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crvptidgf · 2 years

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Two Is Stronger Than One

(slight) Spike x Reader

The Irregulars x Reader (platonic)

[FLUFF]

Requested: No

Summary: Reader is an Ipsissimus (unknowingly) and has terrible nightmares that makes them sleepwalk. They meet Spike and the other Irregulars, and they all help the Reader figure out what is wrong with them.

- - -

You had been suffering from horrible, gruesome nightmares for the past few weeks. Each one seemingly getting worse and more terrifying than the last. Every night they began feeling more and more real.

Occasionally you'd wake up in strange places with no memory of how you got there. You wouldn't go far, besides sometimes waking up outside your front door. That is, until last night.

- - -

The tunnels felt never-ending as your bare feet carried you through the narrow passageways. Cold, wet mud stuck to the soles of your feet, soothing the pain, if only slightly.

Water dripped down from the ceiling, the noise of the little droplets being the only sound audible for miles.

Leaning against the wall, you shivered at it's touch. You bent over, hands on your knees, panting heavily. You had no idea how long you had been running for - but wherever you went, you always seemed to end up back in the same place.

An entryway with walls covered in skulls and bones.

A putrid smell wafted throughout the area, and you'd be inclined to cover your nose and mouth if you weren't desperately gasping for air.

Looking up, you noticed a black figure make it's way towards you. Your legs were too weak to carry on, shaking beneath you and eventually giving away as you fell to the ground.

Wincing, you kept your eyes on the figure.

It seemed to study you for a moment, tilting it's head to the side. Maybe it was calculating the best approach, thinking of what to do with you - where to bring you. You had no idea, and honestly you didn't care.

You were just too tired.

Your fear kept you in place. Not being able to look away or move, the figure seized this opportunity to make it's way towards you and grab you.

Heart hammering against your ribcage, you tried to call for help. Your voice was frail from it's lack of use, quivering and cracking in the dead-silent room.

The echoes of your screams seemed to fill your mind. The sound of your own voice made you feel like you were going insane. It occupied every space in your brain, bouncing off every wall in the tunnel and reverberating back to you.

The figure, however, was not deterred by your weak attempts at screaming for help. It grabbed you by the collar and began dragging you across the floor.

With no idea where it was bringing you, you began flailing about. The screams got louder and more desperate, your muscles began getting sore from your failed attempts of escaping and your skin was beginning to be rubbed raw from the friction of your nightwear against your neck.

This was the end. You were almost 100% positive you weren't getting out of this. Not alive anyway.

"Please... please get me out of here," you pleaded. You didn't know who or what you were praying to, but in that moment it was the only thing you could do.

- - -

"Please, stop!" your own screams woke you up, yet you were still disoriented and confused. You had no idea where you were, and your eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness of your surroundings.

You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders, and with the dark figure still in your mind you began kicking and shoving. Whoever it was seemed to have a strong grip because no matter how much you tried pushing them off, their hands were glued to you.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you."

The person grabbed your wrists to keep you in place. Your breathing was erratic but you felt no threat from this person so you stopped your movements, albeit hesitantly.

Trying to get your breathing under control, you took a better look at them. It was a boy, probably around your age, with dark hair and tattered clothes. He seemed just as frightened as you were.

He slowly let go of your hands, and put his hands up to show he wasn't a threat.

"You alright?" he asked.

Not trusting your voice, you nodded slowly.

"I'm Spike," he said, giving you his hands to help you stand up.

Grabbing onto them, you were pulled up gently. You dusted yourself off and looked around - the place seemed very unfamiliar.

The dark sky expanded over the area, stars twinkling in the vast nothingness. Small, grey clouds slowly dissipated into the background, traveling away from you.

There were only a few people on the streets, some sleeping on the ground and others drunkenly singing outside of a nearby bar. Dirt lined the wet, cobblestone path, sticking to your shoes annoyingly.

"I'm Y/N. I wish we had met on better terms," you laughed awkwardly.

Spike smiled and shook his head.

"Surprisingly you aren't the first person I've had to wake up in the middle of the street."

You weren't sure what he meant by that, but you were half thinking it was a joke, so you didn't question it.

"So... where am I?"

"We're near Baker Street. It's just up there," he pointed behind you.

