#lorraine warren fanfiction

[goaways-stuff]

I was wondering if u did lorraine warren x fem reader requests? and if so maybe mdlg kinda vibes ?(:

I don't do female readers or ddlg/mdlg smut, but here's some SFW gn! littlespace headcanons with Lorraine :)

•She'd know it's coming before you would, already preparing your favorite stuffed animals, blankets, and pajamas. She'd cook your favorite foods, everything she knows you like when in little space for you to come home to

•She brushes your hair out of your face with the most motherly hand. "Such a pretty face," she said, giving your forehead a kiss.

•The cartoons are already on the TV when you get home, dying to regress after a hard day, and your heart melts.

•When you cry, she holds your face and wipes her tears with her thumb

•Loves holding you. She'll cuddle up with you on the couch, kissing your head as you watch cartoons.

•She's a great caretaker. She reads you so easily but leaves the floor open for you to communicate your needs directly. She's so tender in her touch that you swear it was a feather

•She has really soft hands, and when you're in littlespace, she loves putting lotion on your hands in your favorite scents.

•If she knows she's gonna be gone while you're home, she'll spray some of her perfume on your stuffies and make sure that the fridge and pantry are stocked with your safe foods.

[wandering-writers-beware]

A look into my personal prompt ideas.

Lorraine Please stay

Created: Feb 21, 2023 Tags: F/F, The Conjuring, Lorraine Warren, Bisexual Lorraine Warren, Vera Fermiga

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Lorraine Warren meets a woman in college, the fall in love, but Ed proposed. Pressure from her family results in her saying yes, and the women don’t see each other for many years.

They reunite by chance and they sleep together for old times sake and love.

Ed finds out, he isn’t angry, and accepts his wife, but the other woman’s husband finds out and beats her, almost to death.

She is kicked out and ends up staying with the Warrens. They become a little polycule partnership. The ex husband dies under mysterious circumstances, a ghost.

————————————————————————————

Word vomit at 2 am always brings good things I suppose.

[frost-queen]

Coming down sick (Daughter!R & The Warrens)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

The tv was playing as you were all gathered around it. Your parents in one sofa, your dad’s arm over hers. You sat in the other sofa with a blanket over you. You pulled it tighter around you, letting out a shiver. It alerted your mom Lorraine. – “Are you cold honey?” – she questioned. Ed looked around, trying to feel the temperature for himself. – “It is rather warm in the room.” – he stated lowering his hand once more.

“Just a cold shiver.” – you responded, not sure what it was. – “Okay.” – Lorraine answered turning her attention to the tv once more. You snuggled under your blanket to keep as much of your own body heat as close as possible. After half an hour or so, you started to feel sleepy. Your eyes almost falling shut. Blinking rapidly, you sat yourself better.

It made your dad look briefly at you, reposition yourself. You couldn’t understand as you felt wide awake an hour ago. Not long your eyelids started to fall shut. You let them close for a second, before waking yourself up. Flashing your eyes back open to focus on the tv. You hid a yawn by moving your blanket in front of your mouth. Lorraine laughed at something on the tv.

Overcome with exhaustion, you were debating to give in to it or not. It was just 8pm. Barely any time to go to sleep, unless you were a child. For a brief moment, you were wide awake. Only for the exhaustion to kick in double. This time you yawned loud, body shivering. – “That boring?” – Ed joked pointing with the remote to the tv. You shook your head. – “Just a bit tired.” – you responded.

“Do you need some Camille tea?” – Lorraine suggested. You politely shook your head. – “No thank you mom. I think I’m just going to head upstairs. Occupy myself a bit to get this out of my body.” – you went on, pulling the blanket from you. – “Okay.” – Lorraine spoke watching you get up. You went over to them, bending over to give them a kiss on their cheek.

“Night mom.” – you said receiving a kiss on your forehead in return. – “Night dad.” – you then spoke, leaving a kiss on his cheek. Ed drew a cross on your forehead for protection. Something he had done since you were born. It was a habit now. – “Night darling.” – he answered.

You left the room, heading upstairs. Hearing the last of your father chuckle at something on tv. Getting up the stairs, you started to notice just how exhausted your limbs were. Feet barely wanting to move. Your knees buckled as you needed to clamp onto the railing to stay upright. Panting loud, you had no idea what your body was experiencing.

With a lot of effort you, made your way up. Everything felt sore. Groaning soft, you barely had the strength to brush your teeth, but you did anyways. Entering your room, you wondered what to do to occupy yourself. To get yourself to wake up again. Nothing came to mind or seemed to tiring to put the energy into it.

With a soft groan, you let yourself fall onto your bed, face forwards. Your mind told you to get back up, but your body wouldn’t budge. Instead they kept laying stubbornly still. Exhaling loud, your eyes closed as your world turned blank.

Lorraine and Ed silently went up the stairs. – “I’ll just check up on our girl.” – Lorraine said standing in the corridor upstairs. Ed nodded heading for the bathroom. Lorraine knocked gentle on your door. – “Y/n, your dad and I are going to bed. You should too…” – she said upon entering.

She frowned seeing you lay down on your bed, the lights still on. Lorraine approached the bed. – “You must’ve been really tired.” – she whispered, lifting your legs up to move them under the blanket. She then pushed your body a bit, to get you to lay in a more comfortable way. She tugged you in, leaving one last kiss on your head.

Flashing the lights out, she left your room. She joined Ed in the bathroom. – “Already fast asleep.” – she told him. He hummed soft with his toothbrush in his mouth. They went to their bedroom. The Warren’s house falling silent.

Around 3 pm you woke up. Your sleep interrupted by own doing. Your mind simply let you know to open your eyes. Groaning soft, you sat up, rubbing your eye. Then the soreness came. A pain moving through your limbs. They shuddered as you shivered. Despite it being blazing hot under the covers, were you cold.

You had to lay down again, not sure what was happening. Touching your forehead, you felt that it was warm. Rather hot. Wrapping the covers around you, you tried to close your eyes once more. It was no use as the bothering in your body was ever present. Tiredness expressed in your limbs as everything felt too exhausting.

Even your limbs resting felt tiring. Touching your forehead again, you knew you were coming down with a fever. Exhaling deep, you rolled over. Eyes wide open as you couldn’t catch any sleep. Staring at your wall, you watched the hours tick by till morning hit.

You heard your parent’s bedroom door open. They were awake. You barely had it in you to get up. Stomach hurting now as well. Since you’ve been awake for several hours  now, your stomach interpreted it into I need food. There was no denying it now. You were sick. Groaning loud, you rolled over to the other side. You knew your parents had an important interview. One they couldn’t miss.

You didn’t want to be the reason for them missing the interview. There was only one option left. You needed to lie. There was a knock on the door. – “Honey time to wake up.” – it was your dad, speaking through the door. – “Okay.” – you answered. You waited for his footsteps to die out before leaving your room. Rushing into the bathroom. You almost freaked out at the state of you.

The lack of sleep wasn’t glorifying with the illness. You looked even worse. Splashing some water in your face, you hoped to wake up more. When it appeared presentable enough, you got dressed and went downstairs. Your muscles aching with sore and tiredness. Every step, every movement felt like taking up too much energy.

“Morning Y/n darling.” – Lorraine said baking some eggs. – “Morning my girl.” – Ed spoke whilst setting the table. Normally you’d help him out, but today it felt too exhausting. You sat down, trying to look alive as possible. Lorraine quirked her eyebrow up, eyeing her husband at your unusual behaviour. Ed shrugged it off, thinking it probably just wasn’t your day. – “So honey, you know mom and I have that interview today right.” – Ed began.

You forced a smile, knowing it damn too well. – “You’ll have to eat lunch alone. Don’t worry we’ll be back around 5.” – he explained coming to sit down as well. Lorraine hummed loud to agree. – “Okay…” – you responded softly. – “It is only for a couple of hours.” – Lorraine said, setting the pan down. She moved over to you, kissing your head before you could keep her at bay.

Her eyes widened slightly, moving your head back, pressing her hand against your forehead to feel. – “Mom.” – you groaned out, pushing her hand away. – “Y/n feels hot.” – she expressed wanting to feel again. You slapped her hand away. – “I’m fine. Just go do your interview.” – you answered a bit bitsy.

“Y/n?” – Ed said confused to from where your sudden behaviour came. – “What’s wrong?” – he asked. – “Nothing.” – you replied. Lorraine surprise attacked you, pressing her hand against your forehead again. – “You’re burning up. Are you coming down with a fever?” – she called out worried. – “That’s it, we’ll post-pone the interview.” – Ed declared. – “No!” – you blurted out. – “Y/n…” – Lorraine looked worriedly at you. – “It’s just an interview.” – she explained.

“A really important one. Me being sick isn’t a reason for you to stay home.” – you ratted yourself out with your own stupidness. Sighed soft, there was no lying about it anymore. – “Were you feeling like this since last night?” – Lorraine wanted to know. You nodded as she tilted her head to the side. – “Y/n darling why didn’t you say anything.” – she asked. – “Because you had that interview.” – you explained. Ed got up, going round the table. – “Nothing is more important than our girl.” – he wrapped his arms around you.

Lorraine joined, giving you a good squeeze. – “Ed, post-pone the interview.” – Lorraine ordered. Ed nodded, already heading over to the phone. She took your hand, pulling you up. – “We are going to take care of our daughter.” – she said. She helped you back upstairs, tugging you back in. Ed came running up the stairs with some medicine.

Lorraine accepted it, assisting you to some medicine. – “You’ll feel better and be able to get some sleep.” – she said. Ed laid his hand on her shoulder. – “We’ll be right here.” – he spoke. You smiled at your parents before laying your head down and trying to catch in on that sleep.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[chpsticklesbian]

Christine

lorraine warren x fem!reader

cw: angst, repressed emotions and such

a/n: i love her so bad!!! the lack of fanfics is absurd though... inspired by 'christine' - lucy dacus & a reference to 'i'd have to think about it' by leith ross.

words: 2.4k+

connecticut felt cold. colder than usual. maybe autumn was coming faster. maybe it was going to rain. whatever it was you were glad it happened. because tonight lorraine held your hand tighter to keep hers warm. you welcomed it, naturally, without hesitation as the three of you walked out of the theater.

but much to your dismay ed hadn't parked far away.

"god that movie was so boring i was fighting not to fall asleep" lorraine complained. you scoffed in response, mumbling an 'i told you so', and she playfully shoved you.

"what? you insisted on watching it after i told you it would be!" you defended yourself with a playful smile.

"whatever." she grumbled, making you chuckle.

"well if you're tired you could sit in the back with y/n and sleep on the drive back" ed, ever the gentlemen, offered. you guess it was nice he cared and preferred she fall asleep comfortably over making her sit on the passenger seat beside him.

"you sure?" he smiled at her, still having her hands interlocked with yours. he thought it was a girlfriends thing. though in your eyes he was wrong, you just hoped lorraine thought so too.

"wouldn't want you exhausted." you could only stare at them smile at each other as you tried your best not to tear your hands away from lorraines grasp.

"thank you." she leaned to press a kiss into his cheek. that's when you looked away.

climbing into the backseat with her you noticed ed taking something from the trunk of his car before getting in the driver seat. he turned to the both of you before passing lorraine a wool blanket so she wouldn't get cold. it all felt natural. him caring for her. as if he'd done it a hundred times. you felt your gut churn at the thought. you know the feeling all too well. you felt it too. it seems you were far more similar to ed than you thought.

lorraine fell asleep quickly after ed started the drive back. as she did, the car fell into an almost awkward silence. but you weren't planning on talking to him any time soon. you were fine with lorraines head on your shoulder, her quiet mutters of nonsense as she dreamt.

you were already halfway back home when ed finally decided to speak.

"she alright back there?" of course, his first sentence to you would be about her. you just hummed, completely uninterested in conversing with him. you knew in a way it was childish. he'd done nothing to you or lorraine. but the mere prospect of losing her to him so easily was enough to make you dislike him.

it wasn't that you were possessive, no. she's had many boyfriends before him. but none of them had compared to him. they weren't as nice as he is, they didn't care about her like he did, mostly they didn't love her like he does.

it was stupid, really. you started to recognize it when he took her out to things you two usually did together. that wasn't out of the ordinary of course. her previous boyfriends had done the same. but before ed it was always;

"it was much more fun when i went there with you."

but with ed she'd call you grinning ear to ear, you could hear it in her voice. that's when you realized he didn't love her like her previous partners did. he loves her like you do.

"so how long have you known lorraine?" he looked at you and lorraine through the rear view mirror. you guess he got tired of the silence and decided it's better to talk about this than nothing. you sighed.

"since we were in middle school." you decided if he was going to talk to you, your responses would be short. you weren't trying to make a friend anyway.

"so you guys are close" you could tell he didn't plan what to say next. you just hummed. a minute of silence passes by.

"do you-"

"you don't have to talk to me, ed. i know you're her boyfriend and all but that doesn't mean we have to be friends." you cut him off. you felt bad, in a way. but you knew saying that was better than enduring painful small talk for another few minutes. so you were thankful when he nodded and you resumed staring at the road from out the window. 

“i’m sorry, it’s just, you’re really important to her. and i don’t know what i’ve done to make you… disapprove of me, but whatever it is i’m sorry. truly. i care about her, and you mean so much to her- and i really, really don’t wanna make this lose my chance with her. so could you please, tell me what i’ve done.” he started again. you almost felt bad now. maybe you’ve been too harsh on him. you sighed.

“look, you haven’t done anything. honest. but you’re getting terribly close to her. more than anyone else she’s been with has managed to. you can't blame me for worrying about her a bit. i know you’re a good guy and i’m sorry if i’ve made it seem like i dislike you in some sort of way, but it’s hard to know these days” you half-lied, half told the truth. he nodded his head in understanding. at least he believed you. 

“if it makes you feel better i swear i have zero intentions of hurting her. you have my word on it.” you mustered up your best smile.

“thank you, ed.” he nodded. the rest of the ride was filled with lorraines constant murmurs and the sound of tires on gravel until you reached your house. calling lorraines name as softly as possible, you gently nudged her awake until her eyes opened to meet yours. she looked out the window, recognising your house immediately. of course she did, she was always there. she shuffled away from you until you were able to open the car door. but you were surprised to find her leaving the backseat too, following you out. you turned to her before walking back home.

“still on for tomorrow?” she smiled at you. it was dopey and soft. her eyes squinting even more due to her still being half asleep. and my god was it warm.

“wouldn't miss it.” it was your turn to smile. with that, she pulled you in for a hug, and suddenly connecticut felt warmer than usual. you hope she was sleepy enough to not notice you held her tighter.

“sleep well pretty girl.” you whispered to her, she chuckled at that.

 after pulling away she opened the door to the passenger seat beside ed and took a seat. all the warmth you felt previously suddenly disappeared. the cold rush of air prominent once more on your skin. So you turned and descended home. reaching your door you turned back. the car hasn't moved. lorraine was fast asleep again, but ed was watching you to ensure you made it inside. he can be nice. you unlocked your door before turning back once more and offering him a wave goodbye. and he grinned, gladly tossing you a wave back and turning to put his car back to drive. you found it difficult to sleep that night, too many things had managed to occupy your head. only thing keeping you steady was that you’d see her face tomorrow. just her. 

-

your evening with lorraine was perfect. lunch was full of conversation and laughs about anything and everything and everything else in between. it tuned out any thoughts you had about the previous night. and him. it didn't stop you from admiring her as she rambled, however. you thought she was either so oblivious to not notice or she was welcoming it. you hoped for the latter. 

by the time you two finished, evening was slowly approaching. you offered to get ice cream, you know she’d never pass that up. so to an eager nod; you chuckled and guided you both to the nearest parlor. you got her order out before she got to telling you. she was surprised to find you got her order complete with nothing missing. she’d be lying if she says it didn’t make her smile, or make her heart beat a few times faster. but you were just being a good friend. though how come ed always asks what she wants?

with the park nearby empty, you took the opportunity to occupy a vacant bench. She followed quickly to sit by your side. the bench wasn’t too long, you sat shoulder to shoulder. conversation came easily, until it steered to the topic of ed. something you desperately didn’t need today.

"you think he'll make a mother out of me?" you scoffed at her, facing away to throw away your napkins to the trash can beside the bench before facing her again.

"you'll make a mother out of yourself when the time is ready. raise 'em like you've always wanted."

"by the lake" you both said in whispered unison. it never failed to surprise her how you always remember details about her. whether it was her now, then, or her in the future. she couldn't help but wonder if he’d remember her that easily too.

"you think i'd raise them right?" you hummed in agreement.

