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mykneeshurt · 7 months

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Divinity

Archbishop John Price x F!Reader

Warnings - explicit smut, religious themes, so much blasphemy, breath play, minors DNI, 18+

Archbishop John Price.

You’d had run ins with him before. All perfectly innocent of course. He was in town and he wanted to see you.

It was late, much later than normal for any type of meeting, especially in a Cathedral. Your city had an impressive gothic cathedral located in the centre of the cobbled streets and winding alleyways. The building its self was surrounded by beautiful grounds, a crumbling graveyard and various statues and tributes to those deemed holy enough.

Spires reached for the sky, gargoyles adorned the balconies meant to ward off evil spirits. But they couldn’t keep you out. A large circular stained glass window glistened in the moonlight as stone arches surrounded it.

You felt somewhat nervous. You weren’t too sure why.

Pushing the great wooden door it creaked open, it was a deep walnut colour with black iron details. On entering the Cathedral you took in is glory, high stone ceilings, various candles littering the walls and floors in their cast iron holders. Stained glass windows of Saints lined the walls, worn wooden pews lined up filled the hall. A red carpet led straight to the altar, this was only used when his Holiness was in town. And the red carpet led straight to him.

Straight to the Archbishop John Price.

He was sat in the Cathedra, like a king on his throne. Legs spread as his hips splayed towards the ceiling, his hand resting on the arm of the chair as he surveyed the kingdom before him. His eyes fixed onto your form immediately, watching as you slowly made your way towards him. Your dress swayed in time with your hips, capturing his eyes with the hypnotising motions.

Hands clasped behind your back you smirked as you approached the altar. He was dressed in all black, a singular gold ring on his left ring finger. Symbolising his commitment to God. You could see his chest moving slowly as he breathed, chest clearly tight with anticipation. Much like your own.

The moon illuminated his form in the dark surroundings of the Cathedral, his eyes overshadowed by his brow but with the slight blue hue still shining through. As you stood in front of him he raked his eyes up and down your form, over your curves, your breasts, legs and finally locking onto your eyes.

Biting your lip you slowly sank to your knees in front of him, hands now clasped in front of you signalling a silent prayer. Leaning forward he cupped your jaw, legs still spread as he pulled your bottom lip with his thumb. ‘I hear you’ve been quite busy little one’ he whispered as you rubbed your cheek into his palm. ‘I needed to get your attention’ you purred softly.

‘And you thought you’d do that by committing the sin of lust? By seducing my disciples of God like the succubus you are?’

You loved it when he talked to you like this, describing how you corrupted his priests, how you made them succumb to your spell, making them give in to their most carnal desires. You stared up at him through your lashes, trying to give him your best doe eyes. ‘I’ve seduced you before John. You know I get what I want.’ He chuckled under his breath, this time you raised your hand to his face. Pulling him closer. Your lips hovered over his, breath tickling the sensitive skin.

‘So give me what I want.’

Slowly he sat back, flashing a look to his lap, beckoning you to take a seat. Standing up you straddled his lap, your knees barely fitting between his muscular thighs and the wooden cathedra. Holding your hips he pulled you further into his lap, his firm cock grazed your aching core as you let out a soft whine. ‘Take it little one. Show me what you want’ he whispered into your neck, placing tender kisses between each word.

Nipping at his lip you dropped your hand to his cock, rubbing it through the fabric of his trousers. A hushed grunt exuded from his throat at the contact, subtly pushing his hips up. Desperately trying to get more friction. Giggling to yourself you kissed his neck, your breath gliding along his soft skin. ‘Tell me you want me John’ you whispered into his neck, desperation seeping through your voice.

He wrapped his hand in your hair, pulling you away from his neck. Forcing you to look at him, his clear blue eyes pooled in the rays that shone through the stained glass windows. His beard peppered with dark and white hairs, his bottom lip plump from where you had nipped it. ‘As God as my witness, I want you.’

Rolling your hips you smiled, eyes lighting up like the fiery pits of hell. ‘Then fuck me like you mean it.’

In one fluid movement he had you bent over the cathedra, dress gathered at your waist. Dropping his hand he caressed the back of your calf and onto your thigh. Fingertips gently grazing your soft skin, kissing the back of your other thigh he groaned, the vibrations tickling your now wet cunt.

Letting out a breathy moan into the wooden chair his name danced on your lips. ‘Don’t tease me John. Fuck. Me.’ Your words were harsh and commanding, but you always were when you weren’t getting what you wanted. Nipping the crease of your ass he chuckled against your skin, his beard tickling the sensitive skin. ‘Don’t rush me little one. I’m taking my time with you. I want to worship you.’

A slow whine made its way from your chest, ricochetting off the sandstone walls at his words. Tentatively he moved your panties to the side as he traced your lips with his fingers, whimpering at the sight of your glistening cunt. Kissing his ring he plunged two fingers into you, the cold metal grazed your folds as be began moving. Pumping his fingers as you came undone beneath him. ‘Fuck. I’ve missed that sound’ he whispered, ‘miss the way you hum my name. This cunt. Like God made it just for me.’

You were losing yourself at his words, ready to honour this man before his God.

