#spike btvs fanfiction
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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?"
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The Dance of the Shadows
Summary: A fearless hunter seeks to unravel the mystery behind Spike's facade, leading to a passionate encounter that defies expectations.
Pairing: Spike x Fem!Reader
Warning(s): mild language, suggestive themes, Spike (he's a warning himself), mentions of a graveyard
The darkened cemetery was an eerie backdrop for the night's events. You, a fearless hunter of the supernatural, found yourself face-to-face with Spike, the platinum-haired vampire known for his sharp wit and dangerous allure. He smirked at you, his blue eyes glinting mischievously in the moonlight.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" Spike drawled, leaning casually against a tombstone. "Another pretty thing wandering around my turf. You're a brave one, love."
You raised an eyebrow, undeterred by his cocky attitude. "I could say the same about you, Spike. Hanging around graveyards doesn't exactly scream 'normal' either."
He chuckled, stepping closer to you. "Normal is overrated, pet. Besides, where else would a vampire like me find some excitement?"
You couldn't help but feel a strange attraction to Spike, despite knowing what he was. His dangerous charm and roguish demeanor intrigued you, igniting a spark of curiosity deep within. You found yourself stepping closer, closing the distance between the two of you.
"I'm not here for a fight tonight," you confessed, your voice laced with a mixture of confidence and vulnerability. "I wanted to... talk."
Spike's eyes narrowed, searching your face for any hint of deceit. However, he detected genuine sincerity in your gaze, causing him to lower his guard ever so slightly. "Talk, huh? Well, love, I'm always up for a chat. What's on your mind?"
You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heartbeat. "I've heard tales of your exploits, Spike. The vampire with a poetic soul and a taste for the dangerous. I wanted to know... what lies beneath the facade."
A flicker of surprise danced across Spike's face, quickly replaced by a smirk. "You think you can unravel the mystery, do you? Not many have tried, love, and even fewer have succeeded."
"I'm not like the others," you replied, your voice filled with determination. "I see something in you, Spike. A vulnerability hidden beneath the bravado. I want to understand it."
His gaze softened, and he took a step closer, his body now mere inches away from yours. "You're a bold one, aren't you? Most people run from the darkness, but you seem to dance with it. Tell me, what makes you so different?"
You met his gaze head-on, your eyes filled with unwavering resolve. "Because I've seen darkness in myself too, Spike. We all have our demons, literal or otherwise. But it's what we do with that darkness that defines us."
A slow smile crept across his face, and Spike leaned in, his lips dangerously close to yours. "You're a breath of fresh air, love. Maybe you're right. Perhaps there's more to me than meets the eye."
With that, he closed the remaining distance, capturing your lips in a passionate, electrifying kiss. It was a clash of fire and ice, an embrace that spoke of hidden desires and untamed passions. As you melted into each other's arms, the world around you faded into insignificance.
The night seemed to stretch on forever, lost in a haze of stolen moments and whispered confessions. In each other's embrace, you found solace from the chaos of the world, a respite from the battles fought in the shadows. The dance between you and Spike was a delicate balance, a dangerous connection that defied expectations.
When the night finally came to an end, and the first rays of dawn kissed the horizon, you and Spike parted ways with an unspoken understanding. The world might never truly understand your connection, but it didn't matter. In that fleeting moment, you had found something rare and beautiful amidst the darkness—a connection that transcended the boundaries of good and evil.
As you walked away from the cemetery, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. The dance with Spike might have been brief, but it had left an indelible mark on your soul, a memory to be cherished for eternity.
A/N Spike is just...perfect. Absolutely love the character 😍
#spike#spike Btvs#btvs#buffy the vampire slayer#william the bloody#spike x reader#spike x fem!reader#fem!reader#spike fanfic#spike fanfiction#spike btvs fanfic#spike btvs fanfiction#btvs fanfic#btvs fanfiction
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The Perfect Moment (Part 2)
Pairing: Spike x (gender neutral) Human!Reader
Words: 1,714
Summary: Weeks after their first kiss, the reader finds themselves back in Spike’s crypt. Will Spike be able to overcome his fear of hurting them, or will their perfect moment together stay locked in the past?
Content Warning: kissing, angst, mention of death, mention of turning into vampire
Note: This definitely feels kind of erotic
Part 1
Once again, you didn’t notice that you were sneaking out of your house until the night air was brushing against your cheeks. Your mind catching up with your body, you noticed you were already at the edge of the cemetery, already making the beeline for Spike’s crypt. The night air was chilly on your skin, the thin flannel of your pajama pants offering little warmth in the dark breeze.
These days you were on auto-pilot: responding in one-word phrases, looking distantly away, head in the night air you’d shared with Spike that night you two kissed.
This isn’t safe.
You scurried between the rows of headstones, eyes at the door of Spike’s crypt. Your usual prickly feeling of fear was absent this time, exhaustion and desperation making your feet sluggish and your mind foggy. You imagined the flicker of candles at the edges of the stone room, the slight smell of lavender, his jacket’s soft leather. Spike had to be there, and he had to hear you out.
The past few weeks had been hell for you. Nothing could keep your mind off of the moment he looked away, silently asking you to leave. The way his hand rested at your neck. Your lips tingled whenever you thought of it; your eyes watered whenever you thought of it for too long.
People were starting to notice your weird behavior. Even as that smell of death and something else had subsided, your dejected nature sparked a whole new worry. At school, your friends awkwardly ignored this change in demeanor, instead chattering over your wilting figure at lunch and between classes. Your mom had insisted you accompany her on an errand the day before, poking and prodding at your single-syllable responses, trying to figure out whether your blatant disinterest was some “call for help” she’d read about in a self-help book. All you wanted was to talk about Spike with someone, anyone, and know that you weren’t slowly drifting away. You needed to know that you were still real.
No matter how hard I tried, I still hurt you.
Ever since that night, you’d lie awake in your bedroom, hoping that he’d come to your window in some perfect timeline. That the rusting of the wind against your window was him; you’d turn your head and there he would be, asking politely to be let inside.
He still wanted you, you knew. There was no way that he didn’t. Spike had been thinking of kissing you and more for so long; this needed to be as tough on him as it was on you. Replaying his words couldn’t help the wall that he raised between the two of you.
You entered the crypt without knocking, too scared to linger in the cemetery to knock and wait. Your heartbeat crept up your throat--there was no way he couldn’t know you were coming.
It was all too loud: your footsteps, the lavender rustling in the air with your entrance, the sound of glass clinking against each other, this isn’t safe, this isn’t safe, this isn’t safe hammering around in your head. You imagined the worst things before lifting your eyes, scanning the dimensions of Spike’s living space. Your mouth went dry as you weighed every possible bad outcome. Many of them ended with your corpse lying on the cold, stone floor.
And there he was, bottle and glass in his hands, turned away from you while he paced ten steps or so, turned and paced again. He seemed lost, eyes miles away while his body remained right in front of you.
A beat passed while you watched him, and you lightly stumbled as you tried to move forward. Swearing under your breath, you caught yourself and tried to remain calm while brushing yourself off. You looked up, right into Spike’s bright, shocked eyes.
You could have stood there all night, just looking at him and wanting him closer. Your legs trembled at the thought of running to him, but you weren’t sure how to act. Spike was standing there, face illuminated by the candle light in the most wonderful way, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world. Hell, he was the only thing in your world.
No matter how hard I tried, I still hurt you.
You stepped forward. “Spike-” you said hoarsely. You had to catch your breath, the damp crypt air pressed reassuringly against every part of your body.
“Love,” he mumbled, his face breaking composure as he seemed to tear up. Could vampires cry? “Oh, love.” He noticeably swayed before setting down the bottle and glass on the nearest table, eyes fixed surely on you. “Oh, you’re here. You’re here.”
All worry melted away instantly. Your feet carried you across the room perfectly, and you tried to melt right into Spike’s arms. He’s all you’d thought about for days turning into weeks, and here he was, right in front of you. He was not some dream you conjured at your bedroom window. He was all of a sudden very real and very much here, finally.
