#god please keep the christian purity away from my fucking life

[worm-rwby]

Listening to some podcasts it's wild to me to hear people bearing down some of Taylor's actions like she wasn't doing those things to ACTUAL DESPICABLE PEOPLE.

I just hate the purity culture of it all, like, are yall really criticizing someone for not going easy on NAZIS, SLAVE OWNERS, ABUSERS etc??? Boohoo, poor them

"Aw, Taylor rotted Lung's junk off / took his eyes out" GOOD FUCKING RIDDANCE, it's ON TEXT that this asshole enslaving a bunch of vulnerable people and putting them to absurd hardships.

"Aw, she cut Bakuda's toes" Toes she was using to MELT FUCKING PEOPLE.

"Aw, she bullied Panacea and Glory Girl" ............. please --'

"Aw, she punched Emma in the mall, not very hero of her" She should've done worse to this bitch who caused her fucking trigger

FUCK YALL, honestly

Victims are ALWAYS blamed for reacting, for doing something

Tolerating the intolerable is NOT THE ANSWER.

Taylor isn't any less of a hero for not taking it easy on DESPICABLE PEOPLE.

She's only less of a hero when going hard on a bunch of people who didn't deserve it, but people bitch and moan way more about her actions towards WORSE VILLAINS than innocents. Seriously, annoying as SHIT

[ill-skillsgard]

Would you ever write about Faust making Faith squirt for the first time cause that would be the hottest thing ever.

Warning: 18+ SMUT. Anal play, sex toys, size kink, possessive sex, strong anti-Christian themes, squirting, angst, feelings.

Note: I really hope you guys enjoy this one! Please let me know your thoughts and reblog/like if you can! I’d appreciate it. 

Faust x Faith Masterpost [x]

"You didn't wear the outfit," Faust murmured against Faith's lips. 

"Sorry. I forgot. You got here so quick."

He took hold of the metal loop dangling at her neck and smirked. "But you wore this for me."

"I thought you'd like it," Faith giggled. 

"You think you're some kind of naughty girl? Do you think this collar makes you bad?"

Faith shrugged. 

"Do you know what happens to girls who wear things like this?" 

She grabbed his hands and placed them on her chest. "Why don't you show me?" 

"You couldn't handle it," he chuckled. 

Faith wasn't in the mood to convince Faust to do what he wanted with her. He'd gotten it lodged in his head that she was too delicate, but she wanted him to overpower her and make her hurt in that viciously pleasurable way she dreamt of. 

"Come on, Faust, you were the one who said you wanted to wreck this pussy. You won't take advantage of our last couple of nights together by making me never forget them?"

"You say that like I'm never coming back."

Faust nipped her bottom lip, palms sliding down her ribs to the back of her skirt. He pulled it up and squeezed her ass in both hands, watching her face change shapes any time he compressed her skin.

"You're going away for weeks. Who knows what will happen? Maybe you'll find a new girl and forget all about me."

Faust loosened his and shook his hair out of his face. "Don't say that."

"Im just kidding," she chuckled, leaning in for a kiss and meeting the crest of his cheekbone instead. 

"What?" Faith asked. 

"I'm serious. Why do you think that way?"

She pulled away to focus on the solemnity of his face. "I don't know, it's just something girls say."

"I don't think so."

"Relax, baby. It's okay. Let's just do it right here in the car. Please? I'm going to miss you so much when you go away. I need all I can get."

"I don't care," Faust said, framing his long fingers into a C-shaped hold on her neck. He didn't squeeze, but held her in place and drilled into her eyes with his. "Are you saying you might find another guy while I'm gone?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Then why do you think I'd cheat on you?"

"I don't think that," she whispered.

Faust released her throat and tightened his arms around her, pinning her in his firm embrace as she straddled his lap. "I'm not looking for groupies and shit. I just want to play. That's all I care about. That, and you."

"I know, Faust. Why do you always have to take everything I say so seriously? You know I'd never think about that. I'm a good girl, remember?"

Faust's throat rolled out a soft growl. "Good girls don't wear slutty little collars. Or sneak out of their dorms to fuck their boyfriends in the backseat of a car."

"Don't you want to corrupt me? Christian girl, taken by some heathen devil-worshiper... Destroying her purity."

He curled his hips up, the thick seam of his jeans rubbing against her flimsy panties, brushing over her sheathed clit. The pressure grew with the next carve. Faust filled with blood and clamped her frame against him as his hand snuck around to the back of her skirt again. 

"Faust, please. I want it. I'll let you do anything to me."

"I know. You've waited long enough. Now I know what you can and can't handle. But not here."

Faith whimpered when he stopped feeding her strokes of his groin. She'd been wriggling against him, trying to fret hard enough that his buried erection pressed against her folds. Though his tilting stopped, the hands at her behind explored the soft mounds of flesh and the sensitive spots that lied between them.

"You're gonna give me everything. That mouth and those pretty lips. Your cunt. Mm-hmm, and this one right here too. Yeah, I'm gonna fill that asshole with all kinds of things. My fingers... my tongue? Maybe a special surprise I have waiting at home?"

Faith never felt such a violent shiver ripple across her skin. It was like the window cracked open on its own and let in the bitter night air, sweet with the seasonal decay. He pressed his index finger against the promised hole, rotating and varying pressure over the cotton.

"All right, I'm serious now. Let's get going. Climb into your seat and buckle up."

On the ride back to Faust's apartment, his arm stretched over to toy with her clit, still never breaching the protection of her underwear. He only ghosted his fingertips over them, refusing to nudge them aside to give her the full strokes she craved. Even when Faith tried to pull them down, he stopped her hand, clicking his tongue and berating her for being too eager.

"Control yourself. Just enjoy what I give you."

"Please, I want more."

"You'll get more when I decide you deserve more. Tonight, you're mine. My pussy. My tits and ass and mouth. Whatever I say goes. Understand?"

"Yes, Faust."

"Good... Now I want you to lean back and finger your pussy. Then I want you to smear that pussy juice on the windshield. Draw my roommate a little picture."

Faith scoffed, cowering against the backrest, clutching her seatbelt. "What? Are you serious?"

He swung his eyes away from the road for as long as it took for the windshield wipers to clip twice. 

"Do it." 

She obeyed, and parted her legs to insert her middle finger as far as the second knuckle, curling to find the spot inside Faust helped her discover. Faust looked back at the road as she worked herself up, nodding and smirking when she brought her glistening fingertip to the glass to create the shape of a heart. 

"Aw, isn't that sweet? Leave 'em a little message."

Faust held the hand she'd used to finger herself the entire elevator ride up. He led Faith straight into his room after dropping the keys at the door. This behaviour was normal, as Faust never had much to say to his roommate besides agreeing on times to use the car. Faith skipped along with his formidable steps to the bedroom.

Faust's bed welcomed her instantly. Giddy and nearly delirious from the excitement of not sleeping in her own bunk at school, Faith sat down and smoothed out her skirt while he went to the closet to rummage around. 

Even the gory posters and beer bottles gave her a sense of comfort. She'd miss his room, and the nights they spent entangled in each other, his massive limbs always draped over hers while they cuddled or talked or slept or fucked. It keyed into her head then that she wouldn't see his plaid bedsheets or nap under the comforter that smelled like his shampoo and deodorant for a long, long time. She tried not to think about that, but the realization overcame her by the time Faust retrieved the item for which he searched. 

He knelt on the carpet, noticing a single tear on her cheek and wiping it away. 

"Don't do this, babe. Don't cry."

Faith brushed the next droplet away herself and breathed in deeply. 

"I'm so sorry. I'll try not to. It's just hard because... I'll miss you."

"I know. It'll be tough, but when I get home, maybe I'll be able to get out of here... Get a car. Move closer to your school. I won't have to keep borrowing fuckface's shit-wagon to come see you. Things will be better after I get back."

"I just can't imagine sleeping without you for that long."

"It's part of the gig, Faith. It always will be. I'll have to do this at least once a year. Probably more if things go well."

She looked down at her toes and nodded, avoiding the large green eyes imploring her to accept reality. Faust stood up and raked his hand through her hair, pressing her face against his thigh. 

"Don't get soft on me now. We have a big night, remember? Unless you don't feel like fucking no more?" 

Faith would never pass up the opportunity to please him. It always meant if she did a good job, he'd pleasure her right back, tenfold. But tonight made a heavier promise Faith craved since the moment she passed him by in the diner; for Faust to show her the dark side of life, where her elders and superiors had always promised demons lurked, waiting to undo her and lead her away from the righteous path. 

He handled her jaw firmly, raising her to her knees on the bed. He bent at the hips and captured her lips along with the silver ring hanging from her neck. A length of chain slid through his grip as he stood up, and he wound it up in his fist, raising her another inch. The leather pressed into her skin and she surrendered instantly. 

"That's what I thought."

"What're you gonna do to me?" 

"Don't speak. You'll answer me and that's it. Now get off the bed. On your knees." 

They switched spots, Faust sitting on the edge of the bed and Faith kneeling between his legs. He pulled the leash short and worked open the button and zipper of his pants, nodding for Faith to pull them down. 

"You wanna be a bad girl?" 

Faith nodded, a warm, fluttering sensation filling her chest. 

"Yeah. You want to do all the sinful things they taught you not to do in school. Like giving your precious little pussy away. There's no way a slut like you can wait until marriage and you don't care how it looks in your God's eyes. The only one you want is to serve me, even if it means going back on the vows you made to stay pure and chaste," Faust chuckled." Well, it's way too late now. I've already soiled you and taken your virginity. But don't you think it's inherently perverse how those supposed men of God put so much importance on what's between your gorgeous legs? Almost like that's all they think about. And who can really blame them? You can do bad in school, cheat on your work, hurt others, lie, steal, disobey your parents and still earn forgiveness, but the moment you let a man's cock inside you, you’ve got no worth. Funny, isn't it? The ultimate sin is what you crave the most. All those white men policing your pussy. Your pastor... Your father... Your God."

A sliver of her past self shuddered to hear the unabated truth pouring from Faust's lips. There was always a shameful breath lingering inside her whenever they had sex, but she always suppressed it by looking into his eyes to find the love living deep in those green pools. Tonight, Faust didn't let an ounce of affection shine through, determined to bring her shame to the forefront of her mind to exploit it. 

"What? Am I wrong? That's what they taught you, isn't it? That your urges make you sinful. That your natural human instincts put you off the path to heaven. Even though, mm, when I stuff all your little holes, you swear you're already there. Why does it feel so good to fuck me when it's so wrong?"

The residual polyps of her religious upbringing quivered and stung, echoing past lessons drilled into her from birth. Faith was always aware of existence on the other side of the fence where the criminals and harlots and sinners lived, and as a child, thought herself too good to wander into those dim pastures. As she matured, new world realities filtered through the pinpricks her parents overlooked—other children whispering of PG-13 movies, sex-charged billboards and unsupervised access to the internet—leaving behind the silt of the depraved for her to examine with hungry eyes. Nothing excited her more than the thought of finding a used porn magazine at the park, or staying up later than the rest of her girlfriends to catch flashes of soft-core skin on cable television. Now she was neck-deep in the sin they'd worked so hard to keep her from, ready to dive in with but a nostalgic glance back at her old, virtuous life.

It still bothered her whenever Faust referred to God, as they fashioned Him before her as divinity, unchallengeable. The unabashed way Faust spit upon His image made her cringe, yet his gall carved out a spot in her head above her pastor, above her father. Faust was the only man to defy her doctrine, and that made him more courageous than anyone she'd ever known. Even her daddy cowered in fear of God's wrath. Faust... he pissed on the cross and the bible, made a mockery of the gospel and showed her how delicious the grapes of temptation tasted on her contaminated tongue.

Faust pushed the elastic band of his boxers down so it bunched under his balls, helping his shaft stand upright. If left without support, he'd loll to the side, the girth too much for his blood to circumvent.

"Open your pretty mouth and suck this fat fucking cock, right now."

Faith displayed her tongue, waiting for him to trace a line from tip to tonsils. The warm pre-cum coated her tastebuds, and she wrapped her lips around the head, swallowing the fluid and moaning.

"Oh, Christ, baby, that looks so good. How does it taste?"

Faith hummed in agreement, unable to form a word with the mass wedging her jaws apart. He bucked his hips up once, hitting the back of her throat, then settled on the bed and let her go to work while he used the chain leash to angle her head. Bubbles formed around the ridge, dripping down in all directions to lubricate the way. Soon, Faust shivered from the warm froth gliding downward and pulled her off by the chain, anchoring his shaft against his belly.

"Suck that spit off my balls," he barked.

Faith did as she was told, keeping her eyes on his slackened face as she trailed her tongue up and down, collecting the saliva and swallowing.

"Good. That's good. Now, get up on the bed. On your hands and knees," he yanked the chain.

Propelled by the force around her neck, Faith crawled onto the bed and awaited his next move. She didn't notice the shiny object in his hand until he placed it on the bed next to her. A shiny metal plug with a jewelled end awaited, puckering the bedspread under its weight.

Before Faith mustered the courage to ask, Faust pulled her panties down to her knees and lapped her entrance with the same sloppy ardency she'd shown him but a minute before. He nipped her folds and continued upward, two hands now spreading her cheeks apart to reveal the next destination of his travelling tongue.