‘John please’ you begged, voice hoarse with need and pure lust. Pulling his fingers out he gripped you by the waist forcing you to be flush with his cock. It took all of your energy to stand, but you managed to rest your head on his shoulder as he brought his fingers to your mouth. A silent demand to taste yourself. Opening your mouth he slowly ran his fingers along your tongue, your warm, slippery tongue. Moaning at your taste he kissed your neck as he rolled his fingers in your mouth.

Wanting to feel him inside you, you spun around in his grasp pulling him with you as you stepped back to the chair. Sitting you spread your legs gesturing for him to kneel before you. Keeping his eyes on yours he dropped to his knees, a glint present in his eyes. As he went to bury his head in your folds you placed the ball of your foot on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. Leaning forward you grasped the rosary that was hidden beneath his shirt.

Using the rosary like a collar you pulled him towards you. He crawled over you, placing his lips on yours. Coaxing you into a kiss his tongue invaded your mouth, still tasting of you. As the kiss deepened you wrapped your legs around his waist. Rolling your hips you whined into him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Without any warning you grasped his hair and pulled him away from you. He hissed as you held him forcefully in your grasp. ‘Don’t make me ask again’ you ordered. Holding his head there he smirked down at you, dropping his eyes to your lips and back to your eyes.

Playfully rolling his eyes he bit his lip as he pulled at his belt. Still hovering above you he worked his cock in his hands before slowly pushing into you. The stretch would have made the devil himself blush. He was thicker than average and it stung in the most beautiful way. Your eyes rolled back as he bottomed out, mouth agape with sweat beginning to gather on your neck.

‘God John’ you whined whilst gripping his shirt. ‘God ain’t here love, but let’s give the angels something to talk about.’

With that he began thrusting into you, your head pushed against the back of the cathedra while you gripped onto him to stay steady. He buried his head into your neck as he whispered words of affirmation with each thrust. ‘You feel so good around my cock’ he breathed, voice laced with desire and ecstasy. You were so cock drunk you were unable to find words, only various moans and whispers.

Dropping your hand to your clit you applied pressure, pushing yourself further to your climax. Eyes closed you let your mind wander, Archbishop Price fucking your pussy, Father Garrick taking your ass, all while Father Riley had his cock in your mouth while Father McTavish watched.

He gripped your hips as he upped his pace, his pubic bone adding even more pressure to your clit. ‘Don’t stop, please’ you whined, your climax edging ever closer. ‘That’s it little one ’ he cooed, cupping your jaw once more. ‘Tell me when you’re close’ you whispered, a wicked grin spreading across your lips. ‘Already am.’

With that you pulled at the rosary that was dangling between you, gripping it close to his neck, cutting off his blood supply. Humming to yourself you watched as his pupils blew wide. ‘Mmm good boy, now cum for me. I’m not letting go till you fill me’ you whispered. A choked breath escaped him as he became sloppy, desperate.

Removing your hand from your clit you ran your fingers against his lips, allowing him the honour of tasting you. He hummed in appreciation trying to savour your taste as he fought for air. With three more thrusts he came and came hard. Filling you entirely. Just as he did you released the pressure from his throat allowing a rush of air to fire through him. Dropping his head to yours he rested on your forehead, breathing heavy and fast.

‘Stick your tongue out’ he ordered. Doing as you were told you stuck it out and peered up at him with innocence in your eyes. Fake of course. In a smooth motion he pulled out making you feel empty and gathered his cum on his fingertip. Slowly he dragged it across your tongue ‘this is my body, I give it to you.’ Greedily you licked your lips and swallowed.

Just as he went to sink himself in again you stopped him, he looked confused, ‘if I cum now, I won’t get to do this again. Maybe you come to mine later and teach me more about God.’

————

Sorry this has taken so long. Life has gotten in the way. I don’t even know if I like it lmao

Taglist - @deadbranch @villainsoftheweek @glitterypirateduck @luminousbeings-crudematter

#call of duty #cod mw22 #cod au #alternate reality #captain john price #captain john price x reader #john price smut #captain price x reader #john price #captian price #john price x reader #call of duty fanfic #price mw2 #price x reader #captain price

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dearlymrme · 18 days

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Hasty

Rating: E

Pairing: Terzo x Reader

Words: 3220

Tags: Quickie, Creampie, Retirement, Enthusiastic Consent, Objectification.

Summary: In the past Terzo would hunt you down before a Council meeting in hopes that you would help him work off some energy. Now that he’s retired and the roles are reversed he is more than happy to return the favor.

Read on AO3, or under the cut:

Your relationship with Terzo is a sexually healthy one, even before his retirement. He often cornered you in the halls, the bedroom, the library, even the confessional once, for a quickie before he had to settle with the Council for meetings. Meetings that could go on for hours at a time, listening to old traditionalists argue about how to better settle a matter that's already been settled five meetings ago.

Old men, pompous and entitled with little regard for how the world works today and would much rather argue on how it used to be done. Outdated, needing the cobwebs swept up and definitely needing some new blood. He believes half of them to be on dementia medication. It’s probably this line of thinking that got him dragged off stage in the first place. Not too much of a surprise but rather an eventuality, he's heard horror stories from Primo and Secondo, and lived it himself since being a boy. Their callousness and disinterest in how they uproot lives and-

But that's neither here nor there.

