if ANY of my followers are active it would be cool if y’all told me what type of content you prefer me to write about!! still really into aot but im open to writing for different animes like jjk mha etc..
summary: zeke yeager has been your friend since childhood. when you both hit the age of 20, and your mutual feelings finally come to light, you decide to lose your virginity to the man you've been pining for all these years.
When you were ten years old, you met Zeke Yeager.
It was a blistering hot summer in Liberio, one of the most humid in years. Kids in the internment zone were playing in a field, and after a shoddy hit by a batter, a baseball came hurtling toward your head.
The impact never came, though.
An Eldian boy had caught the ball just inches away from your face. His wavy blonde hair was parted right down the middle, shining gold in the sun, and you quickly noticed that he stood at least five inches taller than you. It was almost intimidating.
He must be a Warrior candidate, you thought, judging by his white uniform, yellow armband, and knee-high combat boots.
With enthusiasm, he whipped his arm back and tossed the baseball back to where it came from. “You should watch out,” he had said, voice soft and sweet. He smiled a little.
Shyly looking down at your loafers, you avoided the silvery-blue eyes that bore into you. “Thank you.”
It was silent for a moment. You tucked your hair behind your ear awkwardly, and just as you were about to be on your way, the boy spoke.
“Do you… do you know how to catch a baseball?”
You tilted your chin back up to meet his innocent gaze. “No.”
“Want me to teach you?”
The connection was instant: it turned out that both of you were the same age, had the same favorite color, and enjoyed cracking jokes. Almost every day the two of you would meet up, sometimes playing baseball and other times exploring the town.
Time passed quickly this way.
The boy you knew grew into a man – he got taller, his features sharpened, and his muscles developed. It was a change that had gone unnoticed until puberty hit, and you finally began to acknowledge your crush.
Although Zeke changed physically, his personality almost remained the same; he stayed witty, pleasant-mannered, and intelligent. But at the same time, he became more indifferent to others’ emotions, less innocent, and morbidly sarcastic. You guessed that it was from the experience he had with his parents, along with his difficult time in the military.
It has now been three years since Zeke inherited the Beast Titan. Both of you have finally hit the age of twenty, and your friendship has remained strong. It’s become a routine for you to go over to Zeke’s house after he returns from a mission, especially when his grandparents are gone.
Today is one of those days. Zeke sets one of the two teas he’s made onto the dining table, pushing it over to where you’re sitting. You settle a hand on the teacup and inhale the rising steam.
The young man chuckles as you scrunch up your nose at the bitter scent. “You’ve never liked the way I make tea,” he says, taking a seat across from you. “I’m offended.”
It’s a fib. You know he’s not bothered, not one bit; honestly, he couldn’t care less what you think.
“This smells like dirty leaves. Where’s the sweetener?”
Zeke hums playfully, taking a sip. “Probably up your ass.”
You roll your eyes at him, used to these teasing jabs as you’ve been on the receiving end for the longest time. “I feel bad for the other Warriors. I don’t know how they deal with you.”
“That’s interesting.” Zeke tilts his head mockingly, hair brushing against the lenses of his glasses. “Considering the fact that you’ve followed me around like a lost puppy all these years.”
It’s not like you actually stayed friends because you never left him alone; it was a mutual effort. While you may have been a little clingy at times - especially when Zeke returned to Liberio after weeks of being gone - he seemed to genuinely enjoy your company.
You purse your lips in thought before shrugging. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Amusement whirls across Zeke’s face at your words, and his mouth tugs upwards into a satisfied smirk. He always smiles like he knows something everyone else doesn’t. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you have a crush on me.”
Your heart sinks. “What?” you almost choke, head snapping up. For a moment, you wonder if Zeke knows about your… well, your attraction to him. Can anyone blame you though? He’s extremely handsome. “You cannot be serious.”
Zeke studies you, his expression not betraying him except for a flicker of interest in his stare. You think he might drop the subject after a bit of his usual taunting, but this man is unpredictable and has learned how to leave you speechless over the years. In the matter of a second, Zeke’s gaze moves from your eyes, to your mouth, and back up again. He all but hides behind the teacup when he raises it to his lips again. “Not that I would mind.”
You blink rapidly and try not to let your jaw drop in surprise. You attempt to train your expression into one of indifference, but you fail miserably.