You nodded your head slowly, still looking around at the new area.

You had no idea how you were going to get home, or what you would tell your parents if they noticed you were gone from the house.

They knew you were a sleepwalker, but again you had never ventured out of the house at night. Much less so far away. Besides, they didn't know you had nightmares. Not only did you not have the heart to tell them, but in all honestly they would probably think you're insane.

"I'm sorry if I worried you. I don't actually know how I got here. I seem to be sleepwalking a lot lately," you said.

"Well you're in luck - because I might actually know someone who can help."

A smile spread across his face as he started to walk backwards towards a building with a little cellar door to the side of it.

"Care to join me?" he asked, more of a rhetorical question than anything.

With nothing better to do- and nothing really to lose - you followed the boy.

If there was a chance he knew someone who could tell you what was going on with you, you were gonna take it.

"You been having nightmares for a long time, then?"

You looked at him strangely, not knowing how he knew ao much about your situation. Something about him made you have no doubt in your mind that he could help.

"Yes, actually. My parents don't know what to do with me," you laughed. Many people didn't take you seriously when you said you sleep-walked. In their mind it entailed pacing around your room, or as most, trekking around the house. However for you it held a much darker and dangerous connotation.

You were so, so far from home already...

"Well my sister - who lives just there," he said, pointing to a cellar on your right, "- has been experiencing the same things."

"Started about a month ago?"

"Exactly," he responds.

- - -

Carefully climbing down the damp cellar stairs, you prayer this wasn't a kidnapping, but as you continued down you saw two young girls around your age.

One had dark hair, pulled back into a ponytail, and the other had curly hair sprawled across her back. Their conversation halted as their eyes rested on you.

Jumping back, one of the held a hand out infront of her sister in a protective stance.

"Don't worry, she's with me," mentioned Spike.

"Y/N, this is Bea and Jessie. My family," he gestured to the two girls.

You nodded your head in greeting, offering a small, awkward smile. You felt like you were intruding.

"She's been having the same problems as Jessie. I thought we could help - and you know we could use the numbers on our side," whispered Spike.

The girl who you assumed to be Bea sighed and rolled her eyes, annoyance etching across her face.

"We're in enough trouble as it is. You think adding another Ipsissimus to the mix is what we need?"

"Ip - what?" you interrupted.

You glanced around the room, uncertain of what was really going on. Jessie offered you a comforting smile and made her way to you. Gently taking your hand in hers she tried to explain.

"Ipsissimus. It's what I am. Really, it's quite a long story. You should sit down and we can talk," she said.

- - -

After a long winded conversation, you finally began to understand what was happening. I mean - it was unbelievable.

Everything was said with such detail and emotion that you found it hard to not believe. Of course it had taken some convincing, but after a while you agreed to meet them again tomorrow. Jessie had promised to help you figure your powers out - and in all honesty you wouldn't be opposed to visiting Spike again.

"I hope you guys know what you're doing," sighs Bea as you close the door to the cellar behind you.

Spike shrugged her off and went off to bed, excited to see you once more the next day.

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mewmewgirl101 · 9 months

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Another Spike x my oc story

My oc fell in love with spike and was scared he would end up being her last boyfriend who was like princes Hans. And abusiv and made her feel like she deserved it and she did something wrong. Every time spike would go to touch her she would protect herself flinch away and apologize like crazy it broke broke spikes heart to she her do that. He didn’t know why he thought maybe girls were bullying her. spike asked lorn to have her to him and to tell him what happened. So lorn asked her to sing for him. She sang to him open up your eyes. And so what. Lorn couldn’t believe how anyone would want to hurt her when she’s so nice to everyone. When spike found out what happened he automatically got vampire face when spike found the guy laughing about what happened with sosha he beat him up then threatened him and broke his nose.and had willow hurt the girls who were mean to her.spike slowly crawls to Sosha slowly reached for her face and held it softly. he tells knows about what happened with her ex. Then tells her he would never hurt her as long as he un lived. He carefully wiped her face with makeup Remover wipes he gasps seeing At all the marks on her cheeks lips chin and eyes gets vampire face and vampire growl he shifts back to his normal face finds her ex male friends were laughing and about her he walks to them taps one of the guys shoulders and clearly his when they ask him to join them and there conversation he gets vampire face and snarls. He beats them up to

Spike vampire face( snarls with deadly look in his eyes) so your guys who hurt my beautiful princess and made her scad of some one touching her.

