#royd dispatch game

★ You have ritualistic market visits. Roy insists on going every Saturday, your hand tucked in his much larger one, that tattoo on full display. He knows all the vendors by name. Buys you fresh flowers weekly. “Orchids today? Or you like da plumeria?” And he carries everything, won’t let you touch a single bag.

★ When he passes you in the kitchen, the hallway, anywhere really—his hand finds your head automatically. Sometimes it’s a kiss pressed to your crown, sometimes just his palm resting there for a heartbeat. Grounding himself. Reminding himself you’re real.

★ You’ll find him at 2 am, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back, fixing some gadget with a focus that’s almost reverent. When you pad in sleepy eyed, he pulls you into his lap without looking away from his work. Keeps one arm locked around your waist. “Go back sleep if you like,” he murmurs. “I gotchu.”

★ This man’s camera roll is seventy percent you. Candid shots mostly, you reading, laughing, sleeping in his shirt. When caught, he’s unapologetic. “What? You pretty. I like lookin’ at pretty things.”

★ He’s so fun and whimsy with you. First time thunder rolled through, he built you a blanket fort without being asked. Fairy lights he’d been “meaning to install” suddenly appeared. He crawled in beside you, this giant man folding himself small, and distracted you from the hectic storm outside with banter and stories from his past.

★ You get a monthly allowance. And it’s fatttt. He insists even if you make your own money. And still insists on buying you things, having you save your money for you. He’ll pay for your nails. (If that’s what you like.) Take you out to expensive restaurants and eat with amazing views. If you wanna have a fun night and go clubbing he’s basically your personal body guard. He’s great at extravagant. It’s easy. But he’s also sentimental.

★ He’ll buy the book you mentioned once. The specific tea or coffee you like but can’t always find. A weighted blanket because he noticed you sleep better when he’s holding you. (It’s especially nice when he’s out working.)

★ When you talk, everything stops. Phone down. Tools down. Eyes fixed on you like you’re reciting scripture. And he remembers everything—your best friends promotion, that song you hummed Tuesday, the outfit you glanced at while out. All the small things really matter.

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NSFW

★ Those huge, rough hands that can manipulate the smallest wires, the most delicate circuits? They know exactly how much pressure, where to press, when to be gentle and when to grip hard enough to leave memory shaped shadows on your hips. “Tell me if too much, yeah?” Even when you both know you’ll never say stop.

★ His accent deffo gets thicker. Especially when he’s inside you, words spilling against your throat. “So good fo’ me—das it, das my baby—”

★ Roy doesn’t just compliment, he worships aloud. A running commentary of “Look how perfect you stay,” “You know how beautiful? Nah, you don’t even know,” “Gonna take care of you so good, baby, I promise—” until you’re dizzy with it.

★ Cockwarming. Elaboration? Sometimes after, he just… stays. Keeps you connected, pulls you onto his chest, idly plays with your hair. “Not lettin’ go yet.” Like the separation physically hurts. And when you clench around him—involuntary, aftershocks—his breath hitches, “Shoots, baby, tryin’ kill me?”

★ He’s strong as fuck. He knows this. And enjoys it. There’s something about being able to maneuver you exactly where he wants you that makes him almost feral.

★ Lifting you against walls or holding you suspended, one arm banded across your waist, back against his chest while he shoves his free hand down your pants, thick fingers fucking into you. “So light, baby, like nothing. Can do this all night, yeah? You like?”

★ He joins you in the shower “just to help.” Runs soap slick hands over every inch of you. Presses you against cool tile, water pourinh over both of you. “Gotta make sure you all nice and clean” You’re the cleanest person alive by the time he’s done.

★ One time, he took you down to the shore after dark. Blanket. Stars. His hands under your shirt while waves crashed nearby. “Nobody around but us, baby.” The ocean was loud enough to swallow your sounds. He took full advantage.

★ Roy leaves marks. Thoughtful about placement, where only he’ll see them, where they’ll peek out just enough to remind you. Sucks bruises into your inner thighs with the same focused patience he uses on his tech. “Jus’ one more, promise.” (It’s never just one more.)

★ Aftercare Isn’t Optional. The man who takes you apart so thoroughly is meticulous about putting you back together. Always. Warm cloth, cold water, gentle hands checking in.

★ “You good? Need anything? Tell me true now.” Wraps you in his arms like a shield after, nose buried in your hair, “Did so good fo’ me. Always so good.”