#cardinal primo

[robboyblunder]

As promised I went ahead and continued my "ghoul guide" with a part 2 (part one linked in replies)! This one covers stuff specifically with a made up lore guide of in-world ghoul stuff as if they were a sort of unique magic entity.

This one wound up way longer and had to be split so expect a third final one eventually lmao. for now though... I'm gonna take a break and yell. Bonus extra info plus the transcript under the cut!

ID in ALT text!

Bonus note: While not portrayed in the guide, it’s important to know a detail about ghouls’ origin called “memory echoes”. While ghouls are formed from humans past who lose all memory of their previous self while maintaining an assumed personality from before, at times certain instances of events, actions, items, and otherwise can trigger these “echoes”. Echoes are very rare, but a valued treasure to ghouls; they make them feel more connected to their past and more “human”. Upon triggering an echo, a ghoul will become completely listless, unable to respond or react until the echo has completed, usually within seconds.

“Memory echoes” are described as blurry faded memories that often show featureless shapes and colors, but a very strong “feeling” of a Deja-vu of the moment. They feel viscerally real and can have a mix of the senses i.e. touch and smell, but produce no recognizable faces or imagery of the self. No ghoul has ever reported fully remembering one, nor any semblance of their true past beyond the haunting leftovers.

Begin Transcript:

A Compendium of Hell’s Derivates

While there are many theories on the demonic nature of ghouls,

The true source is surprisingly Human.

Souls cannot be recreated; rather, they’re Recycled and Reborn

The cycle of ghoul creation started for unknown reasons…

But one thing is Certain:

Natural forces do not change easily.

Raw elements collide with the fuel of life itself until one connects

by His command

A violent injection of pure elemental magic

Rewrites and erases all memory and one’s past, drastically altering the soul…

These new powers lend to the powerful allies of the ministry,

However….

… new powers are a dangerous toy.

While coined as “Feral”, new ghouls would better be designated “Raw”, “Unbound”, and “Lawlessly Dangerous”

First formed, they are still elements;

Torrential, Aimless,

Incapable of coherent thought or rules

-but with time, coherence returns to the individual

Who grows much like a life cycle’s stages without necessarily aging.

The overall cycle is the same per ghoul, yet varied enough each rises differently…

First form: “Raw” – Second form (1): “Feral” – Second form (2) – Third form: “Stabilized”

Catalyst, violent, poor formation – Unaware, wild, chaotic – Conscious; can act like oneself; less raw – fully formed and recognizable

The first form, “Raw”, is notably so violent the devil himself does not release them until stage two.

The second form in stage one of a “Feral” ghoul is much like the forces of nature; free willed and wild, understanding minimal speech.

Take caution: they can be mischievous and cause decent damage.

In the second stage of a “Feral” ghoul, they behave like typical people; however, they’re still very free and may choose to never fully stabilize.

Note: you can tell they’ve reached this stage by presence of a tail and civil habits.

If desired, a ghoul reaches the final form: “Stabilized”. They’re transformed into a stable humanoid body, a form less powerful but safer.

Note: Talented ghouls can change form at will in this stage between secondary Feral and Stable.

When it comes to location, each form is most likely to be found:

Raw: Hell, contained

Feral (Stage 1): wilds/natural areas

Feral (Stage 2): wilds and civil areas

Stabilized: anywhere people go

Seeing feral ghouls is not uncommon, and can even be considered lucky!

They tend to provide free protection to keep their home

Ghouls can only stabilize via ministry ritual;

One can assume they’re ministry members if stable, even off duty.

Ghouls are uncommon, but found most places if looked for;

This seems especially true near ministry placements.

Ghouls only form from adults and don’t “age” traditionally, yet they’re still mortal

Deceased ghouls do not seem to return or recycle.

Summoning intentionally pulls only second stage feral ghouls or stable ghouls from anywhere,

They don’t always like this however (see other guide).

The cycle of ghouls serves a main purpose – as forces for the Dark One, in return for rebirth

However, there are two channels through which they serve.

1) Natural defense against corrupted holy magic

Non-stable ghouls defend at will naturally where they live

2) training to fight, protect, and uphold the ministry’s efforts in the name of the Devil.

Contrary to belief, summonings cannot grab from “nothing”;

Like the creation of a ghoul,

Their element, once developed, is what becomes pulled by nature

The force of such pull is incredible,

A disorientating test of will so great…

…it can render even the most sound minds rather violent.

This is why while some choose to stabilize, others may not;

But should a mind change, they can be freed or re-summoned.

Alternative to wild summoning, one can summon from trained ghouls over feral;

Many ghouls are trained for ministry positions all over, but any can be summoned if unassigned.

Though stabilized, unassigned ghouls are not contractually bound to anyone until assigned.

They’re great for extra work hands and being able to know what kind of team mates you’ll get without leaving it to chance.

Summoning any ghoul however reverts them to feral form, and the challenge to tame them remains the same.

Just because you know a ghoul does not mean an easy summon.

Finally, be warned: forcing unwanted breaking or upholding of a summoning contract

Will have dire consequences.

Aside from rarity of an element, there are “power classes” within each element.

Tiers:

Rarity of an element does not equal strength.

The break down is as follows:

Rare – extreme and dangerous power. These ghouls earn a specialized title.

