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justlemmeadoreyou · 25 days

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1. prepping (restaurant owner!harry x chef!y/n)

summary: you landed your dream job as a line cook at harry styles' prestigious haus kitchen restaurant in chicago. the tough chef job demands focus, but it's really hard when your boss looks like harry styles.

words: 4.3k

warnings: nothing major in this one

Your palms were sweating as you gripped the steering wheel, driving through downtown Chicago towards your new job. You kept glancing down at the address on the printed directions, double checking that you were heading the right way. The last thing you wanted was to be late on your first day.

Ever since getting your culinary degree, you had applied to what felt like hundreds of restaurant jobs, desperate to get your foot in the door of a real professional kitchen. But very few places wanted to hire someone so fresh out of school with no actual experience.

Finally, after months of dead ends, you had landed a line cook position at Haus Kitchen - one of the hottest farm-to-table restaurants in the city. You could scarcely believe your luck when you got the call saying you were hired.

Haus was the brainchild of Harry Styles, international superstar singer turned chef. After his chart-topping solo music career, Harry had traded in artist life to pursue his lifelong passion for cooking. Using his accumulated wealth, he opened up Haus five years ago to rave reviews, quickly earning a well deserved Michelin star.

You vividly remembered watching Harry's transition from a pop idol to dashing culinary entrepreneur play out in the media. As a teenage girl, you had been obsessed with him during his One Direction days.

Your bedroom walls were plastered with Harry's posters and you had relentlessly played their songs, sighing over his tousled hair and pouty lips. Then as you got older and Harry went solo, your boyband crush evolved into more of an intense celebrity infatuation as he cultivated a cool, rebellious image.

There were countless gossipy blind items about his infamous hellraising, flings with models and socialites, and run-ins with the law. You had followed all the scandalous Harry headlines with rapt attention - from getting papped stumbling out of nightclubs with an endless parade of beautiful women to getting arrested for drug possession outside Soho clubs.

But finally in his late 20s, seemingly bored of rockstar debauchery, Harry had pivoted to reset his image as a knowledgeable culinary entrepreneur. You admired how he transformed from tabloid bad boy into a refined, successful businessman and chef.

He began studying haute cuisine under the tutelage of famous European chefs, traveling abroad to hone his skills further. While continuing to record new musical projects independently, Harry started establishing himself in the culinary world through guest stints on TV cooking shows and food/wine events.

With his brooding good looks, charming personality, and serious culinary chops, the world fell for Harry's new sophisticated image. Before long, he was the subject of breathless puff pieces in food magazines as "the sexiest Renaissance man in the kitchen." It seemed natural when Harry soon opened up his passion project Haus to capitalize on his popularity and love of food.

Now nearing your mid-20s, your teenage fannish obsession had cooled into more of an admiring celebrity crush. You had stayed aware of Harry's journey, but your priorities were focused on graduating culinary school at the top of your class and finding your own big break in the Chicago restaurant scene.

So when you landed a job at Harry's iconic Haus, it almost didn't feel real. Not only would you be working at one of the city's most exclusive spots, but under the same roof as a chef you had admired for ages.

Not that you expected to have any real personal contact with Harry himself, you reminded yourself as you merged onto the exit for downtown. He was an internationally famous mega-celebrity who had to have hundreds of staffers, not to mention being handsomely paid to just be the smiling face of the business while professional kitchen vets like Paul Thomason handled the day-to-day operations.

Still, you had to admit to yourself that a tiny part of you tingled at the mere idea of being in the same building as Harry Styles...hopefully catching a glimpse of that handsome, endlessly charming man in the flesh...

You shook your head dismissively and double checked the directions again, annoyed at getting so easily distracted. This was your big break, your first serious job in the industry. You needed to bring your A-game and focus, not dwell on silly celebrity daydreams.

It was your fantasies of becoming a respected chef that needed to take priority.

You pulled into the parking lot for the restaurant, double checking that you had the address right. The sleek, modern building had a neon "Haus Kitchen" sign glowing over opulent double-door entrances flanked by velvet ropes and cheerful outdoor seating areas.

Taking a steadying breath, you cut the engine and sat for a moment, giving yourself a pep talk. This was it. No more messing around doing coursework or labs - this was the major leagues with all the intensity of a real professional kitchen. You had to bring it all day, every day.

As you climbed out of your beat-up Honda, you smoothed down your spotless new chef's whites, making sure everything looked pressed and presentable. With your knife kit tucked under your arm, you walked towards the entrance with purpose, chin held high.

From the moment you stepped through the doors, it was like being transported into another world. The smell of simmering sauces, roasting meats, and freshly baked bread envaded your senses. Even hours before opening, the energy and hustle for dinner prep was palpable.

Off to the left was the main dining room you had studied photos of online - effortlessly cool with vaulted exposed wooden beam ceilings, brick accents, and casually modern decor. Pendant lighting glowed cozily over tables draped in white linens and rustic chandeliers hung over plush tufted leather banquettes. A lively bar area centered the space, stocked with top-shelf liquors and backed by a dazzling display of custom glassware.

