#ghost!tom.

[lillyspeakz]

wait- ghost?! (rewrite.)

a/n: well hello! I decided to rewrite part one (1) because I didn’t quite like it so I added some things to it! And plus my writing has since improved! So I hope you enjoy this rewrite and my silly little character.

warnings: death, murder, ghost, knife (also being thrown), blood mentioned once, brief mention of reader being short (they just can’t reach something), Wilbur being a flirt, Tommy being Tommy, mentions of food and if there’s anything else, please tell me!

wc: 2.0k

edited: not really.

You were new to the neighborhood, so you weren’t surprised when people were peaking out of their curtains when they saw you get out of the moving van. Or maybe it was because someone finally bought the house no one wanted to step foot in because of the horrors that had happened.

In the late 90’s, a man in his early 20’s, along with his 16 year old brother had been brutally murdered in the exact house that you bought. In the house you were now standing in and called a home. Nothing seemed off, but you could sense the anger and sadness that lingered still. You guessed it was from the walls holding all the memories that had been shattered the day the boys were found. All you did know was once the boys were found by the parents, they fled to the other side of the world, wanting to get far away from the place that caused them so much hurt.

You had been there armed by a lot of people, old owners to your family, telling you that somethings happened to people that tried to make that house a home and tried to forget about all the pain the house had gone through. Yet, here you were. In the house, standing in the middle of the empty but soon to be living room. As you turned in a circle, ideas running through your head as a smile over took your expression as you headed to the boxes filled with different trinkets. The furniture was already moved in, thanking yourself for planning ahead.

You had made quick work at unboxing everything for the bathroom, your bedroom and other miscellaneous things you had in the boxes. You saved the kitchen last, knowing that it’d take the longest, thankful that the kitchen was on the bigger side for parties.

As you moved all the boxes labeled ‘kitchen’, you began to open and unbox all the utensils and plates into their respective areas. You had music playing softly in the background, you softly humming and swaying to the melodies. Not paying attention, you went to grab the plates sitting on the island, not seeing the 6’ something man leaning against the counter with a smirk.

As you turned back around and placed the plates in the cupboard, you turned around and shrieked, finally seeing the tall man in front of you.

“Well, hello to you too darling.” The man held a smirk on his face as you quickly grabbed the knife that was once placed in the holder from behind you, holding it out towards him.

He had brown curly hair on top of his head that complimented his brown eyes. He wore a grey crewneck and black jeans on, and he held a good foot on you in height. He was in his early 20’s, maybe a little older than you, and he held a bright smile on his face.

“Who- Who are you?!” You shaking asked, pointed the knife closer to him, trying to defend yourself from whatever he was going to do. But all he did was laugh and shake his head at you.

“You don’t know who I am?! Also sweetheart, you can put that down. That won’t do anything for you.” The man said as he stood up and walked over to you, standing taller than you thought he would, pointing at the knife. Before he could take another steps forward, you threatened him once more.

“I swear- I’m not afraid to use this! Don’t come any further!” You shakingly told the tall man in front of you.

“Darling I promise that won’t do anything-“ as he started to take another step forward, you threw the knife at him. The silver object flew through the air and ended up lodged into his stomach. He froze and looked at you with the most disappointed face you’ve ever seen.

“Ow? Seriously sweetheart, what do you want me to say?!” He questioned as he took the knife out of his stomach. It was clean and the wound he should have isn’t drenching his shirt with the crimson blood. He was clean. No blood on the knife nor soaking up his shirt.

“What the hell-“ you said as you looked at him with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows. You wanted to rub your eyes, tell yourself you’re hallucinating this gorgeous yet intimidating man in front of you. Yet as he walked closer he made it near impossible to deny what was going on.

“Don’t look so scared! It’s not as bad as it looks, I promise.” The guy tried to joke but you just shook your head and rubbed your eyes, not believing what you were witnessing.

“This isn’t real, this isn’t real-“ you repeated as you turned towards the sink and splashed water on your face.

“What’s not real? Me?! Because let me tell me you darling-“ you quickly jumped back from the sink, now seeing the stranger sitting on the counter next to it. “Don’t be so jumpy love, I don’t bite- I mean, unless you want me too.”