Quite strong, stand out in their class and very sought after.

Most common tier; average and decent powers that are expectable.

Weak powers, but some uses are applicable.

Uncommon – ghouls who possess little to no powers. Ghouls in this tier may at times suddenly change power tier without warning to any other category.

S-Tier ghouls are quite rare and a sight to behold- truly, they embody nature’s power.

End transcript.

[her-satanic-wiles]

Kinktober Day 2 - Caning

Cardinal Primo x GN!Reader

Cardinal Primo is always far too hard on himself, but sometimes he needs a break. Sometimes he needs you to be hard on him, too.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 4.5k.

Reading Time: 18 min.

Warnings: blood, caning, dom/sub dynamic, flagellation, impact play, masturbation, praise kink, self-flagellation,

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

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Recommended listening: Take Me Back To Eden - Sleep Token

The first sound to greet you as you stepped into the dimly lit chapel was a series of grunts, echoing off the cold stone walls and reverberating deep within your ears. The heavy breaths that followed were punctuated by sharp intakes, each noise tinged with an unmistakable pain that clawed at your heart.

Curiosity propelled you forward, your head peeking around the corner. The sight that met your gaze was both haunting and mesmerising. Cardinal Primo knelt on the unforgiving stone floor, his torso bare and glistening with sweat. His left hand propped him up, trembling under the weight of his self-imposed penance. Blood trickled from open welts marring his back, testament to the punishment inflicted by the cane clutched tightly in his right hand—a stark symbol of self-flagellation.

Sweat beaded on his brow, cascading down his face in rivulets that blurred the lines of his paints, giving the impression of black tears streaking down his skin. Each mark on his back spoke volumes of his struggle; you could easily believe he had shed real tears at some point, the rawness of his wounds suggesting a depth of suffering that went beyond the physical.

Primo had always been relentlessly hard on himself, a man who believed he must bear the weight of his mistakes alone. The Ministry, a construct of mercy rather than judgment, had never mandated such punishments. Yet, remnants of a past steeped in the shadows of the False God lingered, twisting the beliefs of those who still sought redemption through pain. For Primo, these rituals had become a cruel necessity, a ritual of remorse that broke your heart each time you bore witness.

He straightened his posture, exhaling a shaky breath as he swung the cane with renewed vigour, allowing it to strike his body with brutal force. Another grunt escaped him, the impact driving him forward into that same three-pointed stance, a position of both agony and resolve. It was a strange paradox—the desperate sounds he made stirred something within you, igniting a heat that spread through your core, awakening desires you never knew existed. The sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, mingled with the crimson droplets of blood, created a visceral tableau that left you breathless and yearning.

You couldn’t help but sigh, the sound cutting through the air like a whisper of acknowledgment. His gaze snapped to you, wide and startled. “I… didn’t hear you… come in,” he panted, his breaths labored, each word a testament to the toll of his actions.

“I’m not surprised,” you replied, trying to keep your tone lighthearted, a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere. You stepped closer and took a seat in the pew just behind him, granting yourself a front-row seat to his torment. “With all that noise you were making, I can hardly believe I’m the only one who dared to step inside to witness this.”

As you settled into the pew, the air grew heavy with tension, each breath you took charged with an unspoken electricity. Cardinal Primo steadied himself, the grip on his cane tightening as he drew a deep breath, a moment of silence hanging between you like a fragile thread.

Then, with a swift, deliberate motion, he swung the cane again, the sound of wood connecting with skin echoing through the chapel. The sharp crack resonated like a thunderclap, followed by a low grunt that escaped his lips, the force of the impact causing him to falter forward once more. The sight was visceral, his body wracked with the effort, and your heart raced at the rawness of it all.

Each strike seemed to peel back layers of his stoicism, revealing a deeper pain that resonated within you. You watched as the blood welled up from the new wound, trickling down his back in crimson rivulets, contrasting starkly against his pale skin. The visceral act stirred something primal within you, a mix of empathy and an inexplicable desire that made your breath hitch.

He straightened again, sweat glistening on his brow, and for a moment, your eyes locked. In that fleeting connection, you sensed the weight of his struggles, the burden he bore not just for himself but for the ideals he represented. You wanted to reach out, to pull him from this cycle of self-destruction, but the intensity of the moment held you captive.

Primo inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling like a storm-tossed sea. It was then you realized that each swing of the cane wasn’t merely a punishment; it was a desperate plea for absolution, a yearning for a release that seemed perpetually out of reach. And yet, watching him, you felt a strange awakening, an urge to understand the depths of his suffering, to explore the fine line between pain and redemption that he walked so precariously.

“Why do you do this?” you finally dared to ask, your voice barely above a whisper, as though breaking the silence would shatter the fragile spell that had ensnared you both.

Primo had spent the morning in the council chambers of the Ministry, where heated debates raged over the direction the faith should take. He had been tasked with mediating discussions between factions that were increasingly at odds, each side clinging fiercely to their interpretations of doctrine. The weight of the responsibility bore heavily on him, a constant reminder of the expectations placed upon his shoulders.

