#Erwinism Poetry

[wickedzeevyln]

Drought

“Why did you come here?” People often ask. Why move? Why else would you leave the comfort of your home? If opportunities are not your roommates and there is not enough to get by. Would you not pursue chance?

[its-zur1]

Erwin has many names.

Most people call him the Commander of the Survey Corps, of the Scouts. A hope for humanity, a better future, perhaps.

The rich call him Smith. He doesn't mind they never use his first name, that's rarely used in business after all.

His closest ones say Erwin, which is the one he likes the most, for it is a name his father had given him.

Yet, some call him The Devil.

Is he that cruel to be worthy of holding the title of The Devil himself?

He thinks he is. He is sure he is.

He's selfish, stuck chasing a childish dream of his. He's cold, doesn't show any emotions when his men die.

He is cruel, yes.

But he isn't any devil.

A devil wouldn't care about humanity.

A devil wouldn't be willing to sacrifice himself if things didn't go well.

A devil wouldn't have fallen for his captain.

A devil wouldn't have asked for permission.

"Please, let me love you."

He asked.

A devil wouldn't have waited for an answer.

He isn't a devil then, is he?

He is just a man.

He was just a man.

A man who had willingly sacrificed his humanity to become the devil.

[theprettybluedreams]

Dedicate your heart

I used to believe

The world was black and white

The bad and the good guys

Easily to divide

But life isn't this easy

Sometimes it's cruel

Plays with our emotions

Turning us into fools

To keep fighting

You need to be drunk on somethin'

It needs to be this one thing

That keeps us sane

In times of madness

You may be a hero

And a villain at the same time

But only you can decide

What feels right in your mind

So dedicate your heart

For goodness all around

'Cause the world is cruel

And yet so beautiful deep down

[vampire-shrine]

I nerfed my old account cuz I wanted a fresh start (I was manic) but now I’m trying to train this new one to show me the exact same things/people that I followed on my old account

this is going to take a while

why did I ever delete my old accounts

oh god

[randomrichards]

SHERLOCK JR:

Film projectionist

Enters film to solve crime

When he’s framed for theft

[botheringlevi]

ᴀɴᴛɪɢᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ

ʀɪᴄʜᴀʀᴅ ᴊᴀᴄᴋsᴏɴ

It turns out the whole sky is a wall.

It turns out we all drink from history’s footprints.

One day the stones seemed to open like flowers

and I walked over the orphaned ground for my brother.

Even now

I can count every barb in the wire.

The stars were covered with sand.

The sandstorm had almost covered the body.

I dug around him, covered him myself.

Today, each memory is a cemetery that must be tended.

You have to stand clear of the briars of anger.

You have to wash revenge from your eyes.

Sophocles kept seeing me as a bird

whose nest is robbed, screeching hysterically.

In another place a flock of birds tear themselves apart

to warn the king of what will happen to his state.

I don’t know who I am. I hardly said a word.

I think Sophocles knew what I might mean,

and was afraid.

Everything I did was under one swoop of the owl’s wing.

Who is anything in that time? And he never listened.

Even the sentry’s words dropped their meanings

and fumbled like schoolboys forgetting their lessons.

What I dug up was a new word for justice,

a whole new dictionary for love.

But why did my own love desert me?

He came too late.

He was

another foolish gesture from another age. What I tried

to cover with dust was the past, was anger, was revenge.

Now you can see it all in mass graves everywhere.

You can see it in the torture chambers,

the broken mosques and churches, the sniper scopes.

You can see it in the women raped by the thousand.

Who is any one of us in all that?

Who was I?

I’ve become someone’s idea of me.

You can no longer read the wax seal of the sun.

The trees no longer mention anything about the wind.

I don’t see who could play me later on.

It turns out I am buried myself.

It turns out we are all buried alive

in the chamber of someone else’s heart.

–𝟸𝟶𝟶𝟹

[quotelr]

I would rather be the hammer than the anvil

Erwin Rommel

[brightboisterousbananas]

A poem for my husband

Title: For I Have Loved Thee Long

I have loved thee long And I will love thee still Even when I’m gone This promise I fulfill.

Not a titan devour Nor a tragedy ensue Nor any other power Can take me from my love for you.

Live long, my dear And at journey’s end When the gates appear My arms will pull you in.

We will rest on the dew Soft grass beneath our backs All the words I’ve saved for you I will begin to unpack.

For I have loved thee long And I will love thee still Even when I’m gone This promise I fulfill.

I wrote this poem for my husband on his birthday last week! 

It also goes with this story I wrote for Erwin Smith and Historia Reiss. 

Here is the link: For I have Loved Thee Long

Fandom: Attack on Titan Ship: Historia/Erwin Rating: E (see more info on Ao3)

[abellinthecupboard]

— Nathan Erwin, featured in About Place Journal, October 2024 Issue (source)

[wickedzeevyln]

Dark Clouds

When dark clouds hover above inside your mind I wait for the sun to come back upWhen I see the flashing signs in your eyes I wait for the surging thunder storm to pass and hand you a cupDid I ever tell you that I'm designed with a gapping margin of error? I'm sorry for thatand the things I saythat trigger storms that sets our world ablaze If an overcast hovers I pray you to let it gently pass and…

[ronanlynchpin]

The parallels between Erwin’s “My soldiers rage” speech and the poem If We Must Die by Claude McKay

[missbubblesoda]

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (29)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27) | (28) | (30)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?

wc: 6.8k

“Lord Angert,” your father began, savoring the name together with his favorite black tea. “The renowned author. I’m sure you’re familiar with his work.” He continued, feigning modesty with a nonchalant flick of his hand, yet the gleam of pride dancing in his eyes betrayed his true intentions. “Even he couldn't resist my darling's charm. Oh, the poetry he must have penned in her honor... words cannot do her justice.”

Your father's words hung in the air, each syllable a heavy stone dropped into the once calm waters of your mind. The golden afternoon glow, not too long ago a source of comfort, was now a fading memory, casting long, distorted shadows as the impending dusk descended upon the tearoom. Outside, dark shades of blue took over the sky, and inside, a suffocating dread seeped into your veins as you recalled the events of that winter day Lord Koch had visited the base.

The Commander. You knew how he felt about Leon. He had made his stance clear that night in his office. And now, you could almost feel his gaze upon you, but you dared not glance his way. His eyes, you imagined, were performing a cold, calculating assessment on you, dissecting your every reaction to find an explanation he could take home with him tonight. And you wished you could provide just that, you wished you could explain that you'd carefully avoided mentioning Leon’s visit the previous winter, fearing the very misunderstanding now unfolding before your eyes.