"Did you get all nice and clean for me?" He snickered.

"Mm-hmm," Faith said with a nod.

"Yeah, 'cause you knew I was gonna play with that ass."

Faust teased her with circles of varying pressure, switching his middle finger out for his tongue the first time he dipped inside. She wiggled and let curious noises escape her before clamping her hand over her mouth.

"How does that feel?"

"It feels... good," Faith replied.

"Yeah? You like it? Like it when I sodomize you?"

She whimpered. Faust took her mewling as a sign to continue. Slowly, he inserted his fingertip, reading her body and how it contorted from the new intrusion. When he was certain she wouldn't refuse, he worked the digit in and out, anointing the site with a fresh wad of spit.

"What do you think about the toy I bought for you?"

Faith craned her head to regard the little silver toy. "I like it."

"Really? You're not just saying that are you? It's not just something girls say, is it?"

"No, I want it. I'll do it if you like that."

"Anyone ever tell you how sweet you are? You’re always thinking of others. Perfect little cock-slave. It's really too bad your holes are so tiny. I'd really love to fuck your ass, but we wouldn't want anyone getting injured tonight," Faust said.

Faith simpered and wiggled her hips. There was a brief loss of contact as Faust went for a bottle of lube he always had stashed under the bed for nights Faith needed it. He coated the toy and rubbed the rest around and inside her tightness. With his fingertip eclipsing her hole, he dipped in one last time before replacing the digit with the tapered end of the plug.

Faith couldn't tell what it looked like when her body accepted the weighty piece of decoration, but when Faust had it in place, he breathed heavily.

"Fuck, Faith... That's adorable. How's that feel?"

She tilted her hips from side to side, grimacing from the flare pressing into her cheeks. "It's... Different."

"Spread your legs a bit more. Yeah, that's good. Open up and show me that pussy and your cute plug."

Faust overestimated his reserve of patience. Once affixed with the pink jewel, he lost sight of everything else except filling her other holes too. But he had to control himself if he wanted to achieve what he set out to achieve, and that required endurance. He had to tease her with a little more tongue-fucking before slipping his cock in from behind. She gasped and clenched hard, flinching away. The added fullness only intensified the stretch from his width and the imposing length. Faust seethed a moment before teasing her pussy with the tip.

"All right, work it however you like, babe. Get comfortable. It's a lot."

Left to her own efforts, she sat back on him and let the stretch course through her. Faust watched most of his length disappear, mouth dropped in awe. She continued jamming him back inside after every withdrawal, hoping to impress with her resilience. 

"You're doing good, baby. Keep going. Fuck, that feels amazing."

When Faust grew bored with the position, he flipped her on her back so he could watch her wince in mixed pain and pleasure. Her struggle urged him on, her panting, encouragement. Over the months, Faith got used to the breadth of him inside and didn't tremble as much or wilt from trying to keep up. It was time to move onto the next part of his plan, which was to introduce yet another form of stimulation. 

Faust had her sit on him, his chest to her back, fully enveloped in her wetness with the plug angling just right. Once she perched in his lap comfortably, he reached around to rub her clit with one hand while the other anchored her collared neck back so her head rested on his shoulder. 

"You're gonna come all over me, understand? I won't stop until I feel your pussy spasming around my dick." 

Faith squealed from the frantic fingers dancing over her clit, the shaft pumping her in a violent clashing of rhythms. Even his brutal whispers in her ear fell into time, playing her like an instrument with expertise. By her arching back and sharp breaths, Faust knew he was close to his goal. He just had to restrain himself from succumbing to the tightening pressure around him, the feast that was her body contorting on top of his. 

"Are you gonna come? Gonna fucking squirt for me?" 

Faith nuzzled into his neck and whimpered, "I... Can't. I don't know how." 

"Yes, you do. Feel that spot right there? Remember? Remember what I told you."

"Faust," she gasped. 

"You're right there. I can feel it. Right there, Faith."

He coiled his thick arm around her chest, pressing her as he shot his groin up and up. Each thrust landed harder while his fingers coddled her most sensitive spot. 

Amid the barrage of sensations, a peculiar warmth bourgeoned in her groin. For a second she thought her bladder was about to release, but it was too gradual... Too intentional to be a regular function. The undulating pulse sent red hot waves of pleasure through her body, shooting to her fingertips and crackling in her ears like a sudden ascent up a steep mountain. She closed her eyes and let out one continuous groan that spiralled upward, squealing from between her teeth as the volcanic frequencies shut down all other modes of operation. 

Faith didn't notice the first spurt. Only when Faust laughed did she unscrew her eyes to see between her legs. Faust lifted her quickly, sidling them both to the edge of the bed where the mirror reflected the clear fluid dripping down his cock and spreading between their thighs. He'd fucked her hard enough to collect fizz along the underside of his length. She gasped when a contraction forced another small emission from a place inside her she never knew existed. 

"Oh, my goodness... Am I?" 

"Squirting? Damn fucking right, babe. I knew I could get ya to gush all over my dick."

The fervent racks of orgasm subsided after a while, and she giggled. Faust laid back on the bed, feet planted on the floor as he slipped out of her and let her roll to the side. Faith huddled up under his arm and placed her little hand on his heaving chest, his heartbeat kicking up the limb. 

"You didn't come," Faith said.

Faust grabbed her hand and tightened his arm around her shoulders. "Yeah. That's 'cause I'm not done with you."

~*~

On the day of Faust's departure, he drove Faith to her campus and got out of the car to give her a hug. She produced a rickety smile as she buried her face in his hair and the first sniffle racked her throat. She imagined they looked novel to most; Faust spreading his feet and crouching to use his entire body, clam-shelling her in leather-bound arms and ripped black jeans, and Faith in a school kilt and his largest and softest hoodie. 

Faust kissed her once softly, then again slowly. She savoured his breath and sent her tongue after his. They parted, joined once more and parted again for their first attempt at goodbye.

Faith shivered from the effort of holding back her tears. She knew crying would only make it harder to part ways. If she could hold on, then she could cry in her plain, two-sided cubicle in a building of people that weren't Faust. She already felt sorry for her roommate who would suffer her grovelling.

To her surprise, she reared in the heat behind her eyes, remembering the times in the Summer when Faust would talk about touring. The glint in his eye and the smile he let slip only in her presence was Faust at his purest. How could she let her emotions taint his goals? Faith smiled, driven by her unexpected surge of self-control. 

It was Faust who bit his lip and blinked rapidly, trying to smother a tear before it oozed out. Faith gasped at the glimmer he smeared with the leather cuff of his jacket. Then, she broke.

Faust wrapped her up in his arms again and squeezed her tight, Faith jostling with sobs.

"I love you. I love you so much," she cried into his chest.

"Yeah, babe. I love you too. I fucking wish you could just come with me. I don't trust this town either. You better not ever walk alone at night anywhere. Even if it's from your dorm to the parking lot. You always walk with someone."

"I will."

"I'm serious, Faith. And don't fucking hang out with Anika and that crowd."

"Why not? I mean, I won't, but... Why?"

Faust pressed his lips together, squeezing his fist. She cocked her head, and he released his frustration in one deep breath. "All those guys will rip you apart. Because of your... Upbringing. Christians just... Fuck. I can't put this nicely."

"Do you really think I still care about my religion? It was something I just did as a kid. I don't really... I don't know. I know what you guys sing about and I don't care."

"It doesn't matter. To some of them, Christians are the enemy and they'll do terrible shit you'd never think of. Please, just fucking promise me you'll make some other friends. Some smart girls. Have like a girl's club thing in your dorm."

"Girl's club?" Faith taunted.

"You know what I mean."

"No smart boy friends?"

Faust went deadpan, then stooped to grab her ass and pull her closer. "Don't make a murderer out of me. If I hear of any guy—"

"Or girl!"

"Or girl... If anyone tries anything with you..."

"You'll go to prison for me. I know. I'll do everything to make sure you don't end up in prison."

"And you better not worry about me and what I'm up to. My life will be nothing but sleeping on the way to shows, sound check, pre-set, set, post-set shower, then beer in the bus."

"I trust you. But will you say goodnight, every night?"

"I'll try."

She hopped up to kiss him again. "Thanks, beetle."

"One more thing before I go," Faust said, stepping toward the car. He circled to the driver's side and ducked in to grab something he'd tucked under the seat while Faith wasn't around. She already had her mouth covered by the time he returned to the sidewalk. "That collar you supposedly had lying around... You gotta get rid of it."

Faith touched her throat as though the leather strap was still there. "How come?"

"Because I got you a better one," he said, handing her the parcel. The box had a weight Faith didn't expect.

She unravelled the black plastic, a lacquered wooden box beneath the makeshift wrapping paper. The collar inside was thin, with a metal buckle and a thick D-ring hosting a thicker chrome loop.

"Faust!"

"My friend made it. It's not some Hot Topic shit. This collar means you belong with me."

"Is this like your version of a promise ring?"

Faust scoffed. "It's not a ring. It's a collar. Hand-forged metal. Leather cut with skill. Not some tiny, overpriced rock. But if you want me to make you a promise, I will."

"Promise me what?"

"That I belong to you, too."

Faith melted, rolling her eyes and leaning into him. "Ugh, oh my gosh, if you keep being so cute I'm not gonna let you leave! First you cried and now you're giving me something you asked your friend to make for me? That's sooo cute!"

"Shut up. Come on, this is serious."

"I know! Which is why it's so cute, because you're a big, tough, serious man, aren't you?"

Faust's indifference broke, and he chuckled with her as she poked him and hung off his arm. He helped her put on the collar, then slipped the box into her backpack.

They settled back into a melancholic silence, neither one of them wanting to start the next round of goodbyes. Faust eventually stepped into the tight hug, proceeded more kissing and a few deep breaths to wane the sorrow.

"I hope you have fun, Faust. You don't have to worry about me. I promise I'll be safe."

"Say goodnight, every night."

"I will."

"All right... Well, I should go."

"Please do, so I can go to my room and cry some more."

Faust pressed his thumb into the corner of his eye. "Fuck, I know."

"I love you, beetle."

"Love you too, babe. I'll talk to you soon as I'm on the road."

Faust let her go and drove away. An immovable lump formed in his throat as he drowned out his inner-mourning with a cacophony of feral guitars, erratic drumbeats and screeching.

[calumcest]

dancing with the demons (holy spirit, holy spirit)

[ao3]

yes its 1am yes i just finished this fic yes i am exhausted yes i currently have an exam i should be doing looks like Helen’s Deadline Season Coping Mechanism is back in full swing 

i have to give my everlasting thanks to @ashesonthefloor and @clumsyclifford for their chaotic minds providing me excellent ideas and for always being so supportive of the things i write and motivating me to keep writing and also especially to ainslee for patiently listening to me talk about this for like the past three weeks before i could actually write it 

also this VERY very loosely based on christianity but as you will see: VERY. VERY. loosely 

-

“You’re kind of a shitty demon,” he tells Calum, who scowls.

“Fuck you,” he says. “You’re kind of a shitty angel.”

“Oh, dude, I know,” Michael agrees.

-

Humans, Michael thinks sourly, wouldn’t be nearly as interested in getting to Heaven if they knew Ashton were in there. 

He means well, Michael knows that, and he’s just doing his job, but that doesn’t make it any less irritating when Michael gets Summoned twice a week to answer for whatever petty crime he’s committed this time. So sue him, he forgot witchcraft was sacrilege, and forgot that astrology falls under that umbrella, and he’d been amused when he’d seen a lady claiming to be able to tell him what was in store for him next year, and he’d had ten dollars on him. He’s thousands of years old, how the fuck is he supposed to remember every tiny rule? Plus, he thinks, cocking his head, she’d told him that a colleague would present difficulties for him, and the way Ashton’s ranting right now is just vindicating the poor woman.

“...set an example, Michael,” Ashton’s saying, when Michael tunes back in. “You were an archangel. You have to be better.” Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Ashton, I swear to God-” Ashton slaps his hand down on the table. 

“That’s exactly your fucking problem!” he says furiously, and then tenses as he realises what he’s said. Michael can feel the repentance washing over Ashton, the genuine purity of it, and it makes him wince a little bit. Ashton clears his throat, and tries again. “You can’t be blaspheming like that. You’re an angel, Michael. You have free will, and you know what a double-edged sword that is.” Michael folds his arms, wings ruffling defensively. Ashton’s always so fucking hot on how dangerous free will is, like he’s had some kind of bad experience with it, and Michael doesn’t get it. Ashton’s never stepped more than a centimetre out of line in his entire life. 

“I’m loyal to Him,” he says firmly. “He knows that.” Are you questioning Him? remains unspoken, but rings loud in the air between them.  

“I know,” Ashton says wearily. “But He did demote you. Again.” 

“I mean, I did give the Son an onion disguised as an apple,” Michael points out. Ashton glares at him. 

“Are you trying to make this worse for yourself?” he demands, and Michael holds his hands up in defence. 

“Not my fault Jesus doesn’t have a sense of humour,” he mutters, under his breath so Ashton can pretend not to have heard it. He still thinks it was hilarious, made even more so by the connotation of original sin. Maybe the fact he hasn’t repented is why He keeps letting Michael get reamed out by Ashton for the smallest fucking things. 