At the last second, Spike turned away from your embrace. He almost crouched away from you, refusing your touch. “I can’t, love.” He shook his head, wrenching a hand through his platinum blonde hair, fighting with himself. “I can’t do it, love.”
His regret fell in a thick barrier between the two of you. He was replaying the last time he’d seen you in his head once again for the thousandth time. It made him sick, the round and round, until he had to find various ways to forget. But you didn’t want to forget, and neither did he.
Your chin trembled, torn. “Spike, please. I want to try again.” You stepped back into his line of vision, however influenced by alcohol it was. “I want to try this again,” you said firmly, attracting his eyes back into your gaze. They called your attention, pools of emotion that invited you in. “Spike, I want you.” You held your hands out to him, palms up in invitation.
Spike’s gaze moved between your hands and your eyes. He was contemplating, still so burdened by his obvious power to hurt you. To kill you. He was terrified of the likelihood of his being a vampire becoming the very thing that destroys you both. He already let it get out of his hands once, and he was afraid to take that risk again.
But deep down, Spike wanted you so badly. He wanted to make you happy, to feel your love softly tickle his cheeks. He wanted to give you all that he knew he could--he knew he could please you so well, and he wanted to give himself that chance.
He ran another hand through his hair, obvious conflict in his eyes. “I want you too, love. I just can’t hurt you again. I can’t do that to you.” He leveled his eyes with you, seeing the very real possibility of killing you. “This isn’t safe.”
You continued to hold your hands out to him, wanting him closer. You thought again now that you were deadly to him as well. That you were deadly to him--your absence would break him if it didn’t already. “I know, Spike,” you said softly, gently moving to touch his chin. “But I trust you. And you need to trust me, too.”
He stared at you, kept his face still as your fingers met his face. He took in your words, weighed them clumsily in his mind. His jaw trembled as your fingers caressed his cheek, his temple, brushed his hairline.
Spike said nothing, just kept himself in check while you moved to comfort him. The cold, still air of the crypt wrapped you up in its grip. You would find yourself here eventually, either as a corpse or as the undead. The thought had crossed your mind over the months you’d spent seeing him; this possibility had never felt as real as it did now.
You brought your other hand to his face, too, holding him in your eyes. He was tortured with the thought of losing you, and he was terrified of the thought of hurting you again. “I know you won’t hurt me. Can we just try again?”
A beat, two beats, three. The seconds lingered on as he stood in front of you, gears turning over that word, try.
Can we just try again?
Spike’s hands met your own, held them as they cradled his face. His soulless body still asked for yours, full of life and open for his answer.
He moved one had away from his face, and your stomach almost dropped with the possibility of rejection. But he turned his head, kissed your fingertips, breathing out a sigh. Kissed them again, he nodded once. “Once more, love. Just once.”
And you sighed too, your lips curving into a smile. He caught your eye, a sad smile glimmering back. “Softly,” he said, “slowly. Will you kiss me again, my love?”
And you did, a shiver running from the nape of your neck to your toes. You stepped forward and tilted your head up to meet his lips. Your kissed the corner of his lips, drinking in the smile etched into his features softly as he met your own. He held your face, your neck, leaning into your touch and staying. Something opened back up in him too, and he finally held you close once again. He slipped one hand around your waist, bringing your bodies flush against each other.
You knew that you wanted to feel this again, and you’re glad that you didn’t imagine that he wanted this again, too.
Melting into each other, you and Spike moved as one being, something alive and something dead that lingered in between. He grazed his lips along your jaw, over your cheek, down your nose, kissing your face and feeling it again. “Oh, my love. You’re absolutely perfect,” he whispered, eyes flitting up to meet yours. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” left your lips, rang in your ears, deafening against his words from that night before. You didn’t want to let go, and he didn’t either.
Somehow, the perfect moment met you again.
#spike#spike x reader#spike x you#bvts fanfiction#spike btvs#spike fanfiction#btvs#btvs fanfiction#buffy the vampire slayer#buffy the vampire slayer fanfiction#buffy the vampire slayer x reader#spike btvs fanfiction#bvts x reader#vampire v reader#vampire fanfiction#bvts imagine#spike imagine#spike bvts imagine#buffy the vampire slayer imagine
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Even when they haven't gotten their act together, Buffy and Spike are eternal Valentines.
Cupid is stupid, and a little drunk by Behind Blue Eyes NC-17 ✓
Valentine's Shuffle by sweetprincipale NC-17 ✓
A Little Monster in MY Man by DeamonQueen PG-13 ✓
My Bloody Valentine by cawthraven NC-17 ✓
Once Upon a Dream by CheekyKitten PG-13 ✓
#spuffy is better#spuffy is endgame#spuffy tropes#btvs#buffy#spuffy#buffy the vampire slayer#buffy summers#buffyverse#spike x buffy#buffy x spike#spike and buffy#buffy spike#buffy fandom#buffy fanfic#spuffy fanfic#fanfic#fanfiction#elysian fields archive#elysianfieldsarchive#featured fics
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i am once again thinking about a buffy and spike body swap episode.
SOMEONE PLEASE DROP FIC RECS IN THE NOTES HELP A GUY OUT I DON’T READ SMUT BTW I JUST NEED THIS SO BAD
#ik they already did it with faith and it was so iconic and incredible#but hhhhhhhhh#you just know james and sarah would EAT each other’s roles#also buffy manspreading 🗣 buffy in spike’s clothes 🗣🗣 spike picking crazy emo jewelerry for her ears 🗣🗣🗣#DO YOU SEE THE VISION#and if it was during season 6… when they’re doing it every five minutes…#spike would be so weird about it and buffy would just be crying because she suddenly has a penis#i need it so bad you don’t even understand#btvs#buffy the vampire slayer#fanfic#fanfiction#spuffy#btvs spike#buffy summers
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Smoking and Vampires Kill (Reader x Spike)
'A sigh escaped your mouth as you remember the feeling of being kissed by Spike and exhaling smoke. You knew if you didn't quit smoking and break up with Spike they would have both killed you in the end.'
Summary: Your vampire ex-boyfriend visits your house when he hears you've quit smoking to try and tempt you into giving in to both.
Word Count: 2048
Ao3 link: Ao3
At midnight on New Year's Eve you walked straight into the bathroom and flushed your last pack of cigarettes. While your heart leapt up into your throat for an instant as the panic started you breathed out a sigh of relief. Trembling, you washed your hands and went to go re-join the party and find your new boyfriend in the crowd.
It's Winter break and you've been back home from studying at UC Sunnydale for two weeks now. Coincidently, that's also the number of days gone without smoking. Counting them off like prison scratches on the wall. You've always wanted to quit smoking and it didn't help when you met Spike who would chain-smoke indefinitely without the death anxiety, for obvious reasons. You first met Spike outside the Bronze one evening when he asked you for a light. Not thinking anything of it, you said he could keep it remembering all the Clippers in your draw at home. It was a novelty Halloween design with a vampire motif and the words 'blood sucker' wrapped around it. You never liked it, vampires were never your favourite monster. He looked at you credulously, with his eyes opened and slightly frowning at the suggestion. His facial expression soon relaxed and he thanked you and said he'd maybe see you inside. You thought he was strange as he blew smoke rings and poked is finger through them while looking up wistfully at the night sky.
You would only ever see him loitering outside the Bronze back alley. Since you spent half the night going inside and outside to smoke you'd end up catching him before he disappeared into the night. Soon enough, he became the sole reason you went to the Bronze. How pathetic, you thought, wanting to shiver in the cold while waiting for a stranger to appear, only to exchange a few words, maybe share a cigarette and then say goodbye.
One night you were warming yourself up with your lighter after crushing out your second cigarette waiting for Spike. You didn't think he was going to show until you turned around to go inside and there he was, brooding over the top of you and grinning manically.
"Hey Y/N! I was just looking for you. What are you doing outside? You must be freezing. Here let's go back inside."