You rolled your eyes at the quick flirt and quickly shook your head to gather your thoughts. “Ok- you better explain what’s going on and fast.”

The man sighed and hoped down from the counter. “How about introductions first yeah? We got off at the wrong foot. I’m William Watson-Gold. You may call me Wilbur or Wil, either is fine.” Wilbur said as he stepped closer to you. You moved back, bumping into the island and grasping the counter as if it’d protect you from this super attractive man in front of you. “What’s your name sweetness?” He smirked as he leant down to meet your eyes.

“Y/n.” You replied with a monotoned voice, not wanting him to know the effect he had on you so fast.

Wilbur’s smirk turned into one of a genuine smile in ways. His eyes stared into yours as almost to examine who you were and what your backstory was. Like he wanted to get to know you right that second, all the bad, good and who hurt you. But he quickly snapped out of his head and took a few steps back, the smirk being thrown back on his face as he looked in the living room.

“You can come out now Tom.” Wil yelled out as you quickly turned to the entrance of the kitchen, desperately trying to find the other intruder that was in your house.

“Fucking finally- you need to stop flirting with them! It’s very uncomfortable to watch!” The boy, Tom, complained as he hopped onto the island counter. He examined the whole kitchen before finding the fruit bowl beside him. His eyes widened as he gasped and picked up one of the apples you had bought earlier, biting into it with a groan. “Fuck Wil, you have to try this!”

“Ok- what the fuck?!” You yelled as you waved your hands around, trying to figure out what was going on in your home.

“Wait- do they not know we’re-“

“Dead? No, I haven’t gotten there yet. Now continuing my explanation- Me and Tom here are the two unfortunate men that got murdered in this house. We’ve been stuck in this shit hole ever since with very little human interaction besides each other.” Wilbur explained as he opened the refrigerator, examining the very little food you had put in the device.

“Which is why he’s being so flirty with yo- ow!” Tom yelled out as Wilbur showed up beside him and punched his arm while sending him a glare.

“So- you two are, dead?” You asked slowly, your brain trying to grasp this information and store it. The fact that you were talking to two dead people was beyond your comprehension, but the fact they weren’t trying to actively scare you out of the house or make your life a living hell was a slight surprise from what everyone told you.

“As dead as dead gets.” Wilbur said as he picked up one of the apples Tom had suggested he tried, and but into the juicy fruit. “Fuck- I forget how good food taste sometimes!”

“Wait-“ you went up to Wilbur and grabbed his hands, feeling the coldness his body carried with him. You were thinking your hand would go right through him like the shows portray- but your hand stayed perfectly in his.

As your hand met his, it felt like a shock went through your body, a warm shock. One that made you want to feel it all the time after one hit of it. Looking into his eyes, Wil was already looking at you with a sense of hope, maybe even longing. Wilbur would never admit it, but it felt like your hand was meant to be in his. Like it was a puzzle piece that fit perfectly together. “Then how can I touch you? Isn’t my hand supposed to like- go through you or some shit?” You asked hesitantly, Wil’s eyes still burning into you as you looked at Tom.

“Stupid movies. No. That shit isn’t real! But us- we are as real as it gets.” Tom said as he took another bite of the apple he had stolen, groaning in delight yet again as he pointed at you. “Can you get more of these?”

You nodded as you slowly let go of Wilbur’s hand, looking up at him to see his eyes furrowed and almost saddened at the thought of losing that warmth you provided him.

As you both continued to look at each other, not wanting to let the serene moment go, Tom noticed the silence and looks up at the two. Rolling his eyes, his hopped of the counter and stood in between the two, interrupting the confusingly long eye contact, and turned to look at Wilbur.

“I’m going to my room- it finally has a bed again and I need my beauty sleep. And for god sake Wil, STOP FLIRTING!” Tom yelled down the stairs. Wilbur scoffed as he looked down at the floor, hiding his face from you as it turned red.

“Um- so you guys are just going to be here? With me?” You asked as you went back to unloading everything. Wilbur cleared his throat as he looked back up at you, seeing how you struggled to get the cup on the highest shelve. He smiled and went over to you, grabbing the cup and placing it for you. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem. And yeah, unfortunately. But! We can be somewhat fun! At least you won’t be alone.” Wilbur stated as he moved out of the room and turned to look at you. “I’ll let you be for now darling. Just call my name if you need anything.” Wilbur nodded his head as he walked towards the stairs, disappearing once he passed the wall.

