cw: early twenty sevika and reader, established relationship, movie night, smut; vaginal fingering s!receiving, dry humping, teasing reader, couch sex, edge play,
Since you got together back in college, the one ritual that stuck with you both is movie marathons.
It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve seen them or if you even know what it’s about.
Harry Potter, Star Wars, the entire Insidious-Conjuring-Annabelle mess, or even the Saw saga… you sit down and watch every single one as if it’s brand new.
Same for the series; neither of you will dare hit “next episode” without the other, no matter how bad the cliffhanger is.
Horror movies are your shared weakness. Even the cheap, terrible ones, the kind that feel like they were filmed in someone’s basement with ketchup and a phone.
You end up laughing until your stomach hurts, or groaning in unison at the fake blood or sometimes too-realistic SFXs. But either way, you always end up pressed into each other on the couch.
And recently, you even surprised her with the full Halloween dvd collection, blue ray version in its house-looking box fitting perfectly every dvd like some sort of trophy.
Because it’s her guilty pleasure.
She grinned like a kid unwrapping candies, pretending not to be excited while you knew better.
The saga might be trash and getting worse after every movie, it’s still hers, and that’s enough for you.
Today, for once, Sevika comes home earlier than usual.
No clanging of tools, no grease-stained hours running over, just a rare quiet evening stretching out in front of her.
She tosses her keys on the counter, kicks off her boots, and changes straight into her go-to comfort uniform: loose sweatpants and a thin T-shirt, no bra in sight.
The definition of pure freedom, really
The relief is immediate, that little sigh she always lets out when her chest is finally free, like she’s just come back to life.
It’s such a simple thing, but you swear she’s never looked more at ease than when she pads around the apartment like this, hair tied up haphazardly, shoulders rolling loose and… tits free.
But you have plans tonight.
She orders pizza, your favorite, obviously, hers, and collapses onto the couch with the remote in hand.
It’s almost muscle memory at this point: set up the marathon, wait for you to come through the door.
You always finish work at the same time, walking in like clockwork, lucky enough to have a routine that doesn’t eat you alive the way hers sometimes does.
Thirty minutes later, the lock clicks, and she hears your footsteps in the hall before you even step inside.
You’re smiling already, the kind of smile that’s been wound tight in you for hours and finally come back to life the second you cross the threshold because you waited this moment the whole day.
The sound you let out, half loud sigh, half groan, is pure relief and exhaustion rolled into one.
You drop your bag on the nearest chair, kick the door shut, and cross straight to her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before heading toward the bathroom.
“Did you order the pizzas?” you ask over your shoulder, already tugging at your shirt.
“Yep,” she answers, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
You groans of satisfaction like an animal before sighing, still walking and trying to undress. “Arg— I love you.”
And then you completely disappear into the bathroom, leaving Sevika leaning back against the couch with a little smile tugging at her lips.
She doesn’t say it back, you’ve been together long enough that she doesn’t have to because you know her, but she thinks it, deep in her chest, where it sits warm and steady until you come back out again.
By the time you’re out of the shower, the smell of pizza fills the apartment.
You pad into the living room with damp hair and a loose shirt with shorts, finding Sevika already sprawled on the couch with the boxes open and your drinks on the coffee table so the two of you don’t completely ruin the cushions.
You climb in beside her, crossing your legs and reaching for a slice with still-warm fingers.
Grease slicks your lips almost immediately, but neither of you care; it’s all part of the ritual.
Sevika’s arm hooks lazily over the back of the couch, tugging you closer until you’re tucked into her side while the movie flickers to life on screen.
Even if you know that slasher villain, it’s your first time watching this saga, and Sevika doesn’t even try to hide her amusement at your reactions.
She keeps her eye on the screen, then sometimes on you, taking in every silly comment, every dramatic little gasp that falls from your lips.
When twelve-year-old Michael Myers shows up to silently stare at his sister fooling around with her boyfriend, you gasp.
“Micheal!” you scold, pointing at the screen like he can hear you. “It’s your sister!”
Sevika snorts shamelessly, “that’s the point, babe.”
“But she’s doing the boombayah, don’t look!”
Sevika nearly chokes on her soda, shoulders shaking with laughter. “The boombayah?” she echoes, grinning wide as she presses her forehead into your shoulder. “What the hell is that?”
You narrow your eyes at her, leaning back against the couch with the most haughty look you can muster. “Oh, so you, biggest pervert of all time, don’t know the boombayah?”
Sevika scoffs so hard she almost spits her drink. “What? No. I don’t.” Her tone drips with disbelief, like she’s offended you’d even suggest otherwise.
You hum, roll your eyes at her, watching the tv again. “I don’t have time for you.”
“Don’t have time for me?” She sets her pizza down, turning her whole body to face you now, brow arched in mock challenge.
