borkthemork:5hio:@borkthemork opened my eyes by pointing out that there’s not enough of Roy Mustang
borkthemork:5hio:@borkthemork opened my eyes by pointing out that there’s not enough of Roy Mustang wearing a dress out thereSomeone had to fix that（︶^︶）✨“So, how do I look?”Riza stared at him, hoping that her resolve was strong enough when he walked into her room. He was adorned in a red piece, which flowed from his hips to the rugged curves of his legs. He was smiling too, red in the face, but confident enough to lift his hem for a quick curtsy, to allow the cotton voile to sweep and dance with each move.“You’re staring, lieutenant.”Riza bit her lower lip. “Yes, I am.”It made sense for the colonel to be okay with dresses — it added up with the semantics, of how he was born within a group of women who advocated for tolerance, of the breaking of tradition and what was seen as ‘disgusting’. Riza wasn’t the kind to question his own choices or the fact that, in private, he pondered of what it would be like to wear a frock or bodice. She didn’t know it would affect her like this, however.Roy smirked. Walking toward her, the fabric once again back down, he was a hairbreadth away from her lips, voice in a whisper. “I’ll have to pay my compliments to the clothier. You have excellent tastes.”“You wanted something simple but extravagant, so I provided,” she whispered back. “And this is rather inappropriate, sir.”He nodded and pulled back. He did that on purpose, Riza knew with certainty. “Thank you for doing this. I forgot how spacious these can be.”She couldn’t help but smile. “Before we liberate the country, we must first liberate ourselves.”Roy burst into laughter, and, for a second, he looked young again. “My legs appreciate it.” -- source link
#fanfic#royai