#em barrett

[agstricker18]

Palaye Royale discography breakdowns. Enjoy!

This is only updated to what I have completed.

[jolieeason]

Bookish Travels---July 2024 Destinations

I saw this meme on It’s All About Books and thought, I like this!! So, I decided to do it once a month also. Many thanks to Yvonne for originally posting this!! This post is what it says: Places I travel to in books each month. Books take you to places you would never get to. Bon Voyage!! Please let me know if you have read these books or traveled to these areas. Countries I visited the…

[ziggy0-o]

happy 81st birthday to my beautiful wife, nicholas berkeley mason !! 😇

[maddytheweird]

@encre-sanguine

[juleshwin]

Ok so I'm listening to Stage Fright rn...

Miss Adelaide, I don't think Barrett and Priscilla are acting... I think they're really truly in love <3

(Btw expect fanart within the next few hours I'm in a drawing mood)

[your-mommy-ems]

stay alive by nessa barrett IS joey lynches song

[sean-shifted-wake]

5 may - don’t call me pretty (gayle)

23 june - lie (nessa)

30 june - vampire (olivia)

13 july - what was i made for (billie)

2023 is officially

sad girl summer

[royale-ly-obsessed]

I Found 747 on the Stapler at my Work :)

[worldsbiggestnerd101]

screams in Jason dean

yeah ok i see it i looked him up but also consider: veronica

[mattsstarlet]

𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫.

pornstar!matt makes camgirl!reader film.

contains: smut (p in v), unprotected sex (creampie), sex tape, bigdick!matt, pet names, suggestive language.

note: i think this one might be my favorite so far. rereading it i think it may be a bit fast pace, sorry.

matt handed you his grey digital camera, all set up for you—just needing to hit ‘record.’ he had always been the one behind the camera or propping it up. needless to say, he had been thinking about what it would look like from your point of view, how good your sweet noises would sound up close. 

“let's do something different tonight..." “yeah? you’re down?” “...’kay hold this f’me.”

a red dot flashed as you hit the button, a soft whimper leaving your lips as matt began to rub his hard length up and down your already dripping mess. gasping as he pushed in slowly, your brows knitting together as you felt the slight pain of him stretching you out. you can never get accustomed to his size, no matter the times you've done this. 

“biiig….y’so big.” you whined out, clutching onto the device as he began moving his hips in and out of you. matt smirked, your gummy walls sucking him in like a vacuum. “you zooming in, baby? look how good your sweet cunt is swallowing my dick.” 

your walls flutter around him; any slight dirty talk gets you going, and he knows that—he takes too much pride in it. your brain fogs up when he lays a hand flat on your tummy, feeling the bulge of his cock. “you feel that, sweet girl?” 

sweet moans slip out of your lips, too full to think properly, surprised you can still manage to keep the camera up and steady, though this was also part of your job. his hips pushed in rougher, making you gasp once again. 

“mm-hm…oh…can feel you…so, so deep,” you babbled incoherently, drooling making its way out of your mouth. watching him fuck you through the tiny screen forms a bubble in your belly, awaiting to be popped. you can definitely see this tape going up on his ‘exclusive members only’ list. 

“can feel you gripping me, sweetheart,” he calls out, hand lowering until his thumb comes in contact with your sensitive clit. a smirk making its way onto his lips as you jumped up from the sudden contact. “gonna let me fill you up?” 

you nodded eagerly, “uh-huh…please, please baby… gotta cum.” you begged, eyes brimming with tears. “i’ll let you fill me up, please.” 

“f–fuck,” he panted, his own high coming after him. his thrusts become sloppy, feeling your cunt close around his cock. “show ‘em how good… good i make you cum—c’mon.” 

you managed to zoom in, showing off the way he's deliciously fucking you. your soft whines getting louder and louder until a loud moan rips through you. thighs trembling as a wave of pleasure sweeps through you. 

the way your walls spasmed around his cock, his own pleasure exploded, painting your insides with white strokes of his cum. he groaned, filling you up with his load until he was empty.

he reached over, taking the digital device from your weak hands and zooming into your puffy folds. pulling out, he captures the way he starts leaking out of you—his finger coming to view by pushing his cum back in. 

you whine, feeling overly sensitive. matt chuckled breathlessly, his chest rising at a rapid speed. “sensitive? we just started, baby… still got your stream to do."

© 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗌𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗍

[agstricker18]

Palaye Royale wallpapers for Fever Dream and The Bastards!

