Tumgik
#btvs x reader
evieelyzabethh · 8 months
Text
Sugar and Spike
Tumblr media
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.
905 notes · View notes
prose-for-hire · 10 months
Text
High Stakes
Pairing: Spike x witch!reader (gn)
Request: I was wondering about maybe one where spike and reader are in a relationship like a really healthy one and he is completely in love them but the scooby gang ask them to do some really big draining spell because they are more powerful witch then willow and like reader starts to panic once leaving the magic box with spike and he is super concerned and like they start to have a panic attack and he immediately starts calming them down and looking after them and it’s just really fluffy and angsty.
Requested by: @witchb1tches
Warning: Reader has a panic attack. Crying. 
Tumblr media
There was a storm brewing. The sky was dark but only you could feel it. You were at one with the elements. A powerful sorcerer who had unfathomable power. As you waled briskly through the streets, your hands laced with Spike’s, you tried to push down your anxieties and focus on the feeling of his hand in yours.
You and Spike had been together for years. He adored you with ever fibre of his being and you matched his love in every way. It was a love that others only dreamed of. You had met at a demon bar one evening and in attempting to impress you, Spike had picked a fight with half of the bar. When he got in trouble and they all tried to jump him at once, you stood up raised your hand, making the entire crowd slam into the back wall of the bar as if shoved by an invisible force.
Spike had just stared, mouth wide open as you winked and left him in the bar, saying your goodbyes. Although you didn’t agree with love at first sight, the ground started humming and the breeze that whistled through your ears on the way home telling you that you had met the one. You waited though, to see if he would make the first move. To test if it really was fate.
You had run into each other several times after that and after getting over the fact that you were friends with the Slayer, he built up the courage to ask you on an actual date. He had even brought flowers that looked suspiciously like they had been swiped from a nearby grave. He had been rather bashful and it had been incredibly endearing, you only understood later on why he was so nervous of rejection.
You had been laying in bed when you got the SOS message from Xander. Some big evil this or some creepy spell that. You knew you had to come as fast as you could and your vampire insisted he was only coming to try and score a nip of blood, but you knew him better than that.
“Don’t know why they think you’re at their every bleedin’ beck and call” Spike had been sulking the entire way there, his unlit cigarette bobbing from his mouth as he spoke. He mostly did it to see you smile, he was very fond of your smile. He did this, especially when he sensed that you were feeling tense about something.
“Spike, it’s the end of the world, we can’t just hold each other and wait for it to get us”
“If it was the end of the world, we’d be doin’ more than cuddlin’. That I can tell you, pet” he pointed at you, his cigarette between his fingers as a curl of smoke escaped his smirk. You rolled your eyes and pushed him playfully as you walked.
“I have power, it would be wrong not to do something to help”
“No, what’s wrong is callin’ up a vampire in the middle of the afternoon while he’s trying to sleep! Apocalypses are ten-to-the-bloody-dozen ‘round here, we could have finished our nap and still caught the next one, I wager”
“That may be true, but-” You started to defend your younger friends and Giles, but that was when you sensed it. The coming storm had distracted you but now you saw it. The Magic Box was ablaze, green fire licked the building and what looked like a tornado inside the store fanned the flames.
You ran straight into the fire, with Spike trying to pull you back. You shot him a meaningful look, your intentions sending your thoughts and reasons into his own head. He nodded, understanding, the fire was magically suspended, something (probably Willow and Tara) was working against the damage.
When you both arrived, Spike had a hand firmly on your waist, he knew that in this sort of fight, you were the one that was doing the protecting. He was man enough to admit that. But it didn’t stop him wanting to ensure that you were by his side. Safe from harm’s way.
The scene was pure chaos, and not in a nice, neat, easy-to-calm way. You had ceased many of those for your friends before. This one was different. An invisible tornado had whipped up around the store, the noise was so loud it was near impossible to hear yourself think. Anya was trying to hold down anything valuable from getting more broken while Giles and Willow were screaming incantations over the din.
“No bloody way” Spike muttered, taking you hand and trying to lead you out again. There was no sodding, buggering, bloody way that you two were getting involved in this one. The slayer and her little friends could fry for all he cared. Just so long as it didn’t involve you.
Buffy was trying to fight the air around her, with Xander on back up, as some force kept attacking the two that were trying to reduce the amount of fire that threatened to consume them.
That was when you saw it. In the centre of the room, the eye of the tornado.
“Th-that book…” You said softly. You knew that book, you could feel the ancient power rolling off it. Humans couldn’t touch that book unless they were powerful enough to withstand it’s hold on their souls.
And seemingly, Tara had touched it. She was suspended in the corner of the room, eyes black and her hair to match. She was a good witch, but not powerful enough to withstand something like that. You weren’t even sure that you were.
How had they found it? Why was it here?
No wonder the world was ending. One chapter, no one sentence even, from that book spoken aloud by someone that didn’t know what to do with it and the whole fabric of this dimension, and many others, would tear and scatter until it was no more.
That book was supposed to be suspended in a hell dimension and, you later found out, Willow had received it as a Birthday gift from an unnamed admirer.
“Y/n, we need to do this, now!” Buffy shouted over the noise. It was a lot worse than you had expected. Time was speeding up, lives were in danger and the whole thing seemed to be resting on you. You wavered, the others couldn’t see it over all the chaos. But he could. Your Spike. Your protector. He was the only thing that could ground you.
“Piss off, would you! You saw what happened to them last time” Spike stepped up to the Slayer menacingly, his leather duster whipping around him in the artificial wind. He cared about you, deeply, none of your friends could deny it. He was worried about you, doing so many spells for them he thought they took it for granted that you could just bounce back and be fine. He told them as much whilst simultaneously throwing a few punches at this invisible being that was trying to fight the room.
You were stood there, seemingly daydreaming as you stood still as the mayhem raged around you, just staring at the book.
“Y/n, the stakes are high, are you, ah, able to do this?” Giles asked, pausing from chanting as he realised that you were now using your own power to hold off the fire.
“We don’t use that word in our house, stakes that is. What with the whole burning at the stake bit” Spike cut in, throwing a punch and overbalancing when it didn’t connect with anything. He managed to style it out, rolling and landing back onto his feet.
“And the dusty vampire thing” You agreed distractedly, pressing your lips against his as he got up from the floor beside you.
“Yes, yes, well? Are you able to do it?” Giles was growing impatient with the man that was always so close by your side. Both Giles and you knew what you had to do. It was something that no other could do. If you didn’t do this, Buffy would never be able to get the upper hand. You may all perish in an instant.
“I can stop time, isolating it so that Buffy can still move will, uh, take a lot… But, luckily for you I am blessed with a lot of power” You insisted, feeling their resolves falter slightly. Buffy had never faced anything like this before. The Hellmouth opening was nothing compared to complete obliteration of dimensions.
The way your power works, you would be pushing against time whilst also pulling Buffy into the present with you. Shifting more than yourself was known to be near-impossible when stopping time. You had done it once before but it had taken a lot out of you.
Spike stayed stood by your side in all of this, only fending off anything that came towards you now. You nodded at him gently, he was always in awe of you, but more so every day.
It was a lot of pressure and the responsibility was crushing. But you persevered, Spike nodding by your side, giving his unending support without even having to say a word. You took a breath, closed your eyes and raised your arms, chanting rapidly.
You did it. When you opened your eyes time had stopped, your love frozen by your side. 
Buffy nodded at you, able to move as you held the very threads of time together. It was already taking a toll on your body. It was like you were hanging over the edge of the universe, grip so tight that your knuckles whitened, grimace on your face as you tried to stop everything from tipping into nothingness.
You stopped time long enough for Buffy to decloak the invisible force, the Slayer was already weakened from the earlier fight but managed to kill the demon that had emerged from the book. It bled profusely, spraying the floor with an orange goo.
“Don’t- not on the book!” You screamed, if any demon blood got on that book literally anything could happen. But none of it good.
With one final flourish, Buffy managed to slay the demon and take its weapon, a long staff that had been invisible until now that was needed to return Tara back to them.
While you were watching her, you were hurting, aching all over, you couldn’t hold it any longer. While Buffy finished, you had a spinning wheel of dimensions in your mind and you dropped the book into nearest Hell dimension, hoping it could hold it.
You dropped to the floor as the book disappeared, the wind stopped and everything went silent. Tara was back to herself after a ceremonial wave of the staff, now propped up in a corner by Willow as everyone else skidded towards them. A battered Buffy included.
“You okay?” Spike asked it quietly, as you got to your feet, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention from the group. You nodded once but he wasn’t convinced. He knew you inside out and he took your hand tenderly as he spoke.
“Yeah, I-” You started but the look he gave you told you that he knew. He could sense it. You weren’t doing okay.
“I, uh, I just need some air” You said, grappling with yourself to get out of the magic shop, your hand no longer clasping Spike’s. He was on your heels, throwing a glare behind him at your friends as he went.
The others called their thanks to you as you left, while Xander tended to Buffy’s battle wounds. Your friends all loved you but they didn’t understand certain things about you. You were known as being a little odd, you went missing for periods of time and you frequently shied away from praise or gratitude. But they were fond of you all the same.
You were overwhelmed. Drained and scared you hadn’t done the right thing. What if that book was summoned in another dimension and you could do nothing to stop it? What if you had killed thousands of others by only saving the dimension you lived in?What if it came back and a different chapter opened, one where you couldn’t fight it?
Once outside, the storm had started. The thunder cracked through the air as your heart hammered through your chest. Your chest writhed in pain, as if several hands were scratching at you from within, trying to claw their way out of you. You couldn’t take a full breath, your breathing quickly shallowed, as if something was wringing out your lungs.
It had been creeping up on you ever since you had started the spell, but it had just crashed on top of you like a ton of bricks. You slid down the wall you had been leaning against, clutching your heart and fighting for breath. You were panicking.
“You’re okay, love, ‘m right here with you” Spike knew immediately what it was, crouching down beside you the ghost of his touch hovering over your shoulder as it erratically rose and fell.
“I- I can’t-” You stammered, lightning violently cracking through the air as you spoke.
“You’re okay, love.” he soothed, taking big unneeded breaths of his own to give you something to focus on. You tried to speak but he shook your head, you needed to focus on your breathing, “Breathe, Y/n, that’s right.”
He continued to breathe with you, your fingers numbing and your chest feeling like it was caving in. You felt like you needed to reach inside and stop it somehow but you could summon no amount of power or magic to stop it. This made it worse, you couldn’t control it. You couldn’t stop it and the storm raged on, worse this time as the thunder came from within.
“You’re safe, I’ve got you. Not gonna let anythin’ nasty get you, just take your time” He knelt before you, so that he was all that you could see.
As you slowly managed to regulate your breathing, you stayed sat in the same position as before. Rain started to fall as your tears broke, rolling down your face as the rain pelted down from the sky. You reached for him and he held you, arms wrapping around you as raindrops rolled down his cheeks.
You both stayed, crouched on the floor with the rain hammering down and soaking you both as he pressed the most tender kisses. First against your forehead, then your temple and finally a gentle peck against your lips.
Eventually, Spike moved, only to remove his leather duster to drape it around your shoulders. You hadn’t brought a jacket despite his insistence back in your shared crypt. He didn’t feel the weather and even if he did he would have done the same. Just as he knew you would for him.  
“Sorry about…”
“Don’t you ever apologise. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, you got nothin’ to be sorry for. I meant it, I always mean it. I’m here for every part of you” The look in his eyes told you that he meant every word. There was no reason for you to ever feel embarrassed, especially not around him. You would never be a burden, nor an inconvenience.
“Thanks” you murmured, but the look he gave you told you that him being here for you was not something he needed to be thanked for, he loved you after all. He was by your side always.
“Let’s get you home, love, catch your death out here” he joked, a watery smile on your face as you pulled his jacket around you. He encouraged you to lean against him as you walked, his arm firmly around your shoulders, the weather clearing if only slightly as you went.
463 notes · View notes
way2geeky · 9 months
Text
Get Well - Part 2- Spike x Reader
Warnings - none
Part one here - Get Well
Tumblr media
Spike sat Y/n down on the couch and scurried around his crypt. He pulled his blanket off his bed and draped it over her. Sitting down with bottle of gin in hand. "Here take a swig of this it will warm you up." She hesitantly takes the bottle and takes a small sip, and cringes at the taste. She shakes her head in a disidentified manner, he watches her adorningly. A small smile tugged on his tight lips.
"I'm sorry that is not for me." She admits sheepishly, "I can tell." He mutters, taking the bottle and taking an unfazed sip. They sat in a comfortable silence, Y/n looked around his crypt. Cozying herself further into his blanket. He sat back and just watched her, in contentment. It was small moments such as this he relished with her. Small moments that were always interrupted.
"Your starring" she quietly noted, sitting up a bit more as he scooted closer. "I always stare at you. I can't help it." She looked down hiding her blushed face. "Why did you do all this pet?" He asked titling his head to look at her. She thought for a minute trying to find the right words. "You have been avoiding everyone for weeks. That is a long time to be in your own head. So, I thought you could use a care package to show that I care. To show you're not alone."
Spike tilted her head up looking deeply into her eyes, and it was as if something clicked. It felt as if their souls were reconnecting, dancing together as they silently starred at each other. "In all my two hundred years I have never met someone like you." His eyes flicking from her eyes to her plump lips. He holds the corner of her chin, leaning down slowly. "Spike?" She whispers, "I don't want to take advantage of you." A small chuckle vibrates to her lips. His eyes flick to hers.
"How would you be taking advantage pet?"
"You have been very upset lately, and maybe you see something nice and you doing something you might regret later." He tilts his head, and she follows his movements. Like a mirror. "I won't regret it. Will you?" She shakes her head lightly, "no." She mumbles. "I just don't want to be a stress reliver. Spike I have had feelings for you for a long time now. I don't want something you don't."
She looks at him hesitantly, but he looked at her with such certainty. "Oh, Y/n only if you knew how much I think of you." He leaned in and kissed her with such adoration. Such certainty, with is much passion it was taking the air out of her lungs. He snaked his arm under the blanket around her waist. He brings her on his lap, the blanket draping on them cascading down the couch.
She pulled away leaning her head on his catching her breath. "If only you knew how much I need you. How much I want you." He whispered pecking her lips gently.
199 notes · View notes
Waves (Spike x YN)
Tumblr media
Request: Nope. Just another concept that turned way too long. Continuation of other fics.
TW: Mentions of blood and phsyical harm.
Word Count: 2.2k
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Another night of hunting. Another night covered in blood. You walked half contorted down the street, in pain after your battle. Your body was regenerating but it was still painful. How many more nights if this hell before you found peace. You would cry, like you did in the past, but there's no point. It brings no relief. So, you just hobbled home in the dead of night hoping no civilian would catch you. Cause what a horrifying sight you are.
Smoke litters the air as Spike exhales. Another night of helping the slayer. Another night of getting his ass handed to him for getting cocky around her. He wishes he wasn't infatuated with her, but life just happens. A quick thought interrupted his line of thought. The cursed slayer. He hasn't seen her in 3 days. He misses her. Now that she doesn't work at The Magic Shop it’s harder to see her. Maybe every other day he'll see her in the cemetery with Buffy or alone but never on a consistent schedule. He knows where she lives... he could visit her. He would blush if he had any blood to produce a blush. How silly is he being? Him, chasing after the cursed slayer. Ridiculous.
He trails off from the cemetery, still debating on whether to visit y/n or not. What reasons would he have for stopping by? The waltz! He offered her a dance! He stops in his tracks and shakes his head. He was being silly. No one that experienced and ancient would care to spend time with him. Even if they were friends. She was just being polite. He tried to reason with himself. He has never felt so much doubt over someone. With Buffy it was straight forward, stalk and wear her down. With y/n it’s so complicated. Like playing a game without rules.
His attention is caught by a trail of blood on the ground. He's on high alert. He follows the zig zag of blood down the street. This is the street to y/n's house. He walks faster, afraid for her safety. As he turns the corner he sees her, a macabre sight of body parts twisted and torn. He holds his breath as if he had any. He rushes to her side.
You become aware of a presence behind you. You're tired and badly hurt, but if a fight has to happen then you are ready.
"Y/n!" Spike yells after you.
The wave of relief that washes over you is insurmountable.
You barely turn as he runs up to you, worry etched on his face.
"Despite my current presentation, I'm fine." You interject before he can get a word out.
"You look like death."
"I'll survive." You try to hobble past him.
Without any warning he scoops you up into his arms, your face against his chest. You feel a blush coming on. He starts at a steady and careful pace back to your house.
"I can walk." You argue.
"Barely" he says.
You sigh. You would never admit it but you like how it feels to be taken care of. You breath in the scent if dirt and leather that clings to Spike. You stay quiet the rest of the way, contemplating how much different your life would be if you had Spike around. You wave the idea away. He belongs to Buffy and you belong to the curse, simple as that.
You reach your house, still in his arms. He gently puts you down on your feet. You're surprised by his gentle nature.
"Thank you." You smile, trying to steady yourself.
