#hidari x reader

You dejectedly drop to your knees, whining loudly, causing Right and Left’s heads to lower in sync to watch the dramatic display. The loud thud, abrupt and childish, causes a brief pain to simmer in your knees from the harsh contact, but it doesn’t outweigh the disappointment at being rejected by the Daemon you’ve been pining for.

The dark-eyed woman merely stares at you blankly.

“Do not forget; my appearance may be similar to a human’s, but I don’t possess desires complementary to those of one.”

You huff as you cross your arms, sulking on the floor. “…that doesn’t hold water at all. You and Right are basically adrenaline junkies.” 

Immediately, the words are met with a quirked brow from both Daemons.

Right squints his eyes at hearing the new word added to his increasing vocabulary—thanks to the modern world’s discoveries. The Daemon rubs his scruff. “Uh-dren all in…?”

“Junk-keys?” Left finishes, just as confused as her counterpart.

You huff as you slowly stand up. “It means you’re both always chasing a thrill. Namely, being battle-hungry is one of them.”

Left blinks, now understanding your verbiage. She nods, a sparkle of recognition and appreciation nearly shining in her eyes. “The modern vernacular of desiring a good battle.” Voice cognizant and absolute, the usual tone her or Right uses after understanding a new bit of information.

Right perks up with a smile, dark eyes shining as his volume increases enthusiastically. “Then we are well Junkies of adrenaline!”

You stare at the both of them unamused.

“It’s not a compliment.”

Right falters while his counterpart only retains her habitual expression. The hulking male nearly deflates as his sharp grin disappears. “Ah… understood.” 

You shake your head dismissively and immediately abandon the change in topic, going back to your previous, needy behavior. You quickly clasp your hands again, pleadingly, while your eyes shine. 

“Once again, Lefty—”

“There is no need for a title change.” She interjects.

Your body becomes heavy at the implicit rejection, so quick to dispel any familiarity of closeness, and you groan loudly once more as you collapse into her bigger form. Your arms wrap around her neck as you nearly become a dead weight while writhing out of frustration.

One of her arms unfolds and wraps securely around the small of your back, the cool skin keeping you upright to prevent clumsiness from befalling your erratic behavior.

“Just one!”

“I refuse.”

You actually become dead weight at the rejection, and she smoothly keeps you from hitting the ground by wrapping a thick arm around your waist. Right watches the display with amusement as he places his hands on his thighs, leaning forward with interest as he guffaws. 

His boisterous laughter echoes in the little living room, hearty enough to rattle the dishes still in the sink. “This is the first time I’ve seen a human so eager for a Deamon’s intimacy!”

“Why d’you wanna kiss her so bad anyways?” Yuru appears from his room, sliding open the door with a confused expression.

You look up at the younger male, his upside-down form being within your hanging sight, while groaning in frustration. “I just want to! She’s pretty and very nice!”

The blond boy steps closer to you with a frown and raises a hand to his chin in thought, appearing to recall an important detail. “This harassment for intimacy… I think it falls under a law—wait.”

There’s a moment of silence as he remembers the laws of the new world.

You quirk a brow while staring at the underside of his chin, still being held up by Left. Yuru finally perks up with a satisfied noise, his eyes shining as he remembers exactly what law your actions fall under.

“‘Sexual harassment’! That’s it!” He beams.

Your eyes bulge out of your skull, and you instantly find the energy to spring back onto your feet while still holding onto Left. “I’m not sexually harassing her!” You argue, offended.

He rubs the back of his neck, confused—he almost appears like a dejected puppy being told it’s wrong. “Isn’t kissing without someone saying you can under that law, or like, part of it?”

You pull away from the Daemon and rub the back of your neck. The kid has you there. It seems Ken has been teaching him more about the modern world, if he hasn’t been using the handle portable dictionary in the meantime.

“Uh… yeah,” you admit, embarrassed at having been indirectly lectured about the law by a child.

He points at you, eyes sparkling with contentment at his accuracy and remembering the teachings of the new world.

“So you were sexually harassing her.”

“Stop saying that.” You deadpan.

“But the law says—”

“Yes, I know! Stop calling me that!” You huff as you feel the stares of his Daemons bleeding into the back of your head.

You look back at Left with a hopeful expression as you clasp your hands again. A new approach to intimacy brews on your tongue. “…How about a hug?”

Right perks up with a boisterous laugh and raises his thick arms excitedly, always the one to be giving with affection. “Aye, this one can provide that for you!” Left, however, still doesn’t budge—her crossed arms are not only a shield but an indirect way to vocalize her dismissal. Sitting still like her stone totem form, she remains unyielding and statuesque.

You slump dejectedly.

And Yuru stares at you curiously as you trudge towards Right and pitifully throw yourself in his arms, using the huge Daemon as a pillar of comfort for your rejection. 

The coolness of Right’s sturdy skin envelops you while his hands delicately bompf on both the top of your head and your back. The hulking giant’s palm easily covers your entire head, and his cool, thick fingers act as a balm to the embarrassment heating your yearning body—needy like a neglected pet.

Right guffaws again, amused and bright, as he says your name. His sharp smile nearly touches ear to ear while Left watches impassively. “There, there! This should replace the hole Left doesn’t want to fill, no?”

“They are fine. They are just dramatizing their need for intimacy,” the two-toned woman mentions. Her eyes remain blank as she stares at your dejected form in the consoling arms of her counterpart.

Yuru places his hand on his hip in thought. “I guess it’s obvious you guys don’t really need physical affection and stuff if you don’t need food or water.” He shrugs, “Not that something like that is necessary anyway.”

“Correct,” the expressionless Daemon replies while staring at you as you eventually cling to Right in search of true, reciprocal affection. She blinks at the display while Right only grins, happy to have a human who doesn’t faint at the mere sight of him. It’s been even longer since a human willingly hugged him like this as well—it’s almost endearing to the pair.

Standing, your arms cling to his neck as you double over, cheek pressing into his shoulder as you heavily lean on his seated form.

