lived my whole life in guilt bc i thought i was responsible for people's feelings. newly realizing that other people are responsible for their feelings and reactions, even if they make it seem like i'm the problem. a lot of the time it really has to do w them and their own emotional regulation. i can't keep thinking i'm not allowed to have space bc of other people's insecurities. like i literally refuse to dim myself. other people are responsible for their feelings just as i'm responsible for mine.
Summary: Wrath, Gluttony, and Lust. Apart they're dangerous, together they're deadly. All together, you've found they have a name - Erwin Smith. (word count; < 8k)
Warnings: Dark content, 18+ MINORS DNI, NSFW. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT (if you don't like it, don't read it). Cannibalism. Descriptive murder of unnamed characters. Blood and gore. Sexual themes and Smut (Blood kink (menstrual included). Choking. Oral - receiving. Marking. Unprotected sex. Penetrative sex. Mirror kink. Creampie. Cockwarming.) Reader; eats meat (animal and human), drinks wine, has female anatomy, has periods (mentioned), is called 'wife', wears dresses.
Listening to: 'It Will Come Back' by Hozier - "Don't be kind to it, honey don't feed it - it will come back."
Part 2 || AO3 Link || Masterlist || Ko-Fi || Fright Night Bash 2023
"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." - Emily Brontë, 'Wuthering Heights'
Erwin had always been perfect.
Picturesque and put-together - it was like a man made just for you walked right from your dreams into reality.
He was charismatic, a gentleman with enough old-fashioned values to be charming. He made you feel like the only person who mattered in the world - something quite foreign to you prior to meeting him - and to him you really were the only person who mattered. Erwin loved you, and there was not a single doubt about it.
You didn’t know he wasn’t perfect - that he wasn’t, in every way, flawlessly carved and molded by gods - until you moved in with him. By then it was too late to back out. By then you didn’t want to - you liked how the ring on your finger looked too much.
Actually, for the first week things went smoothly. Like clockwork. None of it bothered you - too high on finally getting what you wanted to realize how in danger you were. At the time, your rose-colored glasses were blood red. Nothing was a problem until you started wanting to take them off.
Mainly because Erwin wasn’t letting you.
Meals were always cooked by him - which at first you liked, but he wouldn’t let you make anything just to be nice, if you wanted something he always made it. He barely let you put things from the fridge onto the bench.
“All you have to do,” he’d say, pressing himself in between your legs as you sat on the countertop next to the sink, “is sit there and look pretty.” His hands would move up from your knees to your thighs, sinking into the meat of your hips to pull you closer. “You do it so well for me.”
Then he’d kiss you for all your worth, still with his apron on and shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and you’d forget why you wanted to do anything else except watch in the first place.
It was like that for a lot of things. Cooking and washing. Even work or shopping - the only time you went out of the house together was for dates, otherwise outside of your home he was never with you and you were never with him. You’d pout about it, kick up a fuss, and he’d sedate you with a few carefully placed words, hands, kisses, and occasionally his cock.
Each time it worked. Because you let it.
But months went past, and you didn’t want to keep playing the naïve and pliant partner. Because while you were most content being pliant, you weren’t a naïve person.
You wanted to know what was going on.
Erwin had taken an afternoon of work at home. He retreated into his study an hour ago and the house had been quiet since.
But you sat in the living room watching the embers of the morning's fire finally die off, and your mind was anything but quiet. There was something about Erwin, about this house, that didn’t quite feel right. Like something was missing - and it wasn’t a fucking child.
You wanted to know what it was. You needed to know.
You slowly moved from the leather couch, and like a ghost you went and stood in Erwin’s doorway.
He was standing also, near the window at the back of the room, reading over a handful of papers. He didn’t look like he noticed you there, but you knew he knew. Erwin always did.
“Do you need something?” he asked quietly, not looking up. You stood with your arms at your sides, unmoving.
“What do you do without me?” You surprised yourself at how saccharine your voice was. It made Erwin’s head lift, and he looked at you - finally - with a frown as he set the papers down.
“What do you mean?”
“Why don’t you let me do things with you.” you said, “You’re keeping secrets and I don’t like it. I feel like they’re too big for you to keep keeping them hidden.”
“You deserve to not have to worry.” he said, starting to step forward. You knew what he was going to do - he’d done it a hundred times to get you to stop asking questions - but this time you weren’t going to let him. You weren’t playing dumb anymore. You took a step back.
“That answer is so rehearsed, Erwin.” you said, “It’s good to stick to one story, helps avoid suspicion. Normally. But I just want you to be honest with me.”
You watched his storm blue eyes as they tracked your face. Soon he was mere inches away, and his fingers came up to graze your cheek - you would normally lean into it, but not right now. You had a point to prove.
Seeing this, his fingers moved lower, his hand wrapped around your neck - his palm on your throat, and his fingers pressed into the muscle under your jaw. If you closed your eyes it would be all you could feel, but right now it was like he was barely there.
“You want to know?” he asked. Your pulse picked up but you weren’t afraid. It was a show of strength and control, but you weren’t bending, you weren’t breaking. Not yet. “You’ll never see me the same way, I want you to remember me like I am now.”
“I want to know you as you really are.” Erwin’s hand moved from your throat down to your ribcage, resting warm on your side as he leant to press a kiss to the corner of our mouth.
“If you’re so sure,” he said, nose brushing your cheek, “I think then I’ll finally let you see our basement.”
Erwin never let you in the basement.
He said it was either too cold, or too dark for you to be allowed to go in. His precious little wife couldn’t be getting sick or hurt because of something that could be avoided.
In all honesty, you’d never had an interest in the basement anyway - months passed and you’d never once thought to go down there. All that was there was the boiler and a few chest freezers you used to store meat - both things Erwin looked after or did himself.
But now you were at the bottom of the stairs, watching as Erwin pulled on a leather butchers apron, with dust collecting around your feet.
It was cold in the basement. Dark too, even with the single bright white light on.
