#sister imperator fanfic

[theunholybastard]

Hotel California (Sister Imperator x Mr Psaltarian)

Requested by @gogodollie !!! <3

Tags: Workplace Romance, Established Relationship, Sexual Frustration, Mentions Of Drug Use, Rough Sex, Scratching, Hair-Pulling, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Squirting, Creampie

Sister Imperators screams of ecstasy echoed throughout the hotel room, the sound pouring into the rooms of the unfortunate souls who had to listen to her coming undone from the calculated workings of Mr Psaltarians tongue. That's how the night ended, preluded by marajuana, a rocking performance, hours of painful sexual tension, and a disgusting amount of unprofessionalism. 

Earlier that day, Sister had landed in California with the rest of the band, following them on their tour. Normally, she wouldn't stray far from the comforting walls of her beloved Ministry, but Nihil had practically begged her to come with, to show her how far he had come as Papa, and most importantly, to impress her with his unyielding youth, stamina, and sexual charisma. She didn't care much for the rituals themselves, but it was fun to travel from place to place, to take in new sights and experiences before she had to sit through an hour and a half of Nihil singing about Satan and getting his dick sucked. But there was something back at the Ministry keeping her from fully enjoying herself. Well, someone.

Mr Psaltarian had been working alongside her since the late 50s, back when she had very little significance in the Clergy, and from their very first meeting, they just clicked. It wasn't long till they started fucking, just for stress relief at first, getting a little too high and meeting up in one of their offices after a particularly rough day. But much to the dismay of the normally noncommittal and romance-repulsed Sister and Psaltarian, it soon developed into something more. They had called earlier, awkwardly dancing around the subject of missing one another to avoid their secret love affair being found out by someone passing by, but that brief interaction wasn't enough to quell her yearning. 

Despite how subtle and secretive they thought  they were, quite literally everyone in the Ministry could see through them. It was common knowledge that they were fucking, and while two coworkers fraternizing wasn't technically allowed, and certainly not professional behavior by any means, nobody dared to comment on it. Unbeknownst to the couple, everyone knew their dirty little secret. Everyone except Papa Nihil, but in his defense, he may be a bit stupid. 

He was still under the impression that he had a chance with her, the poor fool! She saw the way he would gawk at her. During meetings, in the middle of rituals, pretty much anytime they were in the same general vicinity together. It was pathetic, really, but also oddly endearing. And sure, he was kinda cute... But she had better things to do with her time. Like Psaltarian. And she did him a lot. 

She stood by the bar at the venue Papa was performing, drink in hand as she watched him move his body to the music in ways that made all the ladies in the audience go crazy. The concert had just started, and she was already bored, lost in thoughts of her special someone. Out of the blue, she felt a presence behind her. Not an uncomfortable, irritating presence like that of a stranger, but a pleasant, familiar one. She turned her head to see him. Psaltarian. As tall and handsome as ever, fighting back a smirk as soon as he caught a glimpse of her face. “Sister.” He greeted casually, the public space restricting their ability to display affection. 

“Mr Psaltarian.” Imperator echoed, unable to help herself from cracking a little smirk. She cleared her throat, composing herself. “What a surprise. I didn't expect you to be here.”

“Well, Papa is my friend. I came to see him perform.” He replied. 

“Really? You came all the way to Los Angeles just to watch Papa perform?” Sister snickered, quirking a brow. Psaltarian paused.

“There are other… benefits of coming here. Benefits I'd like to see soon.” He replied lowly, his voice lightly subjective. It takes every once of restraint the two have not to ravage each other right here, right now. A shiver runs up her spine.

“Maybe you will.” She slyly slipped a hand downwards, dropping an extra room key into his pants pocket. She decided to cease speaking for now, knowing if she were to continue her (not so) subtle flirtations, neither of them would be able to wait till after the concert. They went back from 'focusing' on the show before them. And now they wait.

The time passed agonizingly slow, but it was worth it in the end, once he finally made his way to her hotel room. In an instant, her lips crashed against his, sloppily forcing her tongue down his throat. She has never been this desperate before, she would feel humiliated if anyone other than Psaltarian saw her acting this fucking needy. Psaltarian, though he was better at controlling his emotions, felt the same way, their shared pleasure denied for far too long. Their hands roamed feverishly over each other's bodies, acting as if this was the last time they'd ever see each other again, mindlessly ripping their clothes off till there was nothing but skin pressed against skin. 

He pulled himself away, only to delve his head between her legs, her cunt already sopping wet for him. A deep rumble escaped his lips the moment he tasted her arousal, never has he known a taste any sweeter. Her hands flew to his hair, tangling her fingers in his dark curls. Her slender legs, draped over his shoulders, pull him in closer, seeking more stimulation from his eager mouth. The sounds of her pleasure filled the room, each noise that came from her shot straight to the throbbing in his pants. He can't handle this for much longer, as fun as it is to have her squirming and gasping over his skillful tongue. 

He went to sit up, to clamber on top of her and shove himself within her without so much as a second thought, but she wrapped her legs tightly around his head, restricting his movement. “Don’t you fucking dare.” She growled, grinding her hips down against his face. “You can’t just- fuck, s-stop right before you make me cum! F-finish what you started.” Psaltarian grumbled protestingly against her folds, but nonetheless continued his ministrations, more motivated than ever to earn an orgasm from her, so that he may finally feel her warmth around him. 

It didn't take much longer for her to cum, only a few more flicks of his tongue and she was coming undone, a cacophony of sweet moans filling Psaltarians ears along with the obscene sound of him lapping up her juices. As her thighs shook violently around him, her chest heaving up and down rapidly, finally, he had a chance. In her weakened state, he's able to fight his way out of her legs grasp, taking position and lining himself up with her waiting entrance. Pressing the tip against her cunt, he winces slightly at the feeling. Lucifer, she's dripping. 

His length slides in with ease, the stretch causing both of them to gasp in sync, heads lulled back and mouth agape. She whimpers softly, overstimulated and given zero time to catch her breath after that earth shattering orgasm. That was just the beginning, the calm before the storm, only given a split second for her to adjust to his size before he started thrusting, rough and uncaring. The way she clenches and spasms around his cock is addicting, only spurring him on to go faster. He's focused solely on the pleasure he's receiving now, his primal instincts taking over after having to hold himself back for so long. 

He buried his face in the crook of her neck as he took her. He could only imagine her face right now, eyes shut tight, blonde strands sticking to her sweat glistened forehead, and sporting a deliciously blissed out expression. He couldn't think about it for too long, in fear the image he had painted in his mind would make him cum too early. Sister Imperator was the kind of woman that could make even the strongest-willed men crumble. Even Psaltarian, who prides himself on his sexual prowess, came within moments of being inside her for the first time. Granted, he was stoned out of his mind when it happened, but it was still embarrassing. She just held that much power. That's why he loved her so much. Because she made him weak. 

“F-fuck! So tight! Spread your legs further for me. Let me feel you.” Psaltarian grunted. She did as she was told, allowing deeper access to her pussy, each thrust now slamming against her cervix. Tears started brimming in her eyes, ruining her perfect makeup, smudging and running down her cheeks. She was a mess, screeching and shaking like a woman possessed, carving up his back with her nails. He reveled in the feeling of his skin breaking by his lovers hand. This, he thought to himself, was her most beautiful state.

“I missed this…” He huffs, breathing in her scent. Sweat, cigarette smoke, and her fruity shampoo; his favorite scent. Sister only whimpered in reply. If she still had the ability to to speak right now, she would be pouring her heart out to him, rambling over how much she thought about him during their time apart, how she came to the thought of him every night during this damned tour. How much she loved him, how she never wishes to leave his side again. But even after this, when her head has cleared, she won't say a word. She doesn't need to. He already knows.

She's close again, he can feel it, her cunt achingly tight and her breathing raspy and labored. He was getting there too, his brutal thrusting growing tired and sloppy. Now it was just a matter of time, a race to the finish line. He tried everything he could to last just a little bit longer, but it was so hard when she was gripping him so insanely fucking tightly, like a snake constricting its prey. He couldn't focus on anything else, not when she was all around him, flooding all of his senses. He feared for a moment he would disappoint her and spill himself before she had the chance to finish, but when her thighs started to wobble once again, he let out a breath of relief.

One last hard slam to her cervix was all it took, a wave of warm wetness pouring over his cock as the dam finally broke, her eyes rolling back as she roared like the lioness she was. It was hard to compare her to anything less than a goddess. Surely this must be what Lilith herself looked like, positively sinful and ethereally beautiful in the afterglow of her orgasm. Lifting his head from her shoulder to lock eyes with her, that's when it finally hit him. With one last groan, he came, emptying himself within her walls, dick pulsing as he gave her every last drop of his spend. 

Coming down from their shared highs, Psaltarian pulls out, eliciting one last soft whine from the heavily exhausted Sister. He watches his cum leak from her aching cunt for a moment, cursing himself for not bringing his camera to capture the breathtaking sight, before laying down next to her, holding her close to her chest in comfortable silence as they shared a cigarette. They could care less that they definitely disturbed the slumber of the occupants of the surrounding hotel rooms. They were together, and they were at peace. 

Nobody dared to comment on how calm and collected Sister Imperator seemed to be the next morning. Nobody dared to comment on the hand Psaltarian was resting on her thigh under the table at breakfast. Nobody dared to ask why Psaltarian was even there in the first place. Why would they? They already knew. Even Nihil, as oblivious as he often was, exchanged a knowing glance with Psaltarian, shooting him a subtle wink.

-

[ghulehunknown]

Clergy Headcanons - Proposals!

Rated G - Purely fluff! Gender neutral reader

How I think the head members of the Clergy would propose to you 😌

(inspired by Älva’s Papa engagement ring post!)

Primo

Very romantic

He asked a parental figure/someone important in your life for your hand (well, at least told your loved one(s) beforehand to give a semblance of traditionality)

Plans a picnic with all your favorite foods, and he brought your favorite roses and other pretty flowers from his garden. He actually secretly grew a special engagement bouquet just for you!

He doesn’t get down on one knee because of his arthritis, but proposes while you’re both sitting down

The ring is very traditional and likely passed down for generations in his family. He’s been waiting a whole lifetime to give it to you 🥺

Secondo

Whatever he has planned, it’s completely with your personality in mind - whether you are more inclined for something quiet or a something with a little more opulence

But it’s probably something a little more lowkey, like after a lovely dinner that he cooks for you. He may not be one for grand gestures but he does know how to make you feel very special

He has a very romantic, although not super long, speech before he gets down on one knee and hands you the most wonderful ring you’ve ever seen

The ring is beautiful, but dark - much like him. It’s probably got some black star sapphires in it or something, and the band is made from tungsten or titanium because it’s durable and lasting like his love for you

Terzo

He…may or may not have proposed impulsively one evening after a date because he got excited…then remembered he’s Terzo and vows to do better with a surprise later. (Eloping isn’t out of the question for him)

He plans a grand day out doing all your favorite activities before coming back to the Ministry which is decorated to the max and all your loved ones are there in attendance

He gets down on one knee and gives an elaborate, moving speech and promises you the world

The ring is GORGEOUS and extravagant and must’ve cost a fortune. But your love is priceless, so a silly little price tag doesn’t stop him (don’t worry, he paid full price and didn’t use the Papa discount; he makes sure you know that)

He definitely planned a flashmob for you with Siblings and Ghouls dressed in tuxedos and wedding dresses, but waves them off after he sees how overcome with emotion you are

Can’t wait for you to see the second part…alone in his room, because you have to “christen the engagement”

Copia

Oh god he’s nervous AF, he’s sweating and stumbling. He doesn’t want to mess this up because he’s been planning it for a long time. He knew you were the one the day he met you

He takes you back to the spot you had your first date. You can tell something is up because he’s acting a little funny

He definitely messes up his little speech he has prepared but he says something like: “You will never walk alone”

He’s so, so sweet and everything is perfect no matter how nervous you both are 🥺

He gets down on one knee and everything and you feel like the most special person in the world, because to him you are

He gives you a traditional, but absolutely beautiful ring. It’s probably got diamonds or your birthstone in it. He’s not a fully traditional man, but for things as important as this he doesn’t want to miss a beat

He’s ready to start planning the wedding!

Nihil

“Here,” and hands you the ring

He probably proposes immediately after you have an argument in attempt to makeup and show you he still wants you

The ring is simple, but durable. It’s probably solid gold, because to him you’re golden

Afterwards he takes you out to your favorite restaurant then a drive in movie (it reminds him of the good ol’ days)

Sister Imperator (bonus round!)

Very methodical and planned to a T

Lots of beautiful decorations

The speech is simple and to the point, as she often is, so there’s really no way to get lost in flowery language. You know what she wants, and it’s you and her forever

“We would be good together, don’t you think?” she’d say with her all-knowing smirk

She hands you a sturdy stainless steel ring and got herself one to match

[call-me-lizbeth]

I’m very proud, and a little shy, to share my latest love project that I’ve invested weeks and weeks of my time in! This is a full mourning gown I sewed on my 1916 Singer treadle sewing machine and by hand. It was heavily inspired by the LA ghoulettes in Ghost’s Rite Here Rite Now from their LA Forum live performance. I like to think this dress looks like something that could definitely be seen within the ministry. I’ll explain the process below and the pieces that make up this incredible gown ensemble!

I made the corset first, which was made from an authentic 1903 Edwardian era corset pattern, and I used lightweight imitation feather-boning and a real metal busk piece, I’m tall, so I had to order a longer one just for me and alter the pattern a bit to adjust for my longer torso. The corset is black canvas with a skull crochet overlay! I was definitely looking to Papa IV’s costuming for inspiration there with the texture and subtle detail. It’s trimmed and lined with black lace. It reduces my waistline by a full 6 inches!

To go underneath the corset, I made an Edwardian era style ruffled chemise with black muslin cotton, layering the chest with more and more tiers of black lace and black ribbons, even the shoulders and neck are trimmed with lace.

Next I made a black petticoat using 5 yards of black cotton fabric, trimmed with black laces. After that, I made the outer skirt, which was also made of about 5 or 6 yards of fabric too, so it’s very heavy, but it has so much volume! I added a panel in the front of the skirt with a lace overlay with very subtle, tiny skulls!

I used the same skull lace in the dress’s 56 inch long sweeping black train, too! It honestly looks like it could be a black wedding dress, even though I was definitely designing this as a mourning gown. The French lace veil adds to that, and it also doubles as a shawl. It’s elaborate and elegant enough it obscures my face just enough to add mystery but won’t keep me from seeing to walk around. I’ve done a secondary headpiece that goes over the veil that features a small black skull, black jewels, and black ribbons and tulle.

Overall, this has been one of my biggest projects yet, and I’m a historical costuming seamstress. Even 1876 and 1880 style dress projects made out of corduroy did not consume as much time (and love) as this gown, so I’m very pleased with how it turned out! But I wanted to make sure I shared it with the Ghost community, where I’m sure it will be enjoyed! If I get enough feedback and likes, I will be sure to share future goth and Ghost inspired projects and creations!

Please DO NOT REPOST anywhere, please only reblog and give credit. Thank you so much, everyone! 🦇✨

[nuntia]

[SECRETS FROM THE CLERGY]

Have you ever looked closely at the design of the Prequelle Exalted limited version?

by Zbigniew M. Bielak

Think of escape routes or just find your way around the Abbey.

It is a map.

What was once only present at strategic points on the property for the newest Siblings of Sin to be located, now is on your hands.

The thicker lines represent that there is a second floor, following them. The left image shows the new security and surveillance installation buildings.