In the distance ahead, you could hear the clamoring of the kitchen in full swing. Your stomach did a nervous flip - this was it. Taking another fortifying breath, you headed through the archway.

You emerged into a large, sleek open kitchen layout, all stainless steel and butcher block islands. Uniformed cooks were buzzing at their stations like a well-oiled machine under the barked commands of an older, stocky man you immediately recognized as Head Chef Paul Thomason.

Despite his gruff reputation, watching Thomason in action was nothing short of mesmerizing. He moved between stations with the easy grace of a conductor, sampling sauces, tweaking seasonings, and directing the workflow with gruff orders. There was no wasted movement or micro-expression as he continually tasted and perfected dishes, alternating between thoughtful contemplation and decisive action.

Though you had only seen Thomason in pictures and television appearances, his fierce focus and mastery were unmistakable. This was what true professional kitchen expertise looked like in the flesh.

Feeling like a mouse that had wandered into the lair of a lion, you hovered near the entrance, uncertain of what to do next. The kitchen team flowed around you in a choreographed dance, deftly ignoring your presence as they prepped and plated flawlessly.

After a few minutes of anxious loitering, the intimidating Thomason seemed to finally notice you. His grizzled features contorted as he scowled, looking you up and down through eyes squinted with decades of kitchen smoke exposure.

"You must be the new kid," he said gruffly, crossing his bulky tattooed arms over his broad chest. Even without raising his voice, Thomason had a rumbling bass that easily carried over the kitchen's clanging din. "Christ, you're shorter than I expected. Think you've got what it takes to keep up around here?"

You nervously clutched your knife kit closer while trying to not look as flustered as you felt. "Y-yes, chef!"

You swallowed hard, hyper aware of everyone around you now watching the interaction. "I, uh...I came ready to work as hard as it takes. Whatever you need from me."

Thomason grunted, squinting at you for another long moment in consideration. Then he jerked his head towards the back. "Get changed out quick and meet me back here in 5. I'll get you started on prep and we'll see what you're made of. Don't keep me waiting."

"Yes, chef!" you responded immediately, wincing at how high your voice had gone up an octave.

Without another word, Thomason turned and strode back into the controlled chaos of the line, immediately redirecting his attention to sauces and garnishes. Letting out a shaky breath, you scurried towards the changing rooms, heart jackhammering.

Well, you were officially in the thick of things now...

You hustled back out to the kitchen, trying not to look frazzled from your rushed change. A young Hispanic line cook spotted you and waved you over to his station.

"You the newbie?" he asked, not unkindly. When you nodded, he jerked his head towards the walk-in refrigerator. "Thomason wants you to start by breaking down some of the produce delivery for prep."

"Got it, thanks," you replied, eager to prove yourself. The line cook gestured you through the door into the immense chilled walk-in.

You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the cold, taking in the sights and smells of the impressive stockpile. Shelves upon shelves were stocked with an array of fresh seasonal produce - crates bursting with leafy greens, bushels of root vegetables, flats of vibrantly colored tomatoes, exotic fruits, and mushroom varieties you had only read about.

Your culinary school had humble basics for ingredients, nothing like the bounty of locally-sourced, meticulously selected provisions that Haus Kitchen demanded. You felt a thrill at getting to work with such an extraordinary pantry.

Respirating clouds puffed from your mouth as you scanned the inventory tagging system. You had been taught similar protocols in your food safety courses, but there was something exhilarating about putting that knowledge into practice in a real professional environment.

Grabbing a stack of plastic totes, you made a game plan for which items to start prepping first based on perishability levels and what would be needed for that evening's specials. Though you started out slow at first, you steadily built up a cadence of meticulously cleaning, trimming, and sorting into appropriate storage containers.

By the time Thomason stuck his head in to check on you an hour later, you had developed an efficient system and made solid progress through a mountain of deliveries.

The head chef grunted in approval as he inspected your neat stacks of prepped produce, crossing his arms as he looked you up and down with a critical eye.

"Not bad, kid," he rumbled. "Clearly know which end of a knife to use, at least. C'mon back out, got some protein fabrication for you to tackle next."

You diligently followed Thomason back out to the main kitchen, wiping some sweat from your brow with your sleeve. Despite the industrial cooling system, the heat blazing from the ovens and range tops made the open kitchen feel like a furnace.

As Thomason led you to a stainless steel butcher's block island, you couldn't help but gawk at the array of gleaming knives hanging from magnetic strips overhead. The blades were works of art - sleek, razor sharp, and clearly extremely expensive.

Gesturing you over, Thomason grabbed a boning knife and twirled it deftly before handing it to you. "Let's see how you handle breaking this down."

He gave the block a solid smack with his meaty palm, indicating for you to get started on the glistening slab of beef tenderloin before you. Taking a steadying breath, you gripped the bone-handled knife firmly and leaned over the cutting board.

