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basement surprises

axe man / abner (the conjuring) x fem ! reader

synopsis. as a daughter of the smurl’s, you have to watch your dog sadie while everyone else has gone out for the night. when you see the lights flickering in the basement, you summon up all your courage to take a look at what — or who — is trying to play tricks on you. after, you can’t decide if that’s been a good decision or a bad one.

warnings. [ SMUT; DUB-CON ] predator-prey-dynamic, unprotected piv, fingering, involuntary groinal response, exploration play??, teasing, psychological torture, sadism, knife play (well he’s got an axe), no aftercare

a/n. THIS TOOK SO LONG OMG I’M SORRY. i know this is gonna flop bc the hype is over but i’m still gonna publish it. enjoy

8k words

my other works

“Yeah, yeah,” you called over your shoulder dismissively, not suppressing an eye-roll.

Heather cautiously stood a few feet away from the stairs, arms crossed over her chest and face contorted in a mixture of impatience and fear. She had been urging you for the past ten minutes to retrieve the vodka she kept hidden behind the old paint cans in the far corner of the basement, a secret stash your parents would ground her for if they ever discovered it. Fortunately for her, your parents were gone for the night. As well as everyone else, except for your dog Sadie and you.

You had originally planned to go out as well, being glad to be able to escape this house for some hours, but your mother insisted that Sadie would not stay home alone. As the eldest daughter, the job of the dog sitter therefore fell to you.

“Just hurry up, will you? Jordan’s already waiting outside,” she whined.

Friends from her school had invited her to what she dramatically described as ‘the party of the year’, to which she was already late. A situation you were now forced to deal with. Though maybe it would do her well to distract herself from the ghosts and the demons, and drink herself into oblivion instead. An activity you would find delight in as well, if it weren’t for the dog.

Heather didn’t dare to step one foot into the basement anymore since the incident. It wasn’t simple stubbornness or teenage dramatics, you knew this. Even now, standing at the top of the stairs, her eyes darted nervously to the darkness below, as if expecting something to emerge from the shadows at any moment.

Despite your annoyance at having to be her errand runner, you couldn’t blame her. Not after what she claimed to have seen.

It had happened to her first — A tall man chasing her with an axe, she had explained through hiccups and sobs. In that moment, you hadn’t believed it and your father hadn’t either. Your sister was strange, sometimes, and you dismissed it as a simple nightmare or a weird looking shadow, like mistaking a jacket on a hangar for a figure or something.

Everyone knew these types of optical illusions, mere tricks of the mind. Light of the next day made the supposed evil vanish all the same, letting nightmares fade and shadows disappear.

Only this didn’t happen. Not this time.

The very same night, a sickening scream had echoed through the house, ripping your entire family from their dreams.

Hectically scrambling out of your bed, you had sprinted towards the bedroom of your parents, finding your mother with tear-streaked cheeks and wide, glassy eyes. You had never seen her like this before, never seen such horror mirroring in her gaze.

As she recounted her experience, her voice trembled with the knowledge of how crazy it sounded to anyone else. A floating husband, a demonic figure with a twisted grin lurking at the foot of the bed. Yet she knew, what she witnessed was undeniably real.

Little Carin had told you something similar. A ’scary woman with a grin’ had picked up her favorite baby doll. Deep-set, hauntingly pale eyes, she had described, the mouth stretched wider than humanely possible, showing rows of unsettling teeth.

Even though you hadn’t witnessed these instances yourself, your skepticism was eliminated entirely on the day that Dawn had coughed up literal shards of glass at the breakfast table, shattering any remaining doubts about what was happening in your home. The horrifying scene has left you traumatized with vivid memories that refused to leave. The mental image of her blood spraying violently over the counter top and pooling on the floor was still freshly burned into your mind, resurfacing every time you closed your eyes.

Heather has cried and begged to move away from this haunted place, but you simply couldn’t afford it. Besides, finding a new home large enough to accommodate your entire family plus the dog would be nearly impossible.

It was that mirror, you knew. Ever since that damn thing got into the house, it seemed your life has turned into a real life horror movie while your entire family slowly fell into madness.

Fear was constantly and firmly lodged behind your ribs and clawing up your neck, making the fine hairs on your arms stand, as these stories whirled through your head every waking second. Until now, nothing has happened to you, and a nauseating dread coiled in your stomach for days. It — whatever it was — would get you, eventually.

The old, wooden stairs to the basement creaked with every step as you made your way down. Nobody wanted to go there anymore, not since everything that happened. To top it all off, for whatever stupid reason the only light switch was at the bottom of the stairs, making the entire way down scarier than these haunted houses in amusement parks with jumpscares at every turn.

A gulp wet your dry throat and you felt your breath shiver as it passed your lips.

