nesspt2

Latest Posts by nesspt2

I like the caption, "Welcome back my friends to the SNOW that never ends."

This will never not be funny.

Time to redraw some borders to make it the Aesthetic states of America.

mmmmsmmmrrmmmr jerremyy bret..,,,

“Solitude is dangerous. It’s very addictive. It becomes a habit after you realize how peaceful and calm it is. It’s like you don’t want to deal with people anymore because they drain your energy.”

— Jim Carrey

Average color of US states based on satellite imaging.

I'm still reeling from Good Omens 2 — and I'm not talking about the cliffhanger.

No, I'm talking about the plot.

The whole "Something Terrible is Going to Happen" thing with a Naked Amnesiac Gabriel in the beginning made it seem like this season was going to go the same route as season 1 did — Armageddon, take 2.

And then when the season ended I was just so distracted by the kiss and the cliffhanger that it never really processed for me that this entire season was...

Well.

Whereas season 1 was all about stopping the Apocalypse, season 2 was entirely centered around romance, and only romance.

From what I can recall, there were three main storylines driving the plot in season 2:

1.) Maggie and Nina's love story.

2.) Gabriel and Beelzebub's love story.

3.) Crowley and Aziraphale's love story.

Even if it didn't seem that way at first, it was revealed in the end that everything that had occurred had to do with someone's love story.

Naked amnesiac Gabriel showing up at the bookstore? That only happened because he fell in love with Beelzebub and got himself fired, then chose to run away before they could steal his memories of falling in love with them.

This whole season was about trying to find out what happened to Gabriel (love, love is what happened), trying to get Nina to fall in love with Maggie, and Crowley coming to terms with the fact that he is in love with Aziraphale, and then eventually working up the courage to act on that love.

And that's not even mentioning the minisodes — which were basically telling us the story of how Crowley and Aziraphale fell in love!

This entire season was centered around romance, and only romance!

The second season of Good Omens was literally a love story. I can't believe it — can you?!

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU so much, Mr. Neil Gaiman!

Never before would I have guessed that season 2 would end up like this... I know we're all sad about how things left off with Crowley and Aziraphale, but there's not nearly enough appreciation going around for how we were even able to get to that point in the first place!

Everyone say,

"THANK YOU, NEIL GAIMAN!"

And let's not forget David Tennant (Crowley) and Michael Sheen (Aziraphale) who played these hopelessly in love idiots so well!

Tomorrow is the 54th anniversary of the moon landing so make sure to leave out cookies and milk for Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and Michael Collins

Could you please write a Tangerine x reader where the reader comforts him after he has a nightmare? I love your acc!!

Of course! I’ll do this! So sorry I’ve been inactive! I thought this account was never going to reach this much fame! Please continue asking for stuff!!!

Nightmares

Pairing: Tangerine X Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Tangerine has a nightmare and you comfort him.

Warning: mentions of blood.

The cloak of the night hid the sun, stars shimmering in its obscurity. The street was quiet, all the houses locked and everyone sleeping in their beds. You and Tangerine were doing the same, following normality for once. Your sheets were bunched up at the bottom of your bed, the warm summer air making them impossible to stand.

You were sleeping with one leg hanging off the mattress, sleeping in just a pair of panties and one of Tangerine’s large, white shirts. Your boyfriend was snoring next to you, only wearing a pair of silk pants, low on his hips to combat the heat. You had a hazy smile on your face, picturing Tangerine in your mind. You dream was extremely enjoyable, as Tangerine was currently spreading your legs open and diving in.

Tangerine was also dreaming about you, but rather than a pleasant smile, his face was contorted into a dark frown. His dream had started pleasantly: you and him dancing in your living room, the dying sunlight painting the room orange. You were gorgeous as usual, wearing a white dress that made you look like a nymph. He was having the time of his life, holding the love of his life tight in his arms, and swaying to the music grazing your ears.

The pleasant bubble that surrounded both of you was suddenly shattered by someone barging into your house. The door banged open, altering both of you, and a man stormed inside. Tangerine quickly recognized him, knowing he was his last victim’s partner. But he looked…weird: the lines of his face were shimmering, as if unclear. His eyes were filled with anger, and his unkept beard shivered with rage. A Glock trembled in his hands, announcing death. Tangerine’s heart immediately went out to you, fear clawing at his stomach. He quickly threw you behind him, ready to sacrifice his life for yours.

