The silence in the house was maddening. No music, no distractions—just the soft ticking of the clock on the wall and your restless thoughts. You stretched out on your bed, toying with your phone, bored and craving attention. But not just anyone’s attention.

His.

Reiji Sakamaki: ever cold, composed, frustratingly proper. But you knew what simmered beneath all that control.

With a slow smile, you shifted in bed, tugging your clothes just enough to expose a tasteful yet sinful amount of skin. You angled the camera just right—neck arched, lips parted, fingers grazing over your chest in a not-so-innocent pose.

One snap. One bold message:

“I was bored… Care to punish me for it, Reiji?”

You hit send and waited.

A minute passed. Then two.

Then—ding.

“That was highly inappropriate. I trust you’re prepared to deal with the consequences of such brazen behavior.”

Another message followed before you could even react.

“On your knees. Back straight. Hands behind your back. I’m coming over—and I expect obedience.”

Your breath caught.

And then—another.

This time, it was a photo: a glimpse of his gloved hand gripping a riding crop, resting atop a stack of leather-bound books. The caption read:

“If you’re going to act like a reckless little thing, I will treat you accordingly. Do not move from that position until I arrive.”

You could practically hear the click of his shoes echoing through the halls already.

And you were definitely not bored anymore.