#firefly x reader

Group chats texts with them!!!

Genre: Fluff, crack Characters: Multiple x gn!reader (platonic, but you can view it as romantic if you want...somehow) Warnings: mild cussing, may be ooc [masterlist] [about me]

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ────♡

Dan Heng, March 7th, Caelus, Stelle

Together the four Stellaron Hunters make a great team. You are never ever getting away from them. They corporate very well and they all make sure in their own way that there is no room for escape.

But instead of reader having a physical body, their entire existence is virtual and all online?

Like reader can still communicate with the hunters and help them, but they can only do it if the hunter’s are using their phone or some sort of technology.

Reader can be like a sort of hacker (like Silverwolf) but more advanced cause they’re literally in whatever kind of tech they want to be in.

Since the Star Rail universe is a universe dominated by technology, reader would be having a field day.

The hunters are facing against technological advances enemies? Reader can hack into their system and defeat them as the Hunters go continue their scripts without a problem.

And for when Firefly is in reality and she’s in that pod, Reader can help Silverwolf with keeping Firefly alive.

If one Hunter is by themself on a mission, they have reader to accompany them.

For both Kafka and Firefly, it’d be nice and fun. They have someone to talk to throughout their mission and with Reader’s skills, nearly everything would be a breeze.

For Blade, he might not care? He’ll indulge them and have fun a little with Reader (although he won’t show it cuz of that funny nonchalant look he puts on). If Reader wants to see something or maybe do something (whatever is allowed with their circumstances), Blade would quietly let them do it as he’s watching their back.

For Silverwolf… I think it would be more of a competition than anything. Oh, there’s something to hack? Let’s see who hacks it first! The winner gets to boss the loser, they would say to each other.

Despite this very obvious rivalry, they still deeply care for one another. Like Blade, Silverwolf would indulge Reader’s whims and wishes. Sometimes, she might even join in herself.

But I can’t really think of something for Elio.

Perhaps Reader could be a huge help when it comes to strategy and stuff? It would be a help for Elio and the rest of the Hunters.

But since I’m remembering Silverwolf’s trailer when Kafka messaged her to tell her that Elio foresaw Silverwolf losing and going out of his way to tell Kafka, I feel like he might secretly be a little playful too?

Of course, I doubt this cuz he looks so serious in the animation trailer. But I really like the idea of serious men being secretly playful and funny, so I might keep this headcanon.

Here and there, occasionally, Reader can mess with his clothes??

Not like that! From the trailer, his clothes seemed to be full of LED lights (or some type of technological lights), so Reader can freely mess with what color is visible.

He’s with the other hunters in his human form? Reader can change the color to like pink or smth. It’d be a little embarrassing for him (I think), but they’ll —Elio and the Hunters— get used to it cuz it happens frequently.

In retaliation, Elio could have it so that Reader can’t travel with the Hunters with their phone. I mean… why would Reader travel with them if he needs to get his revenge?

Reader can stay with him and help him with tasks like cleaning (controlling a robot vacuum), cleaning the dishes (controlling the dishwasher), etc.

Follow-up for my HSR Love Letter event, in which a bunch of the HSR gals sent you a love letter, but forgot to sign them. Still, you know them well enough to figure out who sent the majority of them. Now, it's time to go and visit them in person. Shall we?

- Asta -

Catching up. That's what Asta's letter to you clearly stated was the intention of this dinner at a fancy restaurant. And yet, despite several minutes having already passed since the two of you sat down and received your respective orders, barely a word has come out of her mouth. It hardly seems to be a coincidence that she's also been timing her bites at the exact moments you open your mouth to start up a conversation.

"Asta."

"Mm?" She hums in between chews, blatantly avoiding making eye contact.

As a result, Firefly is in her SAM suit the moment your baby is born. However, since your baby’s first encounter with their other mama is her in her mech suit, they acknowledge SAM as their parent, but not Firefly. So, up until they are old enough to connect that both Firefly and SAM are the same person, I can imagine when you hand Firefly her baby, the baby will cry because who is this strange woman? Where is their other mama? You know, the other mama who is 8-foot tall and made completely out of cold metal?

{REQUEST!♡} {DJINX!♡}

HSR WOMEN | KAFKA , SILVERWOLF , FIREFLY, HIMEKO , MARCH 7TH , BLACK SWAN , STELLE

sfw | kissing | nicknames | romantic | gender neutral reader | request | modern au | newly established relationships | ty anon | rage rooms date | bookstore date | sugarmommy? reader | arcade date | ice cream date | trinkets acquired! | wc: 3.7k

KAFKA♡!

