#tutor!sevika

your mother never let you close your bedroom door.

it wasn’t a rule she’d ever said aloud, but the moment the wood clicked shut, she was there in the doorway, frowning like you’d just pulled a knife on her. what are you hiding? her eyes would ask. and you’d mumble some excuse — studying, resting, needing quiet. but in your house, privacy was a guilty thing. dangerous, even.

so you studied with your door open, sat at the dining table under your father’s sharp glances, and played the role of the good child. No parties, no secrets, no chance to ever let slip the one thing that would shatter their idea of you: that the thought of holding another girl’s hand made your heart race harder than any boy ever had.

That secret weighed heavy. especially in school, when you failed miserably at chemistry.

Your grades had been slipping for months, and your parents noticed. That was dangerous too — your father’s lectures were brutal, sharp, full of disappointment. So you did what you always did: you went online, desperate for help, scrolling forums and tutoring sites late at night when the house was quiet.

That’s when you found her.

The username was fixyrhands.

Her replies weren’t sweet or coddling like some teachers. they were blunt. To the point a little…older..?

You: hii do u tutor?? fixyrhands: Not really. You: ohh ok sorry.. thx for answering anyway! fixyrhands: Hold on. What subject. You: chemistry 😭😭 fixyrhands: Send me the problem.

No emojis. No lowercase rambling. Just solid sentences, like she was writing you an email.

and she actually stuck around. answered every follow up you sent, sometimes with a dry little joke tucked in, but never brushing you off.

a week later, she offered —

fixyrhands: I get the feeling you don’t actually read your notes. You: …yeah… fixyrhands: Turn your camera on next time. I’ll walk you through it properly.

you almost didn’t. the thought of showing your messy room, your tired face, to a stranger online made your stomach flip. but you were failing. and something about her, steady, sharp, patient in a way that wasn’t soft but wasn’t cruel, made you curious.

so you did.

And the moment your camera turned on, her reaction was…not what you expected.

She froze. Just for a second.

Sevika wasn’t what you expected either. She was older, clearly — her hair tied back, dark circles under her eyes, a cigarette smoldering off to the side. Her shoulders were broad, the frame of the camera barely holding her in. she looked… hot. hot as fuck.

And when she leaned forward, elbows braced on the desk, her jaw set, her eyes cut into you like she could see right through your screen.

You thought she’d make a snide comment about your outfit, or your messy desk, but instead her lips pressed together like she had to catch herself before speaking.

“…Alright,” she said, voice low and gravelly. “Show me what you’ve got so far.”

Your throat went dry.

you fumbled through your notes, embarrassed. The words tripped over your tongue. you could feel your ears heating, aware of how she was watching you — not impatient, but focused, in a way that made your chest tight.

when you finally messed up for the third time, Sevika sighed and leaned back, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Kid, you’re not stupid. You just panic. Slow down.”

Her voice dropped lower, calmer, almost…gentler.

You nodded, chewing your lip, forcing yourself to meet her eyes through the screen.

And that’s when you caught it. A flicker of something, something that looked like she was just as thrown off as you were.

The call lasted an hour. She walked you through formulas, corrected your notes, made you laugh once with a sarcastic joke about your textbook looking like it’d been mauled by a dog.

By the end, you were smiling. You hadn’t realised how much.

“Not bad,” Sevika said, tapping ash into a tray. “You’re not hopeless. Just lazy.”

“I’m not lazy!” you blurted, too fast, too defensive.

One eyebrow arched. “Mm, we’ll see.”

Before you could stop yourself, words slipped out, half joke, half something you shouldn’t have said: “Maybe I just wanted to hear your voice again.”

The silence stretched.

Your heart thudded painfully, embarrassment flooding you. You wished for the wifi to crash, for the power to go out — anything

But Sevika’s lips curved, slow and dangerous. She let out a low laugh, shaking her head.

“Careful, kid. You say things like that, I might start believing you.”

And god, your cheeks burned so hot you had to look away.

After that first video call, it became a rhythm.

Sevika never called it “tutoring” anymore. She’d just say, “When are we meeting?” and you’d know she meant another late night with formulas, your tired giggles, and her gravelly voice steady in your ear.

Time zones were a curse. When you were in school, she was wrapping up her workday. When you finally crawled into bed, she was dragging herself out of hers. The overlap was tiny, but you squeezed every second out of it.

Classes turned into a game of risk. Your phone buzzed in your skirt pocket, and you’d slide it under your desk, praying your teacher’s back was turned.

Sevika 🖤: Pay attention. You: im literally dying here 😔 Sevika 🖤: Not my fault you’re half awake. You: ur fault actually. stop keeping me up till 3am. Sevika 🖤: 3am for you, 3pm for me. don’t blame me for your timezone, kid.