You fold your arms like you’re deadly serious, though your smirk betrays you. “Nope. Busy watching this masterpiece of cinema.”
She stares at you for a long second, scoffing again before leaning back into the couch again, muttering under her breath just loud enough for you to hear: “But… Biggest pervert of all time? Takes one to know one.”
That gets you twisting toward her with an indignant look, shoving her shoulder while she just snorts, entirely too pleased with herself.
Of course, you don’t really rest for long. Because Sevika suddenly loops her flesh arm around your shoulders in a mock headlock.
“Hey!” you squeak, squirming and snorting as she drags you against her chest. “Get off me, I’m not in the mood for wrestling!”
She only laughs, low and rough in your ear, giving your head a gentle noogie just to be a menace. “Why not ?”
You shove at her side, half-hearted, because she’s solid and unmovable and, truthfully, you don’t actually want her to let go.
Your protests come out between giggles, your body pressed warm and secure against hers until you stop struggling altogether.
“Thought you didn’t have time for me,” she teases, loosening her hold only to tuck you tighter into her side.
You roll your eyes, but you don’t pull away. If anything, you nuzzle closer, stealing the warmth she radiates. “I’m only here because you’re warm and comfortable.”
“Fair enough.” Her smirk is audible, her arm squeezing around you. “I believe you.”
The wrestling dies down into something softer, her arm draped lazily over you while you curl against her side like you were made to fit there.
The only move you do is when you stand up and go to the nearest sink, in the kitchen, to wash your greasy hands and go back to the couch.
The pizza box is empty on the coffee table, soda cans sweating, and the two of you keep up a steady rhythm of tossing out sarcastic comments at the screen between bites.
It’s comfortable. Easy. Just you and her, exactly how you like it.
Of course, because it’s a bad horror movie, the camera cuts to a random blonde girl stripping down for absolutely no reason other than the director clearly wanted to film tits. She’s topless on her boyfriend’s chest within seconds, the music swelling like this is supposed to matter.
You tighten your arms around Sevika’s middle like a clingy koala, sighing into her shirt. “God, it’s so cliché it’s almost funny.”
Sevika huffs a laugh, chin resting against the top of your head. “Yeah. You’d think horror movies could come up with something better, even if it’s an old movie.”
“Like…oh, I don’t know…plot?” you mumble, still clutching at her like the world’s most sarcastic cuddle bug.
She smirks, fingers tapping absently against your arm where you’re wrapped around her. “Nah baby, boobs are the plot.”
You snort into her shirt, shaking your head while she chuckles low in her chest, the sound rumbling right under your cheek. “She’s going to die in five minutes.”
You’re proven right: the blonde girl and her boyfriend don’t last long, dispatched in bloody. You and Sevika both call it before it even happens, “and… now!” and when the scene finally cuts back to a shaky camera creeping through the house, you’re already laughing into her chest.
The movie slows down again, trying to build up tension with long silences and creaking floorboards. Your giggles fade into the quiet, your body still curled up against hers.
And then, slowly, you straighten just enough to tilt your head back, meeting her eyes in the dim light of the TV glow.
“…For the sake of the plot,” you murmur, the faintest smirk playing at your lips,
Her brows rise, surprise flashing across her face before it melts into something darker, heavier. She huffs out a laugh, but her gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second.
You nod, mock-serious. “Of course. Gotta stick to the clichés.”
In no world would Sevika say no. Not to you.
Her smirk turns slow and dangerous, her hand tightening at your hip as if to make sure you don’t slip away now that you’ve offered.
“Yeah,” she rasps, voice lower than the rumbling soundtrack in the background. “Show me the plot, then.”
Your smile widens at the way her voice drops, at the heat already sparking in her eyes.
Without another word, you shift, climbing into her lap and settling over her hips. The couch dips under your weight, Sevika leaning back against the cushions with a low grunt, like she’s trying to play it casual even as her hands automatically find your waist.
The movie drones on in the background, forgotten. The only light in the room flickers from the TV, painting her face in your shadow as she looks up at you.
You’re grinning now, leaning in just close enough that she can feel your breath when you speak. “Just for the plot,” you remind her, like you’re doing her some kind of favor.
Then you grab the hem of your oversize shirt and peel it off in one smooth motion, tossing it to the floor.
Her gaze drops instantly, her smirk faltering into something hungrier, heavier, because you’ve got nothing underneath.
“Shit,” she mutters, almost to herself, her hands tightening on your waist like she needs to ground herself. Her tongue flicks across her bottom lip, eyes flicking back up to yours. “Guess I should’ve been watching this movie instead.”
You can’t help the little snort at her comment as you shake your head slowly.
