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flourchildwrites · 5 years

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Edwin 26 and 92 please.

A/N: Hey, anon! Thank you for dropping this FANFICTION TROPE MASH UP into my ask box. I hope you check back in now that I’ve finally got around to responding. You requested numbers 26 (massage fic) and 92 (kink) with an edwin ship. I’m sensing a theme here, lol. However, I’ve got to warn you that I’ve been in a heavy mood lately, and it’s coming out in my writing. Trigger warnings for chronic pain and sacrilegious undertones. This fic is also lemon flavored below the cut. :P Here goes… something.

Special thanks to @bearonthecouch for the read through!

Read on AO3

Truth was a mixed bag. At least, that was Winry Rockbell’s opinion. In the years that followed the Promised Day, Ed described them as an amorphous being of indiscernible power, a haughty guardian of the veil between the physical and metaphysical realms or alternatively… “That uppity bastard who stole my leg, my arm and my brother’s body!”

Let it never be said that Edward Elric, adoring husband and doting father did not have a way with words.

Nevertheless, on the subject of the past, Winry kept her own counsel. She neither delved deeply into the regrets of the yesteryear nor dwelled on impracticalities like God, Truth or the meaning of life. Like the stalwart woman who raised her, Winry’s very existence was a testament to patience and persistence. And yet, she’d be remiss to deny that, while Truth might have been a capricious guardian of the scales, they were most certainly a shitty surgeon.

Ed’s arm was all the proof she needed. A mangled scar spilled across his shoulder, three inches deep with puckered flesh in all shades of ruddy red, yellow and purple. Nuts and wires had jutted out from his restored skin, and if anything, the internal damage proved permanent. Veins inextricably intertwined with threads of metal, a ghastly union of organic and manmade parts. Secretly and silently, the young automail engineer sometimes wondered if Truth had bestowed Ed with a blessing or a curse.

Bathed in moonlight, Winry waddled down the staircase of the Elrics’ Resembool home with heavy footfalls. One hand clutched her swollen stomach, and the other grasped the sturdy wooden banister. Even in darkness, Winry knew that the walls were pristine, covered in pretty pictures and pastel paints that suited the quiet, country life that Ed and Winry enjoyed when they could get away from the hustle and bustle of Rush Valley. And though baby Trisha’s nursery was only half finished, Winry could see Ed’s labor of love coming together, just as sure as she knew she was having a girl this time.

Winry smiled to herself as she appreciated the work that human hands had made.

“Ed,” Winry quietly called out from the foot of the staircase, careful not to wake little Yuriy.

“In here.”

The expecting mother made her way toward the sitting room and stumbled upon a familiar sight: Edward Elric had, yet again, turned her elegant sitting room into an office. Nevermind the actual study upstairs. Books were haphazardly strewn across the small space interspersed with parchment bearing nearly illegible scribbles in Ed’s native Amestrian as well as flawed Xingese characters. Winry had half a mind to chide her husband, but she refrained in light of the ice pack draped over his right shoulder.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked knowingly, coming close enough to admire the narrow spectacles Ed now wore when reading, the ones he obstinately swore he didn’t need.

“Nothing to worry about, Win,” the blond shot back, injecting confidence into his voice. “It’s just a little sore. The weather is changing, and Yuriy is getting bigger. Besides, I need to get this work done for Al. No time like the present.”

“You mean 3 a.m.” Winry shot back wryly as she placed her hands on her hips, “when our 2-year-old is finally sleeping, and we’ve got a full day of toddler tantrums ahead of us? Why didn’t you just tell me it was hurting again? Not for nothing, but I am one of the best automail mechanics around. I think I know my way around human anatomy enough to ease a few tense muscles.”

Ed chuckled and rose from the couch, a merry glint in his light amber eyes. “Well, not for nothing, but you are 25 weeks pregnant if I’m not mistaken.” He wasn’t. “What kind of husband would I be if I let you take care of me without taking care of you first?”

Ed moved quickly across the small living space and wrapped his arms around Winry. His fingers moved restlessly, seeking purchase in the folds of her lightweight nightgown. With eyes wide shut, she hummed as Ed reached around to massage the tight muscles of her lower back. Winry buried her face in the soft cotton of his shirt, relishing the faint scent of sweat and freshly cut grass. She loved Ed. She loved being tenderly caressed by the warm hands that had never hesitated to pick her up when she was down. To protect her just as she patched him back together time and time again.

Winry reluctantly summoned her wits in spite of Ed’s efforts and a raging case of momnesia.

“Not so fast, Edward,” Winry interjected, gently stepping back and placing a firm hand on her husband’s chest. “Let’s have a look at that shoulder. Then, you can take me upstairs and have your way with your bloated, pregnant wife.”

The glint in Ed’s eyes was inexplicably obscene. “That a promise?”

Winry rolled her eyes despite the smirk on her lips.

