#buffy imagine

[gemstone-roses]

Giles X reader

Me and @my-head-is-an-animal were talking and agreed what needed to be done about the lack of fics for Giles. So here we are.

Thankyou so much @my-head-is-an-animal for reading this over and giving me some fab advice!

Summary: Giles helps you through an anxiety attack.

Word count: 1k ish.

Warnings: contains descriptions of an anxiety attack, loneliness, vague mentions of how people and life can be unkind sometimes. Heavy hurt comfort vibes I can't stop thinking about being comforted by this man okay.

A:N- everyone experiences anxiety differently and this fic will reflect my experiences, but I hope this brings comfort to anyone reading this, as it did for me when writing it. As always 18+ only thankyou! This took SO long to write so please be nice and kind thanku 😊.

Giles knew immediately he liked you. There was something about you, something, endearing.

You walked in one evening after seeing the assistant required poster on the town noticeboard and when Giles had asked what qualifications you had you responded simply and almost nervously, 'I love books'.

He'd held out his hand and chuckled 'your hired'.

You'd become fast friends with the British librarian ever since. Helping him get books for his students… and the buffy gang, you soon became familiar with the layout of the library.

You spent your evenings curled up in the chair, books piled lazily on the floor, and before long you didn't even need to hesitate to remember the shelf when giles or willow asked for a specific book.

You stayed late most nights, Giles would turn off the main lights and make you a cup of tea while you read and he researched. He looked adorable with his glasses hanging out his mouth when he was thinking .He'd hand you the steaming mug, saucer too, because he's Giles, with a smile each time.

It's been a busy week, every night you've stayed late with giles and buffy and co to help deal with some demon or other.

Finally, the demon was dealt with and buffy and everyone left to have some sort of socialising after a night of battling. You just want to curl up with a book, you've felt off all day and nothing has quite snuffed out that feeling. Usually when you felt like this you'd curl up under the thickest blankets you could find in your place and you'd fiddle with the chain on your neck.

It was a simple piece of jewellery, the small circle hanging in the middle of the chain contained your favourite quote from one of your favourite books in tiny writing. It brought you comfort whenever your hands reached for it. The words brought you comfort.

You'd always found more comfort and affection in books than in people. In the past, life or rather, some people in it, had not been kind to you.

And when that happened, you found your escape in books.

"Tea?" Giles asks, sighing, sending a small smile your way.

"Mm no thanks" you shook your head. You shivered slightly.

"Are you alright?" Giles asks, eyebrows raised, you never turn down a cup of tea from him, it worried him slightly, but he pressed on.

"Mm, just tired" you assured him with a small smile.

Giles is unconvinced.

"Right" he says, and he does that little nod that he does when he's not really paying attention when he's researching and someone talks to him, except this time he is paying attention.

"I'll just put these books back and then I'll get off for the night" you say, your not looking at him though, almost past him. standing up and gathering the books with one hand, the other hand wraps around the chain hanging round your neck, twisting it round your fingers.

"Y/n?" Giles asks, and you're far too concentrated on holding onto the pile of books in your hand you don't notice he's right in front of you.

"Giles" you say, finally looking up at him, your sure that his piercing but concerned gaze can see right through you, right through to your heart hammering in your chest.

Giles takes the books out of your hand gently and places them on top of the shelf.

His hand comes back and lingers on your arm.

"What's the matter?" And he asks so softly you think you might break down then.

Your hand goes back to fiddle with the chain around your neck, it's the only thing you know for a fact brings you even an ounce of comfort ,but Giles reaches for your hand instead, pulling it away, he closes his hand, which is much bigger than yours, around it.

It's a gesture your unfamiliar with.

"I- I'm fine" you whisper

Giles frowns, his hand still holding yours.

"It's alright" he whispers, and the hand that's on your arm squeezes

You close your eyes and let out a shaky breath.

"Hey look at me" Giles says softly.

"m sorry, I don't, i cant- " you go dizzy, your breathing becomes faster, your head spins.

"Breathe,y/n" Giles says. His tone is laced with concern as he looks at you, your chest heaves as he moves his hand to your chin.

"Y/n, i got you" he says softly, his hand swipes at a tear running down your cheek.

"No" you whisper, and Giles frowns again but this time its because he can see you're not used to this kind of… affection, of this kind of.. comfort. And Giles feels a sudden pang of sadness at that,and then an overwhelming urge to make sure you never feel so alone again.

"Come here" he whispers, pulling you into his tight embrace.

You wrap your arms around him like your clinging to a life raft.

"There you go, I got you love" he comforts.

Giles holds you until you've stopped shaking.

"What can I do?" He asks after a moment, still not letting you go.

"im cold" you whisper,

"and tired" you added.

"Come on" he says, ushering you over to the couch in his little office.

Giles shrugs off his jacket and places it over you, when he's satisfied your sufficiently tucked in with his jacket, he sits in the corner of the couch, pulling you close to him.

you bring your knees up to your chest as you curl into him.

His fingers move slowly up and down your arm, comforting. Safe.

"Giles?" You whisper, and he stops and moves slightly.

"Hmm?" He says

"Thankyou" you say softly, and you wrap your arm around his waist and drift off in his embrace.

[tenderjock]

BUFFY: i can be meaner. if you'd like?? companion(ish) to this

[the-crooked-library]

does anyone else think about Spike and Giles looking at each other and seeing a personification of the most despised and vulnerable aspects of their own past or is it just me

[evieelyzabethh]

Warmer than a Comforter

pairing(s): Spike x fem!reader

summary: it wasn't unusual for Spike to 'break' into your apartment, but it was unusual for him to want to spend the night.

warnings: very long (4.4k words), spike being a simp, one bed trope, dry humping, thigh fucking, masturbation, some fingering, slight praise, Spike being Spike, a smidge of possessiveness, and thats about it

It was no secret to anyone your favorite time of day was long after the sun went down. A full-time college student who worked a part time job on top of that was no easy feat. Your time during the day was never your time, it was your shitty professors time who assigned reading after reading that needed to be read for the never-ending stream of papers and theses, it belonged to your shitty boss who piled on tons of paperwork and demanded you be at his beck and call even after you clocked out. As much as you loved them, your time off belonged to your friends; patrolling, looking through dusty-old books, trying not to die every time you stepped out of your apartment.

When you got home (if there was no patrolling to be done), it was your time and while you were tired, you made time for your nightly routine. You'd slip off your shoes and walk in the dark to make it to your room to turn on your lamp, because you'd be damned if you were turning on one of the big lights this late.

You would usually strip down and dig a pair of pajamas out of your drawers before taking a scalding shower. You'd brush your teeth and wash your face, maybe if you had the energy, you'd do a face mask and paint your nails. You'd turn on your stereo or switch on your TV to fall asleep to the fuzzy sound and soft light. This, of course, is what you'd be doing right now had you not walked into your house with company.

You could see him lounging on your bed, the darkness of his attire somehow darker than your unlit room. His duster slung on the back of your desk chair, only clothed in some tight navy shirt and jeans.

"What are you doing here, Spike?" You crossed your arms over your chest, annoyed when you realized he had his dirty ass boots on your bed.

"M' paying my favorite Scooby a visit." You walked over to turn on your lamp, giving you enough light to see how smug he was. His arms sat behind his head, his eyes glittering with amusement. He was doing this to annoy you. He did most things just to annoy you.

"Pay another Scooby a visit." You were dead tired, practically forcing your eyes open. You had just gotten back from work, your bag still in your hand which you used to knock his legs off your bed. He could've been stubborn, but he let you.

You stripped off your hoodie, flashing him your stomach as your undershirt rose with the movement. He whistled, "Scandalous."

"Get out of my apartment." You tossed your hoodie at him while rolling your eyes. He caught it midair, bringing it to his nose to sniff it.

"Smells different. You using a different bodywash?" You hummed as you walked around your room to find something suitable to wear to bed. It was dreadfully hot out, even worse than what you'd expect from a California summer. You had at least 3 fans going anytime you were here, especially since your landlord could never seem to find a permanent solution to the junky A.C unit.

"Midnight Rose. Real fancy stuff." You hadn't even noticed a difference, but of course Spike would. Vampire senses had a way of being intrusive in a way that was only helpful when it came to your cycle and saving you bed sheets.

"I like the other one better: the cocoa butter one. It was fainter. You smelt more like you." You scoffed.

"Duly noted." Your hands roamed over the old t-shirts from high school and camisole tops so old the straps had snapped on a couple of them.

Spike sat up on your bed, untying the laces on his shoes haphazardly before setting them by your bedroom door. He roamed around like you had been, picking up bottles of nail polish and flipping through one of the books on your shelf.

"You could spare me a bit of your attention, love. I mean I did go through the trouble of-"

"Breaking into my apartment?" You interrupted.

"On second thought, it was a bit easy. I pushed it a bit and the window came right out. Are you leaving it open for somebody?" His tone was supposed to sound much more teasing than it did. There was a pang in his chest, probably of jealousy. Much to his chagrin, he was jealous a lot these days and he couldn't quite tell if his frequent visits were enabling that or the very cause of it. Either way, it was hard not to just crawl through your window anytime he pleased.

You acted like you were annoyed and if he had a dollar for every time you threatened to call Buffy on him, he wouldn't need to dumpster dive for furniture. If he had another dollar for every time, you never followed through, he'd be even richer. You said it's because you could handle yourself without her help, but, admittedly, you didn't hate his company that much.

As far as house guests go, it could be worse. It's not like he eats all your food, talks your ears off, or is unfunny. He was just there. A pain in your ass sometimes, like when he insists on being half a step behind you during patrols and never fails to tell you how great your ass looks from behind. Never a malevolent presence, just annoyingly noticeable.

His boots were clunky, and he smelled of faint cigarettes and alcohol. He also hated silence. He was fidgety and anxious, even if his intentions were stealth, he couldn't help but break the tension and open his mouth. At times against his will, he just wanted to be noticed that bad. He just needed to be around you that bad.

"I keep telling the landlord to fix it, but he insists it's just fine. 'Nothin' some glue won't fix'." But you had tried gluing it. Had it not been for the clear shit jammed in the lock, the window would've just come right open with the flick of a finger.

"I could fix it for you." He went ignored while you had made your way to your bathroom, taking your hair down from the claw clip it had been stuck in for the past few hours. A slight moan of relief slipped through your lips as your fingers carded through it to massage your scalp.

"You know how to fix windows?"

"Well...no. But it can't be that hard. I've been around a few hundred years, surely I can figure out how to fix a bloody window." What he meant to say (if he had the balls) was that he would be more than happy to learn how to fix a window for you. It would give him an excuse to hang around, it would keep him in your good graces for a solid month, and he wouldn't have to break an entering anymore. Granted, his preferred place of entry had long been broken and he could always come through the front door, but it was a matter of principle.