He shuffled you indoors and bought you a hot mulled wine to warm you up. All the time shaking his head and complaining you were going to catch a cold. You moved naturally with him and followed his lead. This was the first time you had ever even seen him inside the Bronze, let alone be in his company with others around. You both sat down at a table in the back where it was away from the main stage.
"I haven't seen you in a while" you said, instantly regretting admitting you noticed.
"Yeah, I've been busy," Spike said raising his eyebrows, obviously surprised. "But I had my lucky lighter with me to remind me of you," showing you the vampire lighter out of his pocket and playing with it on the table. This made you smile that he remembered. You talked all night together until closing and he walked you home, after insisting, saying there's bad people lurking around this time of night.
It would only be a few weeks into the relationship that he would reveal his true identity as a vampire. You immediately ended the relationship in your head when his face turned into that of a beast. You weren't scared at the change in his appearance and demeanour. You only wanted to leave the Bronze and never see him again. This was three months ago and you hadn't seen him since. Not even when you braved to go our to the Bronze a few weeks after the break-up. You slowly forgot, or pretended you had forgotten, about the mystery vampire when you went to UC Sunnydale. What with all the studying, coffee and cigarettes consuming your brain you could hardly think straight let alone remember basic English. But, now you were back home and the memories consumed you. Perhaps, you thought, you had unconsciously quit smoking to forget Spike.
It was midnight, day 15, and you were kept awake by the intense cravings and nausea. You felt dizzy and the whole world was spinning when you rested your head. So, you switched on your bedside light and tried some breathing exercises. In and out. It will all go away soon, you thought. You stared out your bedroom window and remembered all the memories you had with Spike. You both had stood huddled under his leather jacket while it rained with his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you shared a cigarette. With your faces almost touching, all it took was a slight turn and that was the first time you both kissed. The cigarette forgotten about, laid burning half finished on the ground outside the Bronze. A sigh escaped your mouth as you remember the feeling of being kissed by Spike and exhaling smoke. You knew if you didn't quit smoking and break up with Spike they would have both killed you in the end. There's nothing in this world that compares to having something you love which kills you in the process. You feel both weak and strong being defeated because it means you have something to overcome.
These were the thoughts racing through your head as the clock moved between the early hours of the morning. You heard your parents snoring down the hallway and closed your eyes trying to isolate your dad's breathing and snoring. This grounded you in the moment until you heard a sudden sound outside of a lighter spark and an inhale that was followed by a familiar scratchy cough and a curse word. Paralyzed, you sat frozen on your bed while your eyes bursted open like a cat's, hair sticking up on end. You drifted to your windowsill, hiding behind the curtain and peeping outside you saw Spike standing below your window. He was leaning up against a tree in your front yard and looking straight into your bedroom. Flustered you backed away from the window. It's too dark to tell but you don't think he looked angry or upset. Honestly, it looked like he was just minding his own business, loitering in the middle of the night. Except, he was staring into your window so he obviously hasn't forgotten about you. You remember he is unable to enter the house since you never formally invited him inside. But, that didn't make him go away as there he stood waiting outside your house.
Knowing that you would be unable to sleep unless you confronted him about his stalker behaviour you returned to the window. You opened both curtains and sat down on your window sill bench wrapping the blanket around you. Breathing a deep breath, you opened your window and finally looked down at Spike.
"I had nearly given up," he said waving his lit cigarette. "I thought I was going to have to smoke a whole packet before you'd open up."
"What are you doing here Spike?" you ask, grimacing as you see his bleached blonde hair shine in the moonlight. God, how did that ever attract you.
"A little birdy told me that you've quit smoking and I've just come to give my congrats. Nothing wrong with that, is there?" He asks, grinning innocently and putting his hands up in the air. He crushes the cigarette on the ground and proceeds to light another one. "You see, I've tried quitting every turn of the century but nothing's seemed to work and I was thinking, since you're doing so well and all, you'd let me in on the secret".
This is unbelievable, you thought. He's really going to stand there all night, smoking a packet of cigarettes, trying to get inside your head. The wind rustled the leaves above Spike. Maybe if it picks up it would blow out his cigarette or at least drown out his voice. You looked into Spike's eyes as he raised his eyebrows waiting for your response.
"If you really want to know Spike, sometimes to kill one addiction you have to kill another. Like, if you always smoke when you have a drink you might have to quit both. At least for me, breaking up with you has solved all kinds of problems in my life."
"Ouch that hurts, love. But I bet that's what you wanted. Though I know you don't mean a word. I'll throw you up a smoke, if you want. Must be craving one like mad stuck in your room watching me enjoy one." He said, blowing out a cloud of smoke. You hated to admit it but he was right. You would have liked a cigarette but you couldn't bow down and accept one from Spike of all people.
"Sure and while I'm at it I think I want to get back together, don't you?"
"Cool it with the sarcasm pet, I'm just teasing you. Honestly, I want to commend you for giving it up. There's no point ruining your body when it's your only one. But I've been missing you lately. You never come to the Bronze anymore."
Why doesn't he just start crying, you thought. If you would have known he'd be this clingy you would never have spoken to him. Maybe all those times you waited in the back alley for him, he was also waiting for the right time to walk up to you. You had never thought about that before. How long could he have been staring at me, watching me, waiting to come up to me and have a smoke. It creeped you out to think of yourself as prey and Spike the predator. But that's what he was, at the end of the day. He had never raised his hand or drawn your blood, but that doesn't mean he wasn't trying to kill you. He was toying with you, making you believe you were in love with him. You thought you could never love another person except for Spike. But, you had proved that wrong having been in a more than happy relationship for months now.
You no longer needed those things that were silently killing you. Neither Spike or cigarettes were welcome into your life anymore. You stared down at Spike, smoking his third cigarette now catching a glimpse of your old vampire lighter. If only you could have known how ironic it was when you handed it over to him, he must have loved it. Reflecting back on when you first started smoking in your teenage years, you didn't know smoking was going to corrupt your body and become an irrepressible addiction. You were naïve and thought it would lessen the monotony of everyday life and make you more mature. The same was true about going out with Spike, an older guy who happened to be much older than he looks. You know you shouldn't blame yourself for what you know now but it's hard when you're consumed with deep seated regret. Especially because your body desires and craves both Spike and smoking.
"Goodbye, Spike." you whisper, just loud enough to see his face start and mouth open.
You smile sincerely looking down at Spike remembering the times you had together. The nights he'd stay out with you after closing hours and talk with you all night. But, Spike is a double-edged sword and someone who, in the end, would kill you if he had the chance. You close the curtains not turning back and curl up into bed imagining his arm around you as you smoked together in the rain. It felt so real, like he was there in bed beside you, Though you knew it was impossible you curled up next to him in his smoked-stained leather jacket and felt his arms wrap around you.
"I guess that's another addiction I haven't gotten over." you say as you breath a sigh of release. Turning out your lamp, you toss and turn trying to sleep while memories of Spike lighting a cigarette and handing it over to you with a grin churns in your brain.
#spike#spike headcanons#spike buffy the vampire slayer#spike x reader#buffy the vampire slayer#buffy the vampire slayer headcanons#buffy the vampire slayer imagine#btvs#spike btvs x reader#vampire#vampire x reader#reader insert#fanfiction#headcanon#spike btvs
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The Darkling by @thisisoffyourbird is all bound!! It’s HUGE (1400 pages!!!)!
Look at them all next to each other!!
This was my first attempt at book binding, and it was so much fun!!
#also I love the label I made for it!!#makes it look so fancy#she’s beautiful 🥹#now I’ve done the 4 from OffYourBird that I wanted which means it’s time to bind some from sunalso next!!#im gonna end up with just a whole bookcase with spuffy fanfiction and I am very excited#spuffy#buffy x spike#buffy#buffy the vampire slayer#btvs#spike btvs#book binding#fan fiction#offyourbird
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Paid in Lies (Spike x Y/N)
Requested: No.
Synopsis: This is lore for the character in the other fics. It helps to build up the relationship and the direction. Feel free to get acquainted with it. <3
Word count: 2.5k
TW: None.
