ʚ nat ɞ

You've been exhausted for a while. But your sleep schedule didn't change; you always got up before everyone, except your babyboy, Roman, of course.

You would always wake up, drowning in the sheets and snuggled tightly against your wife. She always has you in a comfortable deadlock, the sunlight pouring through the cracks of the curtains as Sevika tugs you closer to her. 

You would then grab your son, start breakfast, making different shaped pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, you name it, with the baby on your hip as you wait for your wife and Isha to wake up. Already finishing the coffee in your mug when Sevika does finally get up, holding a sleepy Isha to her chest.

Just like clockwork.

But today, that all changed. But you didn't wake up to total chaos, no, you woke up to.. silence. Eerie but peaceful silence. No crying of a 7-month-old, no whining of an 8-year-old, and no yelling from a 40-year-old. 

No chaos. No noise.

Just a calming silence all throughout the house. 

.. And the smell of burning bacon. Wha—

"Son of a bitch!" You hear your wife quietly curse out, and the ruckus of a pan clattering into the sink as giggles from both children ring throughout the house.

Your brows furrow, but a smile creeps onto your face as you slowly get out of bed, stretching as you shuffle out of your bedroom and into the kitchen, dragging the sheets along with you.

You spot Roman in his baby carrier, staring up at his mama and patting her chest as he giggles louder and louder at her. Sevika, shaking her head at herself for burning the bacon and at the children as they continue to laugh at her, a small smile resting on her lips. Isha is sitting on Sevika's shoulders, resting her arms and head on top of hers as she sleepily giggles, not even fully awake yet.

You immediately melt at the sight, your own smile widening as you bite back some quiet giggles. You lean against the doorframe, hugging yourself tighter with the warm blankets and resting your head against it, watching and waiting until one of them notices you.

Isha just giggles harder at Sevika, her eyes fluttering open and noticing you, letting out a sleepy but happy noise at the sight of you.

Sevika immediately looks in your direction at Isha's noise before she perks up, her smile growing as she spots you in the doorway.

"G'morning, baby.." She murmurs out, holding an arm out for you as you drop the sheets at the door, shuffling over, pressing a kiss on her jaw before laying your head on her chest, smiling widely at Roman, who has noticed his mommy is finally awake.

You let out a quiet laugh at your baby, "Good morning, my love..!!" You then smile widely at your son, laughing harder at how excited he gets as he reaches his chubby hand out to you.

You press another quick kiss to Sevika's jaw before grabbing Roman out of his carrier, cradling him in your arms as he giggles.

"Hi, sweetheart.." You coo, lightly raking your fingers through his hair, watching as Sevika walks back over to the stove to finish the eggs. Isha hums happily at you and Roman, watching the two of you from Sevika’s shoulders. 

You then place a gentle hand on Isha's ankle, rubbing your thumb gently over her skin. Letting her know that you also love her without any words needing to be said.

Isha's smile widens, waving sleepily at you as she continues to lay her head on Sevika's. The little girl then reaches out to you, now wanting your attention and cuddles, her eyes fighting to stay open as you laugh.

You quickly place Roman in his highchair, strapping him in and placing the table back on before going back over to your wife and daughter. Isha quietly whines, reaching out even further to you as you come closer.

You quickly go on your tiptoes, grabbing Isha before lifting her off Sevika's shoulders. "Jesus, babe- Why are you so tall?" You giggle out to your wife, letting Isha happily cling to you and hide her face in your neck.

She just laughs, continuing to work on the scrambled eggs in the pan. "Can't help it, darlin'.. Was born this way." She murmurs, melting at you and your 7-year-old.

You playfully shake your head before starting to make some plates for your children, gently asking the little girl in your arms if she wants pancakes or waffles.

Isha automatically wakes up at the mention of pancakes, quickly signing to you 'pancakes' as you laugh at her enthusiasm. You nod, placing some pancakes on her plate, asking if she wanted syrup and strawberries, her usual combo, and Isha, of course, signs an excited 'yes.'

Once you're done making her plate, you gently set her down and send her off to the table with her plate and a kiss on her temple. She just giggles and scurries to sit in her chair, immediately eating her strawberries.

You smile at Isha before quickly making Roman's plate, cutting up a syrup-covered waffle and some of his favorite cut-up fruits, before gently setting it on his little table, giving him some playful ticklish kisses on his cheek before letting him settle down and eat.

Sevika glances back and just watches her little family in their rhythm, a small smile creeping up to her lips as her heart melts and her chest grows warm. Watching as Isha hums happily at her syrup-covered strawberries, watching as you laugh at your babyboy as you help him eat a spoonful of blueberries.

Yep, she is the luckiest woman on Earth.

You catch her eye, sending a wink her way before giving Roman a soft kiss on each of his blueberry-colored cheeks. You then go over and give Isha a kiss on her forehead as the little girl moves on to eating her heart-shaped pancakes.

Sevika's smile widens as she turns back around to the stove to turn off the burner, letting the eggs cool down as she hears your footsteps making their way over to her.

She then feels your soft hands landing tenderly on her waist before trailing over to her stomach, your arms wrapping around her as Sevika feels your head rest against her back.

You hum happily at your wife, giving her some soft kisses across her back before getting to your favorite freckle of hers. You then start to trace over her freckles across her back before settling back down and wrapping your arm around her again.

Sevika rests her hands on top of yours, interlacing your fingers together and rubbing her thumb comfortingly over your skin.

"I love you.." You say, in a sing-song tone, squeezing her tighter against you.

She chuckles, shaking her head playfully at you, "I love you too, darlin’.. I love you all so much."

You immediately melt at your wife’s words, her tone low and dipped in honey that makes your heart grow warm and your legs grow weak. 

Even after all this time, she still has that effect on you. 

You grow sheepish, squeezing her again before begrudgingly letting go of your wife, pressing a quick kiss to her freckle before asking, “What do you want on your plate?”

But Sevika huffs, mumbling back, “‘m fine, babydoll. You go worry ‘bout your plate and go sit. I‘ll be just fine with making my own plate.”

You roll your eyes, sighing out a dramatic “fine” before making your own plate with whatever you want, sitting down next to Roman’s highchair.

Isha was off playing with Roman after breakfast, giving him some company as you and Sevika busy yourselves with house chores. Sevika was pinning up some clothes and stuffed animals on a clothes line, her muscles poking out of her tight pajama tank top, as you watch from the kitchen window, washing the dishes from this morning.

You sigh softly at your (smoking hot) wife, getting distracted by just watching her do normal chores, watching as her muscles strain and work under her tank top, making it even tighter when she stretches to place clothes on the clothes line. You get so distracted by your wife that you wash the same dish almost 5 times before noticing and placing it inside your dishwasher.

As you finish up with the dishes, you can overhear both Isha and Roman giggling in the living room, the two of them probably racing each other in a crawl race to the wall to the coffee table. 

Sevika finally comes back inside from the burning sun, placing the empty laundry basket down before going over to you and hugging you from behind, laying her head on top of yours.

You smile softly and lean against your wife, feeling her hands tracing your curve before stopping at your stomach. “You’re warm..” You hum out, letting out a soft giggle.