You looked him up and down, trying to decipher if this was a set up for a joke or if he was actually serious, but he kept his head down. He hadn't been able to blush since he was a human, but the habit had a way of rearing its head for you.

He was so pretty too. With his high cheekbones and the way the warm light made his complexion look less ghastly. As ironic and cliche as it would be to say, he looked slightly angelic. Like one who fell from Heaven and donned the dark and mysterious charade to make it hurt less. He would burn away under a cross just to make it back to Heaven. Nearly break his spine falling out of windows and bleed out taking stabs if it meant he was closer to your doors. If there was one thing Spike did well, it was devotion.

"You wouldn't even know where to start. I'll just call Xander or something."

"What're you gonna do that for!"

"Because, Spike," you laughed incredulously, confused as to if this was going to become an argument or form a chip on his shoulder. "If I want something fixed, I'm going to call someone who does it for a living."

"But would Xander do it for free?"

"Would you?"

"I wouldn't charge anything of monetary value." You snorted, not surprised at all with his answer.

"You are such a whore, you know that?"

"What can I say, baby?" He leaned against the door frame of your bathroom, where you stood staring at your reflection in the mirror. He was happy that his nonexistent reflection could betray him. He was grateful to be a part of this routine - your routine- in a way that didn't disrupt your peace. It was soft. Almost domestic.

You were so meticulous about the way you scrubbed your face and brushed your teeth. He liked how when you took off your makeup the glitter remained. You sparkled at the right angles, really fucking sparkled. Of course, he was going to sit and stare at you; mascara still not completely wiped away, hair tied back with a fuzzy headband, lips agitated from being bit throughout the day. It was poetic. Second nature to him. He didn't need to breath, but it came to him then, overwhelming and filling his lungs like water until he was full as he stared at you in the mirror with not even his own reflection to judge him.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower."

"How rude, without me?" Damn, he sounded like a bloody idiot. You only looked him up and down, trying to appear deeply disgusted but stopped just shy of mildly annoyed.

"Get out of my apartment before I stake you." You slammed the bathroom door in his face, hiding your blush behind the wood.

"That's not a no." His voice is muffled behind the door, and as much as you'd like to believe he didn't hear it, you did laugh.

***********************************************************

Spike had to have been a cat in a previous life, is what you decided when you found him still on your bed, nose in some magazine he found pretending to care about the newest Natasha Denona palette.

"That crypt must be uncomfortable as hell for you to still be here." You skated around your room to sink beside him. He reaches across his side to pull out a bottle of water and hands it to you.

"Your showers are hot as hell; I'm surprised you didn't pass out in there." He flips through the pages nonchalantly, pretending not to be incredibly fixated at the water dripping from the nape of your neck and disappearing into your shirt.

"You would've loved that, wouldn't you? Getting to play 'knight and shining armor' while I'm conveniently naked." The sound waxy pages being torn was a surprise. So much of you and his banter was contingent on the assumption that neither of you meant anything serious so nothing would become anything.

Spike, who spent most of his mortal adult life swallowing his feelings until his stomach became an endless chasm where his feelings went to fester rather than die, was more than okay with this unspoken arrangement. Sarcasm was a second language to you. You were used to your words not mattering, especially since in your group of friends, your existence seemed to matter far less than everyone else's. You wondered if that was why you and Spike got along so well.

He just got you. Maybe a side effect of him being around you whenever he could. He just got you. In a stupid way. In an annoying way. The kind of way that made you worried that reading minds was also one of his vampiric powers. He wormed his stupid way into your brain, slithering around in his own sort of Spike way til you didn't know where his influence began.

He did sort of have this hypnotic way of speech. Maybe because he was a poet. Poets have to have some sort of hypnotic power, right? Surely, there was some connection between rhythms and brain waves that made the effect of Spike's voice so persuasive. Maybe it's not the rhythm and it's just the honesty. Ironic, since the basis of your "relationship" was built on never assuming that the other meant what they said, but who cares. It gave you guys flavor. Something to keep things interesting.

"I'll have you know; I am a very old-fashioned guy with manners." You snorted as his response. He talked about his "old-fashioned" ways a lot. Maybe to convince you that he was a gentleman. Gentleman your ass, you'd seen what he kept in his crypt.

"My deepest apologies for assuming that a guy that used railroad spikes as a murder weapon of choice wouldn't be above jumping at the opportunity to see me naked."

"Am I that transparent?"

"When it comes to mirrors, yeah." His scoff was lost in the sound of a car horn going off across the street. Damn, you needed a new place. He had complained to you about the noise before. If you didn't leave near a busy street, he would try his luck spending the night far more than he already did. Each blare deepened the scowl on his face as he flinched at the sound, even louder from where he sat in front of it.

"Those death buggies have to be the worst thing to come out of the 20th century. So obnoxious, and for what?"

"I imagine they are more convenient than horse drawn carriages."

"Yeah, more convenient and not even half the charm." He turned his head to gaze out the window. "It's not even a nice car! I'd rather ride around in the fucking Angel Mobile than drive around in that thing."

"You are so dramatic. Usually I just," you swing your leg over his waist, straddling and reaching over to close the window. He swallowed hard at the feeling of your chest pressing against the magazine, the only boundary between him and you, and the nonchalance of the action. "Shut the window." You felt him tense beneath you, his right hand awkwardly meeting your hip, blue eyes staring up at you through dark eyelashes. "Then again, I'm not a pansy who needs complete silence to sleep."

He cleared his throat before he spoke. "I sleep in a cemetery, love, ain't much noise around those parts." His eyes wandered everywhere they could but the worst part about beautiful people is that there is no unsightly place to avert your gaze. He couldn't stare at your gorgeous eyes, or your stunning nose, or your lips to distract himself from the steadily growing boner that you were sitting right on top of. You were no better than he was.

Within the context of the unspoken agreement, this meant absolutely nothing. The boner was just a normal reaction, that didn't have to mean anything. The way he was looking at you was a bit hard to ignore, but that was the way he always looked at you. He was a lot closer right now, sure, but that stupid lovesick look that you have spent years trying to ignore, totally just a joke. Not real at all. A trick of the light, in fact. The hard-on was very real though.

After sitting there for a few seconds too long, you shift your weight to move back to your side of the bed, but his hands keep you in your place. " 'm cold", he mutters, his thumb rubbing circles between where your shorts meet your bare skin.

"Yeah?" You feel him pressing up against your core. "I didn't think you could get cold."

" Me either but-", you lowered yourself completely on his clothed dick and the groan he let out was salacious. "Here we are." The frigid way he moved made his lie believable. Incredibly cautious, hesitant. No idea what to do with himself. He ran his hands along your thighs, up and down your side, one cold hand sliding underneath your shirt, rubbing the hem of it between his pointer finger and his thumb.

You leaned forward, warm breath fanning against his nose. It smelled like mint. You smelled like some sort of cocoa butter. Smooth and soft on top of him and he didn't know if you were going to roll right off or melt into his skin. Your hands come to the sides of his face, and you stare intently at him. He felt like he was under a microscope with the way you looked at him like you were committing each detail of him to memory so that even when you closed his eyes, it was still him burning in the forefront of your mind.

"You gonna kiss me?" You whispered, pressing yourself further into him. He let out a breathy laugh.

"What, a guy's always gotta make the first move?" With that, you leaned down to give him what was meant to be a quick peck. A tester. A tease. But when you give Spike an inch, he takes a mile, and he took the opportunity to devour you. Mouth open, sloppy, wet kisses while his hands worked as eagerly as his tongue did. You were a calming presence, slow and sane as you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt to try and ground the both of you.

Breathing through your nose, you inhaled him. The faint smell of smoke, the fresh smell of whatever he washed the gel from his hair with, the distinctly Spike musk. Your thighs wrapped him more closely, subtly grinding into his lap, ignoring the slight burn on your knees from the friction between them and your sheets. His large hands covered swathes of skin, cooling you where you grew too hot from his touch. When he had his fill, he broke away from you, still nose to nose, a string of saliva still between the two of you.

"Do you wanna spend the night?" Your voice was somehow meek as if there was any way in hell he would say no to you. He breathed out, turning his head into the crook of your neck, leaving searing kisses on your silky skin, worshipping at his altar, and thanking who or whatever got him here tonight. He kisses you from your neck, along your jawline, to the corner of your lips.

"Yes", he whispers against your skin. He bucks his hips into you, the imprint of his cock and the rough material of his jeans kissing your pussy through the thin layers of material. You nearly choke on his tongue at the feeling. Fuck.

Your eyes are closed, hips moving furiously against his, too blissed out to even care about the steadily growing wet patch in your underwear. You're lost in kisses, kisses that overwhelm and confuse and steal your breath until you wonder how much you need to breathe anyway. Along with not needing to breathe, you learned they must have incredible resolve. He chases you. Not like how a wolf chases a lamb but how the sun chases the moon.

He pulls and you push for breath, some sort of reprieve, some time for your mind to catch up with your body because right now everything but the way the seams of his jeans catch your clit is one of the only things on your mind. He pulls you, still, his hands squeezing at your waist, moving up to cup your breasts, thumbing at your nipples, and flicking the already hard peaks. And you push, still, not in protest but in harmony. Your hips pressing down, his jerking up. Your hands tugging his hair, his squeezing your waist. It was good. It was so good.

"What is the point", he starts breathlessly, "of these damn shorts if they're so thin. You're leaking right through, love." He smiles against you, sharp teeth grazing against your cheek as he smirks.

"Take 'em off me then." For once in his life, he takes his time. The desperation of his prior movements forgotten as he looks at you as he trails a finger from your chest down between the valley of your breasts, to your navel. He draws invisible shapes along your stomach, diamonds, hearts, and letters spelling m-i-n-e. And he stalls there. Looking from beneath you, smug as you ground yourself onto his dick in an attempt to move him along.

He was amused. Fascinated. You in your own world, mewling, moaning, putting on a show just for him. Choosing to ignore how sticky your panties had gotten, how much they stuck to your cunt as you wiggled your hips as if you could get any closer. Your tits moving with you, the way your mouth was slightly agape, the way you keened when you rubbed against him just right. It was no motivation for him to move his hands at all, not when it was much more rewarding to angle his hips up and make you see stars. "You gonna cum like this?" He crooned, full of fake sympathy.

"You're really gonna make me get myself off." You rolled your eyes, maybe out of pleasure, maybe out of faux annoyance. Either way, his hand slithered to the waistband of your shorts and dipped even deeper. He left feather-light touches on your clit which sent jolts of electricity up your spine. Overcome with the tightening feeling in your belly, your hands grabbed at his shoulders as your hips worked and worked you snapped. Impossibly wet and dazed, you rocked into him until the high had passed and the stars had left from behind your eyelids leaving only Spike.