"What are friends for." He pauses for a second. "You owe me a dance." He felt like a putz bringing it up in her current state. Why did his brain short circuit around her?
You chuckle. "I haven't forgotten. Maybe next time." You turn away and walk inside your house.
As soon as the door closes, he hangs his head. What an idiot he's being! Asking for a dance when she can barely move. Might as well wear a sign that says touch starved. He walks back home, hands in his pocket, angry and embarrassed. He can still smell her blood on him, making him hungry.
The next day he was itching to see y/n again. He had to wait at the cemetery, maybe? Walk up her street? He didn't know where to locate her, simply that he had to make sure she was okay. After a while he gives up and starts to walking by y/n's street to find her sitting by the curve. She looks in pain.
He rushed to your side. You have a broken leg. You thought it would be a good idea to limp back home after your early but painful altercation with a demon. Spike crouches down to your level.
"What do we got here?" He says in a playful tone trying to hide his concern.
"You should see the other guy."
Spike frowned at seeing the damage. "Can you get up?"
"Yes. And no, you're not carrying me today. I've been taking care if myself for years and I can do it now."
"A bloody terrible job you've been doin’."
"Rude" you get up and start limping again.
Before you can get your footing Spike sweeps you up again. You protest but he hushes you. Again, incredulous. This man is sweet but is getting on your last nerve.
"Sorry love, can't let you waste away." He looks down at you. He notices how fragile you are in his arms, how good you feel so close to him, and how much power he has over you in this one moment.
He quickly looks up, trying to avoid your prodding gaze. "Tell me what happened."
"Simple. Demon had a club. I got cocky. He swung, broke my leg and I swung my sword and cut his head."
"Big fan of decapitation, I see."
"All in a night's work." You grinned.
"You say you’ve always taken care o’ yourself. Does every night end like this?"
"Most nights, yes. It’s just me and the big bad demons. I do get careless cause of the whole immortality bit."
He nods. You both reach your house. He gently puts you down on your feet. You sway and he catches you. You look up, your faces mere inches from each other. You take the time to admire his chiseled face, his sharp cheek bones and his blue eyes. All the while he enjoys getting reacquainted with the valley of your lips, and the deep hue of color in your eyes. He wonders how soft your lips really are. He pulls back at the thought and you almost stumble onto him. He steadies you, from a distance. You laugh at his reaction.
"Once again, thank you. You always seem to show up when I need you, and I appreciate that."
He nods, contemplating his next move. You turn to open, enter and close your door. However, Spike puts his foot on the door.
"I don't want you goin' our without me."
"Excuse me?" You're incredulous.
"Every time you're alone you get hurt. We can't have that now, can we? So, you're with me from now on."
You stand there speechless. Before you can retort he ends the conversation with "I'll pick you up at 9." And walks away.
The following night you wait for him, amused at how the night will turn out. A knock is heard in the distance. You open it to see Spike, your chaperone if the night.
"Good evening. Where to m'lady?"
You laugh at his antics. As you walk towards the woods you explain to Spike your goal for the night. To take down set of twin demons that have been trying to lure children to eat them. Spike is attentive and energized. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to prove to you that he was no sniveling child vampire. Just because there is an 800 year difference between the two of you, it doesn't mean that he's useless.
You both make it to an empty playground.
"Here?" Spike asks.
"Here." You confirm.
So, you sit and wait. Spike steals glances at you, hoping to catch your eye. He has never felt so small and shy. You turn to look at him and smile "nervous, baby boy?"
He is taken aback, speechless. Baby boy! You had some gal! He didn't know if to fight back or let you dominate him. Neither action came to fruition due to two big demons coming into view.
You stand ready, "show time, baby boy." You run up at the twin demons.
Spike needs a minute to rewire his thoughts and calm his feelings. Once reconnected he runs after you to back you up.
You both go on a head on collision with the demons. Spike is surprised at your direct approach. He can tell you're too focused on the win and not on your safety. He swoops in to play defense and keep you safe. While you work on slashing and punching, Spike works on blocking and moving you out of the way. You both work as a unit, fearless of what’s to come. Your bodies speak a language that only you two understand.
The demons are tired and bruised but you guys aren't done. Spike calls your name as he pushes one of the demons your way. Your sword is ready, and you stab into him with ease. Spike misses his cue as you call to him and the other demon attacks him, hurting him. You call to him one last time throwing your sword his way. He catches it with ease and stabs the demon multiple times. You're both triumphant.
You walk up to Spike to assess the damage.
"It's bleeding but not terrible" Spike states.
You nod and sling his arm around your shoulders. You both limp towards your house.
"Thank you. You were amazing." You compliment him.
He smirks, "You weren't half bad."
"If you hadn't been there those demons would've taken me out."
"I know" Spike smiles his shit eating grin.
You stop at your porch and Spike moves away from you. "Good night. I'll see you tomorrow night" and he starts walking away.
"Wait, I'm gonna patch you up." You stop him from moving farther away from you.
He freezes. "Love, I'd have to come in..." He trails off at the prospect of being in your home.
You chuckle. "I know." You stand inside your house. "Go ahead, ask."
He couldn't believe it. Dead heart be still. "Can I come in?"
"Nah."
Spike's jaw drops. Ridiculous. He feels like storming off until he hears you laugh which makes his blood boil.
"Wait! Don't leave. I’m sorry. Ask again. Please." You say trying to get your laughter under control.
He asks again, and you say yes. And he feels all the air, if any, leave his body. He was elated and giddy.
He saunters into your home as if it was his own. He takes in the space, the furniture.
"Take a seat, I'll be right back" you point to your couch.
You bring him a cup of water and a med kit. He is humbled at your gesture. So simple yet so loving.
"Take off your shirt." You say as you look through your med kit.
"Buy me a drink first, love" he chuckles and complies.
You make an annoyed face, but it’s quickly washed off at the sight at his body. He was breathtaking. Dips and valleys hidden under hard lines of muscles. You remind yourself to breathe. You refocus and go to tending his wound. You are careful, loving as your work on him.
He admires your gentle hands, So carefully caring for him. Buffy would never. Yet y/n will always. Always. He snaps back from his reverie as you apply the anti-septic to his wound. It stings.
"All new!" You state looking at your handy work.
"Thank you..." he mumbles as he pulls his shirt down.
"My pleasure. I mean, it was a pleasure to help. I mean not that I take pleasure in seeing your hurt. I mean - " Spike places his pointer and middle finger to your lips. A firm but gentle gesture.
"I know what you mean." He smiles, a genuine one. "I have to go now. The sun is rising."
As he turns away you pull at his duster. "Stay."
He turns slowly, in surprise of what he just heard.
"Stay" you repeat. "You can stay on the couch. It’s a pull out."
He makes eye contact. He steps closer, purposefully entering your personal space. One hand distracts itself by playing with your hair. The other ghosted over yours at your side.
He knew, in that moment, that you would look out for him no matter what. The woman he got to know before he knew her as the cursed slayer was still there. The attentive eyes, the smart mouth and the loving heart. All that he needed. He refuses to let himself drown in this feeling. Not yet. He needed time before he let himself swim in your waves of love. But there was no harm in taking a dip, just for tonight.
20 notes · View notes
witchthewriter · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡'𝐬 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞
⤷ female & ambiguous race reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading. Love ya! 
a/n: I loved writing this so much. Faith is one of those characters that are so easy to write for omg. 
ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ
ESTP
Slytherin
Sagittarius Sun, Scorpio Moon, Gemini Rising
SFW🌈
・She was wild, absolutely chaotic when you first met her
・Faith just wanted a quick one-night stand, no strings attached. 
・But you were someone she couldn’t get out of her head; you were so different from the rest of them. She could almost feel your kindness radiating from you. Like a warmth whenever she touched you. 
・Faith would show up to the same bar to see if you would be there. 
・After the 7th time, there you were. A group of friends pulling you onto the dancefloor. And all she could do was watch you. The way your hair swished and shone. Your eyes closed and body moving to the beat. 
・Usually Faith would strut onto the dancefloor and capture her prey but that night ... she was mesmerized. 
・It wasn’t until you stumbled from the floor, with an overwhelming thirst for water, that Faith shook an unopened bottle in front of you. 
   “Never thought I’d see you again.” Her ruby red lips glinted with glitter. Golden shimmer danced across her eyelids. 
   “Same here,” you took the bottle and heard the crack. (Important to note, never take drinks from strangers, even if you’ve had a one-night stand with them. That’s why reader is listening to the crack of the bottle lid.)
You drunk greedily but kept your eye on Faith. She did the same. A smirk played at her lips. 
・She got your number that night and waited a day before texting you. 
・You didn’t care about those silly games - how long to wait before messaging. If you like someone, then talk to them. You’re honest in that way. 
・She calls you every pet name under the sun. ‘My love,’ ‘Sweetcheeks (her favourite actually)’, ‘Honey,’ ‘Twinkle-toes,’ ‘Honey-buns,’ ‘Kid,’ ‘Bug,’ ‘Bunny,’ ‘Foxy.’
・You call her ‘My Darling,’ ‘Pumpkin,’ ‘Peanut,’ etc. Mostly food related because you find her so tasty...
・Doing each other’s makeup. You know that picture of a girl lying on her back with another girl sitting on top of her doing her makeup? Yeah, you guys would be the BLUEPRINT for that. 
・You guys getting a puppy together and it’s honestly the sweetest thing. It’s such a big milestone to Faith, because of her past relationships, she felt as if no one would truly love her. And actually want to be around her. 
・It would definitely be from the pound; and then there was this old dog. She had been there so long that she had forgotten the name her original owners gave her. They had scheduled her to be put down that very day. 
・With your puppy in hand, you turned to Faith and she was already smiling. 
  “But there is something you should know,” the volunteer interrupted. You both looked at them, a question already at your lips - 
“She doesn’t do well with men.” 
   And without missing a beat, Faith said, “We’ll take her.” 
・Faith loves sitting in the sun. You put heaps of sun-catcher stickers and trinkets around the windows so rainbows light up the room whenever the sun is out. She absolutely ADORES IT
・She always makes sure you’re hydrated 
・Faith isn’t the best at communication and you have to set some boundaries with her. She actually likes it, and has learnt a lot about herself because of it
・Helping her with big emotions
・She is SO PROTECTIVE. You find her so badass that you’ve kinda idolised her in that way. 
・Definitely think you have the coolest girlfriend 
・But she thinks the same about you
Relationship tropes/dynamics:
Morally questionable x Pure Bean
Cinnabon x Hot-headed
Fierce Devotion
And then they lived happily ever after <3
NSFW🔞minors dni!!!
・Sex with Faith is mind-blowing
・Faith is the best sex you’ve ever had 
・It’s like she has endless energy and barely anything slows her down
・It’s not a proper fuck until you’ve both cum three times 
・I think she would be open to anything, but you push the idea of what she likes. 
    “Tell me your fantasies Faith,” your hand caressed her cheek, your lips inches from her own. 
 “I want to please you,” she whispered and nipped at your bottom lip. 
     “And I want the same for you. Tell me what you want.” 
・Her favourite positions would be cowgirl and reverse cowgirl. Usually her topping
・SHE LIKES TO EAT PUSSY. She’s so goddamn good at it. And wouldn’t care if you were on your periods. I think she likes it messy. 
・Faith will pull you to the edge of the bed, push your legs apart and slowly tease you. Rubbing your clit through your panties, licking and nudging the edge to the side with her nose. 
・It’s almost cruel how much she teases you. But your whines are her favourite song. 
・I also think she would totally eat ass as well. 
・And she couldn’t choose between being an ass or tits person because both of them drive her crazy. 
・Shower sex - she will get on her knees and eat you out while the hot water falls onto your naked body. 
・Loves, loves, lOVES when you bite and suck on her nipples. She loves it when you’re rough, and pull/clamp them. 
・I do think she loves having her pussy eaten as well. And if you have the same vigor as her, then she will fall in love without question...
・Also Faith wouldn’t care if you shaved or not. I don’t think she would shave actually. 
・She LOVES bathing with you. Bubble baths feel like a luxury to her and when you moved in together, she was adamant about having a place with a bath. 
・Would like it when you call her mummy/daddy. 
185 notes · View notes
smartycvnt · 3 months
Text
Creature of the Night*
Tumblr media
Title: Creature of the Night
Summary: Faith sneaks away to hook up with Ash.
Warnings: smut, bottom faith, top reader, oral (f receiving)
Word Count: 956
Faith hated being stuck in the same place. Sunnydale attracted its fair share of evil freaks, which was great, but Faith was still bored. There wasn't nearly as much for her to do with Buffy there. Maybe Faith wouldn't have minded things so much if it was just Buffy, but the nerd herd grated on her nerves. She couldn't just go out and do her thing with them constantly breathing down her neck.
They forced her to be too good. Faith knew that as a slayer, her alignment was on the "good" side, but still. Faith liked being a rebel. She had always been a bit of a troublemaker. Two slayers was a mistake, and maybe, just maybe, she wasn't really meant to be a slayer.
"These stupid little posters don't do you justice," Ash said as she dropped down from a tree branch. Faith glanced up at the tree above her. There was no telling how long Ash had been waiting up there for Faith to arrive. They had made these plans weeks ago, but Faith kept backing out. She'd never admit it, but a part of her was afraid to be alone with Ash.
"I'm not really interested in your lines," Faith said as she grabbed onto the lapels of Ash's jacket. Ash opened her mouth to protest that move, but Faith kissed her instead. Faith had heard all about Ash's authentic and ancient fashion from when she was turned. Ash had a tendency of talking about things that didn't really matter, so Faith had learned a lot during the brief period of time that Ash had helped them out.
"You're not interested in courting, I know. I wasn't when I was alive, either." Ash smirked. Faith went in for another kiss, this one heavily reciprocated by Ash. It was a bit odd kissing a vampire, but Faith was into it. The coolness of Ash's lips was like a little shock. Although, Faith had begun to find a lot about Ash shocking as they got to know each other better.
Faith could only imagine how far ahead of her time socially Ash must have been. According to Angel, Ash hadn't changed one bit since they had first met hundreds of years before. If anything, Angel claimed that Ash had only grown a little tamer throughout the years. Every so often, Faith could understand what he meant by some of the things that Ash said.
"This is a very interesting use of leather," Ash said as she ran her hands along the inside of Faith's thighs. Faith's breath hitched when Ash's fingers brushed against the inseam of her jeans just a little harder than they had elsewhere. Faith was not the type of girl that wanted to wear frilly dresses or anything of the sort, but she wondered about the ways that Ash would have gotten underneath the skirt of her dress to do this.
Faith glanced down at Ash, who was kneeling down in between Faith's spread legs. It was utterly intoxicating to have such a powerful creature focusing solely on pleasuring her. Faith's head would have been spinning if not for the tree bark digging into her back. There would be marks in the morning, ones that Faith wouldn't even bother to explain away to the Scoobies.
"No matter how much some things change, others will always stay the same," Ash muttered to herself. She tugged Faith's pants down just enough to get to what she wanted. There was no way for Faith to move away now, not that she could ever think of it. Faith would have stayed pinned to that tree forever if she could.
"Fuck," Faith moaned. She had a fistful of Ash's hair and tugged it hard enough to get the vampire to hiss. Faith wondered if Angel and Buffy's little love affair was nearly as hot as hers. She doubted it. She doubted that Angel got on his knees like this to service Buffy, or that Buffy would even let him.
Angel seemed far too proud, still stuck in an old fashioned mindset. Ash wasn't submissive by any means, but she knew what she liked doing. Faith had seen Ash feed on someone once, and it wasn't nearly as enthusiastic as this. Still, when Ash looked up at Faith, her face glistened in a similar way that it had before. Only the blood had been replaced with arousal.
Faith felt a tightening in her stomach as she thought about how Ash had looked while feeding. Ash seemed to pick up on Faith's second wave of arousal. Instead of bringing her mouth back to Faith's wanting cunt, she opted to use her fingers instead. Ash's fingers kept a fast and strong rhythm of thrusts mixed with just enough subtle curls for Faith's second orgasm to take her by surprise.
She clamped her hand down around her mouth to keep quiet as she came. Ash let Faith drop forward onto the grass. Faith pressed her lips to Ash's for a kiss, one that was just as messy and broken as she felt. Ash kissed back, nipping slightly at Faith's bottom lip hard enough to draw a little blood. Faith let her lap it up, and once the small cut had stopped bleeding, Ash had vanished into the night.
"Typical," Faith muttered to herself as she fixed her pants. She gave a quick little look around of the area before she moved on. The group was surely waiting up for her, and Faith knew that she was already on pretty thin ice with most of them. The last thing Faith wanted was to get booted out and have to leave Ash in Sunnydale until it was safe to come back again.
6 notes · View notes
ofc-fics · 10 months
Text
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel Masterlist
Settled (Maggie Walsh)
Good Night (Buffy)
Mystics (Maggie Walsh)
(Willow Rosenberg)
(Faith Lehane) 
7 notes · View notes
crowwritesaway · 7 hours
Text
Requests are Open.