Sevika starts to press kisses everywhere, starting from the top of your head, trailing down to the side of your neck. “Well, I just was out in the sun for 20 minutes, maybe that's why?” She mumbles teasingly into your skin, just resting her head there and hugging you closer.

You playfully roll your eyes, mumbling a quick “shut up” before Sevika starts to tickle you. Tickling your sides and pressing rapid kisses to your neck and the back of your ear.

You squeal and quickly try to get out of her strong hold, laughing out some pleas for mercy as Isha runs into the kitchen with Roman in her arms. The kids immediately start to laugh and giggle at the two of you, smiles adorning their adorable faces as they watch before Sevika stops and presses some apology kisses to your cheek. 

She then slowly turns around to the kids, her fingers playfully wiggling as if to scare the kids with the threat of tickles before lunging at them. Isha quickly runs out of the room, squealing, and Roman screeches with giggles and laughter in her arms as Sevika chases after them.

You laugh and quickly follow after them, making sure nobody gets hurt as Sevika chases them around the couch before scooping them both up in her arms. 

The children both howl with laughter and giggles as she places them both on the couch before tickling them both, making sure they don’t hurt each other with their squirming. 

You watch from the sidelines, smiling widely and chuckling at the sight of them all. 4 years ago, you didn’t think that you would ever have this kind of life. 

A stable house. 

Kids. 

True love.

But life couldn’t get any better than this.

Sevika finally gives mercy after a few more seconds of the ruthless tickling before scooping them both up again in a bear hug, making sure Roman’s safe before giving them both kisses.

You check the clock and realize that it's already 1 P.M., which is Roman’s naptime. You had a start late to the day, you gotta give yourself some credit. Sevika also looks over at the clock and realizes to, pressing another kiss to Isha’s head before setting her back down on the couch.

“You wanna put him down or do you?” She asks, getting up with the baby, who is already yawning and rubbing his eyes, as he is cradled against her chest. 

“You can put him to bed, ‘ll hang out with Isha..” You mumble, going over to give Roman a goodnight kiss on his forehead before pressing a kiss to Sevika’s bicep. “Make sure to give him his bottle, or he’ll just fuss until he gets it.”

Sevika nods, her face hardened playfully like a soldier getting ready for war, giving you a salute before playfully marching to the kitchen with the baby. 

You just sigh and shake your head at her, as Isha giggles loudly at her shenanigans. You then shuffle over and plop right next to Isha on the couch. “.. Wanna be lazy couch potatoes all day?” You ask seriously, looking over the little girl as she nods, giggling more. You nod in agreement, “Yeah.. Let’s just make Sevika do everything for us while we sit here, just comfortable.” 

You then grab the remote from the coffee table, as Isha grabs the throw blanket, and lays it on both of your laps before settling herself down into your side. You smile and wrap your arm around her as you turn on the TV, turning on the show she absolutely loves when Sevika finally comes back from Roman’s nursery, melting at the two of you.

“Any room for me?” She asks, her smile growing as you and Isha quickly move over for her. She quickly comes over and settles in next to you, throwing her arm around the two of you, already melting into the couch.

“How was he?” You whisper, resting your head against her shoulder as you tug Isha closer. 

Sevika just shrugs, mumbling back her answer, “He was fine. Fussy at first, but when is he not?” 

You let out a huff of laughter before nodding, “Yeah, can’t wait until he can actually talk and walk, he's gonna be a handful at naptime.” 

Sevika just chuckles and kisses your head before resting her cheek on top of it. “We’ll be okay. We’ll be doing it together.” She murmurs, her words low but comforting, softening you instantly.

A small smile makes its way to your face as you nod a little, mumbling back a soft little “I know” before settling and watching the TV. A little bit into relaxing on the couch and watching TV, you can hear Isha’s breath grow more relaxed and slow, growing heavier as she fully melts into your embrace, her eyes fluttering shut as she falls into a deep, peaceful sleep. 

You and Sevika instantly take notice of her sleeping and laugh quietly to yourselves before going back to watching the TV. As the two of you watch, you feel yourself start to grow more and more relaxed, the rise and fall of Sevika’s breath lulling you into relaxation, and before you know it, you are fighting your eyes to stay open.

But the relaxation wins the fight when Sevika starts to run her fingers through your hair, lightly scratching at your scalp. She knows what she's doing, but you can’t find yourself to care. All you can think about now is how content you are. 

So, you let your eyes win the fight and flutter shut, letting yourself quickly fall asleep.

After a bit of being asleep, you feel yourself being softly placed into the soft sheets of your bed, making you wake up a little and look around to make sure you aren’t dreaming.

“Shh,” Sevika coos, her voice a gentle whisper, “Sorry, babe. Just wanted you to be more comfortable, didn’t mean to wake you.” 

You just give her a sleepy smile before opening your arms for her, mumbling back, “It's okay..!! You’re fine, come lay with me..”

She smiles softly before letting herself lay down in your arms, gathering you up and holding you tightly against her as she rests her head against your chest, hearing the soft thumps of your heart.

You hum and instantly cling to her, wrapping your legs and arms sluggishly around her before letting yourself melt into the bed. “Love you, ‘vika..” You hum out before you fall asleep yet again. 

Sevika chuckles quietly, holding you tighter as she moves her head from your chest to the crook of your neck, burying her nose as she bites back a wide smile. “I love you more..” She whispers into your skin before letting her eyes shut and sleep take over her mind. 

This was all you could’ve asked for and more.

Cool name, at least. You pull up their page and immediately wonder how you’ve made it this far in life without even hearing about them. Every single member? A complete knockout. It's almost suspicious.

You don’t even mean to, but soon you’re moving over to Google. Once you manage to collect yourself and pick your jaw up off the floor, that is. It’s immediately clear they’ve got a loyal (and horny as hell) fanbase, made up mostly of women who are deep in the trenches.

Jinx does lead vocals. She looks like an edgy punk fantasy brought to life, all smeared eyeliner and that permanent shit-eating grin. Her scandal list reads like a greatest hits album: breaking paparazzi cameras, getting banned from festivals, allegedly attending an orgy or two. That last one may or may not have been debunked, but nobody really cares.

Then there's Vi, the guitarist, and easily the one with the sluttiest internet presence. Just from surface-level scrolling, you can tell the girl’s allergic to shirts and addicted to sticking her tongue out in literally every picture. You kind of get it. If you had a tongue piercing, you’d show it off too.

C.K.’s their bassist and easily the most mysterious. She’s always wearing a mask in every photo, and there are entire threads dedicated to speculating who she really is or why she never shows her face. She's got basically zero solo content. No interviews, no side accounts. The only time you ever see her is through blurry crowd pics or carefully curated shots on the band’s main page.

But the one who really stops you in your tracks is the drummer. Sevika. She’s clearly the oldest in the group and by enough that it’s become part of her brand. If you had a dollar for every time someone called her “mommy,” you could quit your job and live off the passive income.