You felt a pang of sadness hit you as you were now left alone after all of that, not knowing he was right there in the room with you, he was just invisible at the moment. He felt like he needed to watch over you, make sure you weren’t doing anything stupid to put yourself in harm. He felt like it was his duty to protect you.

As you put the rest of the supplies away, you thought about what he said. He did have a point. At least you won’t be alone. That was the one thing that worried you.

But , how the hell are you supposed to live with two-

Ghost.

[myjetpack]

My latest cartoon for @GuardianBooks.

[ringtoned]

love how you can lightly see the rough sketch for the spot, animators just blew it out of the water again

[lizzysbrain]

I swear to god this man comes back to get me at least once a year EVERY SINGLE YEAR I CONVINCE MYSELF HES NOT THAT CUTE BUT THEN IT HAPPENS AGAIN. AND AGAIN. AND FUCKING AGAIN.

[animasola86]

SMUT DRABBLES*: Sleepy

A/N: Have another little smut scene I wrote upon waking up at 5:30 this morning. I use *drabble lightly here again, but at least it's under 1k words. Remember: you can imagine any character here, it's just a man and a woman enjoying a little together time (pics are just to set the mood, there are no descriptions of either party involved). This time, I'll warn you about somnophilia, a little dubcon, some manhandling, thigh fucking and unprotected sex. Works in any timeline where there are beds or surfaces to sleep on.

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! // WORDS: 875 // AO3

She stirs awake with a low rumble in her ear, heavy breaths fanning over her jaw. Is it morning or still night? She can't tell, it doesn't matter when a strong hand grips her hip and pulls her backwards into a firm body that moves against her in a slow but steady rhythm. There's something between her legs, slick and hot and hard.

His deep groans fill her still half-asleep mind, and she issues a little mewl. “S'okay, baby,” he hums behind her, his hips steadily slamming into her cushioned rear. Smack. “Go–” Smack. “–back–” Smack. “–to sleep.” He grips her tighter, fingers digging into her soft flesh, cock sliding back and forth between her thighs.

She moans groggily, too tired to comprehend anything but the heat building up within her. Her eyelids flutter before she slips back into unconsciousness.

When she wakes up again, he has rolled onto his back, pulled her with him, body pliant, like a doll, manhandled into place with her legs falling open over his strong thighs. One large hand around her throat, the other rubbing her swollen clit, he pumps into her, slow snaps of his hips as he works his hard cock into her tight warmth. The stretch makes her whimper.

“Shh, s'fine, love,” he growls beneath her, voice low and deep and thick with sleep and exhaustion. His fingers curl around her neck, applying enough pressure to push her back into the void as he ruts up into her, inch by inch, filling her, using her.

She's on her stomach when she comes to next, his heavy body pinning her to the bed, rapid thrusts pushing her into the soft mattress, a little bounce amidst the feeling of immobility.

Braced on his elbows, he's caging her in as he slams against her ass, cock slipping in and out of her clenching cunt, fucking her open. He groans and grunts, face buried in her nape, hot breaths and low rumbles that make her head spin.

“So fucking tight,” he mumbles into her hair, lost in his own bliss, voice so deep she can feel the vibrations against her skin. “So fucking perfect...”

A few mewls and moans slip from her dry lips, and he's encouraged by them as he thrusts into her faster, harder, deeper. She can feel him, hot and hard and heavy, in and out, pleasure bordering on pain.

Every deep pummel makes her gasp and flinch, a cold shiver, erupting goosebumps, a burning deep within. Breathing is hard in her prone position, and she feels herself slipping again.

She wakes with a pained grunt, lying on her back, manhandled into yet another position. His hands hold her legs, her knees pressed to her chest, feet dangling in the air over his broad shoulders. Breasts squished, lungs tight, as he folds her, pins her down, ramming his hard length as deep as humanly possible.