Guy: look man we were just friendly teasing her that’s all

Guy 2: ya we didn’t mean anything

Spike vampire face: no friendly teasing if laugh with them about them blushing. Or laughing with them when you catch them staring at someone they like. You guys were hurting and bullying her

Guy: but we didn’t mean anything

spike knew they were lying through their teeth so they wouldn’t get beat up he snarled again and beat them up the each I broken nose and two black eyes.telling them there lucky he didn’t kill them. And they should be thanking Sosha because if it wasn’t for her he’d have killed them. He’s back with Sosha and gently wipes make up off her face. Then softly sweetly and gently kisses every mark on her face multiple times. Whispers in her ear he loves her with all his heart more than he ever loved anyone. An when her lips and face are all healed up he’ll show her and real kiss. She can’t and doesn’t believe him. He tells her some day she’ll believe him. She starts learning very slowly that she doesn’t have to apologize every time he left his hand or goes to touch her. He he very quickly realizes he has to asked her every he can touch hold or kiss her every time he wants to do that stuff she slowly learns he’s not going to hurt her he can’t wait to randomly feel her touch

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #spike #oc x spike #spike x oc #story #fanfic #BTVS fanfic #fan fic BTVS #spike x oc fan fic #fan fic oc x spike #spike fanfic #fan fic spike

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flyora · 3 months

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Me again with another little piece for my spuffy obsession and that heartbreaking scene from HoB (@elysianholly )

#spuffy #spike btvs #spuffy fanfic

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thefreakandthehair · 1 year

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The plants are Eddie's idea.

Each and every one of them is rescued or adopted in some way: salvaged from a home that hadn't cared for it, up for grabs on the side of the road, forgotten in the corners of Home Depot, leftovers from wedding centerpieces that surely are going to be tossed after the reception ends. Eddie knows what it feels like to be forgotten, left out, neglected, and just because plants don't have a voice stand on lunch tables and air their frustrations with broken systems, that doesn't mean they don't feel. So yes, Eddie loves his plants, loves them with almost the same intensity that he loves their cat, Bruce.

At first, Steve just nods and shrugs and gives Eddie that fond smile that says I don't get it but you're happy so I'm happy. The same smile Steve wears when Eddie rambles on about Dungeons and Dragons, about the intricacies of being both a Black Sabbath and Ozzy Osbourne fan, about why Mothman and Bigfoot and mermaids absolutely exist, Steve! It's endearing and warm, and Eddie loves him so goddamn much. Even more than Bruce, even more than the plants.

What Eddie doesn't expect, though, is for Steve to grow to love the plants, too. In true Steve fashion, he brushes it off when he pinches dead leaves from the Pothos, or when he smiles as he sprays the Boston fern. Eddie knows that, bare minimum, Steve cares about their plant babies and so when he ends up going on a week-long tour with Corroded Coffin, he doesn't worry too much about the little green souls that litter their apartment.

A week is a long time, and Eddie misses home so much that he doesn't announce himself as he barrels through the front door the following Saturday afternoon.

"Yeah, see? You’re doing great."

Eddie freezes in his tracks. Who the fuck is Steve talking to with that whispered voice? The one that, up until now, Eddie presumed was for him and him only. He knows he'd never cheat, but seriously, who's in their apartment?

"Atta girl, look at you! See, I told you, we'd figure this out."

He sets his bags down as quietly as he can, toes off his boots, and slowly pads along the beige carpet to peak around the corner to their living room.

Oh.

Steve's talking to their plants.

Eddie leans against the doorframe and watches as Steve smiles, wide and bright enough to replace the sun shining in through the streaky bay window, while moving from plant to plant, pot to pot, singing their praises and lavishing them with compliments and affirmation.

"You're growing so well!"

"See? I watered you and you popped right back up. You don't have to be dramatic about it."

"When your other dad gets home, we’ve gotta talk about repotting you. You're definitely outgrowing this pot."

Eddie clears his throat and Steve whirls around with a wild look in his eye that reminds him so much of the time he caught Dustin snooping in his campaign materials that he briefly wonders if Dustin and Steve actually are biologically related.