Your heart longed for clarity just as much as you imagined his did, but under your mother’s watchful, scrutinizing eyes you were trapped. You knew she had been piecing together the puzzle of your relationship, one carefully observed detail at a time, and that every breath, every movement you made would just confirm her suspicions about the two of you. Whatever those might be.

And like so, you became nothing but a mere spectator to your own demise. Sitting there in silence, as still as possible despite the tight knot suffocating your throat. Sitting there in uncertainty, silently praying for a moment of privacy with him, for a chance to explain, to clear this misunderstanding before he left. Before it was too late.

“Our daughter has had numerous suitors since she came of age,” your mother began, her voice surgically cutting through both, the silence left by your father’s monologue, and your distressing rumination, “however, she has consistently declined all their advances.” She declared calmly, while her fingers, steady as a painter’s, lifted the delicate porcelain cup to her lips, the controlled elegance with which she carried herself standing in stark contrast to your own trembling hands.

“Lord Angert, while a formidable prospect, was no exception.” She concluded, taking a sip from her cup, her movements as precise and calculated as her words. And maybe it was the sliver of relief you felt at her opportune intervention, but in that moment, you realized you’d never seen anyone drink black tea so gracefully before.

“Sometimes,” she continued after savoring her drink, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, a small gesture that made you hold your breath in anticipation of whatever words were about to leave her lips, “one wonders if her heart has already found a home somewhere else.”

A sudden, sweltering fever started to burn your face, threatening to consume you whole. Your heart pounded in your ears along with your mother’s last words, a deafening drumbeat against the quiet of the tearoom, drowning out the gentle chirping of night birds that had just woken up from their slumber. And maybe it was the open window and the cool evening breeze blowing against your neck, but despite being in your childhood home, you felt exposed and vulnerable; the urge to seek refuge in the Commander’s gaze, an overwhelming impulse. The need to meet his eyes and apologize for this whole conversation, from the marriage misunderstanding to your mother’s uncomfortable assumptions, was overpowering. Yet the fear of doing so, unintentionally proving her point, and making things even more awkward for him was even stronger.

“Who? A Survey Corps soldier?” Your father interjected, his voice laced with a mixture of concern and amusement as he began to pick up the clues your mother had not-so-subtly dropped. “Buttercup?” He questioned, turning his attention to you, and you could practically see the gears turning in his mind as his keen eyes drilled into you, studying your features as if they would ever betray you and give away your little secret.

“But, aren’t romantic relationships…prohibited there?” He asked, this time turning to the Commander, seemingly begging him to soothe his worries away with a firm nod of his head, which you didn’t know whether he got. You still didn’t dare to look anywhere near the tall man sitting across from your father.

“I mean, I would bet there is no shortage of suitors back at the base,” he continued, his tone shifting to one of protective concern. “But I trust you to keep an eye on my little girl, Erwin. She's my most precious possession.”

“I promise to always take good care of her, Sir,” the Commander assured him, his voice firm as ever, yet gentle as it was on those intimate moments when it was just the two of you, alone in his bedroom, your naked bodies tangled by the crackling fire, his fingertips drawing random patterns on your sweaty skin, and his agitated heartbeat singing under your ear. And like so, in the sincerity of his voice, in the warmth of those shared memories, you found the courage to finally meet his eyes.

And to your surprise, there was no anger, resentment, or recrimination lurking in their depths. Instead, all you could see was a promise - a promise not just to your father, but to you as well. And, in that fleeting moment, as your eyes locked and his lips smiled reassuringly, you allowed yourself to imagine a future where those words were not merely a casual promise of temporary protection, but a sacred vow exchanged under the watchful eyes of your family.

“Alright, it seems dinner is ready,” your mother announced, a contented hum escaping her lips as she began walking towards the kitchen, where the tantalizing aroma of roast turkey was calling. Rising from your seat, you closed the window with a gentle click, blocking out the fading daylight and casting the room in a warmer, more intimate glow.

-

The clinking of silverware against porcelain echoed through the dining room, the aroma of roast turkey and creamy mushroom gravy filling the air as the street lights, now casting long shadows over the room, created a sense of comfortable intimacy.

Your parents, engrossed in their own world of high society gossip, didn’t seem to notice the moment your hand found its way into the Commander’s, your fingers intertwining with his beneath the table. The warmth of his skin sending shivers of delight all over your body.

Luckily for you, your mother’s favorite book: Other people’s personal business, was open in Frida Achterberg’s chapter tonight, and in this moment, with her attention entirely focused on Lady Achterberg’s children and not you, you felt a sense of freedom, a chance to connect with the Commander without fear of prying eyes.

“I heard it from Hansel today,” your father said, his mouth full of roasted parsnip, “he introduced Augusta’s niece to Lady Frida’s son. They’re tying the knot in Orvud this summer.”

“Miss Berger? Marrying that dreadful young man?” Your mother exclaimed, her voice dripping with disdain, as if the mere mention of Marco Achterberg’s name was a social sacrilege. “Can you imagine?”

Your father, ever the eager participant in such conversations, leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I heard it was a match made in the heavens,” he said with a mock seriousness. “Two peas in a pod. Hansel is an experienced matchmaker, after all. Ha ha”

You and the Commander exchanged a silent, amused glance, a secret smile playing on your lips as you listened to your parents' animated conversation. The warmth of his hand, clasped securely with yours beneath the table, reminded you of a comforting cup of chocolate on a cold, snowy day. And his thumb, tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand, was speaking in a silent, secret language only the two of you could understand.

“Can you believe it?” your mother exclaimed, still hung up on Miss Berger’s fate, her features contorted into a mixture of surprise and disappointment. “Young Miss Berger is to be married! Such a pity, really. She's barely out of her teens.”

“Well, someone has to inherit that fortune.” Your father chuckled, a hearty sound that filled the room. “She was Lady Marina’s only child. There’s nobody else to share those golden ingots with,” he replied, his tone laced with a hint of envy. “Let's hope the Achterberg boy appreciates her.”

As your father’s voice drifted into the background, you risked a glance at the Commander, your heart pounding in your chest when you found his eyes already fixed on you. Their deep, captivating blue, meeting yours for a fleeting moment before he turned his attention back to your parents.

“Isn't it scandalous?” you heard your mother say, the faux outrage in her voice making the Commander chuckle softly. But her voice was merely a distant, fading melody for you. Because, his smile… Goodness, you could stare at it for the rest of your days, forever lost in t-

“Buttercup,” your father’s voice interrupted the moment, breaking the spell, your heart racing as you reluctantly let go of his hand, forcing your attention back to the conversation. The Commander, ever the gentleman, mirrored your actions, his expression carefully neutral. “What became of the Achterberg girl you went to institute with? The one who tried to set Mr. Gunter’s office on fire?” He inquired, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Lady Frida’s eldest?” You asked, indulging in a sip of cider to wash any hints of guilt or discomfort from your face. “I heard she married Lord Koch’s cousin, and moved to Karanes.”