He's learned since his Cardinal days that a quick fuck, be it with you or into the comfort of his own hand, always turns his brain into a pleasantly flavored jelly after. It makes the meetings more bearable. An orgasm strong and satisfying enough that all their pedantic droning does is jiggle his gray matter to the point it tickles. It distracts him with forging a game plan of how better to repay your kindness once he’s freed, or to find you later for an even more spine tingling fuck.

After his forced retirement though it seems the rolls are reversed. Instead, as both his wife and prime mover, you've decided to saddle the paperwork transitions from III to IV. It's work truly meant for him and he’s told you that he is more than, if not begrudgingly, capable of doing it himself.

You shushed him, pushed a cup of coffee brewed just the way he likes into his hands, and told him that you’d handle it. You explained that you were more than a little bit pissed that they so forcefully removed him, making such a public show of it, and then tried to dog him after with more work as if to say that it’s his mess to take care of in the first place.

You were enraged that the Council even assumed that he would continue performing any kind of duty on their behalf after they axed him. No, they instead made a mockery of him and everything he did for them. You are not going to stand for their hounding. You felt it wrong that they still tried to push paperwork Primo’s way after retirement, you weren’t going to let them do it to Terzo.

“You deserve a break. You were one of the hardest working Papa’s of the Ministry. I know the fans seem to think you’re the player but we both know the truth.” You gently kissed him, his lips, his nose, his forehead. “You let me handle everything and just enjoy sleeping in for once.”

You've been called and pulled from every which way to organize the schedules and new duties for his remaining Cardinals as the rest turned their loyalties from him to Copia. Not all of them favored the new Papa and many of them wished instead to retire. Copia was kind enough to keep the ones who agreed with him and merciful enough to let the others go with no fuss. You wrote up the forms and all that was required of him now was a single last stamp of approval. He was happy for them. A lot of hard workers in his group and he saw a few familiar names on the sheets that made his job easier. He hopes they enjoy their new titles of Archbishop and complimentary responsibilities.

The Bishops, the Deacons, followed lastly by the Sisters and Sons of Sin. Every new hole left behind from the Cardinal’s they lost needed to be filled and formatted. Promotions for everyone. Seeing who’s qualified, who’s been in the church long enough, and most importantly who actually wants the job? Turns out, not a lot of them living in the Ministry itself did. After the showcase with Terzo being removed a lot of people now felt threatened and that gave you a little more work as they sent notes and mail of condolences and concerns.

He feels like everyone was taking advantage of you, himself included. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth but you took to the work like a fish to water. Afterall, you were his secretary before you both became physical. That fact alone better adds a spoonful of sugar to the bitter medicine.

The fact that he knows you're more like a shark than a fish, helps the flavor too. He knows you're making this as much of Copia’s problem as your own. He’s told you to go easy on the man but he also knows not to bait the water with more blood.

Now he has time to settle into the new role as husband. Despite your jab of sleeping in, he’s getting up earlier than you now. He makes breakfast, breaking out a cookbook that smells of bittersweet memories that calls back his boyhood to him. Not much has changed since growing up. Still loved by a woman not afraid to bare her teeth at those who would try to bully him. The whole wing starts to smell of his childhood and sentimentality. Early morning cartoons beat your own alarm clock as by the time he turns on the TV, breakfast is ready.

He’s already sitting on the couch, plate in hand and coffee made. A smile on his face and giggles as you sluggishly stumble and try your best to give him your most appreciative good morning kiss, often missing. You’d watch TV for at least thirty minutes and you’d be ready and leaving before the hour is up. You’d be back for lunch at roughly the same time every day, which he will have ready and warm and almost always something new. After work you’d come back from a meeting and he can almost always expect you to pin him to the nearest wall and attack his mouth like it’s been calling you names behind your back, a bit of opposites; you preferred after the meetings than before. You tell him it’s to make you more optimistic and alarmingly sweet when the old crones droll on. They have no idea what’s waiting for you at home, but you do, and you keep it close like a little secret. You’re near giddy when they seem confused as to how you can stay so happy during the hours-long conference.

He knows exactly what you're talking about. You do it with him too when there is the seldom argument. He dubs it: Hostile Friendliness.

As for what he does in his down time, he’s picked up his old hobbies. Primo has his multitude of plants to tend and the gardens. Secondo has his venture card and a long bucket list of places to go. Terzo himself likes reading and losing his mind in another world of words. Daring fantasies, fighting dragons, befriending monsters.

You’d told him the work is only temporary, that it’ll be done and over soon and then you could enjoy the retired life together but for now, that was the schedule he could expect until it was over.

So, when that schedule is thrown off even by the tiniest of pause, it’s very noticeable.

He glances at the time on his phone, idly browsing for new titles on the couch as you ready to leave. Breakfast is already done and put away. He raises a brow at the half hour mark and you still haven’t left yet.

“Don’t you have a meeting today?” He asks, knowing you can hear him through the open door of the bedroom. It's more of a concerned statement. He knows you do, he also knows that your anxiety for being punctual would usually have you already out of the door by now. That by itself should have had him braced for what you were about to do next.

You appear at the bedroom door, wearing a lovely blue sundress that is just long enough to be considered modest with brown flats. Your makeup is flawless and armed like a knife for whoever tries to talk down your decisions. The dress code for the Ministry is lax unless times of Ritual. But the Council expects professionalism during meetings but that’s exactly what you radiate. He can smell your usual perfume and your hair is already styled for the day.

