Hashiras!!!
I'm suffering from kny brainrot, so I give you guys these incorrect quotes ✌🏼
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Hiii
It's a strange request, but how would Tanjiro, Muichiro, Sanemi and Giyuu from Demon Slayer react if their wife had triplets? Like at the birth not one, not two, but three babies come out, and they're just like okay, what the fuck?!
Thank you!!!
Kimetsu no Yaiba ~Having triplets~
Manga/anime: Kimetsu no Yaiba
Warnings: nothing
K. Tanjiro
He was already overjoyed at the prospect of having a child with you, and he weeps the moment the first baby is born, embracing you gently, rubbing his cheek against yours without a thought for the sweat and then planting a kiss on your cheek
However, he'll turn literally pale the instant the midwife realizes there are two more babies yet to be delivered, and he'll immediately grip your hand again, trembling with a mix of surprise and excitement
When he finds himself holding three little bundles, barely able to support them all, he'll stare at them motionless for a few seconds, eyes wide, but then a huge smile will break across his face and tears will stream down as he'll pull his children even closer
His legs will shake as he'll look at you, thanking you for giving him another family to protect, so much he'll have to sit down on the edge of your futon (without ever letting go of his little babies, of course)
It won't matter to him whether they'll be all boys, all girls or a mix: what matters will be they're healthy and live happy lives, protected by their formidable dad and their sweet mom
T. Giyuu
For a man who feels he doesn't even deserve to live, the news of your pregnancy had already been a massive shock, and the thought of the new life to come had deeply moved him
Yet, nothing will prepare him for the feeling that will wash over him at the birth of first the second and then the third child: after having breathed a silent sigh of relief, thinking the delivery is over, his eyes will fly wide open and his eyebrows will shoot up almost to his hairline
Until the birth is truly over, he'll act like an automaton: mechanically cradling the first baby with one arm while stiffly handing the other arm to you to hold, he'll barely breathe and won't make a sound, even when you squeeze him so hard it cut off his breath
He'll suddenly sink into the chair beside your futon with all three babies in his arms, his legs giving way beneath him, as he'll be gazing back and forth between the infants and your belly, unable to fathom how someone like him could have been given three new lives to protect
"Three... there are three... Thank you for giving me another reason to live..."
S. Sanemi
First of all, the midwife literally kicked him out of the room at the start of labor because he growled aggressively at every groan of pain you let out, doing nothing but agitating both you and her
However, when he hears the baby cry, he bursts right in (even smashing the chair that had been placed to block the door) and squeezes your hand a bit too hard out of sheer happiness and nerves, all while remaining incredibly silent
But the moment he realizes it isn't over, he'll go into a total panic: with the second child, his face will turn bright red, and with the third the veins will bulge in his forehead as he'll scream louder than the babies themselves ("THREE?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! AND WHERE AM I SUPPOSED TO PUT THIS ONE?! I DON'T HAVE ENOUGH ARMS!")
As soon as he realizes his shouting is only making the babies cry more, he'll fall silent instantly, his eyes wide and his hands trembling
His voice will drop and waver slightly with emotion as he'll lean toward you, making a promise he'll intend to keep for the rest of his life: "There are three of them... You did an amazing job... Get some rest, I've got this. Woe betide anyone who tries to touch them"
T. Muichiro
He may have his head in the clouds, but he's fully present during the birth, holding your hand and coaching you on how to breathe properly, yet gazing at you dreamily as he imagines you and his child happy together
When the first baby is born, he's flash a sweet smile, the kind reserved only for you; with the second, he'll tilt his head and look on in confusion, but with the third he'll gaze at you dreamily, in disbelief at what you'll have just accomplished
As the babies lie in your arms, he'll stare in amazement, counting them aloud ("One... two... three... There are three..."), though the reality of it all will hit him like a splash of cold water just moments later
Then, though, his astonishment will give way to barely concealed pride: he'll sit on the edge of the futon, stroking your sweat-dampened hair and praising you with earnest admiration ("You're incredible. I knew you were strong, but three all at once? You're stronger than me. Did you see that? My amazing wife is incredible")
He'll lie down on the futon, ignoring strict protocol, and curl up beside you, wrapping you and the babies in a protective embrace
If you didn't know, the word futon (布団 or 蒲団) literally means "rolled-up mattress." It's the traditional Japanese mattress, still used as a bed today. It's firm, thin and rollable and it consists of several layers of cotton encased in a hand-quilted cover and is available in various thicknesses.
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can you do 'letting you win in a playfight' scenario with muichiro and obanai?
— letting you win. muichiro/obanai
⋆˚࿔ OBANAI IGURO
It started small, it always did with him.
You were sitting together on the engawa, the evening warm and quiet, Kaburamaru curled around his shoulders while you teased him for something stupid.