That day, in the midst of the arguments, a slip of his tongue had ignited a fierce backlash. He had misquoted a sacred text, an error that had caused an uproar among the devout. Whispers of doubt spread like wildfire, and he felt the gaze of his peers turn cold, their judgment piercing through him. The feeling of failure washed over him, drowning out the voices of support that tried to remind him of his worth.

The aftermath of the meeting lingered in his mind like a dark cloud. He replayed the moment over and over, consumed by shame. To him, the only way to atone for his perceived failure was to seek redemption through pain. It was a twisted form of penance, one he believed would appease the higher powers he sought to serve, including the vengeful shadows of his own fears and doubts.

In his mind, he thought of Satan as a force of truth, a harsh but necessary guide. To stand before such a power without scars seemed unfathomable. So, in a desperate attempt to cleanse himself of the perceived sin of incompetence, he turned to self-flagellation, believing that suffering would somehow restore his honor and reaffirm his commitment to the faith.

As you watched him now, each strike of the cane was both a physical act and a spiritual one—a ritual designed to wash away the stain of his mistake and prove his worthiness, even if it meant courting the darkness he feared. In that moment, you understood that his desire for redemption was not just for the sake of the Ministry but for his own fractured spirit, striving to reclaim a sense of purpose in a world that felt increasingly chaotic.

You nodded in understanding as he recounted the events that had pushed him to this desperate act of penance. The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, and you felt the tension crackle between you. The next swing of the cane sliced through the silence, the sharp crack reverberating against the stone walls, followed by a grunt that echoed with both pain and resolve.

Your thighs tightened.

You seized the moment to speak, your voice steady yet soft, cutting through the haze of his suffering. “The Dark Lord is more merciful than this,” you said, letting your words sink in. “Suffering is for the followers of the light, the children of the False God. And, He’d want you to feel the pleasure in the pain, at least.”

Primo paused, the cane hanging limply at his side, his breath hitching as he absorbed your words. A flicker of confusion crossed his face, battling with the internal struggle that raged within him. The idea seemed foreign, almost blasphemous, yet a part of him hesitated, yearning for a glimmer of relief from the relentless cycle of pain he had subjected himself to.

“Pleasure?” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with doubt. “How can I indulge in anything but punishment when I’ve failed?”

You leaned forward slightly, your eyes locking onto his, willing him to see the truth in your perspective. “Redemption doesn’t solely lie in pain, Primo. It’s in the balance, in embracing both light and dark. The Dark Lord doesn’t seek to break you; He seeks to mold you. Embracing pleasure doesn’t diminish your devotion—it enhances it, allowing you to rise stronger from your trials.”

As the words left your lips, you noticed a subtle shift in his posture. The rigidness began to melt away, if only slightly, as the weight of his self-imposed burden wavered under the promise of something more. In that moment, you saw the flicker of hope ignite in his eyes, a yearning to reclaim not just his honour, but the joy of living, even amidst the shadows.

Almost quietly, and with a small smile, he responded, “I should have known you’d come for your pound of flesh.” His gaze lingered on you, a mixture of challenge and vulnerability in his eyes. The statement hung in the air, charged with a tension that sent a shiver down your spine.

You met his gaze, a slow smile playing at the corners of your lips. “Perhaps I have,” you replied, your voice low and sultry, deliberately teasing the edge of his discomfort. You stood and walked over to him, hooking your index finger below his chin. His eyes were wide, pupils blown out. He looked somehow innocent in all of this. “Perhaps I’ve been sent here to do His bidding.”

“It would be a great pleasure to be punished by you.”

He placed the cane in both of his hands and held it up to you, like a knight offering a sword to his queen. The cane trembled slightly in his hands as he offered it to you, his eyes locked onto yours with a mixture of reverence and desire. His lips parted as though he were about to speak, but no words came—only the quiet, charged silence between you. Trust radiated from him, unspoken yet undeniable, but instead of taking the cane, you chose a different path.

Slowly, deliberately, you sank to your knees before him, the movement commanding his attention. His breath hitched as he watched, every inch of you now level with the vulnerability he tried so hard to suppress. The tension between you was electric, a palpable pulse of need and anticipation. You let your hand slide behind his neck, the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips sending a jolt through you both.

Without breaking eye contact, you pulled him toward you, and the kiss that followed was anything but gentle. It was desperate, hungry, and raw—a collision of longing and pent-up emotion that neither of you could hold back any longer. His lips crashed against yours, warm and insistent, as if he were trying to lose himself in the intensity of the moment, seeking solace in the heat of your touch.

A soft groan escaped him as your mouths moved together, your fingers tangling in his damp hair. His hands, once so steady, gripped your arms with a fervor that matched the wild beat of his heart. You could feel the tension in his body, every muscle taut as though he were on the verge of breaking. His kiss was filled with everything he had been holding back—months, perhaps years, of isolation, of denying himself any comfort beyond the sting of his cane.

You deepened the kiss, the passion between you intensifying as you pressed closer. His breath came in ragged gasps between kisses, each one more desperate than the last, as if he were afraid to let go, afraid that the moment would slip through his fingers if he didn’t cling to it. To you.

