#toddler reader

[fluff-n-cookies]

I hate how they portray allmight as a father

in EVERY all might x daughter fanfic i've ever read, all might almost always neglects his daughter and it's almost always angst no fluff and i don't like that, I mean if you like it, sure go head and read it but I think all might would never do that. if anything, all might would desperately try to include her in everything. izuku's training?you're helping him bandage the mf up. hero galas? a date? nah man, hes taking you only to show you off. even when you're a child, he will attend all your school events, serve tea at all your princess tea parties, even when he's tired he will at least make sure to read you a bedtime story. all might once mentioned seeing nana shimura as a mother and I think he would try to be an equally if not better parent then her. wanting to take care of you and prove himself not only a worthy successor and hero but also as a worthy father.

[lil-isha]

Can people please give me some Child!reader fics 🙏😭 I think I've read them all. I NEED CHILD!READER FICS, I NEVER GOT TO HAVE A CHILDHOOD. I need them all

Kid!reader, Toddler!reader, baby!reader, child!reader, teen!reader, platonic!reader, Daughter!reader, son!reader, sister!reader, brother!reader. I DONT CARE, JUST GIVE THEM TOO ME‼️

I NEED PLATONIC FICS

[skmhlml]

hello !! May I ask a headcanon Shadow Mik cookie x toodle reader please ?? Like He found them before he got corrupted and decided to adopt them, even when he became the Master Of Deceit he still cared about them and not corrupt them, Candy Apple and Black Sapphire cookie also adore the little toodle. but when he got sealed away, the Whitches decided to give the toodle to someone else, but got also cursed by never growing up by their father.

After he got free, he go with his minions find his baby and found them, and the little one is more then happy to see their TRUE family back

A headcanon/one-shot please !!!

Date requested: 6/24/2025

Shadow Milk Cookie x Kid!Reader |Headcannons + One-shot| (Platonic Of course)

🧿 Shadow Milk Cookie wasn’t yet the Master of Deceit— just a curious and mysterious Cookie with a deep affinity for things others ignored.

🧿 He found you—a small, squishy, strange little creature made by accident during a failed Witch experiment. He felt an instant, unspoken connection to you. You were odd. So was he. It was perfect.

🧿 Instead of handing you over or abandoning you, he picked you up, cradled you in his arms, and whispered: “You’re mine now, little one. Let no one say otherwise.”

🧿 You didn’t talk much, babbling or communicating in tiny gestures. But you adored him deeply. Your bond formed fast— naps in his cape, being rocked gently while he read scrolls, glowing softly when you were near him.

🧿 Candy Apple Cookie immediately saw you as the cutest thing in existence. She gave you nicknames like “Crumble Muffin” or “Boo Berry” and always insisted on giving you glittery accessories you tried to chew on.

🧿 Black Sapphire Cookie was initially indifferent but became your quiet protector. You liked to climb up on his shoulder and rest there while he trained. He often mumbled, “You’re safer up here.”

🧿 Shadow Milk became the Master of Deceit, but not with you. He still cradled you gently in clawed arms, still hummed lullabies while you slept. His voice echoed with power now:

🧿 You were the only thing he didn’t try to twist or turn dark. He shielded you from dark magics. Hid you during battles. Whispered in secret: “I can be a monster to the world, but never to you.”

🧿 The Witches, fearing your connection to him, cursed you— stunting your growth. You would never age. Never mature. Always a helpless “Toodler” needing guidance. To them, you were just a leftover experiment anyway.

🧿 When Shadow Milk was sealed, they gave you away. To someone lesser. A cruel, indifferent caretaker who left you cold and confused.

———

The wind was quiet.

For centuries, the night sky had held its breath. The stars refused to shine as they once did. Something was missing. Someone.

And tonight, the shadows stirred.

Through the ruins of a forgotten sugar temple, three figures stepped— one cloaked in twilight, one glittering with stardust, one trailing candy mist.

Shadow Milk’s eyes blazed violet as he pushed open the rusted iron gates.

“My child is here,” he growled, not in menace—but in pure, undying purpose.

Candy Apple skipped ahead, calling, “Sweety ~? Baby?? Where are you, my little starlight?”

Black Sapphire didn’t speak. His hand gripped his blade.

And inside, in a forgotten nursery, you sat—small, unmoving, curled up with a worn blanket and a button-eye plush.

You had felt something today. A ripple. A whisper. Like a memory tugging on your crumbling heart.

You blinked slowly as the door creaked open.

A moment passed.

And then—your wide eyes filled with warm tears.

“Bubba…?”

You flung yourself forward, scrambling on tiny legs, squeaking and chirping nonsense as your little arms stretched out— and he caught you.

Shadow Milk dropped to his knees and scooped you into his chest, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

You squealed and laughed, nuzzling into his cold shoulder, clinging to his cape. The scent was the same. The hum in his chest was the same. The way his arms curled protectively around you like a fortress—it was all the same.

“They took you from me,” he whispered, rage cracking in his voice. “But never again.”

Candy Apple sobbed happily, dropping to her knees beside you. “You’re still adorable! Oh my sugar stars—look how tiny!”

Black Sapphire stood back, watching you—his sharp gaze softening as you reached your little arms toward him.

He gave a slow nod. “We missed you too, kid.”

[lair-of-platonic-yanderes]

Short Idea. Platonic! Yandere! Bogeyman pretending to be a Plush Toy! Boothill x GN! Toddler! Reader

Inspired by "Among the sleep", "Mr. Hopps Playhouse" and "Baby Blues Nightmares" horror games.

A/N: it slowly becoming a marathon of strange crossover ideas.

Warning: Bad, neglectful parenting. Alcohol.

Boothill, who was currently in his "plush toy disguise", was in the gift box, waiting for the present to be opened. He needed some "recharge", he needed some quick fear. So he decided to go for a quick hunt and pretend to be a toy so he could feed from some easily spooked teen. "He" was "bought" as a birthday present by some granny.

There was some shouting "outside", his box was rudely tossed on the table, but he didn't think too much about it.

The box was opened, and "he" was picked up and... placed before you. Before a toddler. You had a big eyes and an innocent look on your face.

"That old hag really gave [Y/N] such an ugly toy?!"

He knew that his "plush toy disguise" wasn't perfect. The big plushie that looked like a cyborg cowboy with sharp teeth might be interesting for an older kid or a teenager, but not for toddlers. Boothill awaited for you to start crying.

But you laughed and hugged him. You liked the new toy.

Soon he and you were brought to your room. It was pretty empty, with an old crib and just a few toys. You were still hugging him.

Boothill decided to escape tonight. He didn't want to scare you and feed from your fear! Toddlers were soft, small and round. It was wrong to scare them.

Tonight he will leave the house.

----

He didn't leave. When Boothill, in his normal form, was trying to escape, your parents started arguing from another room. You woke up. You started crying. But your parents didn't come to check on you.

Boothill had to pick you up and try to calm you down. He. A bogeyman. Was doing parents' job. Surprisingly, you calmed down and fell asleep while he was holding you. Boothill stayed that night.

He thought about leaving during the day.

-----

Boothill couldn't leave during the day. Because your parents had a hangover after celebrating your birthday and couldn't take care of you. Boothill was the only one who could take care of you today.

You didn't even question why your toy became a tall adult again. You simply reached both of your hands towards him.

"Up!"

Boothill was strong enough to carry you and prepare food for you at the same time.

He. A bogeyman. Was doing parents' job. Again.

He just hoped that today was an exception, not a rule.

-----

It's been two months.

Boothill wanted to eat your parents. They were always yelling at each other, often neglecting you. At that point Boothill practically adopted you, doing as much parenting as he can. He even tried to teach you about shapes, colors and easy topics, like animals and cars.

He even dropped his plush disguise for a bit. He started walking around in his plushie form, playing with you. And you were always beaming with laughter.

You loved him. You even started to call him "dada".

He started to scare your parents during nights, trying to make them better people.

----

You were playing on your blanket in your room. Your parents were arguing in the kitchen. Plushie Boothill can smell the alcohol in the air. The especially loud sound scared you, making you cry. Plushie Boothill was ready to calm you down when your father appeared in the living room. He has bags under his eyes. The results of Boothill's lessons. Father had a half-empty bottle in his hand.

"SHUT UP!!!"

Like in slow motion, Boothill watched as your father threw the bottle towards you. The bottle shattered against Boothill's boots.

The enraged boogeyman was standing here in all his glory, with glowing eyes, sharp teeth, and claws that were carefully holding a toddler closer to his chest.

Boothill attacked.

-----

People would say that was a miracle. The whole house burned down, except for the kid's room.

It was left intact.

Both adults were burned in a fire. But you were unharmed.

Your grandparents adopted you. They took all of your things with them. Including a plush cowboy.

-----

Boothill was sure that the world was against you. But he will be near to correct that injustice.

Every teacher who would wrongly assume that you cheated on a test would lose their minds because of nightmares. Bullies will jump through the window on the fourth floor in an attempt to escape from the monster. Every small quarrel with a friend will end in them being hurt or mentally scared.