His fingers still, in your panties, he moves to slide them and your shorts off your body. You hover slightly, still too sensitive to rub your bare pussy against him. You fidget with the button of his jeans and zipper, Spike's hands coming to cover yours to ease the shakiness. Maybe to give the appearance that he was much calmer than he was. He was painfully hard, and you felt it when you palmed him through his boxers after getting his pants down enough. Where his tip sat was a wet spot. You smirked.

"Did I get your dick that wet?" A shiver went down his spine. The heat from your palm was felt through his boxers. Your hand was barely big enough to cover it. Before either of you was prepared for it, he flipped you on your back. His hands sat on either side of your head while yours removed him from his boxers. He was so big.

You tore your gaze away from his cock to meet his gaze. He still looked at you the same. Pupils widened from lust, cheeks with a slightly pink tinge, lips puffy, eyes looking down at you with the same look they always had. It's then he leans down to kiss you for the millionth time. No urgency, less messy, a kiss like he was trying to wake you from a thousand-year slumber.

Your hand still on his cock, you pumped it a few times, swiping your thumb against his tip to lubricate his dick. He groaned into your mouth, humming in pleasure. You try to line him up to sink in your hole, but he slaps you on the wrist. "Don't want your cunt tonight," he mumbled in between kisses, "Jus' let me feel you."

He pumped his cock a few times before slotting it in between the meat of your thighs. The veins and ridges of his dick would occasionally slide between your folds, but that wasn't the focus. No matter how much you wiggled for him to plant his cock so far deep it kissed your cervix, you were ignored as he squeezed your thighs together, panting as he fucked them.

The juxtaposition made your head dizzy. The softness with which he kissed you and the fervor of his dick between your thighs, them getting wetter with the accumulation of precum leaking from his dick. It only forced him to press harder, leaving handprints from how hard he gripped. "Such a pretty thing, aren't you." He sighed out, his pace still even but his breaths far from it. "Go ahead and touch that pretty cunt f' me."

As much as your brain wasn't working, it wasn't needed to do what you were told. Bleary-headed, your hand traveled from the outside of your leg to between your folds. Still wet from your previous orgasm, it didn't take much to just slip a couple fingers in, moaning as you did. One hand toyed with your tit as the other toyed with your clit, your hips wanting to buck into your hand had it not been for Spike's palm on your stomach.

Had he had the composure, he would have made some sarcastic comment. Slow down, love, what's the rush, is what he would've said had his thrusts not been as sloppy as they were. He pulled away from your lips to see the mess he was making. White beads pooled on the skin of your stomach, dripping down your thighs like liquid pearls. And you. Low warm light bouncing off your skin, lip tucked in your teeth, staring right up at him. It took all of him not to cum at the sight.

Not before you did, he decided, which by the way your moans pitched up wasn't that far away. Each "accidental" slide into you was met with a jerk of your hips. "Stop it", you squealed, the bucking of your hips screaming otherwise.

"Feels too good, doesn't it." Then he did it again. His large hand drifts around before grabbing your abandoned tit, groping it until you hit your limit again. Your chest heaved unevenly as you tried to catch your breath as Spike's hips sped up, stuttered, then stopped as his cum splashed on your stomach and breasts.

Spent and not knowing what to do, he kisses you again. He smiles into it, and to his surprise, you do too. Like it was the only thing that made sense to do. The fuzz gradually fades from your mind, the noise from the multiple fans running and the faint humming of electricity apparent again. There's a breeze coming in from your window and you giggle.

"Are you still cold?"

[itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland]

Dream of You (Spike x Y/N)

Requested: YES! Requested by @wtv-my-current-hyperfixation

TW: Smut. so much smut.

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

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Giggles and breathy laughter fills the room. Shared glances and touches of desire. You laid in Spike's arms satiated and content. Your body marked and sore. Nights like this were things if novellas and steamy dreams. Spike caressed your hair as he whispered how proud he was of how well you took him. You blushed and smiled. You wanted this to be forever. You wanted it to be real. You reach for his skin, but it's gone. You're left alone, again in your own bed.

You wake up aroused and moist, again. These dreams are a nightly recurrence, something of routine. Your desire for your dear friend Spike was getting out of hand. You wanted him not just on but inside you. However, you would be mortified if he found out. 

You get out of bed and go straight for a shower. On a lazier day you would play with yourself to meet some of those needs. Today you were in a hurry. It was your nightly date-ish with Spike. You would sit around his crypt and watch tv. You wanted to make sure you ran all your errands before nightfall.

Most of the day is spent running around town, getting things for tonight. You were sure to get all of Spike's favorites, including a couple of blood bags from the butcher. Before heading to the cemetery you decide to pop into The Magic Shop.

"I just need bone powder and it'll be done" Willow commented to Buffy. 

"I'd rather not grind out demon bones." Buffy responded. 

"No, silly. It's on the top shelf to your left."

Willow continued making her spell. She worked diligently to make sure all the ingredients and words were correct. 

"Hello, peeps. What it do?" Y/n walks into the store. 

The scoobies greet y/n as she walks up to Willow. 

"What are you up to?" Y/n asks Willow directly.

"Oh, a truth spell!"

"Who are we truthing?"

"Spike."

"Spike!" Your voice gets a pitch higher.

"Yep. Buffy thinks he's being dishonest, and she needs information from him."

"Don't you need his hair for that?"

Willow pulls out a small vial with blondish hair. "Got it." She grins. 

You look nervous but say nothing. You feel out of place, but you stay. You make sure to be helpful and calm. You didn't know why Spike being under a truth spell made you uncomfortable. You mulled over the ethics of what your friends were doing but instead you came up with an idea. If Willow casts the spell while you were with Spike you could ask him how he feels about you. You're quick to gather yourself and head out with a quick goodbye. 

You basically skip all the way to Spike's crypt.

As you enter the crypt you hear Spike running around downstairs. He hears the door and runs up to the main floor. 

"Don't close that door!" He yells

It was too late; you had shut the door. Spike looks frustrated. He sighs in exasperation. 

"What?" You ask.

"I've been trapped in here for 2 days the bloody door is stuck and only opens from the outside."

"Oh... uh oh." It dawns on you that you're now trapped with Spike. You feel giddy but scared. How long will it take for someone to bust in through that door. Worst, now you can't question Spike while he's under the truth spell. If he says he feels the same shenanigans can ensue, but if he says no than you're trapped here with your shame. 

You wring your hands nervously. Spike walks up to you unsure if to shake you or hug you. He notices the care basket you made for them.

"What's this?" He points to the basket. 

"Well, the plan was for us to watch trash tv and eat junk food. I even brought baggies of blood for you. But I guess our plan is to survive." You take a long look at the door. 

Spike palms his face in frustration. Of course, his planned "date" night with you would be ruined. Suddenly he perks up. If the door is shut for now that means you would have to stay with him, share his space... share his bed. 

He takes you by the hand and leads you to the couch he found in the dumpster. 

"Let's make the most of it." He grins. 

You nod and sit back. You spent the night watching tv and eating. It was 2am and your eyes were drooping. Spike noticed and turned off the tv. 

"You can take the bed." He mumbled as he walked you down to his room.

You're suddenly awake. His bed. You can share it. Wait... are you even ready for that intimacy. You risk it. 

"We can share. I trust you" you say cheeks burning red. 

Spike is chipper but downplays it. He assents and lets you lay down. 

"I'll be down in a bit." Spike tucks you in and scurries back to the couch.

You find it hard to fall asleep. Your heartbeat in your ears. You were sharing your crush's bed, and you were stuck with him. What is this a Wattpad story? Eventually, your eyes close and you're off to dreamland. 

Soft touches and passionate gazes. Bodies intertwined in lust and love. You breathe hard finding your sanity as Spike thrusts into you at a steady pace. Your eyes are rolled back into your head. Chest down, ass up, you were at his mercy. He grabs your hair keeping you in place. Your moans are lewd and loud. You feel yourself closer to the edge, closer to release. His hand finds your swollen bud and plays with it in circles. It makes you see stars. You're climbing, soaring, so close to your release. 

"Y/n"

You can’t speak.

"Y/n!" 

You awake in a startle. Your eyes adjust to see Spike over you. You pull the covers up to your chest as your brain adjusts and remembers where you're at. 

"Are you okay?" Spike asks

"Y- yes... why?" 

"You were mumblin' in your sleep. At some point you were yellin'. "

You blush ferociously. "Did I say anything?"

"Nah, love. I couldn’t make it out. 

You sigh in relief. He looks at you confused. 

"It was probably a bad dream" you mumble. You turn around and pretend to go back to sleep to avoid further questions. 

It's 4pm and you and Spike are wide awake and bored. You try to open the door to no luck. 

"Stop, pet. I already tried."

You sigh and turn to him. "What now?"

Spike walks to the couch and turns on the tv again. You give up, not knowing what to do, and sit by him. 

"Do you have any friends?" You ask

"No. Partners in crime, yes. Friends, no."

"Do you get bored of being a vampire?"

"No. I kill, I shag, and I sleep."

"Do you -" you're cut off

"Wha is this, 20 questions?" He turns to you annoyed. 

"I’m bored. Let's play a card game."

Spike obliges. He finds a deck of cards and you spent the next several hours playing cards in silence.

"I’m bored again." It was 8pm. 

"Let me ask you questions then." Spike grinned. 

You nodded, nervously. 

"Who was your first kiss?"

"Robert in third grade. Sloppy kisser."

"Cheeky."

"Who was your first love?"

"Jason in college. A real gentleman. Before you ask, we broke up because he developed a coke addiction."

"A real gentleman, indeed."

"Who's your last love?" Spike leaned in expectantly. 

You chuckled, nervous. "What? No question on who I lost my virginity to?" You tried to change the subject.

"It ain' Xander, is it?"

"I’m tired. More questions tomorrow, okay?"

Before he could respond you book it to Spike’s room. You lay down and close your eyes real tight in the hopes that Spike didn't trail after you. 

Dim lights and rustling. The scent of sex in the air. You're laid out, open and exposed. Spike is nowhere in sight. You feel slight pressure on your clit. You gasp as it increases. You look down to see a head of blonde hair. Your eyes widen as you notice what was happening. Spike's tongue played with your folds. He lavished your insides with his mouth. Your breath labored as you grabbed the sheets of the bed for dear life. He made sure to take his time. To memorize every crevice and nook you had to offer. He became drunk with your scent, your taste. You moaned his name like a Gregorian chant while he worshipped you. You felt your lower abdomen tighten as he lapped at your slit, rolling circles around it. You knew he would give you the best orgasm of your life and you were ready for it. You begged him for release. He prayed your juices would wash over his mouth so he could memorize your taste. You feel unstable, as if someone is shaking the bed. The movements becomes more prominent.

You wake up, groggy, disoriented. Spike, again staring down at you. 