The man aimed the gun, not hesitating to press the trigger. Tangerine kept his eyes open, ready to die if it meant you could live. Time slowed down, and he could clearly see the bullet tearing through the air, hurdling towards his open chest, ready to bleed for love. But the bullet glided straight through him, as if he was made of air. It instead pierced your soft body, dragging the air out of you with a chocked exhale. Tangerine turned around, eyes wide with panic, seeing the white dress you were wearing darken with blood and your face whiten as life trickled out of you, one drop at a time. Your knees buckled, and Tangerine managed to catch you before you crashed to the ground.

“No! No! (Y/N)!” He screamed, tears starting to blur his vision. He roughly wiped them away, wanting to see you one last time. The sadness was so painful he could hardly breath, and felt a block of ice in his throat. You smiled, blood starting to poor out of your mouth. Tangerine could do nothing, his heart tearing itself to shreds. His hands shook, and a panic attack squatted in his chest, ready to bounce.

Sobs quivered his body, and he tried to stop the flow of blood by pressing his hand against your breast, right where the bullet had so cruelly decided to end the best thing he had ever had. The warmth of your blood made him feel dizzy, almost fainting. Your heartbeat was weakening underneath his palm.

You slowly lifted one of your shivering hands toward his cheek, painting his face with blood. Tangerine didn’t mind. “My dear,” you whispered, your words coated with spurts of blood. Tangerine’s tears slid down his cheeks, dripping on your face. They mixed with the blood on your face, becoming dark before they disappeared just as your life did. He tried to subdue his sobs, wanting to hear your last words. He pressed a hand to his mouth, steadying his heartbeat, wanting to treasure and remember what words you would whisper in his ear.

Your hand tugged him closer to your lips, your voice weak. He bent down, almost bursting into tears again. Your lips moved but Tangerine didn’t hear anything. You inhaled, choking on the blood for a few moments before calming down again. “Tangerine…wake up!” You suddenly shouted in his ear.

Tangerine shot up, sweat covering his body and drenching the sheets below him. His eyes were wide, his heartbeat wild. Panic was searing through his veins, scathing hot. He quickly looked down at his hands, seeing them clean and free of your blood. Instantly, he turned around, his heart brimming with hope as he saw you. Your hair was disheveled, your pillow wet with drool. “Darling, are you alright? You were shaking, and whimpering. I tried waking you up gently, but it didn’t work.” You murmured, still soaked with sleep.

Tangerine didn’t hear a word you said and wrapped his arms around you, crushing you against his chest. You could feel his heartbeat, shaking you like an earthquake. “Thank God your safe, oh thank God. I’m not religious, you know that darlin’ but oh I thank God.” He rambled against your hair, stroking your sweat soaked back. Tears slid down his cheeks, dampening your head. You put two and two together, realizing he had had a nightmare, and a bad one at that.

“I’m here. I’m here,” you whispered, slowing your words to a lilt, lifting your hand to gently scratch his scalp. Tangerine closed his eyes, going to hide his tear soaked face in your neck, his whole body quaking with shivers. The mighty assassin that was feared by all, was now hiding in your arms like a child, but you didn’t mind, slowly caressing his back.

Tangerine’s breaths were quick and shallow, but as he felt your familiar smell envelope him, he slowly started calming down. The image of your blood covered body started leaving his mind, but he still needed to make sure your heart was beating. He knew it was useless, since you were alive and well, but your heartbeat would help him erase the terrifying image that haunted his brain once and for all.

You knew it was coming: Tangerine often had nightmares, and when you were the victim of these nightmares plaguing his sleep, Tangerine always did the same thing.

His hand gripped the edge of your shirt and you smiled, knowing you knew the love of your life so well. Tangerine yanked your shirt up, uncovering your stomach and your breasts. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer, pressing his ear against your chest, exhaling when he felt your strong heartbeat vibrate through his body.

You pressed a kiss against his head, waiting for him to pull away when he felt calm enough.

Tangerine’s eyes were closed, and his breath started evening out. When his mind was clean from any image of your lifeless body in his arms, he pulled away, pressing a soft kiss to your heart, before he let the shirt drop back into place.

Tangerine’s eyes flicked up to yours, and he leaned down to kiss you. A soft chaste kiss that lasted only a second. “What would I do without you?” He murmured, caressing your cheek with the pad of this thumb. You leaned into his touch, taking his other hand and pressing soft kisses to his knuckles.

