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cupcakeinat0r · 9 months

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Broadway Baby ch. 3

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: Today is your first lesson… and we’re not talking abt the piano lesson you give Gabriella…

Warnings: NSFW, fingering, squirting, mirror sex?, p in v, losing ur V card, unprotected (wrap it n tap it pls), nipple play

Tags: Sugar Daddy AU, Age gap, Soft dom! Miguel, Sub!Reader, reader is a Latina mami (written by a Latina <3), Miguel is a horny dilf (girl dinnerrr), and accurate Spanish translations <3

Word count: 5.7k

Ch. 2

Note: I do use the word ‘small’ but this is not in regard to reader’s appearance, simply a comparison to Miguel’s height :) <3

I promised y’all toe curling smut so I hope I delivered!!! Enjoy!!

That morning, you woke up earlier than normal because you wanted to make sure you showed up to Miguel’s house flawless.

You did your hair, you painted your nails, you moisturized your entire body, did your skin care regimen, and you meticulously did your makeup, hell, you even gua sha’d your face beforehand; a secret Santa gift from a year ago, never taken out of its box until now. It was your nerves to blame for your over-thorough preparation.

For your outfit, you settled on a knitted dress which hugged your body from top to just above the knees paired with a matching cropped cardigan and some close-toed heels. Cute yet professional.

On the way to Miguel’s place, you look over your little lesson planner you created the night before; something to go by as you teach Gabriella. You’ve never taught anyone in your life, let alone a child, but you were looking forward to it. You were technically helping raise the next generation of artists, and that made you feel excited about this opportunity.

Once you get to the location sent by Miguel, you look up to see a house that very much lives up to what you expected Miguel to live in. It was modern with clean and sharp edges. You were having to lean your head back it was so big, your eyes wide as you imagine the pricing on this real estate.

You take in a deep breath, ringing the doorbell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miguel’s morning was just as hectic.

Just like you, he wanted to make sure he looked good for you. He chose an outfit he thought you would really like. He shaved his face (even though you liked his scruff), fixed his hair, and put on the nicest cologne he owned.

He went as far as preparing a breakfast so that you had something to eat before or after your lesson with Gabriella.

Miguel, standing in the middle of his living room, looked around the house, making sure everything was presentable and clean for you.

“Gabri, casi listo (almost ready)? Your teacher’s gonna be here soon!” He calls from the bottom of the stairs. “Yes, papa, almost done!” She calls back.

Miguel then goes to his phone when he hears a notification.

Omw!! Just got in the car!

Great 👍

And what is omw?

It means ‘On My Way’!

Oh LOL 😂 Getting

too for old this I guess👴🏾

Jajajaja ay, no pa tanto,

(Not so much) you know What they say,

32 is the new 22!

Jajaja you’re too sweet.❤️

Bueno, te veo pronto.😌

( Well, see you soon.)

See you soon!!! So excited

to meet her!!!

Miguel reads the last text with a soft smile. You truly were just the sweetest human being he’s ever witnessed. Sometimes, he just wanted to cup your face and smother you in kisses. Or smother his face between those plush thighs of yours. Either way, he’d be a happy man.

He’ll be able to give into those fantasies. Soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stand on his doorstep, waiting after you rung the doorbell. Your heart drops as you hear the door unlocking.

It’s just Miguel. The man of your dreams, but he’s just a guy. Chill out.

When the door opens, there he is, standing 6 foot 9 inches, a beautiful latin man, clean shaven, wearing a compression shirt, gray sweats, some house slippers, and smells of teakwood and vanilla. He opens the door wide open, giving you his signature smile. “Morning, beautiful. Ven, ven.” (Come in, come in) he says, ushering you inside his home.

You always forget how actually beautiful he is until you see him in person. You swallow down hard as you look up at him and offer him a tight smile as you step inside. You can already feel your cunt flutter and a sticky warmth form in your underwear at just the sight of him as you step inside, stealing a glance at his ripped body underneath the thin fabric of his shirt. And those sweats were a size too small on him. Damn him.

Miguel was no better. When he opened that door and saw you, smaller than him and wearing a dress that accentuated your waist and ass, cleavage teasing him through the neckline and cardigan, his breath hitched. He had to hide his arousal with a smile, but goddamn, you looked delicious. If you weren’t here to teach his daughter how to play piano on her 7th birthday, he would’ve pulled you inside the house, bunched your dress above your tits, thrown you onto the sofa and fucked you missionary style until you were a panting mess.

“So How was the ride here, sweetie? Were you comfortable? Can I get you anything to drink? Agua, jugo de china…?” (Water, orange juice) He starts the conversation as you both step into the living room, his hand on the small of your back.

You chuckle at Miguel’s thoughtful questioning. “Don’t worry, it was very nice, and thank you so much for doing that, you didn’t need to!”

“Oh, please, I wasn’t gonna let you pay for an Uber to my house. And the subway was out of the question. Pretty girls like you don’t belong there, anyway.” He smirks, which makes you blush in return. “Muchas gracias, Miguel. I may actually do that glass of water, please.” As soon as you ask for it, Miguel is already in the kitchen fixing you the drink.

“Here you go, sweetie. I also made some breakfast, so please, help yourself. ” You blush at the name, taking the glass from him. “Thank you, this all looks so delicious! I’ll probably eat after the lesson. You look comfy, by the way!” You compliment Miguel before taking a sip. He smiles, looking down at his outfit before responding, “You could say that. I’m working from home, so no suit today. As for you, you look beautiful, but that’s old news.” He flirts before taking a sip of his own glass of water. You smile as your gaze retreats to the cup in your hands, “Oh, stop it, you’re too much.”

“What? I’m just telling the truth.” He says with a shrug and his brows furrowed. You can practically feel his eyes grazing over your body. Miguel loves the way you blush at his advances; practically lives off of it, your cute little bashful self. You look up to give him a smile, looking to change the subject or else you’ll become the color of a tomato.

“So where’s the birthday girl?” You set the glass down on the counter top, Miguel leaning against it on the other side. “She should be coming down any minute now. She’s been going through the roof about these lessons, but she doesn’t know that you’re teaching them, so you’ll be the surprise.” Your mouth drops in awe, your hand going up to touch your chest, “aw, oh my goodness, that just made me even more excited! Ugh, I’m a huge fan of hers already. ” Your smile is wide enough that your dimples become visible, Miguel taking note of them and wondering how you can be so hot and adorable at the same time. Miguel starts to lean closer toward you over the counter.

“Well, she’s a huge fan of yours,” Miguel says, getting even closer to you as he props himself on his elbows, his muscles on full display as he looks at you with a flirtatious gaze, “and I don’t blame her.” His words make your smile fall slightly as your eyes go down to those tempting lips, your insides crying for you to just lean over and kiss them. Miguel’s eyes follow yours, something primal unleashing in him when he sees your lips part. Then you hear the patter of small feet rushing down the stairs, the two of you looking at Gabriella as she comes down.

“Papa, is she here yet-“, her face drops when she sees you in the kitchen. Her idol was in her home. “Feliz cumpleaños, Gabriella!” (Happy Bday) You say, reaching your arms out when you see run up to you. She hugs you, her cheek pressed against your stomach as she squeals, then she looks up, “You’re gonna be my teacher?!” “That’s right, and we’re gonna have so much fun!” Your response makes her jump with joy. “This is the best birthday ever!!!”

Miguel looks at the two of you with a grin before speaking, “She’s gonna teach you piano today, mija, so listen carefully and follow her instructions, you hear me?” “Yes, papa! C’mon, papa got me a big piano yesterday for us to use!” She says, your hand in hers as she leads you through the house and into a smaller room. You shoot Miguel a giddy smile before being pulled away by the seven old.

“Do you have a piano like this?” She exclaims, sitting up on the bench of the piano. You place the lesson planner on a nearby table and sit next to her. “Oh, well, I’ve never actually had my own piano. I always played with pianos that belonged to my teachers or the theater.” You respond.

“Oh. You can play with mine anytime you want, then!” She says with a toothy smile. You giggle at her adorable generosity in return, “Thank you, mamita, I appreciate it.” Miguel leans against the doorframe watching you two talk to each other a little more and he’s living for how happy Gabriella is to be with you. Sure, she was daddy’s girl, and loved him to death as any spoiled little girl would, but he’s never seen her like this. She was usually so shy with people but with you, Gabriella was an open book.

“Alright, I’ll leave you two ladies to it, then. If you need me, I’ll be in the study.” He says, closing the glass door behind him.

“Okay, ready?” “Ready!” Gabriella says, and with that, the lesson had started. “Tell me everything you know about the Piano, mama.”

“Ummm…”, her eyes travel across the black and white keys. “In music class, Mrs. Smith showed us how to read music!” You perk up in surprise. “Awesome! So, let’s see… if I pressed this key, do you know what letter this is?” You say, pressing the middle white key. “Oh! Um, um, that’s a… C?” “Yes! Oh my goodness, you’re such a smart girl! Do you know what this one is?” “Uh… G!” “Right again!” You joyfully laugh at your young pupil’s intelligence.

“I only know these ones though, I dunno the black ones.” She says, discouraged. “Oh, don’t you worry, mamita, I’ll show you. By the end of today, you’ll be a pro at these black keys! Watch…”, then you use your right hand, gently pressing the keys to explain to her their assigned letters. Miguel is able to take a peek into the piano room from his study, occasionally peering over his computer with a smile. You were the cutest lil teacher for his daughter.

He wasn’t getting any work done, too busy admiring your patience and gentleness with Gabriella anytime she wasn’t able to get something right. You were so encouraging and uplifting, and that’s exactly what Gabri needs. It’s what Miguel was looking for in a partner. You were beautiful. You were kind. You were intelligent and strong. All those things were bonuses, but this right here, what you were doing in that piano room, was what set you apart. This wasn’t just physical attraction anymore. He was falling deeply for you. He needed you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was about 15 minutes left in your hour lesson with Gabri when she asks, “May I use the restroom?”

“Of course, mama, you don’t ever need to ask that! I’ll be right here waiting.” You say warmly as she hops off the bench and leaves. You’re left alone with the most beautiful piano sitting in front of you, and your hands itch to play on it. Not able to fight back the urge, you begin to play some Debussy.