"Yes chef," you murmured before carefully piercing the thick cut of meat, angling the blade with practiced precision from all your training.

Around you, the kitchen bustled with the usual rattling pans, sizzling ranges, and Thomason's occasional barked orders. But as you fell into the rhythm of deftly separating fat and sinew, the noises began to fade from your awareness.

You were completely focused on your knife work, confidently sawing through the tender flesh as you reduced the tenderloin down to portions and trimmings for other stations to further break down. It was meditative, almost hypnotic, the way you instinctively slid the blade along rendered paths of butchery.

After your initial intimidation of the intense Haus environment, you started to find your groove and calm amidst the choreographed insanity surrounding you. You were so laser-focused on the satisfaction of properly executing each slicing technique that the rest of the kitchen chaos became mere white noise.

You had no idea how long you stayed absorbed in the butchery, but eventually you became aware of a presence at your elbow. Glancing up, you nearly jumped to see Harry Styles watching you work with an unreadable expression, hands shoved into the pockets of his slim-fitting slacks.

His dress shirt was rolled up to his elbows and the fitted cotton fabric clung to his toned arms and chest, a few chest hairs peeking out of his slightly undone top button. A single necklace rested in the divot between his sculpted collarbones, drawing your eye to the alluring hollow of his throat as he swallowed hard.

You froze mid-slice, mesmerized by watching the tendons in Harry's wrist and forearm flex as his hands flexed restlessly in his trouser pockets. After a beat, his pillowy lips curved into an easy smile, crinkling the delicate crow's feet at the corners of his kaleidoscope green eyes.

"Afternoon," Harry said in that lazy, husky drawl that used to make millions of fans swoon. He flicked his eyes down to your handiwork before bringing them back up to your face. "Looking good there, newbie."

You blinked, not trusting your ears for a moment before realizing with a jolt that Harry was very much real and quite close. Like, unnecessarily close for your over-stimulated brain to handle.

"Uh...I-I, um...th-thank you?" you croaked out, wanting to cringe at how lame you sounded. Get it together, this wasn't the time to geek out–you instructed yourself.

But Harry didn't seem to notice your fumbling, simply giving you a dimpled half-smile before reaching around you to snag a stray piece of trimming from the butcher's block. He inspected it contemplatively before popping it into his mouth, those plump lips wrapping obscenely around the bite as he chewed and ruminated with relish.

"Perfection," he declared after swallowing, shooting you another crooked grin like you were co-conspirators sharing an inside joke. With a subtle wink, Harry pivoted on his boot heel and sauntered off, whistling a jaunty tune.

As he retreated, you risked a glance down at his form-fitting trousers shamelessly admiring the way the fine fabric cupped the ample curves of his pert backside. Even at his age, Harry Styles had the muscle-toned body of a man decades younger - long, lean muscles taut under golden tanned skin.

You blinked hard and shook your head, annoyed at catching yourself ogling your new boss like a drooling fangirl. Pull it together! This was totally inappropriate and unprofessional. You had zero business daydreaming about someone who gave you your paycheck, no matter how obscenely famous and heartthrob-ishly handsome they were.

Firmly re-focusing on your knife work, you determinedly put Harry from your mind and tried to re-immerse yourself in the rhythm and refuge of the butchery. But the memory of his distractingly lush mouth so close kept replaying over and over, preventing you from recapturing your previous sense of meditative flow.

Dammit, you needed to get a grip! This kind of inappropriate crush on your employer was exactly the kind of silly, immature behavior that would make you look like a unprofessional joke in a serious kitchen environment. Blowing an opportunity like this was not an option.

Later, as you untied your apron strings and joined the team in breaking down the last stations for cleaning at closing, Thomason sidled up alongside you. You braced yourself for more of his typical gruff rebukes or criticisms.

Instead, the veteran chef simply gave you a long, considered look before saying gruffly, "You did good work today, kid. I can already tell you got the stuff to handle it around here if you keep your head down."

You blinked up at him in surprise before managing a small smile. "Thank you, chef. I really appreciate that."

Thomason grunted noncommittally before wandering off, likely to oversee something else. As you tidied your workstation, you couldn't help feeling a small glow of pride. Despite the craziness of your first day, you had seemingly passed this initial trial with flying colors.

As you left through the back entrance into the quiet night air, you took a deep breath and allowed yourself a satisfied smile. Maybe, just maybe, you really did have what it took to succeed in this highly competitive environment after all. For tonight at least, you had handled the punishing pace and standards. Tomorrow was another day to prove yourself all over again.

***

Your day started before sunrise the next morning, brewing a strong coffee and reviewing the notes you had taken the previous evening about which menu items needed prepping. By the time you arrived at Haus, reinvigorated by the crisp morning air, the kitchen was already a hive of activity in preparation for lunch service.