[iamthecomet]

𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Dewdrop/Sister Imperator Featuring: Angst. Grief. Oral Sex. Pegging. Relationship Reflection. A sort-of one-sided relationship (but also sort of not?). Dew just has a lot of thinking to do. Word Count: 5k

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚂𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚁𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚁𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝙽𝚘𝚠

The first time feels like the drop on a rollercoaster. Dew’s stomach letting go, dropping out when she touches him. A soft cool hand on his cheek first, then sliding down to settle around his throat. He holds her gaze. Waits. Breath catching. Blood pounding in his ears. 

He didn’t know what to expect when she called him up to her office. It wasn’t this. 

She taps her fingers down the length of his hammering pulse. Tightens her grip–just enough to make something in his body light up with worry and desire in equal measure. She smiles at him. It’s easy, predatory. In his long life he’s never felt so much like prey. 

He finds that he’s happy to let her devour him–if that’s what she wants. 

𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚗 𝙰𝙾𝟹.

[revelisms]

It starts with Sister.

It starts with Sister in a black-walled room, picking frays of silk with needle-nails and puffing plumes of blue through her teeth:

"If you loved me, you wouldn't have subjected me to this." Cold, splintered, distant as the stars. "You would have let me go."

And Nihil—

Greasepaint a sweat-streaked shine, concert-high dimmed like a lamp, yellowish crescent waning—Nihil stares, and splutters, and says nothing.

(When does Nihil say anything?)

Oh, but he says everything—everything but what he should.

Primo sees it. Secondo sees it. Spits it back in his face, with knife-glared eyes; moonbeam and black sun, first son and second.

"The Gate will be overrun, if you keep up with this."

"You are going against the Way, and you know it."

Nihil stares, splutters, spews a steaming slew of denial.

"You boys haven't seen it." Gristling, shattered, cold as a gale. "You are young."

And Primo, unwittingly, absorbs it. Mirrors that fanged-tongued rhetoric to his youngest; his own, above all else: "This is beyond you now, mh? You are too young to understand."

And with it, Secondo mirrors it, too, carved from spittle and ash: "You two can barely see such things. Don't pretend to know differently, eh?"

And with it, the third son: cracked wings, cracked smile, fragmented-minded son, pinned between the three prongs of their expectations like glass in a gilded frame—

And he expects their chastisements. Expects their flippancy. Expects Nihil's grousing grating shame-turned snarl at a mirror image he won't accept—

But not from Copia.

Not the runt.

"You say so much," his little brother whispers once, when he is still young, frowning and blue-white eyed and arms notched about his knees. "You say so much—but you don't say anything."

And who is he to point the finger?

Who is he to rage?

Terzo stares, and stills, and says nothing.

Says nothing, like his damned dead-eyed father.

But Copia, Copia, Copia—

If he has to burn it all, Copia will break away from it. Copia has been an Other, from the day he was sewn, and he has always known it.

Sewn by those needle-nails into the perfect little doll.

"I won't be that," he spits—older, older now, older always—and though there is gray in his hair, and black on his eyes, and a suit of satin jeweled over his skin, he is still him.

He has always been.

Not a product of his father, not quite—though he has wanted it. Hell, craved it.

But he is, in a way.

They all always were.

Nihil's wheezing laugh. Nihil's sly-winked grins. Nihil's reckless joy. Nihil's anger, selfishness, endless-hearted selflessness, wrapped in a self-spiting package.

"I won't be," Copia whispers again, to a mother who is not there, to a grandmother and an uncle and a sad-eyed hateful-hissing nurturer more than brothers, to a father he is but won't claim.

No—there's a new world under his hand now. A future limitless in his own making.

And that, he'll claim.

That, Saints willing, rethroned, he'll claim.

copia / ties that break

[profanepurity]

What exactly are imperator and saltarian doing? How do they even hold power against the lords of hell?

Reference: The Coronation of the Virgin by Diego Velázquez I've been saving this ask for a while now. Saltarian and Imperator's motivations and their power over the Lords of Hell will be explained in Child of Her Grave Chapter 1 is up now on AO3! (Trigger/ Content Warnings: Violence/ blood/ gore, heavy oc content, Ghost AU (Praeteritum AU) Just under 6k words!)

[luciferscowgirl]

— “Never to Return” —

60 chapter smutty slow burn

-

Catholic virgin x Cardinal Copia

Hello guys!

I can finally say that I have successfully finished writing my 200.000 words slow burn “Never to Return”, where a young Woman of God escapes the restraints of her Catholic upbringing with the help of our beloved Cardinal Copia. Throughout the story, unexpected things happen, and we will learn more about the characters’ pasts. Things turn sinful…, in every way.

Read it here (AO3) or click the link in the title. It is 18+, so MDNI, please!

Thank you all! 💓

[theunholybastard]

-Theunholybastard's Masterlist-

Hey, Lovelies! 👋 Finally, I made a proper masterlist!

Here, I provide content for The Band Ghost, including all of the Papas, Sister Imperator, and Era 3, 4, and 5 Ghouls and Ghoulettes.

Though not all of my works are NSFW, my account is strictly 18+, along with most of my works. Minors are not welcome here!

Any works that are NSFW are highlighted in red. Any works that are SFW are highlighted in purple.

-Primo

-Oneshots-

Objectification (Papa Emeritus I x GN!Reader)

Sex Toys (Papa Emeritus I x F!Reader)

Spanking (Papa Emeritus I x TransM!Reader)

Morning Sex (Papa Emeritus I x F!Reader)

Handjob (Papa Emeritus I x GN!Reader)

Collaring (Papa Emeritus I x M!Reader)

Free Use (All Papas x F!Reader)

-Full Length Fics-

None so far...

-Secondo

-Oneshots-

Angry Sex (Papa Emeritus II x F!Reader)

Deepthroating (Papa Emeritus II x M!Reader)

Sensory Deprivation (Papa Emeritus II x F!Reader)

Pregnancy (Papa Emeritus II x F!Reader)

Public Sex (Papa Emeritus II x F!Reader)

Food Play (Papa Emeritus II x TransM!Reader)

Blood (Papa Emeritus II x F!Reader)

Free Use (All Papas x F!Reader)

-Full Length Fics-

None so far...

-Terzo

-Oneshots-

Titfucking (Papa Emeritus III x F!Reader)

Somnophilia (Papa Emeritus III x F!Reader)

Breeding (Papa Emeritus III x F!Reader)

Glove Kink (Papa Emeritus III x GN!Reader)

Quickie (Papa Emeritus III x GN!Reader)

Double Penetration (Papa Emeritus III x Omega x F!Reader)

Lingerie (Papa Emeritus III x F!Reader)

Breath Play (Papa Emeritus III x F!Reader)

Free Use (All Papas x F!Reader)

-Full Length Fics-

None so far...

-Copia

-Oneshots-

In Sync (Era 5 Ghouls x Papa Emeritus IV)

Pegging (Papa Emeritus IV x F!Reader)

Dry Humping (Cardinal Copia x GN!Reader)

Praise (Frater Imperator x F!Reader)

Voyeurism (Cardinal Copia x GN!Reader)

Virginity (Papa Emeritus IV x F!Reader)

Thigh Riding (Cardinal Copia x F!Reader)

Sexting (Frater Imperator x GN!Reader)

Threesome (Papa Emeritus IV x Cumulus x F!Reader)

Shower Sex (Papa Emeritus IV x F!Reader)

Free Use (All Papas x F!Reader)

Bad Day (Papa Emeritus IV x GN!Reader)

-Full Length Fics-

None so far...

-Nihil

-Oneshots-

None so far...

-Full Length Fics-

None so far...

-Sister Imperator

-Oneshots-

Hotel California (Young!Sister Imperator x Young!Mr Psaltarian)

-Full Length Fics-

None so far...

-Era 3 Ghouls

-Oneshots-

Double Penetration (Papa Emeritus III x Omega x F!Reader)

-Full length Fics-

None so far...

-Era 4/5 Ghouls/Ghoulettes

-Oneshots-

A Heated Encounter (Mountain x Aurora)

Era 5 Ghouls/Ghoulettes Period Comfort Headcanons

In Sync (Era 5 Ghouls x Papa Emeritus IV)

Threesome (Papa Emeritus IV x Cumulus x Reader)

Rainy Evenings (Dewdrop x Rain)

-Full Length Fics-

None so far...

-

[nimbusghoulette]

pro memoria

A little snippet that's been on my mind ever since I saw RHRN. Contains spoilers for the movie!

Copia sat silently in the darkness of the Ministry library, only the flickering flame of a candle illuminating the ancient scrolls in front of him. The silence was almost eerie; even the distant laughter of the ghouls down the hall had died down. He squinted at the text, the individual letters bleeding into unintelligible smudges. Taking a shaky breath, he rubbed at his tired eyes in a vain attempt to force himself to concentrate. His mind refused to cooperate, and so he leaned back in his chair, away from the warm candlelight that seemed to be dying out anyway. His face was soon enveloped by seemingly eternal darkness, his mind beginning to wander.

♪♫ don't you forget about dying ♫♪ He hasn't had the time to think in days. He busied himself with the preparations for his mother's memorial, there was so much to do and take care of that he barely had the time to sleep. While they tried, the ghouls weren't of much help, and he couldn't blame them. How were they supposed to know of such human procedures and how they worked? His responsibilities didn't give him the chance to grieve his loss. But now that he was alone with his own thoughts, the familiar ache in his chest made itself known with such force that it nearly knocked the air out of his lungs.

♪♫ don't you forget about your friend death ♫♪ Perhaps if he wasn't so self-centered and worried about his own fate, he would've noticed what was going on, and then he could have at least tried to find a solution to Sister's condition, whatever it might have been. And if it turned out that not even him could help her, at least he could have been there for her in her final moments. The guilt hit him like a freight train and hot, bitter tears welled up in his eyes. What kind of a son was he to leave his mother die alone, surrounded by strangers instead of the last living member of her family?

♪♫ don't you forget that you will die ♫♪ As he sat there, simmering in his own pain and guilt and with tears silently rolling down his cheeks, a thought crossed his mind, one that he had never expected to even consider.

Perhaps it really should have been him.

[plaquerat]

Hey gang I wrote a fic about Phantom's summoning check it out okay I love you.

[selkiechild4998]

Unwanted Guard Ghoul

I love the idea of each brother having a guard ghoul that kinda represents who leads the pack. I also love this rare pair of Secondo and Alpha, they just have so much potential!

TW-None

Gene- I honestly don't know what to call this XD

Wordcount- 665 words

"I do not need a guard ghoul, Mother," Secondo stated flatly.

"That isn't your decision to make, Secondo," Sister argued back, "The Clergy feels it best to assign you a guard ghoul."

Secondo frowned as he folded his arms across his chest. He was a fully grown man; he didn't need a guard ghoul like his younger brother. "Who is it?" he asked.

"One of the fire ghouls from the nursery."

And Secondo's mood soured further. He has only been to the nursery a handful of times. He never really bothered with the ghouls; to him, they were just creatures from the Pit, meant to serve the Ministry. "A nursery ghoul? You can't be serious," Secondo huffed, "They handle babies. How can a nursery ghoul possibly be a guard ghoul?"

"Just because he helps within the nursery doesn't mean he can't be a guard, Secondo," Sister argued, "He is assigned to you whether you like it or not. He'll be at your office by twelve. I expect you to remember your manners." Which Secondo rolled his eyes at and started walking to his office.

He was mad. No, frustrated. He's dedicated his entire life to spreading the Ministry's dark message. Yes, he tends to sneak out to the occasional party, but he doesn't need supervision like a child. And to be assigned a nursery ghoul? It felt like salt in the wound. When he glanced at his watch, he saw it was only eleven, thirty. He hoped that would be enough time for him to compose himself and calm his mind before meeting this ghoul.

By the time twelve rolled around, Secondo was seated within his office, his reading glasses resting on his nose as he read over the paperwork sprawled out before him. His attention was momentarily drawn from his work when four knocks rap against the door. "Enter," He spoke, keeping his eyes down at his paperwork.

What made him look up was the thick scent of campfire and ash, glancing up and pausing. He expected some soft nursery ghoul, small and timid. Not this brick wall of a fire ghoul. He was dressed in the pitch black cassock the other ghouls under Secondo's direct command wear, complete with the shiny black mask that hid his face, only leaving those firey red eyes that glowed softly within the mask's shadow.

"Hello Papa," He greeted in a low, gravelly tone.

"You must be the ghoul Mother told me about," Secondo frowned, placing his pen down as he looked over the ghoul. "She mentioned you were previously assigned to the nursery. You don't look like it."

"They needed a fire ghoul for the emberlings," The ghoul stated.

Secondo nodded, "Do you have a name?"

"Alpha."

"Alpha?" Secondo repeated, "Why that name?"

"I was my pack's longest-ruling leader," Alpha explained before adding, "Before I was summoned here."

Secondo nodded. He's heard mention of fire ghoul pack structure. Hearing how they are similar to lion prides or wolf packs. "Then you must've had a mate?" He asked with a tilt of his head.

"No. I've never taken a mate."

Now that surprised Secondo, but didn't show it. With a fire ghoul so healthy and leading a pack, he'd expect him to have a mate. Then a thought entered his mind.

"Well, since you are my guard ghoul, I expect-"

"I'm sorry Papa, but the Clergy has requested me not follow the orders you give me."

"Excuse me?" Secondo frowned, "I am your Papa. You are to follow my orders, regardless of what the Clergy has to say."

"I was given an order, and I rather stay here than be sent back to the Pit," Alpha stated in a slightly darker tone.

Secondo huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He really is stuck with this ghoul. "Che cazzo…" He mumbled to himself. "You better not get in the way of any of my plans."

"I can make no such promise, Papa."

This was going to be fun.

[her-satanic-wiles]

Kinktober Day 13 - Pregnancy

Sister Imperator x Reader

After realising just what Nihil was, Sister Imperator leaves the Ministry to go to a small Abbey down on the southern coast of France where she meets you, and she’s very pregnant.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 11k.

Reading Time: 47 min.

Warnings: cunnilingus, mentions of cheating, pregnancy kink,

Taglist: @akayuki56 @alien-the-ghost @amazing-bobinsky @angellayercake @anonymous-appreciation @babydestinyinfluencer @bitchywitchygardener @blossomsea @call-me-little-sunshine84 @copiaspet622 @copiasslut @cosmixxdust @da-rulah @dolceterzo @dopey-fandom-girl @faithisyours @ghoulishxdelights @hauntedharmonic-ghoulishhaunter @high-above-the-city @howlingco @inkstainedrat @kaijukimchi @kenken-the-shoggoth @ledger-kaos @magopi @megachaoticstupid @meliza1001 @miss-leto @mommy-dust @neganwifey25-blog @piaart @saintbowie @shycardinale @sister-of-sin-claudia @sisterof-sin @sodoswitchimage @the-did-i-ask @xiyingly @zombiesnips-blog

Author’s note: Hi, all!

This turned out a lot more different (and longer) than I intended… but here we are. I kind of got a bit lost in this story and as I didn’t want to come back to it later, I thought I might as well begin and end it here. Oh… and wasn’t actually a great deal of pregnancy kink in the end. Please enjoy!

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Recommended listening: Love In The Dark - Adele.

The sea breeze was sharp but welcoming as Sister Imperator stepped off the train, her coat whipping around her in the biting wind of the southern French coast. It was a relief to stretch her legs after the gruelling, seemingly endless journey—a 6 a.m. start, boarding the early train from Rome Termini before dawn. The carriage had been old, with stiff wooden seats that groaned with every twist and turn as it crawled through the Italian countryside. Noisy and jarring, it had offered little in the way of comfort, but at least it had granted her solitude—a gift she had come to cherish now more than ever. Her journey had been punctuated by stops in Genoa, then Nice, each transfer a reminder of how far she was running, how deeply she needed to disappear. After two more trains, she finally arrived in Cassis, a town so small and quiet it felt like a dream. Compared to the suffocating halls of the Ministry, with its endless scheming and heavy shadows, this town was as foreign as it was liberating. She wasn’t sure if it would save her or bury her alive.