Nose deep in his work, Miguel’s head bobs up from the sea of papers in front of him when he hears the melody. The corners of his mouth lift, and he walks toward the piano room. He sees you playing through the open door, watching as you get lost in the music. Still playing, you take a quick glance to the side, feeling as though someone was at the entrance of the room, finding that you were right. You stop playing and pat at the bit of open bench next to you.

“Wanna learn?” You wholesomely prompt, but he chuckles, shaking his head in apprehension. “I’d rather not, I wouldn’t understand a single thing.” “Ay, no seas asi (don’t be like that). C’mon, let me show you at least a little bit! Please?” You plead, tilting your head to the side as you persuade Miguel, and it works. With a sigh, he sat down on the bench, straddling it so that he’s facing you.

You immediately regret the decision when you can feel his large body just mere inches from your much smaller stature. You clear your throat, “The song I was playing just now was in the key of D flat Major, meaning I only press these keys…” you start explaining the music to Miguel, but he’s completely lost in how your lips move, the way your voice sounds like honey, how your eyes look from the piano and back up to him. You begin to crack under his intense gaze.

He isn’t getting a single word of this.

You knew he wasn’t really listening, but you kept talking about the song anyway, scared of giving into his seductive look. He was so close to you right now. He was all up in your business. You were quivering from the tension in the air, your only refuge being all 88 of the keys in front of you. Due to your nervousness, your voice had grown softer, slightly wavering. You swallow down before rambling on, “and, um, this here is a… is a harmonic scale…and, uh….”

Miguel sees your hand tremble as it hovers over the piano. He then grabs it lovingly. You stop talking, your nerves easing from the warmth of his hand. His thumb rubs circles on the back of your hand reassuringly, his hand completely engulfing yours. With the palm of his hand against the back of yours, he intertwined his fingers with yours, bringing it up to his face.

“So soft…”

he whispers, breathing in your scent as he places a kiss on the palm of your hand, making a small smack when he pulls away. “So sweet…” He then slowly brings his mouth to your neck, your skin prickling with every brush of his breath. “Miguel…” you murmur when you feel his lips and tongue suck at the flesh of your neck, the low vibrations of his voice against your skin sending shivers down your body.

He moves up to the shell of your ear, whispering with strain, as if he’s been holding this back for far too long, “You drive me crazy, you know that? sabes cuanto te necesito?” (you know how much I need you?). He puts his head back into the crook of your neck, planting small kisses there and his hands wrapping around your waist, squeezing the clothed flesh. As Miguel’s touches become fervid, you let out a small moan, trying to use your hands to stop him, “ay, M-Miguel, no puedo (I can’t), what if Gabriella-“

“por favor, cariño, (please, sweetie) I can’t… Mm… I can’t wait…Mngh… any longer, bebe…(baby)” he begs in between kisses that make their way up your jaw and to your cheek. He completely wraps his ginormous arms around you, his fragile doll, caged by his burly build.

“I need you so badly, sweetheart.” He coos breathlessly, brows knitted as he pouts like a lovesick puppy.

When he’s about to kiss you on your lips, he stops to drink in your face. Your lips pouted and parted. His eyes, the color of sweet, dark wine, looking down at them, imagining how soft they’ll feel in about a second… or how they would feel wrapped around his massive dick. One of his hands cups your face, the other wrapped around your waist to pull you in even closer to press against his thick, toned body. You look up at him with those same big, round, doe eyes; that same innocent look that never fails to make his dick throb. You don’t look down at it (as much as you wanted to, but you were occupied by his now even more plump and wet lips), but you can feel it against the side of your thigh… and he’s big.

“So pretty for me…,” his thumb swipes at your bottom lip, “You’re so good… so fucking perfect… fuck, c’mere-“ he hungrily smashes his face against yours, lips entangled, his tongue probing at your entrance before you eagerly let him in. You snake your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. What began as a sweet, tender kiss quickly turns into a heated one, the room filled with the smack of y’all’s lips and soft sighs of pleasure. His hold on you tightens with each pleasured whimper you send into his mouth, his own growls and tongue going down your throat and igniting the heat between your legs. You feel the warmth of his hand on your cheek leave, returning on your inner thigh after he lifts your dress, his hand going up higher and higher…

Your make-out session was cut short by the sound of a distant sink being turned on. Must’ve been Gabriella washing her hands, which means she would be walking back in here any second now.

You both pulled away hurriedly, having to catch y’all’s breaths and fix yourselves. Miguel stood up from the bench, a shit eating grin on his face as he looked at how hot and bothered you became. “perdón, hermosa (sorry, beautiful), just can’t control myself around you,” he leans down to catch you in one last, tongue-eating kiss, pulling back with a big pop!, “Let me know when you two are done, yea?” He whispers again, and you nod at him, your eyes still hooded and lips bruised from his kisses. After he kisses your forehead, you watch him leave the room at the same time Gabriella comes in.

“I’m back!… Are you ok, Miss. y/n?” She says, her cute face contorted in genuine concern.

“Oh! Uh,” you say, fixing your hair and finally catching your breath, ”I’m fine, mamita! Never been better… So where were we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Aww, do you have to leave now?” Gabriella pouts. You brush a strand of hair behind her ear when you bend over to face her, the three of you standing in the living room near the front door.

“I’m sorry, mama, but I have to. We’ll have another lesson tomorrow!” You say softly, trying to make her feel better.

“Yea, but… but… I like being with you a lot.” You could’ve exploded from the cuteness overload. You felt so bad for leaving her, especially on her birthday.

“Say what… I have to be in the theater in a couple hours to get to my curtain call, however… I coulddd give a certain birthday girl a private tour of the stage…” you tap your chin and act mysterious.

Gabriella gasps, her mouth agape, “You can do that?!” You laugh at her shocked expression. “If your papa is okay with it?” You say, looking up at Miguel. “That would be great. What do we say, Gabri?” “Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!!!” She hugs you, you embracing her tiny form. “You’re so very welcome, mama, I’ll see you tonight then, okay?” You cup her face when she looks up at you.

“Okay! I’m gonna go pick my outfit! I’m so excited! I can’t believe I get to see the show again!” She says, pulling away and running up the stairs. You stand back up, smiling at Miguel. Miguel looks at the top of the stairs to wait for Gabriella to be in her room until he walks up to you, placing his hands on your hips. “That was very generous of you, sweetie, but you’re already doing so much for her by giving her these lessons.” He says, his hand under your chin, his thumb caressing it.

“Well, the lessons are your birthday present to her, so this is my present to her.” You say cheerily. “Thank you for the food, by the way, it was all delicious. Not as good as my cooking, pero… casi casi (but almost),” you say half jokingly. Miguel lets out a chuckle, “Oh, I’m taking that as a challenge. I’ll have to try it to believe it.”

“Someday you will.” “I look forward to it, hermosa,” he winks at you as he opens the door. “See you later then, cariño (honey).”

He’s confused as he watches you give him a small wave and take one step outside, but you’re stopped when he grabs your hand, turning you back toward him.

“You didn’t think you were leaving without a goodbye kiss, did you?” He pulls you back into him, wrapping his arms around you once more and placing his lips on yours. This one was much more sweet and tender compared to the ones shared in the piano room. Fireworks went off in your head, along with the smell of his after shave still lingering. “There. Now you can go.” You giggle as he gives your butt a light squeeze, “See you later, Miguel.”

Miguel watches with gratification as you walk into the car he had ordered for you. Now he was the one who couldn’t get his eyes off your ass. You sit in the car practically glowing from what had just happened.

That wasn’t too bad for your first kiss. Well, kisses, to be exact.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The show went as programmed, another successful performance for the books. Once you entered your dressing room, you found a gigantic bouquet of flowers and a box.

Hmm, I Wonder who sent them.

In the middle of appreciating the flowers, you hear a knock on your door.

“Just a second!” You fix yourself in the mirror suspecting who it was, patting a napkin on your face as to take off any performance sweat and reapplying perfume.

You go to open the door to find Miguel, “Good Evening, Mr. O’Hara.” “Good evening, y/n. Mind if I come in for a moment?” You two play the parts of patron and cast member convincingly, holding back mischievous smiles as other crew and cast members hurry by for the resetting of the stage and whatnot.

Miguel steps in, and you close the door behind him. While you’re locking the door, he grabs you by the waist, you squeal in surprise.

“You did so good up there, baby,” he wraps his arms around you, your back against his torso, smothering you in kisses anywhere he could get his lips on, “eres tan chula,” smack!, “tan talentosa,” smack!, “Mm, y tan deliciosa”, smack! You break out into a fit of giggles. (So pretty, so talented, and so delicious)

You reach your hands up to his face, running your fingers through his silver fox hair, “gracias… y Gabriella?” (Thank you, and Gabriella?).

“She’s with her grandmother. I invited her to come with us since it’s Gabi’s birthday. You like your present?” He motions at the box. “Oh! I didn’t even get a chance to open it!” He frees you from his grasp to let you grab the box, and you open it. Your mouth drops.

“Miguel, this is…” your face goes from surprise to worry, ”ay dios mio, (oh my god) how much was-“ “Shh, don’t worry about that, princesa. Ven, (come) lemme put it on you.” You give him a scowl before turning around and letting him put it on.

You had to admit, this diamond necklace did look gorgeous on you. You tried to not think about what quadruple-digit number he spent getting you this. You both stand in front of the vanity mirror.

“Look how pretty my girl is,” his voice drips with seduction, his hands falling down your body. His lips find your neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin. You get goosebumps from the way he calls you ‘my girl’. You sigh as his lips work their magic. He sits down on the velvety stool behind him, pulling you down with him, “Don’t even lift a muscle, sweetheart, just sit there n look pretty for me.”