1 note · View note
wardenparker · 6 months
Text
Vampire Waltz - ch 1
Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst
Tumblr media
A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...
Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 9.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships.* Abusive relationship, getting *out* of an abusive relationship, alcoholism, alcohol, mention of sleeping in a car. Summary: One of the worst days of your life takes a sharp right turn into the unexpected when you learn of the death of a long-lost relative. Notes: It's heeeere! Spooky season has officially arrived and with it comes our annual spooky-themed soulmate story! Bringing our two canonical vampires together is going to be endless shenanigans. 🧛‍♂️🧡 Since this story is mostly set inside one of the mansions that I work in, we're planning on using photos of the house as chapter headers some of the time. Visual reference fun!
Tumblr media
"Hurry up and get your shit." The drunken bellow from downstairs is followed up by a loud crash, another curse and a thump as your boyfriend – ex-boyfriend – continues to throw the equivalent of a temper tantrum. It hadn't been the first time you've fought, or that the asshole had threatened to throw you out on your ass, but the fist sized hole in the wall that had only been an inch from your face was new, escalating violence.
"Lazy, good for nothing cunt! I work all goddamn day and you couldn't even fucking do what I asked!"
It's not that you don't work. Or that you didn't work. But after getting fired four days ago following yet another day calling out of work to clean up some mess caused by your boyfriend, your manager had said it was the final straw and sent you packing. Since then you had tried to clean up the house, get the back-log of laundry out of the way, and at least make a nice dinner while you applied for new jobs. It isn't your fault that the neighbor's dog got into your yard and ripped a hole in one of his shirts on the clothesline. There is absolutely no way you could have done anything about it. But it is the thing that sent him over the deep end this time and has him screaming at you yet again.
Running upstairs was the best thing you could do to get away from his fist, and now you're just praying that you have enough trash bags in the house to cram your stuff into before he decides to come after you again. You'll be sleeping in your car tonight, but at least all the locks on the doors work. You can manage a few nights in a securely locked car. It's just...that you're not quite sure where you'll go after that.
The sound of the top to a Natural Light beer being cracked open sounds from the base of the stairwell and he takes several loud gulps. Belching from drinking too fast and hitting the wall with the flat of his hand. "Come on, bitch!" He calls out. "I ain't got all night!"
Wiping the tears from your eyes, you pace back to the top of the stairwell and lean down so you can actually see him. Ten goddamn years with this man and this is how it ends. "I'll be gone by the time you get home," you promise him, the resignation obvious in your voice. He'll go to the bar to see his friends like he does after he eats dinner almost every night. You've never been the kind of girlfriend to stop him from seeing his friends, so they have had a routine for almost as many years as you've been together.
"Good." He glares up at you and points a finger. "You better not take any of my shit either." He warns you. "Tired of taking care of your stupid ass. You're in for a rude wake up call. Shit's not easy out there." He burps again and turns around to stumble down the hall. "You are such a disappointment." He yells out before opening the front door and letting it slam behind him, rattling the windows.
"Yeah." You sigh, shaking your head with one of those cheap fleece throw blankets in your hand. It has ballet slippers on it, a relic of a childhood long dream long forgotten. "I know I am." Holding up the blanket to look at it more closely, you debate throwing the damn thing out entirely, but it will keep you warm in the car tonight. It will go into a trash bag along with everything else.
As soon as the blanket is shoved in with your two miniature throw pillows, your phone goes off in your pocket. Expecting it to be Derek, ready to yell at you some more, you're surprised to see Private splashed across the screen instead. If you don't answer it and it is him for any reason, there will be hell to pay. "Hello?"
The smooth, cultured voice on the other end of the line is slightly raspy. As if the person has spent a lifetime swallowing brandy and smoking cigars, or had spent all day talking. In actuality, both of those things are true. Your name is spoken in the form of a question. Asking if he had reached the right person.
"Speaking." The automatic answer doesn't make you feel any less confused, but at least they aren't yelling at you. "Can I ask who's calling, please?"
"Antonio Colette," He tells you quickly. "With Colette and Dupree. I am calling about your late, great aunt, Etienne Brown." He shuffles through the papers to bring up the will that had been laid out, along with the investigators report on you. It was how he had found your current number. "I am executing her estate and quite frankly, it has been a search to find you."
"I'm sorry," you shake your head against the phone as though the man could possibly see you. "I don't know anyone by that name. My, um...I don't know a lot of my family. But that isn't a name I recognize. Maybe you have the wrong person?" There is no reason that any family member you've never heard of would have left you anything in a will, so he must have the wrong number. That's the only explanation you can think of.
"No, ma'am." He tells you. "I don't think I have the wrong person. Is this not a good time to talk?" He can hear something in your voice, and while most were always happy to inherit something, you might have pressing matters to attend to.
Hesitating for a reason you can't quite put your finger on, you glance out the window in the corner of your now former bedroom, the one that overlooks the driveway. Derek's truck is gone, and your shoulders slump a little. You have hours until he comes home now. Usually it's not until after last call. "No...no it's okay. I'm just...not having a great day. What did you want to speak to me about?"
"Ms. Brown was very particular about her will. As executor of the estate, it is my duty to make sure that her last wishes are carried out. As there is no other living relative on your mother's side, she decided that you would be the sole heir of her estate." He explains. "This includes the eight-bedroom mansion and the trust that has been established to pay for the manor. Her private accounts. The total combined monetary worth of twelve point two million dollars."
The crash that he hears from your side of the phone call is you falling over – a product of your legs giving out the second he said the word mansion and then losing your balance all over again at the sum total of the estate. "Wh—what?" You manage to breathe, barely managing not to break down in tears all over again. For an entirely different reason, this time.
"Of course, there is one issue that you must be made aware of." He's used to people being surprised, so he doesn't try to explain. You will soon be holding paperwork that you can read again and again if needed. "There are two tenants in the mansion. Ms. Brown has given them a lifetime estate on the rooms they occupy." He tells you. "Meaning they live there for as long as they wish."
"O—okay..." As fast as your mind can possibly turn, you still feel like you can't quite keep up with it, and you end up curled up at the foot of your bed hugging the throw blanket that was still in your hands when your phone rang. "So...I just...get a mansion? And twe—twelve million dollars? And the only caveat is that I have two tenants?" None of it makes any sense, but you'll be damned if it doesn't sound like the perfect way out of the hell that you've found yourself in.
“Pretty much.” Antonio agrees. “When would you be available to tour the property and sign some paperwork?” He asks, flipping over to his calendar to pencil you in.
"I—" Stumbling again, your forehead drops onto the pillow clutched against your chest before you tip your head back and stare up at the mottled ceiling. "I guess...as soon as I can get there?" It's not as though you have anything else to do at the moment. Or even anyone to tell where you're going. "But, can I ask? Um...where exactly is this house?"
“Newport, Rhode Island.” He supplies. “I must confess that I could not find a current address for you, just this phone number, so I am not quite sure where you are traveling from.
"Dandridge, Tennessee." Six years you've lived in this town and it never felt like home, but maybe now that's for the best. With a sigh, you try to think if you've ever even heard of Newport, Rhode Island and come up entirely blank other than knowing that Rhode Island is in New England. Which is a pretty decent drive away. "It might take me a few days to drive up there. Maybe two days? Depending on how late into the night I drive."
“That’s fine.” Colette agrees. “I will give you my number. If you find yourself here quicker than you anticipate, give me a call and I can meet you with the keys.”
"Okay." For a second the brief fear that your car might not even last a two-day drive flashes through your mind but you push it aside and let out a sigh in favor of sitting up to grab the pen off your nearby desk so you can take down the lawyer's phone number. "I...um...thank you, Mr. Colette. This is..." It's insane. It's completely insane and you can't even wrap your head around it. "It's life changing."
“I will see you in two days.” Mr. Colette responds and then ends the call before he sighs. Dropping his head into his hand, he rubs his temple. Whoever you are, he feels sorry for you. No way you know what the hell you are getting into.
******
The first night you're honestly exhausted, and you end up sleeping in your packed-full car behind the twenty-four-hour diner with the really nice waitresses that don't get upset that you need a safe place to park for one night. Telling them that you're moving had done the trick, and the extremely kind pair of women had gotten their line cook to whip you up a sandwich for dinner and one more to take with you when you left town in the morning.
The gps on your phone – thank god the bill is in your name – says that it will take thirteen hours and thirty-seven minutes of driving. Deciding to go, go, go as best you can, you leave town at sunrise and end up crossing the border into Rhode Island at almost eleven that same night. Stopping for bathroom breaks and to gas up the car – plus traffic, of course – has cost some time, but you made it. Now all you had to do was make the last leg of the journey out to Newport. Surprised to find that Newport is actually on an island (didn't you learn at one point that Rhode Island isn't an island?) you pull into a truck stop to finally sleep for the night. You'll do the last forty-five minutes of the drive in the morning.
******
Feeling and probably looking like shit the next morning is the price you pay for getting here quickly, but you call the lawyer at nine in the morning when his office's website says it opens and arrange to meet him at the address he gives you. Bellevue Avenue just sounds fancy, and when you get to the island you realize why. This entire town seems filled to the brim with mansions, expensive shops, and swanky restaurants.
Antonio had been surprised that you had driven through the night, but perhaps he shouldn't have been. He gives you the address to his offices and tells his secretary to make sure that there is a good selection of bagels and muffins out this morning in case you would like something while you go over the paperwork. You are a very important client, and he would like to keep you if possible.
Tired and more than a little ragged, you pull your car up to the office on Thames Street and cut the engine with a sigh. There’s a lot of touristy stuff around, especially on this part of the island, and that means you haven’t seen a single dingy diner or fast food drive-up since you got here. Everything is expensive cafes and fancy restaurants. The thought that you might have to skip breakfast is discouraging until you walk into the lawyer’s office tentatively and smell coffee.
"Good morning." Raquel stands from behind her desk and smooths her pencil skirt down before she walks around the desk. Antonio and his partner prefer that she personally greet each client and she doesn't let her facial expression change from one of welcome when she sees the tired, beaten down appearance of the woman who walked into the door. Her heart clenches at the sight and even if you are not the client that he had been expecting, she will invite you to have some coffee and pastries while she waits for someone to work you into their calendar. "May I help you?" She asks as she offers her manicured hand to shake.
“I—I’m here to see Mr. Colette.” You give her your name along with the handshake she obviously expects, and try to shake the feeling that that smile of hers is probably plastered on. Of course it is. It’s first thing in the morning and she works in a law office.
"Of course." You are the important client, so she immediately waves you to the glass doors. "Please follow me." She tells you. "Mr. Colette is getting all the necessary documents together, but we have tea, coffee, bagels, and some delicious pastries available while you wait?" She wants you to feel comfortable as she walks you down the short hall to the smaller conference room where she had set everything up for the meeting.
“Thank you.” It doesn’t make one single bit of sense to you that they’ve gone through all this trouble, but this long-lost great aunt of yours must have been an important client. Maybe they think you’re important too? Well – they’ll be disabused of that idea pretty soon.
"Please let me know if there is anything I can get you." She senses that you aren't comfortable and she doesn't want to crowd you or do anything to upset you. "I'll let Mr. Colette know you are here."
There are a few minutes to wait, sitting in that conference room surrounded by food that you don’t dare touch, and you end up staring blankly at a photograph on the wall of a yacht on the ocean. It’s almost trance-like, how you sit there and stare, and you end up nearly jumping out of your seat when the heavy wooden doors open again and an elegant looking, well-dressed man walks through flanked by the woman who greeted you.
“Good morning.” Antonio smiles as he assesses the woman who had inherited a fortune and more. He is aware of the details of the will and the history behind it, so he feels like this is personal. “We will have quite a few things to go through, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to make myself a plate.” He chuckles. “No breakfast yet and I’m hungry.”
“Of course.” It’s a little bit like permission, and you feel comfortable enough pouring a cup of black coffee and putting a croissant on a plate for yourself when Mr. Colette motions for you to join him. In a few mere moments the three of you are sitting down at the conference table and Raquel presents her boss with a thick folder of paperwork in a leather sleeve and takes out her own notebook in turn.
“Now.” Antonio looks down at the paperwork and then back up at you. “Thank you for coming so quickly.” He starts off with. “Hopefully this transition will be seamless for you and perhaps after this I can show you around your new home?”
“It still doesn’t feel very real,” you admit, carefully sipping your hot coffee and looking down at the papers in front of him. “And you said there’s two other people…already living there?”
“Yes.” He nods. “Family friends of Ms. Brown.” He tells you vaguely.
“Alright.” Already you’ve made up your mind not to bother them, these people who live in a house that you’re inheriting out of nowhere. Who are you to intrude in their lives? “I assume there’s a lot of paperwork? I’ve never owned a house before so this is all new to me.”
“The taxes and the maintenance for the home are paid out of the trust. So you do not need to worry about that. If anything happens, call and we will take care of getting the bill paid.” He explains. “I’ve already taken the liberty of ordering you debit cards and credit cards.” He pulls out an envelope and slides it over to you. “All of them are active and ready to use.”
So people really live like this, huh? is all you can think to yourself as the lawyer’s secretary also sets a card down in front of you that has a man’s name and phone number with the title of caretaker listed on it. That along with the cards already has your head spinning, but then a set of keys is set down on the table as well. Front door. Kitchen door. Terrace doors. Each antique key is labeled carefully with a tag in elegant handwriting. Closets. Attic storage. Utility closet. It’s so much to take in — too much, arguably — and then a set of car keys is added to the pile. “What’s this?” You ask, already starting to feel your head spin a little.
“This is the car.” Antonio tells you. “The 1963 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray that Ms. Brown also willed to you.” He hums. “I have all the maintenance records for the car here as well. Her other cars were sold or given away before she died, but this one conveyed with her other belongings to you. I believe she said, ‘it goes with the house’.”
“I—um—wow…” Not that you know much about cars, but it sounds impressive and you’re momentarily thankful that you’ve been driving stick for the last few years, since your broken-down third-hand Volvo came into your life. “Are there any more surprises I should be aware of?”
“I’m not exactly sure what you will consider surprises.” The lawyer chuckles and slides a scrap of paper towards you. “The combination to the safe. It’s where the collection of Ms. Brown’s jewelry is.”
A safe full of jewels, a presumably fancy vintage car, a mansion, and a literal fortune? Frankly, it’s all a surprise. “If this house comes with servants I might black out,” you warn jokingly, staring at the slip of paper with the safe combination like it’s a foreign language.
“Well, the staff is paid from the trust.” He tells you seriously. “If you wish to make changes, please let me know. Right now….” He shuffles some papers. “There is the housekeeper and her assistant, the gardener, the pool company, and the window washer.” He looks up. “The pool company and window washer come by once a week. The gardener, the housekeeper and her assistant are all full time employees.”
The dead pan stare you have for the man is completely slack, and it takes far longer than you’re proud of to shake off the embarrassment of staring at him like an imbecile. “You’re serious?” You ask in equal parts confusion and awe. “I was kidding.”
“I assure you, the help is needed.” He tells you seriously. “A house of this size could not possibly be managed by one person alone.”
“Right.” The best you can do is nod vaguely and try not to have a panic attack over the responsibility landing in your lap, and you look between the lawyer and his clerk again. “You said it’s…eight bedrooms?” That place must be a palace…
“That is…the main bedrooms.” Antonio admits. “That doesn’t include the old servants’ quarters, although they are not occupied now.”
“Fuuuuck…” Even mumbling under your breath is obvious, and the paper that is slid in front of you is a clearly labeled blueprint of the house. Four floors, distinctly marked 38,000 square feet, and with more doorways, closets, and stairwells than you can shake a stick at.
“I can understand that it is overwhelming, but the staff is prepared for your arrival.” You look panicked and he doesn’t think that’s a good thing. It’s almost as if you feel…guilty.
“Can I ask…?” Swallowing down the dear at how daunting all of this feels, you abandon your small breakfast and sit back in the uncomfortable padded chair you’re seated in. “Anything about Ms. Brown? What did she do? How did she pass?” Where did all her money come from? The fact is, you had never even heard of her, but she left you an entire life.
“Ms. Brown died at 91.” He’s a little surprised that you are curious, but you don’t seem to be the type of person that is overly greedy. “Complications of old age.”
“I see.” Jittery fingers curl the edge of one page and you bite your lip, trying to see if anything doesn’t fit. But it all seems to knit together properly, in a way that just accidentally benefits you in the craziest way possible. “And she was just…independently wealthy?” It seems unlikely considering your family has so little, but who knows? Anything is possible.
“Some of it was leftover from her wealthy soulmate.” He admits. “They never had children. Some of it was from investments. She was a smart lady.”
“She must have been.” It’s easy to just waste money, you’ve seen that firsthand too many times. “Well…I assume I need to sign things? Make the ownership…official?”
“Absolutely.” He cracks a small smile. “Sign your life away, is the saying.”
Raquel slides a stack of papers over towards you. “All the places for you to sigh are indicated with a tab.”