“Yes.” You huff and take long, promising to the point of threatening, steps towards him.

There is that look in your eyes; viciously hungry, like a starved animal eyeing its prey. He sees your muscles coiled with purpose and itching to spring. The air is suddenly charged, tastes of promise and the sirens of an approaching storm ring in his mind. His body hums with the change of energy, his own instincts telling him that a challenger approaches.

“Take off your pants.” You command, like a boom of retribution, already halfway across the room and by that point his phone is already somewhere else and fingers are playing pestissimo with his belt buckle.

The demand sets off a Rube Goldberg machine in his body, nearly prophesied timing that would kill a weaker man. His blood suddenly ran hot and hellwards, cock already hardening by the split two seconds it takes before he's able to undo his pants, just in time for you to slide into his lap and ensnare his lips into a bruising kiss.

He grasps and clutches at your body like you're his anchor and he's the ship at sea. The storm is already settled upon him, tumultuous waters stirring as you roughly kiss and suck on his tongue. A thrilling amount of teeth nibbles his lip and pulls, ensuring him in a sweet stockholm trap. Were it not for his grip on you his vessel would have already capsized. Rowing and rocking against your insistent hips as they clash against his. He pulls his cocks free from his briefs, you have your underwear parted in less than a second.

“Sit on it.” He pleads, already bleeding for you. Already splitting himself open from sternum to throat and begging for you to feast. “Sit on me. Please, use me.”

You have him. You can have him. He's already yours.

You line up, the lip of your cunt spreads around his shift and it’s more than just the penetration that knocks the breath out of him.

“Soaked!” He laughs, nearly hysterical on the discovery as though he had just found a treasure lost to history. He glides right in as you sink like a rock. It’s a key fitted in place. A cog knocked loose and the gears resumed turning. How long have you suffered? How long did you go this morning without a balm for this need? You need not a moment more before you are slicing your hips, rowing through your own treacherous currents. .

He shakes nearly like an addict, scratching at your thighs for that good fix only you can give him, only he can give you. He pleads, rucking up the fabric of your dress, gliding his hungry hands over your favorite places and basks in the softness of your heated skin. As you take from him he drags tender and sultry kisses up your throat and jaw. You arch your back, grasping at his knees for balance. He watches you with his solar eclipse gaze, memorizing the near blissful and self satisfied expression you wear with pride.

“Yess.” Follow your snake like hiss. Your walls flutter around him, persistently squeezing as if to perfect a mold. He damn near chokes from the feedback of your relief. A devilish itch being scratched with every roll of your hips that has you both purring.

His back shudders as his love turns near revenant in glee. The heat of your core shooting bullets of pleasure through his gut and stirring his insides to knots. He swoops down to track his lips across your neckline and digs in his hands when you run one of your own through his hair, cradling him close before fastening to his shoulder, pushing him back into the cushions before you start a pattern of rocking and grinding.

A breathless and bubbly laugh escapes his mouth as he seeks a hand to the flat of your back to press against him. He slams his hips up and aims directly for your weak spot, like breaking stone with a chisel. The scream that escapes you is loud enough to threaten anyone outside the hallway. But with retirement, damned if he has to keep appearances anymore. The following glee that he can be as loud as he wants makes his cheeks apple a smile.

His body vibrates like a tuning fork, synchronizing all that is him together. Warm and gooey between his joints that melt into his veins and smother his insides in honey. You demand of him; push and pull on him, putting him exactly where you want and how you want. You command for kisses and bites that he savagely provides with no argument. The satisfaction of your praises, your want for more, faster, harder, and flittering kisses as reward. No, he’s not taking orders from the Council anymore. Now, he can worship his one and only matron.

So lost in the righteousness of giving you everything you want, it sneaked up on him. That spring threatens to bounce as it coils tightly in his stomach. There is a zip in his toes that starts to travel up his legs and settle in his core. He’s not long for the world.

“Use me, cara. Get off on me! Use me. Useme!” It's like sin in his veins. Euphoria as you take everything you need from him. Your personal fuck machine to use however you want. All you need to do is tell him how high to jump and he’ll double it. The hold you have on him, invisible strings tangled on your fingertips and him the marionette. He dances to your tune perfectly, wanting nothing more than to put on the best show possible.

He’s already to the point of babbling. Heat melting his core and his balls tightening. He pants, air coming in thin. He watches you, lost in the vision of your unadulterated beauty that would make every tapestry in the Ministry blush.

Your face is one to remember; eyes pinched and brows furrowed. Your pupils have long since devoured the color of your eyes. Your mouth is open, baring your teeth threateningly to the orgasm running to escape you as your gaining ground.

“Your’s! You use me any way you want!” He’s high on the skin contact, as little there is with your thick and strong thighs pinning his own. He’s experiencing sainthood through your body. This is His Lord at work. As close as he can get to divinity by being yours and wholly yours. Your growl, feral, like a beast as you tear into his flesh and rip him apart. He is a feast for your mouth.

