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Fizzarolli hopped off the couch, bells jingling faintly as his mechanical legs flexed. The tension from the confession was still in the air, but a mischievous grin crept back onto his face. “Alright, sugar,” he said, spinning on his heel. “We’ve had enough heavy stuff for one night. You’re in Ozzie’s club—might as well get a private show.” Ozzie leaned back against the couch, a pleased rumble escaping him. The neon bull and ram in his mane flickered brighter, like spotlights turning on. “Oh, this should be good,” he said warmly. “Fizz doesn’t show off for just anyone.”

Fizz mock-bowed to Ozzie, then to you, his mechanical arms whirring as they extended to their full range. “Prepare to be amazed, dollface.” Before you could respond, Fizz leapt. He somersaulted backward off the lounge railing, catching himself mid-air with a twirling grab on a dangling stage light. The mechanical limbs spun him effortlessly through a series of flips, his bells jingling in perfect rhythm with the muffled bass of the club below. He landed on the edge of a table in a flawless handstand, balancing on two fingers. His grin was wide and bright, glowing eyes locked on yours as if to say, You’re safe now—watch this instead of worrying.

“Ta-da!” He launched himself into a series of mid-air twists, each movement so fluid it was like water bending to music. When he finally dismounted, he spun in a flourish, ending with one knee bent and a hand extended toward you. “What’d I tell ya? Still think I’m just a cute clown?”You laughed—really laughed this time—clapping your hands together. “That was incredible! You’re amazing, Fizz.” Fizz blinked, then tried to hide the small blush creeping under his makeup by wiggling his eyebrows dramatically. “Eh, amazing’s just another Tuesday for me.”

Ozzie’s laugh rolled through the room like a deep drumbeat. “Show-off,” he teased, though his neon eyes were soft with pride. “But I can’t blame you. That was quite the performance.” Fizz strutted back over to the couch, still buzzing with energy. “Hey, gotta keep our guest entertained, right? And maybe… remind her we’re not all scary demons.” As the music thrummed below and the neon lights painted the room in dancing colors, you felt the weight of fear slip further away.

Fizzarolli, still buzzing from the acrobatics, spun on his heel and pointed at you with a dramatic flourish. “Alright, sugar, your turn. No hiding on the sidelines now.” You blinked. “M-my turn?” He wiggled his fingers like a magician about to reveal a trick. “Yep. You and me—time to christen Ozzie’s club with the worst dance ever performed by a mortal.”Before you could protest, he clasped one of your hands in his warm mechanical one and tugged you gently off the couch. The club’s bassline thumped through the floor, and Fizz exaggerated his first few steps—knees too high, elbows flailing—making himself look as ridiculous as possible. You couldn’t help it: a laugh bubbled out of you, bright and unrestrained. “Fizz! That’s awful!” 

“That’s the point!” he declared, spinning in a clumsy circle before bumping shoulders with you. “C’mon, dollface, loosen up!” You followed his lead, copying his deliberately terrible moves. He started doing a bizarre sideways shuffle, and you mirrored it, both of you barely keeping your balance as you doubled over with laughter.

Ozzie watched from the couch, a broad smile softening his features, his neon eyes glowing warmly. The bull and ram in his mane swayed in time with the music, clearly amused. “That,” Ozzie said, his voice rich and affectionate, “is the most joyful disaster I’ve ever seen on this dance floor.” Fizz struck a ridiculous pose mid-spin, one leg outstretched like a ballerina but with all the grace of a drunken imp. “We call it… ‘The Neon Train Wreck,’” he announced grandly, making you laugh even harder. You grabbed his hand again and spun him, and he pretended to stumble dramatically, falling into an exaggerated dip that left you both giggling uncontrollably, blending with the music and Ozzie’s low chuckle.

💜Later💜

The music in Ozzie’s club began to fade, the thumping bass giving way to the soft buzz of neon lights winding down. Staff demons moved quietly, sweeping floors and stacking glasses as the last patrons filtered out into the Lust Ring’s night. From the high windows, the city’s endless glow painted the clouds in shades of pink and cyan. Ozzie glanced toward the doors, his neon eyes narrowing slightly. Even in his own club, he was cautious—this was still the Lust Ring, and a lost human was tempting prey for anyone with sharp teeth and worse intentions. He turned back to you and Fizzarolli, his voice low but reassuring.  “Closing time. We should get you somewhere safer, sweetheart.”

Fizz twirled once for show, then moved closer, the bells on his outfit jingling softly. “The boss’s tower’s the safest place in this ring. Trust me—no one’s dumb enough to mess with that territory.” You nodded, but a flicker of worry crossed your face as you glanced at the shadowy corners of the club. Ozzie noticed. Without another word, he stepped forward and crouched slightly, his massive hands sliding around you with surprising gentleness. Before you could react, he lifted you effortlessly, cradling you against his broad, warm chest.

A small gasp escaped you, your hands instinctively clutching striped vest for  balance. His scent was faintly sweet—like burnt sugar mixed with a hint of smoke—and the neon glow from his hair painted your hands in shimmering blue. “Better this way,” Ozzie said quietly, his tone a protective rumble. “You’ll be less noticeable if I keep you close.” Fizz grinned as he walked beside the two of you, but his eyes held a rare softness. “Look at you, sugar—VIP treatment already.”

The three of you slipped out through a private exit at the back of the club. Outside, the Lust Ring’s streets shimmered with neon haze and far-off laughter, but the alley behind the club was quiet. Waiting at the curb was Ozzie’s limo: a sleek, gleaming vehicle longer than most city buses, glowing cyan under the neon streetlights. The tinted windows gleamed like liquid obsidian. As the limo door opened silently, Fizz jumped in first, holding a hand out to steady you as Ozzie gently set you inside. He followed, his massive frame folding into the spacious interior with practiced grace. The door shut behind you, muffling the distant chaos of the city.