Sometimes, she caught you.

Sevika 🖤: Is that you yawning in the middle of lecture? You: HOW DO U KNOW Sevika 🖤: You posted a photo of your notes. Can see the shadow under your eyes. You: …ok mom 😒 Sevika 🖤: Don’t call me that.

You grinned into your sleeve at that one, hiding it from your classmates.

Then came the mirror selfies. Not your face, never your face — you weren’t stupid. But a shot of your uniform in the bathroom mirror before class, the hem of your skirt, your collarbone showing.

You: u like this uniform? ugly right Sevika 🖤: …You really asking me that? You: 🫦 Sevika 🖤: Don’t fish for compliments. Go study. You: AWOOGAAA yes mami Sevika 🖤: .

Still, she kept them. You could tell.

In return, Sevika sent you mirror shots after work. Not polished, not posed, her bathroom light harsh, her hair messy, sleeves rolled up to show the scars along her arm, the heavy line of her shoulders.

Your heart jumped every time.

You: ur scary looking Sevika 🖤: good. maybe you’ll actually focus. You: …but also kinda hot Sevika 🖤: Careful, kid.

Nights belonged to her.

Sometimes she talked you through homework. Sometimes she just asked about your day in that low, rumbling voice, making you whisper and giggle into the darkness.

One night, when you were half asleep, she said it quietly, like it wasn’t meant to slip out:

“Wish I could see you without the damn screen between us.”

You froze, wide awake.

“…me too,” you whispered, softer than a prayer.

By now, Sevika had seen your handwriting, your messy desk, your uniform skirt in blurry bathroom mirrors. She’d seen your hands fidget with pens, your shadowy reflection in glass, little pieces of you, but never your face, well not your full face, and she hadn’t seen your face properly.

You, on the other hand, had seen hers.

Not just once, but often. She didn’t hide. She turned her camera on casually, sometimes forgetting, sometimes looking right into it when she wanted to make a point. Her face was tired, older than the people you usually knew, but every time she caught the corner of her lip with her teeth or brushed her silver streaked hair back with a calloused hand, you swore you could feel it in your chest.

And you couldn’t stop staring.

Your photos shifted slowly. No more uniform. Now it was home clothes — loose shorts, oversized shirts, the way your legs looked crossed on the bed, the dip of your collarbone when you stretched.

You cropped your face out, always, but Sevika didn’t complain.

You: ugly outfit but idc Sevika 🖤: Doesn’t look ugly. You: ur lyinggg Sevika 🖤: Angel, I don’t waste my time lying.

You sat on your bed, staring at her text until your stomach flipped. Angel, really?? gosh you couldn’t even reply to that.

She didn’t send many pictures back, but when she did, you stared at them until your phone overheated. Her leaning against the bathroom sink, jaw tight, smoke curling from her lips. Her work shirt undone at the collar, veins standing out on her forearm. Sometimes just her desk, littered with tools, a pack of cigarettes, and her hand in the corner of the frame.

another night, past 3 a.m, you curled up in bed with your phone against your pillow. The house was silent, your parents asleep down the hall, the kind of silence where one wrong laugh could wake the whole house.

Sevika’s voice filled your ear, rough but soft at once. She wasn’t explaining formulas tonight. She was just…talking.

“Long day,” she muttered, twirling the cigarette between her fingers, eyes half lidded as she stared somewhere off screen. “Clients don’t know what the hell they’re asking for half the time. But hey, keeps me busy and i get money.”

You couldn’t answer at first. You were too busy looking.

The way the lighter glow kissed her jaw. The way she rolled the cigarette slow between her fingers, like she’d done it a thousand times. The line of her throat when she leaned back and exhaled smoke.

God. Was she gentle in bed? Or rough? Would those hands hold you steady, or press you down?

Your thighs pressed together under the blanket. Heat crawled over your face, your whole body buzzing with the kind of thoughts you weren’t supposed to have at all.

And then she looked at the camera.

Not at the screen. At you.

Her lips quirked into the faintest smirk, as if she could see the way you were squirming beneath the blanket. As if she knew exactly what you were thinking.

“baby,” she rumbled, voice low, “you’re awfully quiet.”

BABYY???!!! Your breath caught. “J-just listening!” you flinched.

She studied you through the lens, steady and patient. You knew she’d seen you before — seen your hands, your room, your homework — but now it felt different. Like she was really staring. Like she could take her time drinking you in, memorising every little thing about you.

And you couldn’t stop staring back.

“baby,” Sevika said again, eyes narrowing just a touch. “you’re awfully quiet. Didn’t think you were capable of shutting up.”