One of his hands left your hips to fist at the sofa, like it had a mind of its own. A stupid self preservation instinct kicking in to try and keep him grounded. He rerouted, grabbing his since gone wild hair and pulling, the pinch meant to stave off his orgasm but the pain had the opposite effect, egging him on closer and closer to the finish line. Tears have already escaped his eyes, leaving tracks down his cheeks, and finding their destination in your cleavage. This is thirsty work and he can only hope you'll give him enough time to drink them up once you're done with him.

He breathed in loud, open-mouthed heaves for air as every cut of your hips felt almost like a stab. His chest rhythmically rises with a hitch and despite his best efforts he feels as though he is suffocating. You grab him by his chin and lean into him, ghosting your lips against his own. He opens his mouth and flicks his tongue, beckoning you to play. You marvel at him, eyes casted in shadow. A statement. A promise. His undoing.

“Mine.”

He jerks, going into near excorcistic bodily spasms as he lifts his hips and fucks as deep into you as he can, nearly hurting his back by pressing his heels into the floor and thrusting. His ass leaves the sofa for a bare second before he collapses and his mind sent into delicious subspace. Even with the satisfaction of coming it still wrecks devastation through his nerves.

But a good husband still provides. He gives and gives before you finally have your fill three more rolls in, your clit having tenderized against his groin with each pass before it slaps at just the right angle and sends you spiraling. You slow, fierce cuts turning into leisurely rolls as you allow your pleasure to carry you like sand in the ocean.

Terzo’s hips still shake, his doglike whine breaks the chorus of heavy breathing and you start to move again. You shift, squirm, and finally remove yourself from his lap. He hiccups as his cock, still throbbing from pleasure slaps his stomach in freedom, a pained ‘oh’ punched from his gut.

It’s both the best moment of his life and near torture as he watches you adjust your underwear back in place and brush down your dress. You lean back over him, he can see the concern in your eyes along with those threatening clouds you brought with you. Quickly, he blows away those clouds rendering them as simple fluffs of dandelions. Reaching up with a trembling hand, he cups at your cheek and gives you a confidence instilling kiss. You sweetly melt into him before breaking away.

His body is heavy and muscles are screaming from sudden exertion as they finally relax, he half expects a cramp later. It’s the best feeling in the world. He glances at your retreating figure as you walk towards the door, leaving him a near husk as you make off with all he has to give. Hair and dress back in place, your thumb wiping at touching up your smeared lipstick, glancing at the nearby mirror. You flash him a bit of teeth as you palm the doorknob and chime a wish you well and he's again stunned by the grace of your beauty.

Then he glances down, giving a pained groan as his poor and abused cock twitches at the sight.

The traces of his cum he can see steadily sliding down the inside of your thighs, the image sheared into his mind as a core memory. The knowledge that you’ll be sitting with the Council with the stains of his release on your panties. Fuel for later today when he knows you'll be back, after all your work is done, to better take your time appreciating him.

He can't wait to be picked apart.

#ghost band #the band ghost #ghost the band #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii #reader insert #MDNI #dee writes

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devilmen-collector · 2 months

Text

Solomon/MC - the Pope of Hell

C/W: religious theme, spoilers of the main story up to chapter 5 of the main story.

Note: calling Solomon "Pope of Hell" doesn't mean his dynamic and relationship with the devils are exactly the same with the relationship between the Pope and other Catholics. The same applies in the case of MC, who is Solomon's successor.

To begin, after reading the main story, I started to notice some interesting similarities between the Pope and Solomon, enough to make me write this post from the sentiment of my religious heart.

I. The Keys

Christ Giving the Keys to Saint Peter, fresco, Pietro Perugino, 1481-82.

Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. And I will give to thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven. And whatsoever thou shalt bind upon earth, it shall be bound also in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose upon earth, it shall be loosed also in heaven. Matthew 16:18-19 DRB

So we have Christ giving Peter the keys to the kingdom of Heaven. From this very Scripture verses comes the well-known symbol of the Papacy, two crossed keys, one gold and another silver, under the triple tiara. The silver key symbolizes the power "to bind and loose" on earth, while the golden key symbolizes the power "to bind and loose" on Heaven.

Now returning to the lore we are given in the game. It's mentioned that Solomon had 2 "Keys". One Lesser Key he left in Hell, and one Greater Key crafted by God.

Chapter 4, Stage 29 - the Holy Grail of God that Betrayed God

So I began to make a connection between the two images. The Lesser Key with St. Peter's silver key, which symbolizes papal power and authority on earth, which is lesser than Heaven; and the Greater Key with the golden key, which symbolizes papal power and authority on Heaven, which is the greater of the two.

Yes, the devils did mention a "third Key". However, they were only making a hypothesis on Solomon's disappearance. And given the likely reality that Solomon is physical deceased after his disappearance, the third Key probably doesn't exist and there are only two Keys. The fact that there are two key currencies in-game solidifies this theory, at least for now.

Story 4-29

II. The Power to Crown the Emperor

In the game, we know that at the end, MC has to choose one devil among the Seven Deadly Sins and 72 nobles and makes him the "Emperor of Hell", "the king of kings", "the Final Temptation" who will rule all of Hell.

"With your own hands" make me thing MC has to literally put a crown on the head of the devil whom they chose. But that's just my personal theory.

Chapter 1, Story 45 - the Contract is Broken

Now return to history, in the Medieval Age, kings were crowned by a bishop/archbishop of a prominent see in his country on their Coronation Day. However, there's one monarch who has to be crowned by the Pope. That's the Holy Roman Emperor.

