Archive of Our Own

It's been almost 2 years since you and Sevika have been together. 

Last year, during the final fifteen seconds of the New Year’s countdown. Sevika asked you to be her girlfriend. Her voice wavered despite herself, cheeks flushed red in a way you’d never seen before.

You barely had time to process it. By the time you said yes and pulled her into a kiss, the countdown had already hit zero. Fireworks burst across the TV screen, lighting up cities around the world while Sevika’s hands stayed tight on your waist like she was afraid you’d disappear.

This is your second Christmas together, but the first as a couple.

You met three years ago, back when you were bartending at the Last Drop. Sevika would either post up at the bar herself or send one of your coworkers to ask if you’d come over to her table. The order was always the same–whiskey, neat.

Whenever you closed, she stayed. Sometimes leaning against the bar, quietly talking to you between drinks. Other nights she’d be seated with Silco’s goons, cards spread across the table–her sharp eyes lifting every so often just to make sure no one was bothering you.

Sevika is an interesting woman. Intelligent. Cocky. Sarcastic to a fault. Built like trouble and carrying herself like she knew it.

But with you?

Soft. Melting. Those damn puppy eyes that made it hard to ever take her seriously when she was pretending not to care. With Christmas approaching, you come up with an idea, role-playing Santa Claus and Mrs. Claus. Your sex life is already great. Sevika usually isn’t into roleplay, but the last time you convinced her was six months ago…

Landlord and tenant.

She was mortified when you brought it up.

“Baby,” Sevika said slowly, brow furrowing, “why the fuck would I want to roleplay as a landlord and tenant? What’s sexy about that?”

You laughed, climbing into her space. “Just think about it. I’m the tenant, you’re the landlord. You tell me I’m late on rent, I say I don’t have the money, ask if there’s any way I can make it up.”

Sevika stared at you.

“And?”

“And you say yes… and then you fuck me.”

Her head tipped back instantly. “My fucking goodness,” she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose like this was stressful.

Somehow, you still convinced her.

She took the role terrifyingly seriously printed fake lease documents she found online, asked you absurdly detailed questions about payments and terms, fully committed to the bit.

“My fucking goodness,” Sevika groans and squints her fingers between her nose. 

You didn’t make it far into the act. You jumped her, kissed her senseless and things escalated quickly.

From the living room.

To the kitchen.

Down the hallway.

Every stroke she hit your pussy with, she reminded you how much rent you supposedly owed. Made you promise you wouldn’t “miss another payment.” Said you wouldn’t want to end up in this situation again.

—

Sevika hated Christmas.

Not quietly. Not subtly.

She made it very clear.

Your house at least looked like the holiday lights along the windows, a small tree in the corner, the faint smell of pine lingering in the air. Sevika’s place, on the other hand, looked exactly the same as it always did. Bare. Clean. Functional.

No decorations. No lights. No joy.

“You live like this?” you asked, standing in the middle of her living room with a box of decorations in your arms.

“Yes,” Sevika replied easily, arms crossed. “Peacefully.”

 “You’re literally the Grinch.” You rolled your eyes. 

 “The Grinch had valid reasons.” She scoffed. 

Still, somehow, she let you set the box down.

The moment you pulled out a string of lights, Sevika already looked uncomfortable. She hovered instead of helping, watching you untangle wires with an expression like the lights might bite her.

“You want me to… hold something?” she asked finally, awkward as hell.

“You’re the taller one. You’re hanging the lights.”

“I didn’t agree to manual labor.” Her jaw tightened.

“You literally fix machines for a living.”

“That’s different.”

Despite the complaining, she took the lights from you anyway. Watching Sevika try to decorate was… painfully cute. She held the string like it was unfamiliar technology, lifting it up and staring at the wall like it had personally offended her.

“Does this look stupid?” she asked.

“Yes,” you said instantly. “But in an endearing way.”

She shot you a look but adjusted it anyway–careful, deliberate. Way too serious for something so small. She stepped back, tilted her head, then moved one bulb half an inch to the left like it mattered.

You caught her staring at the lights once they were on. The glow softened her face, reflected in her eyes. She looked… content. She noticed you watching and immediately scowled.

“Don’t,” she warned.

“Don’t what?”

“Make it a thing.”

You laughed and wrapped your arms around her waist from behind, resting your chin against her back. She stiffened for half a second before relaxing into you, one of her hands settling over yours.

“It’s our first Christmas as a couple,” you said softly. “Let me enjoy Grinch Sevika.”

 “I hate Christmas.” She huffed.

“Mm,” you hummed. “You’re wearing fuzzy socks.”

She glanced down.

 “They were a gift…”

Your house wasn’t much better. She helped there too–eluctantly. She insisted on putting the star on the tree herself, claiming structural importance, and nearly knocked the whole thing over trying to do it properly.

You laughed so hard you had to sit down.

“Don’t rush me,” she muttered, steadying the tree with one hand and fixing the star with the other. “If this shit falls, I’m never doing this again.”

When she finally stepped back, proud despite herself, you kissed her cheek.

She froze.

“You did that on purpose,” she said.

“Maybe.”

She shook her head but didn’t pull away. The tree lights twinkled softly around you both, decorations half crooked, Sevika’s jacket draped over a chair like she forgot it existed.

For someone who claimed to hate Christmas, she didn’t try to leave.

—-

A week before Christmas and you were insufferable.

Sevika learned this very quickly.

“7 days,” you announced cheerfully, leaning against the doorframe as Sevika laced up her boots. “7 whole days until Christmas.”

“I’m begging you to stop.” Sevika didn’t look up. 

You didn’t.

You followed her into the kitchen, feet shuffling behind her like a shadow. She opened the fridge.

“6 days,” you corrected yourself. “6 days and-”

She groaned, loud and dramatic, forehead resting briefly against the fridge door. “Do not start counting backwards.”

“It’s exciting!”

“It’s unnecessary.”

You leaned over the counter while she poured herself coffee. “Are you ready for Christmas?”

She took a slow sip before answering. 