You swallowed hard, burrowing deeper into your blanket. “I-I’m just tired.”

Her smirk deepened, smoke curling from her lips. “Tired huh? or is it something else?”

Your breath hitched. She tilted the cigarette lazily between her fingers, gaze fixed on you like she already knew the answer.

“You ever use toys?” she asked, voice deceptively casual.

Your eyes went wide. “W-what no!” you hissed, clutching your phone closer as if the walls could hear. “My parents, if they found out, they’d kill me. They’d kill me just for talking to a —” you stopped yourself, heart hammering.

“to a what?” she pressed, leaning closer, smoke drifting past her face.

you wanted to say: a hot mami like you… but before that spilled out, your voice broke into a whisper. “…a girl.”

Silence. Long enough that your cheeks burned.

Then, low and dangerous, she asked:

“What about a woman like me?”

ohh fuckkkk, the words lodged in your throat. God, she knew exactly what she was doing.

Your mind spun, dirty thoughts rushing in before you could stop them. That voice?!! That jawline. Those hands twirling the cigarette so effortlessly. Gentle, rough, both, neither? you couldn’t decide which one scared you more.

You stammered, “…Th-that’s different.”

Her brow arched. “Different, huh?” She stubbed out her cigarette, dragging the lighter flame through the smoke until it died. Then she leaned back, arms folding across her chest, watching you squirm.

You thought she’d push further. That she’d make you admit something you weren’t ready to say. But instead, her lips curved into that half smile, sharp and unreadable.

“Well,” she murmured, voice steady as a heartbeat. “you should get some sleep. Big test tomorrow, right?”

Your stomach dropped. “Wha — now? But —”

“No buts, kid.” Her smirk widened, amused at your outrage. “You’re about two blinks away from passing out. And when you’re in this kind of mood…” she paused, eyes gleaming, “…i’d rather make you wait.”

Your breath caught. Heat flooded your chest.

“Goodnight,” Sevika added, voice firm and final. She didn’t give you the chance to beg. The call ended, her face vanishing into black.

And you were left staring at your reflection on the blank screen, heart racing, thighs pressed tight, every nerve screaming with the need she’d left simmering on purpose.

You didn’t sleep much after that call.

Every time you closed your eyes, it was there again — Sevika’s voice, low and steady, asking, “What about a woman like me?”

God. Your stomach flipped just remembering it. You buried your face in your pillow, muffling a groan, too warm under the blankets. It wasn’t fair, the way she twirled her cigarette like she had all the time in the world, the way her eyes pinned you down through a screen. She wasn’t even here, and yet she left you restless, needy, craving something you couldn’t name.

What would it be like, you wondered, if she were really in front of me..would she put that cigarette out and lean over me, all rough hands and sharp smirks? Or would she take it slow, gentle in ways that didn’t match her scarred, broad frame? You didn’t know which fantasy made your chest ache harder.

You checked your phone for the twentieth time.

You: ur evil. i couldnt sleep. Sevika 🖤: Sleep is overrated. You: wait i don’t understand 🫩.. anyways i was tossing and turning. do u know what u did to me?? Sevika 🖤: Yeah. And I’m glad.

You clutched your phone to your chest, kicking your legs in the air like a lovesick teenager. Which, you realised you kinda are.

Two days later, it happened.

You came home from school, sweaty from the walk, bag heavy with books, only to find your mother standing at the front door with a frown carved into her face.

she was holding a brown parcel. a shipping label stuck on the side.

Your heart stopped when you saw the stamp. Canada.

And under the return address, bold and black:

From: fixyrhands

Your blood went cold.

“Who’s this from?” your mother asked, turning the box in her hands. her brows furrowed deeper. “this name…‘fix your hands’? what is that supposed to mean? Sounds…strange. suspicious.”

she moved her thumb toward the seam, like she was about to pry it open.

“no!” the word flew out before you could stop it. You darted forward, snatching the package out of her grip. your pulse hammered so hard you could hear it.

Your mother’s eyes narrowed. “What are you hiding? Show me.”

“It’s just…assessment books,” you lied, hugging the box to your chest like it might disappear. “for chemistry. I ordered them. you want me to pass, right?”

