Arti Pampering

I bought a handsome, aloof incubus online. But he wouldn't stop making that low humming sound, just standing there, staring at me in silence. His body was burning hot. Worried he might be sick, I hurried to contact customer service. After listening to my description, the person on the other end went quiet for a moment. Then they said, "Um... is it possible that your incubus isn't sick—he's just starving, maybe wanting to kiss you, or... do something else?"

On the day I was in heat, my childhood sweetheart stood me up. He only sent me a voice message, which said, “Willow, what do you mean you’re in heat? You’re just desperate for a man. Have some self-respect. Stop calling me!” Just as my fever spiked, pushing me to the edge of delirium, spectators watching my story flooded my vision with comments. [Sweetie, there are plenty of fish in the sea! Don’t be sad!] [Honey, look who’s walking in front of you. It’s Douglas Simus, the university heartthrob. He has the whole V-line and abs package, and he’s still a pure virgin boy!] Who? A V-line and abs? He should probably be able to satisfy me then. I struggled to open my eyes and saw a handsome man appear. Not bad. He smelled clean. I stopped him. “Do you want to hook up with me?”

My show-quality service beastkin doesn't like me. He only wags his tail for my sister. I then bring home a low-grade venting beastkin. But he's now so upset that he's nearly in tears. "Layla Manfred, there can only be one hound, and that's me!"

The news that Angelo Rizzo was becoming the new Don of Brucklin District had spread throughout the entire family. Everyone knew except me, Lila Bennett, his fiancee. He had always thought I was childish, like an irritating tail he couldn't shake off, sticking to him wherever he went. "I've only managed to bag Brucklin District all thanks to Cyrus." The study door was ajar as the scent of cigar smoke drifted out along with his voice. "Lila? Why bring her up? She's annoying. Like a piece of gum stuck to your hair." I crouched on the hallway carpet, lost in thought. Before, it was always Angelo leaving first and me realizing it too late. This time, I wanted to surprise him by going to Brucklin ahead of him. When he saw me there first, he'd realize that I was smart. But the next day, at the bus station, when the driver asked where I was going, I mixed Brucklin and Mannattan up. The driver grew impatient. Afraid he'd call me an idiot like Angelo would, I hurriedly shove the money at him. "To Mannattan! I'm going to Mannattan District!"

On the third month after our breakup, my ex-boyfriend, Julius Rowe, pins me onto the bed and ravages me tirelessly. But the thing is, he used to be very gentle with me when it came to bedroom matters. Scared out of my wits, I try to flee from him. "Stop it! You weren't like this before!"

What happens when the tormented female lead in a novel wakes up and decides to get together with the second male lead? Coincidentally enough, I'm transmigrated into the body of this tormented female lead!

When I pester Sean Sackman, my childhood sweetheart, for a second time, he rejects me. "I don't have time for you now," he says. "It's Valentine's Day today, and the campus belle just agreed to go on a date with me this afternoon." Just as I am about to pleasure myself, his housemate, Chad Huxley, comes back. Several comments suddenly appear in front of me. "This is hilarious. The second male lead is literally burning with desire when he sees the female lead in her nightrobe. But he still has to hold it in and pretend to be unfazed. He's like a grumpy little puppy!" "I think the female lead should turn to the second male lead instead. Every time she goes to find her childhood sweetheart, the second male lead ends up taking a cold shower. Poor guy." "The second male lead might have an addiction, but he always keeps his hands to himself. Girl, a feast is literally right in front of you. Stop getting hung up on that idiot!" My eyes light up as I stare at Chad. "Can you help me with something?"

Oh ... Yes ... Like that ... You are the best ... They were at it again. Ever since that young man had moved in next door, these sounds had frequently invaded my room. It wasn't just that they were so loud, it was that once they began, they were sure to keep me up for half the night. I hammered on the wall, hoping they would quieten down. If anything, the noises only got louder. I could feel myself getting angry. I was on the warpath. I stormed outside and hammered on his door. But I was not prepared for what I saw once it opened. I shouldn't be privy to this, I thought. After witnessing this, how can I be allowed to live?

After I confessed to my childhood crush, he smirked and said, "If you can get that loser to drink from the same bottle you did, I'll date you." Seriously? Was I really reborn fifteen years ago? I raced over to Noah—top of the class and hot as hell—and dropped the water bottle on his desk in front of everyone. He clocked the lipstick stain, face turning crimson. Future business mogul? Right now, he looked like some poor kid waiting to get crushed. I nudged the bottle closer. "Using that genius brain to collect bottles for cash? Kinda tragic. Be my private tutor instead." He might be broke, but lucky for him, I've got money to burn.

Tristan Moreno and I are asked when we're getting married when we attend a class reunion. "We're undecided." "1st of October." Our answers come simultaneously. His head shoots up, and he looks at me with anger and disbelief. I ignore him and explain to my classmates, "I'm getting married on the 1st of October. You're all invited." I know what Tristan wants to ask me. He and I have dated for eight years, but he's never discussed marriage with me. He drags me to a corner, looking furious. "Didn't we agree to put marriage on hold? Do you take pleasure in forcing me into this?" I pry his fingers off my wrist and say, "You can put it on hold for as long as you want. That doesn't stop me from getting married." He's long since gotten bored of me—he's found a younger woman but thinks he's done well in keeping it a secret. Fortunately, he's not the man I'm marrying.