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animasola86 · 8 months ago

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A Demonstration of Power and Support

Notes: This is a continuation of Scars and Peace and Comfort, but can be read individually.

Pairing: Aesop Sharp x f!reader (with a face scar)

Genre: Fluff/Smut // Words: 6.3k // [READ ON AO3]

Synopsis: He gave you confidence, you gave him a bad case of jealousy.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Size difference. Age gap. Established student/teacher relationship. Jealousy. Rough sex.

A Demonstration of Power and Support

There it was again. That giggle that made his blood boil and his trousers tighten. Looking up from his desk, he saw you laughing with the boys you shared a potion station with. You were happy, smiling, giggling, enjoying yourself, and seeing you like that should make him happy too, but it wasn't you he was glaring at, it was those boys who kept engaging with you, smirking, joking, flirting.

He knew there'd be a downside to your newly acquired confidence. Others would notice it too. And even though he was proud of you for wearing your scar with so much pride now, it pained him to see you with other men, other boys, who would look at you the same way he looked at you, and he hated them and he hated himself for not being able to control his emotions better.

He called you out by your name, the formal way he hadn't called you in so long. You stiffened immediately, the giggle dying in your throat as you turned around to him, a deep blush on your cheeks. “Focus on your potion!” he told you sternly, his gaze dark, his usual demeanour, really, but it made your stomach turn because he was never like that with you. Never, not even before you were more than student and teacher.

You lowered your head, and he saw your lips quivering. “Yes, professor,” you said docilely. “I'm sorry, professor.”

His heart broke a little when he saw you so defeated, the happiness wiped straight from your beautiful face as you returned to your cauldron, staring into it, as you forced yourself not to get too emotional over his unexpected outburst.

You even ignored the boys around you now. Despite feeling bad for calling you out publicly, he watched with grim satisfaction how his students returned to their work. There was no more giggling.

After class, he sat at his desk, sunken over essays and other papers, when he heard quiet footsteps echo through the empty classroom. “No office hours today,” he said gruffly without looking up. He was definitely not in the mood to deal with any stupid questions right now.

“I'm sorry,” a timid voice replied, and he looked up quickly to see you standing a few feet away from the table, your hands clenched in front of you, your eyes glued to the floor. You were about to turn around again, your face sunken, hurt by his rejection, but he quickly extended a hand towards you.

“Wait...” he called with a heavy sigh, hating himself even more for being... who he was.

You looked up at him, biting your lip before you slowly walked closer, staring at his hand. Your eyes finally met his, dark and intimidating, and you hesitated before you placed your small hand into his larger one.

He quickly closed his fingers around it and pulled you towards him. A gasp escaped you, and your eyes widened slightly. You stopped next to his chair, shoulders still slumped, as you awaited another lecture.

But he just squeezed your hand gently, his dark gaze wandering over your face. He was tempted to raise his other hand and caress your flushed cheek and your scars, but he was well aware that his classroom might be empty, yet the door was open, and despite wanting to show everyone who you belonged to, he couldn't. He never could, not here, not anywhere in public.

And that was what hurt the most.

“I'm sorry,” you said again, your voice so quiet and fragile. “I didn't mean to... disrupt your class...”

He groaned, rubbing his tired eyes. “Please, forget about that. I shouldn't have called you out like that. I'm sorry,” he added, looking up at you from his seat as his thumb rubbed over the back of your hand. “I suppose I'm just... grumpy today,” he added, a twinkle in his eyes as he recited the word you had called him before, in good fun though.

You weren't always this meek around him, especially when the two of you were alone. And he loved that about you. You were never intimidated by his gruff nature, you even teased him about it on occasion. But when you were in his classroom, you were just another student, and he admired you for it, admired the shift when everyone else poured out and you were finally alone with him.

When nobody was watching, you couldn't stop yourself from touching him, throwing your arms around him, pressing yourself against him, your tiny body moulding to his bigger one.

But now you were different, barely able to look at him as you stared at your hand in his. He saw the struggle on your face, and he sighed.

“Do you... still want me to come over tonight?” you whispered timidly, your voice shaking.

He grabbed your other hand then and made you look at him in surprise. “Of course, sweetheart,” he said softly, frowning at you. “I'm always looking forward to seeing you.” He exhaled loudly again, cradling both of your hands between his long fingers. “Don't let the gruff exterior fool you.”

He saw your lips twitching before you smiled shyly at him, your cheeks bright red.

A sudden noise from the door made him turn his head, and when he noticed the boy standing there, waiting for you apparently, he slowly, inconspicuously, let go of your hands and leaned back, clearing his throat.

“That'll be all,” he said loudly, throwing you a gaze you hopefully didn't interpret as another scowl, and you turned your head away for a moment, then nodded in understanding.

“Thank you, professor,” you played along, and he gave you the hint of a wink as he watched you go, his eyes roaming your small form, before you joined your classmate and were gone from his view.

Feeling his stomach tightening at the sight, he sighed deeply and rubbed his bearded chin. He really should have known better than to allow himself to be this affected by a student...

‎

When you sneaked into his quarters after dinner, he was waiting in the large armchair by the fireplace. As soon as the door opened and closed by invisible hands, he stood with a deep groan and slowly walked towards your disillusioned form. You had barely lifted the charm, when he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you against his broad chest.

You gasped but were quick to wrap your arms around his waist and press your cheek against him. He held you close and kissed the top of your head.

“Thanks for coming,” he growled quietly, making you lean back enough to tilt your chin up and look at him, a confused frown on your beautiful face.

“Of course,” you whispered, your eyes scanning his hard face. You were about to raise a hand and touch his rough jaw, when he closed his hand around your wrist and took a step back.

“Come with me,” he said and pulled you along to the large fireplace.

You looked towards the entryway to his bedroom, then up at him in confusion. “No massage tonight?” you asked quietly.

“No,” he grunted. “I've taken my potions, I'm fine...” He knew he didn't look fine, face tense, deep shadows under his dark eyes, jaw clenched. But unlike you, he knew he was tense for a different reason, and he could no longer wait to relieve that growing tightness.

He stopped in front of the fireplace and put his wand to the stone ornament in the middle of the mantelpiece, and with a low rumble, the secret passage behind it opened. He extinguished the fire and bent down slightly to traverse the tight space, holding out his hand to you.

You grabbed it, a mixture of confusion and excitement grazing your delicate features. Once you were on the other side of the fireplace, you noticed the staircase in front of you. “What is this?” you asked curiously, but he just dragged you after him, up the stairs, surprisingly fast despite his limping walk.

You reached a small room, and for a moment, you just stared. There were easels all around, with drawings and sketches of landscapes and buildings, charcoal, quills, brushes and other drawing equipment lying on all kinds of surfaces, bookcases and shelves lined the walls, and the spaces between them were filled with murals of mythical creatures. There were wooden dummies standing and sitting on the furniture, and a wood carving station at the other end of the room. But the most prominent feature was the large, sturdy looking table in the middle, long and wide like a small bed, and it was completely empty.

But not for long. While you still looked around the small space in awe, so many questions on your mind, he had stepped behind you and picked you up on his arms, and you shriek-laughed in surprise. You knew he was strong, despite the state of his body, but he had never carried you like this before. There was a certain warmth pooling in your cheeks, and elsewhere.

To be fair he didn't walk long before he set you down on the edge of the large table. For a moment he stood there, towering over you, his eyes dark and his face set, and you looked up at him with your heart racing and your lips trembling, and (shamefully) your core throbbing.

He licked his lips then and stepped closer, his hands gently prying your thighs apart as he stepped between them, pushing your skirt up tantalisingly slow. His calloused fingers glided over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You felt dizzy when they reached your centre. His fingertips teased against the fabric of your undergarments, poking and prodding, and he hummed deeply when he felt a wet patch forming. “Excited, aren't you?” he whispered and leaned over you until his breath ghosted your flushed cheeks. Not sure if he wanted an answer or not, you just nodded, chewing on your lips nervously.

He gave you a dark grimace, lowering his head, and when you felt his fingers pushing the thick fabric of your underwear deeper between your folds, he pressed his lips to yours for a heated kiss that quickly left you breathless for multiple reasons. Your heart was racing as your eyelids fluttered shut, his tongue very demanding tonight as it slipped into your mouth and tangled with yours.

You moaned against his lips as he started rubbing the pad of his finger between your still cloth covered lower lips, teasing against your entrance and brushing against your clit. More mewls left you when his free hand grabbed the back of your head, gripping your hair and pulling you closer to him as he kissed you like he might have never kissed you before. He barely left you the chance to breathe, and in his iron grip, you couldn't turn your head away.

Feeling light-headed, you just succumbed to the sensation, kissing him back with as much fervour as you could muster, while he kept moving his finger against your throbbing centre, the chafing fabric creating a friction that burned deliciously. A deep whimper escaped your throat, and he finally leaned away, his lips looking as swollen as yours felt. Licking them, you looked up at him, the blush from your face quickly spreading all over your body.

He straightened up fully, in all his intimidating glory as he glowered down at you. His eyes remained on yours as his hands slipped under the waistband of your underwear and slowly pushed down, and you almost didn't notice the small tug when he asked you to lift your rear. You did, your shaking hands clawing at the edge of the table as you watched him pull your bloomers down your legs before they were unceremoniously tossed aside.

Your chest rose and fell quicker when he spread your legs even further with his hands firmly on your upper thighs, his fingers almost completely circling them while his thumbs rubbed against your sensitive skin. A cold breeze wafted over your exposed mound, your clit throbbing in anticipation. He tilted his head when he looked down, his eyes roaming your body.

You almost shrieked when he suddenly pulled a stool closer, the scraping sound cutting through your tense nerves like a stab to the heart. Pressing your lips together to keep your noises down, you watched him sitting down on the stool, and now he was really looking at you. His elbows pressed your legs apart as he stared at your sex, fully on display for him.

Squirming slightly, you felt a little uncomfortable with him inspecting you like that, not that he hadn't seen it before, but never with such intensity. You let out a little squeal when he moved one of his hands to gently cup your mound, his whole palm pressed to it, covering it, and when he looked up at you, the familiar warmth was back in his eyes. You breathed a little easier when he reached his other hand up and caressed your cheek with the back of his fingers, coaxing a shy smile from you.

He loved seeing you like that, confused, embarrassed, submissive, and highly aroused. Holding your gaze for another moment, he rubbed his hand over your wet folds, gathering your slick on his palm. When he finally bent a finger and slipped it between your lower lips, he watched you closely, and as a soft squelching sound rang in his ears, he saw you writhing in discomfort, frowning slightly, but it made him smile at you, and your embarrassment was quickly forgotten.

His finger moved between your folds before he dipped it gently into your entrance, and you accepted him easily with how wet you were. A soft moan escaped you, and he saw how you tightened your grip on the table, your knuckles turning white. He pushed the finger in as far as it would go, feeling your walls clenching around it, then withdrew it and added another finger. Your breath hitched at the slight stretch, but he kept going, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you, twisting and turning them until he curled them in a come hither motion – and caused you to yelp and squirm against his hand.

With a dark smile, he pressed against that sensitive spot again and again, watching you twitch on the table, your lips parted and trembling, soft little mewls falling from them. And then he pushed his thumb against your clit, hitting your pleasure points in tandem, and you lost it, thrashing your head back, your thighs convulsing against him, your noises tumbling out of you without control. He stood then, his hand still gripping your cunt tightly as he leaned in to capture your mouth, swallowing your moans and cries as you climaxed hard around his fingers.

Your release coated his hand, and he slowly eased his grip, rubbing your insides softly while you came down from your high. Kissing you gently, he watched you with eager eyes, taking in every single twitch, and when he leaned away, you were breathing hard and shaking badly. He pulled his fingers out of your clenching cunt and raised them to your face.

Despite your haze, you slowly unclenched your trembling hands from around the edge of the table and cradled his wet fingers between them before you brought them to your mouth, and when you started licking your slick off his skin, you held his gaze, and the hunger within your eyes made his erection strain against his trousers.

His breath hitched as he watched (and felt) your small tongue flicking around his long fingers, licking up every single drop of wetness, you even put them into your mouth, hollowed your cheeks and sucked on them hard, and he was tempted to press them deeper, watch you really lose control when you would gag around them, struggling to breathe, but instead he tugged at them and you released them with a wet pop. You almost sighed in disappointment when he lowered his hand that was glistening in your saliva.

He wiped it on his leg and licked his lips, slowly tilting his head before he nodded at you, a simple, curt nod, and when his eyes left yours to look down at where his groin pressed against the table, holding your spread legs wide open, you nodded back and moved your small hands towards the buttons of his trousers. You were quick as usual, and when his hard erection sprang free from its confines, he saw your eyes widening slightly as you blushed even deeper.

The same way that he had inspected your cunt earlier, you were now looking at his cock, taking in every single detail, from the springy darkened head to the bulging veins and impressive length and girth of it, and you felt a new wave of moisture seeping out of your waiting hole. The sheer necessity to have him inside you made you squirm on the table, needy little mewls escaping your throat. His desire to be inside of you was equally high, but he only let out a deep grunt when your hands closed around his shaft and stroked it almost roughly.

You writhed on the edge, slowly scooting closer, eager to connect with him finally, but he grabbed your wrist and stopped you. Looking up at him with your lips parted in surprise, he took in your youthful face, the innocence edged into your soft features, but your eyes and the way your lips quivered told a different story. And he could have stared at you for a very long time, despite the throbbing need resting in your hands, but in the end the carnal lust won.

He pried your hands from his cock and grabbed your waist, and without much effort he flipped you on the table, made you lie down on your stomach with your legs hanging off, your surprised yelp squeezed out of you as he gripped your hair and pressed your cheek into the cold wooden surface. Then he grabbed your ankles and brought your knees up, causing your rear to rise in front of him, your skirt bunched up on your lower back, exposing every glistening fold to his viewing pleasure.

You were barely able to adjust to the new position when you felt his hard member slapping against your wetness. Your hands found the opposite side of the table just in time when he pressed his tip against your entrance. Bracing yourself, you felt him pushing in, slowly, carefully, but as soon as your walls clenched around his head and pulled him in more, he snapped his hips against you hard and buried his entire length inside you. The deep thrust pushed you over the table and the sudden stretch coaxed a shrill shriek out of you.

He held onto your ankles, his body flush with the edge of the table, caging you in, holding you in place, as he started pulling out and pushing back in, out and in, in and out, slow and deliberate, over and over again, and you mewled under the constant friction, your body melting into the table. Once he found his rhythm, his big hands wandered to your tiny waist, closing around it, his long fingers grazing your stomach, and then he really started to pound into you.

Your noises grew louder, as did the wet squelching sounds as your pussy fluttered around him, muscles clenching, a burning warmth gathering inside you. You sank your nails into the old wood, holding on for dear life as his pelvis smacked against your cushioned arse in quick succession. His own grunts filled your ears, adding to the tension building up in your belly, those deep vibrations pushing you right over the edge.

You cried out when your walls clamped around him, that tight coil within exploding into a thousand tiny lights that made your entire body convulse against him. He felt your orgasmic contractions, and despite the soreness in his leg, he kept fucking you through your release, your juices helping in easing your tight passage, but he still strained to keep his rhythm. His fingers dug into your soft skin, and he felt a bead of sweat running along his temple.

He might have overdone it tonight, adding that certain potion to the many others he had to take on the daily to soothe the pain, but his desire to dominate you properly had been too strong. Seeing you with those boys had made him incredibly jealous, not that he would ever admit to it or even tell you so, but he had felt it in his gut, and the moment you had stepped over his threshold, he had known he had to show you that you'd never need anyone but him.

At least for as long as you were blessed with each other's presence.

Closing his eyes, he continued his relentless assault on your clenching cunt, your moans and whimpers giving him the necessary strength to move even faster and harder and deeper, and each time he smacked against your cervix, you would yelp and mewl and convulse in his iron grip on your waist.

It didn't take long for you to come once more, your limbs twitching uncontrollably as your juices gushed past the tight grip of your walls while his cock kept pistoning in and out, squeezed by your orgasm, and finally he felt his balls tighten, that painful tension in his stomach easing when he gave you one last deep thrust before he came inside you, painting your insides with his seed, marking you as his.

He groaned and stilled against you, holding you pressed to his pelvis as he leaned over you slightly, his weight making your knees quake before they slipped from beneath you, and you slumped to the table, legs hanging off bonelessly, gasping for air as his body pushed heavy on yours, his cock gliding even deeper, twitching and throbbing inside you.

You felt dizzy and were still seeing stars when he eventually leaned back, easing the vice-like grip of his fingers on your bruised waist. You didn't care. You felt more bruises blooming in and on your body, so it didn't matter either way. The releases he allowed you were worth the rough handling.

And apparently he wasn't done yet. While he slipped out of your tight cunt, with your combined juices seeping out of you and down your legs, you admired his stamina and wondered how he was able to even stand so straight and tall after the unusual exertion. He almost never took you like this, you usually found positions that wouldn't strain his stiff leg, but he had been weird the whole day, and as long as he seemed fine with this, you couldn't care less.

Your mind was spinning, the sensations still whirling in your head (and throbbing in your sex), and they jumbled about even more when he suddenly flipped you onto your back again, your limp legs flopping over the edge of the table as you blinked up at him.

He stood tall and intimidating between your twitching thighs, his hands rubbing along your hips as his dark eyes roamed your face and body. While you tried to sit up, leaning on your elbows despite the shudders crushing through your body, he didn't wait long to continue your adventure. Your eyes snapped to his still erect cock, and you blinked in confusion. He had just emptied himself inside you, how was he still that hard?

It didn't matter in the end when he grabbed his length and pressed it against your entrance once more, easily slipping inside, the loud squelching noise as he pushed his seed back into you causing goosebumps to ripple over your bare legs. The stretch made you inhale sharply, but you quickly adjusted, and not a moment too soon as he started grinding his hips into you, every slam hitting your bruised cervix.

You let out a pained whimper every time he did, but the more he moved inside you, the more pleasure you felt in the motion. Your whole body was on fire, and you wished you wouldn't wear all these layers of your uniform as sweat coated your skin and drenched your clothes. You felt him moving slower until he stopped completely, deeply buried within your warmth.

When you looked up at him, his already very dark eyes were so black and intense, you felt cold shivers running down your spine. Swallowing hard, you tried to sit up more, your hands propped up behind you, but you wanted to touch him, feel the tension in his muscles, the strength in his grip. Ease the darkness away that seemed to grip him tightly tonight.

But you couldn't move, couldn't say anything, you felt like a bunny cornered by the big bad wolf, pinned down by his big paws (and massive cock), rendered unable to even breathe as he stared down at you. A meek little whine escaped you as he suddenly leaned over you, one arm propped on the table next to you, the other hand extended to brush his thumb against your cheek as his fingers slid into your hair. You felt the rough pad following the protruding lines of your scar all the way over your eye to your split eyebrow, and you quickly closed your eyes to allow him the motion.

He moved it back down, the touch gentle but also firm, and when he gripped your hair, you yelped and your eyes flew open again. He held you in place like that, staring straight into your soul, and you felt yourself melting into his gaze.

Seeing you so submissive, surrendering to him so completely, made his heart race. There was a dark shadow creeping around the edge of his vision and deeper into his very being. He had never felt this possessive before, never this demanding. He'd never been this rough to you, either, and by watching your lips trembling, your hair clinging to your sweaty forehead, your whole body quaking against and around him, he knew he had been a little too rough.

And still he was far from regretting anything. He couldn't. He wasn't done yet.

His hand tightened around your head and pulled you closer to him, and as soon as the strained mewl left your throat, he had claimed your mouth and kissed you deeply. You hummed against him, despite everything kissing him back with fervour, your hands finding his arm as you held onto him while he gripped your hair.

As he slipped his tongue between your lips, he started moving within you again, slow, deliberate thrusts, and your cunt replied in full when it started clenching around him. He swallowed your moans and whimpers before he let you catch your breath and kissed your cheek, then your scar, licking up the sweat from your temple, until he pulled your earlobe between his teeth and nibbled on it, his stubble scraping over your soft skin. Your breaths were loud in his ear, and a deep shudder crashed through him as a particularly sensual mewl slipped from your swollen lips.

A grunt escaped him, and he bit your ear playfully before leaning back fully, staring down at you darkly. “Get your tits out,” he commanded roughly, still rolling his hips into you as you scrambled to prop yourself up on your elbows after he had let you go rather unceremoniously.

Despite the vulgar tone you had never heard him use before, you quickly fumbled with the buttons of your shirt, your fingers shaking badly, but eventually you pushed all those layers aside and freed your small breasts.

His big hands closed around them, kneaded them anything but gently, and you whimpered quietly, squirming on the table. He rolled your nipples between his fingers, then pinched them so hard you let out a surprised yelp.

His gaze was dark, jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed. After a few moments of groping your soft mounds, he let them go and grabbed your hands and placed them on your chest. “Play with them,” he ordered, and you did, fondling them much more carefully, easing the aching his touch had left.

He watched you grimly, his hands moving back to your waist, fingers digging into the bunched up fabric of your skirt, before he slammed his hips against your pulsing centre in harder motions again. You cried out when his cock pushed against your battered cervix, but he kept going, giving you those slow but powerful thrusts that went deep and left you breathless.

Your fingers clawed at your breasts in support, your breaths as erratic as your heartbeat, as he pushed you up and down the table, your bare bottom scraping over the wooden surface every time he pulled you into the snap of his hips.

You wanted to watch him, observe the strain on his weathered face, how his eyebrows furrowed in dark concentration, how he gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw, the deep rumbles escaping his throat the only audible sign of his exertion, but you soon succumbed to his pounding strokes as your eyes rolled back and you sank your fingernails into your own soft mounds while you clenched tighter around him.

He looked at you, your tiny body so fragile before him, the state of it absolutely feral with your open shirt, your small hands holding onto your breasts, your hair stuck to your sweaty skin, your lips raw and quivering, your eyelids fluttering, while he slammed his cock into your spluttering wetness, your legs limp and boneless as they bounced against him with every rough impact.

Despite the immense pleasure this brought him, he felt horrible, for the way he treated you, for how he spoke to you, for his own stupid jealousy. As if it was your fault that those pesky boys suddenly noticed you, if anything, it was his fault for giving you the confidence to walk about proudly, with no care in the world, especially not about those lines that grazed your cheek.

The worst part was that you didn't give him any reason to be jealous. You had come to him after class, with your head hanging, confused by his bad mood, afraid of his rejection. And you still wanted to see him, spend the night with him, be with him despite everything. And all he wanted was to prove to you that he was the only one you'd ever need, when in reality you seemed to already know that.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he stilled inside you, eased his rapid rhythm, and when he looked at you again, you were still barely able to meet his gaze. He moved his large hands around your limp body and lifted you up, pressed you to his chest, held you close, save and protected, before he started moving again, slow and gentle, not as deep so he wouldn't hurt you any more, and not as fast so he wouldn't overwhelm you.

You slowly came to in his arms, fingers clawing at the front of his waistcoat as you tilted your chin to look up at him. Your eyes were glazed over and your pupils dilated, you looked utterly spent already. He leaned down and kissed your sweaty forehead, and you smiled softly at the gentle touch. Another reason why he absolutely did not deserve such a sweet little girl: you were too forgiving (and not a girl per se, not anymore, he had made sure of that).

