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Sexy Santa Smut Showcase

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Hello there! I’m WaddleBuff, founder and curator of The Black Penguin

In the spirit of Christmas, we’re happy to present this collection of smutty stories with your favorite characters donning the most festive of garb.

We hope you enjoy this collection as much as we enjoyed crafting it!


From all of us at The Black Penguin, happy holidays, and here’s to a most imaginative New Year!






 Exhibit List


House Rules by DirtyComputer

 [Nico, Maki] Love Live!

[yuri, fingering] 


A Christmas reunion for μ's doubles as Nico and Maki's first chance at private time in a while. Maki just can't help but unwrap Nico a little early.



Season's Bonds by Scrib_eyeSteak

 [Tharja, Chrom] Fire Emblem: Heroes

[drunk sex, table sex, exhibitionism, light bondage] 


Two festive heroes wind up enjoying themselves a little too much, and attract quite the crowd...



For a Moment the World Was Aglow by WaddleBuff

 [Asuka, Shinji] Neon Genesis Evangelion

[vanilla, healing, established relationship] 


Shinji questions the nature of his reality. Asuka reminds him.



Architectural Isolation by Lewdsmokesoldier

[Symmetra, Hanzo] Overwatch

[light dom/sub]


Hanzo is an eternal grump, dedicated to wallowing in his self-inflicted solitude even as he feels like he's missing important elements in his life. Symmetra wants to exert a very specific kind of control over someone else. A misunderstanding over differing December traditions gives the two of them an excuse to figure out how they can help each other.



Baker’s Dozen: Frosting Festive Frenemies by Scrib_eyeSteak

[Neo, Ruby, Multiple] RWBY

[gangbang, dubcon/noncon elements, multiple orgasms, multiple penetration, food sex]


An unlikely duo wind up cooking some devilish treats in the kitchen, with the help of a peculiar cookbook...



Santa Baby, Santa Bitch by usermechanics

[Sena, Yozora] Haganai

[yuri, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, cunnilingus, humiliation, femdom]


A festive Neighbors' Club meeting ends, naturally, with some butting of heads.

Neither expected to release the feelings they've been repressing for so long.









 Huge thanks to Meru for providing the gorgeous art of Figgy, Mully, and crew!

Check out their work!










Not sure where to start? 

Just follow Figgy to the next exhibit for smutty festive goodness!


Chapter Text


Got ideas, art, or just wanna chat? Join us on Discord! Let’s create together. 




by DirtyComputer


“Oh, gosh.” Nico breathed. “Maki..”

Maki locked onto her neck, kissing and suckling on the exposed skin as muffled sounds of chatter and laughter echoed in the other room. This was dangerous, bullheaded and stupid- ultimately a pretty selfish way to spend an evening between friends. The first gathering between all of Muse in a year and they were spending it at each other’s throats.

Maki did the thing she does where she just takes over without saying a word.

“Do you ever get tired of lapping me up like a dog? Sheesh.” Nico hissed.

Maki pulled away from her neck to whisper back a retort. “Oh, don’t be so fussy. It’s unattractive.”

The two didn’t get a lot of alone time with Maki being committed to being a med student. Time alone together was everything.. Even if it meant blowing off a gathering to make it happen.

Maki whispered into her lover’s ear. “I like your dress.”  Emphasis on “Dress” as she drew a finger up her thigh and underneath the rim. The santa dress wascut high, Something you’d expect to see on Nozomi before anyone. Maki liked Nico showing off. It was always for her, after all.

“You like it so much you want to get it off of me, huh?” Nico sneered.

Their friends chatted and ate snacks to gentle christmas music in the other room while Nico and Maki were buried in each other’s  grasp. Nico didn’t have much to work with as Maki dressed quite modestly in comparison: a white and red striped sweater and a pair of black pants equipped for the cold. A hand still slipped up her sweater to grip her midriff though.

They pulled apart. Nico was turning as red as Maki’s hair. She whispered hurriedly “They don’t know anything about us, Nico-chan.”

“Be quiet and they won’t know anything about us.” Maki replied with a rare smirk.
Nico pouted, her cheeks puffing in response. Her mouth opened but Maki cut off any fussing with a squeeze to the thigh.

“What were you thinking wearing a dress this short anyway?” Maki muttered, breaking the mood with her doting. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“Sorry, mom.”

“Come on, now.” Her hand went higher and so did the dress. Nico squirmed under her thumb.

“I thought you’d like it, maybe?” She breathed, still dripping with sarcasm despite everything. “Aren’t you the smart one?”

Maki smirked. The truth was out. No need to press her any further as she slipped a hand beneath her legs, rubbing the fabric of her panties. Nico shuddered and meweld in the best possible way.

More noise came from the party. They sang along to the music. Good. More noise for them to hide under.

Maki squeezed again, gripping Nico’s mound as if it were here thigh. Nico grinded against her digits with a erratic rhythm as her gasps and moans got louder and louder. Even with how difficult Maki’s outfit was to get into, she wasn’t one to be left idle as her hands snaked further under her sweater and closer to her bra. Her movements were clumsy and frail, though. She was already well on the way to being undone by Nico.

Maki pushed further, slipping a hand inside of her girlfriend’s panties to be more direct. A loud yelp put a shock through her. The others had to have heard that. She slowed her roll and left her and Nico’s little world to listen to the others.

They were still singing. Rin was comically off-key and had the entire room in a fit of laughter. Maki and Nico snickered to themselves.

Back to it. She rubbed at her entrance, prepping her slick walls to be entered as Nico squirmed and thrusted against her. Maki knew Nico wouldn’t be able to control herself after what happened next, so she took her lips again before slipping into her. A muffled moan as she rubbed the tension in her loins loose.

Nico was flat out getting fingered at her friend’s christmas party now. It made her feel absolutely filthy, which went along with the shockwaves going through her body surprisingly well. Maki released her mouth to come up for air, bringing up her other hand over her lips as if to say “Keep quiet.” The stern faced order contrasted with the eager, rapid thrust of her fingers beautifully.

“Maki,” she whined. Her big red eyes looking at her with such want made her heart melt. That expression was everything to her. Her cheeks flushed, her chest rising and falling with every movement Maki made, and her girlish pigtails dangling back as she pulled her head up and bit her lip. She was going to cum.

“Nico.” She whispered. She was kurt and to the point. The shorter girl came back down long enough to look her girlfriend in the eye. She delivered one final suppressing kiss as Maki came, her quim soaking the fabric of her panties and all of Maki’s fingers. She thrusted against her digits. Two, three, four times before her knees started to fail her. Maki held her close to her, ending the exchange with one last soft kiss on the cheek.

They stood for a while, Nico regaining her strength and soaking in the afterglow and Maki trying to cope with the fact that she wasn’t actually going to get her rocks off for a while. The chatter in the other room had slowed down.

“Look.” Nico whispered, snapping Maki out of her trance.


 “Ueh?” She looked to her girlfriend. Here eyes were up at the ceiling. She followed them to the mistletoe that hung above them, dangling as if it was waving back at them.



“Merry Christmas.” Nico whispered. Maki looked down to a flustered, infectious smile. Maki leaned in to kiss her again before Nico stopped her with a hand on her chest. “Ah, ah ahh.” She chirped. “The rules say we have to do it once. You kissed me like eight times.”

“I’ll kiss you as many times as I want.” Maki giggled, attacking her with a flurry of pecks.

“Quit it!” Nico hissed, struggling to hold back laughter.

“Nico! Maki! Where are you guys?”

The affection stopped as the two hurriedly straightened eachother out, Maki pulling and straightening the short red dress her girlfriend wore and Nico straightening out her sweater. They stumbled around the corner in a hurry.

“What were you guys doing? Looking for food? You know you aren’t supposed to eat without us.” Eli scolded.

“Are you okay, Nico? You look a little under the weather.” Kotori eyed her with concern.

“You too.” Rin said, gesturing to Maki. “You both look on edge.

Nico was still a little weak in the knees and awash with sweat despite being the the person with the least layers on. Maki looked a bit better, but still frazzled from not actually getting her release.

“Yeah.” Maki said, deciding she was best fit to say something. “We just…”

She glanced around the room again, mind running through a list of excuse. Who stuck out among the worried looks was Nozomi, who was staring at her with a knowing, mischievous smile.

Screw it.

“We’re dating.” Maki breathed. “We were...trying to figure out how to tell you guys.”

The room exploded with reactions. Some affirmations. Some confusion. A sassy “I knew it!” here and there. None of the alienation she was expecting, though. Maki was glad. She at least got one kind of relief today.

She lead Nico over to a vacant spot in the circle, sitting down and preparing for the round of questions that was sure to take place now.

Nozomi was sat next to her. She leaned into Maki’s ear as she took a sip of her now not-so-hot chocolate.


“Congrats! Just keep it clean in my house from now on, yeah.”

The comment sent Maki coughing and sputtering into her cup.


 Thanks for reading!




For more festive goodness, just follow Figgy and Mully to the next exhibit!


Chapter Text


Got ideas, art, or just wanna chat? Join us on Discord! Let’s create together. 


by Scrib_eyeSteak


The Holidays had arrived in Askr, especially in the halls of Folkhalla. The many rooms and chambers had been festooned with lights and bells, ribbons and garland that weaved around and between the columns. The spirit had infected nearly every person that called Folkhalla home, from the youngest timid child to the oldest knight. And this night would be no exception.

Tonight was something special - a private gathering in the castle’s bar. Here the drinks flowed as freely as the revelers themselves. Friends and foes, royalty and commoner, and soldiers and Heroes gleefully regaled and mingled. The Barman watched with a soft smile hidden behind his beard.

The smoky tavern had been transformed by the spirit of the season. Wreaths hung from the wall planted spears alongside softly glowing lanterns. The training dummy chairs were swapped out for proper ones, while the tables had cloths concealing their nature as former archery targets. A simple troupe was set up in the corner, adding music to the already festive ambiance. And there at his post was the ever popular Barman, ready to serve the brave fighters and Heroes with all the mead and ale they could ever want.

Of course the festival Heroes were the most eager and active. The four from before, and the new group this year. The Barman hadn't seen much of the new faces since they were busy mingling through the castle. He took some time to wipe a glass clean as he scanned the packed tavern.

There was Hector and Ephrahim, along with the festive son of the Ostian’s best friend. He was just at the threshold to be admitted, though he didn’t seem to be so keen to drink. ‘Kid’s not bad on his feet though,’ the barman chuckled as he glanced at the spring ninja glancing at the clearly flustered lad. ‘Hmm, guess that’s ‘nother rumor proven.’

If there was one thing that was even heavier than the haze of alcohol, it was the simmering heat of sexual tension. As one of the only ones not currently indisposed, the Barman was in a prime position to pick out obvious couples. Like how the Princess of Renais would occasionally lock eyes with her brother across the room. “Not my business,” he muttered under his breath as another patron came wandering over.

The night rolled on and the taps ran free. The troupe had long ran out of carols and rhymes, and had settled into some simple tunes. A few innocuous pairs were still dancing (the Barman spied the normal Robin leading his cheerful daughter in a simple waltz, along with Hector and his little girl), but most of them had paired off and were loudly chatting at tables. One such duo were the festive forms of the exalt and one of his soldiers.

“Hah… that hits the spot,” Chrom finished his mug. His bare arms flexed as he set it down. His festooned attire contrasted the green tablecloth nicely. Falchion was popped against the table alongside his bag.

“Mmm,” the dark mage hummed in agreement. Tharja’s already lascivious attire paled in comparison to her attempts to be ‘normal’. Gone was the bodysuit, exchanged for a pair of fur-lined swimwear of all things. Her stockings reached mid-thigh and were capped off by ribbons and more fur. The matching cape was still draped over her shoulders and fastened by the bell and bow. Her enchanted candelabra now sat in the middle of the table.

The two were hardly close, but could hold a fine conversation. Especially with the added liberation that the bar’s taps had provided. Tharja’s giggles were a little more high-pitched, and Chrom’s chortles were a touch more boisterous.

“I have to say, you really took Robin by surprise under the mistletoe,” Chrom said. He tipped down another mug of brew, one that favored the broth over the holiday dressing.

Well, it's always important to follow customs to the letter,” Tharja shrugged. She couldn’t conceal her devious smirk however. She was a bit dejected at the results, but after a few drinks it didn’t hurt as bad...well, more than a few.

“Still, having a beautiful woman practically jump his bones, and he turns craven!” the prince admonished his comrade and friend. The cavalier admission of her allure took her aback...yet she didn’t exactly mind the compliment.

“You know...I did always think you were rather dashing, prince…” she admitted…

The troupe had retired, as had a few of the partygoers. The lanterns were now dim as the lights within dwindled from sight. The Barman still did his duty and served brew and drinks to whoever asked. Though with more downtime, he could perceive a few couples that were getting a little too amorous in polite company. ‘Luckily, all the proper types left,’ the man silently mused as he looked around.

Some were far more overt, like the Nohrian thief Niles whispering something in Clarisse’s ear. The prominent bloom on her cheeks almost distracted from his hand on her thigh...almost. Not to far off was Robin with the princess of Freege herself on his lap. ‘Heh, if what that old seadog said is true, then maybe I should lock the storeroom now rather than chance it,’ the Barman chuckled.

He looked around for the most important trio - the commander and the royal siblings. Sharena was being led out the door by a concerned Camilla ‘That’s the one from the New Year’s festival,’ the barman noted, but Alfonse and Anna were nowhere to be seen. ‘Now where did those two wind up I wonder?’

Things might have quieted down, but if anything the room was even hotter now. It was clear now that the tension had gotten quite thick, so now the only question was...who’d break first? The Barman slowly wiped down the bar as he scanned the room. ‘Hmm, my money’s on the ninja grabbing the kid. Then again, those two thunder mages are pretty much dry-humpin’ now…’



Two of them had finally gotten over themselves and just leapt onto the table. The patrons gawked as the festive prince and the ‘normal’ girl suckled each others lips and swapped spit. A heavy silence fell over the tavern, broken only by the sloppy moans and smacking of two Shepherds in heat.


“Holy shit!”

Like a floodgate, the crowd broke out. Cacophonous hoots and hollers spurred the two on. It was more than clear that the alcohol had pretty much thrown out any sense of moral decency, with a few other couples pulling away and leaving the scene for more...intimate, locations. The Barman simply watched on and mulled his options. He should be putting a stop to this...

“...Eh, I’ll just put the damages on Anna’s tab,” he shrugged.

Tharja groaned into the prince’s mouth as her tongue lazily fluttered with his. Their hands blindly groped and pulled at each other’s bodies, trying to grab hold of bare flesh. She tugged at his belt, trying to loosen it.

“Ta-hic!-ke it off!” came from somewhere in the crowd. Chrom ignored the drunken cheer in favor of copping feels of both her breast and her butt. He played with the two mounds of doughy flesh. Her leg draped around his back, pinning him close to her shapely body.

The dark sorceress broke away, leaving a trail of spit between them. She pulled the prince down into her sensual, sinful clutches. “You heard them…” she hissed in his ear.

It took a few moments for Chrom to realize what she’d said. Tharja had already conjured a spark on her finger and used it to swiftly cut through his pants, letting his loins hang free on brazen display.

“Damn, Chrom is packing!”

“Guess Marth’s gene’s passed on nicely.”

“H-how do you know that?!”

Tharja licked her lips in delight. Her manicured hands eagerly pumped the long shaft. Her pinkie stroked his balls, appraising his full nuts. The buzzed blush on her cheeks darkened as she felt him harden in her clutches.

“Godsh Thaahja,” Chrom groaned. His muscles rippled as he writhed and buckled under the sorceress’ grip. His rumbling voice spurred her on and she increased her pace until his erection was stabbing into her lap.

“Oh my,” she gasped, an uncharacteristic tinge of delight in her husky voice. The heat from his cock made her already soaked loins almost gush. She could scarcely keep her composure as she leaned in to whisper, “Y-Your turn.”


“Hah! Told ya she had the best boingy bits!”

“You turned thosh down, Robin?!”

Chrom tossed away the snapped top, letting the vultures grab the coveted prize. His focus was on the sultry sorceress’ supple milksacs. She snapped out of her shock at his sudden action and arched out her chest, presenting them to him fully.

The prince latched on with both his hands. He paid special attention to her erect nipples, tweaking and rolling them between his fingers. Tharja grit her teeth under the pleasurable assault, digging her nails into the fabric on the table.

She let him play with her chest for quite a while, relishing how he’d alternate from time to time. Chrom showed no mercy against her tits and in kind she welcomed his manhandling. He kneaded, rolled, and even slapped her chest fat before ogling how it jiggled and bounced. The delightful mixture of pain and pleasure soaked over her like the copious drinks she’d enjoyed earlier.

Her groans were cut off as the prince took her lips again. She wrapped an arm around his back, pushing him closer. “Pah! P-P-Pull the rib...the ribbuns,” she told him.

He reluctantly let go of one of her now-red breasts to reach down to her bottoms. His fingers groped the indicated ribbon before he swiftly pulled it loose. The red crotch plate fell between her legs, exposing the final line of defense in the form of a black thong that barely covered her gushing pussy. Chrom blindly pushed them aside before lining up his rock-solid cock with her trembling lips.

Tharja’s grip on the tablecloth tightened as she felt him enter her folds. She bit her lip in an attempt to stifle her shrieks. ‘ big,’ she silently groaned

Chrom didn’t waste time and set a vigorous pace. His thrusts were sloppy due to the alcohol, but the depths he reached more than compensated for a few stumbles along the way. In the meantime he had a delightful view of her breasts jiggling every time their hips kissed. Neither one even noticed her candelabra or her shoes slipping off and clattering to the floor.

Pap Pap Pap pap Pap Pap

Clang! Clang Clang! Clang! Whap! Clang! Whap! Clang!

Tharja was too addled to notice the bell now smacking her in the face. Chrom wasn’t so lucky and quickly grew tired of the insufferable carol of the bell. His hand clamped down on it and pinned it to her neck. He felt her shudder as the cold metal pressed down on her tender flesh but paid it little mind in favor of plowing her.

The two loudly grunted over the drunken rabble. Her breath came short as she felt her bell almost choke her. Tharja’s shoes slipped off her feet and clattered onto the table, leaving her open-toed stockings to curl in delight.

“T-Tie my hands up,” she begged. Her abrupt request took the inebriated prince by surprise, but he ultimately obeyed. With some effort, he reached up and pulled down one of the garland ropes above them. The crow of inebriated enablers goaded and cheered as he quickly lashed her hands together, never once stopping his pace. Tharja cooed in delight as her fingers flexed in her festive bonds.

“Oh my!”

“How utterly shameless”

“-And hot!”

The two were too busy in their private paradise to hear the prattle around them. Chrom’s hips slammed into hers, making her breasts jiggle. His nuts smacked her ass with every thrust, creating a wet slapping noise that was swiftly drowned in the rancor.

Tharja gasped and moaned, squirming in her bonds. Her bell was now squished between her breasts, hald in place by her ensnared arms. The horns in her hair scraped against the table top. Her toes curled in anticipation of the climactic ruin to come. His cock brushed against her most sensitive erogenous spot, sending her crashing into a world-shattering climax. “I-I’m cumming!” she howled.

