Rupert Giles X Reader - Blog Posts

I just started watching Buffy for the first time.

I’m really trying to decipher what it means that instead of an obsessive infatuation with Angel (cause, I mean, drool…) I somehow found myself here. Daydreaming about the mentor librarian.

I swear I don’t have daddy issues!

Hi me again! 👋🏻

I was wondering if you had time maybe to write a small fic (or one shot whatever you’re comfortable with) where the reader is Buffy’s cousin ( also library assistant or whatever you would like ) and the reader and Giles are in a secret relationship ( maybe smut?? ) and they’re navigating that and Buffy finds out and it’s this whole thing. If you’re busy I totally understand or if you just don’t want to, again it’s okay. I really do enjoy your work 🥰.

Not Unavailable, More Unimpressed

pairing(s): Giles x Summers!Reader

summary: what started out as a short term fling has gotten increasingly complicated when the reciprocity and sincerity of feelings is called into questions. pt.1 of ???

warnings: smut, fem!reader, drinking, hand job, a bit of breast worship, clothed grinding, riding, slight choking, age gap (Giles is in his mid to late 40's, reader is in her late 20s/ early 30s), reader has nipple piercings bc I said so and I think they are hot

an: This fic will contain smut so be warned. You are responsible for your own media consumption, read at your own risk.

The man at the bar was a mystery to you. He didn't quite fit into the bar atmosphere. He wasn't one of the barely legals or illegals who snuck in eager to drink, he wasn't one of the old guys who came to hit on the bottle girls, he didn't smell like a smoker or shoot whiskey like a drinker. He was also British, something that left an odd taste in your mouth.

You couldn't call yourself a regular here, more often than not you found yourself at the Bronze, purely per Buffy's request, which had okay enough booze and slightly better music. Here, some place clearly meant for an older crowd called Jack's, is where the older man sat. Alone, he sat at the far corner, sometimes looking longingly at the stage like he was a performer. He didn't look like a performer though.

He was older than you. He was greyed out and looked like he came from when TVs were still in sepia tones. He looked like Gregory Peck in To Kill a Mockingbird, like he was always a moment away from scolding someone. It didn't help that he always looked tired, like a lot of his age came from stress. If that was the case, it still didn't make sense as to why he chose a bar to be his spot to wind down.

It was loud. Not in the way that the Bronze was, a type of loud filled with life. A loud spurred by rowdy souls, people who couldn't let loose at home, so they came to one of the only shitty bars in the small town to drink a shitty beer and watch their favorite sports team lose. Not to mention the countless barely legals who got into fights with the bartenders after they failed to get their underage friends a drink. Jack's wasn't a place to have fun, it was the place to avoid doing something reckless during your midlife crisis. You were only there because of convenience, and after being there for a half hour were already beginning to get a migraine.

Job hunting was rough. When you moved to Sunnydale on behalf of your aunt, she offered to let you stay under her roof, but being a grown woman who got up to grown woman shenanigans, it would be more than distasteful to do it in Joyce's home. You were lucky enough that the housing market was great in the area, with all the supernatural happenings so one chose to move to Sunnydale, but that still didn't mean that a decent looking apartment wouldn't cost you a nice sum of money every month.

I could just work here, was your first thought. You were once a young college student also desperate for money, you had bartended, you could always go back if you lacked self-respect. You had a degree dammit, sure you didn't have a doctorate, but you shouldn't need one to get a nice quiet desk job. Neither option was all that fulfilling, but something told you that bartending in a town when demons just roamed the streets didn't seem like a great idea.

The mystery man looked like he had a nice job. Maybe a nice car. Possibly a nice house. He looked financially stable, and fuck was that hot. What did he do? What was there to do in Sunnydale? You could ask.

You looked at his hands to see if there was a ring or any indication that there was someone waiting for him wherever he came from. Maybe a picture of a kid, maybe a photo of a significant other. Nothing. Nothing.

You slinked over to the seat beside him, not meaning to make your presence immediately known yet he still looked up as he felt the heat of someone else beside him. His glasses perched low on his nose and his grey hair tussled. His eyes were green. He was pretty.

"Hello?" He looked at you confused. He took a moment to drink you in. Younger, gorgeous, clearly bold.

"Hello."

"Are you waiting for someone?" You shook your head.

"No. Are you?" and he'd be lying if he said he was.