“Hansel’s cousin?!” Your father’s voice, as well as his eyebrows, shot up in alarm before turning back to your mother, “that can’t be right. I’m quite certain they’re all well into their fifties, and more importantly, married already!”

As your parents continued their lively discussion about the local aristocracy, you leaned in slightly in the Commander’s direction, your breath warm against his ear. "I believe you would be a far better match for Lady Achterberg's daughter," you whispered, a mischievous smirk tugging at your lips. “She’s a chess prodigy, just like you. Perhaps I should consider myself lucky Lord Koch didn’t introduce you first.”

A playful glint appeared in his eyes as he chuckled softly. “Perhaps.” He murmured back, his voice low and intimate. “Although, I believe Lady Achterberg’s daughter would be quite disappointed to learn that I don’t count setting things on fire among my… interests.”

You couldn’t suppress a giggle as you glanced at your parents, making sure they were still engrossed enough in their animated conversation.

“I’m beginning to notice a connection between Hansel and the ancient art of matchmaking,” The Commander continued, a hint of amusement in his voice, “I suspect he’s trying to take over the social scene one arranged marriage at a time.”

“Well, Lord Koch is a wealthy man with five married daughters, he has nothing to do but marry off everyone else’s. Try the cream of parsnip.” You suggested, serving him a generous ladle next to his sourdough bread.

“Lady Frida isn’t entirely without her faults.” Your father conceded, a hint of empathy in his voice. “Yes, a bit conceited perhaps, but there are far worse people inside these Walls. It’s sad to see the way her kids turned out.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge in her face. “Well, she did raise them, didn’t she, which is a questionable thing on its own. More bread?” She asked, an offer neither you nor the Commander could decline.

“It’s a beautiful house, madam,” he remarked, dipping the crusty bread into the cream of parsnip.

“Thank you, Commander,” she replied, a subtle nod of appreciation as she placed two additional buttery slices of bread on his plate.

“A townhouse in the heart of affluent Mitras, six bedrooms, three floors, and a private garden. What’s not to like?” Your father jumped unprovoked, unable to resist an occasion to display his wealth. His enthusiasm, however, quickly vanished in a matter of seconds. “Except, of course-”

“The shared wall,” your mother and you finished the sentence in unison.

“Exactly, I don’t like-”

“Sharing a wall with the neighbors,” you two said again, exchanging amused glances with each other.

“Exactly.” Your father conceded, a little annoyed at the two women in his life.

“A most impressive property, Sir,” the Commander remarked, his gaze traveling across the room, “I couldn’t help but notice the lack of staff. Is it only the two of you at home, Madam?”

Your mother chuckled softly. “That’s correct, Commander. I find joy in caring for my family,” she said, placing yet another serving of turkey on your father’s plate. “I enjoy cooking and they seem to enjoy my cooking, why would I let a stranger steal one of the highlights of my day? And what’s worse, pay them for it. Would you care for some more turkey, dear?”

You shook your head seconds before realizing it wasn’t you whom the question had been meant for, but the Commander.

The affectionate slip of the tongue sent a jolt of surprise through you as you glanced at your mother, her face betraying no hint of embarrassment. She hadn’t even noticed. The Commander, however, seemed to have caught the accidental endearment, a subtle smile playing on his lips as he gave her an affirmative nod.

Your mother, usually so reserved against visitors, was displaying an unexpected vulnerability tonight, the endearing mistake a silent confession of her growing fondness, perhaps? Or so you would like to think.

As she offered the Commander a generous serving of turkey, a pleasant warmth crept onto your cheeks, realizing the implications of her words. She had fallen in love with him even faster than you had.

“Family is really everything,” your father declared, randomly inserting himself back into the conversation after taking a long pause to sip wine. “Ever considered starting one of your own, Erwin?”

“In my line of work, sir, those are not the kind of thoughts one is allowed to entertain,” he replied, his tone polite but firm.

You lowered your gaze, feigning interest on the food, your face as hot as the soup you pretended to stir. The course of the conversation was clear, and you dreaded the uncomfortable territory you were headed for.

Your father, oblivious to the tension his interrogation was causing you, pressed on. “So you are not wedded,” he observed, more to himself than to the rest of you present at the table. “Have you ever been?”

“I haven’t, Sir.” The Commander replied, his voice steady.

A flicker of disappointment crossed your father's face. “How come? I imagine a man like you, with your masculine bearing and remarkable intellect, wouldn't struggle to find a partner, should you ever change your mind.” He suddenly turned to you, his wrinkly eyes twinkling with genuine curiosity, and perhaps, something else... “Right, buttercup?”

Feeling a blistering blush spread all over your face, you squeezed the Commander’ thigh abruptly, a little above the knee, forcing a smile to meet your father’s seemingly innocent one, and wishing to melt into your chair. With his inquiring eyes focused on you, you were suddenly flooded with flashbacks to that awkward moment in the tearoom from earlier, but at least now you had the warm, firm muscles of his thigh to hold on to for support.

“Your commander here is a fine gentleman,” he continued, stating the obvious, as if you’d never noticed yourself, “a man like him, in his prime, his wife will be a very fortunate lady.”

You smiled forcefully, unsure how to respond.

“Reminds me a lot of myself back in the day.” He sighed longingly, as if remembering a sweeter, more youthful past he could never go back to. “Like Erwin here, I was a man of substance, with a keen mind and even sharper wit.” He recalled, a touch of vanity creeping into his voice. “Tall, muscular, built surprisingly similar to one of those stone sculptures from the museum, if I do say so myself. Right, pumpkin?”

“If you cannot think of anything truthful to say, you will please restrict your remarks to the weather.” Your mother replied, and even though still a little tense, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Tea in the salon, everyone?” She asked, her joyful tone immediately warming the atmosphere.

You exchanged a knowing glance with the Commander, the shared amusement in his eyes making you smile. In this moment, surrounded by the people you loved and the man you had fallen for, you felt a sense of peace and contentment.

-

“Unforgivable! I almost got you!” Your father exclaimed, his laughter echoing from the salon all the way to the dining room, where you stood at the table, clearing away the remnants of dinner.

You’d never seen him so engrossed in a game before. His competitive spirit paired with his complete lack of skill on the chessboard, had always turned the game into a source of frustration for him.