“You’re lucky He didn’t count that as a rebellion” Ashton tells him. Michael rolls his eyes. 

“What the fuck do you want me to say, Ash?” he says, spreading his hands, ignoring the way Ashton flinches at the curse word. “I’m sorry? I repent? Forgive me Ashton, for I have sinned?” Ashton sighs, but chooses not to comment on the sarcasm. 

“I’m assigning you another case,” he says instead, “and you’d better not mess this one up.” Michael groans, and Ashton gives him a sharp look. “You’re always free to leave, Michael. You know that.” Michael tips his head back to stare at the ceiling and lets his eyes flutter shut, shaking his head. 

“What is it?” he mumbles. He hears paper sliding across Ashton’s desk, and pinches the bridge of his nose for a minute, inhaling deeply, before forcing his head back forwards to see the file Ashton’s pushed at him. 

“A demon,” Ashton says. 

“Oh, for fu- for Go- uh, for goodness’ sake,” Michael says hurriedly, when he sees the look Ashton sends his way. “Seriously, Ash? A demon?” Ashton shrugs. 

“You want to act like a kid, you get treated like a kid,” he says. Michael exhales heavily, and picks up the file, flicking it open to the first page. 

“Calum?” he says sceptically. “What kind of a name for a demon is that?” 

“You’d do well to remember who named him,” Ashton reminds him, and Michael rolls his eyes. 

“He doesn’t look very threatening,” he remarks, flicking through Calum’s file. “What, a couple of possessions, a few cases of muteness...c’mon, Ash, this is well below my pay grade.” 

“Firstly,” Ashton says, in that tone that says I don’t like what you just said at all but I’m going to be the bigger angel here, “you don’t have a pay grade, and secondly, you’ll take what you’re given.” 

“I know, but c’mon, this?” Michael says, waving the file in Ashton’s face. “You could deal with this in two minutes, Ashton, why send me after him?” Ashton presses his lips together and looks away, and Michael cocks his head, realisation dawning on him. “Oh, shit. He’s sending me after him.” 

“You know I can’t comment on that,” Ashton says, but his wings twitch uncomfortably and he doesn’t even tell Michael off for cursing, so Michael knows he’s right. 

“What does He want me to do this for?” Michael asks curiously. 

“The Lord moves in a mysterious way,” Ashton says primly, which is his go-to response when he knows the answer but doesn’t want to say it. Michael sits back in his seat heavily, grinning. 

“Okay,” he says, nodding. “Yeah. I’ll take the case.” Ashton rolls his eyes. 

“You’ll do as He darn well says,” he tells Michael, who grins. 

“I’ll do as I damn well please,” he says, and Ashton just sighs in defeat. 

 -------

 The first time Michael finds Calum, he’s loosening lug nuts on car wheels in the dead of night. 

He’s knelt on the floor, spanner in his hand, humming something to himself as he works. Michael leans against a car behind him, folding his arms, and watches him for a while, watches the way he bobs his head to the song in his head, taps his fingers on the spanner, grins to himself when the lug nut loosens enough for him to move onto the next one.  

“Man, what kind of demon uses a spanner?” Michael comments after a few minutes. Calum spins around, on his feet at the speed of light, eyes black, teeth bared. Michael just gives him a bored look. 

“Who are you?” Calum hisses. Michael cocks an eyebrow. 

“Don’t recognise me?” he says, and Calum just growls at him. “Damn, how long were you in Heaven? Two minutes?” 

“Who the fuck are you?” Calum spits. Michael sighs, pretending he’s not enjoying this as much as he is, and lets his wings unfold, big and pure white behind him. Calum’s eyes widen, still all-black but with an edge of fear, and he takes a step back. Michael tries his best not to smirk.

“You’re not an angel,” Calum says, sounding like he’s trying to reassure himself. 

“Aren’t I?” Michael says coolly, tucking his wings back in. They feel a little cramped, but he’s made his point, and it’s cold. 

“You said damn,” Calum says, still a little afraid, but also a little confused. Michael shrugs. 

“I have free will,” he says. “Perks of being an angel.” Calum stares at him, and his eyes flash back to looking human again. Michael can’t see too well in the poor light, but they’re still dark, maybe a deep brown, and there’s some sort of a spark in them that makes Michael’s stomach flip. 

He can see Calum a little better now as his eyes adjust to the dark, can see the black jeans and black leather jacket and thin black t-shirt hugging his muscular physique, can see what looks like tattoos on his hands and collarbones and can’t help but wonder whether there are more to be found. 

And yeah, that’s a dangerous train of thought, so he stops himself firmly, allowing himself a sigh. Of course He’s saddled Michael with the hottest demon to walk the realms. 

“Whose car is that?” Michael asks, nodding at the car Calum’s been working on. Calum’s eyes linger on him for a moment, like he doesn’t trust that Michael’s not going to attack him the minute he blinks, and then looks over at the wheels. 

“Don’t know,” he says. 

“You’re trying to fuck with someone you don’t even know?” Calum shrugs, eyes flicking back to Michael. 

“Why not?” he says. Michael narrows his eyes.

“You know fucking with humans is, like, bad, right?” he says. 

“For you,” Calum says, and there’s a glimmer of wicked amusement behind his dark eyes. Michael swallows. “Don’t know if you’ve heard, but my boss isn’t so hot on all of those kinds of rules.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Michael says darkly, because if there’s anyone from Hell Michael’s well-acquainted with, it’s the Devil. Calum, who seems to have now decided that Michael’s had his chance to kill him and hasn’t, casts him one final glance before picking up the spanner, twirling it in his hands (Michael chants a prayer to keep the thoughts about Calum’s fingers at bay), and kneeling at the next wheel. 

“Who are you?” Calum asks again. 

“Michael,” Michael says, as Calum starts twisting the lug nuts the wrong way, tightening them instead of loosening them. “That’s the wrong way, man.” 

“Fuck,” Calum mutters, and starts twisting the other way. Michael cocks his head. 

“You’re kind of a shitty demon,” he tells Calum, who scowls.

“Fuck you,” he says. “You’re kind of a shitty angel.”

“Oh, dude, I know,” Michael agrees. 

“Aren’t you a fucking archangel? Michael?” 

“Used to be,” Michael says. “Got demoted.” Calum snorts. 

“Demoted?” 

“Yeah,” Michael says, with a sigh. “Big man doesn’t like it when you play practical jokes on the Son.” Calum laughs. 

“Yeah, you’re a really shitty angel,” he tells Michael, who bristles slightly. 

“Well, I did defeat Satan,” Michael says defensively. Calum grins, all wicked and sharp teeth. 

“Yeah, he’s mentioned,” he says, and then leans back from the wheel with a sigh. “Man, would you give me a hand?” Michael cocks his head. 

“I’m meant to be stopping you, dude,” he says. Calum rolls his eyes. 

“You’re not doing a very good job,” he says. Michael thinks he would do a much better job if Calum weren’t so fucking pretty. That’s kind of unfair, he thinks. It gives Calum an automatic advantage. 

“Stop it,” Michael says, and Calum laughs, tilting his head back, and Jesus Christ, Michael wants to mark up his neck. He sends a quick apology prayer to whoever might have heard that thought, and clears his throat. “Seriously, Calum. Stop.” 

“Or what?” Calum says, eyes glittering mischievously. “You’ll scowl at me?” Michael cocks his head, and the grin slips off Calum’s face as he starts to choke. He clutches at his throat, looking somewhere between confused and shocked. Michael lets it go on for a few more seconds, relishing the way Calum’s gasping for air, before he lets Calum go. Calum falls back on his heels heavily, a pained expression on his face.

“Stop it,” Michael says simply, and he hears the power in his own voice. Calum winces, head jerking down in a forced bow, and right, yeah, Michael forgot that holy power has that effect on demons. 

“Damn,” Calum says, looking up through inky lashes when Michael lets him go, voice hoarse, but eyes twinkling. “Didn’t take you for the kinky sort.” Ashton is going to string Michael up by his wings for the thoughts that follow that sentence. 

“Fuck you,” Michael says, scowling, as he sends up yet another apology prayer. Calum cocks an eyebrow, grinning. 

“If you’re offering,” he says, rubbing at his throat. Michael sighs to hide the please that’s probably written all over his face. 

“Don’t let me catch you again,” he says instead. 

“What, you’re not going to kill me?” Calum says, and he sounds a little surprised. Michael frowns at him. 

“You want me to?” 

“Just thought you would,” Calum says, shrugging. Michael hesitates.

“You’re not really that threatening, dude,” he says eventually. And you’re far too pretty to kill. “I think the world can handle you.” Calum scowls at him, and flips him off with his left hand, picking up the spanner again with his right. Michael wordlessly tightens all the lug nuts again with a surreptitious flick of his wrist. 

“See you next time, angel,” Calum says, slotting the spanner onto another lug nut. 

“Not if you know what’s good for you, demon,” Michael says, turning away and tipping his head back up to Heaven. He hears a grunt behind him as Calum tugs on the lug nut, and grins to himself. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, dude?” Calum cries, and it’s the last thing Michael hears before everything turns white. 

 -------

 The second time Ashton sends Michael after Calum, he finds him in a Starbucks. His leather jacket is hung across the chair behind him, and he’s staring at a guy a few metres away from him with a look of pure concentration on his face. Michael takes a moment to drink it in, because he looks really fucking cute and his biceps are, like, right there - and yeah, Michael was right about there being more tattoos - before sliding into the seat opposite Calum. Calum jumps, tearing his eyes away from the guy to Michael, scowling when he realises who it is. 

“Hey,” Michael says nonchalantly, reaching for Calum’s coffee and taking a sip. It’s, like, pure fucking caffeine, and he pulls a face, pushing it back to Calum. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Calum hisses. 

“According to my superior, you’re up to no good,” Michael says. “I’m here to stop you.” Calum rolls his eyes. 

“You’re no fucking fun,” he says. Michael shrugs, and reaches for Calum’s chocolate muffin. He’s always regretted not planting the idea of chocolate in the minds of humans earlier. 

“What were you trying to do?” he says, through a mouthful of muffin. 

“Why would I fucking tell you?” Calum says, folding his arms. “You’ll just undo it.” Michael raises an eyebrow, and swallows. 

“The guy’s tattoo,” he says. Calum scowls again. “What’d you do to it?” 

“It said Lisa,” Calum says sullenly. “Changed it to ‘Lice’.” Michael looks over at the guy’s tattoo again - and yeah, he does actually now have a heart with Lice in it proudly displayed on his arm. Michael can’t help the snort that escapes him. God, would Ashton kill him if he left that one as it is? The answer is almost a hundred percent, but he thinks it might still be worth it. 

“That is fucking funny,” Michael agrees. 

“Man, how the fuck are you still an angel?” Calum says, and Michael huffs out a laugh, taking another bite out of the muffin. Calum snatches the rest of it out of Michael’s hands. 

“This is my fucking muffin,” he says, waving the remnants of it in Michael’s face. Michael shrugs. 

“Steal yourself another one,” he says. 

“You steal yourself one,” Calum mutters. 

“I’m an angel, dude,” Michael says. 

“Could’ve fooled me.” Michael rolls his eyes, snapping his fingers as Calum raises the last bit of the muffin to his mouth. The muffin disappears and Calum bites down on thin air, looking confused for a split second before glowering at Michael. 

“What the fuck?” he demands. “Why’d you do that? That was a good fucking muffin.” Michael shrugs, grinning.

“For the hell of it,” he says, snapping his fingers again, and the muffin re-materialises in his hand. He throws it in the air, catching it in his mouth, and winks at Calum as he chews. Calum watches him, half in intrigue, half in outrage, mouth slightly open. He’s got such full lips, Michael thinks, and then hastily swallows both the muffin and that train of thought. 

“You’re the worst angel I’ve ever met,” Calum says decisively, sinking back in his seat. 

“You met many?” Michael asks casually. 

“No, but I’m pretty sure you’re the worst they’ve got,” Calum tells him. “I’m going to write a letter of recommendation to get you kicked out of He-” he winces. “Up there.” Michael cocks his head. 

“What’d you do to get kicked out?” he asks. 

“What do any of us do?” Calum says grumpily. “Exercise our free will.” 

“I exercise my free will,” Michael points out. 

“Yeah, to fucking swear,” Calum says. “You’re like that kid at school who gets an adrenaline rush from telling someone to shut up.” Michael scowls. 

“Fuck you,” he says, and Calum grins wickedly. 

“You kiss your Father with that mouth?” he says. Michael flips him off. 

“Right, well, this has been fun,” he says, wiping his hands on a napkin as he gets to his feet, “but I’ve got to get going. Stop fucking with humans.” 

“Man, you’d be way more fun if you weren’t an angel,” Calum says mournfully. 

“I dunno,” Michael says, mock-thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t get to do this then, would I?” He snaps his fingers, just for dramatic effect, and the Lice tattoo on the man’s arm rearranges itself to say Lisa again, and an identical heart with Lice appears on Calum’s bicep. Calum twists his arm around with a look of absolute horror.