☽✯☾

"You know, I don't do this often." He said between the rare breaths that were allowed in between suffocating kisses. Whatever he took up in his free time must've involved a great workout regimen. His hand sat comfortably at your neck, and you basked in the warmth that it provided in his cold apartment. His other held your cheek, his thumb mindless rubbing against it in a way that was hypnotizing. It almost had a numbing affect, your skin not being able to get past the feeling making your brain pause as he kissed your lips.

He tasted like fine wine. He smelled like old books. You half expected him to quote a classic at you, you didn't know him well enough to gauge if he was the type. His tongue contradicted his previous statement. These weren't the kisses of a man out of practice, that or he did it so much in his youth it was impossible to forget. Something like riding a bike.

"For a man who doesn't do this often, you're mighty good at it." He smirked; you could feel it against your lips. You wished you could see it, but he had the lights in his bedroom turned low and you weren't sure you wanted to open your eyes in the fear that you were dreaming. It was warm, he was so warm. So warm it was noticeable when his lips left yours and moved to your neck, hovering under your ears. His breath fanning against your neck was enough to send shivers down your spine.

"You haven't even seen how good I am, darling." The pet name alone made you weak in the knees, but you would be damned if you swooned at someone called you darling. Granted, you couldn't help how your mouth went dry or how your pussy clenched at nothing, but he didn't need to know that. He was going to find out, but he can find out later when your lust ridden brain stopped listening to reason and pride.

"Show me, then."

He dipped his head to kiss you, grabbing a fistful of your hair to tip your head back and you let him, grabbing on to his broad shoulders to stabilize yourself. You were pressed between the wall and him, pressing him even closer as you fisted his shirt to pull him closer, but he was hesitant to oblige. He was teasing, you could tell by the way he smiled into your kisses, pulling away like he needed air while you chased after his lips.

"You having issues breathing, old man?" The hand at your neck squeezed, not enough to choke you but enough to make your head even dizzier. His other hand travelled to any piece of skin he could get his hands on. Feather light, his fingers ran across your arms, then your collarbones, before knocking the straps of your dress off your shoulder. His kisses moved slow, his tongue damn near like languid waves that you were somehow managing to drown in.

Still, you chased after him, and still, he ran. His lips ran to the corner of your mouth, to the skin of your neck his hand didn't engulf, to where your strap lay useless. His kisses scorched your otherwise cold skin, his mouth sucking hickeys and then immediately soothing them.

He was so soft. Soft in how his hands found the back of your dress, soft in how his eyes looked into yours, asking permission without even saying a word, soft like the way the fabric slipped of your body and onto the floor. Soft like the bed he laid you on. Even soft in the way he continued to tease you, his knee meeting the crotch of your panties and him meticulously unsnapping your bra as if you couldn't tell he knew how to do it.

He then paused for a minute, finally coming across something he hadn't experienced before. His fingers took the ball of cool metal between his fingers, and you moaned at how it pulled ever so slightly at your nipple.

"What are these?" You chuckled.

"I got 'em pierced ages ago. Drunk night out with a few friends my senior year." He continued to play with the metal ball, well aware of how you keened and ground yourself into his knee.

"So, I can play with them." Fuck. It was how he said it. Like a nerd you might've messed around with in school because he was a good tutor but also because he had that nerdy charm to him. Like playing with your body was a game of Operations he had been so eager to play and was determined to get good at. It was easy to imagine Giles like that, fogged up glasses, eyes concentrated and focused on figuring out what buttons to press to get a prize. There was the curiosity in his lust-blown eyes, and in your lust addled brain you were fine with being his toy.

"Please do." He didn't need to be told twice. Avid learner he was, he went in, his large hands easily covering your breasts. His fingers pulled at the bars, drawing whimpers out of you the more he prodded. It wasn't too rough, Giles was too soft to ever be truly rough, but the feeling of his gaze, your clothed pussy rubbing against his soft slacks, and his large hands over your chest was getting a bit much. And he hadn't even put his mouth on you yet.

It didn't take long for him to realize the feeling of your pierced tits in his mouth was one of the best things he's felt, and it felt even better for you. A wet patch had long since been growing and he certainly felt it too, it egged him on. He wasn't even in you, he hadn't even tasted you, and you were almost there. You were so close.

You grabbed at anything you could, his shirt, his sheets, his hands that held yours as you rocked yourself onto his knee until you saw stars. Then he grabbed your face and swallowed your moans as he kissed and kissed you until you came down. A moment of clarity hit you, and you pulled on his shirt. "Off." you told him simply, and he obliged. You smashed your lips into his, peeling off button after button until the shirt was thrown to the side and his undershirt beneath was discarded with even less care.