He shifted you in his hold, one hand under your rear, the other flat on your back, fingers curling around your shoulder. The new position seemed to wake you up more again, and you slowly wrapped your legs around his hips, holding onto him, trying to take some of your weight off his arms, not that you weighed anything in his eyes, you were a mere doll in his hands.

Still you gripped his broad shoulders and started moving your hips against him, meeting his gentle thrusts with more fervour than he would have expected of you in your somewhat battered state. He couldn't help but underestimate you sometimes, given your age and size, though that usually made him admire you even more when you proved him wrong, because you were more resilient than he thought, stronger, braver, and needier.

And by how tight your cunt clenched around his cock, you were very needy at the moment. Together you found a fast rhythm, as you bounced against him and he snapped his hips upwards, he was so focused he didn't even notice the dull ache in his leg, and when you started mewling again, he closed his eyes and smiled, savouring the sweet sounds as he drove you closer to the edge.

You and himself, to be exact, because when you suddenly convulsed against him, your legs holding him in a death grip while you sank your fingernails into the thick layers of his clothes, you grabbed him by the cravat and pulled him right along into the blissful abyss.

Crying out loudly, you came around him hard, your muscles contracting, squeezing him, and he twitched with you, embracing you tightly as he groaned and grunted, his hips giving you jerky little stabs before he pushed deep and stopped, pressing your tiny body against his, holding you in place as he erupted inside you, filling you with his hot seed once more. You moaned into his chest as you spasmed against him.

He felt his strength waning and collapsed onto the stool next to the table with a pained growl, your frame still cradled on his lap, still impaled by his softening length. You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned against him, both of you slowly coming down from the high that made your head spin and his heart race.

“Are you okay?” He was the first to speak, even though his voice sounded raw and gruffer than usual.

“I wanted to ask you the same thing,” you whispered back, slowly looking up at him, your cheek resting against his shoulder.

His dark eyes met yours. “I'll be fine,” he said, too tired to smile. “Did I hurt you?” he then added, not too tired to frown at you.

You shook your head. You'd be sore tomorrow, for sure, but you usually were when you'd been with him, and you'd become quite used to it. Maybe you even liked it (a lot, you liked it a lot). It was a constant reminder that this big strong man had accepted and invited you into his life, and you'd do anything to keep it that way for as long as possible.

He watched you closely, definitely doubting your reply. But he didn't press it, he only pressed you, closer to his chest. You inhaled deeply and smiled at him, slowly raising a hand to move your fingertips over his strong jaw up along the ragged lines of his scar and back down again. The sound of his beard scraping against your skin sent shivers down your spine and made you clench around him.

Shifting beneath you, he exhaled loudly. Despite your weak state (and the growing desire to do it all over again), you noticed the strain in his movements. He was in pain, that much was clear. And you felt guilty for not seeing it earlier. Before he could move, you loosened your limbs around him, grabbed his shoulders and stood on shaking limbs before you lifted yourself off him. Your walls protested, clinging to him, but then he slipped out of you, and you sighed deeply at the loss.

Leaning against the table (because you'd fall over otherwise), you held out your hands to him, and even though he usually refused that gesture out of pride, he grabbed them and let you help him pull himself to his feet. As soon as he stood, you wrapped your arms around his midriff and held him close (and steady). He rubbed his hand over your back, his other arm propped on the table for support.

While he tried to find his bearings, you quickly tucked his spent cock away again and buttoned his trousers. You didn't care how you looked, though, so you left your shirt wide open. The cold breeze on your heated skin felt nice, and you were sure he didn't mind the view.

You remained close to him when he started walking, slow and careful, each step coaxing a quiet groan out of him. You knew you weren't of much help, he couldn't really lean on you with how tiny you were compared to him, but you still steadied him, and even if he would never admit to it, he was grateful that you did these things so nonchalantly. There was no pity, just support, unwavering support. He held onto you as you both left the hidden room and descended the many steps down to his quarters where he knew you'd take good care of him after he had taken so good care of you.

“By the way, what is that room?” you asked quietly, curious eyes looking up at him.

“My... hobby room,” he replied hesitantly, his voice rough and low, vibrating through him (and you). “But I haven't been up there in a while,” he added, his dark eyes boring into yours.

“Found a new hobby, eh?” you concluded with a smirk that warmed your cheeks – and surprisingly so: his too.

His arm tightened around you, his lips twitching slightly. “Possibly.”

NEXT PART: A Demonstration of Pride and Pain

End notes: In the end, our grumpy old man is just another ambitious, possessive Slytherin that struggles with his jealousy, right?

(Also to clear things up because I tend to be really vague about these things in my writing: he "enhanced" himself (via an unnamed potion) that night to last longer to show her that she doesn't need those young boys who might be better suited for her, she only needs him, and of course, she already knows that, but still adores it when he dominates her like that. Because who wouldn't...)

And on another note: his secret hobby room, right? I just can't see him walking up all those stairs, or even crouching through the fireplace, but then again he has to brave all of Hogwarts' staircases too, so what's one more or two or three? And I know the room might just be an Easter egg like display for some concept art or whatnot, but I can totally see him drawing and sketching and whittling away in there, just sitting and working with his hands, because what else can he do, hm?

Seriously, the more I write for him, the better I get his character, and it intrigues me more and more, and I feel I've only scratched the surface still.

Edit: I have now written a fourth part (see link above!), and I am thinking about more (and maybe you could do that too? I am open for ideas/requests!). So stay tuned, and thank you so much for reading my little Sexy Times with Sharp Series.

[ MORE SHARP SMUT ] [ MASTERLIST ] [ AO3 ]

#aesop sharp #aesop sharp smut #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #reader insert #fem reader #female reader #hogwarts legacy smut #professor sharp #professor sharp smut #professor sharp x mc #professor sharp x reader #professor aesop sharp #fluff #smut #mysmut #daddy sharp

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 2 years ago

Text

Some Like It Sharp

You and professor Sharp became very close after the events of your fifth year at Hogwarts. Just how close is unspoken for a long time. Until it isn't.

I know I should be writing father Paul, but I started playing Hogwarts Legacy and became a little addicted. And then I went to potions class. I saw professor Sharp, in all his limping scarred glory and immediately thought 'Oh. Oh no...' And that was that.

EDIT: I MANAGED TO ADD SOME VOICELINES ON AO3

tw: age difference (reader is 17-18, which is of age in the wizarding world), student-teacher relationship, mentions of trauma (emotional and physical)

Some Like It Sharp

(8.6k words)

You sighed deeply as your brow furrowed in concentration. Six finely crushed snake fangs soon disappeared in your cauldron. Momentarily, you lifted your eyes and gazed longingly at the person across the room from you. Professor Aesop Sharp was sitting at his round desk, a quill in his hand and a stack of third years’ essays in front of him. Every now and then, you could hear him utter a soft ‘tsk’, his dark hair bouncing as he shook his head. Even in his annoyance he was beautiful, you thought. Despite being a Slytherin, he reminded you of a lion, so strong and proud, not even his obvious limp was able to tarnish the image.

“Miss (L/N).” sounded right next to your ear, making you jump and turn your head towards the voice. Your wide startled eyes connected with professor Sharp’s own intense dark orbs. ‘When did he move?’ you thought, your heart in your throat.

“Miss, (L/N), I believe I asked you to brew a cure for boils. However, whatever concoction is currently in your cauldron looks more like it would cause them. Care to explain yourself?”

You hurriedly looked down at your cauldron and discovered the potion master was right. Instead of the orange hue the potion should have at this stage, it was a rather distasteful shade of swamp green. ‘How could this have happened?’

“Sir,” you began meekly, “I’m sorry, I don't know-... I think I got-”

“Distracted?” asked professor Sharp matter of factly, his voice lacking any sort of the annoyance it’d usually have. “Do tell, Miss (L/N),” he started circling around you like a predator, his lame leg not making the motion any less intimidating, “do you feel like my classes are so boring, or so easy, perhaps, that you can afford to daydream while ruining a first year potion?”

Your eyes hadn't left him for a second. You shivered involuntarily. You were the only person in the classroom. ‘When did everyone leave?’ “No, sir, I- O-of course not, I-?”

A single long digit pressed against your slightly open mouth, effectively cutting your eloquent speech short. Sharp stood in front of you now, and you felt your cheeks turning red. You exhaled shakily. “Daydreaming in my class… I don’t think detention is enough of a punishment. Do you?” Sharp practically purred into your ear, his acute words said in an almost teasing manner. He was so close now, so close you felt his hot breath on your neck as he spoke, his forefinger replaced by his thumb on your mouth, and he pulled the lower lip down, opening your mouth further.

You couldn't speak, only able to stare at his mouth as he pulled back slightly to look at you. A small smile appeared on his face and he finally moved forward, sealing his mouth over your own and immediately pushing his tongue inside. You gasped, but almost right away threw your hands around his neck and succumbed to his bruising kiss.

“(F/N),” he sighed once you had to part for breath. You smiled at him and wanted to connect your lips once more. Only then -

“(F/N)! Come on, wake up, we’re going to be late for Transfiguration!” you heard someone call out.

“What?” you asked and looked around. You weren’t in the potions classroom, nor were you standing in professor Sharp’s embrace. You weren’t standing at all, actually. Your dormitory’s light blue walls appeared before your eyes, as well as an annoyed face of Samantha Dale.

—

"You are so lucky I forgot my homework upstairs!" panted Samantha, "Otherwise I would have gone straight to class after breakfast. And you'd still be asleep." You were pretty much running, not wanting to be late for professor's Weasley's class, yet you casted a grateful smile in Samantha's direction: "You are a lifesaver, Sam."

Samantha kept rambling on, as she usually did, but your mind was still focused on your dream.

You and professor Sharp had gotten particularly close during the past year and a half. Ever since your last battle with Ranrok, the potions master treated you a little differently. Most of the professors did, of course, but you found a sense of peace with Sharp especially.

You missed professor Fig every day. He was something of a father figure for you nearly from day one, and you felt all sorts of broken watching him die in your arms.

The first time professor Sharp invited you into his office outside of class, you felt strangely numb still, your exhaustion and grief leaving you with what felt like a hole in your heart. Some of the other professors sat you down before them previously, and you forced yourself to fake a little smile and persuade them that you were alright.

It didn’t work on Sharp. He didn’t pry, didn’t force you to relive the painful memories as you thought he would. Instead his chatter was nearly light, talking about your school work, hobbies, the various activities outside of the castle, even talking about himself every once in a while. Soon you realised you found solace in your conversations.

Only when you were given time to heal did you dare to actually talk about what happened that day… That year, really. Professor Sharp listened quietly, never pressing for details you weren’t ready to give, only asking for further explanation sometimes.

—

The first time you broke down in tears before him, he stood to limp over to you. With a steady warm hand on your shoulder, he conjured up a handkerchief and pressed it into your palm. You thanked him and tried to get yourself under control once more. He didn’t say anything, only drew small circles into your shoulder with his thumb.

After you left his office that evening, you realised just how hungry you were. It hit you by surprise, really, you hadn’t felt this hungry since that fateful day. You’d eat when it was meal time, but all food tasted the same to you. This evening, however, when you put some chicken with rice on your plate, you tasted every single spice used, the meat falling apart on your tongue. You groaned audibly and let your eyes close.

“Heh, good to see you getting your appetite back!” said Amit across from you, a sweet smile on his face. Your cheeks a little red in embarrassment, you smiled back at him before diving into your meal once more.

It struck you later that night as you were lying in your bed, staring into the darkness. Sharp knew exactly how to help you, because he knew what you were likely going through. All of the professors had their stories, some of them experienced loss as well, but only Sharp had ever gone through something as traumatic as yourself. Maybe he behaved towards you the way he would’ve wished someone behaved towards him before, back when his partner died on the job and he barely escaped with his life.

—

The next evening, you were back in his office. He accepted you wordlessly, curiously peeking at a small bag you brought with you. Inside of it were various rare ingredients you collected on your adventures or harvested in the Room of Requirement. The potions master took them with a quiet ‘thank you’ and that was that. He didn’t ask where you got them and how, knowing that as your teacher, he might not like your answer. But he was grateful, you knew. It didn’t need to be spoken in order to be understood.

Back when you first met him, you understood why some may find him intimidating, why he rubs them the wrong way. Sharp was strict, with a no-nonsense kind of attitude. He was hard on his students, and when he saw potential in them, he was even harder, striving for perfection. But the more time you spent with him, the more you saw the undeniable kindness within him. As cutting as his critique could be, his praises filled you with a great sense of pride and accomplishment. They pushed you to try even harder, to make him proud.

Little by little, it began to make no sense to you why some students found him evil, or even outright foul. Professor Sharp was anything but evil and foul.

In a way, you expected him to become a parental figure to you as well, like professor Fig was. Only, he didn’t. It frightened you the first time you looked at him and caught yourself thinking that you’d like to press your palm against his cheek, feel his prickly looking stubble, trace the scar on his face. “Something the matter, miss (L/N)?” he asked with a lifted brow. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you hurriedly looked away, an apology leaving your mouth.

—

It got worse after that. You enjoyed spending time with him too much. You found he had a dark, dry sense of humour, that his wit was quicker than lightning and sharper than a knife, but also that he possessed a certain gentleness. You noticed his eyes would linger on your fondly when he thought you weren’t looking. It always made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

You knew that he liked to draw, having been in his private chambers when you were searching for those blasted demiguise statues (not that you’d ever tell him), but having him actually showing them to you felt strangely intimate. The passage through his fireplace you had to crawl through turned into a large doorway after he tapped it with the tip of his wand. He said he can’t always make it upstairs if the pain in his leg is too much, but he nevertheless enjoyed spending time there. You were fairly certain you were the first person he showed his work to.

You saw a few drawings you didn’t recognise, as you hadn’t been to his chambers since - it was mostly parts of Hogwarts, a few scribbles of Hogsmeade as well. However, there was also a number of various paintings of beasts, hippogriffs, graphorns and such. You smiled when he showed you, already knowing you wouldn’t be meeting in his chambers the next time.

—

His curiosity was obviously peaked, as he accepted your request to wait for you in the seventh floor corridor, by the troll tapestry. You winced slightly when you saw him leaning against the wall, the stairs obviously not doing anything for his leg. Yet, when he acknowledged your presence, you offered him a reassuring smile, hoping what you were about to show him would make it up to him.

He watched you pace three times in front of the tapestry, his brow raised in question. You grinned when his dark eyes widened at the sight of a door materialising seemingly out of nowhere. You opened it and entered. “Come in, sir,” you said, turning to face him. He hobbled over, his right hand twitching as if he wanted to reach for his wand. Always vigilant.

With no small amount of satisfaction, you watched as his mouth opened in surprise of your Room of Requirement, eyes trying to take in as much as they could, utterly disbelieving. His gaze was caught by a large potion station on one side of the room, directly next to a herbology table, where your various magical plants were currently being watered.

“Ah, you’re back,” came a high pitched voice from somewhere, “Deek thinks it’s almost time to harvest the mandrakes- oh, professor Sharp!” Without looking at the house elf, still busy taking in the room, the potions master offered a small ‘Hello, Deek.’

“I will see to it. Deek, can I ask you a favour?” you smiled at him reassuringly. He replied with a smile of his own: “Of course. What can Deek do for you?” “Could you perhaps bring us some tea later? First there is something I want to show to the professor.” With a nod and a snap on his fingers, Deek was gone.

“What is this place?” asked professor Sharp, finally looking at you. “The Room of Requirement,” you replied simply, “professor Weasley showed it to me last year and urged me to use it how I see fit, mostly to aid me in my studies. Come sir, please, I do want to show you something.”

You lead the teacher up one of the staircases towards the swamp vivarium. You entered, with Sharp following close behind, slightly apprehensive at the feeling of wetness underneath his boots. This time you couldn’t conceal your chuckle as his jaw once again dropped. Your thestral friends noticed your arrival and immediately set on to welcome you. You laughed gently as the baby thestral nudged at your hand with its little skeletal beak, craving your loving touch.

With a few flicks of your wand, you brushed the animals and replenished their automatic feeder, all the while still stroking the little thestral’s head. Sepulchria, its mother, meanwhile took interest in professor Sharp, sniffing at him warily before deciding he posed no danger to her offspring.

Almost like on its own accord, Sharp’s hand travelled up to touch the mare, his calloused fingers coming to rest on her neck. “This is incredible,” he breathed out, as he caressed the creature’s glossy skin.

“When I was first able to see them, I found them a little frightening,” you admitted, conjuring a bench for the two of you to sit down on, the little one’s head immediately coming to rest on your lap, “it was right after the dragon attack, when I saw Mr Osric…” You got quiet. Professor Sharp sat next to you. Sepulchria and her mate, a male thestral you named Phobos, settled into the moist grass nearby, seeming perfectly happy to hang around while you and your teacher talked. Their offspring, Juno flapped its wings contentedly, leaning into your hand.

“Of course, I quickly learned of their good qualities,” you continued, forcing your tone to be light. “It was only after… After professor Fig died… that I found real comfort in them. They are amazing creatures, so gentle. In a way, I feel like they are exactly what a person needs to see, when they… when they watch somebody die.”

As per usual, Sharp let you speak, giving you time to gather your wits about you, think over the words you were going to say. He had no patience for fools who would bring chaos into his class, or his life, but he had all the patience with you. “They are scary at first and they have a sad aura around them… But they are here and they mean no harm. They’re a part of this world as death is a part of life. Death is not intentionally cruel, even if it sometimes forces us to go through life without some person we love.”

You heard a soft exhale next to you, then felt warmth on your free hand, as the professor’s fingers closed around it. You didn’t know how long you sat there in silence, hand in hand, just watching the skeletal equines and wandering through your own minds. “There is no without,” the potion master said suddenly, making you startle a bit. “They may not be around to talk to us, but as long as we remember them fondly, as long as we still let them guide us, they will never be really gone.”

You squeezed his hand. It was calloused and warm, and fit in yours perfectly. “I think there’s tea ready for us, sir.”

—

“Do you mind telling me where exactly are we going in the dead of night?” asked professor Sharp morosely as the two of you descended another flight of stairs in the Central hall. You didn’t know when it happened, but some time back the teacher let you support him when on stairs. As long as it was just the two of you, of course. He held onto your arm and leaned a portion of his weight on you, mindful not to step on his bad leg too much.

You wouldn’t tell him, but you loved when he did that. Having him so close, you were hyper-aware of his unique scent, which was so enchanting to you. It was like a mix between sandalwood, parchment paper and a hint of firewhiskey, and you had to restrain yourself from inhaling it deeply, so that it wouldn’t be obvious you were getting high on it. If you were to smell amortentia, you were certain this was what it’d smell like to you.

“Need I remind you that you are outside your dorm room after curfew? That’s a sure way to get you in trouble.” he quipped, no bite behind his words. “I’m with a teacher, surely an exception can be made?” you replied back, your tone light and amicable. Back when you first met him, you wouldn’t have imagined you’d share such banter with the potions master, he seemed far too serious for that. You still showed him nothing but respect in class, but outside of it, when the two of you were alone, you allowed yourself to tease him sometimes. You were always met with mild amusement and slight exasperation in reply.

Sharp sighed next to you: “I really shouldn’t encourage you in this… Should give you detention for a week, helping me grade exams.” He blinked in surprise at the happy smile you gave him: “I wouldn’t mind that.” The professor stopped walking in order to stare at you in disbelief. You felt your cheeks going red under his intense gaze. Oh no, you thought, have I said too much? Can he see right through me?

Finally, the potion master chuckled and shook his head: “You are a strange young woman, miss (L/N).”

You found yourselves on the school grounds, the cool night air making you hum contentedly. Despite no longer walking down the stairs, professor Sharp held onto your arm for support. You brought your free hand to your mouth and whistled on your fingers. A flurry of movement followed almost immediately. A gust of wind ruffled your hair as a white hippogriff landed in front of you. You let go of your teacher slowly, making sure he was prepared to stand on his own again, and approached the beast.

“Hello, Highwing,” you cooed and stroked her beak lovingly. Professor Sharp stood motionlessly, observing the majestic creature with no small amount of awe. “Poppy Sweeting introduced me to her after my first Beast class,” you explained, carding your fingers through Highwing’s soft feathers, “sometime later me and Natty rescued her and one more hippogriff from poachers led by Harlow and Rookwood. And the hippogriffs ended up saving our lives the very same night.”

Sharp listened quietly, his brows furrowed. “I think I’ll rather not ask any questions, (F/N), else I actually might give you that detention,” he said then. He didn’t call you by your first name often, but when he did, it always madea wave of fondness run through you. You wondered if you’d ever be allowed to call him Aesop. You tried rolling the name off your tongue many times when you were alone, deciding it was a beautiful name and that it fit him perfectly.

Carefully balancing himself on his good leg, he gave a deep bow to the beast, knowing how proud they were. A few seconds passed before Highwing deemed his action courteous enough to reply in kind.

The potions master hobbled towards her slowly, extending a hand to pat her feathered neck. He did startle however, when you nimbly climbed atop the creature, settling comfortably between its grand wings. “What are you doing, miss (L/N)?” he asked, narrowing his eyes when you offered your hand to him. “Please sir,” you spoke quietly, your smile seemingly glowing even in the darkness around you two, “trust me.”

He debated with himself whether he finally went mad. It was nearly midnight, and while summer was quickly approaching, the nights were still rather cold. He was standing on school grounds and a student was proposing to him with, what, a hippogriff ride? He was way too old for this. Yet, as he looked at your extended hand and the positively beaming look on your face, he sighed. He probably was mad.

The potions master took your hand and marvelled at your strength as you seemed to have absolutely no problem pulling him up and behind you. Only now it hit him that he didn’t take into consideration where he’d put his hands. Very awkwardly, he placed them on each side of your waist.

Feeling the steady warmth of his body against your back made a rush of blood course through you, and you were suddenly glad to not be able to look at him. Your cheeks were so hot and red, he’d be able to figure you out immediately. You craved to enjoy the feeling of his hands on you, and even thought about buying a pensieve, just so you could watch the memory of this again and again.

You shook your head. There would be time for that later. Right now, you dragged him all the way out here and onto a hippogriff, might as well give him a brilliant memory too.

“Highwing, go!” you called out, grabbing onto the beast’s neck more tightly. The hippogriff cried and stood on its hind legs before breaking into a gallop. Professor Sharp cursed next to your ear and finally wrapped his arms around your waist fully. Propriety be damned, the teacher doubted falling off a racing hippogriff would do any good to his leg. Or any other part of him, really. Highwing spread her wings, their span positively huge, and Sharp felt they were no longer on the cobblestone path.

The flapping of wings forced the professor to close his eyes as they soared higher and higher. Then it stopped and Aesop finally looked. His breath caught in his throat. He remembered flying around on his broom when he was a student himself, but it suddenly struck him that he never did so at night.

It was ethereally beautiful. The moon shone on the great castle, white glow reflecting on the roofs. There were lights on in various parts of the castle. It stood under them in all its glory, sure and steady, yet ever changing. The castle was like a living organism, stony body, a kind soul and a heart constantly drumming with magic, holding so many secrets within the historical walls, Aesop was sure that even if he lived to be two hundred years old, he’d never be able to discover all of them.