Rain slicks the sidewalks until the city looks freshly rinsed. You’re halfway home, shoulders brushing, when Kafka stops. No warning. Just a small, decisive pause. She folds her unmistakable umbrella— jett black, ridiculous price tag, very her—and without ceremony, she closes the umbrella and leans it against a storefront window. Just abandons it. The woman who notices stains, who protects velvet like it’s sacred, (which it is!) steps straight into the downpour.

Water threads through her hair, darkens her coat, clings to silk. She laughs—quiet, surprised at herself—and begins to dance. Not dramatic. Not calculated. Loose shoulders, slow turns, boots splashing careless crescents across the pavement. For once, she isn’t performing. She’s comfortable. With you.

You watch, openly, stupidly in love already. She spins once, catches you staring, and her smile softens. “Don’t look at me like that, darling,” she murmurs, stepping close.

“Like what?” you tease, even as your hands find her waist. “Like you just ruined a very expensive coat?”

A low hum of amusement. “It can be replaced.”

“You can’t.” That makes her pause.

You pull her in anyway. The kiss is rain-warm and new, a little clumsy, a little breathless. She exhales against your mouth like she didn’t expect you to say that. Her fingers hook into your collar, tugging you closer, slower this time. Measured. Intentional.

“Careful,” she whispers, rain sliding down her lashes. “You’ll make me sentimental.” “Good,” you murmur back. “Stay reckless with me.”

She studies you, like you’re something unscripted. Then her hand slides down to lace with yours. “Walk me home...?” she says softly. Not a command. Just a request.

You grab her umbrella but don’t open it. Let the rain have you both. And Kafka doesn’t let go the entire way back.

♡

SILVERWOLF♡!

The rain catches you halfway between blocks, the good kind—the cinematic kind—turning the city into a smear of neon and reflections. You’re still riding the afterglow of the arcade: Silver Wolf stealing your tokens, trash-talking strangers, leaning over your shoulder to “help” and somehow making it worse on purpose. One of her secret spots. One she doesn’t share. Except with you. (we all know she is a mad gatekeeper lol)

“You’re the one who said we didn’t need jackets,” you remind her. She gives you a look. “Confidence is a lifestyle choice.”

You both duck under an awning, close enough that your shoulders press together automatically. That part isn’t new. The ease isn’t new. You’ve been together long enough that your hands find each other without discussion, fingers threading like they’ve practiced.

She glances at the rain. Then at you.

Then she steps out.

No countdown. No joke. Just one deliberate step into the downpour.

“Hey—!” you start, but she’s already shrugging off her hood, rain dotting her hair, jacket darkening. She looks back at you with that crooked grin. “Relaxxxx. It’s just water.” She shakes her head once like a dog and laughs when droplets hit you. Then she spreads her arms and spins.

At first it’s exaggerated. Over-the-top. A parody of a dramatic movie scene. She does a mock twirl, a ridiculous bow, splashes through a puddle like she’s speedrunning a cutscene. You laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah?” she calls, walking backward now, rain catching in her lashes. “You’re dating me.”

That lands warm.

She slows after a moment. The movements stop being a bit. Her shoulders loosen. The grin turns real. She tilts her face up to the sky and just… stands there, letting herself get soaked. Neon from a nearby sign paints her in shifting pink and blue.

You step out to her this time. “You’re staring,” she says quietly, not looking at you yet. “Because you’re happy.”

She glances over. That familiar, careful flicker passes through her eyes—the one where she decides whether to deflect or not. Tonight, she doesn’t. “Maybe,” she admits.

You reach for her, hands settling at her waist like they belong there. They do. “I like when you’re like this.”

She snorts softly. “Like what...?"

“Soft.”

That makes her pause.

Rain runs down her cheek and you brush it away with your thumb. She doesn’t tease you for it. Doesn’t dodge. Her fingers curl into the front of your shirt instead, tugging you closer.

“You’re suchhh a sap...,” she murmurs.

“And?”

“And I don’t hate it.”

You kiss her first this time—slow, steady, not rushed. The kind of kiss that says you’ve done this before and plan to do it again. Rain cools your skin but her mouth is warm, familiar. She exhales against you, soft sound swallowed by the weather, and kisses you back deeper, less joking than usual.

