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shiorimakibawrites · 1 year ago

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Imitation (Kinktober Day 9)

Personal Masterlist for Kinktober 2023

Flightless AngelWings's original prompt list can be found here.

Day 9 - Role Play

Pairing: Matt Murdock x AFAB! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 2,057

Warnings: Role play, referenced masturbation, leather kink, kissing, love bites, dirty talk, vaginal fingering, hand job, spanking, light bruising, unprotected p in v sex, overstimulation

Tagging: @flightlessangelwings

Imitation

You looked in the mirror, doing one last inspection of your costume. Black cargo pants, belt, long-sleeved shirt, tactical boots and gloves – check. Black pads for your elbow, forearm, and wrists – check. Holster around your thigh complete with batons – check. Only thing left was the black mask.

The mask had been the most difficult part. It had taken you a couple of weeks to find something that looked right. That something ended up being your black leggings. Bonus was that you could kinda of see through it. Yes, if asked, Matt would teach you how to navigate while blindfolded. But that would have given away your plans.

When Matt agreed to role play, he was probably expecting you to dress up as nurse. Or a cop. Maybe a judge. You had bet good money that he was not expecting the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

When he got home from work, you were waiting by the roof access door. A door you swung closed with a heavy thud just as he entered the apartment. That didn’t startle him like it would have you. But he did seem surprised, standing there with his back to you, hand still on the door he had just pushed close.

He might not have jumped like you would have but you rolled with it, saying, “Sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to startle you.”

You had created your own Devil voice. It was lower register than your normal speaking voice, not unlike his, but instead of trying and failing to replicate that gravely rasp, you went with a husky, purring quality. You thought it sounded pretty good. Much better than actually mimicking his voice poorly and sounding ridiculous.

Matt turned to face you, tilting his head to one side, his brow burrowed as he visibly concentrated his senses on you. Trying to work out what role you had decided to play. Listening to your excited heartbeat. To how the clothing you were wearing sounded as you moved away from the door. To the sound of your heavy boots as you moved down the stairs into main living space.

Watching his nostrils flare and his tongue dart across his lips, you knew he could smell that you had been touching yourself. Could taste that you were still wet.

He said your name in a questioning tone as you stalked toward him.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” you said as you stopped in front of him. “Just a little bruising on my ribs.”

“Bruising?” he repeated, sounding a mixture of confused, concern, and anger. His hands reached for you, intend on assessing the mentioned injury and his expression already beginning to darken with fury at the very idea that someone had harmed you. The moment his hands landed on your torso and felt the material of your shirt, you saw the pieces click together.

It didn’t take him long to get into character. Gingerly tracing your ‘bruised’ ribs, he asked, “Nothing else? We don’t need to call Claire?”

“No,” you said. “I’m fine. It was a quiet night.”

He made an acknowledging humming noise as his hands roamed your body with the same light touches that you did when checking him for injuries. Through his lips twitched with barely suppressed laughter when he came across your batons and realized they were the lightweight wooden rods you used for craft projects and gardening.

“Wearing the black again?” he asked, his hands coming to rest on your hips.

“It’s a classic,” you said, reaching up to cup his face in your gloved hands. He shuddered. Just a little one but still noticeable. You were intrigued and make a mental note to explore that reaction further. But right now, you want to kiss him.

Maybe it’s because you are already worked up and he was already getting excited but there was nothing sweet or chaste about that kiss. You were both panting by the time you were forced to end that kiss but you weren’t done with his mouth. You nipped and sucked at his bottom lip, swallowing his moans, your hands buried in his hair.

With some reluctance, you let go of his lip to start trailing kisses down his neck until you reached the collar of his button-down shirt. Then one hand was forced to leave his hair in favor of the loosening that tie so you could reach that sensitive spot that otherwise partially covered by his collar. Once done, you kissed, nipped, and sucked at the flesh until you were sure he was going to have a hickey there.

One that would be partially visible when he was fully dressed. Fair was fair. He had done the same thing to you numerous times. He groaned and his hands slide off your waist in favor of your ass.

“Grabbing my ass now, sweetheart?” you murmured into his neck, still kissing and nipping, while your hands worked to unbutton his shirt.

“Can’t help it, babe,” he said in between pants, kneading your ass with both hands. “Your ass is too pretty not to touch.”

