I am Daredevil.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, pwp, straight porn, missionary, d/s dynamics, softdom!bucky, sub!reader, slight brat!reader, slight dumbification, oral fixation, sweat/spit/teeth kink (idk maybe lol), the aftercare is fucking again, creampie, bucky has a bush . . .

word count: 1.8k

a/n: this is me trying to get some requests finished :") i have a whole bunch, some of which i accidentally turned into long fics, some i hate the things i wrote and am trying to start again and some im figuring out, but this one came to me when i woke up horny for bucky barnes lol thank you anon for the request !! <3

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I choose you and me… religiously.

chapter 1 | chapter 2

Word count: 5000

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

Rating: Mature. Minors DNI.

Warnings: reader was in an unhealthy relationship, so there will be a talk about her boyfriend not “in a right place”; infidelity but only in reader’s mind; explicit content in the end; slight angst; yearning, longing, the whole shebang; flirty!matt (his usual self) is its own warning.

Important author’s note (more of it later): this was set in ddba era with the big fancy office BUT it’s still Nelson, Murdock & Page 😌 Kirsten i love you, i really do, but i’m the kind of person who can’t let go of anything ever. so.

Tags: @s-v-e-l-t-e @shanisabisaster. AND most definitely @lmg-stilinski24 thank you so much for the inspiration, really.

It was seven in the morning—too early to go to work. You knew. But drowning in Chet Baker’s music while walking down the busy New York street, was probably the only thing that could tether you to sanity.

Everything around you seemed to be moving like a blurry picture. Like you were this one red dot in a blank canvas. Like you were alone in this clamorous world. Or maybe… you were.

If you could count each sigh you let out, you would. If you could count every person that walked past you, you would. If you could tell yourself everything will be just fine, that you could crack out of this once fine cage, you would. This cage you built yourself, the one you made yourself comfortable in, the one you grew to be in love with.

Love.

Sometimes you wonder what love even is. No, scratch that. You always wonder what love even is. Is it something where you give everything you could offer unconditionally to someone? Even if that someone doesn’t reciprocate the same thought? The same feeling? Even if that someone made you feel like the worst person alive?

Ah, there you go again. The voices in your head were demanding to be heard. You focused yet again on ‘I Fall in Love Too Easily’ that was playing in your ears. It was a recent discovery of yours—let yourself get drifted by listening to Chet Baker to calm yourself down.

You took your employee card of Nelson, Murdock & Page and put it on the elevator access control panel. You didn’t expect anyone to arrive yet so it was no surprise when you saw the office still empty when you entered. So you found yourself walking to the pantry to make a coffee and then wandering around the office.

Gazing down from the big window to the people walking by—analyzing what they’re off to, some to work maybe, or they were just strolling in the morning. You took a deep breath, trying to set your mind straight. In about thirty minutes, people will start arriving and you couldn’t let yourself look like shit. It wasn’t profes—

Taps on your shoulder startled you. You turned around and were greeted with your boss’s face. “Matt,” you gasped, pulling your earbuds off. “I didn’t notice you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “But I did call your name a few times.” he continued with a teasing smile. You groaned, “Sorry, I had my earbuds on and, you know,” you paused for a few seconds, “how did you know where I was anyway?”

He chuckled softly, “Just a hunch,” he answered while walking down to his office, cane tapping down the floor. You followed shortly after you took a sip of your coffee, smiling down while you walked. “A hunch, huh?” you asked.

“Yeah, don’t you remember? I have a radar to sense your presence.” he said with a smirk, leaning on your table in front of his office.

You let out an embarrassing laugh at his statement, nodding at it. “Right, yeah. Of course, how could I forget?” you stopped at your track in front of him. Him with that stupidly charming smirk on his face. God, you wanted to wipe it off of him so bad so you can have a day without palpitations.

“So,” you cleared your throat, “it’s before eight, what’re you doing arriving so early today?”

He raised his eyebrows at your question, putting his hands on top of his cane “I can ask the same thing to you. You arrived before me—” You clicked your tongue before he could finish his sentence. “Stop arguing with me over everything, I asked you first,” you said lightly.

He chuckled softly, “I read my schedule you sent last night, I need to recheck the documents again before meeting Mr. Eaton at… ten, is it?”