“No.”

 “That wasn’t even hesitation.” You gasped.

“Because I mean it.”

That didn’t stop you from circling her all morning. While she checked emails, you popped up beside her.

“6 days.”

While she shrugged into her shirt.

“6 days.”

While she leaned over the sink to wash her hands.

“Still 6 days.”

She finally grabbed your wrist, not harsh just enough to pause you. 

“You keep this up,” she warned, “and I’m moving Christmas.”

“You can’t move Christmas.”

“Watch me try.”

You just grinned, completely unbothered.

By day 5, she knew she was doomed.

“5 days,” you said, hopping onto the couch beside her. You were close enough that your leg brushed hers. “Are you excited yet?”

“No,” Sevika replied immediately.

You narrowed your eyes. “You didn’t even think about it.”

“I did think about it. The answer is still no.”

But she didn’t move away.

By day 4, you were trailing her through the house again, hands clasped behind your back like you were buzzing with energy.

“4 days,” you said sweetly. “You ready for Christmas?”

She was washing dishes, shoulders tense. “If you ask me one more time–”

“Yes?”

She glanced over at you, eyes sharp but mouth twitching like she was fighting a smile.

 “I’m still going to say no.”

You laughed and leaned against her side anyway. She sighed, resigned and adjusted her stance so you fit better.

By day three, she started expecting it.

She didn’t even look surprised when you poked your head into the garage. “3 days!”

“Jesus Christ.” She muttered. 

But when you weren’t looking, the corner of her mouth lifted.

2 days before Christmas, you asked while she was lying on the couch, arm thrown over her eyes.

“Are you excited now?”

She dragged her hand down her face. “You are exhausting.”

You climbed onto her anyway, legs folded over her lap, hands resting against her chest. She stilled–but didn’t push you off.

“But you’re happy,” she added quietly.

 “Yeah.” You paused. 

She nodded once, like that settled everything. Her hand came up to rest at your hip, steady and grounding.

“Then I’m fine,” she said.

You beamed.

Sevika closed her eyes, pretending she didn’t love the sound of your excitement filling her space. Pretending she didn’t like the countdown, the following, the way you made her house warmer just by being in it.

She’d never admit it.

But every time you said the number, she counted along in her head too.

—

During the week of you counting down to Christmas and annoying Sevika, she didn't know what was coming. 

Monday came too fast–and not fast enough.

“Six days,” you said brightly, leaning against the doorway as Sevika shrugged into her jacket.

She didn’t even bother looking at you. 

“I swear on everything I own, if you say that number again-”

“until Christmas,” you finished for her, grinning.

She groaned, deep and tired, dragging a hand down her face before stepping forward to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Be good today.”

“No promises.”

She snorted, already halfway out the door.

 “That’s what I thought.”

While Sevika spent her Monday buried in work–meetings, inventory and whatever questionable business Silco had her overseeing–you were curled up on the couch with your phone in hand.

And a mission.

You scrolled aimlessly at first, counting down the minutes, then the hours, then–

Santa and Mrs. Claus costumes.

You froze.

“Oh…”

The idea hit you all at once.

Your thumb moved faster after that. Page after page of costumes flew by until you found it. A Mrs. Claus dress that was clearly not designed for wholesome activities. Short, red, trimmed with white, festive in the most indecent way possible.

You stared at the screen for a long moment, imagining Sevika’s reaction.

Bought.

Then came Santa suits. Most were ridiculous–cheap felt, weird proportions. Until you found one that looked… solid. Clean. Structured. Something Sevika could actually pull off without looking like a mall Santa.

You grinned and added it to your cart too.

Order placed.

Delivery: 3 days.

You practically kicked your feet.

That still didn’t feel like enough.

So later that afternoon, bundled up against the cold, you ducked into a lingerie store downtown. The place was warm, softly lit, quiet. You went straight to the thong section.

Red lace.

Matching bra and thong.

Simple. Sharp. Dangerous.

You didn’t hesitate.

By the time Sevika came home that night, boots heavy against the floor, you were already on the couch pretending to scroll like nothing had happened.

“Long day?” you asked casually.

“The worst,” she muttered, tossing her jacket aside. “Silco was in a mood.”

You hummed sympathetically, heart racing for entirely different reasons.

She sat beside you, shoulder brushing yours. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” you said too quickly.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, suspicious–but then you smiled sweetly.

“6 days…”

She groaned again, head falling back against the couch. 

“You’re evil.”

You leaned over and kissed her cheek, lingering just enough to distract her. She sighed, arm slipping around your waist without thinking.

If Sevika noticed how smug you looked, she didn’t comment.

—

You get home later than usual Thursday evening, keys clinking as you step into the hallway.

That’s when you see it.

The box sits right outside your apartment door, plain cardboard, your name printed neatly on the label. Your stomach flips immediately.

“No way…”

You drop your bag and kneel, dragging it inside before anyone else can even walk past. The door shuts quickly behind you, locks clicking into place.

You don’t bother with scissors.

Inside, the tissue paper gives way easily. Red fabric. White trim.

You lift the Mrs. Claus dress out slowly.

It’s festive.

And short.

Very short.

You hold it up in front of the mirror, eyes widening before you laugh under your breath. 

“Oh, Sevika’s gonna lose her mind.”

Curiosity gets the best of you.

You slip it on.

The mirror confirms what the photos promised–the dress barely covers your ass. You turn slightly, inspecting the back, jaw dropping.

“Yeah,” you mutter. “Absolutely not wearing this until Christmas.”

Your heart’s already racing as you peel it off, carefully folding the fabric like it might tattle on you. You tuck it back into the box, hands shaking just a little with excitement.

You set the dress back into the box, smoothing the red fabric like it might wrinkle from anticipation alone.

That’s when you see the second layer of packaging.

Folded neatly beneath the tissue paper is something bulkier–red felt, heavier in your hands. You pull it free.

Santa’s suit.

Not cheap. Not ridiculous. Structured enough that you can already picture how it’ll look stretched across broad shoulders and long limbs.