You let out a small yelp when he lifts your legs, using his own to spread them. You can feel himself harden against your lower back, the sensation instantly making you wet. One of his hands steadies you on his lap, the other one palming your now pulsating cunt, clothed by a pair of booty shorts and fishnets. His hand snakes into them, finding your wet and gushy pussy. He finds your throbbing clit, rubbing tiny circles on it. You bite your lip, holding back moans. “Aw, mi nena tan chula is so sensitive” (my pretty girl), Desperate for his touch, you grind against his hand, your mouth falling open and hands squeezing onto his thick thighs for dear life. “Coño, mami… so ready for me, aren’t you? Hm? Toda mojada para mi? (All wet for me?)”, Miguel slides the shorts down your legs, and using both hands, he rips a hole in the fishnets so that he can have a first-class view of your 5-star pussy, the mirror showing a leak of arousal flowing down your entrance and onto his pants, causing you to whine.

“Awww fuck, it’s even prettier than I thought.” He breathlessly growls in your ear, his middle and ring finger finding your clit again.

“Ay, M-Miguel, yes, Ungh~ feel s- s’good,” you try to form a sentence, but it’s difficult with the way Miguel’s calloused, thick fingers rub against your womanhood, his other hand playing with your nipple. He gently plays with the erected nipple between his index and thumb, occasionally pulling it and rubbing it, sending yummy jolts down to your pussy.

He then inserts the two fingers, feeling around your walls and going in and out, “Gotta get my pretty girl ready for my cock, hm? Don’t wanna hurt her, oh nooo.” He coos, kissing his teeth with a ‘tsk tsk tsk’.

Miguel sees your hips stuttering against his fingers, taking that you’re close. His dick is already leaking from how much your hips were moving against it. There’s no doubt there’s a wet spot on his pants. He quickens his speed, your juices beginning to squirt out from your drenched cunt, droplets landing on the mirror before you.

“Ay, Miguel! Oh my god!” You whine out, head falling back on his shoulder. Miguel lets out a sigh as you squirt out your climax, rubbing your clit side to side as it sprays. Once you finish, he displays his hand in front of you, which glistens under the vanity lights, “mira mami, look what a mess you made… fuck.” (Look, mami)

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ “Aw, sweet heart, you’re so cute… no necesitas disculparte (no need to apologize), I love that you can do that,” he purrs into your ear as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them, tasting them.

“Mm, Sabes tan dulce…” (you taste so sweet).

He gently picks you up and sits you on the vanity. As much as he wanted to go to town on your pussy and feast until he drank up every drop, his dick was basically hurting, that’s how much it ached to be inside you.

Your gaze follows the sound of a zip! And your eyes widen at the sight. Miguel bunches his briefs right under his heavy balls, a long, thick, angry cock springing against his happy trail. He sees your obvious concern, bringing a hand to your face.

“Everything alright?” He looks at you, brows knitted together and his voice is soft.

“Yes, it’s just… this is my first time.” You nervously chuckle.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks, “please know it’s okay to not be ready. I want you to be comfortable.” He places a kiss on your forehead. You look up at him, using those doe eyes of yours on him, “Please, Miguel… I want it.”

“Are you sure?” He asks again. “Yes, Miguel…” you say his name sensually, your hands traveling down his chest, down to his erect cock, giving it a stroke, your thumb teasingly swirling the precum on his tip.

“I need it.”

Miguel bites his lip, jaw clenching from the softness of your hands against his pulsing length, his auburn eyes growing hungry.

“I’ll go slow, honey. If it hurts too much, just let me know, m’kay? ” You give him a soft smile, and you both kiss tenderly. He takes a second to take your shirt off, ogling at your perfect tits. You then pout and tug at his shirt, which he follows along, revealing his god-like body. You didn’t care that you drooled. He then looks down, your legs already wrapped around his slutty waist, leveling himself to your entrance. Holding it in his hand, he slaps his fat cock against your pussy a couple times, the wet noises making both of you even more turned on. Your mouth falls open again, his plump tip spreading your lips with ease. Miguel hisses as he goes in deeper, trying his absolute best to go slow and not ram you right then and there. Your pussy tightens around him, feeling his veins pulsate against your walls.

“Fffuck, so tight, baby…o-oh fuck-“ Miguel bottoms out, staying there for a second, allowing you to adjust. The pain was short, quickly turning to pleasure as he slowly began a rhythm. He makes love to you slowly and deeply, each thrust hitting the deepest part of you. “Taking me so- Mmfuck! So well, sweetie, you’re doing s’good,” he says, his forehead against yours. He was so big, you could’ve sworn you could see a bulge in your stomach. He placed a hand on it, making you whimper from the sensation. “Look at that, baby, look so good all filled up with my cock.”

You blush, wanting to cower and turn your face away. You bite on your bottom lip again, muffling your screams and cries. “Mi amor, no hagas eso (don’t do that), breathe, baby, breathe. Need you to relax, mkay?”

You turn back to him, trying your best to maintain eye contact. He brings his thumb down to rub your puffy clit, the sensation relaxing your weeping, abused cunt, “Atta girl, thaaat’s a good girl. Look at me, baby. Aw, yea, wanna see that pretty face.” His cock was able to slide in and out, your pussy greedily sucking him in. Your high-pitched moans were music to his ears.

“M-Miguel, p-please,”, you’re barely able to get out your words, your voice trembling, “si, bebe, que tu quiere? Anything you want, baby.” (Yes, baby, what do you want?)

“Mas rapido.. mas duro, por favor, please, just- just use me, please, daddy?” You were able to finally get it out. You wanted nothing more than for Miguel to just pound you and use you like his toy. (Faster, harder, please).

“Whatever you want, baby girl, daddy’s gonna take care of you, gonna make you feel sooo good.”

Without another second to spare, Miguel pulls back with just his tip inside, and pounds back into you like no other. You scream, tears running down your face as Miguel has his way with you. He kisses those tears away, murmuring, “I know, I know”’s and “I’m sorry”’s into your ear. The vanity shakes vigorously, hitting the wall repeatedly, almost breaking in the process. You hold onto his broad shoulders like your life depended on it. Your bouncing tits catch his attention, and without hesitation, takes one into his mouth, sucking and licking like a wild man.

“God, daddy fucking loves these tits. Look so fucking pretty getting railed while wearing the necklace he gotchu.” you hear muffled against your chest. As if you weren’t stimulated enough, he adds his finger back on your clit, making your eyes roll back from all the different points of pleasure. He lifts his face from your hardened nipple and says, “This pussy’s mine. This juicy ass is mine,” and you feel a loud smack! of his hand on your ass, letting out a whimper,

“You’re all mine. Who’s this pussy belong to, hm?”

“Ugh, you, daddy, I’m all yours! Please, don’t stop, please please please-“ you start sounding like a broken record, muttering ‘daddy’ over and over. “Ay, papi, estoy cerca… i'm gonna come…” (I’m close) you cry, the name fueling Miguel’s drive, so he quickened his pace, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass and your cries filling the room. He growls into your neck, biting there,

“That’s right, sweetie, come on daddy’s cock.”

You could care less if the whole theater heard you, your virginity was being taken by the man of your dreams. Plus, it seemed to be getting Miguel riled up even more. He adored your cute sounds.

Once you reach your orgasm, you let out a long whine, your mouth in an o-shape, but Miguel keeps going, riding out his own high, “fuck…almost there baby, just a little longer, I promise… you can do that for daddy, yea? Ohhh I know you can, sweetie.” He coos, drowning you in lazy, sloppy kisses.

When Miguel feels he’s about to burst, he pulls out. It isn’t long before you feel his warm seed spill onto your stomach, Miguel’s groans clouding your mind as he empties himself onto you.

He stands up straight, taking in the gorgeous view of his kid on your lower body, your pussy still crying from his massive cock, and your face in total euphoria. You try to sit up, but he stops you, “no, princesita, déjame limpiarte primero,” (let me clean you first), he goes to grab a few napkins on your vanity, wiping you clean of his and your juices.

“You ok?” He caressed your face, brushing your hair away from it. You managed a weak, frail smile.

You poor, sweet thing.

“Yes, I’m okay,” He smiles before placing a sweet kiss on your lips, “Not sure if I’ll be able to walk, but I’m more than okay with that.” He chuckled.

“You did so well. So proud of my girl.” He says with a smirk in a low, husky tone, then playfully licking your lips which makes you giggle. He takes you into his embrace, your chests rising and falling together as he plants kisses on your shoulder.

You both flinch when you hear a knock at your dressing room door and the voice of a little girl right outside.

Y’all almost forgot about Gabriella and her grandma.

Oops.

——————————————————————

Still feral abt this man. Also, can y’all tell I’m a music major? ☠️☠️☠️

Hope you liked it! <3

Until the next chapter <3

Mwah <3

Ch.4

The Cutie Patootie Tag list:

@honey-eyed-munson

@migueloharastruelove

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luna-the-moth · 2 months

Note

Styling Deuce's hair has awaken something in me :)

Just hear me out...Deuce tries so hard to remember + take part in your self care stuff. He has a whole note section on his phone dedicated to what kind of face cleanser you use, the type of face cream you are picky about, what eye mask branch you like, any makeup you like, nail care oils, etc. He doesn't quite understand feminine care, but he tries hard for you! Also asks his mother about the different types of face toner, cleanser, serum, jade roller, etc. Oddly, but genuinely, finds face masks relaxing. Boy studies a lot, he needs it!