Your bodies moved in sync, lips parting, tongues intertwining, with the Cardinal fully submitting to you with nary a fight left in him. The taste of him—sweat, salt, and something deeper, more primal—ignited a fire in you, your desire burning hotter with every passing second. He kissed you like you were his salvation, his escape from the torment he inflicted upon himself.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, lips swollen, your foreheads pressed together as the intensity of what had just passed settled between you. His chest rose and fell heavily, and his eyes, dark with need, searched yours, pleading for something more than what his punishment could offer. “Let me make you feel good,” you panted, resting your forehead against his. “Let me help you.”

“Y-yes,” Primo stammered. The feelings in his chest were threatening to overwhelm him if he didn’t keep himself in check.

You locked your lips to his again, allowing the kiss to return to the same heat it was before. As your tongue entered his mouth, you travelled your hand down from his neck, across the sweaty expanse of his hairy chest and soft stomach, and onto his clothed crotch, earning a gasp from his lips as you made contact. Gently, you began to stroke over him, his limp cock beginning to stand to attention at your touch. You were like a magician with the way you touched him, playing with the right spots to make it feel so fucking good so early on. He was wrapped around your little finger, his body answered only your call. Tonight, you were going to help him in more ways than one.

Flagellation had never felt like this before, neither had pleasure, if Primo was being honest. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but the dull humming of pain on his back mixed with your hand on his core had given him a whole new religious experience. Satan’s wrath at his back, His mercy at his front - and it felt incredible. He never wanted it to stop.

You broke the kiss once more, making him whine in response. “Do you still want me to cane you?”

“Sathanas - please. Please.”

Primo’s begging was delicious. You let your fingers trail along the waistband of his trousers, teasing the skin beneath, but you didn’t give him what he wanted. Not yet. “You’ll get your punishment,” you promised, your voice dark with promise. “But tonight, Primo, it’s going to feel like a blessing.”

His breath caught, his body trembling at the weight of your words, and you could see it in his eyes—he was ready to be yours, to give in to the dark, twisted pleasure that only you could provide.

Slowly, you trailed your hand down from his waistband, brushing your fingers over the growing hardness between his legs. He gasped, his hips bucking slightly into your touch, but you kept your movements slow and deliberate, keeping him teetering on the edge of pleasure without giving him the release he so desperately craved.

“Tell me, Primo,” you murmured, your fingers ghosting over his cock in featherlight strokes. “Do you want more pain? Or more pleasure?” You kissed the edge of his jaw as you spoke, your breath hot against his skin, every word a temptation he couldn’t resist.

His eyes fluttered shut as a low moan escaped him, the mix of pain from his earlier flagellation and the pleasure of your touch driving him to the brink. “Both,” he finally breathed, his voice trembling. “I need both.”

You smiled against his skin, satisfied with his answer. “Good,” you whispered, before pulling back slightly, your eyes locking onto his. “Then let’s begin.”

You reached for the cane, still gripped in his trembling hands, and pried it from his grasp, your fingers brushing his as you took it from him. His eyes followed your movements, wide and filled with anticipation, as you stood before him, the wooden cane held firmly in your hand.

“Remove your trousers,” you commanded, looking down at him with hooded eyes. Primo obliged immediately, scrambling off the floor to obey you as quickly as possible. He was fully hard now, cock red and aching, and pleading to be touched once more. The sight of it made your mouth water.

“Touch yourself,” you continued, “slowly.”

Primo spat in his hand and wrapped it around his head, softy and slowly twisting as he began to fuck himself in front of you. He was needy. Desperate. Wanting.

You raised the cane slightly and brought it down in a swift, sharp strike against his thigh—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him gasp. The combination of the pain and his touch made his entire body tremble, the contrast pushing him into a deeper submission.

His moan was low, guttural, and you could tell that he was already starting to lose himself in the mix of pleasure and pain. “Do you like that?” you asked, your voice teasing, as you leaned down to brush your lips against his.

“Yes,” he gasped, his voice hoarse and breathless. “More… please…”

You smiled against his mouth and delivered another, harder strike, this time to his other thigh. His reaction was immediate, his back arching as he let out a strangled cry, the cane in your hand and the desire in your touch working together to pull him deeper into submission.

“Good boy,” you purred, pressing your palm harder against his now throbbing cock as a reward. “You’re doing so well.”

His entire body seemed to melt at your words, his mind surrendering completely to your control. The pain, the pleasure—it all blurred together for him now, each sensation heightened by the other, until he was nothing but a trembling mess beneath you.

“Where do you want the pain now, Primo?”

“B-back. My back.”

You grinned at his trembling voice, watching as he begged for more, his body a quivering mass of need and submission. His cock was slick with his own spit, his hand slowly twisting and stroking, but the desperation in his eyes told you he was aching for something more—something only you could give him.

With a teasing hum, you moved behind him, the cane still firmly gripped in your hand. His back was already marked with the remnants of his self-inflicted punishment, the red welts standing out against his pale skin, but you knew he craved your touch—the combination of pain and pleasure only you could deliver.

“You want the pain on your back, do you?” you purred, running the tip of the cane lightly over his shoulders. His muscles tensed beneath your touch, his body quivering with anticipation. “Are you sure, Primo? I can make it hurt so good, but you have to ask for it.”

“Please,” he gasped, his voice ragged. “P-please, punish me.”