“Oh honey, I’m home!” Eddie singsongs and grins as he shoves away from the door jam, walking over to Steve who’s already rolling his eyes and groaning.

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough to feel a little jealous of the Boston fern over here.” Eddie gestures towards the large fern spilling over the sides of its planter. “You never tell me I’m growing so well.”

Steve sets down the watering bottle and pulls Eddie in closer, both arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Eddie melts, letting himself be held and loved. A week really is a long time.

“No, but I do tell you when you’re being dramatic,” he teases, pressing a soft kiss against Eddie’s lips that’s more the touch of smiles than of mouths.

Eddie pulls back just enough to catch Steve’s gaze, warm and comforting. “You do realize that I’ll never let this go, right?”

Never. Always. Forever.

Eddie was never one for absolute language, except when it comes to Steve. He’ll never let him live this down, because he’ll always be here. Forever.

Steve laughs, shaking his head. “I’d sure hope not.”

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #myfic #myblurbs #honestly my anxiety spiked at random so i spent a lot of time today tending my plant babies #and idk but then this happened!#plant dad eddie munson #plant dad steve harrington #steve is like the dad that didn't want the cat and then is the cat's best friend

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evieelyzabethh · 28 days

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Warmer than a Comforter

pairing(s): Spike x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Breaking into my apartment?" You interrupted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You know how to fix windows?"

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

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

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

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

"What're you gonna do that for!"

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

"But would Xander do it for free?"

"Would you?"

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

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

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

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

"I'm gonna hop in the shower."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Am I that transparent?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you still cold?"

#btvs #btvs imagine #btvs x reader #btvs smut #spike btvs fanfiction #spike btvs smut #spike x reader #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy the vampire slayer fanfiction #buffy the vampire slayer x reader #buffy the vampire slayer imagine #spike smut #spike btvs #spike btvs x reader #spike btvs imagine #buffy the vampire slayer fanfic #buffy the vampire slayer smut

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purple-imagines · 11 months

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Disaster

Pairing - Chase Davenport x Reader

Summary - Reader meets Spike for the first time

Warnings - kissing, swearing

Word Count - 697

Masterlist

“Y/N!” She heard Leo scream out of her phone, as soon as she answered it.

“Hello to you too, Leo.” She replied back.

“Can you come to our house? The lab to be exact.” She could hear banging in the background.

She narrowed her eyebrows, “why?”

“Well, Adam made Chase angry and Spike decided to make an appearance.”

The girl let out a sigh, of course. “Where’s Davenport?”

“Out of town.” She could hear Adam scream in the distance.

“Tasha too?”

“Yep. Are you coming?”

“Yes, I’m headed there now.”

“Good. Hurryy-” He hung up after screaming.

The girl walked the street to the Davenports, only 10 minutes away. Arriving, everything looked normal from the outside.

She walked into the house, seeing Bree on her phone on the couch, Adam in the hallway, looking out of breath, and Leo running into the living room.

“Thank God! He's in the basement.”

Y/N crossed her arms, “what’s in this for me?”

“Uh- Chase will do your homework.”

“We already do our homework together.”

“Oh.” Leo looked defeated, “I’ll cover for Chase next time y’all want to stay out past curfew.”

“Hm.. ok.” She shrugged, heading towards the elevator.

Going down towards the basement, she couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous. She’s heard of Spike, but never actually met him. She trusts Chase though, and according to Leo she could do it.

The elevators open and she’s greeted with silence. Walking through the doors, she hears a loud bang, causing her to jump.

She could see lab equipment all over the floor, some in pieces, others still salvageable. Spike was standing in front of the tubes, looking mad.

“Hey there, pretty lady,” he smirked, “what’s your name?”

Y/N crossed her arms, “Y/N.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl. I’m Spike, but you can call me whatever you want.

She huffed. He was annoying, to say the least. “Well, Spike,” she jumped up onto a counter, swinging her legs. “What do you wanna do?”

“Other than you?” He continued to smirk, causing her to roll her eyes. “I want to destroy this place.”

“Ok then.” She slowly pushed a lamp off the counter she was sitting on. Keeping eye contact with Spike the entire time.

