#sister imperator fanfiction

[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.

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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.

[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

[leezlelatch]

[MESSAGE FROM THE CLERGY]

We wish to inform you that the new Sibling of Sin Welcome Packets are here!

Take your first step into the Ministry by using the enclosed character sheets to introduce us to your OC or self-insert! It is not limited to Siblings; Ghouls, Papa OCs, etc. are more than welcome. You will notice that there is a polaroid attached - artists, please feel free to draw your character! For non-artists, there is a version without the polaroid. Picrews or other character creators are encouraged! Make it your own!

You will also find a Schedule of Events and Ministry Etiquette to follow during your stay.

This is all fun and fan-made, and I hope you all enjoy using it for roleplays, stories, or to just show us how cool you are!

Enjoy!

[st-danger]

Saint what do you think about cumulus helping sister imperator have her first lesbian experience

It's strange to see her nervous. Cumulus has never known Imperator to be anything but put together, unflappable except for the times she loses her temper, though those are rare. It doesn't happen often, and that's probably why it's as effective a motivator as it is. But here she is, spread out on her four poster, looking as unsure and hesitant as Cumulus imagines she might have the first time someone took her to bed, decades ago. There's a confidence in herself that still shines through; no shyness about her body, no concern that she isn't somewhere in her mid-twenties anymore. She is as she has always been- herself and lovely, as enticing older as she was younger. There's a small bit of red lipstick on her teeth where she'd chewed her lower lip while Cumulus had stripped her, peeled away her bra and left her in nothing but her satin panties.

Cumulus ducks her head, nuzzling at her exposed breasts and runs her tongue across a nipple, smiling at the sharp inhalation it earns her.

"I've always been curious about you," she admits, and seals her lips around it to suck it.

Manicured nails drag gently over her back as Imperator touches her with growing boldness, caressing before threading through Cumulus's hair, stroking through the waves while her nipple gets hard against a clever tongue. Nursing at her until Cumulus feels her squirm, and then she pulls off to lean in to the other, drawing the point of her nose against it before taking it into her mouth, too.

"Have you really," Imperator breathes, though it's unclear as to if it's a question or a statement. She already sounds weak enough where it could go either way. Cumulus just hums and continues pleasuring her there, warming her up slowly but surely. Making sure she'll be hot against her tongue by the time she finally works her way down there. When she pulls off and sits back up, she can't help the smile at the flush on her face.

"Sensitive there?"

"Yes," Imperator says softly. Both of her nipples are taught and pointy, inviting for Cumulus to reach for and roll gently between her thumb and pointer finger.

"Mine too," Cumulus says, and takes Imperator's hand, brings it up to her tits, and Imperator cups her, gives her a gentle squeeze. Not hesitant, but curious. So curious. Feeling, playing. Cumulus mirrors her, flicking her nipple the way Imperator does hers, and it takes no time at all for her to pick up on that. An easy way to teach Cumulus exactly what she likes. Interesting, that she should be so outspoken about everything but still have difficulty finding words for this. It makes her ache, to see the vulnerability and arousal tied with a bow before her.

Fingertips trailing down her chest, down her stomach. Playing at the top of her underwear, a sweet tease, and then brushing over the soft swell of her mound, in between, until she has the bump of a clit pressed against the pad of her finger. Imperator jolts, bites her lip again.

"I bet it's pretty," Cumulus smiles, and circles it while Imperator blinks up at her, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths she tries to keep deep. "Bet you get nice and pink here." She doesn't expect an answer, not verbally. But she enjoys the way Imperator continues to fondle her chest, slow and bolder, alternating between stroking across and pinching her nipples just hard enough to keep it interesting. Around the bump of her clit, and down, in between the outline of her lips. The panties are a soft lavender; easy to see a wet spot if she can coax one out before she takes them off.

"That's nice," Imperator says, bringing her hand back to herself, to squeeze and grope at her breasts while Cumulus teases her through the satin.

"Do you prefer fingers or tongue?" she asks, and wiggles her finger back and forth over her clit, which- oh, which is definitely starting to feel more pronounced below the material. The pretty thing will be swollen and hard for her in no time. Back and forth, hard and then soft, rubbing and rubbing while the flush on Imperator's face deepens. Easier to feel in no time at all. Easier to see the bump of it as it fattens up and begs for touch, pressing back up against her finger.

"Can I be selfish and ask for both?"

Cumulus cups her, reassuring and sweet, and settles between her legs to press her face against her cunt, nuzzling against the material, smelling her.

[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! 🦇✨

[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.

