#roy mustang fanfic

[lessonsfrommadamexmas]

Hello, my Tumblr people. It's been a really, really, reaaallyy long time. But I came to finish what I started when I created this account. It's never too late for a final chapter, I guess. My biggest thank you to everyone who followed this little story. I know I disappeared completely but this place was very special to me and maybe I'll be using it again sometimes.

[theblueeyedfirebender]

The roaring in her head has gone quiet.

- The Counteroffer

Art by the incredible @kangdae95draws. I have been wholly blessed by this wonderful, talented artist, who took such great care to bring this scene to life exactly how I envisioned it.

[tries not to cry]

[cries a lot]

[xxsycamore]

OFFICE ACTIVITIES

╰┈➤ ❝ That's why I can't go on with my day before I do this to you. I need to see you squirt on my fingers, and I need it now. ❞

Roy Mustang x f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Office Sex; Secret Workplace Relationship; Semi-Public Sex; risky sex; Desk Sex; Sexual Fantasy; Dirty Talk; a lot of dirty talk; Teasing; Kink Negotiation; Glove Kink; ROY'S GLOVES; you know where they're going; Hand & Finger Kink; Finger Sucking; mouth fucking (w fingers); Begging; Praise Kink; Pet Names; Roy is both rough and very loving; Female Ejaculation; Squirting; and i mean SQUIRTING; squirting is the main focus of this fic; Vaginal Fingering; Multiple Orgasms; Overstimulation; Masturbation; Vaginal Sex; Creampie; Kissing; Neck Kissing; Aftercare; Some Humor; Light Dom/sub; Dominant Roy; Dacryphilia • wordcount: 5,211 • masterlist

"Colonel, you wanted to see me—"

"Lock the door."

Blinking, you look at Roy's silhouette where he remains with his back to you in his chair, facing the windows of the sunlit office. You do a small bow while complying like a good subordinate, even when he won't see it, and lock the door from the inside. Still, you can't help but let out a small sigh. The pile of paperwork on his desk is bigger than what you saw this morning, when you expected to find it at least halved by now. But alas. And while everyone is away taking care of their own duties, you have the office to yourselves today, so locking the door is hardly necessary…

"With all due respect Colonel, you really, really don't have to hide the fact that I'm helping you with paperwork. I'm sure everyone knows by now."

Roy spins in his chair bossily, raising a hand to signal he doesn't want to hear more. "I'm not going to ask you to do that."

"No, seriously, it's okay, I-"

"Come here."

You do as told, ready to take the load he'll hand you from another pile, or something else to be taken care of in his stead, anything, really. He's in the habit of procrastinating often, you know your Colonel well. There is something almost endearing about it, when he doesn't realize how bad he is at masking it.

He's gesturing you to stand not in front of his desk but rather to join his side, and you do, finding yourself close enough to notice even how the irritation colors his gaze to make it fiercer. Once you're where he summoned you, Roy removes the folder he was holding in his lap and throws it on the desk.

This tricks you into thinking that the folder is the object of importance in this exchange. When your eyes shift to those of the Colonel for further cues as to what is wanted of you, your attention is inevitably stolen.

Roy's blue uniform trousers are tented with an obvious erection.

Face heating up, you quickly close your slightly agape mouth and try to look anywhere else, and disastrously you meet his gaze. Judging by the way he does nothing to hide the fact that he has a noticeable hard-on, or by the way he looks you right in the eye, you have the feeling that you'll get to live another day. Then he speaks again.

"I can't work like that."

His tone is stern, not even a whisper; something akin to one of his less-straightforward orders that would see him click his tongue when failed to comprehend by the other party.

And you don't want to disappoint.

"I understand. You can't work like that indeed, Colonel…"

And you do understand. If he went this far, then that's all you need to understand that you're allowed to lower your guard now.

It's all so natural with you when Roy beckons you into his lap, and you don't lose time maneuvering yourself because you've claimed this seat dozens of times already; your Colonel has a high sex drive. Despite being lovers after work hours, he still needs you during the day, when you're stuck playing this game of pretend. Or maybe that part is exactly what entices him?

Claiming his lips for an impatient kiss, you can't help the small grunt that escapes your throat as soon as Roy's hands begin roaming and foundling about your chest.

The worst part, you never get used to this.

With color on your cheeks, you try your hardest not to hump his leg and miss entirely the point of your being summoned here. You place another chaste kiss on his lips, boldly taking the decision of when enough is enough as you nudge things forward. Undoing the first button of his uniform, you make place for your lips to touch the heated skin underneath. To feel his hot pulse under your tongue as you place kitten licks there.

Roy's curiosity leaves him enjoying the show as you find your footing again, removing yourself from his lap and instead sinking to your knees with a thud. Your hands make their way downward on his torso and then fall on his thighs, his clothed arousal right in front of you.

"You should've told me sooner, Colonel… I could sneak under your desk, I could even stay there while you attempt to take care of those documents… With the way I'm hidden, surely the door doesn't even need to be locked."

You time your suggestion with palming the tent of his trousers, eager to feel how your words get to his head. But he only smirks.

"As much as I feel compelled, no."

It leaves you confused as you stand between Roy's legs. It's rare for him to refuse a blowjob, the balance of powers in this game of teasing is once again off in favor of his striking dominance.

"On the desk. Now."

Pulse quickening, you find your head clouded when you rise to your feet again. Roy all but backs you onto the desk with his body, your legs parting to make space for him in between.

His backlit frame only highlights the darkness of his eyes as he has you cornered; you prop yourself up on your elbows and wait for something, anything.

"You know, you're the reason I can't do my work right now. I've been thinking about you again. About fingering you."

Fuck. This close up, you're sure he can observe even the tiniest of bodily reactions he rips out of you with words alone. The slight twitching of your leg, the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you realize you're at fault for his hard-on. The expectation in your wide eyes that are pleading him to share the images birthed by his brilliant mind that led to this.

"That's why I can't go on with my day before I do this to you. I need to see you squirt on my fingers, and I need it now."

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you swear you can feel the blood pumping in your veins turn to liquid fire as you burn from the inside. Something deep in your belly awakens, steals your resolve and fills your mind with cries of hunger.

