MORE, PLEASE, ALWAYS, FOREVER
pairing ༄ simeon x gn!reader
warnings ༄ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. suggestive content, religious/sacrilegious imagery, corruption, manipulation, dubious consent, drugging. simeon calls reader “little one” and “darling.” please let me know if i’m missing anything!
word count ༄ 771
notes ༄ this is my first time posting my writing, so please be kind! this drabble is darker than what i usually write; i’ve just been thinking about simeon and corruption for months… i have fluffier pieces in the works, i promise! <3
“but s-simeon,” you whispered, afraid to raise your voice lest desire drip from each syllable—as if the angel couldn’t see your trembling thighs or the glint of hunger in your gaze. your skin glowed, he observed, all dewy with want; he had never seen anything so beautiful, so vulnerable. your chest heaved as though you couldn’t catch your breath. “you’re an angel.”
“yes?” he hummed, trying not to sound too eager—all while his blood sang for you.
your tongue wetly floundered for a response, brain unable to comprehend anything other than the fierce fire that licked at your very core. oh, if he did not relish your sputtering, dumb state. you hung onto his every word as if he would lead you to salvation.
that’s what angels were created for, right?
“angels, humans, demons—we all have more in common than you think. we all have similar urges, similar needs,” simeon stated, lithe fingers traveling down your sides to dig into the soft flesh of your hips, forcing a breathy sigh from your lips. shame would have eaten you alive had it not been for your desperation.
“but you humans are rather self-centered, no?” he asked with an experimental squeeze that had your eyes fluttering dreamily. “you assume that your corrupted moral compass applies to the other two realms.”
you shivered as simeon leaned so close that you could smell the sweetness—caramel?—that clung to his skin. his lips brushed your ear as he whispered, “angels, as god’s chosen creatures, are encouraged to love deeply.” his fingertips grazed your belly as you swallowed thickly. his hot breath melted your resolve while his thinly-veiled words had your nerves thrumming in anticipation.
patience was a virtue that simeon usually embodied, but the thrill you inspired within him was cracking his restraint. he couldn’t help but push: push himself, push you. he needed to hear you to say it.
he gently cradled your chin between his thumb and forefinger, angling your face to meet his expectant gaze. if you had been in the right state of mind, perhaps you would have noticed how his azure irises were unusually dark, pools of midnight you could drown in.
the smile that tugged at his lips was almost wicked as he probed, “what do you need, little one? tell me.”
the endearment fell on deaf ears as you leaned into simeon’s grasp like a simpering pet. your eyes flickered down to his lips instead of answering his question, biting down on your own almost hard enough to draw blood.
“ah ah,” he chided, pinching your chin, still a hair’s breadth from your face.
you looked like a wounded animal for a moment, eyes wide and shimmering, staring down the barrel of a hunter’s gun. you tried to wriggle from his grasp in embarrassment.
the angel’s grip was unyielding, though. he was certain there would be bruises on your tender flesh come morning—the thought only heightened his arousal. his honeyed chuckle, like a potent sedative, lulled your movements.
“as much as i appreciate your enthusiasm,” simeon said with featherlight strokes to your burning cheek, “i need you to use your words, darling.”
you whimpered in response. your brain was fried, incapable of intelligent thought. all you could do was feel and act—instinct usurping rationale—more animal than human. all you could muster was a breathy and pathetic “please,” punctuated by the unshed tears that sparkled in your eyes.
“please what?” he cooed with faux sympathy. his free hand skimmed down the slope of your shoulder and the curve of your arm to ultimately settle on the fat of your thigh. the movement caused a tremor to ricochet through your body.
he looked at you like he wanted to devour you, to pick your bones clean, to consume you so wholly that not even your soul remained. and maybe it should have frightened you. but all you wanted was to lay yourself bare and let the angel feast on you until there was nothing left.
“i need you, simeon,” you finally breathed, soft as a prayer.
as soon as the words left your bruised lips, he lifted you onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist. you exhaled a warbled moan when he dipped down to scrape his teeth against the column of your throat. “that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” he murmured into your skin.
you were too far gone to answer—not that simeon cared. he finally had you where he wanted you, writhing and whining prettily. he made a mental note to thank solomon for the spell that had his little human begging for more, please, always, forever.
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Insufferable (2/7)
Chapter 2 is up! The next part was taking a while to write, so please enjoy this quick lil interlude with Velvette (and a bit of plot at the end), I promise we’ll get back to poor sick Vox next chapter lol.
Previous chapter: 1
Next chapters: 3 4 5 6 7
Wavs: 1 3
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Velvette walked out the door, ready for action. Vox was always going on about how she could stand to learn some more professionalism, this was her chance! As she traversed the hallways, she realized there were a few other bits of bookkeeping to handle. She sent a text out to Val’s main assistant. “Filming for today is cancelled. Val currently unavailable, consider me as your point of contact for today (and probably also tomorrow.)” She pulled up Vox’s notes, grateful the man was so meticulous. Ok, plenty of talking points here, but what were all these markings? Oh. Those were the spots where Vox was planning to use his hypnotic eye, for the facts that were a harder sell (or maybe just straight up lies?) Velvette didn’t exactly have that option, she would have to rely on the skills she learned in social media to help her spin the story.