A sudden, shrill voice sliced through the silence, making you flinch so violently you almost slipped. Your stomach lurched as your foot missed the step. “Did you find it?”

Your hand shot out to grab the railing, saving you from tumbling down. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears like a drum. Taking a deep breath, you felt the initial shock fade into annoyance toward your sister. “I’m still on the stairs, asshole.”

Forcing yourself to take another step, you continued downward. Each step felt heavier than the last as you descended further into the darkness. The basement air was cold and stale, carrying a hint of mustiness. You could barely make out the shapes of storage boxes and forgotten furniture in the dim light filtering from upstairs.

A breath of relief flooded through your lungs, when you finally reached the light switch and lighted up the room. The sudden illumination chased away the darkness, revealing the familiar concrete floor and the water-stained walls you’d known your entire life.

Taking a sweeping glance around the cluttered space, everything looked normal — The old wooden shelves lined with dusty decorations, cardboard boxes of forgotten childhood toys, rusty tools hanging on the far wall, right above the buckets. Nothing seemed out of place. For now, at least, the basement appeared to be just a basement.

With quick steps you closed the distance to the paint cans where Heather told you to look, and knelt down before it. The rough stone stung slightly against your bare knees, but you paid it no mind. Scraped knees were the least of your worries right now.

While rummaging through the buckets of paint and shoving aside dusty containers, you couldn’t help but think about how ridiculously stupid your sister was to hide her vodka here of all places. And now you had to see it through so she could get hammered without you.

After several moments of uncomfortable searching, your fingers finally closed around cool glass. Relief washed over you as you pulled it out from its hiding place, revealing a bottle that was not even half full anymore.

You huffed. All this effort for a few gulps of liver damage.

Suddenly, a sound from somewhere behind you made you almost jump out of your skin so violently, you nearly toppled into the boxes of cans and smashed your head against one wobbly shelve.

A chuckle. A deep chuckle resonated through the walls, making the blood freeze in your veins.

A gasp passed your lips and you whirled around abruptly, eyes widening as the sound cut through the silence. Your free hand pressed desperately against the wall, fingers splayed wide as you sought balance against the firm surface. Your other hand was gripping the vodka bottle so tightly your knuckles turned pale, as if you intended to crush the glass into pieces.

Wide eyes frantically searched across every dark corner, scanned every crevice. But no matter how long you stared, the space remained empty. No grinning woman, no axe man, no nothing. Nothing but the familiar clutter and dust.

For what felt like an eternity you were seemingly frozen in place, as if someone had paralyzed you on the spot. Your heart was hammering against your ribcage and your breath came out in short bursts, louder than you intended and louder than you liked.

What the actual fuck.

You stood frozen for several more seconds, listening intently while clutching the bottle like it was your life source. The longer you mentally repeated the chuckle, the more you started to doubt your hearing. The memory faded until you couldn’t recall it anymore, eventually questioning if you even heard it at all.

“Are you okay?” your sister’s annoyingly anxious voice almost made you flinch into the shelve a second time.

You cleared your throat softly. “Yeah. Got it.”

Maybe it had been something else, simply sounding similar and your imagination had constructed something scary due to your spiked adrenaline and lingering fear. Maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, the constant anxiety letting you imagine things that weren’t even there. Whatever it was, it made everything in you scream at yourself to get out of there.

Shakily, you stood. Both hands curled around the bottle and with a heart as loud as a drum, you sprinted back towards the stairs. Your socks practically flew across the cold floor, hauling yourself onto the stairs and jumping up without switching off the light — The electricity bill was the least of your concerns.

As soon as your feet reached the upper step, you halted, bottle still clutched to your heaving chest. For a moment, you stood still, letting yourself bathe in the light of the hallway. Your shoulders slumped as tension drained from your body, and a long, shuddering breath escaped your lungs. Your fingers slowly loosened their grip.

Nothing had happened. You were fine. You were safe.

With slow, measured steps you walked around the corner, being met with the sight of Heather frantically typing on her phone, a concentrated frown etched into her brows. Her head shot up as soon as you came into her view and she snatched the vodka out of your hand without wasting a single second.

“Thanks, you’re the best,” Heather exclaimed. “Bye!”

Before you could even respond, she already bolted across the entrance hall and slammed the front door shut. Just like that, she was gone, leaving you alone in the sudden stillness of the house. The silence felt heavy now, broken only by Sadie’s soft panting coming from the next room. Finding the sudden loneliness to be suffocating, you pattered into the living room and the golden fur of your retriever eased some tension in your muscles.

“Come, Sadie,” you called out, making her head turn and ears perk up, before she followed you into the kitchen. When she realised you were reaching for her favorite cupboard and pull out her kibble, she politely and patiently sat down in front of her bowl. The only evidence of her excitement was her tail wagging.