Roy wants to make you squirt; to send your body into tremors overpowering your very control of it until you're helpless and making a mess of his hand, of possibly everything - the thought is almost scary, for reasons unknown to you, and you shiver. The signals your brain unwittingly sends south make you feel a certain pressure rooted deep within your core - as if, almost by his spoken command alone, your body can obey and leak arousal through the layers of clothing that you want gone now.

And so you begin to undress, making him chuckle with your impatience. He meets your hands halfway and easily takes over with his much steadier ones, unshaken by building lust unlike you - even if his firm erection which is now pressing against your thigh says otherwise.

He mutters something about how much easier this process would be if you were wearing a miniskirt right now and not those troublesome uniform pants - and the distraction returns some blood to your head as you exaggerate a sigh followed by a tiny laughter. It makes the task of taking off your uniform jacket and unbuttoning your shirt easier.

Unlike the hushed pace of removing the article of clothing, Roy noticeably slows down while peeling the underwear off your lower half, enjoying how he renders you naked and completely on display before him. He pokes a firm index finger on your glistening folds to part them, and you can see his gaze clouding with desire as he inspects the wetness seeping from your core.

Before you can avert your eyes, he locks his with yours. The gentle caress of his warm palm on your belly right over your womb startles you.

"Do you think you can do this for me?"

The whine coming from deep in your throat surprises you, and you feel as if you can get off on this simple, chaste sensation alone. Your pussy throbs in neglect.

"Please."

Roy mocks you just a little bit with his laughter for receiving pleas in place of an answer. Even if it works just about alright with him.

Instead of feeling his fingertips returning to your folds, upon withdrawing, you hear a desk drawer opening. Willing your heart to take the chance and relax, your eyes follow Roy's ministrations as much as they can. He takes something from the drawer and - to your utter surprise, it's a new pair of white pyrotex gloves.

Your legs twitch in a manner of closing, instinctively, as you stare at Roy confused.

"Don't play coy now, I know you've always wanted this. You can't take your eyes off my hands when I'm wearing those."

You puffer your bottom lip, defeated. He's way too observant. Or you're way too horny when it comes to this, to him. Especially now that the only thing you can call the display of his fingers pushing their way inside to find their designated places, vain at the back of his hand protruding, ministrations rougher and rushed because he's not touch you right now, is simply pornographic. They look so good on him, stressing the deftness and length of his beautiful fingers, the flame alchemy transmutation circles at the back stark red to remind they're no ordinary gloves.

"But… isn't this…"

"Dangerous? You think I'd put you in danger?"

There's irony in that line when it comes out of the mouth of Roy Mustang putting on the gloves that give him the name of the Flame Alchemist, but you can will your brain into pushing through the surface to see the offering of trust here. Especially because he is so dangerous is that line so delightful, stroking the trust of your heart that would let him do everything, anything to you.

Combined with his touch returning to caress your skin, this time on the inside of your thigh, you genuinely relax - but only for a second, because you're now busy trying to commit to memory every second of feeling the texture of his gloves on your naked, sensitive skin.

"Besides… I thought you love to say that they're useless when wet."

. . . . .

"Pfft—"

"Are you laughing now?" Roy's eyebrow arches as he stares you down, one part genuine disappointment, one part overemphasis as he knows you'll only laugh harder at his reaction. And laughter is a good balm for relieving the nervousness that made your belly noticeably tense up and cave into itself.

His thoughtfulness goes mostly unnoticed as your laughter quickly morphs into another whine as Roy's glove-clad hand brushes against your arousal. The touch is feather-light, yet when looking down you can unmistakably see the glistening juices on the tip of his middle finger where he used it to swipe along the slit of your pussy.

"Have you fantasized about this before?"

Roy is awful for ending most of what he says with the curve of a question, giving tasks to your brain that are a little too hard to take on. He drives your mind to a place inside the darkest nooks and corners of your perverse imagination where you see yourself stealing his gloves to masturbate with. Or where he's letting out his frustrations on you, you being dragged in an ally just meters away from where some bastard managed to run away from him, tarnishing his plans. You love how he fights but manages to never get his hands dirty. Being dragged to these dangerous missions that give you the chance to see him in action never fails to mix pure, incontrollable desire with the adrenaline running through your veins.

"Yes…" You confess in a tiny voice, and Roy rewards you with another barely-there touch, even if it aims not to bring you pleasure but to simply coat his fingers in your juices and prepare them for penetration. Roy raises them up for you to see. You're already wetter than when you'd finish fingering yourself to the thought of him, and it makes your face red with embarrassment.

"How unfair. I remember being way more concrete when sharing what goes in my mind than you, just now. But I will allow it… you seem to have a hard time forming coherent words right now."

Your brain goes haywire with the rising expectation of feeling him either on your clit or inside you first - the seconds stretching out endlessly before he finally makes his attack, the tip of his middle finger rubbing the tense muscles of your entrance.

Roy is careful as he pushes his finger in, having a good idea about the impact of this long-awaited exploration of the material of the gloves in your most sensitive place.

You're erratic, body spasming to suck him in deeper and pelvic arching to scratch the itch you have deep inside. The fabric adds a delicious layer of thickness to his already girthy finger, but…

"Not- enough— More…!"

Roy clicks his tongue. "You're way too impatient. I'm already being so generous to you, pushing my fingers inside you to give you what you want. Perhaps you can learn from a little exercise before we continue."

Roy's finger exits your heat roughly, in vivid contrast to how he entered you, bringing forth more wetness that helplessly leaks on the office desk. You exhale heavily in defeat, pleading Roy with a wet gaze. He remains unwavering, like training a dog that refuses to obey, and raises his other, dry hand to your face with fingers stretched forward.

The little cute tilt of your head has him letting out a mocking sneaker, and he suppresses the need to scold you for needing verbal orders as well.

"Suck."

Following every little twitching of your pupils as your eyes get hazed with the desire to worship him, Roy is not sure if your mouth falls open to moan or to take him in first. Either way, his fingertips already register the softness of your lips, even through the texture of the glove.

