roy harper, dick grayson and you making out sloppy style ˚.✦
Your back was pressed against the wall, Roy’s hands gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear, while Dick crowded in from the side, one palm sliding up your neck to tilt your head exactly how he wanted.
Roy kissed you first, messy and open-mouthed, tongue sliding against yours with zero shame. Saliva slicked your lips, a thin string of it catching when he pulled back just enough to breathe before diving in again. Dick didn’t wait his turn. He leaned over Roy’s shoulder and caught your mouth next, softer at first but quickly turning hungry, licking into you while Roy’s teeth grazed your bottom lip. Their tastes mixed together, something sweet and completely addictive. You could feel the wet heat of their mouths trading off, tongues tangling with yours in a sloppy rhythm that left your chin shiny and your head spinning.
Roy made a low sound in his throat, pressing his body flush against yours so you felt every line of him. Dick’s hand slipped under your shirt, fingers warm on your skin, while his lips moved from your mouth to the corner of Roy’s jaw, kissing him too. It turned into a three-way mess, mouths sliding together, tongues brushing in the middle, saliva dripping down your chin and probably theirs too. The sounds were obscene too, wet smacks and soft gasps filling the tiny space.
Then Roy suddenly pulled back, breathing hard, his freckled face flushed dark under the faint emergency light leaking through the door crack. His eyes looked a little wide, a little scared underneath all that heat.
“We’re still friends, right?” he asked. “I mean… this doesn’t fuck everything up?”
You and Dick both paused, lips still parted and glistening. A tiny giggle bubbled out of you first, then Dick’s followed right after, soft and just a tiny bit condescending in the sweetest way.
“Of course we are,” you said, already leaning back in, pressing a sloppy kiss to the corner of Roy’s mouth.
Dick mirrored you, nipping at Roy’s bottom lip before murmuring against it, “Duh, Roy. Best friends.” His voice had that teasing lilt, making Roy's ears red.
Roy let out a shaky breath that turned into a laugh, but before he could overthink it again, you and Dick were on him together, mouths claiming his at the same time. Tongues sliding wetly, saliva mixing in that delicious three-way tangle once more and Roy melted back into it, hands clutching at both of you like he never wanted to let go.
𑣲 LEFT ON READ───j. todd, t. drake ﹠ r. harper . 𝄞 smau . established relationship ﹠ hurt/comfort .
ᰋ. author @ u : trying out a different style!! this request was originally meant for jay or damian, but i’ve made it clear i don’t feel comfortable making romantic content for dami so i decided to add tim and roy. i was thinking of making a smau taglist, if anyone wants to be added lmk! <3 ᰍ .
(☆ ｀_´) ⌇ ◦ ⿱ 🔗 ┄ m.list ﹠ smau minilist .
_ _ 𝖩𝖠𝖲𝖮𝖭 𝖳𝖮𝖣𝖣 ⵿۪۫ 💭 ͜͜ ݃ ֪֪֪. ° Immediately panics and goes into protective mode, calling multiple times and tracking your location before rushing over without hesitation. Acts tough on the surface but it’s clear he was terrified something was wrong. Tells you not to scare him like that again and decides he’s staying over, not asking for permission.
_ _ 𝖳𝖨𝖬 𝖣𝖱𝖠𝖪𝖤 ⵿۪۫ 💭 ͜͜ ݃ ֪֪֪. ° Immediately recognized the behavior is out of character and checks your location to make sure you’re safe. Comes over anyway even after you apologize because he’d “rather overreact than something actually be wrong.” Handles it maturely and offers to make coffee since neither of you are sleeping now anyway.
_ _ 𝖱𝖮𝖱𝖸 𝖧𝖠𝖱𝖯𝖤𝖱 ⵿۪۫ 💭 ͜͜ ݃ ֪֪֪. ° Leads with humor (“who do I need to punch?”) but quickly shifts to genuine concern when you don’t respond, outright asking if you’re planning to do anything stupid. Threatens to lockpick your door if needed and reassures you not to apologize because he just worries about you.
roy just sighed, a small smile on his lips despite himself as your lips kept covering his face with lipstick prints of your lips. he needed you to lie down, he needed to take care of you— especially since you were drunk out of your mind after a girls night out
once you gave him one last, big kiss on the tip of his nose with a ‘mwa!’, you leaned back and giggled with a big smile. “there! all better”
his smile softened from the sight of you— cheeks flushed from the booze, hair messy and lipstick everywhere but on your lips, the same lips that shone that same smile roy could stare at for hours.