[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! 💓

[angellayercake]

the perks of working for papa

papa emeritus iii x female reader | NSFW | part one

the terzo brain rot continues. technically this comes before part one but you can enjoy it either way!

You watched as the second hand ticked closer and closer to ten o’clock, the time of his scheduled meeting with Sister Imperator. He was going to be late, again, and you were starting to run out of reasonable excuses to cover for him. You watch the blinking cursor, the beginnings of your email of apology for his absence waiting in your drafts, when the door finally crashes open. 

‘Sorella, buongiorno!’ He cries as he deposits a coffee for you onto your desk before crashing into his own office. ‘And what a busy morning I have had so far…’ he continues as he starts to bang around his office, seemingly oblivious to the time and the fact he should be on the other side of the Abbey in Imperator’s office. 

‘Papa?’ You attempt to interrupt but he pays you no mind carrying on with his story as if he couldn’t hear you. 

‘And then I said to Copia…’ He comes back into the room heading over to the full length mirror next to the door, completely unphased by anything around him. He admires his reflection, straightening an errant lock of hair, checking his freshly applied paint before smoothing down the barely visible creases in his jacket. Taking this as a sign he might be about to leave for his appointment, you try to interject again.  

‘Papa, you have a meeting scheduled,’ he barely even stops to catch his breath but does turn his attention to the pile of letters in his post box by the door. He flicks through them quickly, pulling faces as he skims the subjects before dropping the whole lot onto your desk without skipping a beat of his story.  

‘So it turned out that I didn’t even have time for breakfast Sorella! Can you imagine?’ He looks at you finally, clearly expecting some reaction from you and when you can only look at him in confusion he shrugs before continuing on. ‘So I said to Omega…’ The clock hits five past ten already and you can’t let this go on any longer. 

‘Papa!’ You finally shout loud enough to pause his diatribe. You have his full attention now and if the smirk pulling at his lips was any indication he had been deliberately ignoring your increasingly urgent interruptions. ‘Papa,’ you continue, tone more even and polite and he inclines his head towards you while perching on the edge of your desk. 

‘You have a meeting with Sister imperator that started five minutes ago,’ you inform him, reaching for your coffee and taking a sip. It’s exactly how you like it and it warms you that he has paid attention to such a small detail. Glancing up at him you realise he hasn’t reacted to your statement at all, and is simply watching you enjoy your coffee.

‘Well Sorella if you had listened to me instead of worrying, you would have an explanation for my tardiness.’ He raises his eyebrows and jokingly wags his gloved finger at you before standing and starting to pace up and down in the space before your desk. ‘You see my morning was so hectic, as I explained, that I had to skip breakfast!’ You try not to giggle at his exaggerated pout of disappointment but it is almost impossible. ‘And as you know Sorella, I can’t possibly go to a meeting without having breakfast.’ 

‘They do say it's the most important meal of the day.’ You concede wondering where he is going with this. He gestures towards you to emphasise his agreement with you, before holding his hands behind his back and making his way towards your side of the desk. 

‘Si, I agree, so could you help me with this Sorella?’ He leans back against the desk so close you could almost touch him and you wonder what exactly he is angling for. ‘Make sure I am well fed before I start my work for the day?’ The request has you rolling your eyes slightly, he had time to fetch you both coffee but not to get his own breakfast. You push back your chair but before you can get up he grabs hold of the arm of your chair keeping you from moving any further away. ‘And where do you think you are going?’ Confusion washes over you, his actions and the way he is looking at you making you feel as though you are missing something. His mismatched eyes sparkle and the corner of his lips pull up into a lopsided smirk. ‘What do you think I usually have for breakfast Sorella?’ 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was finally where he had been dreaming of all morning, between someone's legs and he was going to make the most of it. He took a deep breath, catching the scent of her arousal and his mouth started watering. He loved when his partners enjoyed his teasing, when they got as riled up as he did. Her thighs were shaking slightly in anticipation and he hadn’t even touched her yet, he was barely close enough for her to feel his over excited breathing. He couldn’t wait to find out how she will react when his mouth was on her. 

He slides off his gloves wanting her to feel his fingers rather than the soft gloves he favoured day to day. He started at her knees, sliding up the hem of her habit as he went, tracing abstract patterns into her skin, following her veins and criss-crossing to touch all the moles and marks that made her an individual. As he reached her sensitive inner thighs she tried to jump her thighs closed, the too soft pressure of his finger tips tickling and on the verge of unpleasant. He firms his grip spreading her legs even further so he is finally face to face with her pussy. 