You part your lips further with the intention to fit two of his fingers in your mouth, and Roy allows it. Your tongue explores them, tracing over the seam running down the sides, then the junction of his index and middle fingers. You suck there, barely remembering to look Roy in the eye like you wanted to instead of remaining with your eyes closed in bliss.

He looks… aroused. With how much composure he possesses, the thought of how, in turn, you might look right now scares you. But you can't do anything about it - this, too, is a major fantasy of yours. And it only gets better.

Withdrawing with a wet pop, next you hope to fit another finger in, if Roy is willing to bring them closer together, and he quickly gets the idea.

This is his left hand that he uses to do this to your mouth, and he is still so very skillful with it. He tricks you into thinking you could do whatever you want with his three fingers in your mouth, but as soon as you lower your guard, Roy shifts their position, grabbing your tongue.

Your eyes widen, pathetically trying to call out to him in the one moment your ability to speak is stolen. Roy enjoys the muffled sound that resembles his name and continues to hold out your tongue between his fingers, watching you begin to droll.

From there on it's easy for him to shift his fingers once more, placing them flat against your wet tongue before gathering them together again…and beginning to slide them on your tongue.

The place between your legs is burning, and it feels like torture when you already know what it feels like when he pleasures you. You'd much rather he didn't touch you there at all before this, inner walls contracting to chase after the faint memory of his single digit's shape where it was buried inside you.

Roy fucks your mouth with his gloved fingers, and you moan around them. It's a filthy display, with your cunt dripping on his desk, and he can't avert his gaze for a second.

"Enjoying yourself? Maybe I can keep doing this until you cum and we end things here?"

Alerted, you want to communicate your wish to go all the way with what he planned for you, and to speak you need to withdraw - but the second you lean back, Roy's hand pushes forward, following your movement without letting you escape.

Just before you can choke, Roy removes his fingers from your mouth, and you see how much they're covered in your saliva. The risk did things to you you're unwilling to admit.

"Okay, I get it. You need more."

Finally able to take mouthfuls of oxygen again, you feel silly for being so worked up and breathless from just this. But Roy likes what he sees, especially when you try to present your cunt better for him, spreading your legs further apart.

"You're absolutely leaking…"

"Colonel, Please…" You beg, attaching the honorific to your pleas because you know the effect it has on him. "Colonel Mustang, please fuck me with your fingers. Make me squirt."

He returns his right hand to the burning skin of the apex of your thighs, tracing along your outer lips with a small hum.

"Okay then. Let's make your cunt squirt for me."

You throw your head back a second too quickly, as the heavenly feeling of Roy entering you again domineers over the bits of decency left in you. His finger bottoms out in you, swirls around until his palm is facing downwards, and is taken out again - just for you to instead feel the tips of middle and ring fingers prodding your hole next, in the same position.

"Nghh—" You groan, remembering to breathe as Roy explores your tight insides. You begin to relax, and the movement of his fingers gradually becomes smoother. The wet sounds of his entry come to your ears every time he pushes out the way out and pushes in again, and they embarrass you a little.

After a good few strokes like this, Roy turns his hand around.

He keeps his fingers buried deep inside, unmoving save for his fingertips that begin to search around, prodding into your front wall, looking for that spongy part inside you that will make you see stars.

More heat rushes to your lower body and you let a particularly loud gasp when Roy finds it. He mutters a word of self-satisfaction and repeats the motion, hitting your G-spot.

The pleasure begins to build with a dangerous speed, and you barely contain your moans. There's still something missing, but if you receive it right now, it will be too much.

Roy knows your body and its limits well. He doesn't force the pleasure on you, and keeps a steady but slow pace. Monitoring your sweet sounds, he is careful as to when to move on to the next step.

"I'm going to touch you here next."

Narrating his ministrations, he manages to make you focus. You fix your position on the desk again, making sure to watch what he's doing.

Roy puts the thumb of his left hand flat on your clit. At first, the mere presence of it is enough to send sparks of stimulation deep inside you, creating a loop of pleasure with where his fingers are buried, but you get used to it quickly. Then, he begins to rub your aroused nub, and you go erratic once again.

"Ahh— Too much-"

"Shh, I got you." He gives you a break, simply resting his thumb there without caressing, while he focuses on thrusting his fingers in and out.

Your heavy breaths are entangling with needy moans as the pleasure builds, this damned feeling of not enough threatening to eat you up from the inside. Roy knows your body well in combination with masterfully reading your reactions, and generously gives you more when you ask for it. The balls of your feet press harder into the surface of the desk near the very edge of it, your torso lifting just a little bit, to chase after Roy's movements inside you. He lets you rock back into his fingers, more wetness coming out and lubricating his entry.

"I'm going to speed up now. Tell me if you need to stop."

You breathe heavily through your nose, nodding your head more times than he needs for confirmation, and it makes him chuckle. The corners of his lips don't stay curled for longer than a second because of his growing concentration.

The rubbing on your clit returns, and Roy's fingers don't slow down. Standing there with nowhere to escape but to receive his rough, filthy yet loving pleasuring, you grip the edge of the desk behind your back preparing yourself, as it builds up.

"Roy- it feels a bit strange—"

"In a good way? Like you wanna go?"

Your answer comes a bit late because your mouth is stuck falling open in the face of those unfamiliar sensations. You hurry to blurt it out before stops, god forbid.

"In a very good way…! Just please, don’t stop!"

Not needing to be told twice, Roy keeps the pace, firmly hitting that same spot inside you with his fingers while rubbing on your clit. He watches your body spasm as you let out a scream, and then it happens.

Liquid begins to stream out of you, coating Roy's fingers - a small flow at first, before you all but hear the sound of a squirt escaping you.

"Mmm…" Roy grunts at the sight and the feeling of you closing up from the inside on him, fingering you through it until your body begins twitching too much. Careful not to overstimulate you, he withdraws your fingers, causing a smaller squirt to flow out.

Breathing heavily with your mouth open, you close your legs a little bit now that Roy's hands aren't between them, and you look at the puddle next to them. When you return your gaze to Roy, he's looking straight at you, leaning in for a kiss.