“now can you lay down?” his voice softened without realizing, but you just shook your head with a ‘uh uh’ and slid your arms around his neck to try pulling him into a kiss
it took everything in roy’s power to lean away. “uh uh, babe. not when you’re drunk” he gently took off your arms around his neck while you let out a whine. “royyyyyy”
“nope” he knelt down and slowly took off your heels. it made you huff but nevertheless, lie on the bed while roy was busy taking off your heels with those gentle, calloused hands of his that you loved
after taking the heels out and getting back up to see you doing what he asked, roy bit his bottom lip to hold his smile back from turning into a smirk. you looked so adorable, arms crossed and lips pouting because of his refusal of your kiss
“hey” roy spoke quietly, slightly hovering over you to brush a strand from your face with the lightest touch. “i’ll give you as many as you want”
your eyes perked up and a dazed smile formed back on your lips immediately. “really?”
“tomorrow, when you’re sober”
“…not fair”
he placed a kiss on your forehead. “that’s my girl”
little did roy know, you’d hold onto his promise even after the booze left your system. cue the pecks of kisses he woke up to in the morning
—————————————————————————
masterlist!
(a/n: first time writing for roy (esp since everyone had been asking me for so long), kinda nervous cause i feel like this is ooc ugh i had another plot in mind but i backed out and got too scared LOL)
RAHHHH I LOVE YOUR HEADCANNONS W BF JASON ETC, Can we have a roy Vers??
bf!roy harper x fem!reader headcanons
bf!roy harper who takes you on a date to a fancy restaurant in hopes to impress you, but you can tell he feels uncomfortable, so you insist on leaving and drag him to a run down diner with greasy burgers and sugary milkshakes. you both love it.
bf!roy harper who has known you for a long time before asking you out. you were one of his best friends, and you still are after dating for a while.
bf!roy harper who loves spending time with you, no matter how trivial it seems. wether it’s cuddling on the couch, watching you cook dinner for him, you swinging by his work place to drop off some lunch. every little moment matters to him.
bf!roy harper who lets you borrow everything of his and doesn’t know what personal space means. you need a shirt to sleep in, it’s yours. you want to borrow his cap, take it. it’s looks better on you anyway. oh, you were laying there already, that’s fine, he’s just gonna lay on top of you.
bf!roy harper who is big on physical touch. he always has his hand in the back-pocket of your jeans or an arm around your shoulder while walking. he wraps his arm around your waist while watching you cook, and spins you around to kiss you while his hands travels down to give your rear a playfull squeeze. you do the same to him when he walks past you.
bf!roy harper who is a total munch. he loves burying his face between your thighs while holding your hands, leaving countless bruises and bite marks on your legs. you rip a moan out of him everytime you tag at his hair.
bf!roy harper who tries to spoil you with small acts of service. he knows you don’t care about materialistic stuff, but he still wants to give you everything he can. so he’ll offer you a massage before bed, he’ll lay out you’re pajamas and skin care routine if you’re coming back home late, he’ll stop by the grocery store without asking if he notices you ran out on your favorite snacks.
bf!roy harper who isn’t insecure. he loves you and doesn’t doubt that you love him just as much. yes, he lets you go out alone. no, he doesn’t start crying if someone else flirts with you. doesn’t mean he likes it, he’s still protective after all, but he can handle it. he knows you’re hot, after all.
bf!roy harper who answers every call. if you need him, he’s there in a second. you’re his top priority, along with lian.
bf!roy harper who was so relived that lian was happy when he told her that he was dating you now and you weren’t just a friend anymore.
bf!roy harper who keeps a picture of you and lian in his wallet. it was taken after a trip to a fun-fair, when the two of you were still only friends. lian is sitting on your lap while holding cotton candy almost as big as her, both of you with matching grins, cheeks pressed together. he’s kept that picture in his wallet even before he asked you out.
bf!roy harper who almost dies when he sees you help lian with mundane tasks. wether it’s helping her squeeze out the last of her toothpaste in the mornings or her asking for your opinion on which shoes to wear to school.
bf!roy harper who thinks all his suffering and difficulties in life were worth it when he’s on the couch with you in one arm, lian in the other, both quietly leaning against him as they doze off. yeah, these are his girls.
