Looks Like Lingerie to Me - Part Two
Word Count: 1.4k
Part 1
A belated and awkward part 2. I’ll start writing part 3 in the morning (it’s like 1am lmao)
For those who need a visual aid, here. (oof feels like wattpad or quotev but girlypops i am cringe but i am free. it isnt a perfect representation, but its pretty accurate. titilating, no? ;) )
Warnings: Lingerie lmao…this is pretty short, and is just a set-up for part 3. A lot of this is my own feelings surrounding cis men in lingerie. As with part 1 gender neutral reader. Yeah! Hope you enjoy!
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Sanji couldn't stop thinking about it. You thought he'd look hot in lingerie? You thought he looked slutty?
It had overtaken every waking moment. Any time he wasn't focused on a task all he could see was the dumb stare you gave him, eyes focused on his thighs.
He'd love to wear lingerie for you if it meant you'd stare at him like that.
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The Going Merry was docked, the Straw Hats carrying out their duties, and Sanji had a plan.
"I'm gonna go shopping. You coming (Name)? Sanji can carry our bags." Nami preened, looking absolutely glowing at the prospect of new clothes. Sanji bit his lip. He wanted to go with Nami and you, really he did, but if either of you caught on he'd die of embarrassment.
"You okay, Ji?"
Huh?
You were asking something.
"What? Oh, yeah, love. I'm fine. I'm afraid I have business to attend to on the island."
You blinked at him before smiling that dazzling smile up at him. He was smitten, his fortitude nearly wavering. "Of course. You do what you gotta do!"
Business his ass. Instead he hurried to check out the town.
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A small, seedy shop tucked away in an alley. Sanji entered the store warily. A small, old woman trotted out from the back. Sanji blanched. He didn't want to discuss this with a grandma!
"Hello young man, here for something for your wife?"
Sanji felt himself flush. He tried to wander around the store. "No, no-"
"Your girlfriend then?"
Ah. This grandmother didn't know when to quit.
"Not exactly?"
The old lady grabbed his arm. Sanji raised a brow, turning back to her. She was grinning at him, eyes narrowed and sparkling with something he couldn't place.
"Is it for you? Such a handsome young man as yourself."
What? Sanji's face was on fire. He was flustered beyond belief. His hands were lightly shaking, eyes darting around for anyone else in the store.
"Come with me darling. My name's Bea." The old lady chimed, dragging Sanji with her. "What colour were you thinking?"
"Oh, um." Sanji was panicking, voice high. Did she even have lingerie for men? "Blue?"
Bea hummed. "I do have blue, but I have a lovely pink set that would just make your skin pop."
Pink? Sanji didn't think it was possible to flush darker, and yet here he was. "I, uh, would it even fit me?"
"Of course sonny! You're quite slim." Bea swatted at his arm, patting his biceps for good measure as she led him through the store. "So, tell me about the lucky one."
"They're beautiful." Sanji began dreamily. Where should he even start? "The most gorgeous creature I've ever laid my eyes on. They have this laugh that just brightens up any room, and such a sense of humour. I’ve been smitten with them since I met them.”
“You two aren’t together?”
Sanji shook his head sadly. “No, no. We’re just good friends. They, uh… Do you know what shirt stays are?”
Bea laughed, patting the cook on the arm. “Say no more.”
She let go of him when they reached the back of the store. Sanji watched nervously as she carded through a rack of, well, did it really constitute clothing? Skimpy piece after skimpy piece were revealed.
And then he saw it.
It was a gorgeous baby pink. Bea ahhed as she removed it from the rack, holding it up to inspect it. She turned to face him, sizing him up next to the set. Sanji felt his throat go dry as he really took it in.
The set was a simple baby pink bralette, made from some kind of sheer lacy material with a flower motif. The plunging neckline was created to draw attention to the cleavage, and it was adorned with some delicate string of pearl-like decoration to highlight the collarbones. The panties were the same sheer material, clear that they weren’t to hide much. The sides of it were accentuated with cute ruffles that further added a feminine touch. Sanji felt lightheaded.
Finally, it was a beautiful pastel garter belt that sat in the middle, completing the look. It too was made from the same stretchy, sheer lace. It would wrap around the waist, strategic cutouts to accentuate the waist, hips, and the bellybutton. The central cutout had a simple chain of pearls to add interest and movement. Four satin-looking ribbons led from bottom front and back, with clips attached to hold up stockings.
Oh, maybe his shirt stays were kinda…
Nonetheless, it was breathtaking. Sanji had clearly marvelled at it for too long, as Bea chuckled, causing him to flush red. The old woman, lingerie in hand, led him to a mirror.