Before being crowned by the Pope, the Emperor could not style himself as "Emperor", but only a "king", the exact title being "King of the Romans". Only after the Pope put the imperial crown on their head did the Emperor call himself "Holy Roman Emperor". This remained the case until 1508 when Pope Julius II permitted Maximilian I to use the title "Emperor Elect" with coronation by the hands of the Pope. Before that, like his predecessors before coronation, Maximilian I was only styled "King of the Romans". Even Napoleon knew that and had to get the Pope to officiate his coronation as the Emperor of the French, even though he raised the crown on his head himself.

The difference lies in the fact that unlike the Emperor of Hell, who will rule all the 7 nations of Hell, the Holy Roman Emperor in real life didn't have the power to rule other independent kingdoms in Europe, like France or England. However, being the Emperor, he was the most prominent Catholic monarch across Europe. Still, I believe I have proved the similarity here: Pope crowned an Emperor, MC will also crown one.

III. Tongue

The third similarity I see lies in the traditional way of how Catholics received Holy Communion (or the Eucharist), which is receiving on the tongue. And to do that in a correct way, Catholics need to kneel down and stick the tongue out a little bit.

Maybe it's just me but when I saw the CGs where MC break the contracts with the devils. I immediately thought of this image because I saw some similarities.

To have their contracts broken, the devils also kneel down and stick their tongues out. And if they stick their tongues out to break the contracts, could it be possible that when they first made contracts with Solomon, they also knelt down and stuck their tongues out to receive the pattern, just similar to how Catholics receive the Eucharist in the traditional way?

IV. Relationships with two powerful sides

In the fourth century, the Roman Empire converted to Christianity and gradually abandoning paganism. The Byzantine Empire was the successor of this great empire. The Byzantine Empire was Christian throughout its history. However, on more than one occasions, this empire showed disrespect and even violence to the Pope, the Head of the Christian Church, whom they were supposed to protect and honor. One Pope, St. Silverius was even murdered by the Byzantine conspiracy. Slowly, the Pope knew he couldn't trust or rely on the Byzantine anymore, so he sought help from the Frankish, whose king was Charlemagne, and Charlemagne's successor was the Holy Roman Emperor.

In a similar way, we have the powerful angels hating Solomon for gaining God's favor. They even tried to kill all of his descendants, including MC. As God's messengers and servants, they should have been the ones to protect Solomon and his descendants, but they did the contrary. Now to survive, MC has to rely on the other powerful faction, the devils.

So,

Solomon and MC mirror St. Peter/the Pope/Papacy

Angels mirrors the unfaithful Byzantine Empire

Devils mirror the Frankish/Holy Roman Empire and other Western European kingdoms, by allusion

Another point is that just like the historical relationship between the Pope with the Holy Roman Empire and other Western kingdoms, the relationship between MC and the devils is not always smooth and well. Mammon once thought he was MC's owner at first, just like how kings and Emperors of the West thought they could keep the Papacy under their control, or Leviathan and his Hades nobles kidnapping and trying to kill MC, just like how the Pope was a prisoner and had his life endangered by a particular Western kingdom for a long time and on more than one occasions.

Well, that's all to my ramble (possibly being delulu like Sitri) but thank you for reading it all to the end :3

#what in “hell” is bad?#prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#what in hell is bad #whb #whb solomon #whb theory #whb mc

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the-rogue-mockingjay · 10 months

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Do y'all ever think about the way Aymeric says "That [my father] did not die by my hand matters little; if anything, it heaps greater disgrace upon my name."

greater disgrace.

Thordan was a bloody menace and he needed to be stopped by any means necessary. He was a threat to Ishgard, and Aymeric did the right thing in ordering his death. Yet. At the end of the day...

However justified it was, and for all of Thordan's crimes - not least of which was having Aymeric arrested and possibly even tortured for the simple crime of wanting the pointless bloodshed to end! - it still leaves Aymeric with his father's blood on his hands. A bastard son (punished for a sin that wasn't his) who murdered his father by proxy.

I think it weighs on him more than he lets on.

(And right at the beginning of Post-Dragonsong: "Am I then to be scorned for building upon the system of nobility that I once sought to tear down? And what strange jest is this that places me at its pinnacle? An archbishop's bastard at the head of the House of Lords..." It's subtle, but he really does not seem to regard himself very highly. Almost like he doesn't feel he deserves the respect he's given. C'mon buddy, let's go get you some self-esteem, some therapy, and a got damned break.)

#this has been the mental equivalent of a pebble in my shoe since hw #like. man alive.#and i haven't even done the enw caster role quests yet!! i strongly suspect that this is gonna come up again during those #ayms sweetie...#do not perceive me i am just being emo and probably reading into things too much fjglhdfjkghdkjh #aymeric de borel #ffxiv

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cosmic--dandelion · 7 months

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So how did we get from this

Dedicated to his Worshippers, George Frederic Watt (1817-1904)

To this?

A brief history of Mammon

Addendum Because We Can't Have Nice Things: this essay is in no way meant to be a "critique", criticism, or personal attack against Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel/Vivziepop as I am, in fact, a big fan of all three! I actually loved the newest episode and Mammon as a character. Seeing him in motion, I think he looks damned near perfect as a modern take on the King of Greed. I wrote this ONLY for educational purposes.

