buckybarnesinabox

[buckybarnesinabox]

[buckybarnesinabox]

Just a little PSA for all our mental health (and chronic pain*) spoonies out there! A lot of doctors neglect to mention this little side effect, which means a lot of us are suffering extra from the heat without knowing why.

*Many psych meds are used to treat chronic pain as well, if you didn’t know!

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The Life of James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes aka The Winter Soldier (2/? ) [x]

insp.

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spencer reid in 4.19

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Happy National Library Week!! A great time to ask everyone you know if they have a library card.

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he would be offended by this btw

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spencer reid in that scene in 2x05

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IRONHEART (2025)

dir. Sam Bailey and Angela Barnes | Official Trailer

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[buckybarnesinabox]

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 | 𝐒.𝐑

― 𝒂 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒊𝒅 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒃

▶︎ ၊၊||၊ SO FAR SO GOOD , INHALER

dom!spencer reid x f!reader

WARNINGS : smut, dom!reid, analyzing you, fingering, riding his fingers while he works, cock-warming, riding, scientific talk

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝟏𝟖+

You’re whining again.

Spencer doesn’t look up from the screen. He’s deep in a case—some string of cold murders with strange time signatures and geographic triangulation—and you’re in his lap, completely naked, straddling one thigh like a pillow princess.

“Spencer,” you whisper, hands tugging at his shirt. “Spencer, please, I’m bored.”

“You said you’d be good,” he replies calmly, clicking through GPS coordinates. “Fifteen minutes ago. You lasted five.”

“I need you,” you murmur, grinding down just slightly on his thigh. “Just for a minute.”

“I’m working,” he says, tone clipped but not cruel. “Serial offender. Multi-state. Victimology inconsistencies. Hush.”

You pout, trying to kiss at his jaw. He dodges effortlessly, still reading. Still ignoring you.

So you whimper—soft, desperate.

He freezes.

And without looking, his right hand reaches down, cups between your thighs, and slides two fingers inside you in one swift, practiced motion.

You gasp—loud and sharp—and he finally glances over, arching an eyebrow like you’ve just interrupted a lecture.

“You’re soaked,” he says blandly, as if noting a weather report. “Completely saturated. Did whining actually get you off?”

“Spencer—” you try, but his fingers curl just right and you choke on a moan.

“I’m not stopping my work,” he says, thrusting slowly, methodically, like he's testing angles. “But clearly you need… containment.”

You squirm, hips rolling against his hand, desperate for more. He pumps his fingers lazily, detached. Detached, but devastatingly accurate.

“Pelvic tilt increasing,” he notes absently, eyes back on the case file. “Clenching hard, too. That’s involuntary. Your body’s responding to stimulation faster than average.”

“Please—more—”

“I said I’m working,” he says again, but you feel the slight edge in his voice now—the tension under the cool. “If you want something, you’re going to have to work for it.”

He withdraws his fingers—slick, wet, shining—and sucks them into his mouth, tasting, evaluating. You nearly whine at the sight.

Then he shifts back in the chair slightly, unbuckles his belt with one hand, still scrolling through photos with the other, and finally pulls his cock free—hard and leaking.

“Ride me,” he says simply. “Quietly. Don’t interrupt my train of thought.”

You scramble into position, your hands braced on his shoulders, and he doesn’t help—doesn’t even glance at you as you lower yourself onto his cock, inch by inch, your breath shaking with the stretch.

“You’re taking me well,” he murmurs, eyes still on the monitor. “Posterior wall pressure feels ideal. You’ve been craving this.”

Your body jolts as you bottom out. You’re full. Stuffed. And he’s acting like this is a peer-reviewed study.

You move. Slow at first, careful. Spencer barely reacts—just exhales through his nose as he taps on the keyboard.

“Your heart rate’s spiked. So has mine,” he says under his breath. “Fascinating.”

You grind harder. The friction unbearable. Your breath hitches, moans bubbling up—and he finally looks at you, eyes sharp and dark.

“You were told to be quiet.”

“But—Spencer—”

He shifts his hips up hard—one deep, brutal thrust—and you cry out.

