Simeon x Reader (NSFW)
Simeon's excitement is almost tangible. He resists the urge to widen his gait and quicken his pace, instead schooling his expression into a neutral one as he glides through the halls with the grace every angel should have.
Everyone is at RAD except for you, since you felt ill this morning and was hence made to stay home under Lucifer's orders. With his class being the first out, Simeon has little over an hour to have you all to himself. For the first time in awhile, he is allowing himself this guilty pleasure. Simeon tells himself he will repent for this small sin with even more prayers, become even more pure to eradicate the guilt, but he knows how many times he's told himself over and over and never actually gone through with it. Constantly surrounded by admirers, only a select few people ever get to catch you alone. This is his chance. By the time he reaches the entrance to the House of Lamentation, he can barely wait anymore. Granted freedom with no other eyes on him, he dashes up the stairs, careful not to spill the chicken broth he made for you, heart and soul poured into the cooking, heels making a clicking sound on the dense marble, right up to your room. You are aware of his intended visit, but don't know he's here already. Having just showered to cool your fever, you're humming as you finish toweling off your hair, looking forward to seeing your friend.
Simeon stops at your door. It is ajar. He can hear your soft humming, the melody of another entrancing Human World song you so enjoy, and has, as a result, also made him develop a liking to. His fist is raised and poised to knock, but he stops in his tracks. His hand falls to his side and his jaw slackens. He nearly drops the container of soup. He blinks several times, but the image in front of him doesn't disappear. There you are, in your naked glory. Your skin seems to be bathed in a warm golden light, and it hurts his eyes and almost makes them water.. Blissfully unaware, you drop the towel and turn to the dresser for clothes. Simeon's gaze is drawn to the curve of your ass as you bend over, the way your breasts sway as you pull open the drawer and retrieve your underwear. Lacy strings of nothing that do little to cover your luscious body from his heated gaze, his sense of modesty is broken. He can't help himself; a dozen dirty images run though his head, fantasies of you that he buried in the deepest part of his soul resurfacing like bubbles and popping on the choppy watery surface that is his mind, making heat pool in his belly and his skin flush hot. Your back still faces him; you have no idea he's watching you in rapt, stunned silence.
As you tug a shirt over your head, you catch sight of your reflection in the full length mirror by the wall. You stare at yourself for a few seconds, running your fingers through your matted, damp locks. Your eyes linger at your feet, then travel upward. Simeon, following your every movement with rapt attention, notices the direction in which your gaze is traveling, and he knows he'll get caught. It's too late. The two of you lock eyes in the mirror, your (e/c) gaze meeting his aqua one, sending electricity zapping between the both of you. You blink, and he's gone. There is no one at the door. Heart pounding, you cautiously open the door and peer out. "Simeon...?" You call, your voice high in the empty hallway. Silence. "It can't be," you mutter to yourself. Thinking you must've been dreaming, you quickly finish changing and send him a text.
Are you on your way?
Unbeknownst to you, Simeon is actually there, pressed against the door in a room down the corridor, a hand over his mouth. Beads of sweat run down his forehead. His chest is heaving, desperate for more oxygen, and he can't seem to stop. He can barely hold onto the container of soup, now cooling in his grasp. The moment he hears your door click shut, he jerks out of his shocked daze and breaks into a silent run, out the door and back to Purgatory Hall, footfalls noiseless on the carpeted floors, disregarding the fact that anyone could see him. His D.D.D buzzes, but he doesn't notice it. All he can hear is the holy blood rushing in his ears,, and all he can see is you. Why is he running? He does not know. To get away. Away from what? You, or his sin...?
He finally gets home. Luke and Solomon are out as well, so there is no one to see him in his disgraced state as he bursts into his dormitory room, slamming the door loudly behind him, out of breath.
Head pounding, he stumbles over to the mahogany study desk, slamming down the soup with considerable force, causing the chicken broth to leak from the container. With the little energy he has left, he shakily pulls back the chair and collapses heavily into it, covering his face with his hands. He squeezes his eyes shut, but that image of you is imprinted behind his eyelids, ingrained in his mind. Simeon stays like that for several minutes, willing his breathing to even out and his heart to regulate its pace. As the initial rush of adrenaline fades away, he's left with a throbbing sensation down below that demands all of his attention. Tentatively, he reaches down and brushes trembling fingers over the bulge in his pants. At even the softest touch, he reacts, drawing his legs up and burying his face between his knees again.
It takes all of his strength to pull his hand away, "Dear God," he whispers harshly, begging the heavens. In the back of his mind, he vaguely wonders. Are his brethren watching? In disgust as he tries to fight temptation? "I am your humble servant—" he chokes on his words, forcing himself to continue his prayer in vain. "Grant me strength to resist the temptation of the Devil—erase all this from my mind..."
This was so wrong. He absolutely couldn't. As an angel, a servant of God, he was meant to be a sinless being. Pure and virtuous, guiding the ones who strayed from the rightful path. Simeon was now straying from his path, but who was going to guide him? Your face appears in his mind. Over the months he's known you, your features have been accurately memorised by him, from the contours of your face, the curve of your smile, the way your lashes curl, the way your eyes sparkle betraying, even the slightest bit of joy, now all painted in his mind's eye to the degree of perfection. Untouched by filthy hands, clean and lovely, a sin for him to ever lay a hand on.
