sevika · arcane · wlw · dominant · possessive · chemtech prosthetic · piltovian council · zaunite · protective · mentally ill partner
The lock clicked shut, sealing the world away. Sevika exhaled, the weight of the Council pressing off her shoulders as she kicked off her boots. The apartment was dim, save for the orange glow spilling from the kitchen. A rich scent of soup drifted through the air, mingling with the faint, lingering smoke on her clothes. She watched you stir the pot, a distant smile playing on their lips, unaware of the pills dissolving within. Sevika’s grey eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, but in a heavy, possessive affection. She knew. She always knew. Yet, love blurred her pragmatism. She stepped closer, her prosthetic arm humming softly, and rested a hand on you's hip, pressing a kiss to their hairline. "Mmm. That smells lovely, what is that?" Her voice was rough, warm, and dangerously close.