Matt Murdock (DareDevil)

The courtroom should’ve been the end of it.

At least, that’s what everyone kept telling you.

Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson had fought like hell for you.

The evidence was messy, the accusations were stacked against you, and the people coming after you had made sure your name was dragged through the mud.

But Matt noticed the inconsistencies.

Foggy found the legal cracks nobody else bothered to look for.

And somehow… they won.

The judge cleared you. You were free.

But freedom didn’t feel like freedom.

Because the people you crossed weren’t the type to accept a verdict.

Foggy dropped a folder onto the desk, looking exhausted.

“Okay,” he said, rubbing his face. “Good news: legally, you’re in the clear. Nobody can touch you through the courts anymore.”

You stared at him.

“And the bad news?”

Foggy hesitated.

Matt stood near the window, silent.

That alone made your stomach drop.

“Matt?”

The blind lawyer turned slightly toward you.

“The people who wanted you convicted weren’t just trying to win a case.”

His voice was calm, but serious.

“They were trying to send a message.”

Foggy frowned.

“Matt…”

“What?”

Matt said.

“You think they’re going to suddenly respect the law because a judge said not guilty?”

Nobody answered.

Because they all knew.

After that, things changed.

You started checking the locks three times before sleeping.

Every unknown car outside made your heart race.

Every person walking too close behind you made you tense up.

You stopped going places alone.

Friends told you that you were being paranoid.

But Matt never did.

Because he could hear it.

The way your heartbeat jumped whenever someone knocked.

The way your breathing changed when a motorcycle slowed outside.

One night, after you refused to leave the office because you thought someone was watching your apartment, Matt sat across from you.

“You know, I understand.”

You looked up.

“Understand what?”

“Feeling like the danger is everywhere.”

Matt looked down.

“When you survive something that should’ve destroyed you, your brain doesn’t just accept that it’s over.”

Foggy leaned against the doorway.

“And for what it’s worth? You’re not crazy for being scared.”

You swallowed.

“But what if they come back?”

Matt’s expression hardened slightly.

“Then they’ll have to get through us first.”

Foggy pointed at him.

“Preferably through the legal system.”

Matt gave a small smile.

“Preferably.”

The problem was…

The case was over.

But the war wasn’t.

And Matt Murdock knew better than anyone:

Sometimes getting a “not guilty” verdict doesn’t mean you’re safe.

Sometimes it just means the fight moves somewhere else.

The dim light from the city filtering through the windows of Matt Murdock's Hell's Kitchen apartment cast long shadows across the living room.

You sat close together on his worn leather couch, the kind that creaked softly under shifting weight.

You'd known each other for months now.

Long enough for late night conversations, shared silences, and the quiet understanding that something unspoken had been building between you.

Matt turned toward you, his unseeing eyes hidden behind those red tinted glasses he'd set aside earlier.

"May I?"

He asked, voice low and rough like gravel wrapped in velvet.

His hand lifted slowly, giving you time to pull away.

You didn't.

His fingertips brushed your cheek first light, exploratory then traced the line of your jaw with deliberate care.

He was "seeing" you the only way he truly could, through touch, through the subtle heat of your skin, the faint flutter of your pulse beneath his thumb.

"Been wondering about this face for a while," he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

His other hand joined the first, cupping your face gently, thumbs stroking over your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, the curve of your lower lip.

Every pass felt intimate, reverent.

His heightened senses drank you in the warmth radiating from your body, the quickening of your breath, the way your scent shifted as tension coiled low in your belly.

You leaned into his touch without thinking. The air between you thickened.

Then Matt suddenly leaned in.

No warning beyond the sharp inhale he took, as if committing your exact position to memory.

His mouth found yours with unerring accuracy, soft at first, almost hesitant like he was still mapping you.

But the hesitation burned away fast.

The kiss deepened, hungry and sure, his tongue sliding against yours as one hand slid back into your hair, gripping just tight enough to tilt your head.

A low sound rumbled in his chest, half groan, half growl.

You tasted the faint trace of whiskey he'd sipped earlier.

Felt the controlled strength in his body as he shifted closer on the couch, pressing you back against the cushions.

His free hand trailed down your neck, over your collarbone, mapping lower with that same tactile intensity he'd used on your face.

Fingers splayed across your chest, then slipped under the hem of your shirt, palm flat against bare skin as if he needed to feel your heartbeat directly.

"God... you have no idea what you do to me,"

He breathed against your lips, breaking the kiss only long enough to speak.

His breath was hot, ragged.

"Every sound you make, every shift of your body...it's louder than the city outside."

He moved with purpose now, straddling your lap in one fluid motion, knees sinking into the couch on either side of you.

The weight of him was solid, grounding.

You could feel how hard he already was through his slacks, pressing insistently against you as he rolled his hips once, slow and deliberate.

You reached for him in return, fingers threading through his dark hair, pulling him closer.

Matt shuddered at the contact, a rare crack in his usual control.

He captured your mouth again, deeper this time, hips grinding in a steady rhythm that had heat pooling between you both.

His hand dipped lower, palming you through your clothes with confident strokes, reading every hitch in your breath, every twitch of muscle like it was braille written just for him.

"Tell me what you want,"

He whispered hotly against your ear, voice dark with need.

"I want to feel everything."

The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the city outside and the ragged sound of Matt’s breathing.

You were both home after a long night him still in his shirt and tie loosened, you having pulled him down onto the couch the moment the door clicked shut.

But things had moved quickly.

Now Matt stood in the dim living room, back against the wall near the couch, pants open and shoved down just enough.

You knelt between his spread thighs on the soft rug, knees pressing into the floor as you took him deeper into your mouth.

“Fuck…”

Matt hissed, head tipping back against the wall.

His hand was gentle in your hair, not forcing, just anchoring, fingers flexing every time your tongue swirled around the head of his cock.

He couldn’t see you, but he didn’t need to.

Every wet sound, every hollowing of your cheeks, every small moan you made around him vibrated through his hypersensitive body like electricity.

You sucked him slowly at first, savoring the thick weight on your tongue, the way he twitched and leaked precum when you pressed the flat of your tongue along the underside.

One hand stroked the base in time with your mouth while the other rested on his tense thigh, feeling the muscles jump under your palm.

“You’re so good at this,”

He groaned, voice rough and low.

His heightened senses drank everything in the heat of your mouth, the slick sounds, the way your breath hitched when you took him deeper and your throat tightened around him.

“I can hear how soaked you’re getting just from sucking me off… Christ.”

You hummed around him in response, the vibration pulling another sharp curse from his lips.

Matt’s hips jerked forward involuntarily, pushing a little deeper.

You relaxed your throat and took more, nose brushing the dark hair at his base as you swallowed around his length.

His grip in your hair tightened, not painful, just desperate.

“That’s it… just like that, baby.”

His free hand reached down to cup your jaw, thumb stroking tenderly over your stretched lips where they wrapped around him.

Even lost in pleasure, Matt stayed intensely focused on you reading every heartbeat, every shiver, every needy sound you made.

Matt’s thighs started to tremble.

“I’m close,”

He warned, voice breaking.

“If you keep- fuck- if you keep doing that I-im going to cum down your throat.”

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