He's definitely not kissing you enough during all of this, but you don't feel too cocky right now to complain about that. Not when his kiss feels so rewarding.

"My good girl. I knew you could do it. Did that feel good?"

Roy drinks down your small noises of lingering satisfaction, and you whisper a breathless 'yes' before kissing him yet again. It makes you a bit too distracted, and you almost jump at the feeling of his hands parting your legs again.

"Think you could do it again?"

You look at him in disbelief, but it might be directed at yourself and the ridiculously deepening arousal you feel more than anything, your core pulsing in anticipation, aching to feel Roy's fingers again.

He knows that look. Pecking your lips with his once again, he slips his fingers in.

"Put your hands around my neck."

Your heart leaps at the command and you shift your body, grabbing into him for purchase. Your ass is on the edge of the desk now, and you're holding Roy for dear life, his broad shoulders being your anchor.

"Will it be easier for you this time, hmm? You're nice and open for me."

"Roy… don't say things like that…"

"But it's true. I love knowing that I can make your body soft and pliant, letting me do such a naughty thing with it."

You groan and shove your head in the junction of his neck and shoulder, warming the skin with your breath.

"Don't hide. Come on, kiss me."

It's easier said than done, when the sensation of what is happening between your legs rules over every coherent part of your mind. Roy knows your kiss would be lacking and sloppy, and maybe that's exactly why he wants it.

His tongue shoves between your agape lips, dominating yet another part of you as he continues to finger you while avoiding the place that is swollen and needy for his touch, as if testing if you can start leaking juices again even without the stimulation.

The strange feeling builds again, and this time you're not afraid of it. You break the kiss to plead.

"Roy…Roy! Touch me more! Now!"

Hearing the low rumble laced with dark wanton deep in his throat, you roll your eyes to the back of your head as he begins stroking your clit again.

Your moans of his name grow from encouraging to warning, as you feel the water balloon deep in your core close to popping once again. And then it happens.

Large portions of liquid fall noisily to the floor, mixing up with the sound of water squirting out of your body. Tears form in the corners of your eyes as a purely physiological reaction, the pleasure playing a big part in it.

Roy's large palm is so warm as it moves up and down whole, unlike how he'd only move his fingers earlier, and you feel played like an instrument; like you're close to witnessing the true strength in him that you lustfully admire finally inflicted on your body - in the most perverse, but loving and safe kind of ways.

"Gods— I can't tear my eyes off of you. Look at you."

Planting his forehead against yours, your eyes trail from his beautiful lashes up close to the place he's admiring, and you have to fight a surge of embarrassment. This is what he made out of you, you're so very his in this moment.

"Roy…—Ahh-"

He speeds up again, not having left your core for a moment, and you feel yourself starting to do it all over again, even if it's more of a current flowing out of you instead of the earlier powerful jets. What builds up inside you is different this time, a feeling you know all too well, something that you were lingering along the surface of for the past few minutes but that was always pushed to the back of your nerves in the face of the new, unfamiliar sensations.

"Come for me. Come on my fingers."

Roy fingers you silly, your walls clamping down on him as he does it just the way you love, no tricks this time to conquer your body, he just gives it to you. And you take it oh so willingly and greedily.

It takes no time for you to reach the heavens, and you moan out his name once again, feeling the electricity of an orgasm surge through every nook and corner of your being, toes curling in pleasure.

Roy holds you through it, making sure you ride your high all the way. Towards the end of it, your leaking hole begins helplessly pushing out more liquid.

"Roy— Too much—Roy-"

"Fuck." He curses as he slowly withdraws his fingers, noticing how thickly they're covered in your warm juices all the way down his palm. He enters you with one finger to tease just a little, meeting no resistance. "Fuck." He repeats as he reaches down to palm his bulge. He moves to his belt and begins undoing it in a hurry.

Pulse beginning to drum in your ears, you continue holding onto his tall frame as your eyes widen. Just how worked up did that make him? You figure he must be painfully hard by now, watching you perform the one thing that would get him erect relying on fantasies alone.

Wrapping the hand dripping with your juices around his cock, he uses the slick to lubricate his pumps as he pleasures himself at the sight of you. It lights a new fire inside you and you can't help but watch; the reddened head of his cock, the vein running down his side protruding with the rush of blood, and his culmination dragging closer.

He lies you back down on the desk and you place your hands below your hips, opening up more for him, so Roy can get a nice view of your still swollen lips and pulsing hole. He moves in closer, bringing his strokes so close to your pussy that it makes you clench down so hard when he accidentally brushes the tip against your inner thigh.

"You're perfect. So perfect for me- Haah—"

You rarely hear him let out more than a grunt, a man in control of himself even in the face of consuming wanton. It's rewarding, knowing that it's you who turned him into that. There's nothing more that you want right now than to watch him spill all over your spent cunt, coating it with his warm cum.

Roy keeps stroking, and you wonder if he's fallen prey to the heightened stimulation of the gloves too, seeing that he didn’t bother to take them off even after making use of the juices coating them. It could be this that works him to orgasm so soon, or it could be everything else combined with it, but you soon hear the familiar sounds of him losing control.

In the next moment he erupts, hot-white pleasure reaching to his very gaze as you see him taking in the sight of you hungrily. Warm ropes of cum land on you one after another as Roy pumps his cock, the swollen tip kissing your sensitive folds.

He loses the inner fight and presses forwards, pushing the bulbous head of his cock inside you, moaning as another gush of semen leaves him and fills you with scorching warmth.

You mewl at the unexpected contact, shudders of pleasure rippling through your body as you continue to feel his cum even after he removes his cock from inside you. You feel it drip out thickly, mixing with the rest of the mess left by your passionate session.

"Kiss me, Roy!"

"So demanding…" Hurrying to comply with your weak, adorable command, Roy seals your lips with his before you can scold or bite him. With how good he seemed to be making you feel, he's not too worried about facing those protests, though.

You and Roy remain like that for awhile, catching your breaths but losing them right anew in passionate kisses, not breaking off the contact even as he tucks himself back in his trousers and readjusts his messed-up clothes, removing his gloves as well. He tells you to wait for him as he goes to take something to clean you off with, but you just cling harder to his frame.

