The Modern Warfare 2 Collection │MW2 x Reader

Simon Catches You Giving Johnny Head

Warnings: 18+, Implied Smut, Oral (Male receiving), Infidelity, Johnny being a Manipulator, Slut-Shaming, Implied Dub-Con Elements, Cum Swallowing, Stomach Bulging, Stomach Ache, Skin Irritation, Sexual Punishment, Profanity, No Pronouns used for Reader except 'You'.

Simon had walked in on you giving Johnny head. And when you saw your boyfriend's hulking silhouette take up the entire doorway, you scrambled off Johnny's soaked shaft and looked up into Simon's eyes with a wide, frightful stare.

Simon was immediately ready to berate you, to seeth his vengeance into you and destroy you from the inside out, but your voice came out in a tiny whisper.

"Just wanted to learn how to do it properly, Si," you said, sniffling. Your eyes glistened and Simon couldn't tell if it was from Johnny's cock hitting the back of your throat or the fact you were caught in such a compromising position. "Just wanted to—" you sobbed, lightly — "to make you feel good."

And when you looked up at him with those puppy-dog eyes, he could almost excuse the fact that you'd been shoving his best friend's dick down your throat for god knows how long. Or rather, that Johnny had coerced you into doing so, so eager and willing to let you – make you – guzzle his cum, filling you from the inside with thick ropes of semen.

How many times had Simon rested his hand on your stomach, unaware of the fact that remnants of another man lay just beneath his fingertips?

His blood boiled.

He knew Johnny must've had something to do with this. You'd never do anything of the sort without believing Simon would be okay with it, and Johnny's silver tongue was nothing short of legend.

He wouldn't – couldn't – let Mactavish off the hook, either. The image of the Scot's hand encompassing the back of your head, pressing you down further and further onto his member, the slick noises of your tongue working his girth with his head thrown back in stolen pleasure sparked a blaze in Simon's chest that he would put to good use.

Simon sighed. Deeply. He decided to be lenient. Merciful.

He grabbed you by the hair and dragged you to sit between his legs as he took a chair, the object whining under two-hundred-and-odd pounds of skin, muscle and hate.

"Let's see," he said, gripping you tightly with one hand, watching you writhe at the pressure and pull on your scalp like a fish on a hook. With his other hand, he unzipped his pants, lifting his hips and yanking them down to his thighs. His half-hard cock leaked with pre, weeping.

You tried to plead with him, tried looking over to Johnny for help. The latter watched, just as terrified as you, having hastily stuffed himself back into his trousers, mirroring Simon's growing condition.

"'Nough talk." Simon's voice was gruff, unlike anything you'd ever heard. His eyes were blackened, too, entirely devoid of humanity.

"Let's see how well Johnny's trained you, hm? Put that whore mouth and all you've learnt to good use."

You were willing to do anything to make him stop looking at you like that – like he loathed you – to rid his face of his furrowed brow and hard glare. You begged to please him, told him how you could take all of him — every inch — and how you were so ready to do so.

Simon listened. He raised you.

"Seein' as y'so keen, I'll strike you a deal. If y'can make me cum in the next sixty seconds, I won't punish you."

Your core tightened. 60 seconds?! That's it?

Simon's gaze found Johnny, still bolted in place by the periphery of the former's wrath.

"But if y'don't," he pierced his once-friend with a look that could maim, torture and destroy. Johnny swallowed, held his gaze. "I'll just have to show you and your teacher how it's done."

Neither you nor Johnny could talk, run or call for help after Simon had made ample example of you, both for the numb, raw ache in the back of your throat and the fact that Simon had you working his dick more often than there seemed hours in the day, forcing you down deeper and deeper onto his length, enjoying the sensation of you choking and gagging on his tip, the back of your throat tightening around him as tears streamed down your cheeks, leaving your skin itchy and red.

You could hardly move for the weight of Simon's loads sitting heavy in your stomach, giving you a noticeable bump that neither Simon nor Johnny could take their eyes off. He never let you spit, even when you complained that your stomach hurt, churning and filled past full with the amount of cum swimming inside you. Swallowing every drop of his semen was mandatory for your redemption, he said.

Don't worry, he made Johnny work, too. Whenever you'd been a good little whore for Simon, taking everything he gave you without complaint, he'd make Johnny give you the same treatment he'd coerced from you in the first place.

"Go on," he'd say to the Scot, staring him down. "Since y'were so keen on makin' (Y/N) do it, you've gotta return the favour."

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