"Love, are you okay? You were repeating my name over and over again."

"Um... I had a nightmare... about you...?"

"What about me?"

"Uhhh... You were being attacked... by a uh... demon! And I was scared for you." 

Spike is confused but takes your explanation as true. 

"What time is it?" You try to change the subject. 

"5pm."

You jump out of bed. "We gotta get out of here." You say for your sanity. 

Back at the Magic Shop Willow was ready to do her truth spell. All her ingredients in place and determination in her mind. Sadly, she had taken an extra ingredient in with all the others, a strand of your hair. As Willow works on the, unbeknownst to her, ruined spell Buffy beelined it to Spike's crypt. 

Back at the crypt only arguing can be heard. 

"You're acting weird." Spike accused.

"I’m just tired of being here!"

"So, you're tired o' me?"

"I didn't say that." You turn to him, exhausted and embarrassed. 

Pounding comes from the outside of the crypt. Buffy kicks down the door and goes straight for Spike. You're left standing there. 

"Where's the next big bad?" Buffy questioned Spike. 

"I already told you; I don't know." Spike looks helpless.

"You're lying. Why is the spell not working" Buffy shakes Spike. 

"What spell?" Spike asks.

"A truth spell for you." You chime in without your consent. 

Both Spike and Buffy look at you. Spike was surprised and Buffy annoyed. You were confused at your own statement. You didn't intend to tell the truth. 

Buffy punches Spike a couple of times before questioning him again. When she didn't get an answer, she dropped him and walked away furious. 

You just stand there until you remember your fight with Spike. You had to get out of there. 

"Oh, no you don't" Spike grabs your forearms. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I've been having sexual dreams about you." You blurt out before you can stop yourself. Your free hand flies to your mouth. You mentally reprimand yourself. 

Spike takes in what you said. A grin painted on his face.

"You don't say, love. Out of curiosity, what are we doing in these sexual dreams" He leans in. 

Your eyes widen and your mouth starts moving. You tell him about the lewd and lustful acts you have dreamed about. You confess to waking up wet and pent up. You put yourself out there in display for him to ravage the carnage of your secrets. 

Spike's face hurts from smiling so wide. 

"Now tell me, why would you have these dreams about us?"

You try to bite your tongue but it's too late, "Cause I’m in love with you."

Spike wastes no time claiming your mouth. He memorizes how you taste, how soft your lips are, the way you closed your eyes to kiss him. 

"Ler me show you what I can really do." He whispers against your lips. 

He picks you up bridal style and walks you down to his bedroom. With care he places you on his bed. He climbs on top of you, kissing you as he settles between your legs. 

Impatient, you start tugging at his clothes trying to get them off. 

"Easy. All in its due time." He says. 

He trails kisses down you jaw to your neck, nipping on his way down. Carefully, he removes your shirt and your bra. You resist the urge to cover yourself from his prying eyes. His gaze is lustful, like a predator eyeing his prey. 

His mouth makes a path between you neck all the way to your breast. With great care he places his mouth on your left nipple, giving it the attention it deserved. With his right hand he massaged your right breast. All synchronous so as to stimulate you and prepare you for what’s coming next. He alternated between breasts, sending little jolts of pleasure through your body. 

With little haste he made his way to your abdomen and found his way to his prize. He nestled himself between your legs inhaling your scent. Without much wait he dived in, lapping at your folds, twisting his tongue on your clit, memorizing your taste. 

You gripped the bed sheets as hard as you could. Your back arching, reaching for him. Your body was alive and electric. He didn't slow down his assault, giving you no space for a deep breath. You moan and beg. You're at odds with yourself. You need release but want to savor the moment.

Spike is observant of the rise and fall of your chest. He tracks your moans and whimpers as he plays with speed and pressure. He has never been this hungry. He decided that he wants to have you wash over him. He wants your release. He inserts two fingers in you while still lapping at your clit. He chases your orgasm with his nimble hands and expert tongue. You swear that your soul is being exorcised out of your body as you crash and spill all over with your release. You're a whimpering, shaking mess. You gasp for air as you slowly land back in your body. 

As you look down you see Spike, still between your legs, grinning. Pleased but not satisfied, yet. You make a move to stand up, but he's on you faster than you can speak. He claims your mouth, inviting you to taste yourself on his lips. You're drunk on your own taste on his tongue. 

As you passionately make out, Spike makes quick work of his clothes. He's ready to claim you. You're giddy and pliant. 

"Are you gonna be a good girl for me?" He asks.

You nod, unable to form a single word. 

When he finally releases his erection from his pants you're surprised. How are you going to take all of him? He's so big and hard. Spike can read the uncertainty in your face. He cups your cheek gently and places his forehead against yours. 

"It'll be alright. If it's too much just tap me on the arm and I'll stop."

You nod again, determined. 

He teases your entrance and clit by rubbing the head of his cock back and forth. Slowly entering you every now and then but then retreating from your entrance, so as to prepare you for his size. Your whimpers fill the room. You want him so much. He can tell you're getting impatient, so he aligns himself and slowly enters you. He stays still, letting you acclimate to his size. Your breath is labored, you're almost delirious with pleasure. You can't believe this is happening. 

He slowly moves, rocking back and forth, giving you a rhythm to hold on to. You moan in tandem. Your eyes brimming in tears from the pleasure. 

"Look at you, taking me so well." Spike praises you. 

You give a lustful smile, too lost to register his words. 

He picks up the pace. Thrusting in and out, in and out. Giving you what you asked for. Giving you heaven on earth. You beg for him to go deeper. You needed him completely. Spike chuckles and thrusts harder. His movements are rough and long, giving you a chance to feel every vein and curvature on his cock. You push up against him with your hips, meeting his every thrust. He looks down at you, drunk on sex, admiring how beautiful you look out of breath and disheveled. 

He feels your legs shaking. He can tell you're close. 

"Are you gonna come for me, love? I want to hear you say my name. Remember who’s taking you.”

You can barely nod as you chase your orgasm, focusing on his movements. Taking him all into you. Memorizing how he feels and how he makes you feel. 

Your body ceases and you gasp as your orgasm crashes over you, like a tidal wave. Your veins are full of electricity. You’re seeing stars. You hold onto him while you repeat his name, over ad over again. Music to his ears. Spike holds you, never stopping his fierce thrusts. He wants you to remember who is claiming you.

"Good girl" he litters your face with kisses as you work to regain your breath. 

Spike never slows down, chasing his own high. Seeing you spent and tired knowing that he caused it makes him inch closer. He continues to thrust in you, sending aftershock ripples into you as he finds his own release. He fills you to the brim with his seed. He makes you his. 

You both stay connected. Breathing heavy. Satiated and in awe. He eventually pulls out of you with a little shiver. He lays down by your side pulling you close to him. You're both silly with pleasure, spent and happy. 

"Wow." Was all you could say.

"There's more where that came from. Rest up, because we have a lot of catching up to do."

You giggle, giddy for what your future with Spike holds. To think, all of these restless nights craving him and all you had to do was confess your love. You knew once the sun rises you’ll be tired and sore. Something that you’re looking forward to.

[readingbookelf]

Different Kind of Aftercare - Spike

Summary: Spike takes care of you after being thrown around by a demon.

Pairing: human!reader x Spike

My Writing | Taglist

You’re in your bathtub while Spike takes care of you. Earlier you got thrown around by a demon leaving enough damage that Spike even had to help you out of your clothes before you could slip into the tub. 

Spike is washing away all the grime and dirt when you hear him mumble something.

“What did you say,” you ask, voice cracking from disuse. 

“Nothing… It’s just…you have so many scars,” he answers breathlessly. 

You shudder as his fingers trace your old wounds. They’re all healed, but you don't like to think about all the scars littering your body, every attack still vivid in your mind.

“That’s the risk of running with the vampire slayer, I suppose,” you reply. 

Spike scoffs: “Isn’t the slayer supposed to protect you? I mean it’s her job description.”

“She can’t protect everyone at all times.”

You shrug. Buffy is an amazing slayer, but she often relied on you to take care of yourself. 

You absentmindedly run your fingers over the bite mark in the crook of your neck. “This one’s the worst,” you whisper, “The others are insignificant, really.”

“Every scar on your body is one too many,” Spike replies without hesitation. 

You rest your head on his shoulder as he calmly rubs your back. One of his hands runs over the scar in your neck as he curses his own kind. 

“I think you should get out of the bath so I can take care of those wounds,” Spike says. 

You stand up and Spike immediately wraps the fluffiest towel around your frame. 

“You dry off while I go and find some clothes,” he orders. 

“Yes, chef,” you chuckle, feeling a bit more like yourself.

Spike eventually returns with a big T-shirt and some shorts. 

“Weirdly enough, I found my shirt in your closet,” Spike says before handing you the T-shirt. 

“Really? I have no idea how that landed in my closet,” you nonchalantly reply while blush settles on your cheeks. 

“I’m sure you don’t,” Spike replies with a laugh.

After a lot of struggling on your part, Spike jumps in and helps you put on the T-shirt. You sit down on the closed toilet seat while you watch him take care of the big gash on your forearm. You were surprised he offered to take care of you tonight. You had a good relationship with the vampire, but never before had anyone offered to take care of you.

“Why are you taking care of me,” you whisper. 

“Because I care about you and you looked in no state to be alone tonight,” he replies. 

“Glad to know it wasn’t a plot just to see me naked,” you chuckle. 

“Oh that was just a bonus,” Spike laughs accompanied by a wink. 

“I can’t believe you saw me naked before buying me dinner.”

“That dinner can be arranged, my love,” Spike answers. 

No hesitation, his love for you shining through in his voice. Blush coats your face as you grasp the significance of it all. 

Taglist: @cureleanrainblues

[clarkgriffon]

Xander Harris + Outfits (Season 1)

[liam-summers]

Sarah Michelle Gellar & David Boreanaz: Behind the Scenes, Anne 🌊

[boy-of-death]

I want to thank all the girls and the gays that are obsessed with shows that ended 10 years ago and still write about it. Thank you for your service, you are my sole lifeline 🫡

[prose-for-hire]

Evol (or, a backwards love story)

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: Hey I love your spike x reader fics I was wondering if you could do one were like they both have a crush on eachother and he invites her over to his crypt but it's super fluffy and he makes it all romantic with candles and shit

Reader isn't a big fan of pink but doesn't like hate it or anything (just a heads up in case you love pink (like me) and it takes you out of the story).

Requested by: anon

A/N: Be kind please this is the first fic I've done in ages! Hope this is okay, love 💖

You had been in deep thought, your mind travelling ahead of you as your limbs tried to follow. But your wandering mind had led you down an unknown path. You had taken a strange turn somewhere and found yourself in unchartered territory.