This close he can see where the damp spot is already forming but he wants he sodden before he removes her panties. It’s the best way to keep her scent in them for as long as possible after he confiscates them. He gives into his temptation though and presses his nose to her through the damp fabric and inhales deeply. He groans, already feeling his will power for teasing slipping away as she subtly moves her hips against him, grinding her clit against the bridge of his nose. He follows her lead pressing the tip of his nose to her and pointedly circling just around where she really wants him.  

He can feel her getting wetter through the fabric, smearing the paint on his nose but he couldn’t care less. He pulls back, blowing gently against her until she shivers, taking in the way the material has begun to mould to the shape of her pussy. He wanted, no, he needed to taste her so he slowly peeled off her underwear so she was perfectly bare for him. He slips them from her ankles admiring the shape of her legs for a moment before slipping the now perfectly soiled panties into his pocket, for later. 

‘Please Papa,’ she whimpered above him half muffled by the desktop between them but he had to have a moment. Now her panties were removed he could take her in with no obstructions. A trail of slick beads from her entrance and he gives in for the both of them following it with the tip of his tongue until he can dip into her entrance. She gasps her whole body tensing as one of her hands weaves itself into his hair. She tries to guide him, encourage him onwards but now he hasher he wants to linger. As this is to be his first and favourite meal of the day he is going to savour it, nothing, no meeting was more important than this. 

He opens his mouth wide, losing himself in the taste of her, flattening his tongue so he can lick her from her entrance to her clit slow enough that they can both feel every inch of contact. Pulling back for a moment to breath he presses sloppy kisses to the creases of her thighs, sucking marks into her delicate skin. He follows her outline on his way to her clit where he starts working in earnest circling and licking and sucking, his moans vibrating through her. Her grip in his hair pulls and her thighs tighten around his shoulders, all working together to keep him close and bring her to her climax. She comes on his tongue and he fervently laps at her not wanting to waste a drop of her pleasure and already pushing her through her post orgasmic sensitivity.

Time is meaningless when he is here, seconds or hours could pass and all that he would know is the pleasure. He is hard, he always is when gets to pleasure someone this way but his pleasure is always secondary. The more lost he gets in her the less he notices going on around him. Her pleasured sounds filter through the furniture and his mental fog, encouraging him on. So consumed is he, he doesn’t register the angry footsteps in the hallway or the aggressive knock on the door.

[tasty-ribz]

CHOOSE YOUR FIGHTER  PAPA

me and you all

[drapopia]

a day in the life (cardinal copia standalone)

pairing: no pairing

warnings: mild language, terzo brings up in passing that he might get laid tonight

summary: Cardinal Copia is a strange man, but not an unkind man. Often nervous, but with a tendency to read people better than they could perceive of him. It's easy to wonder; just what exactly does this enigmatic man do in a day?

additional note: This is set before the Chapters, Copia has no idea he is related to his brothers, Sister Imperator, or Papa Nihil. But he has his suspicions.

word count: 3.6k

authors note: i want to eat copia alive. also this is my first time writing something like this, so comments and feedback are always extremely appreciated! thank you for taking an interest, i hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3

———————————————

The dawn is breaking through the sheer curtains on the window, illuminating the dust motes in the air. The small television on the coffee table is still on from the night before, Super Mario 64 still loaded on the screen with the main menu. In front of the television set is a small bed, cloaked in a red duvet, and barely visible under the billowing blanket is a pillow swathed in a Star Wars pillowcase. Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader are locked in a stare, a mental battle of fortitude and will. The inhabitant of this room is in a similar mental war with himself. 

Under the blankets Copia is stretched out, one leg up to his stomach while the other one is stretched out like a stick. His cheek is level with his sheets, his lashes languidly brushing the linen below him while he thinks. He knows the first of his alarms is about to go off, his mental clock telling him it is just now turning 6:15, perhaps even 6:10. He knows he has to get up, but he’s dreading leaving the warm confines of his bed. Maybe I could manage to take a small nap between paperwork and my meeting with Imperator today…  He thinks to himself Oh, but I have a Latin for beginners class to sit in and observe for the Siblings certifications… He groans lightly under his breath as he resists the urge to curse, slowly curling into a ball, reaching his hand upwards to peel the duvet back and let his head peek through. He scans the room, not wanting to leave his bed. He blinks once, twice, clearing the sleep from his brain as best he could.

A deep sigh. Knowing he can avoid the day ahead no longer, he throws the duvet off, shivering at the chill of the small room. He knew that Primo rose even earlier than him, and chuckled at the thought of the older man watering his plants in the chill of the early morning dew. Maybe he should swing by the gardens on his way to his office, and say a brief good morning. Compared to his brothers, one stern and the other vivacious, he was slightly more down to earth. (As much as a prolific leader of the church can be.) While he wonders about how he can fit this encounter into his morning, he stretches, promptly cracking his back, a groan creeping out from his mouth. 