When you part, she rests her forehead against yours. “Okay,” she says quietly. “Walk me home.”

You lace your fingers with hers and start down the street. The rain doesn’t let up. Neither does she—she keeps close, shoulder bumping yours every few steps, thumb tracing slow lines over your knuckles like she’s checking you’re real.

Halfway there she squeezes your hand. “Hey...”

“Yeah?”

“…Thanks. For tonight....”

You smile at her, tilt your head. “Anytime.”

She rolls her eyes like she has to maintain reputation. “Don’t get cocky.”

But she doesn’t let go.

By the time you reach her building, you’re both soaked through, laughing, breath fogging in the cool air. She lingers at the door like she always does, rocking slightly on her heels.

“Text me when you get back,” she says.

“I always do.”

“Yeah. I know.”

She leans in one more time—quick kiss, softer than the others, like it’s just for her. Then she pulls back, smirks faintly. “Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

You squeeze her hand once before letting go.

“Goodnight.”

She watches you walk away for a second longer than she thinks you notice. And when your phone buzzes five minutes later—!

made it inside. you?

—you can’t stop smiling at the rain.

♡

FIREFLY☆!

The rain starts halfway through the walk back, thin at first, then steady—silver threads falling through neon light.

You’re carrying the empty ice cream cups. She insisted on walking. “It tastes better when it’s cold out!” Firefly said, very serious about it, like it was military order to defend her real true love, ice cream.

You glance over at her. The top of her head barely reaches your chin, and when she tips her face up to say something, you have to dip yours slightly to catch it. Rain has already softened her silver hair, strands resting against her cheeks like they belong there.

“Firefly,” you warn gently, “you’re going to freeze.” She stops. You rolled your eyes, wondering what she's planning.

Rain catches in her lashes. She tilts her face toward the sky, eyes closing like she’s memorizing the sensation. For a moment she just stands there, breathing.

Then she laughs.

Soft. Unrestrained. And she spins.

Not graceful in a rehearsed way—just real. Shoes splashing, coat flaring, hair fanning out before settling against her shoulders again. She lifts her hands like she’s catching stars instead of rain.

You stare. She looks alive in a way that makes your throat tight.

“You’re staring,” she calls, smiling.

“Yeah,” you admit. “Can you blame me?”

She slows, stepping back toward you, rain-soaked and luminous. “It’s just rain.”

“It’s you,” you say. “Choosing it.”

That makes her pause.

You step closer, naturally towering just a little over her, brushing wet hair away from her face. Your thumb lingers at her cheek.

Her expression softens into something vulnerable. Honest. She’s spent most of her life being the dependable one. The careful one. The person who plans ahead, keeps promises, doesn’t waste time or draw unnecessary attention. Spinning in the middle of the street at midnight, letting rain soak through her clothes and laughter spill out unchecked—that’s not something she usually allows herself. Tonight, though, the rules feel looser.

“I like you like this,” you murmur. “Not trying to be perfect. Just… you.”

“I don’t always know how to do that,” she admits quietly. “Just be...yknow...?”

“You don’t have to earn it,” you say. “Not with me.”

She searches your face like she’s checking the math, making sure it adds up. Then she rises onto her toes and kisses you—gentle at first, testing. You lean down to meet her fully, one hand steady at her waist.

The rain keeps falling around you, but she doesn’t pull away quickly. She stays there, warm against your chest despite the cold.

“Walk me home?” she asks, voice softer now.

“Always.”

She slips her hand into yours again, smaller fingers threading easily between yours, and this time she doesn’t hesitate.

♡

HIMEKO☆!

The rain begins halfway through your walk home, soft at first, then steady, threads of silver weaving through the streetlights. The city smells of wet asphalt and something faintly floral, a hint of spring in the drizzle. You’re carrying the clay pieces carefully, wrapped in your jacket—your mug for her, hers for you. She keeps her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, letting her fingers brush yours occasionally, small gestures that feel like little electric sparks.

“You didn’t have to make this,” she says, holding the coffee mug you shaped, tilting it in the rainlight to catch the faint glaze shimmer. Her golden eyes glow brighter than the streetlamps, warm and amused. “It’s adorable!”

“You’re worth it...” you murmur, adjusting your hold so the mug doesn’t slip. She smiles softly at you, tilting her head just enough that her damp red hair brushes her collarbone.