"well knowing you, they'd be the first kid to never hurt another." she chuckled. you could feel her laugh vibrating from her body.

“you think too highly of me.” she jokes.

“it’s hard not to.” you tease her back, she rolls her eyes at you. you chuckle in response.

“hey, i hope this- me and ed thing getting serious isn’t bothering you too much.” oh god did he say something to her? you tried to have your face remain neutral.

“no, not at all. why would it?” she looked at you, eyebrow raised and all.

“we spend everyday together. now i spend most of my days with him. i wouldn't be surprised if it does.” you let out your best convincing laugh.

“seriously? lorraine, he’s your boyfriend. i'm not offended you’ve cut spending time with me to be with him. yeah, i miss being with you all the time but i understand. and hey, you still hang out with me. that’s completely enough for me.” you reassure her with a smile. you wish you could tell her the way you actually feel about the situation. but the regret faded when you can see her get peppy and smiley again.

“so glad you’re not the possessive type.” 

“you wish.” you tease, making her nudge you to the side with a laugh.

"but if you get married," you start, your voice playful.

"what? you'd object- throw your shoe at the altar?" her tone wasn't serious. it was light, humorous, all the components you needed to joke around. though you couldn't help but think she wasn't entirely wrong. but you simply laughed along with her. doing your best to ease your mind. it's not like it was hard for you to smile when you were with her anyway.

"hey, you joke but i might just" you made her chuckle even more. and you swear you could look at her smile for years.

"what? is that so ridiculous?" the smile on your lips was almost audible in your voice.

"you'd be willing to lose your dignity just like that?" the smile was still adorning her lips while her eyebrows were furrowed lightly, looking at you as if trying to decipher if you were bluffing.

"better than losing you." you were still smiling, albeit with a linger of melancholia at the thought. you couldn't help but notice her smile mirrored yours. until it faded completely, leaving just her subtly furrowed brows and building frown. you'd realized you might've said something wrong. so you turned your face away from her to stare at the grass in front of you. but she didn't budge. eyeing you as if you'd just said the most interesting thing in the world. you didn't dare take your words back.

instead you let her process them. letting a minute of silence engulf you both until she spoke again.

"you'd still lose me. and my respect. you'd lose me regardless" at this you turned your head back to her. you tried to ignore that she subconsciously admitted that you'd lose her in this situation. no matter what happens. still the thought lingered in your mind for a while.

"that's fine. then at least i'd lose you knowing that i didn't lose you to someone that doesn't make you happy." she didn't reply to that. looking off to the side before turning back to you.

"does he?" she raised an eyebrow before realizing you were asking if he made her happy. another passing moment of silence. the hesitation to answer gave you the real answer very quickly. but she'd deny it. she couldn't admit he didn't, at least not in the way she wanted him too. she couldn't admit nobody's made her as happy as she was each time she was around you. 

So she nodded. it was impossible for her to lie to you verbally. too scared to look you in the eye, she looked to the view beside you.

"then i'll forever hold my peace" she took in your words and almost regretted lying. for some odd reason she wanted you to know he doesn't make her happy. she doesn't know why. maybe deep down she wants you to destroy her wedding one day. maybe she wanted you to profess your love to her in formal attire while she stood in the chapel wearing a white gown.

"but he doesn't-" a deep sigh. your brows furrowed.

"he does. just not the way i had in mind" not the way you do. 

"nobody's perfect" your smile was tight and forced. her eyes were glazed over as she looked at you. 

“you are.” you chuckle. the truth behind her words went through you. you always denied the off chance she’d love you back. she was just being nice.

“then it’s too bad i’m not him.” she frowned. maybe in some universe you were. but the chance of being together in another universe provided no comfort to you or her. what was the use if you wouldn’t be satisfied in this universe?

she clicked her tongue as she opened her mouth to take a big breath and let it out in a sigh. she turned her head back to the scene in front of the both of you and you followed suit, letting her rest her head on your shoulder. 

connecticut was cold. but it was too bad she wasn’t yours to keep warm.

[doormatty3]

Sinner's Salvation: Chapter 1 (Ed Warren x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Next chapter

Summary:

[Ed Warren x Female Reader] [Ed Warren x You]

You don't believe in the supernatural and superstition. Witchcraft and demonic occurrences are nothing but quackery to you. But when the room starts spinning, days start blurring into each other and shadows start dancing in every corner you wonder what is wrong with you. No doctor can tell you more about your condition - each and every one is insisting that you are fine and perfectly healthy.  Seeking alternative help, you stumble across Ed and Lorraine Warren.  They promise to help you, rid you of the demon that has taken hold of you - to drive it out. But you didn’t know what you signed up for and what an exorcism by Ed Warren entails.  OR: Ed shows you how well he can possess your body - and your cunt

Wordcount: 8019

Chapter: 1/2

Warnings: 18+, description of violence, dirty thoughts, flirting, religious imagery

A/N: Peer pressure is strong - so here is another Patrick Wilson fanfic. This first chapter is pretty much swf, the smut is in the next one. And belief me…it is filthy. Anyway I need Jesus or Ed to exorcise me.

Next chapter

CHAPTER 1

Your head pounds as you try to busy yourself with the magazines on the glass table at your doctors’s waiting room. Headaches and migraines have been intermittent companions throughout your life - coming and going over the years with an emphasis on going.

However, for the past few weeks, they were persistent and overstayed their welcome.

What began as a dull ache that had settled in the front of your skull had slowly morphed and spread through your whole head until it felt like constant and pervasive pressure was applied to your temples, squeezing your mind between its fingers restlessly. The dull throb had escalated into a sharp, blinding stab, like invisible hands transforming into relentless claws.

It was at this point that you resolved to consult your doctor. Those headaches were out of the ordinary, deviating from their usual form and you were yearning for some relief and an explanation as to what was causing them. Because you were sure that it wasn’t just migraines or stress.

You sink back into the uncomfortable chair of the waiting room as you find yourself desperately seeking some solace from the sharp pain throbbing at your temple. The mix of the flickering fluorescence overhead and the bright daylight seeping in through the window seems to intensify your discomfort so you close your eyes to drown out one sensation. But the lack of one sense amplifies the other, so you hear the murmur of hushed conversations and discussions as well as the rhythmic ticking of the clock that has never seemed so loud as it does at this moment.

You bring your right hand to your head and rub your thumb in circular motions over your temple while your fingers rest on your forehead. Despite your best efforts, it does not really help against the throbbing ache and only provides some short-lived relief.

Each passing minute elongates your stay in the room, marked only by the clock’s relentless ticking.

On any other day, you would have read something or watched the other people sitting in the room but the headache makes everything tiring and painful.

Suddenly, your name echoes through the waiting room, your head jolts up and your eyes fly open. The doctor’s assistant meets your gaze with an expectant look and gestures with her hand, saying: “Please follow me”.

As you rise from the unyielding chair quickly, the ticking clock and flickering lights momentarily fade into the background when spots dance in the edges of your vision - a new side effect of your headaches. You blink a few times to regain your composure and balance.

The corridor leading to the treatment room is long and sterile - occasionally a colorful picture on the white wall breaks up the monotonous path. The echo of your footsteps sounds loud in your head and you feel the sharp stab in your temple with every noise.

With a smile and a nod, the woman opens the door to the doctor’s room: “He’ll be with you in a couple minutes. Feel free to take a seat”.

“Thank you”, you mumble quietly and pull out a chair to sit down.

The room is adorned with medical charts, anatomical diagrams, and informational posters that detail various parts of the human body. Anatomical models of organs and skeletal structures stand on shelves, their detailed features catching the sterile light.

You lower your eyes to your hands and away from the bright lights in the room when the door to the room creaks open.

“I’m sorry for the wait, dear”, the doctor enters the room, shutting the door gently and taking a seat opposite you, “What brings you here today?”

“I wake up with headaches almost every morning”, you admit, your voice carrying the weight of fatigue and frustration, “It started a few months ago and hasn’t gotten better - only worse.”

The doctor, a mix of empathy and expertise, leans in, pen poised over a notepad, ready to capture the nuances of your struggle.

“Tell me more about the nature of the pain. Is it sharp, dull, pulsating?”, he inquires, his eyes focused on yours, seeking a clearer picture.

You take a moment, searching for words to convey the indescribable sensations.

“It’s like… a relentless pressure, sometimes sharp and stabbing, and it just lingers throughout the day. It’s not just the pain; it’s the way it clouds everything else, like a persistent shadow”, you explain, your frustration evident in the furrow of your brow.

And then you add, almost as an afterthought: “I usually have migraines, but this headache feels different. It’s like a stranger invading my headspace, and nothing seems to help.”

The doctor nods thoughtfully, his brow furrowing in a half-hearted attempt at concern.

“I see. How would you rate the intensity on a scale from one to ten? And have you noticed any specific triggers or patterns that coincide with these headaches?”

You take a deep breath, appreciating the opportunity to provide more insight into the daily struggle you endure.

“The intensity varies, but at its peak, I would rate it around an eight or nine. It’s not just the pain…”, you trail off for a second, blinking your eyes rapidly against the throbbing of your head, “It’s the relentlessness of it, like a drumbeat in my head that refuses to fade away.”

The doctor scribbles a few notes, but his furrowed brow remains a mere semblance of genuine concern and you cannot help but wonder if he takes your concern seriously.

He continues, without looking up: “Triggers or patterns - have you noticed anything specific that seems to bring these headaches on? Certain foods, stress, lack of sleep, perhaps?”

Your mind races to pinpoint potential triggers, hoping to offer any helpful information.

“No, I don’t think I can pinpoint any specific trigger. I’ve tried tracking my diet, but nothing conclusive… I know stress can make it worse, but that just doesn’t seem right. It almost feels like they have a mind of their own.”

The doctor’s nod is accompanied by a distant sound of acknowledgment: “Understood. We’ll note the variability. Have you observed any changes in their frequency or duration recently?”

You pause, considering his question. “Yes, they’ve become more frequent, and the duration seems to be stretching out. Sometimes lasting for days.”

As you share your experiences, the doctor’s responses remain mechanical, lacking the depth and engagement you hoped for.

He takes down a note on his pad, his expression somewhat detached.

“Thank you for sharing that. We’ll explore this further. In the meantime, have you experienced any other symptoms alongside these headaches? Changes in vision, sensitivity to light, or nausea, perhaps?”

You take a deep breath before responding: “Yes, there have been moments where I see shadows dancing at the edge of my vision, and light, especially bright light, seems almost intolerable.”

“Well, headaches can be tricky. I’ll prescribe you some pain medication for now. It should help take the edge off. Let’s see how that goes before jumping into more tests.”

The doctor’s demeanour remains distant, his response lacking the reassurance you were seeking.

A pervasive disappointment sets in as you absorb his words, rendering you speechless. The doctor’s lack of genuine concern leaves you disheartened.

With a brisk movement, he rises from his chair, with a faint smile gracing his lips as he extends his hand toward you.

As the doctor withdraws his hand, he nods almost imperceptibly, a silent acknowledgment that punctuates the end of the consultation. With a parting glance, he pivots and makes his way towards the door, the echo of his footsteps emphasising the hollowness of the room. The door creaks open and then closes, leaving you sitting alone as you try to comprehend what just happened.

The initial hope for understanding and empathy begins to waver, replaced by a nagging question: are your headaches truly as severe as they feel, or are they being downplayed by the doctor’s lack of concern?

The doubt grows as you leave the examination room, and a wave of self-questioning accompanies you. Perhaps you’re exaggerating the pain, or maybe others endure worse without seeking medical attention. The once vivid description of your headaches starts to blur, muddled by the doctor's detached response.

This self-doubt, however, doesn’t entirely quash the very real and tangible pain you feel daily. The clawing at your temples persists a constant reminder that, regardless of the doctor's reaction, your struggle is genuine.

_____6 months later_____

The moment you pry your eyes open, you instantly regret it when a familiar surge of pain flares up and radiates through your head. The once-tolerable discomfort, only triggered by encounters with brighter lights, now manifests even at the gentlest touch of illumination.

The blinds in your apartment are drawn almost entirely shut in a deliberate attempt to shield you from the outside world. Only a handful of thin, feeble stripes of light manages to illuminate the room, casting delicate patterns on the floor. The room around you remains shrouded in a semi-darkened veil.

As you lay there, contemplating the day ahead, you can't help but wish for a respite from the relentless screaming in your head. With a groan, you push yourself up, your movements measured to avoid exacerbating the persistent ache.

The dull glow of a digital clock on the bedside table reveals the early hour, a reminder that the day has just begun, yet the promise it holds seems elusive under the weight of your current state. You’d much rather not have to open your eyes at all and retreat into the comforting embrace of darkness and the inevitability of facing the day ahead.

The current intensity of the throbbing headaches promises a rather bad day ahead - maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.

The cool surface of the floor meets the soles of your feet offering a momentary distraction from the pulsating discomfort in your head as you navigate the dimly lit space. The few rays of light filtering through the partially closed blinds create a chiaroscuro effect, casting shadows that dance along the walls like fleeting memories.

The weight of uncertainty presses down on you, adding an undercurrent of fear to the pulsating discomfort in your head. The unknown, wrapped in shadows, looms over your thoughts, intensifying the ache that reverberates through your skull and manipulating the threads of your mind like a malevolent puppeteer, weaving a twisted dance of uncertainty.

With each step, you can’t shake the feeling of being adrift in a sea of questions, with no clear answers in sight.

You lower yourself into the desk chair in your office, facing the computer. With a heavy sigh, you rest your head in your hands, succumbing to the pounding in your head that seems to be intensified by the soft glow of the computer screen.

A sense of worry washes over you as you contemplate the missing fragments of time. There are moments when waking up brings with it the haunting realisation that whole days have slipped through the sieve of your memory. You recall mornings when you’ve donned shoes and proper clothes, yet the specifics remain elusive, lost in the fog of an obscured consciousness.

Unexplained bruises are scattered across your body like cryptic symbols etched into the canvas of your skin. The morning light sometimes reveals these marks - random, and varied in size. Some bruises are inconspicuous, while others are more pronounced, a stark contrast against the pallor of your skin. You know that it may very well be a nutritional deficiency or just your clumsiness in general.

It's plausible that during the night, you inadvertently collide with objects or navigate your dimly lit apartment and stumble into furniture, while the pain is obscured by the prominence of your persistent headaches. Which rhythmic persistence feels as if someone else is dwelling within, an unwelcome tenant navigating the labyrinth of your thoughts.

Once again you google your symptoms just as you did before in hopes of finding something that provides you with the answers you so desperately seek. The tapping of keys echoes in the quiet room as you type in the details of your affliction.

The search results hold a plethora of possibilities, ranging from the mundane to the foreboding. Your eyes sweep across the information, revealing a spectrum of potential explanations.

Predictably, illnesses such as cancer or a brain tumor show up in the results. But you recall a recent and disappointing visit to the doctor during which you talked about the results of brain scans that were completely normal and unremarkable. The lingering sense of unease that clings to your every thought has not been dispelled by that and still remains.

As you delve deeper into your online search, the glow of the computer screen casts an ethereal light on your face, accentuating the furrowed brow that accompanies your contemplation when the search results take an unexpected turn.

Among the medical explanations and everyday ailments, there is a collection of pages adorned with ominous symbols, discussing the supernatural, and invoking the paranormal.

A skeptical scoff escapes your lips at the absurdity of such notions. The idea of demonic involvement feels like a fantastical escape from the reality of medical concerns. You dismiss these supernatural threads as mere distractions, remnants of an online world where fiction and reality often blur. But you cannot deny that you are intrigued and fascinated by those weird demonic and paranormal things.

So you decide to dive deeper and steer your thoughts in a different direction than your medical condition.

You stumble upon Ed and Lorraine Warren. Their names are etched in the annals of supernatural and demonologist lore, their photographs capturing a certain gravitas that transcends the ordinary.

As you delve into their stories, a mix of fascination and skepticism grips you. The tales of haunted houses, malevolent entities, and their seemingly fearless pursuit of the unknown unfold like chapters in a dark, mysterious novel.

The images of the Warrens show a tall, imposing couple that exudes an aura of authority. Their gaze seems to pierce through the screen as if they have encountered unknown forces that your brain cannot comprehend. Both exude attractiveness and Ed, in particular, captivates your attention with his clear blue eyes and a soft, reassuring smile.

As you sink deeper into your exploration, you come across intriguing details about the Warrens, including snippets about their artifact room.

Further research reveals that Ed is a non-ordained demonologist officially recognized by the Catholic Church and Lorraine, on the other hand, is described as a gifted clairvoyant.