Sevika’s broad shoulders.

You smile to yourself.

You don’t bother trying this one on. Some things are better left as a surprise.

You fold the suit carefully and slide it back into the box, tucking everything neatly so nothing peeks out. The lid closes with a quiet finality.

Later, the box disappears into your closet, hidden behind coats and bags. You step back, arms crossed, nodding like a mission accomplished.

Perfect.

When Sevika gets home that night, she’s oblivious as ever–drops her keys by the door, mutters about Silco and work and pulls you into her space like that’s where you belong.

She doesn’t see the box.

Doesn’t know what’s waiting in the closet.

And definitely doesn’t know that in a few days, you’re going to hand her a Santa suit and tell her she’s working overtime this year. 

—

Your boss practically shooed you out the door Friday morning.

“Don’t come back until after Christmas,” they’d said, waving you off. “We’ll survive.”

You didn’t argue.

You went back home.

While being cozy in bed, your phone buzzed.

Sevika: I fucked up.

Sevika: Left something at my place.

Sevika: Need you to grab it and bring it to me before Silco loses his shit.

You smiled to yourself.

“Good morning to you too,” you muttered, already pulling on clothes.

Sevika’s place was quiet when you let yourself in. Familiar. Comfortable. You grabbed what she asked for and headed straight to her job.

She spotted you immediately when you walked in.

Her posture eased the second her eyes landed on you. She took the item from your hands, fingers brushing yours just slightly.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “You just saved my life.”

You leaned in close enough that only she could hear you. 

“You owe me.”

She smirked. 

“I always do.”

Silco glanced over. Sevika straightened instantly, all business again. You kissed her cheek quickly and left before Silco speaks.

The moment you got home, you had an idea.

You dug out the Santa hat you’d been hiding, tossed it on your head, and checked yourself in the mirror.

Perfect.

You snapped a photo–titties out, laying in bed with a Santa hat on.

You: 2 days until Christmas 😉

A response came faster than you expected.

Sevika: Goddamn it.

Sevika: Woman, you’re gonna make me leave work.

You laughed, heat pooling low in your stomach. You waited–just long enough for anticipation to build–then sent another photo. 

Your pussy. Wet, fingers spreading your lips apart. 

A few minutes passed.

Then your phone rang.

FaceTime.

You answered, breath hitching.

Sevika’s face filled the screen. Jaw clenched. Eyes dark. She was somewhere quiet, probably on break.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” she said.

You tilted your head innocently. 

“2 days.”

She dragged a hand down her face, exhaling slowly. 

“I swear… when I get home-”

The call cut abruptly.

You stared at your phone, pulse racing.

Sevika didn’t come home early.

But you knew.

You were absolutely, undeniably ending up on the Naughty List.

—

Christmas Eve feels wrong.

Not bad. Not tense.

Just… off.

Sevika comes home like nothing’s weighing on her shoulders. Same routine. Same low music. Same steady presence. She’s calm in a way that makes your skin prickle.

You keep waiting for something to happen.

It doesn’t.

“So,” you say eventually, watching her shrug off her jacket. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

She hums in acknowledgment, pouring herself a drink.

“Do we have plans?” You smile, trying again.

She takes a sip. Sets the glass down. Looks at you.

Doesn’t answer.

You laugh nervously. 

“You’re being weird.”

Still nothing.

Sevika just tilts her head slightly, eyes dragging over you like she’s assessing something. Measuring. Deciding.

“What?” you ask. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

She turns away, adjusts her sleeves, casual as ever. 

“Relax.”

That only makes it worse. 

You follow her into the living room. “Seriously, though. Are we doing anything tonight? Movies? Gifts? You gonna finally admit you like Christmas?”

She pauses.

Slowly turns to face you.

Her expression is unreadable–not annoyed, not amused. Just quiet. Intent.

The look alone makes your stomach dip.

“What?” you ask again, softer now.

Sevika steps closer. Doesn’t touch you. Just stands there, close enough that you can feel her warmth.

She looks down at you for a long moment.

Then she says nothing at all.

The tree lights flicker on, the glow tracing along her mechanical arm, metal flashing softly as she turns back to you–quiet, patient, already in control. Reds and golds warm the steel where skin meets chrome and for a moment she just watches you. No rush. No expression. Like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you by saying nothing at all.

Your pulse picks up. 

“Okay,” you mutter. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

Her jaw tightens slightly, like she’s replaying it in her head.

“I almost left,” Sevika admits, voice low. Honest.

Your eyes widen. 

“You did?”

She lets out a quiet, humorless huff. 

“Yeah. Stood up. Grabbed my jacket. Was fully prepared to walk out.”

Your pulse jumps.

“Then Silco,” she continues, unimpressed, “decided it was the perfect time to talk my ear off.”

You grimace. 

“Of course he did.”

“Wouldn’t shut up,” she says flatly. “Pacing. Ranting. Asking me questions he already knew the answers to.”

She steps closer now, gaze locked on you.

“So while you were at home,” she says, calm but pointed, “sending nudes-”

She gestures vaguely between the two of you.

“I was stuck there. Listening. Trying not to lose my mind.”

You bite your lip. 

“Sounds awful.”

“It was,” she agrees. “And you didn’t help.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then she adds, quieter. 

“But you sure made it worse.”

Your stomach flips again.

She straightens, control back in place, and smooths her sleeve like she hasn’t just told you exactly how close you came to disaster.

“So,” Sevika finishes, meeting your eyes, “if I seem patient tonight-”

A pause.

“It’s not because I forgot.”

— 

You wake first.

The apartment smells like pine and coffee–warm, familiar. The tree lights are still on from last night, blinking softly across the living room. Sevika is beside you, sprawled on her back, one arm slung over her eyes like Christmas personally offended her.

You grin.

“Merry Christmas.”

She groans. Quiet. Gravelly. Expected.

“You’re loud,” Sevika mutters.

You laugh and lean over her, brushing a kiss to her cheek anyway. “It’s literally Christmas.”