The cliffs rose in the distance, ominous and beautiful, their jagged edges mirroring the raw, torn feeling in her chest. The abbey, secluded and hidden, waited for her just a short walk away. The sea breeze tugged at her, its cold fingers brushing her skin like a cruel reminder of everything she was trying to leave behind. As her feet touched the platform, she felt the weight of her decisions. She was here now—there was no going back. And yet, even with the fresh air on her face and the calm that Cassis promised, doubt gnawed at her.

The twenty-hour journey had been both a blessing and a curse. In the silence of the train cars, she had been forced to relive it all. The agony of seeing the only man she had ever cared for, ever loved, buried between the thighs of another woman—another Sister of Sin, no less. The image of him, eyes dark with lust, thrusting into her, taking what was once hers, had played like a sick loop in her mind. She could still hear the Sister’s moans, wanton and triumphant, as she rode Nihil with the same wild abandon Imperator had once possessed. Once, she and Nihil had been like that—hungry for one another, insatiable in their lust and power. But that time had passed. Now, she was hardened, and he was nothing more than a stranger. The man who had once made her feel alive, like the centre of the universe, was now a vile reminder of her greatest mistake.

But it wasn’t only heartbreak that festered within her. No, it was rage. Pure, seething rage. The kind that simmered just beneath the surface, spreading like poison through her veins. He would never have her again. She would make sure of it.

Her hand drifted to the small, yet undeniable swell of her belly. Nihil’s child. The truth gnawed at her, twisting inside her as fiercely as the crashing waves below the cliffs. But she forced herself to push it down. She was here for a reason. To rebuild. To forget. And above all, to protect the secret she now carried. Her child would be the key. A weapon, even. No one could know the truth. There were already three legitimate sons bearing Nihil’s name, each one a pawn in the Ministry’s game, each one vying for the power they were promised. The cardinals surrounding Nihil—those treacherous, sycophantic men—plotted and schemed, already choosing their favourite son to inherit the Satanic throne.

A fourth child, another heir, would upset everything. And with her, it was even more dangerous. She had always been a threat in their eyes—too clever, too calculating. Too much like them. If her child were to live, to survive the ruthless power games that defined the Ministry, they would be hunted. The cardinals knew her well enough to fear what she could do, and they feared even more what her child might become. Another bastard, perhaps. But hers would be different. Hers would have true power, and she would make sure of it.

Let the cardinals keep their favourite sons and their political games. Let them play their petty power struggles. None of them would see her coming. Not until it was too late.

Satan forbid a woman should ever have true control in the Ministry. That was what they feared. But Sister Imperator had no intention of fading into the shadows—not after everything that had been taken from her. She would bide her time, just as she always had. She would survive, as she had always done. And then, when the time was right—when they had all grown complacent and arrogant—she would strike. Her child—his child—would ascend. They would take everything those pompous, self-satisfied men held dear, and she would watch with satisfaction as their carefully constructed world crumbled around them.

Revenge would be sweet. But it would require patience. The anger within her was enough to fuel her for years, if necessary. Let them scheme. Let them smirk in their dimly lit rooms, thinking they had won. She would let them believe it, for now. She had endured worse. She had been forged in fire long before they had tried to burn her.

Nihil. That man - that bastard. He would pay for what he had done. For everything. One way or another, she would make sure of it.

With a final, determined step, she began her walk towards the abbey. The wind howled behind her, but she didn’t flinch. The storm inside her was far stronger.

Her suitcase was small but weighed her down with every step, its worn leather handle digging into her palm. It was a pitiful thing, containing only the bare essentials—clothes, a few keepsakes, and the documents she needed to disappear—but it felt as though it carried the weight of the entire Ministry within it. Every step towards the abbey felt heavier than the last, as though the memories of what she had left behind were clinging to her, dragging her through the dusty streets of Cassis.

She hadn’t brought much with her. There was no need for the trappings of her old life—nothing to remind her of the man she had loved, the man who had broken her in ways she hadn’t understood until it was too late. It was as though, by shedding the layers of her past, she could escape the grip Nihil still had on her. Yet, the weight wasn’t just in her suitcase. It was in her heart. In the sharp sting of betrayal that stabbed with every breath.

She came to the Abbaye des Ombres Infernales (abbey of the Infernal Shadows) to have the baby, like a Catholic teenager sent away to keep the family from shame. This place was meant to be a refuge, a sanctuary hidden from the prying eyes of the Ministry and the cardinals who would see her child as an affront to their power. Here, she would be free from the judgments of men who deemed her too dangerous, too ambitious. Yet, as she stepped onto the grounds, a sense of foreboding settled in her gut, a reminder that secrets have a way of creeping out from the shadows.

The abbey loomed majestically against the sky, its silhouette stark and imposing against the backdrop of the darkening clouds. Built from ancient stones that had weathered centuries of storms and whispers, the abbey exuded a sense of timelessness. The gothic architecture, with its pointed arches and intricate carvings, drew the eye upward, while its tall, narrow windows seemed to gaze down with a watchful presence, framing glimpses of the turbulent sea beyond.

Gargoyles perched upon the edges of the roof, their grotesque forms both menacing and captivating, appearing as sentinels guarding the secrets held within. Ivy and wild vines clung to the stones, creeping up the walls like nature’s embrace, softening the harsh lines of the structure while also hinting at its long history.

As Imperator approached, the heavy wooden doors came into view, adorned with ironwork that hinted at both beauty and danger. They were slightly ajar, creaking softly as the sea breeze swept through the entrance, inviting yet foreboding. The courtyard beyond was a tangle of crumbling statues and overgrown gardens, remnants of a once-proud sanctuary now surrendered to time. Weeds intertwined with the stone paths, their wild growth echoing the chaos within Imperator’s heart.

The air was thick with the scent of salt and damp earth, mingling with the faint, lingering fragrance of incense. The distant crash of waves below resonated like a heartbeat, a constant reminder of the tumultuous world just beyond the abbey’s walls. Here, on the edge of the cliffs, the abbey stood defiant against the elements, a sanctuary steeped in mystery and shadow—a place where Imperator hoped to find refuge and reclaim her strength amidst the storm brewing within her.

As Sister Imperator stepped inside the Abbaye des Ombres Infernales, she was enveloped by a hushed silence that seemed to wrap around her like a shroud. The air was cool and thick with the scent of incense, mingling with the faint aroma of damp stone. Flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows along the walls, illuminating the rich, textured surfaces while leaving dark corners untouched, whispering secrets from ages past.

The entryway was adorned with tall, arched ceilings that soared above her, each curve and angle a testament to the skill of the artisans who had crafted this sanctuary. As she moved deeper into the abbey, her footsteps echoed softly on the polished stone floor, a rhythmic reminder of her solitary journey. The dimness seemed to press against her, a tangible weight that both comforted and unsettled her.

To her left, a narrow corridor led to the chapel, its heavy wooden doors slightly ajar. The soft glow of candlelight seeped through the cracks, inviting her closer. Intrigued, she stepped into the chapel, where the atmosphere shifted, becoming almost sacred. The altar stood at the far end, draped in dark fabrics that absorbed the light, while a multitude of candles flickered in reverence, their flames swaying as if in prayer. Stained glass windows adorned the walls, casting fragmented rainbows onto the stone floor, each shard of colour telling a story of faith and longing.

The chapel felt alive, filled with the echoes of prayers whispered in desperation and hope. Sister Imperator paused, allowing the silence to envelop her, grounding her amid the turmoil of her thoughts. Here, in this sacred space, she could almost imagine the weight of the world lifting from her shoulders.

Continuing her exploration, she found herself in the living quarters. Simple yet functional, the room featured a small bed draped with heavy blankets, a wooden writing desk facing the window, and a chair that seemed to invite quiet reflection. The window framed a breathtaking view of the sea, its restless waves crashing against the cliffs—a constant reminder of the turmoil that lay beyond the abbey’s walls.

As she sat at the desk, she traced her fingers over the rough surface, feeling the history embedded in the wood. The walls were bare, save for a few religious icons and symbols that seemed to watch her with solemn eyes. They were silent witnesses to her struggles, her hopes, and her fears.

She pushed her way into the chapel, fighting with the door and her suitcase. “Bonjour,” she called out, breathless from her hike. Her voice echoed back to her off the chapel walls, but as she studied the room, she found no one was in there save a statue of the Dark Lord Himself. At least He was a sight for sore eyes.

She pushed her way into the chapel, fighting with the door and her suitcase. “Bonjour,” she called out, breathless from her hike. Her voice echoed back to her off the chapel walls, but as she studied the room, she found no one was there save a statue of the Dark Lord Himself. At least He was a sight for sore eyes…

Just as she stepped further inside, the soft sound of footsteps approached from behind. Imperator turned to see a woman emerging from the shadows, her silhouette framed by the dim light filtering through the stained glass. The woman wore a simple habit, the fabric dark and modest, yet there was an air of grace about her.

“Bonjour,” the woman said, her voice smooth and melodic, tinged with a gentle warmth. “Je suis Sœur Élodie, la gardienne de l’abbaye.”

Sœur Élodie, the guardian of the abbey.

Sister Imperator took a moment to collect herself, feeling the weight of her journey in her bones. “I’m Sister Imperator,” she replied, her French laced with a slight American accent. “I’ve come to stay.”

Élodie nodded, her expression curious yet kind. “Nous vous accueillons. It is rare to have visitors here,” she said, glancing at the statue of the Dark Lord, then back at Sister Imperator. Hearing the accent, she switched to English. “You must be weary after your travels. The abbey can be a place of peace… or reflection, depending on what you seek.”

“Both, I suppose,” Sister Imperator replied, her eyes scanning the chapel once more. “I need to think… to find some clarity.”

Élodie’s gaze softened, understanding the weight behind her words. “Come,” she gestured towards a nearby bench, inviting her to sit. “Let us talk. There is much to share, and the shadows here hold many stories.”

As Imperator settled onto the worn wooden bench, she felt the heaviness of her journey begin to lift slightly, replaced by the promise of companionship and the hope of what lay ahead.

Sister Imperator settled onto the worn wooden bench, her suitcase resting heavily beside her, a reminder of the past she was desperate to leave behind. She glanced at Élodie, who regarded her with a gentle yet piercing curiosity that made her instinctively pull her shoulders back.

“Merci,” Sister Imperator said, acknowledging the invitation but keeping her distance, wary of the warmth radiating from Élodie. “I appreciate the welcome, but I’d rather keep to myself.”

Sœur Élodie nodded, her expression unwavering. “Je comprends. Many who come here seek solitude. But sometimes, sharing a burden can lighten the heart, no? What brings you to the Abbaye des Ombres Infernales?”

Imperator hesitated, weighing her words carefully. “A need for… discretion. And a chance to escape.” She kept her voice steady, revealing as little as possible, even as Élodie’s gaze bore into her.

“Discretion?” Sœur Élodie repeated, her brow furrowing slightly. “We all have our reasons. It is a place of refuge, yes, but the walls here have ears.”

Sister Imperator’s heart raced at the implication. “I’m not here to share my story,” she replied, her tone sharper than intended. “I seek only to be left alone.”

“Ah, mais pourquoi?” Sœur Élodie leaned forward, her hands clasped in her lap. “You do not have to face your demons alone. The shadows can be heavy, and it is easy to feel lost within them.”

Imperator narrowed her eyes, feeling the walls around her heart solidify further. “And what makes you think I have demons to face?”

Élodie offered a small, knowing smile. “Everyone does. It is what makes us human. We cannot escape them, but we can learn to carry them.”

“I didn’t come here for a lesson on humanity,” Sister Imperator shot back, her defensiveness rising. “I’m not looking for your understanding or compassion.”

“D’accord,” Sœur Élodie replied, her voice calm and soothing, unfazed by Imperator’s harshness. “But I am here, should you choose to speak. Sometimes, it is the simplest act of sharing a moment that can lead to understanding. Perhaps you carry more than just your suitcase.”

Sister Imperator’s grip on her suitcase tightened, her knuckles whitening. Siser Élodie’s words struck a chord deep within her, stirring a storm of emotions she had fought to keep at bay. “I’m not ready for that,” she admitted, her voice dropping. “Not yet.”

“C’est bien,” Élodie said softly. “Take your time. Just know that this place can be more than a hiding spot. It can be a home, if you let it.”

Imperator looked away, her eyes tracing the intricate designs of the stained glass windows. The flickering candlelight played tricks on her vision, casting shadows that felt familiar, yet foreign. “I don’t belong anywhere,” she murmured, more to herself than to Élodie.

“You do belong here, in this moment,” Sœur Élodie reassured her, her voice like a warm embrace. “Even the darkest night will pass, and a new dawn will break. You are not alone, Sœur Imperator.”

Imperator glanced at Élodie, searching her face for any sign of insincerity. All she found was the gentle resolve of someone who understood the burden of secrets. “Thank you,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I need to think. To figure out what comes next.”

“Of course,” Sœur Élodie replied, rising from the bench with a graceful nod. “I will be nearby if you need anything. Just remember, the shadows here can be both friends and foes.”

Élodie stood and clapped her hands, the sound echoing off the chapel walls. “Come, come. I shall take you to the abbess. She will help you more than I can. Then, I will… what do you say? ‘Get out of your hair.’”

Sister Imperator regarded Élodie with a mixture of curiosity and reluctance. “The abbess? I didn’t come here for guidance,” she replied, her tone firm, though she couldn’t quite suppress the flicker of intrigue at the mention of the abbess.

Élodie laughed softly. “Maybe you did not come for guidance, but you certainly need a room. And, we need to know you are here for your meals, non?” She held out her hand. “Come. The abbess won’t bite, unless you ask her to, of course.”

Imperator hesitated, her instincts screaming to keep her distance, to maintain the barriers she had built around herself. Yet, there was something about Sœur Élodie’s easy confidence that stirred a reluctant curiosity within her. Perhaps it was the way the light fell on the other woman’s features, casting soft shadows that hinted at the kindness lurking just beneath the surface.

“What if I refuse?” she asked, a challenge masked as a question.

Élodie shrugged, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Then you may remain here, alone, and I will have to bring you meals in secret like a wayward child. But I assure you, the abbess is not like the cardinals you may be used to. She is wise and will not judge you, I promise.”

The mention of the cardinals sent a shiver down Sister Imperator’s spine. The machinations of men cloaked in authority were nothing she cared to relive. But the idea of solitude in this unfamiliar place also filled her with unease. Perhaps she needed to engage with someone who knew this sanctuary better than she did.

With a reluctant sigh, she took Élodie’s hand. “Lead the way,” she said, her voice lacking the defiance she usually wore like armor.

“Voilà!” Sœur Élodie exclaimed, a bright smile illuminating her features. “This way, then.”

They stepped out of the chapel into the cool air, and Imperator felt a rush of trepidation mingled with anticipation. The abbey loomed ahead, a structure both foreboding and inviting. As they walked, Élodie began to speak animatedly about the abbey’s history, her voice punctuating the silence of the cloisters with snippets of laughter and anecdotes.

“…and the last abbess was a formidable woman, a true force of nature! They say she could silence a room with just a glance. But she was kind, always offering wisdom with her sharp tongue.” Élodie glanced sideways at Imperator, gauging her reaction. “You may find her quite… enlightening.”

“Or terrifying,” Sister Imperator replied dryly, her heart racing with both excitement and dread.

Élodie chuckled again, the sound warm and infectious. “Perhaps a bit of both! But you will see, she has a way of drawing out what lies hidden within. The abbess has an eye for understanding the unspoken truths.”

