honestly? he should be the last person having these thoughts, especially the hardships he struggled with when raising lian as a single, struggling father while getting rid of crime at night. not an easy feat by the way.
but the way you always played with lian, kept her company when he was gone, always making each other giggle and snort till your stomachs hurt. the quality time you shared with her always made roy’s eyes soften with a fond look and a smile from the sight— his two girls, together and having fun
but it was also the way roy kept imagining your belly round and breasts full with milk, how your face would bright up with that pregnancy glow, how there would be a mini you running around with lian, how it wouldn’t just be his child— but yours too
that explains the mean mating press he’s folded your body into, back permanent with that divine arch of yours and legs pushed all the way back as he slammed his cock deep into your cervix with one thing on his mind— to get you pregnant
“god, baby can you imagine?” roy panted in between thrusts, his hands on your waist pressing two thumbs on top of the faint yet noticeable bulge in your stomach “your belly, round with my cum”
his hands both moved up to your boobs, the snaps of his hips more than enough to keep your thighs still spread. “these pretty girls, filled and leaking with milk”
you let out a choked moan when he squeezed and fondled your boobs, clamping his cock as a response for only a second. but it was enough for roy to let out a small hiss. “fuck— and those nipples, so sensitive and hard” just the talk of you being pregnant made his cock harden again in your warm pussy
he brushed his thumb on your nipples, making a soft moan leave your lips and arching your back to press your boobs more into his large palms. and the newfound angle made you feel the tip of his cock hit all the right places, only adding more to the buzz and sensation
it wasn’t until roy took one hand to cup your face and lock your lips with his in a desperate, messy kiss, saliva seeping from both of your mouths
“let me cum in you, babe. please—oh god, please”
“wanna make you a mommy so bad and wanna give lian a sibli— fuuuuck, that’s it beautiful. squeeze me out just like that”
“can’t wait. fuckfuckfuck, i can’t wait”
poor man was already looking forward to see two lines form on a pregnancy test
—————————————————————————
masterlist!
(a/n: TYYY NEIL FOR PROOFREADING!!! <33 also help i wrote this in like 20 minutes in the middle of the night so i can get more confident writing roy)
roy harper asking for free access to your pussy. (+18) ˚.✦
"Don't look at me like that, I had to gather a lot of confidence to do this," Roy muttered between his teeth, sinking his head in the curve of your neck.
"You just asked me to have access to my pussy anytime you want, lemme at least kink shame you a little," you laughed, threading your hand in his hair, scratching the spot that makes him purr.
"But not in the way you think!" Roy insisted. "Let me finish, babe. Please."
You tilt your head just enough to catch the edge of his flushed ear between your teeth,, the kind of nip that makes his whole spine stiffen before he melts again.
“Mm. Go on then,” you murmur against his skin, voice low and syrup-slow. “Finish explaining how you’re a desperate slut for cunt. I’m listening.”
Roy exhales hard through his nose, like the words are physically painful to organize. His arms tighten around your waist, keeping you pinned exactly where he wants you: straddling his lap, chest to chest, nowhere for either of you to hide.
“It’s not—fuck, it’s not about getting my dick wet,” he starts again, quieter this time, almost reverent. “I mean yeah, obviously I’d fuck you into next week if you let me, but that’s not… that’s not the point right now.”
He pulls back just enough to look at you eyes like he’s already halfway gone on the smell of your skin alone.
“I think about your pussy when I’m brushing my teeth. When I’m stuck in traffic. When I’m trying to fall asleep and you’re not next to me. Not even in a horny way half the time. Just… I miss how you taste. How you smell when you’re warm and relaxed and a little sweaty. Like I could bury my face there for an hour and still not get enough. Like it’s the only place I ever feel completely fucking calm.”
You let your nails drag lightly down the back of his neck, watching goosebumps ripple across his shoulders.
“So you’re saying,” you drawl, letting the words stretch, “you want blanket permission to drop to your knees and worship me like I’m your personal religion… whenever the urge hits.”
His throat bobs. “Yeah.”