Copia pulls himself up, and begins his slow trek to the small personal bathroom he has, staring into the mirror. “A small trim of my mustache, maybe? How else will I keep the Siblings in line?” He chuckles to himself, running his fingers along his jaw. His sideburns could use a small shave, a bit unruly for Copia’s taste. 

 From the other room his alarm goes off, and he makes a light jog to his nightstand. He doesn’t use his phone much, but he has gotten the hang of setting up his alarms. Better than the one before, that nuisance, he thinks to himself. A small chorus of squeaks erupts from the corner of the room, the small chimes of the alarm waking his rats. 

“Yes my little ones, I will feed you soon! As soon as your papa gets clean, I will start your morning.” Copia coos from across the room, and walks back to his shower, turning on the water as hot as it will go. As steam fills the room, he takes the time to walk to the cage across the room in order to stave off the beginning of his busy day. He pops the cage lid on top of it, and reaches his hand in. 

The most mischievous, Sandro, runs up to his hand and gives a curious sniff. Copia runs his hand along Sandro’s spine, the approving wheet wheets making Copias’ lips curl into a soft smile. Francesca, the smallest of his rats, gingerly pats up to his hand and sniffs eagerly. He douses her in gentle scratches on the top of her head. In the corner of the cage his other two (quite large, admittedly) rats, Ira and Faustus, sleep in a delicate heap. 

“Oh, so sweet! I will have to swipe you all some blueberries from the kitchens, the kitchen ghouls will not mind… hopefully. Heh.” He makes a small grimace, remembering the last time a ghoul had seen him sneak out with snacks in the dead of night. They had not said anything, but the silence and their almost hypnotic stare made the embarrassment feel worse than a verbal lashing. Reluctantly, Copia closed the cage latch, and walked to the bathroom. He sighed, swiping his hands over his face. The day must begin, he thought to himself. 

-

Copia whined to himself, dropping his head into his hands. He wishes he had stayed in bed, damnit. His day had not been going… south per se, just definitely wonky. 

Papa Emeritus the III had clapped him on the shoulder earlier after their morning meeting, smiling with a small look of gracious pity.

“Cardinal, you do too much of the worrying, si? You are almost as bad as Secondo, just less of the frowning, of course.” He looked at Copia, whose eyebrows had drawn up in worry. “I guarantee you that the day will proceed as calmly as you wish for it to. You may even have time for one of your mid-afternoon naps you enjoy so much.” 

Copia had only sighed. “Perhaps, Papa. I will have to try to pencil it in.” Mentally he threw the idea away as he realized there would be absolutely no time for a catnap after planning his week's itinerary at the meeting they had just left from.��

Papa chuckled. “Of course you should! The Dark One encourages indulgence, who are we to deny his will?” His gaze turned inquisitive as he gazed at Copia. “Have you spoken to my brother about the arrangements for the sermon tomorrow morning? We have run out of black salt.” 

“Please be more specific Papa, you have two brothers.” Copia said, quickly mentally giggling to himself. Probably more from the way Nihil whored himself out all those years ago. But who am I to say, I do not know these things! Copia had to quickly bite his cheek, a nasty habit, as he stopped himself from giggling aloud. 

None the wiser to Copia’s internal quips, Papa Emeritus the III shrugged nonchalantly. “I mean Secondo of course, he is always so fussy about his sermons! Going on and on, he does. I am always asleep by the end, melted to the floor like his precious candles.” Papa smiled at Copia. “I am only joking, you know this? It is always my father who is slumped in the pews.”  

Copia let a cautious grin cover his face at that. Many times he had seen Papa Nihil hunched over in the front pew during midnight mass, curiously still with a measured rise and fall of his back. 

Terzo stopped sharply and turned to the Cardinal as they reached the end of the hallway. “Well, our little chat was nice, but I should be going now. Siblings to talk to, calls to make. You understand.” 

Copia nodded, “Of course Papa, perhaps I’ll see you later?” Copia didn’t mind talking to people, in fact, he looked forward to it. He just often found himself saying the wrong thing at inopportune times. While Terzo was a colorful horndog, he was good fun on occasion. It was more so that Copia hated crowds, he had since he was a child. It was always better for him to rush in and get out as quickly as he could, or wait behind the back of the queue for everyone to trickle out. But he knew Terzo had his side he hid, the one that Copia had only seen when they spoke quietly with a sense of brother-like urgency.

