren repeats his question from earlier, making me shake my head as more tears rise to my eyes.
"You almost died, Warren," I inform him, his face still unchanging. "I've been without you for three damn months, and the night I get you back, I almost lost you again - for good!" I add on, raising a hand to wipe away my fast-falling tears.
However, Warren beats me to it and places his hands against my cheeks where he gently holds me, his face now soft. I guess he hasn't assessed the severity of the situation. That, or he hasn't taken the time to fully realize that he has stitched-up bullet wounds adorning his wings.
"I'm sorry," Warren apologizes after a few seconds of silence. Despite expecting those two words, it still doesn't hit me any easier as I'm sobbing once again, this time, into Warren's chest.
Holding me close, Warren waits a few moments before moving his hands back to my face and turning me to look at him directly. As soon as he gets the chance, Warren places his rough lips on top of mine, the skin chapped from the harsh things he's been put through. Despite crying moments ago, my tears ultimately stop as I come to the realization of how much I've missed the feeling of Warren's lips on mine. Chapped or not, his lips are the pure definition of Heaven, and when they're on top of mine, it's like pure ecstasy.
Pulling away for air, I pant above Warren as he does the same, his hands now sliding down to grip my waist once again. "I love you," He tells me, "And I've missed you- God, how I've missed you," Warren adds, shaking his head as a small, almost unnoticeable tear falls down his cheek. "Each day was hell without you, and I can't be without you, not again."
Smiling at him, I lean down once more and peck his soft cheek before nuzzling my head next to his on the pillow, his hold on me never changing in the slightest. "You won't have to, Angel," I tell him, watching his lips quirk up in a smile at my nickname for him. Deciding on leaving the explanation of where we're at for later, I close my eyes alongside Warren and fall asleep, finally able to relax knowing he and I can be together with no one to stop or hurt us.
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west-others · 1 month
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thegreatwicked · 4 months
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FicRecs
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Enjoy some of my favorite stories I've come across on Tumblr! Seriously, I LOVE these stories and I reread them A LOT!
Please note: Virtually ALL OF THESE STORIES ARE SMUT. That means 18+ content, and you are responsible for managing your internet consumption. Minors DNI.
FicRecs
DC Comics
Dance for Daddy by @matth1w LAWD. I love me some Roman Sionis fics and this one DELIVERS. Sexy, kinky, smutty I give it a solid Chefs Kiss.
Joy Ride and Let Me Make You Feel Good, The Intern by @littleredwing89 More delicious Roman Sionis one shots Joy ride is about teasing Roman as he drives and Let Me Make You Feel Good is about a sweet smutty cure for a hangover. And the Intern, a fuck buddies to lovers story, god yum. Reader inserts. Drool. Go forth read and enjoy.
Bait the Beast by @more-cardigan-than-womanLord help me, I found a new little gem. You cause a bit of a ruckus with Coblepot and Roman thinks you need a lesson.
Yours by @tarrenterror25set in the AO! Verse Roman is having some trouble during the holidays overcoming everything the Joker did to him, good thing he has you. Because he does. You're his now. Melt. Sorry about the mess.
Star Wars
Water and Rock by @split-spectrum I honestly cannot say enough good things about this story It follows Obi-wan/Fem Reader in the classic Master/Padawan troupe and it. is. SPICY. Up to twelve chapters which I have read MULTIPLE TIMES and it hits so hard. Go read this story it is sexy as HELL and gives you the feels. She's so damn good at writing Obi-Wan it hurts, but like in a kinky good way.
The Gift by @ladyinwriting18 I have already spoke at length about the fabulousness that is Lady in Writing and her amazing content. This one is a favorite! Its a Maul/Reader Insert and it is smutty sxy and kinky. Seriously if Maul is your fictional crush (Hi me too!), go read this.
The Three Princes Part One: The Oldest Profession by @thenightmarketofdathomir This writer is freaking legendary. I do not know the collection of words in my own language to describe the eloquence and sophistication this writer possesses. Just go. Go read this and you let me know if you're ever the same again. This gem stars our boy Feral and is a you/reader insert. Oh damn, this story makes me want things...
Birthday Wish, Romancing the Pages, The Write Seduction, To Create Life, by @jedianjakenobi Y'all, this author holds a special place in my writer's heart. She's a published author on Amazon and she's truly amazing. Her works are all Obi-Wan-centered and reader inserts. Birthday Wish is a birthday crush from your sexy neighbor, Romancing the Pages is a fake relationship/summer romance with a reclusive shy librarian (Ben) and a best-selling author, The Write Seduction is a professor Kenobi/writing student story and it is SPICY. And my favorite To Create Life is a Jedi Council green lights a baby-making program and who else is the reader paired with? Their good friend Padawan Kenobi. My darlings, my friends, if you like Obi-Wan smut then you are doing yourselves a disservice by NOT reading these.