Chrom winced as her velvet walls choked his dick, taunting him to paint her womb white. Considering how smashed he was, the prince had no choice but to follow. “Thaaaaajah!” he roared as he pulled back for one last thrust…

...a little too far

“Ack! It's in my hair!

“My eye! Lord Chrom’s seed is in my eye!

Tharja flinched as his hot, sticky seed splashed against her cool skin. Her bare chest was baptized in the royal cum of Ylisse as her explosive climax drenched Chrom’s legs. Some of it reached her chin and even her lulling lower lip. Her tongue snuck out and lapped up the royal bastards of ylisse without a modicum of shame.

“That’sh what I call shome che- hic! -chestnuts!”

“Oh just stop it already…”

Slowly the stream of spunk dwindled until only a few spurts landed on her stomach. The sorceress looked at the sticky residue coating her breasts. She reached up with her restraints and scooped a small dollop of cum between her fingers. ‘“It’s sho...thick,” she licked her lips before wiggling her messy fingers into her eager mouth.

Chrom was preoccupied with catching his breath and didn’t notice her tasting his sires. The harsh spots slowly passed, returning his sight to the relaxing haze of the smoky tavern and his own drunken stupor. He made out the sounds of loud slurping and lips smacking, and came too just in time to see the last of Lucina’s siblings passing down the Plegian witch’s gullet.

“Gulp! Aaah...That’s not all, is it?” Tharja asked, her natural snark surfacing from the drunken haze. The Prince shook his head and grabbed her hips. She groaned at his touch and didn’t even notice him lean in.

“Not even close,” Chrom boasted. He quickly turned her over, placing her on her shaky elbows and knees. Her bare ass glistened with sweat in the light, free of her usual sheer confines. The prince plunged back into her messy, sopping pussy. “We’re jusssht getting shtrarted!”

He resumed his pace, swiftly returning to the same rhythm that had been so briefly interrupted. The sounds of her ass clapping against his pelvis were drowned out by the rancorous applause. Chrom’s movements were sloppy and ill-timed, yet he managed to stay comfortably sheathed in her stuffed sex.

Tharja’s cheek rubbed against the fine cloth, faintly feeling the worn wood of the table beneath. Her eyes had rolled into the back of her head. Her body glistened with sweat in the dim lights of the bar. Her drool had left a noticeable puddle at her side - one that was identical in cause from the one that had formed between her legs.

Meanwhile, the crowd spurred the two on, even as some of them broke away to find their own private little parties. The hooting and jeers reached both his and Tharja’s ears, though she was too preoccupied speaking elder tongue as orgasm after orgasm ripped through her body. He couldn’t really understand what anyone was saying, but the tones and the few key rancorous words he could make out spurred him on.

Chrom grit his teeth every time her pussy clamped down and drenched his cock in her juices. His dick was basted in her hot snatch as her greedy body yearned for more and more of Ylisse’s bastards. The thoughts of Tharja as his queen stood sharply even through the heavy drunken fog. His hands reached out from her hips and swiftly seized her ornamental antlers.

Tharja yelped in pain as her hair was pulled up by her headpiece. She was now suspended over the table, with only her shaky knees and her lover’s uncontrollable body keeping her balanced. Her fingers struggled to grab hold of the table, only managing to pull up more and more of the cloth over the firm wooden surface. Her body was helpless, little more than a ragdoll to be used by the horny prince.

It was clear that the sorceress was in dire straits. It was possible to make out her choked sobs even over the rowdy crowds. Those that could actually see her could instantly tell, even if the heavy haze of ale and mead had blurred the lines.

One lingering glance at her sweaty body...and the blissful tearstained joy frozen on her face.

Tonight, it simply didn’t matter to her. She felt her body burn away, robbing her of her senses one by one until only sound remained. The insistent clanging of the bell, the slapping of wet skin, the rancorous leering cheers of Heroes unfettered. One by one these merry melodies melted away as her climax consumed her like a roaring fire...

The Barman shook his head with a sigh. His duo of waitresses were busy collecting the discarded glasses as he busied himself with cleaning the other messes. He’d finally pushed everyone out after a table had wound up broken, surprisingly not the one that was being fucked on. ‘Just more charges to Anna’s tab,’ he grumbled.

“Why did you let them go THAT far, boss?” the first girl asked. Her orange pigtails and glasses had come undone after the door was finally sealed. He could only offer her a grunt and a shrug. Her co-worker giggled at their response.

“Well, sooner it gets done, sooner we can leave, right boss?” she asked. Her short black hair and bronze skin contrasted nicely with the green uniform. The Barman shook his head and clarified.

“Just get the glasses girls, and I’ll handle the rest,” he rumbled. Though neither girl could see it, they could tell that there was a thin smile hidden behind his beard. The two gave appreciative nods and renewed their work with vigor.

“Hey! Who locked the storeroom?!” the bespectacled barmaid asked as she struggled with the door. The Barman actually looked over from his sordid cleanup.

“I think Commander Anna was hovering by there when ah, the entertainment started,” the other one mentioned. Despite her seemingly innocuous words, it was clear from the smirk on her face that she knew all too well what had happened...and so did her boss.

“Heh, so that’s who ended up in there,” the Barman chuckled to himself before resuming his work...


For more quality Fire Emblem smut, check out the H-eroes collection!


 Thanks for reading!




For more festive goodness, just follow Figgy and Mully to the next exhibit!


Chapter Text


 Got ideas, art, or just wanna chat? Join us on Discord! Let’s create together. 



by WaddleBuff


Shinji stood on the water's edge, staring deep into the lake at his feet, gaze vacant.

His grey overcoat didn't do much to curb the winter's bite. His fists clenched, nails digging into the meat of his palm. Though his skin prickled, and there would be welts in the center of his hand, he felt neither.

His mind was muddled. A dimness of congested thought raged in his pupils, searching for something unseen in the frigid depths.

Musings and wandering wonderings, passing through like broken lines of code.

Not of why the lake hasn't frozen over yet, when the soil beneath his heels already have. Not of why the snow refuses to cling to the black branches of trees carving black lines into the white of a pale winter sky. Not of the fact there were still birds still stubbornly huddled in piles of brown and black, obstinate.

An icy gust made his balance shift, and he brought his gaze upwards. The neighborhood around the lake was just as silent as it sounded. No one else walked the frost-laced pavement, and for the first time that day, a car quietly whizzed past as if on cue. Shinji squinted. As usual, the windows were tinted. But in his mind, Shinji conjectured, there was no driver.

Dark red of a pea coat draped over a familiar frame materialized in the corner of his eye.

"Where have you been, idiot. I've called you at least twelve times." Asuka said.

A hand gripping a scarlet grocery bag was poised on her hip, posture confrontational as ever. But there was a worry in her eyes that was hard to ignore, a flicker of concern that should have been difficult to dismiss.

But Shinji dismissed it all the same.


"Something on your mind?" was what Asuka should have said. But she didn't. It was so clear that something was, so she let the sleeping dog lie as he joined her side and walked on, wordless.

Asuka shivered at the touch of Shinji's hand on hers, and she wondered how long he possibly could have stood there, glaring aimlessly into the black of the lake. As they walked back, she tried to warm him with tales of her job. A job he had never actually visited, and couldn't particularly remember how or when she had gotten.

As morsels of black ice crunched under their tandem pace, Shinji's attention would shift back to the water of the lake, and his musings and wanderings returned.

As Asuka worried behind her facade of faux annoyance, she wondered what sort of thoughts roiled behind Shinji's blank stare.

And with a droll poignance, Shinji could only continue to wonder if the water was black, or red.



Empty stares of dark windows lined the every floor of their apartment complex. It seemed their neighbors were never home. Their own unit was in a corner on the twelfth floor with a view of the lake that would have been nice, if it weren't for the evergreen obstructing it.

Asuka fumbled a bit with the grey keycard, grumbling about how hard it was to grasp it when her hands were so cold. Shinji remembered his own and his skin suddenly stung.

Fortunately the heater was already running.

Asuka kicked off her Chelseas before turning the corner into the kitchen as Shinji worked his way out of his coat and undid his scarf. The glare of LED lit up the apartment. There was a rumple of plastic and a slight clang of some cans on the countertop. He could hear her open the fridge and, a moment later, close it. Hesitance. She peeked back around the corner, the vibrant orange of her hair loose and doused from light behind her.

"Dinner first," Asuka asked, a sparkle of vulnerability twinkling in her next words. "Or the...surprise?"

Oh, right. The surprise.

Warmed up and feeling the blood under his skin, for a moment Shinji's mind found itself in the present for the first time the entire day. He had forgotten of her surprise, and forgotten the context that prompted it.

Asuka could read him like a book, and the slight tinge of nervousness on her face immediately turned to an overwhelming sourness.

" forgot?"

Shinji's tired face broke into a sorry grin.

Asuka didn't bring up the fact that she had talked about the surprise mere minutes earlier. She melted, recalling Shinji's vacant stare that occupied his face.

He'd been like this for weeks, drifting from hour to hour, seemingly unaware and uncaring of the present, bogged down in thoughts that eluded her. He would look at Asuka as if she were the only thing around him for miles around and that in itself worried her more than it did flatter.

She still couldn't figure out what was plaguing him so, but thankfully by now, she had a hunch.

Asking him would only make things worse, so it was best to appeal to his baser instincts, bring him down to Earth and normalcy before prying into the dry shell he'd withdrawn into.

So without another word, Asuka took him by his cold hand and led him into the apartment. They stood face to face in the center of the living room. Shinji still wasn't all there, but he was at least intrigued in what Asuka was planning.

He noted that she still had her pea coat on.

Asuka's turn to grin.

"So you noticed."

She slipped the buttons of her coat in slow succession, eyes never leaving his. There was just the slightest flame in them now, and she didn't intend on letting it blow out. She needed him back.

The last button came undone, and Asuka raised her hands to her collar, and with a shrug of her shoulders, let the coat fall to the floor.

Pink flushed on the curve of her cheeks.


Red clung tightly to Asuka's shapely figure, hems framed with a furry white trim. Decorative buttons ran down the side, accompanied by fluffy pompoms that matched the fur of the trim. Two wristlets composed of what seemed to be ribbon completed the look, accompanied with two pompoms each.

"I would have worn the hat...but I thought that would have given it away." Asuka said, voice near a whisper. Their faces were so close now, and she was suddenly aware of how their heights almost matched. Always have.

She stared deep into the brown of his gaze. It was blank.

It was apparent that Shinji didn't even know what she was referring to with the hat. The context of her surprise was obviously lost on him. Christmas, Santa, any holiday or anything that wasn't the present circumstance of existing was all lost on him. Any familiarity that Asuka could have read, absent. Any recognition with the costume that she had worn for him for several Christmases before, gone.

But there was still that stubborn flicker in that dark stagnancy, and it flickered brighter at the sight of her bared body. Again, her presence seemed to be the only thing that rooted Shinji from a silent oblivion that she could not see nor comprehend.

Asuka smiled. That was enough for her. She would bring him back.

She pushed her lips onto his before Shinji could see the tears that would inevitably form in her eyes. She forced his hands onto her breasts, shoved her tongue between his unexpecting teeth, pressed the warmth of her body flush against his. She would bring him back.

Instinct on Shinji's part eventually took over, and he kissed her back. The tendons in the hands that seemed frozen over mere minutes ago flexed, squeezed. It should be familiar; Asuka had made love to him countless times like this, right here. He acted as if it were their first time, but for now, that was fine. Anything to remind him of who he was.

The wet warmth of their kisses was slow but full of intent. Asuka led the dance, but she allowed any opening for Shinji to take, and thankfully, he sometimes did. Within a few minutes one of his hands was under the bottom hem of her dress, palming the skin of her ass. She felt hot.

Asuka's fingers worked on slipping buttons through holes, on baring Shinji's skin to hers. She guided his hands off her body for a few fleeting moments, allowing some leeway to slip off his shirt. Their lips unclasped for another few moments, and with a prompt of her fingers, Shinji perfunctorily raised his arms, and his shirt was slipped off.

Kisses continued, a slow melding of tongues, of lips that seemed to rediscover something.

Shinji's jeans would be next, and in due time he was naked, lying on the floor, fingers intertwined with hers as they continued swapping spittle between teeth. Asuka wore only her costume, half-undone with her breasts spilling through an unbuttoned gap through the fabric, her panties a forgotten crumple of stripes on top of Shinji's shirt.

He was hard, and Asuka rocked her self back and forth on top of him, letting his cock slide against her heat. He pulsed against her, and Asuka's moans trickled down his throat. She opened her eyes as she continued sliding her skin on top of him, straddling him in the most intimate of embraces.

Shinji's eyes were shut tight, as if fighting something...or fighting to hold something back. Either way, she kept her gaze on his face as she unlinked her hand from his, and reached down between them to pump his erection. The feeling of her skin on his earned a groan, and Asuka kept at it until his eyes opened.

They were hazy now. The flicker still stubbornly waned away in his pupils. It was Asuka's hope, and she clung to it when she gave him a final kiss, and repositioned herself.

The fur of her costume would have been too much of a hindrance, and in moments it joined the pile of forlorn garments beside them, leaving her only in the wristlets and the pompoms that dangled with them.

Swiveling around on his lap, Asuka got onto her knees and forearms, and got face to face with his cock. Instinct again took over on Shinji's front, and she felt his hands tentatively dig into the flesh of her rump as soon as her mouth and tongue began their work on his erection. His own mouth began their own efforts with her snatch, and with their nakedness pressed together, their kisses resumed, mouths and sexes.

He remembered just how to suck at her, how to lick at her, and Asuka sighed and writhed. He better remember, she noted; this was always one of her favorites.

She took him as deep as she could, and when she would shudder when a particular swipe of his tongue sent jolts of electricity through her nerves, she would reward him by taking his swollen tip into her throat.

He came before she got her chance to take him any deeper. Her tongue coaxed it all down her gullet, and she diligently swallowed as she had learned from all the other times he had finished between her lips. She felt him shake and let out breathless chokes of pleasure, breathing hard against her snatch, and Asuka was glad.

She didn't bother letting Shinji bring her to her own finish.

A quick repositioning, a chaste kiss, and Asuka once again straddled his lap, hands on his chest. He looked up at her, the flicker brighter than ever as Asuka slid her slickness over him, feeling him pulse back to virile life. Her skin was flush with pink, twinkling with sweat. She was always self conscious of how her blushing face could blend into the flame of her hair, but at this moment, she couldn't care less.

Another few gyrations of her hips, and he was inside her. She gasped along with him, nails clutching his moist skin as she took him as deep as she could. Her thighs met Shinji's warmth in gentle kisses.

Again and again, Asuka slipped him inside her. Her head lulled forward, hair cascading in front of her. She brought up a hand, tucking locks behind her ear. Her freckles glistened as she sweat. In due time, she reached the orgasm she had missed before, and her successive thrusts grew faster.

She loved Shinji's eyes on her skin, even in when they looked so dark, so lost.

His hands were on her by now, stroking the silk of her thigh, indulging in the squish of her breasts. She bit her lip as she came again. She closed her eyes, riding it out as another crashed in shuddering steppes of bliss, wrenching out moans through her throat.

She opened her eyes again and found herself lying on his chest. The source of the added pleasure rocked beneath her: Shinji was thrusting alongside her own efforts now, shoving himself inside her, coaxing out more of those blissful sparks she had wrenched of her own effort.

Shinji cried out, more of a cry than a moan. His hands were clutched just where she loved them, digging into her skin as she felt the heat of his release spurt inside of her, filling her in viscous pulses of sticky spunk.

Their breaths were ragged, Asuka indulging in the resonant bass of his pulse against the skin of her chest.

She crawled up to Shinji's face and cupped his cheeks. She kissed him with eyes open, and he did the same back.

They would make love in a further swirl of passion and instinct. Asuka was so close to bringing him back, it would just take some more time.

Everything else faded away in their Eden of heat and skin.

The flicker in Shinji's eye disappeared, but Asuka took off in pursuit.



Completely bare with only their collective sweat and skin and breaths to keep them warm on the carpet, Asuka and Shinji were one. It was a unity that Asuka always missed, but she knew it was a oneness that Shinji needed.

It brought a muffled familiarity that harkened to a fate prophesied, conspired, and almost enacted. But unlike the oneness that was avoided, the unity of the world Asuka and Shinji created in that moment was one more intimate than anything his father could have achieved.

In their oneness, Asuka finally breached the defenses of his shuttered mind, and saw what had plagued him so for the recent weeks.

In his mind, there was no end to the expanse of grey, and no end to the torrent of memories suppressed.

Of names. Of places. Of people. Of urges. Of days. Of feelings. Of fantasies. Of lessons. Of faces. Of loves.

Shinji held onto all of this, overwhelming the strength of what spirit was encaged beneath the sheen of his soul, and there, in the middle of the grey expanse, Asuka could see him.

He stared as he did by the lake, flickering in and out of existence, out of tranquility into chaos, out of mulling into panicked disorientation. She approached, pushing aside the repression, the memories, the traces of a world that was no more.

Through the placid grey of the waters, Asuka finally found Shinji. His head buried between his knees, shaking, quivering knees. The boy she had fallen in love with all those lifetimes ago, before passage of lifetimes was irrelevant.

She finally heard his voice, his real voice, not the one he uttered in indifferent mumbles.

She could see the real Shinji, and she could hear the real Shinji.

He was screaming.





They opened their eyes.

Asuka's tears spilled as she smiled, happy with Shinji's return.

He smiled back, brought her closer into his embrace, and buried his face into the crook of her neck.

He could only wish that all winters were this warm.


 Thanks for reading!




For more festive goodness, just follow Figgy and Mully to the next exhibit!


Chapter Text


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by Lewdsmokesoldier


 “Your decorations are out of place.”

Hanzo Shimada started and blinked rapidly. He’d been looking down at the street as he walked towards his residence, not heeding the people around him any longer than was needed to avoid stepping into them. He was surly like that: deriving enjoyment from his solitude and exile took practice and he’d certainly had enough time to perfect the art of sulking.

Now, though, he was forced to acknowledge someone else as he turned his gaze upward. A woman not much shorter than himself stood at the foot of the stairs leading up to his apartment complex. Like everything else in Utopaea, the building was colored in wide swathes of too-bright gold and unblemished white that shimmered and flowed across the smooth material like an ocean wave, manipulated by technology Hanzo had no interest in understanding.

The woman herself was similarly dressed in shades yellow ochre and snow, the gold providing accent to the edges of the white material: a circle of the shining metal color at the top of her porous leggings, three such colored lines pointing downward on her top and starting from a gold patch over her left breast. Her entire left arm was even covered in an extravagant aurous material that mimicked human musculature. On second thought, Hanzo supposed he wasn’t in a position to judge her. He had delicate ankles, despite the amount of walking he engaged in. At least her holographic visor and her blue crystal earrings were comparatively subdued, even if she had to secure the headwear with golden connective material.

The woman met his gaze up and down her clothing and snapped her fingers for his attention. “Focus, if you would. I have must to discuss with you.”  