“This is all I can get…” is muttered by your disappointed self. So wounded and downcast as if you’ve been neglected and unfairly discarded. 

Yuru interrupts your moping with words of genuine advice, as if they can inspire you to be better than what you are now: a loser who's desperate for a peck from one beautiful Daemon—his Daemon, no less. Almost shameful of you. 

“Well, I don’t think you should be sexually harassing people—” Yuru’s feet slide along the floorboards back to his room as he remains unfazed by the theatrical display. He speaks earnestly, yet is immediately cut off by a monotone voice.

“Child.

He blinks, stopping at the sliding door. “…yes?”

“Stop calling me that.”

You continue clinging onto the red-haired Daemon while Yuru sets up his supplies to begin constructing more arrows.

Shenanigans long concluded, you eventually end up sitting on Right’s lap while distractedly on your phone for more engaging entertainment. Yuru, diligent as always, sets up his small station and begins sanding arrowheads. Left silently watches the blond’s concentrated movement with her arms crossed, staying the pillar of unchanging stoicism.

Right's hand props up his chin as he watches with similar intensity, quietly observing Yuru’s skill.

Meanwhile, you eventually click the sleek device off and lean off his lap a little to near Left. The air only subtly displaces when you urge yourself to be near her presence more, an attentive shine in your eyes. Though she easily senses your growing energy without needing to lift her head—whether it be your reignited spark of neediness or just a magnetic pull you can’t reframe from.

“I advise you not to proceed with your attempt.” She smoothly announces, effectively dispelling any implicit notion of you starting your dramatic display of want again. Yuru doesn’t even bother lifting his head as you huff in disappointment.

“I wasn’t going to do anything…” You purse your lips, huffing, as you slump back in Right’s cool chest. His eyes briefly flicker down to you, and the other half can’t hide the growing amusement pulling at his lips.

The woman turns her head to you. Her eyes, so cat-like and deadpan, can only stare at you until you feel the unimpressed silence become vocal enough to ask, “‘Are you serious’?”

You practically were on the verge of plopping yourself into her lap. Your little dismissal certainly wasn’t following anyone.

Innocently, you stare up at her with guiltless eyes, acting as if you’re not vibrating with an itch to be near her. Surprisingly, you’re met with her palm plopping atop your head, cool and fingers more lithe yet just as strong as Right’s.

The long-haired woman entertains you this once as she closes her eyes and pats the top of your head. “‘Tis all I can provide. Daemons, specifically I, are not as affectionate as humans.”

“No, I believe Sayuu-sama is affectionate. Right is literally letting me sit on his lap.”

Right smiles at hearing his name, then plops his chin atop your head with a grin, careful of settling too much weight atop you. “Do not dwell on Left’s lack of reciprocation! ‘Tis merely my other half’s nature.”

You end up pouting at their words and bite back a laugh when you feel Right’s thick finger playfully press against your puffed cheek. Between his affectionate prodding and Left finally acknowledging you, you feel entirely overwhelmed by two hulking figures—a good kind, as if you’re acknowledged by two lions.

“I’m curious as to why you keep asking to kiss Left.” Yuru perks up in the conversation, multitasking as his scarlet eyes linger on his moving fingers and the whetstone.

Left retracts her hand from atop your head while Right continues poking at your cheek, clearly attempting to remove the frustration on your face. 

“I'm curious as well.” She adds, vacantly staring at the growing playful banter between you and her counterpart. You lie your cheek on Right’s palm, eventually accepting his affection, as you stare up at her with a hum.

“I just like you.” Shamelessly, you admit.

“Not wise to have romantic feelings toward a Daemon.” She advises. Her voice may be levelheaded, but there is genuine care in her enlightenment. 

You prop your chin on Right’s palm as you stare up at her. “You can kiss someone without liking them…”

“Yet your desire for a higher level of intimacy is very strong!” Right includes, hulking body shaking from the chuckles ringing from his throat. Left nods in agreement, and you huff loudly at having your desire displayed loudly—not like you were attempting to hide the longing anyhow.

Yuru doesn’t bother interrupting the conversation with his two cents, although completely precise, about your constant harassment for undeserved affection. His fingers deftly flip the side of another arrowhead to be sharpened while you lift your finger to poke at Left’s arm. Your needy, neglected puppy behavior clearly doesn’t faze her as she’s dealt with worse and even more potent distractions—advantages of being an immortal being.

“Lefty,” you whine.

She doesn’t cast her eyes to you. “There is no need to—”

“I wanna call you that because it’s cute like you.” A compliment you boldly insert into the pointless conversation.

Will it work? You geek internally, scratching at the walls in desperation just for an inch of reciprocated attention.

Left only closes her eyes while Right snorts.

“Human endearments don’t apply to me.” 

You deflate in Right’s lap. Your body turns into a soulless husk dramatically as you become liquid and malleable—just an overall pathetic sight at having been denied once more. “I spit the worst game…” You mutter, slumping against the crimson-haired Daemon’s pecs.

All three of them pause at your extremely unfamiliar vernacular. 

Bewildered, Yuru finally lifts his head to acknowledge you—your amalgamation of words is outlandish enough to attract his curiosity. “Spit… how do you…” He pauses, practically short-circuiting at attempting to understand the context and literalness of your words. His hulking Daemons, too, are trying to understand the sentence your lips construed.

Yet a pair literally from the Edo period, who have no understanding of a plumbing system, have as much attempt at understanding your words as the average person comprehending the concept of the fourth dimension—fruitless. 

And you’re probably shooting your shot from a tesseract with how the ball bounces around and then disappears into nothingness, lost to the world with no means of reaching civilization. Let’s be honest: no one’s gonna be interested in someone who pathetically yearns like a neglected puppy openly.

“Ignore that…” You wave a hand to physically disperse the confusion swirling around. You then stand from Right’s lap with a sigh, feigning exhaustion at your constant rejection and now being met with the woes of people eras behind in vernacular.

On your feet, you merely walk around the three towards the kitchen with shoulders slouched.