Empty Me Out by @221bshrlocked reader insert/DOM Obi-Wan I'm tellin y'all this story NEARLY killed me. I've lost track of how many times I've readit. You're an entertainer and Master Kenobi needs information from you, so you give him what he wants and then he gives you what you want. Where it Wasn't massage therapy reader insert/Obi-Wan, do I need to say more? Pretty sure I melted into the floor with this one.
His Loving Satine by @waterlily707 I love reader insterT and OCs but these two Obi-Wan and Satine are a joy to read. Temporary paralyzed Obi-Wan at the "mercy" of a slightly dom Satine. Juicy, gorgeous, little bit of fluff. Love it.
Room 24 by @murdockussy Little angsty Obi-Wan/reader insert enemies to lovers in an undercover assignment-type situation. Spicy, dom Obi-Wan give. Me. More.
Tea with Lemon, Tea with Honey by @wickedscribbles an established relationship as a reader insert and Obi-Wan. If you want honey then you get to take care of a sick Obi-Wan and kind out you have a new kink, if you want Lemon then Obi-Wan takes advantage of said kink and whisks you away to another planet for some R&R under the guise of "work." Enjoy!
Actors/Characters
Ben Hardy
Hold Me Close, Don't Let Me Go by @stray-kaz God. This one shot is just sxy as hell, it's a Billy/Four fro, 6 Underground/Female Reader. Our boy comes home to one hell of an 'I missed you, I need you right now' welcome. GO read it. Right now.
Such an Experience by @rogermyreligionOk. Guys... FUCK, this is a hot little oneshot Roger Taylor of Queen/Female reader and OMG. Just go read it. I've officially stopped counting how many times I've read this. Smutty/Sexy. I'm dead.
Long Distance by @acciotwinzwinz. Y'ALL. Sit your asses down and read this Roger Taylor/Reader insert/You. It's fluffy, its sexy, its cute and the smut is -chefs kiss- Yes, I read this one a lot too.
For now, these are some of my favorites that I frequently reread because I love them. I'll probably be adding more, it's more than likely I've forgotten some...
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rogermyreligion · 11 months
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The masseuse
Pairing: Roger Taylor x Female Reader.
Summary: You're the masseuse of Roger Taylor, drummer for Queen, but things get more personal as the sessions progress.
Warnings: smut, hand jobs, unprotected sex, slight nipple play.
Word Count: 3k
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You were the masseur of several drummers at this point, even athletes, you are used to that level of people, you knew how to handle your nerves, you know that you do your job in an incredible way and that is why you have that reputation.
But Roger Taylor was a thing, he has a personality that you were not used to receive in your sessions, of course you ran into very nice people, but he was a very talkative man, very charming, very polite, extremely soft-spoken. The first time he broke the ice in such a way that you felt your cheeks getting hot, but he never crossed the line in an awkward way. It was a special client.
"So, why did you stop being a model?" he asked softly, while taking off his shirt and kicking his shoes, he looked at you a little from the corner of his eye to catch your reaction.
It took you by surprise, normally your clients don't talk too much, they’d tell you a few things, they’d tell you about some pain they have, etc. You giggled while rubbing your hands with a special gel, "Alright, very funny of you,"
He chuckled, "Sorry, I know that wasn't original, I'm sure you’ve heard better ones," he slowly lay face down on the comfortable massage table, feeling your footsteps getting closer.
"Not really, let's just say I'm not used to this type of comment, not from my clients,"
He felt a slight fear in his chest, "Oh- sorry, didn't mean to offended you," he tried to raise his head to look at you apologetically.
Now you laughed loudly, "Oh no, believe me you didn't," you pushed him down again, slowly with a hand on his shoulder, "Tell me Roger, you want me to start with your lower back?" you asked gently, smiling to yourself, redirecting your attention to your work and maintaining your professionalism.
He smiled to himself too, knowing he didn't cross any line. "Yes please,"
The sessions with Roger were amusing, and of course you weren't going to lie, he was an extremely attractive man with strong magnetism, he knew how to take the conversations where he wanted and had the power to make you feel very comfortable. He could make you feel that the two of you were having a special connection even if it wasn't even happening, he was very engaging.
After the 3rd session you found out his love situation, just out of curiosity (or so you thought) It turned out that according to internet articles and newspapers he had divorced last year.
Interesting.
-
"Fuck," he groaned, "Sorry-" he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the pain.
He was sitting on the couch, both of your hands were massaging the upper part of his right arm, going to his shoulder, the warmth of the room and the smell of the vanilla candles that you had lit minutes before he entered were making him fall asleep, softening it to the maximum.