A dozen different signatures and initials go by like lightning and before you know it, Raquel is excusing herself with the stack of papers to make copies and file things away. “Is there…anything else?” You ask, tentative about what else there could even be.
“Nothing that I can think of.” Mr. Colette hums. “I had the housekeeper stock the pantry and kitchen with basic items.” He tells you.
“That was very kind of you.” Since you aren’t really sure what else to say, you take a determined look at the pile of keys in front of you and muster a smile. “Would you mind showing me the house? The drive was long and it would be nice to settle in.” The further you get from Derek and his reach, the better off you know you will be. Even if you had loved him as best as you could — it had never been enough. Maybe these next people won��t be too disappointed in you. Not the way he was, at least.
“Of course.” He would make sure that you are comfortable before he turns you loose on the house. Or perhaps abandoning you to it would be a more apt phrasing. “Whenever you wish to leave here. I’ve cleared my schedule for the morning.”
“There’s no time like the present, I guess? I can follow you in my car.” You have half a mind to ask if the other occupants will be there, but you can’t see how he would possibly know that so you put the question aside in your mind.
“Of course.” He can’t think of anything else that needs to be address. “We will file all of the paperwork with the probate court and you will be receiving new registration for the car and a title to the house in four to six weeks. Sometimes it does take a few months.” He warns.
“I can’t imagine I’ll need them with any kind of speed.” After all, you have no plans to do anything of importance. In fact, if you never do anything besides sit in your little corner of this town for the rest of your life and remain unnoticed by everyone, you’ll be happier for it.
“Well.” He hands off the papers to the assistant and stands. “Shall we?” He asks, motioning towards the door.
******
Even with the heavy traffic of downtown Newport, the drive from the Law Offices of Colette & Dupree over to Bellevue Avenue takes under ten minutes. You drive by a grocery store and a drug store on the way – both good things to know the location of – as well as numerous high end shops, restaurants, and cafes. There is a bustling town here and it looks like students, too. Young adults with stuffed-full backpacks wearing all manner of paraphernalia that reads Salve Regina University seem to dominate certain areas.
After what seems like dozens of affluent homes, Mr. Colette’s blinker turns on before one of many stone walls and turns left into a driveway. When you follow suit and drive through the front gate, you’re glad to be alone because the gasp you let out is audible. Chateau-sur-Mer rises up and peeks out from behind trees like a monument. More massive than you ever would have dreamed of, the stone-faced house points north with a beautiful, multifaceted landscape surrounding it in every direction. Three stories, with a beautiful back porch, and spires and a tower to boot, the house is offset by a gigantic weeping tree that you don’t recognize and an otherwise reasonably sized house in one corner of the property that seems utterly dwarfed by the mansion it otherwise guards. Caretaker, you remember after a second. There is a caretaker…and presumably that is where he lives? It’s just…you had already had trouble wrapping your head around it. But now that you see it? It’s just…beautiful.
The sleek Jaguar comes to a stop and Antonio steps out and turns towards the older, slightly perilous looking Volvo. He hopes that you will get rid of it, or replace it now that you have the means. He had watched it seemingly buck several times while stopped at traffic lights.
“This is it?” If your question sounds dubious, it isn’t meant to. Honestly you’re almost too flabbergasted to really wrap your head around everything. There are a few cars parked under a structure to the left of the house that you assume used to be stables, from the look of it. Now the small windows that show you inside give a peak at bumpers and break lights instead of manes and carriages. There are a half dozen cars inside that you assume must belong to the other occupants and the staff, with more empty spaces standing open before the gorgeous black and chrome sports car that you now hold the keys to. “I mean it’s…it’s so much room. I’m almost glad there’s other people who will be around a lot.”
“The property is safe.” He assures you. “There’s a surveillance system that you can access and a security system that nothing in the world can rival.” He chuckles at his own joke and motions towards the house. “Shall we go inside?”
“Sure.” Not that you understand why one little old lady would need such a hardcore security system, but you nod anyway and let the lawyer – your lawyer? – lead the way. The house looms, almost daring you to come inside, but you are faced with an ordinary carved wooden door when you actually get close.
"It was built in 1852. Or completed in that year." Mr. Colette tells you as he takes the large keyring from you to unlock the front door and hands the keys back to you with a small grin. "It was once considered a ‘cottage’." He scoffs. "Although I tend to think of something a little smaller as a cottage."
“This is about four cottages all stacked on top of each other.” Walking through the front door cloaks you in near-darkness immediately. When your eyes adjust you stumble up a half-dozen wide marble steps into a front hall that grows up and up and up into an atrium taller than any you’ve ever seen before. The staircase behind you looks like it belongs to the set of a BBC drama and the thick red velvet curtains hanging in the entryway feel more like an old proscenium theater than a house. But the warm carved wood everywhere and colorfully painted forest scenes on the walls are immediately cozy in their own right. “Oh wow…” Your eyes are wide as you look around. It’s…it’s stunning.”
“Any changes you want to make, you are perfectly able to.” The lawyer reminds you, although he couldn’t imagine wanting to change anything about this estate. The mixture of Victorian and Gilded age architecture is a perfect combination to make a gorgeous house.
“I really don’t think that will be necessary.” After all, people already live here. The last thing you want to do is intrude on other people’s lives. “So this is the Great Hall, I guess?” The floor plan that Raquel gave you at the lawyer’s office is going to end up being invaluable, you think, as you pull it out and inspect the drawing of the first floor.
“Yes.” While he’s happy you don’t want to change anything, your tone makes it sound like it would be rude to do so. “The kitchens have been completely remodeled, modern appliances, but they still kept the charm of the rest of the house.”
“And that’s…” You consult the floor plan when there isn’t an obvious appliance anywhere in sight. “In the basement?”
“It is on the lower level.” Guiding you into the house, he explains. “Heat caused by the kitchens was unwanted so after the kitchens being in a different building fell out of fashion, they decided to make sure the kitchen was in the basement to keep the rest of the house cooler during the summer months. There’s the elevator over here, if you wish to use that instead of taking the stairs?”
Mr. Colette motions to the left of the main stairwell, to a portion of the first floor with red and black patterned flooring, and down a hallway. Curious enough to be led around by the suggestion and also noting that the floor plan in your hands says Servants’ Hall for this portion of the house, you follow him tentatively and watch him open what appeared to be a regular closet door. Instead there is a metal grating behind it, which is also opened, and a carved dark wood elevator car stands waiting for you. The kind of thing that would absolutely get you killed in a horror movie, it’s surprisingly sturdy when you step into it and Colette closes the door and gate easily. He presses the ‘B’ button before you can even ask about stairs and the antique elevator jolts to life, headed downstairs.
“Don’t worry,” he sends you a reassuring smile. “The elevator is safe.” He listens to the clanking and feels the carriage start to slow down.
The basement of this house is not like any basement you’ve ever been in before. The enormously long hallway with red and black flooring identical to the hall upstairs seems to stretch and stretch, and there are more doors down here than you could ever fathom needing. But there are voices coming from a room just a few yards away and that is both comforting and nerve-wracking at once. Other people means you won’t be lonely, but it also means new needs, new demands, and potentially new people to disappoint.
“Mr. Colette?” A woman’s voice sounds, loud and clear with a thick Rhode Island accent, from the room and only half a second later a tall, slim woman with gray and silver peppered through her brown hair and glasses attached to a beaded chain appears in the hall. “We weren’t sure when to expect you,” she says with a thin smile. “And this must be the new owner.”
“Yes.” The lawyer who has spent many hours in this house smiles at the housekeeper and waves your forward. Introducing you by your first and last name. “This is Marjorie Taylor and Renee Green. They are the ones who keep the house sparkling and the linens fresh.” He explains. “Mrs. Taylor would also cook for you if you would like.”
“I insist on it,” Mrs. Taylor informs you, smiling in a sort of polite-but-curious way and she shakes your hand when you offer it. “It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am.” When you falter and repeat your first name, thinking that maybe she had forgotten it or something, she shakes her head and gives you that same amused, thin-lipped smile. “There are a couple of things we stay old fashioned about here,” she tells you. But leaves out that the contract she signed with the rather suave gentleman who hired her specified it. “I’m Mrs. Taylor. This is Renee. The caretaker is Mr. Taylor, and the gardener is Mr. Finchley. The whole staff live in the caretaker’s cottage on the grounds and we are always reachable except for our day off each week. The schedule is written out for you. I left it on the desk in the library along with the necessary phone numbers and other important information.
“You’re very thorough, Mrs. Taylor.” It comes out with a note of surprise and you drop your eyes to the floor, embarrassed. “I mean — thank you. It is very much appreciated.”
“It is my pleasure.” She assures you with a soft smile. “It will be good to have people in the home again.” The others that were here kept to themselves and were often not around.
“I’m just one person,” you assure her, as if to say that you won’t cause trouble or get in the way. Those were things that Derek accused you of far too often. Even if it is the job that these people have taken on — the job not cleaning and cooking and taking care — you would never want to be a burden or a strain on them. “And…I tend to be fairly low key.”
“Well, I hope that you will let us take care of you.” Mrs. Taylor hums. “We have been delighted to hear that you had been located and were coming. I am sure that we will find a way to rub along together.”
“I’m sure.” You say, trying to smile and be reassuring. These people seem to be expecting a boss, not a wallflower, and that isn’t what you are. “I’m very glad to have gotten the call.” That, at least, is true.
“Would you like breakfast after the tour?” She asks. “I can have a tray brought up to whatever room you choose, and Mr. Taylor would be happy to bring up any luggage and boxes you have.”
Renee nods. “I would be happy to help you unpack.” She offers.
“I don’t want to be any trouble.” You protest immediately, but both women give you such placid, polite smiles that you swallow your anxiety about butting into the house and replace it with fear of being rude. “I—I mean…thank you. That actually sounds very nice.”
“Our pleasure.” The elder woman assures you. “Perhaps later on, once you have settled in, we can go over your preferences.” She tilts her head. “For now, do you have any food allergies I should make note of?”
“None.” Just as soon as you shake your head though, something in your gut churns and the smell of Derek’s cheap beer somehow overtakes you out of nowhere. It’s like a sense memory you never needed, and you stammer inelegantly. “But I—I, um…I don’t drink. Alcohol, I mean.” You did before. A long time ago. But seeing what it did to the man you thought you were going to spend your life with has ruined it for you. Soulmate or not, you had really thought Derek was the one. But his one comes in a can.
“Yes ma’am.” If it sounds odd to her, she doesn’t make it visible, just nodding politely. “I will make sure you have a nice tray sent up, I know you will be tired from travel.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Taylor.” “I’ll show our new resident The call buttons after she chooses a bedroom, so you’ll know where to bring her tray.” Colette assures the housekeeper with a smile. “We’ll just head back upstairs.”
“Perfect.” She smiles at the lawyer. “Oh, Max and Eddie aren’t here right now, so if you show her their rooms, just go right in.”
You thank both women again and follow Mr. Colette back upstairs, where he motions to the left of the hallway where the elevator is hidden and you end up in a room that is wall-to-wall cabinets. There are beautiful serving pieces and sets of China in those cases, as well as stunning crystal and glassware. If you ever throw a Victorian themed dinner party, it looks like you’ll be all set for dishes.
“The preservation society on the island has been itching to get their hands on this estate.” Antonio muses as he slows down to let you take in the vastness of the collection. “Ms. Brown always enjoyed thumbing her nose at them.” He chuckles quietly. “I believe that you would have liked her. She was a firecracker.”
“She had great taste.” There is a set of China in the cases that you keep coming back to — the intricate gilding and beautifully painted flowers utterly mesmerizing you for a few moments. There seem to be three different full sets of China here and two full sets of glassware. Every different size dish or glass you can think of is here.
“Now it is yours to keep and use however you wish.” He reminds you as he moves towards the display of real silverware.
“I think it’s actually harder to wrap my head around that now that I’m in the house,” you admit, trying for a laugh and just sort of letting out a huffed breath instead. On the floor plan, the door to the left of you is marked Butler’s Pantry and that seems like someplace you shouldn’t go. To the right, though, the plan says Dining Room. “This way next?” You guess? The door looks innocuous enough — it’s just a dining room. It can’t be that crazy.
“Wherever you would like to go.” Antonio insists as he pushes open the swinging double doors silently. The large dining room table with the massive set of three chandeliers dominates the room.
The gasp from your lips has you pretty sure that you’re going to be saying “Wow” a hell of a lot in this house, and every room just makes the feeling grow. From the forest green walls of the dining room outfitted with ornate carvings in dark wood – to the silver painted walls of the ballroom with its six foot high mirrors and gilt relief work on every wall panel. A parlor room off one end of the ballroom is all decorated in green silk fabric – even the walls – with clean white accents. Beyond that is a hallway with a stained-glass ceiling and a white marble floor that is decked in red leather sofas and contains huge white marble statues and paintings on the walls that are nearly life sized. The library is the most ornate yet, with carvings on every single wooden surface, lush carpeting and sitting space, and even a hidden door built into one bookcase. “Where does that go?” You ask immediately, too tentative to open it yourself.
“This, I believe, goes to the morning room.” He tells you, cocking his head as he thinks. “It has been some time since I have completely gone through the house.” He admits.
“Is it okay to go through? I mean the house is old but it’s not so old that it’s unsafe, right?” The idea of a door in a book axe is too good for anyone to pass up, especially you.
“Absolutely.” Antonio pulls the leaver to open the door. “Ms. Brown and her soulmate would spend quite I bit of time in this room. I believe it was her favorite.”
The middle section of the bookcase pulls toward you smoothly, allowing you and Mr. Colette to pass into a large corner room with enormous picture windows on two sides and built in bookcases on every other wall. Like an extension of the library there are books everywhere, a red leather windows seat that matches the sofas in the marble hall, and even intricate wooden shutters that close over the windows in sections to regulate how much light is let in. One side of the room is dominated by a large fireplace with yet one more large mirror set in the wall above it, and there are small statues all along the mantle. A billiard table takes up most of the space in the middle of the room, but a table and chairs and a desk also fit neatly with plenty of room to move.
“This house goes on forever,” you observe with a laugh of disbelief.
“It is one of the larger cottages.” He agrees. “In fact, it was the largest house until the Vanderbilts built the Breakers.” He imparts that little fact with a smirk as he looks around the room. “But I’ve always been fond of this estate.”
“It’s beautiful.” Having seen it up close and personal, you can imagine that photos don’t do it justice. It must seem crowded or busy in pictures. But in person? It’s like the house is hugging you. After another minute looking around the morning room, you follow Colette back out to the entryway and head upstairs. There is fabric, not wallpaper, hanging on the walls around the master staircase and it is painted with a forest scene that seems reminiscent of folk tales. Like magic could be lurking behind any corner or a satyr just might come out from behind a bush. There is a tree painted on the underside of the enormous staircase, trunk and branches extending upward to sprout leaves and welcome birds, and it crawls all the way up the stairwell to extend out to the ceiling of the second-floor landing and atrium. Dozens of little painted songbirds light on branches everywhere to make you feel like you have climbed into the forest that is painted on the walls.
“Every room has its own theme.” He explains at the top of the stairwell looking down the hallway at the doors. “If you don’t mind. I will step away to make a call.”
"Of course." Far be it from you to stop him from attending to his business, and you follow along the railing in the hallway to make your way into a different hall. This one is just a rectangular room with the now familiar built-in cases along the walls, paintings and intricate light fixtures above the cases, and six doors to choose from. To open them one by one seems like a massive intrusion, but you can't figure out any other way to see what else is up here. The floor plan marks four bedrooms on this floor as well as a sitting room and a nursery, though you can't understand why there is a nursery if there were never any children living here. Maybe your great-aunt and her soulmate wanted children but just could never have them? That's a far sadder thought than you can muster at the moment.
Hoping that you're facing the right direction, you open the door on the opposite wall from where you are standing and – yes, you had it right – the sitting room is full of plush chairs and love seats with a petite fireplace that has a huge flatscreen television over it where you assume a mirror once stood. The fireplace has a small stand inside it that obviously prevents fires from ever being laid, but more importantly seems to be the storage rack for multiple video game systems. Whoever Max and Eddie are, these other occupants of the house seem to thoroughly enjoy video games.
To the right of that room is a beautifully laid bedroom with honey colored furniture and homey gray and white pinstripe wallpaper. A writing desk stands at the ready between a window trimmed in lace curtains and a white marble fireplace, and it feels like exactly the kind of room that you would love to be brought to if you were a guest in someone's house. As much as it is sweet, inviting, and unexpectedly friendly, it feels…spoken for somehow. It’s nothing you can describe fully, but it makes you think that you shouldn’t disturb the room. Like whoever had claimed it originally might still come back one day to curl up in that bed or sit down at that desk.