⁀➴┊ or in which, you celebrate the premier league win with your boyfriend.
⁀➴┊ includes: martin ødegaard, martin zubimendi, noni madueke, william saliba x 𝒇!reader
⁀➴┊warnings: i know we won the league at selhurst park but lets just pretend it was at home </3 also sorry if this is a bit ooc, its highkey difficult to imagine what the boys would be like in a relationship ngl. i’m lowk nervous to post this. fuck it fuck it fuck it fuck it we ball pls don’t be mean to me
MARTIN ØDEGAARD
“i’m so proud of you,” you mumble, kissing your boyfriend’s sweaty forehead. there’s lots of hustle and bustle around you two, the entire pitch filled with players’ families and staff members celebrating the win at selhurst park. it’s still in london. still home. “so, so, so proud, my baby.”
martin smiles at you, his perfect teeth a white row. “couldn’t do it without you,” he tells you, wrapping one strong arm around your waist, the other holding the trophy. the captain’s cheeks are a little red from elation. “thank you for always being here for me. all the sacrifices you made for me.” he continues.
you can tell he’s feeling a little shy. it’s never easy, dating a professional footballer, but when the eventual payoff is this grandiose, you might think it’s all worth it.
the warm may sun beams through the clouds as you two find the peace and calm in all the chaos. “you know i love you, skip,” you say teasingly, nudging his side with your elbow. martin chuckles at the nickname you just called him, heat wavering over his cheeks again. “i’d do anything for you.”
martin reaches his hand out, tilting your head up to give you a short, chaste kiss. he gives your chin a little wiggle when he pulls back. “love you too, baby.”
MARTIN ZUBIMENDI
“baby! come take a photo with me.” martin gestures for you to come over to him excitedly, where one knee is planted in the grass, the premier league trophy set next to it, pieces of red and white confetti scattered everywhere.
you’re clad in your usual arsenal jersey, your make up extra glittery on this special day. it’s been more than twenty years since the best club in the world last won the league, and now you have the privilege to celebrate at the emirates, with your boyfriend, who has played his part in the colossal victory.
whilst you’re opening your camera app, you feel thousands pairs of eyes land on you. you’re still not used to all the attention dating a professional footballer brings.
the two of you snap a couple of cute photos: one with his arm around you, pulling you close to his sweaty chest. another one where he triumphantly swishes his fist in the air. martin and you are both giggling like two teenagers in love, the adrenaline of the feeling of just winning the league bolting through your veins.
you’re constantly adjusting your phone to make sure the trophy is in view, as well as your boyfriend, who’s smiling that toothy grin that’s always plastered on his face. when he transferred from san sebastian to london, he never knew that victory would taste so sweet.
for the last photo, martin unexpectedly pulls you into his chest again, his lips placing a disgustingly wet kiss to your cheek. you squeal out in excitement, a genuine smile on your face.
“we have to get that one framed,” he grins when he eventually pulls back, letting both of your bodies fall back down on the grass. his steady hands cup your face, and suddenly it feels like you two are the only people in the world. you register the trophy being carried away for another player to take photos with it, but you’re too busy with martin.
“we’re not leaving london anytime soon, huh?”
and yes, you two got that photo framed. it’s right above your sofa in your little london flat.
NONI MADUEKE
you’re still sitting on chair of your private booth in the emirates, looking down at where all the chaos and celebrations are happening: arsenal players celebrating with the fans, the roars of the n5 too loud for your ears.
you take a drink of your water, swishing your hair over your shoulder. you remember when noni was in eindhoven, psv, still developing as a player, still finding his way in a dynamic sports world. you feel grateful to be able to see him blossom into a player with confidence, a player who truly believes.
