#sister imperator x papa nihil

[citrus-wall-paint]

biggest fumble of all time 🤦

[emeritus-fuckers]

hello hi!! i was wondering if it would be possible to request some young imperator/young nihil relationship hcs(preferably non-angsty)? i am shaking them around i love them so much but there’s such little content

Young Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator relationship headcanons

He/him pronouns used for Papa Nihil. She/her

Honestly, for a brief moment, they were a somewhat happy pair.

Nihil managed to get Imperator to actually have fun and loosed up while she got him to do his goddamn job for once.

They had some issues, as all couples do.

Imperator was not the best with her feeling and emotions back then, mostly due to how she was "raised" by the Director. She was somewhat distant and unsure when it came to romance.

Nihil, on the other hand, would always pour his heart out. He would give his all into his relationship. And then even more.

In a way, they completed each other. Imperator was the (usually) calm one, while Nihil is the one getting into situations because of how passionate he was.

Naturally, their differences in temper and how they were raised can make the relationship difficult, but they would always end up together somehow, unable to leave the other for good.

Admittedly, it was usually Nihil who came back crying and Imperator just would just sigh and cuddle it out with his clingy self.

Nihil is one of the very few people who know Imperator's original name. The one given to her by her parents, rather than the one given by the Director.

He got it tattooed, actually. In a small, decorative font, right over his heart, where she would lay her head at night.

Sister is a cardiophiliac, so she would listen to Nihil's heart to soothe herself to sleep. For a while, it seemed to be the only thing helping her insomnia.

Nihil would always get all blushy whenever she fell asleep on him, too. Giddy and blushy.

(He also cums very quickly with her but that's besides the point.)

They'd sneak out to concerts together.

Nihil is more into softer songs and tunes while Imperator has always been into rock and metal, which inspired Nihil to try making his songs in a more rock-like fashion.

Imperator was the one to design Nihil's Papal paints.

It was also her joke that lead to him choosing white and gold as the colors of his robes.

You see, she made a joke that he'd be the one wearing a wedding gown if they ever got married. And since, as Papa, he would have to be married in his robes, he went with the closest thing he could get.

Yes, these two were thinking of marriage at one point, even if it was mostly either late night sleepy talking or jokes.

Also, I disagree with the sentiment shared in the fandom that Imperator hated Nihil's kids.

I'm gonna fight y'all on slandering my wife like that.

I'd like to think that despite the slight awkwardness and obvious distance, she was actually really fond of them while Nihil and her were a thing.

And even after they broke up, while she wasn't as fond of them anymore (especially Terzo, who looked just like Nihil), she still remained civil to them.

Y'all can fight me on this, by the way.

Sister Imperator did nothing wrong.

~

Written by Nosferatu.

[loveatfirstsightbracket]

Why you should vote for each of them below:

One of the most popular music videos shows the backstory of the characters, who are the matriarch and patriarch of the fictional version of the Satanic Church for which Ghost serves as something of a "worship band" - despite apparently being strangers to each other, immediately upon catching each other's eyes, Sister & Nihil are physically drawn to each other and not only become the Main Characters of the dance party they're attending, but shortly thereafter become further entangled in a ritual meant to raise Nihil up to his proper role as the Antichrist-like leader of the Satanic Church that Sister serves as a high-ranking member of. But, of course, don't take my word for it, when you can watch it unfold here!!: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Gr63DiEUxw

-- @imperatorium, on Nihilperator

We all know the tragedy and we all are obsessed with it. So you know why you need to vote for the love story. Why do you need to vote for it as an example for 'love at first sight'? Well, just because of this conversation:

HERMES: You wanna talk to her? ORPHEUS: Yes! HERMES: Go on. Orpheus? ORPHEUS: Yes? HERMES: Don't come on too strong.

ORPHEUS: Come home with me. EURYDICE: Who are you? ORPHEUS: The man who's gonna marry you. I'm Orpheus. EURYDICE: Is he always like this? HERMES: Yes.

And one song later, she's just as smitten <3

-- anon, on Orpheus/Eurydice

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 Who knew that a pentagram birthmark would be the source of Imperator's pain and biggest secret?

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 Pentagram.

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩(𝐬) Past Sister Imperator x Papa Emeritus Nihil, Cardinal Copia/Papa Emeritus IV x GN!Reader.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 Suggestive at the start but no actual smut, Imperator slapping Nihil, Nihil is an asshole, Copia is oblivious about who his parents really are but reader kinda figures it out, open ending because it's fun getting others to think about what could happen.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1252 words.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 My final Ghosttober 2022 fic! Time sure does fly, huh? Been catching up on JJBA on Netflix which is part of what gave me the idea for this fic. Also please don't ask for a part 2 because it's not gonna happen lmao I'm bad at commitment huh? I don't think I used gendered terms or anything for reader but please let me know if I've missed any! Oh, and by the way HAPPY EARLY HALLOWEEN BABES!!

Imperator first sees Nihil’s birthmark the morning after their first night together. His back is turned to her as he sleeps, the sister rubbing her eyes as she wakes up. He’s snoring loudly but she doesn’t mind. It means that he’s real and he’s there and she didn’t just imagine the wonderful night they spent together. The way he kissed her, touched her, made her see Satanas himself from how many climaxes he drew from her, none of it was a dream. The man that lies before her, Papa Emeritus Nihil, had fallen into her bed just as she’d fantasised about for so long now.

He spots the peculiar birthmark on his left shoulder and hums with a smile. This is the first time she’s ever seen a pentagram as a birthmark, but the odd sight doesn’t faze her. To Imperator, all it means is that he and his bloodline are chosen, and Nihil is the one she’s been looking for. Her instinct about him wasn’t wrong.

As her pink-tinged fingertips delicately trail over the birthmark, her new lover begins to stir. She quickly withdraws her hand and watches him turn over to face her. His mismatched eyes flutter open, and he grunts as he pulls her body up against his. He’s already half hard, much to Imperator’s delight.

“Why don’t we continue what we started last night, hm?” he asks, voice gritty with sleep.

The sister connects their lips and rolls the two of them so that he’s on his back and she’s straddling him, her tongue exploring his mouth while his hands massage circles into her hips.

***

Imperator’s palm stings as the slap echoes through the empty room.

“How could you say something so cruel?” Her tone is venomous as she glares at him.

“Someone needs to talk some sense into you. You cannot keep it,” he replies, his own voice level and betraying no emotion along with his face. He looks like he couldn’t care less about the news or her. The only thing that’s changed in his appearance is that his papal paint has been smeared by her striking him.

She clenches her fists by her sides. “You don’t get to dictate what happens with my body. You may be Papa, but I could dispose of you easily if I so wished. Or have you forgotten what happened to the mother of your other children?”

Nihil grabs Imperator by the back of her habit and starts dragging her towards his office door. “Get. Rid. I won’t be responsible for raising another man’s child just because you couldn’t keep your legs closed.”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” she spits as she shoves him away from her, leaving him taken aback at her strength as he tries not to fall over. “You cheat on me, go around kissing and fucking other women, and then you accuse me of being unable to keep my legs shut? You’re pathetic. You’re not worthy of the title of Papa.”

He narrows his eyes at her but doesn’t get the chance to retort. Imperator slams the door as she leaves, caressing her pregnant stomach as tears streak down her face. She doesn’t want things to end like this, but she can’t allow her love for him cloud her judgement. Her mother raised her alone, she could raise her son or daughter in the same way. She didn’t need Nihil or his help.

That didn’t make the separation hurt any less.

***

Of all the places to raise her son, the abbey was the last place Imperator would’ve chosen. She had turned up on their doorstep a month ago in labour, nowhere else to turn and nobody to help. She’s been desperate and her Dark Lord had guided her to the place she once called her home. The sisters had been surprised, but immediately brought her in and took her to the medical bay to assist her in giving birth. It was as she screamed and gave a final push that Nihil turned up, panicked and fearful. In her daze, Imperator had hoped that perhaps this was her former lover stepping up to the plate after realising that he was wrong, but the moment she awoke after giving birth he was gone again.

She hates the way the sisters throw her sympathetic looks in the corridors.

The new mother is currently bathing her baby boy in a plastic tub that one of the sisters had procured for her. As she gently moves him so she can wash his back, the little pentagram birthmark on the back of his left shoulder brings a tear to her eye. She knew from the moment the pregnancy test came back positive that her child would be Nihil’s but having that little symbol of confirmation meant more to her than anything else. He cared little for the boy, believing wholeheartedly that there’s no way they could be related, but that’s okay. She and Lucifer know and that’s all that matters.

***

You’re massaging Copia’s shoulders after a long, stressful day of being Papa. He melts into your touch, your fingers divine against his skin and sore muscles. You pepper kisses across the expanse of his shoulders when you’re done, wrapping your arms around his torso as you kneel behind him. Your teeth graze against his birthmark and he shudders.

“Tesoro, you tease me,” he moaned, making you smile.

“You know how much I adore your birthmark. Perfect for such a devoted Papa,” you reply. He kisses you when he turns his head to look at you, cupping the back of your head and moving so that you’re laying down and he’s hovering over you.

“Sister says the same,” he says, referring to Imperator.

You frown at him. “Are you saying she’s seen you… naked?”

He laughs, a sound that sends warmth through your chest. “Not in the way you mean it. She raised me from the moment I was born. My mother died during childbirth, she tells me.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

“No, no!” He rests on his side beside you and pulls you into his embrace, caressing your face as his mismatched eyes meet yours. “You didn’t know. I don’t talk about it a lot. There is never a good time to tell someone that you don’t know who either of your parents are.”

Your fingers comb through the hairs on his chest. “Maybe one day we’ll be able to find your parents. Do you know anything about them?”

Copia shakes his head. “Ah, I do not. I used to think when I was a boy that perhaps Papa Nihil was my father, but Sister has since told me otherwise.”

“What? Why did you think that?”

He shrugs, a wistful look on his face. “Well, Terzo also had the same birthmark. I think his brothers did too. I asked Sister about it, but she said it’s a birthmark that a lot of families who have sworn themselves to our Dark Lord have. Perhaps my father is from another abbey. Maybe he is a papa in another abbey.”