Masterlist | Next
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Another droll day with the Scoobies. The Magic Box was their hangout after all. Spike wishes he was anywhere but this place. However, he found himself at the metaphysical store more times than not. After getting the chip implanted and losing his ability to kill, he finds himself being amused by their banter and attempts at saving the world.
Today was different. The normal Scooby chatter was taken up by a voice he didn't recognize. A story he had never heard was being told followed by laughter. He was weary of new people.
"So then I told him that he couldn't tell a newt's eye from a bat's and that's what makes him a horrible wizard." Y/n exclaimed and laughter erupted.
"I can't believe you got into a fight with a kid over the last piece of candy." Willow stated.
"I take Halloween very seriously." You quipped.
"Aren't you like a hundred?" Xander chimed in.
"Rude. I'm 25. I can still trick or treat. They say it’s the only day the big bad doesn’t come out" you got up from your chair and walked to the register when you noticed Spike.
Everyone became nervous about your statement.
"What big bad?" Buffy asked.
"I don't know. It’s just something people say." Spike approached you. "Welcome to the Magic Box how can I h-"
"Don't bother with him, he doesn't buy anything." Giles interrupted, having come from the back room after he heard your comment.
"Oh. In that case, hi I’m y/n." Your voice was inviting, suspiciously so. Spike didn't trust it but didn't back away.
"I’m the big bad" he responded.
"Interesting. Then it means that you don't come out on Halloween."
Willow snickered.
Spike seemed incredulous. You just met him and you're already making fun of him.
"He's Spike, he just exists." Buffy chimed in.
"Rough." You stated.
An awkward silence followed. No one would say it, but they wanted you gone. It was time for the Scoobie’s nightly meeting, and you weren't invited since you were a regular civilian.
Giles finally got the hint. "Y/n it’s gonna be a slow night. Why don't you head home."
You hesitated but nodded. You packed up your things. "Night guys! It was nice meeting you Mr. Spike Big Bad."
As soon as you leave the chatter picks up. Conversations about the latest big bad and how to take them down takes up the space. But not for Spike. His interest is peaked by y/n. He's used to being mocked but never by someone he just met, much less a human. If you knew who he was would you still try that stunt? He was strung out from a previous altercation and was actively looking for trouble. So, he starts asking questions about you.
"She just came in one day and asked for a job. She doesn't talk much about herself but knows a lot about the occult." Willow offered.
"I bet she's a demon" Xander chimes in.
"How about we slow it down on the demon accusations. She might just be a big nerd like Giles." Buffy mentions.
Giles frowns at Buffy's retorts.
Spike mulls it over. He's decided to get more information out of you. He may be off base, but he feels that you're hiding something. No one comes to Sunnydale just because.
The conversation continues in the background as Spike devices a plan to follow you, maybe find out more about you. He exits The magic Box without a word. He’s hot on your trail watching your every movement until you stop. He doubles back into an alley. He hears you snicker. He’s so irritated by your calm demeanor that he breaks his silent stalking.
“You know, pretty girls shouldn’t be walking alone at night.” He walks up behind you.
“You think I’m pretty?” You turn around, a grin on your face.
He’s definitely annoyed now. “I could kill you if I wanted to.”
“Same.” She retorted and started walking off.
He stands there, flabbergasted. Who do you think you are? Don’t you know who you’re dealing with?
He walks up to you again, walking beside you. Eyeing you as you walk silently.
After awhile you speak up, “It’s weird for you to follow me.”
He’s quiet again. You knew he was following you. Most humans are oblivious. “You’re not afraid to be on your own, huh?”
“Nope. I’ve done it my whole life. Being an orphan does give you that hyper independence vibe.”
He stands in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. He thinks over whether he will show you his vamp face. Maybe scare you a bit. He decides against it. “Just be careful, love.” He walks away.
“If it’s so dangerous, why don’t you walk me home, big bad?” You shout out to him.
He stops, smirks and turns around. He smugly walks up to you and you both resume a quiet but steady pace to your house. Upon arrival you turn to him, “I can’t invite you in. I just met you and I can’t risk all that noise. Thank you for walking me home, though.”
He nods nonchalantly. “Goodnight, then.” He walks away feeling a bit awkward. Like, what just happened? He offered to walk a stranger home and you refused to invite him in? Did you know he was a vampire? Were you just being polite? So many questions.
The next day a similar occurrence happened. He saw you at The Magic Box, heard you talking about the occult soliciting laughter with your odd anecdote, and off you were to your home. He debated whether or not to follow you again. As if his feet had a mind of their own, he trailed behind you once more. He caught up to you and started small talk.
Where did you come from. “North Carolina”
Where were you going. “To find freedom.”
How long were you planning on staying. “’Till the money runs out.”
Who were you in love with. You paused at his bold question. He shrugged, “well, answer the question.” He pressed.
You took a pause. You told him of two previous lovers, both in which love was unrequited. You explained that you lived for the moment and not for men.
Before he could start up with questions you interested with your own. You asked the same questions. He hesitated to answer your questions honestly.
“Same questions. Go.”
He sighed. “England. Err.. to…” He paused. He realized he didn’t have the answer to where was he going and how long he was planning on staying at Sunnydale. How to explain that he is a vampire with no real vamp-like behavior? How to admit that he was obsessed with Buffy? So, he opted to skip to the last question. “It doesn’t matter. As for love, I had a nice lady. Crazy bird, she was. I loved her until she left me. Now I just go with whatever fancies me.” He flashes you a grin. You laugh.
“You’re harping on me, but you have no real plan or ambitions.”
That hurt his feelings. He had ambitions, in the past he wanted to kill the slayer. Now he wants to date her. Maybe his priorities got skewed.
As he further mulls over what you said, you both arrive at her home.
“Thank you for walking me home, again. It’s nice to have company.
And so, this became a daily occurrence. Spike would walk you home and ask you about your life, your day, and your connection to the Scoobies. It seemed harmless and he enjoyed how normal you made him feel. With you there was no talk of demons or the end of the world, just a normal human doing human things.
A month has passed, and Spike is still walking you home every day you work at The Magic Box. Today Spike felt bolder in his questions while walking you back home.
“What are we?” Spike side eyed you.
“That’s a bit forward. If you need to know, I thought we were friends. I mean, aren’t you and Buffy a thing?”
He was taken aback by your observation. Of course, he had a thing for Buffy, but it wasn’t reciprocated.
“Let’s change the subject…” Spike trailed off. “Friends, huh? Don’t got many o’ those.”
You smiled. “Then consider yourself lucky to have me.”
He looked away, a smile on his face.
You arrive at your house. “So, when are you inviting me in?” Spike spoke up.
You paused. How to tell him you know… “I’m not ready. Give me time.” You made heavy eye contact. He stepped closer to you, sharing your space. You stood there for what seemed an eternity.
“I’m not gon’ hurt you.” He whispered.
You nodded, “I know.” You leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. You turned around and entered your house.
He stood there, surprised, and giddy. He smiled, a genuine smile as he walked back to his mausoleum with a pep in his step.
2 months have passed, and you too have spent a lot of time being close. Boundaries are still in place. Like he’s not allowed in your house, but you too linger at your doorway, in each other’s space. He is still after Buffy, but he brushes his hand against yours, whispers into your ear, and plays with your hair, among other affectionate touches.
3 months have passed, and you and Spike have gotten to know each other well. The Scoobies were weary of your inside jokes and playful glances.
“You know, the sun is setting quicker.” Spike mentioned as a hint that it was time for you two to head out.
You sighed. “Let me finish up this order.” You looked up at him feigning annoyance.
“Don’t want the big bad to get you.” Spike gave you a playful look.
You smiled. “Well, what am I keeping you around for?”
Xander groaned. “Kiss already.” He yelled in frustration which made you and Spike laugh.
As you were getting your bag a demon came crashing in through the entrance of The Magic Box. It snarled and tore down shelves and tables that were in his way. “Give me the slayer” He exclaimed.
“I’m right here, tall and ugly.” Buffy jumped in.