It doesn't take long before you’re deep in her personal pages, scrolling through photo after photo, each one somehow hotter than the last. If you had to pick favorites, you’d be stuck between a pic of her holding some grinning girl in a headlock (because you wish that was you) or a candid shot of her half-sprawled on the tour bus couch, shirt rucked up just enough to show a hint of stomach and whatever tattoo’s inked there. It causes a delusional fantasy of seeing the tattoo in full, up close and personal.

If you weren’t sold before, you definitely are now. It’s only after you’ve been scrolling for the better part of an hour that it occurs to you: maybe you should actually listen to some of their music. Just to be sure. After all, no amount of raw sexual magnetism is worth two hours of garbage sound at floor-shaking volume.

Hotwired sounds exactly how you expected them to sound: fast, loud, and chock-full of debauchery. Beautiful.

Just like that, you’re hooked. Fully on board. You start counting down the days like it’s Christmas, and somehow, each one drags slower than the last, like time itself is conspiring against you. You keep yourself sane by cycling through outfit options and FaceTiming Raven late at night to workshop looks and lock in the plan. She promises she’ll make sure you get the real experience, not just general admission hell.

Eventually, Saturday rolls around.

You show up to the venue with your makeup sharp and your outfit toeing the line of try-hard, feet already bouncing from nerves and excitement. The line out front snakes down the block, full of people in ripped fishnets and smeared eyeliner, all buzzing with the kind of feral energy that comes from knowing you might lock eyes with your parasocial crush for two seconds if you stand in the right spot.

Right on cue, the Hotwired tour bus rolls past, slow enough to make you wonder if the band's inside looking back at all of you, too. It's blacked out with a massive decal stretching across one side: a grimy chrome version of their logo with electric blue slashes through it, like claw marks.

The second it passes, the crowd screams like it’s the second coming of Christ. You can't lie—you want to scream a little, too.

Then the front doors crack open and Raven steps out, scanning the crowd. She spots you almost instantly, waving you over. You push through the line, ignoring the side-eyes and muttered complaints, until you’re at the front. The bouncer squints down at you, arms folded like he’s about to be a problem, but Raven just gives him a pointed look and a playful nudge.

“Come on, Jakey,” she says, all syrupy. “You know she’s with me.”

He rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “One of these days, Rae…”

“And it still won’t be today,” she cuts in, already grabbing your wrist and pulling you past him. He lets you both through without another word.

Inside, the venue is way cooler than you expected. It’s grungy in that on purpose way, walls covered in layered gig posters, old stickers, and marker-scrawled graffiti.

The stage is low and intimate, set against a wall of distorted LED panels, and the ceiling is just high enough to make you feel like the place might implode if the mosh gets too wild. The lighting is red-tinted and low, and the air already smells like cheap beer and heat.

You both make a beeline for the bar, down a quick drink that tastes like battery acid and sugar, and then squeeze your way up through the crowd until you’re right at the barricade. Prime real estate. Raven beams at you, smug as hell.

“God, I cannot wait,” you say, adjusting your top and already scanning the stage for signs of movement. “I'm probably going to come as soon as the first shirt comes off.”

"I wouldn't be too worried," Raven answers, grinning. "The same thing will probably happen to fifty other girls. Me included."

"I seriously can't believe you've been gatekeeping them from me. Bad friend." You shake your head in mock disappointment.

Raven nudges your shoulder with her own. "Don't be like that," she says, "you're the one who refuses to listen to anything new. It's like pulling teeth with you."

"Fair."

"But, let's not ignore the fact that I've got us in the splash zone," she says, jerking her head up towards the stage. "There's no better spot to get the band's sweat flung on you. Plus, you're much more likely to get shit thrown to you."

You throw your arm around her shoulder and grin. "You are the best."

Soon enough, the lights dip a little lower and a trio of guys jog out onstage. The crowd cheers, not as loud, but still excited. The opener's called Time Killers—some high-energy, slightly chaotic boy band with a surprisingly tight sound.

They don’t waste too much time introducing themselves, just launch into a fast-paced set full of pounding drums and catchy guitar riffs. They’re not the main event, but they do a damn good job of loosening up the crowd, bouncing around the stage, shouting into the mic between songs, cracking jokes about Hotwired being backstage drinking half the rider.

By the time their set wraps up, everyone’s a little sweaty, hyped, and more than ready for the main act.

The moment the lights dim again, the energy in the room spikes. There’s a shift in the crowd, a low wave of buzzing conversation, giggling, camera flashes, the rustle of people scrambling to get their phones out. You can hear the name Hotwired murmured like a prayer, over and over.

They don’t make a big entrance. No theatrical intro or pyrotechnics. The girls just start filtering onto the stage like they own it, which, based on the screams that immediately follow, they absolutely do.

You spot Jinx first, bouncing out like she’s been shot out of a cannon, grinning wide and immediately flipping off the crowd. Then Vi, strutting in all pink hair and tank top and shoulder muscles, throwing up a peace sign and mouthing something probably filthy to someone in the second row. Caitlyn walks on like a ghost, calm and unreadable behind that signature mask, bass slung across her back.

And then there’s Sevika.

She stalks. Head down, focused, with a thick cable slung over one shoulder and a case of hardware in her grip like it weighs nothing. She moves through the dim lighting like she’s been doing this forever, every motion efficient, practiced, precise. There’s something about the way she pauses to check the rigging on her kit, nodding once to herself before moving on to the next thing, that makes your stomach swoop. You can tell she’s the kind of person who doesn’t leave anything half done.

And then there’s the outfit.

She’s wearing a cropped black vest that clings to her chest and cuts off just under her ribs, exposing toned abs and a stretch of skin that shows more of that dark ink winding up her side. Tight black jeans hug her hips and thighs in a way that should be illegal, chains swaying at her sides with every step.

Her arms are bare, heavy with muscle and shining a little under the stage lights from sweat or moisture. Silver rings gleam on her fingers, and there’s a low-hanging necklace tucked just under her collarbone. Her drumsticks are shoved into her back pocket, and when she turns—Jesus fucking Christ—you catch a full view of her ass and have to actively fight the urge to grab the barricade for support.

"Pretty sure I just came,” you murmur, staring like you’ve forgotten how to blink.

Raven snorts beside you. “Close your mouth. You're drooling.”

You try to. You really do. But it’s hard when Sevika finally finishes setting up, drops into her stool with her legs spread, and starts rolling one stick across her knuckles while the other taps absently against her thigh. She glances out at the crowd, expression unreadable, but something about the way she scans the front row makes you feel like she sees you.

A ridiculous thought that is very fun to entertain.

The moment the final mic is tested and the lights slam to full brightness, Jinx charges to the front of the stage and throws her arms out wide like she’s about to dive into the crowd. The audience erupts—screaming, whistling, people on shoulders, someone in the back launching a glitter cannon that immediately gets sucked into the venue’s weak-ass ventilation system.

“HELL-O, MOTHERFUCKERS!” Jinx shrieks into the mic, voice cracking in a way that somehow makes her even hotter. “Hope you’re ready to get wrecked, because we came here to ruin your night in the best possible way!”

The crowd loses it again, people chanting her name, some already trying to crowd surf. Security looks exhausted and the first song hasn’t even started.