When Copia has finally fallen asleep a while later, the first time he’s fallen into a deep sleep in what feels like weeks, you slip out of bed and dress yourself in the clothes he’d peeled off your body earlier and quietly leave his room to find Sister Imperator’s chambers.

Your Papa may not have connected the dots, but you know it can’t be long until it finally clicks.

[az-roser]

Nihil’s a Registered Seestor Simp,

pass it on.

[nihildenial]

they match each other's freak

[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

[dewsgremlin]

Ghoul hc

While Rain is a picky eater, Dewdrop is the exact opposite. The fire ghoul is not picky at all when it comes to his food.

That's why Dewdrop always ends up eating the food that Rain doesn't want.

It's so much easier for Rain since no one (mostly sister Imperator and Nihil) comments on his eating habits anymore since his plate is always empty.

[lixxen]

I don't wanna end like this, but the sting in the way you kiss me. Something within your eyes said it could be the last time ‘fore it's over

[dracopias-bloodbag]

Bewitched By Bloodlust | Dracopia x F! Reader | III

Chapter III: Tarocchi

You spend more time in the presence of the enigmatic Papa and he continues trying to whittle away at your stubborn demeanor. But one wrong move sets him off, and the next thing you know he's demanding to see exactly what you can do in terms of your craft. He wants you to prove yourself, and you'll do that with the weathered deck of tarot cards he had found in your bag the night you met.

chapter content: 2.3k words. 18+ only, enemies to lovers, slow(ish) burn, eventual smut, slight dubcon, blood, blood drinking (duh), kidnapping, imprisonment, choking, copia is a sadistic asshole in these first few chapters, the reader Is a defiant little shit, forced tarot readings?? is that a thing?, spitting, canon divergent (see masterlist for details),

Recommended Listening:

The Prophecy – Taylor Swift

Previous Chapter ☽𖤐☾ Next Chapter

Masterlist ☽𖤐☾ Read on Ao3

The next few days are uneventful. You spend the days staring at the wall, the ceiling, even the hole in the corner that an occasional rat sticks its little nose out of to stare at you. Most people would be disgusted, but you cock your head as the little creature looks at you. You toss it a scrap of your dinner, almost feeling a sense of comradery with the vermin.

You’re an outcast like me, but at least you’re free. You think to yourself as you watch the little animal pick up the piece of food and scurry off with it.

At one point you manage to pull your cot up to the window so you can stand on it and look out. There’s nothing much outside aside from the trees in the forest you had come from. For a brief moment you wonder if your pleas for help would reach your coven miles away if you screamed loud enough.

By the time he returns you’re excited at having at least some change of scenery.

Goddess help me.

His hair is disheveled, and he looks tired, but not as bad as the last time you saw him. 

Copia notes how your demeanor is vastly different than before, the way you don’t move from the cot, instead remaining sat criss crossed on it as your fingers weave a tiny braid into your hair.

He had spent all day waiting for this, being in and out of meetings, working out the ministry budget, it was never ending. And then he had a meeting that he had been dreading; the one where he had to lie to Sister Imperator and that insufferable ghost of Nihil about your fate. 

To them, you were a threat he had been warned about, but one that could be easily and quickly exterminated. Copia had spoken evenly, and surprisingly clearly when he stated that you had met your demise; proudly displaying your silver dagger along with your necklace wrapped around it for proof of his supposed kill. He hadn’t missed how two of his ghouls, Dewdrop and Swiss, had exchanged glances. But he knew they wouldn’t tell, they were loyal to him first and foremost.

“And she did this to you?” Imperator’s eyes had landed on Swiss, noticing the cut on his cheek. 

Swiss had glanced at Copia before speaking. “Yes Sister, but I succeeded in driving her towards Papa, and he handled it from there.”

She hummed, seeming to ponder this for a moment, her eyes fixed on the ghoul, until she seemed convinced that he was telling the truth. 

“So she was a fighter, I’m both surprised and glad it’s over and done with.”

When Sister Imperator was satisfied with the outcome she had quickly moved on to discussing some other trivial topic that Copia had absolutely no interest in listening to.

Instead his mind had wandered to you. His little secret, locked away in the confines of the forgotten dungeon. Only his most trusted ghouls keeping watch over you.

Copia knew The Ministry would eventually find out that you were alive, but it was a problem he would worry about later. For now, you were his secret, his meal. He had tried in vain to focus on Sister’s words, but he found himself instead thinking of your scent, the softness of your skin, the way your hair tickled his nose when he fed from you…

Now that he was standing in front of you, strangely enough he feels all the stress of his day wash away.

But that feeling is gone as soon as you open your mouth to speak.

“Haven’t you taken enough from me?” Your eyes burn with hatred as you narrow your eyes at him. “One of these times, you’re going to take too much, too close together, and then your favorite meal will be gone forever. Then at least  I’ll finally know some peace instead of having to live in this goddess forsaken hole.”

Copia practically growls as he stalks towards you. He grabs you by the neck and you yelp as he lifts you up effortlessly, before pulling you tightly against his body.

“Why don’t you shut up for just once?”

Your mouth is agape at both his motions and his words. And you shudder as you feel his breath against your ear.

“What else am I supposed to do?” You grit out between clenched teeth. “How else am I supposed to survive this?”

He chuckles, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“You could try sweet talking your way out.”

“Fuck you.”

He chuckles, the sound echoing through the dungeon and reverberating back at you as it bounces off the stone walls. He just stands there watching you for a second. Those eyes of his flickering over your face as if he’s trying to decipher something, as if he can find a weak point just by gauging your reactions.

“You thought you were so smart sneaking onto The Ministry grounds, eh? You thought it would be simple – get in, make your kill, and get out. But it wasn’t, was it?”

He releases you then, taking a step back as you crumple to the floor before glaring up at him.

“You thought it would be an easy task, no? Your precious pendulums and tarocchi told you that you would be safe, that you would carry out your duty to your coven like a good little witch.”

He pulls something out of his coat pocket then, and tosses a leather bundle at you. Instantly you recognize your weathered deck of tarot cards wrapped neatly in the cover you had made for them. The cards scatter as they hit the floor, and you sit and stare at them in disbelief for a moment, before scrambling to try and pick them up.

He chuckles darkly watching you as you collect the cards and stack them in your hands as neatly as you can in your panic.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t see you coming? Do you really think the other night in the forest was my first time seeing you?”

He reaches down and grabs your face in his hand, and you whimper as his fingers dig into the soft skin of your cheeks.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time, strega. You just never saw me, hiding in the shadows, observing you as you walked amongst your coven. It’s charming really, how sweet you always were to them, how you were willing to do any and every bit of the dirty work they demanded of you.”

“You don’t know anything about them.” You snarl.

Copia smirks down at you, noting the flash of panicked doubt in your eyes as you say those words.

“Don’t I? I watched the way they walked all over you. They forced you to do the spells they were too afraid of doing themselves, like the cowards they are.”

He leans down so that his face is inches from your own.

“It made you feel empty, no? Lonely even. But it made you the strongest witch among them.” His gaze flits between your wide eyes, and for a millisecond you think that you see them glance down to your parted lips, but in the blink of an eye his gaze is locked on yours once more.

“I watched them break your heart over and over again, and I could feel the way all of your fears melted away when they gave you the sacred task of killing me.”

Your jaw is clenched as you glare daggers into his mismatched eyes.

“You thought that if you succeeded they’d finally accept you as one of their own, no?”

Don’t do it.

“You thought they might actually consider you as part of their inner circle.”

You grit your teeth.

Don’t do it.

“Maybe, just maybe… you thought they might promote you to serve as a High Priestess alongside them, eh?” He laughs at that, the sound making you grit your teeth as it bounces off the stone walls once more.

Don’t–

Your lips quirk up into a smirk then, and you push away the voice in your head before…

The motion is quick, if he blinked he would have missed it, but the wet feeling of your saliva on his face is unmistakable.

You fucking spit on him.

About three different emotions cross his face at once as he draws back and wipes at his cheek with his gloved hand. He looks dumbstruck at first, before realization sets in and his eyes meet yours. There’s amusement, shock, and finally… rage.

“You really shouldn’t have done that.”

Copia moves swiftly, moving around your body until he’s kneeling behind you. He secures you with a hand on your neck. He drops to his knees behind you, dragging you towards him, his strong arms yanking your body back against him. He holds you tight to him, so that you’re nestled between his thighs, and you can’t help the blush that spreads across your cheeks as you realize his crotch is pressed up against your ass.

His eyes flit down to the cards in your hands, as he sweeps your hair to the side, exposing your neck to him. He leans in close to your ear, his voice so low and gravelly that it makes you shudder.

“Why don’t you show me what you can do, eh?” He grabs your hand that’s still gripping the tarot deck for dear life. “Why don’t you find out your fate now that you’re here with me?”

You shudder as his lips brush against the crook of your neck.

“Are you fucking kidding?” Your voice is small, barely above a whisper, and it makes him smirk against your skin.

“No, I’m not fucking kidding, strega.” He growls. “Do. A. Reading.”

Your hands are trembling as you move to begin the process. Your knuckles tap on the back of the deck in three short knocks before you begin shuffling the cards. You fight to stay focused, trying to make sure your hand doesn’t slip and cause the cards to scatter everywhere.

His razor-sharp fangs graze against your skin, the action making you shiver and your mind go blank. In that moment the countless tarot spreads you had learned in your short lifetime seem to evade you and all you can focus on is the feeling of his breath on your neck.

He nips at your pulse point, pulling a tiny gasp from you. “Don’t make me ask again.”

Fuck, okay. Past, present, future, keep it simple.

As you finish shuffling the cards you split the deck into three equal stacks, and you feel your heart pounding as you look at them all, trying to go with your gut and choose one.

It's at that moment that he sinks his teeth into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder. You cry out, your hand flying forward to grip onto something, anything as that familiar searing pain floods your senses. Your hand closes around one of the stacks you had made, and you wince as the edges of the cards dig into your palm.

He’s growling against your skin as he drinks, and you want to hit him over the head for the effect his noises have on you. You bite your lip, shutting your eyes, as you instinctively let your head fall to the side.

But he grabs your face with his other hand, making you gasp as he pulls away from your neck for a second.

“I didn’t say you could stop. Focus, strega.”

Is he fucking serious?

