Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1369741.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Shingeki_no_Kyojin_|_Attack_on_Titan
  Relationship:
      Sasha_Blouse/Ymir, Krista_Lenz_|_Historia_Reiss/Ymir
  Character:
      Sasha_Blouse, Ymir_(Shingeki_no_Kyojin)
  Additional Tags:
      pining_lesbians, well_okay_just_one, sasha_tops_everyone, Underage_Sex,
      the_training_years_hookup_that_probably_was, ymir_is_the_world's_angriest
      virgin, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, the_yumikuri_is_just_like
      constantly_present_they_don't_actually_bang_sorry
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-03-26 Words: 1791
****** if there was nothing there at all ******
by acronymed
Summary
     Ymir doesn't want to do anything with Krista until she's positive the
     experience will blow Krista's mind. Sasha's just in it for the food.
     Or: Ymir isn't very good at anything sex related and Sasha is long
     suffering.
Notes
     i aggressively ship these two as a casual training years hook up/ymir
     pines for krista but is awkward and dumb and also very horny/sasha
     just wants to make out sort of thing. they're so dumb everyone is
     dumb i hate this show
"So," Sasha says awkwardly, perched on the edge of Ymir's bunk, "you still want
to do this?"
Ymir, who's been leaning against the bed frame across from her and staring at
anything except Sasha for the past ten minutes, glares at her like she's the
bane of Ymir's existence and shrugs. "Of course," she growls, rubbing at her
neck. "Why wouldn't I?"
Sasha just blinks at her. Honestly, when Ymir had cornered her behind the mess
hall after lunch and, from between gritted teeth, told her she needed her help
with something important, Sasha hadn't been sure what to expect.
A demand to have sex definitely wasn't it, though.
"What?" Ymir snarls.
Sasha blinks at her again. "It's going to be a little hard to get you naked
when you're on the other side of the room."
"Jesus, Braus." Ymir might be blushing, but Sasha can't tell in the dwindling
daylight coming through the windows. They'd skipped dinner for this, so they
didn't have a whole lot of time, and Sasha's stomach rumbles as a reminder.
"Would it kill you to be subtle?"
"We don't have any time to waste," Sasha points out, kicking off her boots. "Do
you want to impress Krista or not?"
Ymir makes a face, mouth twisting, and stomps across the room so she can slump
down next to Sasha and start unlacing her boots. "Shut up."
"Make me," Sasha says sweetly, because Ymir's the kind of person to rise to a
challenge when she's pissed off or agitated, and Sasha isn't going to sit
around all day waiting for her to muster up the nerve to do this when she'd
missed steak to help her out.
"What are you, five?"
"Ymir, just kiss me. Or do you want to give up your dinner rolls for the next
three weeks for nothing?"
Ymir surges towards her, her eyes dark and feral, growling something like,
"god, you are so fucking annoying," as she hooks an arm around Sasha's
shoulders, her thumb tucking itself against the side of Sasha's neck, and drags
their faces together.
The kiss is messy - Ymir kisses like she's fighting someone, all teeth and
pressure, but Sasha's always liked it a bit rough so she bites at Ymir's mouth
and climbs into her lap so she can push their hips together. Their rhythm is
off, though, and Ymir uses too much tongue, but they can work on that.
Ymir twists one hand into Sasha's ponytail and pulls sharply, snapping the
elastic and shooting it across the room. Sasha's hair tangles between them as
she licks her way across Ymir's jaw. She's sucking at Ymir's pulse point when
she says, "we're wearing too many clothes."
"Right," Ymir says, borderline clinical in how she unbuckles and unzips Sasha's
uniform, her voice even despite Sasha sprawled against her. Sasha would be a
little put out, except she knows it's nothing personal - she just isn't Krista.
Ymir pushes her uniform down around her waist and stops. "What the fuck?"
When Sasha leans away, Ymir's staring in confusion at her chest with her palms
spread Sasha's ribs. "What?"
"You have great tits." Ymir flicks a nipple curiously, then rubs her thumb over
it. Sasha mewls. "Have you always had these?"
She tugs, pinching with her long fingers until the skin goes a dusky pink.
Sasha winces, gripping Ymir's wrists. "Hey, those're attached to me. Be a lil'
more gentle, would ya?"
Ymir grins, this cocky little slant to her mouth meant to cover her
embarrassment, her fingers rubbing softly at the peaks of Sasha's breasts.
Sasha hums into her throat. "Oh, now the accent comes out."
"Shuddup and put your mouth on them," Sasha huffs, her tongue against the
hollow between Ymir's collarbones. Ymir snorts above her, mutters something
that might be classy and tips Sasha backwards until her head touches the
mattress, her legs still twined around Ymir's hips.
Ymir's mouth is hot and almost careful as it skims across her chest. Her lips
are a little chapped; the texture of them against Sasha's skin makes her spine
tingle. She fumbles with the fastenings on Sasha's pants, trying to get them
off without looking down, until finally Sasha pushes her hands away and strips
off her clothes.
"Your turn," Sasha says, with a grin that's all teeth. Ymir sits up long enough
to peel her shirt off in one graceful move that makes her spine curl in the
most lovely way. Sasha pushes up on one arm and licks from the band of Ymir's
pants to the line of her stomach just so she can feel the muscles quiver.
Ymir grabs the side of Sasha's head on reflex, then shoves her back down onto
the bed, chest heaving. Sasha stares at her breasts while she shucks her pants
and underwear, and thinks they're as awesome as she'd always hoped they'd be.