“Unfortunately,” she replies, but she shifts closer, her hand automatically finding your hip. That’s how you know–grumpy, but not unhappy.

You exchange gifts after coffee.

Sevika’s is practical, thoughtful–something you mentioned once, months ago. She pretends not to watch your face but absolutely does. Your gift to her earns a slow nod and a rare, soft “thanks.”

Then you grin again.

“I got you something else.”

Her brow creases. 

“You already got me something.”

“This one’s… bigger.”

She eyes you carefully. 

“I don’t like surprises.”

“You’re gonna like this one.”

She snorts. 

“Doubtful.”

The day doesn’t stay quiet for long.

By late morning, you’re both bundled up and out the door. Sevika complains the whole drive–about traffic, about people, about how holidays suddenly make everyone forget how to function–but she still keeps one hand resting on your thigh at every stoplight.

First stop is friends.

There’s food everywhere. Music playing a little too loud. Someone hands Sevika a drink the second she walks in and she looks marginally less irritated after the first sip. You catch her hovering near the edges of the room, watching more than talking, but every now and then she leans in to murmur something dry in your ear that makes you snort laugh.

When someone asks how long you’ve been together, Sevika answers before you do.

“Almost two years,” she says easily, arm sliding around your shoulders.

It shouldn’t feel like such a big deal–but it does.

Family comes next.

It’s warmer here. Louder. More questions. Sevika stiffens at first, shoulders tense, but you notice how she softens when someone thanks her for taking care of you. How she listens instead of interrupting. How she stays close–always close.

At one point you lean in and whisper, 

“You’re doing great.”

She scoffs. 

“I’m surviving.”

“That’s great for you.”

She squeezes your waist in response.

On the drive home, dusk bleeding into night, you glance over at her.

“So,” you say casually. “You still thinking about that bigger gift?”

She keeps her eyes on the road. The tree lights from storefronts flash against her mechanical arm.

“I don’t like how excited you sound,” she replies.

You grin. “Good.”

She doesn’t answer–but the corner of her mouth lifts just a little.

By the time you get back, it’s dark out. Jackets tossed aside, shoes kicked off, the quiet settling back in around you.

Sevika loosens her gloves, rolling her shoulders and sits on the couch. 

“You gonna tell me what that ‘bigger gift’ is yet, or keep dangling it like a threat?”

You smile. 

“Stay right there.”

You disappear into the bedroom closet and pull out the box, heart pounding now that it’s real. You walk back into the living room and place it gently on the coffee table.

Sevika stares at it.

“What the hell is this?...”

“Open it,” you say, unable to hide your excitement. “C’mon. Please.”

She sighs like she’s been set up–because she has–and lifts the lid.

Red fabric.

White trim.

She pulls it out slowly, unfolding it enough to see exactly what it is.

Her eyebrow lifts. Slowly.

“Is this a Santa suit?...”

You fold your arms proudly. 

“Yep.”

Sevika looks from the suit to you. Back to the suit. 

“Are we role playing?”

You shrug. 

“Maybe.”

Her mouth quirks. 

“So what, I’m Santa?” She tilts her head. “What are you–an elf? One of those little helpers?”

You grin wider.

 “No.”

She waits.

“Mrs. Claus,” you say. “Obviously.”

For a beat, Sevika just stares at you.

Then she huffs a laugh. Quiet. Disbelieving. 

“You’re serious.”

“Oh, very.”

She shakes her head, amused now. 

“You’re trouble.”

“Wait here,” you say, already backing toward the bedroom.

You take your time getting dressed–because you know exactly what you’re doing.

The red lace is barely there, sitting high on your hips. The thong disappears the second you pull the dress on. When you smooth the fabric down, it rides right back up again, the hem stopping dangerously short of decency. You glance over your shoulder in the mirror and snort softly.

You step back into the living room with the Santa hat in your hands.

Sevika looks up again and freezes for a second time.

You place the hat on your head slowly, adjusting it until it sits just right. The movement makes the hem of the dress ride even higher, barely hanging on over your ass.

You catch the way Sevika’s jaw tightens, the faint whirr of her mechanical arm as her fingers curl.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” she mutters.

You walk closer, close enough to stand between her knees. Then without asking you lift the hat from your head and place it on hers instead.

It looks ridiculous on her.

And somehow unbearably sexy.

You lean down, lips brushing her ear, voice low and sweet. 

“I got a Santa suit for you too.”

Sevika exhales slowly, like she’s steadying herself. 

“Of course you did.”

She doesn’t argue. Doesn’t roll her eyes. Doesn’t even pretend to resist.

You dart back to the bedroom, grab the box and return just in time to see Sevika already pulling on the jacket.

The red fabric stretches snug across her broad shoulders, thick arms filling it out too well. She shrugs into it like she’s done this before, rolling her shoulders once, then twice, like she’s testing the fit. The white trim sits sharp against her skin, the color made even warmer by the tree lights flickering nearby.

Then she reaches for the pants.

She steps into them slowly, deliberately, like she knows you’re watching. The fabric hugs her thighs when she pulls them up, sitting low on her hips, the black belt snapping into place with a quiet click. She tugs the waistband once, adjusting, completely unbothered by the way your eyes are practically glued to her.

Dangerous.

She adjusts the cuffs, flexes her hands, then finally looks up at you through her lashes. The Santa hat sits crooked on her head, doing absolutely nothing to soften the look on her face.

“So,” you say, batting your lashes exaggeratedly. “Am I on your nice list?”

Sevika chuckles, deep and amused, shaking her head. 

“Nope.”

Before you can reply, she reaches out and grabs you–firm hands lifting you easily onto her lap. You gasp softly, legs straddling her automatically, the dress riding up your ass until it’s barely doing anything at all.

Her hands settle on your hips, thumbs digging in just enough to remind you who’s in control.

“You’ve been teasing me since yesterday,” she continues calmly. “At work. In my damn head.”

You squirm deliberately. 

“And?”

“And now,” she says, leaning in so close her nose brushes yours, “you wanna ask about lists?”