“You look a little red,” Zeke murmurs. Automatically, your hand shoots up to rest on your cheek. You feel the scorching heat that accompanies a blush, which only makes your face grow redder. It takes a moment until you find your voice again, nervous and stuttering. Panic wants to make you run; abort, abort it screams.
“No - no. I … I think I’m having a heat flash or something.”
It’s a pathetic lie, and Zeke is much too clever to be fooled. “I was hoping we were on the same page, you know.”
You’re frozen in your seat, your arms and legs icy cold despite the heat spreading across your body. “...You what?”
“Did I not make myself clear?”
“You - you like me?” you ask, your voice rising ten octaves. You’re … well, it’s not like you’re anything special. You see him hanging around Pieck all the time. “Me?”
“Yeah,” Zeke replies, as if it was the most obvious thing; it was indeed not obvious.
You’re completely silent. A part of you wants to confess, but another part is scared that Zeke is joking. You don’t want to embarrass yourself if that’s the case.
Slowly, Zeke pushes out of his chair and steps around the table to stand beside you. He’s always been broad and powerful; you feel like you shrink into your seat. You stare at him, and search the flecks of silver in his irises for some idea of what he may be planning. There’s nothing.
Zeke slides the flat of his palm against your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip. You know that you should probably swat him away: this is a boundary that has never been crossed before, but the touch leaves you curious.
He shuffles a little closer, like he can’t help himself. The large hand on your face drifts, sweeping downwards to clasp your jaw. Before you can move, Zeke Yeager - your friend, the Beast Titan, a War Chief - is leaning down for a kiss.
Your lips collide softly, and you hesitate at first. But when Zeke tilts his head a little, your trembling fingers move to tug at the lapels of his Warrior uniform as the room around seems to melt away. Honestly, you have no idea of how to kiss, but Zeke teaches you by moving with skilled precision. He must be experienced with this, so you willingly follow his lead.
It’s almost been an entire minute when he pulls away.
Zeke assesses the look on your profile then, his hip resting against the edge of the table when he holds a hand out to you. “My room is empty.”
It’s an intimate suggestion. Your mouth is slightly agape after taking the hint, and there’s an internal struggle to swallow a rush of nerves. Never once have you been in his room; not since you were little, at least.
“Don’t feel pressured,” Zeke says, although you can hear what sounds like hope dripping from his words. He adds, more gently, “It’s your choice.”
You can feel a sheen of sweat gather on the back of your neck and into your hairline, thanks to the anxiety stippling throughout your limbs. Despite the way your heart races, you set your smaller palm into his and allow him to guide you.
Zeke pulls you along down the hallway and closes his door behind you, gesturing toward the bed. You follow his directions, but your hesitancy isn’t lost on him. He eyes you quizzically. “What’s wrong?”
“... Just scared,” you admit. “I … I’ve never done anything like this before.” It’s humiliating to say it out loud; you fend off the compulsion to hide your face, and instead fold your hands on your lap so that Zeke won’t notice the way you quiver. “I think I’ll be bad at it.”
Zeke mulls this over for a second, before changing his tone to one more sympathetic. “You won’t be bad,” he says matter-of-factly. “It’s just a learning curve. Everyone makes mistakes, anyway.”
That takes you by surprise, and you relax a little more. The way Zeke isn’t expecting you to be a sex goddess or something of the sort is reassuring. Really reassuring, actually.
“Won’t it hurt?”
“Maybe,” Zeke answers truthfully, “But it should go away after awhile.”
The tension in the room has become softer, and it smooths some of the weight that has been bearing upon your shoulders. You feel your skin prickle with goosebumps, yet it’s not out of nervousness; it’s anticipation now.
“Are you sure?” Zeke questions once more, keeping his distance. You know that he’s trying to not make you uncomfortable. “We don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
Zeke doesn’t need any convincing. You watch intently as he stoops to remove his boots, then admire his abs and the flex of his muscular arms as his shirt is discarded. The way he gracefully unbuttons his trousers catches your attention way too fast.
To think that sweet and pure boy matured into this man - you would have never believed it.
“You’re staring,” Zeke suddenly teases. The amount of shame that strikes you burns, like stepping on hot coals. You don’t even have to look up at him to know that he’s grinning. “Are you gonna stay dressed the whole time?”
“I’m not,” you quip, slowly bringing your hands up to remove your blouse, heart slamming against your ribs. The fabric swoops down your shoulders and onto the floor, and your skirt soon follows. When you’re both completely stripped to your underwear, Zeke takes his time looking you over head-to-toe. Insecurity makes you wrap your arms around yourself; being scrutinized like this is beyond weird.