"Issues with patience, darling?" You shook your head.

"Not fair I'm practically naked and you were fully clothed." His retort was cut off by your lips as you sat up to meet him, his hands absent-mindedly finding your breasts and yours finding his belt and making quick work of it before he even realized what was happening. You kissed him through it, anyway, still chasing after him as he pulled away to curse at the feeling of your hand around his dick.

"Gods." he muttered, words tumbling out clumsily as you rubbed the tip of his cock. He never had the control to pull away fast enough for an adequate breather, just a second to get a breath out and pray. You were flattered. His hand seemed like it wanted to swat you away, but it didn't have the strength to betray his brain like that. It felt good. Too good. So good he couldn't even think, and Giles never stopping thinking and now he was drawing blanks. He was sure you had mocked him once or twice, which went through one ear and out the other.

He caught himself thrusting into your hand before he caught himself, grabbing your wrist. "Hang on." He choked out, but you didn't listen. Your hand moved up and down his shaft terribly slow, and it was almost worse. Watching you spit on your hand and collect pre-cum from his tip and spread it like some sick simulation of what it would be like to be in you, and yet he couldn't help but watch his hand completely cover yours as you pumped him. Don't cum yet.

"I said hang on." His breath was ragged and his voice was deep. This time he meant it. "There are condoms in the top left drawer. Take one out for me, love." And you did as such. Did it with so much assurance that you slid it on without him even needing to ask you. Slid your panties off and sank down so fast neither one of you was ready.

You both sat there a moment, feeling your nerve endings tingle and burn, like you were both on fire. But you were on fire together. Like you could feel every atom in your body, like it had all been reduced to nothing but water, you were both feeling everything and anything yet absolutely nothing at the same time. So much feeling any nuance got lost in the moment. Just being there, breaths away, with a complete stranger you were sleeping with because he was pretty and looked financially stable.

You kissed him, a real kiss. Spontaneous. One with a feeling neither one of you could decipher and both assumed meant nothing. You rode it out until you had both exhausted each other, you falling on top of him and him catching you.

"Would you like to use my shower before you go? Did you need a ride home?" You cheesed to yourself. And they say chivalry is dead.

"Yeah, that would be nice." You had already rolled out of his bed in search of your dress and waiting for feeling to return to your legs. "I never got your name."

"Giles. Rupert Giles." You giggled as you shook of your dress after picking it up from the floor. Sounds about right.

"And what do you do for a living, Mr. Giles."

"Do these things typically end in interviews?" He made no effort to get out of his bed, he even had the decency to turn away while you get dressed as if he wasn't just balls deep in you.

"No, but I am new to town and would like to not be broke."

"I'm a librarian." Of course, you are. "Have you any interest in literature?" You did. You were a nerd. You had tried convincing yourself you weren't for years, but you majored in philosophy and minored in classic literature; and no one likes philosophy majors.

"I dabble a bit. Got a degree from all the reading I did if that counts." He looked at you like he knew you were trying to make yourself sound cooler. Nerd calls to nerd.

"Well, plenty of places are always hiring. The turnover rate is quite atrocious here." And even new to town, you believed it.

"I just might."

☽✯☾

You did end applying, you even ended up getting the job. Apparently, your little cousin's high school was in desperate need of a library assistant. You also had the pleasure of freezing when you saw Giles again and watching your little cousin greet her favorite teacher.

It was almost worth it for the look on his face, though.

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Last updated: May 15, 2025

Smut - 𖤐

Fluff - ♡

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Spice but not full smut - ※

Buffy the vampire slayer

Giles x reader

Giles x Female Library assistant reader

Spike x reader

𖤐 Catching him in a compromising position

Supernatural

Headcanons

Crowley Headcanon

Ghost the band

Headcanons

※Terzo and Copia headcanons

Rupert Giles xf!reader

Giles x assistant librarian reader

Y/n - your name

F/B - favorite book

NOT PROOFREAD

This is one of the first fics that I've written so it probably isn't the best.

<3

You had just started working at Sunnydale high school as the library assistant after you had found a 'HIRING' as posted on the towns bulletin board. You had moved this small, middle of nowhere town to get a fresh start, and that's what you were going to do.

