dr girldad
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dr girldad

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ᯓ★girldad! toji is so precious to me ᯓ★
toji fushiguro never thought he’d be the kinda guy who carries around hair elastic.
and yet.
here he is.
three of them.
pink, glittery. one of them has a butterfly charm in the middle.
he’s standing in the kitchen, two massive hands carefully trying to gather a handful of tiny, messy toddler hair. his daughter’s sat on a stool in front of him, legs swinging, humming something off-key.
“hold still,” he grumbles.
“i am holding still,” she says immediately, very much not holding still.
toji sighs, gently turning her head back to center, and stares at her matted hair, squinting like this is the hardest task he’s faced.
“you said two pigtails,” he mutters.
“yes.”
“you sure you don’t jus’ want one?”
“no.”
he clicks his tongue under his breath but keeps working, eventually looping the hair tie around the section a little crookedly.
okay, very crookedly.
when he finishes the second one he leans back to inspect her hair (like if he built a house with his bare hands).
“…not bad,” he decides.
your daughter immediately runs to the hallway mirror.
“DADDY LOOK!”
she stumbles back into the kitchen, little feet bouncing, her pigtails bobbing on her head.
toji’s chest tightens and he cracks your daughter a small smile, patting her head.
“yeah,” he grunts, “looks good, you gremlin.”
she beams and throws her arms around his leg. he freezes before picking her up, planting a fat kiss on her cheek. she giggles, squirming in his arms.
“don’t mess your hair up before school,” he warns.
five seconds later she’s already running down the hallway again, shouting for mommy, the biggest toothy smile on her face.
toji crosses his arms, watches her go with a small grin.
then he quietly reaches into the junk drawer and grabs another pack of hair ties.
just in case.
A bit laggy but I had a vision and
Zero Screentime
Bakugo with his daughter
He liked to say he was grateful she didn’t care for iPads. He really did. He loved that she preferred wooden playsets, plastic food, tiny registers, and absurdly detailed setups that took over the living room. What he didn’t love was the part where every single game required him. Not as a background character. Not as furniture. No. As the customer. The victim. The butler. The henchman. The unpaid intern. The emotionally manipulated participant.
It always started innocent.
“Daddy, sit here,” she’d say, already shoving a tiny apron into his chest.
“I’m not hungry,” he’d grumble.
“It’s not real food.”
“…That’s worse.”
Ice cream truck day meant he was seated on the floor, knees folded awkwardly, pretending to drive while she stood behind him ringing a bell aggressively.
“WELCOME TO PRINCESS SCOOPS,” she announced. “WHAT DO YOU WANT?”
“Chocolate.”
“We’re out.”
“…Then why’d you open?”
She ignored him, handing over a plastic cone with three different colors stacked wrong. “That’ll be five million dollars.”
“I DON’T HAVE—”
She slammed the tiny register shut. “Too late. Pay.”
Pizza house play was worse. She had a full setup: oven, menu, delivery counter, and a tiny phone that rang nonstop.
“Daddy, you ordered wrong.”
“I ordered cheese.”
“You ordered pineapple.”
“I WOULD NEVER.”
She squinted at him like a disappointed manager. “You will eat it.”
Veterinarian play was where he truly suffered. Stuffed animals lined up like patients in critical condition. He was forced to lie on the floor as the “injured customer” while she diagnosed him.
“You are sick,” she declared.
“With what?”
“Everything.”
She pressed a toy stethoscope into his chest, frowned deeply, then nodded. “You need shots.”
“I’M NOT GETTING—”
Too late. Three imaginary injections later, she patted his arm. “Be brave, Daddy. Mommy would be disappointed if you cry.”
He did not cry. He did, however, question his life choices.
Then there was mafia play.
That one… that one scared him.
She wore a tiny blazer. Sat behind a desk. Crossed her legs exactly like you. He was forced to kneel.
“You work for me now,” she said calmly.
“I literally live here.”
“You messed up,” she continued. “Now you pay.”
“With what?”
“Your loyalty.”
She slid him a plastic phone. “Call Uncle Shoto. Tell him the deal is off.”
Bakugo stared at the toy in silence, then slowly complied. “Deal’s off,” he muttered.
“Good,” she nodded. “You may live.”
It never ended. She had a bakery, a grocery store, a nail salon, a car wash, a hospital, a daycare (where he had to be the crying baby), a bank (where she refused him loans), and a hotel where he was both the guest and the staff.
And every time—every single time—he tried to escape, she’d block his path.
“Daddy, where are you going?”
“I HAVE WORK.”
“You are at work.”
“…I hate this job.”
Still, despite the complaining, the exaggerated sighs, the dramatic groans as he collapsed onto the floor for the fifth time that day, he stayed. Let her put tiny hats on his head. Let her assign him impossible roles. Let her boss him around with that familiar pout and your exact tone.
Because when you watched from the doorway, laughing softly, Bakugo knew the truth.
He’d fight villains all day without blinking—but this?
This was the role he’d gladly suffer forever.
What is Love?
(Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more...)
Synopsis: Girldad! Jason Todd this, girldad! Jason Todd that, what about Uncle! Dick Grayson? That man is a hopeless romantic at heart, and I just KNOW he would be so eager to pull up pictures of you and Jason as teenagers, doing cute teen romance stuff.
Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader
Warnings: fem! Reader, mild swearing, a lil bit of hurt/comfort (reader recieving), mostly just sickeningly sweet fluff.
Words: 1.7k
A/N: I love love love the idea of girldad! Jason though, do NOT get me wrong >:3

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Lancer’s relationships
A little different than your usual stuff but I am a Hughie girly, I fear I need a small fanfic or headcannons about babymaking / Hughie x pregnant reader! He is sooooo girl dad coded it hurts 🧎🏼♀️
oh i am sososo down for it and i fully agree, he's a girldad through and through
girldad!hughie, HEADCANONS
★ definitely cried the moment you told him you were pregnant.
★ keeps making pinterest folders of what he wants the baby’s room to look like– has different categories in case of boy, girl or general theme.
★ sends you posts about pregnancy– pictures of baby bumps along the months, birthing methods, breathing for labor, those silly drawings that compare the baby to fruits and vegetables (he loves those...)
★ won’t even complain when hormones make you lash out on him– he’ll simply listen quietly, nodding along with a gentle smile on his face.
★ who once again cried with the first sonogram, plus the first kick and the birth itself. He won’t even try to hide it– soft chuckles mixing with happy (and nervous) tears while looking at you with a dopey smile and all the love in the world squeezed into a single look.
★ whose first words about your daughter were “look at her– she’s just so small… and pink?” Though the way he carefully cradles against his chest, fingertips gently grazing her round cheeks say more about his feelings than the awkward rambling does.
★ he keeps the baby monitor under his pillow because “you carried her around for almost a year and birthed her– I think I can handle the nights.”
★ you aren’t even surprised when your girl’s first words are ‘dada’ after all, he’s been talking to her since you first found out you were pregnant.
★ insists on starting family traditions like ‘PJ sundays’ and ‘bring mom breakfast in bed saturdays’-- that last one is definitely your favorite.
★ has a whole collection of dorky daddy-daughter shirts– he also got her a bunch of music, comic and superhero ones to match his.
★ who takes daddy-daughter dates very seriously– she wants him in full glam and a tutu? you better know he’s gonna put on that combo– he’s very determined in setting the standard for his daughter, he’ll take her to the park, lunch plus they’ll come back home with a fistfull of tiny, colorful flowers carefully picked out for you.
I need more tomura fanfics to read