“there she is,” you hear behind you, a voice way too familiar. your boyfriend. “look at her sitting there.” he teases before walking up to you, arms open for a hug.
you shake your head in disbelief whilst standing up from your seat too. “why are you not down there, babe? celebration’s there, y’know?” you chuckle whilst wrapping your arms around your boyfriend’s torso, pulling him in close.
“wanna celebrate with you, though,” he muses lowly, brushing a tiny kiss to the top of your head. “with my girl.” your boyfriend is warm from the sun, his hands cradling your face.
“i know you don’t like the chaos.” noni says after a moment of silence. you hear his racing heart beat thump under his rising and falling chest.
“i don’t,” you confirm. you two are still wrapped up in each other, the cheers and the roars sounding far away. “but i’m proud of you, baby. i knew you could do it.”
noni breathes out a laugh, face pressed into your neck now. “i love you.”
WILLIAM SALIBA
you know that the red blood that flows through william’s veins is the arsenal’s. he’s the team’s hypeman, always more excited to celebrate his teammates’ goals than his very own.
you know how much the fanbase means to him, the club, wearing the arsenal’s badge on his chest. he’s the club’s rolls royce, duh! you stare at him from a safe distance, celebrating with the fans, signing shirts, sharing laughs with the fans.
and you know how much this trophy means to him.
you’re sauntering about on the pitch, scrolling through all the videos you made of your boyfriend. he’s so endearing, so himself, no matter where he is or who he’s with. you’re peacefully scrolling, until—
you feel a pair of strong arms around you, lifting you up from behind. “we did it!” you hear william yell, pressing a swift kiss to the back of your neck. “you hear me? we. fucking. won. the. league.”
his energy is still high, and it’s endearingly cute.
you laugh out loud, your hand cluthing his arm that’s settled over your ribs. “i know,” you sigh when he puts you down eventually. planting your feet in the grass. “‘m proud of you, wilo.”
william pulls you closer to him, your shoulder jammed into his chest, placing a disgustingly wet, sodden kiss on your forehead, smile glued onto his face, finger reaching out to boop your cute nose. “i’m prouder of you, honey.”
⁀➴┊ a/n: i’m taking requests for other footballers too (barça, bayern, psg, anything), so pls req smth! ALSO meant to include declan rice, but then he fucking jumped into fucking th*m*s p*art*y’s arms so i guess not!
I'd like to request a good old smut story with Roy Harper!
Stuck in a closet together when he knows reader has a crush on him.
Maybe he can be smug and a bit filthy mouthed about it? Just whispering everything with a low tone into her ear in the dark 👉👈
Oooooo I ended up really liking this idea!! Hope I met your expectations babes💗
You're Kidding
Roy Harper x Fem! Reader
SMUT. SMUT SMUT SMUTITY SMUT! Not much for warnings with this one, but we've got some dry humping and clit rubbing, maybe some choking if you squint!
“You’re absolutely fucking kidding me,” your voice echoes slightly off the walls of the dimly lit closet.
“Afraid not, sweetheart,” Roy confirms, giving the door another tug, only to be met with the resistance and tension of a lock—probably from the other side. You really shouldn’t have offered to help him clean out an old safehouse; the place is lined with hidden traps and gadgets. You can’t blame him for that, though… not when he has a young daughter to protect, even if he isn’t physically here.
You can, however, blame him for forgetting where nearly all of them are and getting the two of you locked in a closet.
Clothes scatter everywhere, almost painting the floor in some kind of abstract art. Some are older, looking like they’ve survived since Roy’s teenage years. Others seem like they could only have been bought in the past couple of years. You doubt he’s ever worn much of it—he has a habit of buying things, then forgetting them in some abandoned corner.
You can tell he’s holding back a laugh when you let out a weary sigh, your head tilting back to meet the wall with a light thud.
“Come on,” he teases, a large, calloused hand patting your arm lightly, “it’s a little funny, ain’t it?”
At that, you scoff. “Funny?” you repeat, sending a stone-cold glare in his direction. “You seriously think that being stuck in a closet with a ginger is how I planned to spend my Tuesday?”
You sigh again at his lack of response, closing your eyes before resting your head against the wall once more.