“Perhaps next time, Sir.” The Commander chuckled, making his final move, a calculated precision in his actions that together with the blue depths of his stare, was both captivating and intimidating.

You paused in your task, your gaze drawn to the two men. There was an undeniable affinity between them, a fresh bond forged in shared respect, or royal conspiracy theories, perhaps. Little did it matter, it was a precious thing to witness nonetheless, rare like the unusual moments of domestic tranquility the Commander almost never got, a respite from the complexities of his world. The realization filled your chest with warmth, as comforting as the soft glow the salon was bathed in.

“I won’t be so forgiving next time, Erwin!” Your father promised, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“I will be ready then, Sir.” The Commander replied, his eyes meeting yours briefly before returning to the board, a soft smile playing on his lips.

The flames dancing in the fireplace behind him, the steam coming from the mug beside the chessboard, his relaxed, comfortable demeanor… it all took you back to that early winter night in his office, the first time he made love to you.

A warm smile spread across your lips, the memories from that night flooding your chest with a quiet joy, making your skin tingle with a delightful combination of pleasure and excitem-

“You love him.”

Your heart pounded in your ears, throat tight and dry as your hands stilled, the remnants of dinner forgotten.

“Mother?” Your entire face was burning when you met her gaze, surprise and apprehension battling within your chest as you wondered how long had she been observing you.

“You are in love with Commander Smith,” she stated plainly, her voice carrying a quiet conviction that sent shivers down your spine.

With your heart threatening to break your ribcage, you opened your mouth to deny it, but no words came out. Your mother, with a keen understanding of the situation as she always did, turned her attention to the men conversing animatedly in the salon, giving you a moment to regain your composure.

“Mother,” you began after a while, your voice barely a whisper, “you have an extraordinary imagination.”

Her lips curved into a knowing smile. “Perhaps,” she conceded, “but a mother knows her child, doesn't she?”

Her eyes, always filled with warmth and understanding, now held a knowing look as well, a look that said she had seen through you, understood you in a way that no one else ever had.

“I know you, my dear,” she continued, her voice carrying a quiet authority, “I saw you when Lord Wald’s youngest tried to dance with him,” she chuckled, her tone laced with a hint of amusement, “and I saw you dancing with him too. The way you blushed when his hand found your waist, the way you smiled with your head on his chest…” She paused, still looking at the Commander, whose eyes were crinkling with amusement at something your father just said. “The way you smiled at each other when you thought no one was looking.” She finally turned to you, her eyes softening when they met yours. “I’ve seen this before, you know.”

Your entire face trembled, your muscles doing their best to prevent any emotion from escaping. Looking away from her knowing gaze, you sought refuge in the sight of the man laughing with your father in the room next door. Your little secret should not see the light tonight. Not like this. Not when neither of you were ready.

In that moment, as if fate conspired together with your mother to prove her point, his eyes met yours, his lips offering you a sweet smile, filled with a tenderness that made your heart skip several beats.

“The things you say!” You exclaimed, looking away from him as fast as you could, your ears burning after realizing your mistake, your voice rising slightly in a futile attempt to mask your discomfort. “That’s nonsense, mother. The Commander- he-”

“He is a fine gentleman,” she interjected, her voice soft, “well-mannered, educated, hardworking,” she smiled reassuringly, her protective eyes wrapping you in her warm gaze, “and my daughter deserves nothing less.”

Your lips trembled, threatening to let a small smile slip, her words of approval caressing your ears like soft velvet.

“Not to mention,” she continued, her eyes momentarily traveling to the Commander before returning to you, “he’s also very well-favored, if I may add,” she conceded, the playful smirk tugging at her lips making you chuckle.

“I’ll take it from here,” she declared, taking the cleaning cloth from your hands, “now go, before your father embarks on one of those ridiculous theories about secret societies thriving beyond the walls,” she added, exasperated at the absurdity of such notion.

With the weight of your secret becoming a little lighter now that you had one less person to hide it from, you settled onto the couch, your body instinctively seeking the warmth of the Commander’s side. Your mother joined shortly after, just in time to witness your father challenge the Commander to a rematch. And for the rest of the evening, there were no more interrogations, no more inquiring eyes on the two of you. Only laughter, the gentle crackle of the fire, and poor chess decisions by your father.

-

“Sir, Madam, thank you for a most delightful evening,” the Commander said, his voice carrying a note of sincere gratitude, “your hospitality will be long remembered.”

Disappointment shot through you as you watched him rise to his feet, realizing the evening was drawing to a close. You stood as well, your feet heavy with the impending farewell.

“Anytime, Commander Smith. Do you have a place to stay the night?” Your mother inquired, her voice warm and inviting. “Why don’t you stay here? There’s plenty of space.”

The Commander hesitated, his gaze shifting to you for a moment before going back to your mother, and from that look alone you already knew what his answer would be, even though his lips were yet to make it official.

“I appreciate the offer, Madam, but I believe it best to arrange my lodging at a nearby inn.” He announced, a polite smile gracing his lips. “You’ve already been very generous with me, and I don’t wish to overstay my welcome.”

“Nonsense, we made you stay in Mitras longer than you intended to,” your father interjected, his voice firm but laced with warmth, a warmth that ignited a little flame of hope inside you, that maybe your parents could somehow convince him to stay, “the least we could do is offer you a warm bed for the night.”

The Commander bowed his head, a subtle smile playing on his lips, "your hospitality knows no bounds," he replied, his voice filled with sincere gratitude. “However, Sir, I’m afraid my answer should remain the same.”

Your mother's smile widened. "Of course, we understand. And we won’t delay your departure any further as you must be tired, but please, do visit again soon. You're always welcome here."

“That’s right, and before you go, Erwin,” your father began, his grip firm as he shook the Commander’s hand, “once again, thank you for watching over our girl.” A genuine smile graced your father’s features before they grew darker, a shadow of concern crossing his eyes as they scanned the room, seemingly expecting an unseen threat. “Be careful out there, Erwin,” he warned, “these are uncertain times and those who share our beliefs must be vigilant.”

A shiver ran down your spine as your father’s words sank in. He was not usually like this, and the seriousness in his voice was as unsettling as it was concerning. If he was this alarmed, then the world outside these familiar walls must be far more perilous than you had originally imagined, even in the ‘safe haven’ known as Mitras.

“I certainly will, Sir. Be careful as well.” The Commander replied, exchanging a serious glance with your father, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken danger. And something about their demeanor made you suspect that it wasn’t titans what they were worried about.