But the ball you threw circled the rim and managed to fall through the net seamlessly.

You quickly divert your steps towards Left, whipping around with an evil glint in your eyes.

Your lips quickly press against the confused woman’s cheek, so smooth and cool, as you use the previous word’s stunning effect to cop your win. Left only blinks and lessens her crossed arms while Right grins at the sight—you managed to flounder and kiss his stoic counterpart in one go! Very unpredictable! 

Before you can amble towards Hana’s kitchen with a successful bounce in your step, you’re met with a solid stick being swiftly thrown at the back of your head. Loudly, you yelp and lurch forward while nursing the clocked area. You look over your shoulder, wide-eyed, and Left and Right already stare at Yuru with blinking eyes, stunned.

He points at you, eyes narrowed. “People who are indecent ought to be beheaded.”

“It was only a kiss!” You argue. “On the cheek too!”

“It’s still sexual harassment towards my Daemons.”

Left, meanwhile, brushes her fingers across the kissed area wordlessly. As you uttered, the sensation was just a brief peck on the side of her face; it was barely enough to warrant a reaction. Yet, as Right easily detects too, she finds the trivial action to be the smallest bit endearing.

You huff and go back towards your mission of raiding Hana’s cupboard.

…

“Thanks for watching over him.” 

Ryu smiles down at you with flowers nearly dancing around his head as you both stand at the genkan. Bags of whatever he managed to scrounge from gambling sit at his feet while you slip on your shoes. 

You place your hands on your hips, then shrug. “Don’t sweat it. He was nearly lecturing me the entire time.”

He blinks, confused. “Lecturing?”

“I kept asking to kiss Lady Left's cheek, and he called me a sexual harasser.”

Ryu immediately looks at you with a deadpan smile. Perhaps having the neighbor watch over his kid wasn’t a good idea after all.

“Maybe you shouldn’t watch after my kids anymore…” He trails off.

You promptly huff and rub the back of your neck, the creeping embarrassment of being scolded rising again. “I just wanted one small kiss!”

“Daemons have the right to autonomy too, you know…” The taller man adds, mentally calculating the negative impact you’d possibly have on his child.

“Agreed.” Another voice joins the fray.

You both look up, and Left is standing behind Ryuu with her arms crossed. Without a sound, she appears in the conversation and shadows his figure silently as you approach the front door. 

You smile up at her innocently, as if you didn’t sneak a kiss on her cheek an hour ago, and wave farewell at her. “I’ll be taking my leave now,” you coo in a singsong voice.

She stares down at you for a moment, then side-steps Ryuu, who has no choice but to press against the wall uncomfortably to give her more room. Her face then gradually leans down to yours, and her crimson bangs envelop your sight, blocking your vision from all sides. She has you trapped.

Quickly, your heart starts racing as you smile sheepishly at her. Is she going to scold you for that kiss? The deadpan eyes are doing a great job at making you feel targeted.

But then a cool pressure presses against your cheek; Left kisses your cheek.

Both you and the Tadera are astounded at the abrupt affection while she pulls back with the same calmness she appeared with it.

“You pulled your attack when I was distracted, so I thought of doing the same.” 

You break from the spell and quickly place your hands on her arms, standing on your toes eagerly for another kiss. Ryuu, meanwhile, stares at the sight with his jaw dropped. Are his eyes defying him—did a great legend seriously kiss his next-door neighbor?

“Let me kiss you again!” You beam.

She merely uncrosses her arms and softens her brows at the guileless sight. Her large palms steady your eager figure. 

“I believe you have been spoiled enough.”

“Aw, okay…”

She randomly decides to press her face into your back and roam her fingers along your body while you’re distracted on your phone. Leisurely, you lie on your stomach while swiping through whatever short-form content—doomscrooling. The warmth and weight of her isn't enough to immediately draw your attention from the flashing colors. Then she uses her big hands to pull one of your thighs wider and presses her face square into your clothed pussy. 

Despite having shorts on, her tongue is still thick and hot enough to be felt through the fabric. Effectively, you drop your phone in surprise the moment she escalates the should-be domestic nuzzling. Why else would she be cuddling all over your back? Pushing her away isn’t an option either, since she easily has such a strong grip on your thighs, so all you can do is tremble while looking over your shoulder as she maps her tongue along the fabric.

“Hidari—”

You cut yourself off when her grip on the fat of your thighs tightens and nearly forces your hips to arch more. Immediately, you grip onto the sheets with a yelp as she manhandles you while continuously lapping against your shorts, thickly tracing the slit of your pussy and beginning to dampen the area.

She doesn’t bother lifting her head when she acknowledges you while hooking a finger on the side of your shorts. “Does this bother you?” Briefly, she flicks her blank eyes to your heated face, but she is more so presented with the view of the roundness of your ass in her face rather than your embarrassed eyes.

“…I mean, it doesn’t. You just did it so suddenly.”

She averts her gaze to her finger hooked under the damp crotch of your shorts. That's as close as a "continue" she can get. The long-haired woman then gradually pulls it to the side and exposes your bare folds, now slicked from her ministrations, to the air. Her gaze darkens when your pussy clenches from just the cold air caressing it; she craves you viscerally from just the sight of you sensitive so quickly. 

Wordlessly, she lowers her head and presses her hot tongue against your slit, and you instantly moan. Warmth pools in your stomach from the light pleasure of every light flick, but she quickly diverts to a more desperate hunger. 

The stoic woman becomes more ravenous as your juices melt and spread on her tongue, and she eventually drags her thick tongue deeply and slowly against your slit. A hot flick to your stiffening clit and a deep press to your fluttering hole.

The phone in your hands is long discarded on the sheets as you bury your face into the pillow, eyes half-lidded as you cling to it. You want to move your hips, possibly grind your pussy against her moving tongue, but those hands of hers, so killer and swift in any match, effortlessly keep your writhing hips still. 