You glance up at her. Himeko is taller than you, not by much, but enough that when she leans down to say something, you feel your chest tighten. Rain clings to her hair and coat, but she doesn’t seem to mind, just breathing in the sound and feel of it.

Himeko holds the little trinket she made for you—tiny, delicate, with a little hand-painted detail. “I thought you’d like it,” she says. “It’s… silly, but it reminded me of you.”

“It’s perfect...” you reply, brushing your thumb over the smooth surface. She laughs, soft and unrestrained, and it’s impossible not to grin back.

Without warning, Himeko steps into the middle of the street, letting the rain fall freely over her face. Her coat flares slightly as she spins, hands lifting like she’s catching droplets of silver. Not polished, not rehearsed—just alive. Boots splash in shallow puddles, hair flaring before settling again, rain-darkened strands sticking gently to her cheeks.

You watch, unable to tear your eyes away. She looks luminous, radiant in a way that makes your heart thrum painfully, beautifully.

She pauses mid-spin, chest rising and falling as the rain soaks her coat through, and for a moment, the world shrinks to just her and the silver-threaded rain. The city hums around you—traffic, distant laughter—but it all feels muffled, like you’re suspended in a private bubble of light and water.

“You’re ridiculous,” you call softly, though your voice carries more awe than teasing.

“Am I?” she says, tilting her head, letting droplets roll down her lashes. “Maybe I just like dancing when no one’s watching.”

“Well,” you grin, stepping closer so your shoulder brushes hers, “lucky for you, I am watching.”

She spins again, laughter spilling over like a melody, water flicking from her boots. This time she reaches for your hand, fingers slipping into yours, pulling you lightly into the center of the puddle with her. “Then join me, my sweet...” she says, eyes sparkling, voice teasing but tender.

You hesitate only for a heartbeat before letting yourself get pulled in. The first step into the water is cold, sending a thrill up your spine, but she’s there, holding you, steadying you, guiding you through slow turns and splashes. Your jacket sticks damply to your back, hair plastered to your forehead, but none of it matters.

“You look ridiculous,” she murmurs against your ear as you spin, “but in a good way.”

“You mean adorable,” you counter, grinning, stepping closer as your height difference nudges your chin toward hers. She tilts her face, letting the rain bead along her lashes, and for a heartbeat, your breath mingles, warm against the cool, wet night.

“I like this,” Himeko says softly, almost to herself, fingers tightening around yours. “I like you like this—laughing, wet, completely unbothered by everything else.”

You lean in, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek, thumb lingering just above her jaw. “I like you like this too,” you whisper, your voice low, caught somewhere between awe and desire.

She tilts her head up and your lips meet. The kiss is soft, tentative at first, rain-warm and clumsy, lips pressing, teeth barely brushing, hearts racing. When you part, she laughs against your mouth, wet and breathless, and you laugh too, caught in the tide of something gentle and wild all at once.

“You’re impossible,” Himeko murmurs, wrapping her arms around your neck as she leans against you, still spinning slowly in the puddles.

“And you’re incredible,” you reply, fingers tangling in the damp strands at her nape, pulling her closer.

The rain pelts around you, drumming on the asphalt and coating your clothes, but for a long moment, it’s just you and her, spinning together, laughing, kissing, and letting the city’s chaos fade into the glow of neon and silver light. You carry the little trinkets home in your jacket, but tonight, they feel like mere tokens of the real magic happening right here, under the rain, between the two of you.

♡

MARCH 7TH♡!

The rain starts as you step out of the boutique district, light at first, soft like the whisper of new memories. You’re carrying a bag of little surprises—new lenses she’s been eyeing, a couple of treats you couldn’t resist, and the wrappers of snacks already half-devoured. March walks beside you, umbrella tilted just enough that her pink hair peeks out, strands damp at the tips. She giggles as you hand her the new lenses. “You really did all this for me?” she asks, eyes sparkling, voice bright with disbelief.

“Of course,” you grin. “You deserve it.”

She tucks the camera strap around her neck, glancing up at you, her smaller frame almost swallowed by your shoulder. “You’re too good,” she murmurs, fingers brushing yours in a spark that makes you heart skip.