It was so serene, yet so humbling, the professor momentarily felt weightless, not feeling his blasted leg at all, for once free of all of his guilt, of all the pain he ever experienced.

He didn’t realise he was squeezing you closer, that his chin was leaning on your shoulder. Something you were very much aware of, trying your best not to tremble under his touch. It was both salvation and damnation and you found yourself thinking how easy it would be to just turn your head to the side and capture his lips. You held yourself back, gently bumping his head with your own instead.

Highwing slowly descended above the murky waters of the Black lake. Sharp saw the giant squid thrust one tentacle above the surface, as if greeting the three of you. Feeling impossibly young, he laughed, and he laughed until his lungs hurt. You laughed with him, releasing a giddy whoop, when the hippogriff decided it was time to take to the skies again.

You eventually landed on a coast south of Hogwarts. Professor Sharp felt his spirits dampen somewhat at the sight of you flawlessly leaping from the beast’s back and onto the ground, your movements noble and elegant, and so youthful. Yet, once you looked at him, all smiles and messed up hair, a grin broke on his face as well. He let you help him down, his good leg taking most of the blow of impact with the ground.

Nevertheless, he winced. Oh, he was going to need at least two phials of Wiggenweld potion once he was back in his chambers. Trying to push his pain away, he spoke in a light tone: “So, that’s what you’ve been doing when you were supposed to be in the castle? In bed?” You gave him a little guilty smile: “Sometimes. You’ve got to admit, though, this is rather exhilarating.”

The professors sighed and leaned against a nearby boulder: “As your teacher, I should really be condemning this sort of behaviour instead of encouraging it… However, you’re right. It was exhilarating. And very beautiful. I am thankful for the experience.”

He scanned his surroundings, moonlight illuminating the area enough for Aesop to be sure you wouldn’t get ambushed by some poacher, or a pack of mongrels.

When he was sure the two of you were alone, he sat on a nearby boulder, content to rest for a bit.

The professor watched as you picked up a pebble using your wand, and made it skip over the dark water. You truly were something else. He was aware that the amount of time he spent with you was frankly inappropriate, seeing as you were his student, but he just couldn’t help it. The potion master did try to put some distance between you in the past, but it was no use. You’d always come find him and he couldn’t turn you away.

He didn’t know when he stopped trying to set this distance. Maybe when the last couple of times it was him who caved in. Him, who invited you over for a cup of tea, unsure whether he’d be more glad if you accepted, or if you refused. Never once did you refuse. He realised that such distance was actually the last thing he wanted, that you actually became… friends. Close friends.

He angrily shushed the little voice in his head that tried to ask ‘Just friends?’.

Oh yes. That was the reason he wanted to set the distance, how could he have forgotten?

You turned seventeen some time ago, officially of age, but that didn’t make Aesop feel any better. You were very mature for your age, and probably have been for a long time. He had no problem seeing you as his equal, despite you being so much younger than him. But as he watched you skipping stone after stone, he could feel his guilt suffocating him, seeing tiny traces of the child you stopped being when you watched your mentor die before your eyes.

He should probably mount the hippogriff, fly really high up and throw himself off the beast. But oh, how much he longed to join you at the bank and wrap a protective arm around you.

“Sir? Are you alright?” you noticed him staring at you, and saw him cough awkwardly. “We should probably head back,” the potions master decided then, slowly hobbling over to Highwing, who seemed to be happily hunting for squirrels since your arrival.

He enjoyed holding you to him while he could. He didn’t actually want to plummet to his death after all, so it was perfectly acceptable to grip you tight.

“Are you sure you’re alright, professor? You don’t want me to walk you to your chambers?” you asked with worry in your voice. Highwing’s form was rapidly disappearing in the dark sky. “I am quite well. You should go to your dormitory. Probably best to use the disillusionment charm as well.”

He didn’t know if the smile you gave him then made him want to laugh or cry, your eyes were filled with such fondness and wonder, Aesop honestly felt like the very air around him got warmer. He wasn't ready when you grasped his hand: “Thank you, sir. I’m glad you joined me tonight.” Oh. And the professor definitely wasn’t ready for you to get up on your tiptoes to press your lips against his left cheek, right where his scar ended.

Not a second later you were nearly translucent and slowly getting away from him. “Miss (L/N)! Detention.” he called after you. You had the audacity to giggle, before the door to the Entrance hall opened and you slipped in.

—-

Aesop Sharp knew he was playing with fire when he responded to your letters that summer. It was the summer before your seventh year. He very nearly had a heart attack when a greater sooty owl appeared on his windowsill one morning, bearing a letter with your handwriting. There was no address, just his name. Seeing as he lived quite close to Hogwarts, it really wasn’t that much of a surprise the owl was able to find him.

He gave it some food and water, a single digit coming to scratch under its head. It leaned into his touch. A beautiful bird, indeed. Aesop briefly wondered whether you managed to find it from some exotic breeder in England, or if it truly was an Aussie owl. It was also a clever one, wouldn’t leave without a reply and would get increasingly more anxious for him to at least open the letter.

He tried to put it off, afraid of what he was to find there. The letter sat on a table in his dining room and he’d regularly come to stare at it morosely, as if willing it to open without having to touch it. The breaking point came late in the evening. The bird would leap onto his left shoulder and peck at his scar rather painfully, before jumping onto the table and standing in front of the letter, giving him a pointed look.

The bloody beast had an attitude!

“Yes, yes, you’ve made your point clear!” he growled in its general direction and shooed her off with his hand. He sat down and summoned his pen knife. He knew he was stalling, cutting the pristine white envelope open much slower than he usually would. Sharp was immediately hit with the sweet smell of your perfume.

Finally, he pulled the letter out and unfolded it.

Why in Salazar’s name had he been so terrified?

You mostly described how you summer was thus far, confirming his suspicion that you indeed bought your owl in Australia. Her name was Diana apparently. You also promised to bring him some potion ingredients which were exclusive to the country, some of them so obscure Aesop had to look them up in his copy of Moste Potente Potions. Oh, how he looked forward to experimenting with them. Maybe some of them would be the key in discovering the cure for his leg!

You finished your letter with a wish that his summer was lovely as well, and that you were looking forward to seeing him again.

When he finished reading, Aesop put his head into his hands and smiled at the same time. He was in a bit of a pickle, wasn’t he?

You wrote letters to each other for the remainder of the summer. Aesop soon learned Diana only cared that he read your letters quickly, but was alright with him taking his time to actually answer them. Most of the letters were quite professional, discussing potions, your upcoming seventh year (actually your third year at Hogwarts), the NEWT subjects you’d take exams from, and possible future careers. Professor Sharp didn’t worry about the letters - there wasn’t a school rule prohibiting a teacher to be friends with a student, as long as it didn’t collide with their education or professional relationship.

The fact that there also wasn’t a rule prohibiting a teacher to engage with an adult student romantically was left unsaid somewhere deep in his mind.

—

Aesop Sharp and most of the teachers and staff arrived at Hogwarts two weeks before the start of term. Matilda would soon be sending out shopping lists and acceptance letters. He was rather glad he wasn’t the one hand delivering these letters to Muggleborns - not that he ever believed in the ‘pure blood’ nonsense, he just wasn’t feeling up to running around Britain and Ireland to explain magic to Muggles. Matilda was kind enough to leave him out of that. Though, he had a reason to believe she did so not because of his leg, but because of the possibility he might actually scare the children into not attending.

Thankfully for everyone, this year’s Muggleborns would be taken care of by Mirabel and Abraham, who were way more enthusiastic about this task than Aesop would ever be.

—

Professor Sharp felt rather foolish, actually.

He stood in Potage's Cauldron Shop, instructing the clerk to send his newly purchased silver and brass cauldrons to Hogwarts, all the while looking through the window hoping to catch a glimpse of you. You didn’t tell him when you’d be visiting Diagon Alley to pick up the textbooks you needed this year, but Aesop kind of hoped to run into you anyway.

He sighed deeply once he left the rather stuffy shop. He could’ve easily ordered all of today's purchases from the comfort of his own office, but no, he’s going to act like a lovestruck teenager instead. The professor frowned. At least he took his cane today, he thought grimly as he hobbled over to the Leaky Cauldron, more than ready to eat something, and possibly even improve his mood with a drop of firewhisky.

He did feel better with a stomach full of hare stew and nursing his third glass, when a voice he missed all summer sounded right behind him.

“Hello, professor Sharp. Fancy seeing you here,” Aesop’s head snapped to the left. There you were. And you were breathtaking. Clad in a lovely dark green dress which fell to your ankles, with pristine white collar and sleeves. Upon your head sat a stylish wizard hat decorated with late summer flowers. The potions master was used to seeing you in your uniform, and occasionally in an ensemble of blouses and trousers that allowed you to move freely.

Now you were garbed in the pinnacle of late 19th century fashion, looking like an elegant lady of high society. And what an absolutely beautiful lady at that. “Miss (L/N),” he replied, a little out of breath. You gave him a kittenish grin, betraying your otherwise mature appearance a little: “Mind if I join you?” Aesop stood with some difficulty and motioned to an empty chair opposite of him: “by all means, miss, sit.”

You sat down together and soon shared a little toast - the professor with another glass (last one, drinking more would be terribly unwise) and his young friend with a goblet of rosé. For a while, neither of you said anything.

“You look… well,” said Aesop then, cursing himself for not being able to come up with anything better, “your dress is lovely.” You gave him another smile: “Thank you. My mother insisted that I should wear it. ‘A proper lady’, she said. Between you and me, I cannot wait to get out of this thing. The lace is itchy and I’m rather surprised I haven’t passed out from oxygen deficiency yet, seeing as how tight my corset is tied.”

Professor Sharp shook his head - he never understood why Muggle women willingly used these torture devices on themselves. “Got everything you need for the start of term?” he asked instead. “I do,” you replied, “it was a lot. I’m happy to be able to do magic outside of school now, and make it all fit in here.” You patted your handbag fondly.

Aesop didn’t know how much time passed. You told him about your summer in detail (as you usually kept your letters short and to the point), talking about your visit to Australia for quite a while. He was happy to listen, your voice music to his ears. The way you spoke, carried yourself, your gesticulations - you were a grown woman. The little slips into child-like manners (a grin here, a wild hand motion there) were not those of an actual child - it was simply your personality. Mature, yet youthful, wise, yet passionate.

And the way you sometimes looked at him, when you thought he couldn’t see. It gave him hope. It terrified him. It made him want to lay his hand atop yours on the table. Made him want to reach over, grab your face and press his mouth on your own. He did nothing. He only smiled at you.

It was dark outside once you parted ways. You held his hand and said how much you’re looking forward to his classes and his company again. You promised to hand deliver him the ingredients you got him. He nearly forgot his cane in the pub.

With a final smile and a loud crack, you disapparated.

Aesop stood before Hogwarts gate, not five minutes later. He missed supper, but didn’t find it in himself to care. He made his way to his chambers, all the alcohol he drank long gone from his system. He actually looked forward to the beginning of term when it meant having you around.

What in Salazar’s name was he going to do next year?

—

In Aesop’s eyes, you were exceptionally beautiful. Unfortunately for him, however, some of your peers seemed to share this opinion. The astronomy obsessed boy from your house gazed at you like you were a holy picture. Sebastian Sallow seemed intent on having all of your attention for himself, constantly finding new ways to keep you entertained and get into trouble. Even the Gaunt boy, while lacking eyesight, seemed to somehow sense your desirability. Aesop just prayed it wouldn’t be Garreth Weasley who caught your fancy.

Each time he overheard someone (usually boys, occasionally a girl) asking you out, his heart closed in on itself and only started beating properly again after your (very gentle) refusal of their proposition. And then it would dance with bliss when you’d turn up on his doorstep instead.

Ever since that afternoon in Diagon Alley, those unspoken words between the two of you gained in intensity. More familiar touches occurred. Sometimes you’d hold his hand when you spoke of your extracurricular adventures. Aesop would run his thumb over its back, listening intently. It always took him by surprise how much trust you had in him, seeing as both of you were aware some of your escapades would result in loss of points and plenty of detentions. Never from him, though.

—

One time you held him to you, his head cradled into your neck. You came to his quarters at a bad time. His leg was acting up and his potions weren’t helping. His pain induced desperation was made worse by his guilt. What was he thinking? He was a cripple, entirely too old for you. You deserved better. Even that blasted Weasley boy would have been better for you than him. He should never have looked at you like he did. It was quite normal for a student to develop a crush on their teacher (the stories Mirabel could tell), but the teacher shouldn’t indulge the student. Aesop was nothing but indulgent with you.

He tried to send you away when he heard your knocking that evening. His pain and despair must have found way into his voice, because you didn’t leave. You came right in and locked the door behind you. He snapped at you, told you to get out of his chambers. You disobeyed and came even closer.

You kneeled before him, your eyes kind and full of compassion. His own were filled with tears that would never be shed. Aesop didn’t cry anymore. He was close to it today though. You massaged the muscles in his leg after you've applied a heating charm to the fabric of his trousers. His head hung low in guilt and shame, and Sharp hoped you would just leave. He was pitiful and you deserved better, why wouldn’t you leave him to his misery?

You didn’t leave. Of course you didn’t. He shouldn’t have thought for a single second that a witch who defeated a troll during her first week in school, after living as a muggle for nearly 16 years, would just leave. She held him, pulled him to her entirely. He could smell her perfume, felt her nimble fingers in his hair. Heard her soft voice shushing him, trying to bring him comfort. He allowed himself to wrap his arms around her. Aesop cried.

—

“Have you given any more thought to your future after you finish school?” he asked one day. Snow was falling outside, staff and students were preparing for the Christmas holidays. Behind him, sitting in one of his armchairs, you sighed. “It’s complicated,” you admitted then, “I’d rather be a curse breaker for Gringotts than an Auror, that’s for sure. No offence.” He grinned. “None taken. I’d like to be able to say that I’m glad you’d choose something safer than the Auror office. However, curse breaking is not exactly much safer, is it?” Finally he turned to look at you: “You didn’t take into consideration… shopkeeping, perhaps?”

The look you gave him was almost enough to make him laugh. He settled for turning the corners of his mouth slightly upwards. “With all due respect, sir, can you imagine me behind the counter the entire day, promoting fantastic new sales and gossipping with witches on maternity leaves?” Sharp couldn’t hold it in anymore and chuckled openly. “Point taken,” he agreed.

“You know you can change careers later in life, right? Don’t have to be stuck doing one thing forever…” you gave him a questioning look, waiting for him to elaborate. “Listen, professor Hecat is… still battling time itself. And she isn’t winning. There will come a time when a new professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts is needed. And if you excel in your NEWTs the way you did in your OWLs…” Your mouth opened in disbelief: “Are you saying I could someday teach in Hogwarts?”

He sat down into an armchair opposite of you, propping his bad leg on a footstool. “You possess the skill and the knowledge. I dare say you love this castle, this school. And you’d be able to venture out into the Forbidden forest as you do, without me having to turn a blind eye to it anymore.” You grinned into the flames in his hearth. Getting slightly more comfortable by crossing your legs you let the warmth seep into your skin.

“I still don’t feel like shopkeeping, though.”

—

You and Samantha made it inside the Transfiguration classroom just as professor Weasley went to close the door. You were out of breath and red like salamanders, both from the running and the cold outside.

“Girls, girls,” chided professor Weasley, “I would expect punctuality in your seventh year.” “It’s my fault, professor,” you panted out, “I overslept. Samantha would’ve been here long ago if it wasn’t for me.” Professor Weasley shook her head and motioned the two of you to sit.

—

“I cannot wait to visit Matabeleland again,” said Natty with a smile. You knew she had her reasons to not want to go where her father died defending her before, but now that she made peace with her past and was officially an adult, she wanted to revisit her happier childhood memories. “Me and gran are going to Arizona. We’re hoping to encounter Thunderbirds there,” spoke Poppy then, “What about you, what will you be doing?”

You looked up at the sky and smiled. “Actually, I think I’ll stay at Hogwarts. I really took on a lot of work this year, and I’d like to focus on it in peace.” It was only partly true. The main reason was that you wanted to spend as much time as possible with your favourite professor. Unbeknownst to your friends, the bag you carried on your shoulder contained a neatly wrapped Christmas present (a beautiful set of drawing kohls), a bottle of firewhiskey said to be absolutely brilliant (courtesy of Sirona) and a very special letter you were hoping to present to your teacher on Christmas Eve.

You came to see Hogwarts as your home. You were able to wander through the highlands for hours at a time, exploring every nook and cranny. If someone were to use Prior Incantato on your wand at any given time, the last spell would most likely be Revelio. Now that your time as a student was slowly coming to an end, you realised just how much you’d miss being here. In a way, you were envious of those who got to attend the full seven years. Your solace was knowing that you wouldn’t ever be too far from your home.

There was no without.

—

“Good evening, professor,” you beamed at the scarred man. He smiled back and stepped aside from the door, a wordless invitation. You took him in appreciatively. It wasn’t often you’d see the potions master so dressed down, cladded only in his white shirt, vest and trousers. His tie was loosened, jacket and coat hanging by the door in the other room.

You fished the present out of your bag. “This is for you to unwrap tomorrow,” you said, settling it aside on a nearby table, “but I see no reason we shouldn’t try this out right now.” He grinned at the sight of the bottle of obviously very expensive liquor. “Hope nobody saw you smuggle this in. It’s alright to have a glass in Diagon Alley, outside of term. Here however, I believe this would get you into all sorts of trouble with the deputy headmistress,” his voice was teasing and he was already fetching two glasses. “It’s Christmas holidays, we are out of term. We just so happen to be in the castle,” you quipped back.

You held the glasses while he poured. “Well, miss (L/N)... (F/N). All the best for the rest of your time in Hogwarts, and even better for your next adventure. Wherever it may take you. I am glad to have met you, and proud to be your teacher. And your friend.” You didn’t call him out on the ‘friend’ part just yet, choosing to take a sip of your drink instead.

You immediately made a face and began coughing.

Aesop stood before you, chuckling. “Wow,” you said once you caught your breath, “that’s horrible.” The potions master’s chuckles turned into laughter. “Luckily for you,” he said after you made a show of pushing your glass towards him along with the rest of the bottle, “I think of everything.” A bottle of some floral wine entered your vision, uncorked itself and poured a sensible amount into a conjured up goblet. You drank, rolling the light liquid over your tongue.

“Fixed your taste?” asked Sharp, still smirking. You nodded: “I no longer feel like I’m about to die, so that’s good. Anyway, there’s one more thing I wanted to show you.” You walked over to the armchairs in front of the hearth. Professor Sharp followed and sat across from you. You held a scroll in your right hand and offered it to him.

Aesop put his glass down and reached for the scroll curiously. Unrolling it, he read out loud:

Brood and Peck

Hogsmeade

Dear Miss (F/N) (L/N),

We are pleased to inform you that you were admitted to apprenticeship at Brood and Peck, Hogsmeade, beginning on 3rd July 1893 at 8 o’clock in the morning.

All equipment necessary for your apprenticeship will be provided for you on the spot.

We are looking forward to our cooperation.

Yours sincerely,

Ellie Peck

Aesop Sharp was looking at you wide-eyed. “I thought about what you said, about the DADA position,” you said, your cheeks turning red under his intense gaze. “I thought… I thought you said you didn’t see yourself in a shop,” he said, still in a daze. “That’s the best thing,’ you smiled at him, “I won’t be in a shop. I’ll be rescuing beasts and taking care of them, collecting byproducts and bringing them to Ellie. I also made a deal with Pippin to bring him any useful potion ingredients I find.

“I’ll have a bit of money and I’ll be close by. And I’ll be running around the highlands most of the time, which is pretty much exactly what I do now, except without the schoolwork,” you chuckled. Aesop’s expression was unreadable. “What made you decide to stay?” he asked finally, his voice so quiet you barely heard it over the crackling fire. There was the moment, the moment of truth you’ve been waiting for. You gathered your courage.

“There were a lot of reasons. But the biggest one is… you. The more I thought of it, the more the mere idea I’d be somewhere far away from you, unable to see you maybe months at a time, terrifies me. Saddens me.” You sighed then. “What I’m trying to say… I am in love with you, and have been for some time, and I’d like to be close to you. If you’ll have me.”

Professor Sharp’s eyes were glistening. He said nothing for the longest time and you were getting worried.

“Please, professor, think of my words before you refuse me. I know that I am young, but I am of age and I know what I want in life. It’s not just some silly crush, I genuinely believe we could… that we could spend our lives together. You are possibly my best friend, the person I trust and admire most, and I adore you. I think of you all the time, and there’s nothing I want more than to be able to hold you, and kiss you. And be the woman you love. I love you, sir.”

He stood up with such swiftness you startled. Almost as if his leg did not trouble him in the slightest. The potions master extended his hands to you and you took them, standing up as well. He still stood taller than you and you had to look up to see into his eyes. One hand came to rest on your cheek and you unconsciously leaned into it, closing your eyes in bliss as his scent filled your nostrils.

“Aesop,” he said suddenly. “I’m sorry?” you replied, slightly dazed to have him touching you so tenderly. “I should have asked you to call me Aesop ages ago,” he explained, his other hand coming to hold your other cheek, “my dearest girl.”

He felt free, free of guilt and shame, the constant pain of his wounds falling somewhere into the background. He wouldn’t allow it to interfere with this moment. Those three words he craved to hear from you fell freely from your lips. Your eyes were blown wide and he found he could no longer resist them.

A sound made him look up. Above your bodies joined in an embrace a twig of mistletoe appeared. Hogwarts and its secrets…. “There is nothing I’d want more than to have you by my side,” he spoke quietly, the words foreign to his lips before now, but filled with utmost honesty nevertheless.

You weren’t able to wait any longer. Mirroring the teacher, you grabbed his face gently and guided him down until your lips connected. It felt like the most ancient, the purest form of magic, coursing through you as you tasted Aesop’s mouth. The alcohol was foul when drunk from glass, but on the potions master’s tongue it tasted like ambrosia, getting you more drunk than you’ve ever been, and you moaned into the kiss.

The world turned into sensations. Your fingers in his hair, his teeth squeezing your lower lip, before soothing the sting with his tongue. The solid, warm front of his body pressing into yours, his heart beating wildly against your breasts. The arms you’ve dreamed about enveloped you crushingly and you realised that you never wanted to leave them. Why would you? You were home.

You were home.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed reading. You can find this work and all of my other works on AO3. I always adore feedback!

#hogwarts #hogwarts legacy #aesop sharp #professor sharp #aesop sharp x reader #proessor sharp x reader #aesop sharp x you #professor sharp x you #fanfiction #reader insert #i love the magic cop #fluff

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julietpricee · 11 months ago

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POV: Aesop Sharp wakes you up before he leaves for work

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #professor sharp #aesop sharp #professor aesop sharp #aesop sharp x mc #daddy sharp #aesop sharp aesthetic #aesop sharp smut #aesop sharp x reader #professor sharp x mc #professor sharp x reader #potions master aesthetic #potions master #harry potter hogwarts game

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seriouslysnape · 1 year ago

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Patched Up

Aesop Sharp x Fem! Student! Reader

Tags: Minor injuries.