YESSSSS deuce is sooo boyfriend coded and him being invested in your self care routine is the cherry on top <33

SFW, GN! reader but mildly spicy at the end for my fellow period-havers lol

he has photos of all of your cosmetics and whatnot in a folder on his phone in case you ever ask him to pick up refills from the store <3 tbh the first time u take him into the beauty section/a beauty store he's in awe at the variety but also gagged at the prices LMAOO. he did Not know that snail secretion was a thing that can be good for ur skin but he does now ! definitely will be like a lost puppy at first but he's got the spirit! if he notices a product similar to one you use that's at a better value he'll bring it to you and ask your thoughts on it <3

but also if u have sensitive skin he's so sweet about it , , , sending you magicam reels about new products for sensitive skin that might suit you , , , sending you photos of fragrance-free lotions and moisturizers if you mention you want to branch out and try new ones , , , making sure you don't run out of the lotion you rely on , , ,

also i hc he has skin with minimal acne but it's a bit Dry and he has a bad habit of scratching at it here and there using more hydrating products will be a huge help!! also he does enjoy a skincare regimen a Lot once you've introduced it to him bc he enjoys feeling his best and it wakes him up nicely in the morning!

self care nights Will be a thing once u bring them up . generally i hc deuce prefers the milder, cleaner scents for his skin (cucumber, honey, etc) and avoids things like heavy florals/heavier scents in general (orange, rose, etc) simply bc they overwhelm him a bit and his skin's a tad sensitive :( but he does enjoy face masks like you mentioned- they make him feel refreshed and pampered <33

and if you want to do your nails he likes to watch you paint your nails <3 deuce isn't a gossipy bitch but he LIVESSS for spilling tea over painted nails and drinks , , , will ask you to do clear coats on his nails or solid dark blue on his nails but if you want to experiment who is he to say no , , , he can't deny his partner if they want to treat him and put so much care into him , , (just no acrylics or extensions pls they feel so heavy and they Will break by accident within 24 hours) , , , also gets sooo lovesick if you ever wear dark blue on your nails because they remind you of him , ,, hes such a sentimental loverboy i love him .

if you're someone who has periods he has a period tracker on his phone 100%. puts in little reminders on his calendar to get your favorite snacks/charge up the heating blanket the day before it start , , , he would get you a heated waterbottle too if you asked and it'd have little chicks on it too , , , also eats you out like a man starved on ur period if ur into that . he didn't think about it before but now...

thank you for sending in this ask i did Not realize how much self care/cosmetics mean to me in terms of love aksdihf. PLEASE feel free to send asks if you would like to hear my thoughts on the other boys/more detail on deuce re: self care <3

#deuce spade x reader #deuce spade #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #musings.by.lamplight #moth.flutters

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2d-reality · 10 months

Text

Little Things (The Lustful Fifthborn)

characters: Asmodeus, GN!MC navigation: Lucifer | Mammon | Levi | Satan | Asmo | Beel | Belphie content/warnings: little things you do for the brothers, out of love. fluff. established relationship (implied you are dating all seven brothers equally with the exception of mammon whom i love more) word count: 782 notes: Each brother has their own part, linked above. I am still my own editor and I loathe editing, so please forgive any mistakes!

“Did you do something new with your eyes, Asmo?”

Asmo looks up from his manicure and sees you shutting his bedroom door behind you. He’d left it, and the invitation for you to join him, open in the hopes you’d take him up on his offer of a night of pampering. He sets the polish brush back into its bottle and dons a coquettish frown. He’s bare-faced at the moment in preparation for the skincare regimen he’s planned out for the two of you, but he’s confident he can hide his insecurity of being less than perfectly put together, even if it’s only you here.

“Darling, my natural beauty is nothing new.”

You grin as you cross the room and greet him by way of several short kisses. Your eyes are sparkling when you’ve had your fill and pull away, and his head is light.

“Now, now,” he chides, not bothering to hide his slight breathlessness. “Wait until my nails are dry at least before you seduce me.”

Your equally soft chuckle sends a flutter of butterflies through his stomach. “It’s your fault for being so pretty, Asmodeus.”

Asmo has to turn back to his nails to keep his composure. There it was again- his full name. You don’t use it all the time, but every time he hears it in that tone, it floors him. You told him once that you do it because that’s who you see, beneath the makeup and ring lights and flirting.

He’d furrowed his brow at the time, confused. He was always Asmo. But you had shaken your head, and told him through a smile:

“That’s not it. I love Asmo. Who doesn’t?” He’d nodded appreciatively, and you’d continued, “But Asmo is a filter. Asmo is on magazine covers. Asmo has a Deviltube channel, and sits for interviews, and wears designer. Asmo always has a smile for his fans. Asmodeus may also like pretty things and setting trends, but he also makes sure each of his brothers take care of themselves. And if they can’t, he does it for them. Asmodeus takes morning tea instead of coffee, because too much caffeine gives him jitters, and prefers vanilla over floral in his soap. He makes the best Devil on the Beach, and always makes sure I’m well-dressed even when I don’t feel as lovely as him.”

You’d nudged his shoulder with yours companionably. “Asmodeus always makes certain that I’m comfortable. He holds my hand when I cry during sappy movies. That’s who I fell in love with. Asmodeus, under the expensive products and everything else. I think Asmodeus is the most beautiful.”

You’d said it so casually, as though you hadn’t broken him down to damn near his bare bones, and professed your love for the part of him that even he had trouble accepting. For the first time in a long time, he’d felt well and truly seen. You didn’t care how good he was in bed or how many Devilgram followers he had. You never asked more of him than he offered willingly, and never made him feel annoying or silly. You fell in love with him, even though his charm didn’t work on you.

Asmo shakes his head to clear the tumble of thoughts and to keep himself from breaking down into tears like he had back then. He slides his hand into the gel curing lamp set out on his vanity, and turns back to you once the LED lights blink on.

“What color strikes your fancy this time, my dear?” he asks you as you bump his hip with your own. He shuffles over slightly to give you space on the bench, relishing in the warmth of your thigh pressing into his. Your eyes scan the case of polishes he’s set out, and you prop your elbow up on the vanity top, resting your chin on the heel of your palm as you hum.

“Hmm, I’m not entirely sure. What color did you pick?”

The nail lamp winks out as it reaches the end of its timer, and he pulls his hand back for you to examine. Your fingers are gentle as they frame his, careful not to touch the polish, even if it’s cured and smudge-proof.

“I like this one,” you say. “And we can be matching.”

He’s pleased, and knows it shows on his face. He presses his cheek to yours for a moment with a bright laugh. “You are too precious, MC! It’s simply too much for my poor heart to handle.”

“I should say the same to you.” You meet his gaze with those piercing eyes, and he knows you mean it. Oh, does he love you, too.

#obey me #asmo #obey me asmo #asmodeus #obey me asmodeus #asmo x reader #om! asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #asmo x mc #asmodeus x mc #obey me asmo x reader #obey me x reader

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shadow4-1 · 11 months

Text

Sweet n' Silly Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Headcanons (SFW & NSFW)

Ghost is a character who has so many different facets of his personality that he represses for one reason or another. Sometimes, though, he can't hide things well enough. Here are a few headcanons (NSFW Under The Cut):

Ghost is very picky about the masks he wears. If he buys them pre-made (which is rare - he likes to make his own, he can sew), they have to be a very specific type of fabric. Of course, it has to have all the tactical advantages, but it has to be SOFT most of all. All of his clothing is soft for that matter. This man will NEVER, I repeat NEVER, be caught dead in anything starchy or itchy or scratchy. Even his bed sheets are that crazy 1000 thread count cotton. He likes soft things.

Speaking of soft things, Simon carries around a very small square of quilted fabric in whatever extra pocket he might have. It's actually a piece of a handkerchief his mother sewed for him as a child to keep him from taking his baby blanket with him to school. It's old and tattered and stained, but he carries it with him anyway. It's been with him through thick and thin (and the grave). He doesn't need to sleep with it, but if he's severely stressed, he'll hold onto it and examine it for a little bit. Sometimes, that fabric feels like it's the only thing tethering him to earth.

Would absolutely love to get his nails professionally done, but because of his appearance, he doesn't want to intimidate some poor nail lady. Instead, he opts to give himself mani-pedis. Sometimes, if he's feeling rebellious, he'll bust out his trusty bottle of black nail polish and go for it. It's not like anyone'll see it under his gloves. And God forbid if you walk in on him painting his toenails. He WILL kill you.

Ghost has some interesting food habits. He'll honestly eat whatever if he has to, but he would much prefer to eat simple, almost childish foods. He likes things like pasta, sandwiches, juice, and pudding. God, he loves pudding. A giant bowl of hot mac n' cheese and an entire 6-pack of prepackaged pudding is his favorite meal. He KNOWS its bad for him and it totally fucks up his very specific diet he uses to upkeep his frame, but he can't help it.

Has an intense skin care and oral care regimen despite the fact that almost no one will ever see it. His smile would make you go blind because he practically bleaches his fucking teeth - and also because he chose to smile with teeth.

He's quiet for a multitude of reasons. Yes, it's because he's observant and wants to be in control of his surroundings. But it's also because deep down he's still a shy boy. He can stand up for himself and others if he has to, he's grown into that part of himself. But as for meeting new people, he's shy. He doesn't know you, and he doesn't know if he WANTS to know you. He'd rather just eye you up and let your actions speak for themselves. And that's why Johnny is one of his favorites. Something about a person who can outwardly show their genuineness is his kryptonite (although of course they don't have to be as much of a puppy as Johnny - take for instance Price or Gaz)

Absolutely detests physical touch unless he initiates it or it's fleeting. Handsy people piss him off. But a light punch to the shoulder, a tap or two? It makes him feel normal. Normal people aren't afraid to touch each other in that casual sort of way. Ghost is kind of normal. At least he tries to be.

Fucking sucks at flirting. He comes across as dry and uninterested even if it's the opposite. He just hopes the person he's interested in can pick that up so they don't run off thinking he's a prick. If they do then fuck 'em. Ghost is happy being by himself. He's been alone for so long, what's another few years.

Has a very silent praise kink. If his lover tells him anything good about him, goes straight to his ego. He won't show it, but that "I like being with you" went straight to his cock and made him puff out his chest. Of course you do. He's great. He's always been great. Now he's really going to show you how great he is.

Ghost is a huge scent guy. He's very picky about what scents he enjoys, and if he has a lover, he can and will throw out all of their expensive fragrances (and soaps and lotions, etc). His lover HAS to smell a certain way to him, and he'll supply them with whatever he deems appropriate. By the time he's done, his lover will have to adopt a whole new skincare routine. Smelling like sex is obviously one of his top picks, although once again, he'd never say that aloud.

He's a very, VERY visual creature. He knows it makes him come across as a creep, but he loves just watching his lover. He loves picking up on their mannerisms and their quirks. He loves watching their body move when walking or showering. He loves seeing wet stains in his lover's underwear and indentations of his teeth in their skin. He truly devours EVERYTHING with his eyes.