Her gaze lingered, sharp, searching your face. for a terrifying second, you thought she’d call your bluff. that she’d demand you open it right there.

but then she sighed, shaking her head. “fine. but don’t waste money on things you don’t use.” She turned away, muttering under her breath, and disappeared into the kitchen.

you stood frozen, the package pressed so hard against you that your arms ached. only when the coast was clear did you bolt to your room, slam the door, and lock it — breaking your mother’s rule for the first time.

your hands trembled as you tore at the tape. inside, a neat row of textbooks sat on top, covers labeled with chemistry assessment guides and exam practice workbooks. If anyone peeked inside, that’s all they’d see.

but underneath, hidden between the spines and bubble wrap, were the real gifts.

first: a sleek black vibrator, smooth and discreet, the kind you’d only ever seen on shady websites you were too scared to click.

second: a fucking monster. a dildo so ridiculously huge that your face flamed just holding it. Your brain stuttered, trying to imagine Sevika’s smirk as she picked it out, mailed it, wrapped it in books like some dirty magician.

you totally did not expect those..

and at the bottom, tucked neatly against a bag of canadian maple cookies and a packet of ketchup flavoured chips, was a folded note.

Your breath caught as you unfolded it.

Kid,

Don’t make that face. I know exactly what you’re doing right now, sitting cross legged, wide eyed, acting like you’re scandalised. You’ll get over it.

You said you didn’t have anything, and I don’t like that. Figure it’s time you did. You don’t have to use them yet. Hell, you don’t even have to touch them until you’re ready. But they’re yours now. Hidden under those books no one will ever bother looking through.

And don’t think I didn’t throw in the snacks on purpose. Consider them a bribe. Eat something sweet while you think about me.

—fixyrhands

Your knees pressed together so tightly you thought they’d bruise. You dropped the note onto your desk, covering your face with your hands, muffling a squeal.

She knew. She knew exactly how flustered you’d be, how much you’d blush, how hard you’d clutch your blanket and kick your feet and bite your lip trying not to think about her.

You looked down at the toys again and your pulse quickened.

God. You weren’t ready. you weren’t! but you couldn’t stop imagining her voice guiding you, telling you what to do, reminding you of every word she’d said that night.

the house was quiet, too quiet.

you’d been lying awake in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, heart hammering as you thought about her gifts. your phone burned against your palm as you checked the time, 2:57 am. Close enough.

you grabbed the vibrator from where it was hidden in your desk drawer, wrapped in an old hoodie, and padded barefoot into the bathroom. the tiles were cold under your feet. You locked the door with shaking fingers, staring at yourself in the mirror. flushed cheeks. wide eyes. uniform t shirt wrinkled from sleep.

then your phone buzzed.

incoming call: sevika 🖤

your chest lurched.

you answered, biting your lip. the screen lit up with sevika’s face, dimly lit by her lamp, smoke curling lazily from the cigarette between her fingers.

“there’s my girl,” she rasped, voice still rough from being up late.

your throat closed up. god. even just hearing her say that made your knees weak.

“y-you’re awake,” you whispered.

she smirked. “for you? always.”

she leaned back, exhaling smoke, and her eyes flicked lower, like she knew what you were holding just out of frame.

“did you bring it?”

you swallowed. nodded. then realised she couldn’t hear a nod. “yeah.”

her smile widened, wolfish. “good, show me.”

hesitant, you angled the camera down, just enough to flash the black vibrator in your hand. you couldn’t bring yourself to lift the dildo, it felt like too much.

but she saw the hesitation, of course she did.

“ah,” sevika drawled, twirling the cigarette between her fingers. “shy now? don’t worry. we’ll save the big guy for later. baby steps.”

your face burned so hot you thought you might combust.

she leaned forward, bracing her mech arm on the desk, and her voice softened, low and coaxing. “listen to me. you’re gonna sit down on the floor. back against the wall okay? i want you comfortable.”

you obeyed instantly, sinking down until your spine pressed the cool tile, phone propped on your knee so she could see you.

“good girl.” the words landed heavy in your stomach, a rush of heat sparking between your thighs.

she took another drag, her eyes locked on yours through the screen. “ever touched yourself before?”

Your mouth opened, then closed. finally, you shook your head. “n-no.”

sevika’s smirk faltered into something gentler. “alright. first time for everything.”

she made you hold the vibrator up. “it’s simple. turn it on low, press it against yourself over your panties first, just so you get used to it.”

your hands shook as you followed her instructions, fabric damp already. the moment the toy buzzed against you, your body jolted. a sound slipped out, high and shocked.

“holy shit,” you whispered.

sevika’s chuckle crackled through the speaker, rough and warm. “yeah. that’s the idea.”

you pressed harder, chasing the feeling, breath coming faster.

“slow down, baby. don’t rush. let it work.”

her voice grounded you, made the heat coil tighter instead of spilling too fast. you tilted your head back, mouth falling open.

“ohh sevvv…”

the way you said her name, needy and helpless, had her shifting in her chair. you caught the faintest wince, the twitch of her jaw, like she wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted you to think.