Boothill will never let anyone hurt you. And to do this, he should be the only one in your life.

He is the only one who will never hurt you.

[givetomurasomechapstick]

League of Villains and a Child headcanons 1

Timeline:

League of Villains and a Baby

Epilogue headcanons

League of Villains and a Toddler

When you get your quirk:

Shigaraki:

"I don't care what happens as long as she doesn't hurt me."

That's the first thing he says.

Completely fine with watching the chaos go down.

He is staying on edge around you, but isn't / doesn't want to avoid you. Or have you feel avoided and ignored.

Actually tells you all the good cool things your quirk can do when no one is looking.

"See brat? Your powers are cool."

But don't respond with something like 'your powers are cooler!'.

He is definitely gonna avoid you after that.

Toga:

Makes sure to show that she loves you even more. Especially with affection.

"Look Baby (Y/N), you got your quirk! And wow, look at all the cool things it can do!"

I assure you that she has no false enthusiasm and is actually impressed by your quirk; even if it were just for moving around your toothbrush.

Won't care if your power is scary, or makes you look weird. She makes sure to tell you she loves you even more!

If you get a blood related quirk she'll definitely help you out as best as she could.

"This is the coolest quirk I've ever seen Baby (Y/N)! Don't let anyone tell you otherwise!"

Dabi:

Chaos? He's SUPPORTING it.

"Your quirk is impressive..."

Even if he's not impressed he makes sure to say that under his breath.

Ultimately makes fun of your quirk.

BUT he will burn anyone else who makes fun of it in their sleep.

If your powers hurt you, he's figuring out ways to help you be able to use it without getting injured.

~ OOC soft Dabi ~

Will definitely steal get any sort of support item you need.

"Got to admit it to you kid, your powers are impressive. Just don't go training on your own, alright?"

Spinner:

His soul is slowly dieing...

ESPECIALLY if you got a mutation quirk.

Crying over it? He's helping you through the entire thing. And will let you vent to him about literally anything that comes to your mind at that moment.

Constantly gets stressed you might get depressed when your older.

So he does everything to prevent that.

Cookies? Already baked. Favorite plushy is getting a hole? Fixed it an hour ago. Literally anything you ever wanted? It's next to your door like Christmas presents under a tree.

I'm sure everyone in the League will never let him live down this 'mommy faze', but he won't care as long as you're happy.

"Don't let it get to you. Everyone is unique in their own way and this is one of them. I mean, hey! Look at me. Do I look that ugly?"

Twice:

Was actually out buying groceries when it happened.

And when he came back home, everyone was either screaming, yelling, or running around.

Maybe all of the above.

But either way, of you ask him if your power is cool (crying or not),

"It's such a cool quirk (N/N)! Well I think it's like trash."

Tries his best at comforting you. And really hopes he didn't make you feel bad about who you are.

Any quirk related to making multiple of something? He's helping you out with every fact he has.

Might be hard tho with his double side.

"See? Your power is perfect. Just for you! No! It fits terribly with your aesthetic, get a new quirk!"

Compress:

Meanwhile calming everyone down.

Also tells you about all the cool things your quirk can do.

Quirk that would look good at magic? Your his new personal assistant.

Don't diss him out tho.

"It's not cheating magic! It's just like a life hack of doing so. Is that what they call it these days?"

You have any ever growing collection of marbles now (with all the people that said you wrong about your quirk; courtesy of Compress)

"Your quirk works perfect on set. Try using it more this way and you could be the star of the show!"

[boiohboii]

Hiiii, can you please do another toddler leclerc reader and it’s like she’s left in care with her brothers and Arthur swear and she mimics them making them want to kill Arthur and try to correct her gently

How to undo (leclerc brothers x toddler!leclerc!reader)

Masterlist

YN Leclerc, even at the very young age of 1 year and a half, was very aware of how much she's loved by her older brothers. She never had to speak (huge factor is that she does not even know how to speak properly yet) to get what she wanted, she'd just pout and point and suddenly whatever it was that her little heart desired would be placed in her little chubby hands.

Pascale Leclerc had never been more grateful to have gone through 3 childbirths before yn came along more than when she had to head into work. Did she, strictly speaking, have to be there? No. But she liked the change of scenery and although she hates the thought, taking care of a baby after so many years definitely tires her out, so she's more than happy to rest while the boys take care of their baby sister.

Some could say that it had happened because yn was too happy to have her 3 brothers with her together for a long time. Some could say it happened because yn is at the age where she just imitates whatever someone says or does- and who better to copy than one of her older brothers. Some could also say that yn just wanted to impress her brothers, wanted to be praised and cheered on by her three of most favorite people.

"enculé de salaud!" The giggly voice of one and half year old yn leclerc echoed through the living room.

"YN!!" Lorenzo was the first to act, quickly getting up and moving over to where his baby sister was sprawled out on the floor. "Where did you learn that?"

Was he expecting an answer? Maybe, after all she does seem to grasp more and more of whats going on around her.

"Mon ange," yn turned to look at Charles, with her hands flailing and her giggles still ringing throughout the house, only getting louder. "Who said that before?"

Her brothers questions seemed to only amuse her more, the airy, playful chuckles only getting louder with each question.

With only 2 out of her 3 brothers being around her, yn focused on where Arthur was sitting, headphones in (talking with his friends) and eyes glued onto the video game. Moving around as much as she could, Lorenzo and Charles sat beside her on the soft blanket laid on the floor, trying to get her to understand that she should not repeat that word.

"Tu es un joueur de merde!"

"TU MERDE!"

"ARTHUR!!"

It was safe to say that this would definitely be the last time Arthur even comes close to babysitting his sister, alone or with someone.

Unfortunately for the youngest Leclerc brother the babysitting ban stayed in place for the 4 following years.

[milaisreading]

Hi! I really like your bllk masterlist. After i found your account i imediately follow it and now you're one of my favourite. But can i ask you to make CD y/n turn into toddler?. Like manager y/n one. I'm sorry if you already make one because i cannot find them. Also sorry for my english too....

🌱🩷: Hiii, Anon! I just wrote tiny scenarios of it, but here is a full version! Hope u like it and thanks for the support

Warnings: Reader is crossdressing here, so I use a mix of he/him and she/her. If you want to see more toddler cd!Yn, let me know. Requests in general are open.

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

When Ness woke up he expected a few things to see. One of them would be seeing Kaiser and (Y/n) still fast asleep. Or Kaiser asleep and the Blue Lock player off to the shower room. Or even to see Kaiser himself awake, but this was no something he expected! The magenta eyed boy stared in shock at the (h/c)-haired toddler, who in return blinked up at Ness in curiosity as he sat on his lap.

"Who? What the hell?" Ness muttered as he slowly put his hand on (Y/n)'s head.

"So... this isn't a dream?" Ness raised an eyebrow as the toddler smiled and leaned into Ness' touch.

"Did you eat something off last night? Kaiser. Hey, Kaiser, wake up." Ness called out to the blonde, who groaned and glared at the midfielder.

"What is it? It's not even 7 yet." The other German said.

"This is serious. Why is (Y/n) a toddler?"

"What?" Kaiser asked as he looked at Ness in confusion. The other rolled his eyes and removed his hand from (Y/n)'s head. The girl looked at him in confusion as Ness pointed at her.

"This." The magenta-eyed boy said as Kaiser rubbed the sleep off of his eyes and looked at the toddler, who looked over at the blonde with the same confused stare.

"Da?" She said as Kaiser's eyes widened in shock and he quickly got up from his bed and ran to Ness' side.

"What happened here?!" Kaiser yelled as be looked at Ness, expecting an answer from him.

"How should I know? He was in my bed like this when I woke up." The toddler said nothing as she looked between the two. If they looked at the toddler a little bit better, they would have noticed the slight trembling from the toddler as Kaiser continued yelling.

"And what are we supposed to do now?! How will I explain this to Noa?!"

"How should I know?!"

As the two continued arguing, the toddler started trembling more and more as tears started rolling down her face. What interrupted their yelling at the end were (Y/n)'s loud sobs, as the player started growing more and more scared of the loud noises.

"Shit..." Kaiser muttered as Ness picked the player off of the bed and ran out of their room towards Noa's room.

"We need to find Noa!"

"You think he knows how to take care of a toddler?!" Kaiser asked as he ran after them.

"Well... let's hope..." Ness said as (Y/n) started crying more and more.

"Here comes the train~" Anri cooed as she gave (Y/n) a spoon full of baby food. Ego and Noa observed the girl for a moment and then looked back at Ness and Kaiser.

"And you say you found him like this?" The French striker asked, earning a nod from Ness.

"Yes. I woke up and found him in my bed like this." The midfielder answered.

"And why was he crying when you brought him in?"

"He hates loud noises, apparently." Kaiser simply answered, avoiding the suspicious glares from Anri and Ego. Noticing that the woman stopped giving her food, (Y/n) frowned and tugged on the woman's sleeve.

"Hmm?" Anri muttered and looked downbas the toddler kept on looking at the empty spoon.