“I’m…I can’t.”
Bea just chuckled, holding the hanger up against him. “Look in the mirror boy, I’ve been making lingerie for fifty years. This suits you.”
Sanji obeyed her, staring at himself in the mirror. What he saw took his breath away. He looked a mess, face red and hair messy. He had to hand it to the old woman, the colour was flattering against him. Even the cut looked good. Sanji shifted from foot to foot, anxiety creeping in. He wasn’t really sure how he felt about looking so…so feminine.
Sanji was a man. It wouldn’t be right for him to wear something so delicate and gorgeous. Right? Of course women’s clothing was beautiful, the fabrics they used, the stylish designs he’d seen the girls on the ship sport. Men’s clothing just, well it was meant to be masculine and boring. Right? He couldn’t let himself give in to that want to feel pretty, that would be wrong.
Right?
Bea, clearly noticing his inner struggle, scoffed.
“Sonny.”
“Sanji.”
“Right. Sonny, I’ve been doing this for a long time.”
“You, uh, you already said that.”
“I know that!” Bea snapped, swatting at him. Sanji’s gaze drifted back to the pink lace. “I’ve been doing this for a long time. When I started, well, I made boring beige bras and the same lacy black underwear again, and again, and again. I got bored. I got creative! And when I got creative, I became determined to make people feel pretty. People, Sonny, not women.”
Sanji went rigid, his throat was so dry. Was he that obvious? All he could make out was a simple, “Oh?”
Bea grinned. “Everyone deserves the right to feel pretty.” Sanji opened his mouth to speak but the old woman just held up a wrinkled hand. “Nope. Don’t care if you’re a ‘man’. Everyone. Sonny, one day you’ll realise that being a ‘man’ is more than just grunting like an ape, or never showing any vulnerability, or even having a penis. Man is a state of mind, and Sonny, the sooner you feel comfortable in who you are, the more beautiful life is going to be for you.”
Sanji felt breathless. “Really?”
“Really.” Bea nodded, a fondness in her eyes. “Come, we’ll get you a choker to go with it, I have just the one.”
Sanji felt a million miles away as Bea led him to the shop counter. She handled a delicate pink satin choker with care, presenting it to him. It was a giant bow, a simple snap holding it in place around the neck. Simple, but delicate. If Sanji was honest with himself, he liked it.
“Like a million berry! Your precious one will love you in it!” Bea smiled fondly at him. “So, Sonny, you buying?”
Sanji sucked in a deep breath. When he spoke his voice was foreign to him, a shakiness underlying the wispiness. Sanji felt like he was treading water, unsure and scared of the newness of it all. He could drown at any moment.
“Yeah.”
“Good, good!”
So Sanji paid. Bea took extra care to wrap the lingerie up in a delicate pink tissue paper. His own little present. She then promptly put it in an unmarked bag. She understood, shooting him a wink.
“So, anyone, huh?”
“Oh yes, yes. You see, originally I made them for my girlfriend when I was a much younger lady. She was a farmer’s daughter, wonderful girl, shared many a kiss with her, and then some! Now I make these lovely ones for my current husband. You remind me a lot of him, Sonny. You see he lets me wear this harness thing that I put in his a-”
“Thank you grandma, I’ll be out of here now!”
“Yes, yes. Good luck, Sonny! Stop by with your sweetie and get something nice one day, okay?” Bea waved her goodbyes from the doorway, smiling that same sweet old woman smile. Sanji clutched the bag to his chest tightly.
Right. Time to put the plan into place.
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Hey! Are there blacksmiths in your story? I'm a hobbyist blacksmith and I'm here to help!
Blacksmithing is one of those things that a lot of people get wrong because they don't realize it stuck around past the advent of the assembly line. Here's a list of some common misconceptions I see and what to do instead!
Not all blacksmiths are gigantic terrifying muscly guys with beards and deep voices. I am 5'8, skinny as a twig, have the muscle mass of wet bread, and exist on Tumblr. Anybody who is strong enough to pick up a hammer and understands fire safety can be a blacksmith.
You can make more than just swords with blacksmithing. Though swords are undeniably practical, they're not the only things that can be made. I've made candle holders, wall hooks, kebab skewers, fire pokers, and more. Look up things other people have made, it's really amazing what can be done.
"Red-hot" is actually not that hot by blacksmith terms. when heated up, the metal goes from black, to red, to orange, to yellow, to white. (for temperature reference, I got a second degree burn from picking up a piece of metal on black heat) The ideal color to work with the metal is yellow. White is not ideal at all, because the metal starts sparking and gets all weird and lumpy when it cools. (At no point in this process does the metal get even close to melting. It gets soft enough to work with, but I have never once seen metal become a liquid.)