“good girl,” she praised again, voice rougher now. “god, look at you. you don’t even know how sweet you sound yet.”

you whimpered, thighs trembling. the buzzing felt unbearable, too much and not enough. “it it’s weird…feels like — ”

“like you’re gonna burst?” she supplied, eyes dark.

you nodded desperately.

“thaat’s it. don’t stop, let it happen.”

you bit your lip, pressing the toy harder, and suddenly everything inside you snapped. your back arched, a strangled cry escaping before you could smother it against your arm. waves crashed through you, sharp and hot and endless, until you collapsed back against the wall, gasping.

silence rang in your ears, broken only by the faint buzz of the toy still in your hand.

“fuck,” sevika muttered. it wasn’t a curse at you, it was wonder. disbelief. “you just came.”

your cheeks flamed. “i… i what?”

she laughed, low and husky, shaking her head. “oh, kid. you’ve got so much to learn.”

you hid your face in your hands, groaning. “ughhh sev —”

“no no,” she interrupted, firm but fond. “don’t be embarrassed. you were beautiful. fuck, i wish i could touch you myself.”

your heart thudded so hard it hurt.

and then, because she couldn’t resist, sevika smirked again, lifting the cigarette to her lips. “don’t think you’re off the hook though. that was just lesson one. we’ve still got that monster waiting for you.”

you squeaked, shaking your head violently. “sev!”

“not tonight,” she’d said.

and then she tilted her head, exhaled slow, and added —

“unless you’re brave enough.”

“go get it,” she rasped, voice firm. “the big one. now.”

you froze. every instinct screamed no way. but your body moved anyway, shaky legs carrying you out of the bathroom and down the hall like you were possessed.

you slipped into your room, quiet as possible, rifling under the hoodie in your drawer until your fingers brushed the obscene length of it. your face went nuclear hot.

you grabbed it, shoved it against your chest, and padded back to the bathroom, praying the floorboards didn’t creak.

sevika was waiting, tapping ash into a tray, eyes dark and sharp.

“show me.”

you held it up, wincing. the camera barely fit it in frame.

she grinned, slow and wicked. “look at you. clutching it like it’s contraband. relax, kid. we’re not gonna shove the whole thing in. not yet.”

your cheeks burned so bad you thought you’d catch fire. “i-it won’t fit…”

“it will,” she cut in smoothly. “because i’m gonna walk you through it. now sit down again, yes on the floor.”

you obeyed, knees knocking together, the heavy toy in your lap.

her voice dipped lower, almost gentle. “spit on your hand. get it nice and wet. mm good girl, now rub it down the length, yeaahh like that. don’t be shy.”

the sound alone had your head spinning.

“alright. press the tip against yourself. just the tip.”

you bit down on your lip, guiding the blunt head between your thighs. your body jerked, nerves firing wild.

“slow. breathe.”

it took a full minute just to ease the head past your entrance. your walls stretched around it, burning, pulling a choked gasp from your throat.

“fuck,” you whimpered.

“good girl,” sevika murmured, steady and calm even as her jaw flexed. “look at you taking it. don’t run from it.”

tears pricked your eyes. your legs trembled, thighs quivering as you worked down another inch.

her voice stayed in your ear, grounding you. “relax, i’ve got you”

by the time you managed half of it inside, your body was wrecked — sweat damp hair clinging to your forehead, mouth falling open around helpless sounds.

and then it hit you as you pumped it in, your eyes rolled back, a string of drool slipping from the corner of your mouth as your cunt clenched tight around the stretch.

“sevvv ohh sevikaaa” you slurred, head tipping back against the wall.

she groaned low and rough, raking a hand down her face. “jesus christ. you’re fucking drooling.”

you tried to cover your mouth with your hand, mortified, but she stopped you sharp.

“don’t hide. let me see. eyes crossed, mouth messy… fuck baby, you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

you whimpered, pushing down another fraction of an inch. the toy felt endless, too much, but every time you wanted to stop, her voice pulled you deeper.

“you’re gonna remember this,” sevika rasped, cigarette forgotten between her fingers. “the first night you ever stretched yourself open…just because i told you to.”

your whole body shook. your stomach tightened, heat building too fast and unbearable.

“sevsevsev!! it’s— it’s!”

“let it happen, baby. come for me again.”

and you did, shattering, squeezing tight around the toy, eyes rolling back as another rush of wetness spilled down your thighs.

you collapsed, panting, forehead pressed to your arm. the demon was still half inside you, your body twitching around it.

sevika blew out a shaky breath on the other end, her voice hoarse. “good fucking girl.” oh and was she.. massaging her clit?

her eyes narrowed on the screen, cigarette forgotten, her metal hand flexing against her desk. “look at you. fucked dumb already. but you want more, don’t you?”

you swallowed hard, heat rushing to your face. your body was screaming no more, but your hole was screaming yes. you wanted her proud. you wanted her hungry.