“I meant to deal with this carcass this afternoon,” he said, watching you watch him. You weren’t sure if to believe your husband's little secret was that he liked butchering animals on the side. As cruel as it sounded, it was still perfectly normal. “It might be nice having some company. They’re not really very conversational.”
That set off a little bell in the back of your head. Like ‘hey, that’s a little weird’ - like ‘hey, that's what you’d hear from someone who worked in a morgue not in a butchers cool room’. But like all the other alarms, bells, and flags, the red danger signs went right over your head.
Erwin approached one of the freezers - you watched as he lifted the door with one arm (and noted how his shirt strained over his shoulders, but you were still making a point, so it was set aside for later). The door propped open, then Erwin leant down and grabbed the carcass inside.
When it slung over his shoulder, you weren’t met with the beheaded shoulders and skinned muscle of a sheep - or even a goat or small deer -instead there was a face. Open eyed and lifeless, with a face drained of color and covered in frostbite.
You watched, with some morbid curiosity - or shock - as your gentle and doting husband effortlessly hung a lifeless human body by his jaw from the butcher's hook on the ceiling of your basement.
It slowly dwelled on you what exactly had been happening these past few weeks. That this had been happening the entire time you’d known Erwin Smith.
It was strange how you didn't notice it before. Watching now though, as he carved through muscle and sinew with a practiced and surgical ease, that he was not just dismantling this man for the sake of being able to hide his remains easier. He really did look like a man working in a slaughterhouse - and how he spoke of this man like he was an animal born and bred to be eaten.
Your thoughts went to the first time he served you venison - you said it tasted strange. He said it was an acquired taste - but you had been raised on fresh deer from your uncle's farm for years. You knew you loved it.
He gave you beef - likewise you asked where he got it from. His excuse at that time was that it was different when it was newly slaughtered. Again, for the same reason, now you knew it was a lie.
You couldn’t look away from how he skinned this man, how he knew which sections to carve away and keep, and which to throw away. He worked at it like a well oiled machine - all the while talking to you as if it was the most normal, casual thing in the whole world.
You thought you were going to be sick, you could even feel it sitting in your throat. All you did was slowly sit down on the stairs behind you, and kept on watching.
Dinner was made equally by the both of you that night.
Although you didn’t once touch the meat - not even to cook it. You knew where it came from - you saw this flesh pulled right away from its bones just hours ago. You remembered what Erwin looked like as he carved up another collection of meat you would’ve been eating from for the next few weeks - how his hair was mused and his pupils were blown wide. And as the body thawed, how he slowly became covered in more and more blood.
That night you could swear his reflection in the dining room mirror had horns.
And you saw how Erwin looked when he collected your plate after you finished, you saw the look in his eyes when he realised what you thought about what he’d done. What you thought about him.
There were no secrets now - and seemingly everything was still going over smoothly. You hadn’t made a fuss, you hadn't run away, you hadn’t called anyone, you barely even mentioned it, but there was just something. A little nagging something. It was telling you that not everything was right between Erwin and you anymore.
Like you weren’t quite sure if you were going to be safe with him or not.
Sat at your vanity, you slowly worked through your nighttime routine as Erwin dressed for bed behind you. You were caught between keeping an eye on Erwin and completely focusing on your task at hand. A question that had been sitting in your stomach since that afternoon bubbled into your throat.
“Who was that man?” you asked quietly.
“You didn’t recognise him?” Erwin replied, surprise in his voice as he turned to you. “I found him hard to forget.” Figures - Erwin did kill him, you’d expect him to remember. However, why you’d know him went right over your head.
“Of course I don’t,” you said, quietly speaking as Erwin’s hands rested on your shoulders, kneading at the tense muscle underneath them. You only just managed to stop yourself from flinching at his sudden touch. “Should I?”
“No,” he said. You saw him smile as he lent to litter a few small, soft - almost shy - kisses along your neck. “I wouldn’t want you worrying about a man who did such a vulgar thing.”
“What do you mean…” Your breath was taken by lips mouthing under your ear before you could finish your sentence. Heartbeat and eyes both fluttering on habitual instinct at the hands that had now wandered to tempt the delicate skin hidden under your shirt.
“Don’t worry.” He said, sounding like a command - having had your curiosity shocked into submission, you folded like you normally would.
After all, with his wandering hands, smooth words, and suckling mouth, who would worry.
Erwin once told you that pleasure was the best distraction from pain. Most of the time he was right. It had worked so far.
But that night after he fucked you long and hard and deep, as he lay dead asleep to the whole world, you lay awake. There was still a dull ache between your legs - still sticky too - and parts of your bare skin stuck to his from sweat left mostly unattended, but those weren’t the thoughts on your mind.
You remembered who the man was.
There was a bar you and Erwin went to only a few days ago - one of those perfect dates procured by a perfect husband. A dimly lit building, with tall tables you had to stand at. You’d dressed per Erwin’s request - a little dress that had you wanting to feel yourself as much as he was feeling you.
However it was gaining more attention than was appreciated.
A man - the man who’d met his demise at the hands of your husband - had indeed been quite vulgar. You weren’t quite sure how you forgot about it - perhaps the shock that there was anyone in your basement freezer had all other thoughts leave your mind.
But at the time it happened, you were sure something downright horrible could’ve happened to you if Erwin wasn’t there. That man was not kind or polite. He was no gentleman. He wasn’t going to treat you right, how you deserved to be treated. He wasn’t Erwin.
Like the knight in shining armor he always had been, Erwin was there - he dismissed the man and worked twice as hard to make sure you both forgot all about him. You certainly forgot, he however clearly did not.
It made you wonder how many other meals Erwin had made of men or women who treated you less than he thought was due.
You felt yourself curl into Erwin’s side. Your leg lifted over his, and even in his sleep his arm held you even tighter. Despite everything, he wasn’t going to hurt you. You felt safe with him. Most of all, you trusted him to keep you feeling safe.
He would do anything to keep you safe.
Erwin was quite understanding about you going completely off red meat.
For a while he really couldn’t blame you. However he was a little concerned. The sudden change in your diet was starting to show - physically and emotionally. His way of trying to get you to eat properly again was taking you out when he went to get groceries.