Word Count: 2.2k

“I won’t keep you any longer.”

꩜꩜꩜꩜

He wasn’t surprised when you showed up at the classroom after curfew.

He had gotten used to you showing up at all hours of the day. If he didn’t know you as well and personally as he did, he would’ve been under the impression that all you ever did was roam the corridors of the castle and pop in whenever you felt like it.

Sometimes your visit was just for a quick hello, other times it was for a “real” reason. He never knew what to expect whenever you came bopping in, but not that he was complaining.

He heard your footsteps from the hallway, a heads up that let him know you were about to enter. He was familiar with the sound of your steps, and he could only imagine why you were coming at such a late hour.

Of course he knew it wasn’t Potions related at all, but he still liked to make the same joke every time you came by when the school day was over.

“Are you here for a late Potions lesson?” He didn’t even turn away from the chalkboard to look at you. “It’s a bit late for that.”

“Afraid not,” You grinned, standing in the open doorway. “Is it such a crime for a student to visit her favorite professor?”

“I suppose not. It is an occasional occurrence,” He answered. “Although, lately the random visits have been usually saved for my personal chambers.”

“That’s true,” You grinned. “I was hoping that you’d be up for consoling a broken Quidditch player.”

His anxiety kicked in then, his protective mode turning on immediately…despite your bubbly tone. He forgot about the Potions formula he had been glancing over, his head peeking around the wall that blocked you from his sight.

The sight of your dirty practice uniform and the dirt caked on parts of your face and arms were a tell-tale sign to him that you were coming from the Quidditch field. There were a few scattered scrapes on your legs, and the way that you held your posture made it clear that you were hurt somewhere else on your body.

Abandoning his prep for the next day’s Potions classes, he swiftly approached you. He was gentle as he ushered you further into the room, closing the classroom door behind him and guiding you to his desk chair.

“How did this happen exactly?” He asked.

He was careful as he assisted you in lowering yourself into the chair. Your muscles definitely needed the rest, and if your shoulder hadn’t been hurting you so much, you could’ve fallen asleep right there.

“I had Quidditch practice tonight,” You answered. “These night practices are killing me. Quidditch is impossible to play in the dark…even with illumination charms.”

He put the pieces together without you even saying it. He was very observant when it came to you and had an impressive memory.

“Did you fall off of your broom again?” He asked, taking your chin into his hand to get a better look at your face.

“Yeah,” You replied dryly. “Bludger knocked me off.”

He made a small hum as he glanced over your features to check for any cuts or scrapes that you might’ve missed. He was relieved to see that despite being a little battered up, you were otherwise in good spirits.

“That’s the second time this week,” He remarked. “Where is this carelessness coming from?”

“It wasn’t careless. It’s dark out and I didn’t see the Bludger,” You corrected. “And that’s just part of playing Quidditch. It happens.”

“Not to you it doesn’t. You’re the best on the team,” He said. “Where did the Bludger hit?”

He watched carefully as you brought your hand to the base of your neck, tapping the space between your collarbone and shoulder.

“Right here,” You sighed. “It didn’t start hurting until practice was over. That’s when I came here.”

“You mean that you got back on your broom after you fell?” His face contorted into an expression of disbelief.

With a careful hand, he pulled the collar of your jersey down just enough so he could see the area that made contact with the Bludger. Sure enough, there was a decent bruise well on its way to being fully developed by tomorrow morning.

“I didn’t fall very far. I was pretty close to the ground,” You shrugged. “My shoulder took most of the damage.”

“Are you certain you’re not hurt anywhere else? You didn’t get hurt when you hit the ground?” He gingerly rotated your arm to test its mobility.

“Like I said, I didn’t fall far. The school’s Quidditch field just isn’t equipped to be played on at night.”

This was a common complaint amongst Hogwarts’ Quidditch players. Playing early in the morning and at night was just too dangerous when visibility was low. Aesop was right that this wasn’t the first time that this had happened to you in recent weeks. There had been several close calls, but only twice had you actually hit the ground after falling off. You were just lucky that your body had taken both hits instead of your head.

“Then why do you play on it at night?” He asked the obvious.

“It’s not up to me. The team captain sets the practice schedule,” You explained. “You know that I prefer to practice in the morning.”

Aesop knew that he could lecture you about being more careful and trying to convince your team’s captain to adjust the practice schedule to be during the daytime, but he knew that you weren’t up for a scolding…and he knew that you probably wouldn’t listen anyway. Quidditch was your greatest passion, and he knew that nagging you about it wouldn’t do you any good.

“It isn’t broken, and it doesn’t seem to be dislocated,” He stated, referring to your collarbone. “But I can guarantee that it will be uncomfortable tomorrow if you don’t take something. Is it hurting you now?”

Aesop was a worrier. You didn’t want him getting all fussed up over a little Bludger bruise. If he knew about even half the injuries that you sustained from Quidditch, he would’ve tried to convince you to quit by now. Sure, it felt like your arm was about to detach from the socket, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“It’s a little sore.” You partially lied.

He leaned against the edge of his desk that was closest to you, his arms crossing over his chest. He caught the slight change in pitch in your voice when you answered, immediately alerting him that you weren’t being totally truthful.

“I thought you said that it started hurting after practice?” He recalled. “If you’re hurt, I need to know.”

It was difficult to get anything past him. You knew better.

“Wiggenweld would probably be a smart idea…” You sighed, feeling ashamed for trying to pull a fast one on him.

“That’s what I thought,” He scoffed. “I presume you don’t have the ingredients to make it yourself?”

You couldn’t help but huff at him. You were beginning to think that he was feeling inconvenienced that you had walked all the way here for his help.

It wasn’t like you were asking him to brew anything super complicated. As a matter of fact, you weren’t asking him to brew anything at all. Aesop always kept Wiggenweld close by.

“I don’t. That’s always why I came here,” You shook your head. “If it’s too much trouble, I can just go to Pippin’s and buy a few vials.”

“It’s late. You shouldn’t be wandering around Hogsmeade at this hour,” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, retrieving a small vial of the bright green liquid. “You really should keep Wiggenweld on you at all times. Especially if you’re going to keep getting beat up during Quidditch.”

He wasn’t wrong. You spent enough time on a broom that it was only a matter of time where luck would outweigh your skill, and the luck wouldn’t be in your favor. This wasn’t the first time that you had sought Aesop out after a bruising Quidditch session, but you knew that you couldn’t always expect him to be there to patch you up every time.

“I’m sorry I bothered you with this.” You removed the cap off of the bottle, eyeing the liquid inside.

His expression softened, his stern demeanor relaxing into a more comfortable position. He sheepishly shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, nudging your foot with his as a gesture of reassurance.

Aesop forgot sometimes that his genuine worry for your health and well-being sometimes came off as aggressive and irritable. That was certainly not his intention.

“You didn’t bother me,” He gave a small smile, gesturing towards the vial in your hand. “Drink up. Down the hatch.”

As common as Wiggenweld was, you wished that some genius potioneer would work towards finding a way to make it taste better. Nonetheless, you gulped it down in two swallows, immediately feeling its effect. The sharp ache in your shoulder subsided gradually until it fully disappeared, and the scrapes on your lower extremities faded within seconds.

“Better?” He took the empty container from your hands.

“Much better,” You sighed. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Are you certain that you’re alright otherwise?” His brows furrowed in concern.

“I’m okay. I just need to get cleaned up and go to bed,” You shifted, preparing to stand up. “I won’t keep you any longer.”

He reached for your hand, helping you to your feet as if you’d collapse. He hated to see you go, and he definitely didn’t want you to leave with the thought that you had irritated him.

“I assure you that you’re not imposing on me,” He said, pulling you in between his legs to keep you from going just yet. “Did you get a chance to eat before practice?”

He always asked that question. Every single time he saw you after practice, he asked you that same question. His arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him.

“No. I was running late.” You replied, knowing what he was going to say next.

One of his hands came to your collar, checking to be sure that the Wiggenweld had done its job.

“You need to eat,” He tutted. “You use a lot of energy playing Quidditch, especially with how rough you play. You need to replenish the energy.”

“I’m tired.” You whined.

“I don’t care,” He remarked. “You need to eat something.”

“I want to shower and go to bed.” You argued.

“Eat, shower, and then bed. If you eat then you can use my shower.” He offered.

A certain glow appeared on your cheeks, shining through the layers of dirt and exhaustion. His heart soared at the sight. His soul exploded with joy and fulfillment with the knowledge that you were so positively responsive to him.

“And sleep in your bed?” You pleaded.

He let out a low chuckle. He had known that question was coming.

“That can be arranged,” He pressed a soft kiss to the middle of your forehead. “But food comes first.”

He wasn’t going to let you get away without getting some food in your belly. He was right after all, you needed the nourishment to make up for lost energy. He swayed you away from his desk, escorting you out of the classroom and accompanying you to The Great Hall. Dinnertime was well over, but there was always a way to scrounge up a meal after hours.

Side by side, the two of you walked together through the corridors to get to your destination. The castle was mostly quiet, considering that everyone else had turned in for the night. Peeves, as usual, was cackling and jabbering about something somewhere off in the distance.

The two of you continued to chat along the way, catching up on what had happened since you had seen one another last. His pinky finger found yours, wrapping around it as a small gesture of affection. It was a comfort to him if nothing else, but he’d feel better once he knew you were fed, clean, and comfortable.

He liked taking care of you. He wanted you to feel your best always, and he would do whatever he had to do to ensure that you were happy.

“Are you coming to my Quidditch match on Saturday? I’d like you to see that all these scrapes and bruises aren’t for nothing.”

Aesop wasn’t particularly the world’s biggest Quidditch fan. He kept up with the pro-Quidditch leagues and followed the scores of his favorite teams. However, as far as going out of his way to actually go see a match was unlikely.

But in recent months, he had been frequenting the Hogwarts matches…mainly the ones where you were playing.

“Frankly, I’m beginning to think that you’re purposefully getting all roughed up as an excuse for my off the record medical services.” He joked.

“I would hardly consider them to be services. Anybody can spare me a vial or two of Wiggenweld,” You bantered. “But in all seriousness, will you come?”

He chuckled again, much lower and even sweeter this time. A sense of warmth and peace rushed over you when he pressed a kiss to your temple, a hum of affirmation sounding from his chest as he did so.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

#aesop sharp #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x fem! reader #aesop sharp x female reader #aesop sharp x you #aesop sharp x y/n #aesop sharp fluff #aesop sharp fanfiction #professor sharp #professor sharp x reader #professor sharp x fem! reader #professor sharp x female reader #professor sharp x you #professor sharp x y/n #professor sharp fluff #professor sharp fanfiction #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #seriouslysnape

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girl-named-matty · 7 months ago

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You send the picture of your kid/their grandchild - Modern AU

You send them a photo of their kid/their grandchild. A pt.2 of this post. Tags: Fluff, very very slight angst. Parings: Aesop x reader, Professor Fig & Adult!Child reader. .

Decided to add aesop as a romantic read for this one for my sharpie people <33 And ofc we had to have grandpa fig.

a/n: short and sweet :)

#hogwarts legacy #hl #Aesop Sharp #Professor Sharp #Professor Fig #Eleazar Fig #hl sm!au #hogwarts legacy modern au #Aesop Sharp x reader #Professor Sharp x reader

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ashisgreedy · 1 year ago

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Aesop Sharp x F!Char

Smutober - Oct 6: Bathtub

WC: 2,700

Winding down for the evening, the couple drew a bath together, adding bubbles to the hot water and a scoop of lavender bath salts. The aroma of the bathroom mixed with the steamy air was already making her tight muscles relax.

“Go ahead and get in.” She urged her husband.

Aesop had already disrobed and was pulling out two large fluffy white towels from the cabinet for when they were done. He kissed the top of her head and tested the water with his hand.

“It might be a bit too hot for you.” He said, knowing how she preferred the temperature after all these years together.

“I’ll…” She reached in to test the water herself. “Oh, I’ll be fine. I just need to get in slowly.”

Aesop gave her a small smile. “Stubborn as always.”

She sent him a playful wink and pushed on his back. “Go on, get in already.”

As he stepped into the tub, he turned off the running faucet and settled in with his back against the far side. The bubble bath solution had multiplied so much that his sudden movement made puffs of bubbles detach and float around the room.

She pulled all her hair to one side and peered into the tub. Aesop patted the water in front of him. “Ready when you are.”

She took a deep breath and stuck her foot into the water. It wasn’t as hot as she thought it would be, but she definitely couldn’t just dive in like her husband had. Slowly she put her weight on her foot and then added the second one. He held her hips while she held onto the side of the tub, slowly dipping into the heated water. She hissed when she sank chest-deep below the bubbles.

“Not too bad?” Aesop asked, moving so she could relax against his chest comfortably. Despite his height, they both fit snugly into the warm bath together.

“No, it’s perfect.” She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. She looked up and caught his eye as he gazed down at her.

Sharp moved his arms from resting on the side of the tub to wrap around her smaller frame. He kissed the top of her head and they stayed like that for a long moment.

The bubble bath foam crackled and fizzed around them as steam rose from the tub. He gave her one last squeeze with his arms then rested his head back against the wall.

“You know,” She started to speak, pushing some of the bubbles against her chest. “Every time we bathe like this, I always have the best sleep after.”

Aesop hums in acknowledgment. He runs his wet hands through his hair, wetting the dark strands. “That’s why I suggested it tonight. You’ve been tossing and turning lately.”

She smiles, nodding slightly. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

He was already rubbing her arm with his large hand, comforting her. “It’s alright. I know you have trouble sleeping sometimes.”

Her heavy sigh made several bubbles burst in the wake of the gust. “Lately I've been waking up in the middle of the night and not being able to go back to sleep for hours.”

Sharp adjusted his legs, bending the good one until his knee poked out of the water. “Is there something on your mind?”

She was quiet for a long moment. “Not any one thing in particular…”

“Is it your job again?” Aesop asks, fingers playing with a lock of her hair that hadn’t been soaked by the tub.

“Kinda…” She looked back at him. His brow was cocked like he didn’t fully believe her. “Okay fine, yes. It’s work. They've been… just insufferable lately. My only reprieve has been those books your sister brought me to read.”

“Escaping the problem is one way to handle it, but.” His right hand finds hers resting at the bottom of the tub. He twines his fingers with hers and pulls her hand up to kiss along her knuckles. “You could just quit.”

“But… what would I do with my day?” Her voice was quiet. Was he really suggesting she leave her job? They had absolutely no money troubles and she mostly worked to fill her days so it wasn't that much of a shock to know he didn't mind her leaving her job.

Aesop chuckled. “Whatever you want to do. Eventually, if you get bored again, you can find something to do part of the time.”

She nodded. “I will think about it.”

He leaned down close to her ear. “I know you will.” He kissed the side of her head and ran his hands up and down her arms. “I support whatever decision you make.”

She knew he would always support her. A small smile crept up on her face. There was a solution to her restless nights and hope filled her chest for the first time in months. She rested her head back and allowed his hands to continue their exploration of her body under the surface of the water.

He rested his head against hers and used his fingertips to run along her skin. His hands moved over her torso and down to her legs. He went as far as he could reach then moved back up to touch her chest. He rested his palms on her breasts and his wife relaxed back fully onto him.

The mood began to shift as his hands focused on her chest, lingering for a long moment. His chest rose as he took in a deep breath. “You’re beautiful.” He whispered in a low voice.

She took in a deep breath herself, allowing her muscles to relax in the heated water. “Thank you.”

Aesop’s hands slowly rubbed circles over her breasts, fingertips grazing her nipples. Her soft gasps egged him on to focus more of his attention on the soft peaks. He kissed down to her ear, leaning forward to make his way to kiss her neck. He bit down lightly while his pointing finger and thumb pinched down on her nipples and rolled the bud between them.

She moaned at his touch, breathing deep and filling her lungs with the steamy lavender-scented air. Sharp’s lips trailed to her shoulder, nipping the skin, before moving back up to lick the cuff of her ear.

“I want you to relax. Let me take care of you.” Aesop whispers into her ear, his deep voice sending chilled bumps down her arm despite the heated water they were dipped in.

She focused on the sound of his breathing in her ear and the intermittent drip from the faucet. His left hand slid over her torso, moving to cup her between the legs.

Slowly, she parted her legs farther for him and he hummed in approval. His middle finger ran up her slit, circled her clit, then ran back down to her entrance. He did this over and over until she felt her body come alive.

“Focus… just- right there.” She asked when his finger centered on her clit.

“Let me play.” Was all Aesop said before using a second finger to delve deeper into her folds.

Two fingers prodded her entrance, teasing their way in and out incrementally. She sighed, loving the stretching sensation.

He moved his digits back to her clit, finally focusing on the swelling nub. Her hips jerked when he pressed down, causing water to ripple beneath the layer of fizzing bubbles.

“Relax, and enjoy yourself,” Sharp said, lips finding the crook of her neck. His stubble poked at her skin, adding to the sensation of his soft lips.

It wasn’t long before her quiet sounds turned to moans, echoing off the tile walls of the bathroom. His fingers circled just right, the way he had learned long ago that she liked. His fingers moved with dizzying accuracy. She rocked her hips in kind with his movements, adding the extra layer of pleasure that was needed to take her to the edge.

“Not yet,” Aesop teased as he whispered in her ear. “Can you hold it for a bit longer?”

She gulped, flexing her abdominal muscles hard, holding off on the release that was just on the cusp. “Yes.” She gripped his thigh, squeezing the longer his finger swirled.

It was going to happen and come crashing down on her any second, but she held off the orgasm for a bit longer at his request. She pressed her head back into his firm chest, feeling her thighs start to tingle.

“Please…” She whispered, not sure how much longer she could stave it off.

“Not yet.” His usual rough tone sounded amused in her ear.

She bit her bottom lip and squeezed her eyes shut. Her legs began to tremble while his fingers rubbed her clit in exactly the perfect way to make her pop.

"Please! I don't think I can hold off much longer." She admitted, hands balling into fists.

The low chuckle that fell from his lips made her stomach flip. "I'll let you cum-"

"Oh thank you!"

"-In just a few more seconds." His lips trailed her neck.

"Please…" Whimpers started to escape her. She rocked her hips in a way that would try to remove his fingers from her sensitive spot. Aesop wasn't having any of that. He used his free arm to anchor her torso in place against his body.

Her abdominal muscles began to ache the longer she held back. "I can't wait any longer…" Her heart throbbed in her ears.

"Count backward from three." He spoke in a low sultry voice.

"What?!" She gasped.

"Count backward. Three." He started

"Th-three" Her legs trembled.

"Two."

"Two!" She moaned.

He paused for a long moment. "...one."

"One."

"Cum for me." He commanded.

She relaxed her abdominal muscles and took in a deep breath. A wash of pleasure rushed over her, pulsing from her core all the way out to her extremities. The sensation buzzed in her head, and she felt slickness build between her legs.

"Thank you thank you thank you" The words rushed out of her while the pleasure continued.

He hadn't let up one bit. The pressure from his two fingers continued in a circular motion throughout her entire orgasm.

She hummed and finally relaxed her head back against his chest. She reached down to push on his hand to indicate her release was done. Sharp's fingers travel down her slit and slowly pressed inside of her.

"Mmm.." She vocalized. Her body prepared itself to come back down to baseline, but the way his fingers were pressing into her and sliding over her G-spot kept her heart rate up at a rapid pace. "Oh gods… I'm so-"

"Sensitive?" His forehead pressed against the side of her face while his lips ghosted over the shell of her ear. "That's what I was hoping for."

She let out a long moan as his two fingers delved deeper. His erection strained against her back, pressing against her spine. He neglected himself, though, pumping his fingers right against her sweet spot again and again.

At this point, most of the bubbles had burst in the bath, leaving a small film of tiny translucent bubbles floating on the surface. With this view, she could watch as her husband's arm flexed and moved while he fingered her.

She rocked her body and turned her head enough to angle toward him. Sharp took the opportunity to give her a slow simmering kiss on the lips. His jaw flexed as he kissed her, tongue darting out to tease the seam of her mouth. The faster he pumped his fingers the more the water sloshed around.

He used his free hand to capture her chin, holding her face steady while they shared a passionate kiss. His tongue delved passed her lips just as he pressed a third finger into her pussy. The moan she let out was muffled by their kiss.

Whisps of his hair tickled her skin. He leaned into the kiss more, sloshing a bit of water out of the tub and onto the floor.

She pressed her feet to the far side of the tub and used the leverage to ride his fingers. Sharp groaned into her mouth. While her hips gyrated, her back rubbed against his hard cock making him moan. Despite all the commotion, Aesop's fingers steadily fingered her at the same pace consistently.

A rush washed over her and she felt the telltale sign of her release just on the horizon. "Oh GODS! Aesop!" She moaned his name, breaking their kiss to toss her head back.

He hummed, finally pumping his fingers into her faster. "I love the way your face looks when you're about to cum."

The muscles in her abdomen clenched and her cunt pulsed on his fingers. She arched back while pleasure radiated through her body once again.

His lips were on her neck again, keeping his fingers deep inside her. He kissed and licked at her skin while his wife came down from her high.

"Wow…" She finally spoke a coherent word.

"Ready to get out?" Aesop asked.

She realized just how cool the water had gotten and how little bubbles there were left. The water still smelled lovely of lavender from the salts.

"Let me catch my breath" She smiled back at him.

He kept his fingers inside her, keeping her stretched and full. She could feel just how wet she was despite the water mixing with her slick. They stayed like that for a long moment, both breathing deeply.

After a while, he kissed her on the cheek. "Hold tight." He instructed her. He gently moved her forward and slowly stood from the tub. Water rushed off him, dripping down his chest to his thighs. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around himself then unfolded the other one. "Alright, come here. I'll dry you off."

She smiled at him and did as she was told, standing from the cooling water and walking right into the towel. He braced his hip against the countertop and began rubbing the towel over her arms and torso. He then wrapped it around her and aimed her at the door.

"Go ahead and get into bed, I'll drain the tub and wipe down the floor." He said.

She almost protested but he raised his brows. Her lips were sealed as she made her way to the bed, knowing an argument with him was fruitless. She heard the water drain and the cabinet door open.

She settled under the covers, dropping her towel onto the floor. After several minutes, Sharp turned the light off in the bathroom and made his way over to the bed without his towel. She eyed his nude body, watching him make his way to his usual side of the bed. With a click of the string, he turned the side table lamp off.

Sliding under the covers, he pulled her into an embrace. Their lips met in a gentle kiss that slowly grew more heated. She wrapped her leg around his waist and felt his still hard erection pressing against her.

Without a word, he angled his cock to enter inside her. She was already fully prepped and he slid inside easily. She inhaled while he wrapped his arms around her, pushing her to lay on her back.

"I don't want you waking me up again tonight." He stated, starting to slowly pump into her. "No more tossing and turning this way and that. I'm going to wear you out and you're going to be too exhausted to wake up in the middle of the night."

She gives him a breathless chuckle. "Is that your evil plan?" She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.

"Oh, yes." He teased. "It was quite a sinister plan."

"How will I ever forgive you?" She played along. He gave her a sultry smile before kissing her deeply.