Hanzo was tempted to ignore her. But then she’d probably just cause further trouble: it was better to get this over with so he could return to his isolation. Begrudgingly, he met her eyes, nearly as dark as her skin, and inclined is head slightly.

“What do you want?”

She returned his gesture with one of her own, smoothly inclining into a full-waist bow with one hand before her stomach and the other extending out to her right and slightly behind her. “Satya Vaswani, representative of the Vishkar Corporation.”

Ah. An employee from the megacorporation that owned and operated Utopaea. Hanzo dearly hoped that he wasn’t about to be evicted again: even with the funds he’d appropriated from the Shimada clan before his departure, moving from city to city frequently would be financially taxing. And inconvenient.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Satya Vaswani?” Hanzo did not bother to disguise his annoyance, curling his lips into a frown as he spoke. The more aloof he presented himself, the less he was molested by bystanders on his travels. It had worked for him so far and he saw no reason to stop it now. The last time he had allowed himself to be committed to someone…

No. If he thought about that now, he’d fall into a pit of self-loathing he’d never get out of.

The Vishkar employee rose from her bow. If she was annoyed by his insolence, she did not show it. “Your decorations outside of the entrance to your communal residence. They are out of place. They do not orient themselves with the visual style of the city as a whole, or even their immediate surroundings.” She pointed to one of the objects in question: a basket-like bound straw mat holding three bamboo shoots at differing heights, flanked by pine clippings with flowers at the base and placed in front of the right side of the stairway. An identical object stood on the opposite side.

“Their colors, brown and green and light yellow, do not conform with the established pattern of Utopaea. I would ask that you remove them.”

Hanzo did not want a confrontation. His surliness did not translate to scrappiness: his discipline was the result of a great deal of patience and meditation, not bottling in anger until it poisoned him against interaction. “They are kadomatsu , integral parts of my belief system’s New Year celebrations. They provide succor to the kami of my homeland. I trust that Utopaea does not discriminate against religious practice?” He wished he hadn’t left his bow in his home, but he supposed he couldn’t walk around visibly armed with an antiquated weapon. That would be silly.

“I am not here as a representative of Vishkar, Mr. Shimada. My business here is personal.” Symmetra’s tone was relaxed, but Hanzo took a step back, hands balling into fists as he widened his stance.

“An assassin? My clan’s standards must be falling if they thought you sufficient to destroy me, even unarmed as I am. I will not surrender.”

The Vishkar woman raised her hands in a placating gesture, though Hanzo took no solace from that: her left arm could conceal all sorts of weapons. “Hanzo Shimada, I assure you that Vishkar has no interest in your death. You are quite safe. My contact with you is altogether more banal.”

She took a step towards him, and Hanzo felt himself relax. He did not trust this woman, but he knew enough about this city that she wouldn’t be able to murder him unnoticed. If he was, he could take some comfort in the fact that the police would investigate his death, link it to Ms. Vaswani, arrest her, bring her to trial, and then let her off scot-free on a technicality.

Hanzo hated his imagination sometimes. “Do not say my name outdoors. What brings you before me, Ms. Vaswani?”

She lowered her hands. Hanzo could make out the tiniest relaxation of her shoulders: the first indication that this woman was anything but polished glass, disguising all stress. “Truthfully, while I have no desire to inhibit your ability to practice your faith, it would be a falsehood for me to claim that your decorations are not jarring to the eye in the context of this city’s design. Fluid though Utopaea may be, small errors such as this can...inhibit the city’s uniformity.”

“That is not my concern.”

“Allow me to explain. May I speak with you inside?” Alarm bells rang in Hanzo’s mind. She could still be trying to kill him, or blackmail him, or otherwise inflict harm upon his person. But above it all, a tiny voice that he knew to be part of himself whispered back. Come on. Some socialization will not hurt. It might be fun. And if you make her miserable, she might leave you alone faster and know not to bother you again. It’s better than letting her get hurt.

“Very well.”



“How did you discover who I am?” Hanzo didn’t give Symmetra the space to get a good look around his home, standing in front of her whenever he could. If he was going to kick her out, he would prefer that she see as little of his apartment as possible. Being on the third floor would generally discourage theft, but in Utopaea space was fluid. And even for how advanced it was, this place was easy on his funds. He’d prefer to put off having to move as long as possible: being here for the two months he had been was almost a record length of time in one place for the elder Shimada.

“You are the heir to a substantial fortune and significant influence and many parties have a vested interest in your status. We are but one of them.” Symmetra inclined her head, and Hanzo thoughtlessly let her pass, distracted by her story. Before he could call her out, she had seen fit to let herself sit on one of his chairs by the bedroom. “Vishkar designs a great deal of products, including surveillance systems that can come bundled into our architecture projects. For a man in exile, you do little to hide your tracks. Financial records, geographical data, facial recognition, psychological profiles...almost every time you change locations, someone has identified you within the week. The most difficult time you gave anyone was when you fled to Hawaii. That nearly took us a month to track you down, and by the time we found you in New Zealand, one of our competitors had already staked you out.”

“Why? Does Vishkar not have a presence in the United States?”

“Oh, Vishkar certainly does. But anything worth investing in Hawaii sank along with the entire island chain decades ago. When I speak of you ‘fleeing to Hawaii’, I refer to the weeks you spent bouncing between what few Pacific islands remain in the manner of an early Polynesian settler.”

“Ah. I had forgotten.” Hanzo let out a single laugh, then nearly choked. He hadn’t heard himself do that in months: he couldn’t even remember what had last prompted it. He felt something swelling up in the pit of his stomach, but he wasn’t sure if it was fear, pain, or something else. Hanzo needed to change the subject. Nursing his loneliness was easier than trying to forge a new connection.

“I suppose that answer is simple enough. I must be more diligent to disguise my path in my travels, then: this may explain why Shimada assassins find me with such ease.”

“Well, the bow you carry almost everywhere is not exactly inconspicuous, Mr. Shimada. Although it may disguise you should you hide yourself among a theater group. I heard that Kabuki is making a comeback.” Symmetra’s eyes sparkled with amusement, the first sign of emotion she’d yet betrayed. Hanzo could not help himself, and laughed again. This time, his choking was audible, and he turned away so that she could not see him smiling. He turned, and Symmetra could not disguise the smugness in her eyes. She knew what was going on.

His mind raced once more. This is good. You’re having a good time. Don’t mess this up. Unless you want to. It’s harder to hurt people if they’re not close to you. “So, Ms. Vaswani…” She raised a hand, and he stopped himself.

“Please, call me Symmetra. That is my operative name as a Vishkar employee.”

It was Hanzo’s turn to look incredulous. “I was under the impression that you were here on personal business... Symmetra . Why resort to code names, then?” He refused to debase himself with base rudeness to drive her off. But the comfort of his own thoughts called him to push her away no matter what. It was better for both their sakes.

She pursed her lips, and Hanzo thought for a moment how sweet they might taste on his. Then he thought about how badly he had screwed up the last time he’d loved someone. And he was still angry at her.

“It reminds me of my place. As should yours, Hanzo.” He hadn’t given her permission to use his first name, and he was slightly put-off by the willingness with which she spoke it. But he could respect her confidence.

“And how do my kadomatsu fit into ‘my place’, Symmetra?”

“Ah. That was...tactless, I admit. I apologize for my lack of consideration: my intention was not to offend.”

“I accept your apology. But why point it out at all, then?”

“My explanation is quite simple. I find it distasteful when objects are not properly ordered. I did not intend to imply that you should not be free to practice your end-of-year celebration. Vishkar, as a policy, does not support any discriminatory practices.” Symmetra’s final sentence was delivered as robotically as possible. Even someone as cold as she was clearly got sick of repeating corporate taglines often.

“That is fair.”

“Personally, I am not fond of ostentatious celebrations. Crowds...discomfort me. But I enjoy the recitations during festivals such as Gita Jayanti . Vishkar is sponsoring the Utopaea celebrations this year.”


“Indeed. Our outreach program is organizing the children’s theater performance and Gita recital. The hardlight props are my own design. It is preferable to the consumerism of Christmas: that has been commercialized to infamy.”

Hanzo nodded. There was more to Symmetra than he thought. She was not completely disruptive to his life as a wanderer. But he was committed to his sulking. He was too set in his ways to change. Surliness gave him security and control.

“We are more similar than you would like to admit, Hanzo.” He scowled, but didn’t respond. She had made herself comfortable in his home, called him out by name, and now called them two sides of the same coin? He would be angry if he wasn’t so impressed.

“Order and discipline. That is the only way to live.” The words hung heavy in the air. Hanzo knew that this was a catalyzing moment. What he said now might get her out of his life for good and leave him in peace, or draw her further into his vortex of self-pity.

Given his predilection for the latter, his words surprised him. “I sense a kindred spirit.”

Hanzo was shocked. Rather than invite her to depart, he had just pulled Symmetra closer to his sphere of comfort and told her she was welcome. Well, he hadn’t done so in so many words, but his meaning was clear. And the awkwardness was palpable. Had his mouth let slip what he really wanted to be true, no matter what his mind told him? Had he found someone he had finally decided to not push away?

Symmetra said nothing, merely removing her visor and placing it on the bedside table in front of her. The holographic light flickered and faded until it was nothing more than a set of connective parts loosely made whole. Hanzo stared down at her from his elevated position, and she rose to meet his height.

Before he could think about how stupid he was, he leaned forward and kissed her.

She didn’t recoil, slap, or protest. He, in turn, found himself bringing his hands up to her cheeks to deepen the kiss, breathing heavily against her skin. She smelled of autumn leaves and rich earth, and Hanzo was suddenly self-conscious about the last time he’d washed.

A cold hand touched his and Hanzo drew away. Symmetra had placed her left hand on his wrist, pushing the limb down. “Not an unwelcome development. And not unexpected, either. I-”


Symmetra went silent. Hanzo made out a subtle crease near the corners of her eyes: she was enjoying this.

“I do not like it when people disrupt my solitude.”

“I can tell.”

“I do not like how you have inserted yourself into my life, even this briefly.”

“I can tell.”

“And I certainly do not like being forced into making decisions.”

“I can tell.”

“But before I wonder what happens next, I’m going to fuck you, Symmetra .”

Symmetra raised her right leg, showing off her the dark skin of her thigh as she pressed her knee against his crotch.

I can tell .” She whistled and batted her lashes up at him, playing coy but keeping the hard edge in her eyes that told him that she wouldn’t let him walk all over her so easily. Hanzo could tell she was playing up his ego. She was a quick learner.

“Get undressed.” Now that he was focused on her body, rather than his desire to grump in peace, he could appreciate just how shapely she was. Certainly, the way her chest strained against her top was pleasant, especially with how it creased between her breasts from the size, but the truest beauty lay on her bottom half.

It was impossible for her choice of clothing to be unintentional. The combination of her top design and the leggings that went halfway up past her knees drew attention to her gloriously chocolate-brown thighs, leaving them completely exposed to the wind and his hungry eyes. Her hips smoothing out in an hourglass figure wider than her shoulders only intensified Hanzo’s confidence in his hypothesis. Symmetra knew that her finest physical features were her hips, thighs, and rear. Hanzo had to agree.

Symmetra stood firm. She had not begun to undress, crossing her hands below her chest instead. “I think not. I am functionally exposed, and will be able to remove my clothing more quickly when my time comes. You, with your heavy parka, pants and boots will not. I suggest you begin disrobing first.” Hanzo glared at Symmetra but complied, snapping buttons and pulling zippers as he struggled to rid himself of his jacket. He grunted, growing impatient with the many straps and nuances of his clothing. It was good for locking in heat: when it came to quick removals, he needed more time. Anticipating frustrated sex did his concentration no favors, but after what felt like an eternity, he got the heavy jacket off and managed to unlock and kick off his boots with the socks stuck in them. With the straps removed, his pants fell more more swiftly, though they stalled and caught on his erection.

Then it was done. He still had on his boxers, but his shirt had gone off with his jacket, and his pants, socks, and boots were scattered across his bedroom floor. And with how his erection was swelling in his underclothes, he could guess they wouldn’t be on him much longer.

“As I suspected. Six minutes and forty-seven seconds. Allow me to demonstrate.” Hanzo had almost forgotten Symmetra was right next to him. He was not embarrassed by his nakedness: he knew he was in peak physical form.

But for some reason, the way Symmetra looked at him made him self-conscious, as if he might not be worthy of her enjoyment. And Hanzo never doubted his own abilities, even when he doubted his character. Before Vaswani, however, Shimada found himself deferring to her unspoken judgement.

I am pleased, for now. Pray that this does not change.

“Sit down on the bed. Remove your undergarments.” He didn’t hesitate to obey. It seemed...right to listen to her. He would not let her get carried away, but Hanzo had to admit that letting go of the control he had held onto so desperate for ages was proving to be very exciting. He would follow for now.

Symmetra, meanwhile, stood in front of him at full height. Her eyes were closed, but her face betrayed no struggle or effort from concentration. Then, she began to move. Hanzo had heard of classical Indian dance but had never witnessed it himself. He himself was practiced in rudimentary Sōran Bushi , though its fishing origins had never been relevant to his life as the scion of a powerful crime organization.

Symmetra danced as if she had done so every day of her life, her body moving in sync as one long coordinated thread of muscle. A hip gyration gave her momentum to bend a leg and spin on the other, wrists weaving in half-circles in front of her before rising with her arms into a crescent-moon shape against the back wall. The momentum from moving her hands upward let her spin once more, and she extended her right leg backward and up towards her sky-raised arms, balancing herself on a single set of toes for a split-second of perfect posture. Just when Hanzo thought she might begin to falter, she brought her leg down and used the velocity to swing her left leg outward before bending it upward so that her knee was pressed to her chest, arms forming circle with her head at the center.

She held the pose for a moment and Hanzo gawked. The white shorts beneath her top, occupying the space between her stomach and thighs, were hanging loosely around her toes on her left leg. How had she even removed them? He’d been watching her the whole time, unless…


Symmetra raised her eyebrows. “I have danced my entire life. You would be surprised at what peak flexibility enables one to do. Now…” She gestured to the clothing hanging from her toes. “Remove them.”

He was baffled when he complied, extending his hands to roll the covering off of her toes and lay it on the bed next to him. Something in her tone told him that she must be obeyed, at least as far as their little dalliance went.

“Good.” Symmetra smiled, and resumed her dance. Hanzo wasn’t sure what to keep track of: the issue was not that she moved many body parts at once, for she was consistent in keeping only the barest minimum of her limbs in motion at any one time. The problem was that his archer’s mind kept incorrectly anticipating where she would next employ her momentum in her body’s flow. He would see her roll her hips and expect a spin, but she would carry the energy to her shoulders and bring the movement out to a gesture at the tip of her fingers, staying stable the whole while. Symmetra would raise a leg and he would foresee it bending into a rest pose, only for her to raise the rest of her body with her into a back or front-flip.

It was after one such backflip that she straightened herself and was suddenly much more exposed. She had somehow slid her top over her head when upside-down, using the curve of her back as she stood upright to force her clothing down past her arms until it was held in the grasp of her mechanical hand. Symmetra’s undergarments were colored white and gold, same as her outer clothing: a stringy gold-trimmed bra with white cups and a pair of similarly-distributed panties. Hanzo gulped: she was very flexible, and those limbs were more powerful than their svelte outline would suggest.

She didn’t have to say anything this time, merely incline her head towards her outstretched hand grasping her top. Hanzo’s independence made him inimical to being ordered about, but Symmetra Vaswani demanded control and the skill she wielded certainly meant that she had earned it. Perhaps he could accept this arrangement, he reasoned, as he reached out and took the clothing from her.

“I have...never witnessed anything like that before.” Hanzo allowed the awe he felt to creep into his voice. She merited an open display of recognition of her talents.

Symmetra bowed again, the same way she had when she had introduced herself to him less than an hour ago. In that context, her repeated motion was more than a little amusing, as if she weren’t nearly naked. “Indeed you have not. The hand motions were initially Kathak , but the leg movements are my own innovation.” She stepped forward and slid her hands behind her back, grasping the hook of her bra.

“The flow and control offered by dance is unparalleled,” she started, unclicking the bra and letting it drop. Large coal-black nipples, standing out even darker in the sea of brown on her breasts, caught on the cup of her bra as it fell, giving her tits the opportunity to bounce from the force. She slid her thumbs between the string of her panties and her wide hips. “And if there is one thing that I pursue above all others…” Symmetra continued, pulling the strap and letting her undergarments slide down and off of her toes. “It is control .”

Hanzo nodded. He understood her drive and he did not share it, but he was happy to be a part of it. He could see her approaching him and he wordlessly leaned back until he was lying flat on the bed. Symmetra crawled forward, brushing her fingers over the hard flesh of his abdomen and chest, before coming to a rest with her knees past his head. She loomed over him, breasts hanging low and blocking his view of her face until she leaned forward and brought her slit closer to his mouth.

“And right now, you are under my control.” She slid another inch towards him and his nose bounced against the bare skin above her lips. “I do not need to tell you what to do, do I?”

No, she did not. Resting his nose above the skin covering her clitoris, Hanzo planted his tongue under her labia and slid upwards, wiggling the organ from side to side, trying to coax a quiver or a stammer from Symmetra. She granted him none, but he could definitely feel her tense around him. At the top of his lick, he tilted his tongue towards his nose and pressed it to her clit, and Symmetra let out a gasp and gripped the sheets near his head just a little bit tighter. He smiled and pressed further, swirling his tongue around the covered bud that he knew would break her concentration, flicking it back and forth before sucking on the bundle of nerves. To her credit, Symmetra didn’t say anything, merely bringing her thighs closer to his head and moving her hands to rest in his hair. She wasn’t even breathing heavily. Hanzo would have to work harder.

Lowering his tongue, he curved it upward and slotted it underneath the crest of her slit, pressing backwards against the top of of her cunt and fastening his lips around her pubic mound. Still, her resolve didn’t waver: her thighs pressed closer in, brushing against his hair, but Symmetra’s only response was to let out a long, slow exhale as he sucked at her cunt. Puffing his cheeks out, Hanzo hummed into her skin, letting the vibrations well up from his throat, radiate out across his lips, and penetrate into her nerves. The salt of the sweat beading her pelvis stung his taste buds, but he kept up the pressure, concentrating on showing her exactly what he was capable of. His efforts bore fruit when she tightened her fingers in his black hair and he heard her teeth clench above him. She had to be close now, straddling the barrier between cumming and merely being stimulated with his mouth.

Hanzo broke away from her, giving himself a moment to breathe, pursing his lips into a whistle to blow air along the sides of the lips in front of him. He thought it a clever trick, but it wasn’t his masterstroke. Impatient, Symmetra hands began pulling him forward by his hair, prepared to shove him into her nethers if need be to give her the last little bit she needed to finish. He obliged, but shot her an angry glance that she met with confidence, looking down at him with a mask of self-control that he knew was disguising how much fun this domineering was for her.