Normally he liked this time for himself - he found it calming, sorting through fruits and vegetables, picking and choosing the best for both him and you. Having you with him was different - but he found he liked you company just the same. You had a good eye, one he’d have to utilize more.
His main reason was proving to you that there were meats you could eat - look, there was beef and lamb both in the cart. All pre-packaged and perfectly normal meats to cook and serve for dinner - you’d have them tonight, he decided when he saw your eyebrows raise at the sight of them.
What you hadn’t known about his grocery trips, and what he had forgotten to tell you on that morning, was the cashier that always worked registers on the days Erwin was shopping.
She was a little older than you, but only half as pretty (although Erwin was sure that was debatable to some - not to him). She had a habit of attempting to make advances at him - all unfruitful, and all a little embarrassing to watch. Erwin thought nothing of them, perhaps he felt annoyed on occasion, but otherwise paid her no mind no matter how persistent she was.
He half hoped that bringing you along with him would make her cease. She just acted like you weren’t there at all.
However she clearly had caught you completely by surprise.
For a moment, Erwin caught a look on your face. Dark and unlike anything he’d ever seen on your features before. Something about how you held yourself was always so soft - but this was sharper than a razor's edge. He always liked your softness. He liked this too, but again it was different. He may have liked it more.
He didn’t even realize that the cause of the change was because she bothered you more than she bothered him. Not until much later.
You’d learnt two things from being married to Erwin.
One was that you could get away with anything. You could ask Erwin for anything, and it would be yours as soon as humanly possible. You could ask the same from others and they’d listen - not just because of who you married, but also because you just had a face that could get away with it.
The second was exactly the same thing - only it held a brand new meaning after finding out what secrets were held in the basement; you could get away with anything. Even murder.
Erwin was out for dinner - something he hated, but business must do what business does - and so were all your closest neighbors - holidays or dinners, as was the routine come around Friday night. You had the house, the whole neighborhood almost, to yourself.
But after a strategically placed grocery visit two days prior, you were not going to be alone tonight.
You almost laughed at her - the foolish cashier who’d so eagerly agreed to coming over to dine with you tonight - because of her cluelessness. Because she couldn’t see danger when it was standing right in front of her.
Besides from the company, it was a nice night out - hence why you took it outside on the barbeque table. Well, aside from the fact it would be easier to clean up outside than inside.
“What is this?” she asked, carving out a hefty piece of the steak you prepared and eyeing it.
“Wagyu. Japanese.” Your foot swayed carelessly from where your legs crossed, the grass tickled the bottom of your bare foot. “Some of the best you’ll get your hands on.”
“Really?” She said, believing you and putting it in her mouth. Even though she worked in a supermarket, she didn’t know any better - you were betting on it - and she couldn't tell otherwise anyway. “You’re not going to have any?”
“Oh, no.” you said, smiling into your red wine, “When you have it so often you lose your taste for it.”
That was about the most truth you’d said at once the whole night - from the happy greeting to just now. Of course the steak you served wasn’t Wagyu - if it was you’d definitely be eating it. In reality it was one of the last cuts left of the man you’d seen Erwin first butcher.
You really hoped he wouldn’t mind you using it up - after all he would be getting a whole new carcass in return for one steak. In your mind that was a very generous trade.
“It’s actually quite amazing,” she said, leaning back on the bench seat opposite you, “You’re such a good cook.”
“I learnt from the best.” you said, adjusting the knife on your place set and putting your glass down. “Would you like another glass?” You asked, standing to take her empty whiskey tumbler in your hand.
“That would be great.” she said, then turned back to her food. You walked away with a smile - it disappeared as soon as the sliding door shut behind you. You poured another shot into her glass - not wasting another top shelf liquor now she wasn’t around to see the difference - and eyeing her through the glass door with a look that could kill.
Before you went back outside, you took a trip down into the basement. Erwin always kept the kitchen carving knives sharp - but the ones downstairs? You knew they moved through flesh like it was warm butter.
Erwin swore he heard a broken scream as he pulled his car into the driveway.
There was an unfamiliar car in the driveway too, and you were home alone - and it made him very, very worried.
He grabbed his briefcase from the passenger seat, then made his way inside without wasting any time. His bag was dumped carelessly right by the door, and he called your name, multiple times.
At the end of the hallway, beyond the sliding door that led outside, he saw you walking up the deck stairs from the barbeque table. He practically ran to you, but stopped just beyond the kitchen doorway when he really, truly saw you.
You stood just outside, one hand on the glass door frame while the other held a knife - one he knew lived in the basement. Blood ran down your arm onto the silver blade - blood was everywhere. It was all over your face and satin dress, one he loved to see you wear on dates, and now it was ruined.
Well, ruined was a harsh word. If he were being honest, he'd say it had quite improved now. He liked the look of blood on you. From the twitching in his slacks, he really like it.
“You’re home early.” you said. His lips parted, partially in shock at how casual you were acting, and partially because he just couldn’t quite believe the implications of what he was seeing.
“You wanted me gone longer?” he asked, breathless. He watched you shift from one foot to the other - watched the fabric of your dress glide over the flesh of your stomach and the plush of your thighs, watched a drop of blood slide from off your chin down between your breasts. His jaw went slack, chest filled with a longing to follow the red trail with his tongue.
“Actually no,” you said, still playing aloof, gesturing behind you with the knife, “I don’t think I can move her on my own.”
“‘Her’?” Erwin found his voice still came out soft, unbelieving. He felt like he just walked into a dream.
“Your little supermarket girlfriend.” Your lips curled up into a snarl as you spoke - your eyes held the return of that dark look he’d only seen once before. You were angry. You were jealous. He’d never wanted you more.
“She was not my -”
“- It doesn’t matter what she was or wasn’t. Not anymore,” you said, looking at him with enough force to have him rendered mute, “Just help me move her downstairs.”