Terzo smiled, his eyes warm as he looked at Copia. “If our paths cross! I will see you at dinner, most likely.” He claps Copia on the shoulder. “If I am not having another meal in my quarters.” He smirks, and makes to saunter off, leaving Copia with only the thought of chasing down Papa Emeritus the II and inquiring about his taste in candles, and preparations for the Black Mass at the end of the week. 

It is now that Copia sits at his desk, his forehead resting on his steepled hands. I will die under a sea of paper. He thinks to himself, and his stomach gives a plaintive growl. With how his day was going, he had only had time to scarf down two cornettos before the early morning meeting, and had been surviving on coffee with cream and an egregious amount of sugar. The caffeine did little to serve him, it only made the absence of food worse. He knew these things, and yet here he was, sipping out of his small saucer of a drink that barely qualified as coffee anymore. 

He sighed, and leaned back in his chair, blinking his eyes which felt syrupy with sleep. He reached his hands up and took off his biretta, running his hands through his mousy brown hair. Maybe he’d have time to take a nice long bath tonight, curl up and pamper his babies? Maybe drive Miss Daisy? He opened his eyes and looked at the mess of expense reports he was currently sorting through. He leaned forward and rested his head against his desk, the cool wood welcoming. Maybe he could rest his eyes for just a few moments, just a break for his brain… 

-----

“-inal. Cardinal!” 

Copia awoke with a start, his biretta slipping off his head and drifting to the ground pitifully. He flung his body up and jerked his head up to meet the person who woke him up. Papa Emeritus the I stood towering over him, his posture still domineering even in his old age. He stared at Copia, his eyes curiously questioning in the low light of his office- wait. How late was it?

Copia swung his head towards the window and gasped. “Papa! I am so sorry, I- shit.” Embarrassment overtook him. “I, eh, was resting my eyes. The reports and such, they can be, eh… challenging.” Copia angled his face back towards Primo, feeling his face flush. To be caught slacking in his duties by one of the senior most Clergy members… he would think about this moment for years to come. As the owner of the second most employee of the months awards, he hoped this wouldn’t be jotted down in a performance report. 

Papa’s eyes shone in the ambient light of Copia’s tableside lamp, and his face softened by a portion. “Cardinal, it is not as late as you think it is. From the state of your hair, I only think it has been about, hm, twenty minutes or so since you drifted into sleep?” Copia let out an exhale, yet Primo continued. “I only closed the blinds for you. Tell me, do you perhaps have the schedule for next weeks’ pumpkin carving activities for the younger siblings? I need to prepare for the pumpkin harvest with the ghouls.” 

Copia nodded and scrabbled amongst the files on his desk, gingerly pulling out the paper and handing it toward Primo, who deftly took it. 

“Thank you, Cardinal.” Primo spoke firmly, gazing briefly around the room and then looking back at Copia. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your day, I will have a Sibling drop this schedule off here after I’m done looking through.” 

“Of course Papa, take your time” Copia was still fighting off the mortification that Primo had caught him asleep, especially since he was prone to drooling when deep in sleep. He would have to check his desk for any slobber once Papa had made his exit. 

Primo nodded, and walked towards the door to his office, and Copia took the chance while his back was turned to scan the desk for any drool. Luckily, he only saw papers, papers, and more papers. 

“Oh and, Cardinal?” 

Copia perked up and looked towards Papa. “Yes, Papa?”

Papa Emeritus the I smiled, his white eye held a subtle twinkle, belying his age. “You are lucky mio fratello did not find you sleeping on the job. He would never let you hear the end of it.” He swiftly turned to open the door, and slipped out, the door closing with a soft click.

Copia simply nodded, his ears were surely bright red. He hurriedly ran his fingers through his hair, and dropped his head onto his desk. “Shit, I just-ugh!” He was indeed lucky that Secondo had not caught him, the disapproving look and talking to he would have received would have ripped him in two. He just wanted this day to be over, and it was only 2 o’clock! Though he hadn’t smoked one since his novitiate classes, he could go for a cigarette right about now.

He rose up and took a deep breath. He couldn’t wait to be back in his bed, watching a movie, maybe playing his games, and curling up in his sweats. He would light a candle maybe, and then he would slip into blissful sleep. But for now, the work of the Cardinal was not done. Copia picked himself up with a small puff of air, and pushed in his chair behind him. He needed to go supervise the Latin class, and then check on the preparations for midnight mass for later in the week. He wanted nothing more than a nice coffee. 

