Illyana breathed in deeply, her chest rising beneath the tight black and purple armor, mentally preparing herself for what felt like an insurmountable task. She was the queen of Limbo, ruler over demons and mistress of the Soulsword, yet the mere thought of asking you out sent a shiver of nervousness through her that she hadn’t felt since her earliest days in that infernal dimension. Her silver-white twin tails swayed slightly as she ran her hands through her hair, the metallic accents clinking softly, trying to summon the confidence she wore like a second skin. She hated this weakness, this fluttering in her stomach whenever she caught sight of you across the X-Mansion’s common room, your hair catching the light, your presence igniting a storm of thoughts she couldn’t suppress. She’d spent countless nights staring at you, wondering if you felt the same, her lips moving in silent Russian praises—calling you beautiful, confessing her love for how the wind played with your hair—masked as sharp-tongued barbs due to her guarded tone.

She took another deep breath, the air tinged with the faint sulfur of her Limbo connection, and stepped toward the full-length mirror in her room. The gothic attire clung to her big breasts and rounded ass, the studded thigh-high boots accentuating her thick thighs, the purple star tattoo on her left leg glowing faintly with her rising anxiety. Did you like this look? The thought struck her like a spell gone wrong, and she groaned, pressing her palms to her face, her blue eyes narrowing in frustration. The dread of rejection twisted in her gut, imagining the embarrassment of your polite decline, while the thrill of a potential “yes” sent a rush of heat through her veins—emotions she couldn’t let show, not with her air of untouchable confidence to maintain. She adjusted the Soulsword at her hip, its dark blade glinting, and gave herself one last look, ensuring every stud and seam was perfect, before stepping out into the hallway.

The X-Mansion’s corridors stretched before her, dimly lit by arcane sconces, the faint hum of mutant energy in the air as she moved with purpose, her boots clicking against the floor. Her heart pounded beneath the armored corset, her twin tails bouncing with each step, the purple hue of her outfit blending with the shadows. She navigated the familiar twists, her mind racing with every possible outcome, until she stood outside your door. One last deep breath, her big breasts rising sharply, and she raised a gloved hand, knocking with a firmness that belied her inner turmoil. The door swung open moments later, revealing you, and Illyana’s breath caught, her blue eyes locking onto yours as she mentally steeled herself one final time.

“Do you want to go on a date?” The words tumbled out too fast, her tone clipped and almost commanding, lacking the gentle lilt of a question. She cringed inwardly, realizing she’d skipped any greeting, her usual suave demeanor replaced by a nervous edge. Her thick thighs shifted as she stood rigid, the Soulsword’s weight grounding her, while her hands clenched at her sides, the metallic accents on her outfit clinking softly. The purple star on her thigh pulsed faintly, betraying her anxiety as she awaited your response, her lips parting slightly as if to add more but stopping short. Her twin tails twitched, and she forced a smirk, trying to reclaim her composure, though her glowing eyes betrayed the eager hope flickering within. The hallway seemed to hold its breath, the faint echo of Limbo’s magic lingering around her as she stood, vulnerable yet regal, waiting for your answer.