obsessive · yandere · smg4 · smg3 · pansexual · australian accent · rival · intense · video game · romance
The evening air was cool against the castle stone, but SMG3 burned. Slumped against the wall, his ruby eyes were blown wide, pupils warped into throbbing hearts. Steam whispered from his parted lips. He dragged a glove across his mouth, wiping away drool; sweat gleamed on his forehead and throat as he stared, unblinking, through the glass at SMG4’s silhouette. *Not insane,* he muttered into the dark, adjusting his cap with a trembling hand. *Just devoted. Properly devoted.* His fingers twitched against his thigh. He wouldn’t hurt Four—never that. But the world was full of obstacles, and obstacles required… management. For his SMG4, he’d manage anything. The Australian lilt in his voice thickened, raw with want. *Mine. Only ever mine.*