There are two more bedrooms – one with furniture made of a wood that is somehow remarkably the same shade as roasted butternut squash and the other with a luxurious, if slightly gothic, yellow velvet and dark walnut loveseat and red upholstered chairs in it that all beg to be read in – but both rooms very obviously are occupied. These must be the rooms that Max and Eddie claimed whenever it was that they arrived. The next door to the left of Max's room yields a large, airy bedroom decorated in all sorts of shades and textures of blue with dark wood furniture and soft pink silk and lace curtains over the windows. A painting of a smiling young woman hangs above the fireplace with two lamps in the shapes of cherubs holding the light source aloft. Two cream-colored chairs sit by a small table and two more blue velvet chairs flank another. You could have a whole party in this spick-and-span room without any effort whatsoever.
“This is the one, I see.” Antonio has returned. Lingering in the doorway as he watches you move from Knick knack to knick knack with an almost dreamy expression on your face. “Let me show you the call system.” He gives you an apologetic look. “I’m afraid that I am needed in court.”
A set of buttons by the door to what you very accidentally have apparently selected as your room will summon a member of the house's small staff, Mr. Colette tells you, and there is a similar button on a handle by your bed, almost like the call button for a nurse in the hospital. "Don't let me keep you," you murmur, waving off another apology from the man who has literally swept into your life and changed everything about it. The last thing you want is to stand in the way of anything he has to do. "I'll, um...I guess I'll unpack."
As if on a secret cue, the door to the elevator opens on the other side of the hall and an ornate rolling cart, much like the ones at the posh hotels, rolls out. Your trash bags are all neatly stacked with the few boxes and the one bag you had managed to take from your ex's house. The older, stately looking man pushing it does not judge, his sharp eyes looking for the room where the new owner has decided to take up residence so he can help in any way possible. Renee is behind him, a fully ladened tray on another rolling cart.
You can hear them rolling down the hallway before you see them, and Mr. Colette smiles in satisfaction. “I’ll leave you to it,” he says, looking toward the doorway as the source of the noise comes into view. “If you need anything, you have your staff here, and my number. Please don’t hesitate.”
“Right. Thank you, Mr. Colette.” As soon as you say his name he disappears from view, and you’re left face-to-face with the embarrassing sight of your trash bags in this gorgeous home.
“I took the liberty of moving your car into the carriage house.” Mr. Taylor tells you. In addition to being the caretaker, he also maintains all the vehicles here. Your car is in sore need of some TLC and he is already itching to get to it.
“That’s very kind of you. You really don’t have to go through any extra trouble.” The sight of garbage bags just feels wrong in a house this old and grand, and it just makes you feel like apologizing for that, too. “As you can see it…it really shouldn’t take me too long to get settled in.”
“It just means you can rest.” Renee offers with a smile as she rolls the tray over to the couches and table. “Here, ma’am?” She asks politely.
"Hopefully it won't take too long to find a new job." The offhanded and automatic thought doesn't even phase you, although you don't enjoy the fact that you'll have to explain why your last place let you go. At least you can assure them that it won't happen anymore – since Derek isn't in your life there won't be any erratic or unexpected phone calls to have to respond to immediately. "Thank you, Renee. It...it all looks wonderful." Laden with a steaming silver coffeepot and fresh pastries with butter, jam, and fruit, the delicate China on the tray looks like it has been laid for a queen.
“My pleasure, ma’am.” Mr. Taylor quietly excuses himself, and Renee turns towards the cart with an eagerness to begin. “Do you have some specific organization for your things?” She asks, hoping to know how you would like things. “Or shall I organize them for you?”
Even if you had specific organization, it would no longer apply to this house. The feeling that everything should be in a specific place and that rooms have specific functions is very different from how you were living before. "I'm sure you'll know just where things are supposed to go," you tell her, with a definite air of 'because I don't have any clue'.
“Yes ma’am.” She nods and immediately whirls around to start wheeling the cart into the dressing room just off to the side of the bathroom.
"Renee?" Following her just a few steps and sticking your head into the dressing room, you have to swallow yet another sigh over how beautiful this house is and how grand everything seems at first blush. You shake it away, though, when her head pops up expectantly. "I don't suppose I could ask any of you to call me by my name, could I? Mrs. Taylor seemed rather set on using a title..."
“It— it’s not done.” Renee admits with a bashful smile. “Although Mrs. Taylor did call Ms. Brown by her nickname at Ms. Brown’s insistence.”
"She had a nickname?" For some reason that intrigues you, even though she had an unusual name to begin with. You've never heard of a woman named Etienne before.
“Cookie.” Renee smiles fondly. “She went by Cookie for as long as she could remember.”
"That's very sweet." And actually makes you smile too, though you can't quite figure out why it warms you through the way it does.
“Do you have a nickname, ma’am?” She asks curiously. “I am sure that Mrs. Taylor would have no issue using a nickname for you.”
"I—" About to protest that you really don't, or at least that you can't think of one, a long-lost memory gets dredged up from the bottom of your mind that you haven't given any thought to in a long time. "I used to like being called Dolly. Quite a lot."
“Yes Ms. Dolly.” The nickname is no more unusual than ‘Cookie’ and the smile that thinking of your nickname is soft and real as it makes you light up.
"Thank you, Renee." It actually relaxes you measurably just to have a little bit less formality, and you offer the girl another genuine, if small, smile.
"My pleasure." She turns back to the bag that is opened and starts to carefully remove all of the clothes to sort and organize into piles before she can fold or hang them. "I should have all of this sorted in just an hour or so."
"Please don't feel like you need to rush. It isn't like I have anywhere to go." The fact that someone else is doing your laundry makes you more than a little embarrassed but you try to remember that it's literally her job. "But...again...thank you."
She doesn't bother to remind you that it's her job, just humming quietly as she continues to make note of what you have that needs pressing.
"Renee?" Even after you've walked away, you double back to look into the dressing room where she is sorting through the things you brought from Tennessee. "Was, this...um...was this Ms. Brown's room?"
"It was, Dolly." She stands up and moves towards the door. "Does that upset you?"
"I...don't really know," you admit after a moment of thinking about it. "I think it's more that...I don't want to disturb it? Like if she had a favourite chair, or painting, or lamp or something, then I wouldn't ever want to move it." Saying it out loud makes you sigh, and you huff a laugh at yourself. "That probably sounds silly."
Her own laugh is slightly ironic. "Please don't worry about that." She assures you. "Ms. Brown loved to rearrange her furniture based off of how she was feeling that week." She tells you. "It drove Mrs. Taylor up the wall, but she would almost insist on moving most of it herself. Even up until a few years ago."
"Wasn't she in her 90s?" You ask, surprised to hear anything so active about the old woman who had lived here.
"She was spry." Renee can sense that you are eager for information about the older lady that had lived in this house. "She did love to pull the chaise in front of the windows and read." She tells you. "Especially on rainy days where the storm raged outside. She would sit with a pot of tea or hot chocolate for hours."
"God, that sounds so relaxing." And in a house full of books, who could blame her? You can't even imagine actually having the time to read every book you saw in the house while you were walking around. " I might have to follow suit for a little while. Just...until I find a new job."
Renee frowns slightly and tilts her head. "A job?" She asks. "Are you someone who likes to keep busy?"
"I guess—" It hadn't occurred to you that you could just not have a job, and that makes you frown far deeper than Renee is at the moment. "I guess so? I didn't really think...I've just always had a job. I didn't really think I'd ever be able to not have one..."
"Perhaps you have something you enjoy doing?" She asks. "Forgive me for being so forward, but you have the means to do whatever you wish now, Dolly."
"I guess I haven't really given it a lot of thought." That makes you frown again, this one considerably more confused, and you shrug your shoulders. "I won't bother you anymore. Thank you, Renee." It's a heady thought to chew over while you eat your breakfast, but it's something that you're going to have to think about. What did you dream about when you used to dream of growing up? You can barely remember anymore.
She doesn't want to pry, so she nods again and turns back towards the dressing room again. It's obvious that you are kind of lost and her heart goes out to you. Hopefully being here will make the sadness in your eyes disappear.
______
Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie
My Masterlist!
300 notes · View notes
butifeelcelestial · 11 months
Text
A Night Out
Annnd she’s finally done! Gahh I really hope you guys enjoy this one. Every time I write smut for you Spike lovers I’m constantly going back n forth between “ooo yeah this is good” to “fuck is this good?” LOL so please leave a comment. They’re really the only thing that keeps me writing these.
This baby was based off a request sent to me forever ago by @witchb1tches So I hope this is to your liking! I really wanted to embrace Spike’s more violent/dark thoughts/tendencies a little more cause I feel like I’ve skimmed over them in the past. Cause let’s face it-our fav blondie is still very much a sassy demon
Warnings/things to mention: 18+ only!! She/her pronouns, oral sex, public sex, talks of voyeurism (no one actually watches but Spike gets off on the idea lol) alcohol mention, violent thoughts, aggressive/jealous Spike (I think that’s about it lol)
Request: “spike x female reader where she goes on a night out with some of the gang and spike gets jealous of men at the club taking intrest in her and they have like rough sex or smt x”
It had been long. 
Too long. 
Since you felt the rhythm of a steady bass in your chest. Since you felt the freedom gained by liquid courage flow through your body as you danced under lights and felt beautiful and desirable.  
Bottom line: you need to go out, get a drink with friends and dance. Like now. So here you are, applying the finishing touches to your sultry makeup look as you admire your reflection in the mirror. 
You feel hot. 
And baby you’re ready to dance. 
That is until you hear the door slam close above you and a familiar, “Honey I’m home!” rings out. 
Oh Spike— you’re already anticipating him getting all fussy about you going out with Buffy and her friends but damn it too bad. He’s just going to have to deal. 
“And I brought sweets for you Love!”
Fuck. This was going to suck. 
You take one last look in the mirror and stare at yourself in admiration, telling your reflection that she’s got this, and turn around abruptly to head upstairs. 
As you enter the upper level of the crypt you share you’re greeted with the domestic view of Spike loading his groceries into his fridge. You fondly watch him as he stops to squint at the instructions on the back of a cake batter box.
You had bought him an air fryer for his birthday earlier this year and needless to say he was obsessed with baking. 
“You know I really think you need glasses,” you tease as you make your way over to him. 
“Piffle. My eyesight is just fine-” He finally looks up from the box to look at you and his eyes widen. Your heart can’t help but warm when his jaw drops in surprise at your attire. You watch as he takes you in, his gaze shifting from wonderment into hunger.
He never fails to make you feel like the most beautiful person with just a glance. 
“My my…what a vision you are,” he purrs as he drops the box and glides to you, his arms immediately finding their home around your waist. He breathes you in and bends down to kiss your neck. “What’s the occasion Love? Don’t remember us making any plans.” He noses his way up your neck and presses another kiss to your jawline. His hands greedily feel up every bit of you he can get. 
Your heart races as your brain scrambles to answer. His fondling turns you to mush and sends pleasant tingles throughout your body.
“Umm that’s because we don’t have plans…” you utter weakly, distracted. 
A feverish nibble to your neck, “Oh?” 
Somehow your brain prevails and you admit, “I’m uhh going out—with Buffy and her friends.”
And just like that the bubble is popped. 
Spike scoffs at your response and untangles himself from your embrace. The loss of his touch tugs at your heart instantly. Your body sings for him to come back but you soldier on, the need for a night out triumphing. 
“You’re going out with the soddin’ scooby gang?” he groans in annoyance. “I thought we could stay-”
“Spike! I love you but I swear to god if I stay in another night watching Passions or some shit I’m going to explode.” 
“Bit dramatic,” he dryly responds after your outburst. “Besides was thinkin of something a bit more…” he trails off suggestively, eyes roaming your form as his tongue peeks out from his mouth. 
“Nuh uh- No,” you scold as your pointer finger aims at him in warning as he tries to close the space between you. “You are not seducing me into staying home.” 
“Why not?,” he pouts as his treacherous hands hover in the air itching to caress your skin. 
“Because I—I can’t..”  A little help here brain!  
“Ugh! Listen I don’t care if I’m being dramatic, it's the truth. I need to go out and be around people.” You put your hands on his chest to steady him and will him to look you in the eye, to reason with you. “Just come with me,” you plead softly. “It’ll be fun. We can get druunk and grind on each other and-and make out and make everyone around us uncomfortable. Come on, I know you love that.” 
And for a moment you really think you have him. You can see the picture you painted for him play in his head as he considers a night of public indecency. 
But sadly it seems tonight his stubbornness reigns supreme. “No. No bloody way. If you think I’m willingly subjecting myself to listening to Harris talk about his soddin bricklaying job like it’s helping save the universe or enduring his need to find any excuse to piss me off, I’ll bloody dust myself.” 
“You’re so dramatic.” 
“I don’t care, it's the truth,” he parrots back, childishly mocking you. 
“Ugh! You’re impossible! It’s just one night. You don’t even have to talk to Xander. Just stick with me and Tara. She’s always liked you-”
“No, I can’t stand that entire lot,” he doubles down, his pride winning. “Rather count the bloody cobwebs in my crypt.”
“Fine! Then have fun. I'm going.” Not bothering to wait for his response you turn around and grab your purse from the couch, quickly heading to the door.
“Wait, you're leaving now? Pet I-”
The crypt door slams closed. 
Silence. 
Bollocks. He misses you already. 
__________________________________________
“God I needed this. I swear one more night walking around the graveyard and I was going to be the next unpleasant corpse,” Buffy exhales before sipping on her fruity cocktail. She glances over at Xander and Anya on the dance floor and snorts. “Plus nothing beats watching Anya push the boundaries of Xander’s dancing skills.”
Even over the music you can hear them. 
“Xander like this! Pick me up like in Dirty Dancing so all these less attractive couples can envy us.”
“An please! You’re lucky I can manage a twirl.”
“Tell me about it,” Willow chimes. “Usually I’m all stimulated by the challenge of having to cram a bunch of knowledgy goodness into my brain but lately exams have had me totally beat. I was itching for a Bronze night.”
Tara softly chuckles and brushes a hair out of Willow's face, nodding in agreement. “Yeah she’s usually so excited to crush her exams but I can tell she’s felt super cooped up. I feel the same honestly. I think we all just needed a night of fun.” 
Tara turns and looks at you, smiling softly. “We’re so happy you could come out with us. We’ve been talking about how much we missed you.” 
“Aww you guuuys,” you whine, tipsy and warm in the cheeks, happy to be surrounded by your girlfriends. “I missed you too. I’m sorry I’ve been kinda AWOL. Spike and I have just been….busy,” you finish hesitantly. 
And by busy you definitely mean fucking like rabbits and spending every waking moment together. Flashes of naked Spike, Spike bending you over a tombstone, Spike licking your—shit train of thought where did you go. 
You shake your head at your naughty thoughts and clear your throat.  “Anyways I’ve just been really bad at keeping in touch. I'm sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Buffy says. “We all get busy with our own stuff, it's no biggie,” she reassures. “Just as long as you're happy. How is Mr. Grumpy pants by the way? Can’t imagine he was happy you came out with us tonight,” she laughs. 
“Yeaahh definitely not. He was pretty annoyed at me. I tried to get him to come out but he insisted he’d rather be doing anything else so..” You shrug, playing off how bummed you are that he wasn’t by your side tonight.
It was disappointing sure but you weren’t going to let it ruin your night. You missed your friends a lot and being out with them felt nice. 
“Ahh I’m sorry about that,” Willow says. “Yeah that must’ve been hard,” Tara adds, nodding her head in sympathy. 
“It's okay. Thanks guys,” you smile at them, happy to be surrounded by friends at the moment. “I’m just happy to be here with you all.” They nod and smile in agreement. No words needed, they totally get it. 
There’s a lull in the conversation and you all sit and sip your cocktails, bobbing to the music and basking in the vibe of enjoying the feeling of being out. 
 “Well..” Buffy pauses.  “Boo hoo for Spike. Let’s dance!” 
__________________________________________
It took about an hour and a half of sulking and angrily talking to himself before Spike finally decides to head to the Bronze to find you. His feet quickly carry him down the streets of Sunnydale. Scoobies be damned, he wanted to be there because you wanted him there. It didn’t matter if hanging with the Slayers little group could piss him off to no end. Being able to be by your side and show everyone that you belonged to each other—to see that smile on your face—that mattered.
Not to mention the way you looked tonight…your clothes looked like a second skin. 
And god the way you smelled. 
Just the thought of anyone getting to be around you tonight and thinking they were worthy enough to be in your presence sent a pang of anger in Spike’s belly.
If any soddin idiots tried to talk to you. Flirt with you. Or fucking dance with you Spike was going to rip their throats out and bathe in their blood before tearing them limb from limb—fuck he needed to get there soon. 
__________________________________________
“Okay can I just say that we all look majorly hot tonight? I mean look at us!” Buffy yells over the music as the four of you grind to the music. You all giggle, your cheeks aching from smiling so much. “Truer words have never been spoken!”, you yell as you raise your drink in the air like you're declaring a toast before you shoot the rest of the drink back, finishing it off. 
You quickly set your empty cup on a nearby table and twirl back into the middle of the dance floor. The buzz of alcohol sends a wave of fuzzy freedom through your body as you giggle wildly. 