"Yeah, you're contracted, when was the last time you rehearsed with the band?" you subtly asked, squeezing his shoulder with your fingers, noticing the hardness of his muscles, he was quite stiff, more than normal actually.
"A week ago, we took a short break because we had some problems," he told you, not glad at all, "Ouch" he complained hard when you touched a specific spot.
You frowned, stopping abruptly, thinking. He almost never complained out loud, always little whimpers, grunts or sighs.
He noticed your sudden lack of movement, he shot you a glance.
It was like you were just aware of his face, he was not well, he had bags under his eyes, his face screamed that he was exhausted, not only physically, but also mentally, you could tell.
Words can lie, but the body can’t do it as well, you have learned this over the years.
"Can you lift your chin a bit for me please?" you asked gently.
He did as you said, "Like this?"
You hummed in agreement, "Now turn your head to the left, face the wall,"
He did it.
You started concentrating on the junction of his shoulder and his ear, grazing your index finger, applying a little pressure. And to your not surprise, he had such a contracture that you could even swear that it had reached his jaw.
"Roger are you okay?" That question came out more directly than you had thought.
He found your question a little unexpected but he didn't feel invaded, in fact he enjoyed the talks in the sessions, even though there wasn't much that was discussed about.
"Yes, what was that for?"
"You're not okay, sorry that im telling you this but you're so tense," you realized you were literally invading his personal space, after all you were just his masseuse, not a therapist, automatically shook your head, "Never mind, im sorry, I'm going to apply some heat packs," you quickly changed the subject, a little embarrassed.
He followed your steps with his eyes, seeing how you searched for the heat bags, and after a long silence, he sighed, "My ex is driving me nuts," he blurted out.
You stopped your searching, calming yourself down now knowing he didn’t took it in an akward way, he was speaking and liberating himself from the stress, you grabbed one of the bags and started to fill it with hot water, you didn't expect him to continue talking but he did.
"He just won't leave me alone," weariness in his voice, "It's choking,"
You walked over to the couch with the hot bag, you gave him a compassionate look and stood behind him as you were before, gently resting the bag on the side of his neck, applying just a little pressure as you felt his body melt under the heat, with your other hand you began to massage his other shoulder, your movements were so slow that they were almost hypnotizing. You felt him sigh.
He closed his eyes, "And the band is going through a difficult time," he was focused on the hand that was touching his body, "It's just a lot you know, can't sleep well," he chuckled.
"It's normal, the body stores all our emotions, if they are mismanaged they can manifest as physical pain, that's why I asked you what was going on, sometimes just saying it out loud can relax you enough," you explained, the hand that wasn't holding the bag was working behind his neck.
His head began to fall forward slowly, "You're right" he paused, "The only good thing that happened to me these last few days was coming to your sessions," he laughed tenderly.
It all started to feel so personal, you were becoming aware of the atmosphere, the heat, the sweet smell, the softness of her skin on her contracture, the tips of his blond hair touching the back of your hand, you could hear his breathing, a chill ran through your back appreciating the present moment.
Your heart stopped beating for a moment, "Really?" you said as you put the heat pack on his other shoulder.
"Yeah, it's nice here, you're nice too," he confessed.
You giggled to yourself.
"It always smells good in here, your voice is soothing," he recounted, "And your hands are bloody amazing," he laughed, “They are made of gold, such a privilege,”
And again, that kind of comments that made you blush.
With his last sentence you felt a wave of self-confidence, "Yeah, people always tell me the same thing," you joked, intertwining some fingers with the hair that rested on his neck, causing him to shiver, you leaned just a bit closer to his ear, “Vainilla the candles, if you were wondering,” your tone was no longer profesional.
You really wanted to pull that hair and kiss that neck, you could smell his shampoo, it was intoxicatingly delicious.
Suddenly you had an idea.
"So, same hour tomorrow?" you suggested, you shifted your tone abruptly enough to make him blink, putting away the heat pack and moving closer to him again.
He froze for a moment, not understanding what you were asking him, plus, he was sleepy, "Wasn't it my turn on Friday? What day is today?"
You were amused, you subtly licked your lips, "I think you could use a session with me tomorrow," you placed a hand on his cheek, "I can take care of all that tension," your thumb grazing over his dark circles under his eyes , "The stress," your thumb now finding its way to his mouth.
And just as he was about to suck it, you pulled your hand away. He was totally drugged by your movements, your voice and your words.
You smiled widely, "So, im asking again, same hour tomorrow?"
He had a dopey smile on his face, tugging his lower lip between his teeth, now his smile turned into a big smirk, "Yes, I think it is fine,"
-
It was 4:25 pm, 5 minutes left for Roger to arrive.
