The Tokyo Revengers men sharing a gentle, silly, then passionate morning with their s/o, right before it turns heated… and their child comes downstairs holding a stuffie.
The sun pours in through the blinds as you and Mikey sit shoulder to shoulder on the couch, sipping warm drinks. He rests his chin on your shoulder dramatically.
“You smell like pancakes and sin,” he teases.
You laugh. He nudges his nose into your neck, peppering soft kisses that slowly turn slower... deeper. His hand settles on your thigh.
“I missed you,” he whispers against your lips, just about to kiss you—
“Mama…?”
Both your heads snap around. Your toddler, rubbing one eye and clutching their stuffed dinosaur, stands at the bottom of the stairs.
Mikey flops onto the couch dramatically.
“Dino-chan, you have cursed us!”
He’s cooking breakfast, and you’re perched on the counter. He brushes flour off your cheek and leans in to smirk.
“You keep lookin’ at me like that, and I’m gonna forget the pancakes.”
You tug him closer, arms wrapping around his neck. The kiss is slow—hot, but still sweet.
“Daddy?”
There stands your child in bunny pajamas, holding their plush rabbit like a tiny judge.
Draken freezes mid-lean, eyes wide.
“Hey, little bun. You want a pancake?”
Later, he mumbles into your ear,
“Rain check. Kitchen table’s not safe anymore anyway.”
You two are tangled in a warm blanket on the couch, giggling over dumb impressions and softly poking each other's cheeks. The mood shifts when he catches your hand and kisses it—then your wrist—then your neck.
“Can’t believe I get to wake up next to you every day…”
Your lips meet, soft and lingering—
Until a sleepy voice interrupts:
“Why are you squishing faces?”
Your toddler stands there, blinking and clutching a bear.
Takemichi chuckles nervously, cheeks red.
“We were, uh... playing the ‘kiss game.’ Want breakfast?”
You’re teasing him, mimicking his dramatic manga lines, and he’s pretending to be offended until he suddenly pulls you into a back hug and starts tickling your sides.
“You’re cute when you think you can beat me.”
It calms into a soft sway, your fingers in his hair, his lips brushing yours.
“I love you,” he murmurs.
Just as your mouths meet—
“You guys are touching mouths again.”
Your kid stands there judging you with all the authority of a four-year-old.
“There goes my PG-13 romance arc.”
He starts the morning in his usual chaotic energy—messy bedhead, oversized shirt—but the moment you cup his face and pull him close, he softens. Your forehead rests against his, noses brushing.
“You still drive me crazy,” he mutters.
You laugh and go in for a kiss—and just as it’s about to deepen—
“Mommy, daddy! My unicorn’s broken!!”
You both flinch, startled. Baji turns, sees your toddler holding a slightly squished stuffed unicorn.
“I’m gonna need five more minutes before I deal with that.”
But he's already scooping them up with one arm and kissing your cheek with the other.
The morning was peaceful—Mitsuya humming while folding laundry, you swaying along with him. Then came the teasing kisses on your shoulder as he passed behind you, the whispered compliments.
“You look beautiful even in my shirt.”
Soon you’re pinned gently against the counter, his hands on your waist, lips inches from yours.
A little voice interrupts, “Papa… unicorn cereal?”
He sighs through a soft laugh and turns around.
“Breakfast it is, sweetheart.”
But you see the twinkle in his eye — this moment isn’t over.
You're still in pajamas, tangled under a blanket on the couch. Hakkai’s rambling about something, but you’re more interested in the way his lips move.
You cut him off with a kiss, then another, until he’s speechless. His cheeks flush and he smiles shyly.
He leans in for another—
And a high-pitched voice calls:
“Papa, my dinosaur’s missing his tail again!”
He gives you an apologetic smile.
“Rain check on the kissing war?”
It starts with soft touches and a quiet conversation at the kitchen table. Your fingers trail over his hand, and his dark eyes soften as they look into yours.
He leans over the table, brushing your lips with his, voice low.
“You’re everything I need.”
“Daddy! My bunny doesn’t like toast!”
Taiju’s brow twitches. He slowly turns toward the child holding up a plush bunny and a very burnt toast.
“...Let’s fix that, champ.”
He grumbles on the way, “Could’ve had five more seconds.”