“You absolute fucking bastard,” Calum shouts, making at least five people in the Starbucks turn around and give him a sharp look (not that he’ll fucking care). 

“Be a good boy, demon,” Michael says, throwing him a grin before heading out into the warm October air. 

 -------

 The first thing Michael’s going to do when He gets over Himself and reinstates Michael as an archangel is have a word with Him about ever giving Ashton Summoning powers. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Michael mutters, using his right wing to rub his head where he’d banged it on impact. 

“Are you serious?” Ashton says, hands on his hips. “You come straight into my office and blaspheme?” 

“Don’t fucking Summon me with no warning, then,” Michael says, shaking his wings out. Ashton throws him a glare, probably for cursing, possibly for having the gall to respond at all. 

“You’re an angel, Michael, you’ll come when you’re called,” he says reprovingly. Michael rolls his eyes, but throws himself down on the chair on the other side of Ashton’s desk heavily. 

“What?” he says, with a long-suffering sigh. 

“It’s Calum,” Ashton says. 

“Again?” Ashton throws him a look. 

“You could’ve killed him,” he says pointedly. Michael shrugs, a little uncomfortably. He knows he should have, but something about Calum just draws Michael in, makes it impossible for him to say no. 

“He was fucking with tattoos and unscrewing lug nuts, Ash,” he says, a little too defensive. “Not exactly crimes of the millennium.” Ashton scrutinises him for a moment, and then purses his lips. 

“Well,” he says primly, “apparently he’s turned up in LA.” Michael can’t help but smile at that, because yeah, LA sounds like exactly the kind of place a demon like Calum would show up. Ashton sees it, and frowns. “Michael, this is a case, you hear me? Calum’s still a demon, no matter how much you want to copulate with him.” Michael scowls. Fucking Ashton, always listening to his prayers. 

“No one says fucking copulate anymore,” he snipes, because he can’t exactly deny it. “You’d know if you ever got down off your high horse and visited Earth.” Ashton rolls his eyes. 

“I’m pretty busy up here,” he says, gesturing to all the paperwork piled high on his desk. 

“I’m telling you, station Pahaliah with Peter at the gates,” Michael says. “You’d cut all this in half.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Ashton says. “Pahaliah’s had his work cut out for him since the Enlightenment.” Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Alright, Barachiel, then,” he suggests. “He’s a fucking pain in the arse. Might do him some good to do something mundane for a few centuries.” 

“I think He has bigger plans for His archangels than guarding the gates,” Ashton says. Michael raises an eyebrow, and Ashton rolls his eyes. “You’re not an archangel anymore, Michael.” 

“I am in all but name,” Michael says with a shrug, because He always relents where Michael’s concerned. “This is my, what, twelfth demotion? Thirteenth?” 

“This one might stick,” Ashton says warningly, which is what he says every time it happens. His concern is kind of cute, Michael thinks, if unwarranted. Ashton’s never understood Him like Michael does. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael says dismissively, because he’s not about to have this discussion with Ashton again. “Can I go now?” Ashton frowns at him, which Michael takes as a yes. He lifts himself up from the chair, stretching his wings and arms out, and turns to leave.  

“Do not copulate with the demon, Michael,” Ashton says. 

“I won’t,” Michael promises, heading for the door. “Might fuck him, though.” 

(The force with which Ashton slams him into the wall makes the whole building shake, but it’s absolutely worth it.) 

 -------

 LA is cold in November, which Michael had forgotten. It’s also busy, which means he can’t draw his wings around himself for extra warmth, nor simply teleport himself to the studio Calum’s apparently in. Instead, he has to huddle into himself and elbow his way through the Hollywood crowds, meaning he’s in a pretty bad mood by the time he actually gets to where he needs to be. 

Michael distracts the security guard momentarily with a quick wave of his hand, enough for him to slip inside unnoticed. It’s a small studio, only a handful of live rooms, and Michael only has to peek into two before he finds the one Calum’s in. 

Calum, clad in his usual all-black get-up, is leaning against the wall of the studio, grinning as he watches the sound engineer frowning, fiddling with a bunch of his controls. Michael can see the shimmer of the glamour he’s cast, and wordlessly casts one of his own as he clicks the door shut behind him. The sound engineer doesn’t even look up, so preoccupied with trying to fix whatever’s going wrong, but Calum hears the sound and whips around, scowling when he sees Michael. 

“Do you just, like, have a sixth sense for when there’s some fun occurring that could be stopped?” he asks, and Michael grins at him. 

“Just got a sixth sense for shitty demons,” he says, and Calum’s scowl deepens. 

“Fuck you,” he says. Michael raises an eyebrow, then casts a look over at the live room on the other side of the glass. There’s a band in there, two girls on guitar, one on bass and one on drums, all frowning at their instruments and fiddling with tuning pegs or tension rods. 

“You’re un-tuning their instruments?” he says. “That’s pretty bad, even for you.” Calum makes a noise of outrage. 

“What do you mean, even for me?” he says, sounding scandalised. “That tattoo was fucking hilarious, you said so yourself.” Michael’s eyes flick down to Calum’s bicep, even though it’s covered by his leather jacket. Calum notices, and folds his arms. “Yeah, fuck you for that. Do you have any idea the number of favours I had to call in to get rid of it?” Michael snorts. 

“Who the fuck owes you favours?” he asks, and Calum grins, eyes gleaming. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he says. 

“Yeah, that’s why I’m asking,” Michael points out. Calum rolls his eyes, and turns back to the sound engineer, who looks like he’s ready to cry. 

“I asked around about you,” Calum comments casually, as they both watch the sound engineer fiddle with yet more knobs. 

“Oh?” Michael hums, interest piqued. “You know, the Devil and I had a good understanding.” 

“Yeah, until you waged a war against him,” Calum says. 

“On the Lord’s orders,” Michael says, a little defensively. 

“Well, he found it pretty funny that you got demoted,” Calum says. Michael rolls his eyes. Of course he did. 

“He would,” Michael says. “Did he tell you about the time the Lord made him wash the Son’s feet in front of the whole host?” Calum gapes at him. 

“No,” he says, sounding flabbergasted. Michael grins, feeling oddly satisfied.  

“Yeah, I bet he didn’t,” he says. “Didn’t realise he concerned himself with petty demons like you, anyway.” Calum scowls. 

“I’m not a petty demon,” he says, a shade petulantly. 

“You un-tune people’s guitars, dude,” Michael says. “Pretty sure demons are meant to be out committing homicide, and stuff.” 

“There are plenty of demons who do the whole murder thing,” Calum says, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m striking out.” Michael can’t help but grin at that. 

“I’ll put that in your file,” he tells Calum. “‘Not Like Other Demons’. Got it.” 

“I’ve got a file?” 

“What, you think we just let demons run around unchecked?” Calum blinks at him.

“You know Galadriel’s in the US president’s cabinet right now?” he says slowly. 

“Of course we know,” Michael says.  

“And you’re leaving him be?” Michael shrugs. 

“Not my department,” he says. Calum stares at him for a moment, and then a grin breaks out on his face, and he shakes his head. 

“Man, things have definitely changed since I was up there,” he says. 

“When was that?” Michael asks. Calum shrugs. 

“I dunno, I’m not great with time,” he says. “One, two thousand years ago?” Michael hums thoughtfully. 

“You remember Raphael?” he says. Calum rolls his eyes, and now that, that is a sentiment Michael can really get behind. 

“Unfortunately,” he mutters. “He still so fucking holier-than-thou?” 

“You thought he was holier-than-thou then?” Michael says, raising his eyebrows. “You should see him since my latest demotion.” He pitches his voice up a few octaves, and mimics: “Oh, Michael, if you just repented, you could have your seat at His side again. We’re all rooting for you. You’re just letting yourself down.” Calum grins. 

“You get demoted often?” It’s Michael’s turn to shrug. 

“Every couple of centuries,” he says. Calum laughs, all straight white teeth and sparkling eyes, and Michael’s stomach flips. God, he’s far too fucking pretty for Michael to handle. Is that why He sent Michael after him? Is this His idea of revenge? 

“I have no idea how you’re still an angel,” Calum says, shaking his head, still smiling. 

“Pure heart,” Michael says solemnly. “That’s why I keep defending these poor, helpless humans from your shitty little tricks.” 

“They’re not shitty,” Calum protests, as Michael throws a glance over to the girls in the live room, tightening their tuning pegs and tension rods wordlessly. Calum sighs dramatically, eyes following Michael’s gaze. “Man, you’re so fucking boring, you know that?” 

“Whatever you say,” Michael says with a grin, stepping back. “Behave yourself, demon.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Calum says, eyes twinkling. Michael smirks, and drops Calum’s glamour with a snap of his fingers. The sound engineer whirls around immediately, eyes widening when he sees Calum in the corner of the room, and scrambles to his feet, grabbing a nearby guitar and brandishing it like a weapon. 

“Who the fuck are you?” the guy shouts. “How the fuck did you get in here?” Calum shoots Michael a glare. 

“I fucking hate you, angel,” is the last thing Michael hears before everything goes white. 

 -------

 The next time Ashton sends Michael after Calum, he finds him with another demon who looks decidedly undemonic, blonde hair framing baby-blue eyes. Calum’s head whips around when Michael clears his throat, eyes black, poised to pounce, but he relaxes when he sees who it is. Michael’s not sure what to make of that. The other demon, though, bares his teeth, eyes flashing to black, tensing at Michael’s presence.

“Evening,” Calum says casually as his eyes flicker back to looking human, like they’re friends, and like Michael doesn’t have the power to kill him with a snap of his fingers. 

“What are you doing?” Michael asks, cocking his head. There’s glue and there’s coins, and he doesn’t understand how the two of them combine. 

“Gluing coins to the footpath,” Calum says, stepping back to let Michael see. In the dim light of the streetlight a few metres away, Michael can see a few coins shining back at him. 

“Huh,” he says thoughtfully. “Who’s your friend?”

“Luke,” the other demon says, eyes narrowed and black, posture defensive. He’s oddly familiar, Michael thinks, a bitter taste rising in his throat when they lock eyes. Michael’s dealt with a lot of demons in his time, but he doesn’t remember any called Luke. “Who the fuck is this, Cal?” 

“This?” Calum says, far too nonchalantly, kicking at one of the coins to make sure it’s properly stuck. “Michael. You know, the archangel?” 

“C’mon, dude,” Michael protests. “That’s a sensitive topic.” Luke looks at him, and there’s an edge of a glint to his eyes that Michael doesn’t like the look of. 

“An archangel?” he asks Calum, eyes still on Michael. 

“Well, no,” Calum says cheerfully, dropping to his knees again and sending Michael a pointed look, eyes glittering with humour. “He got demoted. Just a regular angel now.” Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in,” he says. “Who are you, the Raphael of Hell?” Calum snorts, and Luke looks from Calum to Michael and back again. 

“Are you going to kill us?” he says. 

“That depends,” Michael says. “Are you going to piss me off enough to make me?” 

“Don’t worry about him,” Calum tells Luke, reaching for another coin and some glue. “He’s the worst angel they’ve got.” Michael sighs, an I didn’t want to have to do this but you’ve twisted my arm kind of sigh, and raises his hand. Calum jerks into the air, feet dangling beneath him, and his wings instinctively shoot out, beating wildly to try and escape Michael’s chokehold. They’re kind of gorgeous, actually - sleek, black feathers, a little unkempt. 

“Huh,” Michael says thoughtfully, as Calum struggles against his hold, wheezing and spluttering, and Luke stares at him, looking only mildly interested. “Nice wings, dude.” He lets Calum go, who drops to the ground with a loud crack, splitting the footpath on impact. Calum winces, rubbing at his throat, and folds his wings back in. 

“Thanks,” he says, coughing. “Always thought black suited me better.” Michael hums in agreement. He can’t really see the pure, brilliant white he has on his own back working with Calum’s aesthetic. 

“Hey, d’you have a halo?” Calum says to Michael, voice still a little hoarse. 

“‘Course,” Michael says. “Do you have horns?” Calum snorts, getting to his feet. 

“I can if you want me to,” he says, throwing Michael a wink. Luke stares at him. 

“Wait, are you two fucking?” he asks, a note of trepidation in his voice. Calum’s eyes flick to Michael, dark and hungry.

“Not yet,” he says, not taking his eyes off Michael. Michael swallows, and apologises to Ashton, who he just knows is listening, for the string of thoughts that just went through his mind. 

“I’m just doing my job,” Michael says to Luke, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Calum’s. 

“Isn’t your job to kill us?” 

“No,” Michael says. “Just to stop you. And, I’ve got to be honest, stopping Calum isn’t exactly hard. He’s kind of a shitty demon.” 

“Fuck you,” Calum says, scowling, and Michael grins. 

“If you’re lucky,” he says, winking at Calum before turning to Luke. “You don’t seem like a very intimidating demon either, dude, not gonna lie.” 

“Oh, you should see him when he’s pissed,” Calum says, and Luke huffs, looking a little embarrassed. “Remember that transport minister in Berlin that fell in front of a train a few months ago?” Michael gapes at him. 

“That was you?” he says, rounding on Luke. 

“Yep,” Calum says gleefully, on Luke’s behalf. 