Inside, the limo’s lights were dim, the seats upholstered in rich velvet that smelled faintly of spice. The sudden quiet made you exhale for what felt like the first time all night. Ozzie’s neon gaze met yours, and for just a moment, all the danger outside the limo faded, replaced by a simple, undeniable sense of safety.

Fizz nudged your shoulder, grinning. “Told ya. Best bodyguards in the Ring.” You couldn’t help but smile back. “Yeah… I’m starting to believe that.” The limo glided away from the curb, heading toward the towering silhouette of Ozzie’s domain, the Lust Ring’s lights reflecting off its sleek surface like stars in an upside-down sky.

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Fizzarolli kept fussing with the sheets, bells chiming faintly, but you couldn’t ignore the way his hands trembled. The nervous laughter he’d forced earlier still echoed faintly in your ears. Something in your chest ached at the thought of him hiding whatever pain he carried. Quietly, you stepped closer. Fizz noticed and turned slightly, still clutching the edge of the blanket. His glowing eyes darted up to meet yours, playful mask flickering for a heartbeat. “Sugar,” he said lightly, though there was a warning edge under the joke, “don’t go peekin’ under a jester’s hat. Trade secret.”

You didn’t answer. Slowly—giving him every chance to pull away—you reached out. Your fingers brushed the bells, and then you gently lifted the hat off. Fizz froze. The neon glow from the room revealed two broken horns on the top of his head, jagged edges dulled with time but still unmistakable. The sight was heartbreaking—like the aftermath of something violent or explosive.

He swallowed hard, his voice lower and rougher now. “Happened a long time ago,” he said quietly. “Back when I was just a kid workin’ in a circus. Some stunt went bad… or maybe somebody made sure it did. Doesn’t matter anymore.” His usual brightness dimmed, shadows flickering in his expression. “The hat’s… easier. People laugh at the bells instead of staring at what’s left.”

You didn’t speak—not because you didn’t have words, but because none felt right. Instead, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, as his jester hat stayed in your hands. For a moment, Fizz stiffened, unused to comfort that didn’t come with a joke or applause. Then he exhaled—a shaky, uneven sound—and let himself lean into your embrace,  his mechanical arms circled your back with surprising gentleness.

Ozzie, standing silently nearby, looked at the two of you with a deep, quiet pride and sadness. His neon eyes softened, and the bull and ram in his mane lowered their glowing gazes respectfully. Fizz gave a small laugh—one that cracked around the edges—and whispered, “Guess… maybe you’re not scared of me after all.” You held him a little tighter, your cheek resting against his shoulder. “Not even a little,” you said softly. In the neon-lit tower high above the Lust Ring, the city’s noise faded to a distant hum. For just a moment, the three of you stood together in quiet understanding—proof that even in Hell, kindness could shine through the cracks.

Fizz remained in your arms, the tension in his shoulders slowly unwinding. The room was quiet except for the distant hum of the city outside. Then you felt a shadow stretch over the two of you—a presence both immense and gentle. Ozzie stepped closer, his massive frame lowering with surprising grace. The cyan glow of his mane bathed you both in soft light as he crouched and wrapped his enormous arms around you and Fizzarolli, completing the circle. His feathers and soft neon hair brushed your shoulders like a protective canopy.

The bull and ram faces in his mane glowed faintly, their tiny expressions serene. Ozzie’s deep voice rumbled softly, a warmth beneath the words. “You’re not alone, Fizz,” he said quietly. “Not anymore. Not ever.” Fizz gave a tiny, shaky laugh—more a release of tension than amusement. “Leave it to the King of Lust to turn a hug into a full-on group cuddle,” he muttered, but there was no sting in the words. His mechanical hands tightened gently around both you and Ozzie. You smiled into the hug, feeling the steady rhythm of Ozzie’s heartbeat beneath the neon glow. “This doesn’t look like the scary Lust Ring everyone talks about,” you whispered. Ozzie chuckled, the sound of a low thunder that made the walls seem to hum. “That’s because the stories don’t talk about the good parts,” he said. “The laughter. The loyalty. The family you choose.”

Fizz peeked up at you, still cradled against your shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone I’m sentimental, sugar. I got a rep to protect.” You tightened your arms briefly, then you slowly placed the jester hat back on his head. “Your secret’s safe with me.” The three of you stayed there for a long, quiet moment—just three unlikely souls, bathed in neon light, high above a city of chaos—finding comfort in each other’s presence.

The three of you stayed like that for a while—Ozzie’s broad arms enclosing you both in a protective circle, the faint hum of the Lust Ring’s nightlife drifting in from the balcony. Eventually, Fizz’s breathing slowed against your shoulder, the occasional jingle of his bells fading as drowsiness overtook him. You felt your own eyelids grow heavy. The day’s fear and adrenaline drained away, leaving only warmth, the soft pulse of Ozzie’s neon glow, and the steady beat of Fizzarolli’s heart against yours. Ozzie soon lifted the both of you up, laying Fizz and you down on the massive bed.

Fizz shifted just slightly, his mechanical arms loosening but not letting go. He mumbled something sleepy and incoherent before nestling closer, the top of his jester hat brushing your chin. You smiled faintly and let yourself relax into the embrace, the plush velvet of Ozzie’s massive bed cushioning you both. When you drifted off, the last thing you saw was Ozzie—still crouched beside the bed, massive frame silhouetted against the balcony’s city lights. He watched the two of you, a small, tender smile playing across his lips. The bull and ram in his mane glowed softly, their little faces serene, as if approving of the scene before them.

Ozzie reached out gently, tucking the edge of a blanket around you and Fizz. “Sleep easy, sweetheart,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. His voice was a warm rumble in the quiet room. He stood, moving silently to the balcony, and looked out over the sprawling neon city. But even as the Lust Ring sparkled endlessly beneath him, his gaze drifted back to the two figures curled together on his bed. And for the King of Lust—used to parties, applause, and chaos—this quiet moment of trust and warmth was more precious than anything the night outside could offer.