“What would I be without you?” You replied, snuggling into his chest, grazing your hand through his hair.

The two questions were never answered, as you both knew the answer: nothing. Your lives depended on each other, your hearts would never be able to live alone again.

Tangerine’s hand slid down your back wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer, as you both lied down on the bed, ready to go back to sleep. You quickly threw your leg around his waist, making your boyfriend smile.

“I love you, petal.” He murmured softly, the nightmare far from his mind.

“I love you too.” You whispered back, closing your eyes, both of you lulled to sleep by each other’s heartbeats.

tan x reader heavy heavy smut maybe pwp 🤷🏻‍♀️

theyre on a stake out in a hotel room and she's about to go out to do something and she's wearing a really sexy outfit and he gets turned on and yeah

PLSSS 🙏🙏🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

Yeah totally! I’m going through a very rough dry spell rn so I can basically only work in requests!! So keep sending them in. So sorry it took this long!!

Request also for the other characters I write for! Don’t hesitate!

Seduction

Pairing: fem!reader x Tangerine.

Synopsis: You’re about to go out and do your job and gather information when your boyfriend stops you from going out, too turned on for you to leave.

Warning: smut.

The hotel room was dark, only lit by the caresses of the moonlight slipping through the large windows. You were in the bathroom, naked, applying some makeup on your already beautiful face. Your eyes were wide, the mascara wand twirling on your eyelashes. The dress you were supposed to wear was hanging on the door, waiting. You had to go seduce an important politician, getting some information out of him. The plan was that you’d bring the him up to your room, and Tangerine would be waiting in the wardrobe, jumping out, and would press a gun to the man’s forehead.

You placed the mascara wand down, glancing at yourself in the glimmering mirror. You puckered your lips, adding a coat of red lipsticks to finish the look. You turned to your dress, slipping it off the hanger easily. It was black, tight, and had a thigh slight, which was dangerously close to revealing your crotch area, making it impossible to wear any type of panties with this type of dress. The dress was also too tight to wear any bras either, so you just slipped the flimsily piece of expensive cloth on, adjusting your hair before stepping out of the bathroom, leaving a haze of perfume behind you.

“Alright, all ready.” You chirped, walking to your suitcase, grabbing your heels from the plastic bag you had wrapped them in. Tangerine was sitting down on the bed, his muscular thighs spread in his blue dress pants. His long, tattooed fingers were holding a paperback delicately in his hands, the rings glinting in the sunset.

The minute your lilting voice reached his ears, he looked up from the pages, tearing himself away from the world in his head. His eyes widened when they landed on your figure, standing at the foot of his bed. You didn’t notice, busy checking your phone, newly acquired heels dangling in your hand.

“You look gorgeous, love.” You heard him say, his British accent familiar to your ears. “It’s taking all my self control not to come there and rip it off,” he whispered, standing up and gliding towards you, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

You grinned, placing a hand on his thigh. “I know, baby. But after we get rid of the man, you can do anything to me.” You whispered, standing up, and gently grazing his ear with your red lips. He shivered, closing his eyes, and plopping back down where you had been a second before. You walked to the chair in front of him, aware Tangerine’s eyes were glued to your ass as you swayed past him. You didn’t mind, your heart fluttering.

You grabbed your heels, starting to slip them on. To aid yourself in putting on the torture traps fashion called shoes, you spread your legs, lifting them to close the clasp that danced mockingly around your ankles. The already short hem of the dress had slid down against your waist, revealing your bare center to Tangerine.

The moment he realized what he was looking at, all the thoughts he had in his mind vanished, the blood rushing to his cock, hardening it in his dress pants, leaving little to the imagination. The idea that you were going out to seduce another man before Tangerine himself, your boyfriend, could get a taste of you, was making him furious. His skin started to become warm, and his breaths became shallow. Tangerine threw the book on the bed, hearing it bounce a few inches away. He stood up, licking his lips and adjusting his vest, walking towards you.

You barely took notice, too concentrated on your shoe clasp, which wouldn’t close, slipping through your fingers like water. It was infuriating. Just as you were about to close it, making you finally ready to go, Tangerine lifted your leg, throwing it over his shoulder as he kneeled in front of you. The clasp jolted away, and the shoe almost slipped off. “Tangerine? What are you doing-”, your sentence was stopped when you felt the familiar sensation of your boyfriend’s mouth against your core, his tongue darting inside of you.

