The Modern Warfare 2 Collection │MW2 x Reader

Dark! Best Friend! Simon

Warnings: Non-Con, Somnophilia, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except 'You'.

He takes advantage of your trust in him and fucks you while you sleep.

He knows you'd never question him - his intentions - when he hands you a drink which lulls you into a deep, artificial slumber. One which, much to Simon's grunting, moaning, rasping delight, you do not stir from. Even as he lies on top of you, arms caging your sleeping form while the drink takes care of the risk of you waking up and screaming, his hips slamming into yours.

He's fully sheathed inside you, a bump forming in your stomach with every thrust. Something about your complete inability to stop him, to tell him to "Stop- please! It hurts," stirs a most primal fascination within him.

He knows what he's doing is wrong. Beyond wrong - heinous. But you shouldn't have invited a man to sleep in the same bed as you. Especially one you've known as long as Simon. One who has lusted for you as long as Simon has.

That's his justification for his actions, at least.

He kisses your warm lips, wet and open-mouthed. Unmoving as they are, they are ever inviting to Simon, depraved as he is. His tongue slips in, pressing to every surface he can find. Marking you from within in the only way that can suffice. For now.

He knows you won't question the aching between your legs in the morning, the condom depriving you of the evidence to rightfully accuse Simon of the highest defilement of trust. He knows you'll just shrug it off and look at him, smiling, wincing as you tell him your back ache's come back. Watch your eyes go wide as you spy something once-viscous crusted to the inside of your thigh.

"Moanin' in your sleep last night." The lie rolls off his tongue like it possessed even an ounce of truth. "Again."

You look away, bashful. Simon lets go a deep chuckle.

"Nothin' to be ashamed of. I'd be more surprised if you didn't-"

You throw a pillow at him. Whisper-yell for him to be quiet. He does. He watches you.

You ask him what he wants for breakfast. He lunges for you, wrangles you back into bed and crawls atop you, holding you down, telling you to let him cook for you. He looks into your eyes. Your complete unawareness of having already been in this position the night before makes him twitch. Hard.

And he watches you still, a laugh in your voice as you push him off, get up and go about your life with him at your side knowing that, if anyone else ever tried to have you - even if they managed to get you into their bed - he was the one to have you first. The one who would have you last.

No matter how long it takes.

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