The intense scrutiny under which you worked only amplified with the daylight. Every slice, every sauté was carried out under the watchful eyes of Chef Thomason and his steely gaze. More than once, you felt his presence looming over your shoulder, inspecting your work with the same critical eye as a diamond cutter examining a flawless gem.

"This slice is uneven," he barked, startling you. You flinched, resisting the urge to make excuses as he continued, "The portions all need to be identical for plating. Paying attention to details like that is the difference between a sloppy meal and a stellar one. Don't let it happen again."

"Yes, chef," you replied tightly, making a minor adjustment to your knife work. Though his words stung, you had to admit Thomason was completely right. In a restaurant of this caliber, any minor imperfection could spell disaster.

You redoubled your efforts, pouring all of your concentration into each preparation, each plate. By the time the end of your shift rolled around, you were drenched in sweat, your feet screaming from being on them for 12 hours straight. But you had successfully made it through day two without any major mishaps.

As the whirlwind of dinner service finally calmed to a stopping point, you stood in the kitchen obediently waiting for Thomason's inspection and inevitable critique. But to your surprise, he merely gave a curt nod of approval before waving you off.

"Not bad, newbie," he grunted. "Get a good night's rest. We'll need you back bright and early tomorrow."

Those few gruff words of acceptance warmed you more than any high praise could have. For Thomason, a man of very few words, his small nod seemed to indicate you were, for the moment, living up to his exceedingly high standards.

The high from that small victory buoyed your spirits as you made your way towards the back exit, already dreaming of the few hours of sleep you might be able to grab before starting the cycle over again. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you nearly bowled someone over coming around a corner.

"Whoa there!"

You froze, looking up into the grinning, mirthful eyes of Harry Styles himself. Up close, the force of his charm and magnetism practically crackled in the air around him like a physical force. His sweater clung distractingly to his lithe, muscular frame and his chestnut hair was casually tousled. A pair of small diamond studs glinted in each ear.

"Sorry about that, H-Harry," you stammered, resisting the urge to take a flustered step back. You were vividly aware of just how little physical space separated the two of you. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

If he noticed your frazzled state up close, Harry didn't let on. His pink lips merely curved in an easy, dimpled smile. "No need to apologize. I don't usually make a habit of lurking around blind corners, to be fair."

You laughed before you could stop yourself, surprised at how easily he was putting you at ease despite your elevated heart rate. Up close, Harry's eyes weren't just green - an entire kaleidoscope of colors ranging from jade to emerald to amber seemed to shift and dance in his gaze. It was...dazzling, frankly.

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to take a subtle step backwards, putting a more professional amount of space between the two of you. The last thing you needed was to do something wildly inappropriate that would get you fired before the end of your first week.

"Still, I should have been paying better attention to my surroundings," you replied, aiming for a respectful, levelheaded tone. "It's been a really intense couple of days just trying to stay on top of everything."

Harry nodded in understanding, arching one perfectly sculpted brow. "Thomason hasn't let up on you at all, I take it?"

When you shook your head ruefully, he chuckled. "I know that seems like his permanent state - gruff, perpetually unsatisfied, and grumpy as a hibernating bear. But honestly, the fact that he hasn't fired you already is a good sign you're doing well."

You blinked at him in surprise. "Wait...really? But he critiques everything! I feel like I've gotten nothing but corrections so far."

"Exactly." Harry's dimples flashed as he grinned. "That's how you know he sees potential in you. If Thomason didn't think you had what it took, he wouldn't waste his breath giving feedback. He'd just cut you loose and hire someone else to start over."

His words were like a soothing balm on the anxiety and self-doubt you'd been carrying around for the past couple of days. You hadn't realized that Thomason's critical approach was actually a twisted form of acceptance and mentorship. The revelation caused the hard knot of tension between your shoulder blades to finally release.

"Huh," you exhaled, unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips as you finally understood Thomason's tough love. "I guess I should take that as a compliment then."

"Absolutely," Harry agreed with an approving nod. Then his expression softened around the edges, growing earnest as his gaze searched yours. "Look, I know it's a huge adjustment and the pace here can be absolutely brutal starting out. But for what it's worth...I think you've got what it takes to be something really special in this kitchen."

You felt yourself flush at his unexpected praise, your stomach fluttering with a swarm of nervous butterflies. Harry held your eyes for a lingering moment before seeming to mentally collect himself.

Clearing his throat, he flashed you one more crooked grin. "But don't take my word for it - the proof will be in your work. Stay focused and trust the process. I've got faith you can handle it."

With that, he brushed past you, his shoulder grazing yours in a way that made your entire body buzz with friction. As Harry sauntered off down the hallway, you couldn't stop yourself from turning to watch his retreating form - the easy, rolling gait, the tantalizing sway of his hips below the slim cut of his trousers, the tousled waves of his chestnut hair.

You let out a shaky exhale, feeling off-balance and electrified all at once. Get a grip, you scolded yourself firmly. That was your boss - your incredibly famous, wealthy, and wildly attractive boss. Daydreaming was a one-way ticket to catching inappropriate feelings and potentially torpedoing your entire career before it even started.