Meanwhile you closed the curtains and turned off the big, bright lights, you only left a dim light from a nightstand, it illuminated enough to see clearly but gave it a much more cozy touch. You also lit the same candles, the room began to fill with a delectable smell but it was not suffocating, just perfect. Next to the armchair table you left a neutral oil for massages. You made sure to postpone the sessions you had for today, you were wondering if this was a mistake, but the reality is that you are doing a favor for a client, you are going to make him feel good, that's all.
The remaining 5 minutes passed very slowly until Roger finally arrived, "Hi there," he grinned.
You analyzed him all at once, those comfortable pants he wore, marking and embracing the contour of his legs, noticing the prominent bulge between his legs, something tells you that this man was already thinking about this situation in advance and that made your heart beat with emotion.
"Come in, make yourself comfortable on the couch," you moved to the side and let him in, locking the door.
Roger came in and sat down just as you said, shifting a bit to find comfort, "Yesterday was rough, my ex-" he started to tell you but you covered his mouth with your hand behind the couch.
"Don't worry, you don't have to talk," your hand exerting pressure while your other hand was sliding to the elastic of his pants, "Not about her," you mumbled, you noticed that he didn't bring boxers, you felt a heat between your legs, "Wanna feel good Rog? wanna be good for me now?"
He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, he nodded and you moved to position yourself between his legs, kneeling in front of him.
When you started to pull his pants down he stopped you, "Kiss me" he sounded needy.
You moved towards his face and your lips crashed into his, it started slow, both mouths moved almost choreographed, he slid his hand behind your neck, increasing the pressure a bit, sinking you into his face, you parted your lips and he slipped his tongue inside, toying with yours, you could hear slight humming coming out of his mouth, it was hot, he was hungry.
You bit his lower lip, a little hard, "Fuck," he groaned, "You are beautiful," he made eye contact, his pupils wide, his blue eyes burning you, making you breath heavily.
You grabbed him with both hands, kissing him, devouring him, you broke the kiss and he almost whined in response, "Already needed?" you said rubbing the bulge of his pants.
He bucked his hips toward your hand, "All your fault," he chuckled with a groan, "Are you going to do something about it?" he caresses the back of your neck but suddenly he tugged at your hair, marking dominance, "Maybe you could put that pretty little mouth to work," his tone was serious.
You bit your lip, you lowered his pants, his cock went flat to his tummy, it was big, and you could feel it throbbing, after a few seconds of admiration you grabbed the bottle of oil, spreading a little on your hands, rubbing them.
Roger followed your every move with his gaze, wetting his lips as he watched as your hand gripped his cock, the oil was warm and it felt nice, the sensation forcing him to relax on the couch.
Your hand began to go up and down, it slipped easily, slick noises already making you wet.
"Oh," he groaned, throwing his head back, your hands quickening the movement, watching his chest going up and down.
It felt good as you massaged him slowly, brushing your thumb over his tip, a bit of precum already coming out, your other hand went to the base of his cock, squeezing a little as you listened to his chocked moans.
"Y/N-fuck," he moaned, the sensation was incredible, "Feels so good," he mumbled, digging his nails into the couch when you increased speed, he closed his eyes.
"Mhmm," you giggled, feeling empowered, "That was what I wanted, watching you relax, all blissful because you are about to cum," you said while toying with him, looking at the sight of him, his cheeks were a bit red because the heat of the room and the candles, slightly oh coming out of his mouth every second.
He’d smile at everything you said, you could tell he was enjoying it, sometimes he tried to thrust his hips against your hand to feel more pleasure, and that's when you slowed down, playing with his pleasure but not making him suffer.
You were growing impatient, feeling the tickle between your legs while you watched him enjoy, this was not on your plans but you couldn't resist much more, you suddenly stopped and he whined, "Fuck me," you blurted, unbuttoning your pants and taking them off with your panties.
His eyes lit up, a smirk quickly formed in his mouth as he watched you undress, "I wanted to fuck you the second i entered to this room the first time," he said grabbing you by your hips.
You jumped over him, straddling his hips, your hands resting behind his neck, both faces inches apart, breathing each other air, heavy gasps coming in and out. Roger gripped your hips, pushing you down so he could graze himself in order to get some relief.
You grinned, wiggling your hips over him, your pussy lips embracing his cock, the oil and your wetness lubricating and facilitating the situation down there, “Please,” he chocked a giggle, “Dont tease,” he shot you a plead look, trying to push you down.
But you resisted, chuckling, “So eager,” you kept your wiggling.
“Well, give me something else to put my attention on,” he chuckled a gasp, taking off your shirt, his eyes droping to your tits, watching your lack of bra, “Now thats what im talking about,” he cupped them with both hands, bringing one nipple to his mouth, twisting it with his tongue.
You gasped, pushing your tits out.
He glanced at you, pleased with himself, “Oh you like it?” he circled both nipples with his thumbs, watching you squirm under his touch.