“And you’re promising it’s not code for ‘I want to use you as a cum-dump twenty-four-seven’.”
“Jesus, no.” He actually sounds offended on your behalf. “I don’t want to use you. I want to… tend to you. Breathe you. Taste how wet you get just because I’m there. Feel you get slick and swollen under my tongue until you’re shaking and pulling my hair and cursing me out in that pretty voice you use when you’re trying not to come yet.”
You roll your hips once—slow, barely there—just enough to remind him how close he already is to exactly what he’s begging for.
He groans low, forehead dropping to your collarbone like he’s praying.
“You’re evil,” he mutters.
“I’m evil?” You laugh softly, tugging his head back by the hair so he has to meet your eyes again. “You’re the one asking for a lifetime all-access pass to my cunt like it’s a gym membership. I’m just making sure the terms are clear.”
Roy’s mouth twitches.
“Terms are whatever you say they are,” he says, voice rough. “I just… I need you to know it’s not casual. It’s not ‘I’m horny so open your legs’. It’s...” He searches for the word, cheeks going darker. “It’s devotion. Okay? I’m fucking devoted to the way you taste. To the way you smell when you’ve been walking around all day in those little lace things you think I don’t notice. To the way you drip down my chin and still let me keep going until my jaw hurts. That’s what I’m asking for. Not a quick fuck. Not even just sex. Just… you. On my tongue. Whenever I’m lucky enough that you say yes.”
You study him for a long beat: his wrecked expression, the way his pupils are blown, the faint tremor in his fingers where they grip your thighs.
Then you lean in, lips brushing the shell of his ear.
“Say please again,” you whisper.
His breath catches.
“Please,” he rasps, dragging the word out like it costs him something precious. “Please, baby… let me taste you. Let me live between your thighs whenever you’ll have me. I’ll beg nicer if that’s what you want. I’ll beg ugly. Just don’t make me stop wanting it.”
You smile against his jaw.
“Good boy,” you murmur.
Then you slide your hand down, cupping him through his sweats feeling how hard he is, how he twitches at the lightest pressure and you finally give him the permission he’s been dying for.
“Take what you’re obsessed with, then. But you’re gonna make me come at least twice before you even think about coming yourself.”
Roy’s eyes flutter shut like you just handed him salvation.
“Deal,” he breathes.
And then he’s already sliding down, reverent, starving, like a man finally allowed to kneel at the altar he’s been praying to for months.
Summary: In a kingdom where alliances mean everything, the king makes a calculated decision when a feared foreign realm demands a royal marriage—he offers his second son, Prince Roy, the overlooked spare, instead of his heir. You arrive from a mysterious land whispered about in fear and curiosity, a bride meant to secure peace but never truly welcomed, expected to be nothing more than a political solution. Roy has spent his life in the shadow of his brother, dismissed and underestimated, chosen only because he is the “safe” option. But neither of you are as insignificant as the court believes. Bound by a marriage neither of you chose and surrounded by people waiting for it to fail, the arrangement slowly shifts into something far more dangerous—understanding, trust, and a connection that was never supposed to happen, until two overlooked royals begin to realize they might be the ones who change everything.
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: The Prince They Sent Away (𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭)
The training yard smelled of wet earth, horse sweat, and cold steel.
Dawn had barely broken over Morvale, but the grounds were already alive with the rhythmic clash of blades and the shouts of sergeants drilling their men. Roy stood at the far end of the archery range, boots sunk slightly into the mud, breath fogging in the crisp air. He drew, held, and released. The arrow flew true and buried itself in the center of the distant target with a solid thunk.
He nocked another without thinking. His body knew the motion better than most men knew their own names.
Around him, soldiers moved with easy familiarity. A stable boy named Tomas grinned as he led a horse past. “Morning, Your Highness. Still out here punishing those targets?”
“Someone has to,” Roy replied, lips quirking. “The crown prince’s too busy looking regal to actually hit anything.”
A few nearby guards chuckled. They liked Roy. He spoke to them like people, not furniture. He remembered their names, asked after their families, and never once made them feel small for being common-born. In the palace proper, that kind of decency was rare.