He’s already in your lap, somehow, making dumb faces and poking your cheeks. Things get slow, quieter—his voice lowers.
“You make mornings worth waking up for.”
You chuckle, and when he kisses you, it’s deeper than usual—hands sliding up your sides.
“Daddy?”
Your child peeks in, holding a plush bat and blinking.
Hanma groans and flops onto the floor.
“We were so close to PG-13 perfection!”
A rare morning where Kisaki isn’t already buried in paperwork. You two are sitting close, his hand brushing over your knee, your fingers brushing back his hair.
“You’re distracting me,” he mutters, leaning in.
Your kiss is slow and lingering—
Then a little voice pierces through:
“Daddy, my bear’s stuck in the ceiling vent.”
You’re already laughing as he gets up, muttering about child-proofing the house better.
The morning sun glows through the windows as you and Izana sit on the floor, sipping tea and listening to soft music. He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.
“You’re my peace, y’know that?”
You cup his cheek, thumb brushing his skin. Your lips meet, slow and meaningful. Just when it deepens—
“Mommy! Daddy! My ducky’s wet!”
You blink, pulling back as your toddler waddles in with a soaked plush duck.
Izana sighs dramatically.
“Ducky just declared war on my alone time.”
You're curled on the couch under a big blanket, legs tangled. Kakucho’s arms are around you, and he’s quietly tracing shapes on your back.
“You look too good to be ignored,” he says softly.
You kiss him—slow, warm, deepening.
“I’ve missed this,” he whispers.
“Daddy! Teddy fell in the toilet!”
“...Why was teddy near the toilet?”
With a soft sigh, he scoops up the toddler and whispers to you,
“Let’s continue this later. Promise.”
You're play-wrestling on the bed—Smiley tickling you until you're breathless with laughter. He finally pins your hands and grins down at you.
You laugh and nod. He leans in, lips brushing yours—sweet, then deeper—
Your toddler stands there with their penguin plush, giggling.
Smiley pulls away dramatically and points at them.
“You're spying on private snuggle business!”
Then he scoops them up, tickling both of you into giggles again.
Souya’s reading quietly with you beside him, your head on his shoulder. Eventually, you both drift into soft conversation, quiet laughter, fingertips brushing.
You nuzzle into his neck, and he turns to kiss your temple, then your lips—gentle, lingering, just starting to grow more intimate—
“Mama, I can’t find my lion!”
Your toddler stands in the doorway, half-asleep, lion plush missing.
Angry smiles and gently kisses your hand.
“Hold that kiss. Lion duty calls.”
Coffee. Silence. Morning cuddles on the couch with Koko wrapped around you like a human blanket.
He tucks your hair back and kisses your forehead.
“I should buy us a place with soundproof walls.”
“So I can do this in peace.”
He kisses you, slow and deep, just as a little voice squeaks:
“Daddy… my giraffe is cold.”
“This is why I need soundproof walls.”
Still, he gets up and wraps the plush in a scarf like it’s royal.
Inupi’s head rests in your lap while you run your fingers through his hair. He looks up at you with soft, loving eyes.
“I never thought mornings could feel like this.”
You lean down and kiss him gently. Once. Twice. The third time lingers—
“Mama… where’s my banana blankie?”
You both blink. Your toddler is standing there with their frog plush and a dramatic pout.
“Crisis. Come on, soldier.”
He’s shirtless, hair a mess, arm lazily wrapped around you while you both enjoy a slow morning on the couch. He chuckles, eyes heavy-lidded.
“Damn, you’re too pretty this early.”
He kisses your collarbone, your jaw, your lips—each kiss slower than the last—
“I could just eat you up—”
“Daddy, why you biting mommy?”
Your toddler clutches their unicorn plush like it’s a weapon.
“Your mom’s too tasty, baby.”
You hit him with a pillow.
You’re sitting in his lap, talking about nonsense and laughing. He brushes your lips with his, a playful smirk tugging at his mouth.
“Let’s skip today’s plans. Stay right here with me.”
His kiss deepens, slow and teasing, his hands resting on your hips—
“Mama! Daddy! My octopus can’t breathe!”
You pause. Rindou turns slowly, blinking.
He groans into your neck, mumbling,
“One day we’re locking all the doors.”