Her mechanical fingers glide up your thigh, stopping where the fabric disappears entirely.

“Naughty list,” Sevika finishes. “No exceptions.”

Her grip tightens just a fraction, enough to make your breath hitch.

“And don’t act surprised,” she adds. “You’ve been poking the bear since Friday."

Her thumb presses into your hip, slow and deliberate. 

“Sending nudes to distract me. Counting down the days like you weren’t already living in my head.”

She leans in, voice dropping to a low murmur meant only for you.

“You knew exactly what you were doing.”

You tilt your head, feigning innocence. 

“I was just excited.”

Sevika huffs a quiet laugh. Dark. Knowing.

“Excited my ass.”

Her forehead presses to yours. 

“You wanted me frustrated. Wanted me thinking about you while I was supposed to be working.”

Her mechanical fingers curl slightly, the faint whirr loud in the quiet room.

“And now you’re sitting on my lap, dressed like a slut, asking me if you’ve been good?”

Her lips brush your ear. 

“That’s bold.”

She pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, gaze slow and heated.

She tilts her head, studying you while you sit there perfectly still on her lap.

“The fact that you’re not moving?” she adds quietly. “That’s you testing me.”

Her grip tightens just enough to make the message clear. 

“You’re waiting to see how much I’ll let you get away with.”

She leans in closer, voice dropping to a murmur meant only for you.

“And don't forget you started this.”

—

Sevika doesn’t rush it.

She shifts you with ease, strong hands guiding you until you’re laid across her lap exactly how she wants–no resistance, no confusion. Just deliberate placement. Controlled.

Her palm settles against you, warm and heavy. She lets it stay there.

“Still,” she says quietly. Not a request.

You freeze.

Her thumb presses once, grounding. Claiming.

She leans forward slightly, voice dropping lower.

“You’ve been bugging me about the countdown. Sending me pictures of your pussy and titties, forgetting who you're messing with. ”

Her other hand braces you in place, firm enough that there’s no misunderstanding.

“You wanted my attention?” Sevika murmurs.

“You’ve got all of it.”

A pause. Intentionally cruel.

Her breath brushes your ear.

“Count for me,” she adds softly. 

The room feels smaller. Hotter. The tree lights blur at the edge of your vision.

Sevika exhales, slow and steady.

“And don’t worry,” she finishes quietly.

“I’ll take my time.”

You gulp and Sevika chuckles.

Sevika lifts up the dress and sees the red thong.

She pats your pussy and cups it with her flesh hand.

“Take it off,” Sevika says calmly. “Don’t make me do it for you.”

You take off the underwear and swing it somewhere in the living room.

Your pussy glistening with wetness. 

Sevika slides her flesh hand across your pussy and gets a good amount of your arousal. 

You moan slightly. 

She put her fingers in her mouth, sucking it up. 

“You're so wet for me mama.”

SMACK

The sound echoed and breathing felt optional. 

“One!” You manage, voice already strained. 

SMACK

“Two!”

“That damn fucking fucking picture, with you pussy lips spread apart-” Sevika sounding frustrated.

She doesn’t slow down. 

SMACK

SMACK

More impact. Harder this time.

“Three! Four!” You moan.

SMACK

“Your pussy getting wetter after every spank, goodness fuck.” She says, amused.  

“Five!” 

Sevika spanked you 10 more times and you're definitely not sitting on your ass, the next 3 days.

She spanked both your asscheeks, both are red as a cherry. 

You're so wet, it drips on Sevika’s pants and leaves a wet spot.

Sevika slides her middle finger and ring finger across the entrance of your pussy to your clit.

“If you were on my good list,” she continues. “You wouldn’t have received all those spankings.”

You squirm in her lap as she lightly presses on the clit and rubs it slowly. 

Sevika shakes her head. 

“Nu uh. If you wanna be a good girl and be on the nice list. You'll stay put across my lap or else you're gonna get another spanking.”

A warning. Soft. Absolute. 

“Yes Sevika.” you say, out of breath. 

“It's Santa, since we're roleplaying.” She smirks. 

Sevika teases and inserts her fingers in your pussy. Making it easy to slip in on how wet you are. 

You gasp from the sounds and feeling of her long and thick fingers stretching your pussy. 

As she thrust her fingers in and out slowly, your wetness gushed all over her hand and pants.

“Fuckkkk,” you moan. 

“Such a fucking slut.” Sevika chuckles. 

Sevika curves her fingers stroking your front wall. 

Your walls squeeze her fingers as she’s scissoring them. 

You feel like you're in paradise.

“Im gonna take my sweet time with this pussy,” Sevika continues. “Mmmmh.”

She groans seeing the sight and hearing your wetness. 

Sevika puts her thumb on your clit and rubs it slowly. 

As she continues to scissor her fingers in your pussy and rub your clit, your orgasm builds up.

“I’m g-gonna cum,” you say, stuttering a bit.

Sevika removes her thumb off your clit and speeds up the thrusting.

As the thrusting feels brutal, your moaning louder as your orgasm comes.

You cream all over Sevika’s fingers, the cum dripping down to her hand.

Sevika groans at the sight.

She slowly removes her fingers and puts her fingers in her mouth, tasting and swallowing your cum. 

“You taste so fucking good-” 

Sevika lifts you off her lap and holds onto your elbow as you wobble a bit from the orgasm.

“Easy, easy, I got you,” Sevika chuckles.

Sevika gently lays you on the couch and gets on her knees and puts each of your legs over her shoulders. 

She leans in to inhale your scent. 

She pats your pussy, you squirm as you're recovering from the first orgasm.

“Sevika!” Scolding her.

“Who’s Sevika? I’m Santa,” she says, sounding cocky and adjusting her Santa hat. 

You roll your eyes and she laughs.

“Thought you wanted to be on my nice list?” Sevika sounded serious. 

“I do-”

Sevika pats your pussy again.

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

Sevika spreads your lips, exposing your swollen clit.