“Not slayer.” He swatted her away. “Real slayer.” He pointed at you. Everyone looked at you confused. You debated on whether to feign innocence or help out. Before you had made up your mind the demon started charging at you. At that point you back flipped into his line of fire and kicked him in the jaw. Everyone stood incredulous.
You proceeded to beat the demon punch after punch. Not holding back, you pulled a sword from a sheath you had strapped on your back under your shirt. Without hesitation you went for the demon’s throat, blood splattering everywhere. You stood covered in blood but triumphant.
Silence followed. You turned around, “Ta-da?”
Buffy stood from her spot and marched up to you. “Who are you, really?”
“Yeah, explain yourself.” Spike yelled from the back.
You sighed, defeated. “Everyone sit down. I’ll explain. Please, just listen and then ask questions. It’s a long story.”
You proceeded to explain that you were close to 1,000 years old, 985 to be exact, and that you were then deemed the slayer in your village. You were raised by your grandfather who was also your watcher. On the night of your 25th birthday, you killed a vampire that was the lover of a very powerful witch in your village. The witch, heartbroken and vengeful, put a curse on you that you would not die until you found peace. That doomed you to roam the Earth in the search of true peace.
The gang was quiet. The atmosphere was heavy. You were ashamed and embarrassed.
“Why did you lie?” Spike spoke up first. His voice was heavy with anger.
“I had to. It’s so difficult to be open about why I still exist. It’s shameful.” You lowered your head.
He didn’t seem satisfied with your answer and left. Your eyes trailed after him. You knew you hurt him. You purposefully created a whole life, and he believed it. You both shared moments, connection, vulnerability and yours was all a rouse.
“I’m confused. How can you not die?” Willow asked.
Her question snapped you back to reality. “Um, uh, Well… If I get mortally wounded, it heals faster. Even if it’s a fatal blow, my body regenerates.”
“What happens if you get decapitated, maimed, or burned alive?” Xander asks, curious.
Everyone looks at him. “What?! You were all thinking it.” Everyone nodded.
You chuckled. “One word. Regeneration.”
Everyone nods. “That makes sense and ew.” Xander responded.
You stand there, still covered in blood answering question after question. Have searched how to break the curse? Do you know what will give you peace? How many slayers have you met? Do you enjoy being eternal? You answered every question until they were satisfied. The conversation shifted to how 3 slayers could exist.
“It makes sense now how you knew so much about the occult.” Giles chimed in.
You grinned. “I dabble.” You say trying to be funny. A joke that landed flat due to the circumstances.
“I know this is weird. Me existing is weird but know that I didn’t mean harm. I’m just trying to figure out how to end this curse. I can’t be running around divulging my existence to every slayer. Having two slayers makes it easier to say that there is a third but still. You must understand where I’m coming from.”
The gang was quiet, pensive. “I think it’s best that you go. We can talk more about this tomorrow.” Giles stated.
“I know this is stupid, but do I still have a job?”
Giles glares at you. You raise your hands in a defensive stance. You decide it’s best to leave.
You walk home, alone. It’s the first time in the last three months that you were walking home alone. You felt tired and sad. Not only did you potentially lose your connection with the Scoobies, but you also lost who you considered to be your closest friend, Spike.
Loud thrashing and banging can be heard inside the mausoleum. Spike is enraged and full of energy. Of course, the one person he wanted to lean on was a fake. Another illusion in his path. He felt like he could confide in her, trust her. She was no more than a liar, a con artist. To hell with her sob story. She hurt him. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been honest himself, he did the best he could while obscuring the truth to protect her. To protect her! She would pay for making a fool of him. Everyone mocks him for his lack of vampire like behaviors. Everyone puts him down for failing at killing Buffy. But to made out to be a rube for trusting, for caring, that’s where he draws the line. He was vulnerable and he got paid in lies.
#spike btvs#buffyverse#spike yn#spike the bloody#william the bloody#btvs#spike x reader#fanfiction#buffy the vampire slayer#william pratt
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Sugar and Spike
pairing(s): Spike x fem!reader
summary: after a night of patrol goes wrong, Spike starts noticing some changes in himself, mainly that Buffy's sweetest friend won't leave his mind and that she would never look at him the same if she knew what he wanted to do to her.
warnings: smut!!! a smidge of yandereness, kinda a sex or die fic, possessive spike, handjob, unprotected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral (fem receiving), praise kink, biting/marking (mentions of blood), a little bit of spanking, overstimulation, riding, fingering, veryyy little plot, and I think thats about it.
In hindsight, they should've kept a better eye on him. It was an odd night of patrolling, the usual gaggle of vampires being a demon or two this time around. Big tall thing that appeared out of nowhere and left as soon as it came. Spike, always with little regard for the consequences of his actions, ran right in. Ran so hard he went right through the demon as it went into smoke. He breathed it in before going into a coughing fit, as if he could feel it in his nose and lungs, spreading in his chest like a vine that pulled everything impossible tight before releasing him like he was never in its grasp . Red flag one.
It fell on him like rain, some clumping into what looked like pink sparkles in his hair, on his jacket, his worn boots. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling away expecting to see it gunked together, but there was nothing there. It felt like his hair had been hit by my mist, slightly damp and cool. It seeped into his exposed skin, adhering itself into a pink sheen which also disappeared after only a few minutes. He remembered trying to brush it off, expecting it to feel wet but it was just slick. It was admittedly infuriating, especially since the feeling wouldn't go away. Red flag two.
“Buffy!” He shouted, rubbing his hands on his jeans as if it was going to wipe away the phantom feeling, but his complaints were met with apathy.
“There’s nothing there, Spike.” A groan bubbled in his chest.
“Astute observation, Slayer, but it feels like something’s there.” You were there beside him, something that would’ve gone unnoticed had he not been hit with your scent as your fingers brushed against his hand. He pulled away quickly out of instinct, not as subtle as he would’ve liked to because you noticed and scampered off in between Buffy and Giles. The distance between you and him got larger and the two of you talked about a mall trip you had planned and Willow was the only one to stick with him. She humored him, allowing him to shower at her place and taking a sample of skin only to find nothing. No residue, nothing abnormal, nothing had changed at all. Red flag three.
But he was sure it was fine. Nothing had really changed. You had been a bit cautious though.
You were prone to worrying, and he couldn't blame you. There was a lot to worry about when your best friends hunted demons and one of them was a literal creature of the night. You worried about Buffy so much he genuinely feared you would collapse from all the stress you put yourself under. Pursuing a nursing degree so they could avoid hospital visits unless absolutely necessary because none of you had the money. Having him train you in basic self-defense because you hated feeling like dead weight. You took up Latin and all of the other dead languages in those old dusty books just so you could be useful. You tied yourself in knots just to be sweet. God, you were so sweet. Even to your own detriment, like pure sugar that was going to rot his teeth eventually.
The more time you spent together, the more the rot seemed to take his brain than his teeth. His mouth never got anywhere near you; Buffy made sure of that. He wished he could say it was because she was babying you too much, that you were also tired of Buffy making Spike seem like the biggest mistake you could ever make. To be fair, he hardly knew you. He knew of you; he knew of the pink wardrobe and the fluffy socks and the pretty shoes. He knew of you as Buffy's cute neighbor who stopped by so often that you might as well live with them. You weren't being a baby, you were being cautious, even more now. He almost wished you didn't believe him as much as you did, maybe you'd keep visiting him. He hadn't seen you in days and it was really starting to take a toll on him. His leg bounced and he got in the bad habit of biting his nails, which was starting to get annoying with how often he had to repaint them.
If you were here, you would repaint them. You would sit your pretty self on his busted couch, and you'd have a little bag with you with all your pins and charms that jingled like the earrings that dangle from your ears. In your bag would be at least three shades of pink, a range of blacks and greys, and a wild card or two, maybe a blue or a green. You'd let him pick his color, despite knowing he always went for black. You asked anyway, just in case he decided to go with pink just to humor you. Had you walked through right now, he would've obliged. He would've done anything you asked him too. It wasn't even that he was lonely, but it was getting to suffocate in here. It was getting hot, like a fire was spreading. Each breath felt smoke filled, his skin was on fire, his skin was getting damp, like the dust had fallen again. His hand was shaky as he put a cigarette between his lips and lit it, surely the smell would break him out of what had to be a daze.