Imperator’s stomach tightened at the prospect. “And what makes you think I have anything worth revealing?” she asked, her guard slipping back into place.

“Everyone has a story, Sœur Imperator,” Sœur Élodie said, her tone growing more serious. “It is simply a matter of whether you are ready to share it. But you will find that the abbess is skilled in the art of listening.”

As they approached the heavy wooden door of the abbess’s chambers, Imperator felt a rush of uncertainty. What would she reveal? Would the abbess see through her carefully constructed facade?

Before she could voice her concerns, Élodie knocked lightly on the door. “Abbesse,” she called, her voice bright, “I have someone for you.”

“Entrez,” came a voice from within, rich and warm, imbued with authority.

With a deep breath, Imperator stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest. Whatever awaited her inside, she was determined to face it head-on—just as she had always done.

Months passed, and the bitter winds of winter gave way to the softer chill of spring, but the cold in Sister Imperator’s heart remained untouched. 1968 turned into 1969, and though the routines of the Abbaye des Ombres Infernales were now familiar, they offered little comfort. The quietness of the abbey, once soothing, now felt suffocating. She moved through the days with a practiced grace, settling into her new life among the nuns and acolytes, but the bitterness gnawed at her, a constant reminder of the betrayal she couldn’t forget.

Her body changed with the pregnancy, the curve of her belly growing more pronounced with each passing week. She caught sight of herself in the old, cracked mirror in her small room and felt a wave of conflicting emotions crash over her. Nihil’s child. The very thought still filled her with a toxic mixture of rage and sorrow. How had it come to this? How had she, once one of the most powerful women in the Ministry, ended up hiding in an abbey on the edge of the world, carrying the child of the man who had broken her heart?

The other sisters treated her kindly enough, but they kept their distance, sensing the storm that brewed behind her carefully guarded eyes. Even Sœur Élodie, with her light-hearted nature and occasional attempts to draw Imperator out of her shell, seemed to know when to leave her alone. There were days when Imperator would spend hours walking the cliffs, staring out at the crashing waves below, trying to drown out the haunting images of Nihil with that other Sister of Sin, their passion a cruel echo of what she had once shared with him.

The abbess, however, was a different story. Abbesse Margaux was a woman of few words, but her presence was commanding, her gaze sharp and all-seeing. She never pried, never asked questions that Sister Imperator wasn’t ready to answer, but she was always there, quietly watching, waiting for the moment when Imperator would be ready to speak.

And though Imperator resisted, there were moments—brief, fleeting moments—where she wondered if the abbess saw more than she let on. There were times when the abbess would catch her eye, a knowing glint in her gaze that made Imperator’s skin crawl with the sensation of being seen, truly seen, in a way she hadn’t been in years.

But she was far from trusting anyone here. The betrayal that had brought her to this place was still too raw, too painful. She couldn’t allow herself to open up, to show her vulnerability. Not again. The Ministry had taught her that lesson well—trust no one. The scars of those days ran deep, and even in the sanctuary of the abbey, she clung to her bitterness like a shield.

As the days turned into months, Sister Imperator found herself counting down the weeks until the baby’s arrival. Her plan was simple—give birth, recover, and then leave. Disappear, just as she had always intended. The Ministry, Nihil, the cardinals—they would never find her. She would make sure of it. And once she was gone, she would raise the child on her own terms, far from the poisonous influence of the Satanic throne and its political games.

But the bitterness lingered, an ever-present ache that clouded her thoughts. No matter how far she ran, no matter how deeply she buried herself in the solitude of the abbey, she couldn’t escape the betrayal. It was there in every quiet moment, in every whispered prayer, in the silence of the nights when the wind howled through the corridors. And it festered, like a wound that refused to heal.

She would never forgive Nihil. Not for what he had done to her. Not for what he had taken from her. And though the baby stirred inside her, a constant reminder of what she carried, her heart remained cold. She was alone in this. She had always been alone. And perhaps, that was how it was meant to be.

Sister Imperator may have settled into her new life, but the past was a shadow that followed her wherever she went. And deep down, she knew that no matter how far she ran, it would catch up with her eventually.

In all that time, she met you—someone else who had escaped the Ministry and sought solace with the Sisters of the Infernal Shadows. You had come to the abbey not out of guilt or shame, but as a rebellion against the life you once led. The Ministry had its grip on you too, though in different ways, and now you both found yourselves among the flickering candles and cold stone walls, seeking sanctuary in the unlikeliest of places.

Your paths crossed in the chapel one afternoon, the sunlight filtering through the stained glass, casting colourful patterns on the floor. Sister Imperator was lost in thought, staring at the statue of the Dark Lord, her expression distant and guarded. You approached her quietly, the soft rustle of your robe barely breaking the stillness.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” you ventured, nodding toward the statue, though your gaze was fixed on her. “He is always watching over us, I suppose.”

She turned to you, her dark eyes narrowing slightly, studying your face with suspicion. “Is that what you believe? That He cares?” Her tone was sharp, a defensive barrier she instinctively put up against anyone who dared to breach her solitude.

You held her gaze, unflinching. “I think it’s a matter of perspective. We’ve all come here for a reason. Perhaps He offers us more than we know.”

Her expression softened just a fraction, curiosity igniting a spark behind her guarded facade. “And what reason brought you here?”

You hesitated, the weight of your past heavy on your shoulders. “I was running from Nihil, too. I had to escape his grasp, his control. And all the women he could get pregnant. I thought I could find some peace among the Sisters.”

Imperator froze, surprised that you somehow knew her backstory.

“Relax,” you told her, “you’re not the only one he’s fucked and fucked over.”

Sister Imperator’s posture stiffened at your words, her dark eyes flashing with a mix of shock and defensiveness. “You don’t know anything about me,” she retorted, her voice low but taut, as if bracing for a fight.

“Maybe not everything,” you replied, taking a step closer, your voice steady and calm. “But I know enough to understand the weight you carry. Nihil leaves a trail of broken hearts and lives in his wake.”

Her expression hardened again, a flicker of anger igniting within her. “You presume to know my pain, yet you have no idea of the depths of my suffering. He took everything from me.”

“Did he?” you pressed gently, wanting her to see that you shared this bond, however tenuous it might be. “Or did you give it willingly? The Ministry, the power struggles—it’s all a game, and we were both players. The difference is that we’ve chosen to walk away.”

She regarded you with a mixture of frustration and intrigue, as if caught in a web of conflicting emotions. “Walking away doesn’t erase what’s happened. I still carry the scars.”

“Scars can be a reminder of battles fought and survived, not just wounds left to fester,” you countered, refusing to back down. “You’re here now. This is your chance to reshape your life, to find your own path.”

Sister Imperator’s gaze shifted to the stained glass, the sunlight illuminating her features in a soft glow. “And what if I don’t know how?”

“Then we figure it out together.” Your words hung in the air, thick with the weight of possibility. “You’re not alone anymore. I’m here, and the Sisters are here. We can build something new, something powerful.”

Her walls began to crumble ever so slightly, a faint glimmer of hope piercing through her hardened exterior. “And what makes you think I can trust you?”

You shrugged, a small, genuine smile breaking through your seriousness. “Trust takes time, but I won’t betray you. I know what it’s like to feel abandoned. To feel used.”

Her expression softened, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m tired of running.”

“Then stop running,” you urged, stepping even closer, closing the distance between you. “Stay. Fight with me. For what you want, for what you deserve.”

Sister Imperator studied you for a long moment, the storm within her shifting. “What if I fail?”

“Then we rise together,” you replied firmly. “We learn. We adapt. But I won’t let you fall alone. We’ll be stronger together.”

A silence fell between you, heavy with unspoken promises and shared burdens. Finally, she sighed, the tension in her shoulders easing just a touch. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Nothing worth having ever is,” you admitted. “But I believe in you. I see strength beneath that guarded exterior. Let’s unearth it together.”

Her lips curved into a tentative smile, the first sign of warmth you had witnessed from her since your arrival. “Perhaps I’ll consider it.”

“Good,” you said, returning her smile. “That’s all I ask.”

As you both stood together in the dim chapel, the shadows and light mingling, an unspoken bond began to form, a flicker of connection in a place where darkness had once reigned. In that moment, it felt as if you could both step away from the chains that had bound you, reclaiming your lives amid the flickering candles and whispered prayers of the abbey. Together, you would face whatever came next.

Somehow, some way, you got Sister Imperator to open up about what had happened. It began with simple conversations in the chapel, your voices mingling with the sound of distant waves crashing against the cliffs. At first, she was reluctant, her words laced with bitterness and guardedness, but gradually the floodgates began to crack.

You learned about her relationship with Nihil—how it had started as a whirlwind of passion and power, two souls entwined in a dance that felt unstoppable at first. But as she shared her story, you could hear the fractures in her voice, the way her heart had been shattered by betrayal.

“He was everything to me,” she had confessed one afternoon, her dark eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But now… now he feels like a ghost. A terrible, haunting memory.”

You listened, offering support without judgment, and she began to understand that it was safe to lay her burdens down. The more she spoke, the lighter her heart seemed to grow, even if just a fraction. And in those moments of vulnerability, a spark began to light between the two of you.

It was subtle at first—shared laughter over mundane tasks, stolen glances that lingered a moment too long. You’d catch her watching you when she thought you weren’t looking, her expression a mixture of curiosity and something deeper, something that hinted at the possibility of connection.

One evening, as twilight descended upon the abbey, you found yourselves side by side on a stone bench outside, wrapped in the comforting chill of the night air. The stars twinkled overhead, and the moon bathed the world in a silvery glow. The peacefulness of the moment enveloped you both, and it felt like a reprieve from the turmoil of your pasts.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, not wanting to break the fragile spell of intimacy that hung between you.

She hesitated, her gaze focused on the moonlight dancing across the cobblestones. “About how different my life is now. I was so consumed by anger and pain… but here, it feels like I can breathe again.”

You nodded, sensing the vulnerability in her words. “And what do you want to do with that breath?”

She turned to look at you, her expression shifting. “I want to reclaim what’s mine—my power, my choices. And perhaps… maybe even find a little joy along the way.”

There was a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken emotions. Your heart raced as you felt the weight of her gaze, the intensity in her eyes igniting something within you. “You deserve that,” you said softly, reaching out to place your hand over hers. “And I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.”

She didn’t pull away. Instead, she seemed to lean into your touch, her fingers curling around yours. “What if I let you in, and I end up getting hurt again?”

“Then we’ll face it together,” you promised, your heart pounding. “You’re not alone anymore. I won’t let you fall. Not this time.”

Sister Imperator’s lips curved into a tentative smile, a flicker of warmth breaking through her hardened exterior. In that moment, the distance between you shrank, and the spark ignited into something more—a fragile yet undeniable connection, built on shared pain and hope for a better future.

As the night deepened around you, the air thick with unsaid words and the electric tension between you, Sister Imperator shifted slightly closer. The warmth of her body radiated against the chill of the evening, and your heart raced as you dared to maintain your gaze locked on hers.

“Do you really mean what you said?” she asked, her voice a hushed whisper, almost lost in the gentle rustle of leaves overhead. “That you won’t let me fall?”

You nodded, your breath hitching in your throat. “Absolutely. I promise.”

Her eyes softened, and for the first time, the walls she had built around her heart seemed to crack just enough for vulnerability to seep through. “Then maybe… maybe it’s time I stop running.”

With a courageous breath, she closed the gap between you, her gaze flicking to your lips, and in that instant, the world around you faded away. It felt as if time had come to a standstill—the moon hung low, casting a gentle glow over the two of you, the abbey looming in the background, silent and watchful.

And then, with a sweetness that took you both by surprise, she leaned in. Her lips brushed against yours softly, tentative at first, as if testing the waters of this new territory. A thrill coursed through you, a warmth spreading from your fingertips to the core of your being, igniting a fire you had thought long extinguished.

The kiss deepened, and you found yourselves enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and tenderness. Her lips moved against yours with a hesitant urgency, each touch a promise, each breath a quiet confession of everything you had both fought to suppress. The weight of her pain, her past, and your own seemed to melt away in that moment, replaced by an overwhelming sense of connection that felt both terrifying and exhilarating.

As you pulled away, your foreheads resting against one another, you could see the vulnerability reflected in her dark eyes, a mixture of surprise and a burgeoning hope. “Wow,” she breathed, a soft laugh escaping her lips, as if she couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

“Yeah,” you replied, your own breath slightly ragged. “Wow.”

The moment hung between you, pregnant with possibilities and the unspoken truths that lay ahead. In that kiss, you had shared more than just a fleeting connection; you had exchanged pieces of your souls, two fractured hearts finding solace in one another.

“He didn’t deserve you, you know,” you told her, matter-of-factly.

“Don’t talk about him,” she replied, “not now.”

Imperator leaned forward and captured you in another kiss, this one more passionate than the first.

The intensity of her kiss deepened, each brush of her lips igniting a fire within you that spread like wildfire. You could feel the world around you fade into obscurity as the warmth of her body pressed against yours, enveloping you both in a cocoon of desire.

Her hands found their way to your waist, fingers digging in slightly as if to pull you closer, grounding herself in this moment. The urgency in her kiss spoke volumes, a silent declaration that despite everything—despite the past, the betrayal, and the burdens each of you carried—this connection was something worth pursuing.

As she leaned into you, her body arching, you caught a glimpse of vulnerability behind her intensity. There was an undercurrent of desperation in the way she kissed you, an aching need that seemed to spill over from her heart into yours. In that moment, you wanted to assure her that she was safe, that you would protect her, both from the ghosts of her past and the unknowns of the future.

With a shiver of anticipation, she responded to you, her lips crashing against yours with renewed fervour. As the kiss deepened, her hands roamed from your waist to your back, fingers splaying against your skin, pulling you closer still. You could feel the heat radiating from her, the unmistakable tension rising between you, and it sent a rush of excitement through your veins.

In a moment of daring, you let your hands wander down to her abdomen, resting gently against the small curve of her belly. It felt like a gesture both intimate and daring, a spark of something primal and deeply intimate. The thought slipped into your mind—a wild fantasy, perhaps—but you couldn’t help but wonder how different things might have been if the circumstances were different.

The thought danced just on the edge of your consciousness, a tantalising whisper that hinted at what could be. The idea of her carrying a child—your child—sent a bolt of heat coursing through you. “What if…?” you started, breathless, but the words hung in the air, unfinished and heavy with implications.

Sister Imperator froze for a moment, the intensity of your touch drawing her focus away from the kiss. “What if what?” she asked, her breath catching, curiosity mixed with something deeper—a yearning perhaps?

You met her gaze, the weight of your shared desires pressing in on you. “What if we let go of the past?” you whispered, letting your hand linger on her belly for a heartbeat longer. “What if we opened ourselves up to the future?”

Her eyes darkened, filled with a mix of longing and apprehension. “You think it’s that easy?” she replied, though her voice lacked the bite it had held moments earlier.

“It can be,” you urged, your voice low and insistent. “If we choose to take that leap together.”

The tension in the air crackled like electricity, and as you leaned in to kiss her again, you could feel her responding to the unspoken promises that lay between you. It was a kiss that spoke of hope, of possibilities yet to come.

As you pulled away, breathless and charged with an energy that felt almost tangible, you caught the flicker of something new in her eyes—an ember of trust beginning to glow amid the ashes of her past. With each kiss, each gentle caress, the barriers she had built were slowly crumbling, allowing you both to step into uncharted territory.

You gently helped Sister Imperator off the bench, your fingers brushing against her waist as you led her away from the chapel, leaving behind the quiet sanctuary of shadows and stained glass. The dim light of the abbey guided your steps, a soft glow illuminating the path ahead as you made your way toward your room.