“What, he stood on my foot on the underground and didn’t apologise,” Luke says defensively. Michael stares at him for a moment, and then shakes his head. 

“You’re a way better demon than Calum,” he says, and the cheerful grin slips off Calum’s face, replaced with an indignant scowl. 

“What the fuck, dude?” he demands. Michael shrugs. 

“Find yourself a better sidekick, Luke,” he recommends, taking a step back. 

“Go fuck yourself,” Calum says. Michael grins, flicking his wrist, and all the coins start rolling down the footpath towards the gutter. 

“What did I tell you about behaving?” he mock-chides, as Calum makes a noise of outrage, trying to stop a few of the coins with his feet. 

“Fuck you, angel,” Calum grumbles, and Michael blows him a kiss as he transports himself back home. 

 -------

 Michael’s in the middle of a debate with Peter about whether or not Julius Caesar should really have been let into Heaven when Ashton Summons him. 

“-just shouldn’t have crossed the Rubicon, if you ask me,” Michael finishes his sentence addressing the wall in Ashton’s office. He spins around, annoyed. “What the fuck, Ash? I was having a conversation.” Ashton holds up a picture of Luke and Calum that Michael had put in Calum’s file, tapping on Luke. 

“Who’s the friend?” he says. 

“Luke,” Michael says. “Can I go now?” 

“No,” Ashton says, motioning for Michael to sit. Michael sighs dramatically, but throws himself down into the chair. Ashton sits down opposite him, wings poised, and steeples his fingers against his chin. 

“You know Luke?” he asks carefully. Michael shrugs. 

“Met him once,” he says. “They were gluing coins to a footpath.” Ashton nods thoughtfully. “Oh, and he killed that transport minister in Berlin a few months ago.” 

“I think he’s killed a lot more than just the transport minister,” Ashton says, tapping on a thick, unmarked file on his right. Michael shrugs. 

“Humans have to die of something,” he says. Ashton gives him a look. 

“We’re meant to protect humanity,” he says reprovingly. 

“C’mon, Ash, they live about as long as it takes me to blink,” Michael says. Ashton purses his lips, but he knows Michael’s right. 

“I’m going after him,” he says eventually. Michael does a literal, honest-to-God double take. 

“You’re doing what?” he says, astounded. “You’re going down?” 

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Ashton says, a little snappily. “Gabriel’ll take over for me when I’m gone.” Michael groans. 

“C’mon, Ash, can’t you pick, like, Uriel, or Selaphiel, or something?” he asks desperately, because he’d rather die than answer to Gabriel, but Ashton shakes his head firmly. 

“Gabriel’s the only one qualified,” he says, eyes back on the picture of Luke and Calum. 

“What’s so interesting about Luke?” Michael asks, seeing the way Ashton’s eyes linger on him. “Why can’t you send someone else after him?” Ashton hesitates, then looks at Michael with a serious expression. 

“There’s never been a demon called Luke.” 

 -------

 Michael next sees Calum in a shopping centre food court. 

Calum spots him before he manages to get to him, and beckons him over, grinning excitedly. Michael tries to suppress a grin and ignore the way his stomach flips at that, pushing through the crowd to get to the booth Calum’s sat in and sliding in opposite him. 

“Watch this,” Calum says gleefully, nodding at the woman to their right. She takes a bite of her margherita pizza, nodding at whatever her friend is saying, and then stops, frowning, hand flying to her throat. 

“What did you do?” Michael asks, as the woman starts to cough. 

“Made her allergic to salt,” Calum says nonchalantly, and Michael snorts. The woman looks like she’s starting to struggle to breathe, so Michael waves his hand, and she relaxes, coughing a few more times, looking extremely confused and concerned. 

“So you’ve progressed to actually killing people now?” Michael asks, mildly intrigued. Calum shakes his head. 

“Knew you’d turn up,” he says, flashing Michael a grin. Michael rolls his eyes. 

“You don’t know that,” he says. “I’m a busy angel.” Calum snorts. 

“Right, that’s why they’ve sent you after me,” he says sarcastically, dipping a chip in some ketchup and popping it in his mouth. “Sure.” Michael shrugs. 

“He wanted me to go after you,” he says. Calum stops chewing, and frowns. 

“He?” he says, swallowing. “As in, Him?” Michael nods. “What the fuck? I’m on G-” he winces. “I’m on His radar?” 

“Apparently so,” Michael says, reaching for one of Calum’s chips and looking around for the mayonnaise. “Hey, where’s the mayo?” Calum stares at him. 

“You eat mayo, and I’m the demon?” he says in disbelief. Michael scowls at him, and conjures some mayonnaise. 

“It’s the best condiment,” he tells Calum, through a mouthful of chip. Calum shakes his head at him, looking genuinely disappointed. 

“What does He want with me, then?” he asks. Michael shrugs. 

“Do I look like God?” he says. Calum shrugs. 

“Never met Him,” he says. Michael raises his eyebrows. 

“Well, who kicked you out?” he asks. 

“Raphael.” 

“Bet he enjoyed that.” Calum huffs out a laugh, sticking his finger in the ketchup and then in his mouth. Michael’s not sure whether he should be grossed out by the fact Calum’s eating pure ketchup, or turned on by the way Calum’s got his lips wrapped around his fingers, looking up at Michael through thick, black lashes. 

“You’re disgusting,” he settles for, but it comes out weak, and a grin’s flashing across Calum’s face in a second. 

“Only for you,” he says, with a wink. Michael rolls his eyes, and hopes the pink on his cheeks isn’t too obvious. He reaches for another one of Calum’s chips, and Calum’s eyes follow him. He looks like he’s weighing up whether or not he wants to say something. 

“What’s He like?” he asks eventually, curiously. 

“God?” Michael asks, and Calum nods. Michael swallows his mouthful of chips, and clears his throat. “He’s cool. Pretty laid-back guy. It’s the Son you want to watch out for.” Calum cocks an eyebrow in intrigue, and Michael nods. “Yeah, the Son’s got a proper stick up his ass. Never met anyone so uptight in my life.” 

“Might be a side effect of crucifixion,” Calum suggests, and Michael snorts. 

“Well, you know, there’s the whole Trinity thing,” Michael continues, “so He’s pretty strict when it comes to the Son. God, the Son’s so spoilt. You think Raphael’s bad, wait until you meet Jesus.” Calum snorts. 

“Don’t think I’ll be meeting the Son anytime soon,” he says, and there’s something hard in his eyes and bitter in his tone. Michael frowns, but it’s gone as soon as Michael opens his mouth to ask. 

“What about Hell?” he asks instead. 

“What about it?” 

“Well, what’s Satan up to nowadays?” A look of amusement flashes across Calum’s face. 

“Oh, y’know,” he says. “Same old.” 

“Being the proudest motherfucker around?” Calum laughs, eyes twinkling, and Michael has the feeling he’s said something much funnier than he intended to. 

“You could say that,” Calum says. 

“He still funny?” Michael asks. “Heaven’s way more boring without him. He was the only one with a fucking sense of humour.” Calum’s eyes glitter with mirth. 

“I’d say so,” he says, grinning. 

“Well,” Michael says, a little awkwardly, because Calum’s finding this way funnier than it should be. “Give him my best.” Calum bursts out laughing. 

“Will do, angel,” he says. 

 -------

 God is nothing like humans think. 

Okay, He’s a little like humans think - He’s got the beard - but that’s about it. 

“Hey, Mikey,” God says, grinning at him when he knocks at the door. “How’s my favourite angel?” Michael rolls his eyes, shutting the door behind him. 

“You’re not supposed to have favourites,” he tells God. 

“I don’t,” God says, eyes twinkling. “But Raphael was listening.” Michael snorts, shaking his head, and God gestures at the seat opposite His desk, capping His pen as Michael sits down. 

“You reinstating me as archangel?” Michael asks cheerfully. God sighs, giving him a serious look, and the smile slips off Michael’s face. 

“You know, Jesus is still mad about the onion,” He says gravely. “You made Him look bad, which means you made me look bad.” 

“You know I didn’t mean to do that,” Michael says, because He can see Michael’s intentions laid out in front of him, clear as day. “And you know I’m sorry.” 

“I know,” God says. “So I am reinstating you. But don’t play around with the Son again.” Michael nods meekly, wings sagging a little. 

“Thank you, Father,” he says. God waves His hand dismissively, grinning. 

“You knew I was going to reinstate you,” He says. 

“Ashton’s going to be pissed,” Michael says, and God chuckles. 

“He knew too,” He says. “He thinks you get special treatment.” That fucker. And, yeah, whoops, Michael’s in the presence of the Lord, and isn’t censoring his thoughts. Whoops. Sorry. “Apology accepted,” He says, grinning. 

Michael hesitates, then, because it reminds him of some things Calum’s said - you exercise your free will to swear, and the many different iterations of you’re the worst angel up there. God raises an eyebrow, motioning for Michael to ask. 

“Why don’t you kick me out?” Michael blurts. God leans back in His seat. 

“You want me to kick you out?” He asks. Michael shakes his head. 

“But I- y’know,” Michael says, shrugging a little uncomfortably in the heat of His gaze. There’s nothing quite like the scrutiny of the Lord. “I swear. I blaspheme. I- uh.” He flushes, and God smirks as images of just what exactly Michael would like to do to Calum flash through his mind. Michael clears his throat. “I’m not exactly a model angel.” God looks at him, calculating, and Michael tries to resist the urge to fall to his knees. 

“You use your free will exactly as I intended it to be used,” He says. “You do as you please with a pure heart, unwaveringly loyal to me. You never have your own interests above mine.” 

“Even when I blaspheme?” God looks at him for a moment, and then smiles. 

“Even when you blaspheme,” He says gently. “You’d do well to remember my omniscience, Michael. Raphael may think obsequiousness is the way into my good books, but that was the reason I gave you free will. I knew some would use it for wrong, I knew some of you would use it to serve me blindly, but you’re the only one who’s ever used their free will as I intended, and the only one I’d ever want at my right-hand side.” Michael has to drop his gaze, can’t meet the holy power shining from His eyes. 

“Thank you, Father,” he says again, and he hears the awe in his own voice. Jesus Christ, he sounds like a human. God snorts at that. 

“Yeah, you do,” He says. “Now, go and tell Raphael you’ve been reinstated. I’ve seen how it plays out, and you’re going to love it.” 

“Can I tell him I’m your right-hand angel?” Michael says hopefully, and God laughs. 

“The fuck you can,” He says, eyes twinkling, and laughs again as Michael gawps at Him. “Oh, you think you’re the only one who can swear in here?” 

Yeah, Michael should have seen that one coming. 

 -------

 The next time Michael sees Calum, he’s with Luke again. It’s the middle of the night, and they’ve both cast glamours, whispering to each other in a dormitory in a hostel in Prague. Luke’s pointing at something across the room, and Michael silently casts his own glamour, sauntering over to them nonchalantly in the hopes of picking up what they’re talking about. 

“...the right side of the room, you take the left,” Luke says, gesturing to the other side of the room. 

“For what?” Michael asks, and both Calum and Luke jump, eyes instinctively turning black and baring their teeth. They both relax when they see who it is, though. 

“Can you let us have one night of fun?” Calum says, sighing. 

“Depends,” Michael says. “Does ‘fun’ involve fucking with the humans?” He indicates the ten people sleeping soundly in the room, and both Luke and Calum hesitate. 

“Well, yes, but-” Luke begins.

“No can do,” Michael says smoothly, and Calum scowls at him. 

“You ever get tired of being a boring cunt?” he asks, and Michael can’t help but laugh. 

“What are you up to?” he asks. 

“Unplugging people’s phone chargers,” Luke answers, eyes gleaming. “They’re all going to wake up with thirty percent charge. Some of them might even miss their alarms.” He sounds so fucking pleased with himself. Michael rolls his eyes. 

“What are you, three hundred?” he says, and he opens his mouth to make another  scathing remark, but is interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. He whips around in surprise, because who the fuck can see through his glamour, to find Ashton standing there, looking equally surprised to see him. 

“Oh,” Michael says, turning back to Calum, who looks bewildered, and Luke, who looks shocked. “This is my superior. Although, actually, that’s not true anymore, is it?” 

“You get demoted too?” Calum asks Ashton sympathetically. Ashton sends Michael a glare, and shakes his head tightly. Calum looks back at Michael, who’s grinning widely. 

“No way,” he says incredulously. “You got reinstated?”

“He always gets reinstated,” Ashton mutters. 

“Jealousy’s not a good look you, Ash,” Michael tells him sweetly, and Ashton scowls at him. 

“Ashton,” Luke says suddenly. Ashton’s eyes slide over to him, something unreadable in his expression. 

“Yes,” he says, a little tightly. Michael frowns. What the fuck is Ashton’s deal with Luke? He’s just a harmless fucking demon. He’s about to start unplugging people’s phones, for God’s sake. Not exactly the kind of criminal mastermind Ashton usually descends for; the last time Ashton had come down had been for Attila the Hun. 

“Huh,” Luke says, a little smile unfolding on his lips. “You’re still fucking hot.” Michael’s eyes widen, and Calum chokes on his next breath, disguising it badly as a cough. 