If you were here, you'd make a joke about him needing to air the place out. He'd probably open the door and call that enough air, but he liked his privacy, and he didn't like the idea of anyone just being able to waltz right in. You would want to make a joke about no one wanting to visit him, but you’d bite your tongue at the fear of being too harsh. You always got that look in your eye when you thought something that could be misconstrued as mean. You took your lip into your teeth and your pretty eyelashes flitted and you looked away. He thought about what it would be like to bite your lips, wanting to see what they looked like, all red and even prettier than they were before. Just a taste, that's all he wanted, a taste.
He got up to open up the door only for that phantom feeling to return. All over his body, it felt like he had stepped out into the sun, like every molecule that made up his body was vibrating and mere seconds from combusting. His breathing got ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly and his brain going into overdrive. He squeezed his eyes shut as if it would make it go away, but even from behind his eyelids, you were there. The idea of you, your smile, your laughter, fuck the very way you said his name. It sounded so nice coming from you.
The way you said it when he got injured in a fight when you would patch up his wounds and have a bag of blood for him to replace what he lost. “Spike.” you would say. Like he should’ve known better than to just throw himself into danger. Not even bothering to consider the possibility that he did it to look heroic, or maybe in your care with your hands over his chest. There’s no reason for him to be this beaten and bruised from some baby vamp; William the Bloody. Spike? He had pride, but not as much as Angelus. It was easily quenched by the fact that he was in no way losing with your delicate hands tracing over faded scars on his chest and feeding him blood while they were just dust.
“Spike.” Buffy would say, her tone laced with less concern and more disapproval. She knew something was up. After all they had gone through together, vampires should’ve been nothing for him. He had to space out his “fuck ups” just to get her off his back, just to get her voice out of his head. She didn’t say his name like you did.
There wasn’t much better than how you said his name when it was just the two of you. Being together in his crypt, sometimes in your own bedroom which you had invited him into much to Buffy’s chagrin. “It’s Spike,” you had said, “how many times have we saved the world with him? I think he’s earned it.” It sent shivers down his spine. He would’ve saved the world so much sooner if it meant being able to be in your space. If it meant getting to hear you say his name through fits of laughter, trying to regain your breath while still finding enough to utter his name. “Spike.” you said, your hand over his while you giggled. He felt that heat now, felt the heat of all your touches culminating right now. All over his skin, tensing his muscles, holding his chest as he fought for breath himself.
While he had the chance, he should’ve raided your underwear drawer. Now he was left to fist his dick with just the memory of you. You wouldn’t notice a pair or two gone, surely you wouldn’t. It was the type of small thing you would overlook because really what is a pair or two. You wouldn’t want him to be in pain, hearing his situation now, you’d feel like it was all your fault. The least you could spare was a pair of your prettiest panties for him to wrap around his cock while he fisted himself to the thought of you and how you would say his name now.
The closest he’d gotten would be after a big battle. You had taken a beating, by the time you had gotten to a safe space you had lost a dangerous amount of blood, but the sounds that came out of your mouth were so delicious. And you trusted him to carry you to safety, your bloody hand wrapping itself around his bicep to maintain some tether to consciousness. “Spike.” your voice dripping with pain, but even that wasn’t enough to mask how pretty you sounded. He felt bad then for how hard it got him, but there is such a thin line between pain and pleasure. The only difference now would be circumstance, and he would never hurt you. This would be good for you, the both of you, you just had to let him. You just had to say his name.
“Spike?” In that moment, he knew there had to be some high power looking out for him when he heard your voice. Dream-like, and soft, like the wind could have blown it out and away from your lips. “Spike?!” you said again. He couldn’t tell if it was his shred of restraint or his body’s unwillingness to listen to his brain that kept him glued to his couch.
“Now really isn’t a good time, love.” He tried to keep his voice level, he really did, but it was too much. And you weren’t stupid, he heard the heels of your shoes against the hard floor and smelt you before he even saw you. And fuck you smelt heavenly.
“Are you okay? What happened-” You looked like you had a halo above your head, or maybe he was much further gone than he had thought. You cut yourself off in shock. When you had walked in, you hadn’t expected to catch Spike with his hands down his pants.
“You know what, I’m just gonna go a-and come back later.” You tried to smile in an attempt to make the situation less awkward than it needed to be, but he grabbed you by your wrist.
“Wait-I just need-fuck. I just need you to stay for a bit. I don’t feel good.” Your eyes met and you saw the sheen of what you assumed to be sweat covering his chest and face. His pupils blown out, his hair out of place, his labored breathing, like he couldn’t catch his breath. Oddly enough, the sheen had a pink tinge, and despite the fact that his fangs were protruding, his vampire face hadn’t appeared. You reached out to touch his forehead to surprisingly find a temperature. He groaned at the contact, both wanting to melt into your skin and like it physically pained him.
“What happened?” He declined the answer, instead pushing his head more into the palm of your hand, tipping his head to sniff the inside of your wrist. “What are you doing?” You tried to pull away and put some distance in between the two of you, but he pulled you back, even closer than before.
“You smell so good.” He nosed his way past your wrist and up your arm till he made it to your collarbone, trying to find where he could hear your blood pump the loudest. “Stop it!” you pushed against him as soon as you felt the tip of his fangs attempting to break skin. To both of your surprise, he let you. It looked like it pained him to do so, his eyes screwed shut and his hand gripping the arm of his couch until the wood snapped.
“If this is about the demon thing, I’m gonna go get Willow, okay? You just need to stay right here.” The authority you had laced in your voice was cute.
“Just stay here with me, yeah? There’s no need to get Willow. We don’t need Willow.” His voice had dropped an octave, his pupils blown and his brain damn near empty. Anything went in one ear then out the other as he held your hands in his, staring through you as if daring you to defy him.
“Spike, you aren’t well.” You had tried to reason, but all he heard was that you weren’t saying no because you didn’t want this. You were concerned for his well being, even when he had you pinned down and his teeth at your neck, each breath moving you closer to him drawing blood, you were saying no because you were concerned he didn’t want this. You somehow thought he didn’t want you.
“I’ve never felt better, baby.”, he said-practically fucking growled. Hell if he wanted you, he needed you. He pressed himself into you, his hands grabbing at anything he could to ground himself, his left at the base of your scalp and his right bunching the fabric of your skirt in his hands. He breathed into your neck, nipping and nicking at bare skin then soothing it with his tongue and kisses. He worked himself up over you, taking and taking until he was drunk, his tongue lolled out as he put his head on your chest.“Can I fuck you.”
You had been caught in a daze yourself, his words had barely registered. You had more sense than he did at this point, finding enough resolve to shake your head. “Please.” he begged, groaning it out through clenched teeth. “I need you to make it feel better, please God just make it feel better.” He had pushed his hips into your hand, his weeping cock leaking onto you, pleading with you to touch it. “I’ll make it good for you, I swear, just be my sweet girl, yeah? Just make it better.”
You experimentally rubbed the tip, and he whimpered. His hand grabbing your wrist so fast a look of shock flashed across his face. You took that as a sign to pull away but he put your hand back around him, pushing your hand up and down his base. “Too much too quick, love.”
Any hesitancy you had was swallowed as he smashed his lips into yours. It was urgent and quick, almost bruising how hard he kissed and held you as if you were going to disappear at any point. He tugged at a handful of hair, catching you in a moan that he used to force tongue into your mouth, sucking it as you pumped his dick at a painfully slow pace.
His kisses made you breathless, and it was then you realized that he likely forgot in his haze that you actually needed air. He moaned into your lips, the sound spreading throughout your body and shaking you to your core. It wasn’t lost on him how damp your underwear had gotten, had he had the strength to pull away to touch you he would, but the mere seconds his skin would be off yours was enough of a deterrent to keep him in place.