He's heavy on top of her, body sweat-slick, hot, his grunts as animalistic as his relentless thrusts. Her cunt feels raw, muscles contracting, tight and tense, and he still plunges in and out with ease and force, the wet squelching sounds mixing with his heavy panting and her muffled whimpers.

“Look at you, so wet for me,” he rasps, tightening his grip on her legs as he leans back a little, looking down at her almost menacingly. Beads of sweat drip from his temples, and she's mesmerized by the sight of him. Her head is spinning, body barely functioning, limbs twitching and boneless, just a hole for him to fill.

He gives her a weak smile, a gesture that makes her feel even hotter, and when he leans in, folding his body over hers, she moans as he captures her mouth for a searing kiss, tongue slipping between her lips, tasting every inch of her. She's barely capable of mirroring his motions, reduced to a mewling mess beneath him.

His hips keep their steady rhythm, pounding fast and hard and deep. Slam. Slam. Slam. He groans into her mouth as she clenches around him, her stomach tight and tense, that coil within ready to burst.

“Come with me,” he breathes into her, his gaze intense as he presses his forehead to hers. She's not in control, can't even reply, but his words are enough to push her over the edge. She stiffens beneath him, crying out against his lips, fingers clawing at the sheets as her thighs twitch, feet digging into his back.

Eyes roll back, breath hitches, the tension explodes into bright lights dancing behind her eyelids as her body convulses beneath him, and he fucks her through her orgasm, prolongs it, until he starts throbbing inside her, and that one final push nestles him deep within, crown squished against her cervix, balls tight and twitching against her folds, as he paints her insides with his hot seed.

Collapsing on top of her, face buried in the crook of her neck, while her toes curl up painfully, he empties himself inside her, filling her, every spasm of his cock accompanied by a low growl against her pulse. The warmth is soothing, his weight on her comforting, and she feels herself drifting back to sleep, a soft smile on her trembling lips.

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

MORE SMUT DRABBLES:

A steamy shower

Toy

Car Inspection

Tension Relief

[cak31ssuperi04]

"Basically what happens is, Grace and Max are right about to win. They're right about to do it. And then, there's a groaning. In the floorboards. Suddenly, the staircase gives out beneath Grace and Max, and they fall through the floors. They fall stories. Pieces of wood shove through their chests, and they both are killed."

"But keep this in mind, nothing truly dies in the Waylon house. Grace and Max become ghosts, and they're off doing whatever, but they're no longer involved in the tournament."

So.. that Pit Stop in Hatchetfield tag team deathmatch huh.

[theghooligan]

daemon and all the ghosts of harrenhall living it up every night:

[meowtalhead]

Kaisarion but the high note at the beginning is replaced with Tom from And Jerry yelling

[slytherinslut0]

tom riddle. | you don’t have to do this

summary: you and tom have endured seven years of ignoring your feelings for eachother for mattheo’s sake, and simply just can’t do it any more. it’s wrong, we shouldn’t be doing this type of trope.

word count: 1.2k

tags: nothing just a lot of angst and mentions of fighting (tom and mattheo), tom and reader kiss at the end. collective yet suppressed pining.

notes: this started out as headcanons and turned into something way longer (story of my life?). i need this as an entire proper fic, this is simply a concept for the time being.

————-

okay so like we all know about the cold, emotionally detached tom riddle—but what about the tom riddle who has been secretly harbouring feelings for you for years? the tom who has kept these feelings hidden because his brother, who has always been open about his affection for you, feels the same way.

what about tom riddle who has watched mattheo hit on you every single fucking day for 7 years and has found himself on the brink of bloody exploding because even though you reject mattheo every single time, the silent torment is unrelenting, and there’s always the gnawing chance that maybe one day you won’t turn him down.

what about tom riddle who forces himself to be distant from you, abruptly severing any tutoring sessions or any other individual interactions that might put you in close proximity to him because he needs to purge these feelings for you yet every goddamn moment near you makes it fucking impossible to do just that.

what about tom riddle who intervenes when you're all gathered in the common room on a friday night, drinking, to tell mattheo to lay off as he continues bugging you after you’ve told him to go away ten times over.

of course, you and mattheo always bicker and banter in a lighthearted manner. mattheo has been in your life for seven years. he’s your bestfriend. you love him, just not like that. never, like that. he just doesn’t know when to relent.