The knife was thrown carelessly onto the dining table - red droplets scattered on impact - before you turned on your bare heel and walked back in the direction you came from. Only once he watched you walk down the stairs did he manage to move. He was sure this wasn’t really happening - it was far too good to be true - yet if this were a fantasy he wanted to see just how far it went before he woke up.
Erwin’s suit jacket and die was discarded on the wooden decking the moment he saw you with the cashier’s body. You stood over her with her chin in your hand, her head tilted back so you could get a good look at the clean gash that ran from one side of her neck all around to the other.
He watched you in a daze as you stood straight up, her wrist between your bloodied fingers, and waited. You’d never looked more in-control than you had now - for the first time he found himself standing quite dumbstruck, waiting for you to tell him what to do.
“Heart’s slowed.” you said, “Should’ve lost enough blood to be fatal. Freezing her will help.”
“How do you know?”
“Cut both carotids.” you said. You looked up at him though your eyelashes, head low and voice soft. You looked like a devil. “Honey, I’m not stupid.”
Erwin had never been more in love.
There had been a freezer cleared, you knew that already, and despite the fact you would’ve struggled carrying someone your own size inside and downstairs - Erwin did so with little effort.
While he was busy, you couriered the remaining dinner dishes inside to the sink, and swaddled the blanket the cashier was sitting on inside to get washed. The thing was an absolute mess, soaked through in places. It’d probably be easier to get rid of it.
You had just finished outside when Erwin returned to meet you in the kitchen. His whole effort took less than ten minutes.
He had stained his shirt - chest, arms, all down his back - and his hands were slick. There was even a mark of it on his cheek. A mark of her.
You walked over, intent on wiping away the red herring, but found your efforts only made it worse. Your hand was covered in blood too. There was an unusual anger rising inside you. One the rivalled frustration but burned white hot.
But Erwin’s hand slid up from your forearm and gently wrapped around your wrist - he mirrored your position and pressed your palm into his cheek. His other hand pulled your body close to his, and your free arm hung dumbly at your side.
“What are you doing?” you asked - this time you were the one that sounded breathless, although you didn’t completely understand why. Maybe the adrenaline wore off, maybe you were realizing what you had done - but really it was neither of those things.
You saw that look in Erwin’s eye - you knew yours looked exactly the same.
“I’m processing.” he said, eyes fluttering about but never once leaving your face. His cheek was so warm. “Processing how my wife is even more beautiful now than on our wedding day.” You felt your feet shuffle closer as he pushed you back so your waist hit the counter’s edge.
He was hypnotising you, lulling into a cloudy haze with his movements and with his eyes and it lay thick and heavy on your tongue - but its bitter weight had never tasted sweeter than it did now.
“Kiss me,” you whispered.
The kitchen tiles and the marble countertops were not a pleasant place to be intimate. You knew it, and so did Erwin. Hence why he pulled you across the room with hungry, wet kisses onto the dinner table.
Your dress had been pushed up above your hips so fast it almost tore the fabric, and Erwin hadn’t wasted any time honing in on the wet spot on your underwear. One he seemed intent on making as large as possible.
He knelt at the end of the table - the chair had been hastily kicked aside - and had eased you to lie down with your legs thrown over his shoulders. As his teeth and tongue worked at making a wet mess of your inner thighs, his hand wandered up your dress to cup your breast, mindlessly toying with the bud in between two fingers.
The blood from his cheek smeared into the spit on your leg, and as he groped the fat at your chest he could feel the sticky red catch under his fingers.
You couldn’t help the way your eyes fluttered closed at feeling him all over you in such a way - an action that hadn’t gone unnoticed by your husband.
His mouth moved from your thighs to over your clit, hidden under your panties, and he laid a kiss there so gentle that it made your entire body jolt. Then his mouth opened, and he treated your lower lips with the same generosity previously granted the ones above. That was what you had been waiting for, it was what you were most craving, and he was reading you like an open book.
Unlike your dress, Erwin’s urgency to rid his current workspace of fabric was less than enthusiastic - the drag of thin cotton and elastic was slow, achingly so. He was teasing you, and as your frustrations grew so did your longing. He knew it.
The slow drag of his tongue up your slit to your clit almost had your back keening right off the table. It was enough to feel, but it wasn’t right. You needed so much more. Driven by need, both your hands went to his head, gripping to his hair for dear life as you urged his face closer to where you needed it - blindly angling your hips up to meet his waiting mouth.
Eventually, his mouth met the place you needed him most. Bare, open, wet and waiting. His lips went right to your cunt, opening over your core and his tongue dove right in. His nose pressed up to your clit, and you heard him breathe in deep.
The sounds he was making were absolutely sinful.
Erwin barely pulled away to speak, mouth still connected to your cunt with the slick he was conjuring - he was speaking into you as much as he was speaking up at you.
“Getting to have you like this is perfect.” He sounded like he was going to cry. “I’ve been waiting so long. So long.”
And then, as if his mouth even left you, he returned with twice the vigor. His shoulders shoved into the backs of your thighs, but his grip on your hips pulled you in further, pressing the curved line of his nose deeper into your slit. The sudden intensity made your thighs quiver.
“Erwin, p-lease.” you moaned, voice broken and choking on nothing but air as your fingers pulled relentlessly on his once-perfect blond hair.
“Yes, c’mon baby,” he mumbled, eyes fluttering open and closed - unable to decide on focusing on pleasing you or watching how pleased you were - “Use me. Please. Show me you need me.”
“Need you.” you breathed, legs curling over his shoulders. “Need you so bad Erwin.”
All he did in reply was hum - the feeling spread from your cunt all through your body, washing in waves down to your toes, and up to your head, making everything fuzzy as your eyes closed in pleasure. You were content to stay exactly like that for the rest of the night.
But Erwin was never one to do things quietly - he went above and beyond - and he always had such a mouth on him. He was intent on making sure all his energy was pushed towards pushing you to release. His fingers and mouth, the muscles in his thighs keeping him knelt just right for you, and his thoughts never slept - he needed you to know exactly what he was thinking - as if he knew how much you loved knowing what he wanted to do with you.