And yet...you couldn't quite silence the part of your brain reliving Harry's velvet tone and intense eye contact as he professed having faith in your abilities. Just the casual warmth of his voice and proximity had set your heart pounding in a way it hadn't since you were a hormonal teenager, utterly dazzled by his rock star persona.

Shaking your head, you forced yourself to turn on your heel and head for the exit. Overthinking could only lead to dangerous territory. You needed to stay laser-focused on your work - that was the only way to succeed at Haus and make your culinary dreams a reality.

As you stepped out into the fresh evening air, you paused for a moment on the deserted back stoop, closing your eyes and taking a few centering breaths. When you opened them again, you felt the last fluttering tendrils of Harry's heated presence dissipate, replaced by a familiar sense of determined calm.

This job was your priority now, not silly schoolgirl crushes or indulging fantasies about your wildly unattainable boss. You knew better than to get distracted by daydreams that could only lead to self-sabotage.

With a decisive nod, you strode towards your car with renewed focus. You would prove yourself at Haus through your skills and work ethic alone. No other agenda, no unprofessional entanglements allowed.

Your passion was cuisine, creating nourishing dishes that delighted - that had to remain your sole priority. You couldn't afford any distractions from that lest you squander this incredible opportunity. Steadying your breathing, you looked forward with fresh clarity and resolve.

Tomorrow was a new day to earn your place in Harry's formidable kitchen. And this time, you vowed, you were utterly prepared to meet the challenge with your complete and undivided focus.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! this is an idea for a new series that will probably have 6 parts??? i guess. but do tell me if you like it! because there's no use in writing when nobody reads 😭😭

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clubrapunzel · 1 year

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The Question Effect: Stress Reduction and Hair Growth Secrets Revealed

In our fast-paced and stressful modern world, it's no surprise that many individuals are seeking effective ways to reduce stress and maintain their physical well-being. While there's no magical cure for genetic hair issues like thinning and greying, asking lofty questions and adopting an identity-shifting mindset can be powerful tools in managing stress and promoting hair growth. Let's explore the concept of using lofty and identity-shifting questions to tackle stress, rejuvenate your mind, and potentially induce physical changes like stopping hair thinning and greying.

Questions have the ability to shape our thoughts, emotions, and even our physical well-being. By stating affirmations in the form of a positive question, we open up new avenues of thinking and explore possibilities beyond our current limitations. For example "How does my hair grow so healthy and easily?" Lofty questions push us to challenge our preconceived notions and think beyond the boundaries, while identity-shifting questions help us redefine our self-image and tap into our untapped potential. "What makes me such a timeless healthy hair growing master?"

When we find ourselves stressed and overwhelmed, asking lofty questions can provide much-needed perspective. Instead of dwelling on the negative aspects of our situation, we can ask ourselves empowering questions as if we've already achieved the goal. By shifting our focus towards possibilities and growth, we reframe stress as a catalyst for personal development, reducing its impact on our well-being.

Our self-image and beliefs greatly influence our physical and mental state. Identity-shifting questions help us challenge limiting beliefs and redefine our sense of self. Instead of identifying as someone with thinning or greying hair, we can ask ourselves, "How do I stay so young and maintain a vibrant and healthy appearance?" By aligning our self-image with our desired outcome, we cultivate a positive mindset that can positively impact our overall well-being, including our hair health.

Stress affects our body in numerous ways, including hair health. By utilizing lofty and identity-shifting questions, we encourage a stronger mind-body connection. Engaging in practices like mindfulness, meditation, or visualization while consistently asking these questions can create a deeper sense of calmness and relaxation. This, in turn, supports healthy hair growth by reducing stress-related factors that contribute to thinning and greying.

While asking lofty and identity-shifting questions can promote positive changes, it's important to complement this mindset with holistic approaches to hair health. Proper nutrition, regular exercise, adequate sleep, and a consistent hair care routine are essential for maintaining healthy hair. Combining these practices with the empowering mindset cultivated through questions can maximize the potential for positive physical changes.

Reducing stress and promoting hair growth require a multifaceted approach that we cultivate in #clubrapunzel. By incorporating lofty questions and identity-shifting questions into our daily lives, we tap into the power of our minds to overcome stress and potentially induce physical changes like stopping hair thinning and greying. Remember, the path to healthy hair begins with a positive mindset and a willingness to challenge our limitations. So, embrace the power of questions, redefine your self-image, and surround yourself with a community that sees and supports your shifted identity.