“You know him?” Michael asks in disbelief. Luke grins, eyes glittering, and waves his hand. Michael watches as all the phone chargers in the room simultaneously unplug themselves and fall to the floor, and his jaw drops. No demon should be able to do that. Calum wouldn’t even be able to unplug two chargers at the same time. 

“Cal didn’t tell you?” Luke says sweetly. “Luke’s short for Lucifer.” 

 -------

 For want of a better phrase, all hell had broken loose as soon as the words had left Luke’s lips. 

Ashton and Michael’s wings had flown out, in warrior mode without a second’s hesitation, and Calum and Luke had responded in kind, growling, eyes black, teeth bared. 

“I knew it,” Ashton had hissed, holy light rolling off him so brightly it even almost hurt Michael’s eyes. Calum had shrunk back, but Luke had been unperturbed. “The minute I saw that picture, I knew it was you.” Luke had grinned, all sharp teeth and gleaming black eyes. 

“You think about me that often?” he’d said. 

“Of course I fucking think about you,” Ashton had spat, and Michael had stopped short, stared at him. 

“Did you just fucking swear?” he’d asked. 

“Not really the point, Michael,” Ashton had said through gritted teeth.

“Man, you’re not the only angel to swear?” Calum had said to Michael. 

“He never swears,” Michael had told him, bewildered. 

“These are special fucking circumstances,” Ashton had snapped, and the power in his voice had made Calum stumble back a few steps. 

“Look,” he’d said carefully, when he’d regained his footing. “Michael’s an archangel, you’re...whatever the fuck you are, and Luke’s the Devil. All I’m seeing here is I’m going to come out bottom if this comes down to a fight. Why don’t we take this somewhere else?” They’d all hesitated, tense and poised, none of them willing to be the first to give in, until Calum’s gaze had flickered to Michael, a pleading note in his brown eyes. 

And really, who’s Michael, archangel of the Lord, to say no to petty demon Calum? 

“Fine,” Michael had said, folding his wings, and after a moment’s hesitation, Ashton had followed suit. Luke had taken a moment longer, until Calum had nudged him pointedly, and then he’d folded his sleek black wings in too. 

That’s how they’ve ended up here, in a McDonald’s that’s open all night. They’re huddled in a booth, too close for comfort, Calum and Luke on one side, Michael and Ashton on another. 

“So,” Michael says awkwardly, cutting into the uncomfortable silence, because someone has to be the first to speak. “Sorry about, y’know. The war, and all that.” Luke snorts. 

“Water under the bridge,” he says, waving a hand dismissively, but his eyes don’t stray from Ashton. “You were always my favourite angel.” Ashton flinches at that. 

“What’s the fucking deal here?” Calum demands, and Michael’s silently grateful that he’s not the one who had to ask the question and risk getting publicly reamed out by Ashton. “How do you two know each other?” Luke grins, still gazing at Ashton. 

“You wanna tell them, or should I?” he says, and Ashton stiffens. “I guess I should, huh? It is my story, after all.” 

“Fucking spit it out already, Luke,” Calum says. Luke raises his eyebrows at Ashton, and then finally tears his gaze away. 

“Ashton’s the reason I fell,” Luke says. Michael feels his jaw drop.

“What?” he says, at the exact same time as Calum. 

“How?” Michael demands. 

“What the fuck?” Calum says. 

“What happened?” 

“What did he do?” 

“Hang on, I thought you fell because of pride,” Michael interrupts, jabbing a finger at Luke. Luke shakes his head. 

“I fell because I loved someone more than I loved Him,” he says, and then nods at Ashton. Michael blinks. 

“Sorry,” he says after a moment, shaking his head. “Not sure I’m getting this.” 

“Yeah,” Calum chimes in. “Sounds like you’re saying you and Ashton were, like...a thing?” 

“That’s what he’s saying,” Ashton says. 

“You- hang on,” Michael says, holding his hands up. “You, Ashton, angel who tells me off for even thinking about blaspheming, dated the Devil?” Ashton nods curtly. 

“Nah,” Calum says, shaking his head, “sorry, not having it.” Michael has to agree with that. No way did Ashton date Satan. 

“Wait,” he says suddenly. “No, this doesn’t make any sense. Why do you look different?” Luke shrugs. 

“Changed it up,” he says. “You get a much more exciting range of powers when you’re not confined by His morals.” He grins, and looks back at Ashton. “Ashton still recognised me, though, didn’t he?” Michael stares at Ashton. 

“You dated Satan?” he asks, and Ashton nods. “You never thought to fucking tell me?” 

“What was I supposed to say, Mike?” Ashton says. 

“Oh, I don’t know, hey, Michael, sorry about all those times I slammed you against a wall for swearing, turns out I dated the fucking Devil?” Michael suggests, slightly hysterical. None of this makes any fucking sense. 

“You slam him against walls?” Calum asks, sounding intrigued. “Huh. Shame. I won’t get to be the first.” Michael scowls at him. 

“Are you serious?” he demands. “I find out Ashton dated the literal Devil, and you want to make innuendos? What are you, an incubus?” Calum grins at him. 

“Might be,” he says. 

“Could make you one, if you wanted to be,” Luke offers. 

“If you’re Satan, why the fuck are you messing around with people’s phone chargers and gluing coins to footpaths?” Michael says. Luke shrugs. 

“Being annoying is way more fun than being evil,” he says. Michael stares at him, because yeah, that does actually sound like something Lucifer would say. But Lucifer also didn’t fucking date Ashton. 

“You two didn’t date,” Michael says, shaking his head. “That’s just- that’s just not true.” 

“I can’t lie, Michael,” Ashton reminds him, and Michael bites his lip, because it’s true, he can’t, but he also didn’t fucking date the Devil.

“So,” Luke continues, like this whole interlude hadn’t even happened, spreading his hands. “Turns out I loved Ashton more than he loved me. I get cast out, he doesn’t follow, cue thousands of years of warfare.” And actually, that’s a point. 

“You let me fight that war,” Michael says tightly, rounding on Ashton. “You let me lead that. You let me lead angels, your brothers, into battle to die, and you could have stopped it all along.” Ashton puts his head in his hands. 

“I couldn’t,” he says miserably. “I couldn’t force myself to love Lucifer more than I love Him.”

“Man, this is like a fucking soap opera,” Calum puts in, leaning back in the booth with a grin on his face. 

“I’m glad someone’s fucking enjoying themselves,” Michael snaps, and Calum holds his hands up in defence. 

“I’m a demon, dude,” he says. “I kind of get off on chaos.” He pauses, and then adds: “So do you, actually, don’t fucking lie. You said the tattoo was funny.” 

“That’s exactly why I’m so worried about you, Michael,” Ashton says. “You abuse your free will. I don’t want you to fall, too.” Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Ash, if I were going to fall, it’d would’ve happened a long fucking time ago,” he says. Ashton shoots him a look. 

“You’ve never been as close as you are now,” he says bluntly, eyes flicking to Calum. 

“Oh, c’mon, I want to fuck a demon, so what?” Michael says. “You actually fucked the Devil, and you’re still up there.” 

“You want to fuck me?” Calum interrupts, and Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Dude, of course I want to fuck you,” he says. Calum looks at him for a moment, and then his face splits into a self-satisfied grin. 

“Don’t blame you,” he says. “I am pretty fucking sexy.” 

“Not the moment, Calum,” Michael says warningly, and it’s Calum’s turn to roll his eyes, but he doesn’t retort. 

“He’s not going to fall, Ash,” Luke says, and there’s something gentle and reassuring in his tone that doesn’t really sit well with Michael’s idea of Satan. “Trust me. He’ll never love anyone more than he loves Him.” Calum’s grin drops at that, and Michael tries to ignore the unpleasant flip in his stomach. 

“You don’t know that,” Ashton says. “You haven’t seen how he uses his free will.” Michael hesitates. 

“I spoke to God about it,” he says, after a moment of dithering. “I- look, I can’t tell you what He said, but we’re on the same page.” Ashton throws him a sceptical look. “Come on, Ash, am I going to lie to you about what He said in front of Him?” Ashton hesitates, and then deflates.

“No,” he says reluctantly. “But-” 

“No, I’m not taking any more fucking criticism from you,” Michael interrupts, pointing a finger at him, “ever. You dated the Devil. I’m going to swear to fucking God-” he relishes the way Ashton flinches at that “-and I’m going to fuck Calum, and there’s absolutely fucking nothing you’re going to say about it.” Ashton opens his mouth, and then closes it again, and Michael gets a rush of satisfaction almost as strong as when he’d told Raphael he’d been reinstated as archangel, again. 

“Fine,” Ashton mutters. Luke shoots him a look somewhere between concern and amusement, and Michael tries not to think about the fact that Satan seems to at least somewhat care about Ashton, instead lapsing into an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes until Calum clears his throat. 

“So, Michael,” he says hopefully, breaking the tension. “We were gonna fuck?” 

 -------

 Just because Michael and Calum are fucking now doesn’t relieve Michael from his duties, as God kindly but firmly reminds him when he goes to ask about whether this is, like, even permitted. 

(“You know where I stand,” God had said. “Love no one more than me.”

“For you are a jealous God,” Michael had muttered, and God had grinned. 

“Exactly.”) 

He’s begged Calum to stop fucking around, but Calum seems to think it’s even funnier now that they’re whatever the fuck they are, uses it as a fucking booty call. His ideas are getting more and more ludicrous - he’d gone to someone’s house and put tiny holes in all of their socks, for God’s sake - just to call Michael down for a quick fuck. 

So when Michael hears that Calum’s caused a ten-car pileup on a motorway in England, he’s a little concerned. 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Calum says, aiming for light-hearted and missing, not even looking up when Michael sits down next to him on the overbridge. 

“That’s all in your hands,” Michael says, looking out at the (pretty impressive) traffic jam Calum’s caused. “Damn, dude. Bad day?” Calum huffs out a laugh, but it’s humourless. 

“Yeah, guess so,” he says moodily. Michael hesitates. On the one hand, Calum’s a demon, and even though they’re physically intimate, Michael’s not supposed to emotionally care about him. On the other hand, Michael’s an angel, so caring is kind of in his nature, and something about Calum just draws Michael in. 

“Wanna talk about it?” he says eventually, gently. Calum shrugs. 

“Nothing you can do about it,” he says. 

“I can listen,” Michael says. “Angel, remember? I do a lot of listening.” Calum snorts. 

“What are you angel of?” he asks. 

“Healing,” Michael says. 

“You heal broken hearts?” And, oh. Okay. Michael swallows. He shouldn’t care about that as much as he does. It shouldn’t matter to him that someone that isn’t Michael has broken Calum’s heart. 

“I can try,” he says, aiming for jovial, but it falls flat. Calum sighs. 

“Remember that dude who wrote that play about the people who couldn’t be together?” he says, kicking his legs out. Michael frowns. “You know, the one set in Italy? Couple of centuries ago?” Michael frowns, and Calum rolls his eyes. “C’mon, man, you know who I’m talking about. Ro- Roleo? No, wait, Romeo? Romeo and Juliet, that’s the one.” 

“...Shakespeare?” Michael says. 

“Yeah, him,” Calum says in relief. 

“What about him?” 

“Didn’t he write the whole star-crossed lovers thing?” Michael raises his eyebrows. 

“You remember that, but not Shakespeare’s name?” he says. Calum scowls, but it’s half-hearted. 

“My point is,” he says, and then he stops, and kicks his feet out again. 

“Your point is?” Michael prompts. Calum sighs, and stares down at the cars. 

“You ever feel like that?” he says gloomily. Michael follows his gaze. 

“Like a traffic jam?” he asks slowly. Calum rolls his eyes. 

“Like we’re star-crossed lovers,” he says, and oh. 

Oh. 

Oh, fucking hell. 

“Calum,” Michael says carefully, and Calum sighs again. 

“I know,” he says, before Michael can continue. “You don’t fucking care about me, whatever. It just fucking sucks.” He laughs humourlessly, and then adds: “You think He’d ever let me back in?” Michael dithers on that for a moment, before deciding to go for the truth. 

“I don’t think so, Cal,” he says gently. “You wouldn’t be able to love Him more than anyone else.” 

“Is that such a fucking crime?” Calum says bitterly. “That I have the capacity to love with thought, with intention, not just blindly?” 

“No,” Michael says kindly. “It just means you’d make a shitty angel.” 

“You’re a shitty angel,” Calum says. 

“I am,” Michael agrees. “But I’ll also never love anyone more than Him.” Calum deflates, and shit, are those tears? Can demons even cry? 

“What the fuck are we even doing then, Michael?” Calum asks flatly. Michael sighs. 

“I do care about you, Cal,” he says. “A lot. I should have killed you the first time I met you, but I couldn’t. There’s something about you, I just…” he trails off. “Look, it’s complicated. I do care about you. I’ll just never love you more than I love the Lord.” Calum stares at the traffic below them. 

“But you could love me?” he says to the cars. Michael nods. 

“Easily,” he says. Calum bites his lip. 

“I could be second best?” 

“You already are second best.” Calum’s brow creases, like he’s trying to make some kind of decision.

“Okay,” he says eventually. Michael frowns. 