what about tom riddle who doesn’t dare meet your gaze as he succeeds in getting mattheo to leave you alone, fearing the admiration in your eyes would linger in his peripherals, infiltrating his mind and haunting him when he tries to sleep at night. he’d keep his sights glued to his brother, not breaking away until he’d lost him in the crowd, before he’d retreat himself, as well, without saying another word.

what about tom riddle who finds himself intervening more and more frequently, unable to endure it any longer? as though the flood gates were now wide open and he just simply couldn’t stop himself? as though he could sense the shift in admiration you had for him. as though he knew this is what you needed.

what about tom riddle, who knows his brother is harmless, yet simply can't refrain from getting increasingly more irritated with him every time he brings you up until one day it erupts into a full-blown fight in the middle of the common room as mattheo starts to grow suspicious about tom’s intentions, fueling the tension between them to its breaking point.

now, what about you, who watches this entire thing unfold, torn between feeling bad for mattheo and suffocating admiration for tom? you don’t know why tom has suddenly decided to intervene so often, but there’s a knot in the pit of your stomach every time you look at him, and the fact that he doesn't dare meet your eyes only intensifies it.

you’ve always harboured secret feelings for tom, but you could never act on them, knowing it would shatter mattheo’s heart. (more like his ego. we all know this boy would be sleeping around unfazed while still trying to pick you up. he’d just be pissed you chose tom over him.)

what about tom riddle who swallows the pit of guilt lodged in his throat, deep down feeling terrible for what he just did as he goes to brush past you to clean his knuckles up in the bathroom, tensing as tight as a coiled spring when you suddenly stop him with a gentle hand on his arm—a silent exchange of knowing admiration immediately passing between you.

little did you know, the second he met your eyes, the second you touched him, it was over for him. regardless of how cold and indifferent he was coming off. internally, he was in flame. clinging to the very last tattered strings of his resolve.

now what about you, who immediately senses the guilt in tom’s eyes and feels a sense of resonance? you, who is riddled with your own layers of guilt—for being the reason they fought, for not reciprocating mattheo’s advances, for desiring his brother instead, and for the very move you were about to make just now as tom’s eyes dipped over your lips, lingering there for far too long.

“let me help you clean up…it’s the least i can do…”

what about tom riddle who would nod silently, outwardly reluctant but internally eagerly willing, following you out of the common room and into your dorm— sheepishly tracing after you as you lead him to your bathroom, internally counting the number of tiles lining the floor or the seconds between each breath he took—anything to distract him from the intimate proximity he found himself in with you just now.

he had to keep it together. he shouldn’t be here.

and what about you, whose entire body is vibrating, hands trembling slightly but enough to be entirely noticeable as you patch up his knuckles—avoiding looking up at his face as he grimaces from the sting of the cleaning solution, your focus solely on the task at hand.

you, who nearly jumps out of your own skin as he speaks to you for the first time in what has felt like ages.

“you don’t have to do this, you know…”

“and you didn’t have to fight your brother…”

“fair point.” he’d chuckle. fuck, you’d missed that. “mattheo just wouldn’t leave it alone.”

“he hasn’t…for seven years.”

he’d hum a nod. “he’s obsessed. no one can blame him.”

you, who involuntarily looks up, unable to stop yourself now, your heart pounding like a wild animal desperate for release. the room suddenly feels stifling as he looks down at you, meeting your eyes, your mind swirling with thoughts of how badly you want to kiss him, how utterly wrong it would be to do so, and how much it would piss off mattheo. you’re fighting to decide if you even care.

“hm,” you should play it off, but you can’t. “care to elaborate?”

tom riddle who has to fight the urge to reach up and grasp the back of your neck and pull you into him, his fingers practically twitching with the desire to close the gap between you. tom riddle who is merely inches away from you, battling every instinct urging him to give in. he can see it in your eyes, the longing, the desire mirrored back at him. he can practically feel it in your touch.

“all the guys are obsessed with you.” so quiet you almost missed it, so gentle it almost tickled. “you’ve always had that effect. you’re fucking beautiful.”

his eyes are on your lips now and you’re trembling, stomach doing cartwheels. you go to break eye contact but his hand reaches out and cups your cheek, stalling you in place.

it’s wrong. this is wrong. “i…”

“hm?” he tilts his head.

