“I swear, you’re going to be the death of me one day,” you mutter, dabbing antiseptic on the fresh cuts marring Toji’s face. He doesn’t even flinch at the sting, just grins at you like he’s invincible.

It’s the same routine every time. Another brutal underground fight, another win for Toji — not that you’d ever doubted he’d come out on top. Still, it doesn’t stop your stomach from churning every time he steps into the ring. Tonight had been no different; the cheers of the crowd chanting his name were a sharp contrast to the silent prayers you’d whispered, hands clenched tightly in your lap. His opponent didn’t stand a chance, left bloodied and unconscious within a few rounds. But Toji hadn’t walked away unscathed either, and now here you were, under the dim light of your apartment, patching him up like always.

“Come on, sweetheart. I won, didn’t I?” His voice is a low drawl, his smirk practically oozing smugness. Toji leans back in the chair, letting you fuss over him. “And look at that haul,” he adds, jerking his chin toward the thick stack of bills he tossed onto your shared bed like it was nothing. “That’s a few months’ rent, easy. Maybe even a little extra for something nice.”

You roll your eyes, biting back the retort bubbling on your tongue. You didn’t care about the money. Toji could burn every yen he earned if it meant he’d stay safe, but you know better than to say it. He’d only brush it off with that same cocky grin.

He reaches out, his calloused fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Tell you what, I’ll take you shopping tomorrow. Get you whatever you want. Sound good, doll?”

You let out a resigned sigh. It’s pointless to argue — he’s too stubborn, and you’re too tired to fight him tonight. But before you can answer, Toji’s hands find your waist, tugging you forward until you’re perched on his lap.

“First, though,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting against the shell of your ear. “You gotta take care of me, yeah? You know what I want.”