You started to look for the tip of his cock, you wanted to sink down so bad.
He hummed a giggle, “Eager?” he bit your nipple softly, happy with your whining.
“Fuck Roger,” you finally found it, sinking down on his cock, “Oh- god,” you closed your eyes.
He erupted a groan so loud that you clenched around him, “Yes- please mov- move now,” he demanded, his hands returned to your hips.
You started to jump, feeling full all of sudden, your tits bouncing in front of his face, “Fuck- this is bloody amazing,” he moaned, his hands timing your jumps, eyes fixed on your tits, “Touch yourself,”
You brought your hands to your tits, squeezing so hard, “Please, Rog,”
“Let me enjoy th-this,” he moaned, grabbing the bottle of oil, spilling a little on your naked body, the warmth embracing your skin. His hands began to wander around your neck, your tits, going through your chest until they covered your entire waist and squeezing your ass. The way his hands slid easily through the oil was arousingly hot.
You tugged at his hair, trying to relieve yourself.
He found you lovely, your skin shined because of the liquid, pretty moans coming out of your throat, watching his cock appearing and disappearing. When he wanted to realize his legs were already shaking, his orgasm approaching, you were jumping frantically.
“Fuck- Y/N, im coming-“
You took him by his neck, pushing him against the couch, your other hand finding your clit, rubbing as fast as if your life depended on it, “Oh- oh, so close,”
He was gasping, biting his lip, closing his eyes as your orgasm hit you like a train. As your climax faded, your movements began to slow, returning to stillness, moaning and clenching, riding through your orgasm.
He stayed you still as you were clenching, it seemed to help him reach the peak of his pleasure, moaning and shooting his load of cum inside you, panting like an animal. “Jesus Y/N,” he chuckled, fighting for air.
You laughed, “How you feel now,” you said while you brushed some baby hairs from his forehead.
His smile was wide, “So good,” he swallowed hard, “So fucking good,”
You patted his chest, trying to get out and come back to your feet but he tugged you down again.
He looked at you, “Can we stay like this for a bit,” his soft voice touching your heart, “Feels nice,” he was drawing abstract patterns in your back.
How could you say no?
“Yeah,” you sighed contently, giving him a quick kiss and hugging him around his neck as he closed his eyes, he started to give you lazy kisses over your shoulder.
“Cup of tea after this?” you mumbled, offering.
He chuckled, “You are godsend,”
Masterlist
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illfoandillfie · 6 months
Note
Late 80s Roger x Reader making love (a bit kinky if you want, anything really, just something sexy and cute) and having to keep it quiet bc of their kids.
Blurb Advent 2023: Day 7
Ahhh thanks anon this is a great prompt! Hope you like it for day 7 of the advent calendar!
Warnings: oral sex (f receiving), implied p in v sex, implied unprotected sex
Neither your or Roger had ever been anniversary people. You had friends who were. They made big deals celebrating it at expensive restaurants or big parties and got each other gifts corresponding to how many years they’d been together. But neither of you had ever been like that. It wasn’t that you didn’t care or didn’t want to acknowledge the date, you just didn’t need to make a fuss. You kept things low key. Half the time Roger was away on tour anyway so there was no point making a big deal of it. It’d just lead to both of you feeling bad you couldn’t celebrate it together. When he was in town you might have dinner out or buy a bottle of champagne to accompany whatever you ate at home. Or sometimes you just counted it as celebrated if you got to have sex. Especially since the kids had come along. You used to try to make the sex different to normal in some way – a position you’d read about and wanted to try, and act normally reserved for special occasions – but you hadn’t even bothered with that recently.  
Admittedly, it was easier to have some alone time now they were all a little older, but still, three kids under the age of seven did not an especially active sex life make. Mostly it happened very late at night, right before you went to sleep. You were almost counting the days until your youngest would be at pre-school so you could manage a day at home with Roger, even if you had to take sick leave to do it. The kids were all generally sleeping through the night, but you did still have to contend with them sometimes stumbling into your room after a bad dream or a wet bed. More than once they’d managed to interrupt you at inopportune moments. So, when you realised your anniversary was coming up, you decided your present to both Roger and yourself should be a decent shag. One where you could actually finish without stopping first. Where you wouldn’t have to throw a robe on and show your daughter there was no monster in her closet and then stay with her till she fell asleep while Roger’s hardon deflated back in your room. Of course, Roger was in very strong agreement when you mentioned your idea, and during the lead up made sure you knew how much he wanted it with little squeezes and comments that made you blush muttered quietly to you while the kids were distracted. Which just made you more determined to have a good night. You considered palming the kids off their grandparents for the night but your parents weren’t free and Roger’s lived just a little far away for it to be worth the trouble. But hiring a babysitter would mean also getting a hotel room and eventually you agreed to make it work at home, you’d just make sure not to get too loud.  
