Going Postal

Reiner lost count of how many times he had read and reread that letter from Historia today. The creases have started to settle from the numerous times he had folded and unfolded the parchment. He had every word—every dip and curve of each letter—etched into his memory. Her handwriting was no Helvetica but it's perfect and beautiful, befitting of a queen of a heavily militarized kingdom.

He held the pages to his nose and gave a hefty sniff. He could smell her light earthy scent through the paper. An image of her writing this letter emerged in his vision in a misty haze. A sweet smile graced her pink pouty lips as her small hand scribbled on to the paper. Her fingers pushed down on the letter, caressing it as she continues to write. The tip of her pen scratching against the rough surface like her nails on his skin. At some point, she leaned into the document and breathed on to it softly as she reads over her statements. In the end, her tongue must have licked the envelop to seal it like a French kiss.

A tent slowly rose from his pants as he envisioned the queen's hands and mouth doing lewd things to him instead. Never had he been so envious of two pieces of paper. He couldn't take it anymore. With a quick tug, he freed his erection from his pajama bottoms and started to stroke. Lifting the letter to his face, he pumped his shaft harder as he inhaled the intoxicating scent again. Frantically grabbing the nearest bottle of lotion, he dumped it on to his hands before returning to palm his throbbing cock. He didn't want to get a papercut this time.

Wrapping the letter around his dick, he imagined the fascist queen naked in front of him. On her bared knees, she kneeled before him, her hands churning his stick feverishly while her lips sucking on the tip. A bright red blush adorned her cheeks as her baby blue eyes stared lovingly at him. Her long blonde hair loosened, covering her swollen breast. He desperately wished to suckle those milky tits and drink the ambrosia within. He can almost taste her warm milk in his mouth and hear her call him 'baby'.

Reiner groaned loudly, pumping even harder as the papers rustled from the friction between his hand and his erected member. Any faster and he could start a fire.

Suddenly, he was reminded of her child and her marriage to a farmer, one that she probably did not love. The imaginary taste of milk soured in his mouth. He tightened his grip but slowed his pace. There was no way she loved that man. She had never mentioned him in the three years they were in school together. That was seven years ago. Reiner smiled when he realized that it had been a decade since they have known each other (even though they have not communicated in at least 70% of that timespan).

His rhythm picked up and he wanked his shotgun with more vigor than he had initially. This letter that she touched, it's like she is indirectly touching him.

Just because she's married to some farm boy, it doesn't mean that she's off limits. Maybe he should get a tan, so he can become one of those gyaruo chads in NTR hentai that always steals the girl in the end. He already had the blond hair and the dick size for it. He eyed his length. That should be about 9 to 10 inches, right? He stood up to look for a ruler but then he sat back down again, deciding that it was not worth the effort. Not once did he stop pumping.

The idea of cucking that farmer got him close to his climax. No longer does he need to get off by sucking on the barrel of a loaded rifle.

He could see it now. He, a tan muscular god, pounding into Historia from behind as she gets down on all fours, calling out his name nonstop like a Pokémon. The farmer then walks in on them as Reiner fucks the queen on her marital bed. Historia tells her stupid husband to go away because she is addicted to Reiner's cock now. The loser farmer cries like a little bitch but stays in the room to jerk off in the corner because Reiner is such a chad that he must admit defeat.

"Cuck you, farm boy! Cuck you!" Reiner shouted on top of his lungs as he violently came. The thick white fluid spurted all over the mahogany coffee table.

Reiner sighed, wishing that his dreams will one day be realized. The sound of an opening door shook him from his fantasy. Footsteps trotted over towards him to the recliner where he was seated.

"Fuck, man. Why did you have to do this shit in the living room?" The peeved voice of Jean Kirschtein sounded from behind.

"I thought you were in bed." Reiner grumbled, not bothering to look over at his roommate.

"I was but then you started screaming." Jean stopped and eyed the wet, crumpled letter in Reiner's hand and at his now ink-covered flaccid dick. "Dude, you have a problem."

Then Jean noticed the bottle that was tipped over next to him. "Is that my lotion?"

Reiner yank his pants back up. "I didn't put anything back in it."

"Keep it." The frown deepened on Jean's face. He surveyed the mess on the table and all over the floors. It had been a while since Reiner had gotten so unhinged. "You should really go see a therapist. It's not right to lust over a married woman like this."

Reiner scoffed and rolled his eyes at his friend's concern. "You're just mad that I received a letter from Historia."

"The letter was addressed to all of us," Jean interjected, fact checking him on the spot.

But Reiner ignored him and continued, "Meanwhile your dream girl would rather diddle a bird than to give you a minute of her time."

Jean shook his head, "Don't you have a gun you need to give a blowjob to?"

A/N: "Going Postal" is an American idiom that refers to being so angry (usually in a work setting) that you can go commit murder. It doesn't really fit with this fic, but I literally wrote this in a day and wanted to use a pun for the title. I guess Reiner's fans went postal after seeing that one panel on chapter 139, so it fits in that sense.

In the sequel, Reiner tries to apply for a job to be the instigator in a NTR hentai. Things don't go as plan and he goes postal at the workplace, killing his all of his coworkers. (I am not writing a sequel.)

Why Yams, why? (T-T)