There’s silence—for a while, anyway. With Roy, any kind of silence is a blessing. Too much silence, though, feels like a curse straight from the pits of hell.
You almost decide to open your eyes to check what kind of nonsense he’s gotten into—until you hear the iconic flash! of a Polaroid. A bright light snaps you out of your trance.
“Dude, what the hell?” you slap his arm lightly, blinking as your eyes adjust to the dim room again.
Roy doesn’t seem too bothered. Instead, he laughs, shaking a small photo in his hand. You actually have to tear your eyes away from how his muscles and tattoos flex with the movement.
You think you get away with the harmless stare at your closest partner.
You don’t.
He sees. He always does. Roy knows how to play the role of the idiotic friend, but he’s always watching you. The way you stare a little too long when he flexes. The way your eyes water when you patch him up mid-mission. The way you always seem to cling to his side.
He always notices, even when you don’t.
“Loosen up a little, stiff,” he says instead of revealing anything he’s picked up on. “We’ll be out of here in no time.” His voice—so certain, so carefree—almost makes you believe him. Almost.
“Yeah, right,” you mutter, brushing past him to look for some kind of hidden exit. Your skin burns as it brushes his, but you don’t falter. You dig through at least a decade of clothing, desperate for escape.
Silence stretches between you again, interrupted only by the occasional shuffle of a shoebox. Roy tucks the photo into his back pocket; the image is already developed. Knowing him, he’ll probably frame it with something tacky like “Partners’ first time stuck in a closet <3.”
Surprisingly, he actually starts helping. Underneath all the witty comments and terrible timing, Roy is a great partner—until he isn’t. But it really isn’t his fault this time. How’s he supposed to resist when your sweet little ass brushes right up against him while you move?
Your breath hitches at the contact, and Roy nearly groans. He’s a grown man who gets his needs met often enough, but now he’s about to moan like a teenager over a bit of friction. You try to scramble away, but a firm grip on your belt loop keeps you in place.
“Don’t,” Roy whispers, keeping you exactly where you are. “Don’t move. Don’t you dare move.”
It’s a mistake to listen. His large, calloused hands find your hips, pulling you ever so slightly closer to the bulge forming in his jeans.
You stay bent, your palms pressed against the closet wall. It’s impossible to ignore the pressure of your best friend pressed up against your ass, the fabric between you doing little to mask how badly he wants you. Your breaths come out in hot bursts, hitting the wall and probably leaving a patch of condensation.
The room is too hot. Roy’s jeans are too tight. Your pants are too constricting. Everything is burning—a fuse waiting to be lit. He wants you to strike the match and set your friendship on fire. And honestly? You’d be crazy to say you don’t want to.
Slowly, Roy’s grip tightens, pulling you just close enough to create delicious friction through the layers. A soft sigh escapes his lips just as a puff of air leaves yours.
It starts small—just a slight roll of his hips, syncing with yours, building tension with each subtle motion. Each movement has you squirming, your core clenching around nothing. Roy’s not a patient man, and you’re reminded of that as soon as one of his hands sneaks forward to toy with your clit through your pants.
His breaths are hot and heavy in the silence, and you feel them immediately as he leans in, pressing closer. His pace picks up—both his fingers and his hips.
To anyone else, the scene might look ridiculous: Roy Harper, Arsenal, losing his mind over a bit of dry humping.
To you? It’s hot. Hell, it’s probably the hottest thing that’s happened to you in a long time.
His hair brushes your neck, sending shivers down your spine as he leans in, nearly cradling you. The two of you must look feral, grinding like you’re in heat, moaning in the dark closet.
Roy lets out soft whimpers—“Fuck…” and “Such a pretty, perfect ass.” You’re not even moving fast, yet your body’s already lighting up like fireworks.
Your hips jerk when his fingers press harder against your clit. The pressure in your gut builds fast. Normally, you wouldn’t be so close from something so simple, but the desperate pace he’s set? It’s overwhelming.
“Fuck…” you gasp as you press back into him, letting his bulge slide between your ass cheeks.
“Getting this worked up from me rubbing you the right way, baby?” Roy coos, picking up the pace just enough to have you seeing stars.