Gets aroused by the weirdest of things. Bare hands on metal, that section of skin in between the collar of a shirt and a throat mic, blowing bubbles in gum. Sometimes, he's hard for nearly an entire mission because someone's voice is too raspy in the comms. (And yes, he's an avid ASMR lover. Those tingles he gets goes straight to his dick and he's ashamed about it. He would absolutely die if his lover sees his search history. They can't know he wants their tongue in his eardrums - no one can.)

Rarely jerks off. He represses all of his sexual energy until he physically can't anymore. He knows it's because deep down he's traumatized. Pleasure is something he doesn't feel like he's allowed to have. His lover should be allowed to have it. But him? No. Jerking off feels like such hedonistic behavior. He feels like a degenerate after. No jerking off. Besides, the more pent-up he is, the sexier his dreams get.

He's always been afflicted by crazy dreams - mainly nightmares. Sometimes, though, especially if he's pent up his dreams get sexual. For the most part they're pretty tame, par for the course sex dreams but when he really gets pent up? When he feels like he's going to burst? His dreams get so realistic they might as be reality. He gets rough and possesive and fucks his lover into his mattress only wo wake up and have to come to grips with the things he's WILLING to do to them. He's so used to being disciplined that the moment that mask drops he can't look at himself in the mirror.

#simon ghost riley #ghost headcanons #simon riley x reader #mw2 headcanons #mw3 headcanons

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cfcreative · 4 months

Text

Dumb BG3 thoughts based on a single pun for Korydass…

The Companions & Their Relationships to Makeup

Thoughts under the break…

Lae’zel: “Tchk! It is called battle paint, Istik!”

Shadowheart: Loves it, is clearly talented & practiced with it—also wildly jealous of Isobel’s eyeliner game. Has she worn poisoned lipstick? Probably at least once she can’t remember.

Astarion: Will deny that he uses anything. Actually uses everything he can get his hands on. Has gotten incredibly good at doing things by feel/memory. The only reason he isn’t more dramatic with it is that pesky lack of reflection.

Gale: Has a meticulous skincare routine and a manicure kit. Very particular about his hands AKA “The finally tuned instruments with which I compose the intricate melodies of my art!” Used to have a haircare routine, but it fell by the wayside when he wasn’t leaving his tower.

Wyll: Careful haircare routine. Enjoys eyeliner and eyeshadow. Was much more fussy about everything when every other day he had to attend a ball. Much more practical now that he’s been the Blade of the Frontiers.

Karlach: Is interested, but since there weren’t cosmetics that could stand up to the fiery hells of Avernus at her disposal she hasn’t had a chance to dabble. Unironically will ask Wyll (before anyone else) for ideas on what she could/should wear, because he’s her bestie and that’s who you ask!

Halsin: Works solely with what nature gave him, gods bless the man.

Minthara: Has a makeup/skincare/haircare routine that is precisely timed down to the minute. Has absolutely worn poisoned lipstick on multiple occasions. Also has painted her nails with poison. Not for a specific reason, just to test out the practicality of it. Didn’t use it again because it chipped too easily.

Jaheira: Used makeup more often when she was younger. After her kids and “bonus kids with weapons” (The Harpers) she didn’t bother as much with it. She still does her hair exactly the way Khalid loved it, though.

Alfira: Adores makeup! Stage makeup, everyday makeup, you name it! Can be overly ambitious with it.

Lakrissa: Never was interested when she was younger, in fact, was pretty anti-makeup… then Alfira begged her to try an eyeshadow. Alfira fawned so much over Lakrissa afterwards that Lakrissa has been wearing it ever since.

Isobel: Effortlessly an expert in makeup. Obviously adores a dramatic eyeliner and eyeshadow. Occasionally gets the whim to practice on Aylin. Takes up a more vigorous skincare regimen after resurrection because she’s quietly alarmed by the “clamminess” of her skin. (Nobody else thinks she feels clammy).

Aylin: Fully believes she is perfect without makeup. Fully believes she is also perfect with it. Does not own any of her own cosmetics. Really only wears makeup when Isobel puts it on her. Makes a lot of loud excuses about not understanding mortal hair-care because it prompts Isobel to wash and brush her hair.

Korydass: “Make up? Make up with whom? Have I offended someone?!”

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ronearoundblindly · 14 days

Note

Which of the guys would be open to participate in a self care/spa day with you? 🛁🫧💅

This one I separated into categories for who genuinely enjoys, stands it for you, or only allows it when a daughter wants to play (and no, that's not with you, but 'he' just needs worn way down to allow it). No warnings but I bet you'll find some surprises...

Truly Finds Joy In Self-Care

Ransom Drysdale, Johnny Storm, Jake Jensen, and Lloyd Hansen

I think we all know that Ransom and Lloyd are preening, pretty bois, so this should come as no surprise to anyone. Ransom is more private with his beauty regimen, but he's not above paying good money to visit a fancy spa. Lloyd has entirely too much fun showing off how callus/indifferent he is by, ya know, ordering people's death by phone while a clay mask detoxes his pores, etc. He is also heavily critical of what products he will use again (i.e. if grittiness stuck in his mustache or if an exfoliant irritated his fresh shave).

Johnny and Jake are playful about it; Jake likes the process of relaxing more than Johnny. Jake nerds out on the chemical properties of ingredients. Johnny teases you about the frou-frou-ness of it all the whole time, HOWEVER, he is also the one who enjoys a foot massage more than any other character. Falls asleep within two damn minutes. It's bizarre and sort of endearing.

Would Do It To Please You

James Mace, Curtis Everett, and Steve Rogers

Curtis can make do with a bar of soap and a hot bath; that's really the pinnacle of indulgent care to him, but he knows you love the various face masks and lotions. He is highly amused by cucumber slices on his eyes but hates cucumber water (any infusion really, just drink some juice ffs). La Croix is better used to get blood out of this clothes than to drink. He thinks it's nasty.

Like Jake, Mace will dissect what ingredients will actually be beneficial and which products are just snake oil. He takes pride in helping you choose the best things to use or spend your time on. Mace is, unfortunately, the most practical man, and he will flat out refuse to indulge you if he has something else he needs to focus on.

Steve is a bit strange about this one. He love, love, loves for you to pamper yourself, but he will participate very reluctantly. He grew up being fawned over like a delicate doll, received treatment after treatment--often to no effect,--and even resorted to some of those far-fetched, home remedies for various ailments. Yes, his mom was a nurse and a woman of science. Yes, he did follow doctors' advice whenever they offered a useful solution. But also, yes, he was so sick with so many things for so long that he tried everything.

Steve associates a lot of self-care 'treatments' with being ill...which he is not...not anymore. Please, do not get him started on essential oils. You think he lectures as Cap? Hoo boy...

Begrudgingly Is A Daughter's Palette

Jimmy Dobyne, Ari Levinson, and Bucky Barnes

For Jimmy, there's just some stuff you do for your kids simply because they're your kids, and playing with makeup or face mask, nail polish or hair clips, and even every product around the rim of the tub is one of those things.

Ari and Bucky get roped into plaiting practice since they have some length of hair to braid, but these two do not sit still well. They each find sneaky ways to let their girls enjoy spa stuff while they do not have to. Your daughter can get a little manicure while he gets a haircut or shave. That's about the extent of their 'enjoyment.'

As for why they won't participate with you specifically? Jimmy, Ari, and Bucky all consider spa/self-care to be a thing you should do with your girl friends (or your daughters, hint hint). These three place a heavy value on you keeping up those fun relationships with others. They also know that when the ladies do a spa day, the men folk are free to meet up for something else, like sports or drinking or both.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; 'Who Would' Ask List; Ko-Fi]

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biophilianutrition · 5 months

Text

Wellness Routine

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sephirthoughts · 2 months

Text

Vincent's New Kid Just Dropped CH 13: Deepground Flashback and Present Day, Sephiroth and Cid get a little screentime

RATING: this is a pretty teen-and-up chapter

WARNINGS: disgustingly fluffy family stuff, gratuitous reading of Loveless, Genesis being the world's best onii-chan, referenced torture, phantom pain, PTSD, Vincent being an old man, canon-typical Sephiroth sadness

HE'S JUST A LITTLE GUY

brothers 🖤♥️🤍

also keep this outfit in mind

“Self-care is an essential life skill,” Genesis was saying, as he sat at the table, in Weiss and Nero’s room, gently pushing back Rosso’s cuticles, with a tool from the manicure kit he’d produced from a coat pocket. “We don’t groom and dress for others, but for ourselves. Even if you’re not going out, on a given day, you should take a little time to make yourself feel beautiful.”

“I am not going out any day,” Rosso said disconsolately. “And I don’t care about feeling beautiful, I just want to kill things.”

“Well, live your truth, darling, but self-confidence is an essential battlefield tool. Good grooming habits are a foundational element of self-confidence. Even on the front lines, I always kept my manicure kit with me.”

Rosso appeared skeptical. “You really did?”

“Mn,” he nodded, as he smoothed the rough edges of her fingernails with the crystal emery board. “I consider it a necessary item for survival.”

“A necessary item for survival…” she repeated, gazing dazedly at her newly manicured hands.

When Genesis was satisfied that the girl’s nails were as good as they were going to get, he stowed the tools and zipped up the little case, which had obviously been custom made for him, with an ornate apple tree embossed in the red leather.

“You know what? I want you to have this,” he said, holding it out to Rosso. “You can use it to establish your own pre-slaughter self-care regimen.”

Rosso’s eyes went wide, and she glanced over at Nero and Weiss, who were paying no attention whatsoever. “Me? I can’t…I can’t take such a nice thing, from you.”

“Nonsense, I have a hundred manicure kits. I insist,” Genesis countered, pushing it firmly into her hands. Seeing that she was still hesitant, he added, in a softer tone, “Every girl deserves to have pretty things, little sister.”

That master stroke thoroughly conquered Rosso, who had never been spoken to so kindly, before, let alone received a gift from anyone. She accepted it without further protest, blushing nearly as red as the manicure kit, in her flustered state. “Thank you, b—brother.”

