Golden morning light crept softly through Buffy’s window, casting a warm glow across her bed. Outside, Sunnydale went through its usual morning routine—birds singing, cars rumbling by, and the neighbor’s lawn mower already revving. But Buffy’s attention was somewhere else.
Sitting cross-legged on her bed, Buffy stared down at the amulet in her hand. It was deceptively beautiful—a simple amber stone set in silver, pulsing faintly with a dark glow. She knew that keeping it was bound to be trouble; magical artifacts rarely brought about rainbows and puppies in her line of work. She bit her lip, tossed it into her nightstand drawer, and slammed it shut.
“There. Gone,” she muttered. “Out of sight, out of mind.”
But as she lay back, a warmth started to bloom across her skin. She frowned, sitting up and feeling something weighty in her pajama bottoms. Her hand brushed against something hard, and her heart sank. She pulled the amulet out, her eyes widening in disbelief as she stared at the small, stubborn trinket resting in her palm.
“No way,” she whispered, fingers tightening around it. She got up, crossed the room, and dropped it into her trash can, burying it under crumpled papers. “Stay there,” she ordered, as if it could hear her.
Back in bed, she rubbed her hands together, trying to shake off the lingering warmth. But the moment she leaned back against her pillow, the heat returned, stronger now… and there it was again, pressing against her thigh. She yanked it out of her pocket, staring at it with a mix of frustration and confusion.
A wave of arousal washed over her, impossible to ignore. She gritted her teeth, trying to stifle it, but the warmth had already sparked in her belly, slowly spreading lower. Buffy gave a sudden squeak, pressing her hands into her lap, struggling to bring herself under control.
Her fingers curled around the amulet, and a subtle thrill shot through her, familiar but somehow deeper, more intense. The metal felt heavy, grounding, its surface warm under her touch, as if it held a quiet life of its own. She leaned back against the headboard, letting it rest in her lap, feeling the heat seep into her, pooling low in her belly and sending waves that made her cheeks flush.
In the mirror across the room, she caught her reflection—wide-eyed, cheeks pink, lips parted in a mixture of surprise and… something else. Really, Summers? she thought, fighting a smile. Getting all weak-kneed over antique jewellery now? She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop a small laugh from escaping. “Some Slayer I am,” she muttered, half-amused, half-bemused.
The warmth deepened, spreading lower, a thrill building that made her shift in place, pressing her palms against the amulet as if that would keep it from going any further. “Knock it off,” she whispered to it, her voice softening, almost indulgent. “We’re not doing this.”
She tried to let go, but the amulet pulsed in response, the heat intensifying into a rhythmic thrum that matched the quickening pace of her heartbeat. It wasn’t just warmth now—it was a sensation. Arousal. Raw and unrelenting.
Buffy’s back arched, her head pressing into the pillow as waves of pleasure coursed through her, each one more powerful than the last. She clenched her jaw, biting back a cry as her body betrayed her, chasing a release she hadn’t asked for and couldn’t stop.
But the heat only grew, pulsing in slow, insistent waves that tingled through her skin and pooled low in her belly. She squirmed, her breath catching as the sensation crept further, leaving a trail of warmth she couldn’t ignore. And then she felt it—the unmistakable wetness between her legs that made her cheeks flare hotter.
She froze, the realization hitting like a bucket of cold water.
“Perfect,” she muttered, half to herself, half to the empty room. “Guess I’m doing laundry tonight.”
Her voice was dry, her tone trying for casual, though she didn’t entirely fool herself.
She thought about Giles—he’d definitely give her one of those long, pointed looks if he knew she’d kept the amulet even for a second. Usually, he’d just confiscate dangerous artifacts, but something about this felt different. A flicker of rebellion sparked inside her, warm and thrilling. Not this time, she thought, a quiet smile tugging at her lips.