If you have any questions on how to start, please send a message on www.clubrapunzel.com

#big chop journey #natural hair #healthy hair journey #hair growth #hair regrowth #healthy hair growth #healthy hair tips #length check #hair repair #affirmations #lofty questions #identity shift #clubrapunzel #yoga for beauty #yoga for health #yoga for stress #yoga for hair growth

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blingblong55 · 7 months

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Little red riding hood- König NSFW

Based on a request:

Can I ask for a werewolf König with red riding hood reader and maybe age gap if you’re comfortable with it? And knotting and breeding kink if that’s also allowed Red is a witch in this if that’s okay since it’s October ☺️.Red is in her 20’s while I think König if I’m reading it right, he’s like late 30’s? I could be wrong.Red follows the tale of the story, but what if in this one, Red and König knew each other? Like he was her guardian angel for her growing up, and they were like friends of being outcasts; König being the Big Bad Wolf and Red for her red hood and for being a witch, all because she lives out more in nature then in a village but is their only known healer so they tolerate her. They always say that wherever Red went, the Wolf followed as to make sure Red was never harmed, lurking in the woods. But then, a mysterious woodsman/huntsman appears in town; and he helps around. Goes into the woods to chop trees and hunt; but it is secretly König posing as a man as to avoid suspicion but to also get close to Red 👀 _____ F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, monster au, werewolf!könig, age gap, witch au, witch!reader, unprotected!sex, friends to lovers, P-in-V, breeding _____

A/N: It won't be as extensive as I wanted but I hope you enjoy and im sorry for posting this a day late

A small home in the woods, where a young witch lived, and a neighbour far away that became her friend. You and he became friends when he first introduced himself. Ever since, he has become your protector, friend and guidance. But with time, that sense of protecting you just because you were his friend changed. Infatuation for some. Love, respect and honesty for him. He wasn't normal, that was known and you weren't very much liked, that is a fact. But why don't you get the townspeople to pester you? You heal, and anyone in town sick comes to your small home for healing. No pharmacy in town, just the same old hospital and you. Yes it's true, while no one likes you, they respect you and your abilities to heal others.

It has taken time to get used to this newfound fame, but with König around to help and protect, life is great. And now as you made your way to the dark forest for another special herb for a healing session in the morning, you pulled the hood of your cloak on your head. The red material disguises you in the woods. This is perfect for the man who follows you like a shadow, a new stalker you swore was out to harm you. The dark magic protects you from it when it knows you don't know it. As it doesn't protect you from this mysterious creature, you begin to fasten your pace. König not with you this time scares you. "For the souls, help me," you whisper as you begin to sprint. A tree that you recognise in sight. "König," you remember and turn a sharp right, running towards the only haven besides your home.

Your wicker basket in hand, the plants and book moving with this quickened pace. You knock on his door, it takes time but when he opens it, he is in his human form. "König, there…there was a man- or thing…and-" you try to explain. His large form moves you inside, he smiles, knowing he has his precious thing with him now. "You're safe now, liebe," he whispers as he holds you in his arms. Your basket is now on the ground of his cabin, the cosy walls surrounding you both from the cold breeze and fog of the autumn season. The moon was almost full as it was the 30th of October, almost his time of turning. He pulls away and cups your face in his large hands, he chuckles to himself at this beautiful view. "Now, why don't you and I sit down and talk, ja?" And as time passes, he walks you home. Hallow Eve in the coming minutes, you with a journey to your grandma. He kisses your forehead and disappears in the night.

By morning, as you take your baked goods to the one lady who kept you sane, you see a lumberman, axe in hand as he walks through the woods. You stop in your tracks, as far as you are concerned, no one in town took trees down from your property. König at his home as you stared at his man. Figure more rougher than any man you've seen. Hallows hour is approaching soon, and your grandmother needs your protection at that time. You continued walking and then the man turned to you, scarecrow mask on, you know this wasn't normal. Everyone in town knew not to mess with you, for the man with the howls was behind when his precious girl came to town. With a hand on the dagger the old witch crafted, you never give this mysterious man your back as you walk past and before you make it to the sacred gardens, he chases you with the power most men can't possess.

König, you think of. He was not near, nowhere as near as this man posing as a noble lumberman. You can't drop the basket in fear that your potions and book will be stolen and used against yourself and the greater good of others. Three claw marks in a tree of where König left his mark. A haven, his home much closer as possible. The early morning fog made the ground nearly visible. "König!" you scream in hopes of having his ability to hear it all and listen to you. You run and run, the red cloak dancing with the wind like a willow tree.

Once you make it to him, you knock and knock, calling for him in desperation. It was the oldest trick in the book for dark, smart and in need-of-love wolves. To court and how to make it fast. "For heavens my Liebling, what's the matter?" he asks with a soft tone, breathing trying to slow down. "It happened again, but this…this time the man chased me with-…i..an axe and- well." He shakes his head, inside spirit smiling like the devil. "I'm here to protect you, my liebe," he kisses your forehead and acts as if he is determined to kill the man. The hoax is well done as he has you vulnerable and scared, all for him to use against you and kiss you and make you his finally. Your arms holding him close, he chuckles knowing that the woman he loves finds comfort in him. He kisses your forehead over and over, and guides you to his bedroom to, 'let you rest' but it's all part of his plan to make you, his.