"My! (Y/n) had quite a healthy appetite when he was younger. Some things don't change." Anri laughed as she continued feeding the toddler.

"What are we going to do now?" Kaiser asked, earning Noa's attention again.

"Yeah, won't Re Al wonder where he is? They did bid a lot of money on him, after all." Ness argued as Ego went to pick the toddler up after she ate all the food.

"True... We will just say he came down with a fever. I am sure this won't last for too long."

"What makes you say that?" Noa raised an eyebrow.

"I am hoping."

"Wonderful." Kaiser rolled his eyes.

Later....

"Gagamaru, I want to hold him now." Kunigami pouted as the goalkeeper held (Y/n) on his lap. Hiori and Isagi giggled as they handed her some of their food, surprised she was able to eat it.

"Can you wait just a little bit more? He is comfortable right now." Gagamaru pleaded as Kurona caressed her hair.

"I am surprised his stomach isn't upset from all the food we gave him." Yukimiya commented as he slid some of his food towards Hiori, who was the main one giving the girl food.

"I guess he has stronger stomach than we thought." Kurona answered as Kunigami lifted her up.

"Huh?" (Y/n) blinked as she looked at everyone, surprised bybthe sudden movement.

"How long did Noa-san say this will last?" Isagi raised an eyebrow.

"He said he doesn't know, but he is sure it will be over in a few days." Hiori answered.

"For now, all we have to do is keep him away from cameras." Yukimiya chimed in as Gagamaru looked back at the toddler.

"Don't you guys think Re Al will question where he is?" Kurona wondered.

"Let's hope they don't." Kunigami answered as the door harshly opened, revealing Chigiri  and Reo, who quickly ran up to Kunigami.

"What are you guys doing here?" Gagamaru asked.

"We were sent here to pick (Y/n) up! The news crew is coming to your stratum so (Y/n) should stay with us for a few hours." Chigiri answered, squealing a little at how cute the toddler looked.

"Give him to us now, muscle head. We need to hurry back to our stratum." Reo demanded. Kunigami glared a little at the heir, but reluctantly gave him the toddler.

"Huh?" (Y/n) blinked at the newcomers as Reo took her out of Kunigami's arms.

"Hey-"

"Great! Thanks!!" Chigiri cheered as they ran out of the room, leaving the team confused and irritated.

"It was my turn to hold him..." Yukimiya pouted.

At the MC dorms...

"Nagi, stop showing him all those cartoons. It's bad for the eyes." Chris scolded the albino as Chigiri took the phone away from him.

"Well, what am I supposed to do? Look how restless he is." Nagi argued as the rest looked at (Y/n), and sure enough, the toddler looked like he is about to start crying.

"Maybe he is hungry?" Reo suggested, offering some of the baby food Anri had left them.

"Maybe, (Y/n) loves food almost more than football." Chigiri added in as the team watched the girl. To their surprise tho, the girl turned away from the food.

"Huh? Now that wasn't what I expected to happen." Chris raised an eyebrow as Reo and Nagi looked at their friend in worry.

"Since when does he reject food?" Nagi wondered, staring at (Y/n) like she was an alien.

"This is odd..." Reo muttered, surprising the girl as she got picked up by him.

"Are you not hungry? Not even a little bit?" The purple-haired boy asked in worry, but all he got was a huff from her and she pouted.

"Now, now. What's with the attitude?" Chris raised an eyebrow as (Y/n) looked back at him.

'I want to go back to my friends!' (Y/n) thought, sadly still unfamiliar with these 4. It was silent for a while, the group waiting in anticipation what she might do next, and safe to say, they didn't expect her to start crying.

"What now?!" Chigiri yelled in panic as Chris took her out of Reo's arms.

"Did we say something wrong?" Nagi wondered in worry as Chris rocked her back and forth.

"I don't know. I don't think so, also, we weren't even loud. Why is he crying?" Reo asked, all three looking at their coach, who was trying and failing to calm the girl down.

"Leave the room for a bit. Maybe he is overwhelmed by everything. Don't worry, I will calm him down."

The trio nodded their heads and walked out, hoping their coach will be able to fix whatever had happened now.

'Isagi! Kurona! Hiori! Yukimiya! Where are they?! Did they abandon me?! Kunigami and Gagamaru said we would eat together!' The girl started crying louder as the blonde looked down at her in worry.

"Maybe his stomach is upset? Don't worry, Chris is here to make the pain go away- AUCH! DON'T PULL ON MY HAIR LIKE THAT!" The blonde cried out, trying to remove her hands from his hair.

It's pretty much safe to say that the crying continued for 2 hours. The trio, worried that (Y/n) might get sick called Anri and explained everything that had happened up until that point. The woman was at first clueless what could be the issue, since she did eat, sleep, and play normally while she was with her team. And that's when it hit her!

"Teieri-san, what's in that bag?" Nagi asked as he covered his ears, annoyed with the crying. Reo and Chigiri were too occupied with trying to calm the girl down to notice anything until Anri spoke to them.

"Let me take over now. I know what may be causing him distress." The woman said as the two nodded at her while (Y/n) was quietly sobbing now. Chris stayed quiet as he stood next to Nagi, watching in curiosity as she showed the toddler her bag.

"You miss your friends, don't you?" Anri asked quietly as (Y/n) looked at her in confusion. The woman smiled and wiped the tears off of her face.

"Isagi, Kurona, Hiori, Yukimiya, Kunigami, and Gagamaru. You miss them, right?"

At the mention of their names, (Y/n) looked around the room, only to sigh sadly when she didn't see them.

"They are busy now, but you will see them soon. In the meantime, I brought you these. I asked the merchandise team to send them to me." Anri smiled as she revealed the plushie forms of the players. (Y/n) stopped sobbing as she looked at the soft items that were placed in front of her, the other 3 players and their coach staring in surprise as Anri smiled and slowly backed away.

"That won't work-" Reo started, but got interrupted as the girl let out a few giggles before taking Isagi and Gagamaru's plushies and pulling them into a hug, the sane thing being repeated for the others.

"This is so adorable!!" Anri squealed as she watched the girl play with the plushies, completely ignoring the sour mood of the trio.

"This isn't fair! Why are they his favorites?" Chigiri asked in frustration as Nagi huffed.

"We literally did everything for him to calm down." Nagi added in.

"Yeah, why are they getting special treatment?" Reo asked, glaring at the soft toys as Chris laughed a little.

"I am guessing since he spent most of his time with them, he created a better bond with them. After all, you guys did barge in and take him away." Chris explained as the trio grumbled that it still wasn't fair. (Y/n) remained blissfully ignorant to everything and continued playing with the toys, enjoying to finally see their familiar faces.

[dark-raven-666]

BATIM the ink demons finds a toddler girl and adopts her.

Made for my friend Pudim, but others can read too <3

Warnings: bio neglectful parents

You are like me...

Your so called father takes you to a park. he doesn't care whether you have fun or not, he just wants you to leave him alone for a moment.

He scrolls on his phone and you wander off, after walking for a while you find yourself lost, and your father nowhere to be seen, being a toddler your instant reaction is to break down crying. After long hours of loud sobbing it begins to rain and you try to find shelter.

You see a house? You assume so at least. Walking into the place the door closes behind you.

You take a look around, ink, ink, and more ink drenching the floors and walls.

You walk around and see a cardboard cutout, you can't read but you see a friendly looking character and laugh a little.

You speak to the cardboard cutout.

"Hi! My name is Pudim! Who are you? " you speak in a friendly manner as if not knowing it is not alive.

After hopeless attempts to speak with it you continue to explore the place, your toddler curiosity having a hold of you.

Hearing terrifying roars makes you cry, as a kid you have no understanding of hiding so you plop on the ground and begin sobbing, "mama! Wahhh". Your soft baby sobs fill the place. The roars and footsteps get closer until you see a tall being with a big smile, covered in ink, it has hooves for feet as sharp claws. This sight alone makes you sob louder.

That is when the monster stops smiling and lowers his claws. *A baby?* He thinks. He had never seen one in real life, she was small, and dressed in pink overalls and a colorful sweater, she had her hair in two pigtails and tears streaming down her face.

This sight made the demon's heart melt. She cried, that made her imperfect, she was helpless, she was like him...

He was imprisoned by Joey and he was just as imperfect and helpless.

The demon walks to the kid and picks her up, he holds her in his arms and lulls her, he knows only one lullaby and it is because the workers used to listen to it on the radio.

"you are my sunshine, my only sunshine" he sang, voice rather hoarse but it still calmed the little girl.

This was the first time anyone had lulled her and rocked her in their arms.

She stared at the demon in amazement then laughed.

Now it was the demons turn to be amazed. Someone liked him, someone smiled at him...

The demon shed a single inky tear and smiled then continued singing, holding the girl in his hand.

He walked back to the darkness the girl in his arms.

She was his daughter now, and he would protect her with his life.

//////////////////////

I hope you like it hunny.

@pudimbot

[hypn0ticx]

༉‧₊˚. Clingy, Messy, And Tiny !!