[dr-viles-laboratory]

More tedposting (these ones are older but I found em so. Yknow how it is)

[heyho-simonrussellbeale]

Syd Barrett (22), recently ex-Pink Floyd, encounters novelist E M Forster (89) in King’s College, Cambridge in 1968.

Their meeting in this dramatisation by Roger James Elsgood of Haydn Middleton’s novel of the same name leads to a conversation between two men belonging to very different eras of the 20th century and at markedly different stages in their lives, about the loss and the continued absence of creativity.

Starring Simon Russell Beale as E M Forster, Tyger Drew-Honey as Syd Barrett and Madeleine Leslay as a college bedder.

29 days left to listen

[bi-writes]

more little thoughts about curvy!sunshine!fem!reader and dark!simon (18+)

thinking about being so indifferent to his violence because it has never been directed at you. you had a bad night at the pub--an asshole tried to grab your ass in the brand new white dress you bought, with a puffy little mini skirt, and you had wanted to wear it out and get dressed up. the man had ruined your night; you just wanted to spend it with simon, drinking and spending time together, and as soon as he had his hand up your dress, and simon saw the tears in your eyes, all he could see was red.

you're sitting on the curb outside, sniffling, tears still a little damp on your face as you lick at the cone of ice cream you're holding. you click your heels against the pavement, and you look to the side when you feel a big, warm presence take a seat next to you. his shirt looks damp and sticky, and your eyes dart down to see how his boots smear blood against the ground. you smile a little through your soft tears, reaching over and sliding your arm around his. the tension in his muscles relaxes, and you lean up and kiss his cheek gently.

"did he squirm?" you ask softly as you trace his ungloved hand, running your fingers lightly over the fresh bruises there. "i know you hate it when they cry."

"didn't 'ave time t'cry," he grumbles. he leans over, kissing your forehead through the mask, holding you close. "cut his throat out before he could even think about it. and then i took his hands, luv--" you take a lick of your ice cream before you smile up at him. "didn't deserve 'em since he's had a feel 'f ya."

he lets you paint his nails. you sit on his big thigh, holding his hand up as you smooth black polish over his nail bed. you clean his cuticles and under his fingernails, giving him a nice little manicure before practicing your nail-painting skills. all he does is sit there and grumble as he watches a football game on the telly, not really paying you any mind. when you finish, you smooth lotion over his cracked knuckles and smooth some oil over his nails until they're nice and soft. when you finish, he makes you watch him stuff those fingers into your pretty pussy. he never takes his eyes off the game, but his lips twitch into the lightest smirk as he feels you writhe and squirm beside him, laid back on the couch as you wet his freshly painted nails with cum.

he never lets you cry, not really, because he fucking hates it. if you cry, he tilts your head up towards him, shoving his mask up before dragging his pink tongue up your face and ridding the pretty planes of your cheeks of any evidence. his solution to your sadness, if that doesn't work, is to put his head between your thighs and eat.

he never says no to you. wherever you want to go, he will take you. whatever you want to buy, he will buy it for you. even if it's something you technically can't have, like the vintage purse you see as you window shop with a not for sale tag on it. or the last pair of sparkly barrettes that the woman in front of you snagged first, found at the bottom of your shopping bag the next day. or the job you applied for that you knew you wouldn't get because you bombed the interview--only to receive confirmation in the middle of the night that you got the job, telling simon monday night that your new boss got mugged only a few hours after your interview!

(the bruises on his face are gnarly--and he seems to always avoid you like the plague.)

you break all his supposed boundaries in front of other people, but what they don't understand is that he has boundaries with everyone except for you. when you visit him on base, everyone tenses when you run into the rec room looking for him, slipping into the chair he sits in and taking your place on his lap. but ghost doesn't flinch as he does if others touch him. no, he just places his hand on your back to steady you. when you're out at the pub with his teammates, they stare wide-eyed as you cup his masked cheeks and kiss him all over his face--his eyes, his nose, his cheeks--but all ghost does is pat your ass soothingly and stroke along your hair gently. he stands out in crowds, so imposing and large and broad, and he ignores the stares when a pretty girl bounces into his orbit, taking his hand and pulling him along because simon, i saw this dress, but i need your help getting the zipper up--

there just isn't anyone like you. ghost feels dead, on the inside. he doesn't feel right. he knows something is so wrong inside of him. he wants to eat your glow. it's what he has loved about you since he met you. the unconditional devotion, the big heart you give him, the wet look in your eyes when he does anything for you, even when it includes the bloody stuff. even if he does the wrong thing, even if he kills the wrong man, and you know he is overreacting, you are never mad, never angry. you just kiss his scars and coo in his ear, "it's okay, you didn't know any better, you were just doing it for me, weren't you, baby?"