Jinx paces the front edge of the stage like a manic preacher, motioning behind her as she speaks. “You know us already, but we're gonna do introductions anyway because holy shit do we deserve to be screamed at tonight. On lead guitar, is my lovely sister, Vi!”

Vi throws up the horns and leans into her amp, strumming a heavy chord just to flex. The crowd answers with a shriek that nearly drowns out the feedback.

“We've got the ice queen herself on bass...the one and only C.K.!”

Caitlyn lifts her bass one-handed like it weighs nothing, offering the crowd a slow, deliberate bow. Someone near you yells, “Show us your face!” and immediately gets booed into silence.

“And in the back, banging the drums, which I know some of you wish you could be, it’s Sevikaaaaaa!”

You don’t know how Sevika can roll her eyes while still looking like she’s enjoying herself, but she manages. She twirls a stick between her fingers, then throws her arms up once and brings them down hard for a crack of the snare that shudders through your chest.

"And, of course, around here we save the best for last," she says, hopping off the stage and approaching...you. She holds out her hand as if for a handshake and you oblige as quickly as your brain allows you to catch up.

"I'm Jinx! Nice to fucking meet ya!"

Jinx grins and jumps back on the stage, spinning back toward the mic, breathless and grinning. “We’re Hotwired, you’re ours now, and this one’s called ‘Burn the Breaklights.’ Let’s see what you’re made of!”

The guitar tears in first, loud and dirty, then Caitlyn’s bass hits low and deep, and finally Sevika drops into the rhythm like she was built for it. The whole room moves. It's one of the songs you listened to on repeat earlier in the week, so you already know a good bit of the lyrics, already know the moment the beat’s gonna break, already feel your body falling into sync with it.

You and Raven lose yourselves in the moment, dancing like you’ve got something to prove, like the music's a possession. Her hair’s sticking to her face already and you're probably flashing everyone behind you every time you jump, but none of it matters.

Not when Sevika is on stage, muscles flexing with every strike, jaw tight, eyes laser-focused on the set. She looks absolutely lethal. Every time you try to look away, your gaze snaps right back to her. It’s like she’s holding the tempo of your heart along with the song. Every beat, every drop, every filthy crash of the cymbals—it’s her.

And yeah, you're watching the whole band. But you're watching her the most.

The rest of the show barrels forward like a freight train, no breaks, no mercy. Hotwired barely pauses between songs, each one bleeding into the next with sharp edges and screaming vocals, the crowd more than happy to go feral with them. You lose track of the setlist and, honestly, your sense of time somewhere between song four and five, when Raven boosts you up and the crowd takes you.

You float above the chaos for what feels like forever, arms raised, cheeks aching from how hard you're grinning. Hands guide you forward, and for once you don’t care about the potential for bruises or that someone definitely copped a feel on the way down. You land near the barricade again, wild-eyed and breathless, just as Jinx reappears center stage holding a massive water bottle.

She grins like a devil. “Y’all look thirsty,” she purrs, then proceeds to douse the first three rows, including you and Raven. It’s a full-body splash, soaking your shirt and leaving your hair damp.

Raven bursts into laughter, slapping your shoulder and yelling, “Told you the splash zone was real!” while you push wet strands out of your face and try not to melt on the spot.

Things only get weirder from there. Midway through the set, a man in a giant inflatable t-rex costume lumbers out from side stage like it's the most normal thing in the world.

Jinx doesn’t miss a beat—she grabs a mic stand like a weapon and launches into a full-on choreographed battle with him. The t-rex flails, Jinx spins around dramatically, and the crowd eats it up. It ends with her knocking him down (gently), then dropping to one knee and serenading him with what turns out to be a surprisingly heartfelt punk ballad about falling in love during a Godzilla rampage. You laugh so hard your stomach cramps.

Later, they open up the floor for an all-girl pit. Jinx leans into the mic, hair stuck to her face, absolutely unhinged as she screams, “If you see a man in this pit, fuck his shit up!” and the crowd loses it.

You hesitate for half a second before Raven shoves you in with a wicked grin. It’s wild and a little terrifying but weirdly exhilarating. Everyone’s laughing and pushing and grabbing each other’s arms to stay upright, and when someone does spot a guy creeping in from the side, three girls immediately bodycheck him out like it’s a sport.

By the end of the set, your voice is half gone, your limbs feel like rubber, and you know you’ll be sore as hell tomorrow—but you’re still not ready for it to be over.

The lights flare brighter, the stage bathed in reds and purples, and Jinx struts to the edge of the platform with a wicked grin like she’s about to start a riot. Her hair’s stuck to her face, eyeliner smeared to hell, shirt clinging to her body like a second skin. She’s practically glowing with sweat and adrenaline and the kind of manic joy that only comes from setting a crowd on fire for an hour straight.

“This our last one of the night,” she says, breathless and grinning. “But I’m gonna need a few pretty girls up here to help us close it out.”

That’s all it takes. The front row surges forward like a wave, everyone screaming and reaching, girls practically climbing over the barricade in the hopes of being noticed. Jinx motions to the band behind her. “Vi, Sevika. Make sure they're cuties!”

Vi gives a mock salute and hops off the stage, already laughing. Sevika follows, more reserved but clearly amused as her eyes start sweeping through the front row.

They make a whole damn show of it, taking their time, dragging it out, pointing at random girls then shaking their heads like they’re not quite right, just to drive the crowd insane.

You’re crammed up against the barricade, half-smashed by girls on either side trying to crawl over you. One of them elbows you in the ribs and you wince, gripping the rail to stay upright.

Then Sevika’s in front of you.

She’s massive up close, towering and flushed from the heat, vest clinging to her body and dark ink gleaming under the lights. She looks right at you, eyes dragging down once—deliberate, slow—then reaches out and grabs you by the waist like it’s nothing. You barely get a word out before she hauls you up, slinging you over one shoulder like you weigh nothing at all.

The crowd screams.

You catch a brief flash of another girl being thrown over Sevika’s other shoulder, but you can’t see who it is—just that you’re both being carried through a sea of flashing lights and flailing hands. You’re deposited back on stage with all the grace of a sack of laundry, but when you right yourself, blinking against the brightness, you realize the other girl Sevika grabbed is Raven. She’s laughing, eyes wide, clearly having the time of her life.

Vi drops two more girls off, and Jinx bounces over, practically vibrating with excitement. “Alright, you guys,” she says into the mic, pointing with a flourish. “I want you to dance for your fucking lives. This one goes out to every pretty, punk girl in this crowd tonight!”

The band slams into the final song like they’re possessed. It’s dirty and fast and fun as hell, the kind of track you can’t help but move to, and that’s exactly what you do. You let it take you, let your body roll with the beat and the bass and the screams of the crowd. Jinx loops an arm around your waist at one point, dragging you into a messy, chaotic spin before grinding against you in rhythm with the chorus.

Vi makes a little show of guiding one of the girls down on her knees; she stands with her legs spread on either side of the girl's lap and starts in on her solo. She makes those string sing and the girl under her seems to be having the time of her life. The crowd fucking explodes.