“Don’t mention it. Now then, I think it’s high time we…ahem.” Genesis planted his hands on his hips. “Little brothers? I do admire your unquenchable passion, but if you could remove your tongues from each other’s mouths for long enough to have a conversation, I’d be much obliged.”

“We can talk without our mouths,” Nero informed him, through the darkness link.

“But our sister can’t,” Genesis said aloud. “It is rude to exclude her.”

“They are watching. And listening,” Weiss replied.

“Are they indeed.”

Genesis stepped to the center of the room and scanned the area, quickly spotting the concealed cameras and listening devices, in addition to the openly visible ones. Then he wheeled about, smiled directly into the primary camera, in the ceiling above the door, and raised his middle finger, before he tossed out a sparking and snapping thundara burst.

Rosso gasped and the two boys gave a jolt of surprise, as it struck the camera dead-on, and went crackling along precise and specific paths through the metal walls, instantly frying all the surveillance equipment, while leaving the lights and other systems intact.

“I do dislike being spied upon,” he sneered, dusting off his hands. “Now, tell me why the hell I can hear you two in my head. And why I get such a strong feeling, as if…I don’t know. As if we’re all actually blood related.”

“We don’t know, either,” Nero answered truthfully. “Weiss and me are half brothers, by our mother. We can talk to you in our heads because the darkness thinks we’re connected to you by blood. Rosso, too, but not as much as you. That’s why I can’t use it to talk to her, without hurting her. But it hasn’t ever thought anyone else is connected. Only us four.”

“Hm. You wouldn’t, by any chance, happen to have a parent from Banora, would you?” Genesis put forth.

Weiss shrugged. “Maybe. Our mother was a scientist here, but we don’t know anything else about her. She could have been from there.”

“I don’t know anything about my parents,” Rosso said, in answer to Genesis’ questioning look. “I only know I was born in Deepground.”

“You were all born here, then. That makes sense for the three of you, but how do I fit into this little chain,” he mused, tapping his chin with a perfectly manicured finger. Then he shook his head, with a sigh. “Well, speculating isn’t solving anything. I shall have to do some digging around, on my own. I have a sneaking suspicion that behind this thread there will be a much bigger knot, to untangle.”

Weiss studied the young man surreptitiously, as he arched his back in a stretch, then carded his fingers absently through his auburn hair.

His red coat and leather waist armor hung on the hook by the door, and he’d removed his gloves, before working on Rosso’s fingernails. Now, in only his sleeveless SOLDIER uniform top and trousers, it was suddenly apparent how very hard and muscular his body really was.

His long, streamlined trench coat, with its black, scarab-wing epaulets, had a minimizing and slenderizing visual effect, on his tall frame. It was the opposite effect to Sephiroth’s huge, white pauldrons and exposed chest, which made his lean and agile frame appear bulkier and more imposing than it was. Sephiroth was almost half a foot taller than Genesis, and somewhat broader in the chest, but the two were actually fairly comparable, in terms of muscle mass.

If Genesis and Sephiroth were built like swordsmen, however, Weiss was built like a heavyweight boxer. He needed no creative costuming whatsoever, to make his body appear more tank-like. The researchers liked to say that all the boy had to do to gain muscle mass was eat and breathe, which was fairly close to the truth.

“So, you want to fight Sephiroth,” Genesis said, sensing that he was being sized up. “How very amusing that will be. If he doesn’t just kill you, I mean.”

Wiess gave a snort. “Unlikely.”

An auburn eyebrow arched. “So confident. But take care it isn’t baseless arrogance. Remember, we trained together. I have sparred with him, on many occasions. Not to compliment him unduly, but I will tell you now, he is the strongest opponent I’ve ever faced. There is no way to describe him but…monstrous.”

“He is a monster because he is impure,” Weiss said, unconcernedly. “I am not. The corrupted can never triumph over the immaculate.”

Genesis squinted doubtfully. “Purity is a rather esoteric principle. I do hope that’s not all you’re basing your self-assurance on.”

“One way or another, I intend to defeat him. Is that a problem?”

“Please,” Genesis scoffed. “I would like nothing more than to see Sephiroth taken down a peg or two. His ascendancy has gone on quite long enough. But, you’ll have to forgive me for doubting your ability to do that. You may be naturally gifted, but he has years of experience in real, life and death combat.”

Weiss only smiled. “You doubt me because you’ve never fought me.”

“True enough. I suppose all will be revealed when I test you, tomorrow.”

“My brother is the strongest, you’ll see,” Nero put in, proudly, which made Genesis smile and ruffle his black hair.

Rosso said nothing, but quietly hoped Weiss was not making a serious miscalculation. She still wished he wouldn’t do this mad thing, but he was the leader and he’d made his decision. She had no choice but to trust him, and hope for the best.

All that afternoon, no one came to see about the damaged surveillance equipment, and when the handlers delivered evening meals, they didn’t mention anything about it. Genesis imagined that Hojo was probably fuming, but he seemed to have an understanding with Weiss, and there was no way he was going to risk a full-scale disaster, at this point, by interfering with a bunch of teenaged weapons of mass-destruction, at their slumber party.

Much later that evening, Rosso had gone back to her own quarters, leaving the other three to themselves. Genesis was seated on the bed, reading aloud to Nero, whose ink-black head was nestled in his lap, and to Weiss, who was snuggled up to him on the other side, with his snow-white head resting on his shoulder, gazing curiously at the first ink and paper book he’d ever seen in person.

“There is no hate, only joy. For you are beloved by the goddess. Hero of the dawn, healer of worlds. Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul. Pride is lost. Wings stripped away, the end is nigh.”

“This isn’t a very nice story,” Nero grumbled, from his lap, rolling his shoulders with their bare brackets, since his metal wings were hanging on a rack on the wall.

“Not every part of a story can be nice, little one,” Genesis explained. “They’re a bit like life. If there’s nothing sad or bitter in them, how can we fully appreciate the sweet parts?”

“Hmph,” was all Nero said in response.

Genesis chuckled and petted his head, then returned to reading.

Despite Nero’s initial grouchy declaration, both boys eternally endeared themselves to the famous SOLDIER, that evening, by listening attentively, through the entirety of the meandering and abstruse narrative, all the way to the end. Even Sephiroth had only done so once, in all their long acquaintance, and he’d fallen asleep halfway through.

“My soul, corrupted by vengeance, hath endured torment to find the end of the journey; in my own salvation, and your eternal slumber. Legend shall speak of the sacrifice at world’s end. The wind sails over the water’s surface, quietly, but surely.”

As he wrapped up his reading, Genesis heard a sniffle and looked up from the book. He was astonished to find Weiss wiping away tears, from his silver-blue eyes.

Weiss saw that his unwonted display of emotion had been noticed and scowled sullenly. “The end is too sad. I don’t like it.”

“But it hasn’t ended, yet,” Genesis pointed out. “How do you know it’ll be sad?”

“What do you mean? There’s no more written, after that. The pages are blank.”

“That is one of the most intriguing things about this work. It was either left unfinished by the original author, or that part of the text hasn’t been discovered yet. Who can say what the ending will be?”

“It doesn’t matter if we don’t have it written out. I know it’ll be sad,” Weiss maintained. “The end will be about sacrifice. That’s the theme, the whole way through. Even if the world is saved, someone will have to die saving it.”

Genesis tilted his head. “And that makes you sad?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Weiss paused, struggling to clearly frame his ideas. “Because…only someone who deserves to live would give up their life for the world’s sake. Tragedy is inherent in the very act of heroism. It makes me sad that someone so strong and brave has to die, to save all the weak, undeserving people, who will never know, and never appreciate it.”

“Hm. You are very astute,” Genesis remarked. “It takes most people much longer to decipher the themes in this work. But, might it not be the case, that true heroism lies in self-sacrifice, for its own sake, without expectation of recognition or reward?”

“Maybe, but that only happens in fantasy. I would never sacrifice myself or my brother, for the world’s sake. Even if we didn’t deserve life, I’d take it for us, with my own hands, and destroy anyone and anything that stood in the way.”

Genesis smiled archly. “I think, little brother, that would make you a villain.”

“I’ll be the best villain, then,” Wiess declared staunchly. “Being a hero sounds stupid, anyway.”

By way of reply, Gensis laughed aloud and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek.

It was the first time anyone but Nero had dared to so boldly assail his person. Weiss was startled by the gesture, but found that he didn’t exactly dislike it. No, in fact, he rather liked it.

He nuzzled his head back into the crook of Genesis’ neck, to conceal the color that had risen in his cheeks, and mentally added him to the list of people who were allowed to touch him in a familiar way. It was now up to a grand total of two.

Nero, meanwhile, not wanting to be left out, sat up and presented his face for a kiss, too, which was duly granted. Neither of the boys had any way of knowing that this was the most affectionate Genesis Rhapsodos had ever been, with anyone. Including his own parents.

That night, the three newfound brothers talked and debated and laughed, well into the small hours, and eventually fell asleep together, in the narrow bed. Three heads lined up on the pillows, white, black, and red, with little Nero in the middle, safely enclosed in the arms of Weiss and Genesis.

Some time in the early morning, Sephiroth appeared silently, to check in on Nero. There he still stood, as the indigo sky lightened with the approaching dawn, gazing down at something, with a strange expression in his catlike eyes.

On the bed, his little half-brother was sleeping peacefully, in the arms of their father, who was also fast asleep. Two pale, beautiful faces, in repose, so like to his own and yet so unlike.

Sephiroth had never dared to touch his biological father. Never dared to reach out, to ask for anything, to make even the slightest nuisance of himself, for fear of shattering the uneasy peace, in which he was somehow allowed to remain here, with his infant sister.

But his brother, who had done nothing but kick and curse, and make his detestation of the whole household loudly known…he was embraced. Held. Soothed and comforted. Nero was treated like Vincent’s son, while Sephiroth was little more than a lonely specter, haunting this happy home.

They were wary of him, he knew, and viewed all his actions through a lens of suspicion, because of what he’d done. It would be useless to explain that he had been out of his mind, possessed by that creature, and deceived into committing atrocities. The atrocities remained committed. Innocent people were still dead. Exculpating his own guilt would help no one and repair nothing.