The air was thick with unspoken words, a tension simmering just beneath the surface. With each step, you could feel her pulse quickening beside you, and a thrill of anticipation surged through your veins. The walls of the abbey seemed to close in, wrapping you both in a cocoon of secrecy, a place where the world outside couldn’t intrude on the moment you were about to share.

As you reached your door, you hesitated for a heartbeat, casting a glance back at her. “Are you sure about this?” you asked, your voice a low murmur. The last thing you wanted was to push her into something she wasn’t ready for, but the desire burning between you felt undeniable.

She met your gaze, her eyes dark and inviting, a flicker of determination igniting within. “I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she whispered, her voice steady yet laced with a hint of vulnerability.

With a nod, you opened the door and stepped inside, holding it for her as she crossed the threshold. The room was modest, a simple bed covered in crisp white linens, a small desk in the corner, and a window that overlooked the sprawling cliffs. Yet, in that moment, it felt like a sanctuary—a space where you could explore the depths of your connection without the weight of the outside world pressing down on you.

Once inside, you closed the door softly, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You turned to her, your heart racing as you took in the sight of her. She stood there, silhouetted by the dim light, her expression a mix of longing and anticipation.

You stepped closer, the space between you shrinking, charged with electric energy. “I want to be here for you,” you said, your voice low and earnest. “I want to help you find peace.”

“Peace?” she echoed, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Is that what you think this is?”

“It can be,” you replied, taking another step toward her, your hands reaching out to cradle her face gently. “If we let it.”

As your fingers brushed against her skin, you could feel the warmth radiating from her, a heat that ignited your desire all over again. Her breath caught in her throat, and you could see the way her body responded to your touch—how the tension in her shoulders eased, how her lips parted slightly as if inviting you in.

Without breaking eye contact, you leaned in, capturing her lips with yours in a soft, lingering kiss. This time, it was different—deeper, more intimate, as if the world outside had completely faded away. The kiss tasted of promises unspoken, of a future that hung delicately in the balance.

Sister Imperator melted against you, her body pressing into yours as you deepened the kiss. It was a dance of exploration, a tentative yet fervent exchange that ignited every nerve ending within you. As you pulled her closer, you felt her hands weaving through your hair, pulling you in as if trying to erase the distance that had kept you apart for so long.

You took a step back, your heart racing as you regarded her. The soft light in the room danced across her features, highlighting the delicate curves of her body. A warmth flooded through you, an overwhelming desire to draw her closer, to peel away the layers that separated you.

“Let me,” you whispered, your voice low and inviting. You reached for the buttons of her robe, your fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. Slowly, you began to unfasten them, revealing the fabric that clung to her skin beneath. With each button you released, you felt the weight of your shared tension rising, the air thick with unspoken longing.

As you pushed the robe aside, your breath hitched at the sight of her. The fabric fell to the floor, pooling at her feet like the remnants of her past. There she stood, clad in a simple chemise that hugged her body, accentuating her curves in the soft glow of the room. You took a moment to admire her, your eyes tracing the lines of her figure, the way the delicate fabric clung to her.

With a sense of reverence, you reached out, fingertips grazing her waist as you brushed your lips against the hem of her chemise. “May I?” you murmured, seeking permission as your gaze locked onto hers, silently asking if she was ready to unveil the rest of herself to you.

She nodded, a breathless whisper escaping her lips. With careful deliberation, you began to pull the chemise over her head, your fingers gliding along her skin as the fabric slipped away. As it fell to the floor, you felt your breath catch at the sight before you.

Her body was beautiful, a testament to the life growing within her. The swell of her belly was captivating, the curves soft and inviting. The way her skin glowed in the dim light, the subtle rise and fall of her breath, ignited a fire deep within you. You couldn’t help but marvel at how incredibly attractive she was, a vision of beauty and strength.

“Holy shit, you’re stunning,” you breathed, your voice filled with awe. Your hands traveled over the gentle curve of her belly, feeling the warmth radiate from her skin. “This—” you gestured toward her form, “—is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

She looked down at herself, a mixture of pride and vulnerability washing over her. “You really think so?” she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty, but you could see the flicker of joy in her eyes.

“Absolutely,” you replied, your hands now resting possessively on her hips. “You’re a goddess. The way your body carries this life—it’s incredible. I want to worship every part of you.”

As you spoke, your fingers traced the delicate lines of her waist, savoring the softness of her skin. You leaned closer, your lips brushing against her stomach, planting gentle kisses along the curve. The intimacy of the moment was electrifying, and you could feel her shiver beneath your touch, her breath hitching as you explored the contours of her body.

You wanted to make her feel cherished, to revel in the beauty of what was unfolding between you. Each kiss, each caress was filled with a tender reverence for her, the life she carried, and the undeniable connection that drew you together.

You gently guided her to the bed, your hands cradling her as you laid her down on the soft linens. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in this sacred space. Her skin glowed in the dim light, and the sight of her—vulnerable and inviting—made your heart race with a mix of desire and tenderness.

You leaned over her, your body hovering just above hers, as you caught her gaze, a silent promise lingering in the air between you. “Just relax,” you whispered, brushing your fingers lightly along her jawline before trailing down to her collarbone, savouring the warmth of her skin beneath your touch.

As you explored her body with your lips, you felt an overwhelming urge to taste her, to discover every hidden pleasure she held. You began with her neck, kissing a delicate line from her collarbone to just beneath her ear. The soft gasps that escaped her lips spurred you on, a symphony of encouragement that filled you with confidence.

You moved lower, your kisses trailing down her body, taking your time to savour every inch of her skin. Your hands found their way to her belly, cradling the gentle curve as you pressed your lips against it, feeling the warmth and life within her. It was a profound connection—one that made you feel as though you were worshipping her, every kiss a devotion to her beauty and strength.

When you finally reached her core, you paused for a moment, looking up at her with a mixture of desire and reverence. Her cheeks were flushed, her breaths quickening as she anticipated what was to come. You couldn’t help but smirk at the effect you had on her, the way her body responded to your touch.

With slow, deliberate movements, you parted her thighs, revealing the glistening warmth that awaited you. You leaned in closer, your breath brushing against her sensitive skin, eliciting a shiver from her. You took your time, letting your tongue tease her, exploring her with a tantalising slowness that made her writhe beneath you.

Each taste of her was intoxicating, and you could feel the electric energy coursing through your veins. The way she arched her back, the little moans escaping her lips, pushed you deeper into a trance of pleasure and longing. You wanted to give her everything, to take her to the heights of ecstasy while enjoying the soft, sweet taste of her.

As you continued, your hands roamed over her curves, feeling the way her body responded to your every touch. The connection between you deepened, each kiss and lick a testament to the bond you were forging, the intimacy growing stronger with every moment. You lost yourself in her, in the way she surrendered to pleasure, in the way her body seemed to hum with desire as you tasted her, savouring every second.

You continued your exploration, fully aware of how sensitive her body had become due to the pregnancy. Every touch, every kiss seemed to spark a heightened awareness within her. The swell of her belly was more than just a physical manifestation of life; it was a source of incredible sensitivity, and you could feel the way it reacted to your ministrations.

As your lips trailed along her skin, you noticed how even the lightest brush of your fingertips sent ripples of sensation coursing through her. You kissed along the delicate curve of her belly, and she gasped softly, the sound a sweet melody that encouraged you to linger longer. You could feel the warmth radiating from her, the life within her thrumming with energy, heightening every sensation and amplifying her pleasure.

With each kiss, you felt the tightness of her skin, soft and tender, as though it had become more attuned to every sensation. You could see her breathing quicken, her eyes fluttering shut as you moved lower, your lips brushing against the fabric of her chemise before you pulled it aside to fully reveal her body.

As you tasted her, you noticed that even the most innocent of touches sent waves of pleasure through her. Her thighs quivered under your hands, and when your fingers danced along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, she gasped, arching her back as if to draw you closer. You took your time, relishing the way her body responded to every kiss, every flick of your tongue, the soft whimpers escaping her lips revealing just how intensely she felt everything.

You could feel how her nipples had grown more sensitive, too, the delicate peaks begging for attention. You made your way up her body, kissing along her sides and up to her breasts, lavishing attention on the soft curves that felt so inviting. Each caress drew out a gasp or a shudder, her body arching toward you as if it craved your touch, your mouth, everything you had to offer.

You could see her vulnerability shining through, how the pregnancy had made her more open to pleasure, and it both thrilled and captivated you. As you explored her body, your hands glided over her skin, taking in the softness, the way she seemed to bloom under your touch, reveling in the sensations that coursed through her.

“Is this alright?” you asked softly, your breath hot against her skin, wanting to ensure she felt safe in this moment of intimacy.

“More,” she breathed, her voice thick with desire, her body eagerly responding as if the intensity of her pregnancy had unlocked a new realm of sensation.

You obeyed, diving back into your ministrations, your tongue flicking against her most sensitive spots. You could feel the energy build between you, and you knew that this connection was far more than just physical; it was a bond that transcended the moments you spent together, a mingling of bodies and souls that felt sacred and powerful. Every brush of your lips, every flick of your tongue, only deepened the intimacy, forging a path of pleasure that would take her to new heights.

As you lavished attention on her, you could feel the pulsing heat of desire radiating from Sister Imperator. Every gasp, every shudder that escaped her lips fueled your own longing, and you lost yourself in the rhythm of her body. Her sensitive skin was electric beneath your touch, igniting a fire within you that demanded to be sated.

You pulled back for a moment, your eyes locking onto hers, searching for consent and reassurance. The way her dark eyes glimmered with need was all the encouragement you needed. You dove back in, your mouth exploring the swell of her belly once more, kissing a trail down toward her thighs. The weight of her pregnancy made her look both delicate and incredibly alluring, each curve accentuated, every inch of her body a testament to the life she carried.

You continued your descent, trailing kisses along the soft skin of her thighs, relishing the way she quivered beneath you. Her legs parted instinctively, welcoming you closer. You could sense how acutely aware she was of every sensation, the way her body responded to you was intoxicating. The closer you got to her core, the more she writhed, her breath hitching in anticipation.

With a gentle touch, you caressed her sensitive folds, marveling at how warm and responsive she felt. The slightest pressure sent ripples of pleasure through her, and you could hear the breathy gasps escaping her lips, urging you on. You took your time, relishing the way her body reacted to your every movement. Your fingers played with her, exploring the slickness of her arousal, and her body writhed in response, each wave of pleasure causing her to tighten around you.

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice laced with desperation, “I need more.”

Your heart raced at her plea, and you obliged, your tongue teasing her in slow, deliberate strokes. You felt her back arch in response, her hands finding their way to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as she pulled you closer. Each flick of your tongue drew forth a moan, and you felt a swell of pride at being able to bring her such pleasure, especially in her state of heightened sensitivity.

You worked in tandem, your fingers joining your mouth, moving with practiced grace, coaxing her closer to the edge. Her body was a symphony of sensations, each note building toward a crescendo, and you wanted nothing more than to guide her through it. As your movements quickened, you could feel her thighs trembling, the tension in her body escalating with each passing moment.

“Almost there,” you murmured against her, the vibrations sending delicious shivers through her.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed, her voice a pleading whisper. The urgency in her tone pushed you further, the primal need for release palpable in the air around you.

Your fingers danced faster, your mouth working in a fervent rhythm, and you felt her body begin to clench around you, the build-up of pleasure cresting like a wave. The moans that fell from her lips were intoxicating, the sound driving you to continue, to push her higher. You watched her face, a mix of ecstasy and concentration as she surrendered to the sensations coursing through her.

“Let go,” you urged softly, your eyes locked onto hers as you felt her tighten around you.

With a final cry, Sister Imperator broke, her body quaking under the weight of her release. Waves of pleasure rippled through her, and you held her close, feeling the way she pulsed around your fingers, the warmth of her body enveloping you as you guided her through the aftershocks.

As she came down from the high, her breathing slowed, and she met your gaze, her eyes softening with affection and gratitude. In that moment, you both knew you had crossed a threshold together—one that intertwined your fates even deeper.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breathy and tender. “That was… incredible.”

You smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “You deserve it. All of it.”

As Sister Imperator came down from her high, her breath steadying, she looked at you with newfound hunger in her eyes. The warmth of her gaze ignited something deep within you, a shared desire that had been building between you both. Without breaking eye contact, she moved her hands to your waist, guiding you closer until you hovered above her, feeling the heat radiating from her body.

“Now it’s my turn,” she murmured, her voice low and sultry, sending shivers down your spine. She expertly wrapped her fingers around your thighs, pulling you down onto her waiting hand. You gasped as her fingers found your most sensitive spots, teasing you with a light touch that sent electric jolts through your body.

You instinctively began to move, riding her fingers as they worked in tandem with your own need. Her touch was firm yet gentle, every stroke coaxing you closer to the edge. You found your rhythm, the desire swelling within you as you moved against her, lost in the sensations she created. The tension coiled tightly in your core, every roll of your hips pushing you further into the blissful abyss.

“Just like that,” she encouraged, her voice thick with lust. “Let me feel you.”

You leaned into her, allowing her fingers to explore your body as you succumbed to the pleasure. The way she played with you was exquisite—her fingers expertly curling, drawing out soft moans that echoed in the room. You found yourself increasingly captivated by her touch, the warmth of her skin against yours igniting a fire within you.

With each thrust of your hips, you felt the pleasure build in waves, the sensation growing more intense as you became lost in the moment. Sister Imperator’s eyes never left yours, their dark depths filled with a mix of desire and admiration. You could sense how the pregnancy heightened her sensitivity; her fingers trembled slightly as they worked to bring you closer to the brink.

The world outside faded, and all that mattered was the rhythm you created together. With each motion, you could feel her heart racing beneath your touch, the connection between you deepening as you surrendered to the bliss. You reveled in the intimacy of the moment, allowing yourself to be vulnerable in her presence.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” she breathed, her voice thick with lust. “I want to see you lose yourself.”

Her words sent a thrill through you, igniting a primal urge to please her. You quickened your pace, the heat between you rising to a fever pitch. You could feel the tension coiling tighter within you, the pleasure building to an exquisite climax. Each glide of her fingers brought you closer, a soft reminder of her desire and the intimacy you were sharing.

“Please,” you gasped, your voice tinged with desperation. “I’m so close.”

“Then let go for me,” she urged, her fingers dancing expertly against you, guiding you to the edge. “I want to feel you fall apart.”

With her words echoing in your mind, you surrendered to the waves of pleasure crashing over you. The sensations swirled around you like a tempest, every nerve ending alive and pulsing with desire. You let go, riding her fingers as the ecstasy consumed you, the world falling away until all that remained was the bliss of your release. You cried out, the sound filling the room, as every sensation burst like fireworks behind your eyelids, a beautiful culmination of your desire and connection.

As you came down from the high, you collapsed onto her, your breath mingling in the space between you. Your heart raced as the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through you, a lingering reminder of the intensity you had just shared. In that moment, you felt truly alive, woven together by the strands of passion and intimacy that had blossomed in the sanctuary of the abbey.

Sister Imperator wrapped her arms around you, drawing you closer as if she wanted to absorb every ounce of warmth from your body. Her fingers gently stroked your hair, a tender gesture that contrasted with the rawness of what had just transpired. You could feel her heartbeat, steady and strong against your cheek, a comforting reminder that you were no longer alone.

“Are you alright?” she whispered, her voice soft and laced with concern, as if she were afraid that the moment had been too much.

You nodded, unable to find the words to express the overwhelming emotions swirling within you. The connection between you felt deeper now, a bond forged in vulnerability and shared pleasure. You looked up to meet her gaze, and in that moment, you saw not just a lover but a partner who understood the pain and the joy that life had to offer.