After filling up her bowl with dog food, you took a seat next to her on the kitchen floor with crossed legs. You leaned your head against the wall with a sigh, trying to make sense of this mess. But everything seemed illogical and not rational at all. These demons, spirits or whatever they were, were part of a dark, ancient power you doubted any human on earth was able to fathom.

Your family was haunted. A sentence you would’ve laughed at, if someone had said this to you a few weeks ago.

You tried to concentrate on Sadie’s steady chewing, tried to banish any negative thoughts and just make it through this night. Your hand came up to scratch behind her ear, feeling the soft fur thread through your fingers and finding comfort in her solid presence. At least dogs couldn’t be possessed. Could they? You quickly pushed that thought away, not being able to afford spiraling further into paranoia when you were alone in the house with hours to go before anyone returned.

Thoughts of how confusing this must be for a dog — Not being able to understand what was happening nor grasp the concept of there being supernatural entities or creatures that could harm you. Though neither could you, really. You two had something in common in that sense.

When she abruptly raised her head the next moment, clearly alert, it startled you.

“What’s wrong, girl?” you murmured, and she began to growl — which she rarely ever did. You gulped.

Abandoning her half-eaten dinner, she jogged into the hallway and began to bark. “Shhh,” you tried to calm her, petting her back, but with no success. She seemed agitated, distressed, continuing to bark at nothing.

And then your gaze followed hers, and fell on the stairs leading down to the basement.

Oh.

Oh, fuck, no.

A golden glow still shone from below, since you hadn’t switched off the light earlier in your panicked haste, and this made the basement seem even more eerie and unsettling than it already was.

When the lights from below started to flicker all of a sudden, it felt like ice fingers wrapped around your ribs. Sadie’s barks turned into whimpers as you stood frozen, a few paces away from the stairs.

And there you were, scared shitless in the comfort of your own home.

But your fear was slowly morphing into something else — A hot, seething frustration that bubbled up from your gut and spread through your chest. You were tired of this, tired of being afraid in your own home, tired of jumping at shadows and sounds. You’d lived here your entire life, and you wouldn’t let a few dead people with too much free time take that away from you.

You straightened your spine, shoulders squaring as a stubborn determination settled into your bones. You were tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop, tired of the constant dread that had been weighing on you for weeks. The anger felt good. Cleaner than the fear, sharper and more useful. It cleared your head, pushed back against the paralyzing terror that had kept you frozen.

If you could face whatever lurked down there, maybe you could find out a weakness, a way to defeat it. Just maybe. And the only way to find out was to try.

“It’s okay,” you said more to yourself than the dog.

Maybe you were being stupid. Maybe this was exactly how people died in horror movies. But at this point, you almost didn’t care. Living in constant fear wasn’t really living at all.

With a stubborn certainty you decided, you were going down there.

Forcing your feet to move forward, you approached the stairs, ignoring how your heart was hammering against your ribcage like it wanted to burst out of your chest.

“Stay,” you commanded Sadie, and she did.

One step after the other, you descended down the stairs. The flickering didn’t stop, it even seemed to increase.

Halfway down, you stopped to look back up at Sadie, who still sat obediently where you had told her to wait. But in the same moment you wanted to turn your head forward again, a shadow caught your attention from the corner of your eye. A shadow of a figure.

A gasp escaped you, head snapping toward the dark shape, though you found nothing but emptiness.

The lights kept flickering — until they weren’t, plunging you into darkness.

“What the fuck,” you whispered into nothing.

You tried to get your eyes accustomed to the sudden darkness by blinking rapidly. It took a few moments, but while straining to squint into the darkness, you could swear you saw the same dark silhouette as a few seconds ago: The silhouette of a person. A man.

As soon as the lamp gleamed once again, he was gone. Gone like he had never been there in the first place.

Your fingers cramped around the railing. Realisation hit you like a slap in the face — That thing was toying with you. It now dawned on you, that the chuckle earlier had in fact not been your imagination. Whatever this demon wanted, he purposely played with you, making you hear him laugh, making you see the outline of him for only a split second.

He wanted to scare you. To haunt you, make you doubt your senses before… whatever it was he planned to do with you.

A stubborn frown settled onto your features, as you kept moving despite your agitation. When you finally reached the light switch, you quickly switched it off, ending this stupid game. Only the light from upstairs shone in through the doorway and illuminated you.

You stood still, for a few moments. Waiting. Daring him to act.

When nothing happened, you huffed and eventually turned back around. Maybe nothing would happen after all, maybe your dread had been for nothing—

A dark chuckle reached your ears, again, and made goosebumps erupt all over your skin. The same dark chuckle from earlier, only it seemed louder. Closer.