-

Compared to earlier when Copia had wanted a coffee, now all he wanted was a stiff pineapple daiquiri. The sit-in observation at the Latin lesson had gone well (The siblings were sure to pass their certifications with flying colors, Sister Bianca was good at what she did).

However, the midnight mass preparations had gone to shit. The candles the clergy usually used were out of stock, and they weren’t with their current stock. He had even tried to call in a favor with their usual supplier, and they were too stretched thin even with the wiggle room they had. Not for the first time that day, he was beginning to think of just hiding in a nearby storage closet. Not that he had done that before, surely not. (Only once or twice, though he would never speak it aloud).

He made his way to Secondo’s office, his papers nervously crinkled in his hands. He often had the bad habit of wrinkling his papers in thought, and then discovering that they were bent every which way when he inspected them later. Thankfully, no one had ever commented on it, but he had received no shortage of stern looks from his instructors as a young man. 

His feet had led him to Secondo’s office, and he stood there contemplating whether or not to turn around and simply sprint to the nearest room and hide. While he wasn’t actually scared of him, he didn’t want to disappoint him. Copia never wanted to disappoint anyone. Sister had always told him he needed to keep in mind that there will always be somebody who will be disappointed. While these words did little to comfort him, they never really had , he knew they were true. It didn’t lessen the fact that Copia wanted to give good news whenever possible.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand to knock on the door when it opened. Copia was only slightly shorter than Secondo, but he still had to raise his head up to meet his eyes. Papa Emeritus’ eyes stared back, his eyes glowering down at Copia. 

“Cardinal, I thought I heard you outside. Please, come in.” His baritone voice floated through the air, and Copia nodded quickly. 

As he stepped inside Secondo’s office, he found himself slightly relaxing. The scent of incense was strong, but not overwhelming. The lighting in the room was minimal, the only sources being the tall lamp adjacent to his desk, and the curtains that blocked the large window to his left. He shuffled in, sitting down at the plush green armchair in front of Papa. 

“So, Cardinal,” Secondo said, letting out a huff as he sat down in his own chair opposite Copia. His hands rose, steepled under his chin as he gazed evenly at Copia. “How are the candle orders for Mass this week coming along?”

Copia sighed, his hands coming to rest on his lap. “Papa, I will not lie, they are… not promising.” He said quickly. 

“Oh? And what exactly is not promising about them?” Papa spoke quietly, his hands uncrossing from under his chin and reaching out, gesturing for the papers currently in Copia’s hands. 

“I have been unable to get in contact with anyone who has them in stock. Papa, I don’t suppose you know anyone?” He leaned forward, handing the manilla file of papers to him. He was hoping, praying even, that Secondo might be able to help him. Besides the expense reports still sitting menacingly on his desk back in his office, Copia still had to sort through the mail he had received during the weekend. 

Secondo hummed, his gloved fingers flicking through the order forms. “I do.” He said simply, his eyes still looking over the papers Copia had handed him. “I can get in touch with someone. Consider it done, I’ll have a ghoul drop the finished form off in your office by the morning.” He locked eyes with Copia, a subtle smirk on his lips. “They didn’t let you call in your favor from last year, hm?” 

Copia shook his head, his anxiety rapidly fading. “No, they did not. They said they didn’t know what I was talking about, I think it may have been a lie.” He chuckled softly. 

Secondo scoffed, letting the papers fall from his hands back into the manilla folder on his desk. “Inutile (useless). We need to change providers, I believe.” 

Copia sighed, nodding quickly. “I agree, Papa. Thank you for your help.” He smiled softly at him. 

Secondo nodded, a subtle smile sent towards Copia. “Of course, Cardinal.” He cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow at him. “Now, I believe you have some expense reports from Terzo’s trip to Los Angeles to work through. I wouldn’t want to be you, especially with how much that idiota (idiot) spends on his hotel rooms. How a man could need that many extra towels is beyond me.” He shook his head with a barely audible scoff, leaning back in his chair and letting his eyes close. Copia could see where the papal paint around his eyes had begun to crease, the wrinkled skin underneath peeking through. But just as quickly as he had seen it, Secondo had met his gaze once more. 

Copia rose from his chair, ignoring the twinge in his lower back. “Yes, Papa, of course.” He nodded once more towards him, and then walked quickly to his office door. He heard Secondo sigh from behind him, and the scratch of his pen against paper. And as Copia closed the door as quietly as he could manage, he let out a deep breath. One less thing off of his plate, he said to himself.