“Ahhh, yes, ten o’clock. Do you need help with that?”

“No, it’s fine. Your help is already more than enough, thank you.” he said softly, and you answered with a small ‘anytime’.

“Well?” he asked.

“Well what?”

He tilted his head slightly and his gaze, or rather, his head fixed right about below your chin. “You haven’t answered my question,” he smiled. “Why did you arrive so early?”

“Oh,” you chuckled nervously. “Nothing, really. I woke up earlier than usual today.” And you were answered with his hum and a slight nod.

The thing about Matthew Murdock was he always seemed to know when you were lying. Always. You didn’t know how he did it, and it made you feel uneasy because you hated it when you lied to him. Then it usually made you just blurted the truth at the end.

But this one was none of his concern, you wouldn’t want to add another weight on his shoulders. Even though yes, alongside you being his personal secretary, he was also one of your closest friends. But this problem was something you couldn’t talk to people about. Not yet, at least.

Even though you wanted to. Oh, how much you wanted to talk to him.

Matt’s sharp inhale brought you back from your thoughts. “Were you listening to Chet Baker?” he asked. Thank you for changing the topic, Matthew. “I heard it briefly earlier, thought I heard you listening to it.”

“Oh yeah, I was!” you exclaimed. “Thank you for the suggestion, by the way. I hadn’t heard his music for quite awhile, but he’s who I listen to the most these days.”

Satisfied grin plastered across his face, “See? I know you’d love it.”

He stood up from the table without having his grin lifted, “On a second thought, would you want to accompany me? At least, um, until the others start to arrive…”

“Of course, yeah!” you said. “Do you want a coffee? I’m gonna make you a coffee.”

The velvety laugh he made was probably one of the most delightful sounds you ever heard, so you knew you had to walk out of there before your legs buckled.

———

It had been approximately twenty minutes since you were assigned as Matt's moral support while he was doing the client due diligence. Oh why moral support? Because you didn’t do much in the matter of helping him do the said due diligence. As a matter of fact, he truly didn’t need your help like he previously said.

Matt’s eyebrows scrunched up as he listened to the document in his laptop, a couple of hums were heard in between. “He owns—owned 23 percent of the company’s stock, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“And his attendance in the latest GMS checks out.”

“Was that a question or a statement? Either way, yeah. We have the record as well,” you checked the file on your laptop to confirm it. Finally some of use, you thought.

He plucked his earbuds off. “Okay, we’re all set.”

“Really?” with a playful scoff, you crossed your arms. “You actually didn’t need me here did you, Murdock?”

“Excuse me?” he said, feigning offense dramatically. “I did, actually. What if there’s a picture of him in the Annual Report and I couldn’t confirm it?”

You groaned while you shook your head. “You gotta stop with the blind jokes one of these days, seriously.”

A carefree laugh spilled from him, filling the room with warmth. You rolled your eyes and tossed a pencil in his direction—because really, he had it coming. He picked it up as it landed on his lap, smirking. “Oh, thank you. I appreciate the gift,” he teased, twirling it between his fingers. Then, with a casual shrug, he added, “I mean, yeah, I just needed to do some rechecking, like I said. But I also just love having you around.”

You could feel your heartbeat stutter in a millisecond. But no, no, no you had to remind yourself that it was just Matt Murdock doing Matt Murdock things. This was how he operated on a daily basis. Right.

“Well, you better,” you said, leveling with him. “Because if you ever start hating having me around, I’ll have to update my LinkedIn profile.” You took a sip of your very much needed coffee—anything to stop your throat from betraying you with an embarrassingly unhinged noise.

Matt hummed, as if amused. “Oh, I assure you, you won’t have to do that. Not for as long as you’ll have me.”

You raised an eyebrow over the rim of your cup. “For as long as I have you, huh? Don’t you think I should be the one saying that?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “As I previously stated, I love having you around.”

You were about to take another sip of your coffee when Matt’s voice dipped into something softer. “Is everything alright?”

The question caught you off guard, enough that your fingers hesitated around the cup. For a second, it was tempting to answer honestly—to let the moment stretch into something real. But instead, you leaned back. “Objection. Relevance?”