The key, Roger confidently assured you, was making sure all three kids were completely worn out before you tucked them in. Bad dreams were the biggest risk but there wasn’t a whole lot you could do to prevent that. You just made sure the night light in the girls’ room was working and hoped it would be enough. But Roger took charge of exhausting the three of them – instigating tickle wars, playing whatever silly games they came up with, and then, when he wanted to sit down, coming up with objects for them to search the house for like some sort of scavenger hunt. When they were all looking sleepy you herded them off to do their teeth and get them settled. Roger read to the younger two in their shared room while you got the eldest settled with a warm milk that sent him to sleep quick. You hurried back to your room and stripped down to your knickers to save some time, settling on the bed, impatiently waiting for Rog. Almost absentmindedly you began touching yourself through your panties, but you figured things would go a lot smoother if you were even just a little bit ready by the time Roger was finished with the girls.  
He entered about 10 minutes later, pulling his fly down as he walked, pausing only to drag a chair under the doorknob just in case. If one of the kids did try to come in you’d get up but you didn't have to worry about being barged in on.   “You ready?” he asked, throwing his shirt across the room, “Because this is it, this is our shot.”  You giggled, trying to stifle the sound with your hand, “shhh Rog, we have to be quiet. If we wake them we’re screwed in the not fun way.”  “Well the girls were practically snoring before I got through the third page of Clive Eats Alligators so I think we’re good but sure,” He held his finger to his lips, somehow making the action feel sarcastic.   “Oh shut up,” you laughed settling back against the pillows and opening your legs more.   Roger took one look at your parted thighs and hastily kicked off his underwear, crawling toward you on the mattress.   You giggled again as he hovered over you for a kiss but too soon he moved away again, settling himself between your legs.   “Oh, okay really?” you asked, surprised as he kissed the front of your knickers, “Thought we were just going straight for the main event. Been touching myself to get ready.”   “I could tell and the wet spot made me want to taste you. So just stay quiet and let me.”  You squeaked a little as he licked over the wet patch, earning a little nip on your thigh before he pulled your underwear off and pressed his lips to your cunt.  
It had been a little while since you’d last managed any sort of oral but the way Roger so enthusiastically went about it made it seem like he’d been denied your pussy for years. Which made it all the more difficult to keep your pleasure to yourself. Small moans and whines escaped your throat every so often and, despite how hard you tried to keep them quiet, Roger seemed to enjoy telling you off for the smallest whimper. He’d hum in warning which would inevitably make you more inclined to moan again. He’d catch even the softest sounds, giving you little bites as punishment. You tried to deter his teasing by smothering your whines with your arm, something that clearly amused Roger and only seemed to encourage him. His attention on your clit became even more focused, until he drew another string of sounds from you.   “Do I need to stop?” He asked playfully, though it was hard for you to recognise the joke when you were so worked up.   “Please don’t. So close,” you managed to get out as Roger returned his tongue to your slit.   “Good,” he said against you, “Want to get you off like this.”   He made it hard for you to keep quiet, all his focus on your cunt until you gasped, a hand tightening in his hair as you came. That’s when it was Roger’s turn to moan, though he muffled himself easier than you managed.  
The shifting of the bed brought you back to the moment. Before you knew it, Roger was easing himself into you, biting his own lip at the feeling. After a few inches, he distracted himself by leaning forward and kissing you, stealing what little breath you had, groaning against your lips as you tightened around him at the slight change of angle. Slowly he sank deeper, filling you inch by inch. You grabbed his arse, encouraging him to go faster, and he grunted into your neck at your eagerness.   “I’m trying to be gentle, love.”  “Just fuck me, Rog.”  He chuckled at that and kissed you again and he let the last few inches of his shaft be swallowed by your cunt.   “Better,” you moaned.   “Alright, gonna start moving,” he grunted in warning.  The bed creaked as Roger moved but he didn’t find it as funny when you told him to keep it down.   “Do you want to be fucked or not?” he grumbled, giving another tentative thrust, making the bed creak again. Your laugh was cut short by a gasp at the way it felt as he moved within you. 
For a little while you both lost yourself in the sensations, ignoring the creaking as you chased your highs. And then you heard a cough from somewhere down the hallway.   Roger stilled instantly, and you bit back a whine at the abrupt end to the stimulation.   You both listened for more noise – small footsteps, a cry for one of you, the jiggling of your doorknob. There was a squeak from a different bed and you willed it to be nothing more than it’s tiny occupant rolling over.  “Swear they have some sort of sixth sense for when we’re trying to fuck,” Roger breathed out, “You think that’s it?”  You shushed him and strained to hear more but everything was quiet again, “Yeah, false alarm.”  Roger sighed against your throat, “If I didn’t love your pussy so much I’d regret spending so long going down on you.”  You batted his shoulder, “Just hurry up before one of them wakes for real. Want to feel you cum in me.”  Roger was laughing softly as he kissed you, only to eager to do as you asked.