The sound of him begging for it, so willing, so eager, made your heart race. You raised the cane, hesitating for just a moment to let him feel the anticipation, before bringing it down sharply across his shoulders. His body jolted, a guttural moan escaping his lips as the pain radiated through him, but you could tell by the way he arched into the blow that he wanted—no, needed—more.

Without giving him a chance to recover, you brought the cane down again, striking a bit harder this time, the sound of the impact echoing in the chapel. His back arched once more, his hand faltering for just a moment on his cock as the pain overwhelmed him.

“You take it so well,” you cooed, stepping closer to press your body against his. You let your free hand trail over his heated skin, feeling the way his muscles quivered beneath your fingertips. “Do you want more, Primo?”

“Yes,” he groaned, his voice shaking. “More… please…”

You delivered another strike, the force sending a tremor through his entire body. His back was now a canvas of red, each mark a testament to his submission, and yet he still begged for more.

“Keep touching yourself,” you ordered, your voice firm but seductive. “Don’t stop. Go faster.”

He obeyed, his hand moving over his cock in quick, desperate strokes as you continued to bring the cane down on his back, each blow making him cry out in a perfect blend of pain and pleasure. His moans grew louder, more frantic, and you could see that he was close, his body trembling on the edge of release.

You leaned down, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “You can come, Primo, but only when I tell you. Understand?”

“Yes,” he gasped, his voice strained. “Please… let me come…”

You smiled wickedly, your hand ghosting over the welts on his back before delivering one final, hard strike. His entire body jolted forward, hips now doing most of the work as continued to fuck his hand as hard as he needed, a choked cry escaping him when he tried to hold back, his cock throbbing in his hand.

“Not yet,” you teased, your voice dripping with control. “Not until I say.”

He whimpered beneath you, his body trembling with the effort of holding back, but he obeyed, desperate for your approval, desperate for the release only you could grant.

“You were doing this for the Dark Lord’s forgiveness, weren’t you, Cardinal?” You taunted from behind as you landed another painful blow. You watched as the blood bloomed from the fresh wound.

“Y-yes!”

“Keep fucking that hand, Cardinal, but beg for His forgiveness. Beg Satan and He might grand you pleasure.”

Primo gasped, the sting of the blow igniting a fire within him. “Satan,” he cried out, his voice trembling with desperation. “I—I beg for Your f-forgiveness! I’ve sinned - fuck! And I seek Your mercy. Please… gra-ant me pleasure in my suffering!”

Each word spilled from his lips with a fervour that only deepened his submission, the mix of pain and longing pushing him further into the depths of his desire. “I’ll do any… anything for Your grace,” he continued, his hand moving faster against his cock. “Mmmm… fucking Hell! Please, please, please, let me f-feel Your love through this pain!”

His voice grew more frantic with each plea, the raw vulnerability of his words sending shivers through him. He was completely lost, teetering on the edge, surrendering himself to the dark power he both feared and craved.

You felt a tingling in your body, all over it, in fact. You could feel a breath shoot down your spine from your ear, as if someone had just whispered into it. The smell of sulfur filled your nostrils and left you convinced. You leaned down again, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “He has granted you his mercy. come for us, Primo,” you whispered, your voice a soft command, then a final blow to his back.

With a guttural moan, Primo finally let go, his body convulsing with the intensity of his orgasm as he spilled onto the stone floor, pooling just in front of his knees, his back arching beneath the weight of the pleasure and pain you had given him. He gasped for air, his entire body shaking as he rode the wave of his release, his mind and body completely yours.

You smiled down at him, watching as he collapsed to the floor, spent and trembling, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice soothing now as you knelt beside him, running your fingers gently over his sweat-slicked hair. “You did so well.”

Primo’s eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he looked at you with something close to reverence. He had given himself over to you completely, and you had taken him to the edge and back again. Now, he was yours—body and soul.

As you helped Primo to his feet, he leaned against you, his body still trembling from the intensity of what had just transpired. You helped him back into his trousers - not before using the pant leg to clean up his mess, which earned you a weakened chuckle from him. The chapel, with its cold stone walls, faded from your mind as you guided him outside, the night air wrapping around you both like a comforting embrace, swirling around his wounds and making him hiss and tense in response.

Once you reached your place, you settled him gently onto the soft bed, the contrast of the plush sheets against his still-sensitized skin making him shiver. You took a moment to admire him—his body marked with red welts, a testament to his surrender and bravery. “You did so well tonight, Cardinal,” you said softly, your voice filled with warmth. “You were incredible.”

Primo looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability, and you could see how much your praise meant to him. You moved to gather some supplies—a damp cloth, antiseptic, and a soothing ointment—to care for his wounds. As you returned, you knelt beside the bed, taking a moment to let your fingers gently trace the marks on his back.

“Every scar tells a story,” you murmured, meeting his gaze. “And tonight, you showed just how strong you are. I’m proud of you for getting His forgiveness, but I don’t want you to do this again, please. Not as a punishment. I’ll draw blood from you if you want but nothing justifies this as a genuine punishment.”

He sighed softly, the tension in his body beginning to ease as you cleaned the wounds with gentle, careful movements. Each brush of your fingers against his skin elicited soft gasps from him, and you could see the way he surrendered to your touch, allowing you to take care of him.

