#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.

[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.

[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:

[price-is-dreamy]

[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?

[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

[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.

[lillyspeakz]

Ello its 🐿️! Sooo first of all I hope your day is going awesome! Second, uhh any possible hc’s /drabbles for Ghost Wilbur and Tommy during halloween? I know in Pagan culture it’s said that the barrier between our world and theirs is basically nonexistent during halloween/Samhain! Anyways have a lovely dayyyy!

Thank you darling, it’s been good so far! Also yes I do!

-

- Halloween is the one time in the year that the boys can go out and explore. Tom usually going to see what people are doing, observing. While Wilbur usually just walks around, hoping to get lost and lose the connection he has on the house, wanting to leave and be free.

- yet, you came along and turned his perspective around. He suddenly enjoyed Halloween and spending time with you, wanting to go everywhere with you. And let me tell you, y’all went everywhere

- from 12 in the morning to 11:59 at night, you were doing something. Watching the sunset, stargazing, going on a coffee shop date, shopping, etc. He helps you hand out candy to the littles that come up, the parents giving Wil a weird look, but not making further effort. He could care less! He’s with you and having the best time.

- now- you guys go on a late night walk around the town and it’s nice. But when y’all get home-

- man is making love to you under the moonlight…. It’s actually so cute I’m writing it rn and oml-

-Tom on the other hand is hanging out with Molly this year.

- he met molly a couple months ago, becoming friends with the girl as she would come into the backyard and explore the empty house. Wil did try to scare her but Tom refused.

- then you moved in and she couldn’t do that anymore, which the realization was devastating to Tom, sad all the time after.

- you knew about Molly, she was your neighbor and she was lovely! Yet you always would see her looking at the house, waving at something in the windows.

- finally you walked in on Tom looking out the window, smiling so hard as he waved at the women on the side walk.

“Hmm now I know why she’s always around..”

“What?! No no! I was just being- friendly.”

“Mhm.”

- you invite her over some times, knowing why she wants to be there. And the first time you can tell she’s looking around to see if she’ll see him, her body becoming restless in the chair she sat on.

“He’s upstairs in the room on the left.”

“W-what?”

“Tom. He’s upstairs. I bet he’s waiting for you..”

“I- how did you-“

“Tom isn’t very good at hiding things.”

“Yeah no! He’s not.”

- so now when she wants to come over you gave her a key so she can let herself in.

- Tom and her go out, they end up trick or treating and in the middle of a field in her, eating candy and talking.

- they do end up kissing a little bit… but nothing more, knowing they both weren’t ready for that. Though tom claimed he was a big man and could handle anything-

- so yes, the barrier breaks kinda on Halloween, letting spirits of all kind roam free- you can just see the two ghost men easier

[ghostly-groves]

literally the situation rn

[namelessdumbass]

i don't have a type

i really don't, i... nevermind

[huntmavs]

Mission: Impossible is THE franchise

[junkfoodcinemas]

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

[echovelvet278]