You don’t even care how sweaty you are or what you look like. You just dance, laugh-singing the lyrics you half-remember, head tipping back as the lights pulse and the drums pound. When the final chord hits, the sound crashes down like a wave, and the entire venue moves as one—cheering, screaming, lights flickering wild and strobing.

Sevika stands as the last echoes of the drums fade. She pulls one of her sticks from the kit, the end cracked and splintered and walks it over to you. She presses the worn, warm stick into your palm and winks.

You don’t even try to act cool about it. You just stare down at it, dazed, while security helps you and the others off the stage and back over the barricade.

"Goodnight, you heathens! You've be a wonderful crowd!"

You and Raven slip out through the side exit marked Employees Only, the one she mentioned earlier, where the bands usually dip out to avoid the chaos at the front. The alley behind the venue is dimly lit and smells like smoke and spilled beer, but it’s quiet, tucked away from the thrum of the still-buzzing crowd. You’re both flushed and half-drenched in sweat, breathless in that post-show haze, riding the high and crash all at once.

Raven fishes a crushed cigarette pack from her purse and slides one between her lips. “Got a light?”

You open your mouth to answer, to say no, but let me check, but a voice cuts through the quiet, low and unmistakably rough.

“Here.”

You both turn.

Sevika’s standing a few feet away, cigarette tucked into the corner of her mouth, shoulders slouched like she’s been here the whole time.

Her leather jacket’s heavy with patches and pins, sleeves rolled to the elbow, and the silver zippo she’s holding out gleams in the streetlight, engraved with something you can’t quite make out. Her gaze flicks between the two of you, but then it lands on you and sticks.

Your breath catches. There’s no stage lights now, no distance, no wall of noise. It’s just her. Big as hell, close enough to smell the smoke, and somehow even hotter like this—casual, confident, not sweating a damn thing.

“You looked real good on stage,” she says, eyes narrowing just slightly, like she’s still sizing you up.

It's entirely possible that you might just float away. “Oh. Uh, thanks. You—you too. Sounded. You sounded good. The whole time.”

Raven coughs into her fist, poorly masking a laugh.

Sevika smirks, nods once like that’s all she needed to hear. Then she jerks her chin toward the drumstick you’re still clutching for dear life. “Want me to sign that?”

You don’t even hesitate. “Yes. Yes, please.”

She pulls a sharpie from her back pocket and scrawls something across the wood—longer than just a name. She caps the marker with a flick, hands the stick back, and says, “Keep it to yourself.”

You nod. Maybe too fast. Words are hard when she’s looking at you like that, relaxed and a little amused, cigarette smoke curling between you.

“Y’all have a good night,” Sevika says, slipping the lighter back into her jacket. She gives Raven a quick nod and you one last glance before turning and heading off down the alley, boots heavy on the pavement.

It takes you a second to remember how to breathe. Then you look down at the stick.

Sevika’s number is written right there in blocky print.

“Oh my god,” Raven hisses, grabbing your arm. “She gave you her number. You're so fucking in there, dude!”

“I—what do I do? Should I text her? What if she invites me to her hotel room? What if she actually wants to hook up?”

Raven looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “First of all, we’ve got our protocols. You text me your location, share your location, take the selfie timestamp, we do the whole checklist. Second—babe, you only get one life. And that woman just handed you a golden opportunity.”

You nod slowly, dazed. “I need a shower first.”

“Yeah, no shit. We’re going to my place. It’s closer.”

You pocket the drumstick like it’s breakable and follow her out of the alley, heart pounding harder than it did in the pit.

-

You’re sitting cross-legged on Raven’s bed, freshly showered, skin still warm from the water and nerves buzzing under the surface. Your hair’s damp, your hands are clammy, and your thumb is hovering over the glowing green call button on your screen. Sevika’s number is typed in. Still feels unreal. Raven’s already changed into her sleep shorts and an oversized tee, lounging beside you like this is all very normal and not a life-altering decision in the making.

“Just do it,” she says, biting into a granola bar like this is nothing. “She gave you her number. She signed it on a fucking drumstick. She wants you to call.”

You take a steadying breath, nod once, then hit the button before you can talk yourself out of it. It rings once. Twice. Three times.

Four.

“Yeah?” Sevika answers, her voice low, a little gravelly, definitely tired but not annoyed. It curls in your ear like smoke. “Who is this?”

You clear your throat. “Uh. It’s me. From the alley. With the drumstick.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then:

“Oh.” Her tone shifts, interest sharpening like the flick of a lighter. “I was wondering when you’d call. Wasn’t sure if you would.”

You smile, cheeks heating even though she can’t see you. “Why’d you give me your number?”

“Thought you were cute.” She says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Felt like it was mutual.”

Your heart skips. “It was. Definitely was.”

Another pause, this one slower, more thoughtful. “You cool if I come pick you up?”

Your breath catches. You glance over at Raven, who’s staring at you with huge eyes and mouthing holy shit. “Are we...are we gonna hook up?”

Sevika laughs—a real one, low and genuine. “Only if you want to, doll.”

Your stomach flips and your voice comes out quieter than you mean it to. “Yeah. I do.”

Raven silently screams, her hands waving in the air before she plants both fists into the comforter like she’s watching a playoff game.

“Send me the address,” Sevika says. “I’ll swing by soon as I can.”

You nod, then catch yourself. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll send it.”

“See you in a bit,” she says, then hangs up.

You lower the phone slowly. Raven grabs both your shoulders like you just won a gold medal. “SEVIKA is on her way to pick you up. What the fuck. You’re gonna have to tell your future kids about this one.”

“I’m not gonna have kids,” you mutter, dazed.

“You might after tonight!”

You groan and flop back onto the bed, phone clutched to your chest like some cheesy teen rom-com. Raven throws you a pair of lip glosses and demands outfit approval.

"What happens in that hotel room will be concerning to the general public," you say, grinning.

Raven squeals. "And I can't wait for you to get back here so you can give me every juicy, disgusting detail!"

The distant rumble of a motorcycle reaches you before the headlight cuts through the quiet of Raven’s street. You step outside just in time to see Sevika roll up—heavy boots planted as she kills the engine, the machine still humming under her. She’s wearing the same leather jacket from earlier, helmet tucked under one arm, and she looks unfairly good with her hair pulled back, a fresh cigarette behind one ear.

“Hey,” she says, voice low and unreadable.

You manage a breathless, “Hi.”

She holds out a matte black helmet. "Want help?"

You nod, and she steps in close, fitting it over your head and buckling it gently beneath your chin. Her fingers brush your jaw—intentional or not, it still makes your heart skip. She checks the strap, gives it a little tug, then nods in approval.

“Put your arms around me,” she says, already mounting the bike again. “Hold on tight.”

You slide onto the seat behind her, hands fumbling slightly before you wrap your arms snugly around her waist. Her torso is solid under the leather, the bike humming beneath you, and you can smell her cologne.

Then you’re off.