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michelle-is-writing · 2 years
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Delicate, Roger Taylor
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Word Count: 900~
Everyone knows Roger is a constant complainer. Not to mention one of his favorite hobbies is bickering with his bandmates. However, there's something Roger is excellent at doing - getting attention one way or another from me, his girlfriend.
"Lovie," I hear Roger yell from his 'office' (a room with a drum set and soundproof walls). His voice gives away his neediness, and I can't help but smile to myself with a shake of my head. Lifting the TV remote from my lap, I mute the telly as I turn away from the random show and look toward the hallway. "I need you!" he further adds, making me let out a little laugh in response to his dramatic voice.
Standing from the couch, I head toward the room at the end of the hallway before opening the door to see Roger sitting beside his drum-set, rubbing his hand as if he hurt it. The room is the same way it was yesterday, meaning he barely started practicing after sitting down. Not to mention his long blond hair is still combed down rather splayed everywhere due to his sporadic movements while drumming. That's definitely not normal for Roger
"Are you okay, honey?" I ask, moving closer to sit across from him. Once I do, he scoots forward and plants his head onto my lap where he nuzzles into me while sighing. I can tell he's stressed out - it's evident in his breathing and slightly scrunched face.
"No, I'm not," Roger gently confesses, bringing his hands up to lay in my lap as well. His fingers gently knead against the skin of my thighs for a few seconds before Roger stops with almost a pained hiss. "My... my hands keep cramping," he explains, laying them back on my legs. "They've started hurting terribly."
"Would you like me to rub them?" I ask Roger, reaching down toward his hands. Looking back up at me, Roger slyly smirks to which I squint my eyes at him with a small, "Or not," My words quickly shut down his comment, Roger giving in with a small 'hmph'. He can't even last ten seconds without his mind jumping to something dirty.
Taking his hands in mine, I hold them up to my eyes and frown at the purple and red splotches that cover Roger's fingertips. "Roger, baby," I mutter, running my thumbs over his warm palms. Looking back at me, he lightly smiles and tries to brush my worries off, but I don't let him. "Stay here," I tell him before standing from the wooden floor and heading out into the hall.
Once I'm in our bedroom, I quickly grab the lavender hand lotion from my side table drawer and turn around, only to find Roger entering our room a few seconds after me. Instead of doing like I said and staying in his drumming room, Roger plants himself on our bed where he lays back and gestures for me to join him. "Didn't I tell you to stay put?" I tease him, causing a smile to rise to the blond's lips.
"The drum floor is quite uncomfortable, dear," he tells me, patting his lap. "Come. Sit." Roger adds, now smirking.
"Oh, God, Rog," I almost exclaim, fighting my ever-growing smile and red blush. Tossing the bottle of hand lotion toward him, I point toward him. "And to think I was going to massage your hands in thanks for all your hard work!"
Instantly, his smirk drops and he's sitting straight up rather than lying back. "I promise I'll be good," he states almost as if he were a child begging to go somewhere. "Please, I won't make any more dirty comments."
At his begging, I wait a few seconds before giving up the fight to not smile and letting out a dramatic sigh. "That's impossible for you," I tell him, plopping down on his lap and taking his hands in mine. He must've thought I wasn't going to accept his previous invitation going by the slightly shocked look that takes over his face only to be taken over by bliss.
Once I'm finished massaging his first hand, I start massaging the other one, only to let out a small laugh as I do so. "What?" Roger pipes up, looking up at me with half-lidded eyes and a curious smile. He's so relaxed, that he could probably fall asleep right now.
At his question, I smile back before pressing our hands together, palm to palm. "Your hands are so much bigger than mine," I note, moving my fingers to go between his. "And yet, they fit so perfectly together..."
"Maybe it's because we're meant to be together," Roger concludes, rolling us over so we can lie beside each other. He instantly pulls me into his arms as soon as he can, pressing me to his chest as I simply savor the closeness of our hold. "Wouldnt you agree?" He asks, making me smile up at him.
However, before any more time passes, Roger quickly presses his lips to mine for a few moments until he pulls away, smiling as he stares down at me with nothing but gentleness in his eyes. Squeezing our still interlocked hands, he leans close enough to place his lips on mine once again, but surprisingly, he doesn't, and instead, he chooses to speak up once more. "But then again, I've always known that~"
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magickcandie · 6 months
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Brian May x Fem!Reader
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You and Brian got together quietly. You decided not to tell the band and went by that. You were already friends with Brian and came by quite often, so some things didn’t have to change.
You never thought Roger to be interested in you. Sure he was close, but he seemed close to every one of his friends. That was until Brian pulled you aside one afternoon.