Blacksmithing takes fucking forever. Not even taking into account starting the forge, selecting and preparing metal, etc. etc. it takes me around an hour to make one (1) fancy skewer. The metals blacksmiths work with heat up and cool down incredibly fast. When the forge is going good, it only takes like 20 seconds to get your metal hot enough to work with, but it takes about the same time for it to cool down, sometimes even less.
As long as you are careful, it is actually stupidly easy to not get hurt while blacksmithing. When I picked up this hobby I was like "okay, cool! I'm gonna make stuff, and I'm gonna end up in the hospital at some point!" Thus far, the latter has yet to occur. I've been doing this for nearly a year. I have earned myself a new scar from the aforementioned second degree burn, and one singe mark on my jeans. I don't even wear gloves half the time. Literally just eye protection, common sense, and fast reflexes and you'll probably be fine. (Accidents still happen of course, but I have found adequate safety weirdly easy to achieve with this hobby)
A forge is not a fire. The forge is the thing blacksmiths put their metal in to heat it up. It starts as a small fire, usually with newspaper or something else that's relatively small and burns easily, which we then put in the forge itself, which is sort of a fireplace-esque thing (there's a lot of different types of forge, look into it and try to figure out what sort of forge would make the most sense for the context you're writing about) and we cover it with coal, which then catches fire and heats up. The forge gets really hot, and sometimes really bright. Sometimes when I stare at the forge for too long it's like staring into the sun. The forge is also not a waterfall of lava, Steven Universe. It doesn't work like that, Steven Universe.
Welding and blacksmithing are not the same thing. They often go hand-in-hand, but you cannot connected two pieces of metal with traditional blacksmithing alone. There is something called forge welding, where you heat your metal, sprinkle borax (or the in-universe equivalent) on it to prevent the metal from oxidizing/being non-weldable, and hammer the pieces together very quickly. Forge welding also sends sparks flying everywhere, and if you're working in a small space with other blacksmiths, you usually want to announce that you're welding before you do, so that everyone in a five-foot radius can get out of that five-foot radius. You also cannot just stuck some random pebbles into the forge and get a decent piece of metal that you can actually make something with, Steven Universe. It doesn't work like that, Steven Universe.
Anvils are really fucking heavy. Nothing else to add here.
Making jewelry is not a blacksmithing thing unless you want jewelry made of steel. And it will be very ugly if you try. Blacksmithing wasn't invented to make small things.
If there's anything here I didn't mention, just ask and I'll do my best to answer.
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Sex Pollen — König x Reader
"I'm sorry, mein Engel." König whined out as he kept ramming into you, your moaning mixed with his low groaning and soft whines whenever he overestimulated himself. He came inside you four times already, yet the effects of the gas you both accidentally inhaled had him hard as a rock. He couldn't stop even if he wanted, even when you were asking him to stop for a second so your abused cunt could take a break.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry... it feels too good to stop. Ah, scheiße... like that." His big gloved hands guided your hips up and down, thrusting up to meet you halfway as his head dropped back against the wall, eyes closed as he focused on feeling your wet cunt wrap tightly around his fat dick. Truth to be told, he wanted his first time with you to be special. He wanted to invite you out on a date and if he got lucky, he wanted to have a romantic love-making session with you, yet here he is; moving your much smaller body up and down his cock, using your pussy to jerk himself off, filling you up like nothing.
"Mein Gott... you're so tight." He hisses out, grabbing your hips before he manages to get up with his dick still inside you. Your arms wrap around his neck for support as he begins to fuck into you like a madman, using your much smaller body as if you're nothing but a fleshlight. The mask is still hiding his face, yet you can imagine just how pretty his face looks simply by looking at the desperate look in his eyes as his gaze narrows.
"Just... give me one more, schätzchen, one more and I'll stop." It was probably a lie. His dick was still rock-hard, and his body couldn't get enough of you. The drug left his body the first time he came, yet he couldn't stop himself from being inside you. All those times he spent jerking off to the thought of you, whenever you accidentally touched him, whenever you looked at him, whenever he heard your voice, the one time he was able to get a hold of your used panties, all those moments of waiting patiently were worth it in the end.
"Verdammt." He muttered softly as he felt your pussy cramping down on him, burying his face on your neck as he began muttering pure non-sense in German, pushing his dick all the way inside so your cervix welcomed his 5th load. He let out a deep groan, holding you close as your cunt milked him dry.
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