Not just in bed but in general. He loves picking you up, pinning you, carrying you. He does not care if there are others around, he'll still do it. Ya'll arrive home and he picks you up, carries you to the bedroom all while your parents watch.
One time you guys were going on a walk and you were starting to get tired. You say "Baby I'm too tired. Carry me pout" jokingly but then he actually does. He carried you all the way back home, all while people were watching. He didn't care. You're his baby.
He's just so playful with you. He thinks you're so cute and adorable he can't help but pick you up and baby you. After dinner the first thing he'd do is carry you out of your chair and sit you on the counter next to the sink, and then he'll get the plates so he can wash them while you watch.
You'd be modeling some of the cute clothes you bought yourself and on the last one he'll get up and start feeling the fabric on your hips then slowly trace his hands upwards, bringing your arms up and just like that your wrists end up in his grip. And with a smirk, he goes to kiss your neck.
Playfights are always you going at it and him barely even trying and still winning. You'd either be laying on your back pinned by him or laying on your tummy with him caging you. Either way, playfights always lead to him seriously manhandling you.
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//found this in my drafts and decided to post. Not proff read. Slight ooc
"Wait, please!" Your voice finally breaks the heavy silence between you two.
What possessed you to go chasing after them at 3 am, you will never know. A simple human like yourself should be safe at home. Countless creatures roam freely in the darkness that shallows all at night.
Yet you are standing her with them with.
"Why did you fol-" Before they finish their sentence you cut them off by cupping their face with your hands.
"You don't get to stumble into my home, say you can't be by my side, and then just leave!" Your voices raises like a crack of lighting in the distance.
"Do you love so much you thought would be easier?! Or is hate?"
They try to pull away from you, but your hands won't let go. With a deep breath, you take a step closer.
"Do you love me?" You repeat.
For a berif moment their shoulders loosen and their gaze softens at you.
God the way you write ed is phenomenal, could you write how ed reacts to "almost kisses" (he just keeps getting interrupted) knowing ed, he'd probably start throwing a tantrum after just a couple lolll
Fourth times the charm
a/n: ahhhh this is such a cute prompt! I love it :3 + I had this in my drafts since LAST YEAR. I’ll write again bc im bored
Edward Elric x Gn!Reader
The first time it happened, Edward tried to laugh it off. Barely.
Your fingers were just beginning to unfasten the clasp of his red coat, lips trailing warm, featherlight kisses along the sharp line of his neck. His breath hitched; hands trembled slightly at your waist, the automail one holding steady only because it had no blood to betray his nerves.
But life had other plans.
“Brother!”
The door slammed open, Al’s towering armor frame halfway through it. “We have a situation!”
You and Edward froze.
Al’s eye glowed obtusely in the hollow of his helm, then flickered brighter. “O-Oh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—! But this is important!” he added, panic creeping in.
Edward groaned, forehead thunking against your shoulder. “Al you have the worst timing.”
“I said I’m sorry!” Al squeaked, already backpedaling. “We’ll talk later!”
The door slammed again.
You were trying not to laugh.
“Not funny,” Ed muttered against your shirt, his voice a low grumble.
“I was right there.”
The second time, it was Mustang.
Of course it was.
You and Edward were alone in one of the guest offices, the air thick with anticipation. You’d both been dancing around this all day, his hand on yours during dinner, your fingers brushing over his during that slow walk back, the kind of looks that made time slow down.
Life with Ed’s been great. More than great, really.
He leaned in, breath mingling with yours. Lips just inches away.
And this time maybe it was karma.
“Fullmetal,” came the smooth, too-damn-amused voice of Colonel Roy Mustang. “Didn’t realize this room was occupied.”
Edward’s head whipped around. “You bastard.”
Mustang arched a brow, one hand smugly on the doorknob. “You might want to lock the door next time. Just a suggestion.”
“You wanna die, Mustang?!”
“Love to see you try, shortstack.”
You had to hold Edward back, and honestly, you were maybe 30% trying. The rest of you wanted to see what would happen if he actually threw a chair.
“I hate him,” Edward fumed later, pacing a rut into the floor. “He did that on purpose. Smug piece of cra—”
You kissed his cheek. “We’ll try again.”
“Oh, we’re trying again. This isn’t over.”
The third time was… worse. To put it kindly.