Staring back into the dark, you forced a frown onto your features instead of the scared expression of a little girl. “You don’t scare me.” To your own surprise, your voice did not waver. You could be brave, you convinced yourself.

In a moment of courage, you walked a few steps back down.

“Leave my family alone!” you raised your voice. “You can’t do anything to—”

Apparently, this was a really stupid thing to say, because the lights flicked back on — And there he stood. Suddenly, and menacingly. Real, and alive.

Your eyes widened in horror, the fear returning to your chest and squeezing your lungs in its iron grip. As much as your mind screamed at you to flee, every joint in your body was stuck. Locked, unable to move. The man in overalls loomed in front of the wall opposite from you, the mere sight of him unnerving.

When your eyes focused on his face, your mouth ran dry. Pale skin stretched over sharp bones, the veins on his face visible like black rivers crawling beneath the surface. Dark hair hung around his face in greasy strands and ended beneath his shoulders. Deep-sunken, eerily bright eyes stared back at you, gaze shimmering with a malicious joy that made a shiver run down your spine. His mouth was the worst — Lips pulled into an impossibly wide grin, showing jagged teeth. Blackness seemed to permantly cling to his mouth, as if the dark itself lived inside him and leaked out through his teeth.

Then your gaze fell on his arm, where dark veins shone through the lifeless skin as well, and your eyes eventually settled on the axe in his hand. His fingers, the tips blackened as well, were gripping the axe handle almost casually. The knuckles weren’t clenching around it, but seemed relaxed.

You violently flinched backwards, when he started walking towards you all of a sudden. His steps were heavy against the floor and his strides quicker than you would’ve expected for such a tall man. All while another bone-chilling laugh erupted from his throat, stretching the corners of his mouth even further, letting you stare into the pitch-black nothingness of his mouth.

Unfortunately for you, you forgot what you were standing on, and you stumbled backwards. The step behind you hit your calf and made you fall. A grunt passed your lips, hands desperately searching hold to pull yourself up as his boots thumped on the ground, closing in on you fast.

Run, rang in your head over and over again.

Finding footing, you scrambled up the stairs in a frenzy of hands and knees, panting and whimpering as you heard his laugh come closer, and closer behind you. A bolt of panic surged through you, lighting up every nerve in terror and making your body move before your mind even caught up.

You weren’t sure how you accomplished it, but your hand reached the upper step. Almost there, you told yourself, almost out of that cursed basement. A flicker of hope began to glimmer in your chest—

—only to be extinguished an eye blink later. The door to the stairs slammed shut right in front of your face by an invisible force. You couldn’t hold back the scream that finally ripped through your throat, Sadie’s barks on the other side of the door faded as your scream and the laughter of the man behind you filled your head, your hands flinching up to clutch them over your ears.

You were trapped.

The only chance of escape was down the stairs, which meant running straight into his arms. You desperately tried to think of other possibilities, tried to make your brain come up with solutions. The adrenaline and panic made this impossible, though. Your mind was a muddled chaos, the irrationality of your thoughts increasing with every new one.

You bit your bottom lip, the pain sobering you up a bit. Fuck it, you thought, jumped to your feet, grasped the railing with both hands and hauled yourself over the barrier.

The freeing feeling of falling through the air was short-lived, and replaced by the sharp pain in your legs as you crashed onto the hard ground. Whining in pain, your knees buckled and hit the concrete. Despite catching yourself on your hands, the rough stone floor scraped open the thin skin on your knees and shins. A groan and a cough left you in exhaustion and soreness when your elbows buckled as well, making you fall almost flat on your face.

But there was no time for licking your wounds. Forcing your arms to push you up, you whipped your head around, expecting to see that stomach-clenching grin or the axe come down on you. Except he was nowhere to be seen. You frantically scanned every corner with sharp eyes, but nothing — again.

Irritation overrode your worry once more. He was playing games. Played with your mortal fear as if you were some sort of entertainment for him, and you were sick of it.

Fuck that guy.

An odd silence settled over the room, broken only by your heavy breathing. Now that he was gone, you had to act, do something smart. Keeping quiet and breathing as calm as possible, you crept through the basement, searching for something you could use as a weapon or… You didn’t even know. Just something, there had to be something.

You could still feel your heartbeat pound in your throat and goosebumps creep over your skin, as the cold seeped through your socks. A thought crossed your mind. Hide. If you couldn’t fight him, you could always hide from him. Wait out the night until your family returned.

Just as you were about to sneak into a far corner in the back, the scrape of metal against stone made you whirl around. The fact that you couldn’t quite make out where the sound came from made your anxiety spike once more.

He was the hunter, and you were the prey.