You made a humming sound as acknowledgment, taking a quick break from unbuttoning his shirt to give his ass a squeeze. “Right back at ya, sweetheart.”

Eager for his bare skin, you focused on making quick work of his clothes. Pulling his tie off, you let it fall where it may on the floor. You finished unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it and his suit jacket off at once. Then you got back to the serious business of turning him into a moaning mess.

Which you were having remarkable success at. Feeling your hands in tactical gloves roaming over his torso, judging by those little shudders as your gloved fingers traced his muscles and scars. Along with a groan when your wandering hands reached his nipples. Followed by an even louder groan when you switched from your fingers to your mouth.

His hands hadn’t remained idle. One hand remained on your ass but the other was undoing your belt. It didn’t long for his clever fingers to take care of the belt as well as the button and the zipper. He reached into your pants to find another surprise. A deep, rumbling moan erupted from his chest.

“No panties?” he said, his voice already sounding wrecked.

“Nope,” you answered, gasping when the hand on your ass lifted and then came back down with a smack.

“Well, aren’t you a naughty little devil?” he said as two of those thick fingers found your clit. You couldn’t stopped the loud moan at the sparkles of pleasure this caused if you had wanted to. Nor did you miss the smug smirk spreading across his face.

Two could play at that game, Mr. Murdock.

You unbuckled his belt and opened the closures on his pants. Then reached your hand inside his boxers and wrapped around your hand around his growing erection. Your reward was a gasp and jerk of his hips. And some muttered swearing as you started stroking his cock into full hardness.

“I think,” you said, pausing to moan when one of his fingers slipped inside you. “That you – Oh God, Matt – have a thing – yes, there – for leather gloves.”

“I might,” he grunted, pumping two fingers into your eager cunt as you continued to jerk him off. “Be – fuck, sweetheart – interesting to see your – ah – reaction.”

It was a little awkward getting to the couch, considering you were very reluctant to lose his fingers inside you or remove your hand from his cock. Matt seemed equally disinclined. But eventually you got there. When the back of his legs hit the couch, you took your hand off of his cock. He let out a low whine, a sound you echoed as sitting down required him removing his fingers from inside you. Your cunt clenched around nothing as you watched him put those fingers in his mouth and moaned.

But you had a plan – your cunt wouldn’t be empty for long.

As quickly as possible, you took off the boots and stripped off your pants. Not bothering to remove the rest of your clothes, you placed your right knee against his left thigh. You gripped his shoulders to maintain your balance as you lifted your other leg into position.

You had no idea when and where his glasses had disappeared but you were happy they had. Because it mean that you got to see the excited anticipation lighting up his entire face as you straddled him. His hands eagerly made themselves at home on your hips, then you lowered yourself into his lap.

You both moaned at the feeling of his hard cock against your wet cunt. His hands tightened as you wasted no time and started grinding against him. When you leaned forward and press another hard, sucking kiss to that sensitive spot on his neck. He cried out and bucked his hips. Now it was your turn to smirk.

“F-fuck,” he said, his voice strained. “I’m going to cum.”

“No,” you said. “Not yet.”

You lifted yourself off his lap, ignoring his whine of protest. Reaching down with your right hand, you gripped his cock and lined him up with your entrance. A deep breath, then you began to lower yourself. Slower than you had planned to. It was always a stretch – Matt wasn’t a small man in any measure – but usually you’ve had at least one orgasm before trying to fit him inside you. Not today.

The one advantage to the slower pace was that by the time he was sheathed inside your cunt, Matt was gripping your hips almost tight enough to leave bruises. You feel the tension in the muscles underneath you, the slight tremble, and knew it was taking all of his self control not to move. To give you cunt time to adjust when all he wanted to do was start fucking you.

Curious to see if you could break that self control, you circled your hips as your cunt continued to flutter around him. A deep moan, then his hand was smacking your ass again.

“Naughty little devil,” he growled. If his goal was discourage your actions, that was the wrong approach. The smack just sent sparkles of pleasure down your spine. Made your cunt clenching tightly around him. Which in turn made he thrust up. Just once before he regained control of himself but his cock had brushing against that place inside you that had you seeing stars.

Panting, you pushed yourself up until just the tip of him remained inside you, then lower yourself back down until he had bottomed out again. Again and again, building a rhythm and (too) slowly increasing your pace. The slower build-up nagged at your impatience but the payoff was totally worth it.

