Exorcism;; CYJ
Word Count;; 1.5k
Genre;; Demon AU, Horror
Pairing;; Yeonjun x Reader
Summary;;
Darkness encroaches on your sanity, carrying with it the demon’s whisperings. Not even God can save you now that you’re within his grasp.
Request;;
Anon asked: "Yeonjun and yn
E;; Exorcism"
Warnings;;
Demon!Yeonjun x Nun!Reader here we are again with the religious fics, ayooo Heavy Catholicism because… nun…
Graphic depictions of violence, blood, gore, death (not MCD), demonic possession, demonic obsession, sexual innuendos
Notes;;
Well I went off the rails again. Oops?
There’s a little easter egg for The Exorcist but not in an obvious way.
Also this is part of my Kinkoween series!
Main Masterlist
Sinister cackling pervades your mind. It pollutes, tainting you from the inside out. Darkness claws at your heart, begging to sink its teeth into your purity. Every inch of your being yearns to flee. What was once hallowed ground is now a haven for the depraved. God’s light no longer shines within this church. No, only the Devil’s temptations remain.
“Keep praying,” Father William whispers beside you.
You nod but he doesn't notice. He’s much stronger than you, both in body and in spirit; he would never allow his mind to wander in the middle of a prayer. The soft voices of your fellow nuns grow louder to compensate for your faltering determination. Their words build a protective sphere around you, shielding you from the beast’s influence.
Dipping your head, you call on the saints for guidance. Sweat lines your palm as you clutch your rosary beads to your chest. Your salvation is on the tip of your tongue. God’s grace will safeguard you from the entity vying for your soul if you just utter the holy prayers. Yet you can’t push yourself to speak, to even finish the first line of the Apostles Creed.
I believe in God…
Try as you might, the prayer always dies on your lips.
You scour the room for a source of strength. Shadows wheeze out their promises to devour and corrupt. Wind ricochets against the stone walls as they ooze black, viscous fluid. Dripping echoes within the chamber, constant and taunting. It dampens the intercessions of your sisters, smothering their intentions with loudening persistence.
Swallowing hard, your eyes flutter toward the silver shackles adorning the wall furthest from the door. The last resort. If the demon triumphs, if it breaks through the church’s defences and claims you, those chains may very well be your last resting place.
A shiver tickles your spine. Father William is a talented exorcist but even so, the likelihood of your survival is close to nil. While this should be encouragement enough for you to beg for His mercy, there’s something wicked growing inside you. Tempestuous, rapacious, lecherous.
Hunger rages within your core, eliciting unspeakable desires. Warmth wells in your chest as lava pulsates through your veins. Sweat trickles down your nape, soaking through your coif. Sulphur stings your nostrils when you inhale, infesting your mind and clouding your thoughts. Your rosary beads clatter to the floor. There’s a gasp from one of your sisters then she’s crying for Father William to cleanse you of the evil digging its teeth into your soul.
“It’s too late.”
You’re vaguely aware of your lips parting, of the harsh words as they crawl up your throat, yet your voice sounds so distant and foreign. Both guttural and wispy. Your skin tightens at the sheer intensity of it, threatening to split free of muscle and bone. Unable to withstand how taut you’ve become, you topple forward. Nails screech against the cobbled floor as you scream, jaw unhinging and back arching.
“We’re beyond prayer,” William says, breaking through the agonising haze infesting your mind. “We must exorcise it before it takes full control.”
Twisting your neck to look upon him, your vision blurs with fresh tears. He removes his stole with a sympathetic frown. The room fills with the caterwauling of your so-called sisters. Gentle, unwelcome hands flip you onto your back. They pin you to the jagged ground, indifferent to how it cuts into your back. Wrath overcomes you, transfiguring the last of your patience into feral madness.
A rumbling growl vibrates within your gut and you lurch forward. Teeth gnash and tear into skin. Warm and thick, blood wets your tongue as you take a bite out of the closest nun. She retreats with a broken cry. Her departure marks the liberation of an arm. Strategic in your hysteria, you grasp the oversized crucifix adorning your neck. The cold metal burns your palm. You hiss as you rip it away from your body and into the thigh of the wretch foolish enough to still be holding you.
