#ishvalan!reader

A/n: Here you go @narutodiary !! I hope its good and if you want more let me know!!

Ishvalan!Reader / POC!Reader

The summer sun hung high over Central City, turning the stone streets into shimmering ribbons of heat. Bee buzzed lazily from the flower bushes lining the Führer’s estate, and not a single cloud dared interrupt the relentless blue sky overhead.

You, however, were in absolute heaven.

Born and raised beneath the scorching Ishvalan sun, this weather felt almost comforting. Warmth soaked pleasantly into your honey-brown complexion as you sat barefoot in the backyard, your long skirt spread beneath you while you helped your four-year-old son construct what he proudly declared was “the biggest sand fortress in Amestris.”

A tiny toy soldier was ceremoniously placed atop the highest tower.

“There,” he announced proudly, patting another wall into place. “Now nobody can get him.”

You smiled, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “He’s very well protected.”

“I know.”

He nodded with all the confidence only a four-year-old could possess before immediately abandoning the fortress in favor of chasing a butterfly.

The back door slid open.

Roy emerged carrying a stack of government reports tucked beneath one arm.

He looked…less like the Führer of Amestris and more like a man who had personally offended the sun.

His black dress shirt was rolled to his elbows, the collar unbuttoned, and despite every attempt at maintaining his usual composed appearance, a bead of sweat traced slowly down his temple.

He made it exactly three steps onto the porch before stopping. “…It’s hotter than the gates of hell.”

You looked over your shoulder. "It isn’t that bad...."

Roy stared. “It is forty degrees Celsius.”

“So?”

“So?”

He gestured wildly toward the sky.b“The air is trying to kill me.”

Before you could answer, your son came barreling back toward the porch carrying an armful of smooth rocks.

“Daddy!”

Roy smiled immediately despite his suffering as he placed the reports down. "Hello, Lieutenant."

“I made rocks.”

“…You mean you found rocks.”

“I made them now.”

Roy accepted that explanation without question as his lips twitched. “Understandable.”

The little boy tilted his head, studying his father’s face with all the seriousness of a military inspection.

“Daddy…”

“Yes?”

“You’re all sweaty.”

Roy sighed. “Unfortunately.”

The child looked toward you then back to his father then back at you again.

“Mama isn’t sweaty.”

You raised an eyebrow.

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your mother grew up somewhere considerably hotter.”

The little boy gasped as though he’d uncovered the greatest mystery in Amestrian history. “So Mama doesn’t get hot?”

“I get hot,” you corrected gently. “I just don’t mind it very much.”

He accepted this explanation for approximately three seconds.

Then his tiny face lit up.

“My mama is stronger than the sun!”

Roy barked out a laugh despite himself. “I don’t think that’s exactly—”

The little boy had already sprinted toward the front gate.

“MISTER HAVOC!”

Jean Havoc had just arrived to grab a report he needed, cigarette hanging lazily from the corner of his mouth.

“What is it, buddy?”

“My mama is stronger than the sun!”

Jean blinked. “…She probably is.”

“And Daddy is weak!!.”

Jean looked at Roy.

Roy slowly closed his eyes. “Don’t.”

Jean grinned. “Oh, I absolutely will.”

By the following morning, the rumor had somehow escaped the estate.

Not because of Jean.

Jean had actually tried.

Unfortunately, your son possessed the unstoppable social confidence of a tiny politician.

Everyone received the news.

The guards.

The maids.

The kitchen staff.

Several secretaries.

General Armstrong.

Major Hughes....( Thanks Maes and his big mouth )

Even Grumman.

By lunchtime, half of Headquarters knew.

By dinner…

Edward Elric found out.

He happened to be visiting Central alongside Alphonse when your son spotted him across Headquarters.

“UNCLE ED!”

Edward turned just in time to catch forty pounds of excited child launching directly into his stomach.

“Oof!”

Your son wrapped both arms around him. “My daddy’s weak.”

Edward blinked. “…I’m sorry?”

“He melts in summer.”

Edward slowly looked past the child.

Roy happened to be walking down the corridor with Riza.

The second Edward saw the faint sheen of sweat on Roy’s forehead…A dangerous grin spread across his face.

“Oh…”

Alphonse immediately recognized that smile as his shoulders slumped. “Oh no…”

Edward crouched to your son’s height. “So…the Führer’s weak in the heat?”

The little boy nodded enthusiastically. “And rain.”

Edward’s golden eyes widened with theatrical delight.

“Mhm! Mama says Daddy doesn’t like rain.”

You had never said that.

Not exactly, you had once mentioned that rain made Roy’s flame alchemy useless.

Apparently your son had simplified the information.

Edward stood.

His shoulders shook.

Then, despite every attempt to resist…

He burst into laughter.

“Oh, this is priceless.”

Roy immediately frowned.b“…Elric.”

Edward wiped tears from his eyes. “Sorry...I’m sorry—”

“No, you aren’t.”

“I’m really not.”

Edward straightened before loudly addressing the entire hallway.