What even prompted this? You don’t know; it’s jarring to have someone so quiet and reserved unexpectedly devouring you. When her tongue presses flatly against your entire pussy as she nearly buries her face into your ass, you almost pull away again. This neediness begins to escalate as you feel her yank the shorts’ crotch to the side more, hungrily eager to expose every intimate part of your body.

Your folds are fully coated in both her saliva and your own slick when she lifts her head and decides to pull your shorts off. A complaint can’t even leave your lips; you’re too shocked by how she swiftly lifts your hips from the bed and pulls the fabric down to your thighs—big hands handling you like a doll to be used.

And her desire worsens when she sees the thin line of juices connecting your folds to the shorts, then breaking into a glistening line once they’re off. 

“You’re fine with this?” She mutters, almost in a rasp; she needs to hear an ultimatum and not an unsure answer so she can have you wholly. This body of yours and your noises—there is no chance she’s going to leave without having you in the throes of hot pleasure after this display.

When you flusteredly stare over your shoulder down at her, then press your face into the pillow while letting out a muffled confirmation, her grip on the shorts tightens. So tight that a vein ripples across her knuckles at the arousing sight of your vulnerability and permission to continue.

She’s restraining herself from bruising you; there’s this desperate itch, a ravenous desire, to pin you down and make sure her tongue has you sobbing and seeing stars endlessly. Eyes rolling back, tears wetting your cheeks, lips contorted in silent moans so captivating that they're loud in her head. Her fingers twitch at the thought when the shorts are casually discarded on the floor. 

The sight of your shirt ruffled above your waist and your bare backside as you await her is so erotic that it’s almost fighting gravity itself to not tear you apart. This delicious, soft presentation of your ass she needs to sink her hands into and leave deep indents to have you reminded that she's the one who did that to you.

A bite's indent would last longer than that, even. A blunt, simple claim that you're hers and so is this body. But she won’t; she’d never go to such an extreme. You’d bruise just from her losing to her instincts—in a perceived tight grip in her eyes but far too harmful to you.

The dark-eyed woman finally descends upon your lower half, propping her bigger body on her elbows first before grabbing the back of your thighs. Forcibly, her calloused hands arch your hips to expose your pussy more, and it makes you dig your fingers in the sheets from how unrestrained, borderline rough, she’s being. Yet, still, it makes more warmth pool in your stomach. 

It even makes your juices spill out messily onto the sheets in clear ropes. Left’s eyes trail the sight as more veins protrude along her arm, stark against her muscles, as she fights against squeezing the fat too tightly. Briefly, her thumb reaches to one of your folds and pulls it to the side. The pink insides and bubbling juices are exposed, and it’s enough for her to latch her mouth quickly on your pussy again.

You instantly jolt and grip the sheets as her thick tongue shoves itself into your slit again. 

“Hidari—shit…” You moan out her name for only a second before her rough thumb grazes your sensitive folds, scraping deliciously, and begins to swipe against your clit. Your ass bucks against her face as her calloused thumb rubs deeply against your clit—she’s not taking it slow. Its texture, so rough and rigid, is unrelenting—heightening. 

Pair her moving thumb with her devouring tongue, and you’re uncontrollably moaning into the pillow as your nails nearly tear into the sheets. This normally would’ve been more flustering; her nose nestles in the globes of your ass as her mouth deftly moves along your pussy, but any lingering embarrassment has been melted away by her tongue.

That tongue—you could’ve sworn it’s a muscle she trained like her hands. It laps hotly against your quivering hole, produces more slick, and has your hips lifting voluntarily from the sheets. 

But then she pulls her mouth away, a thick line of slick attached to the pink muscle. Worse, she takes her thumb away too, and you lift your dazed face from the pillow, about to voice your disappointment. 

Immediately, you yelp in surprise at feeling her mouth latch onto your clit and suck harshly. 

And she roughly forces two fingers inside your pussy, forgetting to lubricate them. The stretch is searing and the briefest bit of painful as your walls naturally squeeze against the invasion, too thick and fulfilling. Her flicking tongue, singleminded and only wanting to have your juices drown her, paired with the abrupt pumping of her fingers has you sobbing.

“H-Hidari!”

Your legs curl as your arms hug against the pillow. Her fingers force themselves deeply and stretch you with every quick pump, collecting slick and beginning to glisten. The erotic noise of her tongue wetly slurping against your pussy is egregious, yet its vulgar, shameless sound instinctively makes your body produce more slick. 

The pain paired with pleasure makes tears begin to bubble in the corners of your eyes as you bite into the pillow; every pump and every unrelenting lick on the stiff bud is making your body frantic.

You’re quivering, dazed in the head, and beginning to feel that little spark—the knowing spark that you’re going to make a mess on her face.

To warn her, you try to speak. Voice wavering and hoarse, you pull your mouth away from the now damp pillow. “H-Hidari,” you pant, shakily looking over your shoulder. The sight is only the top of her head, white tresses all along her back and shoulders as her red bangs shift to the sides of her face. 

Unfortunately, the wet slapping of her thrusting fingers and slurping tongue answers you instead.

You open your mouth to call out again, wanting to be considerate and warn her, but she worsens the pleasure. Her fingers, so long and thick, curl tightly and press down purposely.

Your eyes snap wide as you let out a loud moan, and she continues pressing down, pumping in the specific area. She fully knows your body—in tune with it, really. You’re close, and you deserve to be even closer to a blinding experience. But it’s not only you deserving it; she desperately wants that specific taste on her tongue.

The taste that she’s the one who made you cum in just barely an hour. That she’s the one who’s making you moan and writhe on these sheets. That you’re hers.

You involuntarily buck your rear against her face more at the harsh spark of pleasure, the strong flare beginning to be the reason for a soon-to-be fire. It causes your body to seize up more expectantly as her fingers continue their schlick, schlick, schlick so rapidly inside of you. 

Those thick fingers curl and press down continuously, and you feel the growing tingle become apparent more and more. It’s close to leaving you breathless; you’re basically being tortured and pathetically can’t writhe out of her grip. Remember, she only needs just one hand to keep you on the bed.