His eyebrows rose, he slowly walked towards his left, towards Davenport's inventions. Copying what the girl did, he slowly pushed one off, causing it to break in half.

The girl hopped off the counter, keeping eye contact, she walked towards the middle of the lab, taking her arms and sweeping everything off the table.

Back in the living room, Adam, Bree, and Leo were watching everything on Eddie's screen.

Leo drug his hands down his face, “what is she doing? She’s supposed to stop him from destroying the lab, not help mess it up.”

Bree shrugged, “it’s working.”

Looking back at the screen, they could see the smiles on both their faces. They were causing havoc, but were happy about it.

Now they stood face to face, about five inches apart. “If they kiss, I’ll throw up.” Leo gagged, walking over towards the couch.

Y/N put her forehead on Spikes, looking him in the eyes. “You happier now?”

He laughed, “yeah.” He pulled her in and kissed her lips. The girl slowly kissed back, putting her hands on the back of his neck.

Pulling back after a couple of seconds, she realized his hands were on her waist. “Chase?”

“It’s me.” She pulled him into her, hugging him tight.

He slowly pulled away, looking around at the damage. “Did I do this?”

“Not all of it.” She winced.

Chase let out a smile, pulling her into another kiss.

“Is it clear?” They hear Leo yell from the hallway.

They laugh as they let go of each other. “We’re good.” She called back.

Leo, Bree, and Adam walk into the lab, looking around at the disaster. Adam and Leo walk towards Chase, while Bree walks towards Y/N.

Bree bumps shoulders with her, “someone had fun.” She teased.

Y/N gasped, “you were watching?” Bree laughed and nodded.

Chase wrapped his arms around YN, “now I’ve got to see this video.”

#lab rats #lab rats imagine #lab rats imagines #nickelodeon #nickelodeon imagine #nickelodeon imagines #chase davenport #chase davenport fanfiction #chase davenport fanfic #chase davenport fic #chase davenport imagine #chase davenport imagines #chase davenport x reader #chase daveport x y/n #bionics #spike x reader #spike #spike imagine #fluff

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lostbluejayart · 6 months

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[This piece is a mere abstract interpretation of a conversation between Spike and Niah while the ‘sun’ slowly sets on Mars, which is where the surrounding theme of twilight in their story takes place. Originally in my mind, I would have drawn Niah in a gown with a pink sheer kimono falling off her shoulders, but I decided to go with something casual such as high-waist pants, tank, and a button-down shirt for this variation. ]

It’s a languid, moony scene where Spike walks into her yard to find her lounging on a lawn chair, sipping on some red wine and enjoying the scenery of her garden. She doesn’t appear to realize his presence quite yet, as her mind was lost in the enchantment of a daydream for a while now, making her lose partial focus on reality. But for just a moment, Spike stands still to bask in the quiet scene, eyes half-lidded beneath the shadow of his curly fringes as he watches her swallowed up in touches of red and green, smoke from his cigarette swirling across his vision. Spike can only admire from afar. At a distance. With a heart that aches at the sight of her. A heart full of yearning, tastes bittersweet upon his tongue, like forbidden fruit he desires to take a bite out of for just a measly taste. A simple drop of sweet wine that taints her lips a blushing red.

#illustration #artists on tumblr #my art #cowboy bebop #spike spiegel #cowboy bebop oc #cb #digital art #bebop #spike spiegel x oc #oc x canon #black artist #spike spiegel x reader #cowboy bebop fanfiction #cowboy bebop fanfic #spike spiegel fanfic #oc: Niah Foxx

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l0veisntbrains · 7 months

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ok hear me out, all human slow burn where they're in the same band. they swear every day to break up the band bc they can't stand each other but it's just unresolved sexual tension

#spuffy #spuffyedit #spikeedit #spike #buffy #btvs #btvsedit #spuffy fanfic #fic prompt #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy summers #spuffy manips #manips #*#yes my new hobby is turning avril lavigne into buffy summers

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spuffyarchive · 24 days

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Forward to Time Past by unbridled_brunette [NC-17]

The victim of a spell gone awry, Buffy finds herself trapped in Victorian London, where she meets a man that is surprisingly familiar to her.