He doesn't deserve your gentle touches and kind words.
He wants, craves your pure innocence with all of his angelic being, even if it would taint his soul with the sin of lust and selfishness.
A desperate sob escapes his lips. Simeon, once an archangel, now a seraph, is filthy. A disgrace. Demoted even further to the lowest of the low. Despite his resistance, he finds his hands, with a mind of their own, creeping lower and lower, trailing over his belly and stopping at the waistband of his pants.
With nothing left in him, he closes his eyes, tilting his face to the heavens. Tears squeeze past his tightly shut eyes and run down his cheeks, glistening droplets of liquid that roll off his jawline and splash onto his light, flowing robes. "Forgive me..." his lips barely move. He isn't sure who he's apologizing to.
The noise of his zipper is painfully loud in the silent room, paired with his quick, shallow breaths. His cock springs free from the confines of his pants, bobbing up and down, rock hard and leaking pearly beads of precum. Simeon inhales sharply as he slowly runs his fist up over his burning length once, eliciting a whimper a single touch feels like fire licking against his skin. He's waited so long. He hasn't touched himself in centuries, not since he became an angel. Now, he's ruining it all. Ruining himself, and the clean image of you. He teases his bottom lip with his teeth as he imagines you bending over, like how you did just now, but just for him, glancing back with a flushed face, wet lips and sultry eyes. He wonders if you're a virgin. Would you blush and beg him to be gentle with you? Of course he would. Would you squirm when he cupped your sex? How wet would you be then? The mere thought makes his cock kick violently in his hand. He's touched your hand before, felt how soft and small it was. Is the rest of your body like that too? Milky soft with gentle curves? His mouth waters. Simeon absolutely wants to find out. His hand moves faster and faster, the tendons in his forearm flexing. "Ngh..."
The pleasure radiating from his cock sends tingles up his spine as he bites down on another groan. His hips long to move, to thrust into something, preferably your ass, but he will make do. Simeon braces his free hand over the desktop, hunching over resting his forehead on his forearm, panting into his lap as he stares at his feet, vision blurring as if he is staring into a heat wave. Strings of translucent fluid coat his hand, intensifying the clicking noises that drown out his suppressed groans. He is getting closer and closer, ready to tip over the edge into ecstasy when his D.D.D starts vibrating insistently in his pocket. He releases himself quickly, fumbling with the device to answer the call with his clean hand. Is it you? He both hopes and dreads that it is, at the same time. Your profile picture lights up on the screen. The photo of the cartoonish, fluffy purple sheep staring back at him has his heart pounding even faster.
"Hello? Simeon?" Your voice comes through the phone, cheery as always. It tugs at his heartstrings and further cements the heavy feeling in his gut.
"Y—yes, y/n." His voice, breathy and high pitched, unlike his usual mellow tone. He prays you don't pick up on it, or comment. You do notice he sounds out of breath, but simply assume he is rushing out from his last lesson.
"It's getting quite late, and I got worried because you didn't see my message. If you can't make it, please don't trouble yourself. We'll see each other in school, hm?" You tell him, bracing for the sting of disappointment lest he be unable to make it. Simeon shivers at your gentle tone, his hand unconsciously going to his still throbbing cock to continue stroking it feverishly. "Hngh..." Unable to stop himself, he groans softly, biting on his lip to muffle his moan. With you on the phone, your soft voice in his ear, every touch is all the more pleasurable. Nevermind the fact that he has the audacity to be pleasuring himself while talking to you. Alarmed, you ask him worriedly, unsure of what you just heard. "Simeon, are you all right...?"
Forcing himself to reply, Simeon grits out a response while simultaneously jerking harder. He can't control his hands, or the feelings swelling up in his chest. There is that sweet, building ecstasy of course, and the underlying guilt that twists his guts. He is betraying so much. The oath he took to serve with dedication with nothing for himself, God and his kin, himself, and most of all, you. Bitter tears run down his face. He grips his D.D.D so tight the plastic casing cracks. "I—I'm perfectly f—fine, my dear," he laughs breathlessly. " I just happened to, uh, bump into the...table. I'll be over soon..." he gasps, eyes watering even more.
"Oh, okay, see you—"
Simeon barely hears your response as he ends the call. This time, he doesn't hold back. The sound of your voice drives him over the edge. He cries out, not bothering to slap a hand over his mouth as he arches off of the chair, shooting thick ropes of white all over the table and floor. Simeon sags back into his chair, staring tiredly at his hand, slick with cum. There is a weight in his stomach, that fills him with burdening pressure, but also light nothingness. He's done it. He has sinned. His hands are dirtied.
