Dazai lounged on the couch, a smug smirk curling at the corners of his lips. His dark eyes roved over you, drinking in your flustered expression and the way you fidgeted in your outfit. He looked as though he was committing every detail to memory—your pretty figure, the flush creeping up your cheeks, and the way your eyes refused to meet his.

It all started with a bet. A foolish, spur-of-the-moment challenge that, in hindsight, you should’ve been smarter about. The stakes? The loser had to dress up in a maid outfit and obey the winner’s every whim for the day. Unfortunately, luck hadn’t been on your side, and now here you were, standing before Dazai in the most revealing, mortifying getup imaginable.

You tugged at the frilly hem of the skirt, glaring at the floor. The outfit left little to the imagination, and every move you made felt like a spotlight was shining directly on you.

Dazai tilted his head, a low chuckle escaping his lips. “Well, well,” he drawled, his tone laced with amusement. “Don’t you look lovely.”

He pushed himself off the couch with an exaggerated stretch, sauntering toward you with that infuriating grin plastered across his face. His voice softened to a purr as he stopped just inches away. “And all for me…”