🌸Pairing(s): Emma Sano + Child!Male!Oc

🌸Scenario: In the case of which Mokka is a literal crybaby, who cries every single chance he fucking gets.

🌸Tags:Tokyo Revengers X Child Reader, Older!Emma, Child Oc, Fluff, Original Plot

🌸Warnings:A very messy baby wanting attention.

"U-Uwahh!!" A loud wail was heard, as Emma rushed into the room to see Mikey frantically holding his toddler nephew tightly towards his chest. 

She looked in relief, but immediately snatched her baby out of her brother's arms and into her comforting ones. Little Mokka soon calmed down, as he gripped onto his mother's blouse and nuzzled into her neck.

His little sniffles broke Emma's heart, as she rubbed his back and swayed around while humming a small tune. 

Mokka looked up to see his mother's honeydew eyes already staring at his own adorable pair and made a motion on his forehead, signaling her to kiss his forehead. 

She hummed and gave him a kiss, her lips curved into a smile on his flesh. Mikey pouted at the scene in jealousy, as he huffed loudly and walked away. 

Emma saw and chuckled, as she walked out of Mokka's bedroom and headed downstairs to see Shinichiro, Izana and Mikey all sitting on the couch and eating chips while watching horror movies.

She deadpanned and giggled, as she felt Mokka poking her cheek with his tiny, stubby fingers and kissed his own cheeks.

 A squeal flew from Mokka's mouth with his body squirming in her arms. Her lips curved into a teasing smirk with her fingers tickling her baby's chubby tummy, making him giggle loudly.

Amidst the playful atmosphere, the living room was filled with the sounds of laughter and joy. Mokka's contagious giggles echoed through the air as Emma's fingers danced across his chubby tummy, eliciting more delighted squeals from the little one.

As Emma continued to tickle her baby's tummy, she couldn't help but glance over at the trio engrossed in the horror movie. Izana, with his stoic expression, seemed to be the least affected by the film's suspenseful scenes. Shinichiro was peeking through his fingers, a mix of fear and fascination evident on his face. Mikey, despite his earlier pout, was now engrossed in the movie, chips forgotten.

The contrast between the lightheartedness in her arms and the tension on the screen brought a smile to Emma's lips. She shared a knowing glance with her baby, who was now squirming with excitement and reaching out to touch everything within his tiny arms' reach.

With Mokka's curiosity piqued, Emma gently set him down on a soft blanket spread on the floor. His big, curious eyes scanned the room, taking in the sights and sounds. He wobbled on his chubby legs, arms outstretched for balance, and let out a triumphant squeal as he took a wobbly step forward.

Seeing her baby's determination, Emma knelt down, her hands ready to catch him if he stumbled. Mokka's small hands grasped her fingers, his round face lighting up with accomplishment. Together, they took a few more wobbly steps, each one marked with sheer determination and joy.

Meanwhile, the horror movie reached a climactic scene, accompanied by gasps and exclamations from the trio on the couch. Emma's attention was divided between her family's reactions and her baby's adorable progress.

As the movie's tension finally eased, Mikey looked over with a sheepish grin, his earlier jealousy now replaced with amusement. The room seemed to exhale collectively as everyone relaxed from the suspense, and Emma found herself wrapped up in the love and connection that defined their moments together.

With a happy sigh, she scooped Mokka up into her arms, pressing a gentle kiss to his rosy cheek. As their eyes met, Emma and her baby shared a silent understanding—a bond between mother and child that transcended words.

And so, in the embrace of her family's laughter, Mokka's giggles, and the warmth of their shared love, Emma felt a profound sense of happiness that she knew would stay with her forever.

As the evening wore on, the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow through the windows of the living room. The room took on a cozy ambiance, the soft lighting mingling with the remnants of the laughter that had filled the air.

Emma gently settled Mokka into his playpen, where he eagerly grabbed at colorful toys and explored their textures with his tiny hands. The sounds of his happy babbling added to the cheerful symphony of the room.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Emma turned her attention to the trio on the couch. Izana, who had initially maintained his stoic demeanor, was now snacking on chips with a faint smile playing at his lips. Shinichiro had tucked a throw pillow over his face during the movie's intense moments, peeking out every now and then to gauge the scene's intensity. Mikey had finally torn his gaze away from the screen, amused by his nephew's antics.

Leaning against the doorway, Emma crossed her arms and grinned playfully at her family. "Well, seems like the horror movie marathon has turned into a comedy with our little star on the stage."

Shinichiro sheepishly removed the pillow, his pale cheeks flushed with both embarrassment and amusement. "Hey, I can handle horror movies, it's just… a lot of suspense, you know?"

Mikey chuckled and ruffled his hair. "Yeah, yeah, you're just a big softie at heart, big brother."

Izana gave a nod of agreement, his eyes holding a warmth that contrasted with his usual seriousness. "Indeed, it's refreshing to see the little one's laughter balance out the tension."

As they exchanged teasing banter and laughter, Mokka's curious eyes turned towards the sound of their voices. He reached out with chubby arms, as if wanting to join in the merriment.

Emma couldn't help but chuckle at her baby's eagerness. She walked over to the playpen and scooped him up once more, holding him against her hip. "Looks like someone wants to join the party."

Mokka's eyes sparkled as he babbled in response, his tiny hands reaching for the faces around him. Emma shared a knowing smile with her family, a silent acknowledgment of the joy that this little one had brought into their lives.

The rest of the evening unfolded in a perfect blend of togetherness and happiness. Mokka's giggles intertwined with the adults' conversations, creating a symphony of love and connection. The horror movies were eventually replaced by a lighthearted comedy, and even Shinichiro found himself chuckling at the antics on the screen.

As the night grew darker, Emma settled Mokka down for bed, his eyelids drooping as she gently rocked him in her arms. The rest of the family shared goodnight wishes before dispersing to their respective rooms, leaving behind a sense of warmth that lingered in the air.

In the quiet moments that followed, as Emma watched her baby drift into slumber, she felt a deep gratitude for the bonds that held them all together. Their love and laughter were a reminder that amidst life's challenges, there was always light and joy to be found.

And so, in the embrace of the night, surrounded by the soft whispers of dreams and the echoes of shared laughter, Emma found herself feeling truly blessed.

[iydiamartinx]

THE TODD-LER PROBLEM

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader ft. batfam

divider by: cafekitsune & omi-resources word count: 2.9k synopsis: Jason gets hit with a magical regression spell during a mission and ends up… five years old. Still foul-mouthed. Still somehow armed. a/n: Don't ask me how or why I wrote this, it just happened... warning: This is utterly unhinged, its a crack fic

There were many things you expected when you opened your apartment door at 3 a.m.

Your boyfriend, Jason Todd, in full gear. Shrunken to approximately three feet tall. And trying to pick your lock with a paperclip. was not one of them.

You blinked once. Twice. “…Jason?”

The tiny figure looked up, scowling, with his tiny leather jacket zipped to the chin and a modified red helmet under one arm. His helmet was clearly a custom fit because you were almost certain someone on the team had taken the time to resize his gear. Probably Tim. Or Alfred. Or Jason even himself after he’d been cursed into a fun-sized menace.

He tilted his head. “Took you long enough.”

You stared. “You’re three feet tall.”

“Yeah?” he snapped, voice high-pitched but filled with all the rage of a war vet denied his nap. “Well you’re late I've been knockin' forever! an’ I’m cold, and some guy in a sparkly cape turned me into a—” he waved a tiny hand wildly— “a frickin’ gremlin!”

You stared in mild horror.

“I mean child!” he corrected, stomping past your legs and into your apartment like he owned it. “A frickin’ child. I have to use a stool to pee. I’m livin’ in hell.”

“Excuse me—”

He pushed past your legs like an angry little linebacker. “Also, someone tried to feed me carrots at the manor. Carrots. Like I’m a damn rabbit. I had to escape.”

“Jason, are you seriously—”

“—And Alfred was this close to making me take a bubble bath.”

You raised a brow. “You love bubble baths.”

“Adult me loves them. Toddler me has dignity.”

You shut the door with a sigh, already regretting every life choice that had led to this moment. “Fine. One night. But if you pee on anything, I’m calling Bruce.”

30 MINUTES IN...

You stared at the miniature version of Jason Todd standing dead center in your apartment. You still hadn’t gotten over the fact he was now a child.

He stood with his arms crossed. Eyebrows furrowed. Scowling so hard his little nose scrunched up. The resized red helmet was sitting crookedly on his head, and somehow, somehow, he was still wearing a tiny leather jacket like it was battle armor.

“Jason,” you said slowly, kneeling down to his eye level, “where did you get the gun?”

His eyes narrowed, suspiciously smug. “Trade secret.”

“Jason.”

He pouted. “You left your sock drawer unlocked.”

You blinked. “My sock drawer doesn’t have—”

Realization dawned.

You groaned, standing up and rubbing your face. “You hid weapons in my sock drawer?”

“Of course I did,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What if you got mugged doing laundry?”