Notably, you discover that the Warrens are scheduled to speak at a university near you in a few days, where they will delve into topics surrounding demons and the supernatural. This upcoming lecture piques your interest, as it offers the possibility of gaining insights on the topic you’re interested in and steering your thoughts in a different direction.

The next day unfolds with a disconcerting air that hangs over every moment. As you move through the routine motions of your day, a persistent sensation gnaws at the edges of your consciousness - a feeling that someone might be in your apartment, an invisible presence tracking your every move. The shadows seem to linger, conspiring to elongate and distort as if concealing the secrets of an unseen observer.

Unease settles in, and the weight of the unknown intensifies. Your senses are on high alert, hyperaware of subtle sounds and fleeting shadows. Paranoia casts a veil over your perception, transforming the familiar surroundings into a labyrinth of uncertainty. The notion that you are being followed, and watched, becomes an inescapable undercurrent.

As you sit down at your computer to continue your Google search about Ed and Lorraine Warren, the mysterious feeling of being watched persists and the noises in your apartment become more pronounced.

Suddenly, you hear a distinct tapping sound, like fingernails lightly brushing against a surface. Your head jerks up, and you glance around the room, searching for the source.

You decide to investigate the source of the sounds. Slowly, you get up from your chair and start to explore your apartment. The creaking floorboards and faint whispers add to the tension in the air. As you move from room to room, you can’t shake the feeling that someone - or something - is with you.

Jesus, you think.

Delving into the Warrens’ cases has genuinely left an impression on you. Despite your rational certainty that you'll discover nothing unusual, a small part of you wants to make sure that you are truly alone, so you look into your bedroom.

The room is dimly lit, and shadows dance on the walls, creating an unsettling atmosphere and you half expect to come face-to-face with an intruder.

Of course, the room is empty. You shake your head at your antics and the weird games your mind sometimes plays at you. So you return to your computer, determined to focus on your research.

As you delve deeper into their history, you come across tales of unexplained occurrences and inexplicable events. The line between the paranormal and the ordinary becomes blurred, and you can’t help but wonder if there's a connection between your eerie experience and the stories you’re reading.

The distinct creak of the front door opening sends a shiver down your spine, intensifying the unease that had settled in the pit of your stomach. Your head jerks up instinctively, eyes widening as you try to discern any movement or sound that may follow.

Slowly and cautiously, you ease yourself out of the office, your senses on high alert - your mind cannot have made that up again, it feels too real.

Each step is deliberate, the floorboards beneath your feet protesting with muted groans. The dim lighting in the hallway casts long, wavering shadows, creating a macabre dance of darkness that seems to come alive with each flicker.

As you make your way to the kitchen, you can't help but notice the play of light and shadow, accentuating the contours of the furniture and giving the surroundings an otherworldly quality. The eerie atmosphere lingers, and every sound, whether a distant whisper or the faint rustle of curtains, contributes to the unsettling symphony. Your heart pounds in your ears, the rhythmic thud echoing relentlessly as adrenaline courses through your veins.

The air feels charged with tension as you navigate through the space, acutely aware of your surroundings. The kitchen, once a place of familiarity, now holds an unfamiliar weight, and you find yourself glancing over your shoulder, half-expecting to find a presence lingering in the shadows.

You look around for a potential weapon in your kitchen. Your eyes land on a set of sharp kitchen knives neatly arranged on the counter. You grab one, the cold steel offering a reassuring weight in your hand. Gripping it tightly, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as the blade reflects the gentle glow that is emanating from the windows.

Your mind races with possibilities, ranging from a potential intruder to something more otherworldly. Your eyes blink rapidly, a reflex under the stress, and you can feel sweat building as your apprehension grows.

With the knife in hand, you decide to cautiously approach the area near the hallway that leads to the front door. Every step is deliberate, and the creaking floorboards beneath your feet seem to echo in the silence. The shadows play tricks on your imagination, making you question whether the movement you see is real or just a product of your heightened senses.

As you reach the entrance, you notice that the door is slightly ajar. The chill in the air sends a shiver down your spine. Holding the knife in a defensive stance, you push the door open, ready to confront whatever or whoever might be on the other side.

To your surprise, the hallway appears empty. The dimly lit corridor stretches out before you, devoid of any immediate threat. However, the feeling of being watched persists, leaving you on edge.

A shiver runs down your spine as you turn towards the living room, and your eyes widen with a mixture of fear and surprise.

In the dim light, you make out the silhouette of a figure standing in the shadows. The room seems to hold its breath as you lock eyes with the unexpected visitor.

Your grip tightens on the knife, your instincts urging you to be prepared for whatever may come. The figure remains still, a mysterious presence cloaked in darkness. Panic and curiosity wrestle within you, but you muster the courage to speak.

“Who’s there?”, you demand, your voice wavering slightly, betraying your inner turmoil.

The figure doesn’t respond immediately, maintaining an unsettling silence. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you start to discern features - the outline of a person clad in big, dark clothing wearing a hood. The air in the room feels charged with tension, and the quiet seems to amplify the beating of your heart.

A surge of fear courses through you as the stranger inches closer in the dimly lit living room. Your panic intensifies, and without thinking, you unleash a scream, a mixture of fear and warning, hoping to startle the intruder or whatever presence stands before you as you feel your whole body shaking.

“Who are you? What do you want?”, you shout, your voice echoing through the tense silence. The sudden burst of sound reverberates in the room, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest.

The stranger freezes momentarily, their movement halted by your unexpected reaction. The dim light casts uncertain shadows on their stance, making it challenging to discern their intentions. You maintain a defensive stance, clutching the knife tightly in your hand.

In the wake of your scream, a heavy silence lingers, broken only by the sound of your own rapid breaths. The stranger remains silent, their next move unclear.

“I don’t want to hurt you! Please just…go”, your voice is shaking and the fear that settled itself in your core is palpable.

Suddenly, the stranger surges forward and in a split-second response to their move towards you, fear and adrenaline drive you to react instinctively. Without hesitation, you thrust the knife forward, aiming for the center of the oncoming threat. The blade makes contact, sinking into the stranger’s stomach with a sickening resistance.

The stranger gasps, a guttural sound escaping their lips, and their momentum falters. The reality of the situation hits you, and your eyes widen in shock as you release the blade and stumble back. You watch their hands instinctively clutch their injured stomach before inevitably collapsing onto the ground.

Time seems to stretch as you assess the situation, your mind racing to comprehend the events that have just happened.

You stand there, breaths coming in ragged gasps, staring at the figure now on the floor. The dim light accentuates the stark reality of the situation - their blood on the knife, their blood splattered on the floor, and their blood staining your hands.

A wave of panic grips you, and you feel the onset of a panic attack tightening your chest. The reality of the violence you've just inflicted crashes over you, and a whirlwind of emotions - fear, guilt, and shock - threatens to overwhelm your senses. Bile rises at the back of your throat, adding to the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

The heavy silence in the room is broken by the sound of your laboured breathing when you realise the gravity of the situation. You just stabbed someone.

You step closer to the figure on the floor, your hands are trembling and your mind is in turmoil. Your gaze falls onto the knife. It is still stained with their blood and lodged in the stranger’s stomach like a macabre focal point that rhythmically rises with their rattling, shallow breaths.

You hover over the figure and you reach out to grab the protruding knife with your bloody hands in a motion that you cannot stop. Your hand closes around the handle and you pull.

The knife emerges from the stranger’s stomach without much resistance but with a wet squelch and a deep, pained groan. Blood follows the blade out of the wound, drenching the stranger’s clothes as you watch mesmerised.

A few seconds tick by before you sink to your knees and lift the blade again as if pulled up by invisible strings.

The knife plunges into the stranger's chest, and a sickening resistance, a visceral clash of flesh, bone, and muscle, courses through your hands. The figure beneath you convulses, and the room is filled with the gut-wrenching sounds of their laboured breaths and pained noises, and the air is heavy with the metallic scent of blood, a salty tang settling on your tongue.

As you continue to stab in a mindless range, the blood pools over your hands, coating them like a warm embrace. The stranger beneath you convulses in response to each stab, their breaths growing more ragged with each passing moment.

Your frazzled breathing is loud in the room when you snap out of your frenzy. A sudden realisation grips you as the weight of what you've done settles in and the knife hits the wooden floor with a loud clink.

The dim light flickers, casting an eerie glow on the tableau of violence before you.

The dark clad, hooded figure that lays motionless on your floor in a pool of deep red blood surrounding them, drawing a macabre outline.

You reach out to the stilled stranger's form and tug the hood down from the stranger's head.

A jolt of terror courses through you as you reveal your own face staring back at you, eyes wide in terror. The shock is overwhelming, and you stagger back, falling onto your hands. The surreal horror of the revelation sends a scream tearing from your throat.

But then, as abruptly as the situation unfolded, you wake up screaming. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you're drenched in a cold sweat. The remnants of the dream cling to your consciousness, leaving you disoriented and unsettled.

As the realisation sets in that it was all a nightmare, a wave of relief washes over you. The room is bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, and the familiar surroundings of your bedroom reassure you that the disturbing events were only figments of your imagination. The oppressive shadows, the metallic tang of the knife, the haunting echoes of the chilling act - all dissolved into the hazy realm of dreams.

You extend your arm to hit the light switch for your bedside lamp, flooding the room with a brighter light. However, the sudden change triggers a throbbing headache, and spots dance before your eyes. The harsh illumination contrasts sharply with the peaceful moonlight, leaving you momentarily disoriented as you navigate the transition from the dreamworld to the stark reality of your lit room.

Abruptly, you raise your hands, a quick and anxious gesture, checking for any signs of harm or scattering of remaining blood. When you see nothing but spotless skin you take a moment to collect yourself, breathing deeply. Yet you still rub your hands together, attempting to rid yourself of the lingering sensation of phantom blood that appears to have permeated your skin.

The digital numbers on your clock glow faintly, spelling out the hour: 3 am. The unsettling residue of your nightmare clings to your thoughts, a haunting aftertaste that refuses to dissipate.

As you consider the option of getting up, you notice the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the distant sounds of the night outside. The weight of the bedsheets feels heavier than usual, as if reluctant to release you from the lingering grip of the dream's distressing scenes. The room, while familiar, carries an air of unfamiliarity, as if the vivid dream has cast a subtle shadow over your reality.

The intensity of your frustration grows as you realize that even your dreams have become a source of distress. The pervasive discomfort of constant head pain during waking hours now seems to extend its unwelcome influence into the realm of your sleep, turning what should be a respite into yet another source of anguish. The feeling of being trapped in a dual nightmare, both waking and sleeping, causes tears to well up in your eyes.

In all the months of your illness, you have never felt so completely and utterly lost and afraid.

A sob escapes your throat, and tears stream down your face as you succumb to the overwhelming weight of despair. You just want to get better - because this state is not living anymore, it is merely existing.

You recall the Google search from the day before - about Ed and Lorraine Warren being at a university for a lecture.

Maybe they can help you tackle whatever this is. Conventional medicine has failed you, leaving you desperate and adrift, and at this point, with nothing left to lose you are okay with anything. After all - it cannot get worse.

_____

The lecture hall at the university is packed, filled with an eager and diverse crowd, spanning different ages, all buzzing with anticipation as they gather to witness the renowned Warrens deliver their lecture.

Ed and Lorraine take their place on the stage, positioned behind a podium. You find yourself nervously seated in the middle of the audience, the bright lights exacerbating your headaches, the dull throb syncing with the beat of your heart as you feel anxious. Your attention shifts to the front, where Ed and Lorraine stand and you let your eyes rank over them.

Ed, with his impeccably styled short auburn hair, is dressed in a light grey three-piece suit paired with a black shirt and a tartan tie. Lorraine’s attire is a black vest over a light blue ruffle blouse and a long skirt carrying a matching tartan pattern, echoing Ed’s tie.

It’s a subtle reflection of their devotion to each other, you figure. Both of them emanate an undeniable attractiveness that seems to reel you in and you understand why they are so successful in what they do.

As they stand behind the podium, Ed exudes a grounded demeanour, his voice breaking the silence and resonating through the hall: “Fear is defined as a feeling of agitation and anxiety caused by the presence or imminence of danger. I don’t care if it’s a demon, a ghost, a spirit, or an entity - they all feed on it.”

Despite Ed’s composed presence, Lorraine appears unfocused, her eyes scanning the crowd as she nervously plays with her rosary.

The room is illuminated by a large screen, displaying rough film footage featuring a gaunt, despondent man in his late twenties - rail thin, eyes black like his hair, and skin pasty white. A Catholic priest stands beside him, murmuring Latin in a barely audible tone.

“Maurice here was a French Canadian farmer with nothing more than a third-grade education - yet after being possessed by a demon, spoke some of the best Latin I had ever heard - sometimes backward. He had been molested by his father, who also exposed him to bestiality. Evil found its home in this man because he was conflicted, and forced into this - he never had a choice. He thought he was saving his wife by shooting her - like his father did to his mother”, Ed informs the audience as the film unfolds before them.

You experience a mix of unease and captivation in Ed’s presence, marvelling at how he commands the room. His bright blue eyes gaze into the audience as he speaks, intensifying the dull throb in your temples as you concentrate on the lecture rather than the charismatic man on the stage.

Shifting your focus from Ed’s figure, you fix your gaze on the screen displaying the possessed man, Maurice, writhing in agonising agony.

Lorraine interjects as the film plays: “If you look at his eyes, you can see them tearing blood onto his shirt.”

You witness Maurice’s white T-shirt morphing into a canvas of dark crimson, accompanied by anguished screams.

“And upside-down crosses started appearing on his body”, Lorraine’s soft voice narrates as Ed lifts Maurice's shirt in the film, revealing two inverted crosses pushing out from the inside.

A sense of disbelief floods your thoughts - how is that possible?

Your headache pulses, prompting you to massage your temples as you watch Maurice’s struggle. The shocking scenes inadvertently bring back memories of the unsettling nightmare from the previous night. You blink rapidly, attempting to dispel the lingering thoughts and bring your focus back to the stage.

Ed takes charge, saying: “That’s good, Drew, why don’t you hit the lights.”

As Drew obediently follows Ed's instruction to turn off the projector, the room is bathed in light once more.

The harsh contrast between the vivid reality around you and the haunting scenes you’ve just witnessed on screen intensifies the unease. You notice others in the audience shifting uncomfortably in their seats, exchanging glances that reflect a shared sense of disquiet.

Ed’s silhouette becomes more pronounced against the darkened backdrop, and his next words pierce through the silence, undeterred by the discomfort permeating the room, as he begins to explain the significance of the possessed man’s ordeal.

His voice, a steady and authoritative cadence, cuts through the residual tension: “What you’ve seen tonight is not an isolated incident. Demonic possession is a very real and insidious force that can take hold of a person's soul.”

The rational part of your mind grapples with scepticism, but the visceral memories of Maurice’s screams and the grotesque symbols etched on his body make it challenging to dismiss the possibility outright.

Ed’s blue eyes, still holding the attention of the room, seem to penetrate the shadows of doubt. As he delves deeper into the supernatural narrative, your unease mingles with a growing curiosity.

Your attention is drawn to Lorraine, who still appears notably on edge. Her eyes nervously traverse the audience, revealing a subtle unease as her husband, Ed, steers the course of the lecture. It’s as though there's an undercurrent of tension beneath the surface, and Lorraine’s apprehensive demeanour suggests an awareness of something lingering in the air.

You wonder what she may be searching for or if that is normal for her - Ed doesn’t seem to be bothered by it.

“So, what happened to Maurice?”, a young man seated in the front row blurts out loud.

Ed responds with gravity in his tone: “Well, he tried to kill his wife but instead he shot her in the arm and then turned the gun on himself. Maurice had a very troubled life with little to live for...and not even an exorcist you bring him back.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, evoking a sense of sympathy for Maurice. The nonchalant demeanor with which Ed addresses the grim outcome leaves you intrigued and a bit unsettled. You can’t help but wonder about the myriad experiences the Warrens have encountered, considering their seemingly unshaken composure in the face of such dark tales.

As Ed turns to roll up the projector sheet, your attention briefly wanders. At that moment, you find yourself discreetly appreciating his form – his broad frame, strong shoulders concealed by the suit, and his ass that is pronounced by his tight pants.

“Which brings us to the three stages of demonic activity”, Ed declares, pointing emphatically to each word written on the blackboard. He begins to pace around the room, his gaze sweeping over the faces of the assembled audience.