Tangled together, he did as he said he would. She was absolutely exhausted from the events of the night. After they had sex on the bed, she was properly tuckered out. He had started by soothing her at the beginning of the night and thoroughly exhausted her to where she couldn't even keep her eyes open by the end. They slept through the entire night in each other's arms, her resting her head on his chest. She didn't wake until the sun had risen the next morning, her first good night of sleep in weeks.

#aesop sharp #aesop sharp x reader #smutober 23

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zvdvdlvr · 8 months ago

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— Give Me A Reason

synopsis. You want to be an Auror. As one of his favorite and brightest students, Aesop tries to convince you to not put your life on the line for a job. warnings. Making out. Age gap. Student/teacher. Self deprecation. Reader is the hero of hogwarts. R is in seventh year (aged 18). Mutual pining. Idiots. “In all seven years of my student-ing,” you said abruptly, drawing Professor Sharp’s attention from the essays he graded. “I’ve only heard you bring up your Auror days twice. May I go as far as to ask why?”

The man leaned back in his chair, watching the student he had grown to care for as… Professor Sharp watched you keep a careful eye on your Vertiserum as you organized potion ingredients on his shelves. “There isn’t much to speak about anymore. It was dangerous, and even when it wasn’t… there was never a moment in my life I wouldn’t look over my shoulder at every snap of a twig.”

“But…?” You prompted, knowing the potion’s master had more to tell you: he just liked to torture you.

“But the job has it’s… rewards. The pay is good. I hated the paperwork though.”

“Ew,” you agreed, moving onto the next shelf after adjusting the temperature of the fire below the cauldron.

A seed of fear suddenly bloomed in Aesop’s mind. “Is there a reason you’re asking about Aurors?”

You nodded. “It’s one of the only jobs I’m interested in. I have the grades for it, the experience,” you bit your lip, a rush of memories crossing your brain as you thought about all the escapades you pulled off in your first (fifth) year at Hogwarts. “It’s… the only job I see myself doing.”

Professor Sharp felt his stomach drop. No. There was no way he was sending in one of the brightest students he’d ever taught into a system that would likely kill her. “The paperwork is what you’d be stuck doing most of the time,” the man lied.

You looked surprised. “Oh.”

Aesop felt a flush of hope in his chest, hoping desperately to persuade you away from the career of an Auror. Anything but that.

“I’d still do it,” you said finally, a determined tone in your voice.

The hope died. “I see,” Aesop murmured disapprovingly.

“Why do I get a feeling you aren’t thrilled about my career choice?” You asked, finishing the second shelf.

“I was wondering when you’d catch on. Points to (your house),” Aesop wittly replied. His small smile disappeared. “Miss y/l/n, to be quite frank with you, the job will take a toll on you- mentally and physically. Not only will you undergo numerous field injuries, there is always the chance you would… die. This job is dangerous, isolating, and overall not a very enviable job.”

You just nodded. “I understand that risk, Professor. But I have a reason for wanting the job. I have a reason to put my life on the line for others. A reason for… for my own life to be sacrificed for others to live peacefully, should the time come. I’ve already thought this through.”

“Then tell me your reason. Give me a reason why your life is not as important as others’s?” Professor asked, sharp eyes watching your rigid form slowly turn to him.

“I’ve nothing keeping me here. I have the talent, and you cannot deny it. This- This is the only thing I’ll have after graduation! I- Professor, please don’t talk me out of this,” you pleaded, eyes glinting in the dim light of the classroom.

Now you’ve done it, old man. But he pressed on. “‘Nothing keeping you here’?!” The man stood up, furious, disappointed, and… surprisingly sad. “This isn’t a joke, y/l/n. You have plenty of things ‘keeping you here’! Your little Sallow friend, that Sweeting girl, the blind boy you sit by,” Aesop listed angrily, unconsciously stalking towards you. “Merlin, you have-“ he cut himself off abruptly, realizing the word he was going to say after. Me. Me, y/n, you have me. A part of Aesop scoffed: idiot, you are; only a fool would want an old cripple like you and everyone knows y/n isn’t a fool- besides, she’s a student. Date a student and people are going to wonder if you were given special treatment.

”Who else, Professor?” You asked, tilting your head to look at the man you had been crushing on for the last few years. Please, you thought, say it.

You took the smallest step forward, making Aesop realize how close he was to you. Your intense gaze held him there, refusing to move. He knew what you wanted, and he knew it would be disastrous if he gave in. But, truly, he was only a man. Standing in fromt of an intelligent, talented, beautiful, and witty woman. “Me,” the man whispered, tearing his gaze away from you.

“Give me a reason not to, Aesop. Give me a reason to st-“ you hadn’t finished your sentance before Aesop’s shaking hands grasped your side and pulled, forcing your body against his. He kept one hand on your nack, lightly holding onto him in case you suddenly fled for the door and moved one callused hand to your face. He brushed away a stray hair and his eyes flickered between your lips and your eyes.

“Tell me to stop,” Aesop whispered. His voice, low and gravely, made you shudder against his body.

Your eyelashed fluttered as you struggled to stay calm in his overwhelming presence. “Kiss me.”

Aesop’s lips locked onto yours, a low groan bubbling out of his mouth and being swallowed by yours as you kissed back with the same passion as he. Aesop cursed himself, knowing you could easily realize who you were making out with and run off, taking Aesop’s heart with you.

But maybe you needed this as much as he did. Your small gasps and whimpers surely fanned the flames of Aesop’s hope that you wanted him. Your hand slid up Aesop’s wide back and threaded into his hair, tangling. He groaned at your actions.

You pulled away abruptly, resting your forhead on Aesop’s shoulder. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“Was that good enough of a reason?” Aesop asked, knowing full well you were still probably imagining yourself as an Auror.

“Kiss me again and I’ll see if it was truly satisfactory,” you joked, looking up at the man who’s heart was currently in your unknowing hands.

“Y/n,” Aesop finally murmured, hand still on the small of your back. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

”What?”

“Promise me when you’re on the field… promise me that you’ll be safe.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I promise. Sir, what-“

“I can’t damage your reputation by being in public with you like this. As much as I wish, it cannot be. At least, not in the near future,” he whispered, resting his chin on your head.

“I know.”

Silence fell over the pair: you not wanting to move from Aesop’s comforting arms and Aesop not wanting you to go.

“I think your Veritaserum is done,” Aesop said.

You laughed, still clinging to Aesop.

#aesop sharp #fluff #x female reader #jules writes 📓🖊#female reader #x reader #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #harry potter hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts oc #wizarding world #professor aesop sharp #professor sharp #daddy sharp #hogwarts legacy meme

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myveryownfanfiction · 10 months ago

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Sharpuary day 2: shadow

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

warnings: swearing

As I was walking down the corridor towards the library, I paused. Professor sharp had just turned the corner in front of me. Tilting my head, I followed him to his classroom.

“Aesop?” I said as I went in. He turned to look at me, eyebrows raised. My eyes were firmly fixed on the floor behind him.

“Why…” I took a step forward and knelt down. “Why do you have a kitten following you around?” Aesop sighed and looked down at his feet where the small black kitten was trying to climb over his boot.

“Eleazars protege gave it to me.” He said, his tone suggesting he wasn’t thrilled by the gift. “Said something about me needing a friend.” Aesop gave me a slight smirk. “I didn’t have it in me to tell them I already had one.” I rolled my eyes at him as I gently picked up the kitten. “It’s been following me around like a damn shadow ever since.”

“has anyone actually noticed?” I asked, laughing as the kitten squirmed slightly, apparently hell bent on trying to get back to Aesop.

“well clearly they did.” He sighed. “And you. Black may have almost noticed…” Aesop looked between me and the kitten in my hands.

“how did you get away from that?” I laughed. Aesop reached out and gently scratched the kittens chin.

“some students may try to tell you about a strange, maybe elaborate dance I was doing while talking to black…” Aesop trailed off, cheeks tinting pink. "But rest assured they would be wrong. Very very wrong."

“for godrics sake Aesop!” I laughed. Aesop blushed even further as he started to pull his hand back from the kitten. The kitten started to whine in protest and Aesop moved closer to continue stroking it. “Don’t tell me you’re already attached to the thing!” Not meeting my eyes, Aesop gently took the kitten from me and deposited it in his coat pocket.

“now where would you get an idea like that?” He grunted. I laughed as he pointedly turned away from me to write on the chalkboard. I moved to lean against it, keeping an eye on his face.

“maybe the fact that you tried oh so very hard to keep black from noticing the poor thing.” I teased. “Or the fact that you have it riding around in your fucking pocket at this very moment!” Aesop paused and looked down just as the dark fuzzy head of the kitten popped up.

"I suppose you're right." He chuckled, looking back up at me. "I can't keep it in my classroom though. It's going to get trampled." I nodded.

"Well first thing is we need to name it." I said, reaching into Aesop's pocket and pulling out the kitten. "I think Shadow is the perfect name for this little guy." The kitten mewled in agreement and I looked at Aesop.

"I think so too." He agreed, reaching out to scratch it behind the ears.

"Second, I'll take Shadow to my room. You can come visit after classes are done for the day." I said, starting towards the door.

"Wait! Don't you have classes as well today?" Aesop called after me. I shook my head.

"They got cancelled!" I called back. "Weather is too bad and there isn't a classroom for me to take. So I have the day off!" I waved to him as I left the room. "Enjoy teaching Professor Sharp!" I laughed as I heard him grumbling behind me.

#aesop sharp #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp fanfic #aesop sharp fanfiction #aesop sharp imagine #professor sharp #professor sharp x reader #professor sharp fanfic #professor sharp fanfiction #professor sharp imagine #sharpuary #sharpuary 2024 #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy imagine

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expectodragons · 1 year ago

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The Art of Receiving || 18+ Oneshot

✦ Summary: The stress of studying for your final exams is finally getting to you and you're in desperate need of some relief.

✦ Pairing: Aesop Sharp x Female Reader

✦ Word Count: 2,230

✦ Rating: Explicit, 18+ only - minors do not interact.

✦ Tags / Warnings: Age difference, oral sex (f!receiving), PWP, reader is of age, slight power dynamics, student/professor relationship, vaginal fingering.

It was not often you found yourself in use of the bath in the Prefect’s bathroom. The place was a privilege for but a select few students, yourself included. Being a Quidditch Captain did have its benefits, after all. But rarely did you find the time, or the need, to traverse the many steps up to the hidden room.

Today, however, had given you every single reason to seek out the vast warm waters of the pool-like tub.

Exam season was upon the castle and your nerves, in particular, were due to fry if you spent another moment huddled over a dusty tome in the library with your group of fellow seventh-years. Between a series of challenging classes and the overwhelming air of expectation that was placed upon you by your professors, you were a step short of collapsing.

You had felt your eyes blurring together the words of Malinda Haddock and her many essays on the intricacies of advanced Transfiguration in the fifteenth century. Your head had pounded against the table, much to the concern of Poppy who had been working alongside you.

It felt like your mind could consume no more information – a sponge already seeping out water – you were at your fill of knowledge. And nothing the famed witch could say about the difficulties of transfiguring avian creatures into knitting needles could breach your mental walls.

So, with a weary pace, you had found yourself taking the long journey up to the top of the South Wing’s tower. Flicking the spigot on every faucet until the bath filled with technicolor soap and kaleidoscope-colored bubbles floated into the air. Time had passed without your awareness, so lost in the delicious sensation of warm water rippling over your stressed shoulders.

But, when you at last extracted yourself from the lovely bath and had dried and dressed yourself once again, you finally took notice of the time. Curfew was due to start in but a few minutes and dinner was obviously out of the question.

As you descend the spiral staircase, eager to pick up your pace in an effort to make it to your common room before the clock strikes the hour, you find yourself face-to-face with a particular Potion Master.

“Ah,” Sharp says your name in that slow sardonic tone. He peers up at you from his lower position on the staircase.

“Professor Sharp,” you say in polite admonishment.

If he held you up any longer, you would never make it to your common room in time.

Sharp takes a step, and then another. And even though he’s three steps below your position on the landing, he’s fully eye-level with you.

“You were absent from dinner this evening.”

Your chin juts out, ever so slightly, “I was. And if you’ll excuse me, I wish to make it to my dorm before curfew begins, sir.”

The professor gives an amused hum of consideration. You feel your cheeks become aflame with heat with the look he bestows upon you.

Resting a hand on the banister, he leans into the rails, as though he has nowhere to be in a particular hurry.

“How are your study sessions coming along? I believe the entirety of your year has taken over Scribner’s domain this past week.”

With a huff of annoyance, an impatience sending your feet rocking back and forth, you respond with a simple, “Fine.”

“And your classes? You’re keeping up with the workload I imagine?”

“Yes, sir. If you excuse me, please. I really must get going.”

Before you can so much as brush past him on the other side of the staircase, Sharp moves another step forward and takes a gentle hold of your right arm – your skin still radiates the warmth from your long bath and you know he can feel it between his fingers as his thumb begins to rub a steady rhythm against your hammering pulse point.

The two of you rarely appeared together outside of the safety of his office. Where he could lock the doors and cast a simple Muffliato upon the room. Your meetings were cherished, but increasingly rare as the days leading up to the NEWTs kept you away. But here, in the Faculty Tower – on the top landing of the tower, at that – you feel a familiar rush of desire pooling in your stomach as Aesop takes a final step forward.

Towering over you now, you can feel his warm breath upon your face. Smell the comforting aroma of sandalwood and musk that lingers on his robes. You can even see the beginnings of that familiar small smile of his that sends your heart racing anytime he shares it with you.

“You must be exhausted, my dear.”

The firm press of his thumb on your wrist has your knees buckling, lost in the weight of his heavy stare.

“It… has been rather stressful.”

“Hmm,” he hums in return. His charcoal-colored eyes bore into you as if undressing you here in the corridor before he seemed to make a decision – a sudden flicker of interest across his face your only warning.

“Perhaps you are in need of some relief, as it were.”

You gulp, feeling a flood of want surging through your chest. Your neck flushes with warmth and your ears begin to burn as you carefully turn your wrist in his hold until your fingers wrap around his thumb.

“Perhaps, sir.”

With a thin smile, Aesop leads you the few short steps up to his personal chambers.

This was one place you had never adventured before.

There had been two, and only two, separate occasions in your time with the potions professor, where a secret rendezvous occurred outside of his office. Once, in a hidden nook in the Bell Tower when the majority of the school was out on a Hogsmeade trip. And one very heated exchange in the changing rooms after a quidditch match when the rest of your team was headed off to the common room to celebrate your victory.

But this?

You allow your gaze to wander around the red-toned room. Taking in the small things that took up your professor’s private space. It was hardly as neat as you would have assumed it to be. Stacks of papers, bottles, and potion tools littered every available space. A lone chair sat before a blazing fire. A curious glance towards an ajar doorway nearly has your attention before Aesop’s hand cups your face.

“Now…” he intones. “What to do with you?”

Creeping up on your tiptoes, you lean into his touch.

“I could think of a thing or two.”

He chuckles, curling a finger through the damp locks of your hair.

“I imagine you could. However…” his gaze goes distant, seemingly transfixed by the droplets of water that travel from your hair down to his finger.

Giving an experimental tug, he brings you closer – holding onto but a single strand of your hair. You allow yourself to be pulled, pressing up to meet his curved smile as a kiss, almost too sweet, is placed upon your lips.

“Poor, poor girl,” he murmurs against your lips, tilted back just enough to keep him from making contact with your eager mouth. “Drowning under the pressure of your studies. Has no one shown you proper care these past few weeks?”

His snide remarks only have you leaning up to try and join your lips together once again, but he remains stubbornly persistent in refusing you further. Much to his own delight, apparently, as a wolfish grin materializes on his face.

And then his hands are traveling down your sides. Fingers pressing into the curve of your waist, the small swell of your stomach, the dip of your hips. As you wrap your arms around his neck, his head lowered to almost rest upon your shoulder, you feel the cool air of the room caress your legs as you find your skirt being pushed up.

“If only someone was willing to spare you a thought, hmm?” he crones.

Calloused fingers meet your bare skin, following the gentle curve of your inner thighs as they trail higher and higher.

“What have we here?”

You can sense the pleased smile on his face as his fingers delve into the wet heat between your legs – your eyes closing and your head tilting back in delight at the first brush of his knuckle across your lips.

Warm breath tickles your ear as teeth gently tug at the lobe.

“Eager indeed.”

At last, you lean against him, moaning a gentle, “Aesop.”

He smirks, removing his hands – allowing your skirt to fall back into place – as he pulls you toward the door across the room. Walking backward, he presses the entry open and leads you into a smaller room. Your eyes flash across an array of furniture, covered portraits, stacks of cauldrons, and books, before falling upon the bed.

“My darling girl,” he smooths, turning you slowly in his embrace until you find your knees backed into the crimson sheets of his bed.

A gentle press on your shoulder has you sitting down like a good student, while the man before you drops to a single knee. Your hands grip the sheets like a vice as your skirt is rolled up onto the tops of your thighs and two large palms press your knees apart.

Sharp settles there, in the V of your legs, as a hand lazily drags through the warm slick of your desire. Perhaps another clever quip could be said then, but his dark gaze has zeroed in on his own fingers now, and with a muffled cry parting from your lips Aesop leans forward and licks a warm stripe up your quim.

Pulling your fist to your mouth, you bite down on the flesh of your fingers as he repeats the action.

Heated breath grazes your cunt and the pleasant sting of his stubble scrapes the smooth flesh of your thighs as a deep moan rumbles across your womanhood.

His hands wind under your knees as he spreads you further open, his nose brushes against your mound, as he dips his tongue into your quivering hole – scooping up every bit of sweet juice he finds dribbling out of you.

“Oh god,” you cry out.

Your hand falls from your mouth to latch into the silky strands of his dark tresses. Pulling him closer as he starts to work a steady rhythm with his mouth. Buried between your thighs like he was meant to always be there, Aesop moans another gravelly sound as he begins to suck your clit between his swollen lips.

Like a man starved, he finds his fill in the juncture of your legs. Licking up everything you have to give him, his hold upon your thighs leaves crescent-shaped bruises that send another delicious wave of pained pleasure toward your core.

“Yes, oh Merlin, yes!”

Urged on by your desperate cries, the potions professor barrels forward, sucking your button in earnest as you tug his hair into a tight grip. You can feel it, the sweet desperate coil in your core. Soon it will snap and your release will paint your lover’s face.

Rocking your hips to meet him, you find yourself grinding against his lips, though that only seems to encourage him as he flicks his tongue over your clit and stares up at you with that glazed-over heavy expression in his eyes.

Sweat clings to his brow and his hair curtains his face, but all you can focus on are those gorgeous eyes. So drunk on you, your taste, your cunt. You find your bundle curling tighter and tighter, your hips rocking in a frantic pattern, as Aesop sucks down your sweet pleasure.

A rumbling moan sends you over the edge as he dives into you with a fervor.

His tongue, almost too rough now, laps up your desire as your hold on his hair loosens and your legs seem to become leaden underneath you.

Slowly, he pulls back – his chin a wash of cum and spit – as he huffs out a few raggedy breaths. His lips grace your thigh with wet kisses before he finally drops your legs back to the ground and carefully eases himself back up.

Taking a place beside you on the bed – where you are now lounged back, breathing several shuddering gasps – Aesop drags his hand across your torso, fingers snagging on the buttons of your blouse. He walks up your sternum before his thumb finds the curve of your bottom lip and tugs down upon the silky flesh.

“Feeling relaxed, dear one?” he murmurs, watching you with a transfixed sort of expression that spoke of feelings more than just casual fleeting interest and obvious lust.

Huffing a lofty laugh, you shake your head – lulling your head to the side so you can meet his gaze.

“So relaxed, I fear I might not be able to move again.”

His hand trails to the curve of your jaw, where he cups your heated flesh – a lone finger rubbing over the delicate skin of your cheek.

“That would truly be a shame if that were the case.”

“Wouldn’t it just?” you smile brightly. Feeling the ticklish tingle of your legs and the overwhelming sensation of undiluted happiness coursing through you.

Sharp hums once again in agreement before he leans down to place a lingering kiss upon your honey-sweet lips.

#aesop sharp x reader #professor sharp x reader #aesop sharp fanfic #professor sharp fanfic #hphl fanfic #my fic

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mrs-sharp · 9 months ago

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The moment I (first) fell for Sharp was during the battle for the final repository when he suddenly fights alongside mc and says: "Now, Professor Fig, aren't you going to leave some for the Rest of us?" and I want to believe that he addresses to mc, too.

#professor sharp #aesop sharp #professor aesop sharp #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts oc #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #daddy sharp #harry potter franchise #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fandom

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misswildfire · 2 years ago

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Imagine- Dating Aesop Sharp

It took quite a while to convince Aesop to take a chance on a relationship with you.

Patiently rebutted all of his arguments about why you guys shouldn’t be together: He was a cripple, too old for you, would ruin your reputation for being with a washed up Auror and your former Professor. Not that any of that mattered to you, you loved him just as he was, nor did you particularly care what anyone else thought.

Once he finally gave in, he would take his time to court you properly (Minus the fact you both have a hard time keeping your hands off each other, heavy make out sessions were very common)

Walks in the gardens, in the forests, long talks in his office, small gifts - potions and salves he makes for your cuts, bruises and aches you always seem to collect while adventuring in the area.

In turn, you would gather ingredients for him, especially ones that were notoriously hard to get a hold of. There was no mountain too high or cave too deep that you wouldn’t venture into in order to procure what you needed.

You would help him develop salves for his leg that would keep the pain at bay for longer periods of time. There was most likely no cure, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t keep perfecting pain management.

Massaging his leg on particularly bad nights before rubbing in pain salves and other salves to help the muscle surrounding the affected area relax. It had taken you forever to convince him to allow you to do this for him, that he wasn’t a burden and you wanted to help take care of him.

You loved the way that he would take charge, how he would pull her into his arms, how she felt safe, loved, protected.

He drove you wild when he would pick you up and pin you against the wall. You loved the feel of him against you, being able to feel every inch of him.

But what you loved most of all is when he would finally let go of his self control - usually after hours of teasing him. His growl always sent a thrill racing through you.

#hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #aesop sharp #professor sharp #professor sharp x oc #aesop sharp x oc #aesop sharp x reader

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animasola86 · 8 months ago

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Scars

Pairing: Aesop Sharp x f!reader (with a face scar)

Genre: Fluff/Smut // Words: 3.5k // [READ ON AO3]

Synopsis: He was there to give you confidence, attention, comfort, and you were there to give him peace.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Implied bullying. Explicit sexual content. Size difference. Age gap. Established student/teacher relationship.

Scars

They were laughing again. Those wretched girls, pointing their fingers behind your back while you tried your best to ignore them. You heard their whispers, their heinous comments, but you didn't care. Or so it seemed.

He knew you cared, deeply, but you'd never show them how vulnerable their words made you. You'd never show weakness. Not in front of them. He was the only one who saw your tears, who was allowed to see behind the stoic facade of your beautiful face.

You wore your hair differently again, it was longer and that fringe was covering your right eye and more, but no matter how hard you tried to hide your self-declared imperfections, he knew they were there, and the more you concealed them, the more he wanted to walk over and tuck your hair behind your ear, caress your cheek with the back of his fingers and feel those protruding lines that you wore with so much shame.