The city streaks past in a blur of streetlights and neon signs, wind rushing past your body, your heart pounding louder than the engine. You don’t know how long the ride lasts—fifteen, maybe twenty minutes—but when Sevika slows and pulls into a quiet hotel parking lot, you’re not ready for it to end.

She kills the engine and dismounts first, then helps you off like she’s done it a thousand times before. She pulls a cap from her jacket pocket and a pair of sunglasses from the other, handing them to you with a small smirk.

“Just in case there’s anyone waiting around,” she says. “You wouldn’t believe the kind of creeps who’ll sell a blurry photo for a couple hundred bucks.”

You nod and slip both on, grateful for the moment to compose yourself. Sevika reaches for your hand—no hesitation—and laces your fingers with hers like it’s no big deal. She leads you inside, her grip firm but steady, only releasing your hand once you reach the elevator.

She steps in first and turns you around so that your back is facing the small overhead camera in the corner. The doors slide closed with a soft ding, and you can feel her eyes on you as you pull the cap off, then the glasses.

“C’mere,” she murmurs.

You face her, and she lifts her hands to your hair, smoothing the parts that got windswept on the ride. There's a stubborn bit that refuses to lay right and she tucks it behind your ear, her knuckles dragging slow along your cheek.

The moment lingers.

Then Sevika leans in and kisses you—soft at first, her lips warm and unhurried, but the second you respond, it tilts hotter. Her hand slides to the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist, and you melt into it, helpless against the way she feels. You lose track of time in the haze of it until—

Ding.

The doors slide open and Sevika breaks the kiss with a breath, but not a word. She takes your hand again, tighter this time, and leads you down the hall with singular focus. You pass a door that swings open just as you’re walking by.

Jinx steps out, half-dressed in a tank and cutoffs, hair a chaotic mess. “Yo, Sev, do we have any more—?”

“Fuck off,” Sevika says without slowing, without looking back.

Jinx laughs. “Rude.”

Sevika stops just long enough to unlock her door and yank it open, ushering you inside before pulling it closed behind you with a satisfying click. The lock turns, the sound final.

Sevika’s on you with a purpose, crowding you back against the door with the full heat of her body, her mouth claiming yours in a kiss that’s immediately filthy.

Hot and open-mouthed, all tongue and teeth, the kind of kiss that leaves your head spinning and your knees already getting soft.

You gasp into her, but she doesn't give you a chance to speak, her hands already gripping your hips like she owns them. You feel her smile, dark and dangerous, against your lips as you let your fingers explore—first the firm planes of her stomach, defined and solid under the hem of her shirt, then lower, to her ass, where your hands squeeze without hesitation.

That earns you a reaction.

Sevika groans into the kiss, deep in her chest, and grinds her hips against you, slow and deliberate. You feel everything: how solid she is against you, how good she knows it feels to make you feel this. Her mouth moves to your jaw, to your neck, biting and kissing like she wants to leave evidence.

“I see you're done with the shy shit,” she mutters, before grabbing you by the back of your thighs and lifting you clean off the floor.

Your breath catches with a startled sound that turns into a moan as your legs instinctively wrap around her waist. She holds you up with just one arm, effortless like it’s nothing. Her other hand slips up the front of your shirt, rough fingers dragging over your stomach and up to your chest.

She doesn’t even bother with the bra—her hand finds your tit and gropes, slow and possessive, her thumb circling your nipple until you’re arching into the touch.

She pulls back just enough to look at you. Really look. You’re panting, lips kiss-swollen and eyes already half-lidded, your makeup smudged from the ride and the kiss and her mouth all over your throat.

“Goddamn,” Sevika says, quiet, almost reverent. “You really are a pretty little thing.”

You smile, dazed, about to say something—

“Shame, really.”

You blink. “What is?”

She grins, teeth flashing as her eyes drag across your face. “That I’m gonna have to ruin all that pretty makeup.”

"Oh my god, please." It comes out a little more desperate than you intend for it to, but Sevika seems deeply pleased by the turn of events.

She slips her hand from under your shirt and steadies you against her hips before walking the both of you toward the bed. The way she moves is careful, but the heat in her eyes never dims. When she lays you down, it’s with a gentleness that throws you off after the rough edges of the last few minutes. Her hand lingers on your thigh as she still stands above you.

“You still want this?” she asks, voice quieter now, more grounded. It’s the most serious she’s sounded all night. “No hard feelings if you don’t.”

You shake your head so fast it’s almost pathetic. “I do. I—like, really do.”

Sevika’s expression softens, just slightly. “Then get undressed.”

You scramble to obey, stripping off your shirt first, then your shorts, both discarded over the edge of the bed without much ceremony. Her eyes never leave you. She watches the way you move, takes in every inch of exposed skin like she’s memorizing it, and the intensity makes heat rise in your chest. You fight the stupid reflex to cover yourself.

“I like the matching set,” she murmurs, stepping closer, the fronts of her thighs pressing into the mattress as she leans forward. She hooks a finger under your waistband and snaps it lightly against your skin. “Put this on for me?”

You nod, breath caught in your throat. “Yeah.”

“I appreciate the effort, doll,” she says, and leans down to kiss you again, mouth hot and teasing. She nips your bottom lip, not hard enough to hurt but enough to pull a gasp from you. “Think you’ve earned a little treat, hmm?”

“Please,” you say, dazed and already too far gone to pretend otherwise. She could ask for anything right now and you'd probably give it to her.

True to her word, she climbs onto the bed, settling between your legs with all the casual confidence in the world. The sight of her down there—strong shoulders framed by all that jewelry, hair messy from your fingers, her mouth so fucking close—is enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

Your hands slide into her hair without you realizing it, fingers curling, needing something to hold on to. She grins up at you, a slow, wicked thing that curls at the edges of her lips.

“You can pull,” she tells you, voice low and sure. “Bite me, scratch me, scream my name. I like it all.”

The mental image—her skin marked up by you, bruises blooming across her chest, fingernail lines trailing her back—makes your head spin. But then Sevika drags you out of that thought with the swipe of her tongue, slow and deliberate, straight through your soaked folds.

Your mouth falls open.

She doesn’t ease into it. Her whole mouth is on you, her tongue pressing in deep before she pulls back to suck your clit into her mouth, hard and focused. Loud, wet sounds fill the room, and every moan that spills from her makes your body twitch. She likes it, you can tell. Likes how wet you are, likes the way your hips buck despite yourself.

Then she’s burying her tongue inside you, her nose pressed tight against your clit, and it’s too much, not enough, perfect. You can’t help the way you grind down against her, chasing every ounce of pressure. Your grip in her hair tightens, probably bordering on painful.

But Sevika just groans, the sound rumbling straight into your core, and slides a hand up to your stomach to pin you in place.

“Just stay still,” she mutters, mouth brushing wet heat against you, “and take it for me.”

You try to stay still like she asked. You really do. But it’s impossible with the way her mouth is working you over, like she’s got something to prove.

She’s relentless—no breaks, no mercy—tongue curling and flicking in a rhythm that feels obscene in the best way. The hand pressed to your stomach keeps you from squirming too much, but your legs are shaking and your fingers are locked in her hair now, tugging with each desperate half-aborted roll of your hips.