Tracing the symbols on the amulet’s surface, Buffy felt a strange, magnetic pull she couldn’t quite shake. As she ran her thumb over the cool, intricate patterns, the warmth inside her grew stronger, her heartbeat quickening with an undeniable thrill sparking somewhere she wasn’t used to acknowledging.
Her reaction to the amulet was intensifying, and she realized this might be more of a problem than she’d thought.
As she sat there in her pajamas, squirming in bed, her reaction to the amulet demanded only one solution.
“All right, all right,” she muttered. “Guess a quick one won’t hurt.”
Buffy’s heart was racing as she came to the realization that this was the only way to quiet the amulet’s insistent call. Glancing around, she confirmed her solitude in the house; her mother, Joyce, had already left for the art gallery, a rare morning absence. Still, a rush of embarrassment washed over her, and she hurriedly checked her bedroom door, ensuring it was securely closed.
Taking a deep breath, she returned to the bed, her gaze drawn to the amulet’s soft glow. With a mix of curiosity and trepidation, she began to lower her pajama bottoms, her fingers deftly untying the drawstring. The fabric slid down her hips, revealing her bare ass, soft and inviting in the morning light. She bit her lip, a mix of anticipation and apprehension flooding her senses.
Her fingers, slightly trembling, trailed down her abdomen, a delicate path towards her core. The skin there was already sensitized, a warm tingle radiating from where the amulet’s influence was most concentrated. Buffy inhaled sharply as her fingers made contact with her swollen pussy, already slick with desire. The sensation was electric, sending a shudder through her body.
She began to stroke herself, slowly at first, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the feeling. Her fingers slid effortlessly inside her slick entrance, eliciting an uncontrollable whimper. The amulet’s warmth intensified her pleasure, a radiating heat that made her skin feel alive. Buffy’s breath quickened, turning into shallow pants as her tempo increased.
Buffy’s fingers moved with growing confidence, circling her clit, teasing and then applying pressure. Her moans grew louder, escaping her lips unbidden. She was lost in the sensation, her body arching, pressing into her touch. The pleasure built, a spiraling tension coiling within her. She imagined the amulet’s pulse as the beat of a heart, throbbing in time with her own.
As her fingers worked feverishly, her breath caught, and her body stiffened. The pleasure surprised her with its intensity, a sudden eruption that stole her breath away. Buffy’s eyes widened, a hand flying to her mouth to muffle the cry that escaped her. Her body trembled, every muscle taut as she rode the wave of her orgasm.
Her pussy started to contract and then as she removed her sopping wet fingers, a gush of liquid poured from her opening onto the bedsheets and pooling around her butt crack. Buffy startled, pulled herself upright and surveyed the mess she had made as her still throbbing vagina slowed to a trickle.
In the aftermath, Buffy collapsed back against her pillows, her chest heaving. Her fingers, still resting gently between her legs, traced lazy circles, soothing the lingering sensitivity. She gazed at the amulet, its glow seeming to pulse in time with her heartbeat, now slowing to a steady rhythm. A soft smile played on her lips, a mixture of satisfaction and wonder.
No sooner had she finished, breathless and barely piecing herself back together, than the amulet’s hum faded, its warmth retreating like a tide. Somehow, it had been in perfect sync with her… situation, and now it rested quiet and still, as if nothing had happened.
Holding it up to the light, Buffy squinted at the strange etchings. The symbols looked ancient, cryptic—definitely not instructions for making cupcakes.
Who was she kidding? Giles, or even Wesley, might have a better chance of decoding it, but if they knew what it did to her… Just the thought of explaining this morning’s “self-care session” made her shudder with embarrassment.
With one last look, Buffy tucked the amulet back in her night stand and took a few steps back. She checked her pockets. Nothing. She stepped back a few more steps. Still nothing… no teleporting amulet this time.
Spinning on her heel, she half-expected it to reappear the second she looked away. But the drawer remained silent, distinctly non-glowy and non-hummy. Buffy shrugged, closed the drawer, and, with a wry glance downwards acknowledging the intense start to her day, left her room to get ready.