Zef

Wrapping up a few presents for next week's #ThemeThursday... 🌠❄️🎄🥂

ghost has barely straddled soap's face before soap is pulling him down to sit, eager tongue pressing into ghost's pretty, furled hole, loosening up slowly as soap feasts, hole soon soaked and dripping as soap enjoys his favourite meal

🫧🫧🫧

Once again, I'm sorry to be asking around, but if you could help me share this I'd really appreciate it since I need money to cover my meds for the month. A sincere thank you to you all 💖

Awww Tomb!!!! This made me tear up at work!!! So incredibly sweet 😭😭😭💚💚💚💚💚

thinking about #omegaverse #Ghoap where Simon makes a point to teach their pups how to do the things his own parents never taught him (either because they were too busy, too stressed, didn’t think about it, or just didn’t care) so he had to figure it out on his own, often far too late in life.

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Pedro Pascal was the most searched actor on Google in the U.S. in 2025

Thank you Cat!! Yes, cuddling like kittens, all warm and snuggly 🥰☺️💚

Johnny is home in every sense of the word 💚😊

having dad!Ghost thoughts and getting emotional about him showering his kid(s) with the love that he never got from his own parents…

The thought of Soap calling up his bf back home “for phone sex,” Soap saying that he’s touching himself when really he’s fucking Ghost. Talking about all the things he’d do to his boyfriend while doing those things to his LT 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 his poor, clueless bf gets off without any idea what’s going on 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Thank you so much!!!!

😭😭💚💚 thank you!!!!!

Thank you!! 💚💚

And he finds that all he wants to do is stay in the beam of Johnny's smile, to keep feeling the love and companionship and trust that lingers between them...he wants to come home and never leave. 💚

End.

There were very few memories of shoving his dirty, bruised face into the basil plant. Sniffing and huffing at the skinny stalks and delicate leaves.

And yet....Simon would walk up to Johnny, sweating and huffing under the summer sun. And every time he was transported back to a rickety old porch.

Rare as they are, what are the chances? The elderly man had died before Tommy was even old enough to walk, so Simon knows that there hadn't been many memories of juicy bite-sized tomatoes grabbed with pudgy toddler hands from large, wrinkled palms.

And Simon realizes one night, in the wee small hours of morning before the sun's tendrils begin to dim the stars, that Johnny smells like home - his literal, actual childhood neighborhood. His actual memories. But not in a bad way....that he is connected to something good and cherished.

Even decades later, Simon remembers the scent profile vividly. It's what Johnny smells like after training rookies under the June sun on base. Even through the mask, Simon can smell him - all sunshine and fresh soil and greenery. Natural and vibrant. Walking sunshine, dazzling and laughing.

Once, when Simon was small, his neighbor had given him a fresh, ripe cherry tomato. The man was elderly and liked to keep a few plants around to keep his hands busy. They changed with the seasons, and summertime meant tomatoes and basil.

Simon reeled, light-headed. No scent so powerful had sucker-punched him like that since he was a child. But this was....different. This scent didn't make him recoil. It didn't reek of sourness and resignation. No in fact, Soap smelled like....a force of nature.

And the three of them were a unit, a family. A deadly trio. Sweetness and musk became Simon's comfort, his lullaby, his haven. And he was content.

And then Soap happened. Rain-soaked and stinking of petrichor, the affable sergeant was a blast of fresh air right to the face.

Simon didn't think any man could smell more like a dessert than Kyle Garrick. Coconut and citrus and ocean spray - he was a literal beach cocktail on legs. A promise of intoxicating danger.

Price was whipped before Kyle's first month was completed.

His father would smoke but only cheap cigs and only when he couldn't get a drink. So, Price's cigars were a welcome refuge.

Then, Kyle - Gaz - breezed in with his natural charm and quiet confidence. His hair coiled and oiled and coiffed.

When he met Price who stank of cloying cigar tobacco, he was almost relieved to have a new scent profile to cling to. Something that didn't immediately send him back to his childhood or his cell at Roba's compound or the blood-soaked living room of his brother's home.

Or would it stay with him for eternity - his intangible pungent companion. The Riley curse. The evils and atrocities passed down in their DNA. At least it ended with him. One small mercy.

And he remembers thinking that not even death brought her peace. It was just another prison. That everything was pain and regret, that he would carry the sour, dour cloud around his shoulders now. He wondered if anyone would take the burden off him when he passed, like he had for his mother.

Even in her coffin at the visitation before the funeral, Simon remembers her sour regret hanging like a cloud around her shoulders. Like a shawl clutched tight against the violent wind.

So, he learned early on, as he did with most of life's lessons, that he was better off acting like nothing bothered him. Stolid and unconcerned - even under his father's belt or fists. He learned not to cry or shout or scowl or flinch.

It settled into her pores and hair follicles and never left. He'd smell it before she ever touched him. Eventually, he learned to hide his reactions, his revulsion, but when he was too young to understand the implications, his flinching and questioning made his mother cry every time.