Santa baby
✶ "Next year, I could be just as good—if you'll check off my Christmas list."
⋆ smut, sugar!mommy!billie (sorta??? Idk), dom!billie x sub!reader, squirting, fingering (r receiving), sex toy, dirty talk, praise kink (?), begging, multiple rounds (2), a bit of overstim
⋆ A/N: merry christmas 😋
December had flown by, and Christmas had hit a bullseye on the house. A bullseye in the form of mass decorations, red and green and white covering every inch of the walls, a tree glowing and decorated with tinsel and baubles in the corner of the living room.
Billie wasn't nearly as colorful—but still just as on-theme. She wore a black button-up (which, in fact, was not completely buttoned up), a pair of velvety wide-legged pants, and red socks that had a little buckle stitched onto them—resembling Santa's boots. Those—and the santa hat that had been placed on her head all day—made up for the lack of festive-ness.
She had been darting through the kitchen for the past hour, managing at least four vegan dishes at once. Her family would be over once the short hand of the clock hit five, which meant a little over an hour. She, additionally, made sure you wouldn't stress over it with her because she “had it covered.” So, while the variety of savory scents mingled past the smooth tile, you busied yourself with fixing the garlands, organizing the table, and staring longingly at the heap of gifts beneath the evergreen leaves.
Most definitely a heap, because the presents took up way too much space around the tree. You thought you remembered telling Billie not to splurge on you this year, but with the way the ratios weighed out, she surely didn't listen. But that was Billie's problem—spending way too much money on you. She claimed it was proving just how much she loved you. You rebutted and called her your sugar mama.
Prices aside, the number of them was another confusion. You weren't even sure how she snuck them all under the tree last night. But, either way, you were more than grateful. And your pure, jaw-dropped shock when you came downstairs that morning had told her that.
Star-speckled wrapping paper hugged the dips of the interiors and boxes beneath, some of the insides masked better than others. You ran your fingers over some earlier, received a scolding for doing so, and kept doing it anyway.
You, glancing back at the doorway that parted you and Billie, took another risk to test just one.
Billie, psychic she is, apparently caught on—even in her tornado of a restless cooking mood going on. “You better not be looking at the presents, baby!” she called from the kitchen. You pulled your hand back as if the gift had burned you.
“I'm not!” You whined back, only to earn an unconvinced hum of “mhm” in response.
With one last glance at the colorfully wrapped presents, you turned to the kitchen to help her out—against her wishes.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆. 𐙚 ˚.⋆ ˚❆ .
The sun had just begun to set outside, dragging strokes of orange and pink and white across the sky.
Her family filtered inside in groups: first (of course) Maggie and Patrick, who brought gifts and more dishes that Billie had insisted wouldn't be necessary; then Finneas and Claudia, with their own wrapped goods in hand and a plate of dessert that made your mouth water and Billie squeal. Peaches, whose leash had been wrapped loosely around Finneas’ wrist, sprang free and immediately leaped at Shark and Brutus.
The house filled with excited chatter, the warm scent of signature recipes cooked and spread before your eyes like a buffet, and the distant rumble of the dogs’ growls. You helped direct the food to the serving table, where everyone had already begun spooning delicacies onto their plates.
Just before you reached the serving table, a familiar hand wrapped around your wrist and steered you towards the living room.
Billie's arms were occupied with a square gift box, one you could already recognize as an apparel box. A barely suppressed smirk tugged on her lips as she pressed it towards you. “Here. Merry Christmas.”
“Billie…” you sighed, though you were already taking the gift into your palms. “I certainly don't need another.”
“I know, I know. But this one's special,” she said, voice softer but tilted with something playful.
Your eyebrows furrowed, fingers slipping into the black top of the box. But right as your fingertips passed the hem, she quickly stopped them with her own hands.
“Don't open it here. Later.”
That just left you more lost. She pressed a quick, habitual kiss to your forehead—one that made your heart do flips and your lips curve up. And then she walked past, hand just barely brushing your arm. Barely, but intentionally.
When you were sure she was out of sight, you lifted the smooth top just enough to peek inside.
Your breath caught.
Inside sat a pair of crimson lingerie. A floral-lace bralette that barely covered a thing, and a thong with tiny satin bows stitched to the hips and that same floral-print lace as lining. Your fingers ran over the pieces, gentle and careful over what was clearly expensive fabric.
On the inside of the lid, Billie had stuck a tiny Post-it. “can't wait to see u in this,” it read, in her signature handwriting—though with slightly more effort than usual to be legible. Just below the words sat: “love, your perfect and amazing wife, Billie” and a tiny heart.
You weren't married—at least, not that you knew of—but the words still made your chest fill up and your lips split in a stupid smile.
Footsteps from just down the hall freed you from your trance, and you shut the lid as fast as you could, returning to the table.
Dinner was perfect; the food was delicious, the wine was smooth and palatable, and everything had left you stuffed by the end.
Gifts were exchanged, smiles and squeals accompanied them, and a few tears came with them. You couldn't hide the smile on your face as you watched Billie hand Finneas a limited-edition vinyl she had purchased of his favorite album.
But, as wholesome as the night was, your eyes kept drifting back to Billie. You could only think about the gift from earlier. She had planned to see you in it, that much was clear. And the thought of her planning this night weeks ago made you clench your thighs together.
When the lights had dimmed and the sun had long set beneath the horizon outside, you gave your thanks and bid your farewells to Billie's family as they left. Billie was in the kitchen, tucking away tupperware of the leftovers that would last you weeks when you walked in.
Your arms wrapped around her from behind, stopping her mid-closing of the fridge door.