Matt whimpering under you, moans spilling out of his mouth like water, while you fucked him on his own couch while still half-dressed as his alter ego. Matt so lost in pleasure that he could no longer stop himself from thrusting up, driving himself deeper inside you and making you chant his name. Gripping your hips so hard that you were sure to have little bruises there later.

Close. You were so close . . .

One of his hands left your hip to start rubbing your clit. You cried out as you felt yourself clench tightly around his cock. A strangled moan erupted out of his mouth as he gave a particularly hard thrust into you and came inside you. His finger didn’t stop toying with your clit, drawing out your orgasm until you were slumped against him and starting to whine from sensitivity.

Through he also sounded a little sensitive a little while later when he lifted your hips and let his cock slip out of you. He gently lowered your hips back into his lap. You were both still breathing hard and you were sweating. One hand rubbed up and down your back. The other reached up and took off the mask. That it was fine. It was starting to get hot anyway.

He chuckled. You had the feeling that you might have said that out loud. You were feeling warm and a little floaty. Almost like you were drunk. You continued to feel that way even when he laughed at you for not being able to move your legs.

#fawktober2023 #kinktober 2023 #netflix daredevil #daredevil smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock smut #day 9

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sesamestreep · 1 year ago

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30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 9

Write about a heated debate (from this list) ➸ set in the Bakeoff AU AGAIN, because after my last fic, I wanted to write more Milly content and also it’s been a rough few days and I need to be silly and self-indulgent or I shall perish!! Based on an Instagram Reel I sent to @firstelevens the other day and that we’ve been spinning into a kid fic concept ever since. It grew out of control and I don’t know if it technically fits the prompt, but it’s what I got for you nonetheless. Bon appetit I guess???

“Euuuugghhh! Daaaaad!”

“What? What’s the matter?” Foggy asks from his spot in the kitchen. That tone of voice from his daughter is never a good sign, but he’s mostly used to hearing it when he and Matt are being particularly disgusting about how much they love each other. As Matt is still in the shower currently, he knows that can’t be the reason.

“What did you put on this?” Milly asks, holding up a piece of toast accusatorially. If she ends up following in their career footsteps someday, her cross-examinations are going to be brutal.

“Cinnamon and sugar, as requested,” Foggy answers, coming to stand across the counter from her. It’s a long way from the elaborate recipes he used to make with his spare time—which he no longer has—and when he was on Bake-Off, but it’s one of his daughter’s favorite breakfasts despite its simplicity. Well, it normally is. She’s currently staring daggers at him, so it must not be her favorite right now.

Milly shakes her head at him, like he’s a moron or maybe, more accurately, like they’re going to have to send him to a home soon if he keeps this up. “Not cinnamon,” she says, holding the offensive piece of toast out to him.

Before he can take a bite (his original plan, to illustrate that she’s being silly and unnecessarily picky), the smell reaches his nose and it doesn’t take an extremely experienced baker to know that’s not cinnamon. He brings it closer to sniff it again and makes himself cough. To confirm his suspicion, he returns to the cabinet where they store their spices and looks at the jar he used to make Milly’s toast a few minutes ago and, yep, there it is.

“Paprika,” he says. “I made you paprika toast.”

“Paprika and sugar,” Milly says, in that same enjoy your time in the retirement home, old man tone of voice.

“They look similar in the bottle,” Foggy says, rubbing a hand over his face. “Same color, I mean.”

“Do they smell the same?” she asks, innocently.

“Listen, you—”

“And are they spelled the same way?” she asks, thoughtfully. “You know, when you read the bottle before pouring it over my toast? You did read the bottle first, right?”

“Mills, I’m not kidding, if you can spell ‘paprika’ or ‘cinnamon’ for me right now, I will give you twenty dollars out of my wallet,” he says. “Otherwise, I don’t want to hear it!”

“I don’t know—”

“Exactly!”

“I’m eight! What’s your excuse?”

“For one thing, my eight year old daughter won’t stop tricking her babysitter into letting her watch scary movies and then crawling into bed with me in the middle of the night because she can’t sleep,” Foggy says, grabbing the plate from her. “How’s that?”

“Don’t throw it away!” Milly calls.

Foggy pauses. “Baby, you don’t have to eat it. I’ll make you more with actual cinnamon.”