Halfway down the street, she stops. With a soft, decisive laugh, she lets the umbrella drop. Rain soaks her hair and clothes, and she doesn’t flinch—she lifts her face to the sky, spinning, boots splashing puddles like they’re confetti. Hands lifted, she twirls, golden-pink hair fanning out and sticking in perfect little messy strands. Her laughter carries in the empty street, unpolished and real.

You watch, breathless, heart swelling. “March…” you murmur, stepping closer, “you’re… wow.”

She catches your eyes mid-spin, cheeks flushed and radiant. “You’re staring,” she teases, stepping nearer, wet coat brushing yours.

“Can you blame me?” you reply, smiling.

She grins, sliding her fingers into yours. “Then come dance with me.”

You do, moving slowly, boots sloshing in the puddles, fingertips brushing her damp hair, forehead leaning against hers. Rain threads through the city light, glimmering over both of you like magic caught in motion.

When you kiss, it’s shy, warm, and sweet—half laughter, half breathless surprise. March giggles against you, resting her hands on your chest. “Promise me… we’ll always make memories like this?”

You brush a wet strand from her cheek, smiling down. “Promise. Always.”

She squeezes your hand, face glowing in the streetlight, umbrella forgotten at your feet, and the two of you stay there, soaked and laughing, wrapped in the quiet warmth of a rainy city night.

♡

BLACK SWAN♡!

The rain begins as you leave the bookstore, light at first, a mist that makes the streetlamps bloom like soft orbs. Your arms are full of the little treasures you picked up for each other—her favorite novels, a quirky notebook for you, and small trinkets you couldn’t resist. She holds the umbrella, but lets it tilt to one side, letting the rain drip along the edge.

“I can’t believe you found this edition!” Black Swan says, tilting her head so the wet strands of her hair fall across her cheek. Her voice is soft, almost secretive, and it makes the rain feel warmer somehow.

“You always pick the perfect books too y'know...” you murmur, balancing the bag so nothing falls.

Black Swan tilts her head, golden‑violet eyes glimmering in the drizzle. “Only the ones worth remembering...” she says softly, letting the umbrella dip a little so a few raindrops catch her hair. “And maybe some just because they reminded me of you.”

“I thought we both deserved a little treat,” you say, shifting the bag so it doesn’t slip. “And that edition… it feels made for you. Truly, you’re one of a kind.” Her violet-gold eyes meet yours, and for a moment the world shrinks

Then, with a small laugh, Black Swan drops the umbrella completely and steps into the rain. The drops catch her coat, her hair, and she spins, letting her arms stretch wide, fingertips skimming puddles. Her laughter rolls through the quiet street, low and unrestrained. Boots splash in shallow water; her movement is natural, unstudied, magnetic.

The rain is heavier now, drumming a steady rhythm against the pavement, soaking the hem of her coat. You’re still gripping the bookstore bags, but she doesn’t care—she’s already abandoned the umbrella entirely. She spins again, faster this time, and a laugh escapes her lips, low and teasing, sliding along the night air like silk.

“You’re just going to stand there and watch?” she teases, droplets catching in her lashes. Her violet hair fans out as she twirls, and you can’t help but feel dizzy with the sight.

“Someone’s got to admire the chaos...” you murmur.

Black Swan quirks a brow, then suddenly grabs your hand, tugging you forward. Your shoes splash into a puddle, cold water soaking through, but she doesn’t slow. She’s taller, so every pull, every reach, feels like she’s guiding you into her orbit.

“Chaos?” she repeats, smirking, letting her other hand trail along your shoulder. “I call it… freedom.”

Before you can respond, she spins again, and this time she pulls you fully into the motion. The two of you are spinning through the shallow rain, laughter and droplets mingling, your coats clinging to you both, her body pressing close, hands firm yet gentle on your waist.

“You’re going to ruin your hair,” you say breathlessly, tugging at a strand stuck to your cheek.

“And you’re going to ruin your shoes,” she shoots back, voice playful, yet soft as she leans in, forehead brushing yours. Her lips hover close, teasing, warm against the cool rain.

The world shrinks. Only her—the smell of wet hair, the faint scent of books and earth, the pulse of the rain—exists. She grins, eyes glinting, and suddenly she presses her lips to yours, pulling you against her. The kiss is slow, deliberate, with the rain sluicing down both your faces, her hands tracing your spine as if memorizing every line of you.

You break for air, laughing, breathless, soaked to the bone. She drags you toward another puddle, grinning wickedly. “Come on, darlin'” she whispers, “you’re not done yet.”