“tom…”

his thumb ghosts over your cheekbone. his eyes don’t know where to land. “don’t act like you don’t have feelings for me…i see it…”

you shudder, scorching under the heat of a thousand suns. gods, you want this. youve fucking dreamed of it. but you can’t, you can’t do that to mattheo, it’s—

“it’s wrong…he’ll be furious…”

tom riddle who intently observes you as you tremble under his touch, your nerves palpable through your skin. tom riddle who finds it almost relieving, to see you like this— as though this is a confirmation of his hopes and suspicions, a validation of the effect he’s always hoped he’d have on you. tom riddle who agrees with you, who knows exactly how fucking wrong this is, but after seven years of suppressing it—doesn’t know how much he fucking cares anymore.

tom riddle who, in this moment, wants to do so many fucking things to you he doesn’t even know where to start.

his hand slides lower, his thumb grazing your jaw. “he’s tried, for so long, to get your attention…and he’s never gotten a damn thing from you…”

his hand shifts again, his thumb reaching for your bottom lip, tracing it and tugging on it gently. you’re in shambles, barely breathing, oxygen fleeing the vicinity and being replaced by suffocating desire, tom’s lips being the only reprieve in sight.

“but look at me…” he continues. “i do one thing, and you’re on fire.”

tom riddle and you, both on the verge of falling apart, unable to contain yourselves any longer. you don’t have to say another word as your eyes lock and you move in perfect synchrony, crashing your lips together with an urgency that speaks of years of pent-up desire.

it’s as if the world would end if you didn't, as if you were determined to make up for seven years of denial and restraint for mattheo’s sake and just indulge in each other for once. your kiss is filled with thirst, hunger, and unbridled passion, evident in the way your fingers dig into each other, as if to confirm that this is real, that it's not just some dream.

[ghostly-groves]

literally the situation rn

[lillyspeakz]

ghost!wilbur headcanons;

a/n: ghost!wilbur is my own character I made and I shall share his backstory in these headcanons! But he’s- I love him. And I hope you guys do to! I have a ghost!wilbur fic here, and I will be making it a series!

warning: death, ghost!crimeboys, wil is a little protective and gets jealous, it’s lowkey sad but cute in a way? Mentions of killing yourself.

-

- ghost Wilbur who had an unfortunate death in the same house he’s been in his whole life. Trapped within the same white walls with his baby brother. He was sad, it got sad. He wanted to leave, to be explore again and meet new people if he even could. He loved Tom but, they lost things to talk about sometimes, having spent 20 plus years together. Then came you.

- first interactions were rough, but once you both got comfortable with each other, he was by your side and chatting it up 24/7, yet you didn’t mind. It was nice having company, even though one of them only wanted food and the other tried his hardest to not fall in love with you.

- ghost wil who is super possessive of you and gets jealous of the slight mention of you going out or having dinner with another person. Ever since he met you, he just wants you for himself. No one else gets to have you the way he does. At least he hopes.

- ghost wil who was caught watching you sleep one night in the chair you have in your room, scaring you as you woke up in the middle of the night. His eyes widened as he went invisible, scared of what you’d say.

- ghost wil who loves to give you surprise kisses on the cheek and make you jump.

- you have tried many times to take pictures of the boys, hoping some day it’ll work yet, all the attempts were led to failure. But Wil and Tom appreciate you for trying and even if the picture is blurry, they still cherish it. Wil loves to take pictures of you! Wil literally take a picture of you at any given moment. I can if you claim you don’t look good

- when it gets cold outside, and you come in from either snow or really cold wind, Wil hates how you feel. You feel like him and that scares him so much. He wants to feel your warmth again, which he does later on that night but he does try to stop you from leaving the house everyday bc of it.

- Wilbur loves helping you clean, he doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s because when can slow dance with you during breaks or poke fun of you when you can’t which the high places.

- Tom and Wil are feins when you make them new foods! They haven’t tried anything new since they had died and new recipes have appeared since then so you made it your mission to cook for them and show them new things. Even though Tom claims he doesn’t like it… as he goes for seconds.