And you can see it in her eyes, the way her composure’s already cracking, the way her chest rises a little sharper under your weight. Your smile turns knowing, slow and deliberate, as you lean in closer.
One hand slides up her chest, fingers curling along the strong line of her jaw. You tilt her head up, guiding her like you’ve done a hundred times before, and her breath hitches even though she’s pretending it doesn’t.
Then your mouth is on hers, heated, claiming, a kiss that says you know exactly what you’re doing to her.
And Sevika melts under your weight.
She doesn’t even try to fight it, not with you tugging her under like this.
Her lips part easily against yours, her grip at your waist tightening but not to control, just to hold on. For now.
A soft sound rumbles in her chest, almost a groan, as if she can’t hide how badly she wants this, wants you.
She kisses you back like she’s starved for it, like she’s willing to let you set the pace, her whole body leaning into yours even as her back presses against the couch.
For once, she’s not in charge. She never really is with you, actually. And right now, she clearly doesn’t want to be.
Your kiss stays steady, deep, unhurried.
But Sevika can’t keep still under you.
The hand gripping your waist drags higher, splaying across your bare back, pulling you tighter against her like she can’t stand even an inch of space between you as her other hand is firm on your thigh.
Her mouth moves with more urgency now, tongue sliding against yours, teeth catching your bottom lip as though she’s trying to devour you.
A low, guttural sound rips from her throat, vibrating against your mouth, and you feel her hips shift under you, just the smallest grind, like her body betrays her hunger before she can stop it.
You smile into the kiss, savoring the way she’s slipping. The way her control cracks so fast, so easily.
Sevika doesn’t even try to take back the lead; she lets you guide her, your hand still at her jaw, tilting her head to kiss her deeper. But her eagerness seeps through every touch, her fingers digging into your skin, her chest pressing up against yours, her breath growing ragged as if she can’t get enough.
When you finally pull back for air, she’s staring up at you like she’s already undone, lips kiss-swollen and damp, chest rising and falling under you.
“Fuck,” she rasps, voice wrecked. “You’re killing me.”
You smirk down at her, still holding her jaw just so, like you’re studying her. Her lips are parted, her eyes dark but, just for a second, soft and vulnerable in a way you know she’d never let anyone else see.
“You’re that desperate already?” you tease, your voice soft, tilting your head like you’re genuinely curious. “Movie’s barely started.”
Her throat works as she swallows, trying to keep up her usual composure, but her hands betray her.
They slide up your sides, rough palms dragging across your skin until they’re cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples like she can’t help herself, metal cool against your skin.
“Couldn’t wait,” she mutters, low and husky, her gaze flicking up to yours, almost searching.
There’s hunger there, sure. But under it, that tiny crack of need, the way she melts under your control and craves it all the same.
You bite back a grin, leaning in until your lips ghost over hers but don’t quite touch. “Mm. That’s what I thought.”
Her hands tighten around your breasts, thumbs circling, palms lifting them as though she needs the weight of you filling her hands. She kisses you harder, lips parting, tongue sliding against yours with a kind of desperation she doesn’t bother to hide anymore.
You let her touch, let her take more, rolling your hips ever so slightly against her lap and sighing at your own movement against her and her hands on your breast.
Her breath catches at the motion, and she tilts her head back against the couch, biting down on her lip like she’s trying not to beg.
You roll your hips again, slow, deliberate, and her jaw tightens, throat working as she tries to swallow it down, but you feel it. The way her body shudders under yours, how her eyes flutter shut.
Her hands tighten greedily on your breasts, almost bruising, kneading like she’s half a second from sliding them lower. But before she can, your fingers wrap around her wrists, pinning them where they are.
“Stay right there,” you murmur against her lips, your tone playful but sharp enough to make her freeze.
Her eyes flick open, dark and blown wide, locked on yours. She nods once, barely, though her breath stutters when you grind down again, pressing against her lap exactly where you both need it most. Even with your clothes still in the way.
The friction sparks through you, heat pooling low in your belly, and Sevika curses under her breath, hips jerking up involuntarily to meet your rhythm.
You don’t let her take control, though. You set the pace, rocking against her slow, steady, teasing.
She groans, head tipping back again, chest heaving as her hands flex uselessly under yours.
The way she looks; lips parted, hair falling messy around her face now, eyes fluttering shut like she’s overwhelmed, makes you smirk, leaning down just enough to press your mouth against her throat.
“My good girl,” you whisper against her skin, grinding harder, making her gasp.
She stays right where you told her to, chest heaving, jaw slack.
And you, with a sly little smile curving your lips, decide she’s earned just a little more.
Your free hand trails down, skimming over the hard lines of her stomach until it slips beneath the waistband of her sweatpants.
Her breath hitches sharp, a low curse ripping from her chest when you find nothing underneath.