With one last hard suck and flick on your clit, you feel the weightless of euphoria, then the white-hot spasm of your release washing over you. You end up burying your face into the pillow as your walls clench and squeeze around her still pumping fingers, dragging out your orgasm.

Your release spills thickly onto her tongue and messily drips down her chin, plopping onto the sheets, as your muffled sobs ring throughout the room.

Heady and viscous on her tongue, she takes her time, slowly lapping every spill gifted. The sweet tanginess mixed with knowing she’s made you cum so thoroughly is more pleasurable than touching her own body. Now, should she relent? Giving you a well-deserved moment of breath as you’re guided through the last of your waves.

Honestly, she doesn’t want to, but she understands your limits.

Wetly, the woman finally retracts her mouth. Her chin and lips are coated in dripping slick as she stares at her fingers still plugged into your fluttering pussy. The quiet woman then slowly pulls her long fingers out, entranced by how your folds cling to her. Almost as if your body doesn’t want to let her leave despite reaching the apex of your pleasure. 

With a wet shlick, her fingers fully reemerge from your spent pussy. The sight she’s greeted with is the stretched hole weakly quivering around nothing, possibly missing her fullness already. Left's eyes darken at the display; It’s convincing enough to have her devour you a second time.

But you need a breather. She’s not cruel. Left props herself up on her elbows, then presses one kiss to the dimple of your lower back. Another to the middle. And shields your back fully when she presses a kiss to your shoulder, her chest completely covering you.

You finally lift your head when you feel the weight of her pressing into you, eyes unfocused and breathing shallow. The release was that strong to have you out of breath.

And what she did was relatively tame compared to when she has you riding on top of her. That’s an entirely different story.

“Are you well?” Her eyes are their usual blankness, but her brows are furrowed lightly in consideration. Her chin is propped on your shoulder as you tremble with tears in your eyes. Your shirt sticks in certain areas from sweating, your heart is racing, and you’re on the verge of pressing your face weakly into the pillow again. You don't look well, but after that, you definitely feel well.

All the while your slick glistens from her lips and chin.

Shortly, you look over your shoulder and nearly touch noses with her. The scent of your juices is strong on her; it’s shamelessly on her breath and clings to her face. You’re amazed that she hasn’t decided to wipe it off yet, given how much is on her.

Her dark eyes don’t avert from you as she awaits a response. Finally, you only nod then look back at your phone discarded on your sheets. So much for free time.

After the confirmation, she nods as well and begins to slowly lift herself from your body. The long-haired woman stares down at you to confirm you’re genuinely alright, trusting her own judgement more than your own post-coital one, then places her feet on the floor.

The bed creaks when it’s displaced by her weight, sighing in relief, unlike you, who's left there still in a daze. The stoic woman walks away from the bedroom nonchalantly, as if she didn’t just use you to her liking.

You eventually pull your arms away from the clenched pillow and begin to gradually sit up, fully feeling the wetness between your legs now. Before standing up, your eyes catch her wiping away the juices with the back of her hand in passing.

Only to lick it off with a blank expression when she disappears into the hallway.

You have no idea what this woman’s problem is. 

NSFW

I have been wanting to write smut about her for the longest time so here are just some quick ideas I’ll pump out.

LEFT

Honestly, her sex drive is extremely low. If her partner, however, has a high one, then she’s fully open to making love like bunnies every day. It’s a feat in itself to tire her out.

She loves using her fingers on you. They’re both thick and nimble, wide enough to only have two fingers fill you completely and stretch you. Her eyes dilate at the sight of them disappearing inside of you, swallowed completely by those fluttering walls, and coming back out with a slick shine.

She probably wouldn’t classify it as a size difference kink, but she definitely loves how bigger she is than you. Her fingers easily wrap around your entire forearm, and she can lift you up by the waist in a split second. Whenever she’s reminded of the fact, a small heat pools in her stomach very briefly then simmers away.

Unintentionally manhandles you. Those big hands of hers that can nearly grind stone into dust reposition you to her liking in the bedroom when you encourage her to do what she wants.

Eye contact. She enjoys that a lot during intimacy. Don’t hide your face in her neck, or she’ll grab you gently by the face with one big hand and stare deeply into your heated eyes while observing every quiver and twitch—from your eyebrows to your lips.

Her second favorite, after her hands, might be her using her mouth on you.

Just imagine her large hands holding you down by the waist as she keeps eye contact while dragging her tongue. And Left tends to be more on the thrill-taker side, so you actually might have to endure multiple rounds of her tongue torturing you, orgasm after orgasm. You have no idea how hot her blood runs when seeing your eyes roll back.

This might be a bit dark (it’s not; she perceives it this way because she’s a bit vanilla), but the thought of silencing your moans with her mouth as her fingers pump inside you really gets her going. Admittedly, she’d feel ashamed at the idea of overwhelming you and taking advantage of your body because of how strong she is, but it’s a dirty secret she keeps in her mind.

She’s not a moaner. LMFAO. The most you’ll possibly get is her breathing increasing. She’ll show being in pleasure in other ways though, like burying her face in your shoulder, gritting her teeth, or increasing her grip on you.

She prefers to have you on top. It’s less stressful when believing she accidentally crushed you, and she can easily guide your movements. I personally see her taking a liking towards you riding her because she can easily see your expressions, guide your movement, and even hold your body if you become too tired. I need to hop on her strap so bad.

She prefers being on the giving end through and through. Her libido is at its highest when you’re on the verge of cumming from just her fingers.

She’s kind of down for risky stuff, but not to where it’ll hurt you, you know? Wax and breathplay is something she’s open to, but she’s going to firmly reject you if you try to suggest knifeplay. Doing it towards her, though? I mean, if it’s even possible to make that thing penetrate her skin. BDSM isn’t entirely off the books; she just has her limits of severely hurting you.

RIGHT

…He obviously has a breeding kink. Like, very obviously. But I can’t explain it. It’s not in the traditional horny way most men think (or how Tumblr depicts it in smut)—as if he’s a primal beast just waiting to pounce on you and fill you to the brim. He’s not like that at all. I see the breeding kink, in his case, as a subtle itch at wanting to have small faces like yours and his running around.