But the way his fingers dig into your waist tells you that he is. You stack the cards up again, placing the stack you had grabbed on top, before taking a deep breath as you draw the first card.

Past… Eight of Swords.

Restriction, feeling trapped, like you don’t fit in and can’t express yourself freely.

You take a shuddering breath, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped as the realization struck that this was exactly how you had felt in your coven. 

Maybe he was right…

You push the feeling and that thought away as you shakily reach for the next card in the stack.

Present… The Tower.

Oh fuck… Of course. Sudden changes beyond your control, upheaval, areas of your life that are being torn down that no longer serve you.

Copia is still drinking from you, and for a moment your attention is torn from the cards to him. His scent seems to wrap itself around you, and you have to bite your lip to stifle a noise as you feel your head begin to spin. He seems to sense your unease and the effects his actions have on your body. He pulls away once again to whisper in your ear.

“One more, piccolina… I know you can finish.”

A hot streak of blood slips from the wound on your neck and slides down your chest. Your shaky hand swipes at it before you hold it up, gasping softly at the sight of your trembling fingers covered in your own blood. You shut your eyes before reaching out with that same hand to draw the last card.

Future… 

The Lovers

What the fuck?

It was one of the most self explanatory cards in the deck, it was the one you spent your girlhood hoping and praying to any deity who would listen for, yet it never seemed to find its way into your readings. 

Until now.

The world spins around you as your vision starts to go out, dark spots threatening to consume it as you begin to lose consciousness. Your ears are ringing so loudly that you can barely hear the way Copia’s breath hitches as his eyes land on the card in your hand. For a moment you mentally curse your beloved tarot cards, wondering why the hell they’re telling you that romantic love is near…

…Or already in front of you.

The last thing you see before darkness consumes you is his gloved fingers plucking the bloodstained card out of your own.

Sorry for yet another delay, I suffered a loss of a childhood pet a couple weeks ago and was also dealing with some intense work stress. But I'm doing better and getting back to working on this has really helped get me out of my funk! ❤︎‬

Thank you as always for reading, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing this one!

Comments, kudos, and reblogs are always appreciated! ‪‪❤︎

Translations: tarocchi - tarot strega/streghetta – witch piccolina – little one

[emeritus-fuckers]

The papas (plus sister because she needs more love) - A new ghoul gets summoned but they seem more shy and afraid, how would they react?

Papas and Sister Imperator with a shy, freshly summoned ghoul

Primo (he/him)

He knows what to do, he's seen it once before, but a long time ago.

Sometimes Ghouls just are really shy at first, and scared. Of course they are, the Ministry is a whole different world to them.

You ran straight off and hid. It took Primo a few hours searching to find you hiding in a secluded spot in the garden.

Primo left you there to get used to things and went back to his garden shed. He brewed a very special tea, he wasn't too fond of the smell but that's because it wasn't meant to appeal to him.

He went back to the your hiding place and left a cup just in reach. He smiled as you reached a clawed hand out to take it.

The next day Primo left the cup of tea so it was just out of your reach. You slowly came out to take it and caught sight of Primo.

He smiled and gestured to say it was just him, you looked back at the tea and then to Primo before settling down on the soft summer grass.

"Let me show you around?" Primo says with a kind smile. "I promise you, it will all be okay. And if it ever gets too much you can always come back here. I won't tell a soul that this is your spot and I will bring you tea whenever you need it."

You smiled and swished your tail. With Primo's steadying influence you started to slowly come out of your shell and bond with the other Ghouls.

Secondo (he/him)

You blink open your eyes as you lie on the cold stone and see the most terrifying Papa. His stern gaze and piercing stare had you running for the nearest shadow.

Secondo lets out a huffing sound and orders everyone from the room.

He sits down next to you and to your suprise his expression has softened. "I know its a big change."

You just kind of nod, still very confused by the man.

"And there is a lot to get used to. But there are a lot of exciting things here too and more importantly nice people..." Secondo seems to stop himself saying the rest of the sentence, which would have probably been 'as annoying as they all are'.

You wait for him to carry on and then he says "I will introduce you to my most trusted Ghoul and you will not shy away. In return I can promise you that they will take care of you and look after you, you have nothing to fear. Also, no one will expect you to introduce yourself or talk to them until you are ready to do so."

You nod, still scared but Secondo's gaze is so steady you just trust him, he is Papa after all, the one who summoned you.

Thankfully you settle in well and once you are more relaxed Secondo lets you see his party animal side. Which surpirses you all over again. Who knew he could be like that, eh?

Terzo (he/they)

They really count on Omega in situations like these.

While Terzo has a sort of magnetism that pulls people to him, especially when he flirts like a kindergartener (informing someone about a hole in his shoe, for example), but he also recognizes that a big, strong ghoul might help a new, shy one open up.

And Omega is very inviting unless he's pissed off. Which he never is, if Terzo's in the room. If Terzo's around, Omega is happy. It's a simple equation, really.

And Omega is also very welcoming. You end up feeling safe with their presence pretty soon.

You also end up getting adopted. it's not up for discussion.

Enjoy your new dads, I guess.

Copia (he/him)

Copia has summoned plenty of ghouls by now. He's got experience with the shy ones, too.

Although his previous originally shy ghoul (Phantom) had relatives in the Ministry already, so that was a bit easier.

This time, he's on his own with it.

He just chills in the room, leaving snacks nearby as he just sits in the corner of his room, playing something on an ancient-looking gameboy.

He's just there, not invading your space. It's a bit like with a new puppy.

Eventually, you get closer, stealing his snacks and slowly trying to look at the screen of his console.

And after that, it all goes easy. Yolu eventually get more and more comfortable with him.

You get really involved in the game, too. Copia's not allowed to finish it, watching him play is your comfort source.

Not that he minds, he fucking sucks at that game.

Old Nihil (he/him)

He is just confused, really confused why as to why you are hiding all the time. Normally when freshly summoned, Ghouls have far too much energy and want to see everything.

"Seeeestor, why is the Ghoul broken?" He asks her. She tuts and explains you are not broken just shy.

So Nihil decides to try and help.

He sits near where he knows you hide in the shadows and tells you stories of his youth.

Sometimes these stories are long and rambling and you fall asleep.

Other times they are really interesting and excitng and you find yourself coming out of the shadows to listen.

Nihil grins at you and offers to introduce you to some people he thinks you'll like.

Young Nihil (he/him)

He doesn't really think anything of it, all the Ghouls are odd and different in their own way. Which he loves, all so unique.

He'll just sit with you and offer you a drink or something stronger.

At first you think he is just doing this to help you settle in, but then you realise he has started to rely on you as much as you on him.

It's nice to hang out with him, very laid back and you two can just be yourselves. There is never any pressure to talk or anything.

When you feel a little more confident Nihil offers to teach you the saxophone. He's learning too and thought it would be fun to learn together.

He produces some, err, interesting noises from the instrument at first but he quickly gets better. Partly due to your support, you are the only person he feels comfortable enough to make mistakes in front of.

He also invites you along to parties or his shows or anythin really, but never puts pressure on you to come along. If you do agree he gives you the biggest smile and puts an arm around you showing you all the cool things. He'll keep an eye on you to make sure you don't get overwhelmed.

Old Sister Imperator (she/her)

As intimidating as she can be, she's also a very caring, motherly woman.

She will inform you where you are, who she is and why you're there.

All while calling you "little one", as if you're a child.

And while there's always this slightly unnerving feeling of authority she has over you, you actually like her! She's nice!

She leaves you snacks, small plushies and fidget toys so you can have some nice things that will comfort you in this new situation you've gotten yourself into.

She leaves one of her ghoulettes with you for comfort. She doesn't mind waiting. Take your time.

Young Sister Imperator (she/her)

A lot more intimidating and a lot less motherly than she is later in life, Sister Imperator wasn't the most patient in her youth.

She summoned a ghoul because she needed one now, not later.

Still, she's not cruel, she's not gonna just... abandon you. She can summon another ghoul for the matter at hand and then just... find some use for you.

She checks up on you regularly, just sitting in the room for a bit. it's almost like a break for her, honestly.

Over time, as you both become more and more comfortable with each other, she starts viewing you like a little pet.

She likes playing with your hair and tail. She's always incredibly gentle with you, too.

Perhaps she's already found your function. A companion. A little pet.

Doesn't sound so bad, does it?

~

Papas I, II and Papa Nihil written by Nyx.

Papas III, IV and Sister Imperator written by Nosferatu.

[drapopia]

the flames devour (everything that we are)

pairing: (young) sister imperator x (young) papa nihil emeritus

warnings: SMUT! vaginal sex, vaginal fingering/cunnilingus, groupie sex/mild infidelity, a messy coupling, some light angst and mentioned misogyny, mentioned past murder, set around the late 60's but before the Kiss the Go Goat incident, only Primo and Secondo exist

summary: Control, power, fame. Everything Sister Imperator promised the Clergy that the Ghost Project would culminate and more. But when push comes to shove and Nihil can't look past the packed backstage doors, someone has to put their foot down. (Surprise, surprise. It's not Sister Imperator).

word count: 10.2k

authors note: special thanks to @barelydaisy for commissioning this piece from me! the gratitude i feel towards you makes me ever so fond! i hope whoever reads this enjoys it, comments/reblogs/likes are always appreciated!

MINORS DNI

Read On AO3

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

Facetious. Flippant. Exaggeratedly stupid enough to make her head thrum with anger on a daily basis. How unfortunate that he be so alluring. 

The motel lobby was stuffy, the air thick and humid with the hum of the heater. She assumed it was the owner’s fault the heat was up so high, the flurries of snow outside swirling across the frosted panes of glass. She looked at the carpet below her, mottled with green and brown in an unappealing combination. It was a struggle to push down the urge to scoff.

Lifting her head, she studied the features in the dimly lit foyer. The furniture was mismatched in an abysmal show of ‘interior design’ skills, a mixing of modern and so dreadfully outdated that it made her want to retch. Resisting the urge to openly huff, Imperator pulled her coat tighter around her. The fur trim tickles against her neck, her hair further up than normal and lessening the chance of it whipping in the wind. The silk scarf wrapped around her head protects her ears, and heightens the anticipation of walking into a room and having all eyes on her. 