“Just imagining how good you’d taste -” he groaned, pulling away and replacing his face with his fingers, two slid right in with very little resistance, “- when this blood on my hands is yours.”
Your mind went to the woman in your freezer.
Eyes slowly opened to glare as Erwin stood over you. With the different angle your hands moved - one down to where his wrist was pressing against your clit as his fingers curled inside you, the other around his throat, tensed around the veins that ran either side of his windpipe.
The same ones you cut to kill that woman in your freezer.
“If you kill me, I’m going to fucking murder you.” You hand pressed harder, enough that if you took your hand away there would be a white mark where the blood was forced to leave his perfect skin.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.. I could never hurt you like that.” he said softly, unbothered by your hand around his throat - the look in his eyes told you he was more than pleased at how rough you were being. He leant over you and mounted the table with a knee pressed to the underside of your thigh. “No, instead what you can give me is much better than her blood. Neither of us have to do a single thing in order to have it, and that makes it so much sweeter.” As he spoke his lips rested over yours, his breath was in your mouth and if you licked your lips you’d taste as much of him as you would of yourself.
His hand curled down, pressing your joint arms between your bodies at an odd angle, letting his fingers move in such a way that had your eyes rolling back and mouth opening in a silent scream at the pleasure and pain his fingers started to bring.
Like an open invitation, his mouth was on yours. As he stuffed your cunt with a third finger, his tongue worked into your mouth and spread the taste of your slick all over. It was intense - how all you could feel was him inside you and his hand around your ribcage; all you could taste was the salt you gave him, the kind he craved; all you could smell was him, oak wood and leather, and the smell of your sex that he'd pressed his entire lower face into.
There was no other place in the world like this - nothing compared to being pressed into the wood of your dining table by a man who completely adored everything about you. Now, you decided, you could stay right there forever.
His lips moved again, from your mouth down your chin to your jaw. They landed on your throat, and you moaned at how his teeth sunk into your skin and sucked. Once he felt sedated at the size and color of the bruise there, his tongue went to work once more - starting right down on your breasts and licking all the way up to your jaw.
Erwin was cleaning you. Drinking you clean and leaving you bare of the red splatter that once painted your skin imperfect - for he suddenly found the one thing he loved more than seeing you covered in blood was being able to clean it off you.
His breathing was heavy, and he groaned into your skin as his knee gave way so his hips could roll down into yours despite his hand blocking his way.
“Oh sweetheart, the things I would do for a chance to be between your legs while you bleed life right into my mouth.” His admission - along with the constant pressure of his wrist moving on your clit - was your final push. Your stomach tensed, pussy clenching over his fingers and sucking them in tight. “That’s it, yes that’s - perfect. You’re so perfect.”
In blind pleasure, eyes glossy and looking right past his head to your ceiling, your hands freed from their vice grips on his wrist and throat to move to his hips. As your hips bucked up into his hand while you rode out your orgasm, your new purchase had him rolling down into you even more.
Oh, if the size of his cock spoke it would tell you how he must be completely aching inside the slacks he wore.
“Show me,” you said between catching your breath and coming down from the release Erwin brought you, “Show me how you’d fuck me if this blood was mine.”
From the way his teeth sunk into your shoulder - so hard you swore he’d rip a mouth-sized chunk of flesh right from your bones - you had definitely said the right thing.
With his mouth still leaving borderline painful marks on your neck, his hands worked on slipping your dress off - the slick from his fingers left painted cold lines on your skin as he dragged the fabric off, blood spread thin over your body, and with a flick of his wrist the dress was gone completely. All in one piece, too.
But the same courtesy was not given to his own clothes - thread and buttons tore, and soon before you stood your perfect, bloodied, naked husband. He seemed to take a moment to look at you, chest heaving and looking like he’d just run a marathon.
Your thighs pressed together, and the sticky wet left strings webbed between your legs as he pried your knees open. His hands were big, and warm, and for the first time you really noticed how calloused his palms were. Before you could dwell on it long, his hand wrapped around to press your leg up into your chest - as it moved so did he, languid and calm, and he was above you again with your knee pressed to your chests and his palm at your throat.
He was looking at you with such an intensity that you knew in that moment that you would do anything he asked of you. Without a word, his eyes told you to stay exactly how you were - so you did.
You could feel your heartbeat in your ears, watching Erwin though lidded eyes as he leant away and his hips lowered and the leaking tip of his cock touched your stomach.
Your other leg raised to hook around his waist, an attempt to urge him into the place you needed him most. But he was nothing if not steadfast in getting what he wanted too.
“Tell me. Show me.” he said. “Let me know that you want it.”
But you couldn’t speak. The ability to form words had completely left you, partly from imagining how good the slow drag of him would feel inside you, and partly because the hand around your throat stopped most noise from going further than underneath them - you could barely swallow without Erwin having to give way to the movement. So you did all you could do.
Your hands scrambled for a place to hold, a place to sink your nails into and never let go - a place where the skin was so thin it dragged and curled and caught under your fingernails. It was an action you had done many a time before, but this time it was different. Your ferocity ran deeper, harder, he would bleed and hurt and he would wear these lines for weeks instead of days. The thought made your hips buck up, swivel in yearning and pure want. You were showing him how deep your need ran.
“Yes, hurt me.” he said, open mouth covering yours and swallowing every silent noise of want and relief as he angled his body to finally press into your core. He always felt so big, and he was harder than you ever remember him being. He was hot, and he slid right into your warmth like he was always meant to be there. Like it was his home, the one place in the whole world meant to be just for him.
“Erwin,” you mouthed, eyes unable to stay open anymore at the feeling of him stopping right against that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes and warmth pool in your stomach.
“What is it?” he hummed, releasing the pressure on your neck enough so you could speak properly. For a few agonizing moments all you could do was pant and squirm as his other hand pressed down on your womb to keep you still under him.
“I need it, I need it.”
“Need what?” he asked, moving over you again to press too-gentle kisses to your cheeks, “I know you’re feeling a lot right now sweetheart, but I need you to talk to me. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” you said, eyes caught watching him watch you, and you swallowed thickly. “I need you to do what I said. I need you to fuck me.”