“Infestation, oppression, and possession. Now, infestation: That’s the whispering, the footsteps, the feeling of another presence… which ultimately grows into oppression - the second stage. Now, this is where the victim, and it’s usually the one who's the most psychologically vulnerable, is targeted specifically by an external force. Breaks the victim down. Crushes their will. And once in a weakened state, leads them to the third and final stage: possession.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air, emphasising the ominous progression of these stages.

Ed’s eyes, still holding the attention of the room, sweep across the assembled audience, and he opens the floor for questions: “Are there questions?”

A smattering of eager arms shoot up, and you find yourself sinking deeper into your chair. While you too have a question, the nature of it – perhaps delving into the experience of possession – could raise suspicions, causing you to hesitate.

Ed acknowledges a male student in the front row with a subtle nod, indicating his readiness to entertain the question.

“I’d love to know what scares you the most?”, the student inquiries, his curiosity evident.

Ed’s demeanour shifts slightly, breaking into a small but genuine smile at the inquiry. His gaze is momentarily diverted from the audience to meet Lorraine’s. In that brief connection, it’s apparent that Ed’s gaze is filled with love, a sentiment that practically emanates from him, adding a layer of warmth to the otherwise intense atmosphere. Lorraine, still appearing unfocused and nervous, scans the room with vigilant eyes, seemingly attuned to energies beyond the visible.

“Being married to a clairvoyant - there’s not a whole lot I can get away with”, Ed responds, his smile widening as he adds a touch of humour to the gravity of the topic, “But there is just a base level of respect for everything we deal with.”

You can’t help but find Ed’s smile endearing and attractive. The way the skin around his eyes crinkles as he smiles toothily adds a touch of charm to his already charismatic presence.

As Ed shares this insight into his personal life, the room absorbs the shift in tone, the lecture momentarily transitioning into a more intimate and conversational atmosphere. The male student nods in response, seemingly satisfied with the candid revelation, as the audience gains a glimpse into the intricate dynamics of the Warrens’ unique partnership, accentuated by the palpable love that underlies their connection.

You raise your hand into the air since you thought of a question that won’t arouse suspicion among the gathered crowd. The odds of being chosen appear slim, given the multitude of raised hands, but you decide it’s worth a shot.

Yet, the moment your hand ascends, Lorraine abruptly grinds to a halt.

She suddenly stops cold - her smile vanishes, and her fidgeting with the rosary stops as her eyes lock onto yours with unexpected intensity. Under the weight of her unyielding, scrutinizing gaze goosebumps rise on your arm, and an unexpected chill ripples through you.

Simultaneously, as if in synchrony with the abrupt cessation of Lorraine’s movements, a searing flare of pain erupts in your head. It feels as though an unseen force is ruthlessly clawing its way into the recesses of your skull, compelling your hand to instinctively seek solace on your throbbing temple.

Breaking free from Lorraine’s gaze, you shift your attention towards Ed, attempting to regain a sense of normalcy.

However, Ed, too, has pivoted his attention from the audience to his wife. His gaze remains riveted on her, a pronounced crease forming between his brows as he meticulously follows the direction of her unbroken stare.

Your breath catches in your throat as you meet his eyes - bewildered and tinged with concern. As you lock eyes with Ed, a sensation akin to lightning strikes courses through you. The connection feels electrifying, and for a moment, the world seems to narrow down to the intensity of that shared gaze.

He takes in your form, trying to make sense of why his wife froze on the spot.

As he registers your hand that’s still suspended in the air, Ed’s tongue darts out to wet his lips before finally breaking the silence: “The girl in the fifth row. What’s your question?”

The exchange with Lorraine felt like an eternity when in reality it must have only been a few seconds. Strangely, it appears that no one else in the audience has noticed it.

Before you speak, you discreetly clear your throat. The disconcerting encounter with Lorraine has thrown you off balance.

“How do you protect yourself against the evil forces? Are there specific precautions you take?”

Ed Warren takes a moment to compose himself before addressing your question. The room falls into a hush, and all eyes are now fixed on you and Ed, with your heart still racing. The intensity of Ed’s gaze momentarily threw you off balance.

He responds with a serious expression: “Well, that's a good question. When dealing with the paranormal, it’s crucial to approach it with caution. Lorraine and I always ensure to say a prayer for protection before any investigation. We also use blessed religious artifacts, such as holy water and crosses.”

Lorraine, still visibly affected, nods in agreement, her gaze somewhat distant. You wonder if the people in the audience noticed her strange behavior or if your mind is just playing tricks on you.

“In addition to that, we have a network of clergy and experts whom we consult for guidance. Spiritual strength and faith are crucial when confronting dark forces. It’s about maintaining a balance between understanding the supernatural and respecting the spiritual realm”, Ed continues.

His intense gaze remains on you as he concludes the ghost of a smirk on his lips: “Well, rooms and artefacts can be blessed - but people cannot.”

“Thank you”, you nod and try to fake a smile.

Some part of you had hoped for a more detailed approach on how to deal with the unsettling experiences you’ve been facing. You doubt that you can just pray the persistent headaches and unexplained occurrences that have been plaguing you away.

The audience appears satisfied with the response and begins to murmur amongst themselves. Ed picking up on the collective mood, smoothly gestures for the next question, effectively shifting the focus away from the brief moment of tension.

Despite the outward calm, your mind is racing. You remain deep in thought, contemplating the practicality of the advice given.

You feel Lorraine’s gaze lingering on you, still scrutinising you but no longer frozen.

Ed occasionally diverts his attention from the audience, his concern evident in the subtle furrow of his brow and the way his eyes linger on Lorraine. His glances toward his wife carry an undertone of protectiveness, a silent reassurance seeking confirmation of her well-being as you wonder if it was a good idea to speak to them.

When your eyes meet Ed’s, there is an inexplicable intensity that steals your breath for a moment. The connection feels charged with unspoken questions and a shared curiosity about the peculiar reaction Lorraine had toward you. The exchange is profound, but it’s repeatedly interrupted, the moment broken again and again as Ed diverts his gaze back to the audience or checks on Lorraine.

You sense that Ed is wrestling with his own thoughts, wondering why Lorraine reacted in such a way, and, truth be told, you share the same curiosity.

As your headaches intensify with each passing moment, you find yourself yearning to escape the persistent gaze. The desire to leave this space becomes increasingly urgent as the weight of the unknown, coupled with the growing discomfort in your head, becomes almost unbearable.

“Well, that concludes this seminar; our time is up”, Ed declares, prompting the attendees to rise, and you join the collective movement toward the exit.

Just as you’re about to step through the doorway, a gentle, small hand is placed on your shoulder. The unexpected touch startles you, and you instinctively turn around. There stands Lorraine, her eyes carrying a mix of concern and kindness, and her voice holds a soothing quality as she speaks.

“Can we talk to you? Please, just stay behind”, Lorraine requests, her tone gentle but with an underlying seriousness.

The weight of her words feels like a sudden rush of cold water, and you can’t help but wonder if she has picked up on something you may not even fully understand yourself. A conflicting mix of desire for help and an underlying fear grips you in that moment. Despite the uncertainty, you decide to comply, nodding in acknowledgment and watching as the room empties.

As the door closes behind the last departing seminar attendee, you find yourself alone with the Warrens in the now-empty room. The weight of both Ed and Lorraine’s gazes fixated on you becomes palpable, creating an atmosphere charged with unspoken questions. It’s an unnerving feeling, like being under a microscope, and you can’t help but shift uncomfortably under their scrutiny as the pounding in your head reaches its peak.

Ed, ever perceptive, notices your discomfort and steps forward, breaking the silence.

“You don't have to be scared”, he reassures you with a calming tone, “My wife, Lorraine, she... well, she sees things that I cannot. And right now, she sees that something is bothering you.”

Lorraine, standing beside Ed, remains silent but her eyes, keen and perceptive, seem to penetrate to the core of your being. It’s both fascinating and unsettling, knowing that she possesses abilities beyond the ordinary.

Ed continues: “We’ve encountered many individuals who’ve faced unexplained phenomena, and sometimes, it helps to talk about it. Lorraine has a unique gift, and she might be able to offer some insights.”

As the conversation unfolds, the weight of your distress becomes increasingly apparent to Ed and Lorraine. Their expressions soften, recognizing the urgency of your situation.

“We understand that you’re going through something, and we’d like to help. Our home is a sanctuary, and Lorraine’s unique insights might bring some clarity to what you're experiencing”, Ed’s voice is marked by genuine concern as he reassures you.

Lorraine, who seemed to exude a calm and reassuring presence during the conversation, her demeanour a blend of empathy and understanding, gently adds: “Sometimes, being in a different environment can make it easier to open up and address these issues. We’ve assisted many people facing similar challenges, and we are here for you.”

The persistent throbbing in your head intensifies, and shadows seem to dance in the periphery of your vision as you stand before the Warrens. The pain becomes a tangible force, urging you to seek relief and answers. The sincerity in their words, coupled with the promise of potential resolution, convinces you to accept their invitation. Despite the lingering uncertainties, the hope of finding solace from the unexplained phenomena that have haunted you is a powerful motivator.

As you agree to visit their home, you take a moment to scrutinise Ed and Lorraine up close. The subtleties in Ed’s mannerisms captivate you - the way his hands flex when he explains something. The fluid movements of them, enticing your gaze to trace the contours of his rather large palms.

His lips curl in a subtle but genuine smile, revealing a warmth that contrasts with the gravity of the situation.

You notice that Ed is not clean shaven but instead, a carefully groomed short stubble graces his jawline, framing his face in a way that accentuates his features. The stubble adds a rugged charm, underscoring a sense of authenticity and strength.

You find yourself feeling a different kind of pull - a quiet and unexpected attraction to Ed.

As you stand near him, you catch a whiff of his intoxicating scent, a distinctly manly fragrance that envelops you like a comforting spell. It’s a blend of woodsy notes and subtle hints of spice, leaving an indelible impression that adds an intriguing layer to the enigmatic connection blossoming between you.

A momentary hesitation causes you to instinctively bite your lip, a nervous habit that betrays the complexity of your emotions. In that fleeting instant, you catch Ed’s gaze flickering down to your lips, lingering longer than appropriate.

The attraction to Ed catches you off-guard and the unspoken connection, heightened by your response and Ed's subtle acknowledgment, adds a subtle tension to the air.

Not only is the situation at hand graver and darker but he is also married - and his wife is standing right beside you.

A twinge of guilt creeps in as you become keenly aware of the poor job you are doing to hide the magnetic pull you sense toward Ed.

Next chapter

[jokekinsjoke505]

Stay with us (part 2)

(part one)

Ed (age 26) X male reader(age 26) X Lorraine Warren( age 25)

Warnings: this is just going to be fluffy and a bit angst

tag list: @wintervenom.

(3 weeks after the incident) I woke up slowly opening my eyes only to shut them quickly again due to the bright light. I felt a very uncomfortable feeling in my nose and throat I put my hand on my nose only to feel a breathing tube I looked around the room only to find Ed and Lorraine sleeping in the corner I snapped my fingers to try and signal them that I was awake but it didn't work so I said "Ed. Lorraine. I'm okay" I whispered and that was enough to wake them both I was immediately met with hugs and tears from both and once I made eye contact with them both……. I then understood that somebody gave a fuck about me I then felt Lorraine lean over and kiss my cheek making me look at her "Don't do that please" I said as my lip quivered due to the love I had towards them that knew would probably never be returned. I then felt a rough hand on my cheek i looked to my left and saw that it was Ed "Y/n. About your letter. Is that true?" Ed asked me making me look quickly at them both before looking down nodding in shame " Fuck I'm so so sorry guys. It's okay if you guys wanna cut contact with me" I said as I felt a tear run down my cheek but was quickly wiped away by Lorraine who then cupped my face into her hand making me look at her in the eyes. Then unexpectedly she kissed me while Ed held me close scared to lose me " I- w-…w-what?" I said in shock not understanding the situation but then Ed hugged me again squizzing a bit before saying "y/n we love you too" I then felt another tear run down my face.

(time skip to 3 months)

Me, Lorraine, and Ed have started dating but have to hold it a secret due to how much people look down on a truple that a woman can't date two people and how much people look down on two men dating. But when we were for example either in my home or their house we would cuddle, kiss, tell each other 'I love you' and also be able to look at each other without having to hide the love in our eyes. I also started going to therapy and fixing my mental health.

I walked in the door of the warren house and was immediately greeted by Judy who ran to me yelling in happiness "Y/n!!!!!" I quickly lifted the 8-year-old and hugged her then I sat her back down, took off my coat, and went to the kitchen where Ed and Lorraine stood and I quickly was greeted by kisses making me chuckle a bit "So how are you two doing?" I asked while taking a sip of the coffee cup that Ed had prepared for me before I came here "Oh a lot of work… We're heading to the countryside of Burrillville town. Do you mind babysitting Judy for a bit" Ed said and I smiled "Yeah of course I can" I said looking at Judy who was looking at the TV. I then felt a soft hand upon mine " Thank you Y/n that means a lot to us that you're willing to take care of Judy while we're working" Lorraine said to me while smiling before kissing me and I kissed back while smiling a bit into the kiss.

Later that day after spending some time with them they left and I gave them both a goodbye kiss and watched Judy saying goodnight to her parents due to how late it was and that it was time for Judy to go to bed when it was time for them to leave I grabbed Judy from her parents and held her in my arms and I could feel that she was falling asleep already making me chuckle "okay bye goodluck to you two and please try and stay safe" I said to them and watching them drive away then after they were out of sight I closed and locked the door and went upstairs and went to Judy's bedroom while I had her in my arms and when I laid her down onto the bed she woke up and looked at me and said "I love you, papa, goodnight" before falling asleep when she said that it was like being strucked by millions of shock bombs and I sat there for a moment in silence before leaning down kissing the top of her head and whispered "goodnight Judy I love you too" while kissing the top of her head. I stayed there until she fell asleep then I sneaked my way out of her bedroom and went to the guest bedroom and got ready for nighttime.

alright folks this is the end of this story but there will like come like moments between this lovely truple.

[milfloveer]

I wanna slow dance in my living room with the love of my life while 'Can't help falling in love' plays in the background (Preferably with Lorraine Warren pls) 🥹

Is it that much to ask? 😩

[webtrinsic1122]

Idk why it makes me laugh so much in the conjuring when Lorraine is in the crawlspace and asks for the music box, Ed legit just goes up and grabs it from the kid. Legit doesn’t nod for permission or anything, just takes it and she lets him even though she’s been territorial over that thing the whole movie

[normabateswife]

A new scary story straight out of the Conjuring Universe..

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48728629/chapters/122920957

https://www.wattpad.com/story/347199924-the-shattered-soul

[hotmessteaparty]

The Conjuring One Shot

Now. I know this is not the normal stuff that I post on this blog and I apologize. But I literally don't have any other blog where I can post this so yeah, here we go. If you're not a fan of the conjuring or this ship please feel free to just ignore this 😊

Other than that I welcome you stranger on this very weird ride 😂

I don't really have a lot of canon ships and even less of them are straight. Actually I don't have any huge straight ships I believe. What can I say, I'm just a 🍳 girl who loves the queers :)

So when I dipped into the LorEd hole, ngl I was scared. And I didn't want to ship it, but damn fictional Ed & Lorraine just have my whole heart. I feel like it important here to say that we do not stan the real life Warren's in this house, especially Ed (they literally can go rot somewhere else). This is entirely about fictional Ed & Lorraine, portrayed by Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga.

Which brings us here to my very first oneshot about other things than pirates and trauma and killing and drug abuse 😂 I'm scared let me tell you. It also probably says a lot about me that the first thing I write about them is straight up porn, but oh well. I'm happily spending time in horny prison.

Also someone tagged then under "horny catholic nerds" so this is what I call them now forever 😂

Last but not least I wanted to thank @josephseedismyfather for being the awesome friend that you are and that you beta read this train wreck. You put in sm work it's insane. I'm so thankful met you love ❤️

[wigglediggleswivvel]

I just know Drew gets so pissed when a ghost knocks over the equipment because it's him who has to fix it when it breaks.

[thereadersmuse]

He was eight years old when it started.

*Also posted on ff.net.

[spiderlovergirl]

(In relation to the post you rebloged)

Hi! Do you have any fic or au ideas that you've wanted to write but haven't yet?

Hey! Sorry this took so long.

Technically most of the AUs/headcanons I have have already been written down but not posted. But I had some vague fic ideas for movies that I was never in the fandom for and haven’t written:

A crossover fic where the demon from The Exorcist and the witch from The Conjuring, in their respective human hosts, team up to, i don't know, destroy the world? (whatever demons do idk). And the priest from The Exorcist and Ed and Lorraine Warren from The Conjuring team up to try to stop them. I wrote, like, one chapter and abandoned it almost right away (because I can't write fic for movies I'm not completely hyperfixated on, for some reason).