You hadn’t been aroused before, but the sudden entrance of his skillful tongue made you moan out loud, throwing your head back against the wall, his mustache grazing your sensitive skin. Tangerine lifted your other leg, gripping your thighs, eating you out like a madman. Your arousal soon started coursing through your body, your nipples hardening, as well as your clit peeking out between the folds. “Tan…what-what are you doing I need to go,” you stammered in between moans, grinding against his tongue, your hand tightening around the arm rest.

“You’re not going out of here until my cum is dripping down your leg.”Tangerine murmured against your lower lips, the vibration making you see stars twinkling in your vision. “You look so fucking sexy tonight, love. I can’t let you go out like that. Your mine, and I want that bloody politician to fucking know,” he hissed, his long fingers replacing his mouth as he talked, not wanting to leave you high and dry.

You barely heard him, the pleasure starting to wash over you like a tsunami. Your stomach started to coil, tightening in all the right places, making you clench tightly around his long fingers. Tangerine had made you scream and arch your back as you orgasmed so many times he could tell you were close, a proud glint dancing in his eyes. To give you the extra push you needed, he dived back in, adding his tongue to his dancing fingers. You had started wiggling so much, your heels had clattered to the floor, leaving a dent in the moquette, and the thin shoulder straps of the your dress tumbled down your arms, revealing your quivering breasts.

Tangerine reached one ringed hand to grope them, waiting for you to tip over the edge. He could tell by the way your tongue slipped out of your mouth, and your unsteady breath pattern that you were about to orgasm. You looked gorgeous, just as you always did, but pride roared in his chest, knowing he was the only one that make you look like this.

The pleasure was starting to cloud your vision, and your hand blindly tried gripping onto the wall, before you decided to drop it down into Tangerine’s curls, tugging. He grunted quietly, a wet patch starting to form on his pants. “Tan! Tan! I’m…coming,” you panted. Tangerine spread your legs, pressing your clit with his index finger. The coolness of his rings contrasted with the heat of your sweating skin.

“Let go,” he whispered, and not even a second later, your juices gushed out of you, coating his mustache. He licked his lips, tasting you. Tangerine stood up, letting you relax for a second, deciding to observe you instead. Your hair was messy, your makeup ruined; the mascara ran down your cheeks like black tears, and your lipstick was long gone. Your breasts were exposed, the nipples hardened. Your legs were spread as much as they possibly could, hanging over the armrests of the chair, giving him a perfect view of your swollen, leaking center, which still now trickled droplets of your arousal on the soaked leather of the chair. He grinned proudly, knowing he was the only one allowed on this earth to watch you come undone as prettily as you did. He had seen you like this so many times, and yet, he could never get enough.

Without hesitating, Tangerine unbuckled his belt. The soft sound echoed in the room. He quickly kicked off his dress pants, his boxers flying away with them. He unbuttoned his shirt and vest, his fingers were quick, missing a few buttons. He grunted in frustration, ripping his shirt open, the unopened buttons flying to the floor. You stared at him, unable to move, eyes focused on his abs. His cock sprang out, already hard. Your pussy clenched around nothing, aching to feel him.

Tangerine leaned down, aligning himself with your hips, before slipping inside you, bottoming out in one swift thrust. You cried his name out in pleasure, tears of pure satisfaction mingling with your mascara. “Your mine,” Tangerine whispered in your ear, nibbling on your sensitive lobe.

The words were a caress to your lust-ridden mind, and you nodded urgently, grinding your hips against his. “Always! Forever!” You cried, leaning down to lock your lips together.

The kiss was passionate, furious, sloppy. His lips were swollen, and you could taste yourself on them. Saliva started dripping out, a few droplets coating your breasts. His tongue was shoved down your throat, while yours was caressing his mouth. He stopped moving his hips for a second, wanting to enjoy the kiss. Tangerine’s large hands grasped the swell of your hips, your smaller ones were holding the nape of his neck, your thumb rubbing large circles on his skin.

Desperate for more, Tangerine tried getting closer to you, even though it was physically impossible. He thrusted deeper inside you, hitting your g spot. The pleasure made you moan in your boyfriend’s mouth, detaching your lips. A string of saliva connected the two of you. Tangerine smirked, his hair disheveled, his eyes blown wide with lust.

He held you tighter on the hips, starting to thrust in and out of you quickly, the chair shaking underneath you. You threw your head back, and Tangerine took the opportunity to pepper kisses on your neck, inhaling your sweet perfume. He loved it, and it made his cock twitch inside you.