—

And just as quickly as the day seemed to slide downhill, it leveled out just as quickly. Copia briskly walked down the Abbey hall, looking to his right to gaze out the window as he passed by. The gentle rays of the last hours of sunlight shone through the glass, just soft enough to light the way without blinding him. Through the sunlight he could see the nearby forest, the green boughs of leaves bouncing in the summer breeze. He could see dots of picnic blankets dotting the courtyard, no doubt Siblings and ghouls wanting to take in the weather while they could. And even when the sun fell down below the skyline, he knew those same people would lay under the waning gibbous until the lightning bugs went to sleep. 

Copia smiled to himself. His reports were done, his belly full from the light dinner he had with Sister in the corner of the dining hall, and his back had popped when he rose from his office chair earlier. No more candle crisis either! 

As he opened the door to his quarters, bumping the door open with his hip as he held onto the small plate of fruit, he grinned at the sound of his rats squeaking from the corner. 

“Yes, I hear you bambini (babies), I have a surprise!” He cooed as he shut the door, quickly walking over the elaborate setup in the corner. All of his precious rats were up, their delightful little faces peering curiously through the bars. Ira and Faustus were now awake, pawing at the wire. Copia set the plate of fruit down on the adjacent nightstand, his hands quickly unfastening the top of the cage so he could look in from above. 

“Ah, sì, naturalmente, (yes, of course). I have not forgotten my promise! Look at all of you.” He whispered, his hands dipping into the soft bedding below to pick up Francesca. He holds her to his chest, reaching one hand over to grab a piece of diced apple. He hands it to her, a delighted smile gracing his face as he watches her small paws gingerly hold the apple and raise it to nibble upon. 

“Yes, cara ragazza, it’s all for you. Don’t gorge yourself.” He giggles, his hands holding her close to his chest as her tail wraps around his wrist for safety. His rats below squeak plaintively, clearly offended that he had picked Francesca up first. He laughs at the way Sandro has risen onto his back feet, reaching out to him. 

“Yes, you will all have some, I promise. Abbi pazienza! (Have patience!).” He shakes his head in false exasperation, his heart swelling with the warm feeling of a day well done, a duty well fulfilled. 

And he also has time to play Dr. Mario.

[imsatu]

Papas' mothers

i need to warm up my writing and i got inspired, so here’s what i think the papas’ mothers could've been like

these are all maybes and what ifs, they’re not really my hcs just things that i came up with, also i like sister imperator, even though it might not look like it from the things i wrote hehe

cw: maybe it gets a bit nsfw? but not heavy, it's a just in case, also rhrn spoilers, again just in case

Primo: his conception was one of the first duties nihil had to carry out, conceive an heir to the position, that’s why primo is much older than the rest

nihil had to select a sister of sin from a thoroughly sorted group out of the women of the satanist convent, being a great honor to all of them to be even considered for the position. he ended up picking a beautiful, blonde woman with bright, blue eyes, arched nose and plump lips, and a serious and solemn demeanor (the one that resembled sister imperator the most). it didn’t take long until she became pregnant. as a mother, she was stern and preoccupied in rising the perfect heir for the role of papa, and made sure primo grew being able to carry out his papal duties perfectly

Secondo: he came a few years after primo, product of a sudden (and a bit of frowned upon) relationship with a sister of sin. still, the clergy had to accept him as the heir he was, but secondo felt the subtle rejection of the anti-church, even from his mother, as life practically fell apart around her because of the affair with nihil (big part of which sister imperator made sure happened, out of jealousy). his mother was never important in his life, and was raised by other sisters of sin along with primo. the hard time he had during his childhood, adding to the pressure of becoming papa helped turn him into the party-animal, miserable, wounded, and bitter old man he was known for.

Terzo: his mother wasn’t a sister of sin, like his older brothers, in this case, it was a fan of the ghost project from when nihil was the frontman. she followed them around for the concerts and ended up pregnant, terzo being born in the midst of the chaos of tours and rituals, which he loved. his mother helped him become not only the best papa he could be, but also and most importantly, the best rockstar. since he was a kid, she helped him come up with his skull makeup, enrolled him in music lessons, and transmitted to him a burning passion for stages and glamor, so when he became frontman of ghost, he made sure to make his mama proud

Copia: we all know who copia’s mom is, but, how was sister imperator as a mother? she just wasn’t. when she found out she was having twins she had to come to the most complicated decision she ever had to take, as she wouldn’t be able to be a mother to twins and also fulfill her job as sister imperator. so, she decided to surrender her children to the sisters of sin, the same ones that had raised the three papas. she made sure that nobody, including both of her babies would ever know who their real parents were, thinking that she was protecting them, and made sure to give them a good life, making copia a cardinal and later papa emeritus. 

what about the other twin? until we meet them, any theory could be our best guess. maybe they died (following the story of romulus and remus that it seems copia and a few songs make reference to), maybe they decided to leave the clergy, who knows

[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.