Mammon is a Chaldee (the Semantic language of ancient Chaldeans, the people of a small Mesopotamian country who were later absorbed by the Babylonians) or Syriac word meaning "wealth" or "riches".

The Worship of Mammon, Evelyn De Morgan (1909)

He is best remembered from the Sermon on the Mount from Mathew 6: 24 (King James version): “No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon.”

Some scholars believe Mammon might have been loosely based on Dīs Pater, originally a Roman God of mineral wealth and fertile lands who was later merged with the chthonic deities of the underworld Pluto and Orcus (because minerals come from underground). Pluto was depicted in the Divine Comedy as "wolflike demon of wealth"; wolves in the medieval times were symbols of greed. Others think he might have been an ancient Syrian god, though no trace of his cult or temples exists.

Mammon transformed over time from an abstract concept to major demon. This is thanks to later philosophers and theologians such as Saint Gregory of Nyssa, a third century Byzantine scholar, Archbishop of Constantinople John Chrysostom, and Peter Lombard, bishop of Paris from 1159 to 1160. His book of Four Books of Sentences (Sententiarum libri IV) was the standard theological text of the Middle Ages.

Mammon was assigned the sin of greed according to the Peter Binsfield classification of demons.

John Milton of Paradise Lost fame imaged him as a fallen angel. He is described as being stooped over (literally the "least erected" of Lucifer's demonic host) because he always has his eyes downward looking for gold and would rather use Hell's resources to finance his lavish lifestyle than wage war against Heaven.

In Edmund Spenser's 16th long poem, The Faerie Queene, Mammon is a “uncouth, salvage, and uncivile wight” who sets up his cave of riches right next to the entrance to the underworld. Subtle, huh? He tries to tempt Sir Guyon, the protagonist of Book II, with all his fabulous wealth, arguing that he could use it for good. (This is a religious-moral-political allegory about temperance, so you can guess how well that went.) He shows up again in Jacques de Plancy's Dictionnaire Infernal as Hell's ambassador to England. Yes, really.

Just like in Biblical times, reformists used Mammon as a symbol of exploitation and unfettered capitalism during the industrial age.

Fun fact: Mr. Burns lives at the corner of Croesus and Mammon street.

So how does Vivziepop's version compare to the historical Mammon? I dunno, he hasn't appeared in the show yet. It's not my favorite design, but I like the fact that half the fandom was expecting him to be the Big Bad of Helluva Boss, and he's a just big heckin' chonk who sort of looks like a demented Dr. Suess character crossed with a demonic air freshener. It's a silly design for a silly dude, but he could be more dangerous than he looks...

#helluva boss #mammon #religion #history #vivziepop #mythology #demonology

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liquidstar · 7 months

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Reinhard: -And that's how Emilia, Subaru, and I all defeated the sin archbishop of greed :)

Julius: Holy shit you were shot to the moon?

Reinhard: Did you guys manage to drive off the rest of the witch cult?

Julius: The moon in the fucking sky?

#how i think their reunion would have gone if juli didn't get his name eaten #re:zero

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maturemenoftvandfilms · 9 months

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A Conversation with Cardinal Dolan

CHAPTER TWO: The Confessional

Featuring the Archbishop of New York, Cardinal Timothy Dolan

It's been a month since my interview with Cardinal Dolan, the current Archbishop of New York and the subsequent article that followed in the New York Times. And I couldn't get him out of my mind since our encounter in his office. I can’t explain, except to say that he populated my dreams. At 73 years of age he stood at 6 foot, balding gray hair and blue eyes with just a hint of mischief in them. His shoulders were broad, and he had a prominent belly which only made him that much more attractive in my eyes. I relived the experience of his 7 inches, thick, veiny cock and how great it was to suck him off. The dreams were so vivid that sometimes I would wake up in a pool of cum.

The compulsion to seek him out came over me again and again. So I went to the St. Patrick’s Cathedral to see Cardinal Dolan. The church was empty, save for only Cardinal Dolan and a janitor who was on his way out for the night, as I purposefully waited until the last parishioner left before making my way to the booth. The church was empty, save for only Cardinal Dolan and a janitor who was on his way out for the night, as I purposefully waited until the last parishioner left before making my way to the booth.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been, umm, quite some time since my last confession." I said after clearing my throat.

A thud sound came from the other side of the booth and a distinct sound of shuffling feet. I shifted nervously on my knees as I gazed up at the grating, waiting for a response.

"I'm happy to hear your voice, young man. What seems to be troubling you?" Spoke Cardinal Dolan in a gentle manner.

"Well, Your Eminence, you remember our last meeting... "

"Vividly child, continue." Cardinal Dolan said, cutting in.

Just then, I heard the door open and decided to follow suit. Peering out the door, I saw Cardinal Dolan giving me a warm, grandfatherly grin. Looking into the old cardinal's eyes, the same eyes that looked down on me a month ago when I blew him and embraced him in a deep, passionate kiss. At first he seemed shocked. Like I had woken him from some kind of daydream. Then he seemed to come back and he started returning my kiss with equal vigor. I felt his hands grab my ass and pulled me closer to him. I could feel his cock growing hard as my own stiff cock rubbed against his silk boxers.