“More than alright,” you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I never imagined it could be like that.”

A playful glint sparked in her eyes, her confidence returning as she brushed a thumb over your cheek. “I can show you more, if you’d like.”

The spring of 1969 unfolded with a beauty that felt almost cruel in its brightness. Flowers burst into bloom outside the Abbaye des Ombres Infernales, the world alive with the vibrancy of life and the promise of new beginnings. Yet within the sanctuary of the abbey’s walls, a tempest brewed in Sister Imperator’s heart, a tumultuous blend of joy and sorrow that weighed heavily upon her.

The day of her delivery dawned bright and clear, but even the sun seemed to shine with a bittersweet glow. You stood by her side, a constant presence, holding her hand through every wave of pain and pleasure that coursed through her. The chapel, once a place of quiet contemplation, had transformed into a sacred space of labor and birth. Soft candlelight flickered, casting gentle shadows on the walls, while the scent of incense filled the air, mingling with the rawness of her emotions.

Imperator was a vision of strength and vulnerability as she laboured, her breath coming in sharp bursts. Each contraction drew her deeper into herself, and you watched as she fought through the pain, her face a tapestry of determination and resolve. The midwives, Sisters who had dedicated their lives to the care of others, moved around her with quiet confidence, offering words of encouragement and support.

“Breathe, Sœur,” one of them urged gently, her voice soothing as she wiped the sweat from Imperator’s brow. “You are strong. Just a little longer.”

With every push, you felt the weight of her struggle, the urgency of the moment hanging thick in the air. The joy of bringing new life into the world was underscored by the knowledge that this was only the beginning of an impending separation. You could see it in the way she clenched her jaw, the flicker of fear in her eyes as she considered the path ahead.

Finally, with a cry that echoed off the stone walls, the first baby emerged into the world, the midwives catching him with reverent hands. You held your breath, your heart racing as they laid him upon her chest, the warmth of his tiny body a stark contrast to the storm raging inside her. Imperator’s expression shifted from pain to pure, unfiltered joy as she gazed down at her son, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Oh, mon Dieu,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “He’s perfect.”

But as you watched the tenderness bloom in her gaze, your heart ached with the weight of what was to come. This moment of beauty was laced with an undercurrent of sadness, a poignant reminder that she would soon have to choose. The second baby followed shortly after, a squalling bundle of life that brought fresh waves of elation and despair. As they placed him in her arms, Imperator’s heart swelled, yet a shadow lingered behind her smile.

The days that followed were a delicate dance between joy and sorrow. Each moment spent cradling her sons felt like a stolen treasure, every coo and gurgle a reminder of the life she was building. You stayed close, offering your love and support, cherishing the fleeting hours spent together. Each smile she gave you was a balm for your heart, but the knowledge of her plans loomed like a spectre, darkening even the brightest moments.

As the boys grew, they filled the abbey with laughter and life, the echoes of their joy mingling with the solemnity of the surroundings. You watched Sister Imperator transform in front of your eyes, the fierce warrior you had come to admire softening into a nurturing mother. It was both beautiful and painful; every laugh, every milestone felt like a countdown to her departure.

On the last night before she would leave, you found her sitting in the small nursery, her gaze lost in thought as she watched her sons sleep. The moonlight filtered through the window, casting a silvery glow over the room, illuminating the contours of her face, revealing the sadness etched there.

“___,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if I’m making the wrong choice?”

You stepped into the room, your heart aching at the sight of her, the woman who had brought such light into your life now consumed by doubt. “You’re doing what you believe is best for them, Imperator. But… it doesn’t have to be this way.”

She turned to you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I wanted to keep them here, to raise them away from the Ministry’s grasp. But I cannot stay. I have my duty. I can’t abandon my brothers or the mission.”

“But at what cost?” you implored, stepping closer, desperate to bridge the chasm between you. “You’re leaving a part of yourself behind, and what if they need you? What if you need them?”

“I will always need them,” she replied, her voice breaking. “But my plans—”

“Your plans can change,” you interrupted, the intensity of your emotions spilling forth. “You have the power to decide your own path. We could be a family here. You don’t have to go back to Rome.”

The silence that followed was deafening, a chasm filled with unspoken truths. Her gaze fell back to the sleeping boys, her heart torn between two worlds. You could see the internal battle waging within her, the weight of her choices pressing down like an anchor.

She breathed your name, a mixture of longing and sorrow. “I can’t bear to leave them, yet I can’t let them be pawns in a game that could destroy them. I must take one with me. He will be safe under my care, but…” Her voice trailed off, thick with unshed tears.

You reached for her, your hand brushing against hers. “And what of the other? What will you do without him?”

“I can’t lose them both,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “But I must play my part. I must return to Rome, and when they are two, I’ll come back for one.”

Each word she spoke felt like a dagger to your heart, a stark reminder of the reality you both faced. The anguish of separation loomed over you like a dark cloud, threatening to engulf the fragile happiness you had built together.

“I wish things were different,” you whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sank to your knees beside her. “I wish we could stay like this, together, as a family.”

Sister Imperator leaned down, her forehead resting against yours, sharing in the weight of your sorrow. “So do I. So do I.”

The finality of her decision hung heavy in the air, an unshakeable reality that neither of you could change. As the moon cast its silvery glow over the nursery, you both held onto each other, cherishing the love you had forged amidst the chaos. In that moment, you knew that the bond you shared would never truly fade, even as the distance threatened to tear you apart.

As dawn broke, painting the world in hues of gold, Sister Imperator prepared for her departure. The boys cooed softly in their crib, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in the hearts of their mother and the woman who loved her. You stood beside her, your heart breaking as she held her sons, cradling them close, memorising every curve of their tiny bodies.

“I’ll come back for you,” she whispered, a promise laced with pain as she kissed their foreheads, sealing her love into their very beings. “I’ll return for one of you. You’ll never be alone. I’ll carry you in my heart.”

The moment felt suspended in time, an eternity captured in the embrace of a mother. But as she turned away, the weight of her choice settled upon you, and you knew that the love you shared would become both a beacon and a burden, a reminder of what could have been.

And as she walked away, taking a piece of your heart with her, you felt the ache of longing seep deep into your soul—a silent vow to hold onto the memory of the love you had shared, even as she forged a path that would lead her away from you, and towards an uncertain future.

Prev./Next

[drapopia]

are you satisfied? (sister imperator x f!reader)

pairing: sister imperator x female!reader

warnings: semi-public sex, fingering, younger woman with older woman, sister is a soft dom in this scenario, discusses misogyny in the Clergy

summary: A title was not just a word, but a sentence for every member of the Ministry. You couldn't help but take your own to heart.

word count: 5.3k

Read on AO3

author's note: FIRST SMUT WHOOOO! as a lesbian, i am appalled to see the lack of sister fanfiction. i have taken it up on myself to change this! this reader was not written explicitly as a lesbian, but it was a constant in my mind. she does like traditionally feminine things, and i have written her as femme. everything else is up to your hearts content! likes and reblogs are always welcome!

as always, minors do not interact.

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

It was common knowledge that the Clergy ran on titles. Though power was the driving force, whether it was the seeker of power or the one beholden to it, titles were how you got places. Whether it be a Bishop moving to a Cardinal’s office, or a Sibling being allowed to be a stagehand on tour, you had to have a title that fit the role you played in the large scheme of the Ministry. You were reminded since the day you had arrived that the Dark One encouraged your ambitions, that you were to pride yourself on who you were. 

Even more fun were the unofficial titles. Although Papa Emeritus the III was the leader of the church, dignified and charming as he may be, it couldn’t stop others from letting less than kind names slip from their lips. Papa Emeritus the II had the unfortunate unofficial nick-name of ‘cold bastard’, while Terzo had been afforded ‘pompous asshole’. The higher you rose in these hallowed halls, the quicker the names were pinned to your back. 

But you weren’t ashamed. You had risen quickly out of your novitiate classes, a reward for countless hours spent staring at your textbooks, the amount of additional seminars you had attended so that someone, anyone, would remember your kind and curious eyes. You had sacrificed all your time, refused countless invitations into attractive Siblings’ beds. Though it wasn’t all bad. You had lapped up every morsel of information as quickly as it had been set before you, practically licked the plate and groaned for more. To you it didn’t matter if you had to settle your own needs with your hand if it meant there were no distractions. To know your goals and ambitions were within reach were pleasurable enough. The words that your fellow Siblings coined you with meant nothing. Reclusive, arrogant, self serving. None of these had slipped into your mind as you hungrily peeled back the letter opening to see where you had been placed at the end of your lessons. Top of the class, you thought to yourself with a small grin. A placing in the Clergy is what mattered most to you. 

Personal assistant. You had to stop yourself from moaning aloud at the hand scrawled ink on the paper. And with that title, you met the woman who reigned over your life from that moment onwards. How were you supposed to ignore the urge to hold yourself to her, to follow her down every hallway? From the way her pointed toe heels sounded on the polished floor, to the suit and skirt that invited a hungry glance, everything about Sister Imperator commanded attention. You were no stranger to the rueful hisses in her direction, the names spanning from bitch to worse. Yet here she was, the way she held every eye in the room a fact nobody could ignore. And why would you ignore it, you thought to yourself. Your eyes had always been on her, every facet of her being. 

Just as the names followed her, they followed you. You had to admit, your personal favorite was the one that Papa Emeritus the II had become fond of saying as you followed Sister out of meetings: her little lap dog. Your cheeks heated at the thought, but never of embarrassment. The thought of her dark lined eyes, red tipped nails, the way her voice made you snap towards her. She had always demanded attention. To think of ignoring it made your heart speed up, a sweat collecting on the back of your neck as you thought of what would happen if you failed to please her. The thought had haunted you on lonely nights as you imagined your own manicured hands were hers. 

And here you were now, at your small desk outside of a larger inner office, the A/C blowing delightfully onto your cheeks. Your hands ached deliciously as they typed, the tap of your delicately painted nails more satisfying than any other feeling. It had been a relatively easy day, the sun shining from the bay window making you feel hazy with the urge to doze off. But you wouldn’t, you couldn’t. Distantly, you could hear the shouts and laughter of other Siblings, the summertime heat appealing to the masses. Your head turned, looking out the window to see dozens lined up on picnic blankets, the trimmed grass trampled under their bare feet. You smiled softly to yourself. 

“Sister? A moment please.” A voice called to you from the other office, and your head snapped towards it. The door was open, the wreath of dried lavender hung deliberately high. You stood from your office chair, smoothing out any existing wrinkles on your habit, and walked quietly to Sister Imperator’s door. 

Your kitten heels clicked quietly on the floor, a subtle smile on your face at the sound. When you had first bought them, Sister had smirked to herself, folding her hands on her desk. 

“A new pair, Sister?” She had smiled, eyeing them appreciatively. 

You had nodded, the blush warming up to your ears at her notice. “Of course, ma’am. Do you like them? I thought that the red would look nice with my habit.” 

Her smile remained, looking up to your eyes and narrowing her own. Her crows feet had crinkled, the small dimples noticeable under the crepey wrinkles around her mouth. “Of course, they’re quite… cute.” She nodded once, then turned back to the phone and picked it off the receiver, signaling the end of this conversation. 

And now you waltzed up to her office door, those same kitten heels delicately tapping against the linoleum. You leaned your head against the door siding, looking in. Sister was looking at her computer monitor, leaned against the large cherry wood desk she had owned since before you were probably even alive. The papers on her desk were few and far between, organized correctly within their correct holders. Her hair was in a delicate bun, a few fly aways around her neck. The same red lip and dark eye combo she had always donned were there, her eyebrows furrowed in a smattering of emotions that you had yet to pick through. Her mouth was pursed lightly, the red even more prominent. 

“You wanted to see me, Sister?” You said quietly, waiting a moment to truly look over the woman before you. Her head turned, her lips peeking into the trained polite smile she always had when she was dealing with a member of the Church. (This did not include any members of the Emeritus family, the smile was exchanged in favor of a frustrated frown and an exasperated groan). 

“Yes, I did. Have a seat.” She said succinctly, the tone of her voice leaving no room for leeway. Though most would be worried, you had no room to be. You knew you were capable and smart, there were no marks on your record or notes on any files that left any room to debate that you were intelligent. And Imperator knew this, reminded you of it with small remarks. Many didn’t understand that she rewarded those where it was due. The feeling of pride that bubbled up in your stomach when she smiled down at you always simmered down into a deep heat between your thighs that you fought to ignore. Her words were sharp, capable of cutting down even the most boisterous member of the church. She was dedicated, her devotion to Satan made you weak in the knees and made it impossible to focus. Want was nothing compared to the yearning you felt to curl up under her chin and ask what you can help her with, what you could do for her. What wouldn’t you do for her? 

You nodded, padding over to the cushioned armchair in front of her desk. “What can I do for you?” You said softly, a polite smile on your own lips mirrored against hers. 

Her hands dropped below her chin, her gaze meeting yours. “I’m unsure if you’ve heard,” she started, one hand dropping down to grab a piece of paper in front of her, “But we’ve had an issue with the building’s plumbing recently.” Her eyes dropped down to the paper in front of her, her green eyes running over the information. 

Your smile dropped an inch. You had spent an hour on the phone earlier practically begging the water company to come out and take a look at the pipe crumbling in the basement of the church. They had been reluctant to visit a Satanic church, a common fear the public shared that you had become exasperatedly aware of in your time as Imperator’s assistant. “Yes, I’ve heard. I managed to schedule a plumber for later this afternoon, their ETA was recently-” 

Her hand raised, and you stopped speaking. “I am aware of when they’re coming. I just wanted to let you know that the plumbing will be cut off to the Papal wing of the church, as that is where most of the problems are coming from. I wanted you to be aware so when they eventually come to you with complaints, you wouldn’t be completely surprised.” 

A quick nod sent her way, and a ghost of a smile appears on her lips. “Good.” She says firmly. “If you’d like to, you can take your lunch break early. I understand that there’s a small gathering of other sister’s outside in the Courtyard reading some sort of shared book. I understand you’re fond of reading.” Her eyes are scrutinizing, but as always, you aren’t afraid. You want her to see you, see everything you could offer her. To be in her orbit, watching her as she simply exists makes your eyes feel misty. 

“I do enjoy it. I’d rather just eat my lunch at my desk, if it’s no bother.” You say softly. 

“Feel free to do so.” She replies, eyes now focused on the monitor in front of her. No doubt an email you could handle, you think to yourself. Her eye bags are tight under her eyes, the almost purple shadowing visible under her concealer and shining a cool grey in the light of the computer screen. I need to order her a new setting powder, you think to yourself. Maybe a pink tone, that should help with brightening her under eyes. 

You smile at her, rising from the chair. “Thank you. Is there anything else, ma’am?” You want her to say stay, for her to take your hand in hers and raise it close to her, for her to give you more. More than what she’s already so gracefully given you. More than you will ever be afforded. 

“Not at the moment. Just keep in mind when the appointment is.” She replies, eyes still keenly focused on the screen, her hands typing quickly at her keyboard. Your stomach drops the way it always does, the feeling of not being able to do at least one more task for her. A nod, and your kitten heels find their way back to your desk. As you exit the room, the office doorknob gripped in your hand, you swear you can feel her penetrating gaze on your habit. But the door closes, and the mirage fades. 

—----

Your slippers make their way down the quiet hallway of the Abbey, the high stained glass windows leering above you like a hawk. But the moon shines through the panes, a comforting gaze on your otherwise troubled mind. The pink puffballs on the top of your slippers bounce with your brisk walk, so accustomed to walking in heels with a quick gait similar to Sister’s. Confidence is what makes you known, she had said on your first day as her assistant. Her hand had rested on your shoulder, warm and with a firm grip. It never hurt, only grounded you in the moment you were sure you’d look back on frequently. 