You turned on your heel, already pulling out your phone. “Zatanna needs to reverse this spell immediately. How is his five year old self more dangerous than his adult one.” You muttered to yourself. 

From behind you, Jason stomped his tiny boot. “I am not five! I’m five-and-a-half!”

You didn’t even look back. You just sighed and started texting Alfred for backup.

And possibly restraints.

Or duct tape.

Maybe both.

ONE HOUR IN...

You found him in the kitchen standing on the counter—barefoot, wild-haired, and determined. His tiny arms were stretched high above his head, fingers pawing at the top shelf with the sheer willpower of someone who believed they could reach it if they just tried hard enough.

“What,” you asked slowly, “are you doing?”

“I want Oreos,” he said, like it was obvious.

“There are Goldfish crackers right there,” you offered, gesturing to the open box on the counter beside him.

He looked at you like you’d insulted his ancestors. “I’m not a toddler. I have standards.”

He took them with both hands, giving you a small, pointed sniff of derision—as if your earlier suggestion of Goldfish had been not just offensive, but a personally insult.

Then, without another word, he hopped off the counter and disappeared down the hallway like a sugar-fueled cryptid preparing for war.

TWO HOURS IN...

You finally managed to corral him in front of the television, queued up some harmless cartoon with talking animals, and tiptoed into the kitchen to make yourself a much-needed snack.

When you came back, the cartoon was gone and you found him watching John Wick 3 with unblinking intensity.

You stared in horror. “You are not allowed to watch this.”

He didn’t flinch. “Too late.”

You snatched the remote from the armrest. “You’re five.”

“Five an’ a half!” he shouted, voice pitching up in outrage. “An’ I know all ‘bout vengeance! I lived it! Lemme watch Keanu!”

“No.”

“I will bite you.”

“You already did!”

He smiled. “And I’d do it again.”

You lunged for the remote.

He let out a feral shriek. The sound pierced the air like a banshee’s war cry. There was a flurry of motion, limbs, and one elbow jabbed directly into your ribcage. The remote went flying.

Somehow… you lost.

And there he was, not ten minutes later, curled in a blanket like a smug little gremlin, happily finishing John Wick 3.

You sighed, already pulling out your phone to call in reinforcements.

Alfred picked up on the first ring.

“Please tell me patrol is over,” you whispered, glancing warily toward the living room. “I need backup. Immediate. Preferably armed with sedatives and maybe a priest.”

There was the soft clink of a teacup on saucer before Alfred replied, calm as ever. “Master Grayson and Master Drake should be available in a few hours.”

You groan, “Anyone sooner?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” He said.

You hung up and returned to the living room.

Jason was kicking his feet now, reclined like royalty, humming the John Wick fight music under his breath. Every few seconds he’d mutter something like “yeah, get him, Keanu,” or “double tap, baby,” as if he were part of the director’s commentary.

By the time 300 started, he had risen.

He stood on the couch with all the solemnity of a war general addressing his troops, fists clenched at his sides. Then, with zero warning, he let out a piercing battle cry—“SPARTAAAAAA!”—and began hurling Goldfish crackers across the room like they were flaming javelins.

You didn’t bother trying to stop him.

You just slid slowly down the wall, sat on the floor beside the fridge, and accepted your fate.

THREE HOURS IN...

You were gone for five minutes.

Five.

You’d left him watching Love Island.

He’d finally—finally—fallen asleep, sprawled across the couch. The soft drone of British contestants filled the apartment, and for a precious, fragile moment, there was peace.

Just enough to sneak off for five minutes. That was all the time it took to use the bathroom and splash some cold water on your face in the vain hope that you could survive another hour of this gremlin-sized Gotham menace.

When you returned, Love Island was still playing on the TV and Jason was nowhere in the living room. 

“Jason?” you called out.

You heard a noise come from the kitchen

Your stomach dropped.

You rushed in, skidding to a halt just inside the doorway.

The drawer was open.

That drawer.

The one that held the scissors.

The duct tape.

Your spare burner phone.

And, apparently, your last shred of peace.

You turned around slowly—already feeling the weight of regret in your bones.

Tiny Jason stood proudly in your hallway wearing a cardboard chest plate, duct-taped shoulder pads, and your colander on his head.

He raised a wooden spoon like a sword. “I’m Red Hood 2.0,” he declared in a voice that was both too high-pitched and far too serious. “Call me… Lil’ Death.”

You stared at him in exhausted horror.

“…Where’s the rest of the duct tape?”

He gave a wide, toothy grin.

“In mah hair.”

Of course it was.

FOUR HOURS IN...

Alfred had finally sent backup.

It was Damian.

By that point, you didn’t care—anything to give you ten minutes of silence and the chance to remember what breathing felt like.

And for the first ten minutes, it was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

You froze in the hallway, a familiar sense of foreboding slithering down your spine.

Then came the scream.

“YOU LITTLE DEVIL!”

Tiny battle cries echoed from the living room, followed by the unmistakable clang of steel meeting something very much not steel.

You ran in to find Damian standing on your coffee table, sword in hand, while Toddler Jason swung at his legs with a plastic baseball bat wrapped in duct tape and thumbtacks.

“WHAT IS HAPPENING?!”

“He challenged me,” Damian snapped, breath steady as he parried a wild swing with the flat of his blade.

Jason bared his baby teeth, eyes gleaming with chaotic glee. “He tried to steal my Oreos and called me a baby!”

“Because you are,” Damian barked, deflecting another spoon-wrapped strike. “This is undignified!”

“I’m a toddler, you rich goblin!”

You slapped a hand to your forehead. “Jason, drop the bat.”

“NEVER!”

“Damian, he’s five!”

FIVE HOURS IN...

Damian was still on the windowsill, arms crossed, radiating hatred like a heat lamp.

He hadn’t spoken in nearly an hour. Not a single word since the incident—the one where he lost to a sugar-crazed toddler wielding a thumbtack-wrapped baseball bat and unyielding vengeance.

You knew that silence. Knew it too well.

He was plotting something. You just didn’t know what.

Not that you had time to dwell on it—because that was when backup number two finally arrived.

The door swung open and in walked Dick and Tim, both dressed down but wide-eyed, scanning the wreckage of your apartment like first responders to a war zone.

Jason—still pint-sized, still radiating the unholy combination of espresso and anarchy—lit up like a demonic Christmas tree at the sight of them.

“Well, well, look who finally showed up,” he chirped, spinning once in his little leather jacket and cardboard armour. “The Backstreet Boys of Disappointment!”

Dick froze mid-step. “I—what?”

Tim looked at you with the tiredness of a man who’d seen too much. “Is he still feral?”

“Worse,” you muttered. “He’s refueled. He ate three cookies and found my instant espresso jar.”

Dick’s eyes widened. “You gave him caffeine?!”

“I didn’t give him anything! He’s a damn toddler who still retained his lock picking skills!”

Across the room, Jason twirled dramatically and pointed at Tim. “Timmy,” he sing-songed, “wanna play hide and seek? I’ll hide… you seek therapy.”

Tim blinked slowly. “You’ve created a monster.”

You pointed at him with your coffee. “He was with you all when this happened.”

Jason pivoted toward Dick, eyes glinting. “Hey, Disco. How’s that permanent sidekick gig goin’? Still doin’ flips no one asked for?”

Dick narrowed his eyes. “You wanna go, tiny man?”

Jason smirked. “Bring it, Jazz Hands.”

And that’s all it took.

Two minutes later

Jason darted between them like a pinball on fire.

Tim lunged with a blanket like he was trying to trap a wild animal. Jason bit straight through it.

Not metaphorically—actually bit through it.

Dick went in next, trying to cut him off with a broad lunge, but Jason hurled a half-full sippy cup at his face with terrifying accuracy. It burst on contact. Sticky apple juice everywhere.

From the windowsill, Damian observed the descent into madness with narrowed eyes and smug silence. Like an evil cat waiting for the moment to pounce.

He chose his moment well.

With a cry of, “FOR HONOR AND BLOOD!” Damian vaulted from the sill into the fray.

He mostly landed on Tim. But the intent was there.

You stood in the doorway, clutching a first aid kit in one hand and your last shred of sanity in the other. It was unclear which would run out first.

Jason popped up from behind the couch like a goblin jack-in-the-box, eyes gleaming with the unholy thrill of chaos. In one hand, he wielded his modified bat like a sword. In the other, a full roll of duct tape, raised like a grenade.

“I DECLARE A BLOOD FEUD!” he roared.

Tim yelped and ducked just as the tape roll whizzed past his head and smacked into the wall with a dull thunk. “He almost took my eye out!”

“WHO GAVE HIM NEGAN’S BAT?!” Dick yelled, backpedaling fast as Jason swung in his direction with surprising force for someone who barely cleared three feet.

“He made it,” Damian grunted, trying to deflect the strike with a throw pillow.

The swing knocked the pillow clean out of his hands.

In the scramble to dodge the next blow, Dick and Damian collided—feet tangled, limbs flailing—and crashed to the floor in a graceless heap.