She walks closer to the small front office window, peering in a bit more. The urge to ring the call bell and finally get some goddamn service was at the forefront of her mind. The dingy carpet, the thick lining of dust in the creases of the front desk, she could go on about the reasons she wished they were at another motel. To put it lightly, they were shit out of luck. She was no stranger to dingy motels, but the fact that they were better than that was a nagging thought in the back of her mind.

The tour was going well. In fact, better than well. Throngs of screaming fans, clubs and bars packed with people begging for an opportunity to see Papa Nihil up close. From her spot in the wings, Sister Imperator watched with subtle glee. She knew that Nihil was charismatic, but she hadn’t anticipated the reception they had gotten from the public. There were those in it for the music, for Satan, or more overwhelmingly for him. The dingy bars had been acceptable to play, the low tickets quickly piling into more than they had ever imagined possible for the Clergy. 

Sister had fought for the Ghost project, staring down the eyes of men she knew only wanted to see her on her back with her legs spread. Men who wouldn’t shirk the chance to push her down for fun, to throw down her ideas with a lackadaisical “We’ll consider it.” But Sister Imperator had listened to her, looked at her ideas with an interest that led to her taking a young woman with wild ideas under her wing. And now here she was, with her title and her status, a former name now neglected, a shallow grave in the woods at the Abbey that nobody would find,  and a small syringe hidden in a lockbox that she had thrown away the key to. 

But with fame and a message spreading far quicker than anticipated, Sister couldn’t help but wish to stretch the budget in other ways. For once she would like to lay her head in a bed she hadn’t voraciously searched for bed bugs, stripping the sheets to find cigarette burns in the mattress. Nihil hadn’t cared, simply flopping down beside her and mouth opening in an uncaring yawn. Though they had separate rooms, it was seldom that they spent the night away from one another. Though she was loath to admit it, she had grown used to the weight of his head on her chest and the rise and fall of his breath on her nightgown. The road was lonely, who else to turn to but him? Practically any ghoul or stage hand , she thought to herself. But where was the fun in that?

Her line of thought was broken as she heard the waddling gait of the man stationed at the front desk, his non-slip shoes certainly close to slipping on the waxed linoleum. He appeared at the window, the flannel buttoned so tightly around his neck that she was frightened it was strangling him. 

He let out a huff, flipping through the pages of paperwork that the Clergy had sent months earlier in preparation for the tour. Three rooms, two for her and Nihil and one for any reclusive ghouls that didn’t want to pile in on the bus. The man looked at her, locking eyes with an uninterested, if slightly bored, look. “Alright, I found the work in the back. Took me a minute, but it was just tucked away. You have ID, right?” 

Sister nodded, her hand reaching into the mustard yellow vinyl bag she kept her clutch in. After flicking through her pocket change, she found her ID behind Nihil’s credit card. She grabbed it, placing it down on the cracked plastic of the desk and pushing it towards the man. Though she had gloves on, she didn’t trust how clean the man's hands were and didn’t want to risk him staining the crisp white of her faux fur gloves. (She cared little for the plight of the leather industry, but she couldn’t deny the news articles dampened her excitement for a new addition to her closet). 

The man picked up the ID, gave it a cursory glance and nodded his head in acceptance. His hand slid under the desk, looking around for the keys no doubt. She turned around, her arms lightly wrapped around herself as the heater had stopped its incessant blasting. She turned in a half circle, her boots clicking against the floor once and then stopping. Her eyes turned to the window, the flurries coming down as mercilessly as they had been when they had rolled into the parking lot. 

The light from the overhead street light shone hazy light over the parking lot, blending into the dark of the winter night as seamlessly as cream stirred into coffee. The bus was in the distance, the tinted lights only showing blurry shapes moving against the inside of the vehicle. That wasn’t what she glimpsed that snatched her attention away from the moment.

 Leaning against the pillar of the motel was the curved posture of Nihil, his coat wrapped around his waist in a way that posited his sculpted abdomen that anybody would blush at. His makeup was still painted on, though a familiar eye could tell where it was beginning to pill on his neck from the copious sweat that poured down in the stage lights. His legs were crossed behind him, his platforms digging into the swirls of snow that would no doubt accumulate over night. Even through the heat of his body, the flakes of snow drifting down had caught on the unruly strands of hair and failed to melt. That wasn’t what Sister couldn’t bear to tear her eyes away from. 

Nihil’s arm was placed along the hip of a woman, unknown to her. No doubt a fan from the way the woman’s lips were curled into gleeful disbelief at her luck. Sister could almost imagine the tittering, the vapid flustering of words that had become so commonplace that all she could do was turn with a roll of her eyes and a tap of her cigarette. The woman’s lips moved, and Sister could see Nihil’s mouth open in a laugh, the easy smile on his face directed at her. The hand on the woman’s hip visibly gripped tighter, pulling her closer to the warmth of his torso. The woman’s hand raised, gripping his clothed bicep and running up and down. Mocking. 

Nihil turned, the woman moving alongside him and his arm curling around her hips, her deliciously full waist. His fingers pulled at the flesh, and his touch was… soft. Unfamiliar and with an air of understanding that no doubt made the woman’s stomach flutter with warmth. Had she ever been touched by a man, a woman? The intoxicating knowledge that she had sealed the deal with Papa Nihil, up and coming star of the Olde One himself. Did she know just how well his fingers moved, how his cock had made so many feel like their world was melting around them? She soon would. 

Sister’s face was blank, her eyes narrowed in contemplation and thinly veiled vexation. Her stomach was simmering with… rage? Unclear. Her gloves squeaked as her hands squeezed together, her arms still crossed tightly together. 

“Ma’am?” A voice said behind her, and she turned on her heel. What now? Imperator thought, her eyes flicking down at the set of keys on the ledge of the desk and her irritation fading. She picked up the key, gripping it in her hand. 

The front desk attendant reached into the drawer, his head tilting up to meet her gaze. “Do you want the other key for your friend?” He motioned his head, leaning on his foot to look at Nihil outside. 

Sister shook her head, her hair weighing heavy on top of it. She still needed to take a shower, unravel the intricate pins around her bun, and unpack her clothes for the morning. She let out a sigh, a careful shrug of her shoulders as she craned her head around to look out the window once more. Still in the cold, Nihil’s arms were wrapped tightly around the woman, his lips latched onto her neck and her mouth open in what was undoubtedly a wanton moan. In the middle of the night, no one was around to see them. But Sister knew he would have done it onstage, at an after party, on an altar at Black Mass for Satan’s sake. 

She swiftly turned her head, meeting his gaze and pointedly dropping a twenty on the cracked plastic once more. “He can do it himself, I’m certain he can manage.” Her voice came out firm and stiff in the quiet of the lobby, and she turned to walk to the door. While she could ignore the way he licked at the woman's ear, turning pink from the bitter gusts of wind, she couldn’t ignore the simmering heat in her stomach. But there was nothing saying she couldn’t try. 

___________________

The heat of the dressing room was sweltering, the push and pull of bodies making Imperator’s lip curl in disgust. The heat of the fire ghoul to her left was making her sweat, and she couldn’t afford to stain the new Emilio Pucci dress she had purchased earlier that day. The pink and green pattern helped to disguise the sweat no doubt attempting to push its way past her slip, the silk cool against her skin in the overwhelming bustle before the show. She was happy she opted to wear her hair in a high bun, the bump in her hair allowing the thin air to waft against her neck. 

As she studied the people (and otherwise) in the room, her eyes landed on Nihil naturally. His hands were steady as he painted the lines across his lips, his mouth open in what would be a gasp if the thought to do so struck him. She smiled, her hand raising to her lips and taking a small drag of her cigarette. She let her hand fall away, tapping the ash into the crowded ashtray to her left. As the months in the tour had gone on, she had felt drawn towards Nihil. Long nights were spent with him nestled into her side, speaking about where they had come from, their dreams, what toppings they would add to a sundae, what colors they look best in. It was hard to deny the way her heart pounded when he drew near, though she hid it behind a stern demeanor and a perfectly drawn on smile. 

The door opened, a ghoul walking in and looking towards Nihil. “Papa? You’ve got a call on the other line, the manager is trying to patch it through to ‘ya.” The earth ghoul spoke in a lethargic sway as he pushed his way through the crowd, the familiar pungent smell of dope stuck to his clothes. Nihil nodded, shooting the ghoul a half painted grin as he set down the brush and reached for the white marbled telephone to his left. He picked it up off the receiver, holding it against his ear. He paused, listening for the feedback of the call. 

“Yello?” Nihil said into the phone, a confused look on his face, though it stretched into a grin as he let the call go on further. “Yes, it’s Papa. I thought you were supposed to be sleeping? Is it not night there, ragazzino? ( little boy).” Nihil’s lips were wide as he snickered into the phone, cradling it to his ear as he listened intently. Imperator could have bled from the ears at the urge to roll her eyes. 

Nihil’s son Primo was sweet, there were no doubts about that. Quiet and intelligent, he was racing through his studies with diligence that was admirable for children his age. However, she couldn’t stop the irritation that fueled her when she saw him, heard his voice. He was a child, for Satan’s sake, she was being unreasonably harsh! But he was part of the bloodline, time would tell if he was worthy of his spot as Papa in adulthood. For now, he would watch Doctor Who and study to be the antipope. What an antithesis, she snorted to herself, pulling her cigarette to her lips for another puff. 

“I will keep you on my mind, make sure to keep an eye out for your little brother. Especially him, I know he has been eating my Cordials. I have eyes on him, the piccola rana. (little frog).” NIhil laughs, his white paint creasing where he had failed to set it. After a minute or so of diligent listening, he shushes into the phone. “Goodnight, tell your fratello I send my love.” A pause, and a look of tired fondness softens his face. “Bye bye.” He pulls the phone away from his ear, placing it back on the receiver with a ring. 

She wouldn’t pry, Sister thought to herself. Though she was never one to shy away from stirring up the mud with a well placed jab, she knew better than to push at the… delicate nature of Nihil’s relationship with his young children. It’s not as though they were all little monsters (She found herself grimacing internally, they weren’t little monsters all the time. But it would be no hard challenge to count on her fingers all the times she’d found leftover Chiclets from Secondo in her purse. Little bastard). 