Your voice came out stronger, more collected and coherent than you thought it would. Even the way Erwin’s eyes widened slightly told you he was as surprised at your admission as you were. But it wasn’t an admission - it was an order.
“Anything for you.” he said, pressing his lips to yours. His hand moved from your abdomen to your hip bone, and you knew you finally - finally - got what you wanted.
From how eagerly he gave in, and how enthusiastic his movements became, Erwin had been waiting for this too. To have you exactly as he was right then.
The squelch from his thrusting into your cunt, and the rapidly cooling slick that spread from your core onto your thighs only served to urge you on further - it had your back arching and pussy clenching over Erwin’s cock. Both your hands flew to his wrist, not to stop his hold on your neck, but to ground yourself as you mindlessly bucked up to meet his thrusts.
“Oh baby yes, look at you.” Your eyes opened, mouth waiting and expectant for another consuming kiss - but Erwin was not looking at you. Not directly. His head was turned, and you felt how his hips picked up speed at what he was seeing in your dining room mirror.
Your head turned, and you had to fight to not roll your eyes back into your skull at what you saw. You couldn’t want for anything more than the man above you.
His grin was almost all teeth, jaw slack, and he looked nothing short of an animal. Erwin almost laughed at how pleased he was with how he had you.
His hair a mess, and parts sticking to his forehead at the effort he was putting in to please you. Even from your angle you could see the welts over his shoulders where, at his command, you had stripped him of his skin. Blood was still practically everywhere, and he looked like an absolute mess. A very pleased mess.
While one arm had your leg almost up over his shoulder while his hand gripped your bloodied and bit-ridden neck, the other was all over your other thigh - keeping it pressed around his hips, and your heel dug into the dip below his hips to encourage him as deep inside you as possible.
His thrusts weren’t letting up, and the sight of him watching you watch him had you moving as much as you could just to meet him. To force him as deep as he could go.
And then there was you. Laid equally bare and equally covered in blood - and completely at the mercy of your husband.
Your hair pressed down onto the table beneath you, bite marks and hickies littered your neck, dried spit and blood all over your chest. Your whole body felt like it was on fire. Hot and wanting - all you wanted was to come undone.
Lower still, thanks to your leg being lifted to the high heavens by a man who was now mouthing and panting at your ankle, was a perfect view of where your bodies met. With the way his cock sunk in and out of your pussy, and your white slick coating the wiry hairs at his base. With such a lewd sight as that, it was no wonder he became so frantic.
One of your hands went to your clit - swollen and aching, the fair brush of Erwin’s hairs as his hips met yours wasn’t going to be enough for you. You needed more. You were going to take it for yourself.
But Erwin, still keenly watching you in the mirror, saw. The hand on your hip moved down between your bodies, laying atop yours and guiding your fingers in a rhythm you didn’t even know - but one he knew would bring you to release, even if you didn’t.
Your grip on his wrist tightened, nails pressing crescents into his skin. Your mouth opened again, eyes unable to stay open for the feeling that built inside you took over. You were so close that it was all you were thinking about.
Erwin - he was all you could feel. He was consuming you. You were consuming him.
“That’s it, that's my -” he choked, words caught in his throat, feeling how you clenched around him tighter with a cry of pleasure - it went straight to his head. “That’s right, yes.” he said, eyes closing as yours fluttered open to watch as his face contorted in pleasure.
A new warmth burst into your stomach as Erwin’s movements slowed to a stop, hot and thick. As you laid there with the last waves of your own pleasure - and the complete feeling of being filled to the brim - lulling you into a sense of complacency, you watched as your husband opened his eyes again.
He smiled at you, his hand finally moving off your throat to the side of your jaw, brushing your hair further away from your face. The pressure of his arm keeping your leg up left, and it moved down to wrap around his waist too.
With a light groan, and a little assistance from Erwin, you sat up. Together you moved so he stood at the edge of the table, while you sat on it. You shuffled slightly closer, thighs tightening around his hips as the angle pressed him deeper inside you again.
Erwin’s tightened grip on your hip was a warning - one you were planning to follow. You didn’t think either of you had it in yourselves to go that far again that quickly.
Well, maybe you could - but you were more than happy not to.
But at that moment all you wanted was to just stay as close to him as possible.
Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, breasts pressed flush to the hairs on his chest, and his grip on your waist moved down to under your thighs. He lifted you off the table, and with a few carefully placed steps, he backed into the seat he previously pushed aside.
With you now in his lap, he held you properly. His fingers traced the curves of your back, and one stayed there to press you into his warmth while the other continued to wander up your ribcage.
“I love you,” he murmured, nosing your cheek and pressing a soft, slow kiss to your lips. Your fingers found their way to the back of his skull, itched past his undercut and found a home fixed in his blond locks.
Your chests pressed together, breathing still unsteady, but you’d never been so calm. So sedated. In that moment, as you looked at Erwin, all you could think of was how the flush on his cheeks made his freckles completely disappear. Your insides felt like a slow pour of the sweetest honey.
“I love you too.”
“But we need to talk about what you’ve done.” Erwin had barely broken away from you to speak again, but the idea of what exactly you did wasn’t clicking. He could see it on your face.
“I didn’t do anything.” you said with a pout - it took everything in him to not take your lip between his teeth, but he would be content just being inside your pussy. For now.
“Oh but you did.” he said, keeping his voice soft and movements slow, “Sweetheart, I think you’ve killed someone for me.”
He watched you frown, then watched as it deepened in realization. Then, like when he caught you in his button-down shirt for the first time, you shied away. Your face found a place on his shoulder so he couldn’t see it, and then you answered him.
“She deserved it.” you mumbled. “And if you were planning on finding someone else to fill your freezers then tough luck. I got there first.” he felt your fingers tighten on his hair, and he was slightly glad you’d hidden your face on him.
That way you couldn’t see the pleased smile that broke across his features. He was going to speak again, when you beat him.
“And if you think anyone besides me is going to carve her up, then you’re dead wrong.” When he realized what you’d said, his grip on you tightened even more. “I can’t wait to butcher her up like the pig she is. Bet she’ll taste awful though.”