He rubbed his nose along her clitoris and her thighs tightened the smallest bit, now pressing hard against the side of his head: he had to be doing something right. Still nuzzling into the top of her slit, he flicked his tongue out and dragged it along the bottom before pressing the muscle inside her and corkscrewing it, alternating the orientation each time he thrust his tongue in and out. A bead of sweat rolled down from Symmetra’s quivering nostrils and landed in his hair, but he didn’t let that stop him. When Hanzo noticed her loosen her grip on his head, a telltale sign that she was expecting his tongue to penetrate into her succulence, he elected to go a different route. All the better to bring her to a crashing orgasm with, if her faltering discipline was anything to go by. Resting his top row of teeth against her clit, he tensed his jaw, lightly applying pressure to the sensitive button as he dragged and twirled his tongue upwards and nipped gently at the sensitive bud. Given how good Hanzo knew it had to feel, she should have been reduced to a babbling, quivering sprawl of limbs and fired pleasure centers. Symmetra certainly felt her orgasm beginning to roll into her, but she wasn’t going to be reduced to putty from just a few licks and a bite, even if they were inventive.

Instead of breaking what remained of her composure, Symmetra merely smirked in muted satisfaction.  Pressing her thighs deeper against his head, she pulled ever-so-slightly at his hair to keep him buried between her legs and came, her ass pressing into his chest with all of the weight she deigned to muster. She did not cry out, gasp, or swear: the only sounds they could both hear were their out-of-sync breathing as her cunt spasmed and spurted onto his face, the warmth suffusing her body in waves with each twitch of her hips. Enveloped as he was in her pelvis, with his mouth locked onto her convulsing slit to drink in her orgasm, Hanzo still managed to look up at her face between her swaying breasts as she rode out her orgasm against his tongue, mouth, nose and teeth. She wasn’t even biting her lip, although she couldn’t disguise the sweat dripping down from her forehead or the swaying of her earrings that communicated the tension being released through her body.

“I will not lie. That was exquisite. But I can tell that you are yet unsatisfied, Hanzo.” Symmetra’s voice rang out for the first time in an eternity. Hanzo suddenly realized that she was expecting him to carry on a conversation as if she hadn’t just got eaten out and was still currently sitting on the face of the man responsible.

Such discipline and control was rare indeed: if she wished to exercise it with him, he couldn’t refuse. Where had this woman been all his life? He swallowed down what remained of her climax and called up to her from between her legs. “And what do you intend to do about that, Symmetra?” She was referring to him by his first name, but something about referring to her by her operative title sounded right. It certainly elevated her authority over him, a prospect he found more exciting than terrifying.

Symmetra spread her legs and scooted backwards, managing to stay serene even through such an awkward movement. She didn’t speak until she had backed up to the point where her rear was pressing against his covered cock. “I enjoy power, Hanzo, not cruelty. I will of course allow you to cum, though I suspect that you may have some different opinions on the degree to which I will direct what comes next.”

“You would be correct. But I confess that this has been…” Hanzo tried to find the words, but the way her ass was pillowing his clothed erection was more than a little distracting. That, and he didn’t trust himself to tell the truth.

“Exciting?” Symmetra laughed and ran her mechanical hand down his cheek to hush him with a finger on his lips. “Do not be embarrassed. A receptiveness to another’s control in intercourse is not a reflection of inferiority in other matters. You are an extraordinarily magnificent man, Hanzo Shimada. My hope is that you interpret this new experience for what it is, rather than what you incorrectly assume it suggests about you.” She reached her right hand back behind her and slid it between his waistband and his stomach, index finger deftly circling the crown of his dick with the white-painted nails. “Please allow yourself to enjoy this. Part of acquiescing control is allowing another to take care of you. So I implore you...let me help you, Hanzo.”

She lifted the finger off of his lips, and he nodded. He wanted to thank her, but thought better of speaking. Symmetra took that as a cue to lift her hips up and sinuously crawl backwards, then flipped backwards off of the bed so that she knelt in front of him. Pulling on his leg, she shifted him so that he could rise into a sitting position.

“Allow me.” Symmetra hooked her thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and lowered them slowly, allowing the fabric to catch on every little curl of pubic hair or crease in his erection. The cotton gliding over his dick slowly, evoking the sensation of fingers drifting on it, was enough to keep him hard, to say nothing of the naked, gorgeous woman in front of him, darker than teakwood.

Finally, his boxers slid down to his ankles and his erection stood tall and firm, jutting upward from his pelvis. Symmetra looked it over, rolling his testicles in her right hand as if inspecting them. “Impressive. Perhaps I will not need to prepare you any further.” Without waiting for a response, Symmetra stood up in front of him and brought her mechanical hand down to the junction of her thighs, spreading herself wide enough for Hanzo to see a flash of pink between her cinnamon-colored folds. A string of her last orgasm hung between the two sides of her labia before snapping and falling down to the carpet with a small plop . “I am ready, if you are.”

“Of course.”

Symmetra smiled and leaned forward. He thought she was about to kiss him, but instead her lips brushed against his ear and she whispered, so softly that he wasn’t sure if he had imagined her words or not. “Do not be afraid, Hanzo. I anticipated and controlled for the risks.”

Hanzo had some interesting questions about what that meant, but he didn’t have time to dwell on them. With nary a grunt, Symmetra used her mechanical hand to hold herself open, resting the palm on the smooth skin directly above her slit, and brought the other to grasp Hanzo’s shoulder delicately. The only warning he got was a tapping on his shoulder: one finger, two fingers, three fingers, and then she lowered herself onto him.

Hanzo didn’t attempt to contain himself, closing his eyes and murmuring listlessly as Symmetra slid down onto him, herself gripping his shoulder tight enough that he knew she was holding herself back from moaning. He was focused on how she took him, feeling her walls stretch, shift, and part to accommodate his considerable girth. For all of Symmetra’s cold emotional exterior, her skin was certainly hot and sweaty enough to slide against him and Hanzo’s cock leached the warmth from her insides as she welcomed him deeper. He was an exceptionally disciplined man, but he had to admit it was difficult to resist reaching up to grab at her tits or rear.

“You may touch me, Hanzo. Carefully.” He obliged, bringing his hand up to her left breast and cupping his palm around the large, black areola, letting his other hand take hold of one of her ass cheeks and squeezing lightly. Trembling fingers ghosted in a loose circle around her breast. Hanzo’s grip tightened as he hilted himself fully inside of Symmetra, the head of his cock straining against her inner walls as she went flush against his pelvis, but he held himself back from digging into her breast. It wouldn’t do for him to mar her skin and she certainly seemed to appreciate his restraint, if her peaked nipples pressing into his hand were any indication.

She was gripping him well enough that he could envision orgasming and creampieing her, but he wasn’t going to reach his peak just lying there. Thrusting his hips up was not going to be an option, so Hanzo was completely at Symmetra’s mercy. Thankfully, she didn’t have any investment in his suffering, and he was free to bring his other hand to her considerable rear as she rolled back, lifted her hips up, and slid halfway off his dick, leaving just the crown of his cock inside, the rest of him slick with her. It was a strange position. Symmetra was lying parallel to the ground, but her legs were still bent in a kneel alongside his and for all intents and purposes she was still riding him, albeit laterally.

Symmetra dug her thighs into his, then pulled herself towards him to draw herself back onto his length, riding him horizontally. Her stomach tensed and her legs strained, but she didn’t waver or falter even though the effort of holding herself upwards and pulling her weight with her thighs had to be murder on her abs and legs.

He opened his mouth to speak, and she cut him off. “I am quite capable, thank you very much.” Hanzo gasped and hissed through his teeth as she fucked herself sideways on his cock. With barely a grunt, Symmetra raised herself back off of him, and he felt the cold air on his wet skin once again.

However unusual this position was, it felt amazing . Even at rest, the weight of her pelvis bore down onto him as he held her upright with his dick. When she moved, the top of her nethers rubbed against him and slid around the overhang of the topside of Hanzo’s cockhead, firmly rubbing the sensitive ridge at the bottom of the flared tip. Symmetra herself could feel his cock dragging against parts along the top of her pussy that she’d never stimulated before and the pressure was making it hard for her to breathe and keep up her momentum.

Symmetra kept moving in that odd position in an uneven, but comfortable rhythm, feeling him grind against the top of her nethers with his proud cockhead. Hanzo’s own back was starting to ache as he hunched over her, but Hanzo bit his lip and refused to complain. Symmetra had to be going through much more strain, and she was barely complaining. Even she had limits, however, and he could see the sweat running down her sides in rivulets that told him that she was running out of time to cum like this. He took his hand off of her rear with great reluctance and slapped it against the bud of her clitoris, rolling his nail against it in time with her cunt’s movements up and down his cock.

Symmetra had demonstrated heroic willpower in holding back from letting go and giving in to the pure, unadulterated pleasure of their their fucking. Biting her lip hard and furrowing her brow in deep concentration, she slid her cunt forward and backward on his dick fast enough for his balls to slap upwards against her ass, the pressure against his sensitive orbs leaving Hanzo gasping for air. But her body betrayed her and every time she pulled herself horizontally onto him her legs quivered a little bit more. At the rate she was going, Hanzo was definitely going to cum soon and the pressure only grew each time the crown of his dick dragged against the top of her nethers. He certainly hoped that Symmetra was about to get off, because he was definitely out of time: the pressure from her weight on him and the speed she was thrusting herself onto him was going to be enough.

When Hanzo came, it wasn’t with a single moment of eye-popping clarity and connection. Rather, it snuck up on him when she had pushed herself away from him and he felt her walls go against the grain of his tip. With a hoarse moan, he suddenly let loose, pulling Symmetra flush against his pelvis as he felt warmth blossom and spread from the dick he’d buried in her. He couldn’t see through her, but he could certainly tell when each burst of cum completed its journey out of him and into Symmetra, his member twitching through her stomach and his breath hitching with each spurt of seed entering the ebony beauty beneath him. So deeply invested was he in his own climax that Hanzo didn’t even notice Symmetra’s arms and legs loosen as her concentration broke and her own, smaller orgasm rippled through her, her cunt quivering on his cock. He got some satisfaction from dripping sound and the sensation of his fluid flowing back against him, confirmed by the cum seeping onto his dick and the carpet below where he was buried in Symmetra. He’d emptied his nutsack and filled her up so much that she’d overflowed back onto him and out onto the floor.

Symmetra allowed herself to breathe, head warm from the altered bloodflow to her skull from her off-horizontal position. The sensation of Hanzo letting loose into her had allowed her another release, though not wracking her with as much pleasure as his ministrations with tongue and teeth had. Still, Hanzo had earned praise.

“That was...a considerable load, Hanzo. I imagine you do not find much time to empty yourself.” Hanzo huffed and gasped in response, too tired for words. Symmetra’s arms, stomach, and legs burned with the desire to relax and she pulled herself into an upright position with grim effort, only to finally lose control and gasp heavily as she lay atop him, his dick still buried in her.

“What next?” Hanzo finally managed to speak. He’d just came, but seeing Symmetra atop him, with his cock buried in her, was warding off the exhaustion and refractory period that he expected at this point.

“Now?” Symmetra laughed and stroked Hanzo’s forehead before pushing him so his back lay on the bed, same as when she had ridden his face. “Now, we go again, but you will take care of me once more. That was no small effort on my part and your turn to indulge me is overdue.”

Leaning forward, she lifted herself slightly off of Hanzo, reaching her right hand down to rub at his cum-covered cock with a few determined strokes. Her toes, meanwhile, poked and prodded at his testicles from her position kneeled atop him. Hanzo groaned, but felt himself stiffen again. “If that is your desire.”

“Indeed. Now, get atop me. My thighs, gorgeous as they are, have endured significant stress. I will need to relax for a time, during which I expect you should I put it?” Symmetra tapped her chin with her mechanical hand, then pointed it upward in exaggerated epiphany. “Ah, yes. I expect you to plough me with everything you have, to fuck me with your considerable dick and fill me with even more of your load. Is that understood?”

Hanzo was exhausted, but his erection refused to go down now and he wouldn’t have it any other way, especially if she kept egging him on with taunts like that. If he and Symmetra were going to do this again, he’d have to leave an even better impression on her than he already had. With a tense smile, he grasped her by the waist, flipped her over onto her back on the bed, and pressed his nose to hers so that his brown eyes met her gold ones. 

“As you wish.” Hanzo punctuated the end of his sentence by thrusting forward into Symmetra, feeling her grip his cock on all sides, and let the sound of her calling his name fill his bedroom. The Gita recitations popping up across the city ensured that his neighbors wouldn’t notice an additional voice calling out from his room.

And to think it had all started with an argument over Shinto New Year’s traditions.


 Thanks for reading!




For more festive goodness, just follow Figgy and Mully to the next exhibit!


Chapter Text


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by Scrib_eyeSteak



A heavy blanket of snow had fallen over Beacon Academy. The grounds were oddly empty, as if the rest of the students and faculty had simply disappeared. Ruby didn’t see it as odd, and simply went about her day.

The young huntress was skipping through the hallway, still clad in her pyjamas. Her earphones were around her neck as she bobbed her head to the beat.


“Hmm?” Ruby stopped right in front of a pair of doors. “What was that? Is someone in the kitchen?” she wondered aloud.

The young lady cautiously approached the door, listening to the ruckus on the other side. She mulled her options before ultimately deciding to enter. “H-hello?”

The kitchen had clearly seen some use, with a few different appliances and dishes out. A cluster of ingredients were in the middle of the counter. Ruby saw the ingredients shuffle as a small face popped out the side. the face of a frightfully familiar young lady.

Ruby recognized the tri-toned girl anywhere. The same one that had made fools of them at the highway. Roman’s lackey, Neo. “”W-What are you doing here?!” she asked.

Neo smiled, taking Ruby aback. The small criminal reached over and grabbed...a sign? [I’m making cookies. Want to join me?]

The young huntress sputtered and protested, “I...but...but you’re evil!” she accused.

Neo tsked, never really dropping her smile. She spun the sign around and re-presented it to Ruby. [Yeah...but cookies]

The young huntress tried to protest, but found no good reason to deny Neo’s invitation. “...I get to lick the spoon,” Ruby declared.



Ruby finished tying the knot of her apron and turned back to her former foe turned kitchen buddy. “Soooo, what are we making?” she asked.

Neo looked up from the cookbook and adjusted her chef’s cap. Her free hand reached for her sign and whipped it up. [I got this book with all kinds of fun recipes. Check it out!]

Ruby screamed at the sight. The etchings on the cover were grotesque, provocative, and very, very much filth. “What is that?!” she screamed.

Neo brought the book back to examine the cover, eyebrow raised. She slowly brought it back up, showing Ruby again. This time it looked more benign, with little festive cartoons from different holidays holding up tiny trays and platters. The title was now emblazoned in fine gold lettering.

“The Necooknomicon...sounds, ah, interesting,” Ruby chuckled. ‘I could’ve sworn I saw...nah, it must’ve been my imagination,’ she shook away the surreal and evocative fantasy. “So what are we baking?”

Neo turned the pages until she settled on a familiar looking recipe. Ruby eyed them and finally mused aloud, “Gingerbread Cookies? Well I guess those DO match the spirit. Okay!” she cheered. She zipped over to the little criminal and her ingredients and got to work. The little imp gave a triumphant smile and stepped back.

Neo actually loved this time of year - the festivities, the treats. It was the only time that she’d be willing to let herself open up and forgo the usual murderous impulses for more fun things. Why else would she be here deep in the enemy grounds completely exposed and baking? And luckily her plan had gone off without a hitch.

The little criminal knew about Ruby Rose, and specifically her impressive skills with sweets. She’d swiped a cookie or two from Ruby’s previous batches, something that was blamed on Yang. hearing the two sisters bicker was always extra sweet as she enjoyed the little reaper’s crafts just outside. Today marked a golden opportunity to work with the master herself...and Neo was delighted to jump at the chance.

“Hey, pass me the eggs,” Rwby asked. Neo shook out of her fantasies and joined the little prodigy at work...




Ruby finished dumping in the flour mixture and turned off the mixer. Neo peeked over the edge at the bowl full of rich dark cookie dough, ready to be formed and baked to perfection. “Now we just need to roll it out and press them…um, did you bring a cookie cutter?” Ruby asked.

Neo blinked and looked across the counter of the various cookware. Finding none, she sadly shakes her head. Her partner-in-crime just waved it off. “That’s okay!  I’ll go get one of my cookie cutters!” Ruby beamed.

Neo perked up and grabbed her sign. [Okay, I’ll work on rolling out the dough.]

“Sounds good - I’ll be right back!” Ruby called back as she zipped away. Neo re-adjusted her askew chef’s cap and turned back to the bowl.

‘...She won’t notice if some of its missing,’ Neo mused as she reached for the spoon...



“Soo bad news - I couldn’t find- Is that all we had?” Ruby paused and looked at the rolled dough. Somehow it seemed slightly thinner around than she expected, at least based on the pictures. Neo merely shrugged and finished washing her hands before coming back to the bowl.

Anyway, I couldn’t find any of my cookie cutters... but I found one of Yang’s,” Ruby explained as she pulled it out. Neo looked at the cutter, specifically the odd shape that it would make.

‘These are going to be some beefy looking gingerbread men,’ Neo mused before she pulled out her sign. [Why does she have this?]

“I choose not to ask questions,” Ruby said as she placed it over the dough and pressed down. Neo was nearby, ready with a tray to collect them. In time they had a full tray of a dozen oddly defined gingerbread men, ready for the oven. “Can you go preheat the oven?” Ruby asked. Neo looked up from her dough-coated beater and gave a thumbs up.

Ruby finished re-rolling the dough and eyed her canvas. Despite her best efforts, there was only enough dough left for about half of a cookie. “...Well every batch needs a runt, right?” Ruby chuckled before pushing down. A sudden shuffle directed her back to her partner in crime, frozen mid-lick of the beater. Neo slowly lifted her nearby sign. [That was dark]

“I’m sorry…” Ruby apologized as she meekly placed the half-formed man in the sole remaining spot. Neo dropped the now-cleaned beater in the sink and pulled open the door. Ruby set the tray, closed the door, and set the timer. “So now we wait…” she declared.



“I’m boooooooored,” Ruby moaned. She glanced at the timer to see that a whole two minutes had passed.

‘Must. Remember. Holiday. Cheer,’ Neo silently growled. She pulled up her sign. [Same. what should we do?]

Ruby donned a contemplative face as she mulled on ideas. ‘Well that should keep her quiet for a lit-’ “We could talk about things,” Ruby suggested. ‘Oh dust please no!’

|They see you as small and helpless,|

‘Thank you!’ Neo mentally cheered as the huntress-in-training’s scroll went off. Ruby reached down and looked at the name, letting out a delighted squeal. “Oh hey, I need to take this. I’ll be right back,” she promised.

Neo barely even waved her out the door when she was on her way out. “Hi dad!...Yes I’m doing alright...”

The little thief gave out a relieved sigh. She basked in the silence and the burgeoning smell of freshly baked gingerbread cookies. ‘Alright, just need to sit here and be patient…’




A whole ten minutes had passed and Neo was at her wits’ end. She’d lost count of how many times she looked at the timer, agonizing as the bright display slowly ticked down. Ruby was still gone, happily talking with her dad that just left a dangerous criminal alone in the heart of a critical location...and all she wanted was her damn cookies.