She looks into your eyes as she drags the flat of her tongue to your vulva. Licking up your cum and wetness.

She chuckles as she drags her up and down, watching you breathe in and out heavily. 

“This pussy is so good, how did I get this lucky?” As she says, sealing her lips on your clit.

“Ohhh my goodnessss,” you moan. 

“Mmmmm”

As she groans and sucks on your clit hard.

You put your hand over your forehead, moaning.

She stops sucking on your clit, spits on your pussy and rubs her fingers on your vulva mixing with your cum and her saliva. 

She goes back to sucking on your clit, sucking it hard. Alternating broad licks and targeted flicks. 

She groans into your pussy as she feels your hips buck against her face, enjoying how responsive you are.

“Ride my face Mrs. Clauses,” she adds. “Can’t wait till you take my dick.”

Sevika slides her 2 fingers inside your hole, pumping them slowly as she continues to lap at your clit.

“Don’t s-s-stop Santa-”

“I’m not stopping Mrs. Clauses. ” Sevika, cutting you off.

 She digs her fingers deeper stroking your g-spot as she sucks on your clit harder, determined to make you cum again.

As she goes faster, your orgasm takes over. Feeling more intense than the first one. 

Sevika moans in satisfaction as your cum floods her mouth. Licking up every drop.

“I could eat this pussy all day.”

Sevika licks your inner thighs and places soft kisses. She lifts your legs off her shoulders and places them gently on the couch. 

“Since your little roleplay shit was the ‘bigger’ gift, I also got a bigger gift,” Sevika said, mischievously.

You were staring at the wall recovering from the intense orgasm Sevika pulled out of you. 

“What ‘bigger’ gift do you have,” asking her.

Sevika lifts you up bridal style and walks into your bedroom. 

“Sevika!”

“Hehe, shush.” As she speed walks into the room. 

—

You've been laying on your bed for almost 10 minutes waiting for Sevika. You took off the dress and bra, laying butt ass naked.

You rub on your clit as you wait for her.

Sevika comes out of the bathroom into your room, still wearing her Santa suit.

As she walks into the room she’s grabbing onto the middle of her pants smirking. 

“Come take a look at your gift, mama.” Sevika said, mischievously. 

Sevika walks up to the bed and you go up to her grabbing her pants and taking a look in between her pants. 

A girthy big black dildo with veins surrounding it. 

You gasp.

“How many inches is that?” 

“8 ½ inches,” Sevika said, proudly.

Sevika has fucked you with dildos in diffrent sizes and color.

The strap that’s sitting on her hips and ready to destroy your pussy is the girthiest one you've ever seen.

She usually fucks you with a 7 inch confetti dildo that is not girthy or 8 inch skin color dildo that’s 3 shades darker than her. 

On special events or her just brat taming your bratty ass she fucks with with a 8 ½ inch skin color that is girthy enough to make you cry but not girthy enough as the one sitting on her hips.

She calls that dildo “the attitude adjustment dick”.

Sevika takes off her Santa suit and keeps the hat on.

She puts her hands on her hips and swings the strap around and says.

“Ho, ho, ho. Santa is about to have this pussy creaming and squirting," she chuckles.

You laugh.

“Sounds like someone is starting to like Christmas.” 

Sevika moves her hips up and down and the strap bouncing and slapping her abs up and down. 

Sevika climbs over you, the mattress dipping under her weight. The strap brushes your skin.

Her hand slides up your throat–not squeezing, just guiding–tilting your head back so she can drag her tongue along your jaw. Slow. Claiming. Like she’s tasting something she’s been starving for.

You let out a shaky breath.

“Mhm,” Sevika murmurs against your skin, her lips brushing your pulse. “Look at you. I didn’t even put it in yet and you're dripping.”

She’s not wrong.

Her mouth trails down the side of your neck, teeth grazing in a way that makes your back arch before you can help it. Her palm flattens on your lower stomach, pinning you down with nothing but her weight and attitude.

Her lips crash against yours, hot and deep. Hungry. The kind of kiss that steals the air from your lungs. Her tongue slides against yours with zero patience–messy, controlling, like she’s trying to shut you up before you can even speak.

You whimper into her mouth.

Sevika shifts her weight, the mattress dipping as she settles between your legs. The strap brushes your inner thigh–heavy, solid, unapologetic–and her smirk deepens when your breath stutters.

She grabs your chin, forcing your eyes on hers.

“Yeah. Look at it,” she growls. “This is what you’ve been begging for, isn’t it?”

Her free hand drags down your stomach, slow and taunting, stopping just above where you want her most. Not touching–just hovering, teasing, controlling.

“Keep playing cute,” she murmurs, voice low enough to vibrate down your spine. Her breath is hot against your cheek. “I’ll have you drooling and begging so fast you’ll forget how to say your own damn name.”

She nudges her hips forward and grabs the dick and rubs it against your pussy.

You moan as she teases you. 

“You hear me?” she adds, tone dropping even lower. “You wanted this.”

Her smirk widens.

“Yes.” You reply quickly.

“Then show me,” she says, voice rough and smug.

“Show me how good Mrs. Claus can take it for Santa.”

She laughs under her breath when you shiver.

“Hm. Already shaking.”

Her lips brush your ear.

“Good. Santa likes her pretty wife eager.”

Her hands slide up the backs of your legs, spreading you open until you feel exposed…displayed…claimed.

She looks down at you with that slow, dangerous smirk.

Her fingers grip behind your knees and push them up, pinning them comfortably toward your chest as she leans in, Santa hat slipping forward over one eyebrow.

“Mm,” she hums, chest rumbling against yours. “Mrs. Claus waiting so pretty for Santa… you really thought I wasn’t gonna unwrap my present properly?”

You try to say something–anything–but Sevika tilts her head, eyes narrowing with heat.

“Save it,” she rasps.

 She cups your jaw, thumb tracing your bottom lip.

“Open your mouth.”

You do, and she spits in your mouth.

“Santa’s gonna make you forget every countdown you ever said this week.”