You’d settled on the library lounge at HQ, of all places, because Ed swore no one ever used it.
“You sure?” you asked, eyebrow raised.
“No one comes here. It’s just dusty books and armchairs. We’re fine.”
He said that like it wasn’t the exact kind of place he would hang out in, but you let it slide.
This time, you were on his lap. It was slow, soft, the way he touched you. His calloused hand curled gently around your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheekbone. You were both flushed, but calm—his golden eyes fixed on yours with an unspoken hunger that had been growing all week.
He leaned in again.
You tilted your chin and connected your lips. The two of you had closed your eyes. Unable to see the man who walked in.
“Ah! Young love!”
You jerked back, nearly falling off his lap.
Edward nearly screamed.
Major Alex Louis Armstrong stood in the doorway, glistening muscles flexed through a ripped military shirt, dramatic tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes.
“It brings such joy to see the fires of passion ignite in the youth of today!” he boomed, clasping his hands over his heart. “A love like this…reminds me of my great-great-grandfather and his courtship rituals!”
“WHY?” Ed exploded, scrambling to his feet and somehow dragging you with him. “WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE?!”
“I come to this lounge every third Thursday to polish my medals!” Armstrong declared proudly. “A family tradition passed down through the Armstrong line for generations!”
“I’m gonna lose my mind.”
You covered your face, half in horror, half in helpless laughter. Ed looked like he was seconds away from detonating.
“You two continue,” Armstrong said brightly, setting down a velvet-lined case. “I won’t disturb you further.”
“You already did!” Edward snapped. “Three times! Three freaking times! First Al, then Mustang, now—! I swear to God, the universe hates me.”
He turned to you, eyes wild, hair frazzled.
“I’m cursed. We’re cursed.”
“I mean the laws of equivalent exchange say—“
“Not in the mood for that right now.” Though, his eye stopped twitching so you considered that a win.
You bit your lip, trying to stifle a giggle. “So what now?”
He jabbed a finger toward the door. “We’re locking everything. Every door, every window, burning the sign-in sheets—no one is finding us. We’re finishing this.”
“Oh?” you teased. “Finishing, are we?”
He flushed so red it almost matched his coat. “N-Not like that! I just mean—we’re kissing! Like normal people! Just once! Without a full-scale military intervention!”
You stepped forward, tugged gently on his collar, and kissed the tip of his nose.
He blinked. Stared at you.
“…That’s it. I’m eloping.”
“Bet.”
Your room was quiet.
For once.
No clanking armor. No smug colonels. No sparkly muscle-men busting in with emotional monologues. (Thank God!) Just the low hum of the lamp and the gentle shuffle of your movements as you shut the door.
And locked it. Twice. For good measure.
“Good call,” Edward muttered as he dropped onto the edge of your bed, legs splayed, hair half-tugged from its braid. His red coat was folded neatly over your chair (after he nearly threw it across the room in frustration and then remembered he liked that coat).
You turned and leaned against the door. “Still expecting someone to break through?”
“I’m not taking any more chances,” he muttered. “We’ve been ambushed. Three times.”
You snorted, walking toward him slowly. “You’re acting like you were on a battlefield.”
“I was! A battlefield of blue-balled agony!”
You burst out laughing. How out of character for the alchemist but too surprising giving his short temper.
Edward gave you a look, but he couldn’t hide the twitch of a grin. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“You’re lucky I’m still here, after all that.”
He tilted his head, gaze warming. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I know.”
The mood had shifted more lighter, pleasant. No jokes. No dramatics. Just Edward Elric, sitting on your bed, looking at you like you were gravity itself.
You took the final steps toward him and eased into his lap, arms looping around his neck. “So. No more interruptions?”
“If anyone so much as breathes outside that door,” he growled, “I’m setting them on fire.”
“Mm. Fullmetal Flame Alchemist has a nice ring to it.”
He snorted. “You’re impossible.”
“You love it.”
“I do.”
It slipped out, raw and certain.
Your breath caught just a little, but he didn’t look panicked. He just looked…relieved. Like he’d been holding it in for longer than he wanted to admit.
“I do,” he said again, quieter. “I love you.”
You smiled, hands threading gently through his hair. “I love you, too.”
And finally! Finally, you kissed.
There was no rush. No sudden bang of a door, no voices yelling about emergencies or medals or whatever else the universe had decided to throw at you all week. Just the soft pressure of his mouth against yours, tentative at first, like he couldn’t believe it was really happening.