“Take a seat, Fullmetal,” she said, gesturing toward the couch with an authoritative edge to her voice. Though he practiced restraint, Ed’s features darkened hungrily as he took a seat on the floor near Winry’s usual perch on the couch, and if she had reminded him of a certain former commanding officer at that moment, he didn’t show it.

…

The bible according to Pinako Rockbell was pretty damn clear when it concerned the intersection of automail and pain. It was merely the body’s way of communicating that something wasn’t working properly. And though Winry still struggled to comprehend Edward’s refusal to dignify the pain he occasionally felt, she was all too familiar with his anatomy, right down to the battle scars hidden beneath the hem of his well-pressed shirts.

The young mother’s hands kneaded and pressed at her husband’s scarred skin, searching for knots and avoiding the places where she knew metal was permanently embedded within his flesh. As her strokes turned long and languid, Winry felt Ed relax under her deft hands. His arm and shoulder began to pulse as she stimulated blood flow alongside delicious friction and finally, she finished with a series of firm taps.

“Oh God, Winry,” Ed gasped. “Do you have to tap it like that? You’re killing the mood.”

“What mood?” she teased. “Between the stretch marks and my swollen ankles, I don’t see how I can be the least bit appealing right now. Then again, you are stuck with me. I guess I can’t blame you for making the best of it.”

Winry’s words carried a self-deprecating edge, and she laughed with a good-natured timbre that belied the harsh truths sugarcoated by her humor. The second time mother knew she’d grown bigger faster this time around. Her ankles were puffy, and the stretch marks on her tummy had reasserted themselves in angry streaks of red. Between her business and Yuriy, Winry found it difficult to think of herself as a sexual being, and honestly, Ed was more a partner in the trenches of childrearing than a lover now.

“Making the best of it? Of our life together?” Ed scoffed. “What makes you think that you aren’t exactly the person I want to be with? Especially when you’re pregnant.”

“Especially when I’m pregnant?” Winry shot back. “My stomach’s big. My boobs are ridiculous. In another month or so, I’ll be unable to see my feet. Enlighten me, oh great alchemist, what’s there to like about all that?”

Ed paused in a rare show of speechlessness as he shifted at Winry’s feet and allowed his eyes to trace the outline of her figure. It had been years since their first sleepless night together, but the way he looked at her was wondrous, reminiscent of their first fumbling time as well as the many happy endings they’d enjoyed after that. Winry felt reborn when she considered herself from Ed’s perfective and saw all that she considered a nuisance as ancient symbols of power, unequaled by modern medicine or other mystic arts.

He took her hands in his and turned them, running his thumbs across her palms. “I see hands that give life,” he said, kissing her callouses. “And strong arms that cradle it lovingly.”

Ed turned his attention to her feet and massaged her ankles tenderly. “I see legs that stood up for me when I couldn’t stand on my own.” Winry shivered as she felt her husband place light kisses up her ankles, calves and thighs. He gently pushed her nightgown up to reveal her round stomach, and as Winry’s pulse quickened, the baby inside her belly stirred. Ed chuckled and pressed his hands against her, grinning as he felt his child’s movement.

“I love you like this,” he stated, almost breathless. “I love seeing our child growing inside you, and you’ve got this raw, powerful beauty that makes me crazy. You’re glowing, Winry.”

She started to tell him that it was just her acid reflux, but with those words, Ed kissed the top of her thigh near the plain white fabric of her panties. Slowly, his tongue pressed against her, and Winry couldn’t hide the soft sigh which followed. She leaned back, enjoying Ed’s attention as his mouth began sucking and pulling at her skin. As was only fair, he repeated the same series on the inside of her other thigh, moving ever closer to her warm center.

As her breathing grew fevered Ed delved deeper, running his lips over the outside of her underwear in a way that made Winry sigh. He sucked the fabric, and his fingers toyed with the low waistband, bowed by her growing baby bump. One hand settled on the width of her hips, and again Ed caressed her belly as his tongue lapped at her through a pesky layer of cotton.

Winry moaned and pleaded for her pleasure until Ed finally kissed her clit.

“Oh, God!” Winry exclaimed, feeling both breathless and beautiful in the eyes of the person who mattered most.

He smirked in response, all humor and bravado intact. “I prefer Ed.”

Winry laughed in a throaty register as she gave in to her husband’s skillful ministrations. Pushing her panties to one side, his tongue set out to do its best, returning the favor for all Winry’s earlier efforts. Ed was insufferable at times, Winry knew, and yet, as he cracked a blasphemous joke and ate her like it was his last supper, she couldn’t help but revel in her good fortune. If no higher power had brought them together during their difficult childhoods or made them as mirror images of one another, being with him was a miracle all the same.

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#you ask i answer #fanfiction trope mash up #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma #edwin #parental!edwin #winry rockbell #edward elric #massage #pregnancy kink

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