Suddenly as if realizing for the first time where we were, he broke our embrace and whispered, “This isn't the place for this, let’s go to my chambers.”

We walked hastily to Cardinal Dolan’s private chamber and found ourselves on a couch making out for what seemed like hours, but was in truth only ten minutes. Suddenly he was removing his collar and unbuttoning his shirt as I slid the couch on my knees in front of him, stripping him of his pants. When I finally pulled down Cardinal Dolan’s boxers, a seven and a half-inch, super thick beast of a cock, already dripping with precum was before me.

Cardinal Dolan watched as I proceeded to lick up and down the shaft and kissing the tiny drops of emitting precum before taking the beautiful head of his dick in my mouth. He tried not to moan, but my cock sucking skills were too much for him. I deep throated his old cock and he let out a loud, deep moan, the first of many.

For the first five minutes, I bobbed my head up and down as fast as I could before moving to suck and lick the cardinal's balls. I gently stroked his cock, slapping away Cardinal Dolan’s hands, who were hell bent on jacking off his dick and reaching what was certain to be one fucking hell of an orgasm. Wanting to tease him more and did something that the priest expecting. I pushed my mouth down to his asshole and started running my moist tongue back and forth against his virgin asshole. Suddenly, Cardinal Dolan was bucking and calling out like a woman. And when I forced my tongue inside his tight old asshole, he practically squealed with pleasure.

“Oh Lord! Oh God!" Was all Cardinal Dolan could say as the rim job's pleasure put him into a state where rational thought couldn’t be attained.

Fearing that I was going to make him cum, I moved up and sucked on the engorged purple head of his cock, swirling my tongue around his boner. He started thrusting into my throat, making me gag. I went back to stroking his now wet cock before kissing up his stomach. I kissed up his belly and chest until my lips found his nipples. I sucked and pinched both nipples giving him pleasure that he has never experienced in all his years of priesthood. Cardinal Dolan clutched me in his arms and our lips met again as I continued to feed my desire.

Looking into his lustful blue eyes, I knew that he wanted to fuck my ass when he pushed two of his fingers up my hole. He finger fucked me for a few minutes and I knew that my rectum ached for Cardinal Dolan's cock to slip inside it.

"I'd sure like to fuck you." Cardinal Dolan whispered to me.

"I know, I know," I replied as his fingers massaged my prostate, "but have you ever fucked someone before."

He said no and and I said he was missing out then. And with the revelation that he was a virgin turned my passion into a frenzy of deep kisses before quickly getting up. At first I thought that he had enough, but quickly asked for some lube. He also said no to that, so I moistened my hole. Seeing my cute ass, Cardinal Dolan follow suit and spit on his hand and slicked up my old pecker the best he could. I told him I would take care of him as I climbed on top of him, reached behind myself and started playing with his cock, running it up and down my crack.

As soon as his dick made contact with my hole, he immediately thrust all 8 inches into me. I gasped loudly, so loudly in fact that I’m sure the people in the next room heard. Looking scared, he apologized and asked me if I was okay. I put both hands on his chest and started bouncing up and down on his cock, telling him he could fuck me as hard as he wanted.

The sensation was indescribable. I was in ecstasy seeing this loving priest and his old, sweaty body fucking me. I took deep breaths to delay the inevitable blissful orgasm as he heard great moans of pleasure coming from the old man popping my delicate cherry. He was panting and looking at me with a hungry desire, like I was a meal and he was starving, now match my bouncing with thrusts of his own. I could feel his huge shaft stretching the walls of my ass hole as he fucked up into me time and time again.

“Fuck me! Oh God Fuck me! Oh God Cardinal Dolan! Fuck me!” I screamed.

He pumped that hard dick into me faster making a slapping sound as his hips met my ass. I could feel his huge shaft stretching the walls of my ass hole as he fucked up into me time and time again. I could see the twinkle in his eye as he looked me square in the eye, smiled, and whispered, “I’m getting close!”

Having said that, Cardinal Dolan viciously pumped his cock continually in an out of my bowels. He kept fucking me hard and deep creating simultaneous moans of excitement and anticipation from the both of us so loud that I thought the neighbors would hear. Cardinal Dolan's cock swelled slightly again and his rhythm became erratic, my dick was vibrating with excitement and my balls were tight to my body waiting to cum.

Suddenly, with his right hand, Cardinal Dolan cupped my cock and began violently stroking it for another minute or so until I made the fateful announcement.

“Holy Fuck! I’m cuuummmmmmiiiiiinnnnnngggggggg!!!!!!!”

I shot a massive load of hot cum that landed partly on Cardinal Dolan's belly and chest. I shot four loads that were more massive than any in my life, and three others that rivaled my former best. Witnessing my massive explosion of man juice ended Cardinal Dolan’s superhuman stamina that had lasted nearly an hour from when I first bobbed on his cock.

“Get ready! Here it comes!” shouted the priest.

As wave after colossal wave of cum filled my deep crevices, Cardinal Dolan’s whole body gyrated in absolute pleasure. He lowered himself enough that we could embrace once again in a kiss that was this time like the one they experienced in the Pugh.

#timothy dolan #timothy m. dolan #A Conversation with Cardinal Dolan #fan fiction #religious figures #archbishop #clergy #priest #celebrities #the confessional

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