There’s no pressure to have kids, if you can, because the children at the daycare make up for that little yearning in his heart, but there are times when he genuinely has this itch to create a family—he just loves you a lot.

Like Hidari, he too likes stimulating you with his hands. And let’s be honest… you’re not going to survive sex with him unless he preps you for like a half hour or something LMFAO.

But back to his hands, just one finger is kinda enough to have you shaking. Knowing how he can easily please you is definitely a turn-on.

Rough sex is not for him. He knows he looks like the type, but it’s not a good idea for him. Screw breaking the bed; what if he accidentally hurts you—breaking a bone or bruising you? An encounter like that might actually plummet his sex drive for an entire month, and he’ll be left worrying about you and insecure about his size.

Again, like his sister, he’s more on the giving end than the receiving, but he’s a much more gentle lover than her. You’re overstimulated? He’ll slow the pace down or will just quickly delve into aftercare.

Speaking of aftercare, he loves that more than sex and possibly more than pillow talk. Though, he might be out like a light once you’re finished with being cared after. Just know that he won’t be able to rest comfortably until he knows you’re absolutely taken care of.

Because of his size, I think he’d prefer if you were on top more. Right seems as though he prefers to lean towards the bottom-switch end. Dominant or Submissive? If you asked him, he’d probably say submissive. He doesn’t like that thought of commanding you—he’s not educated in what the roles actually are though, so you’d have to teach him dom and sub aren’t cut and dry like that, lol.

Suggesting toys in the bedroom? Sure, why not. He just has a rule of not hurting you, so no, he’s not going to engage in knifeplay or breathplay towards you (the choking aspect), but if you wanna experiment on him, he wouldn’t mind.

This man definitely moans loud. It’s not an exaggerated yell or anything, but it’s those kind of breathy groans that rumble his entire body. 

Forgot to mention, but his sex drive is only fueled by yours. Meaning he has little to no sex drive—like Left. Does he jerk off to let off steam? That’s if he could ever get pent up in the first place. It’s almost an entirely new discovery when he gets into a relationship since sex or masturbation was never a worry to him. He typically blows off steam while in the ring or while working out.

Honorable mentions for both of them:

I’m one hundred percent sure they would not want to do a threesome. Of course, a threesome doesn’t mean they have to go down on each other, because ew they’re related, but it’s generally a natural sibling thing to be repulsed by seeing them in a sexual setting.

Would it be crazy to HC as both of them being Desi in this AU, or is that generalizing too much just because they wear sarongs and anklets? Besides, I can't see them getting tattoos, but I can definitely see them getting henna tattoos.

You slowly enter the room with a quirked brow, and the door gently closes behind you. The sight of her hulking frame in that little space is comical; the woman's feet dangle off the edge while her knees almost press to her chest.

“You’re gonna end up with a cramp and some knots if you sleep in there.” You advise with a hum as your feet slip against the cool floor.

Hidari only tilts her head back as she considers your words. The muscles on her neck ripple and become pronounced as her parted red bangs lie on the sides of her face. Her fathomless eyes stare at the ceiling and trace the lines around the bulbs shining down as she comes to an answer—concise and straightforward. “There’s no need to worry for that either.”

Her dark eyes glance at you from the corner of her eye. “It rarely occurs.”

You stand beside the tub and lean over it with a curious smile. “I’d help massage those kinks away if it did, but I think I’d honestly need a hammer and chisel to get through all that skin.”

Because, honestly, if she rarely bruises while in the ring, what makes you think a couple of sweet touches could reach those troublesome knots?

She lifts her hands to your form as you gradually lower your face to hers, and the big palms envelop your hips for just a moment—warm and strength lying beneath them. One that's deadly to others but attractive to you—so attractive. The white-haired woman closes one eye as she feels your fingers tenderly brush a strand from her impassive face.

“We have massage guns for that.”

“Baby, you break them.” You add, a snort threatening to break through. She doesn’t intentionally do it, but a device like that is supposed to be durable for normal people—not made for a woman whose body is as indestructible as carved stone. 

You then immediately laugh when you feel her hands urge you to step into the cramped tub, wanting you close and on top of her.

“Hidari, there’s no space.”

“You can sit on my lap,” she flatly replies. Her thick fingers then grasp the fat of your hips and guide you to finally step over the tub’s edge. You only huff out a laugh and place your hands on her shoulders to balance yourself as you proceed. As expressionless as she can be, it's adorable when she's shamelessly needy like this.

The cool sensation of the porcelain is masked by the warmth of her body as you nearly lie on top of her. She spreads her legs wider so you can perch comfortably and keeps you balanced while looking up at you. 

The hulking woman’s head remains lying on the ledge as she stares up at you silently, eyes almost appearing to inspect you, but you can barely discern anything she thinks when her eyes never change—never reflecting light.

“What?” You mumble with a small smile. Your fingers keep their grip on her shoulders as you gradually lower your face to hers. She only blinks at the closeness.

“Perhaps… we should do this more.” A hopeful admission you can almost hear in her voice, but you're not having it. Who hangs out in the bathroom? Let alone the bathtub—and it quickly gets hot too!

“I’m not spending quality time in a tub,” you respond, deadpanned. 

The woman only stares at you.

“Understood.”

You giggle at her short response, snipped and quick. Aw, you feel bad now. It's like you could hear and see the light dimming in her eyes at the immediate denial. Your fingers then play with a couple of red strands on her cheeks as your other hand keeps yourself upright. “Don’t say it like that… you’re makin' me feel bad. That was cute.”

Her dark eyes follow your fingers, and one closes again at feeling the light touch brushing her cheek. Her fingers begin to gravitate to your waist, keeping that secure hold.

“My tone hadn’t changed.”

You tap her cheek with a knowing smile, and her eyes soften. “But I know you felt disappointed.”