You whimpered quietly, hand traveling down in between your bodies, pressing your swollen clit. Tangerine’s forehead was beaded with sweat, his hair sticking to it. He quickly shooed your hand away from your core, replacing it with one of his large thumbs, pressing down on your swollen bud of nerves.

You screamed, literally screamed, hands gliding down his back, leaving red, angry marks. “Yes, make it loud and clear for everyone in this fucking hotel that your screams are only for me,” Tangerine groaned, feeling that his own climax was caressing his back, approaching swiftly. “You close, babygirl?” He croaked, holding your flushed skin against his, feeling your breasts bouncing against his chest.

You nodded, not even trusting yourself to respond. Tangerine thought you would need a few more thrusts to get there, but the next time he sunk deep inside you, without warning, you wrapped around him tightly, clenching around his cock, screaming his name and orgasmed. It had been so sudden, Tangerine felt his orgasm be yanked out of him, and he fell against your neck, whimpering your name like a prayer, as he started pumping his seed deep inside you.

You inhaled deeply, encouraging him to finish, caressing his back, feeling the ridges your nails had created. After a few moments, Tangerine was spent, and went flaccid inside you, yet he didn’t pull out, looking up to gaze at you, caressing your make up-smudged cheek. “My gorgeous (Y/N).”

The words elicited a quiet laugh from your swollen lips. “Please, I look like I’ve been run over by six cars.”

Tangerine chuckled, shaking his head. “No, it looks like you were fucked good, which you were.” You slapped his chest, laughing.

The two of you basked in the sex afterglow for a few more seconds, before you needed to go get ready all over again. You couldn’t even walk properly and needed Tangerine to help you reach the bathroom which was literally five steps away.

•

After another thirty minutes, you looked just as you had before. You sprayed perfume on yourself again, glancing at the mirror. “How do I look?” You asked, turning to face Tangerine, who was sitting on the toilet, cleaning his gun, only wearing his pants. He smirked appreciatively, placing the weapon on the sink, and slapping your ass.

“You look so fucking sexy, my love,” he leaned down to kiss you, but you pressed a finger to his lips.

“Nope! No! If you kiss me, we’re fucking all over again.” You grabbed the purse from the floor, opening the bathroom door. “I’m going, Tan. I’ll text you when we’re coming back.”

Tangerine smiled at you, sending you a flying kiss. You sent one back, heading out the door and into the hallway. Tangerine leaned against he doorframe, watching you walk away. As he let his eyes glide to your ass, and to your legs, he noticed one, single bead of his cum sliding down the back of your exposed thighs. Tangerine grinned, licking his lips.

Oh, this would be a fun night.

This Blood Isn’t Mine…

Pairing: Fem!Reader/ Tangerine

Warning: None.

Synopsis: Tangerine wakes up in the middle of the night covered in blood. He knows it isn’t his blood and panics, thinking you’re hurt, forgetting you’re a woman, and satan’s waterfall comes to visit you once a month.

Tangerine’s eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dark room around him. He could feel his naked body against the cool sheets, and your naked body pressed against him. He smiled sleepily, thinking about the fun you two had had before falling asleep.

Tangerine swallowed, his dry throat reminding him why he had woken up. He lazily turned around, the sheets gliding over his toned abs, trying to find his water bottle by patting the floor randomly, hoping to stumble upon the bottle. “Fuckin’ hell.” He cursed quietly after a few minutes of searching resulting into nothing.

Quietly, he grabbed his phone from his nightstand and turned the flashlight on. The bright light blinded him for a second, but his eyes adjusted after a moment. “Found ya.” He murmured when the light bounced off the plastic surface of the water bottle. He scooted closer to the edge of the bed, leaning down to take it.

As Tangerine’s hand slipped inside the beam of light, dark, red spots came into view, previously hidden in the veil of the night. Tangerine froze, recognizing the substance he dealt with daily. Blood. He hesitantly turned his hand, finding it smeared on his palm as well. Panic started settling in his stomach. He knew he wasn’t hurt, and the only other person this blood could be coming from was you.

Just the thought of you suffering made his heart stop beating for a second, before it started thumping even louder. What if your gutted corpse lay still behind him? What if he had lost you? Tremors shook his hand, sucking the life away from him. Tangerine slowly grabbed the knife he hid underneath the mattress before he turned around, silently swearing to avenge whoever dared to touch you.