"You done staring?" Ymir's eyebrow quirks as she lowers her mouth to one of
Sasha's nipples. "You little pervert."
"Like you don't know your boobs are awesome," Sasha laughs, as Ymir nips
hesitantly at her chest. "Do that harder."
Ymir does it again, with a little more pressure and the edge of her teeth, and
when Sasha moans, she does it again, and again, and again. Her mouth is
furnace, a slick, biting furnace that has Sasha clutching at her head and
pushing up into her mouth with a gasp, caught somewhere between deliriously
turned on and slightly terrified Ymir's going to bite too hard.
"Yer so good at this," Sasha babbles, when Ymir switches sides, rolling her
hips up trying to find some kind of friction. Ymir's thigh slides against her
and grinds down, which makes Sasha want to die. "Yeah, yeah keep doin' that."
"Is it weird your accent is kind of hot," Ymir mumbles, the rumble of her voice
rolling through Sasha's skin. "That's fucking weird, isn't it."
"I don't care, go lower, please," Sasha whines, shifting beneath Ymir's weight.
Ymir looks up from where she's been sucking a bruise into Sasha's skin, annoyed
and Sasha groans at the loss of contact. Ymir would pick just when they're
getting to the good stuff to get pissed off.
"I know how to do this, dumbass," she snarls, and Sasha doesn't believe her in
the least but also doesn't push it. Instead, she stops squirming and rubs at
Ymir's nape instead. "And I'm not a fucking cat."
"No, you're not," Sasha says dryly. "A cat would probably use more tongue."
"Did you just make an oral sex joke?" Ymir blinks. "Who are you?"
"Ymir."
Ymir rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I got it."
There's a moment where Ymir slides the length of her body down the bed so her
shoulders press Sasha's thighs open lightly and sits there, not saying
anything, just exhaling these damp little breaths against Sasha's cunt like
she's debating what to do next.
Oh, Sasha thinks, with startling clarity, as Ymir touches her knees, her hips,
her sides with fleeting, feathery touches,she's never done any of this before.
Then Ymir's mouth opens against the inside of her thigh, warm and wet and
abrupt. Sasha arches into it with a whine, her shoulders pushing down into the
mattress. The warm thrum building low in her belly is a pleasing distraction
from how uncomfortable the bunks are.
"That's nice," Sasha says dreamily, when Ymir nibbles at the line of her pelvis
and curls her long fingers up between Sasha's legs, two fingers pushing into
her. "Krista will probably want you to go faster though."
Ymir pauses and stares up at her, her pointy chin digging into Sasha's lower
belly. "How the fuck would you know that?"
Sasha props herself up on one elbow and raises an eyebrow. "You know how I look
at food?"
Ymir snorts. "Yes."
"Krista looks at you like that."
There's a beat, where Ymir's face steadily goes pink. Then, she makes a
strangled noise that might be an "oh" and it sounds so painfully hopeful
Sasha's heart hurts for her. Everyone knew Ymir and Krista were crazy about
each other, but she'd never realized it went this deep, this desperate and
wanting.
"Ya'll need to bang," she says.
"We will," Ymir says, without missing a beat, "now shut up and let me fuck
you."
Sasha lays back down, chirps, "okay!" and hooks one leg over Ymir's shoulder,
foot bumping against the middle of her back. Ymir's fingers twist, the heel of
her palm pressing hard into that spot and making Sasha's toes curl.
"Keep doing that," Sasha sighs, curling her arms above her head. It's been a
while, since she's felt this good; it's a lazy sort of pleasure, the kind that
makes her sleepy and aching all at once. Ymir's surprisingly good at this for
someone who was probably a virgin and - and was she talking to herself?
"Okay," Ymir's muttering against the crease of Sasha's thigh, "this is easy
enough. It's just like doing it to yourself..."
Sasha bites her lip to keep from laughing, but her shoulders shake. Ymir
doesn't notice though, her lips skating across the top of Sasha's leg to her
naval then down. She whispers something that might be "piece of cake" under her
breath, then catches Sasha's clit between her teeth and sucks.
"Huh," Sasha says, and blinks up at the ceiling. She thinks about dragging Ymir
up but decides to wait, see how it goes.
Ymir finally realizes she's just laying there, not making any sound, and pulls
back with a wet noise, her lips shiny and red. "Are you seriously just laying
there?"
"You're really bad at that," Sasha says bluntly, pulling Ymir up by her arms
and flipping them in one smooth movement. "You're trying too hard."
"Fuck you," Ymir snaps, but her knees are relaxed when Sasha spreads them with
her shoulders and settles between her legs. "Like you're such an expert."
Sasha grins at her, the grin her father used to tell her made her look like a
predator when they were hunting together, and exhales gently against Ymir's
cunt. Ymir inhales hard and twists her fingers into Sasha's hair, trying to
push her head down.
"I know a thing or two," she says cheekily, and watches Ymir's jaw clench as
she licks a long, slow stripe along the length of her. "Just lay back and think
of Trost."
"What the fuck does that even mean," Ymir hisses, but then her eyelashes are
fluttering as Sasha flicks her tongue over her clit and she's soft and pliable
beneath Sasha's hands.
Connie is never going to believe this, Sasha thinks, opening Ymir up with two
fingers roughly, and watches Ymir's back surge up off the mattress as she
comes.
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