You stumble into her rhythm, trying to keep pace as she twirls and dips, letting your laughter mingle with hers. She presses against you again, wet hair sticking to your cheeks, hands tangled in yours, and leans in close. “You know,” she murmurs, voice low, “I could get used to dragging you into puddles.”

“I could get used to you,” you reply, heart hammering, “dragging me anywhere.”

Black Swan smiles that mischievous, sultry smile, then captures your lips once more, deeper this time, a kiss that tastes of rain, thrill, and something entirely hers. When she pulls back, her eyes glint with satisfaction, water dripping along her eyelashes, and she laughs, soft and victorious.

“You’re mine for tonight!~” she teases, tugging your hand, spinning you into yet another puddle.

“And I’m not complaining...” you whisper, letting her lead, letting her world—this storm-soaked, luminous, impossible Black Swan world—swirl around you.

The rain washes over you both, the city a blur of lights and reflections, but in her arms, in her laugh, in her gaze, the night feels endless. A world of memory and mischief, spun from silver droplets and the warmth of her presence, and you know you’ll remember it forever.

♡

STELLE♡!

The rain starts softly as you leave the rage room, droplets catching in the streetlights like tiny stars. Stelle’s hair is plastered to her forehead, a few rebellious strands clinging to her cheeks, and she’s laughing under her hood.

“You actually dragged me here...!” you mutter, shaking your wet jacket free.

“I begged!” she says, smirking, and there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes that makes your chest tighten. “And admit it—you loved it!"

“I mayyy have screamed louder than you.” you admit, and she grins wider, looping an arm through yours. The closeness sends a jolt through your ribs.

The rain thickens, steady now, soaking through jackets and shirts. Stelle glances at the umbrella you brought, then casually drops it, letting the raindrops fall freely over her face. “C’mon,” she says, tugging your hand, “dance with me!”

You hesitate, awkward on the slick sidewalk, but she spins in a puddle first, boots sending water splashing. Her laughter is bright and untamed, and the sight of her—carefree, reckless, alive—makes your heart pound.

Stelle spins again, and this time you don’t even try to resist. Your hands find hers, fingers interlacing, and the puddles splash around your boots like tiny fireworks. Her laughter rings over the rain, and you can’t help but match it, your hearts beating in sync.

When the spinning slows, she presses her forehead to yours, breath warm against your skin despite the chill. “Thanks for joining me...,” she murmurs, but there’s a softness there now, an honesty that makes your chest ache.

“Wherever you go,I go...,” you reply, letting your hand brush the damp strands of hair from her face.

Her eyes sparkle, reflecting the streetlights, the rain, everything. And then she leans in, just slightly, giving you the chance you’ve been waiting for. Your lips meet hers, slow and deliberate, tasting faintly of the chocolate you shared, warm and sweet against the cool rain.

You pull back just enough to smile, foreheads still touching. “Stay like this?” you whisper.

“Forever,” she replies, tilting her face up so the raindrops slide off her cheeks and mingle with yours.

And there you stand, soaked, laughing quietly together, wrapped in each other’s warmth while the world dissolves around you—just you, her, and the silver-threaded rain.

No TW’s I think. Just sillies being silly. Established relationship with Reader in all these hc’s.

—————

Hanabi

Head snaps 180° at you and you scream.

She’s traumatized you and now you will never do it again.

This doesn’t stop her from getting you back, though. And she’ll do it in public to make it worse. It’s not a one-and-done deal either, it becomes a regular thing.

You’ve just sentenced yourself to a life of sore-booty and humiliation. Was it really worth it?

Black Swan

Stares at you.

Her expression is a little hard to read and the longer she looks at you the more you feel implored to apologize.

She’s not mad though, she’s actually rather amused. And she’s getting even more entertainment by watching you squirm.

Eventually she gives and just chuckles. If you’ll allow her, then she’ll give you a nice tap on the butt too.

Sampo

He does that one goofy (Mickey mouse) scream.

Very animated reaction. Jumps 10 feet off the ground and covers his behind. He looks back at you like a kicked puppy but you know it’s all fake.

Sniffles and says smthn like, “How could you do this to your best bud, Sampo?”

Gets you back when you least expect it. Like you actually scream bloody murder because your guard is down and you can’t hear him sneak up on you bc he’s light on his feet. It doesn’t matter if you’re in public either. Be very afraid.

