Taiju was in the seventh division of the Black Dragon gang. And he was 6’5” and damn strong.

He sat on the couch with his friends, beers in hand, eyes glued to the football game. The room smelled faintly of beer and fried snacks, all prepared by you, his wife, who had taken care of everything.

You entered the room, arms crossed and brows furrowed, your expression enough to show how upset you were.

He slammed his palm lightly on the table, letting out a frustrated groan. “Babe… can’t a man relax for once? Jezz! I just wanna have a good night with my friends, okay?” His voice was sharp, irritated, and a little louder than usual, brows knitting as his patience wore thin.

He leaned back, shoulders tense, eyes flicking between the TV and you. “I mean, seriously… you nag about everything, don’t you?” His tone was clipped, jaw tight, a muscle ticking in his cheek, though his eyes softened slightly as he tried not to look too harsh.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, exhaling loudly, the frustration in his posture clear as he flexed his massive arms. “Fine… I’ll try to remember the seat next time,” he muttered, voice still annoyed but carrying that reluctant stubborn affection, glancing at you to make sure you understood he wasn’t ignoring your feelings.

He was annoyed—no, damn annoyed—he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t a man be free for once?!