Ironic, that they should fear him, having no idea that the most dangerous man on the planet spent every moment paralyzed with fear, of being cast out from among the only family he’d ever had. Of being cut off from humanity, left to drift through existence, alone and untethered. To become a real ghost, and eventually to fade away.

His entire body and soul ached with longing to be embraced by his father as well, but that was foolishness. He needed no such coddling, he reminded himself. He was a grown man and Nero was a child. Younger than Cloud, by several years.

His cold, flickering body warmed and became more tangible, at the thought of his fiery-tempered and sharp-tongued darling. The only one who had held on, through the madness, and refused to let go of the man.

Cloud was all he needed. Cloud’s love was more than enough to keep him alive. He didn’t need his father’s love, as well. That would just be childish greediness. Tacit acceptance of his presence was all he could hope for. It was far more than he deserved.

Like a little alarm clock, always set to the same time, he sensed Ollie begin to stir, and knew that it was six-fifteen on the dot. With one more lingering glance at his sleeping father and brother, he vanished into purple-black vapor, to retrieve the warmed bottle from the kitchen, and begin his daily tasks. Quietly attending to the things that would otherwise lie neglected, in a house full of men.

“Yeah, I seen ‘em, plenty of times. Usually they’re bein’ used to couple old tech to new tech, where there ain’t compatible connectors.”

It was a little past noon, and Vincent had come to find Cid, in his workshop, out back.

“Newer OS uses a emulator program to talk to the old tech and make it all synch up.” Cid ran a hand back through his hair, giving a shudder as he recalled the metal brackets in Nero’s back, surrounded by deep, ugly scars. “I guess hookin’ up a human body to a machine is pretty close to the same principle, but…god damn. You’d have to be a sick fuckin’ bastard to do that shit to a kid.”

“Can you do anything?” Vincent asked.

“Don’t know. Maybe. There any way to find his wings?”

Vincent shook his head. “They were obliterated with everything else. I wish I’d known this would be an issue. I’d have been more careful not to leave them behind.”

“Only other way would be to get into Deepground’s system and look for files or anything that might have info on the design.”

“We should contact Reeve, then. He downloaded Deepground’s entire database, wanting to study its AI program. If there is anything about the prosthesis, he’ll have it.”

“Oh great, he’s studyin’ the fuckin’ AI. Just what the world needs more of,” Cid grumbled, as he lit a cigarette.

Vincent tilted his head to one side. “What’s wrong?”

“I just…I don’t get how ya can be so calm about this, Vince,” Cid answered, blowing out a plume of blue-white smoke. “That’s your kid in there, out of his mind and in constant pain, ‘cause of some monstrous shit Shinra did to his body, without—” He broke off and looked away, clearing his throat. “Sorry. Sometimes I…I let myself forget they did that same shit to you. If I didn’t, I’d be angry all the goddamn time.”

“You are angry all the time,” Vincent said affectionately.

“But like, even more angry all the time.”

“Thank you for worrying about Nero. I know he hasn’t been easy to deal with.”

“He’s your son, baby. You’re my husband, so that makes him my family, too. That’s the deal. That’s what marriage is.”

Vincent only answered with a stiff nod, but Cid was well aware that in Vincent-language, that meant he was suppressing some strong emotion, that he was unable or unwilling to express, at that moment. That worked out fine for Cid, because it usually meant he’d express it later, in private, which was bound to be a lot more fun.

Unable to help himself, he hooked an arm around his husband’s narrow waist and pulled him closer. Vincent’s long hair hung loose and free, half over his face, and he had his red headband on, like usual, but he’d started wearing more ‘normal’ clothing at home, which today took the form of a red v-neck, haphazardly embellished with a number of inexplicable and completely unnecessary zippers, and with a long, frayed and torn hem (all of which made it look suspiciously like his cloak).

His clothing items almost always featured similar signs of damage, despite the fact that he’d created them himself, in the moment, and it was literally impossible for them to have collected wear and tear. Same with his faded, black jeans, which were slashed all over like they’d been in a knife fight. He looked a hell of a lot like one of those guys on the rock’n’roll posters, in the 80s, come to think of it.

“Hey babe, y’ever listen to Guns N’ Roses?”

“No. I assume it’s a musical group?” Vincent ventured. “Rock’n’roll, from the sound of it?”

Cid snorted with laughter. “Fuck…you’re such an old man. They’re only one of the most famous bands of all time. Hottest shit goin’ in the 80s and 90s.”

“I spent the 80s and 90s sleeping in a coffin, under Shinra Manor.”

“Ain’t no excuse for cultural illiteracy, Vinnie. Specially since ya look just like one of them rock’n’roll dudes.”

“No, they look like me,” Vincent scowled. “I’ve looked like this for thirty years.”

“Mm, true. Who knows, maybe Axl Rose wandered into the basement and saw ya sleepin’, and it inspired the fashion of a whole generation.”

“Hmph. Axl Rose is an absurd stage name.”

“That’s his real name, sugar dumplin’.” Cid searched up a picture of the band on his phone and held it up for Vincent to look at.

“Oh. That does look rather like me,” Vincent admitted. “Does he also wear his headband to conceal a scar?”

“Maybe. I never seen him without one.”

“Cid…why did you say the person who attached Nero’s wings would have to be a sick bastard? I understand it’s gruesome, but we’ve seen many such things. You seem especially upset by it.”

Cid hesitated. “It’s cause…in order for the nerves to be spliced in right, they’d have to do it without anesthetic, and keep him awake, the whole time.”

Vincent’s black brows drew together. “Oh. I see.”

“I’ve seen a lotta shit, but never anything that fucked up. Fact the kid lived through it is…I can’t decide if it was a miracle or a cruel joke.”

“It was Chaos. His regenerative factor comes from the darkness. I wouldn’t call it regeneration, so much as indestructibility. More like my body, than a SOLDIER’s. But he does feel pain, normally. If he is like me, he does.”

The mood was growing heavy, so Cid changed tracks, to lighten things up. “Since we’re on the topic, you think you got a lot more kids lurkin’ around, out there?”

“There’s no way to tell,” Vincent said, shaking his head. “My DNA was taken and used without my knowledge. But, knowing Hojo, I somehow doubt Sephiroth and Nero were the only ones. He liked to have backups. The question is, whether any others survived.”

“If so, we’re gonna need more space. And, even if Seph and Nero are the only ones, Ollie’s gonna grow outta that nursery pretty quick. So, I was thinkin’…maybe it’s time we started fixin’ up the old Valentine property.”

“You hate that place,” Vincent objected. “You called it a creepy Dracula castle and said even ghosts would be afraid to haunt it.”

“I stand by that. Didn’t see any ghosts, there, did ya? Point proved.”

“I don’t think that’s logically sound.”

“The point is, ain’t no sense in just lettin’ it sit there gettin’ dustier and creepier. ‘Sides, it’s your family’s home, ya know? Wouldn’t it be nice to have it all cleaned up? Just in case?”

Vincent very nearly smiled. “Of course. Just in case.”

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY

yeah i put the stray dog outfit in there WHAT OF IT

next. chapter

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shadowgast-recs-weekly · 1 year

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Funny Shadowgast Recs

This week, we have eleven funny fanfics featuring f-shadowgast. Look under the readmore for the recs, and as always, don't forget to comment and kudos!

Indecency by RainyDayDecaf (5898, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Graphic Depictions of Violence

5+1 where Caleb and Essek keep accidentally engaging in courtship rituals from the other's culture.

Reccer says: Very cute and sweet, with imaginative world building about Zemnian and Xhorhasian courting rituals.

Sufficiently Advanced Magic by SaltCore (5879, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

A crossover crackfic where Shadowgast, Griddlehark, and Spirk all wind up in the same place; shenanigans hijinks ensue.

Reccer says: This is very silly, but but the character writing is incredibly on point. Watching these six bounce off each other is a treat

Girl, Interrupting by DefilerWyrm (1902, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb and Essek are in the middle of, ahem, *exchanging theories,* when Jester chooses the worst possible moment to send to Essek. Or the best, depending on your perspective.

Reccer says: Both sexy and funny in the best possible way.

LOVE & OTHER ENCHANTMENTS by LivThael (2092, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

A send up on romantic comedies, starring Caleb and Essek

Reccer says: Made for a bad fic event, it's a hilarious and very readable send up of romantic comedies, filled with lumberjacks, bookstores, romantic declarations, and much more.

Safe For Work by Operafloozy (1501, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb and Essek find a mysterious artifact in Aeor that has unexpected results.

Reccer says: Like if Patrick Bateman wrote porn' says it all. Written for a badfic event, this one takes corporate jargon to ridiculous extremes. You'll never sit through a corporate event the same way again.

A Weird Soup by mousecookie (1721, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

AU in which Shadowhand Essek is so bad at cooking that he accidentally summons a demon: Caleb.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Kryn Dynasty Skincare 101 by soot_and_salt (3571, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek's vanity and intense multi-step skincare regimen turns into chaos when the Mighty Nein barge into his life.

Reccer says: It's funny but also heartwarming. It has tantalizing glimpses of how Essek and Caleb get together, told through different skin care items he gifts to the group. The middle part with the Nein and their hair is laugh out loud funny and the ending is such a sweet note.

Altered State of Mind by Defiler_Wyrm (6853, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Caleb polymorph shenanigans

Reccer says: All of the fic is great but the final section is HILARIOUS.

The Artifact by Chekhov (14378, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

A romantic comedy where the wizards find a mysterious object that seems to be related to the Luxon

Reccer says: This fic is funny and I laughed out loud while reading it. Their play fighting over the artifact is so silly and horny

A Scaled Splendor by royalgreen (656, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb has a mishap using True Polymorph. Veth is completely unsympathetic.

Reccer says: Caleb is trying to impress his boyfriend and messes up in the funniest of ways.

An Evening To Remember by Interrobang (1755, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: None

Essek tries to surprise Caleb by showing up wearing his cloak, mantle, and little else, and is horrified to realize that Caleb has arranged a surprise of his own.

Reccer says: Author nailed the balance between anticipation and secondhand embarrassment when the situation doesn't turn out as Essek planned.