Neo was fidgeting with the blade in her umbrella, constantly releasing and sealing it. She was shaking, tapping her foot in anticipation. Maybe it was her sweet tooth, but for some reason she just couldn’t wait with the promise of Ruby Rose’s cookies looming over her. ‘She didn’t put something in the batter...I know she didn’t,’ Neo chanted to herself.

The sweet smell of gingerbread lulled her, but not enough to placate the normally-psychotic little imp. She dared to glance over at the oven for any signs that it was ready.  ‘Wait, is the oven glowing brighter than it should?

‘...oh Shit!’’

Neo threw her umbrella aside as she dashed tot the now-smoking oven. She threw open the door in a panic...


Neo wheezed and coughed as she struggled to her feet. The explosion had sent her flying back into the far cabinets. Luckily she was okay, if a little winded from the sudden act.


The simple chime of a bell reached her ears. It sounded a little antiquated for the oven they had been using, but she was too preoccupied with trying to catch her bearings to dwell on that. ‘What in the world...happened?!’ Neo watched in horror as something crawled out of the open oven. ‘I-Is that a GINGERBREAD MAN?!’

Towering over her was a cartoonish farce of a gingerbread man. Neo looked up in down in shock at the giant, lumbering cookie. More than that, it looked strangely...alive.

It's simple face looked at her with the kind of dim intelligence of a puppy. Its eyes looked down on her from the massive height difference between the two of them. It even had the frosting decorations they were planning, the pink ones. But what stunned her - what truly shocked her was the massive cock swinging between its legs.


Neo was taken aback when the lumbering pastry swiftly reached out and grabbed her. It took her off her feet and pushed her against the wall, knocking her breath out. “Oof!”

She rolled over and caught herself on the table. Her eyes shifted as she tried to collect her bearings. She could make out the shadow of her assailant looming over her. She struggled to her feet, hands on the surface and ass against the edge. Her vision was filled with the disarmingly simple smile of the giant gingerbread man.

Her breath was caught as she felt it rubbing her breast. As it leaned in, she felt something hot and hard poking against her stomach. It didn’t take two brain cells to realize what it was...or what it wanted. ‘Like hell am I getting raped by a goddamn cookie!’


Neo’s eyes blazed as she bit down on the gingerbread man’s arm, tearing a chunk out of the doughy appendage. It let her go, giving her room to jab it square in its stomach with her elbow.

She spat out the chunk of cookie and took off, leaping over the downed assailant. Her focus was on her discarded umbrella and the blade within. She barely even noticed the treat’s mitt latching onto her apron strap.


Her tight pants  were torn apart under its shocking strength. The now-useless garment slipped down her legs and exposed her tri-colored underwear. Her now-loose apron dragged down and got caught between her knees. Neo tripped and slid against the tile floor.

‘Fuck!’ She fell to her knees, silently cursing. The gingerbread man seized her and pulled her up. She tried to bite its arm again, only for it to swiftly gag her with her own apron. Neo tried to spit it out, but the bundle was too thick.  She felt its hand grab her breast again, alongside the unwelcome sensation of something poking between her ass. ‘Dammit!’ she quietly cursed.

Neo screamed against her gag and struggled against her cookie captor. The living pastry ignored her plight and focused on sawing its massive cock between her tight buttcheeks. ‘This is...this is absurd!’ she complained. Her attempts to spit out her apron were thwarted by her face being shoved into the overhead counter.

The gingerbread man kept molesting her rear, its simple face never once dropping. It was a stark contrast between the smile and the sexual assault it was employing. ‘How does a sweet thing go this bad?!’

‘...oh wait.’

Finally it seemed to tire of merely grinding against her and instead pushed her head down onto the counter itself. Neo was able to brace herself against the edge, but only wound up shoving her drenched and wrinkled panties against her captor. She froze as its doughy nub ripped her underwear as easily as it had done her pants. ‘Are you fucking...this is...aaaargh!’

Her angry thoughts were cut off as it shoved its cock deep in her snatch. Neo arched her back as the chaotic sensations of pain and pleasure threatened to overcome her. When it pulled back, it wound up taking her hips with it - causing her head to slide off the counter before bumping against the cabinet.

Neo moaned in pain, gripping the counter even harder. Her pussy scraped against the cookie’s cock, not quite lubricated enough to go along easily. Her tiny body wound up bouncing and dragging against its dick. Not that the stupidly simple sweet treat seemed to realize or care.

Her eyes watered, much to her annoyance. It wasn’t out of despair, but simply pain. She was far more versed in causing it rather than receiving it. And as she bounced back and forth on her tiptoes...she started to notice the pain was going away.

Neo’s dripping pussy smacked against the cookie, sending more and more of her juices flying as they went on. She slowly stopped being dragged along and instead could stay in place on her toes.

The young criminal tried to gain some kind of leverage - an upper hand that could get her out of this pleasurable trap. However, she made the mistake of trying to grab over the cabinet’s edge as a particularly hard thrust sent her tit-first into the unforgiving wood. The wind was taken out of her lungs. She reached back on instinct to stop the oncoming wall of pussy pounding pastry, yet to no avail.

Her nails scraped out some of the cookie’s sweet skin, leaving welts behind.  The bunched up apron finally fell out of her mouth, letting her gasp and whimper unmolested. Between her pain she took in deep gulps of much needed air.

The gingerbread man seized her shirt beneath her apron and tore it straight off. It hung between her shoulders, her bra still hidden by the apron. Neo was jarred back by the sudden action and remembered what was happening to her. Before she could do anything though, her captor had seized her hips and was really starting to pound her now.

She tried to grab the edge again, but failed as her breasts were smashed against the counter. The sounds of her hips smashing against the cookie were far more audible now. Her juices were gushing from her folds. Her slick walls made the cookie cock practically glide towards her waiting womb. She was pushed up so high that her toes no longer touched the floor.

Neo could almost feel her stomach bulging with every thrust. Her eyes were flickering like crazy as she blinked and babbled like a witless newborn. Her body was so close to the edge of oblivion...and then she was forced clear over.

Neo collapsed against the counter, knocking her knees as her body spasmed. She could only feel something hot and syrupy blasting into her womb. She was left utterly stunned and locked in a private eternity...until at last her first coherent thoughts came together. I...I came...from being a gingerbread man,’

Neo wanted nothing more than to drop dead at that very moment.

Her captor was far from finished however. It started to thrust again, its hands wandered down to her thighs. It grabbed hold...and then it fell back, taking her with it.

Neo yelped as her captor smacked into the ground, causing tiny cracks to appear all over its body. She tried to break free, only to find that its grip on her thighs was still too strong. It forced her tiny body down onto its big, baked boner. On and on until she was practically lulled into a drooling stupor.

While her body was convulsing and surrendering, her mind refused to do so. ‘Why isn’t my aura kicking in? Where the hell is Red? What the HELL is going on?!’ she rambled. In the distance she made out the pages of their cookbook...only it seemed to be glowing an eerie light. ‘That book! Red was right - there is something wrong with that damn thing...Ugh, should’ve known better than to trust a random delivery,’ she lamented.

Before she could formulate a plan, the gingerbread man forced her back up and nearly off its dick. It spun her around so that she was facing its insufferably smiling face before slamming her right back down.

Neo didn’t even notice that her thighs were free, or do anything to exploit that fact. Instead her fingers gripped the cookies legs as it bounced her up and down. She caught herself actually bouncing back and even rolling her hips, much to her dismay. ‘Ugh...and now I’m enjoying this? Can it get any worse??’


There from the oven was another Gingerbread man. Same stupid smile, same massive cock. The only difference was this one had green icing. ‘What the fuck?!’

Before she could move, the second cookie was already behind her.  She looked back in fear, even as the fist cookie kept pounding her from below. The fresh fiend reached over her neck and seized her loose apron. Neo gasped as it pulled the frayed and messy garment right over her head before tossing it aside.

Next it seized her torn shirt at the back of her neck. That too was torn off, though with her arms being pulled back in the process. The green cookie than pushed her back into its older breathren’s face, sending her breast-clad boob into its simple mouth.

Neo pulled back, only to encounter resistance around her tit. She looked down at the obstruction. The recess caused by her breasts seemed to bend and twist, almost as if it were...moving. ‘Oh dust that’!’

She pulled straight back in terror, only for her bra to come off in the process. She was stunned, until she remembered that the clasp was in the front. ‘It must’ve broken while I was struggling...perfect,’ she lamented.

Before she could ponder her constant misfortune, Neo felt something poking against her ass. She clenched her teeth and dared to look back again. ‘Oh don’t tell me…’. She lamented. As if hearing her, the second gingerbread man pushed its cock into her puckered hole, breaching her ring and entering her tight cavity. She bit her lip to keep from screaming out. Fuck! It hurtsssss!’

The green cookie started thrusting in her tight ass, ignorant of the enormous amount of pain she was feeling. It forced her body along, trying to find a rhythm with its older breathrenas they bounced her back and forth between their dicks.

Neo couldn’t stop the groans from escaping her mouth. Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to find something beyond the pain. Feeling two large cocks shuffling around her insides was...well there was much less pleasure now. But that was okay for her. Pleasure was deception - a lie that kept her blind. Pain would keep her focused.

Her hands reached down and squeezed against its chest, keeping her propped up as her bowels were being rearranged. The cock in her pussy was almost a secondary concern now compared to the prick in her ass. She tried to sit up straight, only for the green cookie to shove her down.


The first one in pink had reared up and latched down on her boob, using the cavity that she’d made earlier. Neo growled as her tit was given a rough massage in tandem with the two pistons between her legs. ‘D-Dammit! I need to get free!’ she lamented.

On and on the two went, defiling the criminal with their cookie cocks.  The fresh one had its paw on her back, forcing her breast into the first one’s mouth. The juices from her pussy had sunk into the older pastry’s crotch, making it slightly mushy and causing her to sink further with every thrust.

She grit her teeth and bore out the pain, the humiliation...the ecstasy. At last she felt the second one clenching in her bowels ‘Here it comes, she braced herself…only for the gingerbread man to pull out of her ass as the first spurt came flying out.

She felt something hot strike her back, all the way up to her neck. A flicker went past and managed to land on her cheek. Neo grimaced at the smoldering sensation, but decided to take a chance. Her tougne stretched out and flicked at the very edge of the stuff before bringing it back to her lips. Her flickering eyes widened as she processed it. Is this...frosting?’

‘I’m being raped by cookies and getting creampied by FROSTING?!’

Her two captors had taken the time to pull out and swap holes.. Her back was now against the pink cookie as its glazed girth poked at her sore asshole. The new, green one kneeled down on the other’s oversized legs and stuffed its cock in her frosting-filled twat. Neo was too shocked, to mortified by her realizations to escape before her ankles were grabbed again.

As one, her holes were plugged up again. The sudden pain snapped her out of her lull and reminded her of her clear and present danger. The cock in her ass was more lubricated than before, meaning that she could bounce off it without feeling too much undue pain. She looked down between her jiggling breasts at the unsightly bulge that popped in and out with every thrust. ‘Oh...perfect!’

Neo bit her lip to keep the moans from pouring out. Her ass grinded against the gingerbread man behind her, her back pressed into its gumdrop buttoned chest.  Her hands blindly reached back and grabbed its oversized head.

The new one had taken the first’s place in her pussy, thrusting its marginally-thicker cock into her creampied twat. Her petite body was ragdolled between two firm walls of delicous gingerbread gangrape.

While her body was eager, her mind was a different matter. Neo had dropped the holiday cheer and let herself fall back into her usual antics. She wasn’t reaching back for support, despite what these brainless pastries would presume. At last, her fingers reached the cookie man’s neck. She narrowed her eyes and concentrated...


‘Gotcha!’ she cheered as she felt the pastry’s neck crumple in her grip. She swiftly brought her hands back to her front, bringing the broken head with her. Her triumphant grin fell as she looked at the smiling face of her decapitated rapist...only for its body to keep pounding away at her rear.

The fresher cookie took it out of her hands and tossed it aside, knocking over the beater and the other ingredients.. ‘What does it take to KILL these fucking things?!’ she despaired.

The headless cookie blindly reached up and grabbed her arms, pulling them back. Neo whimpered in pain as the cock in her ass increased its pace. She felt the dick head scraping against her cavity, her own quim juice acting as a steadily drying lubricant.

A glimmer in the distance caught her tear-soaked eye. Neo looked beyond the disgusting smile of her captor at the mess that it had made when it tossed away the other one’s head. All the different ingredients were covering the floor, making a massive mess...except for one thing. ‘The cookbook!’

Miraculously it had landed propped up, on the pages of the gingerbread cookie recipe. Everything printed on it still looked the exact same, right down to the charming little cartoons. However the circle of gingerbread men was different now. Two of them now looked brighter, more vibrant. One of them appeared to be bathed in fire - a fire that was rising up its body before her very eyes. ‘Does that mean...oh no.’

The two cookies suddenly took her up, still pistoning away at her twat and ass. Neo’s hand reached back and groped at the headless stump behind her. Their sudden acts put her on the threshold of a devestang climax, but she managed to stay lucid for a few more moments.

She watched in horror as the fire swallowed up the cookie. And then…



“Hey Neo! Sorry that!” Ruby’s cheerful voice morphed into shock as she looked around at the horrible sights before her. The mess on the floor was cause for concern, but then her wide eyes beheld the sight of Neo being double stuffed by two giant cookies. “Wha...How...Why?!”

Neo struggled against her captors, trying to warn Ruby of the danger lurking behind her. A third gingerbread cookie man in blue had crawled out of the oven and now was poised to take her frenemy by surprise.  ‘Look behind you you insufferable little-’


‘Aaand there goes my greatest hope,’ Neo lamented as she cosigned herself to be used as a cookie cocksleeve. The quim of her most recent orgasm dripped dribbled onto the floor.

Ruby’s back hit the wall with an “Oof!”. As she tried to recover, she felt her head being pushed down until she was on her knees. Before she could catch her breath, something hard and hot was shoved in her mouth. “Mmph?!”

Her wide eyes darted up past the dauntingly long shaft to the giant cookie above her. It shook its hips back and forth, sending more of its girth between her unwitting lips. Ruby struggled and gagged against her captor, but to no avail.

Glrk! Glrk!

The young student’s head was forced along her captor’s girth. She was too stunned to retaliate and simply whimpered each time the cock hit the back of her mouth. One thrust wound up a little too close to her throat and kicked off her gag reflex, making her spasm.

Her actions caused a small crack between its shaft and the rest of its body. Something hot and thick came seeping out and quickly assaulted her lips. ‘Ewww what is this stuff? Is this blood?!’ she panicked. A small dollop landed on her tongue and made her freeze in place.

‘No wait. This this frosting?  It’s so….so good!’

She stopped struggling in favor of slurping as much as she could for the small chance of more of her sweet treat. Her fingers dug into its sides as she braced herself. Each thrust sent more and more warm frosting into her greedy gullet. Until finally it stopped bleeding out and just plain exploded in her mouth.

Ruby didn’t fight back - on the contrary she swallowed it all with gusto. The slight pain from ingesting her warm treat didn’t even phase the girl now that she’d gotten her sweet fix. Her eyes hooded over as she happily accepted spurt after spurt of warm, bubbling frosting.

Over by Neo, she’d been forced back down onto the lap of the green gingerbread man. The cookie was still pounding away at her ass, even as the discharge of tis previous loads pooled out between her legs. The pink one had swapped out her pussy for her pursed, pouting mouth.

Her small mouth ached as she was forced to take her captor’s cookie cock into her throat. She choked and gagged and struggled against her new hell. If these devious desserts had any sense of coherence, they might have noticed the evil glint in her flickering eyes.

‘Just have to stay patient...and f-focused,’ she chanted to herself. Focus was easy enough with the pain that came from her prolonged sodomy, and the newfound torment in her throat. Patience was far harder and meant she had to endure an unbearably long time of her mouth and gullet being used as a cocksleeve.

‘Glrk Glrk Glrk’

Neo perked up as she felt the cock twitching in her throat. Her teeth curled up in her stuffed mouth. However, her captor had other plans and withdrew until only its crown was left.  ‘Not as much as I’d want...but I’ll take it!’



‘Okay that was a bad idea,’ Neo winced as the hot frosting scalded her mouth. The doughy glans melted and swirled down her gullet. To make things worse, the gingerbread man pulled his mutilated dick out and shot more of the uncomfortably warm icing over her face.


‘Of course…’ she lamented as the nearby oven belched out yet another baked big-dicked bastard. The same damn face, the same damn cock... ‘Wait, is that one bigger?’ Neo appended her thoughts. What vexed her the most was its color - bright yellow. ‘Juuuuust like that big titted bimbo on the train...fuck me,’ she cursed.

The fourth fiend lumbered over to her, dick erect and ready. Neo snarled, showing the crumbs and frosting on her teeth. Her bravado was lost on these mindless morsels.


In a sudden burst of rose petals, Ruby was right behind them. her eyes blazed in determination. Her clothes were disheveled, but still miraculously intact.

‘She got away?!’ Neo gasped. She wasn’t the only one stunned - all three gingerbread men stopped what they were doing and turned to face her. All except the pink one, who couldn’t control his constant ejaculation of icing.

The young pre-huntress reached out and snatched the wounded cookie by its headless shoulders. “Gimme!” she ordered before pulling the ‘bleeding’ cookie away.  Neo was stunned, the dick still in her butt with a fresh fiend looming over her.

It took a few minutes of blindly hearing Ruby moan and coo over a hot glazing before it finally clicked for Neo. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me - she’s getting OFF on what’s happening to us...Oh Roman, you’re in deep shit with her,’ she pitied her criminal partner.

By this point the green cookie had started fucking her ass again and had thrown her up over a table. Her arms were pulled back and firmly in its massive grip. Her modest breasts were covered in flour and sugar, leaving smears against the messy surface. Her sense of ire only grew as the yellow pastry walked in front of her, cock still standing at the ready.

Neo gritted her teeth as a warning, but it was a useless endeavor. Especially since that wasn’t what the gingerbread man was after in the first place. Instead it lifted her up so that her body was over the table.

She watched as the yellow cookie plopped its dick out on the table before dropping her onto it. Her boobs wrapped around the gingerbread girth, and it became clear what it was intending to do. ‘Really? You want a titfuck from ME?!’

The pastry had already pressed down on her back and was thrusting its hips in and out of her breast crack. Neo’s chin rubbed against its girth as she got an unwelcome eyeful of towering dough. ‘...fucking cookies.’

Meanwhile, Ruby lapped up mouthful after mouthful of fresh frosting, straight from the unbound tap. Her chin was covered in the stuff, creating a white beard over her young, innocent face.

She was ignorant to the fact her pajama bottoms were now at her feet. Or the fact her first foe was pounding away at her tight little twat. Her sole focus was on enjoying this seemingly endless stream of hot sugar.

Ruby was being bounced against the green cookies cock. Her hand was flat against the table, little more than a formality. The gingerbread man had grabbed her calf and pulled it straight up. His other mit was against her hip for support. Her toes flicked against the cold tile, never quite able to reach.

She didn’t react to her violation in the slightest - not when she was happily drunk and drowning in sugar spunk. ‘Gimme more…’ echoed in her head as she greedily gulped it all down.