#*#forward to time past #unbridled brunette #season: 5 #g: angst #c: time travel #c: william #charlie #gia #buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #spuffy #buffy summers #spike #buffy #spike x buffy #spuffygifs #spuffy fanfic

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beatriceeverytuesday · 20 days

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best thing ever is when i'm reading a spuffy fic and they acknowledge faith as one of buffy's ex-boyfriend's. like yeah, you get it. you Get It!!!!!!!!

#spuffy #fuffy #btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy summers #spike btvs #faith lehane #beatrice.txt #fanfic tag

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zhezhezha · 3 months

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#art #fanart #artists on tumblr #digital art #mlp fanart #mlp fim #mlp art #mlp #fallout #fallout equestria #littlepip #mlp spike #my little pony #my litte pony friendship is magic #brony #fanfic illustration #фоллаут Эквестрия #млп #video

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singwith-love-at-our-throats · 3 months

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nothing safe is worth the drive (follow you home) by @yoursummerfrost is all finished and bound!!

#Buffy and spike are so soft towards each other in this one 🥺🥺#ultimate comfort fic #i love this one so much #I have bound 8 spuffy fics now!!#working towards having a whole bookcase full eventually 🤣🤣#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #spuffy #spike btvs #buffy x spike #spuffy fanfic #fan fiction #book binding #Summerfrost #buffy

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frenchublog · 2 months

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can anyone recommend fluffy (long) spuffy fanfics ? i need softness, yearning, longing in spuffy style

if you have a favourite story it's okay too hehe (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

#spuffy #personal #to be deleted later #i don't normally do that #but im in crisis and i need help #ive been reading geliot99's fanfics and now i fear i will go insane #no matter the season #s5 or s6 rewrites are my favs #bonus points if buffy and dawn actually sit in front of a therapist but even then i guess a demon would barge in and ruin the session #my girls can't catch a break #big huge bonus points if we get big brother/parental figure spike with dawn #he loves and protect his summers girls and that's the energy i love #*✲ﾟ*(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* thank you in advance to anyone that replies

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manias-wordcount · 7 months

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Tight Fit (Spike Spiegel)

Kinktober 2023 Day Nine: Riding

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

Spike usually doesn’t let anyone in the Swordfish II.

The cockpit isn’t very big. And flying this ship isn’t quite for amateurs since it’s a repurposed MONO racer. Not to mention, Spike doesn’t any just about anyone to mess with his stuff. Even when he’s there to watch over things with a keen eye.

But all you had to do was let him get you all wined and dined up one night on Ganymede. And then bat your pretty eyes at him a couple of times while letting that pout of yours settle on your lip. And suddenly, he’s pulling you into the Swordfish- still tucked away nice and safe on the Bebop- and reclining the seat as far back as he can while pulling you onto his lap.

“It’s a snug fit,” He murmurs at you. Eyes half-lidded and voice a little heavy as he peers up at you from the pilot’s chair that has him nearly lying down beneath you. You can smell his drink on him. Just a little bit. But he’s had one less glass than you and you’re walking and talking and feeling just fine. And you’d like to think that he’s feeling fine too. Given the fact that you’re feeling something hard and stiff and thick poking at your thigh while you’re straddling in “I might need to take these panties off of you. It could make things a little more comfortable, you know?

And you know for a fact that’s not his gun.

You do know that something as simple as taking off your panties would make you a lot more comfortable. A lot more happy. You do know, so you have no qualms with lifting and shifting your hips to let him slide the lacy pair of panties you chose for him tonight. And when they’re all the way down your thigh and starting to hang off of just one leg, he used one hand to reach down at his pants and another to cup the back of your head and push you into letting his lips touch yours. You don’t need any coaxing. Because you’re already running your fingers through his hair and gripping at his suit jacket, humming as he kisses you deeper and deeper and deeper.

It’s starting to get hot in the Swordfish. It’s starting to get hot in his arms. But when you stop running your hands through his hair to reach for the ends of your dress to tug it off you, he stops you. He breaks the kiss for a moment, and you’re already missing the feeling of making out with him a little too much to be embarrassed about it. But then his eyes trail downwards. Looking past your face, and traveling down your neck. Moving a little further to take in your chest and the swell of that pretty little dress you find yourself and how it sits upon your waist and your hips and your everything else- just hidden and out of his view.