A Jurrasic Park/Jurassic World fanfiction where science somehow found a way to make all dinosaurs more docile (even the carnivores) so they could be kept as pets. And everyone starts keeping dinosaurs as pets. And Dr. Ian Malcolm suspects that all of this is a bad idea. And, of course, he's right. And the dinosaurs end up not being as docile as was previously thought and chaos ensues. Probably including the main characters from the first movie but taking place after the newest movie (Jurassic Park: Dominion).

A fanfiction of The Ring (2002) where Samara is somehow able to exist in the living world (i don't know how that would work) and Rachel (the journalist main character) raises her like her own daughter (based on the quote from The Ring Two about Samara just wanting a mother to take care of her).

The Jurassic Park one is probably the only fic that will actually get written, because it's the only movie I love enough that I could still write fic of it. The others were just passing ideas that sounded good at one point but I don't know if I'll actually write them. The one for The Ring still sounds appealing, though. And, clearly, I haven't thought most of these through very deeply.

Thanks for the ask! Sorry again that this took so long :(.

[frost-queen]

That first crush (Reader!Warren x Drew Thomas)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

“Morning Warrens.” – Drew called out when he entered the house. Lorraine had opened the door to him. He was carrying heavy equipment as he struggled a bit with it. – “Let me help you.” – Ed came to his aid, taking a heavy bag from him. Drew breathed out a laugh, feeling the weight being lifted from his arm. Shuffling further in the house he came into the open space of the living room.

There he noticed you were sitting on the sofa with a magazine. Chewing on some gum as you blew it to a bubble. Drew smiled tilting his head. – “Morning Y/n.” – he said to get your attention. Your bubble popped loudly as you turned the page.

“Y/n say hi to Drew.” – Your mother spoke appearing in the room. Drew chuckled humorously. You turned your head to him, moving your gum aside in your mouth. – “Hi Drew.” – you said. – “Hi Y/n.” – he replied with a smile.

“Some heavy equipment you’ve got there.” – your father spoke with a laugh. Drew moved back to your father to take a bag from him. – “Yes, I’ve bought a new camera that would be much better to film with.” – he explained setting the bag on the small table in front of you. As he opened it he glanced up to you, hoping you’d look back at him.

You were rather too occupied with reading your magazine. – “Any good?” – he asked. – “Are you interested in girl stuff?” – you answered without looking up. – “No…” – Drew chuckled out. – “Than it isn’t any good for you.” – you finished. Drew took out the camera showing it to your dad.

“Oh wow great stuff Drew.” – Ed began looking at the camera from every angle. Lorraine placed a hand on his shoulder. – “You have no clue have you darling.”

Ed shook his head laughingly. – “No.” – He gave the camera back to Drew. – “I’ve also got a new microphone.” – Drew hurried over to his other bag and took out the microphone. – “It gives a cleaner audio when we record.” – he told your parents. – “Oh that is very helpful.” – Lorraine said.

“Y/n come take a look at the equipment.” – your mother asked. You lowered your magazine, seating you on the edge of the sofa. – “Do… do you want a demonstration?” – Drew questioned rather bashful. You pulled your shoulders up. – “Alright tech boy, wow me.” – you threw him a sarcastic smile. 

Drew happily took the invitation. He picked up his camera and sat himself down on the small table before you. He pressed some buttons and positioned the camera in his hand. Lorraine and Ed watching behind him. He then brought the camera up to level up with your face.

“Alright Y/n show us your prettiest smile.” – Drew teased. You stuck your tongue out to him as an answer. Drew laughed loud as you couldn’t help yourself but laugh too. It was brief as it wasn’t that funny, yet his laughter made you laugh too. Drew kept filming you as you pushed his camera gently out of your face.

“C’mon Y/n.” – he said pointing the camera back at you. – “You are a movie star.” – his comment made you snort loud. – “As if.” – you mumbled while he kept filming you. – “So how’s the footage?” – Ed asked. Drew swallowed quickly, turning the camera away from you.

He got up, turning around to film your parents. Lorraine smiled bright, holding onto Ed. Ed took her hand letting her twirl under his arm. – “Beautiful.” – Drew commented as he filmed them.

“Y/n.” – he said waving his hand behind him at you. – “Can you grab that mic and help me out.” – he asked continue to film your dancing parents. You took a deep breath, getting up with the mic in your hand. – “Now what?” – you told him unsure what to do. Drew took your wrist with the mic in it, pulling it gently forwards.

“Catch some audio, sweetheart.” – he said throwing a wink at you. Lorraine caught that smiling half surprised. You brought the mic closer to your parents as Ed started to hum a tune. They continued to dance as Lorraine was laughing giddy. Drew kept filming them till his gaze went towards you again.

Slowly turning his camera, he started to film you in secret. – “Y/n!” – Ed called out letting go of your mother. Your father took you by the wrist, pulling him closer to you. On your way, you gave the mic to your mother. She came standing beside Drew. Smiling happily when Ed began to dance with you.

Drew was chuckling as you were laughing as well. Laughing at how funnily your father danced with you. You felt like a little girl once more. Drew filmed you with pleasure. A dreamy look in his eyes. Lorraine glanced to the side, seeing the look in his eyes.

She then looked back at you. Slowly connecting a few dots. – “No more, no more.” – Ed laughed, out of breath, waving his hand across. Drew lowered his camera and stopped filming. You let go of your father’s hands, going to the kitchen to grab a drink. Drew set his camera down, going after you.

“Ed.” – Lorraine said catching her husband’s attention. He hummed loud, wrapping an arm around her. Embraced they moved a bit closer to the kitchen. There she saw Drew lean against the counter having a conversation with you. You weren’t very talkative, but his posture said it all.

“Ed.” – Lorraine said again. Ed hummed again. – “I think… I think Drew has a crush on our girl.” – she told him. – “What?” – Ed said confused. – “No, I would know.” – he laughed it a bit away. Lorraine motioned with her head for him to see for himself.

Drew was practically gushing over you. Having moved a bit closer to you, wanting so bad to engage with you. You didn’t do much back as it was clear you weren’t that interested. – “Oh.” – Ed muttered out finally seeing it. – “It’s cute.” – Lorraine spoke. – “That’s my baby girl.” – Ed called out in defence. – “Oh hush.” – Lorraine slapped him against his chest to stop being so sentimental.

---------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[creative-soul-22]

Kent fanfiction idea!!

@professional-termite

What if Ed and Lorraine Warren from the Conjuring Universe bumped into Kent and because they are truly catholic they are like "Oh, it's a priest. Good day, Father." And Kent gets a little nervous because, well, he's not a real priest.

And then Lorraine be like: "Can you do an exorcism for us? We tried it ourselves but I think it works best if a priest does it." Kent now fully blushing and internally screaming cause exorcisms are not kinda his thing but he can't say no either so he stutters "yeah... ummmm... actually about that... ummm... I think I.... maybe, if you just.... you know, just in case.... ummm... OH GOD I WISH I WAS DEAD! AMEN!"

And Ed and Lorraine looking at each other like "you sure he's a priest?" "Father, please, we need your help. Will you help us?" Kent looking at Edward Warren and feeling like he falls in love with him but knows that Ed is not gay and already happily married and therefore out of reach for him. So he says yes and the trio sets off to... well, the place where they do the exorcism.

This could also be the "I'm just Kent" moment

[doormatty3]

Sinner's Salvation: Chapter 2 (Ed Warren x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Summary:

[Ed Warren x Female Reader] [Ed Warren x You] You don't believe in the supernatural and superstition. Witchcraft and demonic occurrences are nothing but quackery to you. But when the room starts spinning, days start blurring into each other and shadows start dancing in every corner you wonder what is wrong with you. No doctor can tell you more about your condition - each and every one is insisting that you are fine and perfectly healthy.  Seeking alternative help, you stumble across Ed and Lorraine Warren.  They promise to help you, rid you of the demon that has taken hold of you - to drive it out. But you didn’t know what you signed up for and what an exorcism by Ed Warren entails.  OR: Ed shows you how well he can possess your body - and your cunt

Wordcount: 12055

Chapter: 2/2 (Chapter 1)

Warnings: 18+, fingering, facefucking, unprotected sex, cream pie, breeding, dubious consent, spanking, improper use of catholic rituals, church sex, rough oral sex

A/N: Well, that’s my ticket to hell for defiling church stuff - if my soul can be saved I’d happily let Patrick Wilson exorcise me

Previous Chapter

CHAPTER 2

A weight settles in your chest as you gaze upon the imposing facade of the Warrens’ house. It feels surreal, as if the reality of being here now is a fragile dream.

In the glow of a well-lit yard, your attention is drawn to a chicken coop, complete with a nestled henhouse and a bustling assembly of a dozen or so chickens. The surroundings reveal a sizable and inviting house, adorned with the quaint charm of a small chapel adjacent to the garden.

After a moment’s hesitation, you press the doorbell, the sound resonating through the stillness. A few heartbeats later, Lorraine swings the door open, a beacon of warmth and smiles. A radiant figure framed by the doorway, her eyes alight with a newfound calmness that seems to have settled since the lecture. The weight of the outside world appears to have dissipated, replaced by a sense of ease that only home can bring. Her long brown hair cascades freely around her shoulders, a tangible reflection of the comfort found within these walls.

“Hey there! You made it,” Lorraine exclaims, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm.

“Yeah, it’s... it’s really something,” you reply, still taking in the grandeur of the place as you try to calm your nerves.

Lorraine chuckles, seeing right through you: “Well, come on in, Ed’s waiting inside! I’ve got some fresh tea ready in the kitchen.”

The creaking wooden floor beneath your feet echoes when you step over the threshold. The air carries a timeless quality, and the scent of well-maintained woodwork envelops you, adding to the charm of the old house.

Glancing around, you observe the meticulous care evident in every nook and cranny. The cleanliness of the space speaks of dedicated upkeep, preserving the essence of the dwelling. The walls are adorned with a collection of pictures and paintings.

Upon closer inspection, you discover that the signature on each painting reads Ed Warren.

Lorraine notices your intrigued gaze and smiles, “Ed loves to capture moments and emotions on canvas.”

The images and brushstrokes weave a narrative of the Warrens’ interests, adding depth to the character of the house. Each stroke of the brush tells a story, and within the confines of those well-kept walls, and you can’t help but imagine Ed sitting in his studio, painting for hours. Would his brow furrow in concentration as his big hands paint such delicate things?

Lorraine leads you into the kitchen and you sense Ed’s gaze on you before you actually see him. Turning around, you find him seated at the kitchen table, a newspaper in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. His gaze is studying you intensely, magnified by the large glasses that obscure his eyes.

His eyes, perceptive and playful, travel down the length of your body before meeting your eyes again, a playful smirk gracing his full lips. The gesture leaves you flustered and shortly rendered breathless.

The room seems to grow warmer as you become acutely aware that Lorraine is watching your interaction, her keen eyes capturing the nuances of the unfolding situation.

Lorraine, her face still reflecting worry, chimes in: “We’ve been looking forward to having you here. Is everything all right? You seem a bit off.”

You attempt a reassuring smile: “Just a headache, nothing major. Must be the change in weather.”

But even as the words leave your lips, you sense they see through the facade.

“Well, we can't have our guest in distress. Perhaps a cup of tea will help ease that headache. Come, sit down”, Ed, ever perceptive, raises an eyebrow.

He rises from his seat with a deliberate grace, pulling a chair out with a courteous gesture. As you lower yourself into the seat, he subtly guides it in, his hands lingering on your shoulders for a moment longer than necessary. Through the thick fabric of your sweater, you feel the warmth of his touch.

“Make yourself comfortable, ” Ed says with a smile and a wink before walking away and sitting down opposite you, next to Lorraine.

Lorraine, with a caring demeanour, inquires further: “Have you experienced anything unusual lately? Dreams, strange occurrences, perhaps?”

You hesitate before answering: “Actually, there have been some strange dreams, and a few odd happenings. That’s partly why I took you up on your offer.”

Ed nods knowingly: “The supernatural has a way of making its presence known. We’re here to help, and we appreciate your trust in us.”

You delve into the details, your words weaving a tapestry of the dream’s vivid imagery.

“I..thought I was awake. I was sitting at my computer when I heard the sound of the front door opening. Given the day I had, I dismissed it as just another product of my imagination. However, curiosity got the better of me, and when I investigated, I saw that the door was open. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and started to search the rooms. There was someone in the living room, I pleaded for them to leave, but... the figure charged at me. Without conscious thought, I stabbed the stranger. I was so disgusted and horrified by what I had done but… “

Lorraine listens intently, her eyes reflecting empathy. “Go on,” she encourages.

“But I reached for the knife lodged in the stranger's stomach and pulled it out. And I stabbed them again. And again. And I couldn’t stop. It was only when I removed the hood that I realised it was me, but not really me.”

As you recount the vivid dream that haunts your thoughts, tears well in your eyes and a heavy silence settles over the kitchen. Ed and Lorraine exchange a glance, their expressions turning serious, mirroring the gravity of your revelation.

Ed leans back, contemplating your words: “Dreams often manifest our internal struggles, the battle between conflicting emotions or aspects of our psyche. This self-inflicted act might be a symbolic attempt to confront and overcome a challenging part of yourself.”

Lorraine, her expression empathetic, adds: “They can be a mirror to our subconscious, reflecting what we might not be fully aware of during waking hours. Understanding their symbolism can be a key to unravelling the mysteries within. What emotions did you experience during the dream?”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts: “It was surreal, a mix of fear and confusion and just uncontrollable frenzy. It was as if I wasn’t myself. I feel - feel- so guilty…”

“It isn’t only the dreams, right?”, Lorraine looks at you as if she sees through you, “It’s also the headaches and the feeling of another presence?”

Lorraine's inquiry hangs in the air, and as she mentions the possibility of a lingering presence, a sudden surge of pain grips your head. Shadows dance in your vision, an unsettling display that feels akin to a lightning strike. Instinctively, you close your eyes, attempting to shield yourself from the overwhelming sensations.

Concerned murmurs from Lorraine and Ed surround you, their worry palpable. Ed, quick to respond, rises and kneels before you. His hand rests on your thigh, warmth seeping through, a comforting touch amid the storm within.

Despite the pain, there’s an unexpected allure in the strength of Ed’s presence. His voice, deep and reassuring, coaxes you to open your eyes. As you comply, the pain begins to recede, replaced by a sense of calm emanating from his reassuring presence. The room, once flickering with shadows, gradually steadies.

Ed, still kneeling, his gaze steady, asks gently: “Can you tell us more about this presence? Understanding its nature might be the key to understand these distressing episodes.”

Lorraine, her concern etched on her features, leans in: “We’ve encountered various entities in our work, and understanding their nature is crucial. Can you describe the feeling accompanying this presence? Any specific details or sensations?”

You take a deep breath, attempting to articulate the ineffable: “It’s like a heaviness in the air, a feeling of being watched even when I’m alone. Sometimes, there are fleeting glimpses of shadows, shapes that vanish when I try to focus on them. It’s been escalating, and with each occurrence, this headache intensifies.”

“It sounds like you're attuned to something beyond the ordinary. These manifestations might be a manifestation of psychic sensitivity, and we're here to help you navigate through it”, Ed’s hand still remains on your thigh, a grounding force.

As Ed’s hand gently leaves your leg, the warmth and reassurance it provided dissipated, leaving an emptiness that resonated within you. Rising from his previous position, Ed chooses a spot next to you.

Lorraine, sensing the shift in dynamics, delicately broached the subject, her concern evident in the furrow of her brow.

“Are you feeling alright?”, she inquires, her voice carrying a blend of empathy and curiosity.

You brush off the significance of Ed’s withdrawal with a nonchalant response: “It’s nothing, I'm fine.” Though the unspoken weight lingers in the air.

Undeterred, Lorraine leanes in, her eyes reflecting a genuine care. “We're here to help; you don’t have to face this alone”, she reassures, her words a lifeline in the sea of unspoken emotions.

As Ed subtly adjusts his position, and your thighs make contact in a dance of unspoken connection. In response, you press against him, not just to maintain the touch but to signify a shared sense of comfort and solace.

Turning your gaze towards Lorraine, you confess: “Perhaps you can offer a different kind of help, one that conventional medicine couldn't provide.”

“I wonder what is wrong with me”, you say, your voice carrying the weight of countless bewildering moments, “every day the room starts to spin, days become an indistinct blur, and shadows dance in every corner.”