“Attention everyone!”

Roy closed his eyes. “…Don’t.”

Edward ignored him completely. “I have an important military announcement!”

Several officers looked up from their paperwork.

General Armstrong paused mid-conversation.

Even Breda leaned out of an office doorway.

Edward proudly pointed toward Roy.

“The great Führer of Amestris has two natural predators!”

Roy sighed the exhausted sigh of a man who already knew where this was going.

Edward dramatically raised one finger.“Summer.”He raised another. "And rain."

The hallway erupted.

Laughter echoed off polished marble.

Havoc nearly dropped his cigarette.

Breda had to lean against the wall.

Fuery laughed so hard his glasses slid down his nose.

Even Falman smiled into his clipboard.

Armstrong, ever dignified, placed one enormous hand over his mouth in a valiant but unsuccessful effort to suppress a chuckle as Maes barked out a laugh, his glasses nearly falling off.

Only Riza remained perfectly composed.

Almost.

There was the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth.

Roy looked toward his wife. “You could help.”

You offered him your sweetest smile. “I could.”

“…”

“I’m choosing not to.” You replied.

Your son beamed up at you. “Mama’s stronger than the sun.”

You leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “I don’t know about that.”

“Mama stronger than daddy.”

Riza snorted as she turned her body away all while the little boy blinked.

Edward folded his arms triumphantly. "Well, that’s official then."

Roy gave him a flat look. “You do realize I outrank you.”

Edward shrugged without the slightest concern, that same cocky grin still on his face. “Doesn’t change the fact that the Führer gets defeated by weather.”

“I am not defeated by weather.”

“Tell that to the puddle forming on your forehead.”

Another round of laughter swept through the hallway.

Roy looked heavenward as though asking whatever higher power might be listening why this, of all things, had become his legacy.

He had survived war.

He had survived homunculis

He had overthrown a dictatorship.

He had rebuilt an entire nation.

A/n: Ishvalan / POC!Reader, thank you @sacredwarrior88 for the insperation.

Sidenote: I cannot wait to eat Crawfish when I'm on vacation. I only have lobster, mussels,oysters clams/ fried clams and scallops where I live. I am craving fucking crawfish

Roy steps into the kitchen already knowing something dangerous is happening, not because there’s smoke or alarms going off, but because the air is thick with spice.

It hits him first in the chest, warm and sharp, cayenne and garlic and something richer beneath it. Butter. Pepper. That unmistakable, mouthwatering smell that means you’ve been standing at the stove for a while and absolutely did not keep it mild.

He pauses in the doorway, one hand still on the frame, watching you move.

You’re barefoot, belly round and unmistakable beneath one of his old shirts, hair pulled back loosely, dark skin glowing in the kitchen light. A pot bubbles on the stove, red shells peeking through the rolling boil. You stir with confidence, wrist steady, like this is the most natural thing in the world while you hum some tune from your childhood under your breath.

“Love…” he says carefully, already bracing himself. “What are you doing?” The smell is incredible. His mouth actually waters before he can stop it.

You don’t even look guilty. If anything, you look pleased.

“Well,” you say, glancing over your shoulder at him with a smile that already means trouble, “since you banned me from eating one of my favorite foods, yangnyeom-gejang, I had to do the next best thing.”

Roy exhales through his nose. “I didn’t ban you.”

You raise a brow, entirely unimpressed with one hand on your hips.

“Your midwife did,” he amends quickly. “She gave me a list of foods you can’t eat, and..love...she scares me. She said no raw anything. I value my life.”

You laugh softly, the sound warm and fond. “These are cooked, Roy. Very cooked....they need to be."

As if on cue, little feet thunder from the living room making their way towards you.

“MUMMY! MUMMMY!” Noah barrels into the kitchen like a small missile, curls bouncing, eyes already locked on the pot. “I want some!”

You soften instantly. You always do with him.

“Anything for you, darling,” you say, setting the spoon down and turning toward him.

Noah climbs onto a chair with far too much confidence, peering into the pot like he’s inspecting treasure. He grabs one of the crawfish you’ve set aside, holding it up proudly.

“MAMA! How do you eat them again?!”He waves it around, nearly flinging seasoning everywhere.

You chuckle and gently take one from him, placing yours down on a plate so you can show him properly. Your hands are practiced, sure.

“Okay,” you say patiently, guiding him. “First, you twist.”

You demonstrate, separating the head from the tail with a clean motion.

Roy watches, arms crossed, trying not to stare at how natural you look like this, teaching, calm, glowing with life. His chest tightens in that familiar way it’s been doing more and more lately.

“And then,” you continue, lowering your voice conspiratorially, “you can suck the juices from the head. That’s where all the flavor is.”

Noah’s eyes go wide. “Really?!”

“Really,” you nod. “Just a little. Then you peel the shell from the tail like this.”

You peel it neatly, revealing the tender meat inside.

Noah follows along clumsily, tongue poking out in concentration. He does not suck the head properly—he mostly makes a mess but he’s beaming like he’s just learned a secret spell.