He walks over, tugging your arms away and giving a satisfied hum. “Why are you hiding? You’re beautiful.” Blushing at the praise, you allow him to climb on top of you. The contact sets you alight; it feels like you’re two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly. Maybe it’s fate.
Zeke’s thumb draws circles on your bare waist, his face perfectly composed, and yours … you’re not even sure what it looks like. “What if someone walks in?” you whisper, hands settling on his biceps.
“My grandparents won’t be home for a while,” Zeke hushes, grazing a kiss over your lips, dragging a breath out of your lungs. “No one will know.” He holds your jaw steady as you initiate the next move this time, cautiously pressing your lips together. It’s still new, and you’re timid around these deep caresses of breath.
“How long have you liked me?” you ask against Zeke. Heat swirls low in your abdomen, rippling out across your stomach and right between your thighs.
“Since the day I met you.” Zeke slips his glasses off the bridge of his nose and carefully sets them aside. “You couldn’t catch a baseball if your life depended on it. I spent all day teaching you.”
Holding back a scoff, you try to hold every inch of Zeke humanly possible. He sits upright clumsily - the two of you are just a tangle of limbs. “Can I touch you?”
You almost don’t hear what he says, because you’re too focused on the glint in his eyes and the tension stringing along his mouth. “Yeah,” you nod, feeling that same anxiousness and fear bubbling up again. “Do you have experience with this?”
“Some,” Zeke murmurs. You want to question what exactly that means, and how much, but he’s already gripping you by the hips. You’re unsure of where to put your hands - he notices this, and guides them to settle upon his shoulders.
You revel in the softness of Zeke’s wavy hair when you card your fingers in it, and the slide of his hands passing over your ribs, waist, hips – he draws you against his chest, unifying your hearts.
Finally, Zeke’s fingers roam under the waistband of your panties, right where you want them. He tests you a bit, stroking here and there - the gasp you make when he brushes your clit is enough to interest him, and he watches your face while rubbing it diagonally, and then in small circles. You begin to realize that any touch feels good as long as it's from him.
Zeke bites back a smirk when he notices you trying not to moan. “I want to hear you,” he says, digging the pad of his index finger more harshly against you. The electric shock it brings makes you jolt and rips an obscene noise from your throat. It feels more incredible than you could have ever imagined.
Zeke looks down at you from beneath his blonde lashes, focusing on your expression when he prods against your sopping wet entrance. You’re blushing fiercely, and try your hardest not to buck into him as he slowly slides a finger inside to the first knuckle. It’s a strange feeling, but good nonetheless. Once you’ve adjusted, another is added.
“Oh, god - Zeke,” you wince, brows knitting together as he scissors both fingers inside of your pussy to stretch you out. It hurts a little; the pain is sharp. It dissolves though, especially when he uses his calloused thumb to roll your swollen clit. Your pulse hammers, and your hands tremble where they cling to his powerful shoulders.
Zeke is unhurried as he fingers you for the next five minutes, the pace excruciatingly slow, making you arch up into him. The friction between you two causes his breath to hitch. “Do you think you’re ready?" he eventually rumbles. His fingers curl over and over, making you struggle to find your words. You nod dumbly.
“I’m ready,” you sputter. Zeke must have been dying for this moment, because he has no shame in instantly pulling down his underwear. His cock is so much bigger than you thought, flushed and precum pearling at the tip; you're pretty sure your eyes widen when it springs free.
Zeke positions himself right between your thighs, slicking up his dick with your leftover juices. The image is so hot. “Tell me if you want to stop.”
The first two inches enters you, and it burns like a ring of fire: you have to swallow a pitiful whine of his name. Nothing has ever stretched you out this much, and you can feel yourself becoming more soaked by the minute. Zeke groans as your walls shudder around him - it hurts when you tense, but you try to encourage him to go deeper.
“Shit,” Zeke curses, splaying both hands against your naval. “So tight.”
Blinking back the tears in your eyes, you bite hard on the inside of your cheek when Zeke bottoms out. He doesn’t move immediately, allowing you time to adjust to his length. Suppressing the broken moans seared to the tip of your tongue, your cunt spasms around him, and you’re dripping. “Please move.”
You feel Zeke smirk against your jugular at the plea. The first thrust is steady; he pulls out a bit, being careful not to hurt you, before his hips collide against yours again. When you gasp out of pain, he soothingly runs his fingertips along your cheek, whispering praises into your ear.