Milly looks at him like he’s grown an extra head. “I know,” she says, slowly. “I just wanted to show Dada what you did.”

“Okay,” Foggy says, rolling his eyes and returning the plate. “Just for that, maybe I won’t make you more toast.”

“Sure, starve me for telling the truth. That’ll go over great with the other trusted adults in my life when I snitch on you.”

“It’ll never hold up in court,” Foggy replies, already putting two more slices of bread into the toaster.

“Besides,” she says, ignoring him and popping a sliced strawberry into her mouth. “I don’t crawl into your bed, I crawl into Dada’s.”

“It’s the same bed,” he explains. “Just because you cuddle with Dada and kick me all night doesn’t make it any less my bed. And what’s up with that, anyway? I have it on good authority that I’m the more cuddly of the two of us. Why don’t you ever snuggle me?”

“You want it too bad,” she says, taking a two-handed drink of her orange juice.

“Devil child,” he mutters. His mother once told him, when he and Matt were first looking into adoption, that your children will act as cosmic comeuppance for all the things you put your poor parents through as a child yourself and he hadn’t believed her. Maybe he just thought that, because Milly didn’t share any DNA with them, that his and Matt’s most exhausting qualities wouldn’t rear their ugly heads in her at all. And, boy, love her as he does, he was wrong on that count.

“Dada would never do this to me,” Milly continues, happily. “And he can’t even see! Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

“About looking into boarding schools?” Foggy asks. “Definitely.”

“Mean!”

“You’re saying you’d miss me?”

“No,” Milly says, crossing her arms. “But I’d miss Dada and my friends and my teachers and Aunt Daisy and—ooh, can I borrow your phone?”

“Why?”

“I want to text Aunt Daisy a picture of the paprika toast.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come onnnnn,” she whines. “She’ll think it’s funny!”

“That’s exactly why I’m not giving you my phone.”

“You’re no fun,” Milly grumbles, sinking down to rest her chin on the counter dejectedly. Her head immediately pops up again when Matt appears behind her. “Dada! Wait til you see what your husband did!”

Matt stops to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Please don’t say your hair because it feels…uh, chaotic?”

“I haven’t even gone near it this morning,” Foggy says, as he fetches the toast that’s just popped out of the toaster. “That’s all natural.”

“Well, that’s something,” Matt replies, coming into the kitchen. “So, what did you do?”

“He made me cinnamon toast,” Milly interrupts, enthusiastically. “Here, try it!”

As with Foggy, the toast doesn’t even make it to Matt’s mouth before he’s frowning. “That’s…not cinnamon, honey.”

Milly cackles while Foggy glares at her. “I made a small mistake,” Foggy says, over the chorus of his daughter’s laughter.

“What is that? Chili powder?” Matt asks, sniffing delicately.

“Paprika.”

“Oh.”

“And I have been soundly roasted for my error,” Foggy says, mostly in Milly’s direction. “So, I don’t want to hear it from you, okay?”

Matt shrugs. “Okay.”

“Apparently, you would never make such a mistake in your life, because you’re a good dad and I’m some sort of rodeo clown who ended up here by mistake.”

Matt looks at him, very clearly stifling a laugh. “She only thinks that because she’s led a charmed life where I almost never make her breakfast,” he says. “Give it a week, she’ll be begging for you back.”

“You’d just let me eat fruit snacks for breakfast,” Milly says, as Foggy puts her new breakfast down in front of her.

“Yes, and then you wouldn’t have all the nutrients you need to learn new things at school and get smart enough to become the first female president of the United States,” Foggy says. “And then where would we be?”

“There better be a female president before I’m old enough,” Milly says, darkly and with a mouth full of toast.

“Better eat a balanced breakfast just to be safe,” Matt says, pushing off the counter to go find some coffee. “And be nice to your dad.”

“How will that help me become President?”

“People skills,” Matt says.

“Surviving into adulthood,” Foggy says, at the same time.

Milly blows a raspberry at him, but eats the new toast without complaint. Matt’s scouting around for the sugar bowl now and Foggy stops him with a hand on his elbow.

“I already put sugar in it for you,” he says.

Matt smiles. “I don’t care what Milly says. You’re the best rodeo clown a kid could hope for, and a very good husband too.”