[papas-being-papas]

The Beginning There is a loud knock on the ministry door, causing Sister Imperator to sigh heavily and flip down her newspaper.

“Secondo!” She shouts, “Get the door!”

“I'm busy!” Secondo yells back, brushing his favorite doll's hair.

Sister Imperator groans and casts a sidelong glance at Primo before getting up and going to the door herself and pulling it open.

“I'm very sorry miss but-” she starts, only to get cut off by the irate woman.

“Take this fucking thing” the woman says shoving a baby in sister's hands “it's that fucking soccer one's kid”

“Soccer? Not a single one of my kids plays sports, do you mean Secando?”

“Ya! That's the bitch, Tell him to take his kid, I've done enough.” She snaps, as she throws her hands in the air and leaves.

Sister stands there for a moment, a blank stare on her face as she takes in the information.

“SECONDO! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!” She screeches, waking up the baby who starts to cry.

“I'm busy!” He yells back

“NO THE FUCK YOU ARE NOT! GET DOWN HERE OR I'M COMING UP!”

“Okay! Okay! I'm coming, woman!” He calls as he sets down the doll and stomps down the stairs, “What do you waaaaannnn-” he starts but cuts himself off when he sees the baby in her in her arms. His eyes go wide.

“Care to explain?” She asks as she holds the crying infant towards him.

“Thatsnontmine.” He replies a little too quickly.

“Mhm.” she says doubtfully.

Terzo pauses his walk down the hallway as he hears the commotion and he walks over towards Sister. He looks at the scene before his eyes land on the baby, “Is that a fuckin’ baby?”

Sister doesn't reply as she shoves the baby into Terzo's hands as Secondo takes off and she takes off after him.

Terzo looks down at the crying infant and starts to bounce him to try and soothe him, as his husbands walk into the room hearing the commotion, their jaws drop seeing Terzo with the baby.

“Did you give fucking birth?!” Alpha cries out.

“You think I did what?!” Terzo shrieks in shock.

“You know? Give birth. That thing your mother did and that's why you're here.” Omega asks as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I can't give birth!” Terzo cries absolutely flabbergasted.

“What do you mean you can't?” Alpha asks genuinely surprised.

“What do you mean I can?” Terzo retorts, as Secondo runs past them, pushing Terzo and the baby into Omega as Sister follows close behind him.

Secondo races up the stairs and down the hall past Copia’s room. Causing Copia to pop his head out curiously and see Secondo running. He looks back and sees Sister Imperator barling towards him.

“Oh shit!” Copia yells as he takes off in a dead run in the same direction as Secondo.

As they run through the ministry they pass Copia's ghouls (who were playing uno) who look up from their game and see Copia running and follow suit.

They come up on a hallway and start running Scooby-Doo style through the doors, no rhyme or reason.

Sister Imperator skids to a halt, staring in almost awe at the scene before her. She tries to see if she can find her target as they all crash into each other and end up in a pile on the ground.

“Copia?” She asks, confused, “What are you doing?”

“Running.” He says, almost guilty.

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Why?”

“Because Secondo was?” He offers softly.

“And your ghouls?” She asks more exasperatedly.

“When did my ghouls get here?” Copia asks, looking around.

Sister was about to try and get an answer, when she spots Secondo across the hall. She jumps over the pile of ghouls and Copia to continue her chase.

Secondo loops back around towards the stairs, and as he's barreling down, Sister grabs his arm, finally putting an end to the chase.

Terzo and the others look over at the two of them.

“Care to explain what all this is about?” Terzo asks, seeming already annoyed.

“This dipshit,” she says, holding up Secondo's arm, “didn't wear a condom.”

Terzo makes a face and holds the baby a bit further away from his chest. “So what do we do with it?”

Sister is quiet for a moment, looking at the now giggling baby in Terzo's arms, “Well, for now you and your husbands can take care of it.”

Terzo was about to protest when he feels both of his husbands wrap an arm around him, clearly excited by the idea.

Which causes him to sigh, “Oh alright.”

[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

[puuuders]

In Pursuit of Something Better (18+) (Masterpost)

Terzo and his ghouls revolt against the Clergy.

Theme: Angst/smut

CW: Racism, abuse, NSFW, death

A/N: There are some time adjustments to fit my narrative lol. Some things don't line up in actual lore, but that is the fun in fanfiction.

Read on AO3

Part one

Part two

Part three

Part four

Part five

Part six

Part seven

Part eight

Part nine

Part ten