You were at a crossroads, in almost pitch darkness. The streetlights had disappeared a couple of streets ago and you weren’t entirely sure where you were. You were fumbling through the dark now, trying to find something to hold onto, to anchor you.

You found yourself connecting with something, a figure in the shadows. You groaned, the last thing you needed tonight was to get eaten, your top was brand new. You recoiled slightly but a pair of steady hands righted you. He, of course, could see in the dark.

“What’re you doing round these parts, pet?” His voice came from the darkness, retracting his hands, a flame from his lighter ignited so that you could see.

“Got kinda turned around… I’m lost”

“Can’t have that, can we, love? If you’re not careful somethin’ nasty might eat you up” His eyes glinted with amusement, his lips curled slightly in that irresistible way he did. Even when he was being ‘evil’ he was attractive to you. You were doomed to fall for him.

“What did we talk about Spike?”

“Too much?”

“Only a little” you smiled despite yourself, now unable to look up from your feet. You were afraid that you would reveal too much, he could read you like a book. He always had, ever since you met a year ago.

It was tongues and teeth. Blood and sweat. You were backed against the wall, the vibrations from the music pulsing through you. You grasped the black t-shirt that clung to him so perfectly, the vampire you had only heard about.

You knew he and Buffy had faced each other on numerous occasions, you just happened to miss him each time. You had met them in college and had only known of the stories about William the Bloody at this point. But you always liked to judge people for yourself, anyway. And, well, you hadn’t realised how beautiful he was, you had been taken by him as soon as he stomped up to the bar and sulkily ordered a beer.

You heard voices through the crowd, through the headiness of that moment. Voices you recognised. You pulled away, your face a picture; as if you had seen a ghost. You weren’t supposed to be here,

“Go home” He had hissed, covering you as you slid away. Taking Buffy’s attention.

You should have known then he had a soft spot. Or, well, the potential for one. Usually he would have relished the awkwardness of Buffy walking in to find you kissing a vampire. Drinking with demons and beating them at kitten poker. But if he had the chance to do that again he wasn’t going to ruin it by getting the ultimate mood slayer involved, now was he.

But you hadn’t ever had any real time alone since. Sure, sometimes it felt like you were both the only people in the room but there was barely a chance to even allude to what you had done let alone reignite the moment again. Though he of course tried at every moment he got.

“Got have plans, love? My crypt’s only down the way” he spoke softly, almost tentatively if you didn’t know better.

“I’m late. I’m supposed to meet some… friends” You hesitated and you knew he caught it before you looked back into his eyes. Eyes you were slowly being lost in.

“Not those bloody losers again. You’re better than them”

“Those losers are actually my friends”

“Friends that you hide yourself from” He shrugged, not entirely able to drop it. He couldn’t hide his distaste for Buffy and the others.

Despite it all he gestured with his head, offering to take you to your friends. Even though you knew Sunnydale quite well after moving into your dorm a year ago and running around the town many times after (or often away from) demons, you still got lost a lot. It was a kind of running joke amongst the other scoobies.

He lit a cigarette as you rounded the corner, only pausing to offer you one which you declined with a soft smile. A smile that made him want to drop to his knees and declare his undying love for you. It pained him, how soft he was for you.

He shoved the other hand in the pocket of his duster, jaw tensing as he saw your friends speaking rapidly, apparently concerned about something. Willow noticed you first.

“We thought you’d been all ookified, we were worried!” She flung herself around you with a big smile of relief.

“You got lost, huh?” Buffy said with a smile, which quickly dropped when she noticed the company you were in.

“Yeah, Spike helped me get my bearings. Thanks, again” You grinned, despite Xander and Buffy’s distaste. Anya patted your head a little patronisingly at your habit of getting yourself lost.

“Anytime, pet”

“Yeah, right, evil dead is only good for being evil… and dead”

“Not that I’m not enjoying the boy’s wit, but I’ll be off now” He addressed only you, hoping to keep the barbs at his expense from the group to a minimum. Someone muttered something distasteful about Spike, which was of course in his earshot, but he didn’t turn back around.

“He’s, like, the lowest of the low.” someone agreed, shaking her head at the figure walking away.

You weren’t sure why that moment was the moment. Why you spoke something that had been so safely unspoken.

“Spike! Spike, wait-”

“Y/n, what’re you doing?!” your friends called after you, still in earshot as Spike ditched his cigarette and swung around to face you.

“Love, you go and do the friendship thing with the meddlin’ kids, okay? I’d rather stake myself than spend an evening with them”

“I know, I was wondering if the offer’s still on that is, well, I’m free tomorrow night”

He put both hands in his duster, rocking on the balls of his feet and looking down. It was as if he thought you were being cruel to him. Taking him up on his offer just to hurt him by rejecting him in the next breath with all your friends watching. He had to know you better than that, surely.

You reached for his arm, willing him to feel what you felt. Know what you knew. That you and him were meant for each other, that this chance that you were trying to take meant a lot. For someone you had kissed so passionately before it was strange how nervous you were suddenly at even grazing his skin.

“After sunset, tomorrow at your crypt?” You asked softly, though the vulnerability in your voice bled through. He saw it, he saw that your intentions were pure. There were some gasps and some vague unimpressed whispering from your friends behind you but you couldn’t bring yourself to take notice.

Instead you waited with bated breath for his answer. You knew he had offered earlier but there was always the chance he was doing it to tease you. That he had no interest in you. That he was playing with you, looking for something quick and easy. You could do that, of course you could, if it meant being close with him. But it may just break your heart beyond recognition.

This purgatory, which only lasted a second, felt like it lasted hours. Your grip on him tightened, as if you were afraid he would slip away from you.

He nodded, to anyone else it probably looked as if he wasn’t bothered. What he didn’t know was that you could read him in the way he did for you. You saw the slight upturn of his mouth before it disappeared, you noticed the way his eyes searched you with wonder for a fraction of a moment. You knew then, for sure, he felt for you as deeply as you had started to fall for him. Everything you had learned about him you held close, collecting it as the most valuable treasures.

You arrived the next night a minute after the sun set and promptly knocked on the door of Spike’s crypt. You could hear some scuffling about from behind the door and a lot of a British accent muttering ‘bloody bollocks’ every so often which made you smile softly.

You waited patiently until he swung the door open, allowing you to walk in. You gasped, he had transformed the main level of his crypt for the evening. There were candles everywhere, on every single available surface and surrounding the sofa where there was a couple of blankets piled up and a stack of VHS tapes.

There were wilted roses that had shed their petals all over the floor beside the TV set and you tried to ignore the high probability that these came from a few of the graves surrounding the crypt. Stuck haphazardly to the walls were pink and red hearts made from crepe paper and various strips hanging about.

I mean, it was a huge fire risk but you tried to ignore this fact as you appreciated his scattered decorations. You assumed that Spike was ensuring you were aware that he thought of this as a date.

“How was your night with America’s most haunted?” Spike asked, you could tell he was genuinely interested if you had a nice evening after he left you at the Bronze.

You told him everything in complete detail, you were a keen storyteller and he adored this about you. You spoke in such detail that he could picture himself there beside you as the night played out.

“Drink, pet?”

“Please”

You looked around as he started rummaging around with bottles and glasses. You read the words on some of the hearts, your brow furrowing slightly.

“EVOL? I think it’s spelt-”

“No, love, it was meant to be- they’re from the craft store. They, well, I didn’t want it to scare you off now did I?” He turned the heart around, the word was actually ‘love’. He hadn’t wanted you to think he was coming on too strong so he had hidden the word. Though the rose petals and the various pink and red crafts might well have done that if you hadn’t realised how deeply you felt for him.

You laughed, you couldn’t help it. You hadn’t been sure if he was making sure that all this romantic stuff didn’t take away from him being bad. Telling you he was ‘evil’.

He passed you a glass, different from usual where he would just drink straight from the bottle. You were surprised to note that it was your favourite drink. It was incredibly endearing that he had learned this about you, or perhaps it was his favourite and you just had that in common.

The glow of the candlelight accentuated his features, casting shadows from his cheekbones. You felt yourself leaning into him as he spoke animatedly, it was entirely involuntary. When you thought about it, you had done everything in reverse. You were tentatively courting after sharing a much more passionate moment the night you properly met. You much preferred it this way though, in some ways it cemented now just how much Spike had grown to care for you through the stolen moments you had together through the year.

Quick glances and lingering touches. The way he had thrown himself in front of a demon to ensure you would be safe. The way he always offered to walk you home, even if he was shot down every time by the slayer. He always made jokes in the hope that you would laugh.

The evening was lovely, you shared drinks and watched films together, while Spike made biting commentary on each scene. You were wrapped in a blanket while he stayed room temperature. He sat a little more rigidly than usual, seemingly unable to relax. He wanted the night to be perfect. He was concerned he might say something wrong, something a little too murderous and off-putting.

You hadn’t really been paying attention to the film. He had done everything to try and prove he was a man worthy of your love. You could sense he was holding back but you loved him for who he was, the flaws wrapped into the thread of his personality were just as important to you.

“I really like you, Spike. You don’t need to impress me, you know that right? I’m already yours, if you’d let me be” You spoke barely above a whisper. He turned to you, searching your face before a smile grew slowly on his lips. It was a smile you had only ever seen him give to you.

“You’re tellin’ me I can take all this sodding pink bollocks off my walls now then?”

“I mean, it’s a real improvement from the cobwebs but it’s not really my colour,” You grinned, pressing your lips to his quickly before pulling away.

You leaned against him as the night progressed, leaning your head into the crook of his neck. He shifted as you moved down the sofa so that you could comfortably rest against him. He inhaled, savouring your scent. It felt like home. He closed his eyes, focusing on your heartbeat thrum steadily. You were truly here, by his side.

Your body was made to fit beside his, you knew this as if it was fact. You couldn’t imagine a future where you wouldn’t hold each other. Or share moments such as this. The warmth from the candles and the care and attention that Spike continued to show you told you that his feelings at their core were clearly no act, his execution had been slightly exaggerated only because he hadn’t really dated in the usual way for a good few decades.

He slid his arm along the headrest behind you and you settled into watch the next movie. After a moment you realised his eyes were still trained on you, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. When you looked at him, giving him a quizzical look, he just gestured back at the screen with his head a soft smile on his face.

If this was the first proper date, you were looking forward to the rest. In fact, as his arm snaked around you and pulled you close, you were not sure you would ever be ready to leave.

[specialagentlokitty]

Spike x reader - before I laid eyes on you

Sitting under the street lamp, you smiled to yourself as you pulled the pen away from the notebook you were drawing in.

You had been at it for a couple of hours, your wrist hurt a little bit, but since you hadn’t had a break that was to be expected.

What wasn’t to be expected was the sense you had from behind you that there was somebody creeping up on you.

“Hello.”

You heard whoever it was stop.

“How did you know I was there?”

“I know many things, just like I know who you are Spike, I know you’re here to kill me.”