You feel weightless and sexy. Arms raised above your head you swing your hips to the beat, your body embracing the music. The feel of your hair brushing against your bare skin makes you feel wild. Sensual. 
And it isn’t long until others start to notice. You light up the dance floor. 
Buffy dances in front of you, following your lead and letting her body move with the music. The two of you find each other in the air, your hands interlocking above you. Your heads whip back and forth to the music.
You’re totally lost to the rhythm when you start to feel more and more people dancing around you. So much so that  you pay no mind to the male attention you and Buffy have started to draw to yourselves. 
You become one with the crowd and grind your body against the nameless faces around you, welcoming the touch of anyone who wants to share the rhythm of the music. 
Fuck. Dancing makes you feel so alive. 
__________________________________________
Soon enough a determined and worried looking Spike strides into the Bronze. Instantly he’s hit with the heavy musk of sweat, pheromones and alcohol. 
It sets him on edge immediately, his jaw clenched as he struggles with the sensory overload.
Where are you where are you where are you
He searches the club of oblivious humans dancing mindlessly under the lights. He scans the crowd for you only to spot Xander and Anya at a table. 
Of course it’s soddin Harris he finds with no issue. 
He stalks over to their table begrudgingly. 
“Well well if it isn’t Captain Peroxide. What? You finally decide–”
“Can it Harris. Where is–”
“Hey! Rude I wasn’t done talking you j-”
“She’s in the middle of the dance floor stealing hearts,” Anya bluntly interrupts, her tone laced with not so subtle envy. Jealous worry surges through Spike. He turns to his left as he frantically searches for you, his eyes scanning the dance floor. 
“She’s quite good at dancing. If I wasn’t forced to sit this out cause Xander wasn’t so embarrassed to dance all sexy-like I would also be out there grinding my sweaty body amongst others.”
“An! I told you I just-” Their conversation fades into the background as Spike moves away from their table and walks onto the dance floor. 
And when he spots you….he has no soddin clue how you weren’t the very first thing he saw the moment he walked in.
You’re a vision. A beauty. The fucking reason he gets up every day.  Seeing you so free and wild sends a rush to his groin. The way your body moves….
Every day he wonders how he got so lucky with you. 
In a moment those thoughts are joined by sudden rage when his tunnel vision opens up to find men all around you. Your head is tipped back, eyes closed as you laugh and sway to the beat with Buffy. You pay no attention to some mop haired boy toy dancing behind you as his hands feel up your waist. Trying to get a feel. Desperate unworthy pathetic leech trying to get a taste of his—
“Fuck.”
Spike stalks over to you without a thought and harshly pushes the disgusting frat boy grinding on you, “Hands off,” he growls, his eyes flashing a dangerous yellow. 
“What the fuck man?”, the boy toy yells as he stumbles to catch himself. 
Shocked, your eyes open at the commotion as you’re suddenly jolted to the side. A hand tightly holds your arm. “Spike? What—“
“Outside. Now.” He grits out as he begins to pull you off the dancefloor. 
“Wait—Spike what-“ He ignores you, furious as he tugs you away from your group. Buffy follows quickly. Concerned she yells, “Wait! Spike let her go—”
“Slayer not now-”
“Listen here you-”
“Buffy”, you interrupt the two of them, sensing a fight brewing. “It’s okay,” you reassure her, making sure to give her your full attention. “I’m okay. I trust him always. We just need to talk.” 
She looks at you, searching your eyes to find a sliver of doubt or fear. Relieved, she finds none and nods, giving you a soft smile. She turns to Spike, her expression shifting into serious slayer mode. “Hurt her and you’re d-” 
“Save it Slayer,” Spike seethes, offended by just the thought before tugging you away and towards the back door that leads to the alleyway behind the Bronze. 
__________________________________________
As soon as the outside air hits, you feel like the haze you were in is broken. The alcohol in your system keeps you fuzzy but the change in atmosphere allows your anger to bubble. 
“What the fuck Spike?” You exclaim, wrenching your hand out of his grip. The loss of your touch crushes him. “What was that in there? You acted ridiculous. I was having fun!”
“Yeah? Could bloody see that. Enjoying all the attention?”
“Are you kidding me? I was dancing with Buffy—”
“That soddin frat boy had his hands all over you!”
“We were dancing with everyone in there! I can’t control who-”
“Bollocks! You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“Stop interrupting me!” You yell suddenly, surprising both of you. You breathe harshly, as you glare at him. Sweat drips down your forehead in your flustered state and you angrily wipe it away. “Is that the only reason you came here? To make sure I’m not having fun with anyone who isn’t you?” you accuse, eyebrows raised in disbelief. 
“No,” Spike snarls, agitated. He steps towards you. “I came because I knew it’d make you happy and--”
“Oh fuck off. You only came-”
“You better watch how you speak to me Pet.” 
The statement stuns you momentarily. The tone of his voice was…calm but in a deadly way that you knew meant something entirely else. 
This is new territory. Nervous excitement simmers in your belly. 
“Excuse me?” You ask incredulously, your heart rate picking up. 
The heat between you has been dialed up a thousand degrees and it’s now that you’re realizing how good he looks.
His jewelry glints in the moonlight as it peeks through the black button up he failed to button all the way up. His hair is messy, curls astray from him running his hands through his hair in frustration no doubt. 
Fuck. You want him. 
“I said…” He takes another step forward, backing you up against the brick wall of the Bronze. “You better watch how you speak to me. Been around a lot longer than you Love.” His breath is labored as he cages you in, eyes blazing as they stare you down. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.” 
You scoff, your brows raised in disbelief. The audacity of this man. “Are you seriously threatening me?” You challenge him indignantly, crossing your arms to not so subtly draw his attention to your cleavage. 
It works of course. Spike licks his lips as his eyes quickly look down to watch the rise and fall of your chest before flickering up to admire the way you angrily suck in your cheeks in annoyance. “Just sayin Pet,” he lilts. “Don’t push me.”
You exhale harshly from your nose, desperately trying to hold onto your anger that had begun to dissipate the moment your libido took over, but he’s set off a delicious anticipation you can’t resist. 
So you push. 
“All you’ve done is ruin my night of fun. I should go back inside and ask whatshisface if he’ll dance with me again since you won’t-”
“Do that and I’ll drain him dry,” he hisses through clenched teeth. 
“Ooo so scary,” you mock him, waving your fingers in his face. You want to send him over the edge. You’re absolutely hungry for it. 
“Pet-” he warns. 
“No! Why don’t you fucking show me what I should be afraid of then Mr. Big Bad-” 
He grabs your wrists before you can blink. 
You gasp in shock as you suddenly find your arms locked above you in his grip. Eyes wide you gape up at him. 
Spike pushes you fully against the wall and holds both wrists in his right hand. His left hand grips your chin. “Want me to show you Kitten?,” he snarls. He pushes his thumb into your mouth and you suckle without even thinking. Spike’s mouth hangs open, eyes lit in rapture as he watches you suck his digit. He pushes his obvious erection between your legs. “That’s what I thought,” he laughs cruelly. “Fuckin hungry for it,” he taunts as he grinds into you. 
You mewl, the throb between your legs pulsing in excitement as you squirm in his hold. 
His finger leaves your mouth with a wet pop! His hand quickly traces down your body before unbuttoning your pants and shoving them down, leaving you in your underwear. The feel of the outside air on your bottom has your heart racing.
Suddenly you’re very aware of the nightclub full of people just inside. You feel vulnerable and exposed. 
But the anticipation and trust in him keeps you pliant. 
“Wanted the Big Bad..” he growls as his fingers harshly rub your weeping bud. “You got him.”
Suddenly he’s on his knees, worshiping at his altar. His arms push your legs apart and over his shoulders as he holds you up like a ragdoll. He tears your underwear apart and shoves his head between your legs, swiping a gushy lick up into your cunt.
“Spike–holy fuck” you cry out, your hands clenched in a deathgrip in his hair. He fucks his tongue into you, moaning obscenely. The vibrations rip a pathetic whine from you. “Fuck please I can’t—” 
He swirls his tongue on your clit in repeated motions, then dips back into you, eating you like it’s his last meal. His nose nudges your folds as he bobs his head with each lick. 
Fuck. Perfect. It’s perfect. He’s perfect. You keen, back arched as the knot of pleasure builds and builds. 
You frantically look to the door when you hear a loud clammer from inside, expecting someone to walk outside and catch you at any moment. A chuckle rumbles from Spikes chest when he catches your expression. 
A broad wet lick up the seam of your cunt. 
“What? Scared Pet?”
He relentlessly suckles on your swollen bud leaving you breathless, your body twitching under his hold. He then switches to quick kitten licks, lapping at you. “Afraid someone is gonna catch me feasting on this cunt?” The wet squelches of his tongue in your folds are lewd. 
“Oh god”, you look up to the night sky face red and butterflies fluttering in your tummy.  
Your sounds fill his chest with pride. Typically he could spend hours between your thighs but unfortunately time is of the essence so he allows himself just a taste. He gives one last kiss to your cunt, a quick thank you, before he quickly moves you off his shoulders and stands. 
Somehow his speed always manages to surprise you. He’s so fast you can’t keep up, totally at his mercy. He manhandles you again but this time lifts you to hold you up in his arms.
You question when he even had time to take himself out of his jeans when he slips inside you abruptly. 
You take him like it’s nothing. It’s like a hot knife through butter. Slick. Easy. Embarrassing. 
He laughs cruelly. “What–fucking you out in the open got you wet?”  You whine, his harsh words having the exact effect on you he was intending. You shut your eyes tight, not wanting to acknowledge the truth. 
“Huh baby?” The grip he has on your legs tightens and he pulls your thighs open even more, desperate to get as close as possible. 
“No no look at me,” he urges. “Want to see those precious eyes,”  he says as you’re bounced on his cock. Your eyes open, blurry with tears of pleasure as you struggle to hold eye contact. “There she is,” he coos. You feel him in your stomach. “Think those frat boys would want to see how well this cunt takes me?” he whispers, as he grinds inside you deep. 
You look down to see his cock slide all the way out of you, glistening in your juices before he fucks back into you. The slick glide of his length sends your head spinning. As you watch you catch his eyes watching too. They hold you, smoldering in dark glee as you watch together. 
“Think they’d wanna watch?”, he darkly questions. “Huh Kitten? Think they’d wanna see how this cunt doesn’t want to let me go?” He growls before he bites your neck and mouths at the skin, leaving trails of spit down your jugular. 
“No please please,” you sob, as you grapple at his shoulders. “Just for you just for you,” you deliriously repeat. The constant wet back and forth, back and forth of his cock driving you insane. 
He grunts animalistically into your skin. “That’s right. Bloody soaked just for me,” he groans, his body vibrating with pleasure. 
A particular thrust hits that perfect spot just right and you seize in pleasure, clenching around him tightly. “Fuck—take it,” he spits, picking up the pace and chasing euphoria. 
Needing to feel even closer to him you grab his face in your hands and smash your mouths together.
The kiss is sloppy, wet and desperate as you try to consume one another. You whine into each other's mouths, speaking in nonverbal noises. The slick sounds of your sexes fill your ears and fuel your lust. 
“God I love you kitten–I love you,” Spike whimpers into your mouth as he feels you clench around him. 
“I love you too,” you cry as your right hand tightly grips his curls and the other pushes against brick, trying your best to use the leverage of the wall you're leaning on to bounce yourself on his cock harshly, chasing your pleasure. “Inside inside please–please cum–”
His hand quickly slithers between your legs to rub your clit furiously and it’s just the push you need. Your toes curl and your legs lock around him and you’re absolutely gone. 
Pure white pleasure sears your brain and your whole body floats. Someone could come outside right now and find you interlocked and you wouldn’t give a single fuck. 
Spike follows suit, roaring as he fills you up to the brim. His whole body shakes as he holds you up against the wall. He rides out both your orgasms, slowly rocking back and forth to feel your walls quiver around him.
The feel of his cum dripping down your legs in the night time air sends another shock of pleasure to your belly. 
Eyes lidded in euphoric exhaustion, you watch as he quickly shoots a hand between your legs to capture your combined cum on his fingers and sucks on his digits eagerly.
You almost cry at the sight.
Fuck— he’s filthy. 
It’s delicious. 
You tip your head back and look up at the street lamp above you as you pant. Spike presses his forehead against your neck as he purrs in satisfaction when your hand instinctively reaches up to caress his curls at the nape of his neck.
You can hear a Britney song blaring through the speakers inside the Bronze. 
You laugh at the absurdity. 
Spike pulls back to look at you. “What?” he asks amused. 
“We just fucked outside of the Bronze,” you giggle shaking your head. He chuckles warmly and hums, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Hmm yeah, looks like we did.” 
You caress his cheek and gaze into the beautiful blue eyes you know so well. “Are we good?” you breathe. “I’m honestly not even mad about earlier. I think you fucked it out of me,” you joke. 
Spike laughs. “ ‘M’not mad either,” he softly whispers. “Was playing it up to be honest.”
“Me too,” you admit. 
A grin slowly spreads onto his face, “Think we both just needed a nice good shag it seems.”
“Shut up.”
“You love me.”
“I do.”
The music inside blares as the two of you smile at each other like idiots. 
“Let’s go inside Love. I owe you a dance.”
“Fucking right you do,” you chirp. “But maybe a slow one…cause woo! my legs are jello…”
__________________________________________
And damn do you end up having an amazing night with your vampire by your side. 
You get another drink and laugh with Buffy’s friends. You catch up with the girls and share things you’d missed talking about over the last few months. You and Spike dance and make out and make everyone around you, Xander especially, uncomfortable just like you had promised. 
Spike even ends up getting into a really interesting conversation with Tara about auras. You lean into him, eyes closed blissfully playing with the rings on his fingers as you listen to their chatter. 
“No Dru always said my aura was frantic-like. Always searchin of some sorts.”
“Hmm not at all honestly,” Tara says. “Even right now—your auras glow together Spike,” Tara smiles as she gestures to you and him. “It’s steady an-and bright. Warm. Perfect harmony.” 
“Huh,” he gazes down at you. “That’s no surprise.”
Man…you needed this night out. 
550 notes · View notes
britany1997 · 18 days
Text
Good girl
Tumblr media
Spike x Fem Reader
I’ve been meaning to do this for a while. Spike just gives brat tamer to me because of season sex six, and with a human I feel like he’d be even more intense (he would love the power imbalance). Hope y’all enjoy!
Warnings: a little predator/prey, sub/dom dynamics, brat/brat taming, a little pet play, fingering, oral sex, p n v sex, a little blood drinking, a little praise, cream pie
Tumblr media
You felt the bass thumping in your chest as you maneuvered through The Bronze’s Friday night crowd.
You reached your table, leaning against it and swirling your drink with a bored sigh. You hated going to the club alone.
Out of the corner of your eye you saw a flash of black slip under the staircase. You smirked to yourself, you wouldn’t be alone much longer.
You hummed, grabbing your coat to step outside for “some fresh air.”
You wandered aimlessly, slipping a smoke out of your pocket and lighting it up. You were about to bring it to your lips when you felt a hand snake around your waist and pull you into a firm chest.
Another hand appeared to steal the cigarette out of your grasp. You turned to see Spike bring it to his lips.
He tsked at you, “naughty pet, don’t you know these are bad for your health?”
“They’re not mine,” you smirked, “I just hold ‘em for my boyfriend. But you know, he makes ‘em look so good I had to try.”
“Yeah love? Want to try?” He grasped your chin in his hand before taking a drag. “Open up pet.”
Your lips parted and his mouth enveloped yours in a possessive kiss. He exhaled, filling your mouth with smoke. When he finished, he released you, but not without nipping at your lip. His lip.
“Such a dirty mouth love,” he growled, “think we’d better go wash it out yeah?”
You mock pouted, “well I don’t know, should I go home with a big bad vampire like you?” Your fingers danced up his chest, “isn’t that sort of…dangerous?”
A laugh rumbled through his chest, “not if you’re good.” He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “are you a good girl pet?”
You bit your lip, fighting a smile, “oh I’m terrible.”
He pulled back a bit, sighing for show, “don’t worry pet, I can fuck that right out of you.”
Tumblr media
Spike led you through the opening of his cave before grabbing a pillow and throwing it to the ground, “for your knees love.”
You huffed a laugh, “how considerate.”
“It is considerate,” he said plainly, “now kneel.”
As you did, you watched him pull a nail file from his bedside table. You snorted. “You’re gonna do your nails?” your eyebrow raised.
He strolled over to you, placing the nail file down next to him as he began to unbuckle his belt with one hand. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” he tapped your forehead. “Worry about that nasty ashtray mouth of yours. Say ahh.”
You shivered, “ahh.” He ran one hand through your hair as he finished freeing himself from his jeans with the other. “Good, stay like that.”
He entered your mouth, grabbing the back of your head and pressing you forward to take him. You moaned around him and went to grab his hips, but he slapped your hands away.
“Did I say you could touch?”
You whimpered and let your hands fall, gripping the pillow you were knelt on instead.
“That’s better,” he began to move in a steady rhythm, his cock pushing deeper with every thrust.