"Stay a little longer…"

He exaggerates a sigh but still smiles stupidly against your nape.

The late morning sun has nothing on the warmth that comes from Roy's embrace, and you bask in it.

"You know…" He begins, playing idly with your hand with his now bare one, as if he had started missing the direct touch so soon. You hum in question, and he continues.

"I want to take care of those documents even less now."

"…ROY!"

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[barembridges]

are we even reading the same manga bc mustang does not look like a womanizer lol i know everyone says that he is flirty and a womanizer but unless that is shown on the 2003 anime... in the manga there is nothing like that

[seavegetableconspiracies]

what i love about royai is that during canon it's tragic and trauma-filled and a relationship very much illegal if it ever really became a thing, and post-canon it is still illegal but even if it were not, it would then also be nepotism and we open up an entire new can of worms

[roseofbattles]

“We have a joint operation up in Central next month, so that's something to look forward to I guess,” Riza says.

“Don't sound so excited,” Rebecca says, savoring a sip of coffee with a bite of dessert. “There's lots to like about Central – the food, at the very least. Even if you don't have time for shopping you have to eat. Don't let Mustang force you to eat at the cafeteria or get food from the commissary for every meal or I will personally kill him."

excerpt from An Argument for Therapy by more_than_melody

art preview by @littlewitchbee

this is part of a project I've been working on for @royaibigbang which will be posted Oct 3rd!

[manias-wordcount]

Roy Mustang with reader who struggles to accept love or affection in general? Like someone who may have got hurt in the past and now struggles to accept someone’s love even if they want it.

Thank you!

Beside Yourself (Roy Mustang x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆'𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗶 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗽𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗶𝗰! 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆!

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

You’ve been getting a lot of night shifts these past couple of months.

  It’s not every day, but it’s the same days. A neat little schedule at the very least. And for the most part, you don’t really mind. At some point, the hour turns and it’s only the quiet type that enter the library. The ones who know exactly which sections they’re going. The ones who don’t need your assistance. The ones who you only need to speak to just to let them know that it’s 10 minutes before lock-up. But lately…

  He’s been bringing you flowers at the end of your shift each day. Like clockwork. Never wrong. Never late. Never late. Like absolute clockwork.

  “Oh, um…T-thank you, Colonel Mustang,” You find yourself murmuring as always. Your eyes are downcasted as always as you accept them. Your fingers reaching out timidly, despite the sense of familiarity he now radiates. For a moment, your fingers tip brush against his, and still time you’re shivering and letting out a tiny gasp instead of pulling your hands away. The look on his face tells you it’s not intentional- because Colonel Mustang has been nothing but a complete gentleman towards you since the beginning- but you don’t miss how his smile turns just a little encouraging as you don’t immediately run away. “They’re…they’re very pretty.”

  “It’s Roy , sweetheart. You don’t need to use my rank with me. And of course,” He tells you gently, as if easing you into the compliment you know he was about to throw at you.  “I thought of you when I saw them. I figured the ones in your kitchen might be wilting by now with the cold coming in.”

You nod, heat rising to cheeks as you recall the moment you must have overshared to him while he was walking you to your apartment. You had a good day- you were excited. But you were also starting to talk too much. Share too much. Say things that you know people don’t really care to listen to. Including how the weather is making the African Daisies he brought you not too long ago die a little faster than anticipated.

  It should have felt good. It should have felt amazing . To be listened to. To have someone remember a spare detail you slipped out only a week prior. It does- it really, really does. But…

  You’re scared. 

  You just are. And no amount of flowers and walk homes is going to change that. Not for you, at least. Even if you so desperately want to. Even if you so desperately want it. Want him . But you’re scared. Just…way too scared.

  “Thank you…Mr. Roy,” You say again, trying your best to meet his eyes. But the look he gives you is a little too intense and almost too sweet for you to stand, so you advert your eyes very quickly once more and swallow down a nervous gulp. You don’t know what he sees in you. You really, really don’t. “We…we should get going. It’s…it’s getting rather late.”

“You already thanked me, sweetheart.” He reminds you with a chuckle, seeming very pleased that you used his first name like he had asked. It’s a chuckle that has your heart skipping a beat and your ears straining to hear one more time. And he’s nice about it- he always is. But instantly, you’re calling yourself names in your head and adjusting your grip on the long green flowers stems now safe in your hand, unbable to keep yourself still as the two of you start to walk down the street in the direction of your apartment. “But I’m always happy to hear when you enjoy my gifts.”

  You nod again, not trust your lips to form to the proper words and sounds in the proper order. 

  You’ve heard stories about him before you’ve officially met. The whole nation has, but you’ve heard stories about him- about the Flame Alchemist. And so you recognized him when he came into the library one night. You helped him find a couple of books and you told him that you had to lock up ten-minutes before closing. He made you so nervous. Knowing that a man with so much power and talent was sitting in a room with you and a lot of very flammable and very precious material was absolutely anxiety inducing. 

  But he waited for you outside the main door, and watched silently as you locked it behind you. He then asked if he could see again. And because you’re scared, but not too scared to know what it’s like to start to fall for a someone- you said yes.

  But then seeing you again turned into appearing at the end of your every night shift so he could walk you home. And that eventually turned into bringing your a couple of flowers wrapped up with a neat little ribbon every time he saw you. And now? He’s telling you to drop his rank and to call him by his first time. While occasionally slipping a hand around your waist when he wants to guide you somewhere he deems “ a bit safer for me to take you.”

  You coworkers took notice after a while. On the shift you weren’t alone, someone would always see him waiting just for you. Doting on you. Spoiling you. Some of them would gush and coo. Tell you. Others would tell you to be careful. That he’s a rabid flirt. That he’s a dangerous man. An uncaring one. Along with every insult under the sun.

But you’ve never seen it. He’s never showed it to you. Not once. Not even.