They say to claim, is to leave a mark, and König intended to do just that. His scent on your red cloak, your dress and the basket you carried with care. His gaze softens, but his touch is rough as he lays you in bed. "Now, why don't I show you how good I can take care of you?" One nod from him and another from you has him removing the unnecessary clothes. There was something different in the atmosphere, he felt it and you know you can feel it too. "König, I-" you say but his finger flies to your lips. "Let me show you I care," his voice was still so soft but as time kept getting closer, that soft voice would turn to howls and hoarse words. He kisses you, you kiss him back, which he smiles to as he knows you feel the same way…finally. No longer does he have to lure you into his home, he can have you come here, willingly. The lumberman character is lost in the woods as he gets lost in you.

His hands are on your waist as with his thumb he lifts your dress, and you squirm. "It's okay, I won't hurt you, I want to please you," he tells you. You know it's not an empty word he ushers but honesty. Your body soon to be his, your love and devotion, written in time as his. His bulge, with a wet shadow as his pre-cum leaks from just this contact. You un-do his trousers, he looks down and then at you, "You want it that bad, don't you?" A devil smirk on him again. "I need it," you tell him. He pushes you deeper in the bed as his kisses become rough, trailing to your jaw and neck, he growls and time ticks. It's a countdown. Poets and other simple writers, all authoring about a woman in a red cloak, afraid of the big bad wolf, to have it debunked by you and him. Covered in lust and deep in love. His cock is ready to pump you full of his seed. He needs to breed your pretty pussy that drips the taste of heaven. Your hands fly to his back, he lets out a groan.

"That's it, baby, mark me," his hands fly to your cunt, fingers it and licks his fingers after. "Just like I predicted, heaven from you," he kisses you once more, this time so you can taste glory. His cock, in a desperate need to fuck itself into you, slowly lets his tip in. You moan, he was big, thick and already so red and swollen for you. Seconds pass and now, as his werewolf self comes to play with his prey, his heavy cock spreads you open. You whimper and cry. "That's right darling, keep making those pretty noises for me," he kisses you, and you moan into it. His large hands on you, claiming every last bit of you as his. His thrusts are like this form of himself, animalistic and wild. Your body and his, in unity, as he claims that cunt of yours. Your clit, rubbed by his large hands, your eyes rolling back. Thrusts so good it turns you into a blabbering mess. His dark laugh melts you, he loves this view of you.

Your orgasm building up, your pussy wrapping around him like a perfect glove. He groans and grunts. It was art for what sex can be. To have your cunt, spread and filled with his fat cock, it was art. Your hands, marking his back, he lets out a growl, his beast cannines on view. "Don't. Fucking. Stop." He adores how he claims you and you do him. His hands fly to your neck as he chokes you and as his moans and grunts fill the gap between you and him. And just as you were already riding your high, you feel him, his cock grow within you, creating a nest inside of you. The art of sex and knotting your mate, a plan he knew all too well. Your eyes leak with tears, tears he helped create as he proves to you, that love is not emotional at times but physical. His cum, leaking from your cunt that was already filled to the brim. "You like it when I breed you like that?" This is a not-so-innocent question that will be asked throughout this relationship. "You like it, I know my little whore does," eh kisses you, and thrusts slowly as he plans on keeping his cock in you for some more time.

A/N: I apologise if this wasn't good or how it was requested...sorry

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emeritusemeritus · 9 months

Text

George Weasley headcanons

Just a few personal headcanons for Georgie 🤍 NSFW under the cut 🌹

SFW ✨

Calls you Angel, baby and then darling when you’re older.

He’s a hugger and very affectionate. He likes to hold your hand and stroke his thumb affectionately over your hand, marvelling at the size difference of both of your hands and how yours fits neatly into his. He squeezes your hand three times in a row to silently let you know that he loves you, that he’s there, especially any time you seem stressed or anxious.

Carries your bags everywhere if you’re out, reaching for them instinctively. Doesn’t matter if they’re not heavy, he’ll always shoulder even the most lightweight things for you.

You still tease each other and are always laughing but it’s very different to how it was when you were friends, in the most wonderful way. You will make a joke and earn a kick spank on your bum or he’ll laugh and pull you in for a kiss, always keeping that sense of affection even as you rip into each other.

Despite often being the co-centre of attention, George can actually get a little intimidated around large crowds, especially if he’a feeling a little sensitive or down. He hides it well from most people, even his twin, but he knows that nothing escapes you.

He loves being a twin, but sometimes can be a little sensitive about it, particularly as he’s the younger one and always seen as the second twin. He definitely deals with a lot more of mental negativity towards himself than his counterpart and sometimes struggles with self esteem issues due to always being compared. You never let him fester on these for long and always go out of your way to let him know that he will always be first for you, the first choice and you’re number one.