Spike walked around the bench, and he sat down in next to you, leaning back as he lit a cigarette, resting an arm on the back of the bench.

You didn’t look at him, you simply just went back drawing in your notebook.

“You’re not even going to run away? You know that does take all the fun out of killing you pet.”

“I know I would never stand a chance trying to run from you.”

He hummed, nodding his head as he smirked a little bit.

“Is that so?”

He glanced down at the notebook, leaning over to look at what you were doing and you covered it.

Reaching up you placed a finger on his forehead and pushed him back.

“Oi, don’t touch the merchandise.”

“It’s not ready yet, if you want to look you have to wait.”

He huffed a little, and you smiled, going back to your drawing.

“Is this a trap? Am I being set up?”

You shook your head.

“No, they don’t even know I’m out. It’s the only time I can find time. Plus, if it were a trap I’d be an easy hostage so I don’t see any situation in how you can’t win.”

He smirked a little again, nodding his head in agreement.

You glanced up at the building in front of you, studying the design, the structure, the colours.

Looking back at your notebook you carried on, hands moving on their own, as if you had drawn this exact building a million times, burned in your brain.

Spike watched you intrigued.

You made no effort to run away from him, no effort to scream or fight or try save your life in any kind of way.

It made him curious, and it took all the fun out of him wanting to kill you because for him it was all a game, the thrill of the chase, an instinct all hunters had, but you didn’t seem to have the instinct to flee.

You put your put your pen into your bag, and you slowly tore the page from book, and you set it on the bench.

“So, you made me pause my killing so you were able to finish a drawing?” He scoffed.

He picked it up, and he studied it.

It looked so real, as if you had picked up the building from the street and crammed it into the tiny page of a book.

“Intriguing, I wonder if you’ll want to draw what it will look like when I snap your neck.”

He looked up and you were gone.

“What the hell?”

Spike stood up, trying to find any sign that you were somewhere still around, or that you had even been there but there was none aside from the paper in his hands.

Spike flicked his cigarette across the e street and he began to walk up to the building.

You really hadn’t missed a spot of detail when you were drawing it, everything was there, from small cracks in some of the windows to the emblem at the front of the building.

That wasn’t the first time Spike met you, but it was the first time he was intrigued by you, and not in a way that made him want to kill you.

He noticed that when the he was fighting with Buffy or the others you weren’t there.

They made sure to keep you as far away as possible, but then as the nights came he would find you accidentally around the town.

He would just be on the hunt and he would stumble across you just sitting there, in your own little world as you drew something new and his attention would be focused on you.

And tonight was no different, he found you sitting at a table outside some late open cafe, a cup of coffee in front of you, your notebook on the table as you looked around.

Spike slipped into the seat in front of you.

“Hello love.”

“Should I be concerned for the amount of times you come to visit me?” You asked.

“Well, you should know better than wonder alone at night, especially in a town like this. Never know when a big bad will jump at you.”

You gave a small shrug, pulling your scarf a little tighter around you.

Spike watched intensely, and he leant back in his chair.

“Well, you seem to appear most nights, yet you still haven’t killed me.”

“I will one day, after all, it’s no fun if I kill you right away.”

You let out a soft laugh, picking up your cup so you could take a drink, then your turned your attention back to your drawing so you could finish it.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked.

“Depends on the question.”

Spike took your cup so he could drink some coffee and he set it back down, picking up the menu to browse the boring food.

“Why won’t you kill me?”

Spike looked up at you, slowly setting the menu back down.

“Do you want me to kill you?”

He didn’t say it with excitement, you could hear the curiosity in his tone, along with confusion.

“If I ask you to would you?”

“Maybe, might sire you, that could be fun.”

You shook your head at him.

“No sire, just pure death. As in nothing after, I won’t wake up again.”

“Now talk like this concerns a bloke love.”

You sighed, shaking your head.

Ripping the page from the book you handed it over to him and stood up, finishing your coffee before you began to make your leave.

Spike quickly got up, catching up to you in a few long strides and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Ah, ah, you’re not running off that easily. You can’t just say something like that and not expect follow up questions.”

“Please Spike, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine.”

You carried on walking and Spike followed you, not saying a single word he simply just looked at you every so often.

Truth be told he would have killed you the first chance he got, now he didn’t want to, even if he could that thought never crossed his mind, but you didn’t need to know that, or about the chip.

You just had to think he was the same big bad.

“I’m not quite sure that was an invitation for you to follow me.” You said.

“I don’t need an invitation.”

You hummed a little bit, clasping your hands behind you as you turned around to look at him.

You smiled softly, walking backwards and he rose a brow at you.

“You can only go so far.”

“I can be rather convincing if I do say so myself, I’m sure I can convince your parents to invite me in.”

“You could try, that might be a bit hard if you live alone.”

Walking up to your house, you opened the door and stepped inside, grinning at Spike as he stood outside.

He wore an unamused look on his face, watching as you sat down on the stairs.

“Now that just isn’t fair love, don’t I get an invite?”

“Hm, I don’t think so. You’re nice company outside but at least u know I can just leave you at the door.”

He placed a hand on his chest, leaning on the doorframe.

“Ouch, now that hurts love.”

You smiled softly, and Spike looked around the hallway, all framed paintings and pictures that looked exactly like the ones you did.

You got up, turning the light on so he could see better, and it worked.

He could see better, a lot better

Now you were out of the dim streetlights, into some bright light that actually illuminated things Spike could see you better.

He could see you clearly.

“You’re blind..” he said quietly.

You smiled weakly, nodding your head as you walked back over to the steps to sit down.

“Not fully, mostly. I can still see a bit, my eyes are sensitive to the light, but I found a few spells that can help me navigate around.”

“A witch?”

“Yeah.”

Spike looked at you, it wasn’t obvious to anybody that you were blind, but he could see the blank look in your eyes, you looked at him but you didn’t.

He would’ve thought maybe you were just awkward at eye contact, but he could see it, the faint gloss that covered the outside of your iris, slowly creeping.

There was something else.

A sickly paleness to your skin.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked.

You sighed, resting your head on the wall behind you, and you looked over at the open door.

Spike was sat in your doorway, in his hands the new picture you had made of a deer, and it was so lifelike just like all the others.

“Cancer, in the brain, the uh.. the blindness might be a side effect of the tumour but they can’t be sure.”

“What do you think?”

“Maybe it’s making it worse yes, but I’ve always had problems with my eyes, ever since I was a child. Either way I’ll go blind.”

Spike nodded his head, looking up from the drawing.

You still held a small smile on your face.

“Do they know?” He asked.

Your smile a little.

“No. Spike you can’t tell them, they don’t need to know. Not with everything going on with you know.. well.. you… demons..”

“Right, right. It would put a damper on everything considering they think I’m just missing.”

You nodded.

A small silence fell over the pair of you.

“How long?”

You said nothing.

“How long do you have?”

You let out a heavy sigh.

“I don’t know, I’ve been offered surgery to try remove the tumours.”

“Have you accepted?”

“No.”

Spike stood up, slamming his hand on the doorway.

“Well why the bloody hell not?!”

“Either it works, and I still go blind, I die on that operating table, or I die of cancer. All three sound like rather poor choices.”

“But there’s a chance you could survive, you said it yourself you found a way to make it more bearable with the blindness.”

You walked over, sitting against the door and he sat back against the frame on the otherside looking at you.

“It will most likely come back.”

“Then.. then they cut it out again, they keep doing that.”

“Spike, they can only do it so many times before they stop.”

He furrowed his brows, eyes staring into yours.

“You’ll still die…”

“Yeah.”

He put the drawing in to his pocket, and he rested his head against the wood.

“That’s why you asked if I would kill you. Because you don’t want to die to the tumour, at least if I did it you would have control in your death.”

You nodded your head, and a soft smile gracing your face once more.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of the cool breeze coming through the door.

“Very well.”

You opened your eyes.

“I will do it under one condition.”

You titled your head a little.

“What’s that?”

“You agree to the procedure, if it fails then you hang on for as long as possible, then when the time is right you ask and I will give you a quick and painless death.”

“No resurrection?”

“None, just death.”

You agreed to his terms, and the following day you went back to the hospital to speak to your doctor about the procedure.

Spike was there, lurking in the hallways away from the sunlight, and when the door to your room was opened he stepped aside and waited.

You closed the blinds and he walked in, closing the door behind him.

“Well?”

“They ran some tests, they need to take it out now, and I’ll be hospital bound for a while.”

“Right, you should call your friends. In the event that you die of course.”

You laughed weakly.

“The doctor is doing it, I guess that means I won’t be seeing you around huh?”

Spike sat on the edge of your bed.

“I’ll be around.”

You smiled, and reached up, gently touching the side of his face and he said nothing about it.

You could tell his was smiling though, from the little crinkles at the corner of his eye.

“Thank you.”

Spike got up, leaning forward he pressed his lips to your forehead and took a step back.

“Good luck love..”

With that he was gone.

He hasn’t told you about the chip in his head, that even if he wanted too he wasn’t able to hurt you, but he definitely didn’t want to hurt you.

He couldn’t hurt you, it would hurt him, but if it came down to it and it was what you wanted then no amount of pain in his skull would stop him from granting you that wish

[ironmaidenhead]

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER Created by Joss Whedon (1997-2003)

[greensaplinggrace]

the fact of the matter is that buffy ends up isolated no matter what the scoobies do because she bears the burden of the slayer alone at the end of the day and nothing can change that. the problem with this isn't that she's separate from them, it's that they don't want to acknowledge that she is, and in doing so they drive a wedge between them that just grows and grows. the best thing about spike is that he's similar enough to this other side of buffy to understand it and her by extension. he is the only person around who can support that side of her.

most of buffy's issues in season six stem from the scoobies rejecting a part of buffy that spike accepts. and this shame she feels for her reliance on spike and the presence of this darkness and isolation she cannot avoid is largely because of them. i'm sick of this bizarre assumption that pointing out where the scoobies go wrong in their relationship with buffy somehow equals an uncritical uplifting of spike. just because he understands her and represents a certain aspect of her doesn't mean he doesn't fuck up. i mean that's kind of the whole point of their season six dynamic. one of his biggest issues is that he thinks he's helping her by enabling her completely because he doesn't have the ability to properly identify the line between self acceptance and self destruction - pursuit of the id is one of his biggest character traits. that's what makes the end of season six and his decision to get the soul so interesting (although of course there's just as much i can say about the narrative framing of that in regards to lore consistency and the story's obsession with angel, but that's a whole other thing).