Ed leans forward, his concern etched on his face. “That sounds disconcerting, to say the least. Have the doctors given any insights into these symptoms?”, he asks, his inquiry a testament to a genuine desire to understand.

A wistful smile flickers across your face as you respond: “Unfortunately, no doctor has been able to shed light on my condition. It’s baffling; they all insist I’m fine, perfectly healthy, while I feel like I'm unravelling.”

The frustration in your voice is palpable, a poignant reminder of the gaping disparity between the reassurances of the medical professionals and the persistent enigma of your symptoms.

Lorraine, sensing the gravity of the situation, speaks softly: “It must be incredibly challenging. But remember, we’re here for you, even if the answers elude conventional medicine.”

The sincerity in her words weaves a thread of comfort into the room, a fragile but genuine support in the face of the mysterious ordeal you're enduring. And for the first time since your headaches started you feel heard and seen.

Lorraine’s gaze holds a mix of understanding and curiosity as she asks: “Is that why you attended our lecture at the university? Searching for answers beyond what conventional medicine could offer?”

A subtle nod confirms Lorraine’s intuition.

As the ache in your head rekindles, Ed’s intuitive response is instant – a gentle press of his thigh against yours. A wave of warmth engulfs you, not just from the unexpected intimacy but from the acknowledgment of shared moments in this intricate dance of connection.

Turning your gaze to Lorraine, you find her eyes locked onto the point where your limbs connect. There’s a flicker of something in her expression, perhaps recognition or empathy, but certainly not discomfort.

“You may have encountered an inhuman spirit that gained possession of you”, Lorraine tells you gently.

Lorraine's revelation about a potential inhuman spirit leaves you perplexed, prompting Ed to provide clarification. His gaze, tinged with a grave seriousness, meets yours as he explains: “An inhuman spirit is something that has never walked the Earth in human form. It's something demonic.”

The weight of his words settles in the air, and a shiver runs down your spine as the gravity of the situation becomes palpable.

With a knot of uncertainty in your stomach, you ask: “What does that mean for me? What should I do?”

Ed's expression remains solemn, his response measured: “We need to investigate further, understand the nature of this entity. It means we’re facing a force that’s not bound by human constraints. Our priority is to help you, to confront and neutralise this inhuman spirit.”

“You’re not alone in this. We've encountered and triumphed over such entities before. Our combined efforts will guide us through this challenge”, Lorraine adds reassuringly.

Ed’s hand returns to your thigh, a gesture of comfort in the face of the unfolding supernatural challenge. The warmth of his touch, coupled with the gravity of the situation, evokes a subtle blush on your cheeks.

His gaze meets Lorraine’s, his hand a grounding presence on your leg as he proposes: “Lorraine, perhaps we should take her to the chapel.”

There’s a subtle acknowledgment in their shared look, an unspoken understanding that transcends the immediate situation.

You catch Lorraine’s eyes briefly flickering down to where Ed’s hand rests on your thigh. It is a short moment, but it doesn't escape your notice. Her agreement, when it comes, carries both assurance and determination.

A fleeting thought crosses your mind, wondering why Lorraine doesn't address the proximity and the tactile comfort Ed provides. It’s a realisation that, under different circumstances, such closeness might prompt a discussion. Yet, amidst the urgency of the supernatural situation, unspoken boundaries seem to blur, and you find yourself navigating a realm where the paranormal takes precedence over the ordinary.

_____

Approaching the small chapel nestled discreetly within the verdant grounds of the Warrens' estate, you find yourself captivated by its unassuming exterior. The façade, adorned with ivy and weathered by the passage of time, hints at the hidden sanctuary within. As you step through the entrance, a hushed awe envelops you.

The door, worn with the touch of countless hands seeking solace, opens into a world of quiet grandeur. The interior, a harmonious blend of history and reverence, embraces you with its inviting warmth. Your gaze is immediately drawn to the mesmerizing stained glass windows that adorn the chapel's walls. Each pane is a work of art, depicting scenes of profound spirituality with meticulous craftsmanship.

“Quite a sight, huh?” Ed remarks, his eyes reflecting the appreciation of someone intimately familiar with the mysteries of the divine.

Lorraine, her presence exuding a calm serenity, adds: “The colours in those windows are said to carry the essence of prayers and hopes over the years.”

The soft, diffused light that filters through these intricate creations casts enchanting patterns on the polished wooden pews below. As you move deeper into the chapel, you become aware of the ethereal dance of colors that paint the space. The sunlight, filtered through the kaleidoscope of stained glass, plays upon the floor, creating an ever-shifting mosaic that seems to breathe with life.

The wooden pews bear witness to the passage of time and whisper stories of shared prayers and quiet contemplation.

“Imagine the tales these pews could tell”, Ed says, running his hand along the polished surface, “Joys, sorrows, and moments of quiet reflection—each one etched into the wood.”

The flickering candles, arranged with deliberate care, add another layer to the sacred tableau. The flames dance in harmony, casting a soft, golden glow that kisses the air with a tranquil warmth. Their rhythmic dance is a silent hymn, echoing the sacred stillness that envelops the chapel.

“These candles”, Lorraine observes, “they’ve witnessed the power of faith. Lighting a candle is like sending a silent prayer into the universe.”

The air itself seems imbued with reverence, carrying the intertwined scents of aged wood and the lingering fragrance of consecrated incense.

You marvel at the intricate details that the chapel holds. The walls, adorned with religious artefacts and delicate carvings, hold a silent narrative of faith and devotion.

“This place is a testament to the enduring power of belief”, Ed comments, his eyes scanning the adorned walls, “Every detail speaks of the profound connection between the human spirit and the divine.”

The ceiling, an architectural marvel, arches gracefully overhead, creating a sense of sacred space that transcends the confines of the physical realm.

In this intimate haven, the union of soft light, vibrant colours, and evocative scents creates a sanctuary where your soul finds reprieve.

“It’s a place where the heart finds peace”, Lorraine says softly, her eyes reflecting the wisdom of a life devoted to the mystical, “A refuge for the weary soul, a haven for those seeking a moment of serenity in the tumult of life.”

Ed and Lorraine share a knowing glance, and with a gentle nod, they invite you to join them as they make their way towards the altar. The polished wooden floor echoes with a soft whisper as you follow in their footsteps.

As you approach the altar, the atmosphere seems to shift. The open space surrounding it exudes a sense of sacred gravity. The stained glass windows cast their intricate patterns of light on the altar, creating a celestial backdrop for the ornate religious artifacts that grace the sacred space.

Ed gestures toward a beautifully crafted lectern, its intricate carvings catching the flickering candlelight.

“This is a place where many have stood to share words of solace and wisdom”, he notes, his eyes reflecting a deep respect for the sanctity of the spot.

Lorraine, with a gentle smile, approaches a small arrangement of flowers near the altar: “Sometimes, a simple offering of nature speaks volumes in this sacred space. It’s a reminder of the beauty that exists even in moments of reflection and prayer.”

The altar, adorned with sacred symbols and with candles, becomes a focal point where the convergence of faith and tranquillity is palpable. It's as if the very air around it carries the whispers of countless prayers and the energy of contemplative moments.

“We find solace in these quiet moments”, Ed says, his voice a low murmur that resonates with reverence, “It's a place to connect with something beyond ourselves, to find answers or simply to be in the presence of something greater.”

With a subtle gesture, Lorraine invites you to stand beside them, facing the open space near the altar. The three of you share a moment of silent contemplation, enveloped in the sacred stillness of the chapel. The colors from the stained glass dance on the floor, the candles flicker in harmony, and the air carries the essence of aged wood and incense.

“It’s a sanctuary”, Lorraine whispers, breaking the silence, “A place where the soul can find peace and where the mysteries of the heart can unfold.”

Ed nods in agreement: “Sometimes, in the quiet of this chapel, people discover answers within themselves. It's a journey of the soul, a communion with the divine that transcends words.”

The timeless serenity of the chapel lingers as Ed and Lorraine turn to you, their expressions a blend of reassurance and understanding. Ed’s eyes reflect a genuine warmth, while Lorraine’s serene gaze seems to hold a depth of insight into the unseen.

“Are you ready?”, Ed asks, his voice carrying a comforting weight.

You meet their gazes and, with a nod, convey your readiness to partake in whatever profound experience they have in store. There’s an unspoken trust that bridges the ordinary and the extraordinary, connecting your presence in the chapel to something larger than the moment.

“Good”, Ed says, his voice a steady guide and his eyes locked on yours, “Kneel.”

You swallow dryly, shortly wondering if you understood him correctly. Ed, sensing your confusion just raises one eyebrow, a silent prompt urging you to comply with the task.

With a deep breath, you lower yourself to your knees on the polished chapel floor. The cool surface beneath you grounds you in the physicality of the chapel even as the atmosphere vibrates with unseen currents.

“Now”, Ed continues, his tone carrying a sense of purpose, “close your eyes and let the stillness of this place envelop you. Focus on your breath, on the quiet rhythm of your heartbeat.”

As you comply, the air around you seems to thicken with an almost palpable energy. The flickering candles cast a warm glow through closed eyelids, creating an inner landscape where the boundaries between the material world and the mystical blur.

Lorraine’s voice joins the symphony of the chapel’s sacred silence: “Imagine a connection between your heart and the energy of this place. Feel the threads of the unseen weaving through the fabric of your being.”

Ed’s voice follows, a soothing guide through this meditative journey: “In this sacred space, let your thoughts flow. Allow the chapel to become a vessel, a conduit for the energies that seek to guide and comfort.”

As you delve deeper into the meditative state, a profound sense of tranquility envelops you. The chapel, once a physical space, now feels like a bridge to the spiritual, a conduit for energies that transcend the ordinary.

“Open yourself to any sensations or insights that may come”, Lorraine encourages, her words a gentle prompting.

In the quiet of the chapel, with closed eyes and a receptive heart, you become attuned to the subtle shifts in the environment. The colors behind your eyelids seem to dance in response to energies unseen, and the air carries a charge that resonates with the sacredness of the moment.

As you open your eyes, the vibrant colors of the stained glass windows and the flickering candles greet you with renewed clarity.

“Pray the Pater Noster”, Ed instructs, his voice carrying a weight that transcends the confines of the chapel.

You take a deep breath before you start speaking, in an attempt to collect yourself. It occurs to you that you cannot recall the last time you had to recite the Lord's Prayer and you try your hardest to recall the correct wording from your memory.

As you commence the prayer, your voice resounds in the sacred halls of the chapel: “Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name; Thy kingdom come…thy.”

The unfamiliarity of the setting causes the recitation to stumble, and you find it challenging to regain the rhythm.

“Start again, focus on the words. Let the prayer guide your thoughts”, Ed, patient yet resolute, interjects.

You take a steadying breath and begin anew, the rhythm of the prayer echoing in the chapel’s confines. The flickering candles and the colored hues from the stained glass seem to respond to the spiritual endeavor.

“Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name; Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

Completing the initial lines, you prepare to resume, but cast your gaze towards Ed.

You notice how his broad silhouette is bathed in the chapel’s ambient light, casting a soft glow on him and accentuating the contours of his features. A breath catches in your throat as you observe the ethereal quality that surrounds him. Mesmerized, you find yourself marveling at how the light plays upon his brown hair, creating an almost transcendent aura.

You open your mouth again to continue praying: “Give us this day our… Give us this day our”

The distraction broke your concentration and your words tumble once again, and Ed intervenes once more.

“Concentrate. Let the prayer flow through you”, he encourages, his voice a calming presence amid the challenge.

As you attempt the Pater Noster once more, the words still elude you, stumbling over your lips like an unfamiliar language. There’s a growing impatience in the air, and you sense Ed’s frustration.

“Start again”, Lorraine interjects, her tone tinged with impatience and a hint of anger at your perceived inability to concentrate. The pressure intensifies, and the chapel, once a sanctuary, becomes a stage for the inner struggle between the earthly and the supernatural.

“Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name; Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, thy…”

The failure to recite the prayer triggers a sudden escalation in tension. Without warning, Lorraine steps forward, her frustration boiling over. A sharp, echoing slap reverberates through the chapel as her hand connects with your face.

Stunned silence hangs in the air, the lingering sound of the slap contrasting sharply with the sacred stillness of the chapel. The unexpected act leaves a mark, both physically and metaphorically, in the unfolding drama of supernatural confrontation.

Stunned and cradling your cheek, you feel a wave of fear washing over you. The unexpected slap has left you speechless, grappling with the sudden turn of events.

Lorraine’s voice, now cold and impatient, cuts through the chapel's stillness: “Ed, it seems she has never been properly educated in the way of the Lord.”

The frustration in the chapel intensifies, and Ed’s resolve hardens.

“I’m gonna give you a proper lesson”, he declares, and Lorraine, in agreement, adds an air of authority to the unfolding scene.

Ed instructs you to get up, his demeanour leaving little room for hesitation. The chapel, once a sanctuary, now feels charged with an unsettling tension.

Ed's voice, though firm, holds an edge of frustration.

“This lesson is necessary”, he asserts.

Lorraine, her impatience palpable, adds: “We were hoping for cooperation, not resistance.”

He guides you up to the altar and positions you with a subtle push.

As you bend over the altar, the cold surface presses against your hands, and the weight of the situation becomes tangible. The shift from the warmth and camaraderie earlier to this stern lesson feels disorienting, leaving you questioning the motives behind this abrupt turn.

Despite the overwhelming tension and unease, a fleeting and disconcerting thought crosses your mind. In the midst of this unexpected turn of events, you find yourself reflecting on how, under different circumstances, you might have appreciated being in a situation with someone like Ed.

The complexities of the situation—his firm demeanor, the unexpected discipline, and the palpable energy in the chapel—leave you grappling not only with the supernatural but with a disconcerting undercurrent of conflicting emotions. The boundaries between the earthly and the metaphysical blur in this unsettling chapter of your encounter with the Warrens.

Surprised you let out a gasp when Ed hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and just pulls them down, leaving you in your panties.

“What-?”, confusion taints your voice as you attempt to push yourself up, palms pressing against the smooth surface of the altar. Before you can fully rise, Ed’s strong grip seizes your neck, compelling you back down and firmly holding you in place.

Panic flickers in your mind, a whirlwind of thoughts racing to make sense of this unexpected turn. The cool surface beneath your trembling hands becomes a stark reminder of your vulnerability. Images of the chapel, once a haven, now feel tinged with an unsettling uncertainty. The rhythmic prayer that once echoed in the sacred space is replaced by a disquieting silence.

As you struggle to process the abrupt change, the grip on your neck tightens forcing you to lay completely flat.

Ed bows down, and you feel the warmth of his breath against your ear. Goosebumps rise on your arms as his proximity sends a shiver down your spine. The unexpected closeness heightens the intensity of the moment, leaving you momentarily breathless.

“Let this be a lesson to know your prayers”, Ed’s voice, low and commanding, echoes in the hallowed space.

As Ed speaks, you catch a familiar scent—his cologne, a subtle and intoxicating fragrance that lingers in the air. The scent envelops you, and for a moment, you're intoxicated by its familiarity. Somehow the combination of his nearness, commanding voice, and the alluring aroma arouses you. That whole scenario should not be that hot, you figure, but you can’t help feeling that way so you accept your fate and stop struggling.

Ed pulls back and loosens the grip on your neck, sensing your lack of resistance. As you catch your breath, you instinctively glance toward Lorraine, anticipating disapproval or concern in her eyes. To your surprise, her gaze meets yours, and you find something unexpected—approval and support.

Lorraine opens her mouth, breaking the charged silence, and says: “Start again.”

Her voice, though calm, carries a directive force that commands your attention.

“Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name”, you start, but panic begins to set in your bones as you speak. Your head starts pounding again, the weight of the situation pressing down on you.

Unable to ignore the rising distress, you stop mid-prayer and say: “Look, can I just go, please?”

In the charged silence that follows, you sense the disappointment radiating off Ed behind you before you hear the sound of his disapproval, a quiet clinking of the tongue.

Your heart pounds in your ears as you wait, the seconds stretching into an uneasy silence.

Just as you muster the courage to say something again, you feel Ed’s big palm connecting with your ass. The unexpected impact resonates through the stillness of the chapel.

Surprised you let out a loud yelp as you feel your ass burning from the slap. You cannot believe that Ed just spanked you for messing up the Pater Noster. Arousal pools low in your belly as you feel the warmth radiating of him behind you.

You notice Ed’s strong hand caressing over the just-hit place to soothe the pain. Part of you wants to say something, but you are completely overwhelmed by the unusual sequence of events.