“Mother, Father, I’ll see Commander Smith out,” you declared firmly, a desperate last attempt to find at least a moment of privacy with him. A minute or two in the hallway, out of your parents’ sight, should be enough to steal a kiss from those sweet, indulgent lips.

“I will do it-” your father began, but your mother’s voice was quick to cut through his words.

“How come? Remember Doctor Spiegel said that people your age should be regular with their sleep schedule,” she declared, her tone unwavering yet playful, and with a final glance at you, she led your father upstairs.

“People my age?” You heard your father question, his voice, as well as their retreating footsteps, a fading echo in the now perfectly quiet house.

The Commander turned to you, his eyes holding a silent farewell. You offered a small, resigned smile in return, your hand reaching for his face as if by force of habit.

“Do you really have to go?” You asked, your thumb tracing the bristly skin of his chin. It was selfish, you knew, wanting to take even more of his time, to demand even more of his attention, and yet...

“First Lord Koch, then Lady Angelika, then my father…” you sighed, watching your fingers play with the collar of his shirt. “It seems everyone gets to have a moment with you today, except for me,” you said, your eyes meeting his as your lips uttered those last words.

He smiled, his eyes disagreeing with what you just said, yet regarding you with a tenderness that never failed to make you feel safe and protected.

“Princess-”

“I know I’m being selfish,” you confessed, putting on that same little smile you used when you were just a little girl, asking her parents for candy, “but I’d love to have you all to myself, even if just for a little while…” You paused to look up at him, your eyes crinkling in mischief, “do you think that would be possible…Commander Smith?”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as his hand reached for your face, running an indulging finger across your cheek.

“My lady,” he began, his voice low and intimate, “how could I say no to such a reasonable request?”

You smiled wider, excitement weaved into the little giggle you let escape, and linking your fingers with his, you led him back to the salon next door.

“Interesting piece,” he murmured as you walked through the doorway.

“Hmm?” You turned around, finding his gaze lost in the vibrant green fields of the painting above the fireplace, “oh, that. Mother fount it at a local fair,” you explained, guiding him to the couch, where you could share the warmth of the fireplace, “said it made her feel-”

“Free,” he echoed softly, his voice carrying a hint of longing.

You looked at him, his gaze still drawn to the painting in front of him. In the soft glow of the fireplace, his features were even sharper. His nose, in particular, was a work of art in and on itself, high and perfectly proportioned, the bridge prominent and the tip slightly downturned…

Goodness, he was so beautiful.

“Exactly,” you said softly, still admiring his profile, “Mother loved it at first sight. However, upon learning its true meaning, she deemed it too provocative for her taste.” You paused, your eyes momentarily shifting to the painting. “Life beyond the walls. That’s what the artist envisioned.”

His gaze returned to you, a silent question reflected in his eyes.

“Notice how there’s nothing on the horizon?” You explained, tracing the outline of the painting with your eyes. “No walls, no titans. Nothing but the bare blue sky.”

He nodded, his eyes following yours back to the canvas, where they decided to rest for the time being.

The room fell silent for a while, the only sound the gentle crackling of the fire in front of you, casting dancing shadows on the walls. You were mere inches apart, fingers interlaced, your body leaning into his, yet you could tell his mind was a world away, still lost in the imaginary realms of the painting. You stole another glance at him, and remembered about the earlier misunderstanding regarding Leon. Figuring this was the moment you had been praying for all evening, you opened your mouth to apologize.

“A provocative work of art, indeed.” He suddenly murmured, more to himself than to you, his expression still contemplative, his voice so deep and mellow, so husky and inviting… It was truly unfortunate that the object of his admiration was the painting, and not you.

Inside the dimly lit room, with the dying fire highlighting the sharp lines of his features in intimate shades of gold, and the delightful sight of his profile staring right ahead and not your way, you realized that the Leon matter could wait a little longer, because at the moment, you were incredibly tired of sharing his attention with the painting.

A quick glance at the lonely, sleepy corridors of the second floor sealed your decision. With your heart pounding in your chest, you took his hand and placed it on your thigh, where the thin tulle of your dress offered little resistance to his touch, your skin burning beneath his manly, calloused fingers.

His eyes, a piercing shade of blue, promptly returned to yours, a silent question lingering in their depths.

“Tell me, Commander Smith,” you started, your voice a whisper only he could hear, “and my dress?” You asked, his gaze lingering on your lips for a moment longer than necessary, “do you find it…provocative too?”

He looked down, his eyes resting on your thigh much like his hand was. And you could see the look of disapproval on his face, you too knew this was inappropriate. However, you could also see the battle raging within him, a silent war between reason and desire. You wouldn’t blame him if he pulled away, but you hoped the temptation was strong enough to make him stay.

Then, as if to help him make an informed decision, his fingers started tracing the delicate fabric of your dress, his thumb and forefinger studying it, feeling its texture, the warmth of his skin seeping through the tulle, burning the fine, very-easy-to-tear fabric.

“Very much, my lady,” he finally said, his voice a gift from the gods themselves, so low, so perfectly rough it caressed your skin in all the places you wished his fingers did. Under the intense scrutiny of his gaze, a strong wave of desire crashed between your legs, flooding your senses, soaking you entirely. And you wondered if he wanted it too. You wondered if he wanted to taste you, to feel you against him just as much as you did… And most of all, you wondered if he imagined tearing the dress from your body, just as much as you wanted him to.

“Distracting,” he murmured, his eyes tracing the lines of your body, lingering on your exposed shoulders and beauty bones, “a man can’t help but have dangerous thoughts when confronted with such a sight.” His fingers tightened around the fabric, your entire body trembling under his touch, the smell of burnt wood blending deliciously with his intoxicating cologne.

“What kind of dangerous thoughts, Commander Smith?” You dared to ask, your chest rising and falling in anticipation of all the promises his eyes were silently making to you.

A knowing smile played on his lips, and goodness, the things that smile could do to you. If only you could kiss it right now.

“The kind that are best not shared with a lady,” he replied, his palm, warm and firm, flat against your skin, “much less under her parents’ roof,” he said, his fingers sinking in the soft, tender flesh of your inner thigh, his grip gentle yet greedy, as to remind you that he could take you whenever he pleased.

It was not until you spoke again, and felt your breath warm against his lips, that you realized the proximity between your faces.

“Would you like to help me take it off?” You asked, the question dangerously tumbling out of your lips before you could stop it. As your heart pounded loudly in your ears, you realized the implications of your words. You hadn’t intended for it to go that far, yet you couldn’t say you were mad at yourself for that.