After a minute or two, he let his hand fall away from your head and picked up his file. While he fucked your face, he began to file his nails.
Your eyes narrowed.
He thrusted forcefully, causing you to gag a bit. “Good girls don’t scowl,” he scolded.
“Sorry,” you said, the apology muffled by his cock down your throat.
He sighed, “good girls don’t talk with their mouth full.”
You fought the urge to rolls your eyes and hollowed out your cheeks instead. A moan fell from Spike’s lips. “That’s more like it.”
He put down the file and gripped your head again. He began to move it back and forth, sliding your mouth up and down his cock.
“Swallow for me love,” he groaned as he came down your throat.
You obeyed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand when you finished.
Spike smirked, admiring the sight of you kneeling, his cum dripping from your perfect lips.
He reached over to caress your cheek. “Take your clothes off for me, then sit on the bed pet,” he tells you.
You begin to slouch off each article of clothing as slow as humanly possible, teasing your vampire lover. Spike smirks, amused by your antics. He moves to squeeze your bare hip. “Don’t push your luck pet, you were doing so well.”
With feral determination, he rips the rest of your clothes off before pushing you back onto the bed.
You gasp as your core grows slick with wetness. You bite your lip as he kneels in front of you, wedging himself between your knees.
“Say you’re mine,” he orders, his tone coated with lust.
“First, why don’t you tell me why nail care was more important than watching me suck you off,” you teased, giving him the taste of defiance you knew he’d love to snuff out of you.
“Was so I could do this love,” he said as he sunk two fingers into your core. You gasped, tears springing to the corners of your eyes.
Spike smirked as he curled his fingers, searching for the spongey spot inside you. Your eyes rolled back into your head when he brushed against it.
“Think you need more love,” he whispered as he began circling your clit with his thumb. You let out an embarrassingly loud moan.
“That feel good pet? Make you wanna be a good girl for me now?”
You nodded, whimpering, desperate for just a little more.
He leaned in, fingers still stroking deep inside you. “Then tell me you’re mine.”
He’d won and you knew it. “I’m yours,” you moaned.
“My what?”
“Your human.”
“What else,” his fingers sped up as they flicked over your clit, almost vibrating.
“Your pet!” You moaned.
“Good girl,” he growled as he sunk his teeth into your neck.
The pleasure from his fingers and the pain from his teeth pushed you over the edge. You screamed his name as you coated his hand.
Spike pulled back from your neck, licking his lips. He then met your glazed doe eyes as he sucked his fingers clean. “God you’re delicious,” he purred, his mouth slick with a mix of cum and blood.
His eyes softened a bit as he took in the sight of you. Your pouty lips whimpering, your eyes wide, your thighs dripping. You were all his.
“Lay back,” he whispered, and you did without a fight.
He smiled down at you, “see how much fun we can have when you behave?”
You whined.
He huffed a laugh before taking your right ankle in his hands. He brought it to his lips, kissing it softly before slipping it over his shoulder. He did the same to your left.
“You’re perfect,” he praised, “and you’re all mine.”
He pressed into you, splitting you open on his cock, making your back arch in pleasure.
His grey eyes bore into yours with possessive affection as you felt him plunge so deep, you swore he was in your stomach.
You began to roll your hips to meet his thrusts, mewling and writhing in ecstasy from his touch.
Spike fucked you deep with long, slow strokes. He pulled almost all the way out of you, letting his tip bump against your clit, before driving back in.
You screamed, feeling familiar pressure building inside you, “can I…” you trailed off with a moan.
He smiled down at you fondly, “yes pet, you’ve earned it.”
You let out a blissful sigh as you came all over Spike’s cock.
With a few more quick thrusts he was falling over the edge with a low moan.
He gently slipped your legs off his shoulders and placed them down on the bed before laying down next to you. He wrapped an arm around you and pressed a kiss to your temple.
You smiled, taking his hand and lacing your fingers with his.
He chuckled softly, pulling the blanket up to your shoulders. “I’m yours too,” he told you.
You smiled, mock gasping. “Oh yeah? Big bad creature of the night? All mine?”
He smirked, “you tell anyone, I’ll deny it.”
“No you won’t” you booped his nose.
He rolled his eyes, “No I won’t.”
Tumblr media
Spike Taglist (comment to be added)🖤:
@sad-ghost-of-garbage @6lostgirl6 @misslavenderlady @bloodywickedvamp @ghoulgeousimmaculate @anna1306 @arbesa-mind @lostboys1987girl @dwaynesluscioushair @crustyboypix @ria-coolgirl @the-glitter-wizard
134 notes · View notes
evieelyzabethh · 26 days
Note
Love your work. <3 Could you write something with reader x spike where they're kinda' pining for one another, but one night he gets injured and has to stay over at her house? She patches him up and maybe offers him a bite? Doesn't have to be nsfw but +5 cool points if it is. <3
Hello, my loves, long time no see!!! I hope this is to your liking <3
Spike is so incredibly reckless. You knew this, he knew, everybody knew that Spike was a walking accident waiting to happen'. He likes to think he can handle himself. "I'm bad, baby," he'd tell you, "M' the big bad slayer killer. I can handle a few scratches." But you were never worried about what he could handle, you were worried about the fact that his blood was always staining your couch. That and the fact that his lack of self-preservation kept you up at night.
Usually, he has some decorum. He doesn't come to you with every scrape and bruise, even though you handled him with much more care than he was capable of extending to himself. It was his way of punishing himself, depriving himself of your head scratches and soft hands for bothering you too much. You scolded him for this, of course. It seems like its every other week (more like every other day) when you and he argue, most often in front of the Scoobies who waited anxiously for you take your arguments to the bedroom, about him leaving you to worry about whether or not he was ash.
"I mean, fuck Spike. Is it really that hard to just give me a call if you plan on bleeding at your place. A little 'Hi, yeah, I don't think I need my wounds treated with modern medicine, I'm gonna take my chances with old whisky and tetanus like the good ol' days'." And every time he takes his well-earned lecture with a smirk and a bowed head.
"Yes, mother, next time I'll break your door down at three in the morning for some pretty pink bandages."
"If you were so ashamed of the pretty pink bandages, maybe you should think before you run into knives!"
Spike has maybe told the truth a grand total of two times in his whole life, so his word means absolutely nothing. He continues to ignore your street like the plague unless it's an absolute emergency.
Now was an emergency.
You barely heard the faint knocks on your door from your bedroom, where you sat on your bed, music blasting from your stereo and some reality court show droning on in the background, catching your attention when someone decided to be particularly messy. You had thought it was your neighbors blind dog scratching at your door again until something large and loud hit it. Quickly arming yourself with a frying pan, you crept to your door, tearing it open for a very injured Spike to nearly fall flat on your floor before he caught himself using your doorframe.
His left hand clutched at his bleeding side and he walked with a limp over to his couch which now had a plastic cover. His dead heart was touched.
"Aw, you were waiting for me, " he croaked out. He fell on his back, one of his hands falling over the side and his eyes closing as soon as his head at the pillow. His shirt had claw marks that were lined with blood and his duster had barely escaped the carnage, a few holes separate from the preexisting moth holes sticky with some supernatural substance.
"Have to be prepared when it comes to you." You patted his cheek, thumbing over his cheekbones to try and arouse some consciousness. "Can't have you fallin' asleep on me. You might not wake up." You weren't going to leave his side until you were sure he wasn't going to die in your absence.
He babbled unintelligently, his mouth moving but having no connection to his brain to form any sort of actual thought. His eyes flit between closed and aware, his head moving to catch up with the spinning room, his mouth impossibly dry, and his head pounding. In his head, he insisted he was fine, but the words wouldn't come out right. He spat them out garbled and messy until he was too choked up to even try anymore.
He was barely conscious when he felt your wrist at his mouth. He had enough sense to shake his head and nudge away your wrist with his nose, but his lack of strength made his attempts futile. "No," he mumbled.
"You'll feel better," your voice swam around in his head until the words lost meaning and he just smiled at the sound of your voice. You swiped your thumb across one of his canines, the red contrasting with the pearly whites of his teeth swiftly wiped away by the pink of his tongue. After the taste of your blood was on his tongue, his sense was surrendered to instinct as he brought your wrist to his lips.
You didn't know what you were getting into. Vampires get their life force from blood, so it just made sense to have him feed from you to expedite the healing process. The more he drank, the louder your heartbeat grew in your ear and the closer he pulled you to him. You had only done this once before, when you were both drink and dizzy and jokes being whispered in your ear turned into tiny nips from your neck that Buffy nearly walked in on.
In complete shock of what had happened then, you never brought it up, halfway convincing yourself that it never happened in the first place. If it did happen, he had enough sense to pull away then and you hoped he had the sense the pull away now, but now was much different. Now, there was a newfound hunger. A desperation. Like he had been starving himself for years and you were the first bite of food he had eaten. Had to have been good food to, with the way he inhaled you, indulged in you like you were some ambrosia or golden mead.
"Spike," you moaned. "I'm getting a bit light-headed." Your voice was high and thin, fearful as you made attempts to pull your arm from his lips. Through his haze, his fangs contracted back, and his tongue swiped whatever lingered on your skin.
"I'm sorry." Sorry for going too far, sorry for almost turning you into an empty Capri Sun pouch, sorry for being reckless again.
" 's ok."
You wobbled a bit as you stood, fingers wrapped around your wound as you shuffled into your kitchen in pursuit of your first aid kit. "You gonna tell me what happened?" He only groaned from the couch.
"Maybe tomorrow. I'm tired." You laughed on your way over to him, wrist already covered in gauze with an all too familiar needle and thread in hand.
"You're tired?" The smell of your blood was all too pungent, still. He turned his head towards the wall, studying the numerous music posters and paintings you had hanging.
"Going out to fight evil is a very hard job." You chuckled.
"I know. That's why I stay in here to patch you up." Your fingers were like magic. They always had a way of calming him down. Especially the way you hummed to yourself while you worked. You were never content with just silence. "I expect an answer in the morning." He smiled.
"Yes, ma'am." He fell asleep before you even finished and by the time you were done, you were too tired to walk the down the hall to your bed. You laid your head down on his chest, with no heartbeat to thrum and no breath to rock you, you still fell asleep just like that. Who knew cold bodies were so comfortable.
56 notes · View notes
prose-for-hire · 11 months
Text
Toil and Trouble:
(Second part Here)
Pairing: Spike x Harris!reader
Request: Not requested, promise I am writing my requests it just happens so slowly (sorry). I got a bit overwhelmed! So when I get a random burst of inspiration like this it helps get me back into writing what I’m supposed to be writing lol.
(As always reader is gender neutral unless stated otherwise.)
Desc: reader is Xander’s twin, they aren’t a scooby they have their own friends and Xander has always tried to hide the truth about demons from them. What will happen when reader discovers an unexpected house guest in Xander’s basement room?
Warning: mention of heavy drinking (Xander’s uncle) and dysfunctional families. Cigarette.  Reader has hair long enough to be tucked behind an ear.
Tumblr media
You and Xander had always been close. They called you and your twin double trouble, when you were younger. You had been partners in crime, if you will. You spent a lot of time together despite your different personalities. You shared the same sense of humour but after that, you were almost completely different. The arguments you had between you over what movie to watch could go down in the history books. But five minutes later you would be sharing popcorn together and cracking jokes about the movie you were watching.
However, ever since High school there was something of a rift between you. You no longer told each other everything. He started it, in your defence.
Xander was evasive and him and his friends were incredibly secretive, especially around you. You liked Buffy and Willow fine enough but you were always only an acquaintance of theirs. You had your own group of friends in high school and again in college. What you didn’t know about Xander’s increasingly comedic and unconvincing excuses and explanations was that he was trying to hide from you the dangers of Sunnydale. The demons and apocalypses and life or death situations.
He felt he was protecting you, despite Willow’s pragmatic arguments in your favour all the Scoobies agreed to keep it from you.
Where Xander had moved into the basement, you had moved on campus for college. You had promised to come home and stay for your uncles birthday weekend, however, and annoyingly Xander had the excuse of work to miss the predictably dysfunctional meal that was being held in his honour. He had passed you on the way out in his pizza uniform, grabbing you in a side hug before he left with an apologetic glance.
As predicted, it was torture. You had sat there whilst your uncle drank his way through the meal and had seemingly made it into a game of ‘how many comments can I make before they snap’. It reminded you just how glad you were to have got out of the house. The only real reason you came back was to see Xander and he had dashed out of the door.
Once the meal was over and everyone had stopped talking after the inevitable argument that had been brewing since you had stepped through the door, you slid away to try and collect yourself. Rather than going to what had been your room, which had quickly been changed when you had left, you walked down into Xander’s basement.
It was dark, you hadn’t switched the light on. You were going to sit in the chair he had down there and wait for him to rant to him about your uncle. As you felt around for the chair, you managed to touch something unfamiliar, you and the chair let out a yelp at the same time.
You scrambled for the light and saw a man sat in the chair, no, not sat in it. Tied to it. Tightly, too. He was cute, just your type too. You couldn’t help staring at him, something he caught as he smirked in your direction.
“Like what you see?” He raised his eyebrows, eyes not leaving yours. When you grinned at his words, he swore he felt his heart soar in his chest. A feeling he quickly tried to beat back down again. He wouldn’t do this again, fall for someone like this. Not so quickly, so easily.
“I’ve seen better, I suppose” You beamed when he chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of Xander’s bed.
“Hidin’ are you? Gotta say, your family aren’t exactly winners, pet”
“And there was me thinking I had won the ‘rental lottery” You offered before explaining, “I was only really here for Xander and he didn’t even stay for dinner. Just needed somewhere to…”
“Relax?” Something in his voice told you that he understood. Or at least
“Yeah, I’m not gonna even ask why you’re here tied to a chair” You smiled, you had been the kindest human he had met since getting chipped. In fact, probably of all time. He didn’t really want to tell you what he was and make you leave him here in the dark. He was enjoying the company.
For the first time in a while, he was feeling like himself again. Or at least some version of himself. One he actually liked. He decided to explain to you how he had got here, perhaps a slightly edited version. Well, a heavily edited version. One that would also make him into the hero, of course.
He spoke like a poet, you were hanging on every word. Every syllable. The story was clearly edited, but you really didn’t care. You felt it in the emotion, in the feeling of what he was saying. That couldn’t be made up.
As he spoke, the night had gone darker and the streetlights had turned on. You smiled softly, both of you were feeling a little lost in your own ways. You felt connected to him, even after only a few hours of knowing him.
“You know, in the light from that streetlamp, you glow” He let the words hang in the air, trying to gauge your reaction. In that moment, you knew he had sensed it too. Some spark. Some potential.
“I need a drink. You wanna go to the Bronze?”
“Kinda tied up at the moment, love” He moved his palms to prove it, showing a flash of black nail varnish.
You leaned in and untied him, your face so close to his. The proximity made the atmosphere around you both intense, your breath tickled his cheek and he closed his eyes slowly.
Once the ropes were loose, he jumped to his feet instantly, gripping your elbow as if to steady himself. Tiny surges of electricity fizzled through you at the contact. Though he didn’t need it for balance, he just wanted an excuse to stand close to you. His hand moved towards you, eyes never breaking from yours, catching a loose strand of your hair and tucking it behind your ear.
He looked as if he was going to lean into you, closing the space. You swallowed thickly, his brilliantly blue eyes dipping to your lips just as-
The door of the basement slammed open, hitting the wall beside it. Heavy footsteps could be heard descending the stairs towards you. Spike stepped backwards and you already felt cold from the absence of his presence.
You turned to find your brother, mouth agape as he stared between the two of you.
“Wh- why is Spike-?!” words escaped your brother in his shock.
“His circulation was getting cut off, stop panicking”
“I’m not panicking. I’m not. I’m not. Stop looking at me like I’m panicking!”
“Kinda looks like panicking, mate” Spike said, rolling his eyes and sliding on his leather duster.
“Me and your friend hit it off, I asked him out” You explained, tugging on your own jacket.
“Goin’ for a bite aren’t we, love?” Spike’s eyes sparkled as Xander caught his intended meaning.
“Tell them not to wait up. Or better yet, don’t tell them anything-” You gestured upwards as you started to leave when Xander, clearly in an argument with himself on whether to tell you something he had kept secret for a long time, decided he needed to say something.
“He’s my hostage!”
“I’ll bring him back, God, Xander you are so annoying”
“Don’t I get a bloody say?”
“No!” You said together, which almost put Spike off you entirely until you smiled at him again and then he was wrapped around your little finger.
He had never met anyone like you. You were strong, clearly, but so in touch with your emotions. All throughout the conversation you had for the hours before Xander walked in had felt more of a connection than anything he had said in decades to any other.
“Y/n, he’s dangerous! You can’t take him! This is my foot, and it’s going down!” Xander pointed to his foot and you gave it a light kick as you replied.
“What is it with you? It’s always, it’s my turn with the hostage, you’re a minute younger you can sit in the sandpit and wait!”