He had to purse his lips together - an effort to keep his mouth closed and no sounds coming out. At your admission he became absolutely ecstatic.
Weeks ago he never would have thought you’d feed into his habit - he never even planned on ever telling you about it. He was content with having you clueless to his true nature. Perhaps once or twice, he fleetingly dreamed that you might happily join him when he dined on the flesh of the people who wronged you.
But this was better. This was so much better.
You had changed since he married you. His slow patience had worn off and he held in his hands the fruits of his labor - filled to the brim and painted red. Now you could do it together, whole-heartedly and in every aspect. From the slaughter to the meal, he had you. And you had him.
Now the moment you said so, he would believe you, and if you wanted someone dead he would happily, proudly bring them to your feet all for you to feast on. He’d take it even more seriously, and he would kill anyone you wanted him to. Anyone at all. And you’d do the same for him.
Turning his head, and kissing your temple, he let you feel him smile against your skin. Now he knew he really had you all to himself.
oh, how he just wants to make a pretty little house wife of you. leave you with absolute freedom and autonomy over your time.
you want to go shopping? here's his card.
you want to join a yoga/ pilates/ kickboxing class? let's register you together!
you want to renovate the kitchen? my buddy knows a guy.
he wants to come home and smell the amazing cooking you have for him. or on lazy days, plop on the couch with you and eat take out.
he wants to smile at his phone while at work because you sent him a selfie of you eating breakfast at noon, or taking the dog for a walk, or with shopping backs in the trunk or with the people you're volunteering with or whatever it is your heart desires.
he wants to see you on the porch, barefoot and pregnant, rubbing your belly and waving to him as he pulls up in the driveway.
he wants to hear you ramble on about the new book you read and hated/loved. or help you brainstorm ideas for your passion project.
he wants to brag about you to all his work buddies and bring you to all the corporate dinners and stroke his own ego while you bashfully tell his coworkers that you "don't have a job, my husband takes care of everything."
❝let me take care of you, baby.❞ ❥︎ collegebf!eren x reader
・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・
synopsis: it was nearing finals, and you avoided your boyfriend— eren—like the plague. and boy, was he was worried for you. your normally cheerful demeanor dwindled to something snarky, something avoidant. all you did nowadays was study till your brain rotted, and it made you a bitter person. he was waiting for the day you'd collapse, and the moment you did, it was worse than he expected. good thing he was there to take care of you. to pamper you because you were his baby.
*contains suggestive content!!
key: e/c -> eye color
・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・
hey y'all!! 💌
again, not sure how the whole tumblr thing works. i'm experimenting and trying out writing for fun, so please be kind. i was pretty out of it when i wrote this, so ignore any typos or inconsistencies. also, bear with our y/n. she's crafted this way for a reason.
it's my first time writing a short fic/drabble, and i did this as more of an experiment. i welcome feedback but please be kind with your words. i am just learning and finding out what works for me.
anyways, hope you enjoy lovelies!
best,
~ nene
The past few weeks had been a living hell.
Not because of the finals nearing round the corner, or because of the two hours of sleep you were getting per night; not because of the crude professors who made it their life mission to assign a million projects when the quarter was about to end; not because of your parents who did not give two shits about your mental health.
It was the distance you were maintaining with Eren that made it the hardest.
He was worried for you. You could tell by the way his eyebrows would furrow when you would decline yet another plea to relax, or the way his eyes conceringly flitted to your scrunched posture whenever you'd cuss at yourself, or the way he would gently, tenderly... remove your hands that tended to roughly rake through your hair when anxious.
Your breaking point was nearing, and he was holding himself back from embracing you right then and there. He was not one to interfere, but he wanted to take care of you, to ease the burden off your shoulders and reassure you that your studying would amount to great achievements. But he didn't know how to reach you. You were so caught up in your bubble of self-sabotage and pressure that you shut the rest of the world out, including him.
But he didn't want to be "the rest of the world." He would wallow in your bubble too, only if you'd let him in.
"Fucking deratives will be the end of me," he heard you seethe from your position on his gaming chair. The both of you were currently cooped up in his room, with him scrolling through TikTok and occasionally glancing at you while you revised and revised till your eyes were sore.
Eren's roommate flew out, which left the place to himself. He lured you here stating it would be better to study at his place with "no distractions" compared to your apartment with Hitch, who was quite the gossip and hinderance.
As you highlighted yet another section, you felt his eyes raking down your figure.
You were engulfed in his oversized grey hoodie, wearing nothing but a flimsy cotton bra and matching underwear underneath. Your hair was messily thrown up in a bun, a few strands tickling your forehead here and there, to which you frustratedly blew from your periphery. Lilac crescents embedded themselves into your under-eyes, followed with bags entailing sleep deprivation. One bare leg was propped up as you rested your chin on your knee and swung the other absentmindedly.
If you didn't stop studying now, you'd collapse from exhaustion. Three hours had passed by nonstop. You hadn't even drank water.
"Y/n," he called out gently.
You ignored him, but he knew you heard him because of that cute forehead scrunch you just did.
"Y/n," he called, this time a bit louder. Once again, that damn scrunch, but no verbal acknowledgement.
"Y/n!" he tried for the third time. You furrowed your eyebrows, scowling. Your slender finger pressed into your plump lips, a gesture made to silence him.
Leaving his position on the bed, he strided over to you. He got onto his knees and gently took ahold of your meandering hands. The callus of his fingers felt textured against your knuckles.
"Why are you ignoring me, babe?"
"I'm not ignoring you," you replied, trying to refocus your attention on your migraine-inducing Calculus textbook. He tried not to flinch at you shutting him out for the nth time this week.
It hurt him whenever you tried drowning him out like he was a petty distraction.
Because he wasn't to be discarded. He was your boyfriend, and he promised to always be there for you, so why wouldn't you just confide in him?
"I called for you three times, Y/n," he stated calmly. Letting go of one of your hands, he gently drew circles on your knee with the pad of his thumb, hoping it'd soothe your nerves. Goosebumps littered your skin at the gesture.