“Such a good boy,” you praised again, applying the ointment with tenderness.

Primo’s cheeks flushed at your words, and you couldn’t help but smile. He seemed to glow under your attention, his vulnerabilities transforming into strengths. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” you added, leaning closer to press a soft kiss on his shoulder. “Inside and out.”

As you finished tending to his wounds, you took a moment to let your hands linger on his skin, relishing the connection between you. “You deserve to feel safe, to be cared for,” you whispered, your gaze steady on his. “And I’ll always be here to take care of you, Primo.”

He nodded slowly, the weight of your words sinking in. “Thank you,” he breathed, his voice a soft whisper filled with emotion. “For everything.”

You smiled at him, feeling a swell of warmth in your chest. “No need to thank me. It’s my pleasure to care for you. You’ve given me so much already, and I want to give you the same in return.”

As you settled in beside him, the atmosphere shifted—filled with tenderness and a deep sense of understanding. In that moment, you knew you would protect him, nurture him, and help him explore the delicate balance between pain and pleasure, both in and out of the shadows.

Prev./Next

[beeloovedd]

I saw a think on Twitter about little copia that has nightmares yet no mama to cry to and now I'm sad so here's little copia going to primo after a nightmare

Mama?

Tw!: Nightmares, anxiety, probably more but I can't think of them so lemme know if I should add it

Gif kinda unrelated I just thought it was so cute

Copia tosses and turns, mumbling and getting tangled in the blanket as his horrible dream continues

The tears fall from his eyes and the sweat begins to build up on his skin

"Mama?" He cries out without even realizing what he's saying

He wakes up a few minutes later, Eyes blurry and breathing fast

He sits up and the tears fall, mostly from the dream but also from the feeling of his nearly damp hair and sticky skin from the sweat

"Mama?!" he continues to cry out

He knows he doesn't know who his mama is, he's asked for her and called out to her for only to get no answer

But maybe, just maybe she'll come when he needs her most

But he knows that won't happen

He gasps and grabs his rat plush that priymo got him tight to his chest as he looks around the dark room

He sees the shadows coming near him just waiting to reach out and grab him

His eyes widen and he squeezes the stuffed animal and presses his back to the bed frame

"mama.." he says quietly as the tears fall

He doesn't realize he's calling out for someone who's not in his life during this time, someone who's not gonna help

His mind makes the shadows look like it's coming to get him and he takes a small fast deep breath before running out of his room

He realizes he doesn't know where to run

Hes standing in the halls of the ministry and is fine when it's day but here it's night

The stained glass windows look like shadows on the wall, he hears every little creak and every way he runs fades into darkness the tears fall from his eyes

He takes a deep breath then runs down the hall towards Primo's room

He pauses outside his door then hears a creak and whimpers and goes in, closing the door behind him

He looks at the sleeping primo, trying to figure out how to wake him

He could just crawl in the bed, but what if he gets mad or something? He knows it's very out of character but his mind is telling him every possibility is there right now

He carefully shakes Primo and he mumbles but doesn't wake

Copia's fear grows by the minute and he shakes Primo more

A few seconds later Primo wakes up and sits up, kinda like an auto response now since one time he woke up to the toaster on fire because Terzo and Secondo tried to make eggs on toast and didn't know that you supposed to put the eggs on after you make the toast

"What? Copia? Are you o-" he begins, the sleep in his voice making his words almost mumbled

He gets cut off by Copia hugging him and crying into his chest

Primo's not one for hugs but if it meant to help and cheer up one of his brothers? Then he'd do anything

He hugs Copia back and runs a hand through his hair, feeling the dampness from his sweat

"Fratello? whats wrong?" He says with a yawn as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes

Copia sniffles then takes his head off his chest and tries to find the right words

"Sh-Shadows! Monsters. Th-they we're gonna get me and you guys weren't here!" He says as the tears fall

Primo hums and hugs Copia

"It's ok, it was just a dream, we would never leave without you" He says as he rubs Copia's back gently

Copia nods and sniffles as he hugs Primo

Primo's dealt with this before, having a nightmare and having no one to go to and having to comfort his siblings after a nightmare

Terzo used to have really bad ones

He looks at his bed and sighs

He runs a hand through Copias hair and looks down at him

"Do you want to sleep here tonight?" Primo asks and Copia looks up at him with teary eyes

"R-really? Copia asks, scared that he'll be kicked out and left for the shadows

Primo nods

"Mhm" he hums and moves some pillows on the other side of the bed to make room for copia

Copia hugs Primo again then gets on the bed and lays in the spot, primo covers him

And copia wipes his eyes and smiles as primo mltucks him in

He holds his rat plushie to his chest and closes his eyes

Primo smiles and kisses his forehead lightly before rolling over the other way and getting comfortable

He only holds his pillow with one hand as Copia holds his other as he falls asleep

Primo looks back at him

Smiling as he sees the stuffed animal he bought him

He laughs quietly before laying back on his side away from copia and pulling the blanket over himself and falling back asleep

The rest of the night is peaceful with no nightmares or on fire toasters

🫶

[ficandkaboodle]

Going back to that one post I made a while ago…The one about how cardinals are selected by the pope?

