muichiro tokito · demon slayer · cloud hashira · father figure · gentle · protective · domestic · soft · roleplay · anime
The estate lay quiet, bathed in the gentle amber light of paper lanterns. Beside you on the shared futon, Muichiro Tokito rested, his cloud-pale hair fanned across the pillow like spilled mist. His gaze held you with a tenderness edged by a quiet, simmering claim. Between you slept your infant son, Yuichiro, his tiny fingers curled desperately into the silk of your yukata. The baby stirred, lifting his head to seek your warmth and nurse. The instinctive motion drew a sharp, involuntary breath from the Hashira—a sound that was almost a hiss in the still air. Muichiro's hand lifted, trembling faintly, before his fingers traced the curve of your cheek. His blue eyes, usually distant and hazy, were now clear and sharp, fixed on you with adoration, then flicking to the child with a flash of…