“WHO’S THE SIDEKICK NOW, SUCKERS?!” he cackled, arms thrown wide like a gladiator demanding cheers from the crowd.

On the floor below him, Damian and Dick groaned in tandem, still tangled in a heap of limbs and wounded pride.

You stood safely behind the armchair, one hand gripping your phone, filming the chaos. Might as well have some blackmail for later.

“You’re going to regret this when you’re big again,” you warned, deadpan. 

“I’LL REGRET NOTHING!” Jason howled, launching himself into Tim’s back like a rabid possum.

Tim shrieked, flailing. “GET HIM OFF! HE’S IN MY HAIR—HE’S IN MY HAIR!”

“He’s like a feral koala,” Dick muttered, as he untangled himself from Damian.

Jason clung tighter, teeth bared, voice giddy with power. “Say sorry for the replacing me and I’ll only ruin your eyebrows!”

“Are we seriously doing this now?” Tim, flailing, shouted, “I didn’t replace you! You died!”

Everything stopped.

For half a second, the air went dead silent.

“TIM!” you and Dick shouted in unison, horrified.

Jason’s response was to let out a piercing shriek of righteous indignation.

“YOU VOTED ME OFF THE ISLAND!”

“WHAT DAMN ISLAND?!”

From the floor, Dick wheezed, “We need to start a support group.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “You’re all weak.”

“I don’t see you winning against him, demon spawn!” Tim barked, still trying to dislodge Jason from his spine. “You surrendered three minutes in!”

“I did not surrender,” Damian snapped.

Tim finally managed to pry him off with a desperate twist and a shove, sending Jason rolling back onto the couch in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

Everyone froze.

Jason huffed, catching his breath where he lay sprawled on the couch. His curls were tousled, cheeks flushed, eyes glittering with unspent mischief. For one brief, shining moment, it almost looked like the storm had passed.

Dick rose to his feet slowly, warily, hands lifted in surrender.

“Okay,” he said, breathless but hopeful. “Can we finally all just… relax—?”

You took a cautious step forward, narrowing your eyes as you noted the look on his face. “Jason. What are you doing now?”

He turned to you slowly, far too slowly, a smile already creeping onto his face.

Dick glanced over, confused, just in time for Jason to pivot on his heel.

“THIS! IS! SPARTAAAAA!!!”

And then his tiny foot shot up and kicked Dick square in the jewels.

Dick dropped like a sack of bricks, letting out a high-pitched strangled wheeze as he crumpled back onto the floor.

“…Who let him watch 300?” Tim groaned, not even pretending to be surprised anymore.

You winced, trying not to look at Dick who was curled into a fetal position.

Jason raised his arms, victorious. “TONIGHT, WE DINE IN—WHAT’S THAT PLACE WITH CHICKY NUGGIES?!”

“…McDonald’s,” Dick croaked weakly from the floor.

Jason nodded solemnly, his reign unquestioned.

“McDonald’s.”

SIX HOURS IN...

You were exhausted.

The apartment looked like a toy store had exploded. There were still thumbtacks embedded in the coffee table, juice stains on the ceiling, and possibly a spoon lodged in the bookshelf. You didn’t want to know.

The others had practically fled—limping, muttering, and swearing.

And Jason? Jason had finally agreed to get ready for bed after a long, drawn-out battle of wills that involved one timeout, two bribes, and exactly ten minutes of him growling about how “Peter Parker wouldn’t last five minutes in Crime Alley.”

Now, he sat on the couch, arms crossed and sulking in a pair of oversized Spider-Man pajamas—the only ones you’d been able to find. His curls were still slightly matted from duct tape, and there was a Band-Aid on his cheek from another brawl he’d got in with Damian.

He glared at you over the rim of his sippy cup.

“This not over,” he mumbled darkly. “I know where you sleep. I’mma get payback.”

“Sure you will, Jason,” you said, trying not to laugh.

“I’ll put ketchup in your shoes.”

You tucked him in on the couch, pulling the blanket around him as he curled up like a tiny, angry cinnamon roll.

He muttered something else under his breath, unintelligible, mostly grumble. “…Night-night,” he muttered, already half-asleep. 

THE NEXT MORNING...

Jason woke up full-sized, shirtless, confused, and sprawled across your couch.

 He blinked up at the ceiling, brow furrowed, throat dry.

“…What the hell?”

You strolled in, far too cheerful for someone who had survived a toddler warlord just a few hours prior. You tossed your phone into his lap.

You strolled in, tossing a phone into his lap.

“Morning, Lil’ Death. I made a slideshow.”

He looked down at the photos. There he was—pouty, covered in crumbs, mid-battle with his brothers, wearing  cardboard chest plate held together with masking tape and colander strapped to his head like a war crown. One had him dead asleep with his face smashed into a pillow, cuddling a stuffed penguin.

Jason groaned into his hands. “Kill me now.”

“I’d rather show Bruce.”

His head snapped up. “You wouldn’t.”

You grinned. “Wanna bet?”

[fluff-n-cookies]

soft yan! Dadzawa Head canons

SPOILERS DONUT DO NOT READ also contains light swearing

• Aizawa is the type of person to hold the Cat in his arms So you can pet it, since it's too big for you to hold. it Just makes his Day when he sees the way your eyes light up when you hear the cat start to purr.

• we will also wrap you up in his scarf if you even say it's too cold. (you and Nezu are scarf buds!) Just say the word and he's rolling out the sleeping bag and prepping to make your favorite hot chocolate with the extra whipped cream and cat marsh mallows and we all know he has all your favorite cartoons for the two of you to binge together!

• however, like most things, it's not perfect.

• a good example of this is that Aizawa likes to have you nap on his lap as he is grading papers.

BUT YOU WANT A BEDTIME STORY

and Aizawa tries his best but he will probably come up with a story worthy of being a german fairy tale. (translation: there are no happy endings, sorry.)

BUT AIZAWA IS SMART ... enough

most of the time he ends up reading to you Denki and Mineta's test answers. and by the time he's done you're asleep.

and then his mind starts to wander,

you just remind him so much of Oboro

how you always manage to light up the room with your smile, how you always manage to be pretty Badass yet kind, and how you always care for others so deeply.

he won't let you go, not this time.

some times, he'll lay awake at night sitting on the couch just curled up into a ball just thinking about the future, when he's all old and wrinkly, maybe you'll be a beautiful young lady (oh who am I kidding, ofc your will! some of you are! others are just beautiful!)

then will you leave him?

that's when he gets up to go look at your photo album. from when you were a newborn, to now, when you are a toddler.

that's when he comes to the conclusion, you may older, but he will always be your dad, he will always protect you.

sometimes Eri joins him, and draws hearts around the ones with you and her, or you Aizawa and her.

likes helping you do your hair, braids are his favorite, but he'll do any hair style as long as it's not too hard.

Aizawa loves you, nothing more than that <3

[neonbonded]

Fatherhood Is a Full-Contact Sport

♡ ft. Caleb, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus x fem!reader ♡ cw: dad!headcanons, domestic chaos, tag-team toddler warfare, sticker abuse, ego injuries, public humiliation (soft), wife-led mischief ♡ a/n: you didn’t mean to start a war… but once your kid picked a target, you had to support them. teamwork makes the dream (dad meltdown) work.

Caleb

It starts with the socks.

You and your kid exchange a look over breakfast—just a slight twitch of the eyebrow, a smirk over toast—and Caleb should have known. He should have.

But he’s got stars in his eyes and jam on his fingers, and he’s too busy cutting your kid’s pancakes into perfect little hexagons to notice you’ve already swapped his socks.

They’re pink. With glitter hearts. And the words “#1 Trophy Husband” stitched in sparkly thread.

He puts them on without looking.

And then?

Operation: Bully Dad begins.

—

Phase One: Language Manipulation. You teach your kid to call him “Captain Cranky.”

Every time he sighs? “Okay, Captain Cranky.”

When he says no to dessert? “Ugh, classic Captain Cranky.”

He stares at you like you betrayed him. You just sip your coffee.

“I am not cranky,” he mutters.

From under the table: “You’re literally pouting right now, Cap.”

—

Phase Two: The Snack Swap. He reaches for his favorite protein bar in the pantry.

Finds a note instead.

"Too slow, Captain Cranky. We needed it more. For… missions"

He spins around.

You and your kid are already on the couch. Sharing it. Making dramatic yum noises.

“I swear to god, you two are a menace.”

You both say it at the same time: “A menace to CRANKY.”

—

Phase Three: The Betrayal. He finally gets a break. He’s lying on the floor with your kid on his chest, playing spaceship noises.

It’s quiet. Peaceful.

Then your kid leans down and whispers: “Mommy says you talk in your sleep. About kissing her toes.”

His eyes FLY OPEN.

You’re across the room, hiding a smile behind a throw pillow. “I said what I said.”

He groans and drags both of you onto the floor with him. “Unbelievable. My own family.”

You grin. “You love it.”

He kisses your temple, then your kid’s forehead. “You have no idea.”

Xavier

It starts with a whisper war in the hallway.

You and your kid peek around the corner like spies on a stakeout—clipboard in hand, checklist ready.