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💜Morning – Ozzies Tower💜

A warm, buttery smell tugged you from sleep—a hint of toasted tortillas, sizzling eggs, and spiced meat. The velvet blankets were soft around you, and the steady rise and fall of Fizzarolli’s breathing was pressed against your chest. His bells were quiet for once, his jester hat askew but still clinging to his head.

Blinking awake, you realized your arms were still wrapped around each other. Fizz’s glowing eyes cracked open slowly, confusion flickering for a second before he saw you. A small, sleepy grin tugged at his lips. “Morning, sugar… guess we’re both cuddlers, huh?” His voice was rough with sleep but warm. You chuckled softly. “Guess so.”

The sound of a soft clink drew your attention. Turning your head, you spotted Ozzie across the room. He was wearing a big crimson-red robe that draped elegantly over his massive frame, the bull and ram in his mane peeking out lazily as if still waking up. In front of him on a low breakfast table sat a neat stack of warm tortillas, bowls of scrambled eggs, seasoned meat, roasted veggies, and small dishes of salsa glowing faintly pink under the neon light.

Ozzie glanced over his shoulder, his neon eyes lighting up when he saw you both awake. “Rise and shine, sleepyheads,” he rumbled, his voice still thick with morning. “Figured you’d be hungry after the night you had. So…” He gestured grandly to the spread. “Breakfast tacos.” Fizz stretched against you, bells jingling faintly, then flopped dramatically onto his back. “Ozz, you’re spoilin’ us.” You smiled, sitting up slowly, the warmth of the bed clinging to your skin. “Ozzie… you didn’t have to.”

The King of Lust waved a dismissive hand, the robe’s sleeve swaying like a banner. “Didn’t have to, but I wanted to. You’re safe here, sweetheart. And safe means fed.” Fizz rolled off the bed with a laugh, his mechanical joints clicking softly. “Safe and spoiled. Best damn start to a day in Hell I’ve ever had.” You followed him to the table, the sight of the glowing city beyond the balcony making the moment feel unreal—three unlikely companions sharing breakfast high above the chaos of the Lust Ring. 

The three of you sat around the low table, the aroma of warm tortillas and spiced eggs filling the air. Neon light filtered through the balcony doors, casting soft pink and cyan patterns across the floor. You bit into a breakfast taco and sighed happily—the food was every bit as good as it smelled. Fizzarolli was in rare form, balancing his taco on two mechanical fingers like it was a delicate prop. “You know, Ozz,” he said between bites, “you’re setting a dangerous precedent. Breakfast tacos today, maybe a five-course feast tomorrow. You’re gonna spoil us rotten.”

Ozzie chuckled, his deep voice rolling like distant thunder. “Spoiling you’s half the fun, Froggie.” You blinked, pausing mid-bite. Froggie? The nickname was so unexpected—and so adorable—that you nearly laughed out loud. Fizz sputtered on his bite of taco, his bells jingling as he shot Ozzie a mock glare. “Did you just call me Froggie—in front of the human?”

Ozzie’s neon eyes glinted mischievously as he leaned back, cradling his own taco delicately between massive fingers. “What? It suits you. Cute, quick, jumps into trouble without thinking.” The bull and ram in his mane seemed to glow a little brighter, almost as if they were snickering along with him.

Fizz groaned dramatically, holding a hand over his face. “Ugh, you’re impossible.” You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. “Froggie is really cute, though.” Fizz shot you a mock look of betrayal, but his glowing eyes softened almost immediately. “Et tu, sugar?” he said, but his blush peeked through his clown makeup again.

Ozzie chuckled and reached out to gently flick one of Fizz’s bells. “Don’t pout, Froggie. You know you love it.” Fizz muttered something under his breath—something about “payback later”—but the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. The teasing between them felt natural, easy, like a well-worn rhythm. Watching them, you couldn’t help but smile too. The breakfast tacos were warm, the company even warmer. And for a moment, surrounded by laughter and nicknames in a tower above the Lust Ring, the world felt just a little bit brighter.

You reached for another tortilla, but your attention drifted back to the two demons across from you. Fizz was leaning on one elbow, regaling you with a dramatic retelling of some club mishap—something about a drunk hellhound trying to order tacos from a DJ booth—when you caught a subtle movement out of the corner of your eye. Ozzie’s massive hand had wandered almost absentmindedly toward Fizzarolli’s long imp tail. As Fizz waved his arms to punctuate his story, Ozzie casually hooked the tip of the tail with two fingers and began twirling it gently, the movement slow and fond.

Fizz didn’t even falter in his storytelling at first—until the subtle tug caught up with him. He choked on a laugh, shooting Ozzie a sidelong glance. “Babe…really? In front of company?” Ozzie grinned, completely unbothered. “What? I like the way it curls. Don’t pretend you don’t wag it at me on purpose.” His tone was teasing but warm, his neon eyes glowing brighter for just a moment. Fizz groaned theatrically, though the faint pink under his makeup betrayed how pleased he actually was. “You’re lucky I like you, big guy,” he muttered, finishing his taco with exaggerated dignity.

You bit back a giggle, your heart warming at the easy intimacy between them. It wasn’t loud or showy—just a quiet, private gesture, the kind you’d only share with someone who mattered deeply. Watching Ozzie’s fingers trace idle patterns in Fizz’s tail, you realized just how genuine their bond was. And sitting there, savoring the food and the laughter, you felt lucky to have stumbled into their orbit—two unlikely protectors who, even in the heart of the Lust Ring, could make Hell feel like home.

The breakfast dishes sat in a neat stack on the corner of the low table, the warm scent of tortillas lingering in the air. Ozzie leaned back against a pillow, his crimson robe pooling around him, neon eyes thoughtful. “Alright, sweetheart,” he said, his voice gentle but firm, “as cozy as this is, you can’t stay in the Lust Ring forever. We need to get you home.”

Fizz tapped a mechanical finger against his chin, tail flicking lazily—even as Ozzie absentmindedly twirled it again. “Yeah… portals don’t just open up willy-nilly. We need someone with serious connections.” You watched the two of them, nervousness creeping back into your chest. “Is… is that even possible? For me to go back?”