Another arrow. Another perfect center shot.
“Oi, Prince Roy!” called Sir Garrick, a broad-shouldered knight with a scar across his cheek. He leaned on the fence, grinning. “Heard your bride’s arriving soon. Nervous?”
Roy lowered his bow and wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm. “Nervous? I always dreamed my future wife would arrive through political coercion. Very romantic. I’m considering writing a ballad.”
The soldiers roared with laughter. Roy flashed them a crooked smile, the kind that came easy and meant little. It was safer this way—keep them laughing, keep the disappointment hidden behind the joke. No one looked too closely when you made them chuckle.
But the laugh died a little too quickly this time. Garrick clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll be alright, lad. Better you than the rest of us stuck dealing with… whatever she is.”
Roy’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Back inside the palace, the difference was immediate.
Servants and courtiers parted like water around the Crown Prince whenever he passed, voices hushed with reverence. Advisors clustered around the first spare, feeding him information and seeking favor. Roy moved through the same halls like a ghost in plain sight—acknowledged, even liked by some, but rarely needed.
He wasn’t hated. He was simply… secondary.
That stung worse.
He found his eldest brother, Crown Prince Edric, in one of the upper galleries overlooking the inner courtyard. Edric stood straight-backed, arms crossed, studying a map a servant held for him. The future king.
“Brother,” Roy greeted quietly.
Edric glanced over, nodding once. Respectful. Distant. “Roy. Training again?”
“Always.” Roy paused, then added with forced lightness, “Figured I should stay sharp. Might need to defend myself once my charming Velmoran wife arrives.”
Edric’s expression tightened, but only slightly. “It’s necessary. Father made the right choice.”
Roy studied him for a moment. Edric wasn’t cruel. He simply carried the weight of the crown so completely that there was little room left for anything else. Roy wondered sometimes if his brother even remembered what it felt like to want something for himself.
He left it there. There was no point pushing.
————
The real wound came later, when he crossed paths with his other brother, Prince Kael—the actual spare.
They met in a quiet corridor lined with tapestries. Kael looked tired, shadows under his eyes.
Roy spoke before the silence could settle. “I thought this sort of thing was supposed to be your duty. Political marriages. The spare’s burden.”
Kael flinched, just barely. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought so too. Father… changed his mind. Said the Velmorans wanted someone less… central.”
Less central. The words landed like a quiet blade between the ribs.
Roy forced a short laugh. “Right. Of course.”
Kael opened his mouth, then closed it. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t make it worse. They both knew the truth: Roy had never been in the running for anything important. Until suddenly he was. And only because he was the one they could afford to lose.
————
Later that afternoon, a summons came.
Roy entered the king’s private solar expecting another lecture on duty. Instead, he found his father seated behind a heavy oak desk, two scribes quietly rolling up documents.
“Sit,” King Aldric said without looking up.
Roy sat.
“Once the princess arrives and the marriage is sealed,” the king continued, voice matter-of-fact, “you will take up residence at Blackthorn Estate. It has been prepared. It’s a fine property—spacious, well-guarded, with excellent hunting grounds. Near the western forests. The Velmorans prefer more… secluded surroundings. It will suit you both.”
Roy went very still.
Blackthorn Estate. On the outskirts. Far from the capital. Far from the palace. Far from any real power or influence.
This wasn’t just a marriage.
They were moving him aside. Removing him. Containing the foreign princess and the expendable son in one neat, beautiful package.
He stared at the grain of the desk for a long moment, then spoke, voice dry as autumn leaves. “So generous of you not to exile me entirely.”
The king paused. Even he seemed to feel the quiet weight of that one.
“It is practical, Roy. For the alliance. For the kingdom.”
Roy rose slowly. “Of course. Practical.”
He left without being dismissed.
————
By evening, the news had spread through Morvale like wildfire.
Illustrated broadsheets and painted notices were posted on tavern boards, market stalls, and city gates. Roy pulled one down in a quieter corner of the lower town, where no one immediately recognized him in his plain cloak.