Then he pulled you closer, deepening it.
His hands, one warm and real, one cool and metallic, settled on your waist, steadying himself like you were the only thing anchoring him. You felt the tension melt from his shoulders as you kissed him again, slow and sure, like you had all the time in the world.
“You’re really here,” he whispered against your lips.
“So are you.”
He rested his forehead against yours, golden eyes half-lidded, flushed and breathless.
“My wife showed me this earlier, isn't it cool?” “Guess what my wife did today” “Oh, you think my shirt looks nice? Thanks, my wife bought it for me.”
He makes the people around him feel like they know you just from how much he talks about you. He finds a way to work you into every conversation. He starts to sweat and fears he might break out in hives if he goes a single conversation without mentioning you. The word wife makes his heart squeeze because it's a reminder that you picked him over everyone else and that he gets to have you for the rest of his life.
This doesn't just stay outside the home when he talks to other people; he says it to you just as often. Letters left on the kitchen table addressed to “my lovely wife” or when he playfully slaps your ass and responds to your joking glare with “Can't a guy appreciate his wife?”.
His love for the title also makes it into the bedroom. He leaves kisses all over your heated skin as he tells you how much he loves his pretty wife - how truly beautiful he finds you. His hands interlock with yours as he thrusts into your sweet pussy, and when he feels your wedding ring against his skin, his cock twitches inside you.
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hello!!! i love your stuff, i wanna chew on your stories /pos
may i request some smut for edward elric? specifically afab but enby reader, maybe reader receiving oral? god my spellcheck is also going mad crazy so if something is spelled weird i’m tremendously sorry lmaooo
So Long as He has You (Edward Elric x Reader)
𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼!
𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚!! 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁, 𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗹 (𝗳𝗲𝗺 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗲𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴)
𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩
𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?
𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?
Ed takes care of you. Like, real good care of you.
He did when the two of you were kids. He’d look out for you. Protect you. Play with you. Be the bestest friend you’d ever have in the whole world. And of course, while he was away from home, it was much harder for him to do. Sure, the letters he wrote and sent back to you were always nice to receive. And the fact that he saved all of Amestris from certain doom was a pretty caring move, too. But it wasn’t like old times. The times you used to cherish. The times you used to love. But ever since he came back to Resembol after completing his goal of restoring his and his brother’s bodies, the two of you have been close. Closer than ever before, really.
In the few years since he’s been back, he’s developed a place in your home. One that he fits right in like the perfect charm. In fact, you’d argue that he fits so well that it’s like he never even skipped town and left without telling anyone- including you- that he was leaving and where he was going. But, he’s back now. And now? He helps you around the house. He runs the errands you and his parents ask him to (though sometimes, he drags you along right with him). He fixes things up. He assists with the cooking. He lifts you up when you’re feeling down. He makes you smile when you think you can’t. And he just…he just takes care of you.
So this is what this is. This is what he’s doing. That’s what he called it. That’s what he called this.
“Shh…shh…I can’t help you if you don’t keep your legs spread and relax for me, alright?”
Taking care of you.
You whimper at his words, but you don’t squirm. You have to fight the urge to. You have to fight to be good. To do what he wants. To let him take care of you. But that’s really, really, really hard.
Especially since his tongue is really, really, really good at making you feel things you wouldn’t be able to feel if it were just you, curling up in your sheets and touching yourself in the middle of the night.
“Edward…” You whimper out, your bottom lip quivering as your fingers continue to thread themselves through his long, golden blonde hair and tug whenever his tongue brushes against the part of your clit that is just too sensitive for you not to react. Golden eyes flicker open, looking at you momentarily with an expression you can only label as “pleased” before they close once again so he can focus on the task at hand: helping you relax. Or rather, taking care of you. “Ed, please~!”
Or even more specifically, eating you out.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you…” The boy lying on his stomach before you murmurs, lifting his head away from your pussy that’s soaked with both his spit and your arousal just long enough to placate you. “Just be quiet and relax for me. You can do that, right?”
You find yourself nodding your head as the tight feeling growing in your stomach temporarily stalls. But a second later, his fingers are tightening their grip on your thighs once more, reminding you that he needs them open wide for him and only him, as he dives right back in. He alternates between wrapping his lips around your clit, licking the expanse of your pussy, and pushing his tongue between your lower lips and fucking you with it. Almost as if he had more in mind than giving you a sweet little orgasm after the “hard day at work” you had. Almost as if he wanted you to remember that he can do more with his mouth than just use it to talk.