“…I won’t deny that.” She tilts her head back more to stare up at the ceiling. The underside of her chin and veins along her neck display in your vision, and you get an idea—one perfect enough to satisfy the both of you.

“How about a spa day for us?” You lean forward, pressing your face into her neck and lips brushing across the skin. Her fingers tighten their hold on you from the action, and amusement cracks at your face from her being affected by the little action.

Despite the flash of heat simmering in her from your lips, her eyes still soften at the thought of quality time together. She averts her eyes from the ceiling to stare at your close face, eyes narrowed and contemplating.

“It’d be a hassle if I were recognized in public.” She's still a professional kickboxer, a celebrity really, after all.

“Then we’ll find a place that privately books and is expensive enough to not have visitors.” You laugh, lifting your lips from her neck. Your face hovers above hers as it glimmers with a lighthearted expression. Every concern easily has a solution, especially if all she needs is some alone time with you.

It's not asking for much, but with a schedule like hers, busy and always training, it might as well be. So she takes it.

“It’s final then.”

That was quick, you blink. Left was never the type to overthink or contemplate too much, though, so a lot of decisions were quick. 

You only grin down at her after the response. The long-haired woman's eyes blankly stare up at you for an intimate moment, then she tenderly wraps her arms around your waist. You can tell she's becoming more sappy when she starts wanting you to be closer to her, physical touch as a love language and all. Your body ends up curled above hers from the gradually closing distance.

You get an idea, and it's sharp and quick to the point, just like your partner's words. Hidari doesn't have a second to contemplate the mischievous twinkle in your eyes before a light pressure touches her lips—your lips. A muffled giggle escapes your throat when your lips press against hers so suddenly.

And in her usual silly behavior, her eyes remain open during the kiss. It was too quick to register, to be fair. Her lips only briefly reciprocate before pulling away to stare into your eyes.

The hardness of her arms firmly presses against your sides and back, and you feel almost caged by a warm boulder. 

“…I’d like to stay like this for a couple more minutes.” Yeah, she definitely enjoyed that kiss.

You laugh. She could have the most deadpan expression on her face and would still be easy to be read as an open book. “You still managed your tub quality time then, I guess.” You jest.

You can tell the kiss really mellowed her out with how her body relaxes more in the cramped space. She, with a body feeling like stone and all, melts more into the tub as she spreads her legs wider, and you cozily slide down to lie your head on her shoulder. More grounding and firmer than any pillow could be.

Hidari's fingers absentmindedly roam along your side then rub patterns on your shoulder while she stares up at the ceiling again.

Her gaze slowly softens at feeling your warmth and weight on top of her. It feels nice.

“Does this bother you?” She considers.

“Nope,” you smoothly reply, in heaven from having your face buried in her dense muscles and petrichor scent. The dark-eyed woman has become your big pillow for now. An odd big pillow happily content with weirdly unwinding in a tub—your precious goofball.

“Then we’ll sleep here tonight.”

Of course she says that.

“Hidari,” you sigh out. A small warning puffs out as air.

She concedes. “A few minutes.”

You only roll your eyes. It appears she'll still get that quality time in the tub no matter what. You then giggle at feeling her fingers brush along the hairs on your neck, roaming and caring. “You’re sillier than your brother sometimes.”

She only closes her eyes while responding, and silence comes after that.

Your cheek presses against her firm chest as you blink blankly.

Don't tell me she's gonna take a cat nap in here, you sigh internally.

“…don’t fall asleep,” you mumble. The last thing you need is her huge arms acting as a cage to keep you in here—exactly where she wants you and getting her way.

“I’m only resting my eyes.”

You snort as you prop your chin on her sternum, and you could've sworn you caught a glimpse of the corner of her lips twitching when you did.

Leisurely, you walk up to her and lean onto the counter with a smile. You poke her arm playfully. “I saw you this morning, not greeted you.”

“Your eyes greeted me.” The yolk begins to blend into a stark yellow and has a runny consistency, clinging to the mixing silverware. She knows exactly what you’re referring to. A couple of sweet looks and a displaced bonnet in the morning, however, isn’t a direct greeting like a couple of words. 

The taller woman lifts her flat expression from the yolk as she places it slowly on the counter, but it was her more so glancing to the side—her being taller than you. Before you can maneuver yourself into her arms for an eager morning clinginess, she side-steps you swiftly and goes to the sink.

You’re left there blinking in surprise and immediately huff while looking over your shoulder. She didn’t just ignore you, did she? Actually, did she just outright intentionally dodge you? There’s no way she did.

“Hidari,” you whine, pitched and almost hurt. It was uncharacteristic of her to dodge your obvious affection. Did she smell morning breath? You swear you brushed your tongue well enough before gargling that new mouthwash!

The only thing she faces is the faucet when she flicks it on; her attention tunneled on something you still don’t know. You stare up at her with a frown while she washes away the egg glistening on her fingers. “Yes?” She flicks her eyes to you for a moment to finally acknowledge you. “I hadn’t ignored you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

She shuts it off, then grabs a towel from the rack, drying her hands. “Because I’d rather not touch you with my fingers dirtied by the yolk and grease.”

Oh. 

She was being considerate—that’s why she didn’t want you touching her yet. Well, it makes sense. The two of you can’t keep your hands off each other. Maybe it’s the morning crankiness that has you immediately assuming the worst. 

“Come here,” you smile eagerly. Enthusiastically, you raise your arms to give her more morning kisses and hugs because cuddling all over her in the bed wasn’t enough to satiate you. And again, she dodges you when you hop towards her keenly, believing her to be ready with affection to give. Wrong you were. 

The long-haired woman silently steps towards the stove and lowers the flame. It roars before becoming small licks at the bottom of the pan, the tints of blue flickering small under the iron. 

You stand there deadpan with your arms dumbly raised in the air. You look over your shoulder with a glare, huffing at her pretty side profile—blankly staring, per usual.

“Okay, you’re doing this on purpose.”

“We spend time distracted when I start kissing you. I’d rather not have the food overcook.” She answers flatly. 