The man turned around, almost scared to shine his flashlight towards you, afraid of what he would see. Slowly, with fear wetting his eyes, he shone the flashlight on your body.

Instantly, his heart started beating again, the color gushing back to his cheeks. You were alive, breathing, sleeping with the covers thrown over your stomach. The joy Tangerine felt glimmering in his chest was brief: he noticed dark spots of blood painting the sheets you were covered in.

Fear settled back in, heavier than before. Without a moment of hesitation, Tangerine gripped your shoulder and started shaking you. “(Y/N), darling, please wake up! You’re hurt, we need to go to the hospital,” he said, his voice dry.

You jolted away, wincing in pain when your sleepy eyes met the flashlight shining into them. “What?” You croaked, your word heavy with sleep.

“You’re bleeding. You’re hurt. Someone or something wounded you. We NEED to go to the hospital. Right now. What if the wound is fatal?” Tangerine’s words tumbled out of him like a waterfall. He slipped out of bed, starting to slip his discarded clothes back on. “Where does it hurt, love? Tell me,” he said, worry tainting his words. “Don’t move. I’ll come pick you up.”

You were still half asleep, the words reaching you slowly and sluggishly, as if traveling through three meters of snow. “What? Hurt? I’m not hurt,” you murmured after a few moments of processing his words.

“Our bed is covered in blood.” Tangerine hissed, yanking his pants up. “I’m not letting you bleed out, (Y/N). You’re the love of my life, if I lose you, I kill everyone around me and then myself.”

You had slowly managed to wake up, trying to find this wound Tangerine insisted you had. You lifted the sheets, seeing your thighs smeared with blood. Quickly, you put two and two together and barked out a laugh.

Tangerine looked up at you, guns in hand as he was slipping them in their holsters. “What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes jumping around in panic.

You couldn’t stop the smile that lit your face. “Darling, don’t worry. I’m not hurt.” You tugged the covers away and gestured to your vagina. “I got my period.”

The relief on Tangerine’s face was immediate. He slipped out the guns and slapped them back in their compartment. He kicked off his pants and ripped off his shirt, falling back into the bed. “Your period, you sure love?” He asked, needing a little bit more of reassurance to not break apart and start crying.

You turned around to face him, touching his cheek. The worry in his eyes broke your heart into a million pieces: this man loved you to the end of the world and back. “It’s my period. Don’t worry, alright?” You asked softly, starting to caress his curls. The man had come back from a hard job just a few hours before, and just the sensation of your warm hands on his curls made his eyes flutter shut.

You continued to lull him to sleep, waiting until his eyes were closed before standing up to slip on a pair of panties and a pad.

Just as you your feet touched the floor, Tangerine’s hand darted out from the rumpled covers and clasped your wrist. “Don’t go,” he croaked, most of himself lost in dreamland.

“I need to go get a pad. I can’t just bleed all over the bed,” you said, taking his hand in yours and pressing a soft kiss to his bruised knuckles. Apparently he had gotten those bruises by punching some glass on a train or something, you hadn’t really understood his tired ramblings.

“Don’t go.” Tangerine repeated. “It’s just blood…and it’s natural blood..don’t..don’t leave me.” The way his voice cracked on the last few words made tears almost come to your eyes: Tangerine was rarely so emotional, years of his horrid job breaking him to the point of constant strength. You couldn’t leave him, not even for a second.

“Alright, I won’t leave,” you sighed. As you slipped underneath the covers you kept thinking about how you would have to change the sheets tomorrow morning. But the moment your sleepy Tangerine wrapped his arms around your waist and laid his head on your chest, your thoughts calmed down, and you started drifting off to sleep; the love of your life curled up against you.

AARON TAYLOR JOHNSON as KRAVEN THE HUNTER

Evening cape by Emile Pingat, 1890s.

i love tumblr because of the close-knit community of girls who have never gotten over anything ever not even a little

Reblog if you think public libraries are important and should be maintained.

Helen Mirren in ‘Cousin Bette’ (BBC 1971) - with Colin Baker!

them

Sara Mrad ‘Arrival of The Birds’ Bridal Couture Collection

So him. Right??

joan & sherlock ELEMENTARY (SEASON 1)

HOLY FUCKING SHIT, AARON- he just keeps on giving with these photoshoots

Aaron Taylor Johnson for Calvin Klein's spring campaign, 2023