“Thanks,” Foggy replies, and allows himself to be pulled in for a kiss. He gets to enjoy that for about ten seconds before Milly makes another disgusted noise behind him. He sighs and pulls back. “What’s wrong with the toast now?”

“Nothing,” Milly exclaims. “It’s you two that are grossing me out!”

“Sorry your dads are in love with each other,” Matt says, with a smile and a faint blush. “You live a tough life.”

“I’m glad you understand,” Milly says, as she shoves an improbably large bite of her toast into her mouth without issue. She’s not even finished chewing when she asks, “Will you walk me to school today, Dada?”

“Why? Are you worried I’ll do that wrong too?” Foggy asks, putting an arm around Matt’s shoulders.

“I’d be happy to, baby,” Matt interjects before Milly can say something smart-alecky back to him. “Go get dressed, okay?”

Mill hops down from her chair happily and practically skips to her room. Matt nudges Foggy’s shoulder with his nose.

“What’s up with you two?” he asks.

“I don’t know. She’s just pushing my buttons.”

“Successfully,” Matt replies.

“Yeah, well,” Foggy shrugs. “I slept half the night with her foot in my face while she cuddled with you. I’m a little cranky, I guess.”

“Feeling left out?” Matt asks, smiling, as he turns to wrap his arms around Foggy’s middle.

“I’m definitely the cuddliest person in this household and I want it acknowledged.”

“I agree,” Matt says, kissing him on the shoulder. “Don’t listen to Milly. She’s a maniac.”

“She takes after you.”

“Not true. I love to cuddle with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Matt says, leaning in to kiss him again.

“We could make that happen, you know,” Foggy says against his lips. “Drop the kid off at school, cancel our appointments for today, play hooky from our responsibilities, stay in bed all day…”

Matt seems to be thinking it over, tempted. “We couldn’t,” he says, not quite convincingly.

“We could. I know our bosses and, trust me, they’d want us to get laid.”

“I’ve said it before but those guys are weird,” Matt jokes. “They’re honestly too involved in our sex lives.”

“Yeah, it’s an HR nightmare,” Foggy replies, kissing him again.

“You two better not still be kissing when I come back,” Milly hollers from the bathroom, where she’s brushing her teeth (or so Foggy guesses from the sound of running water).

“We definitely will be,” Foggy shouts back, as Matt collapses into his shoulder laughing.

“I’m going to go attempt to get our daughter’s hair fit for public appearance,” Matt says, giving Foggy another quick kiss on the lips.

“And I’m going to text Kate that we’ll be in late this morning.”

Matt pauses. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Foggy consults his watch. “Our first appointment is at 11. I can do plenty to you in that amount of time.”

Matt looks a little startled by that, but not in a bad way. “Kate’s going to know what that text means, you know.”

“That just means there will be someone to share in Milly’s pain over us being disgustingly in love after all these years. Unless that’s your way of saying no?”

“Definitely not. Just warning you that we’ll get a lot of grief for it later.”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You always do,” Matt replies, and Foggy’s definitely not being conceited when he says Matt’s tone sounds downright dreamy.

He heads off to help Milly finish getting ready and Foggy tackles the few dishes in the sink while he waits for another pot of coffee to finish brewing. A few minutes later, Milly appears in the kitchen, dressed and with her hair pulled into a neat bun. Neither of them can do anything particularly fancy with her hair, not least because she won’t sit still long enough for all that, but Matt does a good job for someone who’s never had long hair or siblings. A now presentable Milly pulls her backpack and coat off the hook on the wall and stops by Foggy’s side expectantly.

“What do you need, kiddo?” he asks, as he dries his hands on the towel hanging by the stove.

“Hug goodbye,” she says, lifting her arms towards him and he kneels to capture her in a big hug.

When she finally pulls back, she still looks hesitant, like there’s something she needs to ask him. It once again strikes him as crazy how much she reminds him of Matt sometimes.

“What’s the matter?” Foggy asks, tucking a picturesque loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You feel alright? Is all that paprika I fed you bothering your stomach?”

Milly shakes her head, looking away. “I just wanted to—Dada said that his dad would have made him eat that gross toast because they never wasted food when he was little.”

“Did he?” Foggy asks, already making a mental note to kick Matt’s ass when they’re alone together. “Listen, baby, your Grandpa Jack, he…didn’t have a lot of help when your Dada was young. They had to be really careful with their money and Dada was in the hospital for a while…”

“I know,” Milly says, nodding. “I’m just—thank you for making me new toast, instead.”