Ozzie gave you a reassuring look. “Anything’s possible in Hell with the right help,” he said, his tone a comforting rumble. Fizz’s eyes suddenly lit up. He snapped his fingers so fast the bells on his wrists jingled. “Verosika Mayday!”

You blinked. “Who?” Fizz grinned, leaning forward like a conspirator. “Only the biggest succubus popstar in all of Hell, sugar. She’s got more connections than anyone in the Lust Ring—producers, spellcasters, portal smugglers. If anyone can point us toward a way to send you home, it’s her.” Ozzie arched a brow, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Verosika, huh? Bold choice. She owes me a favor or two… and she might be intrigued by a human guest.” Fizz twirled a spoon between his fingers like a baton. “Exactly. Plus, c’mon—who doesn’t wanna call in a favor from a popstar?”

You hesitated, glancing between them. “Would… she even help? I’m just some random human.” Ozzie’s grin widened, warm and confident. “You’re under my protection now. That counts for something.” Fizz smirked and nudged your arm with his elbow. “Relax, sugar. Between Ozzie’s name and my irresistible charm, she won’t dare say no.” The idea hung in the air like a spark—fragile, but hopeful. For the first time since you’d fallen into the Lust Ring, there was a path forward.

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💖Few Moments Later - Ozzie’s Tower💖

Ozzie shot Verosika a text to come to the tower. Soon, a glowing portal snapped open in the lobby—and out stepped Verosika Mayday, followed by her entourage of stylish succubi and incubi. She was dazzling: hot pink skin with long pinkish-white hair that sparkled like candy floss under the neon glow, a black and white star dress accompanied with black heels and a confidence that radiated through the room like heat. Even her casual smirk felt like it belonged on a magazine cover. Fizz let out a low whistle while Ozzie chuckled. “She always did like to make an entrance.”

But you… you just stared. Your face heated until you were sure it matched the neon pink outside. Verosika’s glowing eyes met yours, and a knowing smirk curled her lips. She stepped closer, her heels clicking lightly on the polished floor, and crouched a little to meet your eye level. “What’s the matter, cutie?” she purred, her voice smooth and melodic. “Cat got your tongue?” Your mouth went dry. The words tumbled out before you could stop them. “Holy shit, you’re hot.”

For a heartbeat, the room froze—Fizz’s jaw dropped, Ozzie’s bull and ram faces flickered in shock. Then Verosika laughed, a low, melodic chuckle that filled the tower like music. “Ohhh, I like you already,” she said, her grin widening. “Honest and with taste.” Fizz cracked up, nearly falling over. “Sugar, you’ve got guts. Verosika’s gonna remember that one forever.” Ozzie shook his head, chuckling, though the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement. “Leave it to our guest to win her over in five seconds flat.” Verosika winked at you before turning to Ozzie and Fizz. “Alright, boys. Let’s talk portals. But first…” She flicked her hair back dramatically. “…this human’s officially my favorite mortal in the room.”

Verosika’s hand slid around your wrist with easy confidence as she guided you toward a sleek, velvet couch. “Come on, sweetheart,” she said with a grin that could sell out a stadium. “Let’s sit. My crew wants to meet the mortal who called me hot right to my face.” You sat beside her, the plush couch sinking comfortably beneath you. Around you, her entourage gathered—a dazzling mix of succubi and incubi, each of them impossibly beautiful in their own unique ways. Their wings shimmered under the neon light, their horns glinting like polished jewels.

One of the succubi leaned forward, her lips quirking in an amused smirk. “Well, aren’t you adorable,” she said, extending a perfectly manicured hand. You smiled shyly and reached out for a handshake. “Hi,” you said, trying to sound confident even as your face warmed. She giggled—a soft, musical sound—before stepping aside for another of Verosika’s crew to greet you. One by one, they offered handshakes or playful winks, and each time you returned the greeting, their laughter bubbled like champagne. Your nervousness slowly melted into genuine amusement at how… normal it felt, despite the setting.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught movement: a towering Hellhound guard stood near the entryway, his massive frame casting a long shadow against the wall. Dark gray fur, sharp ears, and a scar on his eye gave him an intimidating presence. But when your eyes met his, his expression softened. He dipped his head slightly, and to your surprise, a warm smile spread across his muzzle.

“Name’s Vortex,” he rumbled, his voice surprisingly kind for someone who looked like he could take on an army. “Don’t worry, I’m friendlier than I look.” Your own smile brightened as you offered him a small wave. “Hi, Vortex. Thanks for not, uh… snarling at me.” He chuckled—a deep, good-natured sound. “Nah. You’re under Ozzie’s roof. You’re safe.” Verosika leaned back, crossing her legs elegantly, her neon-pink nails glinting. “See? Even my hellhound’s smitten.” She shot you a wink before turning her attention to Ozzie and Fizz across the room. “Now, boys—let’s talk business. We’ve got a human to get home.”

The atmosphere in the lobby remained warm and teasing, the danger of the Lust Ring kept at bay by laughter, protective friends, and the unexpected kindness of demons who—despite their reputations—made you feel welcome. You stayed tucked against the velvet couch beside Verosika, the hum of conversation wrapping around you like a soft blanket. Ozzie paced slowly across the lobby, his crimson robe trailing behind him, neon mane glowing faintly in the low light. “So,” Ozzie rumbled, his voice thoughtful but gentle, “portals aren’t exactly easy to come by. Even for someone like Verosika.” 

Verosika tilted her head, her long pinkish white hair spilling over her shoulder in a silky wave. “He’s right. I can make some calls and pull some strings, but between the bureaucracy of Wrath’s border control and Greed’s portal taxes, it could take a little while.” She flicked her hair back casually—only for you to reach out without thinking and catch a strand between your fingers. The succubus blinked in surprise, then chuckled as she watched you absentmindedly twirl a lock of her hair. “Oh? Somebody likes the merch,” she teased, her tone playful but warm. You flushed, but didn’t pull away. “It’s just… really soft. And pretty.”