He'd told you so many times that you shouldn't be ashamed of your scars. They were a part of you, no matter how you came to them, what their story was, it didn't matter, because they were there now, on your face, for everyone to see and gawk and marvel at, if you allowed them. Which you seldom did, and still they would point and laugh, and you'd feel even more insecure about them, and all the words of reassurance he whispered into your ear were gone again.

But he would never tire to repeat them. He knew you needed it. As much as you needed him, and he needed you. He was there to give you confidence, attention, comfort, and you were there to give him peace.

He still remembered the first time you had looked at him, no, stared at him. He was used to being given curious stares or glares of fear or pity, but the way you looked at him had been so different. You had looked so hopeful. He had noticed the way your eyes had been wandering over his weathered face, over the scars he barely noticed himself anymore, even though he still felt them from time to time as just another ache of his battered body. And he had seen your own scars that day, even though you had tried to hide them.

And he had known that he had to teach you to wear them without the need to conceal them. It hadn't been easy, you were wary from all the whispers you'd heard, the open insults and degradations. Years had passed, and you still fought the same fight. People didn't change, they might become quieter, switch the tone of their voice, but they remained cruel, as was their nature.

It was when he saw your shoulders shake slightly that he got up from his chair with a deep grunt and slowly made his way to your potion station, throwing a dark glare towards the girls to your left. They were silenced by his gruff demeanour and lowered their heads, but he knew they'd start their whispers as soon as he looked away again.

So he flicked his finger and made one of their cauldrons erupt into a vile fountain of goo that exploded over the entire table. He sometimes did that, he couldn't help himself. It was only fair. Their cries of surprise and shock filled the air, and they scrambled to clean up the mess while he glared at them. He could have taken points from their houses, but he'd done that last time. It would get suspicious.

As he continued on his way towards your potion station, he noticed your wide eyes as you had witnessed what had happened at the other table. He gave you the hint of a wink that made you blush immediately and walked around you, his fingers ghosting over your lower back as he did so. He felt the shudder despite the shortness of the touch and heaved a longing sigh.

You focused back on your cauldron, and he kept making his rounds through the classroom. The wretched girls were busy cleaning and brewing their potions all over again, leaving you alone for the time being. He couldn't save you from their heinous words and deeds, but he could give you peace while you were in his class at least. The same kind of peace you would give him right after.

He had retreated into his office, mulling over various essays he needed to read and correct, his head heavy on his hand as he leaned on his elbow. The hesitant knock on his door was almost swallowed by the deep sigh he heaved. But then your voice echoed through the old wood. He called you into his office and looked up.

You quickly closed the door behind you, and he raised his wand to turn the lock. A smile lit up your face as you made your way around the table. He scraped his chair back to make room for you before you threw your arms around his neck and climbed onto his lap, careful not to put any weight on his stiff leg. He embraced you tightly, equally careful not to crush you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled deeply.

You leaned against him, feeling his warmth and the roughness of his beard against your delicate skin. Soon your lips brushed against his ear. “Thank you for today,” you whispered.

“Don't mention it,” he replied in a low grunt, rubbing his large hands over your back. “Honestly, do not. If they'd be a little more intelligent, they'd notice...”

“Good thing they're not, eh?” you said with a little giggle that made him take another shuddering breath.

Your scent filled his nostrils before he leaned back enough to look at you. One of his hands moved up along your arm, long fingers gliding over the fabric of your shirt, teasing against your curves before he slid his fingers into your hair and pushed it out of your face. You held your breath as his thumb caressed your cheek, firmly pressing against those lines you hated so much – but he couldn't get enough of.

His dark eyes bored into yours, and you held his gaze while your hands rested on his broad shoulders and your fingers played with his hair. He tightened the grip on your face and pulled you slightly closer, his other hand slipping lower until he cupped your rear. You squirmed against him, and then you licked your lips. His heart accelerated, and he moved his thumb to your mouth, firmly stroking your bottom lip, feeling the wetness you just left there.

And you indulged him and darted your tongue out again, teasingly moving it against the calloused pad of his thumb. His breath hitched and his gaze darkened. Seconds later he had pulled your head towards him and claimed your mouth for a searing kiss.

You gasped into it, your eyes fluttering shut as you kissed him back hesitantly, carefully, but soon your inhibitions melted away, and you dug your fingers into his hair and deepened the kiss hungrily, parting your lips to allow his tongue to slip between them. You met it with fervour, both of you breathing loudly through your noses during the sensual wrestle.

His beard scraped against your soft skin, a noise he knew drove you crazy with lust. He felt you shifting on his lap, moving closer until your chest rubbed against his. Despite the need building inside your stomach, you were mindful not to put any strain on his injured leg as you moved your own around to straddle him. His hand remained on your rear, guiding you, making you bounce against him slightly as you started to grind your pelvis into his.

Deep groans escaped his throat as you pressed your fingers against his scalp, softly massaging it while you plunged your tongue deep into his mouth, tasting every inch of it before he did the same to yours. Your breaths mingled, quickly making you both dizzy. His hand moved from your face to your throat as he closed his long fingers around it, gently pressing against it until you issued the noises he wanted to hear from you. Those soft mewls that only he was allowed to hear.

With his hand around your neck, he made you lean back a little as he watched your eyelids fluttering before you looked at him breathlessly, lips still parted and trembling. He didn't wait long before he dove back in, his mouth capturing yours, and your hunger made you whimper against him. He squeezed your throat again, coaxing more noises past your swollen lips.

Eventually you had to turn your head away, breathing heavily, and he continued moving his lips over your beautiful face, leaving a trail of wetness and warmth as he made his way to the right side where he planted a few heated kisses on your scars. You let out a soft moan when he extended his tongue and licked along those protruding lines. Alternating between licks and kisses and gentle nibbles, he moved up to your temple where he paused, his lips pressed to your skin, his breath making strands of your hair fly.

His voice was rough when he whispered: “I need you...”

Your hands moved through his hair and found his face, small delicate fingers rubbing over stubble, scars and wrinkles as you looked deep into his dark eyes. “I know,” you whispered back and pressed your pelvis against his, feeling the slight throbbing of his erection through the thick fabric of his clothes.

His hand left your throat as he moved both of them to grab your hips, pushing you away slightly so your eager fingers could find the buttons of his trousers to finally free him. You chewed on your bottom lip as you worked on him before he felt your small hand slip past those pesky layers to brush against his heated flesh. A grunt came from his throat as you slowly pulled his cock free from its confines.

His eyes darted down to watch you wrap both of your tiny hands around his girth as you started moving them up and down in an alternating rhythm, pushing his skin over his hardened core, the throbbing veins pulsing against your touch. Your movements were expertly, he had taught you well. Then again, you'd always been a very quick learner, quick and eager, always wanting to satisfy. And you'd never disappointed him.

His breaths became quicker as you kept stroking him, harder and faster, and the burning friction was mind-numbing. You watched his reactions intently, and when he closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, you shifted on his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs on the cushioned seat. His hands assisted you by pushing your skirt over your plump rear before his fingers dug into your soft flesh, kneading it, pulling it apart, fingertips dipping into the cleft between your cheeks.

Your rapids breaths echoed in his ear as you leaned over him, one hand on his hard member, the other fumbling to push your underwear aside as you pressed your shoulder against his chest in support. He met your efforts from the other side, his fingers teasing at your folds. Normally he'd pay more attention to your sex, but you were already plenty wet, and when you leaned back on your knees, he looked at you out of hooded eyes and saw your dilated pupils and the quivering of your lips.

He gave you a short nod, and you didn't hesitate at all as you aligned his precum leaking tip with your waiting entrance, your thighs trembling as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. He guided you with his hands on your arse, and soon your heat engulfed his crown, sucking him deeper. You were so tight and warm, and he arched his head back and moaned deeply as you sank down on him until he was fully sheathed inside you.

You winced when he hit your deepest point, but you remained sitting on him, adjusting to the way he stretched your soft muscles. It hadn't always been this easy for you to take him fully, but again, he had taught you well and patiently, and you were the best student he could have asked for, willing to push your own boundaries until your body had accepted him in his entirety. Despite your small size, you had become the perfect fit for him as your insides moulded to his length and girth.

Inhaling deeply, he continued to knead your soft bum cheeks, holding you steady, while your hands had moved to grip his shoulders, your breaths laboured as you fought the sensation of being filled by him. He knew it wasn't easy, and even though you never complained, he knew he was bruising you more often than he wanted to, he saw it by the way you sometimes limped out of his office afterwards.

But then he remembered the way you squirmed and mewled on top of him, how your body undulated against him, riding him, bouncing on him, taking him without hesitation, and he knew you enjoyed it thoroughly, despite or because of the pain he could inflict within you.

Your fingers were digging into his shoulders now as you started moving your hips up slowly, your tight walls clenching around him, clinging to him as you let him almost slip out all the way, but before he could leave your warmth entirely, you descended on him again, your cunt slurping him back in, and you moaned loudly when he hit your cervix. You quickly fell into a slow rhythm of moving up and down, up and down, until you were slamming your hips against him with every downwards motion, moans and groans filling the small room.

He grabbed your waist and helped you when your thighs started twitching under the exertion, and together you created a steady pace as you rode his cock with growing need, the tension in your stomach making your walls clench tighter around him, squeezing him so deliciously that he couldn't keep the grunts down as his fingers dug into your soft skin.

Up and down you went, in and out he slipped, a cacophony of wet squelching sounds and sinful moans echoing through his office, the chair beneath him creaked with every powerful slam, every strain of your thighs. He felt the dull pain throbbing in his leg, but he tried to ignore it as he used his healthy leg as leverage to push upwards into you, moving with you until you dissolved on top of him, your body falling against his chest as your arms wrapped around his neck, your whimpers like music in his ears.

When you came, your cunt clamped down on him hard, squeezing him to the point he was barely able to move within you, but he forced through and fucked you as you climaxed with a strained cry, your juices gushing out past your tight connection. The squelching was louder as he continued driving his length deep into you, his hands pushing you down on him hard, and you cried out again when he kept hitting your deepest spot, over and over again, with desperation and need, and when you came once more, your muscles contracted strong enough for him to lose control as well.

He groaned into your shoulder as he stilled inside you, his cock twitching and throbbing as he emptied himself deep inside your convulsing cunt, painting your insides with his thick seed. You spasmed against him, holding on for dear life before you slowly gyrated your hips against him, milking him for the last drop. He felt the excess seeping past the tight seal of your stretched skin when your pussy fluttered around him.

Your mewls grew quieter as you slowly came down from your high, your heart racing against his as you clung to him, unable to move. His breaths were as ragged as yours as he wrapped his arms around your back and held you close to him, savouring the deep connection as you remained seated on top of him until he softened inside of you.

His lips found your sweaty forehead before they moved along your face until he could feel your scars against them. You breathed softly against him as he kissed and licked those lines that made you so irresistible to him. “You're so beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely as his mouth moved towards your ear, and he felt you shivering against him. “You are. And so are your scars...”

You turned your head to meet his dark gaze, a shy smile grazing your full lips. For a moment you just looked at him before your hands cupped his face and you leaned in to kiss him gently. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touches as you made your way over his cheek towards his own scar. Your tongue moved along the ragged lines, sucking softly on them as he allowed you to explore his weathered face.

When you placed your lips carefully against his eyelid, his eyebrow, his temple, his skin tingled deeply under your ministrations, even more so when you rubbed your fingers over his beard, the sound making you mewl, and he felt you clenching around him as he shifted inside you slightly. A low groan escaped him as you started grinding your hips against him, and even though he felt himself harden again under your constant stimulation, he grabbed your waist and held you tightly in place, forcing you to stop moving.

You sighed and tilted your head, a little pout playing around your lips as you looked at him, batting your eyelashes, but he only chuckled darkly. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help yourself as you grabbed his face and claimed his mouth for another deep kiss, and he indulged you and kissed you back with a little bit less fervour. Despite the much needed release you'd given him, he felt his leg aching slightly.

You were always quick to notice when he was in pain, and you left his warm mouth with a deep sigh as you leaned back, licking your swollen lips as you watched him closely. You then carefully straightened your legs, unhooking them from aside his thighs, your own trembling badly as your feet met the floor, before you lifted yourself off him, your walls barely willing to let go of him, but then he slipped out of your warmth, your combined juices seeping out of you in thick globs of white, soiling the front of his trousers.

Once you were off his lap, he grabbed his wand and cleaned himself with a quick flick, yet it was you and your eager hands who helped put his cock back behind the thick layers of his clothes. After you finished buttoning his trousers, you moved your hand teasingly over his covered length, feeling it throbbing slightly under your touch. He grabbed your wrist and gave you a dark glare, but couldn't help the smirk from playing around the corners of his mouth.

You giggled and leaned over him to kiss his rough cheek, then his soft lips, and it took you another long moment to part from him fully. Readjusting your underwear and skirt, you leaned against his desk for a moment, watching him with a warm smile as you tucked your hair behind your ear, leaving your scars uncovered. He reached his hand up and caressed your cheek. You put your own hand on his, gently rubbing his long fingers before you embraced them with yours and brought them to your lips, kissing his calloused palm.

“Thank you,” you whispered quietly, and he watched you intently as he leaned back in his chair, slowly letting go of your hand. He gave you a short nod and inhaled deeply.

Biting your lip, you pushed off the desk and turned around, ready to leave again. It was never easy to see you go, but it was what it was. He gave you the confidence to walk the castle without shame, and you gave him the peace he needed to fall asleep at night. It was a good arrangement, and he dreaded the day when you would eventually graduate and leave him behind.

Closing his eyes, he wiped a hand over his bearded chin, and the sound made you pause at the door. He heard the quiet taps of your shoes and smirked to himself as you suddenly pressed your lips against his. Cracking open one eye, he looked at you, saw your hopeful smile and sighed before he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you towards him fully until you were sitting on his healthy leg, one arm around his shoulders, the other playing with his beard while you kissed him like a woman starved.

And he couldn't help himself, he kissed you back like the desperate man that he was. His hand found your delicate face, and while his rough fingers grazed over your scars, he leaned into the forbidden touch all over again. And he really couldn't care less, he didn't care about how tiny you were, how young you were, all he cared about was seeing you smile and hearing you mewl.

And oh how you indulged him.

NEXT PART: PEACE AND COMFORT

End notes: So, uh, this happened? I branched out! I don't even know how, but last night I felt obliged to write Sharp smut, and out came TWO oneshots, so yes, there'll be something of a continuation (see link above).

I'm surprised how easy it was to write for this grouchy old man. I've never been a Sharp girlie, my muse is Sebastian, and still, here we are. I kept it pretty vague and I also never actually named him, but if you know this man, you get the hints, right? I felt it was better to keep it rather neutral (or more intimate?), just you and your Potions teacher, bonding over your scars, no need for names.

By the way, that exact prompt was part of my very first HL fanfic (Diary of a Snake Lover, that I abandoned because the slow burn killed me!), and there, my MC Genevieve Belette (the same from my definitely not slow burn fic The Darkness Within) had a crush on Sharp because she saw him wearing his scar so proudly while she always hid hers behind her hair. I originally even had the idea of making him the main love interest, but Genevieve turned out too innocent to have an affair with a teacher. So after months of writing very explicit and depraved and filthy smut, I finally managed to turn that simple idea into, well, this, whatever it is.

It's not mentioned, and I usually don't care about the ages of my protagonists, but it's implied she is in her seventh year, so she is definitely of age and more or less "allowed" to do whatever just happened (and will happen in the next part).

And yeah, I've always been a fan of the size difference and age gap tropes. And I'm glad I finally found a character that ticks all those boxes. So who knows, I might even write more little oneshots like this, just Sharp having a good time, because he deserves it!

Alright, enough end notes, thank you for reading!

[ MORE SHARP SMUT ] [ MASTERLIST ] [ AO3 ]

#aesop sharp #aesop sharp smut #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #reader insert #fem reader #female reader #hogwarts legacy smut #professor sharp #professor sharp smut #professor sharp x mc #professor sharp x reader #fluff #smut #mysmut #daddy sharp #professor aesop sharp

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 7 months ago

Text

Advanced Studies in Love

A direct sequel to Teaching Love.

Professor Sharp and his young lover make the most of their little weekend getaway. She may be inexperienced, but more than makes up for it with her enthusiasm. Perhaps slightly too much enthusiasm...

A huge thanks to my brilliant consultant and friend @tea-withjamandbread who is the author of the brilliant line at the very end, and also Maarty for her continuous support ❤

18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN

[FULL PCITURE]

Advanced Studies in Love (11.8k words)

tw: teacher-student relationship, age gap (reader is an adult), explicit sexual content, oral sex, vaginal sex, attempts at humour, dirty talking

“I think that’s enough - we needn’t pick the entire forest, dear,” came the potions master’s baritone from right behind you. You weren’t startled to hear and feel him so close to you so suddenly, however. You were hyper aware of his body and his proximity to your own ever since the two of you awoke, your limbs tangled and bodies still humming with the pleasure you shared the previous night.

Aesop took the two of you away from the school for the weekend, so that you’d be able to be entirely alone, free to enjoy the comfort of each other’s arms without having to worry about anyone coming to disturb you. And disturbed you were not - the only sound in the bedroom of the quaint cottage was the gentle rapping of raindrops against the window, as well as the combined sounds of your arousal. Hands mapped out and explored the newly uncovered body parts, lips and tongues tasted at the other’s perspiration. Aesop broke you apart, and then proceeded to put you back together until you were reduced into a gasping, moaning mess.

And when he took you for the first very time, you immediately grew addicted to having him this close, to be so intimately connected with him in a perfect fit. Even now, as your hands were getting progressively fuller and fuller with ingredients the teacher told you to gather, you bit down on your lower lip in memory of what it was like, to have him fill you up so entirely. His body atop yours, hot and heavy, and smelling so good. Each small little shift he made in his position you could feel tenfold, your core quivering around the large, throbbing intruder. His hot breath against your breast and nipple as he panted at the sensations your tightness gave him. And once the pain and discomfort passed, all that remained was him, the pleasure he bestowed upon you, and the love that crackled and burned around you.

The memory of the drag of his pubic bone across your sensitive nub when he started to thrust within you, and the jolt of white-hot pleasure that sent a tornado of sensations through your whole self made your thighs press together unconsciously, and you knew your face was red as a beet as you let your mind indulge in the recent memories, your hands busy with properly harvesting the flowers and herbs.

You wanted more. You needed more. As much as he was willing to give you. And in return, you were ready to give yourself to him entirely - after all, there was no safer pair of arms within which you could be.

“Hm, look at you,” his voice dropped until it was nothing more than a mere rumble, his breath tickling your ear. How were you ever able to focus in his class, when such four simple words spoken in his voice made your knees nearly buckle right under you. “I ought to mention to professor Garlick just how efficient you are at harvesting plants - I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do so this quickly… It’s almost like you want us to finish up as soon as possible.”

You were frozen on the spot, your eyes closed, body tense, face hot and red, even as he pulled away with a chuckle, seeming as cool and unbothered as he was five minutes ago. “Think we should perhaps gather some aconite as well while we’re here - exams are nearing, students will come to beg Nurse Blainey for Wideye potions…” he continued as if he just didn’t make your heart beat the speed of a racing dragon.

“Half a satchel should suffice, I’ve got some more in my stores… Sweetheart?” he finally looked at you more closely. His face getting a bit worried, he came forward and closer to you once more, his limp somehow seeming less severe than it was the previous day. A large hand made contact with your cheek gently, and he pulled your face up to be able to look at you. The realisation in his eyes made your own flutter. It must’ve been completely obvious to him; your face flushed, pupils dilated, heartbeat elevated and easily feelable through his fingertips.

“Merlin’s beard,” he breathed out, his voice a mix of amazement, appreciation and something that sounded like a hint of… smugness? The potions master took a deep breath even as a small smirk played upon his mouth. Your gaze dropped towards his lips, slightly chapped and thin, but you knew better. These were the lips of a man who knew exactly what to do with them and how, and a fresh wave of hotness rushed into your face and through your body.

His large, strong hands proceeded to take hold of your hips, kneading the flesh on them rather roughly, and prompting a small gasp to leave your lips. “No way,” he spoke again, amazement still palpable with his tone, but his mouth spread wider, the look in his eyes got darker. Suddenly, he turned quickly, still holding your hips in a vice grip. Your back made sudden (but not very hard) contact with the bark of a tree trunk, and not a second later was his strong body pressing you further against the wood. Your knees shook and threatened to give out.

A pair of hot lips chased your own down in a heated, fervent kiss, one that you hungrily reciprocated. Or tried your best to, at least. A clever tongue invaded your mouth and you felt yourself getting drunk on Aesop’s taste. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you moaned into the kiss, prompting him to pull back somewhat, before diving back in. After several minutes of fervent assault on your mouth that left you gasping for air, his kisses got sweeter, softer, less frantic, until they stopped altogether, and he simply remained in your personal space, his nose brushing against your own, your hot breaths mingling, and cool the saliva glistening on your lips.

Aesop smiled once more, the smugness replaced by amazement again: “Bloody hell,” he whispered, “I can’t even remember the last time I was able to… Get such a reaction out of a woman with just my words…”

His voice was calm and sweet, but you could hear the hint of hunger inside it. But even if you hadn’t, it was so very obvious in his eyes. He craved you as much as you craved him, maybe even more. How was he able to restrain himself, when you weren’t certain you would be able to say ‘no’ if he wanted to take you right now against this very tree, was beyond you…

His lips teased at your ear, and tongue danced across your jaw in a slow, sensual massage, and you felt about ready to drop dead… Or be dropped on the ground and ravished.

And then…

The sensations were gone. Instead his hands gently cupped your cheeks, and he gave you a small peck upon your open mouth. The potions master grinned: “Why don’t you fetch some of that aconite we saw earlier by that little meadow and meet me back here. Shouldn’t take you more than ten minutes. Then we’ll be off.”

What.

He pulled back, the look on his face completely innocent as if he had not just made your brain shut down completely. “Off you go,” he prompted you to walk with a small swat across your buttocks, still looking perfectly proper and unbothered, but a single look down made you realise he wasn’t quite that unbothered. Smirking at him through the intense blush on your cheeks, you began walking in the direction he told you to, making sure to sway your hips ever so slightly more. “Remember to wear your gloves, I only brought so much antidote to common poisons,” he called behind you, him raising his voice like so further letting you know he was everything but unaffected by the several few minutes you shared.

You weren’t sure what exactly was his plan. Was he just teasing you, enjoying the power he suddenly had over you? Or did he find himself just as ravenous to continue your yesterday’s activities as yourself?

Nevertheless, you made quick work of the monkshood, making sure to pull the herbs out of the ground carefully so as to be able to get as much of the root as possible, and storing it in a new pocket of the magically enlarged satchel you were hauling around. You weren’t surprised to soon feel eyes on you, and therefore didn’t jump when Aesop cleared his throat shortly before speaking: “We’ve gathered a fair amount of ingredients today, more than I originally presumed we would. Therefore I think we can consider ourselves done for the day”

You turned to face him again. And your mouth opened in mild surprise. In one of Aesop’s hands was a small bouquet of wildflowers, ones he did not tell you to collect earlier. Though, judging by the way he presented them, you supposed there were no potions ingredients. You came closer, looking at him through your lashes with a smile. “What’s the occasion?” you questioned, taking hold of the offered bouquet. The teacher grinned: “I’m courting a beautiful young lady - flowers are an inseparable part of it. Although, well, considering our situation, I’m afraid this one is very very much overdue…” You chuckled in response.