  Still, in your mind. You tell yourself that you have every right to be careful. That you have every right to scared. You’ve been hurt before. You’ve been burned before. You won’t let it happen again. You won’t. You won’t. You won’t. But…

  He falls in step with you tonight. He falls in step with you every night he walks you home. He peers at you light expression and he asks you about your day. And he pressesly gently when you’re slow to offer up anything that rubbed you the wrong way. He offers once again to look into the suspicious person who keeps showing up and leaving an hour before you close for the night. And he tells you that he doesn’t want you worrying your pretty little head about the news you hear regarding conflicts in other parts of the nation and in the back streets of Central.

  But he also asks if you still feel comfortable about the way he’s courting you. And he doesn’t say another word when you’re unable to hold his hand for very long due to all your fidgeting and the fear of sweaty palms driving him away. He just sees you to the front of your building and stands guard while you fish out your keys. He makes you promise that you’ll be careful on your walks to work. And that you’ll call him first if you ever need to get into contact with the State Military. 

  You just nod your head and fiddle with the flowers and keep your eyes on his polished uniform boots. He never once shows annoyance at your inability to speak to him normally. Never once falters with his little shows of affection. Never once treats you as anything less than a person worthy of all things soft and sweet. But you just can’t fully believe it. You just can’t fully believe that he isn’t here to one day leave you behind. To hurt you as you’ve been hurt before. To make you fall in love only to break your heart as it has been broken before. You just can’t fully believe it. You can’t fully believe him no matter how hard you try. No matter how hard you want to. You just can’t. You just can’t.

  “You have a good night, sweetheart.”

  Because you’re just not ready yet. You’re just not ready yet. But one day…

  “You too…Roy.”

  You hope to be.

[back-in-a-bit]

correct me if i'm wrong, but nowhere in fullmetal alchemist does it state that mustang is ed's commanding officer. sure, he recruited ed, but in chapter 4, after ed saves the train with general halcrow onboard, we see this:

(sorry for weird formatting or quality, i'm on mobile)

so this implies that ed usually moves about outside mustang's district. another translation translates this phrase as mustang's jurisdiction. and then again, immediately after:

which implies that ed doesn't report to mustang. mustang just keeps an ear out for whatever crazy new stunt ed pulls off. ed actually calls him nosy for knowing that much. also, we never see mustang give ed any orders or missions throughout the series. he even only introduces ed to shou tucker in exchange for ed taking care of the train rebels. and in chapter 8, when ed and al are about to return to resembool for repairs after the fight with scar, we even get this:

i'm fairly certain this is mustang's convoluted way of telling ed to take care (after all, scar is still on the loose), but the implication that ed isn't actually under mustang's jurisdiction is pretty clear.

[the-blue-eyed-firebender]

aesthetic for The Counteroffer

“Marry me, Riza Hawkeye.” Not an order. A question. A plea. “You have been my conscience, my eyes, and my longest friend. Be my First Lady. And when my term is up, just be my wife.”

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Please may I have a Fullmetal alchemist brotherhood scenario of when you (Maes Hughes sister *same age as Roy and she is Roy's wife and everything and she is currently pregnant with his son and she is a skilled sniper and yeah..she is the wife of a flame alchemist*) were insistent on Roy taking a break when the poor man was on the verge of collapse. You received a call from your worried brother when you were at the hospital having your pregnancy bump checked and you saw for yourself when Edward told you that Roy wasn't feeling all sunshine and rainbows..it was obvious that your poor husband had taken ill and you were absolutely stern when you told him to go home and sleep in a tone that meant "do it or else"..Roy was insistent when he said he was fine but he was not fine and it was clear to everyone else too..when they all told him to listen to his wife (you)..the Elric brothers had to help him home considering that you wouldn't be able to help him not in your condition. You called Roy a numpty for going to work despite he was ill today once he was in bed..

Hi! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took so long. I hope you like the scenario!

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist

Character: Roy Mustang x afab! pregnant! Hughes! Reader (the reader is referred to as Roy's wife but gender neutral pronouns are used otherwise)

Word Count: 1.0k (1,097 words)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Colonel Roy Mustang is overworking himself to the point of collapse, his coworkers have no choice but to call you, his wife, in for backup.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Uh huh. Yeah. No, I know what he’s like. Yep. I’ll be there soon, don’t let him out of your sight. Bye.”

With every word you spoke into the phone the nurse standing near you grew paler and backed away. You could only guess at the expression on your face.

That damned husband of yours.

“I’m sorry. I’ve got to go. Is that all we need to do for today or do I need to book another appointment?”

The nurse recovered from her stunned state and shook her head. “Everything’s okay. Both you and the baby are doing well. We’ll see you again next month for your next check up.”

You gathered your belongings and stood up from your chair. “Thank you. I’ll see you then.”

As you left the building all you could think about was the conversation you had just had over the phone.

It had been your brother, Maes. And of course, knowing your brother, you expected him to be calling just to rant about his lovely Elicia.

So when you had answered the phone, it had come as a surprise.

~

“Hey sis! How’d the appointment go? All good?”

You smiled tiredly. Your brother was always so energetic. “Yes, Maes, all good. But I’m still in the appointment so unless it’s urgent, I’ll have to go.”

“Well actually…” he paused, “it is a bit urgent.”

You frowned. That was a more serious tone than you’d heard your brother use in quite a while. Maybe this wasn’t your average “my beautiful Elicia counted to ten today, she’s so smart” call.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Roy. He’s overworking himself again.”

You sighed. “That’s my husband. I’m guessing he’s not listening to anyone there?”

“You know him. Figured it was best if you came here to drag him home yourself.”

Another sigh on your part. “I’ll be there in a bit. Keep an eye on him and don’t let him out of your sight.”

“Right on. See you soon sis.”

~

As you strode through the halls of the base, you felt a presence fall into step beside you.

“Hello ma’am. Are you Mustang’s wife?”

You turned to look at the figure next to you. It was Edward Elric. Looking behind you, you saw his younger brother Alphonse. It was surprising how quietly he was able to move despite the large metal suit of armour.

You mostly knew the boy through Roy since, whether your husband wanted to admit it or not, he had basically adopted the Elric brothers following the incident that had taken place at their home a few years ago. Roy had been sparse on details but you’d heard rumours of human transmutation. You didn’t pry any further after that.