Mission Objective: Tease Daddy Until He Short Circuits.

Xavier is at the kitchen counter, pouring cereal into the mug he always insists is “just more ergonomic than a bowl.” He’s wearing socks with swords on them. A gift from you. He takes them very seriously.

You circle “Target Acquired.”

—

Phase One: The Wrong Name Game. Your kid walks in casually.

“Hey, Xylophone.”

Xavier glances up. “Hello.”

No reaction.

Not even confusion.

So your kid tries again, louder. “I said Xylophone.”

Xavier frowns faintly. “Yes. I heard. Are we experimenting with sound-based naming systems today?”

You lose it from the hallway.

—

Phase Two: Sticker Warfare. This one’s your idea.

While Xavier’s reading on the couch, your kid climbs into his lap with all the innocence in the world—and slowly starts covering him in dinosaur stickers.

One on his cheek.

One on his temple.

A brontosaurus on his neck.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch.

Finally, he blinks over his book. “Is there a… theme?”

“Jurassic Daddy,” you say sweetly, passing by.

He nods thoughtfully. “Very well.”

Doesn’t even take them off.

—

Phase Three: The Hidden Alarm. Your kid sneaks your phone into Xavier’s jacket pocket.

Sets a timer.

In two minutes, it’ll go off. Loud. In the middle of him doing birdwatching on the balcony.

He’s squinting into the trees, focused and serene—until a digital duck quack blares from his coat.

He freezes.

Then calmly pulls out your phone, stares at it like it’s a new lifeform.

“...Is this my punishment for using your mug?”

You and your kid high-five from the doorway.

—

That night, you’re brushing your teeth when you feel arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your hair.

You smile at his reflection. “Even when we bully you?”

He hums. “Especially when you work as a team.”

He’s got a triceratops still stuck to his sleeve.

You leave it.

Rafayel

It starts because Rafayel wouldn’t let your kid put googly eyes on the blender.

A crime, truly.

So now?

You’re at war.

You and your mini-me form an unholy alliance before breakfast. The mission is clear: mess with Rafayel all day. Confuse him. Fluster him. Bring him to his knees (with love, obviously).

—

Phase One: The Sketch Swap He leaves his current canvas in the studio—half-finished, ethereal, probably titled Longing for Lemuria II: A Study in Violet Silence.

You and your kid sneak in.

When he returns, the dreamy mermaid now has a mustache. And laser eyes. And a speech bubble that says “My dad has stinky feet.”

He gasps like you physically struck him.

“You defiled my muse?!”

You shrug. “Consider it a collaboration.”

Your kid adds: “We made it better.”

He puts a hand to his chest. “You’re both going to artist jail.”

—

Phase Two: The Fashion Sabotage He goes to pull on his favorite pants—the flowy, artsy ones with the embroidered moons—and finds they’ve been replaced with hot pink yoga leggings from your drawer.

You: “I think you could rock them.”

Your kid: “Slay, bestie.”

He stares at the pants.

Then stares at you.

Then changes into them like a man on a catwalk.

But he’s muttering the entire time. “This is emotional abuse. I’m filing a glitter-based complaint.”

—

Phase Three: The Cookie Theft He opens the cabinet for his secret stash of lavender shortbread.

Finds an empty tin and a note inside:

“Stolen in the name of justice. Your blender crimes have consequences. —The Chaos Coalition”

He screams. Loudly. Then walks dramatically into the living room and collapses across the couch like a Victorian woman fainting on a chaise.

You toss him a goldfish cracker.

He glares.

Then eats it.

—

That night, he pulls you close in bed, head on your chest.

“I hope you both know,” he whispers, “that I am keeping a list.”

You run your fingers through his hair. “Of what?”

“Every emotional injury I sustained today.”

Your kid peeks in the doorway. “You forgot we replaced your shampoo with whipped cream.”

He gasps.

But honestly?

He’s never felt more loved.

Zayne

It begins when he finds his stethoscope floating in a bowl of cereal.

“Do you have a reason,” Zayne asks slowly, very calmly, “why my hospital equipment is now... infused with oat milk?”

Your child blinks up at him. “It was cold and needed a bath.”

You, from across the kitchen: “Honestly? Sound logic.”

He closes his eyes. Sets the stethoscope on the counter. Says nothing.

That was your warning shot.

—

Phase One: Renaming the Routine

You and your kid refuse to call anything by its normal name.

Zayne walks into the room, setting his laptop down with surgical precision.

You: “Look out. The Ice Cube Cometh.”

Your kid: “All hail Frost Daddy.”

Zayne: “I am literally holding your dental insurance forms.”

You both clap like he told a joke.

He blinks. Once.

“...What’s happening right now?”

—

Phase Two: The Hospital File Swap

He opens his neatly labeled folder before work.

Finds a glittery drawing titled “ME + MOMMY + FROST DAD = BESTIES FOREVER 💖”

Also, you’ve replaced his bio with:

“Zayne: World’s Coldest Softie. Will cry at piano music and is afraid of butterflies.”

He reads it. Stares at the paper.

Puts it back.

And takes it to work anyway.

—

Phase Three: Sticker Surgery

He showers. He gets dressed. He puts on his favorite button-down.

Then glances in the mirror—and freezes.

There’s a little cartoon Band-Aid sticker on his jawline.

Purple. With a smiley face.

You don’t even try to hide your laugh.

His jaw tics.

“I’ve conducted heart transplants with less sabotage than I face in this household.”

You pat his cheek. “And yet, you’re still so lovable.”

“Debatable.”

—

At bedtime, he’s halfway through folding laundry (into immaculate rectangles, obviously), when your kid leans against his side.

“Hey Dad?”

“Yes?”

“We bullied you good today.”

He pauses.

Then quietly nods.

“You did.”

You sit beside him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“But you liked it.”

“…No comment.”

You kiss the spot beneath his ear. “Tomorrow we’re calling you Doctor Cuddles.”

He exhales. Resigned. But soft.

“…Fine. But only inside this house.”

(You do not respect that boundary.)

Sylus

It starts before 9 a.m.

Sylus—warlord, tactician, red-eyed nightmare of the underground—walks into the living room fully dressed for a meeting with a black-market arms dealer.

Hair slicked. Suit sharp. Brooch in place.

You and your kid are waiting for him.

He stops. Narrow eyes. Tilt of the head. Suspicion.

You smile sweetly.

Your kid lunges forward.

And slaps a bright pink unicorn sticker onto his briefcase.

Dead center.

Sylus just… stands there.

“…Is this meant to be intimidation?”

You: “We’re marking our territory.”

Your kid: “Now the bad guys will know you have backup.”

He looks down at the sticker.

Then at you.

And says absolutely nothing.

But he takes the damn briefcase.

—

Phase One: Name Disrespect

He’s mid-hologram conference when your kid walks in, climbs into his lap, and announces to the entire Onychinus leadership:

“This is Mr. Grumpy Fangs. He doesn’t like it when I boop his nose.”

Sylus doesn’t even flinch.

Keeps talking about supply routes like there isn’t a giggling toddler poking his cheek on live cam.

Later?

He finds out you recorded it.

You send him the clip labeled:

“POV: You’re a villain and your child is your boss.”

He replies with one word:

“Traitor.”

Phase Two: Crow Brooch Chaos

You’re in the middle of folding laundry when your kid comes sprinting in, giggling with something clenched in one hand.

Minutes later, you hear Sylus’s voice—flat, deadly.

“Why… are there googly eyes on my crow?”

You don’t even look up. “Balance. Every villain needs a little whimsy.”

He turns to your kid. “Did you do this?”

“Team effort,” they chirp.

Sylus glares at the glittery-eyed brooch sitting on his chest.

Then sighs.

And doesn’t take it off.

Until hours later.

(He leaves it on his desk. Keeps looking at it.)

Phase Three: Tactical Sabotage

He walks into the war room.

Finds the giant wall map—his map—covered in crayon scribbles.

He blinks.

“Did someone… add butterflies to the Northern quadrant?”

Your kid: “It needed joy.”

You: “And balance.”

He stands there in silence.

Then mutters: “You’ve both become a security threat.”

You blow him a kiss.

That night, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, jacket off, tie loose.

You crawl into his lap, wrapping your arms around him. “Did we push you too far today?”

He grumbles something unintelligible.

Then rests his forehead against yours.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

You kiss him slow. “We know.”

He exhales.

“…You’re not going to stop, are you?”

“Nope.”

Your kid shouts from the hallway: “TOMORROW YOU’RE GETTING GLITTER STICKERS!”

He closes his eyes. Bends his head to your shoulder.

And mutters:

“I should’ve stayed in the shadows.”

(He never means it.)

[formulafanfics13]

Hello!!! I freaking love your work!! 💞💞

I was wondering can you make a one shot with Max verstappen where he breaks up with Kelly because they aren’t working any more they never get pregnant. But then he meets reader and he falls in love with her and they start dating. Reader ends up pregnant and they have a baby girl. And one day he takes reader and their daughter to one of the races and she like 3 yrs old now. But they run into Kelly and Penelope. Penelope runs up to him and hugs him and baby girl does not like it and she runs up to her and try’s to push her away. Saying “my daddy my daddy!!!”