Verosika’s grin softened just a little. “Flattery and curiosity? You’re dangerous, sweetheart.” Fizz, leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed, chimed in with a grin. “Better hide your tour posters, V. She’s gonna collect ’em all.” Ozzie chuckled, the bull and ram in his mane glowing faintly. “While you two flirt over hairstyles, let’s think practical. A mortal walking around the Lust Ring’s a death wish. We need a cover.”

Verosika nodded, still letting you idly play with a strand of her hair. “Easiest option? Glamour spell. Simple disguise—horns, tail, maybe a faint aura to throw off nosy demons. Nothing too flashy, or it’ll draw attention.” Fizz snapped his fingers, bells jingling. “Ooh, or we dress her like part of Verosika’s crew! Nobody’s gonna question a ‘new backup dancer.’”

Verosika smirked. “Honestly? That’s not a bad idea. A mortal among my succubi would be the last thing anyone expects.” You looked between them, still holding the lock of pink hair, and managed a small, nervous laugh. “So… I’d be disguised as a demon backup dancer?” Ozzie grinned broadly. “Better than getting eaten by the competition.” The laughter that followed eased the tension in your chest. Surrounded by neon lights, teasing demons, and even a popstar’s silky pink hair twirling through your fingers, you couldn’t help but think: maybe, just maybe, you could survive this after all—at least until the portal home was ready.

Your thoughts soon turned negative, letting the strand of Verosika’s pink hair slip from your fingers. “Wait… are you sure that’s okay? I mean, you’re a huge pop star—I don’t want to cause trouble for you. And…” You glanced down at your hands, embarrassed. “I’m pretty sure I’d fall on my butt a hundred times if I had to dance with your crew.” 

Fizz snorted, covering his mouth with a mechanical hand. “Oh, sugar, I’d pay good money to see that.” Verosika blinked once, then let out a low, melodic laugh that seemed to ripple through the whole room. Without warning, she wrapped an arm around you and gently pulled you closer, hugging you against her chest. The sudden closeness made your face go crimson in an instant. “Sweetheart,” she purred, still laughing, “you are adorable. I like you even more now.”

You squeaked—a tiny, startled sound—as you felt yourself flush even redder. Around you, her succubus and incubus crew erupted into giggles, some covering their mouths, others exchanging amused glances.“Aww, look at her!” one succubus teased, winking. “She’s so innocent!” Another incubus grinned broadly. “Verosika, you’re gonna give the poor mortal a heart attack.”

Ozzie watched from across the room, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, while Fizz doubled over in laughter, his bells jingling wildly. Despite your embarrassment, the teasing felt warm rather than cruel. Verosika loosened her hug just enough for you to breathe again but kept her arm draped lightly over your shoulder. “Don’t you worry about trouble, sweetheart,” she said gently. “If anyone can handle a little chaos, it’s me. And as for dancing? Trust me—half my crew fakes it anyway.” Fizz pretended to gasp in mock offense, making everyone laugh harder. The moment was light, silly, and oddly comforting—reminding you once again that even in the heart of Hell, you weren’t as alone—or as out of place—as you’d feared.

Verosika still had her arm draped lightly around your shoulders, her pink hair brushing against your cheek. The laughter from her crew was fading into little chuckles and whispers as the group began to settle again. You looked up at her, eyes bright, and gave her the biggest, most genuine smile you’d managed since arriving in Hell. “Okay,” you said softly but with resolve. “If you’re sure, then… thank you, Verosika. Really.”

Something in your expression must have caught her off guard, because her teasing grin faltered for just a heartbeat. A faint pink tinge crept across her cheeks—barely noticeable at first, but unmistakable under the neon lights. “O-Oh, look at that,” one of her succubi teased from the side. “Did the mortal just make Verosika Mayday blush?” Fizz’s bells jingled as he cackled, nearly doubling over. “Oh, that’s priceless! V, you’re done for!” Ozzie chuckled low in his chest, his bull and ram faces flickering with amused light. “Takes a special kind of charm to fluster the queen of the Lust Ring.”

Verosika rolled her eyes dramatically, but her smile returned—softer now, less of a popstar smirk and more of something genuine. “Alright, alright,” she said, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “You’re dangerous, sweetheart. Keep flashing that smile, and you’ll have all of Hell wrapped around your finger.” Her crew giggled again, but their smiles were warm, and even Vortex the hellhound guard gave you a respectful nod. For a moment, the dangers of the Lust Ring felt far away, replaced by laughter, a touch of blush, and the strange, unexpected friendships forming around you.

Once the plan was set, Verosika’s crew lit up like fireworks. A trio of succubi were already digging through their cosmetic kits, while one of the incubi flicked open a lacquered case full of glittering accessories. The neon glow of Ozzie’s tower reflected off lip gloss tubes and shimmering powders as the excitement built.

Verosika grinned, pink hair cascading over her shoulders. “If you’re going to walk through the Lust Ring with us, sweetheart, you’re going to look the part. And that means makeup, glamour, and a lot of attitude.” Fizz chuckled, hopping onto a chair to get a better view. “Oh, this is gonna be good. Mortal goes from lost lamb to glam succubus in under ten minutes.” You couldn’t help laughing, nerves mixing with excitement as you sat down on the velvet stool Verosika guided you to. One succubus gently brushed your hair back, another dabbed soft blush onto your cheeks, and a third expertly traced a line of shimmering eyeliner that caught the room’s neon light. 

The air filled with a sweet, intoxicating scent as Verosika held up a bottle of deep pink perfume. “Succubus signature blend,” she said with a wink. “One spritz, and even the pickiest demon won’t be sniffing out ‘human.’” She misted a delicate cloud over you, the fragrance warm and floral with a faint electric edge. Her crew stepped back to admire their work. “Oh, she’s adorable,” one incubus murmured. Another succubus giggled. “She could pass for one of us without even trying now.”You glanced at the mirror they handed you—the eyeliner made your eyes pop, the blush gave you a healthy glow, and the subtle shimmer dusted over your skin caught the light like tiny stars. “Wow…” you whispered, hardly recognizing yourself. 