You’d see the Elrics around the base a few times and had certainly heard Ed and Roy yelling at each other on occasion. But beyond a few quick greetings in the halls, you hadn’t really had a lot to do with them.

“Yes, that’s me. And you’re the Fullmetal Alchemist aren’t you? To what do I owe the pleasure? Everything alright?”

The boy seemed to be fighting with himself, unsure of what to say. “It’s Mustang. He’s overworking himself and normally, I wouldn’t give a-” he paused and cleared his throat, “I mean, normally I wouldn’t be worried but he’s going to make himself sick if he doesn’t have a break.”

You sighed. “That’s my husband. My brother - you know him, Maes Hughes - called me earlier. I’m here to take him home to rest.” You frowned, “Is he that bad?”

“He’s certainly not feeling sunshine and rainbows at the moment. I think if he keeps working much longer he’s going to get sick.”

Of course he would work himself to the point of collapse when you weren’t around.

“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll be sure to give him a piece of my mind.”

For the first time, Edward grinned. “This, I’ve got to see.”

You had both reached the door to your husband’s office. You didn’t bother with the courtesy of knocking. Instead, you swung the door open, shifting your face into a firm look of fury and subtle disappointment.

“Roy.”

The man looked up from his desk, scrambling to make himself look presentable. But nothing count hide the dark circles under his eyes and the invisible weight on his shoulders.

“Hey sis! How are you and the little one doing?”

You turned to your brother, your face morphing into a smile. “Doing well.”

You looked around at the others in the room. Havoc, Hawkeye, Fuery, Falman, Breda. All people you knew well. All people who were completely loyal to your husband. All people he was ignoring at present.

“The baby’s as strong as ever. But I hear it’s father…” you turned your gaze back to Roy, “isn’t the same.”

Roy shook his head despite the resounding responses to the positive from around the room. “I’m fine dear. Really. No need to worry.”

“Oh don’t give me that. I can see it from a mile away. You, mister, need to go home and rest. Maes told me you’re overworking yourself. Even Edward told me he’s concerned about your wellbeing.”

Spluttering from behind you. “Now hang on, I never said-”

“Brother, don’t deny it. You were worried.”

You walked over to Roy’s desk. “We’re going home.”

“I’m fine hones-”

“Sir. With all due respect. Listen to your wife. Go home and rest. We can handle things here.” You gazed gratefully at Hawkeye who smiled back.

Roy opened his mouth as if to protest again but you interrupted before he had the chance. “Roy. Don’t be a numpty. Let’s go.”

He closed his mouth and exhaled through his nose. “Alright. You win. Let’s go.”

He raised himself from his chair and swayed dramatically. Edward and Alphonse rushed over. “Come on Colonel. We’ll help.” From the teasing glint in Edward’s eyes, you guessed his offer of help was in part due to genuine concern but mostly due to the fact that he could use the situation to tease your husband in the future.

As the Elrics helped Roy out the door, you waved a farewell to the others. “Thank you for looking after him until I got here. He’ll be back once he’s feeling better.”

Assorted farewells followed you out the door.

“When we get home, you’re going to bed and resting, alright?” Your tone brooked no argument and, despite everything, Roy smiled teasingly.

“Yes ma’am. You got it.”

His smile grew softer and a warm look filled his gaze.

“You’re going to be a great parent.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[theblueeyedfirebender]

Me, a fanfic author: Yeah I'll take some domestic fluff, a light sprinkling of hurt/comfort on the side but just make sure it's mostly soft and warm Mustang and Hawkeye: Best we can do is angst and gut-wrenching trauma Me: Them: Me: Medium-rare? Mustang, pulling on gloves: I only know how to do well-done.

[by-nina]

Second Glance

AO3 | FFN Royai Week 2024 | Day 1 – Curiosity Rating: K+ (mentions of drinking) Genre: Fluff Word Count: 1,480

A/N: Happy Royai Week, my darlings! Special thanks to @kangdae95draws for making this fic possible, from ideation to fine-tuning to keeping me on schedule with your beautiful art! 🫶🏻

Her eyes are the color of deep honey, almost incandescent in the warm light of the street lamp just next to him. Soft beneath her expression. So different from how he expected them to look up close that he doesn’t notice himself leaning in curiously to see them better.

“Your eyes... they're brown,” Roy whispers before he can stop himself.

Art by @kangdae95draws

———

It’s only ten o’clock in the evening—far too early for the laughter and conversations to die down, or for the music to turn slow, or for anyone to leave the Hugheses’ housewarming party—but by this time, Roy hasn’t had more than a glass of wine, and he has already bid good night to Maes and Gracia, apologized for being unable to stay as long as he’d wanted to, and made his way to the phone in their foyer to call for a cab that will take him home.

Roy is aware of a handful of stares that follow him as he takes his coat from a hook by the door, the same earnest stares that have tried to meet his all night before he decided that he would rather they didn’t. It isn’t as if he didn’t try his best. Madame Christmas had encouraged him to head out and socialize in his free time instead of keeping to himself. Maes had hoped—firmly suggested, really—that he might meet someone he could connect with. It certainly explains the presence of Maes’ attractive cousin and Gracia’s bubbly former classmate, who heavily hinted at being single several times throughout the night.

And Roy knows that Madame Christmas, Maes, and Gracia all mean well, and that the women he met tonight truly wanted to get to know him, besides being pleasing to the eye. He wishes he could have returned their interest, pushed down the discomfort and anxiety that keep him from feigning it as well as he knows he could have. He’s never not wanted to, and just as well, he’s never been able to—not since coming home from the war, not since throwing himself into his work and coming to believe that to think of anything else would be selfish and purposeless.

So he says goodbye to no one else, exits the Hugheses’ apartment quietly, and waits on a park bench just a few paces down the road. Here, he has no one for company, nothing except the flickering street lamps and the chirping of crickets. He exhales, and in his solitude, a tension he hadn’t noticed building in his chest throughout the party dissipates almost immediately, like his misty breath into the chilly night air.

“Colonel?”