Just the bare heat of her cunt waiting for you.
“Oh, Vika…” you murmur, amused, teasing, your fingers ghosting over her. “Already ready for me?”
She’s soaked for you. And you know it. Your smirk widening as you drag your fingers slowly through her slick.
Her hips jerk up helplessly, but you keep the pace agonizingly slow, deliberate.
Your breath is a little harsher now too, but your smile stays sharp, knowing, because you’ve got her exactly where you want her.
Your big, strong Sevika melting, trembling at the mercy of your teasing hand.
“Stay just like that,” you whisper, kissing the corner of her jaw as your fingers stroke her lazy and slow. “I’ll take care of you.”
Your fingers move with maddening precision. Slow enough to make her twitch, deliberate enough to make her melt.
Sevika’s breath comes harsher now, a mix of groans and bitten-off curses as her hips lift, trying to chase your hand.
But you keep her pinned, one palm firm over her wrists still on your breast.
“You’re so easy,” you whisper against her mouth, teasing, lips brushing hers but not quite kissing. “All I have to do is touch you, and you fall apart.”
“Fuck,” she grits out, chest rising sharp beneath you. Her eyes crack open, hazy and wild, searching your face with something almost pleading behind the hunger. “Don’t. Don’t stop, baby.”
You plan to. But you do keep it exactly how you want. Slow, steady strokes that drag out her groans, circling her clit just enough before slipping lower, plunging two fingers into her heat.
Sevika gasps, head still against the backrest, her body arching helplessly.
The muscles in her stomach tighten under your touch, sweatpants pushed low enough now that you can move freely.
Her grip flexes under your hold, strong and restless. Enough to hurt. But you pin her down firmer, keeping her hands where they are.
“Uh uh. Stay,” you remind her, voice low, coaxing, even as your fingers curl inside her just right.
Every part of her trembles with restraint, thighs tensing around your hips, her jaw clenched like she’s fighting to hold herself together.
And you just smile, leaning in to kiss her hard this time, swallowing the desperate sound she makes as you build her faster, deeper, still entirely under your control.
You work her faster, harder, until every sound from her is raw, wrecked, echoing low in her chest.
Her hips buck against your hand, thighs trembling, her body begging for release, but just as you feel her clench around your fingers, teetering on the edge.
Sevika’s eyes fly open, glazed and desperate, a ragged growl ripping from her throat. “Don’t—oh, fuck, don’t stop—”
Not entirely. You keep moving, just enough to keep her there, pulsing, trembling, aching.
But never enough to let her tip over.
You smile against her lips, your voice smooth, almost cruel in how soft it sounds. “Not yet, doll. Stay with me.”
Her chest heaves under you, sweat damp at her temples, her jaw tight like she’s grinding her teeth to hold back the whine threatening to escape.
She squirms under your lap, wrists flexing under your grip, but she doesn’t fight it.
She stays, just like you told her to.
Her vulnerability flashes again in her eyes, just a split-second of naked need before it burns away in another groan.
“Please, baby.” she rasps, hips lifting helplessly against your hand. “Please, I—fuck—I need it—”
You curl your fingers inside her slow, deliberate, teasing her clit with your thumb now, keeping her trembling right on that knife’s edge.
“I know you do,” you murmur, kissing her jaw, her cheek, just out of reach of her mouth. “That’s why I’m not letting you go yet.”
The sound she makes then. Half growl, half broken moan, nearly undoes you.
And still, you keep her there, dragging her through wave after wave of almost-release, watching her unravel more with every second she’s denied.
Sevika’s whole body is tense under you. Trembling, straining, sweat slick at her hairline. Her eyes are glazed, unfocused. Her voice breaking on every word she tries to form.
And you, smiling, breath warm against her cheek, decide she’s had enough.
“Alright, baby,” you whisper, dragging your lips along the shell of her ear. “I’m not that cruel. Let go for me.”
You press your thumb harder to her clit, fingers plunging deep and curling just right. And that’s it.
Sevika comes apart with a hoarse, guttural sound that rips out of her chest like it’s been torn free.
Her jaw slack, thighs shaking slightly under you as her hips buck wildly against your hand.
She clenches down around your fingers, soaking your hand, your wrist, the front of her sweats as she rides it out messy, unrestrained. Every inch of her unraveling.
You hold her through it, murmuring low against her skin, still pinning her wrists down as she shudders beneath you.
The couch creaks with the force of her release, her body jerking until finally she slumps back against it, breath ragged and broken.
When it’s over, she’s ruined like she’s just gone ten rounds in the ring.
And you, still perched on her lap, press a slow, lingering kiss to her mouth, smiling into it as you can feel the imprint of her big hands on your breast.
never finger your girlfriend without washing your hands, we don’t want pizza grease and stds
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