The likeness of the Velmoran princess stared back at him.
She was striking in a way that felt almost unnatural—sharp, elegant features, long dark hair cascading over shoulders draped in silks of deep emerald and silver. Her eyes were intense, watchful. The artist had captured the slight point of her ears peeking through her hair, but something in the portrait still felt incomplete. As if no human hand could fully render what she truly was.
People gathered nearby, murmuring.
“She’s beautiful,” a woman whispered. “Like something out of the old stories.”
“Aye,” her companion replied, voice lower. “But look at those eyes. And the ears… She doesn’t look fully human.”
A child pointed openly. “Is she a forest spirit, Mama?”
“Hush,” the mother said, pulling him away. But her own gaze lingered, uneasy.
An older merchant spat on the ground. “That thing will live among us now? Sleeping in our prince’s bed?”
Roy rolled the broadsheet carefully and tucked it under his arm. He walked back toward the palace in silence.
————
That night, the palace was quiet.
Roy sat alone in his chambers, fire crackling low in the hearth. The only light came from the flames and a single candle. He unrolled the broadsheet across the table and studied the painted face again.
At first, his gaze was detached. Just politics. Just another move on the board.
But the longer he looked, the more he saw.
The expression in her eyes wasn’t cold. It was guarded. Careful. The look of someone who had already accepted that her life was no longer her own.
Roy leaned back, staring into the fire.
For the first time since hearing of the marriage, the weight in his chest shifted. He stopped thinking only about what he was losing—the place in his family, the future he’d quietly hoped might still be his.
He wondered, instead, what was being taken from her.
She looked less like a future princess…
and more like someone else being sent somewhere she did not wish to go.
— you might not forgive him for that (spoiler alert: of course you will!)
summary : your boyfriend's always loved to tease.
note : maaaan i am SO sorry for being so inactive, i always go through phases of like physically being incapable of writing anything, but i've been reading a lot of fics and getting slightly back into writing, so here we are !!! thank you everybody for your patience
note 2 : i tried something a lillll bit different with this so i hope you guys like it, it felt like it fit roy as a person 💀
requested !
waking up in roy's bed was always a bliss, fluttering your eyes open to the sun splintering in through the gap in his old curtains, his grey sheets half-on, half-off.
you rolled around, stare grazing over the posters plastered to his walls — rock and metal bands cheering you two on whenever... nevermind. then it landed on the slightly snoring, tattooed frame of the owner of said room.
you were met with his broad back, freckled shoulders winking over at you, the reptiles snaking around his biceps just barely peeking out at the top of his delts. along one of his shoulder blades sat the intricate black line art of a sparrow, your initials dotted in a swooping font just below its beak.
the duvet rustled low on his hips, the waistband of his underwear just barely visible.
a sleepy chuckle brushed past your lips, and your own hand came into view, reaching out lazily to roy's hips. your middle and index fingers hooked under the band, and pulled back slightly, snapping quietly and softly against his pale, freckled flesh.
before you, the frame of your boyfriend jerked slightly, and you knew by the soft groan that you'd just woken him.
"wakey, wakey," you murmured, edge of your lips curling up as you watched roy slowly stir awake, his muscular arms curling beneath him as he turned onto his stomach.
face buried in his pillow, his groans muffled by the soft mound, roy blindly reached an arm out towards you, hand groping on the mattress until his fingers brushed against the fabric of your t-shirt — his t-shirt.
his fingers balled around the fabric on your upper arm, and a brilliant green eye peered out from behind a mop of red and against a mound of grey.