"Can't you see I'm studying, Ren? I can't talk right now." Overstimulated and tired, you weren't in the mood to converse. In fact, you weren't in the mood to do anything. All you wanted to do was collapse onto your sheets and fall into a hundred-year slumber, but unfortunately, finals exist to give you enough of a reality check.
"You are working so hard, so take a break, please," he pleaded yet again.
He'd beg if it meant you'd prioritize your health. He cared more about you than his ego. That's why he always rebounded with a gentle demeanor, even if you were rude and snarky. He knew your brash attitude wasn't your fault. You just didn't function well under stress.
The unfiltered truth was, you weren't used to the princess treatment Eren offered. As a child, you had gotten used to your parents' nagging. Sleepless nights became routine if it meant you'd score straight A's. It had been like this all throughout high school.
Until you met Eren.
He prioritized you first, always, and taught you to do the same. It was sort of... a culture shock to you, a difficult adjustment. You needed time getting accustomed to this novel way of thinking, and luckily Eren was understanding.
Couldn't say your self-sabotage wasn't eating away at him, though.
"And you need to take a break from badgering me. I'm perfectly fine," you snarked. Your eyes broke contact with his, gaze landing once again on the textbook to your left.
Angling your chair, you turned your body away from him, trying to focus on the task at hand. You couldn't bear to look at him because you knew he was right. If you gave in, you would stop studying. If you stopped studying, you'd catastrophically fail, which could not happen.
With a frustrated sigh, Eren swiftly snagged your textbook and threw it behind him. It collided with the mattress with a large 'thud.' You gasped as he grabbed the edge of your chair, turning it towards him.
"You're not getting that textbook until you eat and drink something," he asserted, a layer of seriousness washing over his green eyes.
"What the hell, Eren? Give it back!" You shrieked.
"You heard the conditions."
"Eren, this is serious. I don't have time to play games right now. Please... give it back."
"Who said I'm playing games, Y/n? The only reason I'm doing this is because you're being negligent towards yourself."
"Okay, well that's my problem. Who are you to interfere?" You countered.
"Hey, I'm not trying to be your mom or anything. As your boyfriend, I care about you. It's just a glass of water and a snack, Y/n. Do it for yourself. You deserve a break."
You started panicking. An uneasy feeling sprawled up your stomach as your hands got clammy. "No! You don't understand."
"Then enlighten me, babe. I'm right here."
Rolling your eyes, you stood up from the chair, trying not to cringe at the weird noise emitted from the leather upon loss of contact with your skin. You reached forward to grab your textbook off the mattress, but Eren was faster. He took ahold of your wrist and lowered it.
You grunted in frustration. "I—I need to study, Ren. Badly. My career and future depend on it. These are hard subjects. I need hours and hours of studying to ace these exams. You don't get it."
He doesn't reply, continuing to look at you sternly and not budging. Your nerves were skyrocketing. What was his deal? This wasn't the time to be testing your patience. Plus, if he really cared, he'd understand your desperation.
"Okay, whatever sick fun you're trying to derive out of this isn't cool," you deadpanned.
You tried pulling your wrist out of his grip, but he required little to no effort to keep you at bay, simply planting his feet further into the ground when you tried shoving him. Your e/c-eyed stare pierced him like daggers, but his resolve was impenetrable.
God, what a stubborn fuck.
You continued wriggling and squirming to no avail. Your bottom lip began trembling. Liquid pooled at your lashline, threatening to moisten your cheeks with its salty trail.
You broke.
Sniffling, you shoved him repeatedly in the chest. "I hate you. I hate this. I fucking hate college and hate my parents and hate finals and hate this fucked up system that does nothing but capitalize on our stress and hate motherfucking Calculus and professor Ackerman and—"
Moist lips enclosed your own, trapping them tantalizingly. The kiss was brief and sweet. He used it as a way to tranquilize you, gently trapping both of your wrists with his one hand.
"Shh, just let me take care of you, baby," he rasped as he tenderly interlocked his arms under your legs, lifting and placing you on the bed. The mattress felt soft against your spine.
If pamper had a textbook definition, Eren's face would definitely appear in the margin.
x reader should be (and, generally speaking, often is) the most accepting fanfiction space because its consistently, and almost exclusively an expression or fantasy of being desired or wanted or wanting—or in an even more basic sense, considered. even if you dont explicitly self-insert, even if there’s a an oc thats just you but better or a faceless insert u make - it starts with the same premise. which is wanting to be seen or desired by some extension of who you are. or wanting to fantasize explicitly about a life that isn’t yours, any life but yours. its admitting more openly than other mediums—i want someone to want some part of me. to take interest in me sexually or romantically or platonically. i want this element of myself to be considered or thought of. sometimes that is accomplished through writing, and sometimes that is accomplished through reading and seeking to bits of yourself in other peoples. the other half is having space to want and yearn for something else. how liberating it is to admit that you’d like to be somewhere else.
and it is hardly a flawless medium and im really, really simplifying it but i do think that there is something uniquely enjoyable and freeing about it. i want agency in the stories i love. i want my presence to haunt this fiction like a ghost. i want to be loved, i want to be interesting. i want to experience hundreds of lives that aren’t mine. i want i want i want. this a story of you. this is a story of me.
Code for each colour of paw, on either red text or blue, as well as instructions for pairing with either light mode or Reversi - all can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54887380/
thank you @copperrust for sharing out the paw images I used to create these 😺
If you want to replace the kudos guy at the bottom of fics with a gif of the three paws (image changes paws every 1.5 seconds), you can find the code + instructions for how to use it linked above.
If you've already got a site skin, you can just copy/paste the snippet of code in the last chapter onto the end of whatever skin you're using. If it's a skin that has already changed the kudos icon, you'll want to remove that bit of code first.
I will never get over the light in Eren's eyes going out. I will never get over Armin's knowledge transforming from a lifeboat to a nuclear weapon. I will never get over Mikasa finding something to fight for and then killing it.
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