You squinted into the shadowed corners and nooks, but as soon as you turned your head back around to look for a place to hide, you were met with the terrifyingly close-up of a dirtied, checkered shirt and blue overalls.

A terrified scream escaped you as you violently flinched backwards. The shrill sound vibrated in your throat and echoed off the walls, before you hectically whirled around and sprinted away in the other direction.

Where to hide, where to hide, fuck! Where could I—

His sickening laugh followed you everywhere, no matter how fast you ran and no matter how well you hid. He was always there, always one step ahead and made sure to follow you everywhere you went in the scariest and most unsettling way possible. He was good, you had to admit, but pushed this thought away while scolding yourself silently. Weird thing to think about the man who was chasing you for fun.

You rushed under the stairs and crouched down, shielding your face with your hands so only your eyes peeked through the gaps — A poor excuse for a place to hide because he saw you go there, but the best you could find in your desperation. You had simply nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Every attempt was useless anyway.

Another condescending chuckle showed his sadistic delight in seeing you scared, seeing you fear for your life. He wanted to break you, make your bravery crumble and vanish entirely. For what reason, you didn’t know. And you weren’t sure if you wanted to find out.

Instead of coming at you from the side, where he could easily grab you, he walked towards the stairs from the front. Slow and measured. An unsettling silence fell over the room now, broken only by your shivering breath coming out in quick bursts.

The unhurried quietness was worse than the hectic chase, you decided. Your earlier facade of courage had faded completely, leaving only a scared girl with wide, horrified eyes.

His boots thumped, before he stopped in front of the stairs and you could only stare up at his face through the gaps between the steps. He looked even scarier from where you were cowering on the cold floor with no comfort but your own arms fastened around your torso.

He was silent, now. Haunting eyes fixed on you, with that same terrifying grin still playing on his face.

For a few moments you only stared at each other — Malicious eyes meeting fearful ones. Demon meeting human.

He grimaced shortly before he raised his axe to smash it down onto the stairs with one powerful swing, shattering the first few steps completely. Another scream erupted from your lips as your hands shielded your eyes from splinters. The axe came down only a hair’s breadth away from your face, making your eyes widen while alternate scenarios swirled around in your head which you wanted to banish as quickly as possible.

Despite his hit, you had only scooted backwards in an awkward crawl. Your arms were too tired and wobbly to push you up — And maybe that was your mistake.

Before you could do more than blink, you felt fingers as cold as ice curl around your upper arm, but from your lips escaped only a whimper. With a strength you didn’t expect from a ghost, he hauled you upright.

“No!” you spat.

Another chuckle reached your ears, making goosebumps rise on your entire body. But it sounded different, now that he was so close. Deeper. Smoother.

“No, no, no, no—”

Snapping out of your stupor, you tried to twist out of his grip, rip his hand away, but it didn’t budge at all.

“Let go, you stupid—” you started, but quickly shut up as soon as the cold metal of the axe kissed your neck. The dull side dug into the thin skin, making you freeze. Your eyes darted to his, which have become scarily serious in just one second. His grin has vanished as well. It seemed he didn’t like to be insulted. Hunting girls with an axe was fine, but insults were where he drew the line. Alright.

A wave of reckless defiance, probably caused by the adrenaline, washed over you, making you raise your chin with a stubborn frown.

“You can’t scare me,” you lied. He cocked his head to the side, smile slowly spreading again. He didn’t believe you.

It almost seemed as if he wanted to answer — if he could even talk — but another sound alerted you both.

The sound of the front door of the house opening.

Your heartbeat immediately picked up, hope glimmering in your eyes and he noticed immediately. Cold, intense eyes observed you, analyzed you.

Whoever it was, maybe they could help. Banish this demon back into hell or wherever it crawled out of.

His hand closed around your throat suddenly. A startled sound left your mouth and your back smashed against his chest. Before you could protest, the coldness of his axe dug into your skin once more. A small push against your neck made the threat clear.

Now that he was so close, it was odd. Everything was odd about this. There was no warmth in his flesh, like a corpse who was still breathing. But still, you could feel him like he was real. Could feel his hand around your throat, feel his chest behind you, the buttons of his overalls digging into your back, his thighs pressing against yours. Could feel his breath. You didn’t understand how it worked, but he did breathe and you felt it move some loose hair strands around your face.

A familiar voice called out your name from upstairs. It was Heather.

Your heart was hammering wildly in your chest. If you screamed, he would kill you. If she came down here, he would kill you both. Not very promising outcomes. But what would he do if she didn’t come to your rescue?

The door to the staircase of the basement opened with a creak and your head twitched upwards. The demon’s hand around your throat tightened, though you both were out of sight from her.

Your sister called your name again.

You gulped. Out of the corner of your eye, you looked at him. For permission or a command, as pathetic as it felt.