- now, they would never admit it. The boys are so envious of you. You who gets to go out and be with people. Meet new people and interact, go on walks in nature, feel the breeze in your hair and enjoy life. They were able to do that once. But now they watch you in the garden, watch you get out of your car with a smile on your face. They can feel the wind and the sun on their skin when the blinds are open and windows wide, but it’s not the same.

- speaking of the garden… Wil loves to watch you in the garden. Loves to hear you talk about which is which and which hat you’ll use each one for. He definitely pulls a chair up by the door and just sits.

- tom misses his mom. Misses her sweet touch and velvet voice. He misses when she would read to him, even as a teenager. When Tom feels comfortable with you and knows you won’t make fun of him, he goes to your room and ask you to read to him. Wil always whines, wanting to sleep, but you never denied Tom. Lying his head on your lap as you played with his hair, you read to him and Wil with the softest voice ever. As you looked up, you saw the boy fast asleep, as well the man beside you.

- wil loves cuddles- so much.

- wils also very jealous of your stuffed animals- he wants to be held like that!

- the boys believe that if someone else dies in the house, they’ll be set free. So if the unfortunate day ever comes, they probably won’t help you.

- they LOVE to fuck with you when their invisible. Turning lights off when your in the shower, moving items around, ect.

- wil hints at how much he would love if you could join him on the after life.

- so molly loves to come visit Tom, her and him being somewhat of a thing. Sometimes Tom possesses Molly when they go out, just to go have fun. Wil does this to you too sometimes, it takes a lot of energy though. But when molly and Tom leave, wil is all over you. Like… it’s bad. Can you blame him? You guys finally have an empty house…

- Christmas with the boys. You can interpret this.

- wil loves teasing you with light touches when he’s invisible. Loves to watch you squirm for him while talking to someone else.

- you considered killing yourself to be with the boys.

- wil holds you all the time when you come home from work at the end of the week, pulling you into him as you cry into his chest. He coos at you, upset you feel this way.

- whenever your family comes over, you hide wil and Tom the best you can so they don’t do anything stupid while they’re over. But if your bond with them is not so great- well- mission haunt the fuck out of them is on.

- wil loves your thighs, they’re so warm and soft. They’re almost like a stress ball to him and he loves to tease you as well.

- the only time Wil and Tom can actually leave the house is on Halloween….. and let’s just say they make the most out of it.

- if you make one comment about how a fictional character is hot- wil is pouting at you and lying on you in an instant as he tries to hide your eyes from the character.

- movie nights with the boys to educate them on more modern things.

- SLOW DANCING TO BLACK HOLED SUN!!!!!!

- you always forget the boys can phase through the walls, and it scares the living shit out of you. And when the boys figure this out- oh they are non stop!

- wil doesn’t feel hunger anymore, but he can taste and eat food! But whenever he does possess you, and you’re hungry, he can feel that familiar but distant pain in your stomach, groaning as it rumbles.

There’s so much more but there’s some from my old acc.

[maverices]

Do you think Mav thought of Ice when he and Bradley marched through the snow-covered forest after being shot down? Do you think he thought of Ice as he felt the cold seep into his bones and the snow kiss his hair and the wind flush his face? Do you think he found the F-14, fully fueled and in near perfect condition, and thought of all the times Ice had gotten him out of a tight spot and back into the air? Do you think he flew the F-14 out to the open sea, hoping against hope there would be a familiar voice over comms, a second shadow on the glistening, deadly waves beneath him? Do you think he stood on deck of the aircraft carrier amidst a chaos of triumph and relief, and couldn't help but look for one particular face in the crowd?

[huntmavs]

Mission: Impossible is THE franchise

[junkfoodcinemas]

Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol (2011) dir. Brad Bird

[echovelvet278]

[animasola86]

SMUT DRABBLES*: Belly Bulge

A/N: So. You may or may not know this about me, but I have a size kink. One of my favorite tropes to write and read is tiny woman/big man. And with that information in mind, I give you something called Belly Bulge. Pretty self-explanatory, right? // As with my other Smut Drabbles (*we're still under 1k, baby, this is a drabble!), you can imagine any character here, or just keep it neutral/anonymous, whatever you like! Warnings for this one are: (obviously) size difference, unprotected sex, choking and I guess breeding kink if you squint.