Lieutenant Hawkeye has found him. The sounds from the party and the smell of liquor seem to have followed her from the party and out through the front door of the apartment building, but Roy is thankful that it’s she and not any of the other guests who came looking.

“It’s freezing out here, Hawkeye,” Roy says, rising from the bench. “You ought to go back inside.”

She descends the steps to the sidewalk and joins him at the bench. “I wouldn’t mind staying out for some fresh air until you’re ready to rejoin the party.”

“I don’t think I’ll be returning to the party. I’ve told Hughes I’m heading home. He and Gracia were kind about it.”

Lieutenant Hawkeye tilts her head slightly and blinks. “So soon, Sir?”

“Let’s just say I’m not currently at my most sociable, and I wouldn’t want to spoil their evening because of it.” Roy shrugs with a small smile. “I’m sure they won’t miss me too badly.”

“I see.” A pause. “Will you be fine on your own?”

“I will. There’s no need to worry. And I wouldn’t want you to miss the party just to keep me company out here.”

“I actually meant to offer you a ride home, Sir.”

Roy frowns slightly at Lieutenant Hawkeye, and it’s only then that he realizes she is seemingly standing at attention. Sternly, but with a small laugh, he says, “We’re not at work, Hawkeye. I don’t expect you to attend to me. I’ll escort you back inside before you catch a cold.”

“But if we’re not at work, then it’s not an order, is it?”

First, Roy is taken aback, then he suppresses his laughter with a snort. He can’t say that he didn’t expect this kind of response from her, but her sharper jibes are rare enough that he finds himself giving them a second thought when they come. Now he finds himself looking right at her, reading the thinly veiled look of amused self-satisfaction in the slight upward curl of her lips, the barely noticeable arch of her eyebrows, and her eyes—

Her eyes are the color of deep honey, almost incandescent in the warm light of the street lamp just next to him. Soft beneath her expression. So different from how he expected them to look up close that he doesn’t notice himself leaning in curiously to see them better.

“Your eyes... they're brown,” Roy whispers before he can stop himself.

The question that floats to the front of his mind is even stupider—Have her eyes always been this brown?—but it’s a dangerous one as well. All at once, Roy wonders why he hadn’t stopped and noticed it before, what he expected her eye color to be, and most crucially, why it even matters—why, when all this time, she had only ever been his right hand, a capable and dependable soldier, never just a woman.

Now, he’s fixated only on how beautiful her eyes are.

He’s close enough to see the subtlest change in her expression, the nervous twitch in her nose when she says, “Are you drunk, Sir?”

He’s close enough to hear the slight quiver in her voice that suggests apprehension as well as controlled bewilderment, all underneath genuine concern. Then, he notices the flush in her cheeks, the heat radiating from her body—her pale blue dress is lovely on her, and he thinks she should dress like this more often—and, for the quickest moment, her slight wobble when she steps back an inch from him.

Roy frowns. “Hawkeye, I think you’re drunk.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” she says a little too loudly. Roy jumps back slightly. She holds her shoulders rigidly and struggles to meet his gaze and now Roy can tell that what he took for shy self-consciousness is actually her attempt—no, her insistence to appear sober. At the back of his mind, he recognizes something he’s sure he’s always known about her. A self-sacrificing stubbornness that always keeps her from leaning on anyone else. He sighs.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye, I’m driving you home.”

“But I—”

“I can’t let you offer me a ride or stay here to look after yourself in this state. My conscience won’t let me.” Roy drops his voice to a gentle near whisper. “It’s all right. Let’s get your coat and keys.”

Maes is right by the door when Roy and Lieutenant Hawkeye briefly return to the party to gather her things. Roy explains the situation while ignoring the interested, almost knowing expression that slowly creeps into Maes’ face as he looks over Roy’s shoulder at Lieutenant Hawkeye. She says good night, apologizes profusely for having to leave early, then asks him to thank Gracia for her cooking. When they leave, Roy walks closer to Lieutenant Hawkeye than he often does, preparing to catch her in case she loses her footing.

It’s the first time that Roy is driving Lieutenant Hawkeye’s car. He’s more careful than usual, but it doesn’t keep his mind from wandering back to her. He notices her silence, coming from an iron will to appear put together. (He wishes she could relax for once.) He notices the faint scent of lemon and vanilla in the car, which he soon realizes is actually her perfume rather than the car freshener. Out of nowhere, he wonders if he can call her by her first name when they’re alone together like this.

The question never leaves his lips. It disappears into his chest and lodges itself in his steadily quickening heartbeat. Roy tries his best to ignore it, but it makes itself felt when he looks up through the windshield and wonders, were the stars over Central always this bright? Was the city this peaceful at night even during the war? Have any of the lovers still walking down the street at this hour known each other as long as he and Lieutenant Hawkeye have?

And when Riza—when Lieutenant Hawkeye wakes up in the morning, will she be all right? Will she have the same tea that she has always had since they were growing up together in her hometown? Will she read the paper; will she head to the market?

Roy catches a smile growing on his lips, the kind he’s sure Madame Christmas and Maes and Gracia have all been hoping to see on him since heaven knows when. But at this very moment, on the drive back to East City, he can’t afford to think of them or all the reasons they have been worrying about his solitude. Instead, he straightens his face to focus on the road. There are miles yet ahead of them.

[awesomedurraworld]

Sneak peeks of the big bang fic Amestrian Prometheus by @beware-thegemini for the the @royaibigbang

[harperd]

My biggest shock was going from found family fan fiction to rewatching and rereading fma

Tell me why Roy is the biggest asshole on this planet to Edward. All of these one shots fr set me up for failure I just need them to hug what the hell!!! Stop punching each other????!!!

[roseofbattles]

“Bad news,” Rebecca says, cornering Roy in the hallway outside the bathroom. “We have to go out for dinner tonight.”

“Hello to you too, Catalina. Tell me, do you plan to make a habit of ambushing me in the most inconvenient places?”

“You should be prepared for that,” she says, brushing off his complaint. “What if I were an assassin?”

excerpt from An Argument for Therapy by more_than_melody

art preview by @littlewitchbee

this is part of a project I've been working on for @royaibigbang which will be posted Oct. 3rd!