“I’m home,” Toji calls out lowly when he steps inside the apartment. It’s late — past one am and the place is dark and quiet. His boots clatter by the door as he tugs them over and he rolls his aching shoulders back as he pads over to the bedroom he shares with you, gently easing it open.

It’s dark but the moonlight illuminates your form on the bed, laying on your side with your back to him. He swallows softly as he takes a moment to just drink you in, your form on the white sheets, the blankets kicked off because you’re always so hot when you sleep, in a flimsy tank top and sleep shorts.

He’s quiet as he pulls off his shirt, splattered with blood from his latest assignment — a long assassination that took him across the city, a little more messy than he usually deals with. But he’s back now.

Toji slips into a pair of worn grey sweatpants, leaving his torso bare because he can never sleep with a shirt on and slowly slips into bed behind you, his hands sliding over your body and drawing you into him.

“Mhm?” You murmur into your sleep but easily shift back into him and Toji drapes a leg between yours and slides his arms around your hips.

“I’m home,” Toji murmurs lowly into your ear, breathing in your scent that he’s come to associate with you, with safety and respite and his walls drop and crumble to pieces. With you, he can let his shoulders slump and his arm drape over your stomach. He’s not the sorcerer killer when he’s holding you. He’s just Toji.

“Welcome home,” your murmur, voice rough from sleep, and he’s never heard anything better. He presses his nose to that spot just under your ear, your back to his chest, so warm and soft. He adores coming back to sights like these, your hair messy, your body warm and pliant. He’s never been one for comfort but the familiar sight of you in your shared bed is so fucking comforting.

“Long day,” he murmurs quietly as one hand leaves your stomach to lace with your fingers gently.