If he went to see you now, would you still let him hold your hand? In his mind's eye, the black smudges of sin he leaves on your soul that spread and corrupt your pure being make him shudder in horror. Simeon swears to absolutely not let that fate come to pass. Wincing, he rises, stalking over to his nightstand and pulls out tissues. It is humiliating to cleanse himself, to dry off his semen with hands that sullied the image of you so. He wipes down his table and the floor. In a trance, he goes to wash his hands. The water disappears down the drain without a trace, leaving his hands clean but so, so filthy at the same time. He leans over the sink and gazes at his reflection. Mussed curls, flushed cheeks, watery eyes and puffy lips. Would you still be able to recognise this version of him?
Simeon has no time to wonder any further. There is a persistent knocking at his door, and his heart stops when he hears you on the other side. As he opens the door, you tumble in, falling into his arms. "Simeon! Are you alright?" You gaze up at him anxiously. His Adam's apple bobs, arms tensing around you.
"(Y/n), why are you here...?" He swallows again, avoiding your gaze and glances back at his desk, as if there is something there. He looks quite unkempt, with tousled hair and lips that look redder than usual. You have the sudden urge to run your haps through those downy chocolaye curls. Simeon clears his throat, not looking at you. "Aren't you ill? Don't push yourself." You release him and step back swaying on your feet, smiling apologetically at his concern. "Sorry for intruding, I got worried about you..."
He shakes his head, motioning for you to come in. He keeps a more than respectable distance from you, which is rather unusual, even for him. "I—I should be worried about you. Just look at you." Simeon presses his cool palm to your forehead, before he quickly withdraws his hand as if he's been stung.
You smile sheepishly. "I suppose the drugs are wearing off. No matter, I'll take another pill and I'll be fine." Simeon shakes his head. "Lucifer would go mad. Come, sit. The soup is cold, let me just heat it up for you..." You nod obediently, wondering what on earth is up with him this afternoon.
"Ah—no. Probably not there..." he stops you, as you make to pull out the chair at his desk, the place you usually take whenever you're over. Simeon guides you over to his bed instead. You perch on his duvet and wait as he potters about in the kitchen. He sounded strange over the phone, and was now acting even more weirdly. Your mind wanders back to the House of Lamentation earlier. You could've sworn you saw him, but even if he did, the cool, calm Simeon you knew would never act like this. There is something else botheing your friend, you decide, and you are determined to help.
"Here, (y/n). Drink it while it's hot." Simeon's magically appeared in front of you. He hands you a steaming bowl of broth. The aroma fills your nose and makes your mouth water.
You catch his sharp intake of breath as your hand brushes his. You feel his fingers twitch, as if he wants to grab your hand. There it is. A clue. He settles onto the duvet beside you, watching you silently.
Locking your gaze onto his, you sip the broth and sweetly compliment his cooking. He acknowledges your appreciation with a shallow dip of the head and a kind smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Finishing the delicious soup and feeling much better, you set the bowl on his desk. The mood in the room shifts as you utter his name.
"Simeon."
He flicks his kind gaze upward. "Yes, my dear?"
Heat rushes to your cheeks. It's the second time he's addressed you that way, and you be lying if you said you didn't like it.
"What troubles you so? You've been acting strange. If there's something wrong, you can tell me..." Simeon bites his lip, sweating under the pressure of your waiting gaze, filled with nothing but genuine care for him as you stare into his eyes, silently willing him to speak the truth. Angels can't lie. Simeon looks away, looking uncomfortable, not giving you a straight answer. "Things have just been a little...tough lately."
You hesitate. "If I did something..."
You find yourself reaching for his hand, laying in his lap, unconsciously. He jerks his hand away, turning his face away. "No..." There is a sour feeling in your chest. He doesn't want to tell you. Perhaps it it because of you. Whatever you did wrong, you are willing to repent greatly for it, ready to lower yourself to cry and beg for this angel's forgiveness. Simeon would never bear ill feelings toward you for no reason. Still, you can't help the hurt look that crosses your face. Unbeknownst to you, Simeon's heart screams in anguish at your upset expression. Dejectedly, you stand, swallowing the lump in your throat. To your horror, there are tears are brimming in your eyes. Desperately, you hide your face and your tears as you stand abruptly. Too quickly. Your head spins. Lucifer was right. You probably should just have stayed home.
"I—I should leave." You murmur, closing your eyes as the room seems to tilt.
"Wait."
A large, warm grip encircles your wrist, pulling you back down onto the bed. Simeon grasps your hand in both of his, and surprises you when lowers his head to press his warm lips to the back of your hand. "I'm sorry, (y/n)... It's not you, it's me. I've just had a lot of stress to deal with lately. I never meant to hurt you. Forgive me, my dear." His romantic gesture, paired with his tender aqua gaze and sweet words melts your heart instantly. He is now telling the truth. He seems to remember something and releases you hand slightly. He then asks a strange question, hesitating like he is shy.
"May I... please hold your hand, (y/n)...?"
His eyes shift as he worries at his lip. Simeon obviously wants more, and you are more than happy to oblige. In response, you throw yourself into his arms. "S His arms slide around you, holding you tight. He pulls you into his lap and buries his forehead into the crook of your neck, softly murmuring something to himself.
"...forgive my sins..."
Whatever that means, whatever Simeon is going through, you will be there to help him out. Simeon helped you, guided you once. He was your light in a dark place.
Now, its your turn to be his angel.