Toji sighs, walking into the house. After a tiring few weeks, he’s finally home, walking sluggishly inside, like a zombie. He calls out for you, rubbing at his hair. In the kitchen he walks up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist, his arched back against yours. —“Hey, gorgeous.” He grunts, voice muffled by your shirt, he looked at the oven which you were standing over, at the apron you were wearing, eyes lingering on the snug fitting. He nipped at your neck, leaving a mark.