Her eyes drag over your face slowly, watching every tiny reaction.

Her hand slides along your thigh, gripping hard enough to make you gasp.

She taps the tip of the strap on your pussy–barely, just enough pressure to make your hips twitch.

She drags it along again, slower this time, teasing the entrance. Driving you crazy.

Her smirk deepens into something hungry.

Her mechanical hand holds your hip down firmly.

“Take a deep breath,” she orders, tone soft but lethal.

Her forehead touches yours.

Sevika nudges her hips forward–slow, deliberate, testing your reaction.

The second the thickness starts to press into you, your whole body tightens, breath catching hard in your throat.

Her eyes snap to your face immediately.

“There it is…” she murmurs, voice dropping into a low growl. 

Her hand slides up your stomach to your chest, grounding you as she pushes another inch closer.

Your fingers curl into the sheets.

You inhale sharply and she chuckles darkly.

“Deep breath, mama,” she whispers, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Let Santa in.”

She moves again–slow, controlled, but unrelenting.

Your legs tremble around her shoulders.

Her jaw flexes as she watches every inch of your reaction.

“Fuck…” she mutters under her breath, almost to herself. “Look at you. Taking it like you were made for me.”

Your back arches and your breath stutters.

Her mechanical hand clamps harder around your hip to keep you from jerking away.

“Uh-uh,” she warns softly. “Don’t run from it now. You wanted this one.”

Another push–deeper.

Your breath breaks. A strangled sound slips out of you.

Sevika’s lips curl into a slow, satisfied smirk.

“That’s it,” she says, voice thick with heat. “Take every bit of me. All nice and slow.”

Her mouth brushes your ear.

“Let it stretch you…”

She pauses there, letting you feel the full weight of her, letting your body adjust while you tremble under her.

Her thumb strokes your cheek.

“Good,” she whispers. “Really good. You’re doing so fucking good for me.

Sevika finally moves.

Not fast–measured, deliberate–setting a rhythm that makes your breath stutter and your hands claw at the sheets. Each motion is controlled, purposeful, like she’s reminding you exactly who’s in charge.

“There we go,” she murmurs, voice low and satisfied. “Now you feel it.”

Her hands slide up your sides, thumbs digging in as she keeps that steady pace, watching your reactions like it’s her favorite show.

“Look at you,” she adds softly, almost cruel. “All that teasing… and now you’re shaking the second I start.”

The pace builds–still controlled, but heavier now enough to make your head fall back and a broken sound slip out of you.

She leans down, breath hot at your ear.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she warns. “You cum when I let you.”

Her grip tightens, rhythm unrelenting, just fast enough to make your thoughts blur.

“Yeah,” she growls, pleased. “That’s it. Take it.”

The rhythm sharpens. Deeper. Harder.

“Fuck,” she growls under her breath. “You feel that? That’s what happens when you push me.”

Her mouth hovers by your ear, words hot and deliberate.

“Look at you now–can’t think, can’t talk, just taking everything I give you.”

The pace increases again, just enough to make your breath break.

“Yeah,” she says, smug. “That’s my good girl.”

Her voice turns darker, meaner.

“Pathetic,” she adds softly. “And so fucking perfect.”

Her grip tightens.

“Go on,” she urges. “Let me hear you.”

Your breath starts to fracture, coming out in broken little sounds you can’t control anymore.

Your hands fumble against the sheets, fingers curling tight.

“Sevika-” your voice cracks. “I’m… I’m gonna cum-”

She hears it immediately.

Her pace doesn’t stop, but it changes–slower, heavier, dragging the moment out just enough to make it unbearable.

“No,” she says simply.

One word. Firm. Final.

You whine, hips twitching despite yourself.

She clicks her tongue softly.

“You better hold it,” she murmurs, voice low and almost fond. 

Her hands slide up your sides, thumbs pressing in like she’s grounding you–claiming you.

Then she pulls back.

You barely have time to register it before she’s moving you–turning you, positioning you exactly how she wants. Your body reacts instantly, nerves lighting up as you’re pressed down, exposed in a way that makes your pulse jump.

Her hands land on your hips from behind. Face down, ass up.

You quiver as she takes her hands off your hips and spreads your asscheeks spitting on your asshole and watches the saliva glide down.  

She thumbs your asshole teasingly.

You gasp. 

 She lets go of your asscheeks and places her hand back on your hips. Hands firm and possessive.

You feel her lean in, chest brushing your back, her mouth right by your ear.

“Don’t cum till I tell you to,” she reminds you quietly. 

Sevika lines up the strap with your pussy and pushes forward with intention, holding you there just long enough to make you adjust before she resumes. 

As you feel her pushing deeper in your guts you gasp and grab onto the sheets. 

 Before she starts thrusting, Sevika spanks each of your asscheeks, the sting making you squirm and suck in a breath, still sensitive from all the spanking she gave you earlier.

  She doesn’t rush after that.

She lets the moment sit–lets you feel it–then her hands settle firmly on your hips as she finally starts to move, slow at first, deliberate, like she’s testing how much you can take.

“That’s it,” she murmurs, voice low and satisfied. 

Her grip tightens, pace steady, unyielding.

A sharper movement pulls a breathy sound from you.

She chuckles darkly.

“Mm. That’s my girl,” she says quietly. “Just like this. Just taking it.”

Sevika’s flesh hand slides up your chest and settles at the front of your neck, thumb resting just beneath your jaw, fingers warm and firm as she tips your head back against her chest.

She keeps you right there.

Held.

Her breathing is steady above you as she starts to move again–slow, deliberate, grinding in a way that makes your thoughts blur instead of breaking you all at once.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, voice vibrating through her chest. “Right there.”

Her grip tightens just enough to be felt, not cutting you off–just reminding you who’s controlling the pace.

“That’s it,” she continues quietly. “Let it hit you.”

Your eyes roll back, breath stuttering as her dick hits your g-spot.

She lets out a low, satisfied chuckle.

“Look at you,” Sevika whispers. “All gone already.”