And then he reaches down. Not for your dress, but to go underneath.

Your chest heaves. Up and down and up and down as your breathing grows more labored. More needy. But you don’t say anything- not even as he takes two of his fingers and swipes at the wet mess growing from your pussy. It makes a lewd sound. One that makes your cheeks warm and your gaze grow a little more bashful, despite the alcohol in your system. And that feeling only grows as his eyes trail upwards once more as he locks onto your gaze. Those same two fingers reach down, and stretch out wide to spread your lower lips for him. He doesn’t have to tell you what he needs. He doesn’t have to tell you what to do.

Because before he can even open his mouth, you’re already reaching out to help him. One hand grabbing at your backside, spreading your cheeks to help him. Another hand wrapping itself around his dick. Giving it a few strokes. Working it with a few pumps. Letting the pre-cum leak all over your hand. And lining it up to your soaking-wet slit.

Your knees ache in this position. This isn’t like fucking on the bed. Or fucking on the couch. Or even fucking on the ground. This is a space built for one. Trying to fit two. But you want it. You need it. So you let your thighs burn in favor of letting the bright red tip of his long, hard cock brush against your clit, sending little sparks of pleasure throughout your body. You let your gaze fall onto him- to the man you’re about to fuck- and you let out a little smile.

There’s a whole lot of foreplay the two of you missed. Most guys wouldn’t have been able to get you this worked up with a couple of minutes of making out and a couple of sensual touches over your clothes. Most guys would have to buy you a bigger meal or the whole entire bottle just for you to consider saying yes. But him? But Spike? He’s different. He got you so easy. He got you so good. He got you so wound up and rolled tight that somehow, someway…

…you’re able to sink his cock into your nice and warm insides like he was meant to be there all along.

And because you’re needy. And because you’re whiny. And because you want nothing more than for his breath to become your breath as you fog up the glass of the Swordfish, you’re instantly lifting up your hips and lowering yourself on his dick with a giddy sense of eagerness. He comes in easily. He slips out just as easily. Though there are a couple of feelings. A couple of feelings that have you gasping. A couple of feelings that have him groaning. The way you would tighten up around him. The way you feel him dragging himself against your inner walls. The way you would take so much of him only to pull all the way out and shove him inside you again. And the way that he managed to let his dick kiss that spot inside of you that has you stutter out a name. His name.

“Spike…” You say it so softly. You say it like a prayer. It gets lost in the sound of Swordfish creaking and groaning with all the movements. But somehow he can hear it. He can hear it so loud and so clear. Because he’s the one keeping you warm tonight. He’s the one who showed you a good time. He’s the one taking care of you. Showing you his beautiful ship. Filling you up with his long, hard dick. “...fuck…”

And so his hands come up and grab at your hips from beneath your dress. They hike up the fabric so he can see all of you as he stuffs you nice and full. And they guide your hips a little more to move in the way that he wants them to move. To let you grind against him. To let you roll against him. Or to keep you still as he pressed his feet flat against the nearest surface and bucks into you a man gone mad with lust. A man gone mad for you.

And you’ll spend the rest of tonight moaning. Propped up on your knees and leaning over his figure as you continue the same routine. Up and down and up and down and up and down and up and down. Climbing and climbing and climbing your way to the top. Looking for the summit as your moans grow louder and your hands grip at his hair and his suit once more for a little more leverage. A little more of a chance of you reaching that peak faster. A little more of a chance of your moans getting louder. A little more of a chance of making this snug fit even more snug. Even more tight. Not that you’re complaining of course.

Because the glass is already getting a little harder to see through. And the air is now noticeably warmer than before. You’re having a blast like this. And he’s doing a good job taking care of you. Like he always had. Like you knew he would. After all, Spike doesn’t let anyone just anyone inside the Swordfish. It’s too important of a ship. He’s too grumpy of a person. And it’s too snug of a cockpit. But you’re lucky. You’re so, so, so lucky. Because you’re not just anyone to Spike. You’re someone special. Someone important.

Someone worth getting this close to.

#spike spiegel #spike spiegel x reader #cowboy bebop #cowboy bebop x reader #cowboy bebop fanfic #cowboy bebop fanfiction #x reader #xreader #fanfic #fanfiction

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