#heheheheh rynx song name reference go brrrr

[mechanicalowls]

Want Me To

a terrornoss fic inspired by my possibly in michigan animatic

ao3 link

chapter 6 - all for you

rating: m (for graphic depictions of violence, language, possession, manipulation, and shadow man evan once again)

chapter under the cut:

The shadow man needn't worry himself with what he would do to solve his evening problem right now, as he caught a glimpse of one of his prey ducking through the door of a small takeout place. He smiled, turning on his heel. He strode over to the eatery, pushing the locked door open with ease, and sneering at the man crouched against the dishwashing sink.

He ripped the man out from under the sink and grasped him by the throat like he was in an iron vice. The man gasped for air and thrashed around violently, almost as much as the woman he had relieved of her scalp.

But he didn't scratch at Brian's arm like she had. He kicked his human square between the legs, eliciting a painful cry of dismay from the man trapped in his own head, but no reaction from the being possessing his body. Still, the man had hurt his human. His property had been damaged.

His plaything had been harmed. Only he was allowed to mark the flesh he possessed. Only he was permitted to blemish the skin of the man he craved carnally.

Needless to say, he was furious.

Using his inhumane strength, the shadow man lifted the wannabe well over his head, smashing his head into the buzzing light above. He brought the man down hard, head first into the sink full of soapy water. He continued to thrash wildly as the shadow man growled viciously at him. Brian was silent in his head, eyes closed and head turned away, as the being possessing him dropped the man's head into the sink. He stalked over to the walk-in cooler and slammed the door open.

Stomping back over to the man that had hurt his human, the shadow man grasped the man by the back of his neck, sinking his talons in deep. He pushed the man's head back underwater once more before dragging the still struggling wannabe over to the open cooler door.

Without a second of hesitation, he slammed the man's face, cheek first, against the edge of the door. The wannabe cried out in pain and horror, his bare arm also stuck to the door. He flailed wildly, screaming when he felt his flesh tearing as he tried to pull himself off.

The shadow man cocked his head to the side as he watched the wannabe cry against the door, pleading for his life. He resembled a scavenging mouse, caught in a glue trap.

Look at this, Bri. Look at how quickly something gets taken down by a little water and a cold door. It's pathetic. The shadow man posited aloud, noting the fear in the wannabe's eyes. To him, he was talking to himself.

He felt Brian turn his head forward, with hesitation, of course. Just this small act made the shadow man swoon.

He was coming around, they both knew it.

The shadow man smiled sickeningly sweetly, pressing a gentle palm to Brian's chest. He never took his eyes off the still pleading wannabe as he did so, beckoning his human to watch the carnage. Carnage he was responsible for.

If these fuckers hadn't hurt his -whatever the hell Brian was to him- the way they had, maybe he would've given them up to the mall, letting them become nothing more than souls trapped within the confines of a shopping center past its prime. But they couldn't even do that. And the shadow man was almost grateful.

Not for hurting his human, no no.

But for provoking him.

Because, if the groans and pleas for him to caress the bruised flesh again that made his entire form shudder with desire were anything to go by, he was well on his way to satiating his carnality by the end of the day.

I want you to watch, Brian. I need you to watch. Can you open those pretty blue eyes and watch for me? He asked, his saccharinely sweet tone contrasting the brutality of his actions.

He felt Brian gulp inside of his head.

“I… I don't… I can't. I'm sorry.” He heard the man almost whimper. He faltered slightly, but perked back up almost instantly. He growled lowly, grasping the cooler door and slamming it closed with the wannabe still attached.

He screamed, but not for long, as the shadow man repeated the action, constantly slamming the now limp figure between the edge of the door and the frame. Blood flew everywhere, coating his humanr's face and sweatshirt. He kept slamming, even when the wannabe began to look more akin to ground beef than a person.

Look for me, Brian. Look at this mess you've made. Look at what you're doing to me. The shadow man pleaded, a wild note to his tone. He needed Brian to look, he desperately craved the reaction he knew his plaything would have. He needed to see what he had done.

It was all for him. Every bit of shredded flesh, every drop of spilled blood. All for this human that heeded his call every single day. He had ignited a white hot flame within the shadow man. He had never felt anything of the sort, and he fed off the warmth it gave him. Fed off the warmth he gave him. How had he bore the weight of existing without him for so long?

He wouldn't for much longer, and he was ecstatic.

Brian finally peeled his eyes open, a ghastly feeling submerging him whole. He could feel the blood on his face, on his hand. He could feel the lingering, sizzling burn of the gashes on his arm. He could feel the remaining ache of where he had been kicked in the balls.

And he could finally see the macabre scene before him. The shadow man purred, but kept slamming the bloody pile of meat and bones in the door. The floor was painted crimson, bits of meaty flesh had scattered across the floor, one of the man's eyeballs had launched from his socket, almost perfectly intact.

But Brian didn't gag this time.

He didn't feel nauseous.

The ghastly feeling evaporated just as quickly as it had engulfed him.

He only watched in intrigue as his own hand slowed to a halt, slamming the door shut one final time.

Brian's hand was completely soaked in blood. The shadow man brought it up closer to gaze upon, a smile creeping onto his lips. Brian was speechless. He should be horrified, terrified. He should feel guilt, disgust, nausea. Anything that a normal person should feel.

But his own hand pressed against that bruise once more, and he melted. He threw his head back this time, somehow the cool that coursed through him feeling even more consuming everytime the palm pressed against his wounded flesh. His heart fluttered at the way the shadow man chuckled darkly. It skipped a beat when the shadow man kicked the pile of flesh that vaguely resembled an arm.

What the fuck was happening to him?