Her thumb strokes under your chin, filthy and possessive.

“So pretty when you can’t even think,” she adds. “Just feeling. Just taking.”

She leans her head down, lips brushing your hair.

“Stay with me,” she murmurs.

“Let Santa take her time.”

The base of the strap rubbing Sevika’s clit, she groans as she hears your moans.

Sevika’s flesh hand slips away from your neck, lingering for just a second before trailing lower to your clit. 

Her touch is unhurried–deliberate–drawing a broken sound from your throat as your hips twitch in response.

Your moans get louder, breath uneven as the sensation builds, your body reacting faster than you can think.

“Sevika-” you gasp, voice shaking. “I’m… I’m about to c-c-cum-” 

She chuckles softly, cruel and amused.

“Already?” she asks, mockingly gentle. “And here I thought you could last longer than that.”

Her thumb moves with maddening patience, just enough to keep you right on the edge.

Your head tips back against her shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as another sound spills out of you.

Sevika takes her flesh fingers off your clit and places it back onto your hips as her pace picks up, each movement deliberate, grinding against you in a way that makes your back arch and your moans spill uncontrollably.

“Shh,” she hisses, low and rough, lips brushing your ear. “You’re not cumming yet. Not until I do.”

Your body trembles, breath shaky, and you whine softly, desperate.

“You hear me?” she growls, voice thick. 

Her hand presses possessively on your hip, thumb digging in as her pace sharpens, hitting just the right spot to push you closer to the edge without letting go.

The wetness of your pussy and the slap on skin on skin, fills up the sound of the room as she pounds the strap into your g-spot.

“Mm, that’s it,” she murmurs, filthy and commanding. “So wet for me.” 

 You whimper, pleading, eyes rolling back, hips bucking slightly against her rhythm.

Her breathing grows ragged, voice low and urgent:

“Goodness shit, you sound so good… taking me like this… I’m almost–fuck!”

You feel her shudder as she hits her own edge, voice raw and the tension breaks all at once.

“Now,” she hisses, smirking against your shoulder, “now you can cum, pretty girl.”

You squirt all over her strap and bedsheet. Shaking and gasping, finally allowed to cum as she holds you.

Sevika continues to slam her strap into you after both of you had an intense orgasm. Drawing out every last shudder and moan.

Sevika slowly withdraws, admiring the sight of your ravaged pussy, gaping and dripping.

She takes the strap off and throws it on the other side of the bed and lays down on her back and spreads her legs.

She as spreads her legs, you see how wet her pussy is from fucking you. 

Sevika smirks and drags a flesh finger through her flaps. 

Her pussy fat, brown, big clit poking out and a bush hair going up to her belly button. 

She puts her finger that’s dripped off her wetness to your mouth. 

You obey, tongue tracing her finger and she groans low and satisfied, the sound vibrating straight through you.

Her hands go behind her head, chest rising with her controlled breaths, and she spreads herself wider.

“Show me what that tongue can do, girl,” she says, voice playful but commanding, eyes locked on yours.

She watches you with that slow, dangerous smirk, breathing heavier, chest rising and falling.

You lean in and lick the wetness of her flaps and swirl your tongue around her clit.

Sevika groans and her back arches as you tease her clit. 

“Just like that baby.”

She tangles her arm in your hair, guiding your movements. 

Her hips roll, eyes half-lidded, completely caught in the moment grinding her clit against your tongue. 

“You better lick up every drop, slut.” Sevika says, groaning. 

You thrusts two fingers deep inside her wet pussy, pumping them in time with your licks.

Sevika cries out sharply, her pussy clenches and unclenches your fingers as you suck onto her throbbing clit.

“F-f-fuckkkk baby im about to cum-”

Sevika shouts as her orgasm crashes over her, flooding your mouth with her squirt.

She bucks her hips wildly, riding out the waves of pleasure. Sevika goes limp, chest heaving coming down from her high. 

 She pulls you up for a slow, messy kiss, lips parting as she tilts her head, tasting herself on you.

Her hands grip your hips and neck, pulling you flush against her, dominating the kiss with a hunger that leaves you gasping.

Her tongue slips against yours, claiming you, messy and demanding, grinding her hips lightly as she keeps the rhythm, her lips hot and wet against yours.

“I want every inch of you in my mouth.” Sevika growls, voice thick and ragged. 

She tilts her head again, deepening the kiss, letting her hands roam possessively, one arm pressing you flush against her chest while the other drags through your hair.

—

After a few minutes of catching your breath, Sevika pulls you close, holding you tight against her chest. Her arms are firm but warm, grounding you after the intensity of everything.

“You okay?” she murmurs, brushing hair from your face and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

You nod, still trembling slightly, and she chuckles low, voice full of satisfaction and affection.

“You did so good,” she says, voice gentle now, playful smirk still lingering. 

She runs her fingers along your back, slow and soothing, hands lingering on your hips before tucking you closer into her warmth.

You smile, heart full, and she kisses the crown of your head again, letting you rest in her arms, safe, warm, and utterly hers.

After a moment, Sevika shifts, smirking down at you.

“Stay put,” she murmurs, voice low but playful. “I’ve got this.”

She slides off the bed, and you watch as she tidies the mess—the sheets, the strap, the little traces of the chaos you both left behind. Every move is careful, precise, yet somehow teasing, like she’s still in control even while cleaning up.

—

When she’s finished, she climbs back onto the bed, wrapping you in her arms again. You nuzzle into her chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing.

“Much better,” she murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head. “All cleaned up.”

The two of you lie there, quiet but connected, letting the glow of the Christmas lights from the neighborhood outside the window spill over you. Your fingers intertwine, your bodies warm and content, the chaos of earlier replaced with comfort, safety and each other.

“Next year,” Sevika whispers, voice soft and teasing, “we do it all over again.”

You laugh softly, snuggling closer, and she holds you tighter, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Merry Christmas, Santa,” you say, giggling.

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Clause,” Sevika replies, chuckling softly. 

I guess Christmas is her favorite holiday now.