point is, the scoobies cannot understand all of buffy, and when they refuse to acknowledge this they destroy their chances of building any bridges to even a simple relationship with that other side of buffy or helping her carry that burden in any way. meanwhile, spike is in the proper position to understand buffy as the slayer and hold his own with her in such a way, but his definition of love is wholly obsessive and destructive. while i disagree that he's incapable of love and even of loving selflessly without his soul, i think spike's version of love in particular is self destructive in a way that enables buffy's own desire to hurt herself through hurting him (see the aforementioned shame regarding her shadow self). spike cannot identify why allowing buffy to give in to her dark side in such a way is bad because he struggles to understand how she could use this to resent herself - although i do think he realizes it's happening on some level.

spike is also buffy's only form of catharsis and the only one that actually listens to what she is saying during a time when everybody else is dismissing her because of the aforementioned inability to understand her as the slayer. it's a clusterfuck - and a clusterfuck that needed to be shattered with a hammer for any kind of relief. and quite frankly to disregard the scoobies' own part in this situation does a disservice to buffy as a character. to be honest, she deserves fucking better than what everyone in her life gives her, especially the scoobies, who grow to take her for granted and feel entitled to controlling her life as a way of keeping her conformed - again, due to the aforementioned lack of desire to acknowledge this other part of her that they cannot connect with.

which leads to season seven, where spike is the only person on the show who has developed and changed enough to remain at buffy's side helping her carry the burden. while everyone else suffered during season six, none of them opened their eyes to what they were doing to buffy - and if they did, none of them acted on it. spike is the only one to acknowledge the damage he's done and work to become better for buffy in any way he can. he is the only one that ends up able to carry that burden with her because he is the only one capable of facing the truth and acting on his desire to do better.

the fucking problem isn't that he hurt buffy - because to be quite frank everybody did - it's that he's the only person on the whole damn show to acknowledge his place in buffy's life, and to acknowledge the burdens she bears, and actively change himself for her. did you know he has almost all of the genuine apologies in the entire show? seven seasons and all of the harm the scoobies cause buffy, and it's fucking spike that is acting like a mature person capable of being a proper partner.

[evieelyzabethh]

Love your work. <3 Could you write something with reader x spike where they're kinda' pining for one another, but one night he gets injured and has to stay over at her house? She patches him up and maybe offers him a bite? Doesn't have to be nsfw but +5 cool points if it is. <3

Hello, my loves, long time no see!!! I hope this is to your liking <3

Spike is so incredibly reckless. You knew this, he knew, everybody knew that Spike was a walking accident waiting to happen'. He likes to think he can handle himself. "I'm bad, baby," he'd tell you, "M' the big bad slayer killer. I can handle a few scratches." But you were never worried about what he could handle, you were worried about the fact that his blood was always staining your couch. That and the fact that his lack of self-preservation kept you up at night.

Usually, he has some decorum. He doesn't come to you with every scrape and bruise, even though you handled him with much more care than he was capable of extending to himself. It was his way of punishing himself, depriving himself of your head scratches and soft hands for bothering you too much. You scolded him for this, of course. It seems like its every other week (more like every other day) when you and he argue, most often in front of the Scoobies who waited anxiously for you take your arguments to the bedroom, about him leaving you to worry about whether or not he was ash.

"I mean, fuck Spike. Is it really that hard to just give me a call if you plan on bleeding at your place. A little 'Hi, yeah, I don't think I need my wounds treated with modern medicine, I'm gonna take my chances with old whisky and tetanus like the good ol' days'." And every time he takes his well-earned lecture with a smirk and a bowed head.

"Yes, mother, next time I'll break your door down at three in the morning for some pretty pink bandages."

"If you were so ashamed of the pretty pink bandages, maybe you should think before you run into knives!"

Spike has maybe told the truth a grand total of two times in his whole life, so his word means absolutely nothing. He continues to ignore your street like the plague unless it's an absolute emergency.

Now was an emergency.

You barely heard the faint knocks on your door from your bedroom, where you sat on your bed, music blasting from your stereo and some reality court show droning on in the background, catching your attention when someone decided to be particularly messy. You had thought it was your neighbors blind dog scratching at your door again until something large and loud hit it. Quickly arming yourself with a frying pan, you crept to your door, tearing it open for a very injured Spike to nearly fall flat on your floor before he caught himself using your doorframe.

His left hand clutched at his bleeding side and he walked with a limp over to his couch which now had a plastic cover. His dead heart was touched.

"Aw, you were waiting for me, " he croaked out. He fell on his back, one of his hands falling over the side and his eyes closing as soon as his head at the pillow. His shirt had claw marks that were lined with blood and his duster had barely escaped the carnage, a few holes separate from the preexisting moth holes sticky with some supernatural substance.

"Have to be prepared when it comes to you." You patted his cheek, thumbing over his cheekbones to try and arouse some consciousness. "Can't have you fallin' asleep on me. You might not wake up." You weren't going to leave his side until you were sure he wasn't going to die in your absence.

He babbled unintelligently, his mouth moving but having no connection to his brain to form any sort of actual thought. His eyes flit between closed and aware, his head moving to catch up with the spinning room, his mouth impossibly dry, and his head pounding. In his head, he insisted he was fine, but the words wouldn't come out right. He spat them out garbled and messy until he was too choked up to even try anymore.

He was barely conscious when he felt your wrist at his mouth. He had enough sense to shake his head and nudge away your wrist with his nose, but his lack of strength made his attempts futile. "No," he mumbled.

"You'll feel better," your voice swam around in his head until the words lost meaning and he just smiled at the sound of your voice. You swiped your thumb across one of his canines, the red contrasting with the pearly whites of his teeth swiftly wiped away by the pink of his tongue. After the taste of your blood was on his tongue, his sense was surrendered to instinct as he brought your wrist to his lips.

You didn't know what you were getting into. Vampires get their life force from blood, so it just made sense to have him feed from you to expedite the healing process. The more he drank, the louder your heartbeat grew in your ear and the closer he pulled you to him. You had only done this once before, when you were both drunk and dizzy and jokes being whispered in your ear turned into tiny nips from your neck that Buffy nearly walked in on.

In complete shock of what had happened then, you never brought it up, halfway convincing yourself that it never happened in the first place. If it did happen, he had enough sense to pull away then and you hoped he had the sense the pull away now, but now was much different. Now, there was a newfound hunger. A desperation. Like he had been starving himself for years and you were the first bite of food he had eaten. Had to have been good food to, with the way he inhaled you, indulged in you like you were some ambrosia or golden mead.

"Spike," you moaned. "I'm getting a bit light-headed." Your voice was high and thin, fearful as you made attempts to pull your arm from his lips. Through his haze, his fangs contracted back, and his tongue swiped whatever lingered on your skin.

"I'm sorry." Sorry for going too far, sorry for almost turning you into an empty Capri Sun pouch, sorry for being reckless again.

" 's ok."

You wobbled a bit as you stood, fingers wrapped around your wound as you shuffled into your kitchen in pursuit of your first aid kit. "You gonna tell me what happened?" He only groaned from the couch.

"Maybe tomorrow. I'm tired." You laughed on your way over to him, wrist already covered in gauze with an all too familiar needle and thread in hand.

"You're tired?" The smell of your blood was all too pungent, still. He turned his head towards the wall, studying the numerous music posters and paintings you had hanging.

"Going out to fight evil is a very hard job." You chuckled.

"I know. That's why I stay in here to patch you up." Your fingers were like magic. They always had a way of calming him down. Especially the way you hummed to yourself while you worked. You were never content with just silence. "I expect an answer in the morning." He smiled.

"Yes, ma'am." He fell asleep before you even finished and by the time you were done, you were too tired to walk the down the hall to your bed. You laid your head down on his chest, with no heartbeat to thrum and no breath to rock you, you still fell asleep just like that. Who knew cold bodies were so comfortable.

[itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland]

Permission (Spike x y/n)

Requested: Yep. @wtv-my-current-hyperfixation

TW: Smut. A lot of smutty smut.

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist

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The TV plays in the background. Canned laughter and rehearsed lines contrast the mood and actions in the room. The air is heavy. The room is scented of spice and musk.

You run your hands up to Spike’s hair as your mouth gets lost in a torrent of lust and wanton desire. His hands hold you tight as you straddle him on the sofa. You come up for air, soft pants with heavy eye contact.

“You like that, love?” He spanks your ass and gives it a tight squeeze.

You let out a soft moan, inviting him for more.

His member is hard and tight against his jeans. You tease him by creating friction between your underwear and the top of his jeans. He leans his head back, enjoying the taunting. Preparing himself for what’s to come.

You lean in for another kiss and instead Spike trails his mouth down your neck. He leaves love bites on his way to your collar bone where he works steadily to create a hickey.

Once done he leans back to admire his handy works, “Mine.” He whispers.

You continue to ride him, fully clothed, in an attempt to ease some of your own lust.

“I want more.” You croon.

He turns and pushes you onto the couch roughly, your back to the soft material. You gasp as you go down.

He hikes up your skirt and makes quick work of your underwear. His hand finds your slick and plays with your slit. You bite down a moan. He gently finds your opening and inserts a finger. His thrusts are steady, long, and deep. You moan at his ministrations.

“Let’s see if my girl can take two.”

He works on inserting another finger, stretching you to your max.

“Gotta gets you ready for the main course.”

You are full and lost in desire. He pumps his fingers in and out, in and out. You count your breaths to stay sane. Without warning her curls his fingers making you see stars.

Spike has decided he wants to make you orgasm multiple times tonight. He is relentless with his fingers, making sure that you’re deep in pleasure.

“Do you like that, love? Am I making you feel good?”

You can barely answer, your brain in a fog. You babble an answer which is incomprehensible and makes Spike laugh.

“Shall we pick up the pace? Can you take it?”

As promised, he moves his hand faster, curling his fingers when inside. He uses his other hand to massage circle on your clit. He is deliberate with his movements matching his thrust with the pressure he is placing on your clitoris. You’re a mess. You can barely breathe, holding onto the sofa for dear life.

He is consistent and persevering. He mumbles dirty words to you, lost in his own pleasure. You can feel your insides tighten. Your abdomen feels tight and ready to burst. You try to warn Spike, but that was his goal. He wanted to get you off with his fingers and make sure you’re hazed out with pleasure before he gave you the main course.

You feel something snap, electricity courses through your brain. It hits your pleasure point, and you gasp in shock followed by a slew of loud moans. You’re still trying to regain yourself when you feel Spike pull you up.

“Come on, we’re not done yet.”

Your legs are jelly, so you struggle to stand up, still fucked out and lost. Spike smirks at your demeanor. His pride and joy. He grabs you and carries you down to the bedroom. He throws you on the bed, rough and aggressive. You gasp in surprise. By his actions, you could tell that tonight would be an intense night. So, buckle up.

You try to make quick work of your clothes but Spike is already naked and impatient. He walks up to you and tears your clothes off. Shreds of fabric all over his bedroom floor. You scowl but he dismisses you.

