Erwin Smith x Reader Oneshots (☆▽☆)

🍋:Commander Erwin's dominance

You never dreamed you'd say this on the day Erwin Smith murdered you. Although he was undeniably dangerous, the majority of his frustration was directed at the curses he practiced for a living. Why was he so bent on making you suffer when he would never lift a finger to an innocent human? Especially on a young woman.

Since he'd had you in your compromising place, kneeling at his feet, fully nude, and with a vibrator working away inside your pussy, he hadn't even looked at you. One of his ties, a smooth and silky piece of material that wouldn't chafe, was used to hold your hands behind your back. It was a small act of kindness on his part. The news paper in his hands totally blocked your vision of his appealing features, and you begged him to put it down so you could see his profile. Yet, unfortunately, he refused to budge.

Your thighs were already trembling, and your whole body was quivering with a raging desire for the man in front of you. You could feel the damp, cloying wetness of sweat forming on your skin as a result of your body's exertion as a result of being denied orgasm for too long. The vibrator inside of you was thudding at way too slow a pace to drive you over the edge, and angry tears were welling up in your eyes.

"C-commander"

Breaths come and go in heavy puffs as you press your forehead against his leg. The man doesn't respond at all, so you adapt with a moan, prickles shooting up your legs, which are gradually becoming numb.

"I-I'm begging you... p-please"

The silence from him persists, and if you were any less depraved than you were, you'd consider making a snarky joke on whether or not he was deaf. When the news paper in his hands is abruptly closed and folded, you're on the verge of losing hope that you'll ever get some kind of acknowledgment from the guy. He tosses it onto the small, round coffee table by his side before turning those unfathomably sharp eyes on your trembling form. Erwin places his elbow on the arm of the chair, his high cheekbone against his knuckle, and looks down at you with an uninterested expression.

A foot arises, and suddenly your chin is hooked onto his smart dressing shoes, keeping his eye on him with a lustful eye.

"What do you want little one?"

The sound of his voice is a shudder running through you. God, that lazy drawl you would never tire of. You were certain that he might sit down and say the first 100 numbers of pi and you will always be as motivated and willing as you are. He rolls you chin slightly, watching closely when you try to fit your tongue and mouth around the words you want, but every attempt to vocalization only comes out with broken "please" whines. He's obviously not pleased with it because he's sighing and he's just gaining back to his paper. Panic bubbles in you, and stops at a small, broken cry "N-no! N-no! Hold on!"

His eyes are now tightened and demanding, as his toe sharply raises your head.

"What do you want little Y/n?

"It's you!" Your speech is high and fluttering, your body bows to the warmth of its legs, "You! You! You! I-I can't - please, I need you!" Your voice goes through whispered little mumbles, your eyes pierced in the desperate try to stop the tears that grow fast enough to fall through the streaks of your flushed face. For a while he's still again, listening to his pathetic small snivels and mewls and the dull bustle of the vibrator that didn't give you rest for a moment.

"Look at me and beg again." 

"P-please touch me, Daddy."

He hums before the weight of his foot withdraws from below you and he stands, taking you into consideration for a moment. You could say that he was satisfied with the fact that you called him daddy. "fucking kinky" You thought to yourself.