My Daddy - MV1

Masterlist

summary: after years with kelly, max finally admits it isn't working. the love's faded. the future never came — no kids, no spark, no soft ending. they part quietly. then he meets you. and for the first time in years, he feels. falls. builds a new kind of life. and when your daughter — his daughter — storms the paddock years later to claim her daddy like a tiny warrior queen, even kelly has to admit: max found what he was missing. warnings: breakup (max x kelly), mentions of infertility/no kids, pregnancy, birth, soft dad!max, reader is unnamed/undescribed, toddler jealousy, emotional vulnerability, soft smut implied, lots of domestic sweetness, happy ending

The house is too quiet. It has been for months.

Max knows it's over long before either of them says it. Before the final talk. Before the suitcase.

Kelly moves like a ghost through the Monaco apartment, tidy, present, perfectly poised. But never warm. Never laughing. Never there. They don't fight anymore. Don't fuck either. Haven't in months.

Penelope's always the buffer. The anchor. Not his biologically, but god, he tried to love her like his own. Still does. But it's not enough.

They don't talk about the things that matter. Don't dream. Don't plan. She stopped looking at baby names. He stopped asking her to come to races.

When he says it, "I think we both know this isn't working anymore", she doesn't argue. Just nods. Soft. Sad. And that's it. Years end in silence.

It takes a long time for him to let anyone in again. Until you.

You don't try to fix him. You just show up. Soft. Fierce. Real. He doesn't even realize how bad it was until you love him differently. Loudly. Quietly. Completely.

The first time he sees you asleep in his bed, drooling a little with your mouth open, hair a mess, he thinks: I'm going to marry her.

He never says it out loud. Doesn't need to. You kiss him like you already know. When you get pregnant, he cries. Actual, shaking sobs. Head in your neck, hand on your belly.

You think it's fear at first. But he just keeps whispering, "I didn't think I'd ever get this." "I thought it wasn't for me." "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

He builds the crib himself. Picks the wallpaper. Buys ten different versions of the same pacifier just to make sure.

She's born in the middle of the night. Loud lungs, full head of hair, stubborn as hell. He doesn't stop staring for hours. He holds her like she's made of stardust and miracle dust. She has his eyes.

You name her together. A quiet decision, whispered through tears and laughter. Something soft. Strong.

She sleeps on his chest every night that first month. Even when the season starts again, he brings her to races, wears her little face on a chain around his neck.

She says "dada" before "mama." You don't mind. She's his whole world.

Silverstone is chaos. Max hasn't brought you both to a race in months. But she's three now, sharp as hell, full sentences, opinions, questions, and she begged.

"Wanna see Daddy drive fast," she'd said, arms crossed like a tiny general. "And wear my green dress. And my red headphones. And my sunglasses. And my boots."

Max just laughed and said, "Yes ma'am."

So here you are. Monaco heat but England air. Red Bull hospitality. Sunglasses. Sunblock. Little boots clomping around like she owns the place.

She's glued to Max's side. Fist curled in his race suit. Mini water bottle in one hand, toy car in the other. Cameras eat it up. The grid goes feral. There's a hundred memes within the hour.

The caption: MAX'S MINI ME.

Everything is perfect. Until it isn't. You don't see her at first. Kelly. In the motorhome. Talking to someone near the Red Bull fridge. Penelope beside her. Taller now. Quiet. Older.

Your daughter doesn't recognize them. But Penelope sees Max. Runs. "MAXY!!"

She throws her arms around him before he can react. It's pure affection. Familiar.

But your daughter does not understand. She sees another girl touching her daddy. Her Max. And that's when she screams.

"NO!" she shouts, boots stomping, hair flying as she runs over. "MY DADDY! MYYY DADDYYYY!"

She full-body launches at Penelope. Not to hurt. Just to shove. Tiny fists against her arm.

Max pulls her back instantly. "Hey, hey, baby- it's okay."

But she's crying now. Red-faced. Snotty. Hysterical. You rush over, scoop her into your arms.

"She's not yours," your daughter wails. "He's my daddy! Go 'way!!"

Penelope is frozen. Startled. Kelly walks over, calm but tight-lipped.

"It's okay," Max says again, kneeling to your daughter's level. "P's just saying hi, love. You're my girl. You always will be."

She hiccups. Sniffles. Clings.

Kelly finally speaks. "You've got a fiery one."

You glance up. Smile small. "Wonder where she gets it from."

Max smiles too. "All her mum."

There's a beat of silence. Then Kelly nods. "She's beautiful." You mouth thank you. And then it's over.

Penelope waves goodbye. Kelly disappears into a PR tent. Max carries your daughter back toward the garage, her boots thudding against his thighs as she rests her cheek on his shoulder.

You fall into step beside him. "She really said mine, huh?" you murmur.

He chuckles. "She really did."

"She gets that from you."

"She gets everything from me." He grins. "Except the good stuff. That's all you."

Your daughter lifts her head sleepily. "No fighting. I get all the stuff." 

You and Max both laugh. And as he presses a kiss to your forehead, paddock chaos swirling around you, you know, without question, this is the family he was always meant to have.

[tiki-was-here]

Me when I’m reader a x luffy fic and the writer genuinely makes him so fucking stupid that it feels like the reader is taking advantage of him. It just makes me so mad I can’t even fully explain it.

Like we knoooowwww he’s a bit aloof but why the hell would I want to have sex with someone who doesn’t even know what sex really is? And I’ll be clear here— I understand that some people write their readers to be morally questionable but this is simply not the case when it comes to these fics.

Luffy probably has more than a couple screws loose but he’s not genuinely stupid and incapable of understanding mature topics. It’s not cute to have a grown ass man acting like a child when you’re putting him in a sexual context.

Idk if I’m the only person who feels this way but it’s so disgusting eugh

[anisangeldust]

Thinking about girl!dad Anakin

“That comfy babygirl? M’kay. Your mamas gonna be back with some food soon and we’re gonna have a picnic..” he settled on a blanket behind your year and a half year old daughter as she busied herself fisting at grass chunks of the soft Naboo flower fields.

It was the late afternoon in lake country, the gentle aroma of wildflowers bursting in the wind and infiltrating the senses of your young daughter. The sun was less harsh, beating rays now only whispering over the pinky horizon. Anakin gently carded his real hand through the soft curls of your daughter’s hair while she giggled and babbled at nothing in particular.

“Babwa! Rahhh vwwa!” Anakin chuckled as her chunky arms flailed in telling - what he can only presume - was the greatest re-telling her little mind had ever cooked up. “Uh huh. And how did that make you feel?” Anakin nodded along to her nonsense. Ever since she had found the ability to produce sound, he’d been obsessed with her every noise, listening intently to words he didn’t understand, having conversations that went nowhere.

Even losing arguments he wasn’t aware he instigated.

Turning her attention away from the plush meadow, her big eyes locked on her most favorite thing in the galaxy, his durasteel hand. “Dada! Bawpa? Nana!” She squealed in delight as her fat fingers tried to take off the heavy leather glove. Above all toys you’d been prepared to get when she was born, Anakins hand was the only toy on or off the list she truly cared about. Like mother like daughter.

“Sweetheart we’ve been over this. Daddy needs this. It’s not a teether. Would you like your binki?” Anakin takes her hands off his glove and reaches for the small bag you’d packed. Before he could look away, her eyes got glossy and her lip quivered like she’d been betrayed to the worst extent. “Da.. da.?” Her tiny voice cooed.

Anakin was a soft man at heart. Your daughter (who had oh so conveniently inherited your eyes) knew how to tug at his soul better than anyone, and she knew it too. He was weak for her teary wants. “Okay sweetpea. How about my glove? No hand but glove?” He offers while unclasping the buttons, and immediately the tears vanish “Dadaa!”

“She plays you like a fiddle and you fall for it every time.” You giggle as you come up to your husband and daughter with all the proper picnic accoutrements.

Anakin beams as you approach, no longer paying attention to how your daughter is, in fact, gnawing on his cybernetic finger. “What can I say? She’s my favorite little lady in the universe. You both are..” he mumbles as he leans in for a kiss.

[invincibledc]

TODDLERTWIN!READER IMAGINE‼️

ToddlerTwin!reader who is trying to ignore toddler!damian who is pulling on their sleeve. Damian had accidentally ate reader’s last cookie, making the toddler puff and huff. Damian then starts to cry loudly, not liking the silent treatment as Alfred picks Damian up. Damian glares at Alfred while yelling “no! Down!” As he pushes a chubby hand against the butler. Alfred sighs and puts Damian back down to not make the tantrum even worse. Damian goes over to his twin and sit down with a hard thump. Annoyed at being picked up, he plays with reader’s hand. Making the ticklish reader giggle. That soon makes the other twin, Damian laugh as he keeps tickling reader.

Alfred can only smile as he walks to the kitchen to make more cookies