#girldad

[slut4santos]

dr girldad

[aquasprings]

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.

[bees-sprees]

A bit laggy but I had a vision and

[groundzeroswife]

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.

[the-real-y-n-sunny]

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

Your daughter had gone from itty bitty newborn to rambunctious five year old in what felt like the blink of an eye. She was currently racing around Wayne manor in her own tiny Nightwing suit. One that Dick had insisted she be gifted, if she was going to learn acrobatics from him. Jason sighed, not looking up from the book in his hands as he heard the tiny feet racing back and forth across the hardwood floor.

"Hey kid," he called, "Slow your roll, I don't need you running smack into a wall and knocking out all your teeth."

Dick grinned as he entered the room. "They're all baby teeth anyway, she doesn't need 'em." He shot back, following the energetic kid through the halls at a leisurely pace.

Jason scowled, snapping his book shut and marching after them. "Dick, if she loses even one tooth because of you, I'm breaking your damn nose."

Your daughter skidded to a halt, cupping a hand to her mouth to shout into the kitchen. "Maaaamaaa! Daddy said damn in front of me again!"

Your voice came sharply from the kitchen, where you were working on your daughter's birthday cake. Not that she knew that. "Jason!"

"Hey, you just tattled on me!"

She stuck her tongue out at him, then turned to Dick. "Can I practice my flips now?"

Dick grinned, ruffling her hair. "You betcha," he said, bending down to scoop her up. He held her torso firmly as he raised and swooped her through the air, making whooshing noises with each dip. She laughed wildly, flailing her arms as her hair dangled upside down.

"Daddy look! I'm Nightwing!"

He snorted, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "If you were really Nightwing, you'd try some stupid reckless trick mid-fight and land on your ass."

Her eyes widened, opening her mouth to holler again. "MAMAAA! DADDY SAID ASS!"

Jason winced as you peeked your head out of the kitchen, raising a single threatening eyebrow. "C'mon kid, you're supposed to be on my side!"

Dick chuckled, setting her down. "Can you blame her? She's like a tiny version of her mom."

Then there was a sharp clatter from the kitchen, and Jason's head snapped in the direction of the noise like a hunting dog. Dick immediately scooped her back up, tucking her against his hip and following his younger brother.

You stood in the center of the kitchen, staring down at an upturned mixing bowl of ingredients with a long, defeated sigh. Jason was by your side in seconds.

"What happened? You okay?"

You nodded, sighing. "I'm fine. I just got too distracted, and knocked the bowl over." You grumbled, trying to fight back tears. You hated crying in front of your daughter, especially over something so trivial. "It's… I'm just going to have to start all over."

"Hey," he said softly, immediately noticing the masked distress in your eyes. "Don't cry over a little bit of cake mix. I'll clean it up. It's not a big deal."

You sniffled, wiping your eyes. "I know, I just…" You glanced at where your daughter was peering around Jason curiously, then dropped your voice for just him to hear. "I feel like a bad mom. I can't- I can't juggle all the things, and be good in the kitchen, and-"

"Baby." Jason interrupted, shaking his head firmly. "You're not a bad mom. You've got a lot on your plate. Hell, you've got to be tired all the time, I really don't know how you don't show it. You're allowed to mess up, or forget something, or cry over a bowl of cake mix. None of that means you're a bad mom." He slid his hands up and down the sides of your arms, bending his head to meet your eyes. "You're doing amazing, sweetheart. I promise."

You sniffled, then broke into tears. Your daughter turned to Dick, brows furrowed. "Why is mama crying? Did Daddy say something mean?"

Dick shook his head, chuckling softly. "No, he didn't say anything mean. Mama's just tired, y'know? She's got a lot going on, and sometimes she feels a lot of feelings. You know what that's like, right? When you just feel so many feelings at once you gotta let it out? That's why she's crying."

The five year old nodded sagely, her eyes gazing over her parents. Dick pointed at them, squinting one eye dramatically. "But you see the way your daddy's making your mama feel better?" He whispered conspiratorially. "That's true love."

She blinked at him, eyes wide. "Like a prince and princess?"

He just grinned, the hopeless romantic in him eager to show this little girl the ropes. "C'mon. I'll show ya." Then he carried her off to the study, where he tugged a scrapbook off the bookshelf.

He settled onto a recliner, propping your daughter up on its big cushy arm and flipping open the book to the first page. You and Jason, no older than fifteen or sixteen, sitting side by side on a rooftop. The moon lit your faces, your fingers tangled together. "See this? That's your mom and dad."

Her eyes widened, her small fingers tracing over your faces. "They look so young…" she murmured softly.

His eyes crinkled at the edges as he looked back. "They were." He pointed at the next picture on the page. It was you two arguing in the batcave. Your brows were furrowed, and his arms were crossed. "They used to argue all the time."

"They look so mad… What are they fightin' over?"

Dick shrugged. "Who knows? It was always something little." The next picture seemed to have been taken only a few minutes after the last one. Still in the batcave, still scowling, but sitting back to back. And if you squinted, you could even make out the way your pinkies were laced together. Your daughter's head tipped to the side, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"But they were fighting, why are they sitting so close together?"

Dick let out a soft huff. "Because they're in love. You don't always get along with the person you love, but you love them anyway, even when you're mad at them." Then he smirked, pointing at the picture. "Except, back then, they didn't know they loved each other yet."

She let out a small giggle, before glancing between the picture and Dick. "But they're married now, so they must have figured it out."

He grinned, flipping the page. "Funny you should mention that."

