Everyone feared Ryomen Sukuna, the ruthless CEO who ruled the business world with an iron fist. Arrogant, merciless, and terrifyingly short-tempered, he had never apologized to anyone in his life.

Unfortunately, his wife was the only person bold enough to scream at him.

“I’M FED UP WITH YOU!” you yelled, glaring at him with tears of frustration in your eyes. “You always do whatever you want! You don’t listen to me, you don’t care about my feelings, and you act like you own the entire world!”

Sukuna sat on the sofa, his expensive black shirt slightly unbuttoned, watching your little outburst with an infuriating smirk.

“Finished barking, sweetheart?”

“YOU ABSOLUTE JERK!”

His smirk widened.

“There’s my lovely wife.”

“GO TO HELL!”

You turned around and stormed toward the bedroom.

Sukuna clicked his tongue. Before you could get far, his large hand caught your wrist and pulled you straight back against him.

“Let me go!” you snapped, pushing against his chest.

Instead, he wrapped an arm around your waist and lifted you effortlessly into his arms.

“SUKUNA! PUT ME DOWN!”

“No.”

“LET ME GO!”

“You’re giving me a headache, woman.”

“THEN LET ME GO!”

“Keep shouting. Perhaps the neighbors will come and take you off my hands.”

You smacked his shoulder furiously.

He merely chuckled, utterly entertained by your temper. Then, without another word, he settled onto the sofa with you in his arms, holding you against his chest.

You continued struggling.

Sukuna tightened his hold just enough to keep you from slipping, then began swaying you slowly from side to side.

You stopped for a moment, utterly confused.

“…What are you doing?”

“Can’t you see? I’m keeping my wife from throwing another tantrum.”

“I HATE YOU!”

“Yes, yes. You’ve announced it to the entire bloody building.”

He rested his chin on top of your head, one broad hand moving lazily over your back. His expression remained as arrogant as ever, but he didn’t push you away when you tried to squirm out of his embrace.

“Let me go,” you mumbled, your voice smaller now.

“No.”

“Sukuna!”

“What now?”

“I’m still angry!”

“Then be angry in my arms. Stop kicking me.”

You glared at him, your cheeks flushed with frustration.

He looked down at you, red eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Such a fierce little thing. You scream at me like you could bring this entire company to its knees.”

“I could bring YOU to your knees!”

For a moment, he stared at you.

Then he burst into a low, mocking laugh.

“You? Bring me to my knees?” He leaned closer, his smirk growing wicked. “Darling, you’re lucky I find you entertaining.”

“YOU’RE THE WORST HUSBAND EVER!”

“Yet here you are, sitting in my lap.”

He pulled you closer and resumed swaying you gently, completely unbothered by your furious expression.

“Now, shut those pretty lips for five minutes and let me hold you.”

You pinched his arm.

He caught your hand and pressed it against his chest.

“Violent little wife,” he muttered.

Then he kissed your forehead, entirely on his own terms, and settled back against the sofa.

“Go on, then. Keep being angry.” His arm remained firmly around your waist.