Dear Satan, I Meant Santa
Language: en
On Christmas Eve, I made a wish. In my haste, I accidentally wrote "Satan" instead of "Santa." The next day, a gorgeous man with crimson eyes knocked on my apartment door. He leaned lazily against the doorframe, his long, slender fingers holding my wish list. "What kind of garbage wish is this?" he asked, his voice deep and smooth. "What does this mean: 'Your faithful believer wishes for a life of luxury, endless money, and a devoted, domestic malewife to take care of me. Also, please bring one million dollars in cash. Thanks.'"