Much, much more.
It was only a few minutes ago when he snuck into your room in the middle of the night, smiling at your soft giggles as you pulled him into your bed. As he slipped under the covers and made himself comfortable with your grasp, he made a comment about how you’re both too old to still be living at your parents’ place and how he couldn’t take care of you the way he wanted to while the two of you were still here. You rolled your eyes when he said that, knowing he was just trying to get you to go house hunting with him again so he could buy something ridiculous for a ridiculous price with his even more ridiculous severance package he received for his work while he was still in the Military.
But he didn’t bring up house hunting like you thought he would.
Instead, he just kissed your attitude away. And kissed away any thoughts you had that weren’t about him. And kissed you into letting your guard down. And kissed you into feeling a little breathless. And kissed you into feeling a little dumb and lost without him. And kissed you and kissed you and kissed you and-
And suddenly, you’re sitting up. Your sheets are a mess. You’re in a daze. And your back is against your headboard of your bed. And your pajama pants are in a pile on the floor right next to your underwear, which is also on the floor. But you can barely see them. You can barely even think about them.
Because Ed has already slotted himself in between your thighs so he could lick at your slit like it was just meant to be devoured by him.
“There we go- there we go, sweetheart,” His voice unbelievably gentle as he finds that spot that has you bucking your hips and pulling his hair tight enough for him to groan. You whimper as his tongue chases after you- chases after it while he fills you with the type of pleasure that somehow makes your body go limp and tight at the exact same time. “Just let me take care of you. Just let me take care of you, yeah?”
The only thing you can offer in response to his words is a moan that you have to muffle by covering your mouth. But even then, there’s no denying how good you feel. Just like there’s no denying how good he is at doing this. At eating your pussy. At making you feel so loved. At making you feel so good. So cherished and so spoiled.
So good at taking care of you.
Just like he always does. Just like he always will. So long as you have him.
“Oh? I know that pretty face. You’re getting ready to cum, aren’t you?”
Please elaborate on that making out and dry humping with edward idea 🙏
HE'S JUST SO...
um here take this.
***
He's all over you. Pressing you down into the floor, hips slotted between yours, fitting in the crux of you like a key coming up against it's home-lock. He makes a soft sound against your lips, this desperate little noise in the back of his throat.
His hips flex, rolling into yours, and you gasp—sharp and hot.
Desperately, you cling to his shoulders, fingernails digging into his biceps, scrambling for purchase. The nip of your nails bites into his skin and he hisses a little, inhales through his nose.
When he parts from the kiss long enough, you try and catch your breath. You try and break him out of this—
"Ed—Edward—" you end up keening his name as his hips roll again, right up against where you're hot and aching, soft and desperate. "Ah—s-slow down—"
His face is buried in the crook of your neck, breaths hard and fast against your skin, "can't help it—sorry—'m sorry, baby—" his breath hitches as he rolls his hips against yours and he's so hot. And you can feel him, the hard length of him against your core, through a layer of clothes. He almost whines, raspy voice wrecked, the edge of it laced with this little growl, "just—let me—be good for me? Like this? You can do that for me, right baby?"
"What's g-gotten into you?" You manage to get out instead, as one of his hands travels over your sides, sliding up to your arm where he pins one of your hands beside your head. He laces your fingers together, presses it down into the floor, stretching you out underneath him.
"Ha," He huffs and you feel the crooked smile against your jaw more than you see it, the way he shudders against you, his hair that tickles your collar bones, "me? You started this—I just had to finish it."
Debrief: you’ve been stuck in the hospital, but the cute nurse keeps you company.
Case Notes: for ⛈️ anon, thank you so much 💖 enjoy!
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and lemon cleaner, too sharp for comfort. You’d been stuck in this room for a few days now, long enough that the flowers on the bedside table had started to wilt, long enough that you were getting used to the monotony of the white walls and too stiff sheets.
And then he walked in.
Edward Elric.
Not in the red coat and boots you’d seen in newspaper articles. Not the brash State Alchemist who’d stood shoulder to shoulder with legends.