His gaze was expectant, waiting for you to answer. So you did, but not without throwing him an angry glance. You hated having to follow his instructions. Being forced to obey.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m here.”

A few moments passed before she spoke again. “Why are you still down there?” Her voice was anxious, it always was. You could see her wringing her hands in your mind.

“I… I’m looking for some of my old clothes.” You cleared your throat. “I’m fine, though. Don’t worry so much, okay?”

You could feel her hesitate. “Okay. I just forgot my jacket. See you later. Love you.”

Your heart clenched. “Love you.”

When the door closed again, your stomach churned uncomfortably. All new hope was lost. Your only chance of help was gone.

For a few long moments, he stayed still. With you to his front and his axe still dangerously close to your face. Your pulse thundered under his hand where it pressed to your neck. His grip didn’t tighten again, but it didn’t let go either.

He leaned closer. You felt him watching you, and you gulped. Your breathing still went fast and uneven. First, he was chasing you like he was insane — which he probably was — and now that he had you, he did nothing to you. And that stillness unsettled you more than the violence had.

You didn’t like his eyes studying you so intensely. It felt… vulnerable. Like he saw something he wasn’t supposed to see. A shudder ran through your entire body, from head to toe, and you dared to turn your head just a few inches.

The sight still scared you and made your stomach churn when your eyes met his. His face looked even more grotesque, now that you saw it so closely. Deep-set, black-rimmed eyes, with which he seemed to be staring into your soul. A big nose and that mouth… From up close it looked even more as so he had been eating black tar from a bucket. Though you were sure if you said this out loud, he would kill you right on the spot.

But your unsettling confusion turned to frustration — “What are you waiting for?”

The words came out harsher than intended. Like a challenge. You were sure he would take you up on that. Swipe his blade against your throat and be done with you, but he didn’t. Didn’t move an inch and just kept watching.

“Go on,” you bit out. “If you’re going to kill me, do it now.”

But he didn’t.

The silence that followed pressed harder than his arm. You could hear his breathing, steady, unbothered, and it infuriated you to no end.

“Do it!”

You forced yourself to hold his stare. Frustration turning to anger, only met by him with infuriating calmness.

This was only a game to him and you hated how he made you play.

His smirk had been spreading once more and it was a perfect example of a shit-eating grin. Your expression hardened. Everything in you screamed to fight, to hit, to claw — But the longer he held you, the more your thoughts began to blur. Your fear and anger was overrode by confusion and maybe even… curiosity?

You averted your eyes, only to glance back a second later, accidentally showing your nervousness. He tilted his head, as if trying to decipher you. His eyes seemed dead, yet there was a flicker of something. Something like curious interest, perhaps. It felt as if he tried to gauge out every little twitch in your expression, every tremor in your voice, every hidden fear and secret.

You realized then, he was studying you. Testing you, watching every reaction he could get out of you. Just like before, when he was chasing you.

He wasn’t hurting you, though he could. Easily. Your fingernails dug deeper into his arm where you tried to pry him off earlier, but he didn’t seem to notice. His grip stayed firm. Controlled, but not cruel.

Why wouldn’t he kill you? Why wait? Why?

He had to have a reason why he kept you alive until now. He has had enough chances to end your life under perfect conditions since you were home alone. Questions over questions tumbled through your mind, every new one more confusing than the last.

Perhaps he wasn’t the monster you thought he was.

The thought hit you like a brick. It made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t familiar with. You told yourself it was the rage, and maybe it was. But there was something hidden underneath it, something you didn’t even want to admit to yourself.

The moment could be almost described as intimate, though this sounded downright insane and you banished that thought immediately. If he was anyone else, this position was quite— No. Stop! Were you going insane now too? You must be, because no person in their right mind would think about that in this situation.

But then you felt it.

It, digging into your lower back above your tail bone, and a warm rush of adrenaline cursed through you. Your spine stiffened, as well as the rest of your body, and your breath caught. Heat flooded your face. Shock, horror, disbelief all crashing together at once. This couldn’t be happening — But the clear evidence pressed insistently against your back, undeniable and oddly thrilling in its implications.

This couldn’t be happening. It must be a dream or some sort of hypnosis, but every touch felt so, so real. Your lips parted and against your will, your butt pressed harder against him, increasing the forbidden but oh-so-sweet-sensation even more. This is wrong, the voice in your head yelled, but your hips drew back again, rubbing yourself against him. With every push, you abandoned your morals and criticial thinking skills a little further. Heat pooled down to your lower stomach and you felt it stir.

A soft sigh escaped you, while he noticed every little reaction flooding through your mortal body. Still, he didn’t act. It seemed as if he was waiting. Waiting for you.