“… i wanna impress you,” you admitted, voice tiny.

sevika’s exhale crackled through the speaker, heavy. “fuck. you’re gonna kill me, kid.”

she leaned closer, her gaze pinning you. “alright. here’s what you’re gonna do. put your hands on the floor. plant your feet and bounce.”

your stomach flipped. “bounce?”

“yeah,” she rasped. “lift your hips. take it out an inch. then drop back down over and over. show me how bad you want it.”

your hands pressed flat to the tiles, sweat slick. you rocked your hips up, the stretch easing slightly, then slammed back down with a choked cry.

the sound echoed — wet, obscene.

“good girl,” sevika growled. “again.”

you bounced, messy and uneven, whimpering with every drop. the dildo dragged against places you didn’t even know existed, your legs shaking so violently you nearly toppled over.

“eyes on me,” sevika ordered.

you forced your gaze up, but it didn’t last long, your eyes rolled back, mouth falling open, drool slipping down your chin.

she groaned, low and guttural. “fuck. look at you, cross eyed little whore, dripping. you’re a goddamn mess.”

you tried to stammer something, but it came out broken, just noise. your thighs clapped wetly with each bounce, the pressure inside unbearable.

then, sudden and violent, your whole body seized up, and a gush of wetness sprayed out of you, splattering the floor, splashing your phone screen.

your eyes went wide. “s-sev! i — oh my god i peed…i’m sorry —”

her laugh was sharp and rough, not mocking but hungry. “that wasn’t piss, baby. that was you. you just squirted.”

“w-what?” you gasped, tears springing to your eyes, humiliated.

“shh.” her voice dropped, firm and soothing all at once. “don’t apologise. look at the mess you made for me. fuck i wish i was there to feel it on my hand, to taste it.”

you whimpered, still trembling, thighs soaked.

she dragged her metal hand slow across her palm on screen, like she could map your body from afar. “if i were there, i’d have you on my lap right now, teasing that pretty pussy until you begged me to stop.”

your hips twitched at the words, another whine escaping you.

“does it hurt?” she asked suddenly, voice softer.

“… n-no. just too much.”

“good. that’s how it’s supposed to feel.”

you watched, dazed, as she stubbed out her cigarette, leaned back, and fixed you with that heavy gaze. “you impressed me, sweetheart. more than you know.”

you wiped your soaked thighs with shaky hands, cheeks burning.

sevika smirked, slow and wicked. “and next time, you’re taking the whole thing.”

you stayed slumped against the wall, thighs trembling, breath still coming in short gasps. the dildo was heavy in your palm, slick and obscene, your body twitching around the ghost of its stretch.

your eyelids fluttered, and for a few minutes you just sat there in the mess, phone propped on your knee, sevika’s face filling the screen.

she didn’t say a word. didn’t rush you. just sat back in her chair, cigarette gone, her gaze steady and warm.

finally, she spoke, voice rough but gentle.

“you did so good, baby. so fucking good. first time and you already let go for me.”

your cheeks burned, and you half hid your face with your arm. “sevika…”

“no hiding,” she interrupted softly, smirk tugging at her mouth. “look at me.”

you peeked through your fingers, and her expression — god, it wasn’t mocking. it was proud. steady and gentle. like she could’ve reached through the screen and steadied your chin herself.

“if i were there,” she murmured, voice dropping, “i’d clean all this up for you. carry you to bed, tuck you under the blanket, let you sleep with your head on my chest.”

the words squeezed something in your chest. tender, aching. you wanted that more than anything.

instead, you nodded, holding the soaked toy loosely in one hand, too spent to move.

five minutes passed. your head tipped back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut, the faint hum of the call the only sound in the bathroom.

then her voice broke through again — firm, but softer than you’d ever heard it.

“baby. you’ve gotta clean up now. don’t want your parents finding anything, do you?”

your stomach dropped, reality slamming back. you shook your head quickly.

“good girl. up you get.”

groaning, you shifted onto all fours, phone still propped against the sink so she could see. your body ached as you wiped up the wet mess with tissues, your hair falling in your face.

from the screen, sevika muttered a curse under her breath. “fuck. crawling around like that, do you have any idea what you look like right now?”

your cheeks flamed. “don’t say that vika… stop teasing,”

“not teasing,” she said, voice low. “just…christ, you’re something else.”

you finished cleaning, stuffed the tissues deep into the trash, and washed your hands before padding back to your room, shutting the door with a shaky breath.

you collapsed into bed, phone in your hands, face filling the screen with sevika’s again. she was leaning forward now, forearm braced on the desk, gaze softer than you’d ever seen.