“I’m just saying,” you said with a grin, “for someone so stoic, you pout a lot.”
Obanai tilted his head, unimpressed. “I don’t pout.”
“Yes, you do. I can see it through your bandages.”
“I don’t.”
You smirked. “You’re doing it right now.”
Before he could argue, you reached out and poked his cheek. That was your mistake.
Because the next thing you knew, he grabbed your hand with lightning speed and tugged you forward until you nearly toppled into him.
“Still think I pout?” he murmured.
You gasped, laughing as you tried to push him away. “You’re so annoying!”
That turned into a light shove—then another—then suddenly you were laughing, him smiling, while trying to push each other over. He tried to catch your wrists but you dodged, managing to grab his sleeve and twist around him, both of you moving in a messy tangle of laughter and half-hearted resistance.
“Admit defeat,” you demanded, grinning ear to ear.
“Never,” he replied, that rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
You wriggled free of his grip, managing to shove him gently back until his shoulders hit the porch post. You pinned his hands, triumphant. “Ha! Got you!”
Obanai blinked up at you—calm, soft, that unreadable warmth in his mismatched eyes.
“Yeah,” he said after a pause, voice low. “Guess you did.”
You laughed and sat back, still catching your breath. “You didn’t expect that, huh?”
He only hummed in response, adjusting his sleeve. “Sure.”
And that’s when Sanemi walked by, towel slung over his shoulder, completely ruining the peace.
He stopped mid-step, glanced at the two of you, and scoffed. “He totally let you win.”
You froze. “…What?”
Sanemi shrugged, already walking off. “Tch. He stopped fighting halfway through. You didn’t even notice?”
You whipped your head back to Obanai, eyes wide. “Are you for real?!”
Obanai sighed, leaning his head against the porch post like he regretted every life choice that led him here. “I was being nice.”
“Nice?!” you said, half laughing, half offended. “You let me win?”
Kaburamaru flicked his tongue, clearly siding with Obanai.
“You looked happy,” he said quietly, as if that explained everything.
You groaned, covering your face. “That doesn’t count!”
He chuckled softly—a sound you didn’t hear often, warm and low. “It does to me.”
You peeked through your fingers, smiling despite yourself. “You could’ve at least pretended to lose.”
He gave you that faint, teasing smirk from behind his bandages. “I did. You just didn’t notice.”
You shoved his shoulder, laughing. “You’re the worst.”
“I know,” he said softly, his hand brushing yours. “But if it makes you laugh like that, I’ll lose every time.”
⋆˚࿔ MUICHIRO TOKITO
It started with a poke. Just one light jab to his shoulder while he was sitting beside you, cloud-gazing like always.
Muichiro blinked slowly, turning his head toward you. “…Did you just poke me?”
You tried to hide your grin. “Maybe I did. What are you gonna do about it?”
For a second, he didn’t move—then, out of nowhere, his hand darted up and flicked your forehead.
You gasped dramatically. “You did not!”
“Oh, I did,” he replied, voice calm but eyes glinting with mischief.
And that was all it took.
Suddenly you were both laughing, shoving each other, grabbing for wrists and dodging hands. It was all harmless—light slaps, quick pokes, the sound of soft laughter mixing with the rustle of grass.
“Stop moving so fast!” you complained, trying to catch his wrist.
“You’re just too slow,” he teased, expression unreadable but clearly enjoying himself.
You huffed and lunged again—this time actually managing to grab him. His balance shifted just slightly, and somehow, miraculously, you ended up pushing him back until he was half-lying on the ground, your hand pressed to his chest in triumph.
“Ha! I win!” you declared, breathless and grinning.
Muichiro blinked up at you, the corners of his lips twitching into a small smile. “Yeah,” he said softly. “You did.”
You sat back with a satisfied grin, brushing your hair out of your face. “That’s what you get for underestimating me.”
He only hummed, propping himself up on one elbow. “Guess I did.”
But as your heartbeat slowed and the laughter faded, you noticed something odd—his breathing wasn’t heavy at all. His uniform wasn’t wrinkled from struggling. His hair, perfectly in place.
And when you replayed it in your head, that last moment… you realized he’d stopped resisting right before you’d “won.”
“…Wait,” you said slowly. “You.. you let me win.”
Muichiro tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Did I?”
“Yes!” you said, half-laughing, half-offended. “You totally did!”
He smiled faintly, eyes half-lidded. “Maybe. But you looked really happy.”
Your cheeks warmed. “That’s not the point!”
He sat up, brushing grass from his sleeve, still smiling that serene little smile. “Then next time, I won’t hold back.”
“Good,” you muttered, crossing your arms.
But when you glanced at him again, he was still watching you—softly, fondly, like letting you win had been his favorite part of the whole thing.
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