Roger Taylor Imagines - Blog Posts

In His Favourite Sundress

Roger takes forever getting ready to head out to dinner with you, so you decide to take a nap wearing his favourite dress. When he finally gets out of the shower, he just can’t help himself.

Warnings: Roger Taylor x f!Reader; (consensual) somnophilia; groping and fingering; a little bit of begging towards the end. STRICTLY 18+ - minors aren’t welcome on this blog, and will be blocked. Notes: An oldie from the BoRhapRogerina days - redrafted and made a little better!

Roger hummed away as he emerged from the bathroom. A cloud of searing heat seeped into the bedroom, fighting the fresh evening air that billowed in from the balcony. He shivered, still clad in just a towel.

He took so long to get ready for dinner that you decided on a siesta while you waited. You were so exhausted that you didn’t mind if your dress got creased. Your eyes sagged shut as soon as your head hit the pillow. 

You wore Roger’s favourite dress. Not daring by any stretch of the imagination, but he always found a way to make the most average garments absolutely filthy. The relaxed scarlet sundress sat a couple of inches above your knee and if Roger stood at the right angle, he could effortlessly slip a hand underneath it, completely undetected. That was why it was his favourite dress. It was also why he insisted you make things even easier for him by forgoing underwear when you wore it in his company.

He didn’t need to tell you anymore; you did this out of habit.

He smirked when he noticed you sleeping facedown. You had a habit of shifting around while you slept and somehow your attire had bunched up around your waist and hips. Realising this, Roger tossed aside the jeans in his hands and crawled into bed next to you. You didn’t stir.

You both had an agreement that this was okay, but Roger couldn’t help feeling apprehensive as he stretched out his hand to stroke the back of your thigh; gently caressing your skin from the underside of your knee, all the way to your bottom, fingers pressing into your flesh. He bit his lip, briefly contemplating the idea of delving lower. It felt perverse. You had no idea what he was doing. But you had an agreement.

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Our Little Jailbird - Roger Taylor x Reader

Not Requested

I’ve had this idea for a while, wasn’t exactly how i originally pictured it, but it’s been so long since i’ve posted anything, i wanted to get something out for you guys. Hope you enjoy! Please leave a like/comment/reblog and also leave some requests, i could always use new ideas

Word Count : 1291

Pairing : Roger x Reader

-

The shrill ringing of the telephone danced around the studio walls, earning annoyed groans from the four men in the room, eager to finish their new album and put it behind them. The ringing continued until Miami rolled his eyes at his band, taking the phone off of the hook and answering it. His eyes widened instantly and he gave a small chuckle, bringing the phone down before looking at the band members in front of him, the blond in particular.

“Roger, for you.”

Roger flipped his drumsticks to the side, standing to get to the phone. “Who is it?”

Miami only chuckled as he passed the receiver.

Roger leaned against the wall as he put the phone to his ear. “This is Roger Taylor.”

A man’s voice answered. “Hello, Roger, do you know a Miss (YN) (YLN)?”

“I do.” He gave a small laugh. “She’s my fiancé. Is she alright?”

The man sighed. “Yeah, she’s fine but she does need you to pick her up if you would. She’s not exactly capable of getting home herself.”

“Where is she? What happened?” Roger stood a little straighter, the tone of his voice alerting his bandmates who now looked on with curiosity. “You said she was fine.”

“She is fine, just got a little drunk and got herself arrested and well, you were the only name she’d give up when we asked if anyone would be able to bail her out. You’ll be able to bail her out then?”

Roger closed his eyes before nodding, gripping the phone a little tighter as he smirked, picturing you in a jail cell. “I’ll be there in ten.” He then hung up the phone, putting his hands on his hips as he glanced to the other men in the room. “I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?” Brian asked, plucking at random strings on his guitar. “We’ve got an album to finish.”

Roger nodded as he fiddled with his pockets, hunting down his keys, heading for the door. “I know we do, but I’ve currently got a fiancé in jail, so I have a special priority at the moment, like I said. I’ll be back.” With that he walked out of the studio and headed towards the jail, he couldn’t help but laugh as he drove towards you.

