•• matt murdock x reader ••
tw: cnc, somno
a/n: idk, man. i was drunk and in a mood. just wanted to get the idea out of my head. not proofread at all - feel free to call me out on any mistakes and such.
you don't sleep with your windows open.
call it paranoia from having lived alone all this time. call it OCD. call it a habit.
lock the windows, double lock the doors, make sure the latches are on tight.
that has always been a routine, no matter how tired or drunk you were, no matter how late it was.
it was crazy to think someone had the skills to invade your apartment despite it all. granted you were asleep, but it was a surprise regardless.
Matt has a spare key, naturally. but he didn't use it. why would he? Daredevil doesn't need permission, least of all in the middle of the night - when his mind seems as dark and twisted as the streets of Hell's Kitchen.
he would usually wake you up when he was this covered in blood and dirt. you'd help him take off his suit, help him clean up and patch up. maybe even get him a hot meal.
not tonight.
tonight wasn't about fixing. not when he could still hear the strangled pleas of the man he nearly snapped the neck of. not when he could still feel bones crunch under his knuckles. not when he could feel the drops of blood on his skin from God knows how many goons he took care of on the streets.
he always called your apartment ideal for his meditation. not that he didn't keep his own as tidy and meticulous as possible, but your apartment was... clean. not a everything-has-its-place clean. but the kind of clean where he forgets how close to Hell's Kitchen you live.
gone is the smell of garbage on the streets. gone is the stench of sweat and piss that he can sense at every turn in the city. gone is the smell of blood he's been covered in far too often.
here? in your apartment? it was just you.
the spices that you cook with. the plants you decided to try and take care of this week. the fresh sheets you're obsessed with changing periodically. your lavender scented candles. your vanilla perfume.
the cum you think you cleaned off your fingers.
his breath hitched and his mouth watered as he caught it, his eyes fluttering shut as his lips parted with a shaky exhale.
he clicked his tongue. he had a busy night. a busy day. but was that really an excuse for not realizing how you were probably moaning his name into your pillow while your fingers and toys were—
his thoughts got cut off when he grunted involuntarily, his hand trailing down to his crotch as he palmed himself through his suit.
he appreciated the position you slept in. on your stomach, one leg hitched up. minimal clothes.
it was such easy access.
he trailed over to the side of the bed you slept on, removing one of his gloves as he used his fingers to move the strands of hair on your face. his fingers trailed to your own, the ones you had used earlier tonight. lingering over them, collecting the remnants only he could sense. he wasn't going to let it go to waste, and most of all, he wasn't going to miss out.
he was a dazed man tonight. the things he'd seen, the things he'd done—
that's what he was telling himself as he shushed you, covering your mouth with his gloved one while his other helped him angle himself just right. a sound between a sigh and a whimper left his lips as he felt how easy it was to bottom out inside you, "that's my girl."
you groaned against his palm, your eyes wide as you found yourself awake so abruptly. you didn't hear the door open, didn't hear him enter, didn't feel him wake you up like he usually would.
"came enough times tonight, sweetie?" he bit down on your earlobe, his lips and teeth trailing down the back of your neck, your shoulders. "can't blame me for feeling left out, can ya?"
your defense was muffled against his palm. you could feel the coarse grains of mud and dirt against your lips, the texture of his glove digging into your cheeks.
"quiet—" he all but growled as he removed his hand from your mouth, his teeth biting down on your cheek. you did your best to stifle your shriek, involuntarily clenching around him as your legs thrashed.
his hand didn't hesitate to trail down to your thigh and pinch, a wordless warning as focused on the sounds - the slapping of skin, the squelch of your walls clasping around his girth.
"not about you tonight," he panted, shamelessly gripping the back of your head and shoving your face into your pillow - one that would be painted in your tears and drool soon enough.
"but you'll let me get away with that, won't you? you—" he choked on a chuckle and a groan, feeling your ass push back, "you let me get away with anything. proven that enough times."
he shoved his gloved hand under your stomach, trailing it down to your clit as he let the rough texture stimulate you further, relishing the cry that got muffled by your pillow.
he couldn't hate the way his cock twitched inside you at that.
"shit— that's it," his other hand momentarily left the back of your head as he removed his cowl hastily, the sweat making his head feel like it was going to burst.
you didn't miss out on the opportunity, words stumbling out your mouth as you tried to sniffle and breathe.
"matt, please, please, e-ease up— at least grab a—"
"people forget," he grunted, shoving your face back into your pillow - and the way it made you scream ignited something in his chest.
"this city? these people? mine to protect," he put his entire weight on to you, your legs thrashing as the pressure increased.
he was everywhere. his rough gloved fingers toying with your clit, his cock slamming deeper inside you, his hand holding your head down, and now his entire weight ensuring he had you right where he wanted you. he was strong, so impossibly strong.
the way your hands had been thrashing for purchase didn't even matter.
"you are mine to protect," he murmured, his voice loud enough to reach you. "mine to keep safe. spent. full."
one of your hands managed to reach his batons he still had strapped to his thigh, grabbing and tugging at them in a state of panic as he relentlessly took and took and took from you.
his lips twisted up in a smirk as his hand came up on yours, squeezing tight around the batons, "greedy girl."
you turned your face to the side on your pillow, gasping for air as you choked on your tears, "f-fuck, wait, please, Matt—"
well, how could he say no to that?
he strapped the batons off his thigh, keeping them next to your face as he shoved two fingers in your mouth, "just prepping you for what you want, sweetie."
you groaned around the digits and tried shaking your head. maybe your head shoved into the pillow was mercy.
"shh, sh sh—" he was quick then, his fingers out your mouth and the end of the baton being shoved in, using the fact that your mouth was open to gasp as his opportunity.
"wanted it so bad, huh?" he matched the pace of his hand with his thrusts, feeling every spasm - tight, frantic, wild - as your body fought between pain and pleasure, shame and surrender.
"look at you," he growled against your ear, voice thick, "so full. so fucking perfect."
you couldn't help but drool around the thick end of the baton, occasional choking noises escaping your lips as he tested you and pushed you. you realized this was not about pleasure - certainly not your own.
tremors shook your legs and you squeezed your eyes shut, your throat constricting as a lump formed. your shaky breaths through your nose turned into whines, hot tears burning your eyes and streaming down your cheeks into your pillow as you came, shattered open by pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
he pulled his baton out your mouth as he groaned at the feel of your walls tightening around him, the feel of you cumming against him pushing him over the edge. his hand gripped your hair and tilted your head back, his lips latching on to yours - all teeth and tongue and moans while his hips stuttered once, twice, and then going still as he emptied inside you with a shudder so deep it made even him ease up against you for the first time tonight.
your thighs were quaking beneath him as soft sobs escaped your lips, your shaky fingers reaching back to touch him - feel his hair, his skin, his suit against your palms.
he stayed inside you long after his breathing slowed, even as reality began creeping back in.
"took it so well, baby. took me so well," he let his lips trail all over your face - kissing your skin, lapping at your tears, nipping at your skin.
sniffles and whimpers were the only noises that you thought were possible as a response right now, your fingers trembling while touching his face as much as you could. you needed to feel him, to know that this was real - that he was real.
"now..." his hand trailed back to his batons, lingering to feel the way your drool still coated one end, "i'm gonna put this to good use. and you, sweetie, are going to ease up for me, okay? can't let your hardwork go to waste, can we?"
you didn't need much to realize that that was far from a question.
after all, Daredevil doesn't need permission, least of all in the middle of the night - when his mind seems as dark and twisted as the streets of Hell's Kitchen.