Frenzied and wild, you stagger to your feet, attacking anyone who draws too near. Thudding against your skull, heinous compulsion urges you forward. You sway with each step toward the holy man and his silly little book. Raising a crucifix of his own, he invokes the Lord’s name. Your blood boils at the mere mention of Him. He rattles off in Latin and your strength wanes with each prayer.
Reaching your limit, you swing at him with the last ounce of your energy before collapsing. Without hesitation he jumps to your side. His touch is feverish, branding you with the splendour of God. No matter how you writhe you’re unable to flee his virtuous embrace. The war for your eternal soul is coming to a head and you’re unsure who will win, who you even want to win.
Exhausted, you give in.
“You did so well, angel,” a tantalising voice purrs. It comes from nowhere and everywhere all at once. “Let me take it from here.”
Pure, unbridled fear accompanies you into a restless slumber.
When you wake you’re greeted with an overwhelming stench of iron. Straining to see in the dark chamber, you struggle to your feet. Your head is pounding. It hurts to keep your eyes open. Rubbing your temple, you traverse deeper into the room, calling for your sisters. There is no verbal response save for an elongated rasp. It inhales for what seems like minutes while you stumble in the dark. Its exhalation lasts twice as long.
Outside the clouds part and moonlight sneaks through the barred window. Dark splotches decorate the floor. When your shoes dip into the black pools, the fluid clings to the sole. Each step closer to the ghastly moaning is bogged down by the substance. Repulsive squelching follows as you cross the room.
From beyond the vast dark comes a snicker. There’s something so familiar, so intimate about it that you stop dead in your tracks. Mere feet separate you from the unknown. Your hand springs up to cradle your crucifix but your neck is bare, as is your pocket. No rosary graces your hip. Terror seizes you.
As you pat yourself down, a twinkling catches your eye. Hidden within shadow comes the gleam of silver. You turn to it. It’s a shape you can recognise anywhere. Dark flecks mar the body of Christ, the metallic sheen of the crucifix dulling under the stains. Fingers hang loosely around His feet.
Beyond the limp digits is a clammy wrist and a crimson arm…
and then nothing more.
Bile rises in your throat and you dry heave. Backing away from it, your heel connects with a pudgy mass. Weight shifting, your world is overturned as you fall onto your back. Your landing, however, is cushioned. Once more the heavy scent of iron invades. It’s suffocating. You try to stand, to escape the stench but when your hand juts out to the side, you grasp gelatinous flesh. Pressing a little too hard, your fingers puncture through.
Withdrawing with a small yelp, your arm flies back to your lap and with it, the severed head of your sister. Fingers digging into her soft cheek, they wiggle and dance in her mouth, peeking through the lips in your desperation to detach from her. She won’t release you. Her face absorbs your fingers, sucking them deeper. Your wailing pierces the still night air.
Somehow, despite the abject terror gripping your every thought, its laughter breaks through.
Memories slam into you like a freight train. For weeks it toyed with your sanity. Many a night you cowered before the tabernacle in constant prayer. Father William and your sisters worked around the clock to save you from its diabolic touch. You found solace in the promise of salvation, if not for your earthly form than for your spirit.
But no matter how you strived to guard yourself from it, the demon had its ways. It snuck into the back of your mind, planting rotten seeds within you. The path to God became overgrown with its weeds, with its lies. It promised pleasures beyond your imaginings and instead of shunning it, you let it fester. Turning your back on his Holy light, you plunged into the depths of sin. The demon led you astray and you allowed it.
You’d fallen so far that you didn’t blink twice when he asked to enter you.
When he poked and prodded at your innards, you relished in the fullness. Every ounce of your being contained him. Your every thought became his. He licked at your sanity, his tongue lapping at your final sacred restraints until you burst. Devouring your innocence, he consumed you from the inside out, destroying your piety without resistance. Once could never be enough, not when such hellish bliss was at your fingertips, and soon you became inseparable. More often than not he lingered, whispering sweet corruption inside your very mind all while sinking his teeth deeper into your blackening soul.
Now, when red eyes meet your own, you can’t produce a morsel of regret.
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König masterlist
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