Your vision blurs at the edges. Your head falls back against the bed with a ragged sound that might be her name. And when the heat finally crests and crests and then snaps, it hits like a punch in the gut. Your whole body tenses, thighs locking around her head as you cry out, louder than you mean to, legs trembling with the force of it.

Sevika moans into it, like she's savoring every second, riding it out with slow, indulgent licks that make your stomach twitch.

You try to catch your breath, chest rising and falling fast, but Sevika doesn’t move away. She kisses your inner thigh once. Then again. Her hands stroke over your legs, gentle now, grounding. She lets you breathe. Just for a moment.

Then she’s back, mouth brushing against your still-sensitive clit with a teasing hum.

“Think you’ve got another in you, doll?” she murmurs, already kissing her way up your inner thigh again. Her voice is warm now, low and coaxing, like she already knows the answer.

You whimper, your hips giving a weak twitch toward her mouth even as your legs tremble with aftershocks. "Y-yeah."

“That’s what I thought,” she says, smug and soft all at once.

She takes her time now. Her mouth moves slow and deliberate, licking through your folds with featherlight passes and pressing gentle, wet kisses to your clit. The overstimulation hits sharp at first, your thighs jolting under her hands, but she soothes you through it.

“So fuckin' pretty,” she murmurs, breath hot against your skin. “Even when you’re falling apart.”

Her hands stroke up and down your thighs, lazy and tender. She palms the meat of them, lets her thumbs trace soft circles until you’re relaxing under her again, the sharp edge of sensation melting into something sweeter.

“You’re doing so good for me,” she adds, voice low and full of heat. “Just let go. I got you.”

You bite your lip, overwhelmed and wrecked and somehow still burning for more. Your hips start moving on their own, rocking up into her mouth, and Sevika hums her approval. Her tongue moves with slow purpose, dragging you up and up again until your fingers are tangled tight in the sheets and you’re begging without even realizing it.

The second orgasm is softer. Like your body is unraveling instead of bursting. You moan her name as your thighs clench, your back arches, and your entire body goes loose under her hands.

Sevika kisses your pussy one last time—slow and warm—before finally pulling away, her face slick, her grin downright criminal.

“Fuck,” she mutters, dragging the back of her hand across her mouth. “You taste even better than I imagined.”

You can’t speak. You don’t even try. All you can do is lay there, dazed and ruined, as Sevika presses one last kiss to your thigh before finally crawling off the bed. You hear her crack her back and exhale like a boxer between rounds.

“You still got more for me, or do you think you’re about done?” she asks over her shoulder, heading for the mini fridge tucked into the corner of the room.

You’re half melted into the mattress, still catching your breath, but you sit up enough to catch the water bottle she tosses your way. It’s one of those tiny ones that might as well be a sip, and you kill it in seconds. Sevika watches with a smirk, arms crossed over her bare chest.

After a beat, you mutter, “Give me, like, twenty minutes.”

She laughs, low and warm and amused by your commitment. “You sure? Not every day you get to wear out a groupie.”

You roll your eyes, but your grin gives you away. “It’s not every day you get to fuck a rockstar, either. I’m making it count.”

“Yeah, you are,” she says, grabbing the remote and flopping down on the bed beside you. She sheds her jeans and shirt in one smooth motion, leaving her in nothing but a sports bra and a pair of boxers that sit a little crooked on her hips. She doesn’t seem to care.

The TV comes on to some late-night rerun, but you’re not really watching it. You’re more focused on how Sevika leans back against the headboard and opens her arms like she’s inviting you in.

You take the invitation.

Your head ends up in her lap, and her hand finds your hair almost instantly. She scratches gently at your scalp, twirling strands around her finger, trailing soft touches down the side of your face. It’s lazy and warm and kind of unfair how good it feels. You could fall asleep like this, safe between her thighs with the dull buzz of the TV in the background.

But after maybe ten, fifteen minutes, your fingers start to drift.

You let your nails rake lightly along her thigh, aimless at first, but then you start tracing slow lines higher and higher. Sevika hums, a lazy warning you don’t heed.

“What are you up to?” she asks, voice low, indulgent.

You glance up at her from her lap and smile. “Can I eat you out?”

Sevika raises an eyebrow, clearly pleased by the request. “Fuck, yeah,” she says, already shifting her hips. She lifts up so you can tug her boxers down her legs and toss them somewhere across the room.

You get a little rush from the sight of her: already wet, glistening, the proof of her arousal slick on her thighs. Just knowing that she got like this from going down on you is enough to make your head spin all over again.

So you start slow, just for a second, before you sink your teeth into the soft flesh of her inner thigh and bite. Hard.

Sevika lets out a sharp breath and flexes beneath you. Her hand tightens in the sheets beside her, but she doesn't stop you. Doesn’t want to. You sink another bite a little higher, then lick over the mark you just made, feeling her muscles jump beneath your tongue.

Your hands grip her thighs tight, nails digging in, not gentle at all now. You want her to feel you.

“Fuck, that mouth,” she groans, hips twitching toward you.

You get to work for real, licking a stripe up the center of her, then circling her clit with your tongue just enough to tease.

“Don’t hold back, doll,” she tells you, voice ragged but sure. “C’mon. Show me how bad you wanna impress me.”

You do. You really do.

She groans your name, threading her fingers tighter in your hair as your mouth drags wet and firm over her clit. Her thighs bracket your face and you feel her start to grind into it, chasing the pressure, not shy about what she needs.

“You’re so good at this,” she murmurs, voice dipping into that same low register that makes your spine light up. “So fuckin’ eager. Knew you’d be like this.”

Your hips press into the bed without thinking. She keeps going.

“Keep that tongue right there. Just like that, yeah. That’s it, baby. You’re making me proud.”

You moan against her, desperate now, and she laughs, wrecked and fond.

“God, you like hearing me talk, don’t you?”

You nod, mouth still busy, and Sevika rewards you with a groan so filthy it vibrates straight through you.

“Then earn more of it,” she growls. “Don’t stop now.”

Sevika’s breathing gets heavier. The muscles in her thighs are twitching under your grip, her hand tight in your hair now as she guides you exactly where she wants you.

“Fuck, baby! just like that,” she growls, low and rough. “Don’t stop. Don’t even think about it.”

You keep going, your mouth locked on her clit, tongue moving in tight circles, your grip firm as you hold her in place. Her hips are starting to roll, slow and unrestrained, chasing the rhythm. Her growls turn to moans, strained and filthy, falling from her lips like she’s already on the edge.

“Gonna come all over that sweet mouth,” she grits out. “You gonna take it for me? Be good and take it?”

You answer with a desperate noise, nodding against her just enough to make her groan again. She plants both hands on your head and presses you harder between her thighs, grinding against your mouth.

“Ohh, fuck—fuck, fuck—”

Her voice cracks as she comes, body tensing hard around you. Her thighs clamp tight on either side of your face, and you can hear the breath rip from her lungs in a guttural sound that’s half curse, half praise. She holds you there, trembling through the high, hips stuttering against your mouth until the worst of it passes.