“That,” he murmurs, tone clinical again, “was the anterior fornix. Your scream confirms the angle.”

You clench around him, hard. He hisses.

“You want me to lose control?” he asks, voice low now, dangerous. “You want me to ruin this chair and forget my case and fuck you like you’re the only thing I care about right now?”

You nod, frantic. “Yes—yes, please, I need—”

His hands clamp down on your hips. Tight.

“Then ride me like you mean it,” he growls. “Show me why you’re worth the interruption.”

You do.

You bounce on his cock like your life depends on it, rhythm breaking, breath ragged, tears threatening to spill from sheer overstimulation. Spencer watches you like a living experiment—eyes locked to your face, then your tits, then where you’re split open on him.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Completely out of control. My cock’s buried in you, and all you can do is sob.”

You whimper, thighs shaking. “I’m close—I’m gonna—”

He reaches between your legs, pressing one precise circle to your clit, and you scream—body locking up as your orgasm hits like a truck.

“There,” he whispers. “There’s the involuntary tremor. Muscular contraction. Perfect.”

You’re still coming when he thrusts up hard again—once, twice—and spills inside you with a soft groan, warm and thick.

The office is dead silent except for the sound of your breath.

He strokes your back gently, still seated deep inside you.

“Better?” he asks.

You nod against his neck, boneless.

“Good,” he says, glancing back at the screen. “Now let me finish this report. And if you distract me again…”

His cock twitches inside you, wet and warm and perfectly coated with his come just as much as your own.

“…you’ll be riding me until I solve the case.”

𖧧 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

🖇 - @chriss-slutt @55sturn @chrysiie @il0vey0um0st @trustinsturniolos @ivydre4ms @raes-library @mattsplaything @emely9274 @pip4444chris @whore4mattsturniolo @sweetshuga @courta13 @divinesturn @aaliyahsturniolo @chris-hallelujah @mi-co-uk @ivysturnss @sweetpeabreezyree @christophersgf @bluestriips @angelic-sturniolos111 @shadowthesim237 @moond0llie @eeyoresturnz @ellssturn @fratbrochrisgf @teddystvrns @pvssychicken @ribbonlovergirl @chrisspussygang @vanteguccir @tits4matt @bambisturns @luvs4matt @delilahsturniolo @fadedstvrn @ariieeesworld @oopsiedaisydeer @rubyychriss @babyt0matoes @kenah-sturniolo @desturns <3

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I assure you: somebody, somewhere, is on the exact same wavelength as you are.

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spencer reid

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The Reluctant Victor, inspired by The Reluctant Bride by Auguste Toulmouche - I just thought that this painting was SO perfect for Katniss and I had to draw it!

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So, after

Tiny Peeta POV "so after" drabble

@rosegardeninwinter and @triassictriserratops are to blame for this getting yanked out of my head

I look at her flushed cheeks and awe struck eyes in total euphoria. Something shifts in her expression and it’s a familiar look, something both soft and knowing, long suffering and friendly. It’s a look I’ve seen a thousand times from her. This morning, last week, in the quell, in her kitchen, on the train. I can’t think of when I first saw that particular gaze, it’s become such second nature to accept it with a grin or a squeeze of the hand. For her to be here, naked in my arms with the red stain of pleasure still hot on her cheeks, and look at me the way she’s always looked at me… it’s…

Oh what a fool I’ve been. 

How much time have I wasted gifting her space that she didn’t ask for? How long have I ignored those looks, made excuses for intimacies, reasoned away every stubborn, reckless act of self sacrifice? My memories of the quell are some of the hardest to sort through, but I know at least that we were in disagreement on who should make it home. Did I know then, and just lost the memory? Or did I push it down because I didn’t want to see it when I knew I wouldn’t make it back? 

Katniss dips her head to lay a petal soft kiss on my collar bone. How did I not notice? 

“You love me,” I breathe in realization. In shock. In shame for ignoring it all this time. “Real or not real?” 

Her eyes flick up to meet mine, and I watch my words settle over her. She smiles. 

“Real.” 

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