His eyes darkened, a dangerous glint flickering in their depths. “Very much,” he gave you his honest reply, his voice almost a growl, a raspy, delicious answer whispered against your lips. “However, circumstances dictate otherwise, and a man would be greedy to expect more from an already wonderful evening,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of regret.

“A man would be cruel, merciless even, to leave a lady in such distress,” you countered, breathing heavily against his lips, “all to herself…” You shifted in your place, pressing your thighs together, the need to touch yourself, an overwhelming desire.

“Tell me, Commander Smith,” you continued, your voice both a plea and a demand, “aren’t you going to kiss me before you leave?”

A storm of desire raged within his eyes, your question igniting a silent war inside him. From such proximity, you could see duty and honor trying to keep him from slipping, from making a dangerous mistake, from giving in to his most primal instincts… yet their efforts perhaps weren’t enough…

A dangerous smile took over his lips as he leaned in, his lips hovering a hair’s width away from yours. His hand rose to the nape of your neck, where his fingers, asserted a firm, possessive claim on you, securely tangled in your hair.

“Pretty princess,” he murmured, his voice a dangerous promise, his bottom lip menacingly brushing against yours.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of fear and anticipation. You wanted him to close the barely existent gap separating you, to claim you in that moment with a kiss. Yet, the thought of your parents returning filled you with dread. Should any of them come back down and see you like that… it would be the end of you. These were definitely not the activities their young, unmarried daughter should be engaged in this late into the night, much less under their own roof.

However, the man in front of you was too hard to resist. He was worth risking everything for.

And just like that, as temptation pulsated between your legs, you reached out, your fingers tracing the bristly line of his jaw as you brought his face impossibly close to yours.

When your lips finally met his, time seemed to stand still. Eyes closed, you brushed your bottom lip against his, a soft, tentative touch that was enough to make the world around you fade away, worries, fears, insecurities, and Marie Dok included. In that moment, when he held your bottom lip captive between his teeth, nothing else mattered but the connection between you. Every time your lips touched, you felt a sense of wholeness that was impossible to describe, as if it was only then that you were sound and complete.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you parted your lips, inviting him in, his tongue tracing delicate patterns inside your mouth, dancing against yours with a practiced skill. It was an area he knew very well, after all. And his hand, once gentle, now moved with a possessive urgency, tracing the contours of your body, roaming over your back, claiming the curves of your hips as his…

You moaned softly, your body arching against his as he deepened the kiss. And you felt him smile against your lips as you melted into him, your entire body trembling under his touch. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, the taste of his lips, the feel of his touch, the intoxicating aroma of his cologne- it was all you could focus on, your senses completely consumed as you surrendered to the intensity of the moment.

As you surrendered to him.

You held his face with both hands as he kissed you deeper and deeper, pleased, contented hums escaping your lips as you enjoyed the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. His hand, meanwhile, traveled back down to your inner thigh, where it decided to rest for the time being, his fingers warmly tucked between your legs, dangerously close to your silky, drenched underwear. You felt a surge of delight that threatened to consume you whole, your body aching with longing, aching for him. You shifted in your seat, a silent plea for him to continue, to take you further. Yet you knew he would never cross that line without your consent, much less in the middle of your parents’ salon. He was a gentleman, a man of honor. But you… you weren’t that self-possessed, and your mind was already racing with forbidden fantasies.

You wanted to climb onto his lap, to feel him closer, goodness he must be so hard right now. But the knowledge of your parents, sleeping just a few rooms away, held you back, a cold chain binding you to your place. You knew the risks. A glass of water, a cup of warm milk, a late night stroll to fight insomnia… They could return at any moment, and an encounter like that would ruin everything, everything you had built that afternoon.

“Commander Smith,” you whispered, gasping for air as you pulled away.

His grip on your hair tightened slightly, a silent protest against your words, “a little more, princess,” he commanded, his voice husky with desire and his breath warm against your lips.

You leaned into him, taking his bottom lip between yours to reassure him that you didn’t intend on stopping either.

“Upstairs,” you declared, your eyes extending a very inappropriate invitation. Your faces so close you were surviving on each other’s oxygen. “Come with me upstairs.”

A wave of guilt washed over you as you uttered those words. A part of you felt bad about how much your parents trusted you, and how eager you were to abuse that trust with what you were about to do. But an even bigger, better part of you couldn’t stop imagining the things he would do to you behind closed doors, once you took the matter upstairs to the safe, intimate walls of your childhood bedroom.

He stared at you with a puzzled look in his eyes, surprise as evident as the blue in them. As if he hadn’t heard you correctly, you leaned in again, your breath a warm caress against his ear. “Erwin,” you whispered his name softly against the sensitive skin, “please take me to my room,” your cheeks burned with a delightful blend of excitement and nervousness as you continued, “and once there…” you whispered, planting a feather-light kiss down the side of his neck, “make me yours.”

-

next chapter

Hey! Hope you enjoyed this chapter😊 if you’d like to support my writing, you can do so at ko-fi/missbubblesoda 🫧

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[saenora]

YOUR FAVOURITES AS YOUR SIMPS

note: if we flip tables and what if youre the mangaka character and your fav simps on you… these are some adequate subpar headcanons… 🫠 (i dont write so lmao bear w me 🤭) thankies to Ai <3 @gojoest-main for indulging always mum ily and SOBS GOJO IS BASED ON WHAT AI SAID🤭)

the husband

YN IS HIS LOML. he is huge on selfship community! HIM AND EVERYONE CALLS HIM YOUR TRUE HUBBY! he has a whole lot of selfship arts with you. he might go broke with all the merch but he cant help it every time he sees your fanarts or a new chapter drops, he goes feral. PINTEREST MOODBOARDS, PLAYLISTS YOU NAME IT. HE HAS IT. he is defending you on every website, writing little self indulging drabbles about you. he knows you well, his little head canons are cannoned by all of your fans. your his f/o and nobody can change it. he either talks about you infront of his friends and he has gained a reputation because of it or leads teh secret life… there is no inbetween. has the sweetest selfship headcanons but occasionally tweets regular horny one liners about how bad he wants to be fucked by you, or about how much he wants to cum inside you and get you pregnant.

gojo?, reo, kise chuuya, isagi, yuuji, taiga, ran + anyone who fits the criteria

the loyal hoe

he has too many blorbos, he knows it. BUT YOURE HIS MAIN BLORBO, HIS BIGGEST SELFSHIP/ THE ONE HE KEEPS CRAWLING BACK TO. it can be put as you made him standout. IS 25/8 YN BRAINROT AND TWEETS HORNIEST STUFF. HE ONLY SURVIVES ON SMUT AND BREATHES TO THE THOUGHTS OF YOUR AROUSAL. writes the best sex stuff. he keeps hopping from one to another but everyone knows he is your biggest whore. UNHINGED. crazy lot of nsfw fanarts of you, has patreon subscription to see all those fanarts. it doenst matter where he is, work/home/cafe. HE IS THIRSTING ABOUT YOU. writes about the shapes of your labia/cock and can write poetry on your body.