“Start again”, Lorraine’s voice sounds clear through the chapel, and your head snaps up to look at her form. Lorraine looks at you expectantly, her gaze carrying an unspoken command. Overwhelmed and reluctant to face the potential repercussions, you submit.

“Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name; Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven”, you gulp nervously before continuing, “Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses…as… as”

As the words falter once more, Ed’s hand makes contact with your ass once again and you cannot fully surpress the whine that escapes your mouth. This time it feels like his fingers linger longer on the globes of your behind leaving a hot trace that makes you squirm involuntarily.

“Again”, Ed’s order cuts through your thoughts, his voice sounding more gravely and deeper as it resonates through the chapel and his hand still ghosts over your ass.

That should not be that hot you think, trying to rationalize the conflicting emotions. But you cannot ignore the warmth and dominance that Ed radiates behind you. You cannot ignore the way his hand softly kneeds the skin of your ass while he waits for you to continue.

The entire situation strikes you as bizarre, and you find yourself questioning the authenticity of the footage they showed at the university. No one explicitly mentioned an exorcism, but the proximity and personal nature of Ed’s actions leave you wondering about the true nature of the spiritual encounter.

Under any other circumstances you’d be very willing - downright happy - to fall to your knees for him, but here in a chapel that just feels wrong and out of place. And not to mention that he is married and Lorraine is watching you.

Ed withdraws the hand on your ass and steps back a bit, only keeping control over you by his other hand on your back. He denies you any further physical contact and a plaintive whine espaces you, yearning for more touch as you lie bent over the altar in the dimly lit chapel.

Your senses are dulled and shrouded by a curtain of pleasure as your head and mind are in a blissful silence.

Lorraine says something to Ed but her words become distant echos, lost amid the overwhelming sensations. You watch through a haze as she steps forward towards her husband, handing him a big, leather clad bible. Mesmerised you marvel at the way his arm and back flexes when takes the book.

In a tense moment, Lorraine’s voice cuts through the sacred air and you hear the words but cannot make sense of them: “Ed, it's time she learns her place. Give her ten, one for every commandment.”

He steps back behind you, and you feel him—the warmth and dominance his body radiates. And you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

“I want you to count and thank the Lord”, Eds deep and gravely voice sounds behind you as his hand caresses the skin of your ass.

Before you have time to properly process the words the cool leather of the Bibles makes contact with you ass. The force of the hit catches you off guard, a surprising jolt that resonates through your being. This was definitely the hardest he had hit you so far you think as you catch your breath.

Ed’s hand digs into you hip sharply and you remember his command from before: “One. Thank you, Lord”.

He makes a pleased low hum in his throat and smoothes over the hot skin before hitting you again.

“Shit… I mean: Two. Thank you, Lord.”

Ed continues to bring the bible down on your ass and you can’t help but imagine how he looks right now. You wonder if his carefully groomed hair has fallen out of place, becoming slightly tousled with single strands brushing his forehead. You wonder if he had to roll the sleeves of his arms up, fuck you’d do a lot of things to see the way his muscles tense whenever he brings the leather-bound book down.

Shamefully you admit to yourself that it turns you on immensely, arousal pools low in your belly and with every hit you feel yourself getting wetter.

After the sixth time Ed spanked you with the bible, you cannot help but squirm involved when his hand caresses the hot, raw and burning skin of your ass.

But rather than pulling away from his touch you lean into it, desperate for friction.

You hear Ed chuckle silently as his long fingers continue to stroke over your skin, causing goosebumps to form all over your body. When his hand ventures lower you suck in a breath and stop moving.

Painfully slow Ed lets his fingers wander lower until he reaches your clothed pussy. You are pretty sure that he can feel how wet you are, that you must have drenched the thin material of your panties.

It almost feels like humiliation to you when his hand ghosts over your pussy for a second before he drags one long, thick finger through your slit. The whine, you were not able to suppress sounds loud in the chapel walls as you push back against Ed, desperate to feel his hand on your cunt again.

“Maybe she's even further gone than we thought”, Ed's voice is rough and stained with something that you cannot place when he speaks to Lorraine, “she really seems to enjoy her lesson too much…”

A wave of humiliation surges through you, shame crashing through your veins and igniting a bright blush on your cheeks. Each word from Ed feels like he’s cast a spotlight on you, exposing your vulnerabilities to Lorraine.

But Ed interrupts any chance for you to dwell on your feelings, his hand tracing a path over your skin and returning to your cunt. He drags his finger roughly through your clothed slit, tracing the shape of your pussy before applying pressure to your clit.

You feel a hot throb inside you, spreading all through your veins as you involuntarily buck your hips into his hand and moan quietly before biting your lip to avoid making any more sound.

Ed leans in, bending over you, so his warmth is enveloping your back and the subtle pressure of his presence against your skin sends a wave of arousal through your veins. His hot breath grazes your ear as he speaks roughly: “Don’t you, slut?”

Your only response is to push back against him and whine as you hide your head in your hands. Contrary to your previous thoughts that he was completely unaffected you feel his hard cock straining against his pants on your raw ass. But the contact is only short lived because Ed pulls back from you.

“Try to cleanse her, Ed”, you hear Lorraine’s voice through the aroused haze that swirls around your mind.

Before you can wonder what exactly she means, Ed’s fingers have hooked on the waistband of your underwear, ripping the flimsy material off, making you gasp. The cold air of the chapel hits your wet cunt but instead of cooling you down it riles you up even more since you remember where you are - a holy place.

But there is nothing holy about you bending over the altar with your cunt and ass bare and yet it feels absolutely divine when you feel Ed’s fingers on your cunt without a barrier for the first time.

You feel the palm of his hand against your ass as he forms a V with his middle- and forefinger to enclose the other sides of your cunt. Ed rests his hand there for a moment, making your stomach flutter in anticipation before he closes them slowly and pulling back to the edge of your cunt.

Your clit throbs and you squirm on the altar, desperate for Ed to continue.

A strangled moan escapes your lips when he pushes his thick fingers between the lips of your pussy and spreads them, effectively opening you up. You are pretty sure that he can not only feel but also see your wetness glistening in the dim light of the chapel.

Ed’s thumb brushes against your neglected clit and you groan loudly as electricity shoots through you, making you arch your back into his hand.

All the desperate sounds you make and the way you buck against him does not make him go faster and you really want to curse him out - you want to be filled by him, you want his fingers and his cock. So when he finally pushes his middle finger in your cunt a loud moan along with a please escapes you.

The haze in your mind thickens, rendering you blissfully obvious to your surroundings. The only reality matters right now is Ed. His presence dominates your consciousness, eclipsing everything else, as if the world beyond him and his hands on you has faded into insignificance.

“So good for us, sweetheart. You’re doing so good, taking what I give you so well”, Ed rasps behind you, his voice strained with satisfaction and barely constrained self restraint.

He curls his fingers inside you and starts shallowly and slowly thrusting before he adds a second finger.

You whine at the stretch of his long fingers when he pushes them all the way inside your pussy and grinds his palm against your clit.

Ed’s fingertips graze over the sweet spot on the wall of your cunt and your knees buckle under you as a wave of pleasure washes over you. With a dark chuckle he repeats this motion again and again while his palm steadily rubs your clit.

The distant echoes of Lorraine’s footsteps lingers off the edges of the fog in your mind as she approaches her husband. Yet, your concentration remained unwaveringly fixed on Ed and his long, thick fingers that are buried in your wet cunt.

A subtle jump courses through you as you feel something small with delicate round beads on your clit. Ed rubs it around the nub and you feel every cool and smooth ridge touching you as his fingers continue to thrust and rub deep inside your pussy.

“Shit Ed, please”, the words escape as a desperate plea, your voice raw.

Your cunt throbs and pulses to the rhythm of his hands on you and inside you as wave after wave of pleasure slowly builds up your orgasm.

“Be good and cum all over my fingers and Lorrain’s rosary. Let us cleanse you”, Ed’s warm breath against your sensitive skin sends shivers down your spine.

When the wave of pleasure shatters and courses through you, you cum for him with a loud moan that echoes off the chapel walls. Your back arches into Ed, who keeps finger-fucking you through your high, your hips grinding frantically against his hand, desperate for him.

Your breathing is ragged and loud when you come down from your high and your senses slowly come back to life, your cunt still tingling with the warm aftermath of your intense orgasm.

“Good girl, you did so well”, Ed praises you and pulls his fingers out with a wet noise before wiping them against your inner thigh.

Ed presses himself against you from behind, his closeness is palpable as the warmth of his body surrounds you and you feel the hard outline of his dick on your ass again. Instinctively you press back against his bulge, making him groan and suck in a breath.

He digs his fingers into the soft skin of your hip, a hidden warning for you to behave when he dangles the rosary in front of you. A belated realisation dawns in your mind - this is Lorraine’s rosary, this is what you felt dragging around your clit and wet cunt just minutes before.

A pang of shame courses through you as your eyes catch the sight of the rosary beads glistening with your wetness in the chapel’s light.

“Clean them”, Ed commands, his voice a low murmur that echoes through the church, laden with a mixture of authority and desire.

Without a hint of resistance, you comply with Ed’s command, opening your mouth and letting him guide the beads between your lips. Your tongue traces a path along the wet rosary beads as you taste yourself on them. The whole act feels positively sinful and you can’t help but feel more aroused, involuntarily you clench around nothing.

When you accidentally lock eyes with Lorraine, you freeze for a short moment. You had almost forgotten that it was not only Ed and you in the chapel but that his wife was also there. Your entire focus had been consumed by Ed and his commands and presence.

But contrary to what you would have expected Lorraine does not look angry, her emotions are unreadable but undeniably intense as she cocks an eyebrow, prompting you to continue your work.

A blush of humiliation sears through you and the burning sensation in your cheeks intensifies as you start cleaning the rosary beads again under Lorraine’s watchful gaze.

“Ed”, Lorraine starts, her eyes still locked on yours, “I don’t think it worked. Something still grips her.”

Ed withdraws, but he trails his hands and the rosary over your back, making sure to touch as much as possible before he straightens. Still bent over the altar, your legs wobble and feel unsure, making it impossible for you to get up. Yet, you don’t want to leave.

There is only one thing that you are currently sure of wanting and that is Ed.

“I think you’re right, hon”, Ed’s gravelly voice acknowledges, heavy with desire.

Lorraine walks over to her husband and you turn your head to look at them. As they stand together in the muted ambiance of the chapel, you catch glimpses of their exchange. She leans into Ed’s direction and speaks to him, her hushed words elude you.

Uncertain of the decisions the Warrens’ made in their whispered exchange you find yourself indifferent when Ed seizes your hair and pulls you to your feet from the position over the altar. He places his other hand on your hip, gripping in firmly to stabilise you as his thumb traces calming circles on your skin.

After a few moments you find your footing and Ed’s hold on your hair eases, allowing you to turn around and face him.

Purely on instinct, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, an unconscious response as your gaze locks onto Ed. He embodies what you imagined - but the reality is so much better.

His short hair is slightly dishevelled and frames his face. A lone strand has fallen onto his forehead, resting there. A subtle blush tinges his neck, visible where the top buttons of his dress shirt are undone, exposing a glimpse of his chest. The soft blue of his eyes is almost entirely engulfed by blackness, revealing the depth of his desire.

Your attention descends to his arms, where you notice he’s pushed up the sleeves of his shirt, unveiling toned forearms.

His gaze locks onto yours and you notice the hunger and intensity burning in his eyes. Ed’s hands, strong and confident, cradle your face, their warmth seeping into your skin. As his lips descend, the initial softness gives way to a fervent kiss that depends, exploring the contours of your mouth with a tender yet insistent dance.

The kiss deepens and you instinctively wrap your arms around Ed, drawing him closer. Your hands find their places, one resting at the small of his lower back, while the other rests on his shoulder. You feel a canvas of strength beneath your fingertips, his muscles firm and well-defined. He pushes his clothed erection into your bare cunt, grinding against you. You whine into the kiss when the rough fabric of his pants scrapes over your clit.

As you part, you are breathless, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of Ed’s kiss and in a quiet and almost intimate gesture, your fingers trail over to gently push back the strand of hair that had fallen onto Ed’s face.

Ed’s face lights up with a radiant, toothy smile that seems to melt away any of your worries. In that moment, the intensity gives way to a genuine warmth that spreads through your veins.

When he leans in again, he places a kiss on your nose, causing a subtle fluttering in your chest to blend with a quiet contentment.

“Ed”, Lorraine’s voice cuts through the intimacy with a sharp edge, “Remember why we are here.”

His gaze shifts, the warmth fading as the reminder settles in.

“We can’t lose sight of our purpose”, he says, his tone carrying acknowledgement.

Despite Lorraine’s reminder Ed pulls you in one more for another linger kiss. The intensity of it feels like it has a direct line to your cunt. Pleasure that had been simmering is once again ignited into a full fire.

As the kiss concludes, Ed speaks again: “We should get back to work”.

Ed steps back from you, his words carrying a command that intertwines his authority and desire.

“Kneel again, be good for us”, he instructs, the request echoing through the chapel’s sacred space.

Without a hint of hesitation, you step out of your pants and sink to your knees, a swift and obedient response to Ed’s command. Your reaction is just automatic, there is no coherent thought in your mind as you follow his orders.

The coldness of the stone floor beneath your bare knees serves as a start reminder of the reality and you wince as the cold spreads through you.

Looking up to Ed through your lowered lashes, you see him visibly swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing upon having you on your knees before him. While you want to reach out and take his cock from his pants, free him of his prison, you don’t dare, sensing that it would displease him and Lorraine.

“We will try something different now”, Lorraine declares with a gentle voice, prompting your eyes to snap from Ed to her. In her hand she holds the rosary once again, and a blush raises to your cheeks as your clit throbs in remembrance of what Ed did to you with it.

Lorraine continues: “Take him wholly and accept him into your mouth. That he may drive the evil out”

You divert your attention from Lorraine back to Ed. His eyes meet yours, and in that moment, he winks at you playfully before reaching down to grab the hem of your shirt. In one fluid motion he pulls it off you, leaving you kneeling naked in the chapel.

His gaze lingers on you, a slow and deliberate appraisal as he looks you up and down, taking in every nuance of your form, making you squirm under the intensity.

Mesmerised, you watch as his hands find the front of his pants, unzipping them and pulling them down so his cock and balls are exposed. His dick obscenely framed by his pants and underwear that is pushed mid thigh as well as his shirt that has the last few buttons undone. He is big, slightly curved, with a protruding vein on the underside and the head is already glistening with a drop of pre-cum. Your mouth waters at the sight of him and you lick your lips in anticipation.

Ed steps up to you, burying his fingers in your hair and pulls your head against his exposed cock, rubbing against your face. So you open your mouth and flick your tongue towards his dick to lick the drop of pre-cum away.

Both Ed and you let out a groan simultaneously - you at the salty, musky taste of him that settles in your mouth and him at the feeling of your tongue on his hard cock.

When you open your mouth again he slides the head of his dick in, it’s heavy on your tongue as he just looks at you in wonder. You keep your eyes trailed on his and watch him swallow heavily before pushing himself deeper into your mouth with in a single, swift stroke.

The sound of surprise is muffled by the cock in your mouth that already feels too deep.

Ed tightens his grip on your head and he pushes his dick further in until the head hits the back of your throat.

Almost instantly, tear well up in your eyes, an involuntary response to the deep intrusion of his cock. Your hand instinctively finds his muscular thighs as you attempt to push him away or prompt a retreat.

Despite your efforts, Ed’s strength prevails, the grip on your head and hair remains firm and unyielding.

“Be a good girl and take it”, Ed’s commanding voice cuts through the air, his words heavy with desire as he groans above you.

You swallow around his cock and try to breathe through your nose but it doesn’t feel enough. Drool starts to collect in the corner of your mouth and around his dick before it drips down.

For a few seconds, Ed just holds your head in place with his cock buried to the hilt in your throat and balls pressed against your chin. Black spots start appearing in the corners of your vision and soon they morph into shadows that encroach your field of view as you struggle to breath.

Mercifully he pulls you off his cock ending your struggle.

You greedily inhale, the sudden rush of oxygen burning in your lungs, eliciting a cough. As you gasp for air your tear-stained eyes fixate on Ed.

The chapel light embraces him, casting a radiant glow that accentuates the contours of his form. Ed’s chest rises and falls with the rhythm of his laboured breaths, the play of light illuminates his muscular form. Dishevelled strands of brown hair frame his face, catching the light in a cascade of radiant highlights. Each lock seemed to shimmer with its own luminescence, creating an almost halo-like effect.