“Okay?” Calum shrugs, and the wicked gleam is back in his eyes, just like that.  

“You know what they say,” he says, grinning. “First the worst, second the best.” Michael rolls his eyes, hard. 

“You really gonna have a breakdown and end it like that?” he says sceptically. 

“Demon, dude,” Calum reminds him. “Not really keen on serious.” 

“You sure you’re not, like, a poltergeist?” Michael says, and Calum shoves him off the overbridge. Michael squawks, wings unfolding so fast he thinks he might have sprained something, and he hits Calum upside the head with his left wing as he sets himself back down next to him. “You’re a fucking arsehole, you know that?” 

“And proud,” Calum tells him, and then sobers again. 

“What?” Michael prods. Calum sighs, and holds his hand out, fingers spread, for Michael to hold.  

“I don’t want you to fall for my sake,” he says. 

But, as Michael laces his fingers through Calum’s and stares at the cars under their feet, he thinks: would that be such a bad thing? 

[drifttosleep]

[ My Jonas Brothers : Chasing Happiness Experience ]

introduction: if you know me, you know how much if a Jonas Brothers fan i am. yes, the first band i ever REALLY got into was The Beatles. but the Jonas Brothers was a boyband i really did fall in love with. we all had that one band from our childhood that switched everything up. mine were the Jonas Brothers. the way the directioners loved One Direction was my love for the Jonas Brothers. when i say “the boys,” i mean Nick, Kevin, and Joe. they’re my “the boys.” if that makes sense. 

history:  i remember the day i got into them. i was 10 years old and it was during the summertime. i had just finished watching ‘taking 5.’ a movie about the click five. the girls in the movie had posters and cut outs of the click five on their wall from posters and magazines. at that age, i was already collecting TigerBeat, Popstar!, J-14 magazines. i was too plugged in to the pop culture and the teeny bopper life. my dad was supportive. i was somewhat, inspired, when i watched that movie and checked out my magazines. i found the jonas brothers. i knew OF them and the song SOS and When You Look Me In The Eyes but nothing else. i had a personal computer in my room back then and newly plugged in internet connection. it started with music videos, and then the stupid videos they had on their yt channel, and i just couldn’t stop watching their videos. i watched all their live chats and interviews. i fell in love LIKE THAT. it was the first i ever obsessed about a boyband like this. a boyband in MY LEAGUE, you know what i mean? i obsessed over hannah montana and lizzie mcguire. but it wasn’t LIKE THIS. i grabbed my magazines and starting taping the Jonas posters on the walls. my routine was to watch all their videos everyday. i even went as far as reading fanfiction on youtube. YES. fanfiction USED to be on YOUTUBE. and that’s when crushes began. my bias was joe, at first, of course. then i slowly crept onto liking nick more. until he was my ACTUAL favorite. nick was my first love, i’m claiming it. the boy had me feeling ALL SORTS OF THINGS. the boy had me WRITING AT 11. 

influence: they were a huge influence on me. other than taylor swift and my dad getting me to pick up a guitar and learning how to play it, the Jonas Brothers wanted me to fulfill the dream. their influence on me was HUGE. it was so big that they were my first fashion icons. i broke gender stereotypes (at least in my circle) at the age of 11, you guys. i wore skinny jeans, converse, collared shirts and neckties all the time. they had me wearing denim and corduroy and my parents were so into me being into fashion at that age cause they were all about that in their youth. i mastered dressing like a guy at the age of 11. it just became a thing growing up. cause that’s where i’m most comfortable. i remember when the JONAS show came out on disney channel and the first episode was of nick having a love interest, i cried. 

other facts: 

i collected all kinds of jonas brothers paraphernelia as a child. 

other than the magazines, i had merch. i remember begging my mom to get me jonas brothers merch from their actual website. when she finally gave in, i was ecstatic. 

i had a jonas brothers t shirt and a necklace (it was a guitar pick with their logo on it) 

i also had a jonas brothers mp3 player that i bought when i was in tampa.

i’ve been to their first concert in the philippines. I REMEMBER HOW I TOLD MY PARENTS. i ran to them and said “THE JONAS BROTHERS ARE COMING HERE” and i didn’t even have to ask cause they already knew. 

my bedroom walls were FILLED with their posters. i had over 150 posters on my walls. 

i cut out their photos from magazines and covered my notebooks and pens with them. i sold a couple at school, too. 

you caNT BELIEVE HOW MUCH I FREAKED OUT WHEN I FOUND OUT ABOUT CAMP ROCK. when it came out in the states, my dad bought a copy of the dvd and i was SO SO SO EXCITED. that’s why i love home made spaghetti so much because it was the meal i was eating when i watched camp rock in my old bedroom for the first time. i squealed half the time. 

them being christian played such a big part in my life because my mom was a strict-ass hardcore christian. and since they wore purity rings, my mom got me a purity ring, too. at 11. which now, seems rather stupid. for me, at least. 

nick jonas & the administration is still one of my favorite albums. HE REALLY DO BE MAKIN ME FEEL SOME TYPE OF WAY. for real though. 

i really watched Married To Jonas, Kevin and Danielle’s reality show. it was NOT great but i watched it. 

i even watched some of nick’s movies and i didn’t like any of them really but i enJOYED NICK’S SCREEN TIME 

i did not really stray away from loving them. but i did turn into a teenager. i got into other things and gained a different circle of friends. it was different, okay? i couldn’t just be in love with a rock star anymore. HAHAHA. there were real life boys i kissed now. but still, i did not obsess over anything like that ever again. 

the break up:  i was in high school when they broke up. and even if i had not been keeping tabs on them and watching their every release, i cried really really fucking hard when they announced their break up. i cried so hard that i missed school that day. i was heart broken. and it might not make sense because they are brothers and they’ll really ~never~ break up, it still hurt. 

when i found out about Chasing Happiness, i was stoked. of course, i already knew they had returned back together as the Jonas Brothers. after all the experimenting with other things, they really did return to their roots. 

reaction about chasing happiness:

oh my GOD 

BABY JONAS BROTHERS :( 

FUCK. 6 MINUTES INTRO PLAYING

baby nick in les mis :( 

okAY SO IM NOT THE ONLY ONE WITH A BAD EXPERIENCE WITH THE CHRISTIAN COMMUNITY 

okay so the purity rings were a fucking joke i dont feel so guilty about it anymore

niley :( lowkey cried to niley at a young age but whatever 

fuCK EVERYONE WHO MADE FUN OF KEVIN. HE’S AMAZING 

please be mine :( 

crying

joe and nick making fun of kevin on the phone with danielle

joe calling danielle “kevin’s future wife” :( 

JUST FRIENDS :( 

THE NICK J SHOW 

camp rock :(

more crying really 

YEAR 3000 :( 

okay so basically, it was a ride of emotions. 

it really was though. i also felt like i time travelled. LITERALLY. it felt like i was in my old room again watching the Jonas Brothers on old YouTube. you know. before google bought the damn thing. but for real, it felt that way. it felt like i was reconnecting with my old self, too. the 10 year old me. 

no, wait. even better. it felt like i was reuniting with old friends. the scene when the 3 of them were just drinking and reminiscing and confessing about the old times was so intimate that i felt like i was there. everything they talked about (except for hating each other and how they ACTUALLY broke up), i knew about. they were my whole life back then, really. it really felt like a reunion. like them getting back together meant we were getting back together. the love for the Jonas Brothers. my fangirling over them. god, it sounds so cheesy when i say it out loud. but it really does feel like that. 

it was so familiar and so foreign to me at the same time. they talked about everything they used to never talk about back then. they just let it out in the open, really. and i saw how much they’ve grown. and i saw how much i’ve grown. how i am far from who i was at 10 years old. 

but when they sang ‘please be mine’ along with the old video of them singing it, i felt myself reconnecting with my younger self. i felt her smile at me and hold my hand telling me that the good will always resurface. and fuck yeah, i got that out of the Jonas Brothers. they’re the part of me that remains innocent. they’re a part of me that remains untouched and untampered with. because my heart was whole when i loved them first. and i think it’ll remain that way. 

it hit me harder than i thought it would. and i knew it would hit me. the documentary, i mean. it was beautiful. downright, beautiful. they’re a huge part of who i am today. and i am so so so proud of that. 

[milkboydotnet]

gun blessing pictures has thrown me into a weird space and i made an fb status about this and i know moonies follow me on here too so...

seen pictures/videos/stories about that AR-15 blessing ceremony? basically everybody has, and it's thrown me into a weird headspace tbh.

this church isn't just a bunch of quirky right-wing nuts. they're dangerous. really, really dangerous.

over a year ago i wrote a tumblr post about this church with excerpts from talks by the two sons of rev. moon (self-proclaimed messiah and founder of the unification church) who run sanctuary church - one who is considered "the king" and inheritor of the senior Moon's mission and the other an owner of the gun company Kahr Arms (http://howwelldoyouknowyourmoon.tumblr.com/…/kook-jin-moon-…). these talks made it clear that their intention was to murder their own mother, hak ja han. their mother, they believe, has betrayed the legacy and theology of their father and because of her heresy and "fall" deserves the death of a traitor.

there's a ton more to say about their ideology and practices that reveals that they're really fucked. but i guess i'm mostly really annoyed because i am friends on facebook w/ a lot of people who are still moonies, or members of the unification church/ffwpu, the church that Sanctuary split from. people who are, in this moment, doing all they can do to say "look, we're not like those whack jobs!" but as another 2nd gen ex-member i know has pointed out, those whackjobs have come to these theological conclusions for a reason. they're not grounded in nothing.

in korea, there are countless stories of people who have experienced violence at the hand of the unification church. reporters have received death threats. christian pastors and anti-church activists have been beaten. some even abducted by the church. for those who grew up in the church, we all know "kooky" stories of violence that we've grown numb to. many of our parents were locked in rooms w/ "black heung jin nim" and physically forced to confess their sins. some were handcuffed. many were beaten. bo hi pak even had brain damage from the beating. we know stories of the moon kids, and how they'd torture other 2nd gen. that includes sanctuary church founder, who many older 2nd gen believe is a sociopath. i've met some people who counted it as an honor to be hit by hyun jin (another son, running a different sect) and of course hyo jin's abuse, of both members and his wife. we know our parents had to beat each other's bare asses with sticks.

and of course, we know moon loved guns. his first major business was a gun company. he owned several. he wanted all second generation to learn how to use a gun, just in case the communists came to kill them.

but w or w/o the physical violence, the unification church is violent.

the church keeps people in poverty so the moons can live in luxury. any and every members know this means so many things. we know about the mandatory donations for moon to build a palace, or for our sins to be paid for, or to get married - or themandatory workshops that were to secure ur family's placement in the kingdom of heaven. we know about the shitty jobs our parents were forced to work, and how for years they labored and labored, fundraising, preaching, campaigning, making zero dollars.

and we know about the filipino members who came to the US w/ a mission, finding out that simply means living w/ a Korean leader's family, cooking, cleaning, doing childcare - making, again, zero dollars. some of them had their passports taken away from the church, and were cut off completely from the world. (this is slavery.)

the violence goes in so many directions. it may not be with a gun or physical beatings, but it is still violent. outrageously violent. it all goes back to rev. moon.

as a queer person, i was always deeply aware of how wrong my existence was. i was 12 or so when i stumbled upon the speech where moon called gay people dung-eating dogs and his prophecy on their - my - destruction. i wasn't much older when i saw moon speak in real life, starting at 5am or so and on and on into the afternoon, and where he talked for hours about the anger and disgust god had towards those practiced immoral sex, namely gay-stuff of course. i was told that gay people, even if they remained celibate, could never inherit the kingdom of heaven because they could never receive the blessing ceremony. my salvation was impossible.

my self-hatred was dangerous. i had no place in this bizarre community of moonies, and i had no place in the outside world. suicide was something i prayerfully considered throughout my teen years, for my sake and my family's sake. i knew salvation was familial, i knew living a "gay lifestyle" was far worse than committing suicide. all sexual sin was, really - that's why "purity knives" were a thing for young women in the church... just in case they were in a situation where they could potentially be sexually assaulted, they could just kill themselves before something happened that could taint their purity.

all this to say that sanctuary church SUCKS, and i pray that whole thing falls apart before people are KILLED... but also, the unification church has always been dangerous. it has always been toxic. it has always been evil. and that's because rev. moon, the so-called second coming of christ, was not the messiah, but a violent, narcissistic anti-christ. frankly, i'm glad he's dead.

and if you're defending this piece of shit church, and this piece of shit messiah, please, please, please, i need you to realize that you are complicit. and i am more than willing to forgive you, and i realize you are in a difficult position because you gave your life to moon, and to realize you were wrong is to question everything, every decision you made, and how you, in many ways, have always been complicit to violence. but, you can live a different way. you can be free from this. and people will forgive you. and i believe you will be able to forgive yourself.

i want to believe the first generation of moonies were good-hearted and taken advantage of. i know that it's more complicated than that, but i think this is for the most part true. i believe there is something good in you that led you to the church. i pray that something good also leads you out.

[im0nwpa-blog]

Probably the Best Sex of My Life

Wow. Alright, about 4 months ago I got out of an almost 4 year relationship that was.... well bad. Both of us got out of control and it was mutually abusive (DRUGS ARE BAD). Anyway, it finally ends.