She rose from her seat, pushing through the ghouls pulling on their clothes for the performance. Walking up to stand behind his desk, she met his gaze in the mirror with a smile barely noticeable in the haze of the dimly lit room. 

Nihil meets her smile with one of his own, his hand deftly gripping the small liner brush to his left and dipping it into the black grease paint. His eyes pull away from hers with a small degree of difficulty, she notices, and looks towards the mirror and continues the small strokes across his lips, above the bow of his upper lip and ending at his full lower lip. Hands rise, resting on his shoulders as she leans slowly down. Sister smiles, pulling in his scent that was so delicately him. How he managed to smell like juniper and basil eluded her, Nihil even going to a point of going into another room to spray his cologne so she couldn’t see the bottle. (“A man has to have some sort of mystery, si?” He had laughed, and she responded with a scoff. It still didn’t stop her from scouring every perfume counter in every city to find it). 

She leaned her cheek against his, his eyes still locked onto his visage in the mirror, but his hands had a perceptible shake to them. “Nervous?” Sister purred, her pink frosted nails tracing along the line of his black leather coat.

Her cheek pulled away from his, her lips turning to the shell of his ear. Her breath was soft and warm on his ear, a tickle against the skin of his neck that pulled the hair on end quicker than the cold outside. Even in a warm room, Sister made him feel as if he’d gone skinny dipping in November. 

“No, I am not. Merely hot.” His voice was soft in the din of the crowded room. “You would think they would have another room to dress in, si ?”  He smiled at her, adding a thicker line to balance the larger stripe alongside it. Her nails continue to trace along his collar, the soft pads on her finger edging along the skin of his neck. Dipping into the countours of his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple with a calculating grace. His breath was steady, but his eyes, not yet coated with black shadow, were lidded with a hazy fondness. 

An excited yelp from the corner by Nihil’s own guitarist shocked her out of the moment, her hands quickly pulling away. NIhil’s smile dropped in disappointment, but it stilled as Sister’s hands returned to tug his collar closer together and quickly fasten a button.

“We have a budget, Papa.” Sister’s voice said softly, though it was said with such finality so as to stop the train of conversation from going any further. Nihil shrugged, setting down the smaller liner brush and reaching across the table for his loose powder. As he opened his mouth, she knew the attempt would go ignored.

He hummed, looking up at her with a playful smirk, “Oh? And our budget includes a new pair of pumps?” At that her smile becomes an even line, her thin eyebrows furrowing as the words drop from his lips. Of course he had to push too far. It wasn’t as though he didn’t understand the limits of their spending allowance. It didn’t stop him picking the most upscale restaurants in the area, loosening the buttons on his shirts as more and more drinks were sent to the table, the way his eyes roamed the women who passed by. To her annoyance, he had never noticed the way her hands gripped the stem of her wine glass with vitriol, how she met the gaze of every curious woman and turned their eyes away. 

“Yes. Just as it apparently includes a new coat and- oh? What’s this?” Sister’s hands shot towards him, gripping his wrist with care. She held it with tightness, making sure not to hurt Nihil. Never hurt, she told herself. Sister’s eyes sparked with a curious viciousness, but her stomach burned with ire.

“A new watch? Where could you have possibly gotten this little gem?” She hummed similarly to his own playful song moments beforehand. If there was one thing Imperator could do, she could match someone’s game. In kindness or in truculence. 

Nihil’s smile didn’t drop, but the kidnapped arm rose and cupped her cheek. She sighed, resisting the urge to lean into his palm. The hand remained around his wrist, but she let it it go somewhat lax. The thick curls of hair along his arms were soft, though the wiry swirls of hair along his stomach were similar but not quite so coarse. Her thumb rubbed along his wrist, a gentle back and forth. 

“I want to look nice for you, Sister.” Nihil’s accent and the curiously odd intones of ‘Sister’ made her cheeks tighten with the urge to giggle, and the tight smile made Nihil’s lip lift even further.. “Do I not look nice for you? I try so hard, you know this.” He pouts, the pop of his lower lip making her smile spread further. Damn fool, she thought to herself. Was she speaking about herself, or Papa? She could parcel through these thoughts later in the obscured dark of the tour bus. 

“You do.” Sister said in a low mumble. The way her stomach buzzed was unfamiliar, the compressed feeling around her lungs making it hard to conceive of any thought besides how Nihil smiled at her, the way his hand fit along her hip and how her hand had never felt so drawn to touch someone. His skin was so warm, a sunkissed tan that made her buzz with something unknown. Or maybe she had always known. 

He pulled away, and she fought the urge to jump towards his arms again and pull him to her. No, she wouldn’t stoop to begging. He turned to the mirror, patting the powder into his lips. “Good! The crowd will love it, always so attentive. The doors are open after performances, as always.” His eyes gleamed, the devilish glow of his one white eye gleaming in the muted warmness of this damnedly hot room. Could it compare to the warmth in Sister Imperator’s chest? 

The fuzziness she had felt moments earlier was extinguished in that single sentence, burned by the way she had to stop herself from reaching forward and throttling him right then and there. How stupid could a man be? She was stunned every single day by the utter idiocy of men, going from not knowing how to do laundry all the way to this. She let her face go blank, what other course of action was there? If she followed her emotions, Papa Nihil would be buried in a shallow grave behind this very club. To hold her in his hands, and then casually drop that he wanted to get his dick wet? 

Satan, maybe she should have listened to her mother and just become a lesbian in Boston instead. 

Sister straightened her posture. “Of course they’re always open.” she said coldly. Her hands folded in front of her. They’re always fucking open. 

His eyes look towards her, the grin still on his face but his eyes speak of something she can’t pin. She turns around, pushing through the throng of bodies with the force needed. Nihil has the right to his body, just as she does to her own. She could find any man in this glorified venue, pull them into an alcove and possibly cum. There’s no guarantee of that, she thought, fighting back the mocking laugh that wanted to tumble out of her mouth. 

But she won’t. She won’t do that. 

_____________________

The crowd was loud, though the indescribable energy that had pulsed in the room minutes earlier had fallen as the show had come to a close. Sister Imperator looked from the wings, Nihil was glorious. Sweat dripped from his chin, his eye gleaming in the stage lights as he pranced along the edge of the stage. His shirt was unbuttoned, the ringlets of hair soaked under the fabric. His boots were clinking against the floor, the pointed tips tapping in a calculated rhythm. Women were lined along the edge, their hair curled and their lashes stark against pastel blues and blush pinks. Pink blush against dark skin, similar beads of sweat lining their cleavage that was oh so pointedly pushed forward. All for Nihil. And she knew that he knew, regardless of if he had made the asinine comments earlier. 

She turned, walking along the dark corners. Stage hands were leisurely walking, some carrying side lights and some carrying cords, wrapped in loops and gingerly carried to storage closets nearby. She needed a cigarette before he came back there, shucking his coat off and waiting for women to fall to their knees before him, to curl up in his arms. 

She felt the familiar burn in her stomach of anger, of envy. Where the hell did she put her handbag again? She slid along the walls, feeling her way through the dark as her boots clicked along the waxed floor. The burn of eyes along her legs made her grimace, one more nuisance to deal with. Being honest with herself, all she wanted right now was to be curled up in her blankets back at the hotel, pleasantly sated and sweaty, held in Nihil’s arms and dozing in the glow of the television set. But no, she had to see him go back to his room with one, if not several , women running their hands along his thin body. 

She needed a cigarette.

The space opened, the stairs leading back to the green room intersection between a larger side door. She sighed, the flow of air leveling out in the space, away from sweaty rugged men. Reaching for the door, she felt the sweat at the nape of her neck go blessedly cold. A break was what she needed, it would be another hour or so before Sister had the opportunity to be completely alone with a nice glass of champagne. Damn it all, she’d pay for the room service her fucking self. The last thing she wanted after a night like this was the Clergy treasurer waking her up in the night wondering why they’d been notified by the hotel of another ‘useless’ purchase. 

Imperator leaned against the wall, the high collar of her patterned dress constricting the skin around her neck. She was lucky she had done her hair so high, the beehive allowing her to feel the cold air on her skin as best as she could. As best as she could, the thought mocked her. Out of all the times Nihil had fucked her into the bed, it had been her controlling his moves. Grabbing him by the hair and moans punching out from his throat, riding him until he cried from the sheer ecstasy of the orgasms rung from his overextended body, sucking him down in the shitty tour bus bunks when the ghouls had finally taken the message and left. And here he was, leering over the edge of the stage like he called the shots. 

Sister Imperator knew he couldn’t take initiative if it offered itself up with its legs spread. Why the hell would he start now, she lamented. 

The door to her left opened, the conversation high and energetic. As the door opened, she met the gaze of three women. Their conversation halted, noticing the woman on their right. She doesn’t look at their clothes, what point does it serve? They’re back here now and have come for a reason. At one point, she had made a point to memorize what they wore. How their belts cinched their waists, how their breasts spilled softly from their blouses in an appealing display of warmth. Not that she stewed on it, she would just have a bartender conveniently card them, or they would just so happen to lose their tickets. 

Her eyes meet with the first woman. She smiles, a warm if not curious smile. “Hey, sorry to bother, but could you point us in the direction of the dressing rooms?” Her smile is toothy, Imperator files this knowledge away. 

Sister crosses her arms, steeling her features into a cold impasse. “No, they don’t have one.” Her voice is oppressive. 

The other woman with a pale nude lip, stark against the darkness of her skin and softness of her cheeks blinks and screws her face in skepticism. The confusion is clear on her face. Here’s the thing about Sister Imperator: she doesn’t give two shits about her confusion. Sister is tired, her face baking under the powder she applied earlier that day, her feet burning from her platformed boots.

She’s not quite inclined to point these women towards Nihil and exclaim, “Here he is! His cock is always ready! Would you like condoms, or would you prefer to go raw? Both are enjoyable, I surely would know!” 

At this point in the night, she’s far more inclined to being difficult. 

“They don’t have a dressing room?” The first lady intones, her head tilting as she pouts in confusion. 

“Precisely.” Sister says dryly, her eyes narrowing. Her arms, still crossed tightly, allow her to tap her fingers along her arm in impatience. The woman laughs, smiling at Sister. She clearly hasn’t caught on that Sister Imperator would rather be anywhere but here, especially in front of these other women. 