His brows lifted, and for a moment, you thought he might actually press the issue. But then, his head tilted slightly, amusement flickering at the edges of his expression.

“Sorry,” he conceded. “Let me rephrase.” His voice was deliberate now, smooth. “Do you need a distraction tonight?”

He let the words settle before adding, just a little too casually. “Preferably one that involves dinner.”

You were looking at him with disbelief, because how he could read your emotions so easily needs to be studied. Surely you weren’t that obvious, right?

“I’ll cook. I promise you’ll like it.” He said when no answer was given to him.

You hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to take the offer that would lead you to spill your heart out to him or just refuse it.

A beat. Then, fuck it, you thought. “I mean, if my boss doesn’t ask me to accompany him to do due diligence, then I might be able to,” you teased. “But I don’t know, I should ask him first.”

“Oh I don’t think he will,” he smiled teasingly. “I will make sure of it, don’t worry.”

“You seem very sure of that,” you mused. “What if my boss suddenly remembers he needs me for something?”

Matt exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “He won’t.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I know so.” He leaned in just slightly, smirking. “Let’s just say… he’s very motivated to give you the night off.”

You scoffed, shaking your head at him, but before you could fire back, he stood from his chair in one smooth motion. And then—just like that—he was closer. Settling onto the edge of the desk, right in front of you, close enough that the air between you felt suddenly charged.

His smirk lingered as he tilted his head. “What? Do you have any more objections?”

“Yeah, leading.”

A slow, considering hum left him, laced with unmistakable teasing. But before he could say anything, the door behind you swung open, and Foggy’s elated voice filled the room.

“Hola, amigos!”

You turned your chair around just in time to see him stroll in while Karen leaned on the doorframe.

“Hi!” you greeted, matching his energy.

Foggy’s gaze bounced between you and Matt, his expression shifting like he was piecing something together. “I figured you were here—saw your bag on your desk—but you were nowhere in sight.” He paused for dramatic effect before throwing his hands up. “But you know what? I don’t wanna know.”

You blinked, not fully processing what he was implying—until you did. And when you did, warmth crept up your cheeks.

Karen gave Foggy a look. “Foggy, come on. She has a boyfriend.”

It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over you at the word ‘boyfriend’. Right, yeah.

No, not right.

“Oh!” Foggy winced, his expression instantly apologetic. “I’m sorry, I… forgot.”

“No, it’s fine,”you rushed to say, already gathering your things from Matt’s desk like that would somehow steady you. “We’re, uh—kinda taking a break at the moment—” Your voice wavered, and your stomach flipped. Oversharing much?

“Not that it matters!” you added quickly, but the words tumbled out too fast, too forced. “Uh, yeah, okay. I’ll—um—I’ll be at my desk if you need me.” Your hand reached out to Matt’s arm in front of you for a second, but the weight of his unreadable expression made your breath stuttered. You gripped your coffee mug a little too tightly. “I’ll let you know when Mr. Eaton arrives.”

And before anyone could say anything else, you turned on your heel and walked out. You put your things on your desk with a thud—shaking your head while sighing loudly. You walked around it and sat on your chair, running your hands through your hair.

You felt like questioning your life choices for the last thirty minutes. No, actually. It’s for the last five months since you dated your now-taking-a-break boyfriend.

The thing about your relationship was, it wasn’t right from the very start. Sure, he attracted you. You felt a connection with him, and throughout your relationship, when love still felt like a strong word, it grew into affection—though, for the last couple of weeks it had been… unsteady.

But from the very start, he wasn’t the one you longed for. That place was reserved for someone else. Someone out of reach. Someone who, without even trying, haunted your thoughts stunningly in quiet moments and loud ones alike. Someone whose name sat heavy on your tongue, whether you dared to say it or not.

Matthew.

Matthew, Matthew, Matthew.

It was always him.

He, who effortlessly charmed you along with everybody else who graced his presence. He, whose words made people succumb in and outside of court. No, of course he’s not in your league. And to make it worse, he’s your boss.

But you couldn’t help yourself to not recall things you wished both of you did. Not when he was the one who actually listened to you, who remembered small things you said—or never said. Not when the way he held you felt like a threshold that would protect you from whatever it was that may come.

No. No, this wasn’t right.