She gasped sharply, as if the picture were scandalous, then drawled out a long "oooh". The picture captured one of your favorite memories. The first time Jason had kissed you. Thank god Tim always had a camera ready, as well as several file backups, because Jason hated this picture. He was cupping your face gently, pressing a sweet little kiss to your lips. He didn't hate that he looked soft in it, though he wasn't necessarily a fan of that aspect. He hated that other people got to see the way he looked at you. The way he held you, like you were something so infinitely rare, he would never dare to lose. And now his own daughter was seeing that.

"That… is kissing." She murmured seriously. "That's what people do when they're in love, right?"

Dick sighed softly. "Yes… Sometimes people do that even when they're not in love. But…" He pointed firmly at the picture. "With your parents? That's definitely why they do it."

She gazed over the picture a moment longer, then looked up at him. "How can you tell? How do you know that's a love kiss and not just a normal kiss?"

"Well… It's kind of hard to tell in the picture. But in the moment… I was the one that took this picture, and I remember how sweet your dad was being to your mom that day. She'd failed a test at school, and even though he usually started an argument with her every day, that day was different. He bought her ice cream, and gave her his hoodie…" He pointed at the red jacket you were wearing. "And gave her a big hug. And after all that, he finally told her how he felt about her. And they kissed. So the next time you see them kiss, take notes. That's what a true love kiss looks like."

"I'm gonna watch real good," she declared seriously, holding her hand to her chest like she was swearing under oath. "So that I'll know what love is supposed to look like."

He nodded, grinning. "Now you're getting it."

The next picture was just Jason, reading in the manor library. She cocked her head at the picture, noting how quiet and serious he looked. "...He looks nice like that. Not grumpy."

"He does, doesn't he…? Your dad loves to read books. But you probably knew that already. Does he read you bedtime stories?"

She perked up at that. "Mhm! He always does different voices for the characters."

Dick stifled a snort at that. He'd definitely be using that to tease him later. "That's cute. Does he do girl voices?"

Her nose wrinkled a little. "Yeah, but they sound funny. Like he's choking a little bit." Then her eyes lit up with realization. "Ooh! You should ask him! He'll do it for you!"

Dick burst out laughing at her vivid description, quickly setting the book aside and bouncing the kid up onto his shoulders. "Alright, c'mon kid, we're gonna go pester your dad."

She let out a squeal of delight as they raced through the halls back to the kitchen. You and Jason had already finished cleaning up, and he was now humming softly as he rocked you back and forth, his arms around your waist from behind. Dick paused in the doorway, smirking. "Hey, you two are way too love-dovey right now. Lemme fix that."

Your daughter gasped dramatically, pointing at Jason sharply. "DADDY! Do girl voices for Uncle Dick!"

His response was immediate. "Fuck no."

And so was yours. "JASON PETER TODD!"

[stump-salsa]

Lancer’s relationships

[multi-fandom-imagine]

HC:

That Leon sucks at doing hair but his daughter loves it.

While Chris is amazing because he always took care of Claires hair when she was young so Chris is just the go to for hair.

Chris learned young.

Not from manuals or mission briefings, but from long nights in a drafty house where it was just him and his baby sister. From brushing knots out of Claire's hair while she complained and laughed at the same time. From tying ribbons because someone had to make mornings feel normal.

So when his little girl climbs onto the counter, swinging her legs, Chris doesn’t hesitate.

He gathers her hair with careful fingers. Big hands, gentle pressure. He sections cleanly. Clips tucked where they won’t snag. His brow furrows in the same focused way it does before a mission, except this time the stakes are curls and comfort.

“Hold still, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and steady.

He braids slow. Even. Perfect tension. A style that will last the whole day, playground-proof, nap-proof, life-proof. When he ties it off, he smooths flyaways with a thumb like it’s second nature.

She looks in the mirror and gasps. "You made me pretty!”

Chris swallows. Hard. “You always are...just like mommy,” he says, quietly.

You watch from the doorway, chest tight, because you see it, the way his shoulders relax when she leans into him. The way he presses a kiss to the top of her head like it’s muscle memory. Like somewhere, a younger version of him is still standing in a kitchen, making sure his sister’s hair was neat because the world had already taken enough.

They only had each other.And he never forgot how to care. Not with you, not with his little girl.

Because you two were his everything.

Leon tries.

And that has to count for something.

Your daughter is vibrating with excitement, surrounded by a battlefield of supplies—clips shaped like stars, hearts, dinosaurs and little pugs, Glitter gel in random spots. Hair ties in every color known to man. Leon stares at it all like he’s defusing a bomb.

“Okay,” he says, cracking his knuckles. “We’ve handled worse.”

He absolutely has not.

He gathers her hair. Loses it. Regathers it. One clip goes in sideways. Another somehow vanishes entirely. There is glitter on his cheek. There is glitter in places glitter should not be.

She watches him with absolute trust with wide eyes and toothy smile.“Daddy, can I have all the clips?”

Leon grins. “Kid, I would never deny you greatness.”

The final result is… a lot.

Too many clips. A ponytail that leans slightly left. Sparkle gel applied with reckless abandon. It is asymmetrical. It is chaotic. It is aggressively enthusiastic.

It is perfectly Leon.

She beams like she’s just been crowned queen of the universe.

“I look AWESOME.” Her arms raise in the air.

Leon straightens, hands on hips, pride radiating off him. “Yeah you do. Best hair in the room.”

You’re laughing so hard you have to lean on the doorframe. Leon looks at you, glitter still on his face, and shrugs.

“She asked for style.”

She runs off, clips clacking happily, confidence sky-high. Leon watches her go, soft smile tugging at his mouth.

“Hey,” he says quietly, to you. “She likes it.”

You kiss his glittery cheek.“That’s all that matters.”

And somewhere between the mess and the laughter, Leon realizes something important:

He might be chaos, he might be a mess.

But to her?

He hung the stars in her hair.

[hopelessbrain]

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.