SHIDOU, karasu, dazai, GOJO, sukuna, toji, BACHIRA, aomine(ik.. but if he could write), ranpo, EREN, kaiser, jean + anyone who fits the criteria

the sweetheart

he isnt extremely active. somewhere in between the worlds. he calls himself your cheerleader, your number one supporter. he has tons of art saved of you might/might not be on budget. has one commissioned selfship with you. he loves you and probably has the most pure of the selfship with horniness served as dessert. (NO ONE CAN ESCAPE IT) occasionally indulges in you. is mostly very sfw!! but his head is full of all the sexi stuff. loves to talk about you… if anyone strikes a conversation about you he can write verbal books. CERTIFIED SIMP. his selfship is uwu. doesnt go big on it but is a soft fan.

kenyu, hiori, isagi, yuuta, megumi?, chifuyu, rindou, kakucho, connie, atsushi + anyone who fits the criteria

the silent one

he has been your fan since the start, the first time he laid his eyes of your 2d character design, your story, your everything captured him. he loves you from afar.. isnt really active but has a small pinterest board or a playlist of you that he silently indulges in. has no idea what selfships are but you’re a coping mechanism for him (sometimes). if you were real, he’d treat you so much better than the shitty charcter you’re stuck with. doesn’t pick fights online but wouldn’t hesitate if someone crossed a line. he doesnt realize but thinks of you more than a fictional character. probably is the healthiest out of the five. none of his irls know about his fixation of you and it would never see the light of the day. IF LOYALTY WAS A PERSON IT WOULD BE HIM. period.

nanami, rin, ness, levi, erwin, akutagawa + anyone who fits the criteria

the idgaf

he simps only for you. he has posters of you and is not ashamed. people know about you being his favourite character but he is scary so nobody can ask it about. has minimal/no online presence. but keeps signed copies of the mangakas. JERKS OFF TO YOUR POSTERS UNABASHED. he follows one fan account and prolly goes anon sometimes. heavily reads your smut or hasn’t scratched the surface you cant tell. YOURE NOT A CHARACTER, YOURE HIS FAVOURITE. ANOTHER ONE WHO DOENST KNOW WHAT SEFSHIPS ARE, BUT HEAVILY CREAMS THINKING OF YOU and has wild fantasies about you.

sae, aomine, shoichi, oliver, izana, kaiser(idk), baji, naoya, mikey, wc kunigami, ranpo + anyone who fits the criteria

zen speaks: i’ll do a yn as diff as character tropes drabbles too 🤭 so wtevrhr <3

dividers: @/cafekitsune

[sommerflue-22]

Little Things They Do...

Little things they do to show you they love you

Read the other parts: Part 2 // Part 3

Featuring: Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackerman, Armin Arlert, Jean Kirschtein, Connie Springer, Sasha Braus

Warning: Modern setting

Word Count: 572

Author Note

Something I wrote in a whim after listening to this song. No beta, we die like Erwin. These actions can be perceived platonically or romantically, whatever suits you. Let me know if you want me to write for other characters as well!

Read the next part here

Eren

Eren will hover above you, as you're sitting down in your sofa reading your book or just scrolling in your phone. He'll ask you what you're reading, or if you found something interesting on twitter. He'll leave you alone if you're too immersed in what you're reading. He'll stay and sit next to you if you want to tell him about it. He loves hearing you talk about things that excite you, how your eyes widen, and your random hand gestures. You won't notice it at first, but Eren will crack a subtle smile that reaches his eyes.

Mikasa

Mikasa will let you sleep anywhere around her. She'll let you rest your head on her shoulder. She'll let you snooze on her lap. She'll cuddle you no matter what time it is, as long as she doesn't have anything else to do (you're her number one priority, so...) It doesn't really matter where you both are. You can be in your living room, in the library, in one of your friends' house, sitting next to each other during a bus ride. Mikasa will let you sleep and she will let you sleep as long as you need to.

Armin

Armin loves to leave you small notes here and there. You will find it everywhere. In between your textbook pages, inside your jeans pocket, taped on your lunchbox. He always have the time to scribble a few encouraging words and slip it somewhere for you to see. If he really has the time, he will write you a longer note or even a short poetry. Telling you how your laugh reminds him of the crashing waves by the beach, how your lips are as soft as the most expensive silk ever existing, how your hands are as warm as the summer breeze.

Jean

Jean insists he'll take you to wherever you need to be. You're heading to the convenience store down the street? He'll walk you there. You want to go to the library and stay there all night to study? He'll go with you (he will probably fall asleep a few times, but it's fine). You're visiting a friend somewhere far where you need to take the subway? Worry not, he'll drive you there. There's something about having you near him that makes him feel at ease.

Connie

Connie will probably send you songs that remind you of him. He'll text you the link and tell you, hey this song is really cool! You should listen to it! It doesn't have to be a romantic song, because what matters is how the vibe feels for him. He might send you a song by an unknown artist, with a language you both don't understand. However he'll tell you how he loves its tune, and how he wants to slow-dance to it with you forever and ever.

Sasha

You probably think Sasha will share her food with you but there's so much more to her than her love of food. She will give you the most random thing she found throughout her day. It can be a wild flower, a pretty round pebble, a penny, a safety pin, a Disney princess band aid, everything. She'll come to you, grab your hand, and drop something in your palm, kissing your cheek before walking away to do something else. They might be mundane, everyday stuff, but it has been something programmed inside her mind. Find something, give it to Y/N.

I hope you like it! Please let me know what you think :D

[bnuyy2]

huehuehue 💞

Everyone deserves to be mailed lingerie then stripped free from it, and by everyone, Erwin means his wife specifically.

// tags: erwin smith x reader, smut, allusions to masturbation, reader is briefly lifted, modern AU, fem!reader

// word count: 1300

Without him here, there was no need to bite back your smile. A pure, shameless grin - a laugh even - as you took in what was before your eyes: pristine white box, black ribbons bowed over the corners, and silver cursive you were too hasty to read. 

Chills seized your fingers as they worked on untying and unwrapping. Lid fell to the floor, beneath: transparent wrapping paper, folded perfectly. Tiny card rested square atop it:

For you. Hope to see it soon. From Sydney, E.S.