-

Your head rested against the cool steel bars, it felt nice against your heated skin, your flushed cheeks and your pounding headache. Soft groans left your mouth with every small movement you made. Thoughts of the night before came crashing against your skull, making your hangover a thousand times worse than what it already was.

The night was a blur, well parts of it were. The other parts well, you didn’t remember those parts. Now you knew how Roger felt when he had nights like the one you’d just had. You had to give the man credit, he could carry on as if the night had never happened still, you weren’t to that point yet and never would you again if you could help it.

Your reflecting came to an end as you heard footsteps approaching and a melodic laugh filled your ears.

“My darling, look at you.” Roger’s voice filled the room along with his laughter. Oh he was not going to let you forget this. “One night out with friends and this is what happens. I told you I’d pick you up love, I was only a call away.”

Slowly you let your eyes crack open, the bright lights in the room sent your head into a frenzy and you snapped them shut again. “Out.” Your voice was beyond hoarse, but you didn’t care, you were ready to go. “I want out! Roger! Get me,” a loud and slightly painful hiccup left your body, “Get me out, Rog, then tease later. Please!”

Another chuckle and his hand was on yours. “I do love to hear you beg darling, music to my ears.”

“Rog…” you began but were cut off by the door you were leaning so carefully against, moved out of the way and you stumbled into Roger’s awaiting arms. His chest felt like home, you’d definitely rather be pressed against his chest instead of the bars any day. He carefully wrapped his arms around you, helping you stand on your own feet. “Thanks.” You grumbled.

“Thank you, officer.” He laughed out as he lead you out of the station. You were only able to open your eyes a handful of times as he lead you to the car. He helped you get inside and helped buckle you in before getting in on the other side. He didn’t start the car though, he only turned in his seat to look at you. “What happened last night, love?” In all honesty, Roger did try to be sincere with his question but you were just a sight that he couldn’t help but let out a few laughs at. “You look a right mess.”

“I am a mess.” You covered your face with your hands. “Too many drinks.”

“I can tell. How did you end up in a jail cell?”

A shrug of your shoulders was the only answer you wanted to give him. But Roger was Roger, he wasn’t done until he got a solid answer out of you.

“Love?”

It was no use, he’d find out somehow you were sure of it. “I may or may not have had a few margaritas. I may or may not have been dancing like an idiot on the dancefloor.” Roger’s eyes lit up with amusement with each word you spoke. “And finally, I may or may not have thrown my drink at the bartender when he told me I’d had enough to drink. Didn’t know that was worthy of a call to the police, but apparently it was.” You turned your head to spare Roger a glance and turned back just as quickly.

The grin on Roger’s face was the biggest grin you’d ever seen on his face. It may have held a little pride as well, he’d never admit it to you, but seeing you get put in jail for being drunk, it may have been the funniest thing he’d ever witnessed in his life.

“This isn’t funny Roger!”

“Love,” he breathed, turning back to start up the car, “this is hilarious. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Promise?”

He held out his pinky and latched it with yours. “Promise.”

-

Technically, only Roger made that promise. Miami on the other hand, did not make that promise. When Roger left the studio, he went into a laughing tirade about your drunken journey. All of the guys were laughing, holding their stomachs and everything. Sweet little you, in jail, it was something they thought they’d never hear in their lives. It brought amusement to a very stressful period in their life.

-

Roger pulled up to the studio and you groaned. “I just want to go home, Roger, I spent the night in jail. I need a shower and a proper bed, please just take me home.”

“I’ll only be a minute love.” He went to get out of the car but was stopped by your hand. “What’s the matter?”

“You’re seriously not about to leave me alone, are you?”

“Course not.” He removed your hand before going to your side of the car and opening the door, holding his hand back out to you.

“Seriously?”

He smirked. “Only for a minute love, they’ll understand.”

Groaning, you took his hand and followed him in, quickly wishing you’d had just stayed in the car.

Freddie clapped his hands as soon as you walked inside, a grin that could’ve outmatched Roger’s adorned his face. “Welcome home our little Jailbird.”