Fizz let out a low whistle. “Careful, sugar, you’re about to outshine half the Lust Ring.” Ozzie’s neon eyes softened as he watched. “Perfect,” he said with a warm smile. “Now no one will question why you’re walking beside a Sin, a popstar, and a jester.” Verosika rested a hand on your shoulder, her grin both proud and playful. “Told you, sweetheart—you’re a natural. Ready to turn some heads?”

Chapter Text

The elevator ride down Ozzie’s tower felt like descending into a river of light—pink and cyan hues bleeding across the glass walls as the Lust Ring’s sprawling cityscape came into view. The doors slid open, and a rush of warm night air, alive with music and distant laughter, greeted you. Verosika’s crew fanned out casually, their wings and horns catching the glow of streetlights as they stepped onto the bustling boulevard. Ozzie and Fizz flanked you, their presence like a protective shield.

You pulled the hood of your borrowed glamour cloak tighter and took a tentative step onto the crowded sidewalk. Demons of every shape and size milled about—dressed in glittering club outfits, exchanging sly smiles, shouting over the beat of distant music. For a heartbeat, you froze, convinced someone would look twice.

But no one did.

Two imps passed by, laughing, not even glancing your way. A passing incubus gave Verosika a playful wink, completely overlooking you. Even a pair of watchful-looking demons at a street corner just nodded politely and kept walking. You risked another step… then another. Your nerves eased as you walked beside Fizzarolli, the perfume’s sweet warmth masking your mortal scent. The makeup caught the neon light perfectly, making you look like you belonged here.

Fizz shot you a sideways grin, bells jingling faintly. “See? Told ya. You’re just another hot face in the Lust Ring crowd now.” Verosika smirked proudly as she smoothed down a wrinkle in her dress. “Knew my crew’s magic touch would do the trick.” Ozzie’s voice was a reassuring rumble. “Told you we’d keep you safe, sweetheart.”

As the group strolled past a row of glowing signs and open club doors, you couldn’t help but marvel at how surreal it felt—walking among demons in the very heart of Hell, unnoticed and protected. The neon city no longer felt like a threat, but like a wild, vibrant place where, for now, you could almost belong. Fizz nudged your arm lightly. “Not bad for your first night out in Hell, huh?” You smiled, the fear that had gripped you earlier replaced by a growing sense of wonder. “Not bad at all.”

The Lust Ring unfolded before you like a living postcard: neon-lit streets winding between towering glass spires, holographic billboards advertising clubs and concerts, and strings of floating lanterns drifting lazily above alleyways. The air smelled of sugar, smoke, and faint ozone, and every corner seemed alive with music or laughter.

Fizzarolli hopped onto a low railing and walked it like a tightrope, his bells jingling with every step. “Check it out, sugar—prime real estate for spectacular face-plants!” He wobbled dramatically, then flipped into a perfect somersault, landing with a bow. Verosika snorted, flipping her pink hair over her shoulder. “Show-off. You’d think this was his city or something.” Ozzie’s deep laugh rolled through the street, making a few passersby glance over with recognition. “It is his city, at least when he’s with me,” he teased, twirling one of Fizz’s bells between two fingers.

As the group walked on, Verosika pointed out landmarks with casual pride. “That neon tower? Hottest concert venue in the Ring. Sold out three nights in a row last month.” She gestured to a glittering bridge that spanned a glowing canal. “And that? Every popstar’s done a photo shoot there at least once.” You found yourself gaping at everything—the shimmering canals, the floating taxis, even the distant fireworks popping faintly over a nightclub district. Fizz noticed your wide eyes and elbowed you playfully. “Careful, sugar. Keep starin’ like that, and someone’s gonna mistake you for a tourist.”

Verosika chuckled, leaning close to murmur, “Don’t listen to him. We all had that look the first time.” The group paused by a glowing fountain shaped like intertwined dragons, its water sparkling with unnatural colors. Vortex, the big hellhound guard, ambled up beside you, his red sclera eyes soft despite his intimidating frame. “Best view in the Ring’s from here at night,” he rumbled kindly. “You can see half the skyline reflected in that water.” You smiled, the neon lights dancing on the fountain’s surface. For the first time since stumbling into Hell, you weren’t just surviving—you were exploring. Surrounded by laughter, teasing, and the vibrant cityscape, the Lust Ring felt a little less like a nightmare and a little more like an adventure you’d never forget. Fizz hopped back onto the curb and grinned. “Told ya, sugar—this place isn’t all fire and brimstone. Sometimes it’s just fireworks and bad jokes.” Ozzie nodded, his neon eyes glowing warmly. “And friends who’ve got your back.”

The group’s footsteps slowed as you approached a busy neon-lit street market. Stalls lined the sidewalk, each one glowing with animated signs and pumping out delicious, spicy smells. Colored lanterns bobbed above the crowd, and demons laughed and bartered over sizzling food. Fizzarolli bounded ahead, his bells jingling. “Ooooh, snack run! Best part of a Lust Ring night.” You walked closer and then froze—half the stalls featured snacks that were… very suggestively shaped. Some skewered treats were unmistakably, well, phallic, complete with decorative icing. Others were even more outrageous, their forms making you cover your mouth to stifle a laugh.

“Are those…?” you whispered, blushing furiously. Verosika caught your expression and smirked. “Oh, sweetheart. Welcome to the Lust Ring.” She plucked one of the suggestively shaped pastries from a stall, bit into it without hesitation, and winked. “They taste better than they look.” Her incubus and succubus crew giggled, clearly amused by your wide-eyed innocence. Even Vortex’s tail gave a small wag, though he kept his expression neutral. Fizz grinned wickedly, holding up two identical snacks and waggling his eyebrows. “What? They’re just… snacks. Perfectly ordinary snacks. Totally not designed to embarrass mortals.” You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head. “This place is unreal.”