Like clockwork, the next one sprang out. Decked in pure white icing that was the exact shade of its breathren’s discharge. It glanced between Neo and Ruby before lumbering over to the latter. ‘Better you than me, Red,’ the criminal mournfully declared.

Neo winced as her green coated captor pulled out of her warm and worn ass. She waited for it to slip back into either of her holes. But instead it took a third option and wedged itself between her asscheeks. ‘Really?!’ she grumbled.

Her two cookie captors alternated as they sawed their cocks between her tiny body. Her sore breasts and butt grew red under constant misuse. She fought back the tears in her eyes and tried to stay focused - stay sane.


Ruby’s sudden shrieks were abruptly cut off. Neo struggled to cran her neck over, but was unable to actually make out what had happened. She didn’t need to see it though - not when the pink gingerbread man’s dismembered cock and arm landed beside her.

‘What the fuck?!’ Neo panicked at the sight. The yellow cookie reached out and grabbed the dismembered cock before stuffing it down her gaping mouth. Her teeth made short work of the bit that she could reach, but the rest stayed lodged in there until it started to melt. Neo glared death at the smiling yellow gingerbread man. ‘I haven’t even tried to scream, you goddamn pastry!’

Ruby’s terror had broken through the sugar-high haze as she stared at the white smiling face currently plowing her snatch. The newest gingerbread man had swifty asserted its place by tearing up the very first one and tossing it aside. After that it had taken her out of the blue one’s hands and started fucking her.

It raised its mitts, still coated in pink frosting from the murderous deed, and threw her ankles over its shoulders. Its other palm reached up and ripped open her shirt, exposing her bouncing breasts. Ruby couldn’t cover her nipples, not when her fingers were wrapped around the table edges and desperately trying to hold on.

She felt a weight on her head and glanced over. The blue gingerbread man was at her side, offering her its wounded but functional cock. Ruby looked at the frosting bleeding out of its tip and cracks before happily gulping down. She let the sugar rush take her back -back away from this surreal naughty nightmare...

Neo felt the hot glazing on her back, followed by the sudden absence between her buttcheeks. She glanced back in time to see the green gingerbread man lean backwards and collapse against the nearby counter. A quick strain of her neck confirmed her hopes - its dick had finally gone flaccid.

‘So they DO run out!’ Neo silenly cheered. It didn’t even matter to her that she was still being pinned down and giving a forced breast massage - not when she finally knew that there were limits to these...edible abominations.


















For hours their torment went on. Every time it looked like one of the gingerbread man had finally worn down, another one took its place. Sometimes the transfer of power was far more vicious and led to an earlier cookie being stomped or torn to bits. Even long after the very last chime heralded the last one’s arrival, the two frenemies were used as cookie cocksleves.

Ruby loved it.

Neo hated it.

The baked boner batch traded holes and whores as they painted the kitchen. No surface was safe, be it metal, plastic, or skin. Neither one noticed that the Necooknomicon had disappeared - leaving only an flour-formed imprint on the floor where it had laid...

At last the two women had been brought together once more, having been unceremoniously tossed onto the table. Their every orifice were leaking frosting, their skin and limbs absolutely drenched in the stuff. But they didn’t try to capitalize on their freedom. Neo was too weak to retaliate, and Ruby was too addled with sugary spunk to care.

So the two young ladies were splayed over the table, surrounded by the six surviving gingerbread men. Their cartoonishly big palms were wrapped around their cocks as they jerked themselves to a final completion. ‘Oh just get on with it,’ Neo sighed as she braced herself.

Her ‘wish’ was granted.

Neo and Ruby groaned as they were both drenched in white. Hot frosting struck them from all sides, covering what little of their bodies had remained unsullied. Neo forced her eye shut before it suffered any more than it already had. Now-blind, she could only wait for the end and hope it would be soon.

The six streams fired around a dozen shots across their pair of pastry whores before they were full tapped out. One by one, the final six cookies dropped to the floor. Their flaccid cocks crumpled away until there was no sign that they’d been there at all. The last of the flour settled over the tarnished kitchen. The only sound that remained were the punitive moans of Neo and Ruby.

Neo limp-rolled off the table, hitting the ground with an alarming thud. She groaned in pain, but was thankful her aura had taken the brunt of it. She tried to wipe away some dried frosting from her eye, finally allowing her to open it and appraise herself.

Her tits, her belly, her thighs - not even her arms or legs had been spared from being glazed. A cursory swipe through her hair confirmed that there was more of the stuff sticking to her roots.  ‘Ugh, I look like one of that old bastard’s sluts,’ she lamented. Her attention was diverted as she beheld the hellscape that they’d been trapped in.

The kitchen was a total mess - covered in flour, milk, sugar, cookie crumbs...and yet more frosting. Two of the cabinets had been pulled out from where she tried to struggle free, another had been pressed in with the outline of someone’s back.

Speaking of outlines,’ she groaned as she looked at all the imprints in flour. Backs, feet, tits, asses, and cheeks. Neo instincitvely rubbed her cheek and confirmed that it had been her. Sure enough - there was flour on her fingers. ‘Perfect…’

“Mmmm,” Ruby’s voice called out from above. Neo was tempted to ignore her and instead focus on her escape. Yet a small part of her had pity for the girl that had shared her plight. ‘Even if she did seem to be enjoying herself a little too much, Neo grumbled to herself. Still, she pulled herself up and looked over at her kitchen partner.

Ruby...somehow looked even worse. There was more frosting than bare skin, and her belly looked more than a little bloated. Her hair simply was white - no more signs of her red highlights. She was drooling and even snorting the stuff out, letting it pool around her cheeks. Her fingers were fused together, and there was an absurd amount of the sweet stuff pouring out of her holes. Somehow her eyes had stayed miraculously clear, allowing her frenemy to see her dazed, lulled silver pools.

‘Always expected Blondie to look like that really...what the hell was up with her?’ Neo mused as she recalled how enthusiastic the student-huntress had gotten. ‘She took those dicks like a fish takes water...was it just because of the sugar?’ Neo wondered.

Ruby stirred with a whimper. She rolled onto her bare back and stared up at the lights. Neo glanced up and winced at the spurts of frosting that had cooled against the ceiling lights. As one, the two glanced down and locked eyes.

Neo looked at Ruby.

Ruby looked over at Neo.


“ are you going to finish that frosting?”


 Thanks for reading!




For more festive goodness, just follow Figgy and Mully to the next exhibit!


Chapter Text


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by usermechanics


“And this brings today’s Neighbors’ Club meeting to a close!”

Kodaka clapped his hands, much to the enjoyment of everyone else. It was the last day of school before Christmas break began, and the end of a quite festive meeting--the decorations, such as the mistletoe at the door, were mainly Rikka’s idea.

What also was Rikka’s idea was bringing in a Santa dress, one that originally was meant to be rotated among the members of the club--Kodaka not included--and naturally found its way on the member whom everyone else in the club thought wore it best. Somehow, said person was still in the room at the end of the meeting, an arguable first even through the club going through until the majority of the members were third years.

“Yozora,” Kodaka offhandedly mentioned, “thanks for being civil.”

“Oh, of course, Kodaka. It is Christmas time, and sometimes, we need to be polite to the animals that live with us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Yozora?” Sena hissed, leaning forward.

“Be careful there, Meat. Your tits might slip out of your dress, and wouldn’t that be a good Christmas present for Kodaka over here.”

“Yozora, stop it. Sena, please don’t!”

Kodaka’s moderation wasn’t necessarily followed, but Rikka’s interruption was thankfully there to aid.

“Rikka thinks that we should go get something to eat sometime over break. Maybe we could go and watch a movie, also!”

“Yes, that’d be a great idea for us to do,” Kobato replied. Much like the civility “pact” that Yozora and Sena were close to breaking only once this meeting, any mention of chuuni antics were requested not to happen as an agreement between Kobato and Maria.

“I agree, but only if Onii-chan comes with us.” Yukimura added.

“And we have to go someplace which is good and not some place full of poopy idiots!” Maria chimed in.

“I mean, wouldn’t the point be that we’re all going together?” Yozora questioned.

“We can talk about that later. Maybe we could text each other about it when we consider it. Is everyone free the 29th?”

Kodaka’s question was met with universal nods. After that, another clap.

“I’ll start messaging you guys the day after Christmas about it then. But for now, I hereby call the Neighbors’ Club meeting to a close.”

No more deliberation happened after that, thankfully. Every member stood up, with Sena giving each of them a little wave as they departed. She was so invested in her goodbyes that she hadn’t even noticed that Rikka made sure to leave right next to Kodaka just to steal a kiss from him for the sake of “tradition.”

“Bye, Kodaka! Bye, Kobato! Bye, Maria! Bye, Rikka! Bye, Yukimura!”

After they all left, Sena shut the door, eyeing the uniform in the corner of the room that she’d be walking out of there wearing. With the room empty, she started humming to herself.

“I’m a little Santa Baby, doo de doo…”

With a small wiggle of her hips, as if she were in some weird, Christmasy burlesque show, she reached for the zipper on her dress. It was slightly embarrassing how she did this, almost flaunting herself to herself whenever she undressed from anything festive, but at the very least there wasn’t anyone else in the room.

“You forgot to say goodbye to someone, Meat.”

Sena froze, her fingers inches away from the zipper. She turned around, her gaze meeting up with Yozora’s, trying not to falter against how piercing it was. Her eyebrows furrowed.

“What makes you think I was going to say goodbye to you?”

“Because you said goodbye to everyone else in the club.” Yozora stepped forward. Sena didn’t budge. “I thought you didn’t say goodbye to me because you wanted me to stay in here.”

“T-that’s not the case!”

Yozora grinned as Sena stepped back; it didn’t take much to have her be defensive, and that was exactly where Yozora wanted her to be. With another step forward, Sena stepped back to keep the distance between them, and with yet another, her back met the wall.

“Then what is, Meat? How come you didn’t say goodbye to me?”

Sena sneered, to no effect except for a scoff.

“You said goodbye to Kodaka, you said goodbye to Maria, you said goodbye to Rikka, you said goodbye to Yukimura…” With each name she listed, Yozora took another step forward until there was barely any distance between them; Sena’s side-steps were met with Yozora following suit, making sure she was right in front of her at every moment.

“You even said goodbye to your precious Kobato.”

“What makes you think you deserve a goodbye from me?”

“Because we’re both members of the club. Isn’t it only fair that you’d give me a goodbye as well, or is it that it would hurt your pretty bimbo image?”

Before Sena could retaliate with a strike, Yozora grabbed onto the front of Sena’s dress, pulling her forward. She stopped millimeters away from her, just enough so that she could get an eyeful of the cocky grin on her face. “Shouldn’t the class representative treat all her peers equally?”

All Sena could do was sputter. She tried to think of something to say without swallowing her pride. The best she could come up with was, “Put me down, you psycho!”

“Shouldn’t the class representative treat everyone with respect, Meat?”

“Stop calling me that!”

“What should I call you then?”

“I don’t know, maybe Sena, because that’s my actual name?”

Yozora gave that response a few seconds of deliberation so fake that she saw Sena growing mad about it. Yozora chuckled at her anger before telling her that she wouldn’t.

“I don’t really think that suits you right now. What did you call yourself when you were prancing around in that dress of yours? Dasher? Dancer? Vixen?”

“Yozora, this isn’t funny! Let go of me!”

“Oh yeah,” she remarked, finally recalling the answer to her own question. “You were flaunting around calling yourself Santa Baby.”

“I was not, Yozora! Shut up!”

“I don’t think it suits you either, Meat.” Yozora scoffed, before pulling her in that extra millimeter. Her fist found purchase against Sena’s chest, their foreheads clashed against each other. “Because you are definitely not a Santa Baby, but a Santa Bitch, you got it?”

“I am not!”

Sena could have gotten away with saying that if it weren’t for how close they were. Yozora could feel Sena’s legs shaking, an action that started immediately after she was called that. Yozora’s smirk grew more devilish, leaning forward so that Sena’s back once more hit the wall, sandwiching her between it and herself.

“Then why are your legs shaking like that, Santa Bitch? I couldn’t possibly think that you’d like something like this, but maybe you’ll warm up to it soon.”

“The only thing that needs warming up is your heart, you little--”

“Santa Bitch.”

“Stop that!”

“Maybe I will after I teach you a thing or two about respect.”

“Like you’re one to talk when talking about respect!” Sena’s hands were balled up into fists. If there were a way that she could get Yozora off her, she could run away. She couldn’t think of any other way that she would be able to get this to stop. It was either that, or she would have to deal with whatever Yozora had in store for her.

“Are you planning on hitting me?” Yozora chuckled, taking note of the balled-up fists. “I’ll make sure to tell Kodaka and Kobato that you hit me after the meeting ended, and maybe I can get you out of the club for good.”

Sena squeaked. There was no way that she was going to sacrifice that if Yozora was going to put that on the line. She wasn’t going to lose to her, and more importantly, she wasn’t going to lose the only time she got to see Kobato. “How is what you’re doing even better?”

“You tell me, Santa Bitch. I can’t be kicked out of the club because I was the one who made it.”

“Says you! My daddy will make sure to--”

“Your daddy,” Yozora remarked, “will see that you were parading yourself in a club room and trying to strip in here, unless you do what I say.” Unamused, Yozora let go of Sena, who beelined for the door and tried to open it. No matter what she did, however, the door wouldn’t budge.

“Oh, look at that. The door’s jammed.” Yozora chuckled, taking her time in walking towards her prey. “That means you can’t run away, and that means you’re stuck dealing with me, Santa Bitch, so warm up to it or stay angry about it.”

Sena did neither. She knew that this was going to end poorly one way or another, and with how Yozora had her pinned at every corner, she was doubting if there was a way that she could get out of this without completely humiliating herself. Calves giving way, she found herself sitting on her knees, an action reflexive and defeatist. The smirk she saw Yozora giving her from the corner of her eye made her gulp; she was vulnerable and too ready to yield to her.

At the very least, she kept her feelings quiet. It was one thing to be stuck in a room with Yozora and having her do all this to her, but it was another altogether to have her know what she truly felt about being powerless to her. All she could do was beg.

“Please don’t hurt me, Yozora! I’ll do anything, just please don’t hurt me!”

Yozora cocked an eyebrow, looking down at her. “Anything?”

“Anything! I’ll do whatever you want! Just please leave me alone!”

Sena bowed as she spoke, and as she lifted her head, she was greeted with the sight of Yozora’s shoe right in front of her, pointed directly at her.

“I think you know what I want from you,” she scoffed.

Sena flushed. Of course Yozora was going to start with something that embarrassing. She knew she was supposed to keep her word about it, but this was far too demeaning for any Kashiwazaki to perform. If anything, it was supposed to be the other way around, where Yozora was kissing at her feet, and even then, she didn’t believe she deserved it. Especially not right now, when she just wanted to change into her uniform and go home. She looked up at Yozora incredulously, feigning confusion, and watched as Yozora’s brow furrowed and a sneer grew on her face.

“Come on, Santa Bitch, we don’t have all day for you to kiss my feet now.”

After a moment of hesitation, Sena looked back down at Yozora’s foot. A few seconds of mental preparation gave way to another order from Yozora, telling her to get on with it. She jumped and leaned forward, pressing her lips to the top of her shoe just to hope that this would be enough to get her off her back, and in spite of how quickly she had done it, she heard a sound which made her jump back up instantaneously.


Looking up, Sena saw Yozora’s phone in her hand, with the candid of Sena kissing her foot starting her down, accompanied by a shit-eating grin.

“Look at this, Santa Bitch. I didn’t know you were so keen on kissing my feet.”

“That’s not true, Yozora!” She stood up and tried to grab the phone from out of her hands, but Yozora made sure to keep it out of her reach at all times. “This is blackmail and you know it!”

“It might be so, but wouldn’t it be something if it weren’t?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think it means?” Yozora asked, pivoting on her heel before heading to the desk where Sena had rested her school uniform. The uniform wasn’t what Yozora was looking for, but a light blue strap had caught her eye; there wasn’t a hint of light blue on her own uniform, and the color matched Sena’s butterfly clip so well. As Yozora pulled at it, she watched as her bra was exposed; she felt a heat creeping up her back and pulled up at her dress.

“Look at that. I wonder how big this is. Certainly, you weren’t thinking of changing in front of me knowing that you weren’t wearing this, were you?”

“I didn’t know you were in here, Yozora!”

“But you didn’t say goodbye to me. You even said goodbye to Kobato before you started stripping.”

That was enough to get Sena to crack. She stormed forward, not expecting Yozora to start backing down. She kept following until Yozora’s back met the wall, and making sure that she had nowhere to go, Sena stuck out a hand and pinned it against the wall right behind her. Mind clouded in rage, she had not realized exactly what she was doing until it was too late, when Yozora made sure to inform her.

“Giving me a show, kissing my feet, and now pinning me against a wall? Aren’t you being forward on what you want from me.”


Before Sena could finish her question, Yozora had turned the tables on her, pinning her back against the wall and pinning her with a hand. The smirk on her lips grew, almost hungrily staring down her captive’s form.

“I could have thought that you were in here for Kodaka, but here you are, showing how much you want to be with me, how much you want to be my little Santa Bitch.”

“That’s not true, Yozora. I--”

Sena’s gaze darted around, desperate to find words to say. It wouldn’t be that far off to say that there were moments where Yozora was totally right about that, to have moments where she could just get off her high horse and spend them being treated poorly. Even if there was her reputation of blowing people off, it was different enough: she was so used to throwing guys away, and this was one of the very few times where she actually had contact with another girl, even if it were Yozora, who was just sadistic enough to fit the bill.

It was better her than anyone else.

“Just don’t tell anyone about this.”

Yozora loosened her grip on her in confusion. She wanted to ask her what she meant by that, not to tell anyone about what, but as she tightened her grip again, she saw the defeat forming in Sena’s face. Every tear that welled in the corners of her eyes were worth their weight in gold. And, of course, in that moment where she reveled in the sight, Sena whimpered.

“I didn’t think you were going to be this harsh, but…”

“You’re telling me that you’re enjoying this?”

Sena darted her gaze away again, rapidly flickering to anything that she could use to give her answer. As she did, she gave herself away as she pressed her thighs tightly together, knees pressing as she tried to give herself a bit of sweet, physical friction. It wasn’t enough for her that the friction between them was so much, and that Yozora’s hands were on her. She couldn’t not, especially not with someone like her.

Especially if this was the best moment of bonding with a girl she might ever have.

I can’t just tell her I’ve thought of this before.

The sound of her thoughts cruelly echoed throughout the back of her head, almost snapping her back to reality that this sickening wet dream was close to coming true. All she could do was hope that Yozora wasn’t going to be swallowing her pride if she was going to continue. And if that weren’t the case, then she would certainly give her just a bit more to make sure that she did, so that she could feel out how the rest of this impromptu meeting was going to hold out.

“Are you scared to call me Santa Bitch again? Are you through with that?”

Sena almost felt a wave of relief rush through her as she saw the anger lighting up in Yozora’s eyes. It was more than anger: it was shock and rage and the desire to make sure that this Santa Bitch never came close to talking to her in such a disgustingly independent and disrespectful way. As much as she was happy that she knew that Yozora wasn’t going to be relieving any of her bitter, domineering strategies, she knew that her words hit her in the right way to cross the threshold of physical threats and into what she wanted.