“So does Papa just get changed in the hallways? That’d be a gas.” She giggles, leaning against the propped door. The other two women ignore her, exchanging a look that spelled their confusion more clearly than if they had spoken aloud. 

Sister scoffs sarcastically, her lips lifting in sardonic aggression. “Yes, it surely would be.” The last thing she wanted was a conversation, just let her get her fucking cigarettes, go home and have a good cry away from where anyone could see her. 

The woman smiles at her once more, looking forward and then turning her head back. “Do you know where he might actually be? We wanted to see him before we ditched here.”

Imperator can feel her smile tighten, shaking her head. Get the hint, lady, good fucking Lord. “He ditched earlier. You just missed him.” Her fingers still rap against her arm, the flickering lightbulb above making one of the other woman’s eye begin twitching. The toothy woman’s face falls, her smile twisting into a pout. 

“Bummer.” She sighs, turning back to retreat back through the door. The third woman, her eyes narrowed, lets her eyes run over Sister’s appearance. She scoffs in dismissal, turning back. But before Sister can sigh in relief, her night continues its downward spiral into her own foray into the question of her own sanity. 

The space is swallowed by the dark leather and painted face of Nihil himself, panting heavily. Though the sweat has been patted away from his face, his neck is red with exertion. Of fucking course. His eyes turned to her, and then to the three women currently staring at him with varying degrees of joy. 

���Oh, hello!” Nihil chimes, his eyes flicking to Sister and then the women once more. “I do not think we have had the pleasure of meeting, no?” The women smile at him, the one in the front walking forward and daringly placing a hand on his arm. 

“We were in the crowd, Papa. You were unreal!” She smiles at him, her toothy grin making his own smile widen. Sister watches as the other two women walk closer, closely inspecting his wide white eye that shined intriguingly off in the shaky light of the bulb above them. 

“Your eye is so beautiful, how do you get it like that?” The woman’s nude lips are wide, her arms wrapped around herself in a way that allowed her to push her tits further together. Sister frowned, her stomach roiling with annoyance. Good grief, just get it over with. Have him grab you by the hips and fuck you in his hotel room, leave the next morning and giggle about it with your girlfriends. 

“A gift, bella.” Nihil purred, his hand rising to cup the second woman’s face. Her eyes widen, her cheeks filling out with a flush as he giggles at her. As much as Sister wants to move, she can’t stop. She hadn’t been wooed, as much as she was loath to admit it. Always the one to walk forward first, she had led Nihil along like a puppy on a leash. Of course she loved it, admired how much he turned to her. Either for kindness or guidance, for a fuck on the road late at night, she remained. But had he ever cornered her backstage and let him lick the sweat from her neck without her gripping him by the lapel? 

“A gift? Not meaning to bug out or anything, but the speech you gave on stage was unreal. We’d love to hear more.” Ah, the usual segue. Begging for guidance on the Old One’s beliefs and then fucking at his metaphorical altar. She didn’t care anymore, she couldn’t stand to listen. It was one thing to see it at the hotel last month, another to hear him imply it earlier, but she couldn’t take the scene in front of her. 

Sister turned, pushing gently past the woman at his side and walking past the gaggle. She walks briskly down the way. 

“Mi dispiace belle signore , but I am unfortunately on a tight schedule. Perhaps you could ask one of the ghouls? I’m sure they would be more than happy to speak to such pretty fanciulle.” She can hear the groans of the other women, and the click of their heels as they walk away. The urge to pause and look is strong, but who knows why he did it? Nihil could have already got his rocks off with someone on the way, or the chance of another rendezvous already scheduled. Fool her once, shame on you. Fool her twice, shame on her. She’s already gotten through a third time, and a fourth would just be pathetic. 

She turns the corner to the dressing room, thankfully clear. The packing up tended to go quicker than setting up, so hopefully things were going to plan. Sister still needed to check in, but first she wanted a damn cigarette. She walks across the room, leaning against the couch and looking behind where she had kept it. A growl released from her throat, couldn’t she have anything go right tonight? She wouldn’t cry. She knew better than that. But the tightness in her throat was beginning to hurt, the anger from earlier receding. And the sickly green feeling in the pit of her stomach was back, mocking and ugly. 

A knock behind her, soft and gentle. She didn’t turn, knowing the click of his boot heels as familiar as her childhood home doorbell. 

“Tesoro?” A soft voice calls into the room, loud in the now silent room. Warm earlier with the countless bodies, the lack makes her skin cold under the long draped sleeves of her mini dress. Even adverse to the company of others, she wishes that someone was here to pillow the moment with a stranger's presence. 

“There’s no need to speak so quietly, Papa. We’re the only two here.” Sister says plainly, pushing the emotion out of her voice. All of this because of jealousy towards some fan? Out of all the shows she could have gotten upset over, this is the one? How demeaning. 

“I am aware we’re alone. I see you after all my shows, yes?” She doesn’t turn to look at him, but his hands come to her hips behind her. Imperator stills, the hot sticky feeling in her stomach still there. Why couldn’t she just let it go? Out of all the times she had seen the way he acted, why is now the time she chose to turn her back? 

“Not all of them.” The accusation hangs in the air, Nihil’s hands tight on her hips through the silk of the dress. The heat of his palm almost scalds her, he burns as hot as the sun, a constant inferno that scorches her when she touches him. It burrows into her flesh, finding nirvana in the way he fits inside her. The thought is swiftly cut off as he sighs into her ear, the shell warming with the outtake of breath. She doesn’t move. 

“Si, not all of them. Concerts can be stressful, after parties and such. But do I not come back to your bed?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Imperator yanked herself out of his grip. She walks across the room, looking into the dressers of the cabinet for her purse. She could just get her purse and walk out, back to the hotel. As soon as this Ghost Project was over, she could go back to her comfortable office and deal with this from the back burner. No more Nihil, no more bastard children, no more goddamned groupies. 

“Indeed you do.” The words grind out of her mouth like a knife on stone, slamming the drawer closed and straightening up from where she had been crouched down. The heels click against the floor quickly, and she gasps once she feels the warmth of his torso pushed against hers, her back pushed against the dresser quickly. She can feel the ledge of the small desk pushed against the small of her back. Sister looks up towards him, the placid look on her face crumbling into something sour, and surly, and she has to stop herself from pushing him away and leaving without her purse. 

The words had never been said aloud by her. Late nights where she imagined Nihil fucking her with abandon, taking her from behind and treating her like one of the sweet little things that came to pray at his altar. It lingered in the atmosphere until she saw a scene like earlier, like a rubber band being pulled tighter and tighter until the middle burned hot from heat. White hot heat settled in between the space between her and Nihil, in the impasse of their stares. Always looking, across a room or when she kissed the overstimulated tears from below his eyes in the night. 

There is understanding finally in his eyes. The crystal clear realization that maybe his actions did matter, through the smoke and haze of the lights above him as he sang and crooned to women who had never even conceptualized an existence beyond a white picket fence. Maybe he had finally crossed the line that had always been there. 

(Maybe, everything has always been filled with maybes between the two of them). 

“ Innamorata… Maybe I have not been so attentive.” He says softly, his gaze never wavers. That infernal eye never moves from its impassive gaze. His hands grip her waist, and she glares. She feels it like a warm hand against her throat, and she banishes the thought. 

“Attentive? There are things you want… an inexperienced fuck in a cheap hotel room with a fan that doesn’t even know where her clit is. By all means, go for it.” She spits out, the words scraping out of her throat by the fine edge of a knife: the same knife has plunged into her back countless times during this tour. Pardoned by their own lord, sanctified in blood and sin, and here they were. 

“Oh? You think I don’t smell it, tesoro? It’s dripping off of you.” His hand slides from her hip to her cunt, a gasp ripping itself from her throat as he cups it softly through her dress. She knows him, knows the way his eye glows, the way his cock is pressed against her leg and how it throbs hot, hard, natural. Oh, and it feels good. Feels, she finds, even better as he rubs the palm of his hand against it. 

“Dripping off of you, dripping out of you? I can think of many things I want to fill you with.” Nihil chisels a space into the emptiness between them, rasping out a groan into her neck as the silk of her dress catches on slick between her legs. She should push him away, but it feels too good to have him take the lead. It’s burning, hotter than the fires of hell they pledge to have when they leave this mortal plane. When it all burns down, it is always captivating and aposematic.

Through the back and forth of his hand Imperator can feel him lean forward, his mouth latching onto the soft molten skin of her neck. He lifts his other hand not busied with the soft skin below, grabbing the burning flesh of her breast. She has to stop this, take control. She isn’t a woman begging to be let backstage, flashing her tits at the bouncer and hoping that he’ll press his face between her legs. His mouth is an ember compared to the blaze in his eyes, lavascapes in the stark whiteness of blue and white. She could burn, she realized, but she leans into the hand pressing into her softest places. 

Papa’s mouth is soft against the dewy skin of Sister’s neck, the paint so delicately applied earlier is no doubt a parting gift against the paleness of her skin. His breath ghosts against her skin, pulling away. And she pouts at the loss, ichor rushing through her veins. She never quite understood the meaning of hunger until she met Nihil, a hunger for a man and not power. He rips open a vacuum inside of her, a festering hole that is utterly insatiable. A constant ache that drives her delirious with the urge to consume him with her gaping maw. Rapacious charm, never full. 

“How long have you wanted this? For me to take you like a slut?” The words drag over his tongue, and she’s alarmed by the moan pushing its way from her mouth. No, this has never happened. A step closer, her blood burns. The green feeling in her stomach has uprooted itself, destroyed in the endless warmth of his gaze. From where it had been clotted in her throat, for months upon months on tour, and it’s gone. 

He smiles, leaning down and finally taking her mouth in his. His lips are firm, pressing against hers with a deliberate force that she hasn’t experienced. Is this what these women have been packing at the door for? They had surely kissed, but it was her biting and forcing her way into the soft cavern of his mouth. But at this moment, his mouth doesn’t rest. She presses against him, her arms reaching around his neck and pulling him closer. Her hands shake around his neck, the pulsing of wetness and warmth between her legs dizzying. It jars her, head gummy and full of sin. These women wanted this. 

