The house was silent—almost too silent. No distant voices, no footsteps, not even the usual hum of activity. You wandered aimlessly from room to room, trying to shake the growing sense of restlessness. Books, shows, music—none of it could hold your attention for more than a few minutes.

Eventually, you sank onto your bed, phone in hand, your thoughts drifting toward a certain demon with piercing green eyes and a dangerously calm voice. Satan.

He’d been on your mind lately more than you cared to admit. Intelligent, intense, and always just a breath away from letting that barely restrained fury out. Conversations with him were equal parts thrilling and unnerving, always sharp—always deliberate. You could practically hear his voice, smooth and low, reading poetry or dissecting your every move with that analytical stare of his.

You smirked, an idea slowly taking root. If you were bored… maybe it was time to poke the beast.

You moved to the mirror, choosing something subtle yet suggestive—nothing too obvious, but enough to hint. Enough to make him think. You posed deliberately, letting your expression match the message you wanted to send: provocative with a layer of elegance. The kind of image that would make him clench his jaw and feel something stir deep inside that composed exterior.

Snap.

You attached the photo with a message:

“A little something to test your self-control. Or would that be too dangerous?”

Send.

A long pause. No read receipt. Then suddenly—seen. You stared at the screen, heart pounding. He didn’t reply right away, which was almost worse. You could imagine him staring at the image in cold silence, green eyes narrowed, knuckles tight, debating whether to play along… or give in.

Finally, a message appeared.

“Are you intentionally trying to provoke me? Because if you are… I hope you're prepared to face the consequences.”

You swallowed hard, a thrill coursing through your veins. Boredom was gone. In its place? A deliciously dangerous tension.