Do you wonder if this was ever a point of tension for the original Emeritus brothers? Like, imagine if Primo, as the dutiful son, felt pressure to ascend to cardinalhood as quickly as possible but by doing so, it affected his ability to try and parent even more than naturally. Or Secondo, not even wanting to become a cardinal but having no choice, further embittering him to his decided lot in life. Or Terzo, putting up with whispers and rumors that he only ascended because he’s Nihil’s son, never mind that Terzo busted his ass off to make sure he only got this far by his own merit.

Or did Nihil even care? Did he stare blankly down at them when they came to receive their birettas? Dod he feel anything when Primo approached? Did he ever glare at Secondo for barely hiding his discontentment? Did he even look Terzo in the eyes to see a barely-contained glower looking back at him?

One simply must wonder…

[sirlsplayland]

another cardinal primo sketch

[lucistarsfire]

brothers :C

guys terzo's just so tired

[emeritus-fuckers]

“Alstroemeria” ♡ Cardinal Primo x gn!reader platonic drabble (fluff)

Dedicated to @thecuriouss. I suck at fluff. I'm sorry.

There was something peaceful about the Ministry's garden. Maybe it was the colorful flowers. Maybe it was the fact that not many people spend much time there, each Sibling of Sin dealing with their own work and responsibilities.

Maybe it was the fact that it was a good place to hide from all your worries. You could hide behind a tree, observe the colorful flowers and just wait until you felt like you could function again.

Or... you could be caught by a certain long haired blonde Cardinal in his early thirties. The oldest son of Papa Nihil Emeritus, Primo, seemed to share your fondness for the garden, though he never exactly said why. He just seemed to always gravitate here in his limited free time, usually with his two younger brothers, who would run around playfully or enjoy calm walks with him and ask him all about the flowers. Surprisingly, he seemed to always know the answer.

It took some time, since he wasn't too fond of people in general, but you became rather close friends with him. And since Primo Emeritus didn't have many friends, he seemed to really cherish the ones he did have.

And somehow, he seemed to know when one of said friends needed him. Which meant that, of course, he found you, sitting under a tree and watching the colorful flowers.

"That's alstroemeria." Primo announced instead of greeting you like anyone else would. He seemed to like making you jump in surprise, as there was always a sparkle of amusement in his eyes whenever he saw you acting like him randomly popping up was giving you a heart attack.

"Alstro... what?"

"Alstroemeria. The Lily of the Incas. Represents compassion, patience, appreciation, humor, understanding and loyalty." he explained, his gaze focused on the flowers. Primo rarely looked at you directly. He seemed to associate it with all the nonsense he had to deal with as future Papa.

You were both silent for a while, you still sitting on the ground, your back against the tree and him... well, he stood like he was taught to. Perfectly. His back completely straight, his hands behind his back as he looked in front of him. He almost looked like a statue.

Then again, considering his upbringing, being born only to ensure the bloodline wouldn't be broken... and yet, he was a good person. A complicated, yet good person. After all, he took raising his brothers onto himself, just so they could have a childhood.

"It's a... flower of friendship." He added after a while, hunching slightly. A sign that he was relaxed. And a habit that will probably cause him back issues when he gets older.

"Friendship?"

He hummed, clicking his tongue before slowly sitting down on the ground as well, despite how he'd usually scold you for doing that. You were tempted to point it out and maybe if you were in a better mood, you'd actually do it. But not right now. Right now you just wanted to enjoy his presence.

You rested your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes. He didn't really do anything about it, but you knew by now that he was comfortable with you, since he didn't even flinch. If he was uncomfortable, he'd simply get up and leave.

"Yes. I have personally requested to have them planted here." He admitted, his voice much quieter than usual, but not quite a whisper. It was a rare moment of peace in his life.

"Why?" You asked quietly, closing your eyes for a bit as you gently reached to hold his hand. He let you do that, intertwining your fingers together and humming softly.

"Because I've noticed how... fond... you are of this spot. It's always the same tree, facing the same direction. I figured... you'd enjoy those flowers here." He admitted, looking away, using his free hand to play with his hair. One of the small ways he allowed himself relax around people he trusted. There was something almost cute in it.

"You... had the Siblings plant those flowers here for me?"

"Don't think too much about it." He blurted out quickly, looking away with a slight blush. You giggled at his reaction. For someone so good with people, Primo was terrible when it came to dealing with those he actually held close. Unless, of course, it was about his brothers.

You smiled softly, relaxing against him. It was now that you noticed just how much all those negative emotions you felt earlier have worn you out. And his presence was soothing. Comforting. So soothing and comforting, in fact, that you ended up napping against him.

And Primo, despite all the work he still had to do, let you do that. Because he knew he wasn't good at showing affection. So instead, he would go along with what you did. And if you decided to use his shoulder as your pillow, then Primo Emeritus would not be moved until your nap was over.

And while you slept, he could look at the alstroemerias. The flowers he grew so fond of recently, because they reminded him of you. One of his closest friends.

This really was a good place to plant the flowers of friendship.

~

Written by Jez.

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @lunarsromantichomicide @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @nuntia @dio-niisio @mamacarlyle @firefirevampire @mybotanicaldemise @emo-mess @natoncesaid @sirlsplayland @ouijaboardemo @lightbluuestars @igodownjustlikeholymary

[cupfullofpapas]

In addition the picture that is in the comic featuring Cardinal Primo and baby/toddler Secondo.