“Please, don’t flirt back with Roger.”
“What? I don’t flirt with him.” You crossed your arms accusingly.
“No, no, you don’t. He does to you. Have you really not noticed?”
You shrugged. “No I guess not. I’ve always been so focused on you. I never -”
“Brimi! I was wondering where you were hiding Y/N. Come dance with me.” Roger appeared around the corner, already tugging on your arm.
Brian raised his eyebrows at you, reaching for your other elbow. “I’m talking with her, Roger. Can’t you just… wait?”
Wait?
“You’re so boring.” He directed to Brian. “Come find me if you actually want to have fun.” Roger disappeared just as quickly as he appeared.
“Oh.”
“Oh.” Brian repeated after you.
“Well we could always tell them? Or at least Roger?”
“No! I just… not yet?”
You shrugged again. “Okay. Well let’s go dance!”
You took Brian by the hand, leading him to where it was most busy. Somehow he thought if there were more people there, less people would be looking at him. Besides, he wasn’t much of a smoker and didn’t drink enough to just sit by the bar.
As the night got older, Roger got drunker, therefore he tried harder.
Brian walked away for moment to help Freddie, who wanted to cry, because he dropped his crown somewhere and couldn’t find it. “Have I ever told you how pretty you are, Y/N?”
“Uh… no?” You took a drink of the watered down alcohol in your glass.
“How come you danced with tree man and not with me? Aren’t I pretty too?”
You kept drinking to stop yourself from laughing. Tree man. “Yes, Rog, you’re pretty. I just want to hang around Bri.”
“Come dance with me.”
This time you let yourself be pulled by Roger. You stood as far back as you could, hands barely on his shoulders and the two of you swayed.
“You’re drunk. I’m sure Fred would let you sleep in one of the rooms. Come on. I’ll take you too bed.”
You helped him wade through the halls to find an unoccupied bedroom. During the walk, you encountered Brian and Freddie (who was looking into a flower pot… that was full to the rim in soil.)
“What are you doing with that poor dear?” Freddie asked you.
“He’s- ”
“Y/N’s going to bed with meee.”
Your eyes went straight to Brian’s, hoping your expression made it clear. Thankfully, you could tell he did understand.
“Well have fun you two.” Freddie waved you off. “Brian… it’s not in the pot.”
You decided to let off a chuckle at that, continuing to drag Roger down the hall. Eventually you found a room, and carefully, as best as you could, helped lay him down.
“I really like you, Y/N.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you say thank you!?”
“Go to sleep,” you said instead, dodging the question.
You stayed with him for the next five minutes before stepping out into the hall. You waited for Brian and almost falling asleep yourself.
“How was he?”
You looked up and saw a tired Brian. He sat down on the floor next to you.
“He’s drunk. I don’t know how much he’ll actually remember.” You leaned against his shoulder. “He called you tree man.”
Brian laced your hands together, and next thing you knew, the two of your were asleep there on the floor.
That next morning, Freddie’s house cleared out except for the occasional people asleep in random places.
“Thanks for taking care of me,” Roger said once you all got together.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure you would’ve done the same for me.”
Roger extended his arms out for a hug but you pretended not to notice by stretching and walking past him to talk with Brian.
“Oh come on, Y/N!”
“What?”
“Have you really not noticed any of my advances?” You looked at Brian. “Why do you keep looking at him?”
Brian sighed when you dig your elbow into his side. “Y/N is my girlfriend, Rog.”
It took awhile for the news to reach him. He stood quietly and unmoving.
“Oh! I’m so sorry, Bri! I didn’t know, honest.”
“It’s fine, really. We weren’t telling people.” You said.
“Roger, darling! How was your night with Y/N?” Freddie looked to you and the now embarrassed drummer.
“It wasn’t like that.” Roger said quietly.
“No? Then what did happen?”
“Y/N is with Brian.”
It took Freddie the same amount of time as it took Roger. The same blank stare, his eyes darting between the three of you.
“I’m so sorry, loves! I never meant such nasty things. I hope you forgive me.”
“Ah, don’t worry, Fred. We just didn’t want to tell people yet.” Brian said, now comfortably reaching for your hand.
“Well I’m happy for you two.”
“Me too. I think you’ll be good for him.” Roger added to Freddie’s statement.
John made it later in the morning. “I’m sorry for coming so late. Ronnie and I went home last night.”
“Did you know about Brian and Y/N?” Freddie immediately asked.
“Yeah. They weren’t really doing a good job at hiding it. I just didn’t say anything because it seemed like they weren’t telling people.” John shrugged, as if this was news that was well known. He started to make coffee.
You laughed aloud. Of course John knew. Now the entire band knew, and that took off a lot of weight that you two were carrying.
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