“better?” she asked.

you nodded, curling up under the blanket, the hoodie over your lap. “mm tired.”

“good. that’s how i want you. worn out, safe, in bed.” her lips quirked. “now eat those snacks i sent, and then you can pass out.”

you giggled, sex dazed, muffling it into your pillow. “okay mom.”

her brow arched. “watch it, kid.”

but she was smiling, faint and warm, the kind that made your chest ache.

“good girl,” she said again, voice dipping softer. “sleep now. i’ll still be here when you wake up.”

you drifted off like that — phone screen glowing faintly in the dark, sevika’s gaze steady on you, her voice the last thing you heard before sleep took you.

you wake up with your phone beside your pillow, screen dim but the call timer running, hours long. sevika’s voice is the first thing you hear, low, gravelly, but softened by the early hour.

“morning, doll.”

you groan, half asleep, blanket tangled around your legs. you are trying to remember why you are sore and her chuckle rumbles through the speaker, god it makes your chest warm. she’s been awake longer, smoking again, the faint crackle of her lighter giving her away.

you sit up, hair a mess, cheeks still pink when the memories from last night hit. you don’t even need a mirror — you know you look wrecked. but sevika? she doesn’t tease this time. she just watches. she loves you messy.

“cute.” her voice dips. “you don’t even know how pretty you look right now, do you?”

you hide under your blanket, whining, but she coaxes you back out. she says she wanted to see your face when you wake up — because she promised she’d be there. and she is.

your stomach flips. you’ve never felt so seen before… so taken care of

and your fangirl brain? going wild. she’s just sitting there, leaning back with smoke curling past her lips, hair messy in the morning light, and somehow she’s the one calling you pretty. and the way she twirls the cigarette between her fingers, smooth, slow, you’re thinking about last night all over again.

and when you zone out staring at her mouth, her jawline, the curve of her throat…she notices.

“what’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

and you cannot say it. so you just shake your head, too shy, chewing your lip. she smirks like she knows.

but instead of pressing, she lets you ramble about school, breakfast, the weather — mundane little things. she listens like it’s gospel. every so often, her voice drops softer, reminding you she’s still here, even through the screen:

“eat something before class, yeah?”

“don’t fall asleep in lecture.”

“be good f’me.”

and it’s not until you hang up that you realise — this has become routine. sevika at night, sevika in the morning. your secret, your everything.

you’re dragging yourself back home after another long day, uniform collar tugging at your neck, phone burning in your pocket because you’re dying to check if sevika replied. it’s the same routine: class, pretending to listen and sneaking glances at her messages under the desk.

but today feels…off.

your mom’s waiting in the living room when you come in, arms crossed, lips pursed like she’s been sitting there thinking. and there on the table? ANOTHER parcel, unopened. your heart drops so hard you feel sick.

“who keeps sending you things from overseas?” her voice is sharp, probing. “you think i don’t notice? what are you hiding?”

your palms sweat. you grab at your bag straps, trying to look casual. “it’s just study guides. more chemistry practice okay? you always say i need more of that.”

she narrows her eyes, lifting the heavy box, flipping it over like she’s hoping something incriminating falls out. “then why does it say ‘fixyrhands’? hm? what kind of company name is that? looks fake.”

you lunge for it — too quick. she notices. her suspicion doubles.

later, in your room, door locked, you’re shaking as you fumble your phone open. sevika’s already sent a few texts,

sevika 🖤: You got my gift, baby? sevika 🖤: Kid?

your thumbs fly:

you: my mom almost opened it!! she’s sus, she saw the box and i think she knows something’s up.

and after a pause, her reply comes, measured and careful, so her,

sevika 🖤: Breathe. Don’t panic. They do not know. sevika 🖤: But maybe keep your head down for a while. Do not make her curious.

you stare at the screen, chewing your lip. keep your head down. easier said than done when every nerve in your body is wired to her.

when you call later that evening, sevika’s voice is steady, but there’s an edge. “listen, sweetheart. i don’t want you getting in trouble because of me. if they ever really find out…it won’t be good. you know that.”

the thought of losing her, of her pulling back, is enough to choke you. you promise — too fast, too desperate — “they won’t! i’ll be careful. i swear!”

and on the other end, you swear you can hear her exhale smoke, low and heavy. “careful, kid. that’s all i’m asking.”

the next night you’re supposed to “lay low.” you promised sevika you would.

but her name lights up your screen just past midnight, and you can’t resist.

sevika 🖤: Awake? you: yeah. i missed u sevika 🖤: Turn the camera on. Let me see you.

so you do. blanket over your head, whispering so soft it’s barely audible. sevika looks tired, hair loose, cigarette burning in her fingers. she smiles that half smile that always makes your chest ache. “shouldn’t you be sleeping, kid?”

