Mileyjwz

and those were the last words john uttered before slamming the palm of his hand down against his desk and leaving. spoken the way most things he says are - gruff and final, with no room for argument - stunning the room into silence until the door shut hard behind him.

everyone just looked at each other, dumbstruck.

“should we wait for him to come back?”

“what the hell does that mean—”

“is that code for something?”

“wait, he’s married?”

price didn’t hear a word of it - by that point he was already halfway down the hall, boots pounding concrete with purpose, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, everything else dissolving into white-hot static behind his eyes.

he can take a lot of bullshit. does it daily. but fuckin’ hell - they wouldn’t stop. wouldn’t stop talking, hovering, circling him like crows. clipping questions at him in endless fucking rotations.

what now, captain? what’s next? what do we do about makarov? do we move now or wait for shepherd’s greenlight? have you seen the updated file? should we pull soap and gaz back? do we burn the safe house? double-tap the asset? what’s the protocol—

jesus fuckin’ christ.

it’d been too long. john’s mentally checked out and he knows it. doesn’t care. he didn’t want to be in that room. didn’t want to sit at that table. didn’t want to give another goddamn order with five pairs of bloodshot eyes looking at him like he’s meant to have all the answers and none of the doubt.

he needs a break. not a debrief. not another satellite feed. not another fucking decision.

he needs to go home and fuck his wife.

needs to put his hands on something solid, something that he doesn’t have to second guess. something that’d let him burn off all the static and pressure and noise building between his temples without asking anything much in return. his sanctuary where he can fall apart and come back clearer. reset his head before it spun off his shoulders.

so he peeled out of the parking lot before he’d even properly put the car in drive, and sent you one text:

You're slumped over your bed, feeling the familiar feeling of a dick sliding through your wet folds, but the thing is you're fully dressed and home alone, the team left hours ago to the pub.

Your back arched, clit throbbing and slick pooling in your panties. The person could be any one of your team mates, they're all horny mutts who can't keep it in their pants.

A moan slips from your mouth, feeling a fat tip slip in and out, nothing more nothing less.... clearly ghost.

That's until you felt another head slip in beside it, your back arched even deeper, knees digging into your bed. Soap. They're both taking turns sticking just the head in, it's driving you crazy.

A few minutes of this and you feel the familiar buzz of a vibrator press against your clit, you gasped, grabbing your phone to text the team but before you can even hit send your body locks up into a strong orgasm, legs quivering violently and your jeans getting soaked.

Soulmate

Everyone knows about soulmates. Knows they exist. Like birthdays, new years eve and Christmas—it’s become the norm.

People started accepting it, even happy with it. You develop a soulmate mark at your twelfth year in life. It can be anything and any colour at all, sometimes even a sentence.

It can be in any place on your body, from head to toe—eyelid to toenail. It’s possible for three people to be soulmates, a throuple, but rare. Only about 1,2% of the entire population are confirmed throuple soulmates.

It’s never clear when you meet your soulmate. You can only find your soulmate while comparing marks. And once you finally found your soulmate by comparing the marks—so even if you met your soulmate before and you didn’t compare marks you’ll never know.

Once you finally found and confirmed your soulmate though—life changes. Small but subtle. Feeling physically ill if away too long, wanting to be close a lot, never wanting to let go again.

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley. He never acknowledged the red and pink, tiedye coloured chain above his heart. He accepted long ago that love wasn’t for him. He’d see couples holding hands, or kissing in public and recognise the things he’d stopped imagining of having a long time ago. Being in the military isn’t easy, finding your soulmate makes it even harder. He never told anyone about his mark—people assumed he actually never had one.

Captain John Price. He stopped caring about the red and pink, tiedye coloured chain on his ankle. Whenever people asked about his mark he’d say ‘It’s not there, I don’t have one’, which could be possible but only 0,2% are born without a mark, so yeah he was lying. He does have a mark he refuses to acknowledge. As a captain he focuses more on his duties and keeping his team safe than focusing on ‘bloody weird sappy lovey-dovey shit’—his way of explaining the soulmate situation.

Then there’s you—lieutenant Y/N. You genuinely don’t care about that mark. It’s in your inner-thigh, good. You have an excuse never to show it, cause it’s in a private area. You’ve looked at it once or twice—red and pink, tiedye coloured chain—but you just forget it soon after. It’s not like you hate romance or anything, it would be nice to find your soulmate, but you just don’t have the time at the moment. ‘Duty now, romance in the future’ is what you’d tell anyone who’d ask.

…

You and Ghost sat in Price office. It wasn’t anything important, just filling in some mission reports, occasionally chatting a bit. Everything went fine.

It wasn’t until Price leaned back in his chair that it all went.. weird.

Price leaned back in his chair, cigar dangling in his mouth. He propped his feet up onto the desk he was working on. Wearing low socks and crocs (against base’s safety rules but in his office he couldn’t give a shit)

His pants rid up a bit, revealing his ankles. You and Ghost glanced over briefly before looking away. Then realisation dawned—*red and pink, tiedye coloured chain*, your mark, on Price’s ankle. You and Ghost both did a double take, your pen stopped moving mid-scratch. Price looked confused.

You didn’t know Ghost also shared that mark. Throuple soulmates. A captain and his two lieutenants—God fate has funny jokes.

Gaz is a classic, usually finding ghost during boring days on base. Loves to make use of supply closests so he can frot their dicks together, but hes not above giving ghost a quick hand job just to hear the man gasp and whine.

Price is reliable, always does it at the same times. Calls simon to his office after an op and shoves him over the desk. The most likely to actually stuff simon full of cum, price also makes him wear a plug most days. Price has also, on multiple occasions, had ghost cockwarm him with his mouth while on important phone calls with higher ups lol.

Soap is unpredictable. Mostly because hes got every kink under the sun and likes a good variety on simon. Still, when soap bullies ghost to his knees during the quiet moments of an op, ghost knows what will happen. Soap will press the head of his cock into ghosts mouth through the thin fabric of his balaclava, maybe shove a boot between the lieutenants thighs if hes generous. Then surprise ghost with either jerking off and cumming into his mouth, or pissing into it. Either way ghost takes it like a good boy.