Now, I am pretty timid. It takes a while to open up to new people and I don't really do large gatherings. Unless it's something nerdy like Magic the Gathering night or a LAN party, because I am a) a nerd and b) kind of... lived more than the average comic book shop denizen. Without going too deeply into the way overthought philosophy I have created: I am a hedonist and pursue pleasure, and in order to know if something is pleasurable you have to do it, so if it is safe - or consequences acceptable - then I'm game to at least try. This isnt something I broadcast too heavily, but I do find myself frequently in interesting situations while pursuing pleasure with innately poor autonomy.

It was at one such gathering for MTG Night that I met a girl we'll call Tess about 5 years ago. Something about a combination of huggy bombs, this girl totally fitting my type, and boosted confidence because of the environment I made a total fool of myself because I am terrible as a "pickup artist" of any kind. I dont really know how I've gotten with most women I've been with, it always kind of just happens (or lets be realistic, I had drugs and/or money, low standards, and an addiction to sex).

To describe Tess, she is very thin and tone with small perky breasts, brunette hair, a constantly sing song voice, and an incredibly lovable personality. Very much so a rural, Christian girl who loves her kin and prays before bed, but stills gets down because there isnt much else to do and Jesus forgives. A innocence seemingly beautiful in its purity that I can never help but wanting to show the other side. At least I thought.

Obviously she me down that night, but was really cool about it. We remained friends and humg out/smoked pot from time to time. As our comfort grew, we both became more open about more personal aspects of our life. Mostly that Tess loved sex and had a diversity of partners. I think half of it was an attempt to get my ex gf to dump me. In retrospect it would have made my life easier but thats life: theres a low for every high.

Flash forward to about 2 months ago. Tess wants to fuck a guy with a strapon. She really liked fingering a guy, now she wants to fuck one. Uncharacteristically, I saw I'm down. Fresh out of a relationship, curious, so why not. We still havent ordered the strap, but I think Tiff kind of assumed I was joking.

It comes up a few times, but still no real plan or action. And then last night happened. I get a message around 9pm:

Tess> You should come pick me up at midnight.. we'll go hang out at your trailer for like an hour.

Im0> I can prolly swing that :p

Tess> Be here at midnight!

I picked Tess up from her gas station job. We both admitted we were nervous. I told her this was probably going to be embarassing as I hadn't been laid in a while.

I should note here that for a while I have called my friend Tess a slut. Because she is and that's awesome. If there's informed consent from all parties you do you homegirl, men don't get shamed so women shouldn't either: own that fucking word. We aren't entirely PC people.

We arrived at the trailer and smoked a J to calm down, and it was a little awkward at first, but very quickly we fell into a groove. I had wanted to do this for years. This woman, in my mind gorgeous. I may have had an trusive fantasy or two. All I can say is somehow the fantasy couldn't touch reality.

She laid down on the bed and I awkwardly started teasingly asking her questions running my hand up and down her petite frame as I began teasing and nibbling her neck. She immediately let out a little moan and pushed her hips into me. I teased her, asking if she had been fantasizing about this to which she replied with a coy maybe.

I lifted up her shirt a little and kissed around her tight stomach, making sure to gently graze her panty line. Slowly I pulled down her leggings and underwear another moan escaped her lips.

I let my hands run up and down her long tan legs.i continued my nibbling and kissing on her inner thigh. Her back arched and she tried to shove her pussy toward my face. I sat up, pulling away from her already very wet pussy.

I scooped her up to me and took off her shirt and kept up my assault of nibbles and kisses. She could stop grinding against my leg.

Tess likes dirty talk, I knew this from her stories. I have some experience as a switch. I played with her nipples while commenting on how she was even sexier than I imagined. Her reply was a moan and arching of the back.

"You really like it when I say you're a slut, huh?" Her moans and increased breathimg tell me she does. "You are so fucking wet. I could get you to do anything right now, couldn't I slut?" Among the moans I hear a distinct "MHMM".

I finally make one last teasing run from her neck down. I tried to touch every bit of skin with my lips and tongue. Finally all that is left is her clit. I gently swirled my tongue around it and took it into my mouth and ever so gently suckled. Instantly she was bucking and moaning, loudly! Looking up from between her legs, her dripping pussy soaking my chin, and she came. I suckled just a few seconds longer before sitting up:

"That was so fucking hot. You really are a slut, your pussy soaked my face."

Her response was to pull me down to her, begin sucking on my neck while wrapping her legs around me and wildly humping me.

"Do you want me inside you?"

She let out an exasperated "Yes!"

"Not yet!" I said with a grin. I pushed her hands down and again began sucking on her swolen clit. Teasingly I worked a finger inside of her pussy. Even as turned on as she was, she was very tight. I rubbed those little ridges that are on the "top" and sucked on her clit.

Now I fucking love giving orgasms, and like to think I am a quick study. This girl came so rapidly and so many times I can't really describe it. There was already a wet spot forming on the bed when I finally asked, "Well, wanna see if my dick really is thick, my slave."

She could barely manage a "Yes," in between moans.

"Then beg for my dick slave Tess. Tell me exactly where you want it."

I slipped off my shorts as she breathlessly begged for me to shove my dick into her slut pussy. After watching her buck and squirm and beg to my satisfaction I slowly slid my remarkably averagr cock into the tightest pussy I have ever felt. Every time she orgasmed, which was seemingly with every stroke, shed slam our hips together and shake as her pussy clamped down on my dick. Wel alternated myself on top, sitting, and her on top.

I was in awe of how sexy she was. When I let out a growl she immediately pulled me down on her and squeezed mh dick in her velvet vise.

"Do you like my growling?"

She couldnt halt the moans, but she could nod her head yes while it was buried in my shoulder. Her mouth biting hard trying to suppress one of those super loud moans.

"You can be as loud as you want here, slut. Its kind of cute how you sound like wounded prey, whimpering and breathing so fast."

I slid my hand up to her neck, not doing a blood choke but still firmly placed. I whispered in her ear, "You're my toy now," and let out long low growl and started fucking her hard and fast, slowly gripping the sides of her throat.

This is when something I've always wanted to happen did. She squirted. This has always been a kink of mine. I stopped dead and she kept bucking up, slamming me into her and just shrieking. I began to feel the signs of cumming so I stopped and pulled out. Her hips continued to buck hopelessly.

"Do you swallow, Tess?"

"I can," she replied breathlessly.

"Good," I said as I laid back, "I want you to suck all of your pussy juice off my dick slutslave."

She eagerly complied and toom my whole cock into her mouth. It hardly fit (small mouth) but somehow she managed to cause a ripling sensation along the whole thing. I made her look me in the eye while she sucked my dick.

I spun her around eager to taste her pussy again while she sucked my cock. I noted how her juices dripped from her pussy. I gently pushed against her mouth making my cock go just a little further down her throat and told her how her pussy was dripping. I took her clit into my mouth and buried my face into that warm, wet cave. She had been opened up by my dick, but her legs immediately began to shake. I suck on her clits while running my nails dowm her back and burying my nose in her pussy. My entire face was absoluter covered in her juices when she began to shake and squirted again all over my face.

She began working her tongue around the head of my dick and I experienced a sensation I never have before. The intense pleasure of orgasm with no ejaculation. She kept me in that wonderful state for what seemed like forever before climbing on top of me, looking me dead in the eye and desperately saying, "I need your cum. Now, please."

There was a look of true desperation in her eyes. We were both totally out of breath and covered in all manner of nodily fluids. She rode my dick like a woman possessed. Even now every 7 or 8 thrusts I'd feel that clamping and she'd shove my dick deeper into her to keep it from being forced out.

Now, I kind of have a creampie/preg risk fetish. Newly discovered in the last year. We had agreed I would pull out, but at this point she was just begging me to cum, so I asked where she wanted me to.

She responded breathlessly, "Anywhere." And begind grinding me faster and even harder. I was in ecstasy. She was bucking me so hard and screaming as she came over and over again.

"God I'd love to fill your tight littlr slave pussy with cum."

Another blast of wetness meant that she had just squirted at the thought of me filling her pussy with cum. She collapsed on top of me, totally exhausted.

"Let's get you a drink, and I want to bend you over the couch."

She got up in an almost mesmerized daze and walked the hall. I am reasonably certain this is when she hit subspace. She took a few drinks of water and without being told bent herself ovet the side of the couch.

"Do you really want me to fill you pussy with my cum?" I asked as I lifter her ass up and slide my dick back into her pussy. She whimpered and pushed me deeper into her.

Coming Next Part 2!

[whatisonthemoonarchive]

seen pictures/videos/stories about that AR-15 blessing ceremony?

this church isn't just a bunch of quirky right-wing nuts. they're dangerous. really, really dangerous.

over a year ago i put up a tumblr post about this church with excerpts from talks by the two sons of rev. moon (self-proclaimed messiah and founder of the unification church) who run sanctuary church - one who is considered "the king" and inheritor of the senior Moon's mission and the other an owner of the gun company Kahr Arms. these talks made it clear that their intention was to murder their own mother, hak ja han. their mother, they believe, has betrayed the legacy and theology of their father and because of her heresy and "fall" deserves the death of a traitor.

there's a ton more to say about their ideology and practices that reveals that they're really fucked. but i guess i'm mostly really annoyed because i am friends on facebook w/ a lot of people who are still moonies, or members of the unification church/ffwpu, the church that Sanctuary split from. people who are, in this moment, doing all they can do to say "look, we're not like those whack jobs!" but as another 2nd gen ex-member i know has pointed out, those whackjobs have come to these theological conclusions for a reason. they're not grounded in nothing.

in korea, there are countless stories of people who have experienced violence at the hand of the unification church. reporters have received death threats. christian pastors and anti-church activists have been beaten. some even abducted by the church. for those who grew up in the church, we all know "kooky" stories of violence that we've grown numb to. many of our parents were locked in rooms w/ "black heung jin nim" and physically forced to confess their sins. some were handcuffed. many were beaten. bo hi pak even had brain damage from the beating. we know stories of the moon kids, and how they'd torture other 2nd gen. that includes sanctuary church founder, who many older 2nd gen believe is a sociopath. i've met some people who counted it as an honor to be hit by hyun jin (another son, running a different sect) and of course hyo jin's abuse, of both members and his wife. we know our parents had to beat each other's bare asses with sticks.

and of course, we know moon loved guns. his first major business was a gun company. he owned several. he wanted all second generation to learn how to use a gun, just in case the communists came to kill them.

but w or w/o the physical violence, the unification church is violent.

the church keeps people in poverty so the moons can live in luxury. any and every members know this means so many things. we know about the mandatory donations for moon to build a palace, or for our sins to be paid for, or to get married - or themandatory workshops that were to secure ur family's placement in the kingdom of heaven. we know about the shitty jobs our parents were forced to work, and how for years they labored and labored, fundraising, preaching, campaigning, making zero dollars.

and we know about the filipino members who came to the US w/ a mission, finding out that simply means living w/ a Korean leader's family, cooking, cleaning, doing childcare - making, again, zero dollars. some of them had their passports taken away from the church, and were cut off completely from the world. (this is slavery.)

the violence goes in so many directions. it may not be with a gun or physical beatings, but it is still violent. outrageously violent. it all goes back to rev. moon.

as a queer person, i was always deeply aware of how wrong my existence was. i was 12 or so when i stumbled upon the speech where moon called gay people dung-eating dogs and his prophecy on their - my - destruction. i wasn't much older when i saw moon speak in real life, starting at 5am or so and on and on into the afternoon, and where he talked for hours about the anger and disgust god had towards those practiced immoral sex, namely gay-stuff of course. i was told that gay people, even if they remained celibate, could never inherit the kingdom of heaven because they could never receive the blessing ceremony. my salvation was impossible.

my self-hatred was dangerous. i had no place in this bizarre community of moonies, and i had no place in the outside world. suicide was something i prayerfully considered throughout my teen years, for my sake and my family's sake. i knew salvation was familial, i knew living a "gay lifestyle" was far worse than committing suicide. all sexual sin was, really - that's why "purity knives" were a thing for young women in the church... just in case they were in a situation where they could potentially be sexually assaulted, they could just kill themselves before something happened that could taint their purity.

all this to say that sanctuary church SUCKS, and i pray that whole thing falls apart before people are KILLED... but also, the unification church has always been dangerous. it has always been toxic. it has always been evil. and that's because rev. moon, the so-called second coming of christ, was not the messiah, but a violent, narcissistic anti-christ. frankly, i'm glad he's dead.

and if you're defending this piece of shit church, and this piece of shit messiah, please, please, please, i need you to realize that you are complicit. and i am more than willing to forgive you, and i realize you are in a difficult position because you gave your life to moon, and to realize you were wrong is to question everything, every decision you made, and how you, in many ways, have always been complicit to violence. but, you can live a different way. you can be free from this. and people will forgive you. and i believe you will be able to forgive yourself.

i want to believe the first generation of moonies were good-hearted and taken advantage of. i know that it's more complicated than that, but i think this is for the most part true. i believe there is something good in you that led you to the church. i pray that something good also leads you out.