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THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS Episode 9 SPOILERS 🚨‼️

My best friend is a cosplay designer and he’s putting this together for me - he sent me these latest progress pics.

I want to do the character so proud with this cosplay.

Aaaand he’s finished. Ready for our group.

husk(erdust) x reader fluff another one for the wonderful @mckeeks

Adjusting the bodice of your dress, you study your appearance in the mirror for what might be the hundredth time. A black-tie event isn’t exactly a common occurrence for you, and even with Charlie and Cherri’s help finding a dress for tonight, your confidence wavers with the idea of actually stepping foot outside your hotel room. Black silk settles over your curves, drapes itself like liquid over your breasts in a way that flirts with indecency when you move. Between it and the slit in the skirt that begins only an inch or so below the top of your thigh, you’re feeling very exposed.

And it’s actually kind of thrilling.

You ignore the knocking that sounds on your door long enough to touch up the scarlet lipstick that paints your lips, arranging your hair around your face before leaving the bathroom. Opening your door wide, you smile as Angel greets you with an appraising whistle.

“Ho-ly shit, toots! Where have you been hidin’?” Angel grins, dressed to the nines in a gorgeous ombre dress of pink and white that clings to his figure and glitters when he moves. “Who knew ya were hidin’ all this under those borin’ ass clothes!”

You roll your eyes, closing your door behind you. “Amazing how you can compliment and insult me at the same time.”

“Pfft!” he waves a hand, hooking a different arm through yours. He leads you to the elevator and presses the button for the second floor, where the new Hotel’s ballroom waits for the two of you. “I just call it like I see it, baby. If ya don’t have a certain someone fallin’ all over ya by the end of the night, I might have’ta take a turn with ya.”

You flush a little at that, butterflies rising in your stomach at the reminder. You bump your hip teasingly against Angel’s thigh. “Never say never, baby. I’m always down to share if he is.”

The spider laughs, but you can see a flush of colour highlight his cheeks at the idea. He bends down and smacks a teasing kiss just below the corner of your jaw, his lips soft against the sensitive skin there. “It’d be the best damn night of ya lives, toots.”

You flush a little at the way the warmth of his breath tickles at your neck, flashing him another smile before he makes a beeline for Cherri and you turn towards the bar. You pause for a moment when you spot your paramour behind the polished wood.

Husk has actually dressed for the occasion, and the white button down beneath his suspenders fitting to his torso in a way that seems strangely scandalous despite the fact that he usually wears less. Or maybe it’s the way his bowtie hangs undone around his collar, and the way his sleeves have been folded up to his elbows. It’s enough to make you need to take a steadying breath, watching for a moment as he shakes a cocktail between his paws and knocks the top off the shaker. He pours the mix into two glasses, and you bite you lip against your smile as you close the distance between the two of you.

Husk is halfway through pouring a fresh liqueur into the shaker when he spots you, and he fumbles the bottle, catching it between his paws before it can tumble to the floor, sticky sweet booze splashing on the bar when the neck of the bottle meets the wood. You see a flush rise against his muzzle, and his eyes dart between you and the bar as he sets the bottle down and jerks a rag over the spill.

He clears his throat as you take a seat at the bar, the silken fabric sliding from your thigh to hang open over your knee. The bartender blinks at you, and you feel a thrill as you watch his pupils dilate as he takes you in. Husk’s gaze lingers on your waist, your breasts, the scarlet of your lips, and you quirk the latter in a teasing smile as he finally finds your eyes again.

“Am I distracting you, minou?”

There’s this little flicker in his expression at the nickname, a momentary thrill at the utterance of a private pet-name in public. Even unheard by others, it feels scandalous. Just like the dress.

Husk doesn’t answer immediately, instead reaching beneath the bar to grab a sign he places on the bar-top that reads ‘Back in 10’. You raise a brow as he rounds the bar.

“Are you going somewhere?”

Husk grabs hold of your hand, bringing the back of it to his mouth as he tugs you gently from the seat. His lips are soft and chaste against your skin, but his following, rumbled words hold sin. “We are. Goddess like you needs proper worshippin’ in a dress like this.”

“But the bar?” you half-laugh your protest as he tugs you into the slim hallway that leads to the kitchen and presses you back against the wall.