You tried to move away, but his hand kept you in place. “Don’t move.”, he rushed it out, a tone that otherwise would’ve been more commanding had he not been weak himself. “Keep going.” His hips bucked and stuttered, his movements becoming erratic the more faint your touches became. Like it was a warning; let me up for air and I’ll keep touching you. He whined at the thought of you pulling away. That wasn’t fair.
His lips parted from yours, settling for the corner of your mouth before moving to your jawline to your neck, then just under your ear. You gasped for breath, you numb with the ecstasy of air and the feeling of his rushed kisses. He was getting close. Your hand was covered in his sticky pre-cum, his cock even more so as your hand moved alone over him, his own hand now grabbing at your shirt at the feeling. You squeezed at the bass, a motion he clearly enjoyed with how his body tensed up. A series of obscenities flowed from his pretty lips as he came, spurts of his cum getting over your pretty pink skirt, an image Spike would get himself off to later.
You didn’t get long to sit in what just happened when he was on you again, laying you on your back and ripping your skirt clean off. You moaned something that sounded like “My skirt!”, but neither one of you were really worried about it.
His lithe fingers were quick, rubbing you through the fabric of your panties, while he kissed up to where you wanted him excruciatingly slow. His hands rubbed and teased at the soft skin of your thighs, marking bruises everywhere he went.
He moaned into you, sniffing you once again, before finding a place he wanted to dig his fangs into. Maybe it was how delicately he stuck in his teeth, maybe it was the lust blown fervor, but it didn’t hurt as much as you anticipated. In fact, you moaned at the intrusion, unable to know what to do with yourself as he sucked and lapped up the blood he had drawn. Your fingers wove into his hair, as if he could be pulled any closer to you than he already was. “You taste so good. So good.” And he let you know as such. The obscene noises that flew from the both of you, the slurping and whines, the pop of his lips as he traveled from one spot to another. But that’s not how he intended to eat you whole.
You were unbelievably wet, soaking through your panties and even Spikes fingers before he took pity on you and decided to pull them aside and plant his fingers into you. Now, you weren’t a virgin, but you had never had sex that felt as good as this. Never had someone in you that had hundreds of years of practice beforehand.
“You’re doing so good, Sweet Girl. So good, can’t get enough of you.” What was an attempt to calm your nerves, had you keening and over the moon, the praise bringing tears to your eyes as you ground yourself in his hand. That didn’t move him along any quicker, his tongue still collecting anything you would give him like he hadn’t been fed in years.
“Spike!” You called out, which finally seemed to get his attention. He saw the glass-like look your eyes had taken and the pout on your face. You looked like you were about to cry. Poor thing, so desperate. He said he’d take care of you, make you feel good. No point in denying the inevitable.
You whined when he pulled out of you just to choke when he began to devour you. His nose at your clit and his tongue plunging into. “Thank you.” he muttered into you, like this was some divine gift to him. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” The combination of his praise and how good he was giving it to you made that coil in your belly tighten and tighten until it threatened to snap. And he just kept going. Completely in his own world, the only thoughts in his mind being about you, how you smelled, how you tasted, god you were so good to him. Letting him eat you out like this, helping him like this. He shouldn’t have expected any less from his girl. His sweet girl. No one else's, you couldn’t be anyone else's after this. His grip tightened around your thighs at the very thought. “Mine.” he said, the vibrations hitting your core deliciously. “Mine.”
“Yours Spike, all yours.” He hummed in approval, inserting two fingers back into you while he kept up his electric pace. He held your hand as it began to be too much, your back arching off the couch and your thighs closing around his head as he just kept going. You called his name as you came, high and higher until it became too heavy on your mouth and you couldn’t say anything at all. The grip you had on his hand had loosened, but he hadn’t let up. He still rambled into you, “Again. Again. Again. Please.”
You didn’t know if your hips were bucking into him or try to wiggle away from him. Either way, both attempts were unsuccessful. With how hard he pulled on your panties they had snapped and had been thrown to the side for the simple crime of being in his way. His forearm lay on your hip keeping you in place. Your hand still laid in his, him squeezing it as if it was any comfort from the inescapable feeling of his tongue licking your thoroughly soaked pussy.
Your toes curled in your frilly socks as you came again on his tongue, and you foolishly expected that to be enough. You would’ve asked him to stop if you could pant out anything more than whines. You would’ve pushed him away if you could manage anything more than weak taps on his forearm. “No more.” you whispered out. “Can’t.” His fingers rubbed your hand as some form of encouragement.
“Yes you can, love.” You shook your head weakly, scooting your hips back only for him to swiftly smack your pussy. You preened on the contact, and he drank in the arousal that gushed out just from that. “My sweet girl isn’t gonna disappoint me, is she? She’s gonna make me all better, isn’t that right?” Your brain was so fogged out you couldn’t even produce a response. You just groaned and squirmed, unable to brace for impact when he smacked you again.
“Spike!” You cried out, but he didn’t care. Heknew you were feeling good from how much you gushed while he tongue fucked your cunt. It was just a bit too much for you right now. You would feel better, you just needed to let go some more. He tried to relax you, tried rubbing mindless shapes on your skin to calm you down as he worked you through your third orgasm, but you just heaved. Your tits bounced with how heavily you breathed, and yet after all of that, he still didn’t feel better. Why didn’t he feel better?
Despite the relief that came from him pausing his abuse, you still whined as he sat up from behind your legs. With your taste still on his tongue, he kissed you. You sighed into him, the feeling of his large hands moving from your hip to under your shirt to touch your tummy and rip your bra in half. You didn’t even notice him moving you into his lap and setting your thighs on either side of him so you straddled him. He thumbed your nipples, pinching and rubbing over them while he relished in the feeling of you cunt so close to his dick.
You didn’t seem to catch on either as he slid in between your folds, too lost of him finally kissing you again. You moaned into this kiss as his fingers dipped to toy with your clit before he whispered in your ear. “Just one more.”
In one fluid motion, he slipped his dick into his cunt, catching you as your limbs went weak. He was so big you felt your eyes water with the pressure of him being in you. You could tell he was struggling to stay still, but the haze had worn off enough for him to regain some sense. He still waited eagerly for you to adjust, brushing the fallen tears from your eyes and kissing your checks to make it all better.
“Too big. It’s too big.” You stuttered. It was all you could manage to mutter out. He cooed at you, his dick growing harder than he thought possible at the feeling of it all and the praise.
“I was made for you, Pretty Girl, you can take it.” You yelped as he jerked his hips into yours, but he just couldn’t help it. You were so pretty like this, all fucked out and dumb. Not a thought behind those eyes of yours and the only thoughts he was capable of was you. How warm you were, how wet you were, how tight you were. You were squeezing him and milking him dry and as much as he tried he just couldn’t stop him self from fucking into you.
“I’m sorry.” and he meant it. You weren’t ready and he couldn’t even tell if he was ready, his body had a mind of his own and he felt himself just slipping into the feeling of being enveloped by you. “Just too good. You’re too good. My good girl. You’re gonna take all I give you, aren’t you, love? You gonna be my sweet girl and take it?” His voice was breathy and low and impossibly hot.
All you could manage was a soft ‘mhm’ as you took him in. It wasn’t like you had any other choice as you bounced on his cock, gripping at his chest and taking in each moan you earned as you drew blood from your scratches.
You felt every inch of him, felt the tip of his dick hit your cervix and kept pounding at it like it was his job; like he would die if he didn’t. You can’t do anything but take it as you screw your eyes shut and just try to breathe as everything in your body fights to hold on to some feeling. It was impossible to think, not when Spike’s hands were all over you and his touch was so incredibly hot. Even stranger, a pink glow began to emanate from him, that or you were closer to passing out than you originally thought. .
He kept you close to his chest as you both chased your impending highs together, your lips meeting in the middle as you moaned and sighed into each other's mouths and he was a goner, rambling like a mad man in your ear, thanking you endlessly for something he couldn’t put his hands on. Maybe it was your release, that you felt coming like a truck. He squeezed at the fat of your hips, pulling you even closer until neither one of you could tell where the other started and ended and you came like that, so close that you were almost suffocating, but a different kind from before.