When she finally lets up, her hand slides gently to your cheek, her thumb rubbing over the damp skin. She strokes along the curve of your jaw, then drags that thumb over your bottom lip.

“Open,” she murmurs, watching you with heat still burning behind her eyes. You do. She presses her thumb inside, slow and deliberate, and grins when you suck it instinctively.

“Good girl,” she says, and you’re already shivering again.

Sevika pulls you up her body in one smooth tug, hands warm and sure as they slide up your sides. When your lips meet, it’s messy, open-mouthed, all tongue and teeth and hunger. Her hands trail down to your ass, gripping it in both palms, like she’s trying to ground herself with the feel of you.

She feels you humping against her thigh, subtle but obvious, your body already begging for more. She breaks the kiss with a crooked smirk. “Oh? You ready for me to fuck you now?”

You nod, breathless, flushed, still clinging to her.

“I figured,” she murmurs, voice dipping into something darker. “Get on all fours for me, doll. Be good.”

You do exactly as you’re told.

Hands pressed into the sheets, knees spread, chest lowered like submission comes naturally. The room is quiet for a beat, save for the rustle of fabric, the dull zip of a bag opening behind you. You hear the soft thud of something heavy being set down, followed by the low click of buckles, the faint stretch of elastic, and the subtle shift of weight as Sevika moves behind you.

You don’t have to look to know what’s coming.

Then you feel it. The press of something thick against the swell of your ass. It drags slow and deliberate along your soaked folds, the pressure of it undeniable.

“Feel that?” Sevika murmurs, one hand sliding across your hip. “You’re about to take every inch of it.”

Your breath catches as the tip nudges your entrance, slick already clinging to your thighs. She doesn’t give you time to overthink it—just starts pushing in, slow but steady, giving you the stretch inch by inch. You gasp, biting into the pillow, your body gripping around her as she fills you completely.

And then she starts to move.

Sevika fucks like a force of nature, brutal and relentless. Her grip on your hips is bruising, nails digging into your flesh with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin echoes through the room, matched only by the ragged moans pouring from your mouth.

“Look at you,” she growls, voice close to your ear now. “Taking it like you were made for it.”

A hard spank lands across your ass, sharp and stinging, and you cry out, the pain shooting straight through your core.

“So fuckin’ wet for me,” she spits. “Dripping down your thighs. Bet I could slide another toy in and you’d still beg for more.”

“Sevika,” you moan, wrecked and breathless, clinging to the sheets. “Please—more, fuck, don’t stop—”

“Oh, I’m not stoppin’,” she promises, slamming into you harder, the snap of her hips making your arms buckle. “Not until we've ruined these fucking sheets. Not until you scream for me.”

Your moans pitch higher, blurring into sobs of pleasure as the coil in your belly pulls tight. You feel your climax crash through you—sudden, all-consuming—and Sevika doesn’t let up. Not for a second.

She presses one hand flat to your lower back, holding you down, keeping your chest against the mattress while she fucks you through it. Every thrust punches the air from your lungs, your legs shaking beneath her, your orgasm stretching into something messy and endless.

Sevika doesn’t waste time after that.

She flips you with ease, palms steady on your hips, and settles between your legs again, the strap dragging hot and slick along your sensitive folds. Your body jolts with the contact, overstimulated and twitching, but she doesn’t push in just yet. She leans down, eyes locked to yours, breath brushing your lips.

“You still with me?” she asks, voice husky.

You nod, a little shaky. “I—yeah. I just don’t know if I can come again.”

Sevika smiles, slow and devastating, and kisses your cheek. “Don’t need you to come, baby. Just need you to feel good. Can you do that for me?”

"Yes. Fuck, yes, Sev," you answer as she drags the toy through the slick mess you've made between your legs.

Then she lifts your legs, hooking them high over her shoulders. “Hold these up for me,” she says, guiding your hands to the back of your thighs.

You do, for a little while.

She presses into you again, deep and steady, sinking all the way in until her hips meet yours. You both groan in tandem, your bodies clenching around each other. The position drives the strap deep, dragging against that spot inside you just right. It’s too much, but somehow not enough.

Sevika’s pace starts slow, calculated. She's watching you the entire time, studying your face, your mouth, the way your chest rises and falls.

Her own pleasure is mounting fast: her breath growing heavier, her face flushed, brow furrowed in focus as she grinds into you with a rhythm that has you seeing stars.

You're whining now, panting, squirming under the weight of sensation. “Fuck, I can’t—can’t hold them anymore—”

Sevika shushes you, not slowing down. “It’s okay, baby. I got you.”

She takes your legs in her arms, folding you tighter, pressing you into a deep, delicious arch as her hips grind harder into yours. You're pliant under her, fingers gripping at her back now, clawing down her sides, holding on like your life depends on it. She fucks you slow and deep, chasing something now—her own release evident in the way her rhythm starts to falter.

You bite your bottom lip hard enough to taste blood, eyes fluttering open just enough to watch Sevika. God, she’s a sight—head thrown back, jaw clenched, her abs flexing with each motion, a quiet string of curses falling from her mouth as she works her hips into yours like she’s trying to fuck you into the mattress.

And when she starts to fall apart, it’s all the more beautiful for how she keeps holding you through it. Still kissing you. Still murmuring filth in your ear. Still grinding into you with the kind of focus that says she’s not done giving you everything she has.

-

The sun's just starting to creep over the skyline when Sevika pulls up to Raven’s place, the low rumble of her motorcycle cutting through the early quiet of the neighborhood. The sky is still a little pink around the edges, and the world hasn’t quite shaken off the night yet. You’re tucked behind her on the bike, arms snug around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder as the engine dies.

Sevika pulls off her helmet and looks at you, a slow grin tugging at her lips. She reaches over and helps you undo yours, fingers lingering a little longer than necessary beneath your chin.

“You good?” she asks, her voice still that gravelly, just-woke-up tone that makes your stomach flip.

“Yeah,” you say, smiling. “Kinda feels like I dreamed all of that, though.”

She chuckles and leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. It’s surprisingly soft for someone who handled you like that only hours ago. “Nah,” she says. “I’m real. And so was all of that.”

Your fingers fidget in your lap. “So…is this like, a one-time thing? Or...? I gotta be honest with you, Sevika, I've never hooked up with anybody like you before.”

“Doll,” she says, cutting you off with a look that’s half fond, half amused. “You think I give my number out to just anyone?”

You try not to smile too hard. Fail.

Sevika taps the side of your thigh with two fingers, a wordless cue that it’s time to hop off. You do, handing her the helmet back and smoothing your hair down as best you can.

“I’ll call you,” she says, sliding her helmet back on. “Promise. This isn’t the last time you’ll see me.”

And with that, the engine revs back to life, and she peels off down the street, her silhouette disappearing into the city just as the sun fully crests the buildings.

You’re left standing barefoot on the curb, last night’s clothes still smelling like her skin and cigarette smoke, Sevika’s phone number burned into your contacts and her touch in your memory.

Raven opens the door for you, coffee in hand. “So,” she says. “You gonna tell me everything, or do I have to drag it out of you?”