She wasn’t going to say how many times this particular thought crossed her mind, nor did she care that she had masturbated to this thought time and time again--almost whenever it came up--because she knew that this was going to be something to remember. It was the moment where, even if Yozora got out all of her rage on her body, that it would be in all the ways she wanted her to.

It had been a dream for so long that she wished for it to become true on her whims, and Yozora was like pretty much every single other boy in the school, even without the stupidly short hair. Even she wasn’t immune to doing what she wanted.

“What was that?”

Sena started raising an arm as she felt Yozora pulling her close, preparing for her to punch her in the face for that. Her eyes widened as she watched Yozora’s free arm aim far away from her, as if she was planning on punching the air besides her. Before another insult could be thrown because of Yozora’s “stellar aim,” she felt something nudging her back, a small piece of metal slowly trailing down her spine while the cloth that covered her shoulders breathed further from where they were supposed to be.

Sena’s eyes widened at the cool air which fanned her back and dared to creep up her chest: Yozora wasn’t aiming for her at all but wanted to take her dress off! She gulped as she felt the zipper continue to ride down her back until she felt the dress crawling off her body. She didn’t resist it, though: Yozora knew that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath it, and she had much more to flaunt.

At the very least, with her panties on, she wasn’t revealing everything as the dress pooled at her feet. She smirked as she watched Yozora’s gaze shift, a silent reminder to herself about why she had to be subjected to the same Meat insult days in and out. To her, it was her last excuse to be able to hold her own, the very last thing that needed to be debased before she’d be submitting to her willingly. Yozora’s butt was probably smaller than Sena’s chest, and it made her wonder about if, at all, Yozora was going to dominate her.

“Why are you still standing, Santa Bitch? Do you think I should be honored to look at you naked like this?”

Sena sat down. She was able to make this whole episode embarrassing for her. The last defenses were down, her last throes of trying to make this work for her in some way disintegrating. She silently wished that she didn’t mock what was going to happen to her in the way that she did: Yozora’s eyes were glowing red in rage, all ready to be directed upon a single target. This wasn’t her trying to fight for dominance anymore: Yozora had her like a present, with its festive wrapping close to uncovering all that she wanted, and the one splotch of sky blue between her legs was the only bit of present left to uncover.

She was Yozora’s Santa Bitch.

Yozora squatted down. In the glowing of her eyes Sena could feel the aches of her chest from the smatterings of lip-locks and bites. In their reflection she could see the faint hue of whatever lipstick she wore, if any at all, as tiny marks peppering the entirety of her chest. She even felt the fingers digging into her sides as Yozora tried to steady herself, lest she felt too out-of-control just by being smothered by her chest.

And with all that, all imagery that Sena would have immediately winced at otherwise, she subtly pushed forward, breasts front and center, eagerly awaiting Yozora’s judgment. She welcomed it, waiting for that moment where Yozora would take in her nick-namesake.

After a low whistle of appreciation of Sena’s bare chest, Yozora responded to her exposure: covering each of them with her hands and weighing them with her palms. The grinding was enough that Sena could feel her nipples hardening against cold, collected palms; ones which worked perfectly with such a cold, collected person. She kept pushing her chest out, trying to keep still to avoid any excess friction; the motions of Yozora’s palms were enough for her teeth to sink into her bottom lip, anything to avoid making any spluttered moans. It didn’t matter how much she liked it: she was a Kashiwazaki, supposed school royalty, and Yozora was keen enough to untangle the facade and found herself digging more into her dirty secret.

Yozora would have paid people to learn these secrets about figuring out how Sena truly was, and if she were to pay for it, then Sena knew that she would be the richest person in the history of their school. Especially with the end of their third year coming up, she knew that it could spread beyond the school. Sena shook those thoughts off, not interested in becoming just another busty pet for everyone’s disposal. She was better than that; it was just that Yozora was different. Nobody else would insult her or fondle her like how she was.

And considering her status, it felt right that she had some special way of relieving her stresses, something like this.

Breaking free from her thoughts, the next sense to be pervaded with Yozora’s nasty stress-relief was her hearing. She indulged in the deluge of insults thrown her way, knowing that most of them were talking about how she had the whole school wrapped around her pinky finger and how her chest was fantastically huge. She didn’t need to be told that as a Santa Bitch; she received enough of that kind of attention outside of the Neighbors’ Club, where everyone wanted her as a friend or fuck.

Even her enemies. Even Yozora, glaring at her as if she wanted her to feel smaller, still trying to chip away at the incredulous ego she had: not only was it enough that she reveled in her insults, but that after so many attempts to dominate her, she didn’t budge. It was almost a self-defense mechanism keeping her sane. But she saw that Yozora was growing angrier at the lack of a response she gave, palms eagerly grinding into her and assaulting her nipples in a desperate attempt to get her to moan. Sena still didn’t budge bar her grinding her heel into her panties, a motion that Yozora didn’t quite see in her peripherals, but was proof that her antics were working quite well.

Not well enough.

Yozora’s next tactic was dirty: to pull away from her breasts altogether and to fixate her thumbs and pointer fingers on each nipple as if they were joysticks. It didn’t take much tweaking for Sena to crack: the sharp sensations of each tug were at least a hundredfold compared to the grinding assault on her. Lower lip freed from the confines of her teeth, Sena let out a squeak, followed by several others as Yozora didn’t care to stop.

She found her most successful motion and reveled in it, basking in the bath of moans that Sena gave her. It was like she lost her grip after climbing a few kilometers of a rock wall, and she was quickly falling, begging for anything to help her out. She wasn’t in her normal mindset anymore, and the flings of Santa Bitch from Yozora didn’t help out either. It was cemented into her that she was nothing more at that moment. It didn’t matter to her: she loved it, and she was going to buy into it if it meant that there was more in store.

All she hoped was that Yozora didn’t look down: the notion of being teased like this, to be treated so cruelly by her, was enough to make her cunt tingle in anticipation, but it wasn’t as much a tingle as it was an all-encompassing sensation that flooded her from her hips to her knees. Her entire lower body seemed to resonate with itself lewdly, leaking her essence and letting it be wicked by her panties. It was so embarrassing, but it was the least of her worries considering how handsy Yozora was being about her body. She was being manhandled like it belonged to Yozora, and already just from her chest’s assault she was ready to say uncle. It was too much for her, and she ached for something new, something to give her a new form of relief.


“What was that, Santa Bitch?”

As erotic as the scene was, Sena almost blurted out, asking if Yozora was kidding or not. Was it not enough that she was playing with her like a toy? Sena huffed, trying to hide her enjoyment of Yozora’s hands continuing to fondle her.

“What do you want me to call you then?”

“How’s about you call me ma’am?”


“What do you want, Santa Bitch?”

Before Sena could answer, Yozora leaned in, her lips dangerously close to her jawline. Each breath she gave wafted across Sena’s skin, goosebumps trying to form before Yozora’s lips captured them and warmed her clammy skin up. Sena froze and let out a moan at the first of Yozora’s attacks, but she quieted down until she was murmuring at each one, a dulcet sigh for each kiss. Yozora’s kisses ceased as she covered Sena’s jawline in lip marks, dull against the light from a lack of lipstick or gloss. Rather, she enjoyed the pinkish hue that formed in Sena’s cheeks as she messed with her, reflecting the heat which radiated from her body.

“Yozora! Fuck, please, make me feel good!”

Instead of her request, Yozora tugged roughly on her nipples, causing her to scream. She didn’t need to be explained reinforcement, but certainly she was experiencing it right now. She knew what she did wrong and immediately backpedaled to what led to her punishment.

“Fuck! Fuck! Ah, Ma’am, please, make me feel good!”

The first thing that felt good to her was the immediate relief on her chest. Yozora let go of Sena’s breasts and brought them down to her waist, hands immediately taking the purchase of her pinched waist compared to her mature assets. Technically an adult or not, Sena’s curves were too mature for someone her age, and she knew that Yozora was jealous about them. Yet, considering her manhandling and almost-mistreatment, she was enjoying it nevertheless, giving Yozora the time to vent her jealousies by doing whatever she wanted to a body which looked much more mature.

And in her mental clambering of superiority, Yozora once more brought her to size by pushing her down to the ground. Sena skidded a tad, but Yozora’s glance wasn’t on the parts of her that skidded: she wasn’t even looking at her at all. It was almost insulting that she was being treated as such, being ignored, but the moment she started to stand up, she felt daggers in her chest in the form of Yozora’s glare, immediately locked on her as if she was a predator and herself the prey.

“Who said you could stand up, Santa Bitch?”

Sena looked to the ground, almost demurely. She hoped that the question was rhetorical, so that she could hide the embarrassment of never understanding the point of what Yozora wanted from her; she knew that it wouldn’t take long before she’d be dreaming up another way to prove her superiority, only to be shot down by her. Sitting down, she stopped the never-ending cycle at the spot most would say she’d enjoy least: at the very bottom, sitting there with a pout as she watched Yozora reaching for the top of the door. After a few tries, Yozora stopped and smirked, chuckling to herself as she turned away from the door and returned her focus to Sena.

As she walked back, Sena noticed that the mistletoe was missing from the threshold. She immediately sat up, almost terrified at the notion that was at stake. There was a lot going on in her head about Yozora, about how cruel this treatment was and how, somehow, this was exciting to her, but she wanted to draw the line there. There was no way that she was going to be kissing her, especially if she was going to be using the mistletoe as an excuse to do so. Yozora noticed this change in Sena’s demeanor, and reassured her.

“Don’t think I’m going to kiss you or anything like that.”

Sena was completely fine with what she said, but how Yozora said it was what hurt her: it was once more a riff on her being, with Yozora being completely immune to all the tactics that would defer anyone else from doing anything to her. She had the whole damn school wrapped around her finger, and yet there Yozora was, saying that Sena didn’t deserve her lips. She couldn’t stand up for fear of getting shot down, and Yozora dangling a mistletoe around her finger was interesting. She had no intention of throwing it away, but she didn’t have the intention of kissing her, so Sena wondered why she was forced to sit down and watch Yozora toy with a plant.

Her answer came to her in the form of Yozora reaching for her skirt with her other hand, and quickly unzipping it. With a yank downward, her skirt hit the ground along with a suspicious piece of cloth that ran through the middle of the skirt like it was a cloth for the sake of modesty. She looked at it for a second, the dark purple cloth which ran through the middle, and the leg holes which were at her ankles, and after a few seconds of looking down, she felt a tap at her forehead.

Sena looked up, absolutely horrified at the fact that Yozora was bottomless right in front of her, her snatch hairless and her legs spread just enough for her to be able to see her swollen, pink folds, almost ready to leak essence and let it drip to the ground. What was more insulting to her was how in front of her, a few centimeters away from her belly, the mistletoe hung, its green color filling a good portion of Sena’s sight whenever she looked up to get a glimpse of Yozora’s sadistic grin.

“Pucker up, Santa Bitch. You’re under the mistletoe.”

Sena gulped. She couldn’t believe that this was how she was going to start her sex life when she had literally anyone at the school she could possibly want at her disposal for such things. Instead, she had to deal with the sole person whom she had to ask politely for things like she wasn’t the one in control. It was almost embarrassing for her to be in a scenario like this, where the scent of Yozora’s sex wafted into her nose and polluted her mind. What was worse was how she was enjoying it, with Yozora smelling--not that she’d ever say it aloud--actually pretty appetizing. Yozora’s free hand travelled down between her legs and spread her folds, letting Sena take a good view of her glistening pussy.

“Do you need an invitation, Santa Bitch? It’s right above your forehead!”

As much as she was nervous from Yozora’s demands, her nerves were primarily overcome with the feeling that she was supposed to be doing this with a guy. This was lewd, legitimately: both of them had taken off clothes and now there she was, preparing herself to reach third base. As appetizing as the scent of Yozora’s sex was, the whole ordeal felt awkward; the only reason why she didn’t hesitate more was because of Yozora’s pressuring.

She leaned in, the scent of pussy filling her mind, and she hadn’t even realized that she stuck her tongue out to taste her until tongue met flesh, and the flavor that teased her nostrils exploded onto her tongue.

Yozora’s taste concerned Sena. It made her worry about her own taste, and how anyone would act if they were to go down on her. Yozora’s taste, in her opinion, was the best part of her, period, and it was almost enough to justify going down on this basket case of a woman. If it were the other way around with her, if she had the looks and charm but a flavor nobody wanted, would it have affected her?

Of course, Yozora wasn’t happy with Sena’s lack of diligence, and with a glare downwards, she made it clear that Sena needed to stop thinking and enjoy what was in front of her; whether she liked it or not, Sena was going to eat her out.

Sena silently counted her blessings about how Yozora tasted before she let out one final word, a mumble which brushed against Yozora’s clit.


Sena’s tongue darted around Yozora’s cunt, eagerly collecting whatever juices she could collect. She stained her palate with her flavor, numbing her and clouding her mind with how much she enjoyed the taste. She started aimlessly, not caring about the various sighs which leaked from Yozora’s lips, nor the slight twitching of her core easily felt by her tongue.

What mattered was collecting her taste, a final selfish move that she could perform under Yozora. It didn’t matter when she was eating her out, with Yozora’s hips accommodating her with the occasional sway and rock forwards. After a final lick down her slit, she cleaned Yozora of most of the fluids coating her sex, with her sole exception being that of her leaking entrance, practically begging her to enter.

And Sena would have done so if she didn’t let her tongue rest on Yozora’s clit. Sena was able to watch the flash of pleasure go through the entirety of her spine, wracking up until it reached her head. Throwing her head back, Yozora moaned, and her hands soon found purchase in Sena’s hair, adeptly using her locks as makeshift handles.

Yozora pulled Sena closer, tongue forced to dance with her twitching nub. Her hips rocked violently against her lips, accidentally smearing Sena’s cheeks and nose with a mixture of essence and saliva. Sena tried to keep up, her tongue desperately darting around the moving nub with hopes that Yozora would loosen up if she proved herself good enough.

The more she licked, however, the tighter Yozora’s hands grew on her hair. The dull pain that was easily ignored before was gone and in its place was a harshness that rode throughout her scalp with the disregard she came to expect from her. It felt sadistic, almost, that no matter what it felt like this, like Yozora only cared for the pain she gave her.


It was one mumbled breath, but that was all Sena needed: a means of knowing that Yozora could let her defenses down. It was the solace that she needed, knowing that even with the hell she was going through--where she could only hang on and be pinned to Yozora’s clit--that there could be a moment where she could resurge and be freed from the grasp she held. At least in her prison, she could feel the heat radiating from her loins and taste the flavor she could die for. She silently cursed herself for it, wishing that of all people it didn’t have to belong to someone who treated her this poorly. As long as she could ignore the heat radiating from her own legs, there was no foul.

Yozora loosened up. At least, that’s how it felt to her: all she did was remove one hand from her hair. Even with the newfound freedom Sena was stuck in her position: all Yozora wanted was to move one of her hands from her hips to between her legs, letting Sena cup her snatch. She expected the same heat that radiated against her tongue, but the swollenness left Sena almost taken aback: she didn’t realize just how much of a thrill Yozora got by this debasement.

At the same time, she couldn’t help herself; her warmth was far too inviting, and even into her cupped hand she could feel her sticky essence dripping into her hand. Sena took the invitation, digging her fingers deep past Yozora’s folds and into her heat, immediately greeted by her stickiness and her tightness.

The feeling of Yozora’s hips going into overdrive as Sena found her pace was overwhelming. With each push and pull of her fingers stabbing into her sex at a different angle, her tongue kept busy trying to keep up with the now-frantic pace of her masturbation. It didn’t matter that she was pumping into her with all of her dexterity; it felt as if Yozora was just using her as a sex toy to get off. And if that were her only criteria, she was playing the role better than any vibrator.

“Fuck, S-Se-Santa Bitch!”

So close! Sena thought to herself, speeding her fingers inside of her. She felt her fluids coursing down her fingers, past the ball of her hand, and down her forearm.  She didn’t care about how her hand cramped from the speed of her thrusts, or how Yozora’s squeezes made her unwelcomingly tight; if she sped up, this whole fiasco would end sooner, and she could withdraw her fingers sooner. Those fingers coated with Yozora’s essence, dripping down and to the floor, slick and sticky and oh-so delicious and enticing.

The sooner she finished her off, the sooner she could clean herself off of that flavor.

“Keep licking!”

Curling her fingers inward, Sena followed Yozora’s instructions, swirling her tongue around her clit in any way she could. She kept nudging it out of her hood, finding new ways to toy with Yozora as she exposed more of her sensitive bundle. Accompanied with even longer and harsher squeezes, there were moments that Sena found that it was impossible to move inside of her. She felt Yozora’s thighs starting to flex against her cheeks and fingers, her squeezes in her hair growing tight yet haphazard.

And Yozora was surprisingly vocal about her incoming orgasm.

“Ah, ah, fuck! Se-s-Santa Bitch! Fuck! I’m g-ah fuck!

Sena pulled her fingers out from Yozora’s core, spreading her legs a bit so that she could slip between her thighs. She didn’t care about her cheeks’ staining with her essence. Hell, with her lips suckling at the base of Yozora’s cunt, she welcomed it, as long as there was more where it came from and it found its way into her mouth.

Her hand, slick with juices, found purchase on Yozora’s clit, a stunningly beautiful pink, and jostled it much like she was returning the favor about what Yozora did to her tits. Nudging Yozora’s entrance with her tongue, she knew that she couldn’t enter her: she felt the intense clenching and unclenching of her walls from just a contact with her hole.

Yozora came violently, her juices flowing freely into Sena’s mouth. Sena’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head, overcome with the ecstatic flavor overpowering her and coating every bit of the inside of her mouth. She kept rubbing at Yozora’s clit, hoping that with that action she’d be able to milk her a bit more of that precious fluid.

It didn’t matter that she was cementing herself as Yozora’s bitch, festively or otherwise: her flavor was that hypnotic and Sena was going to treat it like the clear liquid gold it was. It didn’t even matter that Yozora was using her hair as a sole handhold to make sure she was still upright. Throughout all the pain, that taste was worth it.

The only thing that brought Sena back to reality was the juices slowing to a trickle. Giving Yozora one final smack to her clit, Sena whined needily before pulling back. That was, for the time being, all she was going to get from her.

Sena needed more, but Yozora returned to her reins, pushing her away from her. Landing on her rear and her back, Sena was confused about the ordeal, not even realizing that her legs were spread enough to show the crimes of her time eating Yozora out. Her panties, and the dark blue spot that was between her legs, was on display, immensely shattering her self-confidence and giving Yozora that much-unneeded momentum.

“I’m surprised, Santa Bitch. I always thought you’d hate having to do something like that to me.”

Darting her gaze between Yozora’s sadistic grin and the dark splotch between her legs, Sena started to well up, her head growing stuffy with embarrassment. If this were any other time, she would have stood up and ran out, making sure to take her Santa dress with her for the sake of decency. But it was different: this was a time with Yozora and Sena alone, with Yozora making a slow descent to the ground.