Zeke holds himself there for a fleeting moment until you give him the okay again, falling into a leisurely pace as you heave into his mouth with every rut. The aching pain goes away rather fast, and becomes replaced by unadulterated pleasure. Maybe it’s the way Zeke is hitting that sweet spot, or maybe it’s the way he tenderly caresses you.
You whimper loudly, throwing your head back in ecstasy at the pressure against your g-spot, along with the tingle of Zeke’s pubic bone rubbing against your clit. The gentle movement of his body rocks you against his firm chest, and there’s a white noise beginning to pool in your gut. Your hands reach up to jerk at the roots of his hair and he rasps into your ear.
What a masochist.
"You’re taking me so well," Zeke mutters through a ragged exhale. “It feels good, huh?”
You can’t even answer because your jaw is slacked and disoriented, head filled with a blissful, all-consuming euphoria.
Zeke acknowledges your silence; he knows you’re close and takes it to his advantage. Buffing his dick against your g-spot, he sweeps a hand downward to stroke your clit with a rhythm fast enough to match the drumming of your heartbeat. You feel the boiling wire in your belly begin to unravel and unravel and unravel.
Pupils violently dilated, Zeke’s lips collide with yours messily, and you scrabble at the back of his neck as he slips his tongue against the roof of your mouth. “Hey-” you start, voice shattering. You feel your pelvis tightening and knead at Zeke’s nape. “I’m close - so close!”
The beginning of a climax gathers in your naval, fracturing your tendons, and making your muscles quake with exertion. It builds until it snaps, white-hot, and the orgasm tears you apart. Your entire body loses control; you feel like you’re floating, kept on solid ground only by Zeke’s bruising grip on your hips. You come back to your senses shaking like a leaf, convulsing and wheezing from the static sending sparks along your nerves.
The spitting image of you orgasming so hard instantly has Zeke teetering on the edge. "I’m not gonna last much longer,” he warns, his brows furrowed and sweat dripping down his temple. “Gonna cum.”
It only takes a few more thrusts before he has to pull out, groaning loudly as he spills ribbons of hot cum on the inside of your thighs. You still feel yourself prickling with the come down and sigh when Zeke plants his mouth against the tender skin of your lips. He nips gently, teasing, and then rolls over to lay beside you.
The warmth of his body heat radiates against your skin as you stare upwards at the ceiling, waiting for your head to stop spinning. You think back to his sinful stare – flecks of gray glittered like ash among the irises, enveloped by lust.
“Did that really just happen?” you whisper in disbelief, trying to catch your breath. Zeke wraps an arm around you to press you flush against his chest; it feels safe.
“You tell me,” Zeke huffs, tracing his fingers over your shoulder in twisting spirals. Sweat slicks his hair back against his forehead, and you resist the urge to push it away from his eyes. “How was it?”
There are no sentences that can explain just how much you enjoyed yourself, and Zeke knows that. He has to feel the way your thighs are still trembling from pleasure. “It was nice,” you manage, letting the words slip free.
“Just nice? That’s it?”
“You’re so stupid.”
That brings a coy smile onto Zeke’s face. “All part of the boyfriend package,” he remarks. You quirk an eyebrow at him, but you blush at his words; you're actually hopeful.
“...Whatever,” you feign annoyance, palms swooping over the outlines of his ab muscles to rest on his pectorals. Zeke hums in assent, fingers swiping through your hair, nails blunt against your scalp.
You sit comfortably, biting back a smile when Zeke begins to brag about how he was the one to take your virginity and says something dumb about how he knew it’d happen eventually. You want the next ten years with him to last forever.
At long last, the red string of fate that has connected you two by the pinkies had been accepted.
Zeke Yeager was born to be yours, and you were born to be his.
this is probably already clear but i’m gonna be a little ia because of school. i’ll try to answer asks as much as i can but i’m really preoccupied rn. hope you guys understand
bertholdt’s character is really the saddest in aot. he went his entire life knowing that what he was doing was wrong but was still conditioned to think that he was saving the world. after years of giving his life to marley he died as a failure, surrounded by none of his friends or family and only by enemies. he didn’t even get to say goodbye to anyone
i’m doing okay i guess😭 my grades are very bad i have an F and mostly C’s. trying to get them up has been very stressful but i’m trying my hardest. hbu?
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