He’s not doing much better—his breath is ragged against your neck, practically steaming. There’s probably condensation on your skin from how hard he’s panting.
When you don’t answer, his free hand slides up to your neck and gives it a light squeeze—not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to grab your attention.
“Really?” he mocks, his palm warm against your throat. “All fucked out before I’ve even gotten my dick out? Pathetic.”
You know he doesn’t mean it. He wouldn’t say that unless you were close enough to know it’s a joke. But something in you wants to take it seriously, and that something makes you moan, loud and strangled. Your toes curl, your hips buck, and your orgasm crashes into you like a wave.
The world spins, but Roy is your world right now, and he might as well be the sun with how hard you’re burning.
He grunts, pressing his cock against you one final time. His cum seeps through his jeans and onto yours. His movements slow but don’t stop until both of you are trembling, twitching messes, riding the last shocks of release.
Silence returns, broken only by labored breathing and racing heartbeats. Slowly, you both come back to earth. He finally pulls away. You stay still for a moment, gathering your thoughts, then slowly stand upright.
“Shit,” Roy mutters, letting go of your trembling frame with such gentleness that the curse nearly goes unnoticed. You expect him to be annoyed—maybe about the mess in his jeans—but when you turn around, he’s holding a key.
“Forgot I even had this old thing on my keychain…” he admits, meeting your gaze. His cheeks are flushed, but it isn’t embarrassment.
“Sorry about the delay in this old closet… but I think I might’ve left some condoms in the nightstand—if you’re up for continuing this."
It's Saturday morning, Lian is staying at uncle Jason's place, and you and Roy have all day to yourselves, a slow morning is exactly what you need.
authors note: uncle JayJay is here for the rescue!
warnings: kissing, hair, allusion of suggestive themes in the beggining, blood mentioned
words: 1180
dividers: by @saradika-graphics
masterlist
The sunlight beams reflect between the curtains on your face waking you up, with a groan you lift your head and look at the clock, 11 a.m. For once seeing that timestamp didn’t make you jump out of bed, startled that it got so late and Lian is probably awake and hungry. No, instead your shoulders relax and you turn your head to the other side of the bed where you hear a groan.
A mop of red hair emerges from beneath the comforters, his arm that was firmly placed across your waist tightens as he wakes up.
“Morning” Roy mumbles between his teeth, still drowning in sleep.
“Good morning” you answer back, turning yourself fully onto your side facing him.
Your hand reaches for his face, thumb wiping away the remaining sleep in his eyes, he looks really rough after last night’s patrol mission, but way better than the state he arrived at home yesterday.
From the short calls you had with Roy during his patrol, his frazzled breathless voice telling you he’s okay and that he’s almost home, made you make the decision of letting Lian stay the night at uncle Jason’s house, Jason picked her up after dinner so you had time to get the house tidied for Roy’s arrival.
And God you were glad you did that, you’ve never seen him so devastated, shoulders hanging down, his suit was ripped and you hoped that whatever blood was on it wasn’t his, his hands were calloused from all of the arrows thrown during the tough night.
Roy quickly made sure to ease your worries in a hoarse voice.
“The blood isn’t mine” he held your hands in his with a squeeze.
Without answer you pulled him into the house ready to draw him a bath.
As you remember the previous night, your hand remains on his face, Roy says.
“You’re thinking” his arms wrap around you tightly as your naked chests press together.
“Just thinking about yesterday, I’ve never seen you in such a state before” you answer, your hand traces the dips and valleys skin in hopes of distracting you.
“Hey you don’t have to worry, I’m okay because of you” he takes your hand in his, making you stop caressing his skin to look at him.
“I had a feeling it was better to get Lian out of the house. I know you wouldn’t mind having her around, but she would be too worried about you. She knows you better than me” you both chuckle at the last part of the sentence.
“Even when she’s not present, you still find a way of talking about her” Roy kisses your forehead affectionately, he loves the way you and Lian are attached to the hip regardless of being blood related or not.
Roy stretches his arms over his head, a sign that he’s ready to get up and start the day, so you take the covers off and grab Roy’s nearby shirt, put it on and get up.
The routine is synchronized, you maneuver yourselves from one side to the other between the bedroom closet and the small bathroom.