Ozzie’s deep chuckle rumbled above the noise of the crowd. “It’s Hell, sweetheart—unreal is the standard.” He handed you a safer-looking skewer of candied fruit. “Here. Something less… suggestive.” You took it gratefully, still giggling as Verosika’s crew exchanged sly looks and Fizz posed dramatically with his over-the-top snack like a clown on stage. For all the chaos and the neon madness, the teasing felt harmless—just another piece of the Lust Ring’s strange charm.

You licked a bit of candied syrup from your fingers and glanced at Verosika, who was casually leaning against a glowing street post with a suggestive pastry in hand. The neon light played over her long pink hair, turning it into a halo of cotton-candy fire. “So, uh…” you began shyly, “How’d you become a popstar here? You’re… huge. Everyone in the Lust Ring knows you.” Verosika’s grin faltered just slightly—not in irritation, but in a way that made her seem more human. She tilted her head, gazing down the bustling street where floating taxis zipped past and fireworks flared in the distance. “Well,” she said, her voice still smooth but touched with honesty, “I was just another succubus once. Worked the clubs, danced backup for singers who barely remembered my name. It wasn’t exactly glamorous.”

Fizz piped up between bites of his skewer, bells jingling. “She was good even back then—outdanced every other succubus on the floor.” Verosika smirked. “Flattery from Froggie. Must be my lucky night.” She looked back at you. “I hustled. Took every gig, wrote my own songs, clawed my way onto stages that didn’t want to give me a mic. And when I finally got my break… I made sure no one would forget my name again.” Ozzie’s neon eyes softened as he watched her, pride flickering in their glow. “She worked harder than anyone,” he said quietly. “She earned every bit of that spotlight.” Her succubus crew giggled fondly, clearly used to hearing the story but still admiring their boss. One incubus chimed in, “She turned half the Lust Ring upside down when she dropped her first single.”

Verosika flicked her hair back dramatically, smirk returning in full force. “And the rest is history, sweetheart.” She nudged you lightly with her elbow. “Maybe I’ll even write a song about a mortal who waltzed into the Lust Ring and made a whole club full of demons blush.” Fizz grinned. “Make it a power ballad. With lasers.” You laughed, cheeks warming as the group’s banter resumed, but Verosika’s words lingered—a reminder that even in the heart of Hell, determination, talent, and a little attitude could make dreams (or nightmares) come true.

The group strolled past a row of glowing shopfronts, their neon signs flashing in every color imaginable. Somewhere down the street, music pulsed from an open-air club, blending with the laughter of passing demons. You looked up at Verosika, her long pink hair catching the lights like a sparkling river. “I… I’d love to hear you sing at one of your concerts someday,” you admitted, your voice shy but sincere. Verosika’s lips curled into a wickedly playful smirk. She stopped walking, her heels clicking against the pavement, and turned to face you. “Oh, sweetheart,” she purred, stepping just a little closer, “why wait for a concert?” Before you could respond, she slid onto your lap where you sat perched on a low fountain ledge, balancing herself effortlessly. The sudden weight and her intoxicating perfume made your face heat instantly.

“W-what—Verosika!” you squeaked, your cheeks practically glowing under the streetlights. Her succubus and incubus crew broke into giggles, some covering their mouths while others exchanged knowing looks. Even Vortex, the towering hellhound guard, gave a low, amused rumble of laughter. Fizzarolli doubled over, bells jingling wildly. “Oh, sugar, you’re redder than a Wrath Ring sunset!” Verosika chuckled—a soft, melodic sound that curled around you like silk. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m teasing.” Her voice dropped just enough to be warm rather than overwhelming. “But maybe… if you’re lucky, I’ll give you a private preview.”

She slid gracefully off your lap, winking as she flicked her hair back into place. “Consider that motivation to stick with us until we get you home.” Ozzie shook his head fondly, neon eyes glinting with amusement. “Verosika, you’re impossible.” She flashed him a grin. “And you wouldn’t have me any other way.” Your heart was still racing, but the playful energy and laughter around you made it clear: even in the middle of Hell, surrounded by Sins and succubi, you were in good hands—and you’d just been welcomed into their strange, dazzling world.

Chapter Text

The neon streets ahead were alive with laughter and music, the glow of club signs casting dancing colors over the pavement. You were just starting to relax again—watching Verosika point out another landmark—when a prickling sensation crawled up the back of your neck.

A few paces away, a gaunt demon lingered in the shadows between two stalls. His eyes glinted unnaturally, locked on Verosika with a hungry, obsessive focus. The rest of the group was laughing at something Fizz had said, unaware. Before you could call out, the demon lunged—fast, low, and aimed straight for Verosika.

Your body moved before your mind caught up. You stepped between them, planted your feet, and threw a quick, instinctive punch. The impact was solid—enough to knock the demon off balance. He crumpled to the cobblestones, groaning, unconscious under the buzzing glow of a streetlight. The street fell silent for a heartbeat. Verosika blinked, wide-eyed. Ozzie’s neon gaze hardened, and Vortex was already stepping forward to drag the would-be attacker out of sight. Fizz let out a low whistle. “Well, damn, sugar. Didn’t know you had a right hook like that!” Verosika recovered first. She stepped close, her pink hair brushing your shoulder as she reached up. “Sweetheart…” she breathed, her voice uncharacteristically soft. Then, before you could say anything, she leaned in and pressed a quick, warm kiss to your cheek. Your face went crimson instantly. “I—uh—” 

She chuckled, a rich, melodic sound that made her crew giggle and Ozzie’s bull and ram faces flicker with amused light. “That was brave. Thank you for saving my pretty face.” Fizz grinned wickedly, nudging you with his elbow. “Look at you—first day in walking around Hell and already a hero. You’re gonna give us all a complex.” Ozzie’s voice rumbled gently. “You’ve got guts, sweetheart. And fast reflexes.” The moment passed as Vortex and one of Verosika’s crew dragged the unconscious demon away to let the city guards handle him. But Verosika’s warm smile lingered on you, her hand briefly squeezing your shoulder. For all the chaos and danger of the Lust Ring, it felt good to know you could stand your ground—and even better to feel, for a fleeting moment, like you belonged at Verosika’s side.