you give him the validation that he needs to be violent. you tell him it's okay. you aren't afraid of all the gore, of the terrible things he does, of all the things he rights with wrongs. he is quick to anger, and he finds it easy to be judge, jury, and executioner, and all you do is bat your lashes and open your legs and tell him it's okay, simon--it's okay, come here, i miss you.

you suffocate the things that scream in his ears. when it's too loud, you push him to lay down, climb up over him, put your thighs around his head and quiet the noise. you sit your pretty pussy on his mouth, and you ride his face, smoothing a hand over the balaclava that he is too busy to take off. you used to be afraid of being too heavy, of making it hard to breathe for him, but simon is a big boy, and maybe he wants to die, because you taste so sweet, and he always chubs up so easily with his hands digging into your hips and his tongue deep inside of you.

it aches, everything hurts, the world is too loud, but it isn't like this in your flat. it's just right. it's normal. it's safe. simon can be himself, and so can you, and when he is too brooding and terrifying, he looks at you, because if you're still smiling, he isn't too much of anything. and when you think you're talking too fast, when you are second-guessing the dress you want to wear, you look at him, because if he is there, nothing will ever be wrong, and no one can ever hurt you.

simon isn't a good person. you know that. he's quick to the knife. he likes to bite. he commits war crimes, and then he comes home, and no one asks him to explain himself, and no one tells him to stop what he's doing, and when he does it over and over again, all he gets is validation, medals for a job well done, and maybe you're an instigator, too, because you let him fuck you in every position whenever he comes home, a reward for bringing death to whoever was stupid enough to end up at the wrong end of his rifle.

but it's really, really hard to care. as soon as he steps through the door, dropping his duffel bag onto the floor, all of your doubts disappear. all you can do is stare at him in all his gear, swallow the drool that threatens to spill, smile--welcome home, teddy bear!

he is a bear. but you've never been on the receiving end of what scares people. if someone were to ask you what to do, you don't think you'd know what to tell them. you wonder what it is you would tell them if they begged for your help.

run away? or play dead?

[golden1u5t]

lunch visits | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: no

ꨄ genre: fluff

ꨄ summary: taking your daughter to visit spencer for lunch.

"Spencer?" You called out for him as you walked into the empty bullpen with your daughter holding your hand, you frowned as you looked around for him. After looking around for a few minutes your eyes landed on the conference room, since the blinds were open you could see the team sitting at the table.

You took a seat at Spencer's desk until he was done reviewing the case, your daughter sat on your lap playing on her tablet. You set the brown paper bag down on the desk, you had brought lunch and you had planned to sit with him for a bit but someone had other plans.

A few minutes later the team emerged from the conference room. Spencer's face twisted in confusion as he saw someone in his chair, his hand reaching for his gun but he quickly relaxed once he recognized your signature butterfly barrett and his daughters laugh. You looked up from watching your daughter’s tablet when you heard quick footsteps getting closer to you.

"Y/N, hi!" He breathed once he reached you. You took your daughters tablet and placed it on the desk and let Spencer take her from your lap, you stood up and quickly pressed a kiss to his lips. Spencer smiled and pressed a kiss to his daughters head. "What are you doing here? I thought you had her photoshoot today."

"We did, it was earlier this morning. I figured we could come have lunch with you," You pushed the brown bag towards him. "But, I see you guys have gotten a new case."

Emily heard your daughters giggles and immediately left her conversation with Rossi for her. She squirmed in Spencer's arms and reached for Emily, screaming "aunty em" until she took her from Spencer's arms, taking her away to be with the rest of the team while you and Spencer had some time together before he was gone.

You smiled as you watched the team with her, remembering how quick the team fell in love with her. They were in love with her before she was even born. You stepped closer to him and rested your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"We still have half an hour before we leave. You guys can stay while we wait, I want to spend some time with her before I leave for however long." He mumbled, into your hair. He sighed as he looked at her playing with the team. "I hope she knows how much I love her."

"Of course she does, Spence. She knows that your job keeps you away sometimes but I make sure to tell her all the time how much you love her." You lean back and cup his face so he could look a you, a small frown on your face. "She knows you love her and she loves you too. We love you."

Spencer nodded and pressed his lips to yours gently, a small tug on his pants leg forcing him to pull away. He looked down to see his daughter tugging at his pants.

"Daddy, can we eat now?"

"Of course, sweet girl."

[sean-shifted-wake]

my most toxic trait is that i truly believe if i was given the opportunity i’d be able to befriend any of the sadgirl singers