As you brush your teeth you peek your head out of the window, Roy is taking longer than usual, he’s dressing up, a tank top and some sweatpants, but his movements are sluggish and he sighs hoarsely at certain movements, he’s still sore from patrol.
So you clean your mouth and take his shaving kit out, the least you could do is help a little.
When he walks to the bathroom he notices you taking out his shaving cream, razor and after shave.
“Whatcha doing, ma?” he walks behind you, placing his hands firm on your hips.
“I’m helping you with that stubble" you turn your head to the side.
Without warning, Roy flips you around, hands still on your hips, and lifts you to sit on the counter. He slots himself between your open legs and looks up at you.
“Thank god you said that, my hands are so sore” you feel his calloused hands slip underneath your shirt and relax against your skin.
You take the shaving cream and put some on your hands, you spread it evenly across his growing beard, the cooling sensation makes Roy closes his eyes and let you do your work.
“So what will it be? Clean? Mustache? Goatee”
He opens an eye up to answer “You choose”
“If you’re sure”
Your legs wrap around his middle to pull him closer to you and put a hand on the side of his neck to hold him in place, he complies of course.
“Ready?” you whisper to him.
When he nods you take the razor and start shaving his face, slowly but deliberately, you shave each strip of shaving cream revealing the smooth skin underneath the rough stubble, you tap the razor on the side of the sink then carry on.
You angle his face as you go, holding him with your free hand under his jaw, he’s completely at your mercy, you move him around like it’s nothing and he lets you.
Roy can feel your concentration from the way your tongue darts out slightly from your mouth and how your breath slows down as he feels it against his cheek.
He makes sure to only speak when you go dab the excess shaving cream mixed with hair on the sink.
“Is it going okay?”
“I think I’m just doing a clean shave, I might cut you trying to do different shapes”
“Alrighty, I trust you” he squeezes your sides reassuringly, his fingers toying with the elastic band of your pants.
When you finish, there are a couple of nicks at the skin, little beads of blood surfacing. You take the cloth beside you and damp it in warm water.
While you dab Roy’s face to take the little bits of shaving cream, you feel him lean against your gentle touch as you don’t want to irritate the fresh skin. Lastly, you pour some after shave on your hands and once again dab it on his skin.
“You’re all done” your hands remain in his cheeks for a second before you peck his lips as a final touch.
Roy replies to the kiss and looks over your shoulder to the mirror behind you, his head shifts to take a look at your work from all the angles.
“Well doll you did better than I expected, you got a steady hand”
He looks back at you fondly and places a kiss on your forehead.
“Thank you really” you see how his eyes soften looking into yours, you know he’s grateful, you doing such a simple task for him because of his aching hands shows how much you care.
“Of course hon” you wrap your arms around his neck.
Roy’s hand slides under you and lifts you off the counter, your legs are still wrapped around his waist letting you be carried out of the bathroom to the kitchen for a nice breakfast and a full day of relaxation by yourselves.
hooking up with best friend!roy harper goes incredibly wrong ꒰ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
like, terrible, guys
cw: mdni, mostly crack, grinding, tit play?
The alcohol is running so nicely through your veins, everything makes you laugh and everything sounds like a good idea. For example, hooking up with your best friend, Roy Harper. He’s been dancing with you all night, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and swaying with the music. Going out with him is always wonderful, he pays for all the beers you want and never gets tired.
It’s past 3 a.m when you two decide to leave the club together. You arrive at your apartment half an hour later and that’s when both of you have the same idea, at the same time. We should fuck.
Roy’s breath stinks, but yours do too so you can’t really complain. And the motherfucker knows how to kiss, grabbing you by the waist and sitting you on your kitchen counter. He presses his thigh between your legs as he kisses your neck, leaving a trail of saliva in it. He praises your cute moans and whimpers while he lifts your top, letting your boobs spring free.
“Fuuuuck, girl, why did you keep them hidden from me?” Roy comments, pulling back to stare at them, taking one on each hand like he’s inspecting them.