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back featuring fics with Shadowgast on a boat!

#Shadowgast #Caleb Widogast #Essek Thelyss #funny #cr fic recs #critical role #fan fiction rec list #critical role fan fiction

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femmefatalevibe · 2 years

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Hello dear,

I'm an older woman who didn't have the chance to be guided when I was younger about selfcare, about beauty (makeup, clothes, accessories, etc.), the importance of looking my best, and about wanting to move forward professionally.

I've always admired the way women carried themselves in the 1940's (their clothes, their femininity) and I'm getting inspiration from that era for hair, makeup and clothes. This kind of information is pretty easy to find. My problem is I lack self-discipline when it's time to take care of myself, since I feel I was not taught properly, and I find it difficult to create a routine and sometimes even to get out of the house looking by best.

Could you please help me define a routine (morning and night) and new partterns, along with a mindset to achieve the self-representation of my dreams?

Hi love! So excited for you to start this self-care journey and prioritize yourself. I believe it's always the right time to start a routine that makes you feel better about yourself. Focus on the small things and begin habit-stacking. I have a goal-setting, productivity, and self-discipline guide linked HERE to get you started.

To become consistent with self-care habits, I think the most important mindset shift is to remember that no one else will ever put more effort into you than you will yourself – they're too busy with their own lives and everything that comes up. This change is for YOU, so you can feel better about your daily life. Why deprive yourself of this joy and self-pleasure when all you have to do is set aside a few minutes twice a day to better your life? Think of lacking consistency in your self-care routines as a form of self-sabotage (because it is, honestly).

When it comes to routines, you have to find what works for you, but the most important steps fit into 3 buckets: hygiene, nourishment, and improvement-focused indulgence (beauty, style, self-development reading, a yoga class, etc.).

Simple Morning & Nighttime Habits:

Brush teeth, floss, & skincare (2x/day)

Shower, brush hair, moisturize, and blowdry with heat protection cream and a round brush (1x/day)

Establish a daily makeup routine and a capsule wardrobe

Have at least 2 filling plant-based meals packed with whole foods, such as fruits, veggies, avocado, beans, whole grains, tahini, potatoes, etc. (following this regimen for 10 years has given me almost perfect skin with little to no external effort)

Drink plenty of water (your weight in pounds = target water consumption in ounces)

Wear sunscreen daily (at least 30-50 SPF)

Cut, file, and brush your nails (at least 1x/week)

Use a dermaplaning, sugar scrubs, and tweezing as needed to remove hair from your face and body (usually once every 2-4 weeks)

Here are some other resources to build a morning & night routine, some beauty tips, etc.

Femme Fatale Morning Routine

Femme Fatale Nighttime Routine

Femme Fatale Beauty Playbook: Tips & Tricks To Feel Clean, Confident & Seductive Daily

Femme Fatale Guide: Habits To Become Your Best Self In 2023

How To Build A (Realistic) Femme Fatale Wardrobe: Daily Essentials

Femme Fatale Beauty Routine: Essentials To Unleash Your Dark Feminine Energy

Hope this helps xx

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hifumi-123 · 6 days

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Actually, no one asked me this, I photoshopped it myself.

Anyways, here’s the

Majima with a s/o who has chubby hands:

Recently, you came across an article online titled "Beauty Starts with the Hands!" The main content suggests that all beautiful people in the world have slender, elegant hands, so you should start taking care of your hands too. The article lists several key features of beautiful hands:

First, beautiful fingers should be slender and long. Generally, a woman's hands are considered aesthetically pleasing if the ratio between fingers and palm is close to the golden ratio of 0.618.

Second, beautiful hands should be flawless. Darker coloration around the joints or noticeable hangnails around the nails can affect the overall cleanliness of the hands.

Third, beautiful hands must be fair-skinned. White and clean hands are more attractive. If the skin tone of the hands is too dark, they won't look good no matter what. So, one should pay attention to their hand's skin tone (though you think this point smacks of racial discrimination, the editor was too careless).

Fourth, beautiful hands should be hairless. If body hair is too noticeable, it will make the hands look fuzzy, obscuring the skin tone and texture. This is especially true for women with excessive body hair, which can be even more prominent and darker than men's.

These are the essential features of attractive hands.

Moreover, the article provides numerous solutions to address these issues. For longer, slender fingers, try hand massages. To remove darkness around joints, use exfoliating scrubs. For fairer hands, apply more sunscreen. To deal with body hair, use hair removal devices. With consistent care, one can achieve beautiful, attractive hands.

After reading this article, you can't help but sigh. It's not easy being a woman nowadays! Not only do you have to take care of your face and hair, but now your hands too! This whole regimen seems more exhausting than military service.

Although you want to say you don't care about your hands, the truth is—

"Ah! Why do my hands look so chubby? My fingers are short and pudgy, they look just like a baby's hands..."

Looking at your hands, you can't help but ponder. You're an adult now, theoretically a "mature woman." That's how it should be.

But why are your hands still chubby?

You always thought it was because you were overweight, but even after losing some weight recently, you noticed your hands didn't change at all. The parts that were chubby remained so. You painfully realize once again that your hands are truly not attractive. At least, they can't be considered beautiful hands.

You know that to others, this might seem like a trivial matter, not worth mentioning. When you discuss this with friends, they tell you not to worry about such unimportant things. However, hands can reflect a person's character. From the neatness of nails, presence of hangnails, or calluses on fingers, one can deduce a person's background. Beautiful hands are always well-cared for. Every time you look at your baby-like hands with calluses from gripping pens too tightly during your student days, you feel anxious and ashamed. Honestly, it's a hurdle you can't seem to overcome.

Although the article seems like an silent advertisement, it has caused you considerable anxiety. Before reading it, you never even thought about whether your hands were attractive or fair enough. Your current situation is like "not particularly caring about something, but once someone points it out, you start to become conscious of it."

After all this rambling, it boils down to:

"I want to have beautiful hands like a hand model!"

That's what it's all about.

After dinner, despite Majima's kind reminder that "lying down right after eating will turn you into a pig," you lazily sprawl on the sofa, tossing and turning. Hearing your complaints about your hands, the sound of water in the kitchen suddenly stops. Majima, who was washing dishes, dries his wet hands with a towel and says with a look of exasperation:

"Huh? I didn't know about that. There's nothing wrong with them, is there? Yer fingers are all there, all ten of them, aren't they? Isn't that enough?"

"What? Don't apply yakuza standards to me, okay?" You sit up on the sofa and reply irritably. "Normal people don't get their fingers cut off even if they make mistakes."

Majima chuckles and plops down next to you.

"Then let me see. Let this former cabaret club owner who has seen countless hands judge whether Y/n's hands are unattractive. Come on, give me yer hand," he urges, extending his own.

You place your plump hand on his palm. Compared to Majima's large, masculine hands, yours look even more childlike. Majima gently massages your hand. Whether it's because he finds it amusing or not, he always likes to knead your hand like this. He probably treats it like a squishy toy. But you don't mind, as it feels quite comfortable, almost like a massage.

"I really like Y/n's soft hands. Even if ya might not," he says softly.

You find it hard to understand why he would like these hands that are far from "beautiful." You silently look at Majima's lowered face, feeling conflicted once again. Is he saying this just to comfort you? Like how mothers always say their children are beautiful.

"Don't you wish your girlfriend had more slender and elegant hands?" you ask.

"Are ya stupid? Isn't smooth and soft very cute? Anyway, I really like yer hands. They're soft to hold, just like those things—" Majima furrows his brow, seemingly searching for the right word. "Ah, they're called Squishy, right? Yes, just like a Squishy."

He can say such embarrassing things so casually. What a strange person. You can't help but laugh, then sincerely tell him: "Although I don't really like these hands myself, if Goro likes them, then even childish hands are okay."

After receiving so much praise, you want to look at Majima's hands too. So you cup his hands and start examining them closely.

Compared to yours, his hands are much larger and more substantial. Surprisingly, Majima's nails are well-shaped and neatly trimmed, his fingers are long, and his knuckles are prominent. You could say they are very typical "man's hands." It's unfair that even his hands are so handsome. Perhaps because he usually wears leather gloves, his hands don't have many calluses, and even though he often holds knives when fighting, his palms are still smooth.

"Hmm..." you pretend to ponder, "According to the essential features of beautiful hands, you have a pair of beautiful hands."

Majima laughs, clutching his stomach, then wipes tears from the corner of his eye. "Is that so?" he says, "Then it seems I'm more suited to be the girlfriend."

"Alright then, you can be the girlfriend," you joke, "I'll call you Goromi from now on."

Majima shakes his head and sighs, "That name is too corny. If we have children in the future, ya can't give them such tacky names, okay?"

Hearing his words, you feel your cheeks warming up. You turn your head away, deliberately not looking at him, "I'm ignoring you now. I'm going to take a bath."

"Wanna bathe together?" he asks, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.

You know well that if you agree to his invitation now, Majima will definitely wear you out before letting you leave. You've experienced this firsthand several times before, so you quickly get up from the sofa.

"No need, I can wash myself!"

You walk into the bathroom with agility completely different from your previous lazy attitude, hearing Majima's cheerful laughter coming from the living room.

Once my friend mentioned that my head is quite large, I began to realize how big it actually is. But before that, I never thought there was an issue with my head at all. Recently, I came across discussions online about protruding mouths, and only then did I notice that my own mouth is a bit protruding. I even entertained the idea of getting braces, but I found out that just wearing them wouldn't fix the issue. I would have to undergo a jaw surgery to correct the protrusion. So, I abandoned the idea since this problem doesn't affect my ability to enjoy food.

I feel like a lot of appearance anxieties stem from others' opinions. I believe it's not worth paying too much attention to what they say. Instead of changing yourself to fit other people's standards of beauty, it's better to learn to accept yourself first. After all, no matter how perfect you are, others will always find flaws in you.

Can’t believe that I said something this profound

#ryu ga gotoku #yakuza #majima goro #majima goro x reader #ryu ga gotoku x reader #yakuza headcanons #ryu ga gotoku headcanons #yakuza majima #fluff #yakuza x reader

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