flayon is a bit of a special case because while he doesn't explicitly take care of his feet as deliberately as magni does, his natural shota genes and lore give him an edge that no amount of care can make up for. when he slips out of his shoes and rolls the socks off his feet, his arch is ever so slightly heightened from the support of his shoes, giving the impression that his feet are a tad smaller than they actually are before straightening out and revealing his perfectly proportionate feet, his toes ever so slightly short. his toes would be angled straight from the smallest to the large toe, none out of order and no toe significantly taller than the next. it's like a short staircase, unlike magni's, whose index toes would jut out slightly longer than the largest.

his nails are cut to a curve and lay on top of each toe with no overlap of skin, the whites of the tips giving the impression of a natural manicure. it's easy to imagine that flay might play with the edge of his desk, or oh-so gently tease a wooden floor with these divine nails, even vividly discerning the satisfying sound they would make as they playfully drag across the floor while he talks at length about one of his special interests.

the most immediately striking thing about his feet is that they smell generally bright and fresh—underarch baby-soft and only gathering the cutest and faintest of crinkles even as he flexes the skin underneath—his shoes being lined with a supportive insole freshener akin to a newly washed car scent. the characteristically unique choice of scent doesn't fully mask the smell left behind from the sweat and dirt his socks trapped his soles in with after his many spontaneous sprints and workout sessions. the area above the lightly blushed balls of his feet meeting his tight, plush toes is the biggest culprit; just from his feet waving in your face for a split second you can tell.

but he doesn't give you the chance as he takes a rubberized gloved hand to wipe off the few fuzzies and left behind debris from the terrain of his run off from his perfectly oval, light, soft heels and from between each toe. his little fake claws very gently check between each little piggy as his high sensitivity to foreign textures would cause him to obsess over cleaning his feet. he would dig the claws slowly under each nail, spreading his short toes individually to give him the best leverage and keep a hard thinking expression on as he ensures he's sand- and dirt-free.

the little cleaning turns into a self-massage when he realizes just how sore his shins and ankles are, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding in as he uses your shoulder as a stepping stool for one foot, stretching his perfectly lotioned, soft, twistable and bendable feet on its own. how the rest of flayon's little feet show-off session would go...? i do not have the capacity to describe as i have already gone too far off the rails. goodbye.