First, her gaze pinned Sena’s hips to the floor, and as she descended, soon her hips replaced that gaze, sitting down in her lap. Glimpsing at her quim-glistened forearm, Yozora grasped onto Sena’s wrist and brought her fingers to her lips, almost chuckling to herself as she heard Sena’s whines.

“Do you really think you deserve tasting me off your fingers?”

Sena scrambled for words for a few seconds, as if her pride and mercy didn’t leave with Kobato and Kodaka when they left the club. Reason, too, departed as she felt Yozora’s tongue across the outside of her pinky finger, daring to taste herself from off her fingers.

“Yes, Ma’am…” Sena whimpered.

“What was that?” Yozora wondered, curling her other fingers so that she could slip her pinky finger between her lips.

“Yes, Ma’am, I think I deserve to taste you off my fingers…”

Yozora pulled away from her pinky finger, keeping her stern countenance. “Say it louder, and with emotion!”

“Please, Yozora-sama, after all the work that I did for you, can you please pay me, your poor little Santa Bitch, with tasting your cum off of my fingers? I want it more than anything!”

Whether Sena meant what she said or not, Sena didn’t know. What mattered to her was that Yozora thought she meant it; it was convincing enough. Yozora let go of her fingers, and the sternness on her face slowly made way to an evil smirk.

“Make a show out of it, then, Santa Bitch.”

Taking a few steps back, Yozora found herself a chair to sit on, looking down at Sena. Sena, with her newfound freedom, shuffled back for a bit, justifying it with giving Yozora a slightly better angle. Before Yozora could ask about what she meant, Sena’s tongue found purchase at her tricep, licking up the excess fluids from her arm.

Making sure to let out moans as she did so, Sena’s hips slowly rocked against the air, the undulations of her hips traveling through her spine and accentuating her chest with every breath she took. As she licked upward, her free hand found purchase at her breast, giving the flesh a soft squeeze every now and then; she couldn’t help but sigh at each squeeze she gave herself.

As she gave her show, she watched Yozora slowly, but surely, leaning forward, taking in the sight of the school idol writhing like she was in heat. She observed diligently as her eyes followed the hand which traced shapes around her body. Drawing fancy shapes along her waist, she’d let her fingers dance little curlicues around her lower body, making sure to end up at her navel. As she finished her tongue’s approach to her wrist, she slowly made the final line downward, including a doodle of her heart where the point of the heart pointed directly at her clit. Slipping a finger underneath her waistband, her entire hand followed. With a prod, she felt one of the harshest waves of any sensation course through her, one where screaming was impossible: she couldn’t do anything but let out a moan of delight as she fondled herself.

That didn’t even get into how her folds felt like a libidinous sauna, her fingertips immediately slickening with her own fluids.

She mouth-fucked herself with her other hand not only to collect Yozora’s juices, but to silence herself from any other embarrassing sounds that she could let out. As she fondled her mouth, she couldn’t help but feel the heat radiating from her core heating up, as if even dominating herself was enough to get off. It didn’t matter the gags she suppressed or the flavor of Yozora’s juices diminishing as she salivated all over her fingers: what mattered was that she was growing hornier just from this display, and knowing that Yozora was watching her wasn’t helping her at all.

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Sena silently nodded.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Santa Bitch? Answer me when I talk to you.”

Silent nods weren’t enough anymore. Slipping her fingers out of her mouth, she blurted out her answer. It didn’t matter anymore: she said and did much more embarrassing things with her earlier in the day, and after all, she was expected to answer her, no matter how humiliating it was.

That was what a Santa Bitch did.

“Yes, Yozora-sama! I’m a horny little slut in heat because of how delicious your pussy tastes! Please, let me cum! I’ll do anything for you!”

Sena hoped Yozora didn’t record that. Her body was frozen bar the hand fondling her mound, her involuntary twitches and hitched breathing a reflection of just how horny she was. She honestly didn’t care if Yozora came and helped her, but the company would have been nice, especially since she was just sitting there, watching her masturbating.

Yozora rose from her chair and sat back down, right between Sena’s legs. Sena spread further, athletic prowess and flexibility on display as she spread her legs into a perfect split. With her hand straining the fabric dangerously, and with the outermost edges of her vulva on display--Yozora was able to see the slightest of pink--it was almost confusing to her why Yozora had an annoyed expression on her face.

“Great job, Santa Bitch,” Yozora remarked, almost as if trying to hold back a sigh of irritation, “now how am I supposed to get your panties off?”

If Sena’s face weren’t red already, it definitely was after that comment. Fueled by instinct instead of reason, she had forgotten about the garment covering her, and she thought for a second that she was spreading herself, giving Yozora a perfect display of her pussy. Pulling her fingers out of her panties, she slipped them between her legs and pulled her panties aside, smearing her lips and the inside of her right thigh with the juices wicked on the garment as she revealed herself to Yozora.

Sena let out a soft gulp, nervous about how she was revealing herself. Yozora’s gaze was still stern, almost as if she was unsurprised by her pussy. The judgmental tone of her stare was almost piercing her, and she felt her core contract at the anticipation; a slight leak of her fluids down her hairless taint and to her asshole aided in the display of her arousal. Further readying herself, she framed her lips with her fingers, spreading her just that bit more. She displayed herself the best she could for her, the most delicate and naughtiest parts of her body solely for her.

Sena shuddered, uncertain as to what was going to happen next, but Yozora’s words helped calm her down.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

As harsh as Yozora’s tone was, she knew to take it as closely to a compliment as the rest of her insults based on Sena’s stellar looks or athleticism. The pride of a perfect shave never hurt, either; not one hair of hers existed for that judgmental gaze to complain about. She was primed and ready for prodding, and almost wondering why she hadn’t started already.

Then, Yozora closed the distance between them with a hand against her core, fingertips quickly collecting her juices. Sena squeaked, her cold fingers contrasting almost too well against her sweltering core. Yet, at the contact, her hips bucked, begging her captor to keep going.

Her shape-tracing was minimal, just enough for her to have a feeling around the whereabouts of her core, taking in every centimeter between her puffy folds. In her desperation, Sena swore she could feel the patterns of Yozora’s fingertips tracing down her core. Every motion sent shudders through her, with Sena through her arrhythmic breathing trying to say something, something about wanting more, but her thoughts were fleeting, succumbing to the touch which graced her lower body.

She had never felt so vulnerable, but never had she felt so sensitive, either.

Before Sena could grow accustomed to the onslaught of Yozora’s fingers, she felt the hand pull away. No buck of her hips could ever bring them back to her, and even if she were to try, she hadn’t noticed that Yozora had anchored her to the ground with a hand on her belly. She whined on reflex, deprived of the sole thing she needed at the moment like she was in some sort of cruel game.

Watching Yozora observing her sticky finger tips didn’t help matters at all.

“Honestly, Santa Bitch, I didn’t know you were into this kind of thing.”

There wasn’t even a point in refuting it. All the evidence that she had was in her arousal, leaving Yozora’s fingers shimmering as she showed them to her. A twist in her gut added to the collective knot in her lower torso, where those sticky fingers were the only way that Sena hoped the knot could possibly come undone.

Instinctively, Sena spread her legs a tad wider, not caring about if a hyper-split was overkill. The only care that she had at the moment was having her cunt stuffed, a fervent need that would be accentuated with her hips bucking incessantly if it weren’t for the hand anchoring her down. At the very least, she gave said hand a fair fight before her fingers returned to her core.

In particular, Yozora’s middle finger.

Not even the hand anchoring Sena’s lower body to the ground was able to match Sena’s pushing back as Yozora filled her up with her digit. Her hips left the ground, with her heels and shoulder blades digging into the ground. Belly rising, Yozora was forced to accommodate, shifting her angle so that she could shove all of her digit inside of her.

Even without the angle change, Yozora’s time stuffing her digit into Sena was difficult. Between the vice-like throbs her core gave her and her overall tightness, she was surprised when she felt her knuckles slapping against her labia, filled with a sensation of near-disbelief that she was able to stick an entire finger inside of her. Of course, it was a feeling that she had to comment about.

“Kodaka would be a happy man if he was with you.”

The fingers that Sena once sucked upon she bit. If she wanted to go for a blow that low, her cunt was exposed and she could have just slapped her there; she would have at least derived a bit of enjoyment from that kind of striking below the belt. She was so invested in this that she almost forgot about Kodaka, and with him brought up, she was realizing that she had given her indecency to Yozora--of all people, Yozora--before him.

Was it shameful that thought turned her on more?

Being brought back to reality was as easy as having her clit slapped, sending a harsh wave of sensations through her. She let go of her fingers and moaned, not even caring that in the proximity of a cathedral even God was able to hear her.

To her, God had already shoved a finger inside of her, and She just slapped her clit. She was just as harsh and demanding as the one from the Old Testament.

She removed her finger from Sena’s core, and she started whining again, almost as if even under Yozora she had to be first and foremost. She wanted--no, needed--Yozora’s fingers inside of her again, just so she could have that bit of bliss back. She wanted to complain about it, about how it wasn’t funny how she gave and took away like she didn’t care one bit about if she’d cum or not.

Her eyes widened when she realized she was wrong, and that Yozora did indeed have plans to slip that finger back inside of her.

Her eyes widened even more when she felt where that finger was going.

“Y-y-y-Yozora,” Sena huffed, feeling her core constrict around nothing as Yozora started rubbing her fingertip against her asshole, almost as if her juices would lubricate her digit enough to be able to shove it in there.

She didn’t need to express herself about how it felt being fondled there, with the contorted grin on her face trying to hide what kind of sick pleasures came from the thought of Yozora not only introducing her to the idea of shoving fingers into her back door, but actually enjoying it.


In her pleasure, Sena hadn’t even realized that she didn’t address Yozora properly, and she was glad that all she needed to do was correct herself. Perhaps the concept of having her ass fingered was enough of a punishment in her eyes. “-sama…” Her voice was naught but a squeak, her body overcome with Yozora’s ministrations giving enough way for her asshole to yield.

All Sena could hear was her heartbeat as she felt her asshole giving in, spreading slightly for her finger to be introduced. Her sight grew cloudy as she felt the finger continuing to intrude, not even caring about how wrong it was for her to have a finger slipping in there. At the first knuckle, Sena couldn’t process words, the babbling which leaked from her lips the nonsense of a short-circuiting computer. At the second, Sena felt almost like a puppet, completely in control to the finger which had found itself buried inside of her. It was a feeling she couldn’t ever possibly forget, and no matter whom she ended up with--whether a boy or girl--she’d request this to happen again. Discovering her love for her ass being defiled was the most surreal, and embarrassing, of Christmas gifts she’d never think of asking for, but it was a gift no less: she loved it.

Her cloudiness slowly subsided as Yozora’s finger fit snug inside of her, wiggling slightly. She was intensely aware of the finger inside of her, and in spite of the pleasure that it gave her, she couldn’t help but think that someone actually thought to slip it in there.

“Yozora-sama,” she whimpered. “It’s dirty…”

“So are you for enjoying it, Santa Bitch,” Yozora replied instantly, “so are you.”

Sena’s fingers returned to her mouth, pacifying herself by biting down on her knuckles. She had grown used to the feeling of her ass being used like this, but to the extent that any motion was still insanely enjoyable. The slow push-pull inside of her, along with the wiggling of her finger throughout, was enough to loosen her a bit, definitely easing the pleasures which came from her anal finger-fuck.

Sena’s fingers darted to her clit, practically buzzing with pleasure, and started tweaking it. It didn’t matter if Yozora wasn’t okay with her doing this kind of thing or not: if anything, she needed it just as much as she needed the feeling of that finger in her ass. It wasn’t anything she could debate. She couldn’t debate how she was a little freak who would do anything for pleasure at the moment. Her lust came before her language, and sex was the only thing she could understand.

That just made the feeling of Yozora’s finger slipping out of her that much worse. Absent of the finger which breathed a new light into her newfound sex life, at any other time, Sena would have been angry and yelled at her for being so negligent of her desires. She couldn’t, though; not with being wrapped around her little finger like this, and with her libido so high she wasn’t certain if even Rikka had ever felt like how she was feeling. Words didn’t matter in the high of her lust, and Yozora had been one step ahead of her on that by denying her when she did something wrong.

And in the case that Sena understood her, Yozora emphasized her decision to withdraw from her ass.

“Who said you could pleasure yourself?”

Sena understood, but Sena couldn’t process. It was too cruel of an act for her to do this, to relegate her clit to be nothing more than a painful reminder that she was a moment’s notice away from letting out all of that pleasure.

Even as she was being lectured, Sena was idly toggling her clit, a motion that was cut short by Yozora grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand above her head, leaving her clit untouched.

Sena let out another whine, desperate to make some attempt at communicating with her. Her hips shook, her body aching and needy, and she hoped that even if she was in her delirious lust she was able to communicate on some level with her.

Thankfully, thankfully, after a few seconds of waiting--seconds which felt like hours each-- Yozora gave in, giving Sena’s clit a rub. Not only did she ensure to rub her clit, but she made sure to coat another of her fingers in her pussy juices--copious enough for her not to need to shove a finger inside of her. After coating two of her fingers in her essence, the best lubricant she had on her, she pushed those two digits into Sena’s ass, loving the sounds that came from her mouth as she started thrusting her fingers inside of her.

“Fuck! Fuck! Yozora-sama!”

Sena was talking again, her babbling finally becoming more pronounced as she received her pleasure.

Keeping Sena’s reaction to being edged lightly in her mental spare cabinet, Yozora kept tweaking at Sena’s clit and fingering her asshole, reveling in the faces Sena made, the noises she let out. It was picture perfect, the kind of thing she’d send to her as a cruel Christmas postcard. It was a Christmas gift watching her mumble and fiddle around like a bitch in heat, something that Yozora found perfect given Sena’s bimbo build. More memories for her to put into that cabinet.

Yet, it felt incomplete, and Yozora knew what was missing: it complimented well with the stench of sex that fogged her nose, almost like it was a poison that would short-circuit her sanity if she left it unchecked. Thankfully, she didn’t need to: she was almost certain that Sena wouldn’t even notice in the tidal waves of pleasure dominating her entire body an additional amount of pleasure in being tongue-fucked. It didn’t hurt how her cunt was visibly pulsing and her hole was leaking oh-so sluttily, dripping fluid which grew more appetizing by the second. And she was in control: she didn’t need to ask or give thanks or anything like that.

Yozora dug in.

Tongue lapping at Sena’s sex, her flavor immediately hit Yozora’s palate. Not quite intoxicating, but definitely not something awful. Licking at her entrance, she felt the violent pulses that almost seemed to want to deny her and accept her at the same time; it was as if her cunt was promoting the push-pull that most thought of when sex came to mind. Instead of giving into those desires, Yozora traced circles around her entrance, her tongue tip running laps around her sphincter. With each lap, she felt Sena’s cunt pulsing harder, her orgasm coming much closer to the forefront until she knew that whether she kept at it or not, Sena would be cumming.

So she wanted Sena to make sure exactly what was going on as she rode out her orgasm. She stopped toggling her clit, and shoved her fingers into her ass as far as they’d go.

“Sena Kashiwazaki, the star student and school idol, is a little Santa Bitch.” Yozora slapped Sena’s clit and opened the fingers in her asshole like a pair of scissors. “She loves fingers in her ass and can’t stand being edged.” Another slap, and her fingers closed. “I bet she’s also a big fan of being humiliated; why else would she come to me instead of anyone else in the school?”

Sena heard. Yozora could tell because of how her lower body started to quiver. She was so close to letting it all out, and so she stayed still, with one final task to give Sena before she could earn her well-desired orgasm.

“Say it.”


Yozora hadn’t even realized that in Sena’s delirium, she didn’t understand exactly what to say.

“Say you’re my Santa Bitch.”

Sena stayed mostly silent, with a murmur of “Santa Bitch” barely audible.


“I’m your Santa Bitch.”

“Oh, come on. Louder, with some emotion this time!”

“I’m your Santa Bitch! I’m your Santa Bitch!”

Suddenly, Yozora’s hands moved faster than Sena could even process. Even in all of her gaming she wasn’t able to make her hands move half the speed that Yozora’s moved at, her thrusts violent in her ass and her rubs to her clit even moreso. All Sena knew was that she was at her edge, and Yozora was glad to help her reach the peak.

Sena came. Violently.

Sena’s body contorted, her whole body quivering as copious amounts of fluid shot out, accidentally gushing Yozora and coating the entirety of her blazer in her quim. Yozora didn’t care; hell, the fingers that were rubbing her clit pressed down on her belly, making sure that Sena didn’t accidentally spray the entire area with her quim--that would have been a very embarrassing story to tell the rest of the Neighbor’s Club. She needed to contain Sena’s juices being shot, with her ruined blazer being nothing to her but a sacrifice to ensure it’d be easy to clean up.

Before she could get any paper towels to clean up her mess, though, she needed to make sure that Sena was alright after her orgasm; she had never seen anyone go through something like that, where their entire body shut down for the sake of lust.


Yozora winced. That wasn’t going to come out of her lips again any time soon. The embarrassment of calling her by her name probably rivalled all of what Sena just went through, in her mind.

Sena woke up from her haze with concern, immediately covering her folds with her panties. It didn’t matter how scared she was about it, though: she knew that Yozora had done what she did, and the afterglow was enjoyable enough for her. She stood up, with a newfound energy as if she didn’t just wake up from the orgasm of a lifetime.

“The only reason why I’m not going to expel you is because I enjoyed that!”

“Is that so, Meat?”

“We can’t speak of this ever again!”

“Shut up and get me some paper towel. I’ll make sure Kodaka doesn’t know that you like being called a Santa Bitch and enjoy having fingers in your ass.”

Sena quieted down, almost embarrassed to have heard that come from Yozora’s mouth. “I do not!”

Yozora pointed to the puddle on the floor before motioning to her soaked blazer. “Yeah, and I sweated through this because I ran a half-marathon.” She motioned to the door before standing up, searching for where she put her skirt and panties. “Get some paper towels from the bathroom, Meat.”

“You’re more inclined right now, Yozora!”

Sena couldn’t believe that she was, once again, displaying herself to Yozora, but it was for a point: she was naked except for a pair of very-ruined panties, socks, and a butterfly hairclip. Yozora, however, after putting on her skirt and panties, was completely dressed.

“Your clothes weren’t ruined by meat juices, now get dressed and get some paper towels.”

Sena did as she was told, mainly because she knew that there would be some sort of consequence for not doing as she was told. She ran to the bathroom and got as much paper towel as she could get her hands on before returning to the clubroom to help Yozora clean the mess on the floor.

Both of them were silent. Neither wanted to talk about how they just did that out of nowhere, about how Yozora treated Sena like that. Weren’t they supposed to be sworn enemies? That was not how sworn enemies treat each other at all; that was how lovers acted after a honeymoon, or at the very least two people who liked each other enough to do that kind of thing. At the very least, Sena was on the right track with never speaking about this again.

“Hey, Sena…”

Sena smiled. Finally, a bit of well-deserved respect from her. At the very least, she was saying her name.

“What’s up, Yozora?”

Yozora flashed her teeth as she grinned, leaning in to whisper in Sena’s ear.

“Make sure not to say goodbye to me when everyone leaves at the group lunch next weekend.”