Their mouths press together, Nihil’s tongue pushing against hers in a sloppy push and pull of slickness. He tastes like sin, cigarettes and the heady tang of peppermint gum. He’s rough, a palpable hunger that pulls the last threads of jealousy from her mind. Papa pulls away, his eyes sharper than Sister had ever seen them. A yawning abyss of knowledge, and then she remembers. Women came to him for a reason, an unknown that would snap at the tips of their fingers if they got too close. And Nihil smiles, his hips pushing against hers and a sigh falling past his parted lips. It’s messy, adrenaline from onstage clearly pulsing through the fog of his mind. 

“Do I interest you? Is that why you haven’t set me aside?” His voice is harsh, his eyes lidded and heavy. 

“I could ask the same.” Her head is a slurry of pleasure, her clit throbbing where it meets the harsh bulge of his cock and the back and forth of silk against her body. It’s messy, less defined than anything she had ever allowed to happen. The backstage fumblings of curious women and- 

“Shush.” He makes a noise, condescending and somehow sweet like a cocktail at the dingy bars they had performed at. It punches into her, makes her gasp. Her hips stutter, she’s never seen a sight more damning. If she had been more stupid, she could imagine herself in a crowd. Peering up at him, a smile tugging at her lips and watching him thrust against the mic stand. And by Satan, she realizes it. The brutality of it makes her crush her lips against his, tongue sliding against the wetness of his own slippery muscle. There is embarrassment of course, and there is shame. But she wants it, the horrible emptiness inside of her that wants to let him treat her like a slut. A groupie begging on her knees, her back, for his tongue and cock to complete her. 

His hands return to her hips, lifting her onto the desk without breaking the kiss. The embers spar, blazing, when he deepens the kiss and presses the bulge of his cock into her pussy. She shivers, a whole body chill that has her breaking the kiss and moaning into the air. “Please.” It’s a plea, a whimper that she has never once spoken aloud to Nihil. And the way he chuckles, biting her lip with ravenous hunger that reminds her of the blood that courses through his veins, has her pushing back against him. She can’t resist, she wouldn’t even try. 

“Oh, please?” His voice sings, a derisive coo that makes her keen. He pulls back, his hands lifting her dress to reveal the pale pink briefs beneath. Nihil crouches, kneeling before her and running his hands over her soft thighs. A sigh, and a kiss pressed against the pliable porcelain before him. He had spent hours before, his head pressed between her thighs while she gripped his hair in a domineering grip as she took her pleasure from him. But now simply gripped the edges of the table, her wide eyes meeting his as he grazes his knuckles against the soft skin. Nihil sighs, shaking his head. 

“Have you thought about my head between their legs, tesoro?” The question is clipped, a grin on his face as he lets his palm glide up and down her legs. A hesitant nod, and her legs quake as Papa Nihil presses a kiss to her inner thigh. He lathes his tongue over the small scar at the influx of her thigh. Another whimper pours out as he peppers kisses against her, and she can’t tear her eyes away from his cocky grin. She should hate this, should be pulling him away and reprimanding him for taking control. But with the way he grips her thighs and the way she drips onto the table, she knows she loves this. Sister mewls as Nihil inches further, his eyes meeting her own. 

“I will take my pleasure from you the same as I do from them.” He murmurs, his mouth latching onto her skin. Her hands grip into the desk tightly, keening as he meets her gaze. “A powerful woman, la mia dea. But a slut all the same, begging for my cock.” He growls, and she moans as he presses the flat arch of his painted nose against her clit, his tongue tracing circles into the slickness of her pussy. 

Moans fill the silence of the room, muffled groaning and the slick movement of his mouth against her creating a back and forth cacophony of sin. Nihil’s hands against her thighs continue their back and forth as he takes his fill, his eyes closed in satisfaction. Sister whines as the sucking against her clit intensifies, his tongue swiping against her entrance. The hand against her leg moves, a finger dropping and dipping lightly at her dripping cunt, lightly swirling around the slickness collecting there. She bites her lip, catching the moan that bubbles out of her throat at the way he slurps at her cunt. 

His eyes shoot open, meeting her own with his mismatched gaze. He pulls back, his mouth unlatching from her pulsing clit while his fingers continue toying with her. “Don’t keep your noises from me, I want to hear.” Papa’s finger slides inside, and Sister chokes out a gasp. “Do you think these women hold back their pleasure? Have you not pulled similar noises from me while you choke down my cock, tesoro? ” She should be angry, she thinks to herself, but she can hardly think after he pushes two fingers into her utterly drenched entrance. He grazes a knuckle against a spot inside her, a high moan punching out of her throat as her walls flutter around him. 

“Nihil, I-” Sister Imperator gasps, her lips swollen and her lipstick rubbed off even earlier than now. He pulls his fingers away, and she moans in complaint. His eyes blaze with ire, his frown making her stomach clench in distraught anticipation. He rubs his fingers over her entrance, toying with the slick collected there. 

Nihil shakes his head, pressing a chaste kiss to her clit. “That is not my name. What am I called?” She whines, thinking back to the times they’ve fucked. It had been either Nihil, slut, or even my love. Never had it been- 

“Papa.” She whispers, his lips raising in appreciation. To everyone else, it’s Papa. His fingers slide back inside, the curls of his breath over her soaked pussy making her eyes roll back. Her hair knocking against the wall was probably a mess, her once perfect beehive now more of a honeycomb. While his tongue sucks against her raised clit, his fingers continue to coax burning pleasure that made her thighs shake. She can feel her lips are bitten raw, her knees pressed against her chest and exposing herself to him entirely. She should blush, she’s sure everyone else does, but his huffs and moans of pleasure persuade her to moan. 

She whimpers, and all thoughts are stuck in the burning mess in her head, rendered out into ashes and into cries for Papa, for more. It’s all a puddle of bliss, including her. His fingers brush against a spot inside that makes her cry out, a wail that she’s sure can be heard outside of the room. The thought is knocked out of her head as the pads of his fingers bump into it again, coupled with Papa’s tongue swiping against her bud. Oh, how she needed this, for him to just show that he knew how to please. 

She feels his lips curl against her clit and a muffled chuckle that makes her gasp, Coy, sweet, the type of mocking grin that he shot the crowd at the end of his show. He pulls back, fingers pistoning against her fluttering pussy, “Are you going to cum already, cara ? I thought you were a seasoned slut, opening your legs for any man with an ounce of talent?” He chuckles darkly, timbre drenched in sex and promise. She grits her teeth, eyes narrowing in a defiant glare that dissolves as he begins to softly lap at her clit. Sister wants to scoff, to roll her eyes but the breadth of his shoulders spreading her legs wide and the ministrations on her cunt cut the words on her tongue short. 

He circles her clit with the tip of his tongue, lapping softly and moaning against it as he closes his eyes. The makeup around his mouth is smeared, his lips shining with her slick and his spit. His mouth is molten, and she can feel her weeping hole clench around his fingers. It’s hot, the high collar of her dress collecting sweat. It’s messy, the opposite of the nakedness she was used to with him. Debauched, wanton, desperate for him. The desperation is tangible.

“Show me how much you want my cock.” He growls into her cunt, nuzzling his cheek into her thigh as his fingers increase their speed. Imperator moans, her thighs shaking as she feels her climax approach much more quickly than usual. At the speed of his fingers, she can feel the delicious burn of pleasure that nears so deliciously into pain, a wire pulled taut and begging to be released. She arches, canting her hips greedily into his mouth. If he weren't so intent on making her cum, she’s sure he would be grinning like the damn dirty tease he is. 

A particular curl of his fingers sends her over the edge, his tongue laving over her clit and his fingers fucking dangerously harshly against the sweet spot inside of her that has her choking out a moan. She can feel the rings of cum wetting her thighs, the spit that coats her lower half. She can’t help but whimper when she crests the wave, an embarrassing litany of pleads for her Papa, a melted husk of a woman drunk on the high of her orgasm. 

Sister can feel the way he presses kisses into her thighs, the way his fingers have been pulled out of her and she cries at the need for him inside of her. Nothing where she rides him for control, where he begs and whimpers for her to let him cum. She lets her eyes fall open, a quavering moan from her mouth whenever she witnesses him suck her cum from his fingers. His eyes blaze as he stands above her, his mouth stretched wide into a grin that makes her heart swell.

Sister’s eyes flick down, where his bulge pushes against the black leather of his bellbottoms. Her hands shoot forward and reach for the laces, if not a bit clumsily trying to pick apart the laces. She knows he aches for it, and can feel him twitching against the confines of his trousers. His hand drops down, and Papa smiles down at her with a fond, if not condescending, smirk. 

Her hands pull the laces apart, a joined moan between the two of them as his swollen cock pops out. The head of his cock is red, smeared with sticky spend at the tip that aids her as she begins to pump him leisurely. He sighs, a hand gathering in her hair as she looks up at him. “You do such a good job pleasing Papa, you know?” She nods quickly, her hand not slowing. Just as she finds a rhythm, his hands have shot out to stop her. The hardness of his cock in her hand makes the emptiness inside her known, aching even. He steps between her legs, craning her head upward towards him. 

“Will you let Papa fuck you?” He whispers, stepping forward to rub his cock against her soaked folds. A whine forces its way from her throat. God, she just wants him, any way at any time. To say she’s been denying it would be an understatement. She needed him, wanted him near her always. It’s easy to worship him, she thinks to herself through the delirious haze of his weight against her cunt. Easy to kiss offerings into his skin, sing a hymn of praise into the dips of his neck.

“Yes, Papa.” A whisper, heavy and breathless. The way she addresses him makes him moan helplessly, and there’s nowhere else to burn eternally than with one another. Leaning closer, the head of his cock nudges inside her, popping in with such ease that it makes the both of them pause in the sheer buzz of skin on skin. Sister leans back, allowing herself to moan as she feels the heavy weight of him inside her. Nihil chokes on his gasp, pushing slowly inside of her. The head of his dick pushing against something soft in her cunt that makes her clench around him with a whimper. 

The cloying feeling of him on top of her, inside her, makes her keen. Why had she fought this for so long, for the treatment he gave other women? The very feeling of him inside her is dizzying, the way he hovers above her with a self satisfied smile makes her match it. The fuzzy feeling in her stomach returns, her heart lifting from the well it had drifted to earlier. Control was something she had vied for, and couldn't let go. The ebb and sway of how he would let her control him, and this is where he got his kicks. Maybe now he could find his respite within her as well. 