Velvette walked into the studio and all conversation stopped, everyone’s eyes on her. She reminded herself they weren’t just admiring her outfit. She had a job to do. “Vox is unavailable. I’ll be doing the interview in his place.” Several eyebrow raises, but then a sigh of relief as they realized they wouldn’t have to deal with Vox’s insufferable attitude. “Oh, and you can turn the temperature back to the default. It’s freezing in here!” Another collective sigh of relief. “How’s the equipment, everything working now?” The employee over by the AC nodded. “Good. I suppose you’re not so terrible at your job after all. Oh, and let’s turn the lights back up, it looks a bit gloomy in here.”
Another employee came up to Velvet. “We’re ready for the sound check, Ma’am.”
“Ma’am? I’m not a fossil! Try that again.”
Awkward throat clearing. “We’re ready for the sound check, Miss Velvette.”
Velvette suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. It was a little bit better of a title, she supposed. She sat down at the desk, watching with amusement as the employee lowered the mic. She took a sip from the water bottle at the desk. “Testing, testing, I’m Vox and I’m a stubborn, whiny little bastard who had to be forced to take a fucking break for once!” That’s what she wanted to say, but that wouldn’t exactly be a good way to show she could handle the responsibility. She settled for the more boring standard, and the setup was a breeze.
“I suppose we should start by addressing the elephant in the room,” the interviewer began.
“Yeah, you could stand to lose a few pounds,” Velvette thought, but she held her tongue.
“This interview was supposed to be with Vox, CEO of VoxTech.”
Velvette had thought for a while about how to answer this question. Would his illness come across as weakness, a sign that this was a good time for enemies to attack? Or would a cover-up be even more suspicious? She responded with the answer she’d prepared, with just the right level of adjacency to the truth. “Val is sick. Nothing major, but as someone who cares so much about his business partners, Vox thought it best to take it upon himself to make sure Val is well taken care of. He’ll be working from home the next few days but felt that the interview was best conducted in person, thus he sent me.” The CEO being sick was too much weakness to expose, but without a compelling reason Vox would look inconsiderate for skipping the interview. Taking care of Val had a level of believability and, Velvette was hoping, would humanize Vox a bit and enhance his likability. The interviewer seemed unimpressed. Fine, extra details then. “Vox knows that for such a big product like this there will be many questions. I’m here to handle the initial facts, and then after you’ve had a week to collect your thoughts, Vox will conduct another interview to answer those more in-depth, burning questions. We could, of course, get a different interviewer if you don’t appreciate his methods.” She flashed a toothy grin.
“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” the interviewer responded quickly. “I look forward to interviewing Vox next week.” He shuffled his papers awkwardly. “Right, then. Let’s get started.”
The interview itself passed without too much trouble. There were definitely a few moments where she had to pull something out of her arse, but the interviewer seemed to have bought it. Eventually, it was finally over. Ugh, these people were so boring.
When Velvette returned to their residence, the place was eerily quiet. No sound but the constant whirring of Vox’s fans, which could be heard even from the entryway. Velvette popped into the bedroom to see what was up. She found a mostly naked Vox (ew!), asleep and a (thankfully still clothed, also asleep) Val. A second glance at Vox revealed that he seemed to have some kind of screensaver, a little DVD icon bouncing from wall to wall of the screen. Was that normal? She couldn’t remember, she wasn’t exactly in the habit of watching him sleep. Never mind, better to let them both get some rest.
Velvette decided to continue her self-assigned responsibility of Vox’s affairs. She had just claimed the man was working from home, after all. Thankfully, his computer seemed to still be functioning. First step was checking his calendar. There was some big meeting scheduled for tomorrow. She seriously doubted Vox would be healthy enough by then. She did a quick scan of his sent messages to get a feel for the right tone, and then she sent out an update to all the participants. “Meeting rescheduled - it has come to my attention that some of you still aren’t prepared. I’m giving you until next week to figure it out. Don’t disappoint me.”
As she closed the email window and considered her next move, something caught her attention - a folder on the desktop labeled “Fuck Alastor”. Their rivalry wasn’t exactly a secret, but still she wondered just what was in there. She clicked it open and took a look. Inside were millions of photos, all of the same subject: Alastor. Captured by security cameras, perhaps? There’s no way the radio demon would willingly let Vox take so many photos of him. She stopped looking at the photos and went back to looking at the list of files in general. The most recent one was from this morning. And its file size was significantly smaller than the other files. Velvette took a look at the file details. Hidden extension? But it already had an extension - .vxc, for a raw photo from a VoxTech camera (presumably kept in original form for the sharpest image quality?). She unchecked the checkbox to reveal the actual extension: .exe. Oh. Velvette may not know computers as thoroughly as Vox, but she knew enough to know that was a bad sign. She sighed. This might be about to get a whole lot worse.
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