No, this Edward was in scrubs— blue, rumpled like he’d thrown them on half asleep. A name badge clipped to his chest read Elric, R.N., and his blond hair was tied back haphazardly at the nape of his neck.
He glanced at your chart and muttered under his breath, “Figures, they’d give me the one with the most paperwork…” before realizing you were awake.
“Uh— hey,” he said, voice awkward but warm, “I’m your nurse today. Edward. Or Ed.”
You raised an eyebrow, “The Edward? Savior of Amestris?”
His mouth twitched, half a grimace, half a smirk, “Nah, Not anymore. Just a nurse now. You don’t need to salute me or anything.”
The banter started there, and it didn’t stop. Ed was surprisingly good at this job— gentle when he checked your vitals, patient when you asked too many questions, and stubborn when you tried to brush off your pain. But he was still Ed: quick tempered, sarcastic, and prone to muttering curses when the IV stand snagged on the doorframe when taking you out for fresh air.
Days turned into a week. He started lingering when his shift ended, sitting on the chair by your bed with a cup of terrible coffee from the nurses lounge in his hand. You’d talk about everything but the hospital— his brother’s research, the ridiculous politics of the staff lounge, the way he swore the coffee machine was out to get him.
And somewhere in those conversations, you realized, the ex-Hero of Amestris was leaning closer when you laughed. His golden eyes softened when you winced. His hands adjusted your blankets with a gentleness that broke your heart a little.
You caught him staring once. Not in the clinical way of a nurse checking on a patient, this was different.
His ears went red the moment your eyes met, and he stammered, “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just— just making sure you’re okay.”
But he didn’t look away.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
The evenings were the worst.
Daytime was full of distractions. nurses were in and out, doctors checking charts, the steady hum of the ward around you. But at night the halls emptied, the florescent lights dimmed, and you were left with nothing but the beeping of the monitors and the too loud thud of your own thoughts inside your mind.
Edward noticed.
You hadn’t told him outright, but he was sharp in ways you didn’t expect. Maybe it was the soldier in him, or maybe it was just… him. He’d show up after his shift “to finish up paperwork” but somehow end up perched in the chair at your bedside, shuffling a deck of cards he’d swiped from the nurse’s lounge.
“Don’t get cocky,” he’d say, dealing out uneven piles, “I’ve taken down generals and monsters. A game of Go Fish isn’t gonna trip me up.”
“You keep saying that right before I win,” you teased.
And he did lose. Constantly. His poker face was nonexistent, his grumbling loud enough to draw stares from passing staff. But he stayed. Every night. The hours stretched out softer with him there, your laughter echoing off the sterile walls, his sharp wit cutting through the heaviness that usually lingered after visiting hours ended.
One night you caught him asleep in the chair, his arms folded, head lolling forward. The sight of him there, of the infamous Fullmetal Alchemist reduced to an exhausted nurse keeping a lonely patient company, warmed you in a way the hospital blankets never could.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Discharge day came quicker than expected. You were packing up when Edward walked in, scrubs slightly wrinkled, hair tied back like he’d rushed. He checked your chart, then glanced at your bag.
“Guess you’re free to escape.” He scratched the back of his neck, awkward. “Bet you’re dying to get out of here.”
“Yeah,” you said, smiling, “But I’ll miss our card games.”
He froze for a second, then huffed, eyes darting anywhere but you, “Tch. Don’t say stuff like that.”
You tilted your head, “Why not?”
“Because—” He cut himself off, jaw working. Finally, he shoved his hands into his pockets and muttered, “Because now that you’re not my patient, I don’t have an excuse anymore.”
“An excuse for what?”
His golden eyes flicked to yours, steady despite the faint pink climbing his ears, “To keep hanging around. So…” He exhaled sharply, like the words physically pained him, “So let’s just cut the crap. You wanna grab coffee with me sometime? Or, or dinner? Whatever. Just say yes so I don’t feel like an idiot for asking.”
Your laugh bubbled out before you could stop it. Typical Edward— blunt, awkward, but honest to the core.
“Yes,” you said, grinning. “Dinner sounds perfect.”
He blinked, clearly not expecting you to agree so easily. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth tugged upward into that lopsided, boyish smile.
“Good,” he said, already turning toward the door as if he needed the escape. “I’ll, uh… I’m free on Tuesday? We can meet here then go. Just don’t go getting sick again just to see me again.”
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