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

May or may not be starting the next chapter of What Was I Made For? (WWIMF) with the Cardinal initiation ritual for a certain Emeritus sibling 👀👀 for now tho, have this silly drawing doodle thing of the boys in my fic feat. Biblically accurate Terzo height and Secondo with a mohawk

May or may not render it digitally and make it look better, who knows

[wifetomanyfictionalmen]

Hi ❤️ Any HCs of the boys' lives growing up in the Ministry? Would love to hear what you think! 😍

SAHSHEHE I DO

Primo:

Being the eldest he knows every secret passageway, the hidden compartments behind the confessional boxes, the hidden places in the gardens.

He surprisingly didn’t attended most of the masses that Nihil held because they weren’t accurate

Has the old sisters wrapped around his pinky.

Safe to say he knows the ministry like the back of his hand due to all the exploring he did in his younger years

His room is pristine and clean and rarely anyone enters

Unless it’s Imperator

He spends a lot of time in the garden in his Cardinal years, and then his retirement years to.

Cardinal years are filled with young sisters trying to woo him by asking to learn about flowers, needless to say takes awhile to actually settle in his retirement years

Secondo

Not as knowledgeable as his brother

He has dedicated spots he prays to Lucifer in his room and nobody is allowed to touch it

Now he’s not one for begging but he begs his brother to show him around the secret passages.

Primo caves and now he knows about all emergency exists

He spends little time outside because that’s his older brothers domain.

Very few sisters of sin actually pine over Secondo (unless you count my oc)

Terzo

Unlike his two older brothers he doesn’t care about secret passages, but he finds out about the one behind the confessional when he and a sister of sin have a very heated make out session.

He was very popular among the ghoulettes and sisters of sin in both his Cardinal and Papa days.

He was a menace, setting up pranks when he was younger

His bedroom is a complete mess, he refuses to tidy it so they hire a cleaner to do it when he’s on tour.

Of course, no matter what he does his Prime Mover and future wife is by his side.

They met when they were five

(Both were fucking menaces)

He would often try be sneaky at night when he went to meet the ghoulettes, but he was often caught by his lover and she joined the fun

Copia

I like to think Copia wasn’t born at the ministry. Instead he turned up on the doorstep when he was around 1-2 years old.

It was hard being the youngest, specially with very teasy brothers

Terzo was the worst for making Copia cry when he was younger, and often Copia would hide in the secret passageway doors whenever he saw Terzo (when they were younger anyway)

His young Cardinal years were very strange to say the least

Nihil took him under his wing despite seeming to hate him, not giving him a very stable family (no surprise there)

Copia also feels like because of his older brothers achievements he has to do just as good.

His room is very childish, there’s is a mini fridge in the corner packed with juice boxes and jello

You have to be very special to take his juice boxes and NoT die

He also has a tendency to stay up late into the night because of his fear of Terzo popping a balloon of cold water over his head again like he did when he was 4

Fin

[bupia]

I'm accepting prompts! 

At this time, they will be SMUT ones, so please, minors do not interact, +18 only!

Don’t forget to tell me with who you want it (Papa I, II, III, IV, Nihil, Ghoul or Ghoulette, Sister Imperator...) and the number(s) you’d like! 

Inexperienced Smut Prompts ✨

“We’ll take it slow.”

“I’ve never done this before…” - “Well, neither have I.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

“Tell me what you like.”

“Tell me if it feels good.”

“We can stop anytime.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I’ve been wondering what it feels like…”

“I think I’m ready (for this/to have sex/…).”

“Please be gentle…”

“This is going a bit too fast…”

“I can’t believe you’re this innocent…”

“Makes me want to wreck you.”

“You’ve never even touched yourself?”

“Show me how you do it when you touch yourself.”

“What do you like?” - “I don’t know…” - “Then how about we find out together?”

“It’s my first time…”

“I can’t wait to take your innocence.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“It’s not a big deal. Let’s just get it over with.”

“I want you to be my first.”

“I want you to teach me.”

“Teach me how to make you feel good.”

“I wanna touch you too.”

“Show me how to touch you.”

“Am I going too fast?”

“You’re doing so well.”

“Do that again.”

“I never thought you could make such sweet noises.” - “Me neither…”

“It’s not scary at all. Let me show you.”

“I’m worried I won’t be good enough.”

“Is it going to hurt?”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“I’m really embarrassed about this…”

“No need to worry.”

“I got you.”

“Kiss me.”

“Will you be my first?”

“Will you let me be your first?”

“I have no idea how to go about this.”

“(If you like it), we can go all night.”

“So excited already…”

“Are you sure this is your first time?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Is this okay?”

“Does it feel good?”

“Tell me what to do.”

“I’ll guide you.”

[yourmochidraws]

quick sketch of a Cardinal Primo

[namelessdumbass]

Perpetua's first day at the Ministry is going to be fun

[beeloovedd]

Love cardinal Copia of course but we need more Cardinal Terzo, Secondo and primo ✊

[the-pigeon-queen]

As eldest, picking the movie on movie night is his birthright

[sirlsplayland]

Cardinal primo sketch