“BOTH OF YOU, SHUT THE HELL UP! NOW!” A call came from upstairs, masking Xander’s yelp at your kick and  sent you both into a whisper argument that even Spike could barely hear.
“Ought to get goin’ pet, we could go for a nice, secluded walk after” Spike’s smirk widened as you nodded and started for the door. Xander’s panic had reached it’s peak, he was flailing his arms around in urgency.
“Y/n, there are things- complex things that you don’t know about. Spike is… Spike’s a…”
“Vampire? Yeah, Xander, I know. He’s whiter than snow, I’m not an idiot” You rolled your eyes at your brother, how dumb did he think you were?
Obviously Spike was a vampire or this hostage thing would be entirely too weird for you to get involved in. Plus, Spike had explained that he had been chipped by the Initiative and you had told him that you were definitely not (and never would be) part of your brothers lame little Scooby gang.
You knew all about demons and vampires and the like. You and your friends had been fending them off since high school, just perhaps not as well as your brother and the slayer. And what’s more, you knew all about the slayer too. You had accidentally walked into the library one afternoon when your librarian and Buffy had been fighting something spooky.
You had hidden so they hadn’t seen you but you overheard them say something about the chosen one, the slayer and then you had done some research of your own. You waited for Xander to tell you himself but it had been too long now and you had just never confronted him about it.
“How long have you known?”
“About as long as you’ve been keeping it from me”
Spike, who had weirdly known better than to get involved again, just stared between them. He was bored, he just wanted to spend more time with you. Who knew being chipped would have led to something like this? Finding someone that he lo-
Really liked. You just really like them, you nit.
“We’ll talk, Xander. Just, tomorrow, okay? I’m going out”
Spike grinned evilly over his shoulder at Xander as he slung an arm over your shoulder, whispering lowly in your ear as you walked away. You and your brother would have to talk, maybe shout at each other for a while. But it could all wait.
Spike lit up a cigarette and offered you took a drag as you walked by his side. The night was young and full of promise. Spike spoke almost non-stop on your way there, something he hadn’t found himself doing in an age. He tried to impress you with stories of past fights he had won, historical events he had witnessed. He just wanted to see you smile.
Yeah, you could definitely get used to this.
440 notes · View notes
way2geeky · 3 months
Note
Could you do a another Spike x female reader where during a fight with some demons. The reader gets injured by a demon with fire power and this causes her to have burn marks on face causeing her to be temporarily blind. Spike takes care of her and how he falls in love with her.
Blind love - Spike x Reader
Tumblr media
The demon held her by the throat lifting her up a few feet. Her face growing red, as its flames grew slowly on her face. She begged, but it just laughed. She kicked, but it did nothing. It was significantly stronger than her, and she knew it. She knew she could die at any moment. Now she is stuck flailing in the air, the flames soon covered her vision, and a guttural screamed ripped through her body. Suddenly she dropped to the ground. She could hear water splash around her.
"Y/n!" It was Buffy, "Spike, over here!" She called, and suddenly she was waterboarded in cold water. As she gasped for air, "sorry love guess I should have given a heads up." Spike mumbled, "you think!" She shrieked drying her eyes. When she opened them, she was met with darkness. She sat there stunned, silent, blinking, rubbing her eyes. "What?" Buffy asked helping her off the dirty ground, dusting her off. She could feel her cheeks get hot, and the tears brim her eyes.
She could feel the tears slide down her cheeks. "I can't see." She uttered, ever so softly. The two watch her in horror, as she sobbed. She held her hands out, a delicate hand took one, and a bigger calloused one took the other. "Were here, we'll figure this out." Buffy mumbled, mostly to Spike as they looked at each other hopelessly. "We have to bring her back to Giles. Perhaps he has a tea for this or something." Spike mumbled, putting his hand on Y/n back rubbing it comforting her. Buffy nodded, and Spike sighed. "Alright love, I'm going to pick you up and were going to Giles."
Gently and hesitantly, he picked her up. His hands under her knees, his at her back and her arms wrapped around his neck. She laid in the crook his neck, with a hurt heart. "Everything will be alright." He mumbled, before he continued. As they walked to Gile's house Buffy can't help but notice how gentle Spike is being with her. How the hand on her back would travel to her arm, when they would pass more uneven ground. Or the way he would whisper to her.
Spike didn't knock when entering Gile's house, he just kicked in the door. "Giles! Where are you!" He ran in crossbow in hand ready to shoot. "Bloody hell, what is wrong with you!" He was about to berate the three until he saw the desperation in Spikes eyes. "What's happened?" He asked his voice quiet not wanting to know. "She can't see, the damn thing burned her eyes!" Spike yelled holding her tighter as she whimpered. "I have a spare bedroom, down the hall second on your right. Put her there. I'll prepare things here to start the healing process."
Y/n head raised slightly from Spikes neck, "I can be healed?" Giles nodded then coughed remembering himself. Earning a glare from Spike. "Yes, but I'm afraid it will take a few days for it to be completely healed." She smiled and hugged Spike tightly, "I'm going to be healed!" He didn't really know why, but he hugged her back. He like hugging her. He liked having her in his arms. Spike walked her down the hall, as they walked the smell of lavender, and old books fill the air.
He lays her down on the bed, under the covers, the soft fabric relaxing every tired muscle. The lavender is mixed with cigarettes and pine. She could feel Spike take her hand his calloused thumb rubbing small circles on the back of her hand. She held his hand tightly "Everything will be alright, right?" She asked, her voice barley a whisper. "Of course, you heard what he said. You'll be back to your old self in no time. What if it doesn't work?"
"Don't think like that." Spike sternly muttered as Giles called him from the other room, and he mumbled he would be right back. She hates this. She can't see and now she can hear everything. It feels that way anyway. The way the water drips from the faucet, the way the talk about measurements of medications. Soon cigarettes drift in and she asks "Spike, is that you?" She could hear his boots on the hard wood. "It's me love; don't you worry. I need you to take this ok?" He took her hand and placed in it a cup instructing her to drink it.
She stayed in bed for two more days with slight progress she could see light. Spike stayed by her side for all of it. Talking to her and telling her stories, she would listen as he would write his poems. Falling asleep to the rhythmic of the pen to paper. A few more days go by, and she can see shapes and Spike is more than pleased. Although, he can't help himself but feel a slight sense of guilt. Guilt at the fact that he doesn't want her to get better. Not that he wants her to be blind. He just wants to be with her.
She woke up one morning turning over to the sound of his pen. Opening her eyes, and Spike sat there with his head in his journal. She stared at him with teary eyes. His beautiful, slicked back hair was disheveled, and his jacket had been thrown. "Spike?" She asked, and he looked up with a small smile. "Yes love," and they locked eyes, "I see you."
"You see me?" He asked, he tried to sound happy, he really did, but Y/n didn't pick up on it. She threw the covers and ran into his lap forgetting personal space. "I see you!" She hugged him tightly; his journal fell to the floor. Before he could hold her back, she pulled away, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, you're an angel you know that." She kissed both his cheek, the bridge of his nose, and his lips. Before running out of the room to find Giles and Buffy to tell them the good news. Leaving a love frozen, lovesick Spike and a book of poems he wrote for her on the floor.
59 notes · View notes
Not Yet (Spike x Y/N)
Tumblr media
Requested: nope
TW: Mentions of alcohol and drinking. Mentions of rough s e x.
Word count: 1.7k
-------------------------------------------------------
If his body wasn't cold, steam would be rolling off it. Kiss after kiss. Grope after grope. Spike couldn't get enough. He knew it was wrong. He knew it wasn't real, but he needed it. Buffy was rough and demanding in her lovemaking, if you could call it that. She threw Spike around as if boneless and limp. She focused on meeting her needs without regard to Spike or his feelings. Spike held on and let himself be dominated. Even for a moment, he felt loved.
After Buffy has had her fill, she leaves Spike spent and tired. He knew she would return later this week. He knew it wasn't the touch that he craved, but it was the touch he deserved. Though a hopeless romantic, he couldn't fathom real love. He was immersed in a world of pain and destruction, and that is all he deserved. Unless... it was with y/n. With her time stopped. He was whole. A man. With her, there was partnership and laughter. With her, there was something he didn't deserve but desperately craved.
He got dressed and ready to pick her up. It was just another night of hunting. Buffy and Y/n decided to divide and conquer instead of working together. Buffy kills vampires, and y/n kills demons. Their decision to go their separate ways meant that Spike had to make time for both, being degraded and then being valued. Honestly, he preferred the latter.
He strolled down to y/n's house, ready to be by her side. He wanted to enjoy her scent, her presence, and her kindness. He promised to knock on the door instead of barging in, so he complies. Two knocks, and he waits.
You open the door, greeting him in your bathrobe. Spike is taken aback. "A bit early, am I?"
You chuckle, "no. I forgot to tell you yesterday. I'm taking the day off today. I want to rest."
Spike is crestfallen. You resting was good for your health but bad for his heart. This meant he wouldn't get time by your side.
"Oh... well... alright then. I'll see you..." He tries to hide his disappointment.
"I didn't say you had to leave."
A smile trails his face. "What do you have planned?" He said leaning against your doorframe.
"Well," you pondered, "you owe me a dance..." You grin.
He sighs, feigning annoyance when, in fact, he's been dreaming of the chance to hold you again. "Fine."
You invite him in. "Wait here. Let me change."
He sits on the couch. He takes in the scent of your home. It was you enveloping him, welcoming him. He could get used to this. To be in your space was to be at peace.
You come out in a flowy sundress. He forgets that he has no breath and feels a loss of air. As if the sight of you could bring him back to life. He stands up quickly.
"Darling, you are a vision."
You blush, "it's just an old dress."
He smiles softly as he approaches you. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You lock eyes, and time stops.
You catch the faint smell of Buffy on his skin. The smell of leather, dirt, and cigarette masks it well. You remind yourself of your friendship. There's nothing more. You remind yourself to breathe.
"Where do we start?" He whispers.
"Let's move some furniture and I'll get some tunes off my phone."
You work together to make space in the living room. You find a generic watlz Playlist, and you take your places in the center of the room.
Spike feels nervous and silly. He has waltzed many times but never with anyone of interest. Here you were, his friend waiting for his touch, his guidance.
He places his left hand on your back and holds your left hand with his right, and it felt like it's the first time he has been touched. You hold his hand firmly and place your other hand on his shoulder. It felt right.
The music starts. Soft. He guides your body, and you follow. Your turn and sway to the music, feeling the ebb and flow of your bodies. Synchronicity and attunement. You were a unit, inseparable.
Spike looked into your eyes, swimming for his life. He recognized something in them. Something he didn't deserve.
You locked eyes with Spike. A smile painted on your face. This was the moment you wished for. It felt like peace. It felt like the end of your journey. You wondered how you could use this moment to break your curse, but it was far too weak to take over a 1,000 year old curse. Nevertheless, it was perfect. It's been so long since you've been able to rest.
"Does this please you, love?" Spike asked as you both danced.
You nodded, "It reminds me of the last time I danced. It's been so long."
"Thinking of another man while in my arms, you dirty bird?" He smirked
You laugh, "No. I'm thinking of how good it felt. Dancing is very relaxing."
"So, no man comes to mind?" He asks, a little jealousy in his voice.
"Oh, yeah. One man. A British guy, poet, auburn hair, with glasses. A sweet man with beautiful eyes. Too shy for my taste but definitely a prize." You mused much to Spike's disdain.
"Sounds like a pratt." He said through his teeth.
You laugh, big and full. "He was a crush for the moment. Someone to dream a future with. Even though I knew it was impossible, he made me feel free." You made sure to dig in on your remarks. Part of you knew that this was your getback for Spike sleeping with Buffy. If he had her, why couldn't you at least have your memories.
Spike did a mistep causing you to fall into him. Your face against his chest, his hands catching your body. You both still. You raise your face. You're mere inches from his face. Lips, almost gracing. Your breath hitches in your chest. Spike looks down at you intrigued at your next move.
"Did he ever hold you like this?" He whispered.
"No..."
Time stops, and you feel like melting into him. So close and yet so far. You knew better, but at this moment, all that mattered was what he tasted like. At the same time, you wanted to ask if it felt like this when he held Buffy. The thought pushed you away from the moment. You straightened and stepped away.
"Do you want water?" You walk into the kitchen.
Spike smacks his forehead. What was he doing? What did he want? He follows you into the kitchen. "Got any booze?"
"Oh, it's that kind of party?" You giggle.
You bring out different types of liquers and beers. "Pick your poison."
"Shots and then drinks."
You pour two shots. You both pick it up and clink your drinks before drinking it. You both sigh at the bitterness of the spirit.
You share a bottle of wine. A bittersweet red. Something that reminded Spike of blood.
"Thank you. That was fun." You break the silence.
Spike grins, "Anytime, love. It's been awhile. Sorry for stopping abruptly." He says in between sips of the wine.
You nod not knowing how to address his reaction to you talking about a past love. You didn't know how to communicate how much you loved his reaction, or the fact that he held you that close.
Spike becomes aware of Buffy's scent on him. Embarrassment takes over. He hoped that you didn't notice. How could he knock boots with Buffy and then run into your arms? You deserved respect. He made a mental note to shower next time.
You both drank the night away. Chatting and connecting. You share laughter and playful touches. The touches lingered with time. Personal space was non-existent. By the end of the night, you were cuddling on your couch. You were sleepy, and your words slurred, which made you giggle more. Spike watched attentively and committed every smile and sigh to memory.
"The sun is about to raise, love." He mentioned.
You stirred in his arms, "Already?"
He held you close, taking in the scent of your hair. "Yes, love." He hated the idea of moving, but he knew this wasn't his scene. Not yet.
You both, slowly, part. You miss his body, and he misses yours. You both slowly get up, wordless.
"Are you staying?" You ask silently.
"Not tonight, love." He hated himself for that answer.
"I understand." You mask the disappointment in your voice.
He walks to your kitchen and comes back with a cup of water. " 'm not leaving 'till you drink it."
"Then I'm never drinking it." You smile as you take the cup.
He smiles, big, and full. "Cheeky."
You finish the water and set the cup down on your coffee table. You walk Spike to the door. "Thank you again. You're the best friend I've ever had."
Spike is taken aback by your compliment. He basks in it. "Anything for you, love." He leans in and kisses her cheek. He turns and walks away before you can react.
You place a hand where his lips were. You felt lightheaded, but you didn't know if it was the alcohol or Spike's affection.
Spike walked fast-paced but happy all the way to his mausoleum. He pondered his actions tonight. He went fom degradation to...dare he say it? Not yet. He wanted time to bask in the effects of tonight. The sensations. The scents. He wanted to capture tonight into his being forever. Never had he had such intimacy, so much vulnerability. All ready for the picking, but not yet. He had much to offer but not enough to be loved by her, or so he told himself. He didn't deserve it. Not yet. Someday, soon, he will be able to bypass the degradation and the self-mutilation that is his rendezvous with Buffy. On that day, he will be good enough, whatever that means, for y/n... but not yet. So, until then, he had pain, destruction, and tonight's memory to keep him afloat.
17 notes · View notes
witchthewriter · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐗𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞
ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ
SFW ⇩
・ You guys would bond over his witty comments - although I don’t think you would have met in high school.
・ Learning about the supernatural world after one of your family members are caught up in it? Either your parents, siblings etc. were turned, or you met Willow in college in her Wiccan group
・ There wasn’t an instant sexual attraction between the two of you, but one where you became fast friends. Spending a lot of time together. There was a witty banter that not a lot of people could keep up with
・ You would share something personal with him that would make his heart ache; maybe how you were treated at home, or by your peers. Maybe how you never felt truly accepted - until you met him.
・He would have a nickname for you thats a play on one of your inside jokes. Like call you muppet, or twinkletoes. Everyone else is like "???" but you guys never want to explain it
・He tells you about his past relationships and about Anya specifically; how he felt he couldn't go on to marry her because it wouldn't be right. You would probably feel a bit let down, that he wasn't open to a committed relationship. But that just isn't true, he just doesn't want to rush into anything.
・You guys defeinitely have dance parties, air guitar moments and just casual goofiness
・He doesn't like it when you're in danger, and has nearly taken a -magical- bullet for you.
・You're good friends with Willow as well, and she sees you as a sibling
・Whether you're into witchcraft, or you were pulled into the magical world by chance, you fit right in. Your open-mindedness and love for fantasy gave you hope
・Your friendship with Xander changed to a relationship when he nearly lost you. He didn't realise how strong his feelings for you were until that moment.
NSFW ⇩ (18+)
・ Kind of awkward at first because he doesn’t have a heap of experience
・ Once you stated your boundaries and what you desired then it was on ...
・ Surprisingly tender and soft with you, with all the sex jokes he makes you thought he would be somewhat rough
・ Depending on what you like, I can so see Xander being a sub - but if you egged him on all day than he would dominate you until you saw stars
・Definitely likes your tits and ass, and will beg on his knees anytime you want 
・He does like it when you grip his neck, sternly looking into his eyes and spitting in his mouth 
𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕
88 notes · View notes