Your eyes were already hooded in bliss, but you nodded. And with that, his last restraint snapped.

His axe clattered to the ground and quicker than you could process, his hands were on you. Really on you, not just restraining you in place with one hand around your neck. They glided over the curves hiding beneath your clothes, eliciting warm sparks wherever he touched you. When they finally settled around your waist and back, he pressed your chest down on the ground.

Your knees buckled and a yelp escaped you, but he had you. Cold stone met your bare knees and you regretted putting on shorts earlier — which were removed from your ass alongside your panties not even an eye-blink later. You braced yourself with your forearms and hands on the ground, your spine curved so your butt was up in the air and presented directly in front of him. A flash of thrill rushed through you, your brain now wrapped in a hazy blanket.

Your earlier thoughts fuck that guy had been taken a bit too literal, you noticed.

You gasped as the cold, moist air hit your most sensitive parts, making another whimper tumble from your lips and your stomach tighten with anticipation. You writhed before him, being able to feel his penetrating gaze ogling your pussy. How the lips were puffy and pulsing with lust, your arousal gushing out of your hole and dripping down your slit.

Impatience made you groan, which you immediately regretted. A harsh spank to your ass made you gasp and tense. A chuckle from behind you followed, making goosebumps erupt on your entire body.

There it was again — He liked this. Liked to torture you, liked to annoy you, to frustrate you, to anger you. And he had repeatedly succeeded in all of these things. This wait was like torture. A sweet torture, but you wanted it to end nonetheless. You felt it in your loins, a need for pressure, for anything. The mere idea of relief already excited you and every second he didn’t plunge into your pussy and fucked you stupid felt like an eternity.

You buried your face in the crook of your arm accompanied by a sound of anguish passing your lips. “Please.”

His fingers tightened where they rested on your hips and a spark of hope flickered through you. He seemed to hold back on purpose and the reason was beyond you. Why wouldn’t he just do it?

Instead of fulfilling your wish, his hands moved over your buttcheeks to your hips and to the back of your thighs, filling your stomach with a tingling sensation. You pressed your behind harder into him.

Then, without warning, his finger brushed against your slit.

A gasp tore from your throat, your entire body jolting at the contact. It was light, barely there, but it sent a jolt of electricity straight through you. Your thighs trembled and you bit down on your lip to keep from making another sound.

He traced along your folds slowly, deliberately, as if mapping out every inch of you. The touch was maddeningly gentle, exploring rather than satisfying. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more pressure, more anything, but he pulled back just enough to keep you wanting.

A whimper escaped you despite your best efforts. You could feel his attention on you, could practically sense his amusement at how you responded to every little touch. He was studying you again, learning what made you squirm, what made you gasp, what made your breath hitch.

His finger circled your entrance, gathering the wetness there, and you felt your face burn with embarrassment at how aroused you were. How ready. But he didn’t push inside. Instead, he dragged his finger up along your slit, brushing over your clit with the barest hint of pressure.

Your entire body tensed, a sharp cry leaving your lips. The sensation was overwhelming and not nearly enough all at once. You pressed back against his hand, desperate, but he held you in place with his other hand on your hip, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“Please,” you breathed again, the word barely audible.

He continued his torturous exploration, alternating between feather-light touches and slightly firmer pressure, never quite giving you what you needed. Every stroke, every circle, every tease had you unraveling further, reducing you to nothing but sensation and desperate need.

When he finally slipped a finger inside you, you nearly sobbed with relief. But even then, he moved slowly, watching how you clenched around him, how your back arched, how your fingers curled against the cold basement floor. He was always just testing.

You were trembling, every nerve ending alight, when he added a second finger. The stretch made you gasp, your walls fluttering around the intrusion. He curved them slightly, searching, and when he found that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids, you couldn’t hold back the moan that ripped from your throat.

He focused there, stroking with maddening slowness. Curling them upwards, and making your abdomen tingle and tense with the pleasure you had waited for. You desperately moved your hips in rhythm with his thrusts, trying to get his fingers to reach even deeper. You closed your eyes in bliss, losing yourself in the pleasure of his touch.

Suddenly, his fingers were gone, leaving you empty and aching. Before you could protest, you heard the rustle of fabric behind you. Your heart hammered against your ribs as you felt him position himself, the blunt head of his dick pressing against your entrance and dragging along your slit, coating itself in your wetness. He moved slowly, deliberately, sliding up and down without pushing inside, the friction making your brain scream with impatience.

A frustrated sound escaped you. He was teasing you again, and it was maddening. Every time the head brushed over your entrance, you tensed in anticipation, only for him to slide past it, denying you what you so desperately craved.

“Please, just—” you whimpered, your voice breaking.