He’s actually a really good cook and loves seeing you enjoy what he’s made. He doesn’t use magic most of the time, finding the process of cooking quite therapeutic, especially after a long day at the shop when he wants to unwind. He always looks ridiculously hot to you like this, his suit jacket and sometimes waistcoat removed, tie hanging loosely around his neck and a few buttons undone as he chops up ingredients. It’s led to many a NSFW moment between you both, which only extends the cooking process.

He’s comfort personified, like a walking example of a warm autumn day or a walk blanket on a cold one. He calms you, warms you and comforts you im every sense and takes great pride in knowing that he can be the only one that provides this for you.

Would make an incredible dad, something you tell him often. You’d planned your futures together very early on in your relationship though you don’t rush into things, enjoying each and every step along the journey of your lives. Each and every time you mention how he’d be an excellent husband or daddy, he blushes outwardly and his heart soars at the thought. To him, it’s the greatest compliment you could give.

NSFW 🌹

Kissing george is a religious experience that you never take for granted. Even the sweetest peck is both comforting and exciting. The hot and heavy kissing makes your knees shake as he pulls you into his body and holds you in ways that romantic comedies would envy. His favourite is to pull you by your hips so that you’re pressed tightly to his, allowing you to feel his excitement as he kisses you passionately, one hand tucked into your hair as his tongue glides across yours sensually.

Pussy. Eating. King. His lips, tongue and his big angled nose all create the perfect throne for you to sit on. He loves it, you love it and he’s absolutely masterful at his craft. His personal favourite is to have you sit on his face, especially when you’re hips begin to rock as you approach your climax, his face getting covered in your juices.

He has a slight breeding kink, he’s a Weasley after all, but it’s never truly discovered until you actually start trying for a baby. He’s always liked the idea of you pregnant, knowing that the little growing bump would be the most obvious sign that you’re carrying his child, but he’s never realised how much he liked it until it was a possibility. To him, it’s more of an arousing dream than a kink, finding it overwhelmingly hot that you’re his wife, carrying his child and that very thought makes him feral.

Definitely praise kink. He’s absolutely gone each and every time you comment on how well he’s fucking you or eating your pussy, his name on your lips as you writhe in delicious pleasure. It’s not that he needs to hear it per se, he knows where his talents lie, but it drives him absolutely wild to hear those words fall from your lips.

He’s not overly dominant in general but he can get a little jealous and can get a little rough as he reminds you exactly who you belong to. You’re his and how dare anyone think they could look or touch what’s his. Definitely likes the idea of daddy kink when he’s in this sort of mood but he knows that day to day it’s not something he could commit to with you, preferring to have equality in your relationship.

Definitely open to being a little submissive. He loves when you take control and use him for your own personal pleasure, knowing that it’s him that is providing it for you. Not really into mommy kink but he likes elements of it, like how you praise him for being so good for you as you ride him like a pornstar.

This man undoubtedly came within a minute the first time he was inside of you, the sensations completely overwhelming him. He couldn’t help it, he’d wanted you forever and you looked so sexy below him, your wet, warm little pussy wrapped around his aching length was the last straw and he couldn’t hold back any longer. He’d been incredibly embarrassed and apologised over and over but you actually found it hot that he couldn’t last. Over the years he’s gotten a lot better at lasting longer but even now he sometimes looses it way before he should because of how worked up he is. He knows that you somehow seem to like it and he always makes it up to you in other ways, mostly with his mouth.

His dirty little secret is that he still masturbates occasionally, though he never seeks out anyone else to fantasise about and uses the increasing stack of dirty Polaroids that you’d created together over the years. There’s just something about wrapping his hand around his own length and taking care of himself whilst looking at the most filthy photos of you he can find that he enjoys, feeling like a naughty boy doing something he shouldn’t.

He’s always been a little self conscious about his cock as it has a slight upward curve that he thinks is ugly, so much so that he’d tried to put off being intimate with you at the beginning, despite his burning need for you. All of his fears were diminished when you saw it for the first time and your eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. As soon as he saw exactly what the little curve could do, hitting all this especial spots inside you effortlessly, he realised how grateful he was for his unique cock and though he still wished it was straighter for superficial purposes, he grew to be okay about it.

His sex drive is high but not as high as yours, which always blows his mind at how much you desire him always constantly. You were well matched though sexually and even if he rejected your advances occasionally you were always considerate and even more willing when he would next initiate.

Loves morning sex and would always chose that over anything, having you beside him still soft and sleepy as his hands wander over the curves of your body. It’s gentle and often lazy at the beginning but he adores it. He loves watching your lips part as he slides into you and the guttural moan that escapes your lips as he pushes in deeper and deeper until he’s buried completely inside you, spooning you from behind. It all seems to natural, so uncomplicated in a morning, your naked bodies blending together in the most primitive way to bring each other pleasure.

#emeritusemeritus #harry potter #emeritusemerituswrites #george weasley x you #george weasley #george weasley masterlist #George Weasley x reader #George Weasley headcanons #headcanon

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