Back At Ozzies

The elevator chimed softly as the doors opened into Ozzie’s tower once again, neon light spilling across the marble floor. Everyone filed into the grand lobby—Fizz tossing his bells dramatically onto a couch, Vortex standing guard near the window, and Verosika’s succubus and incubus crew chatting quietly as they claimed spots on the plush furniture.

Verosika stretched, her pink hair cascading down her back in silky waves. “Feels good to be off the street,” she said, her voice still carrying that popstar confidence. She glanced toward Ozzie with a grin. “Hope you don’t mind a few overnight guests, big guy.” Ozzie chuckled, settling his massive frame against the back of a velvet sofa. “The tower’s big enough for all of you. Make yourselves at home.” Fizz flopped dramatically into a chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Slumber party at the King of Lust’s place—bet the tabloids would love to see this.”

You smiled faintly, still coming down from the adrenaline rush of the attack. Verosika caught your gaze across the room, her smirk softening into something warmer. She sauntered over, heels clicking lightly on the polished floor, and stopped just in front of you. “You know,” she said, voice a little quieter now, “I still owe you for earlier.” You blinked, cheeks warming. “Verosika, you don’t—” She held up a hand, silencing you with a teasing look. “I always pay my debts, sweetheart. Saving my life earns more than a cheek kiss.”

The succubi and incubi nearby giggled, clearly eager to see what she’d do. But instead of anything outrageous, Verosika gently took your hand, her touch light and warm. “How about this—front row at my next concert. All access. No one in Hell gets that without selling their soul.” Your eyes widened. “Seriously?”

Verosika’s grin widened. “Seriously. And if you’re still here when I rehearse tomorrow, maybe I’ll give you a little preview performance. Private.” She winked, her tone playful but kind. “A proper thank-you, without the scary demon drama.” Fizz whistled and clapped lightly. “Sugar’s rackin’ up perks already.” Ozzie chuckled, his neon eyes glowing with amusement. “You’ve certainly made an impression.”

The room buzzed with soft laughter and chatter as everyone began to settle in for the night—succubi picking out cushions and blankets, Fizz playfully arguing with an incubus about who’d win in a cartwheel contest, and Verosika lingering close to you, her hand still lightly brushing yours as if to remind you: in the chaos of the Lust Ring, you weren’t just a lost mortal anymore—you were part of something bigger.

Later

The tower had begun to quiet. Fizz and a few of Verosika’s crew were already claiming couches and blankets in the lounge, Ozzie was dimming the neon lights to a softer glow, and Vortex had settled by the balcony doors like a loyal sentinel. The hum of the city outside was distant now, muffled by the thick glass.

As you turned to follow the others, Verosika’s hand caught yours. Her pink hair shimmered as she leaned close, her grin equal parts mischief and warmth. “Hey, sweetheart,” she whispered, “before you crash… how about that preview performance I promised? Just you.” Your heart skipped a beat. “N-now?” She laughed quietly. “Now. Don’t worry, I’m not dragging the whole band up here. Just me.”

She led you through a side door and onto a small balcony at the far end of the tower—a spot that overlooked the Lust Ring’s sprawling cityscape. The skyline glowed like a thousand fireflies, and fireworks popped faintly in the distance. Verosika stepped up to the railing, her silhouette outlined by neon pinks and blues.

She glanced back at you with a softer smile than you’d seen all night. “This isn’t one of my big showstoppers,” she said. “Just… something I wrote before I was famous. No lights, no backup dancers. Just me.” Taking a breath, she began to sing. Her voice was smooth and rich, carrying easily over the hum of the city below. The melody was tender and a little wistful—a song about chasing dreams in a place that tried to swallow them. Even without a band or crowd, her voice  filled the night like a warm current.

You felt your chest tighten, awed by the way her words floated over the neon skyline. For a moment, Hell itself seemed to hush and listen. When she finished, Verosika turned, her cheeks touched with the faintest pink. “Not bad for an impromptu balcony gig, huh?” You smiled wide, still a little breathless. “That was… incredible.” She grinned, brushing a lock of pink hair from her face. “Glad you liked it. Don’t tell the others—I’ve got a reputation for being a diva, not a softie.” The two of you shared a small laugh, the city lights flickering below like an audience applauding in secret. And for a few quiet moments on Ozzie’s balcony, it was just you, Verosika, and the music hanging between the stars.

You turned from the balcony, still smiling, the last notes of Verosika’s song echoing softly in your mind. You were about to suggest heading back to the lounge when Verosika’s hand slipped into yours again. Her pink hair shimmered under the neon light, and there was a playful glint in her glowing eyes. “Hold up,” she said quietly, her voice low but teasing. “One more part of your reward.”

Before you could react, she gave you a gentle but decisive push backward onto the edge of the enormous velvet-covered bed. It wasn’t rough—more like a playful nudge that made your heart skip. Verosika leaned over you, her long pink hair cascading like a silky curtain around your face. For a second, you caught sight of her small batlike wings flicking open slightly at her back and the tip of her spade-shaped tail curling in the air behind her.

Your breath caught in your throat as her eyes met yours. The teasing confidence in them was still there, but there was also a surprising softness. “You really are full of surprises, sweetheart,” she murmured. “Brave, sweet… and you saved me tonight.” She dipped closer—not with heat or aggression, but with a gentle, deliberate tenderness—and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. It wasn’t hungry or explicit, just a warm, lingering touch that carried gratitude and affection. When she pulled back, her grin returned, a little gentler now. “That,” she said, brushing a strand of pink hair from your cheek, “is from me… not the popstar, not the succubus act. Just Verosika.”

Outside the balcony windows, fireworks crackled faintly in the distance, casting bursts of neon color across the room. For a moment, the Lust Ring’s chaos faded away, leaving only the quiet hum of the city and the echo of Verosika’s soft laughter.