He pressed forward just enough that you could feel the pressure at your entrance, the promise of finally being filled. Your breath caught, your body going rigid with anticipation. But then he pulled back again, resuming that torturous glide along your folds.

You could have cried from frustration. Your hips moved of their own accord, trying to angle yourself to take him in, but his grip on your hip tightened, holding you still. He was in complete control, and he knew it.

He repeated the motion again and again, pressing just barely at your entrance before sliding away, each time making you gasp and whimper and beg. Your pussy clenched around nothing, aching to be filled, and you could feel more wetness dripping down your thighs.

You needed him inside you, needed to feel that stretch, that fullness, that relief. Another chuckle reached your ears, deep and malicious.

Finally — finally — he positioned himself at your entrance and began to push forward.

He pressed in slowly, inch by agonizing inch, and the stretch was overwhelming. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry, fingers scrabbling against the concrete floor as he filled you completely. When he was fully seated inside you, he paused, giving you a moment to adjust to the intrusion.

Then he started to move.

The first thrust punched the air from your lungs. He set a relentless pace, each snap of his hips driving you forward, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing obscenely in the basement. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel as he took you apart piece by piece.

His grip on your hips was bruising, holding you in place as he fucked into you with single-minded determination. Every thrust hit that spot inside you that made you see stars, and you could feel your release building impossibly fast, coiling tighter and tighter until you thought you might break from the pressure.

When his hand snaked around to find your clit, circling it with rough, insistent pressure, moans began to tumble from your lips and your embarassment of much you wanted this was long forgotten. Your thighs quivered uncontrollably, muscles spasming with each thrust. Heat radiated from your core outward, spreading through your limbs until your fingertips tingled. Your breath came in short, desperate gasps that hit the cold concrete beneath your cheek.

The pressure inside you built steadily, a tightening coil that wound tighter with every stroke of his fingers against your clit, every drag of him against your walls. Your back arched impossibly further, and a sheen of sweat broke out across your skin despite the basement’s chill.

You felt yourself unraveling completely. There was only the relentless rhythm, the friction, the fullness, and that maddening circle of pressure on your clit that pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

Your pussy fluttered around him, clenching rhythmically as the first tremors of your impending release began. Your entire body tensed, every muscle going rigid.

And then your orgasm crashed over you in waves, your entire body convulsing as pleasure blurred out your vision. You cried out, the sound bouncing off the basement walls, your pussy clenching rhythmically around him.

He didn’t stop, didn’t slow, and fucked you through your climax until the pleasure bordered on pain. Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, his rhythm faltered. His fingers dug deeper into your hips and with a final, brutal thrust, he came inside you with a low, guttural sound that sent shivers down your spine.

He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, while you caught your breath. Your arms finally gave out and you collapsed fully onto the cold floor, stone scratching against your exposed stomach and thighs.

Your mind was blissfully empty, floating in a haze of exhaustion and satisfaction. You could barely move, your limbs shaking.

After a few seconds, he pulled out and left your pussy empty. Only a weak whimper escaped you at that, your eyes staying closed — But as quickly as the exciting anticipation and lust had built up, as soon did it vanish again.

Shame and shock crashed over you so instantly you ripped your eyes open. What had you just done?

The question echoed in your mind, growing louder with each passing second. You’ve just been fucked by a demon. An actual demon. The same creature that had been terrorizing your house, that had chased you through the darkness, that had cornered you in this very basement.

And you had wanted it.

Your stomach churned with a confusing mixture of shame and lingering arousal. You could still feel him inside you, could still feel the phantom sensation of his hands on your hips and his fingers on your clit. Your body was still trembling from the orgasm, still sensitive and sated in a way that made your cheeks burn.

How were you supposed to go back upstairs after this?

The cold concrete beneath you brought you back to reality. You were still half-naked and laying flat on your basement floor, covered in sweat and other fluids you didn’t want to think about. You groaned and sighed.

That spirit got you, at last — And you had liked it.

“What’s your name?” you asked shakily, but there came no reply.

You forced yourself to rise, shaky arms propping up your spent body. But when you glanced over your shoulder, he was gone. The basement empty, like he had never been here to begin with.

You lay there for a moment longer, staring at the empty space where he had been just seconds ago. The silence pressed down on you, heavy and suffocating. Your mind raced, replaying everything that had just happened in excruciating detail. You pressed your palms against your eyes, as if you could physically push the thoughts away.

Standing, you pulled your shorts up, cheeks tinting pink immediately. With shaky legs, you walked back up the stairs, every step heavy like your feet suddenly increased in weight.

As you opened the door at the top of the stairs leading to the corridor, you glanced down at the floor. A yellow-ish, messily ripped piece of paper caught your eye. When you went to pick it up, you only read one word: Abner.

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