One-Shots - Eren x Reader

The Enchanting Melody to His Screams

CW: NSFW, smut, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m) and (f), gagging, dacryfilia, penetration (f), spanking (slightly mentioned once or twice) degradation kink, slight humiliation kink, creampie, praise kink, unprotected sex.

If there's any warning you don't understand, please, please, please google it. I don't want you to accidentally read something you're not comfortable with.

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It was around 10:30 pm and Eren still wasn't home. You walked back and forth from your apartment's front door and the counter in your kitchen. You anxiously bit on your nails while your mind took you places you didn't want to be. You hate it that you do this, but when he's this late, you can't help but think that something must have happened. That on his way back from work, while he drove, an accident may have—no. Stop.

You take a deep breath and hold your body with your kitchen counter. Your head falls forward as your chest and back move up and down. You push yourself away from your counter in one quick move and run your hands through your face, hair, and breath out. You pull your phone from your back pocket again. You check the time and try giving him another call.

Ring, ring, ring, ring—nothing. Eren gets off work at around 7:00 PM. He's three hours late. How could you not be worried?

And while your mind tries to think of logical reasons that don't include your lover's death to explain his tardiness, the front door opens. You didn't even hear the keys shuffling. You noticed he was home when the door shut behind you. It was loud, too loud for the quietness of your apartment. It was a tight and loud slam, one that made you jump and spin around with your heart in hand. You stood there for a few seconds, analyzing him. Looking at the man before you up and down. You sucked up a breath and let a faint smile adorn your face before running to him and wrapping your arms around his neck.

His button-down shirt was creased and felt rough against your skin. He smelled like his office. It's a cool and empty scent, hard to describe, but the best comparison you can make is to those plastic cups by the water cooler in hospitals or clinics.

You hold his cheeks with both hands and pull him down to meet you halfway. He gives you a quick peck before taking his jacket and shoes off. And the way he did it wasn't rude; he just wasn't as affectionate as he always is. When he comes home from work, he's eager to see you, to feel you. He opens his arms and waits for you to find your place in them. He holds you there for a moment while waddling from one foot to another, kissing your head multiple times until he finally lets you go. Today was obviously different. He ignored you as he moved toward the couch. He plopped down and you watched as the leathered seats molded themselves around Eren's body.

You blink a few times, confused on why today was different. Is it me? Is he irritated by me? Is it someone from work? Maybe he's just tired—no. He's always tired and never treats me like this. Is this normal or am I just too spoiled?

Your lower lip had, unconsciously, found its way under your top teeth, cushioning it until it drew blood while you exaggerated what could be described as an average couple's night. But that's the thing, you aren't an average couple. You and Eren never left the honeymoon stage, and you'd noticed signs of it ending if that was the case. What is up with him?

You look at the wooden ground for a minute. It puts a smile on your face. You still remember the day you picked it out. Eren wanted marbled floors, you wanted wooden. He let you have wood. Because you're not like most couples.

You take a deep breath and look up, look at him. And that's when it hits you. His face is weird. You analyze it a bit further and notice he had a crease between his brows, which only shows up when he's deeply irritated. His lips were chapped and smaller than usual, a bit faint in color too, dehydration. His eye bags were puffy and dark. He looks like he's dead, let's be honest. While we're being honest, the dead look makes you want to shove his cock down your throat—wait, that's a good idea!