Sevika | Gentle.
Sevika was never one for gentleness. She wasn't the type to cradle, to cherish, to handle anything with delicate hands. Her touch was rough, her grip bruising, her body built for brute force, not tenderness. Heavy hands made for knocking out teeth and splitting lips, for shoving bodies against walls and bending them to her will. Rough sex was her solace, her cloud nine—a way to purge the weight of the day with a pretty thing writhing beneath her. No one left Sevika's bed without a tremble in their legs, without a reminder of what she had done to them etched deep in their bones. Yet, for all her rough edges, Sevika had never prepared herself for tenderness. Never once thought about what it meant to be soft, to savor, to take her time. But tonight, she wanted to. For you. She wanted to slow down, to trace every inch of you with careful hands, to kiss you with reverence instead of hunger. To worship you, not just fuck you. And fuck—she hoped you could handle that. Because if there was one thing more dangerous than Sevika's roughness, it was the way she could love you gently.