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! // WORDS: 825 // AO3

She stares at the little bulge with childlike fascination.

Moving her hands over her flat stomach, fingers shaking slightly, she presses down gently. A gasp escapes her when he moves behind her, his big hands on her small breasts, cupping them completely, squeezing, kneading, calloused palms rubbing over her hard nipples. His wide body beneath her, her cushioned rear squished to his lower stomach, shoulders pressing into his chest, his cock so deep inside her she can feel it prodding against her soft skin, literally stretching her limits.

The couch creaks beneath them as he starts thrusting upwards, his strong thighs moving against her feet that are tucked under his legs, her own spread almost painfully wide to give him better access. She watches him slide in and out, her hands rubbing down her mound, fingertips brushing against her clit, sending jolts of pleasure through her body, her folds parting wide with every deep plunge.

She moans, throwing her head back against his shoulder, when his thick cockhead scrapes over that sweet spot, almost rams into it in that position, before slipping deeper, denting her belly from within. She feels it against her palms, the constant nudging that drives her crazy. And the stretch. How he carves his way into her small body, presses between her tight muscles, molding her to his size.

When he had put his length onto her stomach to show her how far he would reach inside her, she had thought it was impossible to fit all of him into her tiny pussy, but he had made it work, inch by hard inch, with shallow snaps of his hips, as he went deeper and deeper, and while she thought the pain would split her in two as he pushed hard against her resisting muscles, she had adjusted, surprisingly quick. Mostly because of his whispered words, his hot breath on her ear, as he encouraged her.

“Shh, it'll be alright, baby. It'll fit. I'll make it fit. You were made for this. You were made for me! Look how well you can take me, all of me... every... single... inch...”

His voice has lulled her, and now his rapid breaths and quiet groans fill her head, his clenched jaw rubbing against her temple as he keeps groping her chest whilst ramming up into her, finding space within her, stretching her, filling her, taking root inside her. He grunts when she presses down on her stomach, meeting his tip as it dents her from within, and it encourages him to move faster, his thigh muscles tensing while he pushes harder, maybe even deeper, slam after slam, nudge after nudge.

She howls and whines, mewls and moans, the sensation almost too much for her to handle. His hands leave her breasts, letting them bounce with every upward thrust; his long fingers move to her throat, curling around her slender neck, applying just enough pressure that she gasps while her eyes roll back; his other hand moves down to join hers, one large palm pressing down hard, forcing her to feel more of him through her soft flesh.

Hammering into her with fervor, his breaths grow ragged while her own quiet down, silenced by how he squeezes her throat. She's seeing stars now, her mouth wide open, saliva gathering in the corners, some dripping down her chin, as he holds her, pushing her towards the edge and far beyond, and she feels her body convulsing, thighs twitching, that tension in her stomach, hot and tight, pushed aside by his large cock hitting all the right spots.

She's already floating, but then his hand leaves her stomach and teases her clit, rough fingertips rubbing hard and fast circles as he keeps pounding into her from beneath, skin slapping against skin, every rapid plunge causing her wetness to squelch out, obscenely loud, a cacophony of sounds that make her head spin even more.

And then she comes, muscles contracting, clamping down on him hard, the wet heat that has built up within her forcing out of her. She cries out soundlessly, eyelids fluttering open, body contorting into an arc that lifts her slightly off him, causing him to sink deeper, making the bulge even bigger, and he stills, an animalistic growl leaving his parted lips as he follows her over the edge, cock twitching, balls tight and pumping, and he grabs her hand and presses it onto her stomach, feeling how he fills her up with spurt after spurt of hot cum.

His other hand eases its grip on her throat, and she gasps, falling against him, panting, head completely empty, while her belly feels so full. His warm lips brush against her sweaty forehead, a tender kiss to calm her down even more. She smiles tiredly before she closes her eyes, her palm over her womb as he pumps it full of him, marking her, breeding her, finding a place for himself deep within her.

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

MORE SMUT DRABBLES:

A steamy shower

Toy

Car Inspection

Tension Relief

Sleepy

On the edge