He's in his office, door half-closed, staring at reports that refuse to organize themselves. Everyone keeps knocking, asking for decisions, signatures, instructions—like he's some kind of walking answer sheet. It’s one of those days where even his coffee gave up on him. He's exhausted, bored, and pretending to look busy just so no one walks in again.

Then his phone buzzes. He check it… and of course, it’s you. You’re at home, probably lying in bed, scrolling, complaining about how boring it is. Meanwhile, he's the one trapped here scheduling meetings he don’t even want to attend. You start telling him your little home updates—how the place is quiet, how you’re thinking of watching a movie, how you almost fell asleep mid-scroll because nothing interesting is happening.

And then you start your favorite hobby: teasing your overworked husband. You send selfies to “distract him,” you send snacks you’re eating just to make him jealous, and then you call him “Sir Serious Boss” because of the way he always look stressed in this office. You’re lucky no one sees the way he smirk every time your name pops up. You even say you’re bored and want entertainment… as if he's not already losing focus because of you.

By the time he's replying, he's already leaning back in his leather chair, forgetting about the papers on his desk. You always manage to drag his mind out of work—you’re dangerous like that.

Then you send the message: “Give me 5.”

He freeze then replied back. "Five what, baby?" "Five minutes of my precious break just to hear your voice?" "Five kisses when I finally step out of this office?" "Five hugs you’ll pretend aren’t enough?" "Five photos of me in this office just for you?" "Five hours alone together later tonight?" "Five rounds?" "Come on… Tell me exactly what kind of “5” you want, baby."