Nihil moans, rolling his hips into hers in a way that makes her eyes roll back. The thrusts are slow, a back and forth that knocks the air from her lungs in the most delicious way. Each time he retreats he comes back home, the tip of his cock kissing the place inside of her that makes her legs lock around his waist tightly. Strings of pleasure lick up her spine, her nipples hard underneath the fabric of her dress. She can smell the heady smell of sex in the air, the wetness between the two of them slick in the cool air of the dressing room. Maybe everyone would hear, hear how he fucked her like a woman, like any woman out there in the crowd. 

His hair is soft beneath her hands, moussed from the sweat of the stage and his lingering adrenaline and the many times she had already gripped it in the space between the two of them. 

“So good for me, you take me so well Sister,” He whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss against her lips in a salacious lick against bitten lips. He tips his head forward as Sister clenches around him, his thrusts grinding his cock into her pussy in a way that makes white hot pleasure tickle her spine. She combs over his face, his perfectly debauched makeup sliding down the smoothness of his skin. A thought passes about what he may look like when he’s older, how the makeup will pool in a similar way perhaps. 

As she clenches around him his dick twitches in agreement, his eyes lidded in pleasure as he continues to fuck her. A hazardous grin spreads across his smeared lips when he catches her gaze, his eyes sweeping over her bent form as he continues to fuck her, spread out and stretched over his thick cock. Anyone can hear her, she realizes, can hear how badly she wants her Papa to fill her cunt, to make her cum, how good he is at making women achieve hedonistic pleasure. A star frontman, an experienced lover. 

He grins, and she can feel his cock brush against a soft spot inside of her that makes her positively wail. His hand drops from where it’s clenched around her thigh, thumb swiping over her clit and she groans, needy and breathless. Sister’s hips work with his own, Nihil’s hips knocking against the silky walls of her cunt. His head brushes deep, her back arching in pleasure that makes her quiver in a profoundly intense ache. As his hand works over her throbbing clit and his hips batter against the meat of her ass, Nihil leans over. A kiss pressed to her neck, a stream of moans into her ear dredged up from a place of love and desperation. 

“Will you cum for me?” A whisper into her ear, a fervent nod answered back. Her heart flutters, a taut softness as she feels her toes curl. It pinches taut as he angles his hips, tendrils of pleasure as he pushes his cock further in. In a moment like this, she couldn’t give a damn about a groupie, some faithless devotee. The devotion is right here and right now, between the one at the altar and the abnormality present. 

“Please. I want to be your whore,” Sister whispers, haze filling the curtain of her gaze as she feels the pleasure ratcheting higher and higher. Papa Nihil feels similarly, she knows this, the desperate high moans against her neck as he visibly fights the urge to call out for her like normal. 

A vicious swipe against her clit sends her over, liquid bliss spuming deep within her and setting her off. The rhythmic clenching of her softness around his cock makes him gasp, his breath choked in her throat as he cums deep inside her. She sighs, eyes slipping closed as he sighed against her neck. Her hands rose to his back, slow careful swipes of her hands on his shirt as he heaved for air. 

The air was warm, and she could feel their shared spend dripping down from her hole onto the floor. The sickly green feeling in her stomach was gone, filled with the deliciously delightful feeling of Nihil in her arms, his hands warm against her waist. When he quiets by the end of her gentle petting, the mushy misty eyed look in her eyes won’t leave. An odd juxtaposition for a woman who could bring Nihil down to size in a matter of moments. 

“You don’t suppose I could have a cigarette after this?” She mumbled, smiling softly as she heard a muffled laugh against her neck. Pulling back, they looked at one another. His makeup was ruined, as was hers most likely. Though they still had the drive back to the hotel to fare with, nothing delighted her more than knowing she could curl up in bed delightfully moisturized and nestled against Nihil. And looking into his eyes, she knew he was just as enchanted at the ending of their night together. His hand drifted to her cheek, his eyes soft in a way that made her stomach flip. 

“Never again, Genevieve. I promise.” And she knew he wasn’t talking about cigarettes. He whispered, a delicate kiss pressed against the tip of her nose. His hand was warm, and she leaned into the soft embrace of it against her dreadfully sweaty cheek. Although her heart jumped at her given name, the irony of it in her current religion a mockery to her sensibilities, Sister sighed.

The sickly feeling of envy an ever looming fear now, she knew she could push through. Though he had two children now, the fear of a third, even a fourth was gone. He was hers, and she was his, even through the possibility of another Prime Mover. Satan forbid a groupie try to coax their way into his pants in the future. 

The thought passed with a drop of disdain in her eyes, and a smile making its way onto her kiss swollen lips. All these months of sweat soaked nights on a bumpy bus, a hand held out in a busy afterparty, the soft breath against her neck as she held him close. A hand held in another hand with care, with no fear to be found. 

“Of course. Never again.” 

[shinybanette]

I’m not crying over the video for The Future is a Foreign Land you are

[phxntxm-uszr]

Malewife x Girlboss

You guessed it, more ImperaHil fanart

Young Seestor in a Suit and Young Peepaw in a Corset + Skirt 💕🐀

Which version did you like better?

Any art suggestions/thoughts? Drop em down below ghestie 👇

[onedaughterofman]

About me and fic masterlist <3

Hi! I can speak English and Spanish. This is a +18 blog, so please DON'T follow/interact if you're underage.

Also, PLEASE DO NOT repost my works on ANY OTHER SITE. They are exactly where I want them to be.

Fics are under #my writing tag!

Fic masterlist under the cut!

In all the fics the reader is gender neutral, unless I say otherwise.

You, forever: Papa Emeritus IV x reader. Angst, a bit of horror. Evil! Copia. Antichrist! Copia. COMPLETED

Chapter I: Life eternal

Chapter II: Maternal slave

Chapter III: If you have ghost

Chapter IV: A funeral pyre

Chapter V: Kiss the goat under the spell

Chapter VI: Your friend Death

Chapter VII: Zenith interlude

Chapter VIII: Spawn of pure malevolence

Chapter IX: Waiting for the night

Chapter X: Dance Macabre

Chapter XI: Thank you, now go, go

Evil: Papa Emeritus III x reader. Rated T, some sexual innuendos.

Admirer: Aether ghoul x reader. Fluff. PART II

Hope: Aether ghoul x reader. Fluff.

Ritual: Papa Emeritus (any of them) x reader x Nameless Ghoul (any of them). +18, adult content.

Sun: Papa Emeritus (any of them) x reader. Fluff, comfort.

Premature burial: Mary Goore x reader. Rated T, a bit of horror.

Call me: Cardinal Copia x reader. +18, adult content.

Night: Papa Emeritus (any of them) x reader. +18, adult content.

Ring: Cardinal Copia x reader. +18, adult content.

Sin: Papa Emeritus (any of them) x reader. +18, adult content.

Bless me: Papa Emeritus (any of them) x reader. +18, adult content.

Vampire Party: Young! Sister Imperator x reader. Rated T, vampirism.

Cold: Dew/Sodo/Fire Ghoul x reader. Rated T, some sexual innuendos.

Prime Mover: Papa Emeritus (any of them) x reader. +18, adult content.

For me: Papa Emeritus III x reader. +18, adult content.

Dying tonight: Resurrected! Papa Emeritus III x reader. Angst.

Garments: Cardinal Copia x reader. +18, adult content.

Dance Macabre: Young! Sister Imperator x reader x Young! Papa Nihil. +18, adult content.

Goodnight, again: Young! Papa Nihil x reader. Fluff.

Rebirth: Vampire! Papa Emeritus x reader. Rated T. Mentions of injuries and blood. Vampirism.

Feisty: Nameless Ghoul (any of them) x reader. Rated M. Light adult content.

Binding ritual: Nameless Ghoulettes x reader. Fluff.

Untitled vignette: Papa Emeritus III x Omega Ghoul. Angst.

That classic "getting sold to" fic: Papa Emeritus IV x reader. Humor, crack fic.

Dark Waltz: Vampire! Papa Emeritus (any of them) x reader. Rated T.

Another bloody Mary: Mary Goore x Young! Nihil. Angst, crack ship.

Untitled vignette #2: Rain Ghoul x reader. Humor, bit of crack fic.

Ruin me: Nameless Ghoul x reader. +18, adult content.

Untitled vignette #3: Papa Emeritus III x Omega Ghoul. Angst.

Untitled vignette #5: Papa Emeritus IV x reader. +18, adult content.

Untitled vignette #6: Mary Goore x reader. Rated T, angst and emotional hurt/comfort.

Writing Sessions #1: Papa Emeritus IV x reader. Rated M, manipulative manwhore Copia, sexual innuendos.

Terzo x Omega scenario: Rated T, angst.

Writing Sessions #2: Papa Emeritus III headcanon. Angst, self esteem issues, depersonalization, imposter syndrome.

Writing Sessions #3: Cardinal Copia x reader. Rated M. Not explicit, but sexual themes. Fluff. Copia being weird and dumb.

Writing Sessions #4: Papa Emeritus II x reader. Rated T, sexual tension, age difference, Secondo being dark and handsome.

Writing Sessions #4 PART II: Papa Emeritus II x reader. +18, adult content.

Writing Sessions #5: Papa Emeritus III x Omega Ghoul. Angst.

Writing Sessions #6: Mary Goore x reader. Rated T, mostly fluff, some sexual tension. Blood (fake)

Writing Sessions #7: Papa Emeritus I x reader. +18, adult content.

Writing Sessions #8: Papa Emeritus I x reader. +18, adult content.

Writing Sessions #9: Papa Emeritus I x reader. +18 adult content.

Sacrifice me: Papa Emeritus x reader. +18 adult content.

PD: The Devil works hard but I'm sitting next to him chugging coffee like it's water.

Feel free to share this list with your Ghesties. Spread the word of the Lord!

[nihildenial]

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

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

MF 18+

word count: 1, 790

smut below cut!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Imperator removes her feet from his back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shoes off,” She says instead.

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

“Good boy. Tights.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Such a good boy for me,” She moans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She lets the pressure on his leash dissipate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She hisses at him, “Not there!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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