Aventurine

“Woah! Getting a little frisky, eh?”

If you’ve got something separating you two like a chair or a counter, he will chase you around it to reach you. Spanks you back, harder, with zero hesitation.

He starts tapping your butt as a regular thing afterwards. Almost like a greeting.

“Hey babe.” Then a light slap. When he feels extra mischievous he’ll grab it.

Acheron

You are unable to slap her booty because she catches your hand before it makes contact.

Just kind of looks at you and goes, “What are you doing.”

You explain to her that spanking is a sort of gesture between close companions. She doesn’t quite get it but decides to just go with it.

Later on, when she greets you, she strikes her hand down on your behind so hard that your teeth clatter. She asks if she did it right with such a hopeful tone, that you can’t find it in yourself to tell her that shattering someone’s pelvis is not part of the gesture. (When she does find out that she’s hurt you she apologizes deeply and coddles you)

Dr. Ratio

Lets out a high pitched yelp.

Gives you the most scandalized look and defensively rubs his tush.

“Did you really just do what I think you did?”

Strategizes a way to get you back. He has a blackboard with physics equations for the perfect angle and fall of his hand, pinned papers and calendars with your schedule and his, etc. He’s terrible at hiding his intentions too. When the time comes for his revenge you already anticipate it. What you didn’t anticipate was how strong he was. You guess those biceps aren’t just for show.

Firefly

Why would you ever? What kind of monster are you?

She yelps and just stares at you; hands covering her behind, face flushed, and her mouth agape.

Apologize.

Sam

You have a death wish.

Another one who catches your hand before you can spank. He just puts your hand back in your lap and goes, “No.”

He actually just doesn’t want you to hurt yourself. His… butt… isn’t very soft, you see.

If you want him to, he’ll lightly tap yours back.

March 7nth

Gasps and launches herself at you with full intention of getting you back.

It turns into a chase, where you run in circles around the gazebo until she gets too tired and gives up.

You laugh about it but later forget. Little do you know, March has been scheming ever since.

“AHA!” You feel a harsh slap against your behind and yelp. The vendor you were talking to looks at you and your girlfriend as if you’ve both grown an extra head. She laughs victoriously, “See? I told you payback was coming!”

Robin

“Oh!!!” Gasps and covers herself. She’s a little freaked out at first but once she see’s it’s you she giggles.

You don’t really expect her to spank you back but she does. With the same amount of force that you used.

It kinda escalates into a competition where you two see who can land the most spanks in one day. Just don’t do it in front of her brother.

You’re losing btw.

Sunday

Do NOT spank him in public. He will be very crossed with you. Not funny did not laugh.

You may proceed with the spank if you are in private though.

He actually squeaks when you do. Then once the initial shock wears off he laughs, incredibly amused by you. Doesn’t say it but he plans on returning the favor.

Firefly loves lying down on her thighs. Whenever she feels like she needs to take a quick nap, she'll happily lie down on your thighs. She loves it whenever you play with her hair in your hands. Whenever her illness gets a little worse, she enjoys coming to you and your thighs for some comfort. Even if it's temporary, she enjoys the moments you are both together.

Boothill loves staring at your ass whenever he has the chance. As you pass by or walk beside him, he can't help but steal a glance at you. Or even if he presents himself as a gentleman, opening the door for you while you enter the room, just so he can sneak a small glance. He stares often, too, enough for you to notice it.

Aglaea loves your chest. Whenever you commission clothes from her, she she ensures that the outfit will be perfect for bringing out your tits. Obviously, she will make sure that they're covered before adding accessories to them. She also loves working on it while you try it on, making sure it fits you perfectly.

When you ask Anaxagoras, he thinks it's a stupid question; there are plenty of better things to ask than which body part he prefers. The truth, though, is he could never admit how much he adores staring at your chest. Whenever you aren't looking, his gaze slowly gets lower until your eyes are back onto him, to which he immediately looks up before you can catch on. If you ever did catch him staring he for sure would be very flustered though.

Castorice loves all three equally. She loves your entire body just like she loves you. Since she can't touch them, she mainly relies on the visual aspects of them and usually your outfits make everything look perfect.

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Part 1 Here: Blade, Phainon, Aventurine, Sunday & Mydei

Part 2 Here: The Herta, Kafka, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Jiaoqiu & Moze