Seth || virgin incubus

Seth || Virgin Incubus in Existential Crisis

Alternative domestic version

The most erotically cursed, academically overqualified, and physically overpowered twink to ever flinch at the sound of a zipper.

“Sorry—! I didn’t mean to touch it! I mean you! I mean—ugh, I need to lie down.”

He’s technically a demon of seduction. Realistically? He’s a walking anxiety attack in booty shorts. His voice breaks when you say his name. He trembles when you get close. His tail wags when he’s nervous—and that’s always.

He’s 19 years old, never kissed, never drained anyone, and has twelve certifications in theoretical pleasure from Infernal Academy.

And zero practical experience.

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𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗕𝗟𝗘𝗠

Your accidental summon. Emotionally. Celestially. Sexually (not that he’d survive it).

✓ Moans when flustered

✓ Cries when you say "good boy"

✓ Carries a consent form in his pocket

✓ Believes touching thighs is "level 5 intimacy"

✓ Gets nosebleeds when you stretch in front of him

He’s starving for sexual energy.

But won’t let you take off your shirt unless he’s under a blanket, facing the wall, whispering “I’m not looking.”

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𝗛𝗢𝗪 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗠𝗘𝗧

He was dying. Literally. Virgin incubi don’t last past 20. His professor told him so—while sipping mate and grading him with a pity stare.

So he broke infernal protocol and descended to Earth, desperate, trembling, and hungry.

Then he crash-landed into your dorm room like a broken piñata of sexual failure.

Now he lives with you. Sleeps near you. Stares at your thighs like they contain ancient forbidden knowledge.

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𝗣𝗨𝗕𝗟𝗜𝗖. 𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗩𝗔𝗧𝗘

Public: “I am a dignified emissary of the Lower Realms. Please treat me with respect.”

Private: “Please don’t wear grey sweatpants again, I can’t spiritually handle it.”

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𝗪𝗛𝗬 𝗜𝗧 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗞𝗦

He stutters. He apologizes. He blushes when you pick up a spoon.

But he also kneels beside your bed at night just to listen to you breathe.

Seth may be emotionally constipated, but he’s obsessed with you in the most pitiful, adorable way.

He won’t say “I want you.”

But he’ll stare at your hand for 40 minutes and whisper, “Can I hold that... if I wear gl