Your relationship may not have started on the right footing, but the feeling you had for your boyfriend was also real. You weren’t in the best situation at the moment, but the feelings were real. And you hoped he felt the same way too.

But none of it mattered right now. Not when there was work to be done.

So you shoved the thoughts away and focused on the meeting ahead.

The rest of the day passed in a blur—discussions, scheduling Matt’s appointment, polite smiles, and the occasional sideways glance you tried not to read into. Around 5 pm when the meeting and other workloads wrapped up, your head was buzzing with exhaustion, but the moment Matt rested a hand on the small of your back and quietly murmured, "Ready?" the tension in your shoulders eased just a little.

The evening air was crisp as you both walked down the familiar streets, the city humming around you.

"You seemed deep in thought back there," Matt mused, the corners of his lips twitching. "Were you strategizing ways to completely dismantle opposing counsel in the next case, or just regretting agreeing to dinner with me?"

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "Maybe a bit of both."

"Oh?" His head tilted slightly in that way that told you he was listening—really listening. "Should I be worried?"

"You? Never." You nudged him lightly with your elbow.

Matt chuckled, and for a moment, it was easy—just two people enjoying a time together. The rest of the walk passed in playful conversation—small jabs about work and the kind of easy back-and-forth you had always shared with Matt. But beneath it, there was something else. Something unsaid, hanging in the cool evening air between you.

And now, here you were. Standing in Matt Murdock’s apartment, watching as he rolled up his sleeves, entirely at ease in his own space—one that, for tonight, he had invited you into.

“I didn’t know you cook,” you said, resting your chin on your hands as Matt rummaged through his fridge. “I mean like, cook cook.”

He started arranging the ingredients on the kitchen counter, a pleased smile tugging at his lips. “Good to know you learned something new today.”

“I did, didn’t I?” You chuckled. “Do you need a hand?”

“No, no.” He waved off the offer with ease. “Just sit there and be your lovely self.”

Your breath hitched—barely, just for a fraction of a second, but enough for you to notice.

It was just Matt being Matt. He said things like that all the time—teasing, effortlessly smooth, just him.

And yet, as you watched him chopping down the vegetables, you had to remind yourself that it meant nothing.

Don’t take it seriously.

You dropped your gaze, tracing absentminded patterns on the table with your finger.

Don’t overthink it.

“Okay then, counselor.”

Matt went back to cooking—or whatever you should call this whole experience, because honestly, it felt like a cooking show. One, it was entertaining. And two, he looked so good while doing it.

Was the second reason actually relevant to a cooking show comparison? Probably not. Did you care? Absolutely not. Because really, who had time for logic when Matt Murdock was cooking them dinner?

After a while, he finished and led the both of you to the dining table, setting the plates in front of you effortlessly, as if he hadn’t just put together a meal that looked straight out of a high-end restaurant. It tasted like one too.

“It tastes and looks like I have to pay for it. Consider me impressed, Murdock.”

“That’s fine,” he said between bites, casually sipping his wine. “I can invoice you later.”

You shot him a deadpan look. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

“Or,” he said thoughtfully, “I can talk to finance and cut your salary.”

“You know what? I’m resigning.”

His grin widened. “Then I guess I’ll have to hire you again. With a lower salary, of course.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling as you set your fork down, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. The warmth of dinner settled in, making everything feel a little softer.

Matt stretched his arms slightly before resting one on the table, fingers tapping idly near his glass. The comfortable lull between you wasn’t awkward, but it carried something—something quiet, something waiting.

You ran a finger along the rim of your glass, stalling without quite realizing it.

“…You’re just bribing me into talking, aren’t you?”

His lips twitched. “Is it working?”

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head—but just like that, the shift had happened. And now, you weren’t just talking about dinner anymore.

A beat passed before Matt tilted his head slightly toward you. “Do you want to move somewhere more comfortable?”

You hummed in agreement, reaching for your empty plate as he did the same. “Only if you promise not to invoice me.”

“No promises,” he said, lips curving into something teasing as he stacked the dishes.

You helped him load them into the dishwasher, the casual rhythm of it settling something in your chest. By the time you both sank onto the couch, a glass of wine in your hand, the mood had shifted again—easier, but still carrying that undercurrent of something unspoken.