Foggy feels a lump in his throat that he struggles to swallow past. “Hey, you don’t have to thank me for that, okay? It’s my job to make your life as good as it possibly can be. Even if I have to make you a hundred pieces of toast every morning.”

“That would be expensive.”

“Still,” Foggy says, firmly. “I’m sorry if what Dada said made you upset.”

Milly scrunches up her face like she’s eating the paprika toast all over again. “He said it like it was funny,” she says, mildly horrified.

“God, okay,” Foggy replies, running a hand over his face. Matt would consider that a charming anecdote about his father. Speaking of people who are going to need a hug from him… “Don’t worry about that. Just have a good day at school, okay?”

“Okay,” Milly says, all concern gone as she hops in place excitedly.

Matt appears around the corner then, pulling on his coat. “Ready?”

“Just gotta get my shoes,” Milly shouts as she zooms off in the direction of the door.

“Alright,” Matt says, as he comes into the kitchen. “I’ll be back in a few.”

“Okay,” Foggy says, as he leans in to kiss him goodbye. “Oh, and maybe no more stories about your dad before school, yeah?”

Matt blinks at him. “What? Why?”

“We’ve talked about how sometimes the anecdotes from your childhood that you think are charming and scrappy are actually alarming to the people who love you now,” Foggy says, gently.

“Yeah…” Matt says, uncertainly, before his expression clears. “Oh. Shit.”

“It’s fine,” Foggy replies, rubbing his back. “I already explained that she can ask for as much food as she wants. Just maybe reinforce that with her on your way to school?”

Matt looks pale and queasy even as he nods. “Right. God, I didn’t—I’m sorry—”

“I know. I’m not mad.”

“And you still want to play hooky from work with me, even though I’m the world’s biggest idiot?”

Foggy kisses him on the forehead. “Of course. You’re still a very cute idiot.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Listen, I told Milly it’s my job to make her life as good as possible, and that’s true, but it’s also my job to do that for you. And right now, the best way to make your life better is to take you back to bed and—”

“Ready!” Milly shouts as she skids around the corner. “Are you guys still kissing?! What about my education?”

“She’s right, you know,” Matt says, pulling back and looking a bit better, though still tremulous. “We’re terrible parents.”

“Maybe I should look into boarding schools, after all,” Foggy jokes, crossing his eyes goofily at Milly over Matt’s shoulder.

“I’m never going to be President at this rate,” Milly laments.

“Alright, let’s get you to school,” Matt says, holding out his hand for her.

Foggy leans down to give Milly a kiss on the top of her head. “Don’t let your dad walk into traffic, okay?”

“I won’t,” Milly says, swinging their joined hands between them. “I promise.”

“That’s my girl. Have a good day, baby cakes.”

“You too, daddy cakes.”

“I’ll be back shortly,” Matt says, smiling at the two of them.

“I’ll be here,” Foggy replies, as suggestively as he can manage. It must work because Milly snarls in disgust.

“If you two start kissing again, I’m taking myself to school,” she says, leveraging her full weight against Matt to drag him towards the door. “Or running off to join the circus. You won’t know which until it’s too late.”

“She gets that from you,” Matt says, tiredly.

“I was going to say I think she gets it from you.”

“Maybe she has a point about us being gross.”

“Oh, well, yeah,” Foggy says, with a wink at Milly, who’s glaring at both of them now. “There was never any debate about that.”

#I have my block button ready for anyone who comes for me about the pet names or terms of endearment herein #I did my best and all of them read right to me #source: I based them on things I call my various niblings or have heard their parents call them #I’m not as confident that Milly’s dialogue is super realistic for a kid but I hang out with a 9 year old all the time #and most of the dialogue is stuff she might say #So who knows???#anyway I love one (1) dumb little family #HWS30days #30 day challenge #homelywenchsociety #mattfoggy #daredevil #matt murdock #foggy nelson #do I need a Milly tag? Is that who I am now?#kid fic #COULD NOT RESIST MAKING IT WEIRD AND SAD RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE THERE SORRY #the gbbo au #gbbo AU #once again no prior knowledge of this universe required!#series: how sweet it is #is it hot? ☑️#is it fresh? ☑️#am I proud to serve it? ☑️#and post

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