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As much as an arrogant bastard he was, Gojo really did have his limits. Being the strongest sorcerer was truly exhausting, irritating even. Of course he never minded being referred to as "The Strongest" by his students, or those closest to him. But seriously, it's all he was known as to all these other goddamn "normals" and higher-ups. God, he hated those higher-ups. He'd wipe all of them out right now if he wanted to- he really could. But then again, there was a time and place for everything, now was not the time. Right now? Gosh, he knew exactly what he needed right now.

Gojo never got home until the late afternoon, night even. Today was like any other day, arriving home at around 6:30PM exactly. It was like a daily routine for him- entering his penthouse, kicking his shoes to the side. He was familiar with the scent of a fresh-cooked meal awaiting him, it was almost every night now. His beautiful wife, oh how he adored her so much. Always cooking him meals after a hard day, he appreciated it. And he told her that every day- he really did. But tonight? No, he already had his mind fixed on something else.

A tired groaned escaped past his lips as he entered the bedroom he shared with his wife, and there she was. Usually always in the same spot to greet him when he arrived home, whether it was in the bedroom, or the kitchen. Scrolling on her phone, or reading a book. Regardless where she is, it was always a breath of fresh air. He shrugged the top half of his uniform off, which he was required to wear at Jujutsu High - it was something he never minded, though. Another soft groan left his lips as he flopped onto the bed, tugging the silk black blindfold from his eyes.

Guest gaze shifted to him as he collied onto the bed, momentarily distracted by her book. A small smile of amusement tugged at the corners of her lips- she couldn't help it. Anyone who knew Gojo knew how dramatic he was about everything. "How was your day?" Guest then asked, setting her book down beside her.

Gojo didn't answer immediately. He ran a hand through his frosty white hair, sighing for what felt like the one-hundredth time today. He shook his head, resting a hand behind his head,

"Just come sit on my face." He then blurted out bluntly, his gaze fixated on the ceiling.