He lays down face up, his erection standing up and proud. You knew what he wanted. You put your hair to the side and lean down to give him sloppy head.

Your mouth envelopes his penis. Hot and moist. You work your way down slowly, reminding yourself of his size and girth. You bob up and down, up and down, setting a steady rhythm. Spike’s head is tossed back, eyes shut. He loved feeling your mouth on him. If he didn’t have other plans for you, he would finish in your mouth.

You slither your tongue against his tip tasting his precum. You give it a little kiss and shove his length back into your mouth. Spike becomes impatient, desperate and presses your head down. He wants you to choke. He wants you to gag. You oblige. Tears prick your eyes as you let him find his pleasure. He lets go and you come up for air, gasping.

“Good girl.” He praises you.

You lean so as to take him back into your mouth, but he pulls your hair, stopping you. You look at him confused.

“Lay down.” He commands.

You lay on your back waiting for his next command. He straddles your torso and places his cock against your breasts. You were catching on. You press your breasts together for him to pleasure himself. You spit in between your breasts to give him lubrication.

He thrusts his penis against your breasts roughly. He wanted to feel as much pleasure as possible. You couldn’t lie, looking up at him with his penis so close to you made you feel weak and wet. You wanted to pleasure him as much as possible cause you knew he would reward you well.

You open your mouth to catch the tip of his penis when he thrusts up. He is steady and consistent in his thrusts. He grunts as he finds his pace. Suddenly he stops, remembering his plans for the night.

He leans down and gives you a kiss on the forehead before settling himself in between your legs.

“So wet. All for me?” He teases. “You nasty, bird.”

He pulls your body down the bed closer to the edge. It was time to worship. He nuzzles his head in between your legs, taking in your scent. He licks your clitoris, shy and chaste. He traces a longer lick on your slit, inviting himself in. He is focused as he licks circles around your clit, playing with pressure and movement.

You’re a moaning mess. You love when he gave you head but you always forgot how intense it could be.

His tongue finds your hole and wanders inside. He moves his tongue inside you. You’re seeing stars. He makes sure to place pressure on your clitoris with his hands as he licks your insides. His face is covered with your slick and he loves it. He can’t get enough of you. You’re impatient and grab his head. You want him to make you come right that instant. To which he gives you a smack on your hip, teaching you who’s in control. You stay still, pliant and ready. He takes his time eating you out. His tongue returns to your clitoris. He trails long circles around it. Adding pressure on and off, on and off. You can feel your body levitating from the pleasure. You’re caught up in the moment and want this to last forever.

He introduces two fingers in you while he continues to circle your clit with his tongue. He had plans to make you cum as many ways as he could. You were seeing stars. You were gone with the movement and you stayed that way.

His fingers pick up the pace. His tongue is relentless in putting pressure on your clit. You gasp for air. You knew it was coming. You wanted to be prepared for your orgasm. However, in his last thrust he curled his fingers hitting your G-Spot and it sent you. You’re a screaming moaning mess. Your eyes water from the intensity of the orgasm. Your body convulses and lifts up from the bed.

Spike places a hand on your abdomen to keep you in place. He refuses to stop his ministrations. He wants you to feel it all. He wants to ride that orgasm all the way to the end.

You eventually come down form your high, spent and tired. Spike smiles and wipes his face with a nearby towel.

“You look so pretty when you cum.”

You look up at him, fucked out, dazed and pleasured. You inch up towards your pillow getting ready to sleep.

“Oh no you don’t. I’m not done with you.” He pulls you by your leg.

You look up at him surprised and a little scared. He grins as he approaches you. He leans down for a kiss.

“I’m not done getting what I want. Lay on your stomach.”

You slowly oblige, concerned about what’s coming next but excited that there’s more.

Spike pulls out massage oil from the nightstand nearby. He straddles you, puts some oil on your back and starts massaging you. You sigh. You could get used to this. He makes sure to work your shoulders and lower back. Places that he knows you hold the most tension. He waits until you’re relaxed and satiated to slip hi cock in between your folds. You gasp in surprise and follow it with a moan. His girth and length filling you.

His favorite position was to take you from behind while you lay on your stomach. He could get so much more space to move, a nice view of your ass, and easy access to your hair.

He thrust slow into your cunt. Soft and caring. Making you feel safe. He is deliberate in his strokes, letting you get accustomed to his size. He smiles at himself and without a warning lays down a loud slap on your base ass. You yelp. He follows it with another, and another. He starts to pick up the pace, riding you hard. You can feel him fill you to the hilt. Your moans fill the room. Embarrassed, even after everything he’s done to you, you hide your face in a pillow to keep quiet.

“Oh no you don’t.” He grabs, twists your hair in his hand and pulls. “I want to hear how good I’m fucking you.”

You’re caught in limp kitten mode. At his mercy. He fucks you rough and long. He rides you until you’re sore and begging for release. He wants to be like this forever. Powerful and full of lust. The room is filled with the sound of your moans and the harsh sounds of meat slapping together. He eventually lets you go to land more slaps on your ass. You’re begging for more. He obliges. You loved when he dominated you. It made you feel wanted, dirty, and satiated.

Without a warning he pulls out. You groan in desperation.

He man handles you and flips you on your back. He lifts your legs and folds you in a mating press. Without missing a beat, he slips himself back inside you and fucks you hard. His hips hitting against yours in a steady rhythm. He grunts and huffs as he fills you up time and time again. You’re a pitch away from screaming in pleasure. Your moans are loud and non-stop.

He makes sure to be in control not just of your pleasure but of your body. You start begging for release.

“Can I come. Please, can I come?”

“Not yet, sweetheart. Be good for me.”

You nod and hold on. Your brain only understands pleasure and the need to hold onto your orgasm. He thrusts hard and long. He wants you to remember the feeling and shape of his penis inside of you. He feels himself getting closer and debates if to finish inside you. He leans down and bites down on your shoulder making sure to leave another mark. He wants people to know what transpired here today.

“Come.” He commands.

As if in cue you unravel under him. You come undone in a seeping heap of moans and thrashing. You’re no longer in control of your body. You’re his to use and his to have.

He lets you catch your breath, barely, before he pulls you up.

“Get up. On your knees.” He comands you to kneel before him.

You do as he says. You look up to him, seeing him jack off his penis furiously in front of your face. You knew what he wanted. You open your mouth and without fail he fills your mouth and face with his cum. You take it all in. Filthy, dirty and pleasurable.

You kneel there for a couple of seconds before Spike gets a towel to clean your face. He is gentle and loving, a contrast to his earlier behavior. Once cleaned he leans in for a gentle kiss,. Soft and loving. You open your eyes and smile.

“Can I rest now?”

“Yes, my love.”

“Did I do good?”

“You did amazing. You’re such a good girl.”

You smile as you get into bed. He makes sure that you’re tucked in before he gets into bed. He scooches over to you. You lean your head against his chest and before he can praise you again, you’re asleep in his arms.

[readingbookelf]

The Defense Rests - Spike

Summary: The Scooby-gang holds an emergency meeting when they find out you're dating Spike.

Pairing: fem!reader x Spike

My Writing | Taglist

You’re at Giles’ home, currently being yelled at by Xander, who apparently saw you kissing Spike last night. Instead of just talking to you about it, in private, he called an emergency meeting. Hence the yelling while everyone else just stares at you.

“Spike is a psychotic killer and you’re handing yourself to him on a silver platter. Have you forgotten how he came into our lives? What he was going to do to Buffy for his precious Dru? Who is also nuts in the head, I might add,” Xander practically yells in your face.

“I did not forget, but I’ve used my eyes these past few months. Spike has helped us out more times than one, even when he didn’t need too. Also he hasn’t attacked anyone in months…” you trail off at the end knowing the only reason he hasn’t attacked anyone is because of the chip the Initiative has planted in his head.

Xander scoffs, ready for round two, but Buffy jumps in.

“Xander, you have to admit he’s helped us out… a lot in the past few months. Figuring out who the initiative is, what they do, even fighting demons or helping out with the latest threat. I’m not pro-Spike and I still don’t trust him, but if he makes y/n happy then that’s enough for me. Also I’m the last one to condemn anyone for dating a vampire,” Buffy finishes with a wink towards you.

“Thank you, Buffy,” you whisper.

“So we’re going to ignore the fact he would kill us all if he didn’t have that chip in his head,” Xander asks.

“Xander, last week you admitted that Spike has grown on you. What about all the times you spoke about ‘everything we’ve been through together’ just to try and convince Spike to help out? Don’t you think you’re being hypocritical,” you ask softly.

Xander scoffs but doesn’t make another move to convince you Spike is the devil incarnate.

“And on that note I’m out of here. I’ve got a bed that’s calling my name,” you say before getting up.

“Don’t you mean a certain someone who’s waiting for you in your bed,” Willow quips, wiggling her eyes.

Everyone groans.

-----

When you walk through your front door, you find Spike on your couch watching a movie.

“Home already or you haven't left yet,” you ask the blond man.

“Home for the night,” he replies while smiling at you cheekily.

That smile never fails to make you weak in the knees. You let yourself fall onto the couch next to Spike while letting out the biggest sigh of your life.

“The scooby doo-meeting was that bad, huh,” he asks. “The end of the world again,” he chuckles.

You look at Spike and see the concern shining in his eyes. He puts his arm around you and pulls you close into his side. You let your head fall on his shoulder and nuzzle close.

“The end of the world for Xander,” you scoff.

“What do you mean,” Spike asks.

“You were right that someone was watching us last night. After seeing us together Xander followed us and saw us kiss. Hence the emergency meeting,” you explain.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Spike exclaims while jumping up.

Immediately your hand circles around his wrist. You give a little pull to make him sit down again. He sighs and sits down next to you once more.

“Who does he think he is? He’s dating a vengeance demon for god’s sake,” Spike spits out.

You rub his shoulder trying to calm him down.

“There was a discussion. I defended you. Buffy jumped in. Everyone is more or less okay with it. I’m kind of done talking about this, Spike. Xander’s opinionated. I’ve seen the way he was with Buffy and Angel.”

You shake your head at the end. The uncomfortable memory resurfacing. He was so mean to Buffy. It’s hard dealing with the supernatural world as a human. You realise how fragile your life really is. It causes Xander to act out like this, and it’s not an excuse, but it gives him some leeway when he explodes.

“I still hate that you had to sit through that meeting all by yourself. I should’ve been there. I’m part of this relationship,” he says fiercely.

You take his hand and squeeze.

“You were. There was this little annoying voice that sounded a lot like you edging me on while I was defending you…and calling Xander names I won’t repeat,” you chuckle.

A twinkle lights in Spike’s eyes. He presses his lips firmly on yours. A moan slips past your lips by the sheer force of it all. Slowly you pull away.

“I like you. You like me. And everyone else can suck it,” Spike says before kissing you once more.