Immediately, you cross your arms and don’t look back at her. That was so uncalled for. Okay, it made sense since she’s the one being sweet and cooking breakfast for the both of you, but come on! Twice in one second? 

Left speaks your name softly, easily sensing the growing annoyance. “I’m sorry if it’s appearing that I’m ignoring you. Come here.” She requests lightly, never being the one to demand of you.

“No.”

Left lifts her gaze from the stove and stares at the back of your head. Despite not being able to see your face, she’s fully aware of your frustration and how you’re nearly pouting at being rejected twice. She wasn’t trying to; she just wanted to be sanitary and have the morning peaceful. You can’t exactly have that if raw yolk smudges on your skin while the food burns.

“I’ve angered you,” she murmurs as she approaches you carefully. You detect the small hint of softness melting in her voice, a bit less of that usual flat cadence. She knows she’s irritated you. 

“I’m sorry for angering you.”

And she’s never been the one to be subjected to petty facades. There’s no prolonging the argument—there’s only accountability and regretful acknowledgment. You nearly twitch and turn around to hug her, but you want to stay mad—annoyed, for better words.

But you immediately melt when her big hands find your waist. Her firm body presses against your back as you feel her chin plop atop your head, holding you close. You almost uncross your arms when you feel her thumbs begin to rub delicate circles on your sides.

“I hadn’t meant to make you feel neglected.” Another utterance of accountability. You’re starting to feel bad, and, admittedly, her hands moving on your body are starting to take effect. A convincing one.

Yet, you still remain cross-armed and not facing her. 

Perhaps words aren’t going to make you acknowledge her anymore—she notes this the moment she feels you twitch from her touch. So you possibly need more than a couple of words that explain her behavior, perhaps even something more solid and tangible to convey how sincere she is.

An idea comes to mind. 

Left pulls away from you again, and you’re standing there even more bitter after the fact. Consequently, it’s your fault for prolonging the petty behavior… Is that toxic? Yes, unashamedly yes. 

While you stand there debating whether you should relent and apologize, the muscular woman is clearing the kitchen counter. You perk up at hearing the sound of glass sliding across the counter and the clinks of silverware being displaced. 

Eugh, is she making more food to make me stand here feeling punished? You sulk in your head. The morning’s already off to a bad start just because you decided to act childish rather than be reasonable. I mean, it's early; who wants to deal with their partner being difficult at eight in the morning?

You aren’t left sulking for too long because you yelp at the suddenness of her hands hauling you upwards. Weightlessness flutters in your stomach for a brief moment before the hard coldness of the counter touches your legs.

Oh, so that’s what she did; she cleared the counter.

You sit there dumbfounded before you become flustered at feeling her stand between your legs. They forcibly part to accommodate her bigger form before you feel her lean forward above you.

You don’t lift your head when she’s practically on top of you, almost making you lean back for more space. Even when you attempt, one of her hands sneaks around your waist and presses against the small of your back, drawing you closer. No room left to ignore her and no room to be stubborn.

Left lowly speaks, saying your name again as her other hand glides up your thigh. The contact makes you shudder as you stare at her exposed chest, sturdy and fair skin in your vision. 

You don’t get to trace the contours of her built body or breasts near your face before her own face is near yours. The red tresses of her hair brush your cheeks as she lowers her head more. Her face, although blank, is tender as her fingers touch the hem of your shirt.

“Does this make up for what I’ve done?”

You almost reject that assumption; her actually angering you. And there's that inkling of guilt to admit you were unfairly worsening the situation, making it a big deal, because she has no reason to appease you, but her hand stalks more. Your thigh jumps abruptly as you hold back a noise, turning your face away from hers. 

A shaky sigh leaves your lips—she’s more than enough made up for some pretend fault. “Yeah… maybe,” you mumble, too heated to acknowledge the proximity and her wandering hands.

“Come here.” Is the woman's finality.

She doesn’t even need to lift her hands; you turn your gaze back to her and promptly wrap your arms around her neck. The dark-eyed woman’s gaze becomes half-lidded as she draws her hands back and grabs your legs, hoisting them around her waist. 

Her lips then lower to your neck as she curls more above you, muscles along her back rippling as your legs squeeze around her heatedly.

You let out an audible shudder, gasping as your body jolts from the contact when her lips press against the underside of your chin. Her fingers move under your shirt, her shirt, and grip your hip, enveloping the skin. 

“Hi—” You’re barely able to say her name from how much she’s affecting you. You can only choke out a weakened syllable. 

Her hair tickles your collarbone as you feel her pull you towards the edge of the counter, as if she’s close to having you picked up and brought back to the bedroom. And with how her lips slowly trail down your neck and those big hands squeezing you? You’re almost sure that’s the case.

“Hidari, the food,” is all you can manage to choke out before you feel her hand travel higher under your shirt. She pauses, then pulls an inch away, closely staring into your eyes. 

You see your flustered face reflected in her black eyes, and you can tell she’s drinking up every reaction just like how her eyes swallow every itch of light—nothing but depths of darkness. And you’re starting to be swallowed whole from just staring into her eyes—heart racing, skin tingling, and expectant for more despite interrupting her session.

The hulking woman finally blinks as her expression becomes flat again. She, however, doesn’t retreat to the stove. She places her hands on the sides of your legs as your hands trail down her shoulders, roaming as you try to contain the heat simmering between you. “Are you still hungry?”

You nod as your eyes track the path your fingers follow. From her shoulders to her sculpted forearms, and to her chest. You lightly trace your fingers along her mounds, and she reaches to grab you again, hands gripping your thighs. 

The white-haired woman briefly flicks her gaze to the discarded yolk sitting in the glass bowl, then to the glistening strips of bacon on the pan. Unfortunately, it’s all going to be wasted if she doesn’t use it now or place foil over it and store it in the fridge. 

But there’s something more pressing in front of her.

She lets out a stuttered breath from her nose when your thumb makes contact with her dusky nub, gently brushing the nipple. That's the last signal she needs to forget about the food. 

“I’m not hungry. I want to have you right now.”