"morning," you sung quietly, unable to contain a smile, despite yourself. in return, a muffled chuckle came from the man beside you.
he lifted his head ever so, revealing more of his face, sleep-brimmed eyes, though lips curled up at the edges. the grip of his fingers softened, and he trailed his calloused fingers carefully up your neck, a ghost, and along the curve of your jaw.
smile only widening, your hand took hold of his, grasping the soft skin of his dorsal, which contrasted to the rough, working skin of his palm. tracing down his forearm, you leaned over towards him, eyes fluttering closed.
in an instant, your lips met in a soft embrace. a morning. a good morning. shared between the two of you.
as you were about to pull away, roy's hand moved to cup your jaw, a finger brushing against the lobe of your ear. he moved forward, edging up from the mattress and pushing you back down into it, his lips stark against yours.
he was stupid enough to hum against you, shooting electricity through your veins, one of your hands coming up to grip the outgrown fluff of red, tugging on the strands, which only caused him to groan again.
roy pulled away for just a moment, breath hot against your lips.
he was gone for just a moment too long.
your arm hooked around the back of his neck, urging him closer, missing, needing him on you again; lips moving together, hands everywhere and anywhere, a leg, a knee between yours. but he didn't come back.
with a flutter of lashes, your eyes crept open.
hovering above you, roy harper, there in all his morning glory, with that stupid smirk of his.
maybe he was just... enjoying the view?
corners of your mouth curling, your eyes closed again, and you pulled him closer.
but he never met you halfway.
a dry chuckle sounded near your ear, heat fanning over your flesh. the warmth spreading through your jaw dissipated, and your arm moved, the one thing it lay against disappearing entirely, and it fell back onto your clothed belly.
the shadow of the frame above you was no longer there.
elsewhere in the room, drawers were opening and shutting, movement creaking the floorboards.
"hey!" you groaned, eyes opening once again. tugging a grey t-shirt over his delicious skin, delicious tattoos, roy stood at the foot of the bed, which was coincidentally not by your side.
but he only laughed, bending down to retrieve the jeans he'd shed the night before and pulling them on. "i gotta go," he explained, the unbuckled belt still in the jean's loops jingling.
"yeah, but—" you hurried to the foot of the bed, on your knees, peering up at him in a way that may lure him back to bed, even in his clothes. "you can't start what you can't finish."
"oh, bird..." he sighed, corner of his mouth curling affectionately, his gaze softening as he stepped toward you, belt now buckled. he extended a hand, brushing it carefully over your bed hair, leaning into you, those lips coming into view once again.
"watch me."
and he was gone again, keys tinkling together as he pulled them from the set of drawers, rounding the room for a flannel and a jacket, which he slung over his shoulder.
god forbid a guy goes to work, and god forbid he leaves his partner wanting more.
This is a follow up post to another one of mine talking about Jason having a son. So, imagine in the future when his son grows up and he ends up dating Lian (Roy's daughter), what do you think both of their reactions will be? I feel like Roy would definitely play the role of an overprotective dad, but he knows Jason's son wouldn't hurt Lian, and I don't know exactly how Jason would react, but it would take his some time to get used to the idea that his son and Roy's daughter is dating and could potentially get married in the future.
I just love the idea of this and how Jason's son and Lian would have to navigate dating with their fathers around.
roy told himself it was temporary. it was just until he found someone more “responsible.” but if he was being honest? the house felt lighter with you in it, louder in all the right ways… and somehow, you never left.
NANNY!READER is a whirlwind in designer heels. she’s used to a life of glitter and indulgence, but somehow still manages to show up exactly when she’s needed most. calls everyone “darling” like it’s second nature. she’s never on time, always overdressed, and somehow still the most captivating person in the room. kids adore her instantly. she treats them like tiny adults with big feelings. but roy harper? yeah… he doesn’t quite know what to do with her at first.
NANNY!READER who is all impulse and heart. she spends money like it grows back overnight, cries over cartoons, and turns everyday moments into something magical. she’s a little lost, a little reckless. but there’s something deeply genuine about her. hates being underestimated, even if she plays into it. roy sees through the glitter and finds something softer underneath… something worth protecting (even if she insists she doesn’t need it).
NANNY!READER who talks too much, laughs too loud, and feels everything ten times stronger than everyone else. she dances around the house with the kids, turns chores into games, and leaves a trail of magic wherever she goes. she’s not practical, not even a little, but she’s trying. roy grounds her in ways she didn’t expect, and she reminds him how to feel again. they clash, constantly. but it’s the kind of clash that lingers. the kind that turns into something neither of them saw coming.