“shouldn’t you be at work?” you tease, voice hushed.

it feels safe. it always does, even when you know it isn’t.

and then—

BANG.

your bedroom door slams open so violently the hinges rattle. your mom’s silhouette fills the doorway, eyes already blazing. your dad right behind her, face a storm.

“what are you fucking doing?!”

you freeze. the phone slips out of your trembling hands, landing face-up on the bed. sevika’s voice crackles faintly through the speaker, “sweetheart? what’s going on?”

your mom’s hand is on you before you can think. a sharp slap to your cheek, so loud it rings. heat blooms across your skin, tears springing instantly. she grabs your wrist, yanking you off the bed like you’re some criminal.

“talking to girls in the middle of the night? hiding things from us?!”

“i—it’s not!” your voice breaks, desperate.

behind you, the phone’s screen still glows. sevika’s watching, helpless, cigarette forgotten in the ashtray. her voice rises, panicked now: “hey! hey, leave her alone—”

but your mom doesn’t hear. doesn’t care.

your dad’s voice cuts in, low and venomous, “after everything we’ve done for you. sneaking around. disgracing us in our own house.”

you’re dragged into the hallway, feet stumbling, cheek burning, your throat choking on sobs you try to swallow. your mom’s nails dig into your arm as she hisses, “you think we raised you for this? you think you can shame us like this?”

and still, from your room, faint and distorted:

“kid? stay with me, don’t let them—”

then the door slams shut behind you, cutting sevika’s voice off.

she’s left staring at an empty room, your fallen phone, the faint sound of your cries muffled by distance and walls she can’t break through.

thirty minutes feels like thirty years.

when you finally stumble back into your room, you can barely see through the blur of tears. your nose is still bleeding, lips split, the salty taste of your tears on your tongue. your whole body trembles. the house feels like it’s pressing down on you, walls listening, shadows judging.

your phone screen is still glowing faintly on the bed. sevika never left.

“sweetheart?” her voice is sharp with panic, but low, controlled — the way only an older woman can manage even when her chest must be burning. “jesus christ…what did they do to you?”

your sobs hitch so violently you can’t even answer. you crawl onto the bed, clutching the phone like a lifeline, your tears dripping onto the screen.

“they — they hate me,” you choke out, your words fractured. “they said i’m disgusting. that you’re ruining me.”

silence. then a long, hard exhale of smoke on her end, like she’s holding herself back from smashing something. “listen to me. none of that’s true. not one damn word of it. you hear me?”

you nod furiously even though she can’t see through your trembling camera.

“they don’t know who you are,” you whisper, terrified. “they think you’re just… some bad girl. if they knew you were…older —” your voice cracks, a wave of shame crashing through you.

sevika leans forward in her chair, shadows cutting across her face, cigarette glowing like a warning. “don’t worry about that right now. all i care about is that you’re safe. can you lock your door?”

you shake your head, swallowing sobs. “they’re outside. they keep saying to bring the phone out. they’re waiting for me to hand you over.”

sevika’s jaw clenches. you can hear it in the way she breathes. “don’t. don’t give them this. not yet. stay with me as long as you can, okay baby?”

her voice steadies you, even as your chest heaves. you cling to it like the only solid thing left in the world.

time stretches. every tick of the clock feels like borrowed seconds. sevika keeps talking — low, soothing, words stitched together with desperation she doesn’t want you to hear.

“i should be there. i should be cleaning you up, not sitting behind a damn screen. if i could, i’d take you out of there tonight. you know that, right?”

you nod, crying harder. “please don’t go. please, just stay with me—”

and then, the doorknob rattles. heavy footsteps. your blood runs cold.

your mom’s voice, hard as stone, “enough hiding. give me that phone.”

your breath stutters, tears spilling faster. sevika hears it all. “kid, listen to me. don’t fight them. i need you safe. i’ll be here after. i swear.”

the door bursts open again. your parents storm inside, faces twisted in fury.

your dad’s hand reaches out, and this time, you can’t stop him. the phone is ripped from your grip, your last anchor gone.

the last thing sevika sees is your tear stained face, swollen lips, eyes wide with fear. the last thing she hears is your scream, raw and breaking, before the call cuts off.

the line goes dead.

and she’s left alone in her dark apartment, cigarette burning down to ash, staring at the empty screen where your face just was.

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