He came not long after you, his dick still inside spurting his cum inside you and keeping it in there with little intention of coming out any time soon. That pink glow had faded from before, fading away until there was nothing there and the slight pink tinge from before was gone too. His eyes drooped a bit, his blue irises that you hadn’t realized you had missed finally reappeared, his pupils returning to normal and his fangs retracting.
He hung his head in your neck and you felt his temperature drop a bit, no longer boiling hot. He refused to move his head from his spot though. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was ashamed of what just happened.
After the both of you had a moment to catch your breaths, he removed himself from inside you, stalking off to find something to wear now that your outfit was completely ruined. He even had the decency to turn around while you changed, granted he had a hard time looking at you anyway.
“You’re gonna wanna deep clean that couch.” You said to break the silence. You were surprised you got a chuckle out of him.
“Yeah. I don’t normally do this sort of thing on there.” Another moment of silence passed between the two of you.
“You know, we can go back to my place and I can fix your nails. I can tell you’ve been biting at them.” He didn’t need to be told twice either. The place still stunk of sex and his head was feeling clearer than it had in days, he couldn’t stand to be there right now.
“About all of this…you won’t tell Buffy, right?” You giggled.
“Not if you don’t.” And that was more than enough for him.
#btvs#btvs imagine#btvs x reader#buffy the vampire slayer#buffy the vampire slayer fanfiction#buffy the vampire slayer imagine#buffy the vampire slayer x reader#spike btvs x reader#spike btvs imagine#spike btvs fanfiction#spike x reader#spike btvs#spike smut#spike btvs smut#btvs smut#buffy the vampire slayer smut
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𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞
⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!
ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ
SFW🌿
⭑ When Spike falls in love, he falls hard. And I mean, head over heels, heart-aching, chest-burning, mind full of you and you only...
⭑ I think once he realises how much he loves you, he’d leave for a few weeks. No note, no telling anyone where he was going.
⭑ He needed to get away. To try and sort himself out before being around you
⭑ When he comes back, he tries to act as calmly and collected as he can.
⭑ A cigarette in his mouth whenever conversation ceased, snarky comments, but never directed towards you. It’s like his defense mechanisms don’t work when you’re around.
⭑ And he tries to move on from you. He tries so hard. But he can’t. It’s impossible.
⭑ So he tries to sway you. To seduce you; he just wants you to love him.
⭑ Flowers, red roses because he knows that’s the most romantic, although when you frown at them he insists on you telling him your favourite.
⭑ Always hanging around your house, ‘just in case of trouble,’ he would mutter in his gruff accent
⭑ I think there would be a time when he can’t hide his feelings any longer. A romantic display of his love turns sour when all the things he’s planned go awry.
⭑ And he tries. He tries and tries; protecting you, getting your groceries, fixing your car. He turns into a best friend really.
⭑ Spike listens to you - he would want you to feel like you have a person, someone you can go to with whatever is lying heavy on your chest
⭑ And he does everything within his power not to touch you - not until you’ve consented
⭑ I think a lot of people find Spike to be toxic, and it’s a genuine concern that you bring up with him. It’s something that holds you back from committing to him.
⭑ “I can be better y/n, I would never hurt you,” he stood in your living room, his arms dangling by his sides.
“Is that the truth? Because you’ve hurt so many before.”
⭑ Your belief in Spike being a changed man would be the beginning of the relationship. And he does everything in his power to be on the ‘right’ track. Like a retired villain.
⭑ The wooing and romance does not stop when you accept him. He still goes out of his way to make you feel like the most important person in the world.
⭑ “You’re looking ... most scrumptious today love,” he’d purr in your ear.
⭑ And surprisingly enough ... he does honour you and himself. Figuring out what ‘a hero’ would do and trying to do it to the best of his abilities.
Tagged: https://notanalienindisguiseblink.tumblr.com/
#spike#spike headcanons#spike buffy the vampire slayer#spike x reader#buffy the vampire slayer#buffy the vampire slayer headcanons#buffy the vampire slayer imagine#buffy the vampire slayer would include#btvs#spike btvs x reader#vampire#vampire x reader#reader insert#fanfiction#headcanons
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hey y’all!! request are open!! i’ll write them as i get them/when i can. if i’m a little slow, i apologize. i’m a first year art student and that has to take priority but i’m definitely wanting to get into writing more!!
i will also be cleaning out my inbox soon! there’s a few request i never got to…oops.
who i write for and what i write below the cut…
who i write for -
supernatural
Dean Winchester
Sam winchester
Castiel
Crowley? maybe?
the vampire diaries universe
Damon Salvatore
Stefan Salvatore
Klaus Mikaelson
Elijah Mikaelson
Marcel
buffy the vampire slayer
Spike
criminal minds
Aaron Hotchner
Spencer Reid
Derek Morgan
bridgerton
Anthony Bridgerton
Benedict Bridgerton
Colin Bridgerton
stranger things
Steve Harrington
Eddie Munson
Billy Hargrove
~~~~~
content wise i will not write
no incest, rape/non-con etc
no fullblown smut (wouldn’t even know where to start)
most fics will be female readers unless stated other wise. i’ll gladly do gender neutral just ask!! personally do not feel comfortable doing male readers at this time.
nothing disrespectful to other races, religions, communities or cultures.
other than that, everything else is fair game.
if there’s anything i missed and you have a request, just ask!
#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester fanfic#dean winchester fanfiction#dean x reader#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester fanfiction#damon salvatore x reader#stefan salavatore x reader#klaus mikaelson x reader#elijah mikaelson x reader#marcel gerard#marcel gerard x reader#spike btvs x reader#anthony bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton x reader#colin bridgerton x reader#steve harrington x reader#eddie munson x reader#billy hargrove x reader#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds x reader#aaron hotchner x reader#derek morgan x reader#supernatural x reader#the originals x reader#the vampire diaries x reader
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Author IG: roselynnthornwood_author
Support me on Patreon!
Artist IG: drea.d.art
Support her on Patreon!
#buffy the vampire slayer#buffy summers#buffy x angel#buffy x angelus#buffy x spike#angelus x buffy x spike#smut and humor#btvs fanart#btvs fanfiction#btvs#spike btvs#spike#angel btvs#buffyverse#buffy season 2#fanfic#angelus#spangel#angel x buffy x spike
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I often imagine a conversation in which Spike tells Faith how he managed to get his soul back and why.
F: So, what's up with the soul thing, how'd you got it?
S: I went to Africa, I've heard of a demon there that could put it back in me.
F: Wait... You went after it ON YOUR OWN? You're telling me you actually wanted it?
S: ...Yes.
F: That's a major freak shit. But why?
S: Um. I-I fell in love with Buffy, which I know is freakish by itself. I mean, an evil soulless vampire falling for a Slayer. Well, but I did and then I got to spend time with her family, Little Bit... Joyce... I realised that to be someone the three of them could trust and love I had to be good, and I thought I could, I thought it wouldn't even be that hard given how much I cared for them. But then I did something... I did something to Buffy... Something truly evil. That, what I did... To someone I loved so deeply was to show me I was wrong, I was a monster. I couldn't be the good man they needed me to be, not without my soul. And I went after it, I left Sunnydale determined to retrieve it or die trying, I almost nearly did. The demon wouldn't just give it to me, I had to face three deadly trials so that he would put it back in me. But I got it and that meant I could come back and be someone that could protect them, someone they could be safe around. For real this time. I wouldn't be a monster anymore.
#btvs#spuffy#buffy#buffy the vampire slayer#william pratt#buffy summers#btvs spuffy#spike#faith lehane#spike btvs#buffy spike#spike and buffy#buffy and spike#btvs spike#buffy x spike#spike buffy#spike x buffy#btvs fanfiction#btvs fanfic#spuffy fanfic#spike fanfic#william the bloody#mine
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Beautiful
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