“I opened the gift,” you whispered before she could say anything.
“Oh yeah?” She hummed, and you could practically hear the smirk in her voice, even with your cheek pressed to her back.
You mumbled softly in return, “mhm. It's cute.”
“Cute? I had picked it out and said, “Wow, I am going to love railing my girlfriend while she wears this.”
You swallowed hard behind her, arms loosening. Her hands rested on yours, set just above her stomach.
“You've been thinking about that, haven't you?” She murmured, softer but most definitely not any less dangerous. She turned around in your arms, pulling you into hers instead. “Me, making you scream while you look pretty in those?”
Your throat had closed up with heat, unable to form words. You could only nod—barely—and press your face into her chest.
“Then I shouldn't keep you waiting, yeah?”
Before you knew it, you were in your room, eyes shying away from hers as you undressed and changed into the new pair of undergarments.
“fuck,” she hissed as you turned towards her, body wrapped only in the thin, dark red lingerie. “Look at you, baby.” Her fingers hooked into the thong and tugged you close until you were between her thighs.
“Can't keep my hands off you,” she murmured, palms gliding over the bare skin as you shivered. Her teeth caught the skin of your neck, nipping gently. Not enough to hurt, just enough to feel her.
“Billie…” you whined, knees nearly buckling under her tantalizing touch.
“Hm? What do you need, baby?”
“Please—just… you. Anything.”
“Atta girl,” she purred, switching your positions. You sat on the bed as she reached over for the nightstand. Your heart flipped as her hand left the drawer with that small, compact toy you knew too well.
“How about this?” She asked, running her thumb over the thin point of the smooth, black vibrator. You had used it enough times to memorize the feel, but never the pure pleasure it destroyed you with every time. That always seemed to take you by surprise.
You nodded before the words came out. “Yes, please.”
“So polite,” she teased with a smirk twitching at the corner of her lips. Her fingers dipped into the scarlet fabric, and a click of her tongue followed as they were coated with arousal.
“You're soaked, baby,” she murmured, her touch everywhere but where you needed it the most. She circled your clit, brushing it ever so slightly in a way that made your hips jerk into her hand.
“Please,” you whined, nearly sobbed.
“Please what, hm? Tell me, baby.”
“Please, fuck me,” you surrendered, breath hitching as the sleek, smooth material of the toy brushed your clit. Not yet on, just teasing.
“That's a good girl,” she rasped, breath fanning your neck as her lips sucked skin. Your back arched into her like something natural, melting against her.
A soft, broken cry spilled from your lips as soon as the buzzing started up on your clit. Low at first, but still powerful.
She dragged the vibrator through your folds, soaking it with wetness and spreading it back to your core. “Feel good?”
“So—so good,” you breathed, whimpers falling from your lips in choruses. “Please, please—more,” you begged deliriously, hips rutting into the toy.
“Such a needy girl.” Her voice was low, hungry. It made the knot already forming in your stomach tighten.
The power picked up—higher, more intense against your bud of nerves. She brought the toy lower, dipping into your hole just barely. But enough to make your thighs shake and a shaky sound free from your lips.
“There you go… let me hear you, pretty girl,” she whispered, leaving a warm kiss beneath your ear that made shivers run through your whole body.
Her hand guided the toy deeper, slick walls parting around the salvation of pleasure. Helplessly, you cried out as her thumb met the pace on your clit.
“I know, baby. I know,” she mumbled, turning up the power as your moans grew more constant. “Doin’ so good for me.”
“Billie—oh, fuck. Please,” you sobbed, fingers fisting into the sheets you would surely ruin after this. “M'so close—gonna cum.”
“Let it all out f'me, baby. Make a mess.”
Your orgasm turned your sounds hysterical, hitting you like a brick. A sharp cry of her name broke from your lips, back arching, fingers white-knuckled in the sheets, jaw slack with the effort.
But even through the pleasure, she nor the toy ever let up. The vibrations never stopped or lowered in intensity—in fact, she only raised them higher.
“You're gonna give me another, baby,” she muttered, teeth nipping playfully at your neck.
“Billie—c-can't—fuck,” you whimpered, legs clamping around her hand from the oversensitivity.
She only smirked and spread your thighs with her free hand. “You can. You will.”
Your hips rocked into the toy despite yourself, chasing another climax because it just felt too good. The knot in your belly grew again—this time tighter. Familiar in the way that you knew it would make a mess.
“Bil—can't,” you choked out, unable to get the words out.
“Shh, I've got you. Let go,” she whispered, now thrusting the vibrator rhythmically with the pace of her thumb on your clit. The dual ministrations drive you over the edge, and you broke in the best way possible.
Your climax sprayed her arm and soaked through your panties in a stream, pussy squelching as two fingers replaced the toy.
“Fuck,” she groaned, fingers relentless as they fucked you through your climax. The wet sounds that came from your cunt were pornographic, slick, and obscene. “Good god.”
Her pace slowed as you caught your breath, face hidden in her neck as she pulled out. You collapsed against her immediately, body limp and now atop hers.
She brought you into a slow, gentle kiss as your trembling eased, her clean hand finding purchase in your hair and running her fingers through it gently. When you could finally form words, she pulled back just enough to look at you. “Feeling okay?” She asked finally.
You nodded, dazed and still reeling from both orgasms. “Yeah.” You grimaced a little glancing down at her, seeing the mess you made that had coated her skin and top.
“Merry Christmas,” she murmured playfully before you could feel any guilt.
You just giggled and pressed your face into her chest, hiding the flush that crept up to your cheeks. “Best gift I could ask for.”
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