“Come,” Aesop said then, voice quiet and so very alluring. His hand was extended towards you, and you wasted no time in pulling off your dragonhide gloves to be able to side-apparate with him.

After you got your bearings following the still slightly dizzying experience, you were flabbergasted to find yourself not back inside the small cottage but rather at… well, you did not know where exactly it was you currently were. “Uh, Aesop?” you asked, looking at him. The professor chuckled noiselessly: “What? I did tell you we were getting lunch in the small pub nearby. As much as I adore the stew we’ve got back in, eating only one meal all the time gets incredibly tiresome.”

You had to admit he was right in this regard. However, you were way more than a little excited to resume what you started in that meadow, making a little mental list of horizontal and vertical surfaces present in the cottage that might work for your intentions. “Oh,” you replied, “I thought… well…” His eyes connected with yours, knowing and mischievous at the same time: “Patience, my dear. You had a few nice ideas in the morning, and I had some as well, and we’ll be free to indulge in them in just a little bit. But now we need to eat, no point in dropping like flies due to exhaustion and malnutrition because we weren’t able to control ourselves… Besides, I have not cast a cooling charm on my poor trousers earlier just to now completely abandon the idea of having a nice lunch with you.”

You couldn’t help but grin at the thought of him having to cool down after your fiery interaction. He began leading you down a small path, and you soon heard the sound of people chattering and laughing. A small pub appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, nestled cosily among the trees. A couple of horses were whinnying nearby, standing some way in front of you on a dirt road and secured to a cart, out of which a gentleman was currently taking out a wooden crate to most likely deposit inside the pub.

“You two,” an older woman called at you from where she was standing by the door, “have you come to eat?” “That we have,” confirmed Aesop next to you, already leading you towards one of the nearby outside tables. The woman came closer, her hands behind her back. “Before we order,” said the potions master as you sat down onto the bench before the table, “would you please have a vase to lend us for a bit?” —

While Aesop busied himself sorting out the ingredients you collected earlier (“Trust me, while I’d love nothing more than throwing you on that bed right now, if these are not sorted and stored correctly, they’ll be rendered pretty much useless by the time we get back to the castle - professor Weasley knows I don’t make storing mistakes…”, he said), you took in the room once more. Such a curious place - not two things fit together, and it wasn’t exactly tidy, but it held an aura of peace, of comfort. And after yesterday (and hopefully today, and perhaps a bit tomorrow too), you knew you’d always regard this place with a special kind of affection. A place of love and passion, of discoveries, of tenderness. Your eyes once more caught the sight of the tub you noticed under one of the tables yesterday, and you remembered the plan Aesop proposed in the morning. Using your wand, you summoned the tub slowly into the middle of the room, making Aesop look up shortly from his work, which he laid on a desk on the other side of the room (after properly dusting it), shortly, raising an eyebrow. “What?” you grinned at him, “you were the one who proposed a bath. Although…” The tub looked spacious to you the day before, but now as you stood right in front of it, your eyes switching between the object and the tall man by the table, it no longer seemed that big.

“Although I’m not sure just how the two of us will fit in together.” “I’m certain we’ll manage,” Aesop replied with a furtive little smile, “why don’t you climb in, I’ll be done here soon.” And so you started slowly undressing, peeling your layers away and mindfully folding each article of clothing on one of the dressers. You felt his hungry eyes on you the entire time, and while your cheeks kept getting warmer and warmer, you didn’t acknowledge his gaze and instead focused on giving him a nice show, very slowly pulling your blouse over your head, giving him the perfect view of your chemise clinging to your form when you raised your arms.The rustling of him carefully putting away all of the gathered herbs and fungi got quieter and quieter, until it stopped when even the chemise was taken off and you were once more left in all of your naked glory, your body still bearing some signs of your passionate lovemaking yesterday. Your shoulder, in particular, held a perfect imprint of his teeth.

The tub was soon filled with water from your Aguamenti, and you proceeded to warm the water up with a heating charm. Of course, you had to make sure the temperature was perfect, so you were leaning against the tub with one hand in the water, arching your back ever so slightly and providing the professor who happened to stand directly behind you with a rather shameless display.

Finally, you turned to look at him, finding him gripping onto the edge of the desk, eyes dark and almost predatory, jaw hard-set. It was very obvious he was trying to stop himself from outright tackling you on the floor and showing you what you get for your teasing. “I think the temperature is perfect like this, but we can cool it down later if it’s too hot for you,” you chirped innocently, and began climbing into the tub. Slowly you let your body get used to the warm water, lowering yourself into a sitting position inch by inch. You sighed deeply once you were completely submerged, the water lapping sweetly at your shoulders.

“You, my darling,” Aesop spoke, his voice low with arousal, “are an impudent tease…” Yet he seemed a bit calmer now that your body was slightly more hidden from his eyes. Your only reply was a small grin.

You felt content to just lie back and relax for a bit - you wouldn’t admit it, but you did feel ever so slightly sore, and the warmth did wonders for you. The tub felt almost as if it was shaped exactly for you. How would Aesop fit in, you didn’t know. The man in question meanwhile, now free of distractions, finished up his work and systematically put away all of the ingredients you gathered, now perfectly organised and sorted, into a small trunk. You didn’t open your eyes, which you didn’t even realise you closed, even as you heard him slowly limping to where you were reclining in the tub. There was a low huff, and soon you felt his large hand upon the top of your thigh.

You looked at him to find him kneeling on his healthy knee, his chin resting on his free hand. “Did you know that you’re incredibly beautiful like this?” he asked softly, his palm sliding over the skin of your thigh under the surface of the water. Your voice was a mere whisper, the atmosphere taking on a deeply intimate energy: “Like what?”

A smile appeared on his ruggedly handsome face, and his hand rose from the water to stroke your cheek, dampening it: “Like this - flushed from the warmth, your hair getting wet from both the water licking at your shoulders, but also the steam coming off it, happy and relaxed. Completely breathtaking.” And with that, he leaned closer in order to place an incredibly gentle kiss against your pliant lips, content to just brush your mouths against one another for a bit.

He then rose to his feet again, using both hands to brace himself and pull himself up. A slightly surprised look crossed his face shortly at how easily he managed to stand up, but he merely shook his head in dismissal before beginning to shed his own layers. It was your turn to stare, as he once more revealed himself to you, and though his body was scarred and his leg lame, in your eyes he was the epitome of masculine beauty. You unconsciously licked at your lips as he bared himself before your gaze, his shoulders broad, chest strong, lean, nicely sculpted but not overly so, and so deliciously hirsute. You never knew just how attractive you’d find body hair, but the moment you saw him fully, you knew you couldn’t (and didn’t want to) ever imagine him without it.

You reached a tentative hand out, and he stopped folding his shirt to look at you. Putting the shirt away, he took one, two, three small steps over to the tub, so that you were able to touch him, and that’s exactly what you did. Droplets of water from your hand clung to the dark fur of his breast, and your fingers slowly brushed through it. The professor was breathing deeply, his eyes closed as you explored him again. You traced the shape of his muscles, drew a small circle with your thumb around his belly button, dragged your nails through the trail leading from there to his groin, prompting his breath to hitch and his lower stomach to twitch slightly. You then slid your hands over the sharp lines of his hips, before finally moving to undo his trousers and unbutton his pants.

You found him half hard already and throbbing gently, his pink glans just so peeking at you from underneath the foreskin which began to slide back with the member filling up. You sat up further to nuzzle your face into the coarse hair at his pubic bone, tongue coming out to taste the skin there. His scent was heady, heavy and musky, and you found it incredibly intoxicating.

A shudder broke through him at your ministrations, and you felt his cock throb again and stand a bit taller once more. However, just as you dipped your face lower to run your tongue over his root, both of his hands came to close around your head. You weren’t certain whether he meant to push you away, or pull you closer, and it seemed neither was he. In the end, he just held you to himself, breathing heavily, his fingers combing through your hair. You didn’t mind - far from it, actually. You revelled in his warmth, his scent, the salty taste of his skin as your tongue returned to prodding at the hairy skin of his pubic bone, and while you did want to take things further, you understood he had other ideas in mind for now.

“Soon…” he promised, breathless, “bath first…” he finally pulled your head back, and you were able to look at his face. He too was now flushed, his eyes darker than before, yet filled with tenderness: “You are driving me completely mad,” he said only before chasing your lips in a kiss once more.

He then reached for his wand which he laid upon a nearby little table while he was undressing and lightly tapped the edge of the tub. You found yourself squeaking quietly as you fell back a bit - the tub wall you were leaning against moved back, and the piece of furniture stretched itself in length and width, the water level dropping a bit. “Sorry,” he murmured with a grin, and, after ridding himself of the last articles of clothing, climbed in right behind you.

He groaned as he lowered himself into the water, pushing its level up again with his body volume. He then carefully manoeuvred you until your back was snuggly pressed into his chest, his long legs framed your own, his arms curled around your midsection, and his half-hard shaft was nestled between your bodies. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?” you asked quietly, settling into the position. The professor only chuckled behind you, the flush fit of your bodies making you feel the rumble of his chest before you heard it: “I’ve got you in my arms and I’m sitting in a deliciously hot bath - how could I ever be uncomfortable?”

You let your head fall back until the back of it made contact with his shoulder. The professor immediately used this situation to begin pressing soft open-mouthed kisses along the length of your neck, and somehow they managed to be even hotter than the water. A bar of lightly blue soap materialised out of nowhere along with a washcloth that looked to be made from silk. You saw Aesop’s hands emerge from the water to take hold of both items, and then he slowly started lathering your chest with the soap. In the fragrance of it you recognised iris and chamomile, a combination that was very pleasant on your nose.Dropping the washcloth into the water and positioning the soap on the tub’s edge, his hands started spreading the soap around the front of your body, leaving bubbles and pleasure in their wake. The large hands danced around your torso, the touch both simple innocent washing of one’s body, and also incredibly erotic, especially so when his fingers went to tease at your nipples, pebbled from his ministrations. You turned your head to sigh against the skin of his neck.

Once he deemed your torso lathered enough, he took once again hold of the now wet washcloth and started slowly running it down your soapy body. You couldn’t deny that it felt completely incredible to be cared for like so, and found yourself wanting to return the favour. You made to turn around, but Aesop’s gentle hands on your shoulders stopped you.

“I want to wash you too,” you protested softly, prompting the man to chuckle. “I’ll let you,” he promised, “but you first, my sweet. Relax…”

And so you did as you were told and let him very gently manhandle you so that he was able to finish washing your body. His skilled hands managed to loosen some kinks in your back you didn’t even realise you had. Perhaps you had them there for so long, you didn’t even realise they were there anymore. As to when they got there, well, that wasn’t a difficult question to answer.

The first year at Hogwarts left your body in near constant ache; rolling around, dodging (and failing to dodge) enemy attacks, getting banged up during the Keeper trials, and during your many run-ins with poachers, goblins, ashwinders, trolls, the bloody horrible spiders… You wept after the first trial in San Bakar’s tower, bleeding from multiple places, pretty certain you suffered a light concussion. You weren’t sure you were able to handle more. And then it became apparent you had no choice. And you stopped weeping. These days you were faster and stronger, honing your skills during Crossed Wands duels and training sessions rather than battling criminals and goblins whose number greatly diminished following Rookwood and Ranrok’s fall, but it would seem some residue pain remained.

Now however you sighed deeply as Aesop worked his fingers to relieve you of it… You wished it was this simple for his leg too…

“Lean your head back for me, please…” he successfully pulled you out of your thoughts, and without really thinking about his request, you did lean your head back. Soon a herbal scent hit your nose, and you felt coldness running down your scalp. And then those deviously clever fingers were tangled in your hair, spreading the soothingly smelling shampoo through your damp locks, prompting pleasurable gooseflesh to appear at the nape of your neck.

The professor washed you thoroughly, seemingly enjoying himself as much as you were. When he was done, you turned your head in order to capture his lips once more, your faces wet from the light steam coming from the bath. “My turn,” you whispered against his mouth before slowly turning around, mindful not to accidentally sit on his bad leg. Aesop was far less careful and immediately wrapped his arms around you again to pull you to sit almost in his lap.

Following a few more deliciously hot kisses, you looked up at him: “Will you turn around so that I can bathe you as well?” Aesop looked to be thinking about what you said for a moment before a little grin appeared on his flushed lips: “No… I rather think I like having you right here.” His large hands were squeezing the flesh of your hips, the tips of his fingers sliding to the curve of your bottom. You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. Nevertheless you made it work: you reciprocated the attention he lavished on your body earlier, stroking his soapy back and massaging it as well as you could from your position.

You were hardly able to apply the same pressure from where you were sitting, but it seemed that Aesop didn’t mind at all. His eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply, his lips slightly opened and face as relaxed as you only saw it when he was sleeping soundly.

Your hands moved to his front then, and they dipped into the bath before resurfacing again and spreading the hot water over the teacher’s hirsute chest, enjoying the feeling of the soft hair against your fingertips. You watched, deeply fascinated, how he reacted to certain touches. His breath hitched when your thumbs rubbed against his pink nipples, and the corner of his lips twitched when your nails danced on his sides, over his ribs. When you got to his head, your mouth latched onto his neck to press soft, open-mouthed kisses there, using the fact the professor’s head was tipped back.

And afterwards you returned your hands to his chest, except lower. His lower stomach gave a twitch again once your fingers once more teased at the trail of hair running from his belly button towards his crotch. Your hand fit seamlessly around the rapidly filling shaft again, and a gasp cut through the silence of the room. Aesop’s head fell against your shoulder, and his hands stroked at your back and hips. You gently pumped him to full stiffness again, feeling yourself becoming more and more aroused at seeing his cheeks getting even more flushed, his eyebrows arching up, and his face becoming a mask of pleasure.

“Let’s get out of here…” you offered, your voice nothing but a whisper, “I want to taste you…”

Contrasting his previous restraint, Aesop now scrambled to get out of the tub, though he made sure not to maim either of you in the process. Your wand left on one of the dressers, you automatically reached for his to find it buzzing pleasantly in your hand. It wasn’t the same feeling as wielding your own wand, but Aesop’s seemed nevertheless accepting to be handled by you. Casting a quick drying charm on the two of you, you once more put the wand down. Invading Aesop’s personal space, you put your hands on his now-dry chest and pushed him backwards. The teacher seemed content to let you take the lead, his cock standing to full attention and his eyes eating up every inch of your body.

When the back of his knees hit the bed, he swiftly grabbed you by the waist and fell backwards, both of you landing on the pleasantly firm mattress with a few small huffs. Exchanging another heated kiss, your hands slid down his body, the feeling both so new still and yet so familiar already. You then moved to bestow attention upon his skin using your lips, tongue, teeth. Aesop watched with hooded eyes as you slowly made your way down, making sure to pay special attention to places you previously noticed were especially sensitive.

And then you were face level with his groin at last, the large member throbbing every now and then, a small droplet of crystal clear fluid gathering at his exposed tip. He truly was impressively sized, and you wondered whether you’d be able to fit more than a few inches into your mouth. A gentle hand stroked at your hair: “Go slow, love. No matter what you do, know that I’ll be in heaven for every second of it, but I don’t want you to choke yourself on me.

You smiled at him gratefully before giving the shaft another few gentle strokes. And then, finally, you stuck your tongue out to lick a long stripe along his underside, from the root all the way to the dark pink glans, which made Aesop release a choked gasp. As you pressed your lips against him, you savoured the fusion of sensations. Underneath the faint aroma of soap you discovered the subtle taste of his clean, warm skin, his natural scent becoming more and more apparent with each swipe of your tongue against his member, soon overpowering the smell of soap and making you feel light-headed with desire.

A gentle hand landed on your head, and he once more stroked your hair gently, neither pushing nor pulling you as you explored at your own pace. You lifted your head then to connect your eyes - his chocolate orbs were darkened and clouded over by lust, and you held their scorching look as you slowly closed your lips around his tip and rolled your tongue around it.

Aesop’s head fell back and a surprisingly loud groan left his lips: “Bloody hell, (F/N)...”

Encouraged by this, you began to suck on the tip while stroking the rest of his prick with your hand, soon finding a neat rhythm. You could feel his heartbeat in the shaft, and you heard his breathing pick up considerably. Very slowly, you started to take in more of him, bobbing your head and breathing deeply through your nose. You were aware your technique probably wasn’t very elegant - your lips were damp from your saliva and you felt like you weren’t ever going to be able to really take in more than a few inches of him, your throat protesting mildly each time you took in more. Aesop, however, seemed far, far from complaining, soft grunts escaping his open lips, and his hand tightening in your hair without pushing you still.

You were becoming slightly more confident in your ministrations. However, this would come to bite you - or rather it would come to bite your lover… “Ouch! Teeth!” Aesop yelped suddenly, his body tensing giving a violent jerk. You released him immediately and sat up, already feeling panic and guilt rising up within you.

“Blast it, I’m so sorry, Aesop!” came your panicked voice even as you hurriedly wiped at your wet mouth. Your hand came to gently grab at the organ again, trying to see what damage you caused. “Where does it hurt? Will you be alright?”

Aesop took several laboured breaths, his own hand flying down to grip at his shaft. Then however-

A chuckle broke the silence, closely followed by another, and another, and soon he was giggling quietly.

“Over a decade spent as an Auror,” he said between giggles, “many many injuries, one life threatening, and this is the first time I’ve had to worry about my knob, bloody hell!” You couldn’t help it - your own laughter joined in, and you lowered yourself next to him. “I’m sorry,” you repeated.

“You’ve nothing to apologise for,” Aesop answered once his laughter died down. His member was still hard and standing proudly and his hand curled around yours, guiding it up and down slowly. “Before the unfortunate accident, you weren’t doing half bad... I’ll be honest, you were doing really bloody good. Merlin, I- the amount of times just the mental image of you taking me in your mouth was enough to make me…”

You blushed under his words, your thighs quivering shortly as another wave of arousal flowed through you. “Shall I try again?” you asked, watching your hands working his cock leisurely. Aesop hummed: “Do you want to?”

You looked into his eyes. You did want to. You wanted to make him feel good, like he made you feel with his mouth as well… You nodded your head.

“Alright. Cover your teeth with your lips - like this. Takes a while to get right. The occasional scrape can feel fantastic, but a bitten off cock makes for a very unsatisfactory evening.”

“Oi,” you said with a light push to his chest with your free hand, “I didn’t go that hard!” “I saw my life flash before my eyes.” “You’re exaggerating!”

“A little bit. And again, the point is not to choke yourself or take what you can’t. A partner’s death of asphyxiation or dinner suddenly resurfacing on one’s privates are also not ideal outcomes.”

You chuckled incredulously. You had to admit, you adored it when he was being like this; cheeky. Humorous. You leaned in closer and gently dragged your mouth over his in a kiss, your joined hands still teasing him. “Hm… Just take it easy,” Aesop sighed, obviously enjoying himself again, the touching enough to make his eyes flutter and heart beat hard, but not enough to chase him towards his peak, “this isn’t a race, or some, I don’t know, trial. It’s just… making love. Experimenting. Exploring. Seeing what feels good for the other and enjoying ourselves. No rush, no pressure…”

You smiled at him again, using your free hand to caress his cheek before leaning down for another kiss. And then you slid down his body once more - his hand released your own on his shaft, and instead moved to gently stroke at the skin of your shoulder. Covering your teeth with your lips like he showed you, you let his glans slip into your mouth again and immediately started to suck. Slowly you returned to the rhythm you established before the little accident.

You alternated between bobbing your head up and down on the shaft, taking it as far as your gag reflex allowed, and focusing your attention on the leaking tip, your tongue sliding around it, teasing at his slit, even slipping below the foreskin bunched underneath, all the while your hand played with what you weren’t able to fit in your mouth. Experimentally, you let your other hand travel under the member to touch the heavy testicles. When you, very gently, squeezed one of them, a choked curse left Aesop’s mouth and his hand tightened on your shoulder. And to your own surprise - you moaned.

You were so busy minding your teeth, your breathing, so lost in your ardent exploration, you barely had time to notice yourself squeezing your thighs together like your life depended on it, trying to bring some semblance of a friction to your fluttering core. Without thinking, you released his length from your hand while continuing to fellate him inexpertly, in order to slip it between your legs.

Another soft moan was muffled by the hot erection as two fingers of your hand dipped between your drenched folds, soon finding their mark on your swollen lovebud and circling it like you recalled him doing the previous night. It was deliciously decadent, you decided. You felt the slightly bitter taste rolling down your throat as more precum leaked out of his cock, you were beautifully overwhelmed and completely surrounded by his smell, his taste, the only thing you heard were the sounds of his pleasure, and you worked him with your mouth and hand in the same rhythm that you were using to play with your quivering quim.

The sight of you, it would seem, was too much for Aesop. With a loud groan, he gently pried your head away, breathing fast, and you saw the large bollocks drawing up somewhat, and his cock throbbing heavily now. You unconsciously brought up your hand to wipe at your wet chin again and looked up at him with heavy eyes. “Fucking hell, (F/N),” the teacher mumbled, looking at you almost… admiringly, “you drive me mad, love.”

You were certain he could taste himself on your tongue and lips when he pulled you flush atop himself with his strong arms, snogging you in wild abandon, and the knowledge further clouded your already clouded-over mind. You wanted him, and you wanted him now, the nagging sensation in your core had long since transformed into a searing inferno, almost aching, you were desperate to connect your bodies again, to once more climb that mountain of pleasure together and take a leap into the pit of bliss below.

So, filled with anticipation and high on lust, you moved to straddle his hips, separated your mouths in order to grab on the large erection and guide it within yourself.

“Sweetheart, wait-”

Aesop’s mind cleared enough to see what your intention was and he tried to stop you. In vain.

Before he was able to firmly grasp your hips to keep you from sinking onto his length, you have already impaled yourself on it entirely. And you now knew just why he tried to stop you.

Burning pain in your most sensitive place forced a choked yelp out of your mouth and your entire body tensed. Fuck! You very nearly doubled over, your fingernails digging into Aesop's stomach.

“B-bloody hell, (F/N)!” Aesop grit out, torn between the blissful feeling of being completely enveloped by your tight (way way too tight) walls and being deeply concerned for your wellbeing, “you hurt yourself, didn't you?! Get off, come on!”

He was trying to push you off of him, though his hands lacked the strength they usually had. You did not want to get off. You were in pain, yes, you felt like you were going to split open around him, but you really did not want to call it quits. What if he didn't want to make love with you afterwards in worry of hurting you further? No, no, you didn't want to just toss the towel in like this.

“N-no…” you managed to get out, your breaths shuddery. “Don't be silly, sweetheart, get off, there's no point in hurting yourself!” Aesop attempted to reason, but you simply wouldn't budge, breathing through the ache and trying to relax around the fleshy intruder. After a few seconds spent in such silence you could've heard a pin drop, Aesop sighed.