The Monday you started your new job quickly came. You quickly got ready and headed straight to the school. The principal stopped you on your way in, saying he didn't have the time to meet with you now, but to behave or be fired, then he pointed you in the direction of the library and walked off.

You walk down the halls to the library, dodging walls of students talking to each other. When you finally make it to the library you quietly go through the double doors. You are greeted by a well dressed man fussing over a few small piled of books scattered across several tables. He doesn't seems to notice you.

You gently clear your throat, "Hello."

The man jumps and practically throws a book at you. You flinch backwards and out of the way as to not get hit.

"My apologies." The man says with an English accent.

"It's... Fine." You respond, somewhat hesitantly. "I'm the new library assistant, and I'm assuming you are Mr. Giles?" You say as you slowly bend down to grab the book.

He begins walking across the room towards you. "Yes, that would be me." He replies as he takes the book back. "I didn't mean to." He says with an awkward smile as he taps the book against his hand.

"It's alright," you say kindly, "I didn't mean to startle you."

"That still doesn't warrant a book being thrown at you." He says while adjusting his glasses.

"Hey," you chuckle, "there are worst things to be thrown at you." You say with a shrug.

"This is true I suppose." He agrees.

"Anyways, I guess I should probably introduce myself. I'm Y/n." You say as you hold your hand out for him to shake, which he does. You silently take note of how big his hands are compared to yours. "I'm new." You finish with a smile.

"The library assistant Snyder insists I need." He says with a small roll of his eyes, which doesn't go unnoticed by you. "I suppose you want the tour?" He asks, trying to sound kind despite his irritation.

"Um," you start, looking around the room, "counter and offices, " You say pointing to your right, "library," you point to the center of the room, "and, cage?" You say pointing to your left, your head tilted slightly, showing your confusion.

"Yes, well, I guess you don't need the tour after all. That? That's been there since before I got here." He responds, rubbing the back of his neck.

You nod in response. You quickly look at him, trying to figure him out but you come up short, all you can find is how attractive the older man is.

•   •   •   •   •   •

Several months have passed since you started the job as assistant librarian. With the more time you spent with Giles the bigger of a crush you had on him. You try your best to keep is hidden from him, but it's been getting harder and harder, you suspect that he has started catching onto your feelings.

You are sat at a chair behind the library counter, reading because you got all of your daily work done, when Giles comes in.

"Y/n," Giles gently calls out without looking up from the large leather book in his hands. "Where did you put my relativity of Latin?" He asks, sitting down at one of the few tables.

You look up from your book when he speaks. Your eyes follow him, perhaps a little too long. You watch as he sits down, asking where a specific book is, a book that is sitting on the table in front of him.

"Mr.-" You start before he cuts you off with a look. You clear your throat before talking again. "Giles" you state, emphasizing his name because he rathers you call him his name without the title. He continues to watch you, waiting for you to continue. You simply point down to the table he used sitting at, his eyes follow your finger, seeing the book he is asking for sitting less than a foot away from him.

"Oh." He breathes out.

You almost chuckle at his lack of observation as you turn your head back to your book.

After a moment Giles quietly sets his own book down and stands up, walking around the counter to stand next to where your sitting.

"What are you reading?" He asks softly.

"F/B" you state just as softly.

He makes a soft noise of response as he pulls a chair over to sit next to you. A subtle blush comes to your face when he see how close he sits. You notice how he smells like books tea and faintly of cigarettes, to you, it's a welcome smell.

"Y/n." He says in an almost whisper.

"Hmm." You respond while turning your head to look at him.

"Your blushing." He whispered while making eye contact.

You don't know what to say, you just sit a look at him. A smirk comes to his face and your blush deepens. He slowly leans in closer to you, your noses almost touching. You can't tell if he is messing with you and your feelings or if he feels the same way you feel about him.

"I like it." He whispers even softer than before in his thick english accent while gently brushing hair out of your face.

You decide to bite the bullet and lean in all the way, connecting your lips with his in a hesitant kiss.

His eyes widen when you kiss him, not expecting you to be so bold, but he is quick to return the kiss. His hand slides to hold your head in place and he gently deepens the kiss.

After a long moment you pull away for breath.

"So." You start, almost hesitate to know the answer to what your about to ask. "How long have you known?" You ask softly as to not break this gentle moment.

"I figured it out after a month if you working here." He responds just as softly. "For the record I like you too." He says reassuringly.

You begin to smile at his confession, knowing that this is just the start of a lovely relationship with the librarian.

<3