Then, without warning, he hops down and marches straight over to Roy, holding the crawfish out in both hands like an offering.

“PAPA,” he announces proudly, shoving it toward Roy’s face, “DO YOU LOVE MAMA’S COOKING?”

Roy doesn’t even hesitate.

“I love Mama’s cooking very much, Noah,” he says seriously, leaning down so they’re eye-level. “I’ve been eating Mama’s cooking for a very long time.”

That earns him a delighted giggle. Noah grins and scampers back to you, completely satisfied with the answer.

Roy finally moves into the kitchen, grabbing a plate and sitting down. He peels a crawfish easily—he’s long since learned, just like he’s learned your spice tolerance, your heat, your fire.

The seasoning bites, but it’s familiar. Comforting. He barely reacts.

You notice, of course.“You’re not even sweating,” you tease.

He smirks. “Years of exposure. I’m immune now.”

You laugh, shaking your head, and for a moment everything is simple: the clink of plates, the hum of the stove, Noah happily chewing and chattering, your hand resting unconsciously on your belly as if reminding the world that there’s more love coming.

sender and receiver go at it somewhere they absolutely shouldn’t

A/n: Ishvalan (poc) reader as heavily influenced by my wonderful friend @sacredwarrior88 , i love em and this is for them

You only wanted to surprise your husband, he had forgotten his lunch and being the good little wife you decided to bring him his lunch wearing that cute little dress he loved so much.

But the second the door shuts, you feel it.

Roy’s gaze, dark and burning, drinking you in from across the office. His jacket’s tossed over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled up, gloves set aside. But it’s the tension in his jaw that tells you everything.

“…That dress,” he says, voice low. Dangerous. “You wore that dress on purpose.”

You blink, then turned your head away for a moment as your braid slipped off your shoulder. “I—I brought you lunch. You’ve been skipping meals again.”

His eyes narrow for a moment, like he’s hunting you. “And you thought wearing that”—he rises slowly, stalking around the desk—“was going to make me sit down and eat rice and pickled vegetables like a good husband?”

"Yes?" You gave him a sheepish smile as you started to fidget, the hem of your sundress brushing your thighs. It’s yellow—his favorite color on your warm, rich Ishvalan skin—and the fabric clings just a little when you move. The dip in the front gave him just a peak of the swell of your breasts.

He barely registered that you placed the little box down on his desk. He should have been salivating at the delicious food you cooked for him but his gaze remained on you.

Beautiful, still like the goddess he married thirteen years ago.

“I—I just wanted to surprise you—”

“Oh, you did.”

His hands are on your waist in seconds, pushing the food aside, backing you up until you hit the edge of his desk.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me in this thing?” His nose pressed into your neck inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume as you let out squeak when he lifts the skirt, just enough to slide a hand between your thighs.

“No panties?” he growls. “You came in here with nothing under this dress?”

You nod, flustered, face warm. “I—I thought you’d like it.”

Roy groans, low and rough, forehead pressing to yours. “You thought right.” As his other hand cupped your cheek, gliding across your soft skin.

He pushes you agains't his desk, lips crashing into yours with quiet, desperate hunger. His fingers push the sundress higher, bunching the soft yellow fabric at your waist, hands trailing up your thighs to your gorgeous dark skin, warm and flushed as his hand slipped between your thighs, already slick where you need him most.

“I need you,” he whispers, voice cracking as he unzips his pants. “Right now. Right here.”

Your hands tremble as you cling to the edge of his desk nodding your head. A small whimper leaving your lips as you felt him rub your clit in slow circles.

“Please…”

He doesn’t waste a second. Just lines himself up and slides in deep—one thick, hot thrust that stretches you open, makes your head tip back with a gasp.

“Fuck,” he grits. “So fucking good—so wet—you came in here dripping for me, didn’t you?”

A small whine left your lips unable to answer as he fucks you hard, desk shaking, his hips slamming into yours, one hand gripping your ass, the other to cover your mouth as your body takes him deeper with every thrust.

Your body splayed across the desk, the contrast of your skin—rich, warm, glowing in the soft office light—against his pale knuckles as he grips you?

Dives him wild, how your walls clench around his cock.

Perfection

You’re moaning now—soft, desperate, helpless. Muffled by his hand, hair freeing from your braid as you felt your heart pound in your chest.

And Roy?

He’s gone.

“You’re so good for me,” he growls, mouth at your ear. “So fucking sweet—my beautiful wife—always so quiet out there, but in here?”

He thrusts harder.

“In here, you’re mine.”

You come hard—shaking, crying out his name, walls clenching around his cock—and Roy follows, groaning deep in his chest as he spills inside you, filling you with slow, grinding thrusts that make sure none of it escapes.

He stays buried in you, forehead pressed into your neck, his hand leaving your ass to thread through your fingers.

“I’m never skipping lunch again,” he whispers.

You blinked, dazed and breathless as you let out a soft laugh. “I’ll bring dessert tomorrow.”