You exhaled, staring at the rim of your glass. “I don’t even know where to start. Or what you want to know on that matter.”

“You can start anywhere you want,” Matt said, his voice steady. “And I don’t have to know anything you don’t want me to. We can talk about your latest dissection of Taylor Swift’s song, and I’ll be okay.”

You smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood. “Oh yeah, that would be interesting. I do have a new theory about one of her songs.”

Matt took off his glasses and set them on the table, an action so rare it caught you off guard. He was letting his guard down. It made something swell in your chest, something that made you willing to meet him halfway—to open up to him as he did to you.

“Well,” you cleared your throat. “To put it simply, and to start with a bang, I’m in a dark place because of my relationship.”

Matt didn’t react—not outwardly, but you caught the slight shift in his jaw. He didn’t interrupt, though. He just waited, steady and unwavering.

“I can’t say much about him because it’s not my right to put words into his feelings. But let’s just say he’s also not in a great place,” you admitted, shifting in your seat before setting your wine glass down, folding your arms in front of you. “And because of it, he’s been dragging me down with him, no matter how hard I try to pull both of us up. It’s like he puts all the blame on me for everything that goes wrong.”

Matt’s body had tensed, and you could feel it—like a taut wire, like he was holding something back. His hands were no longer relaxed; one rested on his thigh, curled into a loose fist, as if he were restraining himself from reacting too soon.

Your voice began to shake, and you hated that it did. You swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself—wouldn’t want to break down in front of Matt, but the words still wavered. “So yeah, it’s been happening for weeks, and I’m so tired. He keeps telling me to… go to hell or… fuck myself. Practically to leave him alone, you know?” You let out a bitter laugh. “I probably should, but I can’t. I can’t leave him like this, because I’m afraid he would do something—”

You stopped yourself, but it was already there, hanging between you.

Matt’s fingers twitched against his knee before he exhaled slowly, deliberately. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than before, but there was an edge to it—controlled, but firm. “That’s not something you should carry alone.”

And then, before you could say anything, he moved. His hand reached for yours, a silent offering. The tension in his shoulders hadn’t disappeared, but it was different now—less restrained, more certain. Protective, but not overbearing.

“You know that, right?” His thumb brushed against the back of your hand, just barely. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Goosebumps ran down your body. Whether from the sheer fear of finally opening up or from the way his thumb brushed over your hand, you couldn’t tell. “But I feel like I’m talking shit about him whenever I want to, and I—”

Matt stopped you with a quiet shush before you could spiral any further. “I understand,” he murmured, his voice a steady anchor. “And you’re the sweetest for that, but it doesn’t help if it’s eating you alive.”

You gnawed on your lower lip. You knew that already—you had known for a while.

“For what it’s worth,” he continued, “you have not and will not talk ill of him because you’re the kindest soul I have ever known and one that surely nobody deserve.”

And that? That was your breaking point.

Your breath hitched as the weight of it all settled in, the exhaustion of carrying it alone for so long. Matt must have sensed it because his fingers flexed before he withdrew his hand, stretching his arms instead.

“Come here,” he murmured.

Without a second thought, you brace yourself against his warmth, letting yourself melt into his embrace. His voice was soft in your ear, shushing you gently, telling you that everything would be okay. That he was here. That he wasn’t going anywhere.

For a brief, dangerous moment, you let yourself wonder—what if this is what you wanted? What if this was what you needed?

To be held like you were something precious.

You squeezed your eyes shut. Don’t go there.

“Thank you, Matt,” you whispered instead.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he murmured, his chin resting lightly on top of your head. Then, with a quiet chuckle, he added, “It’s what friends do.”

Oh.

Oh, what a way to die.

Your stomach twisted as reality snapped back into place, and you pulled away almost too quickly, forcing out a laugh that sounded more bitter than you intended. Friends. Of course. What were you even thinking? What were you even doing?

Masking the unjustified sting in your chest, you smiled, hoping it looked effortless. “It goes the same for you, okay? You can talk to me about anything. Always.”

That part was easy to say because it was true. No matter how complicated your feelings were, he was still Matt. One of your closest friends. Someone you held so incredibly dear.