As he continues to stroke his hard cock the light also casts shadows on his hand as if intensifying the nuances of each movement.

“It’s no use, hon”, Ed says to Lorraine without averting his gaze from you, still stroking his cock.

Your eyes flicker over to Lorraine. She appears completely composed and unbothered by the recent interaction between you and her husband. With a calm nod she signals her agreement to Ed’s statement.

He exerts a gentle but firm pull with his hand that is still entangled in your hair as he guides you up from your kneeling position until you are standing. In a swift motion, Ed brings you into a tight hug, bringing you flush against him, his erect dick pushing against your stomach.

With that hand in your hair, Ed gently tilts your head upwards, locking eyes with you before bringing his mouth down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. Arousal pumps through your veins when you return it with the same fervour and grind your hips against his cock.

You part, both breathless and Ed steps back from the embrace, creating a sligh distance to gaze at you. His eyes are clouded by pleasure and linger on your breasts.

Under the scrutiny of his gaze you swallow dryly and feel your nipples involuntarily harden.

Ed’s hand, once entwined in your hair, delicately withdraws and he speaks with a raspy tenderness: “You’re something else, you know?”

He strokes along your cheek, a featherlight touch of his long fingers against your heated skin before he cups your chin.

“I think we’re gonna have to try something different”, he says to Lorraine as he runs his thumb over your lower lip, keeping his gaze firmly on you.

You can’t suppress a moan when he places his hands on your bare waist and drags his palms up until he reaches your breasts, cupping them. Ed gives them a slow, leisurely, appreciative squeeze and lifts them slightly, feeling their weight before stroking his thumb over your nipples. A jolt of electricity courses through you at his soft ministrations and you feel his cock throbbing.

The intense connection breaks abruptly when you feel a small, warm hand on your bare shoulder, causing you to jump slightly.

“Jesus”, the exclamation slips from your lips.

Ed cocks an eyebrow and a subtle amusement etches into his features, as his lip twitches: “That is indeed what you need. But don’t worry, we will take care of it - of you.”

With those words, he steps away, leaving you with Lorraine who’s hand tugs at your shoulder again, prompting you to turn and face her. She looks at you with a faint smile, her head tilted slightly to the one side. She motions for you to follow with a graceful gesture of her hand, leading you back to the altar.

“He’ll be right back, dear. He is just getting what is necessary for us to help you”, Lorraine speaks in a gentle, quiet and soothing tone while rubbing small circles over your bare arm as you stand there.

Ed’s heavy footsteps resonate in the quiet of the chapel when he returns only minutes later. The candles placed in the chapel that surrounded him flicker in response, their flames dancing. The play of light and shadows creates an ethereal aura around him.

As he strides back towards the altar purposefully you see his cock bobbing with each of his step, the head coated in presumed glistens in the light. You notice that he has completely unbuttoned his shirt by now, the two halves falling open to reveal his strong chest.

A look of fierce determination is etched across Ed’s face as he carries a small leather bundle under his arm.

“Get on the altar”, he declares, his voice a low rumble that reverberates in the quiet of the chapel. The flickering of candles cast dynamic shadows on his face, enhancing his determined expression.

The edge in Ed’s voice sends a surge of arousal through your veins.

Without clear instructions, you instinctively use your hand to push yourself to sit on the altar. A hiss escapes your lips as he cold stone makes contact with your bare skin,

You hear Ed hum in approval as he notices your compliance. Placing the bundle on the altar next to you, your curiosity piques, and you watch intently, wondering what he brought with him.

He hands Lorraine the big leather-bound Bible - the same one he used to spank you earlier. The memory makes you squirm lightly as you recall how it all felt, feeling yourself getting wetter again.

She takes the book from Ed’s hands and tenderly touches his cheek. The delicate gesture lasts a few moments before Lorraine removes her palm from his face, and as if in silent agreement, Ed returns his attention to the bundle on the altar.

Ed unrolls the bundle with a practised motion of his hands, and your eyes remain glued to the mesmerising movement. Watching his hands, you marvel at their appeal. They are undeniably handsome - strong, adorned with veins that trace a map of strength and boasting long, thick fingers. You clench around nothing when you remember how perfect they felt inside you.

As Ed unveils the contents, a myriad of items come into view, each carrying its own significance. Various crosses, some made of metal and some of wood but all different in size, catch the ambient light of the chapel. Candles, meticulously arranged, follow suit. A lighter is poised beside them.

Transparent bottles filled with clear liquid stand out. You can only speculate, but the faint scent in the air and the placement of the bottles hint at the possibility of holy water.

Furrowing your brow, you watch his hands move with purpose as he arranges these items in a precise order. The answer as to why he needs these items eludes you for now.

Finally, Ed shifts his attention to you, stepping in front of you. Almost on instinct you open your legs and he positions himself between them.

Your attention remains fixed on Ed as the rhythmic clicking of the lighter echose in the background. The ambient sound suggests that Lorraine must be lighting the candles.

But that soon fades again, you cannot concentrate on anything other than the handsome man in front of you.

You tangle your fingers in his short hair to tuck him down and kiss you. When your lips meet you let out a soft moan that is swallowed by him. He returns the kiss with fervour and grips the back of your head with one hand. He uses the other hand to rub the head of his cock against your cunt.

You buck against him in response to finally feeling him there and moan into the kiss again. Ed rubs himself against you, massaging your clit with the smooth head of his dick and coating it in your wetness.

He keeps up with this slow, steady and careful rhythm - and it’s driving you mad. Each thrust causes a small spark of pleasant sensation to course through you.

When Ed breaks the kiss to nod at Lorraine you whine at the loss of contact. Currently, you don’t care about her, the only thing you care about is him and his big cock.

Through the blissful haze in your mind you hear Ed speak: “My Lord, you are all powerful, you are God, you are our Father”.

The words puzzle you but every thought is banished from your mind when you feel the warm, bulbous head of his cock entering your cunt. Slowly but steadily he fills you until he is nearly completely buried in you.

He grabs hold of your hair, tugging it backwards as you groan, the pain almost forcing more pleasure upon you, making you look at him.

Ecce crucem domini, fugite partes adversae

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin as Ed begins to speak in Latin, the words resonating within the sacred surroundings.

What?

Before you can fully grasp the significance of the Latin words, Ed seals your lips with another kiss, momentarily grounding you in the sensation of his touch. He begins sliding in and out of your pussy before he breaks the kiss and gently pushes you down until you lay flat on the altar. The stone is cold beneath you.

Exsurgat Deus et dissipentur inimici ejus: et fugiant qui oderunt eum a facie ejus

Lorraine's voice, though quiet, possesses a commanding presence as it weaves through the chapel. Each word is delivered with a deliberate cadence, the measured tones resonating in the hallowed silence. There's a certain grace in the way she speaks, a calm assurance that adds an ethereal quality to the unfolding ritual. Her words, like tendrils of incense, linger in the air, filling the sacred space with a sense of purpose and reverence.

But you don’t have time to think about that because Ed starts thrusting inside you, emphasising each sentence with a stroke of his hips. He pulls out until only the head is inside you before pushing in again and stretching your walls to accommodate him. You whimper beneath him whenever he fills you completely.

Sicut deficit fumus defíciant; sicut fluit cera a facie ígnis, sic pereant peccatores a facie Dei

Ed's hand is back to rub your clit in circles following the rhythm of his cock. You moan loudly as a slow sensation starts in your clit, growing more intense with each thrust of his dick and every movement of his fingers.

Princeps gloriosissime coelestis milítiae, sancte Míchael Archangele, defende nos in proelio

He gives his hips an extra hard push when he is fully sheathed inside your wet cunt and you feel his balls slapping against you. Waves of heavy and delightful pleasure and sensation course wash through you as you fail to comprehend what they do to you.

Et colluctatione, quae nobis est adversus principes et potestates, adversus mundi rectores tenebrarum harum, contra spiritualia nequitiae, in coelestibus

The pressure inside you rises as Ed keeps fucking you and rubbing circles around your clit. You feel yourself tightening as pure and unfiltered pleasure courses through your veins. His dick seems to hit all the right places inside you, the wide shaft stretching you deliciously and the sensations radiating from your clit, making you balance on the edge of an orgasm.

Veni in auxilium hominum; quos Deus creavit inexterminabiles, et ad imaginem similitudinis suae fecit, et a tyrannide diaboli emit pretio magno

Ed uses your body like a drum, everything he does vibrating through you like a steady beat as you feel the prickling sensation of need pulling at you, filling your veins.

You watch him through hooded eyes and you clench around his cock upon his sight. His brow is furrowed in determination as the muscles in his chest and arms ripple with every thrust.

You feel the pleasure cresting, the wave of sensations stacking higher and higher, but just then, just when you’re about to reach your peak, something wet and cold hits you.

Exorcizamos te, omnis immunde spiritus, omnis satanic potestas, omnis infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, in nomine et virtute Domini nostri Jesu

The unexpected sensation interrupts the rising tide of intensity, making you hiss. You smell a faint scent of holy water lingering in the air.

Turning your head slightly, you search for Lorraine, attempting to make sense of what just happened. You see her standing near you, the bible open as he holds a veil of what you guess is holy water.

Christi, eradicare et effugare a Dei Ecclesia, ab animabus ad imaginem Dei conditis ac pretioso divini Agni sanguine redemptis

Lorraine continues to sprinkle holy water onto you, the rhythmic pattern synchronised with the cadence of her words and Ed’s smooth thrusts.

The holy water feels cold on your overheated skin, a stark contrast that intensifies the sensory experience. The dichotomy of warmth and cold adds a layer of complexity to the unfolding ritual, leaving you caught in a paradox of sensations.

Non ultra audeas, serpens callidissime, decipere humanum genus, Dei Ecclesiam persequi, ac Dei electos excutere et cribrare sicut triticum

As your attention remains captivated by Lorraine, you're caught off guard by Ed's discreet move. Unseen, he seizes a burning candle, and the sudden cascade of hot wax onto your stomach elicits a sharp gasp from your lips. The contrasting elements of the cold water and the hot wax introduce a surprising twist, the unexpected sensation intertwining with the ambiance of the chapel.

The candlelight flickers, casting dancing shadows on Ed's face as he continues to drizzle the wax. Each drop leaves a transient mark on your skin, tainting it red.

Imperat tibi Deus altissimus, Imperat tibi Deus Pater; imperat tibi Deus Filius; imperat tibi Deus Spiritus Sanctus

The tension inside you breaks and waves crash and cascade over you as you cum almost unexpectedly. You clamp down around Ed's cock, clenching your cunt and bucking your hips. You arch your back when the orgasm courses through your body, riding out every single way as he continues to massage your clit and drive his hard dick into you.

Your scream echoes off the chapel walls, the sound resonating in the sacred silence, marking a moment of raw intensity. The juxtaposition of pleasure and the unexpected pain manifests in the resonance of your cry, creating a haunting echo that lingers in the hallowed atmosphere.

Vade satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis

Part of you is sure that you will go mad with all the sensations filling your mind, tending to overwhelm you.

Ed’s fingers playing with your clit, rubbing patterns you don’t understand.

His cock fills you up and hitting that spot makes your nerves sing so beautifully.

The mix of holy water and candle wax that assaults every fibre of your being, keeping you finely balanced between pain and pleasure.

You’re grateful you don’t have to stand because you feel your knees buckle under the onslaught.

Lorraine and Ed work in perfect harmony, alternating between hot and cold in such a way that you don’t know what will come next.

Da locum Christo, in quo nihil invenisti de operibus tuis

Every touch on your clit makes it throb, sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body and building up to your next orgasm. As Ed continues to slam into your cunt with a force that would drive you up the altar had he not been holding you down.

Whenever another drop of the cold holy water or the hot candle wax hits your bare skin you moan loudly at the sensation - you may as well be screaming you would not be able to discern it.

Da locum Ecclesia Uni, Sanctae, Catholicae, et Apostolicae, quam Christus ipse acquisivit sanguine suo

Ed buries his cock to the hilt, rotating his hips as if he could push it even further inside, making you arch your back against him.

“Beg for forgiveness”, his voice is deep and laced with arousal as he fucks into you in short, hard, deep stabs, “Beg for forgiveness from our God. Beg that He may allow us to cleanse you from your evil by my seed.”

“Please - please”, you start to beg desperately just as Ed had asked from you, “Please, Ed, please.”

Nos eriperes de potestate diaboli

You stammer incoherent words and sentences, the intensity rendering your attempts at communication fractured and disoriented. The echoes of your disjointed utterances sound throughout the chapel, as Ed quickens his pace again, hitting that spot deep inside you.

Ab omni hoste visibili et invisibili et ubique in hoc saeculo liberetur

Lorraine’s words grow louder, ascending to a crescendo that reverberates through the chapel. The rhythmic cadence of her speech becomes a pulsating backdrop as you come again, the explosive pleasure hitting you all at once. Your vision goes black and you shudder against Ed violently.

With a loud groan Ed comes inside you as your cunt contracts around him, your high having him brought to the peak too. You feel his dick twitching and pulsing as he keeps his hips flush against yours.

The waves of your orgasm keep washing over you as he keeps pumping you full of his cum.

Slowly your vision and senses return to you and Ed slides his slowly softening cock out of your cunt with a satisfied sigh.

You feel a drizzle of his sticky cum oozing from your pussy and dripping down on the altar.

Your eyes meet Ed's, and he graces you with a wide, warm smile that transforms his dishevelled appearance into a moment of genuine warmth as he tucks his dick into his pants.

Ed looks thoroughly fucked out, a layer of sweat covering his bare chest that glistens whenever he moves in the dim light. His hair points in all directions, some strands sticking to his forehead. Yet, in this vulnerable state, you find him more attractive than ever.

“I think that did it”, Ed remarks to Lorraine, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. As the surroundings gradually come back into focus, you look at Lorraine.

In contrast to you or Ed, she has maintained her composed demeanour, her clothes and hair still neatly in place.

She nods at his words as a subtle acknowledgment, then her gaze shifts from Ed to you and back at him.

“I’ll head back to the house, hon. You both should join me when you’ve cleaned yourselves up.”

Before she leaves, Lorraine steps over to you, her touch gentle as she cradles your face in the palm of her hand.

“You did well”, she says softly, warmth evident in her voice.

With that, she turns to leave, her steps echoing through the silent air as she heads towards the exits leaving you alone in the chapel with Ed, who in the meantime picked up your discarded clothes.

Ed places the clothes next to you on the altar and with a tender gesture he smooths your sweaty hair out of your forehead before leaning in and kissing you in a lingering, sweet kiss.

He starts picking the dried wax from your skin with a careful touch, his fingers tracing over the sore skin softly.

“You did so good”, he murmurs, his words carrying a mixture of pride and tenderness.

As continues to remove the wax he whispers words of affirmation, telling you what a good girl you are, how strong you are and that he is proud of you.

When he reaches your cunt he gives you a cheeky wink before gathering the cum that dripped out of your puffy cunt on his fingers and pushing it back in. You moan when you feel his thick fingers in your sore pussy: “Shit, Ed!”

“I know, sweetheart. Just cleaning you up… And wouldn’t want to waste my cum, right? It has to go where it belongs”, Ed slushes you softly and pumps his fingers into you a few times before he pulls back, satisfied with his work.

Ed helps you down from the altar, his arms enveloping you in a tight hug. You sigh softly, when the warmth he radiates seeps into your bare skin. As you hug, you feel the steady rhythm of his heart beating against your chest. Softly, you stroke his shoulders and back, letting your hands wander over his broad frame.

“Thank you”, you mumble, “for helping.”

You really are grateful for them to try their unorthodox methods on you. Judging by the soreness that inhabits your whole body, you enjoyed it immensely and even if it didn’t help, you’d be more than happy to return for a second session.

He parts from you with a soft kiss to your forehead: “Not for that, sweetheart. It was my pleasure… Just say the word, I’d be more than willing to help you again”.

Blushing at his words, you meet his toothy grin that reflects the genuine warmth when he hands you your clothes. His touch is gentle as he helps you to dress again. Wanting to return the favour, you take the initiative to button up Ed’s shirt.

His voice is soft when he thanks you before he grabs all the things on the altar and stores them in the leather bundle again.

Ed leads you out of the chapel with a hand on your back and you appreciate the soft gesture as you walk away from the stone altar. He opens the door for you and motions you outside with a gentle gesture of his hand before stepping next to you again.

Blinking against the light, you notice that while it is a bit darker than before, it is still brighter than in the chapel. The first thing that strikes you is that the shifting of light does not trigger your headaches - you are blissfully pain free.