The professor sniffed loudly through his nose, and quite awkwardly began shifting, slowly so as not to cause you too much further pain. It took several grunts from him and a few quiet mewls from you, but in the end, he managed to bend his legs at the knees and sit up on them. You cringed: this position probably wasn't doing any good to his leg. He, however, seemed more bothered about you still having your face screwed up in discomfort rather than his own pain.

A pair of comforting arms came to slowly wrap around your waist, his hands stroking the soft skin, and you let him enfold you in an embrace. The hair on the side of your head fanned slightly following his exhale: “My silly girl,” he said gently, rather than reprimanding, “did you think that just because we made love once, you no longer needed preparing, stretching?” You didn't say anything, only hid your face at the crook of his neck and swallowed audibly.

“Merlin's beard, lass…” he sighed, “you're young, fit… so bloody tight… it's going to take time before you're ready to take me in without preparation and feel no discomfort. And even then I'll always make sure that you're ready, every single time, because the last thing I want is to accidentally hurt you… Besides, I greatly enjoy pushing you over the edge with my hands and mouth…”

It was your turn to sniff, though you didn't raise your head from where it was resting: “I… couldn't wait…” Your lover clicked his tongue, his warm hands drawing nonsensical patterns over your back. “You, always so patient and meticulous in everything you do, and you throw it aside to make love with me? My sweet, if you weren't still all tensed up with pain, I would've been nearly flattered… Does it still hurt?”

Instead of answering, you nodded your head, your arms thrown around his shoulders loosely.

Suddenly, his warm lips connected with the skin of your neck, directly under your ear. Aesop began placing soft kisses and feather-light bites there, all the while still stroking your body with his hands. His coarse fingers slid from your back to your front instead, teasing at the curve of your breasts and sending ripples of excitement through you. “Try to focus on the way I'm touching you and relax… I'll make it better…”

You tried your hardest, but it was frankly difficult to focus on anything else than the discomfort. You were so stupid - of course what Aesop said made sense, why on Earth would you think that just because this was not your first time anymore, you were ready to just go at it immediately? Well, the books said the first time can be painful, but they did not mention the second time, so that at least played in the favour of your wit. Still, you should have been smarter.

“Shhh…” Aesop breathed into your ear, his hot breath on your sensitive earlobe causing you to shiver slightly, “stop thinking. Focus on my hands, on my mouth… “ You gave a nod and indeed tried your best to fully cling to the feeling of his large hands stroking your breasts, weighing them, giving them a little squeeze, before thumbing at your nipples, pebbled and sensitive. The amazing mouth attached to your neck, uneven teeth scraping and pinching at the skin, leaving hotness in their wake.

“You’re so beautiful,” you felt before you heard Aesop’s words as they rumbled in his chest. “You’ve no idea how much I imagined this. Imagined you. Not only in this position, but so, so many others. You’ve been driving me completely insane with craving for your touch.” His words were quiet, almost too quiet for you to hear, but you did your best to strain your ears to hear them. Because they worked. You were no longer so focused on your ache, and you wanted to hear more, wanted him to keep talking to you in that completely delicious voice of his that made you weak in the knees. Despite the discomfort, hearing him say he imagined making love to you in many positions made your walls flutter and flex around him, as well as further dampen with lust.

“H-how did you imagine me?,” you whispered back. An unexpected moan left your lips as a clever hand made its way between your bodies and slid to your core, curious fingers teasing at your seam which was so snuggly wrapped around the large member before coming up to gently prod and rub at your clit.

Aesop hummed, his fingers now fully circling the lovebud: “As I said - in all kinds of positions. I imagined taking you in my classroom many times - bent over my desk, leaving scratches on the wood with your nails. You sitting upon your potions station with my head between your thighs. Your back pressed against the cold stony walls of the dungeons…” With each new little fantasy Aesop shared, you felt the pain and discomfort lessening, and your core fluttering with excitement instead. And it was obvious recalling the things he imagined doing to you had the same effect on him from the throbbing of his erection.

“I imagined you sitting on my face and riding it while sucking on my cock at the same time… And hiding beneath the table, kneeling between my legs while I teach… However, that truly is only a dirty fantasy.” he chuckled softly. You weren’t able to chuckle, the deep blush on your face, the sensations of his hands, and his filthy thoughts voiced aloud making you rather unable to properly focus on anything else. And yet, you opened your (way too dry) mouth to speak: “A-and…. And everything e-else?”

“Everything else and more, my sweetest, I fully intend to bring into reality,” And with that he bucked his hips, forcing a choked moan from somewhere at the back of your throat.

“Mhm! How was that?” the teacher asked, pleasure dripping from his voice like molten lava, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. Slowly, you caught your breath, your brain fogged from the strong sensations coursing through your body. And soon you realised that pain and discomfort wasn’t among them. You felt impossibly full, like the night before, but otherwise the feeling of your walls stretched around his cock, big and hard, and the throbbing of your core and clit were making you crave more, more of that sweet feeling. Aesop’s hand gently stroked your heated cheek, thumb coming down to trace your opened lips: “Sweetheart?”

“It’s…” you took a breath, “it’s alright… No more pain.” Aesop smiled, and leaned in for a gentle kiss. “How do you want me? Shall I take it from here, or do you want to proceed with your original plan?” he inquired, the words hotly whispered against your mouth. You thought for a moment - Aesop obviously knew best what to do, how to make both of you feel good… But then again, you wanted to learn it too, how to make your steamy union as good for each other as you possibly could… Finally, you kissed him back before lightly pushing on his chest, motioning for him to lie down on his back again.

He lowered his upper body once more, looking up at you devotedly: “If at any point it becomes too much, if you get tired, or want to stop entirely, please tell me. You’ve nothing to prove, to me or anyone. This is about us, and will only be nice if both of us are comfortable…”

You gazed down at him, your heart fluttering with love - he was obviously aroused beyond reason, throbbing where he filled you, and yet all he focused on was your comfort and your pleasure. You loved him. Body and soul, in your eyes he was the most perfect man in this large, chaotic world. The love filled your chest, your heart, it was rolling through you like a tsunami, and it was this feeling that made your hands brace on his stomach, firm muscles underneath a soft layer of skin and flesh, and raise your hips only to bring them back down, impaling yourself on him once more. Unlike before, no more pain came, and instead two groans of pleasure mingled in the air as they cut through the silence of the room.

You repeated the motion a few times, each one becoming more and more familiar and pleasant. Aesop’s hands were now stroking your hips, fingers only slightly digging into your skin in time with your thrusts: “Oh, my sweet…” he sighed, his handsome face flushed and a drop of sweat glistening upon his brow, “find your rhythm, try different angles to make yourself feel good.”

Nodding slightly in agreement, you began rolling your hips in different angles, searching for that one spot Aesop found deep within you yesterday, the one that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back into your head. You could feel its presence within you, the friction making you aware of it lightly pulsing, desperately trying to guide you. In the meantime, you managed to find a pleasurable rhythm, one that made your breath draw quicker, your own fingertips digging into Aesop’s belly and the hair there. Angling your hips again, you suddenly felt like a lightning bolt struck right through you, like you were doused with a bucket of cold water, immediately followed by a bucket of hot one, and you gave a full-body shudder.

“There you are…” Aesop said, voice almost proud, “such a clever lass…”

You gave a long exhale and repeated the motion, the pleasure upon each roll of your hips making a little gasp leave your mouth, soft sounds that you weren’t able to hold in as you rode your older lover. Aesop’s hands took to wandering, and he was looking up at you in a deeply appreciative manner, obviously enjoying seeing you bouncing atop his cock like you did. The hands gently took hold of your breasts, enjoying the way they moved along with you. Calloused thumbs and fingers began rubbing and squeezing at the pink pearls, adding yet another sensation to the already bubbling and boiling mix of desire. It felt like every single place the teacher touched was connected by an invisible wire, and that all of these wires led down to your fluttering, drenched core. Aesop spread his legs somewhat, and you felt his thighs against your bottom as he braced his feet upon the mattress to be able to join you in your efforts.

“Like this, yeah?” he asked in a deep, throaty voice as he plunged his own hips against yours. You didn’t feel able to reply verbally, so instead you only tightened your fingers on his stomach and adjusted to the new speed he was gently introducing. In this new angle, while his tip was still brushing against that bundle of nerves within you, your clit was also rubbing against his pubic hair, increasing the sensation again.

“Oh by Merlin, darling… You’re so perfect like this,” he groaned, arching his neck somewhat upon a particularly deep thrust, “taking your pleasure, flushed in all the right places, so bloody tight.”

Aesop proceeded to curl one hand around the back of your neck, pulling you down and closer to him, all the while your hips continued moving together, bringing pleasure to both of you. He chased your lips for another kiss, this one not nearly as gentle as the previous ones. No, this one was heated, hungry, almost possessive. At that moment you knew that while he was sometimes still hesitant to make his claim on you, he was very much desperate to, desperate to make you his own, forever. You accepted his tongue into your mouth, and engaged it in a short battle for dominance before yielding to it, letting the teacher taste you, plunging his tongue between your lips in the same rhythm in which his hard shaft was disappearing in your quivering depths.

His mouth latched onto your neck then, biting and sucking, digits instead gripping onto your back and shoulders, not letting you move away from him. Not that you wanted to. You sped up your movements further, starting to feel that coil within your core beginning to form and grow tighter. Unlike yesterday, there were no vines of pure light and magic swirling around your bodies, but it didn’t make the experience any less intense or pleasurable. The opposite was true, actually. While you were getting quickly overwhelmed, your body preparing for an earth-shattering orgasm, you weren’t as absolutely blinded by the raging inferno of sensations like you were yesterday, and could therefore appreciate some things more…

Like the way Aesop’s breathing began to hitch, and the way his voice got ever so slightly higher when a soft moan escaped his kiss-bruised lips. The way his eyes (so, so bloody dark) began to flutter, dark eyelashes fanning against his flushed cheeks. The way his member throbbed and pulsed inside you, and the way his hips twitched, as if he was stopping himself from taking over for you. You were grateful to him, for allowing you to take control, for his restraint, for his love, for him.

“I love you,” you whimpered, your pleasure mounting higher with every passing second, your eyes boring into his, even as they grew slightly unfocused.

He could only moan in response, arms coming to wrap even tighter around your back, your bodies now pressed together, your skin, damp with perspiration, sliding against that of the other with ease.

“Come on, sweetheart,” the professor pleaded breathlessly, his face visibly contorting with pleasure as he got closer and closer, “come on, please, come for me. Come for me, my love…”

And just like that your back arched, his pleasure-laced words tipping you over the edge and plunging you into a sea of gratification. You wanted to dip your face into the crook of his neck and muffle the moans that were leaving your mouth, but Aesop wouldn’t have that - his hands closed around the sides of your head, pulling you up so that he could watch your face, your eyes, so that he could hear you. “That’s right, my sweet... Mhm! F-fuck I'm coming,” he groaned, his own hips still rocking against yours relentlessly.

And then, suddenly, he used his considerable strength to flip the two of you over. He let go of your face in order to grab your hips again, roughly so, and started penetrating you at a hard, quick pace, all the while keeping your eyes connected while he chased his own climax, your own still crashing through you. It took less than a dozen hard thrusts before his large body shuddered atop you, and you felt his hot seed spill deep within you and mix with your own release. Your still contracting walls seemed to be intent on getting every last drop of him, milking him almost, and your thighs were shaking wildly on both sides of his hips.

Finally, the wild waves of pleasure began to subside, and sweet relief replaced them, little by little. Your head lolled to the side, and your lungs burned as you took in large gulps of air. Your body was tingling with residue bliss, feather-like shivers dancing over your most sensitive areas. Aesop’s body was pressing yours into the mattress, but you were far from caring. Wetness was leaking out of your opening as your lover’s shaft began to soften and shrink a bit, and your hearts started to slow down, beating synchronously against one another’s chest.

After a few minutes, Aesop raised his head from where it landed upon your chest, and connected your lips in a positively filthy kiss, all tongues and teeth. “I love you,” he whispered against your mouth, his hands once more coming to grab on your face, thumbs rubbing against the apples of your cheeks. You only opened your eyes when he pulled back, still a little unfocused from your climax. “You were incredible…” Aesop smiled softly. You thought he looked breathtakingly beautiful in his afterglow, hair all messy and slightly damp at the roots, his face and body still slightly flushed, on his face an expression of peace and serenity, like everything apart from the two of you was completely unimportant, if not nonexistent entirely.

“Abso. Lutely. Breath. Taking,” he whispered then, punctuating his words with a series of kisses placed upon your neck and your collarbone. You felt entirely boneless, unsure of your very ability to move. Then again, that might have been because you had a rather large and heavy former Auror resting atop you. Nevertheless, you managed to lift your arms just enough to tangle your hands into his hair, messing it up further.

A few more minutes passed before Aesop, very reluctantly, unsheathed himself from within your body. You grimaced slightly, once more feeling rather empty, gaping open almost. Unlike yesterday, however, instead of rolling to the side, Aesop scooted back to sit on his heels between your still spread legs. His eyes fell to your weeping opening, and he smirked ever so slightly, his now soft shaft giving the tiniest little twitch. And though you knew it was deep appreciation and attraction with what he was observing the proof of your pleasure, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit embarrassed at the level of exposure, and unconsciously made an attempt to close your legs. Aesop, of course, noticed immediately, and, instead of putting his hands on your knees to keep them open, gave you an apologetic smile: “I’m sorry, dear - let me get my wand, I’ll clean us up.”

“S-sorry,” you called out to him, watching as he rose from the bed in all his naked glory, his limp, while still very much there, seeming less pronounced than it usually was. You couldn’t help but drink him all in. He truly was like a marble statue of some Greek god… Well, maybe except for all the fur… and the size of, well… “Don’t you dare ever apologise for letting me know you’re uncomfortable with something, or that you don’t want something. I mean that, (F/N),” Aesop replied, his expression deadly serious. Normally, this expression would be a cue for you to start listening attentively and take notes in his class. However, now it didn’t quite have the same effect, seeing as he was as nude as the day he was born.

So instead you cracked a smile. The professor couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, before sending the scouring charm on your spent bodies. He proceeded to deposit his wand onto the nightstand and once more climb onto the bed. He settled, once more, between your legs, bracing himself on his forearms next to your sides so that he did not crush you under himself again. “I really do mean that, though. If, at any point, something doesn’t feel right, you don’t feel comfortable, or you’re not alright with me doing something, please… Please, tell me immediately. I cannot stress this enough. Promise?”

You gave him a grateful smile: “A-alright. I promise. Though it’s… a little silly. One moment I’m, um, I’m on top and we’re making love, and the next I feel… embarrassed to have you look at my…”

“It’s not silly. My sweet girl,” the teacher now rolled onto his side and turned you towards him: “You’re new to all of this. Some things are within your comfort zone, and some simply aren’t. Some things will stop making you uncomfortable as you find your footing, and some things you may never be alright with. And that’s okay. It’s important we talk about things, and are honest with one another, so that both of us can feel happy and safe together. Do you understand?”

You nodded in reply, curling against his strong body and putting your hand onto his warm side.

“Is there anything you feel uncomfortable doing?” you couldn’t help but inquire curiously. “Me?” Aesop asked, a mischievous grin in his voice, “oh, absolutely not, I’m a lecherous bastard, I am.” A laugh escaped both of your mouths. “No, no, really. I am certain there are many things I wouldn’t be alright with, but that’s for the two of us to explore together. If you want to, of course.”

“I’d love to…”

You spent several minutes just holding onto one another, quite comfortable in your nakedness, your bodies warming one another and fitting, in your opinion, perfectly. Your hand coursed through the hair on his chest fascinatedly, and Aesop seemed content to just rest his eyes for a bit.

“I admire your self control…” You said after a short while, your hand leaving his chest and seeking his own that was resting upon your hip instead. The potions master didn’t waste any time and linked your fingers, squeezing your hand gently: “Don’t,” he replied quietly, “when you were bent over that tub, I was about this close to just jumping to you, grabbing your hips, and having my way with you right then…”

You shivered where you lay - the mental picture was definitely something you’d like to come back to later: “I wouldn’t have minded…”

A little guffaw broke through Aesop’s chest at your, most likely naive, words: “Now we know the situation wouldn’t have been a pleasant one for you... All in a good time,” he soothed, squeezing your hand once more and opening his eyes to look at you. “It might be a bit difficult finding time to be together when we get back to the castle, especially with NEWTs coming up, but… But I’ll do my best to be able to be with you. And not only to make love to you.”

“But we can do that, right?” you nevertheless asked, prompting another short laugh from your lover. “Try and stop me,” he said, grinning, “It’s just a few more months, and then… then we’ll have all the time in the world. No more hiding and sneaking around. Not a thousand Ashwinders or an army of Garreth Weasley’s clones intent on pinching all of the contents of my stores will be able to keep me from coming to you the moment I am able to.”

“I love you,” you breathed again, pulling him for another prolonged kiss. You were, once again, getting lost in him, in his scent, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his strong body against your smaller one. Aesop pulled back after some time, looking slightly perplexed: “I have a confession to make - what I said before - that wasn't entirely true."

You fixed him with a curious look: "Hm? What do you mean?” Aesop looked rather sheepish all of a sudden, his hand finding yours again, and fiddling with your own fingers. He looked down at it and took a deep breath: "That this was the first time I've ever had to worry about my... you know. After Scarborough, I was in so much pain I... Well, I was fairly certain I had been rendered impotent..."

You didn’t react immediately - you know how difficult it was for him to discuss Scarborough and its aftermath, so you didn’t want to deter him from confiding in you because of too much curiosity or too many uncomfortable questions, so you simply settled with: "Really?"

The professor nodded, still not meeting your eyes: "Yes... It was about... a year and a few months before I truly... felt any sort of stir, anything…” he finally raised his eyes to look at you, the look in the pensive, wistful almost. “Back then though... Back then I thought it hardly mattered anyway, because there was no way any woman would desire me ever again..."

You clicked your tongue softly, and carefully put your hand on his right cheek, experimentally almost, to see if he was comfortable with you touching his scar. You were glad when he closed his eyes again and leaned into your gentle touch. "I'm sorry…” you spoke, so softly he barely heard you, “You know I desire you greatly, right? with every single fibre of my being, scars and a wounded leg and all... but please know I would've loved you even if your suspicions turned out to be true."

Aesop’s breath hitched ever so slightly, his arms tightened around you, and he seemed to momentarily hide his face in the crook of your neck. In a voice so quiet you nearly struggled to hear he said: "I wouldn't even dare take you for myself then. I could not bear having you and not be able to satisfy you. I know all kinds of love exist, but… the erotic part of a romantic relationship is just as important as the emotional one.”

You weren’t sure you could imagine it properly. You were very happy just holding him, kissing him, being in his presence. However, it was undeniable that at some point (and you weren’t even certain whether that was before or after the two of you took the leap of faith and began your clandestine affair) you began to crave, and you craved him a lot. It was a difficult topic to both discuss and ponder, and while you were quite interested to hear more on what he had to say on the matter, you sensed that it was comfort Aesop craved now, more than anything else. Not to mention your brain was still swimming in endorphins, and it wasn’t exactly easy to fire it up again. So, settling for a lighthearted tone, you said: "As we both know by now, you do an excellent job of satisfying even without ever pulling it out of your pants,” Aesop snorted at your choice of words, “However, as we also know now, you, Aesop Sharp, are far from impotent."

"Oh, that I am..."

Another shiver broke through your body at his tone, so very different than the one before, almost like a low sort of growl.

And then his lips were claiming yours once more.

And Aesop would prove his perfectly healthy potency to you again.

—

Truth be told, you were rather sore as the two of you made your way out of the cottage. You both made sure the space was left neat and tidy (well, as neat and tidy as it was when you first came), that the sheets were clean and fresh (and they indeed were in need of washing by the time you prepared to leave), that the dishes were washed and sorted in the correct cupboards, and, of course, than no article of clothing or any collected ingredients were left behind.

You did notice that Aesop wasn’t reaching into his pockets for a dose of Wiggenweld potions for his pain as often as he normally would, which was curious. The man himself, however, didn’t seem quite this aware of it. There was a look of contentness and calm within his dark eyes, and his features looked even more relaxed than normally when it was just the two of you. Truth be told, you were quite worried that absolutely everyone would be able to know just what you were doing this weekend by just looking at your face, on which you felt a near constant smile, perhaps even a light flush.

The flowers he gifted you were safely stored in your pack under a stasis spell, so that you could display them in the Room of Requirement later.

The short journey to the front of the cottage, where there was enough space to safely apparate to Hogsmeade felt like a hike through mountains, difficult and harrowing, and yet it passed way, way too quickly. Both of you stopped in place, listening to the sounds of the forest and the wind, just sort of lost in your own heads.

“So… This is it. Holiday over,” you said, attempting to lighten the mood. Aesop hummed in reply. A few more seconds passed before you noticed him putting down the trunk of gathered ingredients and turning towards you. His hands took hold of you firmly, possessively even, and he quickly proceeded to snog the living daylights out of you.

“We’re being a little ridiculous,” he said after several minutes, breathless. You gave him a questioning look.

“We’re acting as if this was some sort of ending, even though we’re at the very beginning,” Aesop chuckled then, fingers stroking your hips through your clothes. “I intend to keep the promise I made,” the teacher continued, “I’ll do my bloody best to ensure we’re able to be together, be it for just a few minutes or days on end. We both know what would be preferable, but a dose of realism is, I think, needed in order not to be disappointed all the time.”

You had to agree with him there. The term end exams were one thing, but having to deal with NEWTs as well would surely prove to be a rather hectic experience. “I’ll do my best too,” you in turn promised. “You make sure you complete your studies - I want no less than five O’s from you, because I know you’re perfectly capable of getting them,” he insisted with a small smile, “and after that…”

“After that we’ll be able to be together fully. No more hiding around,” you completed and Aesop nodded his head.

He then fished out a pocket watch from his chest pocket, looking at its arms shortly: “Come. We have to disapparate soon if we want to enter the castle’s walls by the time the dinner in the Great Hall is in full swing.” And with that he picked up his trunk once more. “Why do we want to arrive in the middle of dinner?” you questioned, unconsciously patting yourself down to ensure you had all of your possessions. Aesop connected your eyes, and once more were you hit with the sheer intensity of them.

“So nobody sees me dragging you off to my chambers, of course.”

—

“Ah, there he is - told you he’d turn up eventually,” said Abraham Ronen with a smile as he stood in the doorway to the Great Hall with Dinah Hecat. “Must’ve come back very late indeed, seeing as I was told Miss (L/N)’s bed was very much empty last night, and the young woman herself was only occupying it when Miss Dale woke in the morning…” the DADA teacher replied with a sly smirk. “Now, Dinah, don’t tell me you’re sending your Eagles to spy on each other are you?” spoke Ronen again.

“Not spy, merely inform me - after all, Miss (L/N) was away from school for the weekend, and I wanted to ensure she returned safely.”

“And it would seem she indeed did, just quite a bit later than originally expected.” “Or, she returned right on time and simply spent her night elsewhere?”

“Do you reckon so?” “Just look at him, Abraham. That is the face of a man whose dry spell just ended. And yet he still hadn’t shared the good news with the two of us… Let’s see if we can get a reaction out of him, what do you say?”

---

Thank you so much for reading. You can also check this story and all of my other stories over on my AO3 ❤

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