Your shower caddy bounces against your hip, your patterned robe cushioning the plastic tote you carry with you. You always took your showers in the nighttime, it was hard to shower with others around you. While there were stalls for privacy of course, communal certainly meant communal. You were certainly not a prude, not in this church. Nudity was celebrated, and the women you shared quarters with were without a doubt some of the most gorgeous you had ever seen. Timidness was not a trait befitting someone of your rank, but it was hard to ignore. And here you were, showering after everyone had curled up in bed. The water hitting the floor was a balm to the pounding in your chest. None of the Papa’s had thankfully come to you with any complaints about their lack of water, but you’re sure there was at least one email chain that they had neglected to copy you on, no doubt filled with ceaseless demands by one of them. (Maybe even two Papa’s if Primo had a muddy day out in the garden). Nonetheless, Sister had assured you that their complaints were null and void. The Ministry comes first, she had always emphasized. 

The door to the washrooms opened with a wave of air, the lack of humidity in the air letting you know that there was nobody in this room to distract you from your nightly ritual. You took hygiene seriously. The other Siblings in your dorm quarters had teased you occasionally, your primping and preening often a sight to see. While it was a misogynistic stereotype that pervaded many minds, you can’t deny that your world often feels like it needs to stop whenever you chip a nail. (By Satan, with prices nowadays, a chipped nail is thirty bucks down the drain!).

A brisk walk finds you to the open shower rooms, sequestered away in the corner, but open for those to see. You weren’t a prude, but you needed your privacy. It had taken quite a while to adjust to when you had arrived at the Abbey, but while you had grown to find comfort in some odd changes, you wanted to shower alone. With power comes a private bathroom, you reminded yourself as you sat hung up your shower caddy and set to taking off your robe. Maybe one day the little lap dog will have her own four poster bed to lounge on, you said to yourself mentally, not fighting off the grin that spread to your face. You set your robe on the hook to the side of the room, crossing over once again and turning the shower on to hot. The pipes in the Abbey were ancient, either blisteringly hot or bitterly cold. 

The water ran down your hair, taking a moment to work its way through down to the tips of your toes. You sigh, the warmth prompting you to soften. Yes, a shower in a private room was what you needed most of all. A cabinet to hold your skincare, a place where you didn’t have to lug your conditioners, shampoos, lotions, body scrubs, the list was endless! Being an assistant could take you places. 

But was that what you truly wanted? Was the thought of privacy and elevation all that was driving you forward? All of the lonely nights you spent hunched over your desk all for the sake of a private bookshelf and a personal window? The truth was there. You wanted her. You flinched outwardly, your expression drawn in. While your hands reached for your body wash and loofah, you couldn’t stop continuing down that train of thought. Her hands, worn and soft to the touch were what started it all. When Sister Imperator had taken your hand and shaken it, a trained smile on her lips as she welcomed you into the Church was what had sealed your fate. 

Dalliances were few and far between for you. In a religion celebrating sins of the flesh, it was hard enough to deny the physical needs you had tried so desperately to bury away. Your hands, while capable and trustworthy, couldn’t compare to the dexterous fingers of the other women in your dorm quarters, or one of your instructors licking fervently at your cunt in a dark dust-laden cloister. But they never compared to when she would softly tell you “Thank you for scheduling this.” or the way her hands would come to grasp your own in a calming squeeze. Always asking of you, telling you, showing you where you were meant to be. How could they ever compare to the way her eyes narrowed down at you in a praising smile? Other siblings could frown, flip her off when she turned her back, outright disobey her, but you would pray at the altar of her rigidity, knees bloody in reverence of how she had fought to make her way to the top. 

Your reverie stopped at the movement of cold air on your backside, an unwelcome opposite to the warm steam your hot water had created. You tried not to turn around, but you could feel their eyes on you. Your loofah continued its journey across your body, scrubbing gently at your stomach. The padding of shower slippers edged closer, the gait steady and-

“Sister? Is that you?” A familiar feminine voice called out to you. Your hands stopped, breath caught in your throat. How were you supposed to turn around? Hopefully the steam is thick enough, how were you even supposed to respond? Maybe it’s not even her, you thought frantically. 

Your body turns, loofah posed over your breasts, body cocked at an angle so they can’t possibly see your lower body, only your ass. Your breath caught once more. It was indeed Imperator. Her hair was loose, soft waves of grey and muted blonde let go of their usual hold. Her makeup was cleansed, soft dregs on eyeshadow still tight in the small wrinkles of her eyelids. Her skirt and blouse have been exchanged for a satin burgundy robe, the sash tight around her waist. She has a small tote of products cocked at her hip, not unlike someone carrying a baby. You notice with a small bit of happiness that she shares a love of expensive shampoo. Desperately, you try not to notice the way her robe seems to slip, her cleavage beginning to bead with sweat in the condensation of the humid room. 

“Yes ma’am, it’s me.” You manage to choke out, lips dry, eyes firmly locked with hers. Her gaze remains locked on yours, her lips pinched together tightly. Although you can usually read her quite well, you can’t find the wherewithal to figure out the emotion, your brain too mushy with the situation. Your worst nightmare and your most indulgent daydream.

She turns toward the shower adjacent to you, to your minute horror, and sets her things down. “Good. I’m sure you’ve put things together, but the water company failed to inform us they would be turning off not only the Papal Wing, but the entire Upper Clergy waterline. It was quite upsetting, to be truthful.” You swiftly turn your head, your hands beginning to sluggishly scrub your body once more. Suds have begun to gather around your breasts, hopefully obscuring her view. Or hopefully not, a familiar voice  whispers into your mind. 

“I’ll call them as soon as their office opens tomorrow, Sister. I explicitly told them to limit their turn-offs.” You sigh softly, letting the water run over your body. You can hear her shower turn on, and stare straight ahead to avoid what is undoubtedly her shucking off her bathrobe. You will not look, you will not intrude. A title is not to be ignored. You bend down, plucking your conditioner out of your tote and popping the cap. A sigh to your right, and you freeze. And though you feel your heart plummet in perverse shame, your eyes look to your left. 

And, oh, it’s just as wonderful as you’d imagined. Views over clothes cannot compare to the divine countenance of your beloved Sister Imperator. Her head is cocked upwards, facing the ceiling with her eyes closed in bliss. The warm water is drawing her in just as it had done to you earlier, a calming sedative to the day. Her stomach and hips hang low, pink stretch marks mottled against her love handles and thighs. They mottle her lower body, a sign of the past that you feel a sense of curiosity for. But the curiosity passes, and an all too familiar heat begins to burn lower. Her breasts hang heavy, pink dusky areolas with a pebbled nipple perked in the middle. The backs of her shoulders are coated in freckles, did she spend time outside as a young woman, or is it just natural? Her hair has begun to dampen in the water, droplets falling down her hair and trailing down the slope of her ass. The pockets of fat on her hips and stomach are pale, your mouth going dry with the sudden intimate realization  that they are just as soft as you’ve imagined. You can see a thatch of dark grey curls, silver as they fade out to her upper pubis. While her legs and arms have begun to wrinkle, you know for a fact that you’re positively dripping. 

A moment too long. “Are you satisfied?” A voice firmly says. You freeze, your eyes still firmly locked on her breasts, and you realize you’ve been bent over for several moments too long. Eyes shifting up, you lock gazes with Sister. To your shock, and horror, her face is void of emotion. 

“Sister.” A huff of breath, your throat dry from staring at the slopes of her sumptuous body. Your body springs into action, your chest heaving and legs shaking from the pure arousal simmering in your gut. You can’t go back from this, the trespass has been made. Tears are trying to fight their way into your waterline, the tightness in your chest still coiled with the tightness inside of you. “I apologize, I can’t believe I’m-” 

“I asked if you were satisfied.” She replies, her eyebrow raised in question. Your heart drops. If there was a time to show your cards, it was now. 

“No, I’m not.” A whisper crawls out of the dry cavern you call your mouth. You maintain eye contact, as she’s always taught you. As she’s impressed upon you, your rigid and right Sister Imperator. 

A smile curls across her lips, her eyes narrowing. To your amazement, she crosses over to you, catching your cheek in your palm. A sigh, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning into her silky palm. 

“I can tell.” Imperator says plainly, her lips still in the same smile. Her eyes are still level with your own, her thumb now weaving delicate circles into the apple of your cheek. She opens her mouth, her teeth now visible in a purposeful grin.  “Have I ever mentioned the time I saw you fucking yourself under your desk?” Your heart stops, eyes widening. To know that she had caught you the singular time you had chosen to act perversely in public, the only moment you had allowed your walls to crumble in a hedonistic thrill? 

She coos softly, her hand still cupped against your face. “Oh, I know you do now.” You can feel her other hand grip your waist, a soft gasp spilling out as she kneads the flesh in her hand. “If I had known you had felt this way, I wouldn’t have ignored you staring at me so blatantly.” 

You can’t stop the strangled gasp that flies out of your mouth, cheeks flushing even further in the heat of the water. Your thighs clench together, the tightness doing nothing to stop the tension on your clit, the way you throb in the open air. “Sister, I’m… I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” You whine, trying to fight the strong urge to lean into her body, to feel her breasts against yours and to grip the hips you know feel delightfully soft. 

“If I were feeling uncomfortable, I would have told you so.” She says, the sentence clipped shortly in a way you know she’s telling the truth. “Don’t ask questions you know the answer to. If I were feeling any unease, would I do this?” She leans forward, her lips pressing to yours in a firm and open kiss, your mouth opening with a moan to accept it. The feeling of her lips on yours makes you want to sob, and as your mouth opens, her tongue lightly dips in, As you let her tongue twist against yours, you take the opportunity to lean into her. Her nipples push against yours, making the wetness between your thighs throb harder than you thought possible. The way her lips press against yours isn’t helping the need. 

The need to breathe becomes obvious, and you pull away with a great breath. You lean against her, your hands clutched to her arms. “Sister.” You moan softly, a barely audible gasp. She looks at you, her cheeks flushed and her hair draped in a wet curtain on her shoulders. “Sister, I need you.” You confess. What you don’t say is how you always need her. Need her to tell you what to do, where to be, how to act. All you need right now are her fingers fucking your cunt, her lips on your neck, your hands holding her tits like they deserve to be held. 

“I suppose I’ve made you wait long enough.” She sighs, her eyes raking over your tits, a hand gently cupping one in her hand. Her thumb passes over the peaked bud, a strangled moan crawling out of your chest. Her other hand trails down your hip, an almost placating soothing motion that makes you want to collapse against her. Her thumb pinches your tit roughly, then passes over it gently in a way that makes you keen. 

“Please.” You gasp, a pathetic whine that you don’t care to notice. “Please, I need…” Your cheeks flush, your hands trailing down to her hips, feeling the rippled flesh of her stretchmarks in a delicious grasp that makes your brain turn into mush. 

“Need what?” She says quietly, her hand moving to grip your cheek and meet her gaze. The knowledge that you probably look half fucked makes you moan, tongue passing over your lips once to wet them. 

“Your fingers. Please, anything, Sister. I just need…” You trail off with a whine as her hand dips below to your pussy, the tension that has bubbled there for years finally breaking. You whimper pathetically, her hand still pinching delicately at your breasts. Her fingers, careful not to pinch or pluck with her nails, draw tight circles over your clit. You can’t stop the sob that crawls out of your chest, the ache in your pussy tightening. The slick sounds from her hands and your wetness echo through the quiet washroom, and you should feel some shame. But you don’t, only the thrill of having her hands finally on you. 

Her hands continue, stopping their attack on your clit and sliding languidly from your entrance back to your bud in a sweet glide. “Does it feel good? To finally have my touch?” She asks softly, a quick kiss pressed against your lips as she smiles. 

“Yes!” A gasp is torn from your throat, your thighs beginning to tremble at the torturous yet delightful feel of her fingers at your hole. Her index finger teases, a slow circle around your entrance that makes you arch into her. You’re lucky you had brought your floor mat into the washroom with you, or you’re certain she would have busted a hip by now with your bucking against her. 

“You’re doing so well, sister.” She whispers, her hand kneading at your breast. Your chest heaves in the humidity of the room, and the deep pleasure that makes your legs feel like jelly. A gasp, followed by a high moan invades the air as she gently pushes her index finger inside, curling inwards gently enough to where her short nails won’t bother you. Her finger retreats, and is followed by an additional finger. They curl upwards, pushing against a spot that makes your clit throb. You distantly wonder through the haze of pure bliss where she learned to touch a woman like this, surely not just on herself? The thought disappears when her hand leaves your breast to drop to your clit, her thumb making short circles on your clit. You can hear just how sloppy you’ve gotten, the softness of your pussy making it easy for her to glide against your swollen clit. 

Your head drops to her shoulder, your hands still clasped around her neck. Your hands card themselves through her hair, a small pull that makes her gasp, then giggle against you. Your lips meet hers, her lips overpowering yours in a swift pull as you wantonly moan into her mouth. Her fingers continue to piston and curl against the sweet spot inside of you that you had waited so long for her to touch. You knew you were close, could feel the intense pounding of your heart in your chest. Your tongue licked at her lips, and her teeth gently bit down on your bottom lip. “Oh, Sister!” You whispered, desperately moaning into her mouth as she stretches you out. The ratcheting of pleasure draws ever closer, your noises so shameless you were certain Lillith herself would blush, and with a particular tight circle against your clit, you fell over the edge. Crying out at the sheer delirium, you clenched repeatedly on her fingers, your slick gliding down her wrist. 

Sister Imperator kissed your lips languidly, your lips moving slowly and stupidly from the comedown, your legs trembling from the force of your climax. You could have laughed aloud at the pure elation you felt, her hands smoothing along your thighs. 

You took deep breaths, your eyes closing. Your eyes shot open, the hunger in your chest reaching a new height when you realized you had yet to touch Sister. Your hands shot out to gently grasp her tits, but her hands stopped you in your venture forward. “Not tonight for me, I think. Another time.” She said, her voice still controlled as always. If you hadn’t been able to see her flushed face and kiss swollen lips, you would have assumed she was declining a receipt at a store. You nodded timidly. Women’s bodies, especially as they grow older, can be unpredictable. Who in the hell were you to judge her for not wanting to lube up for the night? 

Her eyes softened, a noticeable shift in her usual confident demeanor. Her hand rose, placing her hand on your shoulder as she had always done. “Now,” she said quietly, her voice soft in the thrumming of the showerhead, “I want you to clean up and wait for me in my chambers. The door is unlocked.” Heart beating as fast as you had ever felt it, you nodded dumbly. She wanted you in her room? For the night? Sister raised her hand, tapping your cheek to get your attention once more. “Off you go.” She said solidly, her hand falling away from your cheek and turning towards the shower head. 

As you cleaned up, turning off the opposite shower head from hers and stepping into your robe, you couldn’t help but feel her stare upon you. The realization that it had always been constant made you feel giddy, the heady feeling of being under her care making you feel dizzy, Your head shot up, your body straightening. “Well, Sister,” you say softly, making your way to the door, “Are you satisfied?” 

She turns to you, her head cocked back as she rinses the conditioner out of her long straight hair. She rakes her eyes along your own body, and lets the ghost of a smile flit across her face. “When am I ever?” She says, the purr in her tone making the hair along your neck prickle. You giggle, closing the door as you begin the short walk to her quarters. 

Titles were meant to be followed, and you were more certain than ever that you didn’t mind being her little lap dog.