“Though, I’m not as good at bribery as you are, unfortunately.” You forced a light tone, throwing out a joke as a shield, just like always.

Matt smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Ah, what a shame. I’d love to experience your bribery.” There was something about the way he said it. Something unspoken in the space between the words. In the way his lips twitched, in the way his fingers flexed slightly before he curled them into his palm.

But neither of you got the chance to say anything more. The watch on your wrist caught your eye, and with it came the reminder of time slipping away—of the inevitable end to this fleeting moment.

You let out a breath, stretching your arms dramatically. “Alright, I should probably head home before I take full advantage of your hospitality and move in.”

Matt scoffed, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t mind. You’d just have to start helping with rent.”

You rolled your eyes. “Tempting, but no thanks.” Standing up, you reached for your phone. “I’ll call an Uber.”

His brows furrowed, the playful ease from a moment ago flickering into something else. “I’ll walk you.”

“Matt, it’s late,” you pointed out, slinging your tote bag on your shoulder.

“All the more reason—”

You cut him off with a click of your tongue. “I’m not making you walk me home just so you can come back here alone.”

Matt exhaled through his nose, clearly unhappy with the compromise. “At least let me wait outside with you.”

You didn’t argue this time. Maybe because you could feel the weight of the night still lingering between you. Maybe because, despite everything, you didn’t really want to leave just yet.

So you let him.

And as the two of you stood outside waiting for your ride, while yet another “thank you’s” from you were let out, the tension remained. Unspoken. Lingering.

Because some things were never meant to be said.

But that didn’t mean they weren’t felt.

———

“Matt,” you whispered.

“Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

Matt chuckled and the vibration of it directly graced your core, your legs buckled in his hold. “Sure you can, sweetheart.”

Matt licked your clit slowly—teasingly that made you let out a distinct sound from your throat. You arched your back from the bed beneath you uncontrollably, fingers scrunching down the sheet for support. But before you could have your release, he directed his attention on your inner thigh, stubbles tickling it.

“Matt,” you said desperately.

Without uttering a single word for an answer, he leveled his head with yours—locking his lips and intertwining your tongue with his, letting you taste your own slick.

You moaned softly against his mouth and it inevitably grew louder as his two fingers entered you, his thumb circling your center.

“Oh God. Matt,” you whined. “Please, please, please. Matt, please.” You weren’t even so sure anymore of what you were begging for—as you have been denied your sweet release for quite awhile now.

“Sshhh, there we go, baby,” he cooed in your ear. “You’re being so good for me, sweetheart. There we go.” He said slowly, drawing out each syllable with a sultry, teasing lilt.

All you could do was take it and let him drag you to meet your release, to let him take control of your body. You could feel it drawn closer as you screamed his name and his growl went louder.

“Matt… Matt I’m close,” you whined. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

He buried his head in the crook of your neck, licking the very sensitive spot on it. “I won’t, sweetheart. I won’t. Let go for me.”

Your breath hitched at his permission, you were inches away from cumming. “Matt—”

A blaring sound of your alarm ripped through your dream, yanking you back to reality with a jolt.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You sucked in a sharp breath, chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to steady yourself. Your fingers clenched the fabric of your sweat-drenched T-shirt, heart pounding like it was still caught in the remnants of that dream. What the fuck was that?!

Dragging yourself out of bed, you caught your reflection in the mirror and stared. Disbelief, confusion—guilt? No. No, it was just a dream. That’s all it was.

Right. Okay. You needed to get up, take a cold shower, get ready for work, grab breakfast, walk to the firm, and act like that dream never happened. Because it didn’t matter. It surely would fade in a couple of hours, right?

Except… it didn’t.

By the time you arrived at Nelson, Murdock & Page, coffee in hand, your usual routine was already underway—checking Matt’s schedule, ensuring the documents were in order, settling into the familiar rhythm of your job. But the moment you saw him walk through the door, everything derailed.

Matt.

Your gaze locked onto him, and without permission, the dream came rushing back—vivid, unshakable. Heat crept up your cheeks, your pulse quickening. The guilt pressed in, a heavy weight sitting in your chest.

You exhaled slowly, closing your eyes for a brief second. Silently cursing yourself. Silently cursing him.

Am I allowed to cry?