You rolled your eyes even as your face started to burn. Fumbling now, you dug through the box, tissue paper crinkling. You wondered if there was a more delicate texture in the world. There was, and it was the gift within. Panties so soft, next to nothingness. So thin, he would tear right through them. At the thought, a wave of heat, a heat that somehow made you shiver.

Instinctively, you shouldered off your robe. Straight there in your foyer, a naughty silhouette projected onto your curtains, stepping out of silk dress and into white lace. 

From all those miles away, Erwin had picked a perfect fit. That vision, you supposed, had landed him this executive position - the one that bought you this house, the one that pulled him away from it - business trip after business trip. 

You bunched the stretch of fabric in your hands and startled, already damp. “Damn it,” you cursed to yourself, ten days too many. 

Matters into your own hands. It was what he would want.

// // // 

Clean sheets. Mirror on the ceiling. A few favorites lined up. Nothing on but your new gift. Everything was right.

But about that. Narrowing your gaze, the mirror’s reflection above you gave a disapproving shake of her head. You had undressed yourself with self-loving intentions plenty of times, but something about this outfit, it demanded a partner. One did not light their own birthday candles, did not massage their own back. This underwear carried similar sentiment. 

Blue lilies he would deflower, dainty lace his large hands would trace. Yes, it was perfect on you. But it would be even more perfect to have him take it off of you. 

Your filming session had stopped before it started, but you supposed some stills would do. 3 PM. His work phone.

Yeah, that’ll do. The couple shared a near simultaneous thought as you sent the photos and he received them. 

Got your present. Have a sneak peek. I’ll express my thanks when you get home.

Index and thumb pressed to his temples. Home never felt so far away.

More to that gift, but won’t get there until flight 613’s arrival.

Over halfway through this trip, back sooner than you think. 

Had you the presence of mind, you would have noticed that 613 did not match the ticket stub on the fridge. Erwin figured that the package had made for a good-enough distraction. Indeed, though you daydreamed of his return for hours, you jumped at the sound of his key sheathed into the lock.

“What the-!?”

A satisfied smirk on the man otherwise proper. Immaculate smile, except for the lip bite. Proud posture, heart racing beneath. Pants ironed, ignoring the bulge at his middle - an impossible task. To everyone else, Erwin was objective perfection. You were the only one close enough to see his flaws, to find the beauty in them, to love him even more because of them. 

“Happy to see you, too,” he teased. 

“Yeah?” Sauntering closer, pupils dilated, a predator longing to be prey. Lotioned hand explored his slacks until landing a habitual hold of a familiar length, “I can tell.”

His briefcase hit the floor with a thud, but you did not startle, not even when calloused hands cupped the backs of your thighs and hoisted you to the countertop. Cold granite met your lower half - its ice shooting through your veins. A brief whimper as your nipples rapidly hardened, Erwin was quick to take them - warm them - in his mouth.

Shaky sighs as you labored to reach your arms over his shoulders, to knot your fingers at his undercut. The sudden onset of stimulation brought a singsong to your voice, one that turned his belts and briefs unbearably tight. “So eager,” you cooed. “Seems to me like you just wanted an excuse to come home.”

You knew: he was too smart to be this naive, to mail you lingerie without expecting you to put it on, take a picture, and text it to his work phone immediately.

“That,” Erwin offered, “or you just wanted an excuse to bring me home.”

He knew: you were too devious to play so innocent, to send him that photo without expecting him to cancel his meetings, book a flight, and get home just as immediately - faster than you could say, back so soon?

“But…” you rolled your head back, relishing. As you propped yourself further up the counter, you feigned consideration, “you worked so hard for-”

“-for times like these.” Erwin growled. Sturdy hands strove for delicacy, running fingers in your hair as he insisted, “If I can’t please my wife, I might as well quit.”

Your only response was a stammer. The husk in his voice made intoxicating contrast with the slick of his responses. Uttering filth like it was nothing, your eyes rolled back, is this a dream?

No, not even your unconscious could come up with this, how his knuckles hooked exactly where your hips became curves, sliding down symmetrically and simultaneously with sadistic slow. The singe of his exhales on your torso, drawing shudders he subdued as he held you in his arms. The marks he decorated your neck with, saliva and swears stuck to your skin. Erwin had given you many memorable experiences, but this was some other, “E’Erwin…”

“You have no idea,” he hissed, “how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

Your eyes widened, lips parted at the idea - the realization - of how he had spent his lone hotel nights: dreaming of this very scene, his return, and how you would look in these panties. 

“Even better than I imagined,” sighs landed upon your ear. Two fingers to your middle, finding your folds despite the fabric. With each back and forth, your arousal continued to spill, soaking his touch. “So adorable…” between licks of his digits clean, his groan flirted with a whine, “irresistible.”

Ventures away always seemed to fog his memory. His tongue rejoiced when reunited with yours, though the taste was far from foreign. The milk to his coffee, the sugar to his tea, the sweetener to the hardships of life. He forgot all else in the presence of you.  

Words threaded with kisses, “How do you do it, hm?” Lovemark on your jawline, “Tell me your secrets.”

Nails dug into his nape, “You know them already.” 

Yes, he knew, but he still had to find out - find out what was inside those flowery panties, explore how exactly the garment matched with your crevices, discover the scent of French lace and you. Selfish was his stare as he tugged down and down, licking his lips as he watched the clear string fall from your cunt, along your thighs, all the way to your ankles where he let them hang. 

My god, Erwin swore, she waited for me. So wet, so sensitive, he could tell, that had to be the case. Insatiable, in this context or others, was his desire to have his theories confirmed.

“If I were a betting man, and I am-” Erwin asserted, “I’ll bet you’ve been waiting for this all week.”

You thrust your hands in his hair, nails curled, beckoning him forward, “I shouldn’t have to tell you,” you chastised with a selfish pull of his locks, “get down here and taste for yourself.”

// masterlist //

[botheringlevi]

ᴅᴇɴɪᴀʟ

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ ʜᴇʀʙᴇʀᴛ

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦

𝘛𝘩𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴,

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯, 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦;

𝘔𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳.

𝘔𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘸,

𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳:

𝘌𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺; 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘰,

𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘖𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴.

“𝘈𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘨𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦,” 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘺,

“𝘈𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣

𝘉𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘺,

𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘮𝘺 𝘎𝘰𝘥, 𝘖 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦!

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨.”

𝘖 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦

𝘛𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘦,

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨!

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨

𝘔𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦,

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵,

𝘜𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘨:

𝘔𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵, 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵,

𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘮, 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨

𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥.

𝘖 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵,

𝘋𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦;

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵,

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘦,

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘩𝘺𝘮𝘦.

–𝟷𝟼𝟽𝟶