[themratts]

A Surprise For Papa

[ A mysterious 'gift' arrives at the ministry, addressed to Copia, and he's not quite sure what to make of it ]

Rating: Teens and Up

Chapter One

Chapter Two • Home (word count: 1.4k)

——🍼

By evening, Papa Emeritus had brought the baby back to his quarters.

A time and a half, he’d had, trying to get the little thing back there without being spotted by any overly curious eyes. It was difficult on a normal day to make the trip back to his room without being stopped or approached by anyone, much less when he’s carrying a suspicious, unknown item wrapped in a blanket. But somehow, he’d managed. And in that meantime, he’d had a ghoul retrieve stuff for him, taken directly from the abbey’s nursery. Some supplies that he knew would be immediately necessary, even in just a single night. And by the time he reached his door, they’d already been delivered.

Copia opened the door and closed it shut with his hip. In his arm, the baby lay, wide awake now and gazing at the world around it with such innocent curiosity and wonder. He felt a pang in his chest somewhere, as he watched, the sadness and the regret still lingering from that morning.

How could he have let something like this happen? And even worse… how could he not have been there for it? It was hard to get away from the thought.

Not far inside the doorway, the ghoul had left the necessities. Some packets of baby formula, a bottle, diapers, powder, and an extra little blanket. Far from all the things he’d need to take care of an infant but for one night, he could make do. As Copia stared down at the items, he was overcome with a sense of dread. Would he really be cut out for this? Because it didn’t feel like it. Not at all, not in the slightest. He didn’t know the first thing about caring for a baby. And the weight crushing his shoulders in that instant became unbearable.

How could he possibly manage this on his own?

Wallowing in the worry, he approached the nearby couch. With one hand, Copia began adjusting the pillows and using the baby blankets, to create a little makeshift bed for the infant. He’d purchase one - perhaps a crib - as soon as possible, but for now, this would be okay, he figured. He laid the baby atop the comfortable, soft surface and it didn’t move much, just stared at him with the same, wide, curious eyes.

The baby had light, pink tinted skin. Puffy round cheeks, and soft, thin, wispy brown hair. He leaned forward a little, dragging a finger carefully over its little chin and in turn, the baby smiled. It made Copia smile, too. He practically felt himself go soft. And he mumbled, “You’re an adorable little thing, aren’t you? Bambino..” His finger brushed down the baby’s arm until its little hand gripped it. “..are you really mine, bambino?” Not that the baby would know, “Heh. You almost seem too cute to be mine. Or maybe, you just look more like your mama. Is that it? Sì.” Then he pulled his hand back, and sighed. All the worry, doubt, and concern laid weight on his heart, “Who is your mama…”

———

For an hour, he managed to keep the baby entertained there. For someone that was left outside, cold, abandoned in a basket for who knew how long, it was an awfully happy and giggly little creature. Until, of course, it eventually started to cry. Copia had panicked at first, unsure what was wrong or how to deal with it, but when he picked the baby up it was clear immediately what was wrong. The first of many, many diaper changes.

Once that was complete, she was still a little fussy. So he decided to take the bottle and the formulas, and warm them up for her. Papa sat on the couch, and fed her, watching how calm, and serene the baby seemed as she drank from it. So precious… so little. And fully, entirely depending on him. The stress began to pull on him, again.

It wasn’t until after he’d put the bottle away and gotten the now very sleepy infant back into her makeshift bed, that the knocks were placed upon his door. Papa turned, extremely nervous, all of a sudden. And the nerves weren’t made any better when he opened it to find Sister Imperator stood there, stern expression on her face, and arms crossed.

Her voice, however, was less than angry. Firm.. but not angry. “I heard what’s happened,” she said, “Can I come in, C?” and he knew he had no choice. Copia stepped to the side, and allowed her. Right away, her eyes lingered across the room, where they found the half asleep tiny bundle on the couch. Sister approached, slowly. She shook her head. And Copia came up behind her.

He wrung his hands, “I.. I know what you’re going to say, Sister.”

“My god..” She bent, to get a better look, “So it is true..”

“It… yes. But, I, I can’t be certain that it’s mine, yet..”

She straightened herself and turned to him, “But is that possible?” and Copia lowered his head.

“Yes. I’m afraid.”

“Oh, C..”

“I know. I know. I never meant.. to be in this situation, but, Sister, what am I to do now? Besides… besides to try and be a good father,”

“Do you really think that you are capable?” She asked, and he only thought for a moment before shaking his head.

“Do I think? No. No… not on my own. But Sister,” Papa’s shoulders dropped, “I have to try.”

The look she gave him was one of pity. Almost sympathetic. It was strange to Copia- as he’d have expected her to meet these circumstances with anger and frustration toward him. He has a ministry to run, this was the last thing that they needed. And yet.. not a hint of irritation from Sister Imperator.

“A boy or a girl?” She asked then, and Copia finally approached her fully and stood with her beside the baby’s sleeping body.

“A girl.”

“Does she have a name?”

“Not yet, Sister.”

“Mm. Quite.. adorable,”

“She is. She…” He leaned down, gently brushing a tiny piece of the baby’s hair to the side, “..she has my heart already.”

“I can tell that.” If he hadn’t known better, he’d swore he saw Imperator smile. But it faltered in a moment, when she cleared her throat and adjusted her jacket. “..This is going to leave us with a lot of matters to take care of in the morning.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“And are you aware of just how much care a baby requires? Just how much time? Time that you don’t have, C.”

“Ah.. well,” He frowned and crossed his arms, “Then I suppose I’ll have to make time.”

“You be careful with that. If Papa Nihil suspects that you start slacking-”

“-It’ll be fine. I promise you, Sister , I’ll , eh… I will figure something out.”

She looked at him for a moment. And then nodded, “I trust that you will.”

“Thank you.”

“..Cardi,” It caught him a little off guard when Sister suddenly placed her hand on his arm. Copia looked at her, there was a new gentleness, a sorrow in her face that had never seen before, “This is a very hefty responsibility.”

“It is, I know.”

“And I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone on this.” She removed her hand, “..if you need anything. Assistance. I want you to reach out to me.”

Copia’s brows rose, surprised, “Really?”

“Yes.”

“I, ehm. Do you.. know a thing or two about caring for a baby?”

Her lips pursed, “I do have experience. More than you do, at least.”

“Well, yes.”

“And so you let me know if you need anything, alright?” She was firm in that, and Copia nodded. He told her,

“I will, Sister.” Thanked her, and she gave him a nod.

“I’ll be back to check in tomorrow morning.”

“Very well,”

And with an uneasy farewell, Sister bid him good luck, goodbye, and took her leave. As the baby slept, Copia sat down again beside her. Quiet, still, his mind swimming over the words and behavior of his superior. Something had seemed odd about her, but he couldn’t quite place it. Maybe it was the stress he felt, making him fuzzy in the head. It hit him, in that moment, just how tired he was. How exhausted after such a day, all these new elements he never would have predicted would come out of nowhere. Life had a funny way of doing that. With one last glance at the bundle beside him, Copia let his head rest against the back of the couch. Closed his eyes, and within moments, dozed right off to sleep.

[nihildenial]

Collared Papacy: sub!Papa Nihil x dom!Sister Imperator PWP one-shot

Summary: Just a slice of a typical 1970s evening without the boys in the Imperator-Emeritus household.

MF 18+

word count: 1, 790

smut below cut!

***"Sister" refers to a clergy title, not a blood relation

Contrary to the emerald color that makes up most of her wardrobe, her favorite color was actually red. Not that horrid bright red that flashes from firetrucks and stop lights, but the saturated deep crimson showcased in the wine staining the corner of her lips.

Her glass was nearly empty and she savored the last long sip in the warmth by their living room’s roaring fireplace. 

Her heels were jostled by a sudden shift beneath her crossed ankles. “Stay still,” She scolds, using one of her red stiletto heels to press against the visible rib muscles of her footrest. It elicits a sweet moan of distress from her captive. 

She grows warm with the delicious noise, aided by the aphrodisiac qualities of her wine.

“Sister, please,” The man pleads from his submissive pose. His shoulder-length raven hair has fallen from its low ponytail to hang around his face. Nihil’s energetic performances as Ghost frontman were paying off by the tensed physique her green eyes roamed over.

His pale skin glistened in the dancing firelight, clammy from the strain of holding himself up on his hands and knees next to the constant heat. He was a marble statue crafted by Satan himself, just for her. He was perfect even when he was acting like a desperate whore. 

“I’ve been so good for hours now, can’t we take a break? I’ll refill your glass,” Nihil hasn’t used his safe word, so she ignores the request. 

More wine would be nice, but they would have to open a new bottle…and she’s comfortable with the lingering warmth of the fire. It would be a shame to break the moment. “You have been good so far, but I remember what you did to get into this position and I don’t feel you’ve made it up to me yet.”

“Sister!” His arms are beginning to tremble from strain. “Bernadette-”

Her fingers wrap around the leather leash that lies limply in her lap and tugs. “What was that?”

A throaty gasp is ripped from Nihil’s throat. “Bernadette,“ He moans her name.

“Do I need to gag you like a bitch, too?” She warns when he continues to plead for release. “Why can’t you shut up?”

Sister Imperator uses the leash to lift the raven haired man’s neck. He’s smirking up at her, mismatched green and white eyes delirious with lust. “Such a whore. You’ve been on your hands and knees and you’re acting like you’ve been on my strap?”

His head bobs and she realizes that he’s been a little shit just to get his mouth filled. The same beautiful mouth that has given them the opportunity to live in this cozy TransyLvAnian home between tours.

“Please, Sister, I’ve been so good,” He tries again.

He’s been okay. She caught him with his hands up some girl’s mini-skirt behind the bar table and since she dragged him home by the ear, he’s been her footstool.

It’s been a few hours. And the brunette Nihil was fingering was exactly the type she’d go after herself.

Imperator removes her feet from his back.

He immediately begins to sit up but she tsks. “I didn’t say you could move.”

Nihil freezes and gets back on his hands. He stays still while she stands and brings her empty bottle and glass to the sink. She takes her time removing her diamond earrings and the various pins holding up her long blonde hair. It unfurls down her back, releasing the pressure of the elaborate hairstyle from her scalp.

She moves back to the low sofa and turns so her back is towards the still-kneeling man. “Unzip,” She orders, firm but fond.

Nihil’s body creaks as he sits up and back on his heels. He holds her long hair away from the zipper until he undoes the mini-dress. His hands guide the dress upwards until her fingers meet the hem, and drag it off her body.

“So lovely, Sister…” He relishes the sculpted legs that go on for miles under his hands. The diamond-patterned tights hug her ass wonderfully and disappear into her expensive stilettoes. A glance up and he sees her nimble hands undoing the hooks of her bra.

“I wear this dress all the time,” She turns and he wants to sob at the visible slick dampening the front of her thong.

He could dive into her core right now and forget how sore his joints are. “Still just a beautiful as the first time I saw it.”

Sister Imperator relaxes against the couch again. She lifts a heeled foot and Nihil is dreading if she’s going to make him pose more.

“Shoes off,” She says instead.

The raven haired man eagerly takes each shoe off and places them orderly by the edge of the shag rug.

“Good boy. Tights.”

Nihil shivers. His fingers hook into the elastic waistband and pulls down the lacey tights down her thighs, under her ass, and down past her ankles.

She flips her long hair over the back of the couch and spreads her legs. She grins at how his eyes are glued to her panties. Her thong was definitely not wide enough to fully cover her when she was open like this. “Okay, you can have your reward now.”

He doesn’t even need to move her panties to the side that much; the black cotton stretches so that it rolls up and out of the way. He mouths at her outer lips and watches her expression as he takes off her thong. Now free, he buries his head between her legs with excitement.

Her sharp acrylics scratch at his scalp, prompting more shivers. “More,” She says, voice close to a moan.

Nihil lifts her hips to surround his head and presses his nose into her clit, and tongue further into her folds. He lifts her hips to sit on his shoulders and fully sinks into her core. He could die happy here.

She’s always so appreciative of his efforts even when it comes after a punishment. All the other girls he’s been with (except for Elizabeth, Lucifer rest her soul) haven’t had this connection moment while he was servicing them.

He could never be docile and sweet for them like he could for Bernadette.

“Such a good boy for me,” She moans.

Nihil smirks against her fluttering walls. She’s close by how wet she’s gotten. He pulls away to take a gulp down some air and see how he’s affected her.

Sister Imperator’s green eyes are blazing with lust. The heavy black eyeshadow of her typical look is smudged at the edges. Her nails are grasping at his shoulders the pull him up. “I think I’ve forgiven you."

His hand is immediately searching the couch cushions for their stray bottle of coconut oil. She finds it first; she was practically sitting on it. Handing it over, Nihil uses it to slick up his cock.

They fuck so often now that she’s still pretty loose from their tryst after the concert and before barhopping with their Ghouls. Still, he makes sure the scrunch between her perfect blonde eyebrows isn’t from unpleasant pain.

One of the things he loves about Bernadette (but he’ll never say it out loud) is that she’s infertile and they can fuck without any concern for childbearing. (Not that it stopped him from going after Elizabeth, Emilia, or Ravenna, which resulted in the three menace boys currently at the drive-in theater with the Ghouls).

Sliding into Bernadette was like coming home. She opened up so nicely around him, always perfect smooth so he could see the light freckles on her hips. And she kept a taut grip on his collar. The combination of asphyxiation and stillness forced him to use his lower back to fuck into her.

To her, Nihil is hottest when he’s being impaled by her, but the way he’s so eager to please her makes this experience just as sweet. She uses the leash bend him over her and make him hover just out of reach of her lips.

“Tell me what you did wrong today,” Imperator says as firm as she can when seven inches is rocking inside her cunt.

He shakes his head. His overgrown black shag moves like a cute Labrador retriever getting out of a puddle. “Can’t…”

She digs her black painted nails into his cheek and yanks his head up until they can lock eyes. He’s right where she wants him.

Nihil can’t resist her, so he looks at her lips instead.

She lets the pressure on his leash dissipate.

“No,nonono-no,” He whines. He tries to grab for the black leather but she holds it aloft.

“If you don’t tell me then I take the leash off.”

Nihil’s hips haven’t stopped, even though he’s so close it’s not enough without the delicious pressure on his throat. “I-I need-“

She slaps him, making sure it smears the already beading papal paint.

He keens, head hung in the direction of her blow. That was his last warning. “I was-oh, touching…o-one of the dancers.”

Imperator arches her back and meets his thrust, “And?”

“I didn’t ah-ask for your permission, f….first,” His cheeks are blazing red through the white stage makeup.

“Good boy.” She loops the leash around her knuckles and watches as Nihil’s thrusts immediately become frenzied.

Both of them are sweating with the heat of desire and the fireplace alight. His hands are clammy and slip when he tries to move her hips up. So his one hand cups her ass and other presses down on the tiny layer of fat above her pubic bone.

She hisses at him, “Not there!”

He flinches but recovers to move a hand to her breasts to make up for it. “Sorry,” He moans.

“My good boy…” Imperator finally lets him sink their mouths together.

She increases the pressure of the leash and he’s cumming inside her with a breathy gasp. She’s not quite there and keeps the pressure so he’ll keep thrusting. He’ll stay hard as long as he’s inside her. It’s what makes him such a whore.

His left hand shakily moves to her clit to rub it until she’s gasping out her own orgasm.

“Shit,” Nihil whimpers. She’s so tight and wet from their orgasms that he feels a larger than normal aftershock of pleasure.

Thank Lucifer that she can’t get pregnant, Nihil tells himself when she lets him pull away; because he’s rearing for round two already.

Thank Lucifer that he’s a dumbass, Imperator tells herself as she thinks of the positive used pregnancy test in her purse. She'll deal with that later.

On the contrary, they have two hours before the boys and Ghouls come back home; the perfect amount of time for three more rounds.