You giggle, everything feels so warm and silly right now. “I was saving the best for you,” you tease, pressing a finger to his chest and tugging at his shirt until he tanks it off over his head. His skin is hot under your palms, feeling the muscles from all his training sessions. “C’mon, Roy, I wanna see you too.”
He grins and kisses you again, all sloppy and eager. His hands are everywhere, squeezing your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers until you're arching into him. He laughs against your mouth. “So bossy,” he mumbles, nipping at your bottom lip. “But fine, you win.”
You slide off the counter, a little wobbly from all the drinks, and push him back toward the couch. He flops down easy, pulling you on top of him so you’re straddling his lap. The kissing turns hotter, your hips grinding down on him while his fingers dig into your ass. You wait to feel his cock harden against your hot cunt. And you wait a little longer, getting bored of all the kissing.
You tug his pants open, slipping your hand inside his boxers and wrap your fingers around him. But nothing, he’s soft, not even twitching no matter how you stroke him. You try again, twisting your wrist the way you know guys like, but nope. You can’t help but burst out laughing.
“Roy,” you say, pulling back to look at his face. His gaze is lost in your bare tits and you have to grab his cheeks with your free hand to make him look at you. “You’re not getting hard, bitch.”
His cheeks flush bright red, even in the dim light from the kitchen, and he groans, covering his face with one arm. “What the fuck?” He was so lost in his drunkenness and in you that he hadn’t realized about the lack of business between his legs. “Shit, I think I hah drank too much.”
“Yeah, no shit.” You laugh again, leaning forward to press your forehead against his shoulder, your boobs squishing against his chest
“Stop! Don’t fucking laugh, this is embarrassing!” He peeks out from under his arm, eyes sparkling with that mix of embarrassment and amusement.
But your laugh doesn’t cease, you stopped pumping his dick because it’s completely pointless and you wiped your hand in his pants before coming back to leave a kiss in his face. “My poor baby can’t even get it hard, you’re going to miss your first chance to get laid in six months.”
You’re hugging him now by the neck, pressing your bare tits to his face as you scratch his head with a fake pout. He audibly groans and rolls his eyes, grabbing you by the waist and trying to peel you off him.
“Shut the fuck up,” he groans, turning his head away from your boobs even though he’s clearly fighting the urge to stare. He pushes at your hips, but not hard enough to actually move you. “You’re the worst. This is your fault for dragging me to that last round of shots.”
You laugh right in his ear, loud and obnoxious and wiggle your hips against his soft cock just to be extra annoying. “Buddy, you’re the one who kept buying them. Now look at you, all limp and useless. It’s so tragic, do you think it will ever work again?”
Roy makes this frustrated noise in the back of his throat and finally shoves you off his lap, but you just tumble onto the couch next to him, still cracking up. He sits there with his pants open, dick just chilling soft in his boxers and runs a hand through his messy hair. “You’re being unnecessarily mean. I hate you.”
“No you don’t,” you sing-song, poking his side. “You love me. That’s why you’re here trying to fuck me and failing so hard. Come on, big guy, maybe if I call you a pathetic little bitch it’ll wake him up?” You reach over and give his soft dick a couple lazy taps with your fingers
He swats your hand away instantly, cheeks burning even redder. “Don’t touch it if you’re just gonna bully it! Jesus Christ.” But he’s laughing too now. “
You grin as you crawl back into his space and straddle one of his thighs instead. You grind down slowly against the firm muscle there, letting out an exaggerated moan just to mess with him. “Mmm, at least your leg still works. Guess I’ll just ride your thigh while your dick takes a nap. Poor thing must be exhausted from all that... not performing.”
Roy rolls his eyes so hard you think they might get stuck. “You’re such a brat. I should kick your ass out of your own apartment.” He grabs your hips again, guiding you to rock against him a little harder, even while he’s muttering, “This is so fucking stupid. I’m never drinking with you again.”
“Yeah right,” you tease, leaning in to bite his neck. “You’d miss me too much, it’s not like we have any more friends.”
He groans again, turned on by how ridiculous it all is and pulls you in for another sloppy kiss just to shut you up. But you can feel him smiling against your mouth, already plotting how he’s gonna get you back once the alcohol wears off.
a/n: type shit your unemployed friends are doing on a tuesday night
