#professor sharp x reader

[mrs-sharp]

Everytime you realise your favourite fictional character is... fictional.

#gaming #fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #fanart #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts legacy #professor aesop sharp #aesop sharp #fallout #professor sharp #fallout 4 #paladin danse #danse #nick valentine #fallout nick valentine #ignis scientia #final fantasy xv #newt scamander #newt scamander x reader #aesop sharp x mc #aesop sharp x reader #professor sharp x oc #professor sharp x reader #professor snape #snape

[julietpricee]

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

[animasola86]

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

[seriouslysnape]

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

[expectodragons]

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

[raven-awed]

Defense Lessons

Professor Aesop Sharp x fem reader

Summary: Sharp offers Defense Against the Dark Art lessons to J. Pippin’s new employee.

A/n: Couldn’t resist writing for this sexy professor. I’m hoping to write a part 2! Thank you @minichrismd for the help!

*Not my picture

Professor Sharp opened the door to his office and shuffled in. With a flick of his wand the candles and lanterns illuminated.

His office was immaculate, as usual, a potion master's paradise. His shelves were stocked full of every ingredient imaginable, from Ashwinder eggs to Wormwood essence. There wasn’t a single conceivable potion he wouldn’t be able to brew with this stock.

He sighed, glancing down at the full bag he lugged into Hogwarts with him and dropped it carelessly onto the floor. Slowly, he moved to the attached closet, glaring at the door before pulling it open. A frown formed on his face as looked at the crammed shelves and the materials spilling over onto the ground.

Sharp was completely aware that he didn’t have the space for any more ingredients, but he couldn’t resist stopping at J. Pippin’s when he saw that y/n was tending the counter.

That’s how this whole mess started in the first place.

Roughly a month ago he had gone in to purchase Dugbog Tongues, as he no longer felt up to venturing into the Forbidden Forest to hunt down his own. Afterall, he wasn’t a spry wizard anymore, unable to maneuver through the thick woods or climb like he used to, especially with his limp.

When the door chimes had rang over his head, he wasn’t greeted by the familiar face of Mr. Pippins, but the warm smile of a lovely stranger. The gruff professor nodded politely as she welcomed him in and introduced herself as Mr. Pippin’s new assistant.

Her good mood must have been infectious because he soon found himself making small talk with her. She had easily impressed him with her potion’s knowledge and her eagerness to learn and improve. Perhaps if his students were more like her, he’d have more hope for the future.

He huffed again, looking at his recent purchases on the floor. Now everytime he found himself in Hogsmeade, he made some sort of excuse to see her. He dragged a hand over his face, he was too old to be acting like such a fool. He shouldn’t be getting so worked up over a pretty face anymore, even if she was pleasant to talk to.

Grabbing the new supplies from the floor, he unceremoniously shoved them in the closet and slammed the door shut. He’d deal with that some other time.

In fact, a certain red headed Gryffindor came to mind, he’ll be overjoyed the next time he sneaks in here to steal ingredients. Sharp could just let him know everything in the closet up for grabs, but it was more fun to make him work for it. That Weasley boy would rob him blind if Sharp isn’t careful.

The week progressed as usual, lessons, potion brewing, sending students with minor burns or cuts to the hospital wing. One student had managed to singe his eyebrows off, it was probably the most memorable event of the week.

By the weekend, Professor Sharp was ready for a break, he went to the Three Broomsticks by himself and had a few drinks. He didn’t see y/n on his way over when he passed the potion shop, just Mr. Pippin assisting a couple of customers.

He sighed as he finished his last drink of brandy, setting the empty glass on the bar and rising to his feet.

The autumn air was brisk and the sun was beginning to set as he started walking back to the castle. On the bright side, he saved a few galleons by not spending anything at J Pippin’s, that man already has enough of his salary.

As he slowly headed back to the castle, Sharp froze when he spotted y/n walking towards him, or to be more precise towards Hogsmeade.

A wide friendly smile made its way on her face as she waved at him. “Good evening, Professor Sharp!”

He nodded, “Evening.”

She looked a little less composed than normal, her hair a slightly out of place with leaves sticking out, she was wearing pants instead of her typical uniform she wore at the shop, and there was mud caked onto her boots.

“Did I miss you at the shop?” She asked, her voice was light and sweet. “I was just out collecting some ingredients in the forest.” She held up her sack.

He shook his head, “I’m already set for the week with ingredients.” And probably for the rest of the year, he thought to himself.

They continued to walk towards each other, meeting halfway. Sharp narrowed his eyes and immediately pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket, “You’re bleeding.”

“Oh?” Y/n blinked in surprise while the older man began to clean the blood from her temple.

“What happened out there?” He asked firmly, on the outside he appeared as calm and collected as ever, but he’d be lying if he said that his pulse didn’t start racing at the sight of y/n hurt.

“Poachers,” she answered quietly. “Didn’t know I was so close to their camp before they attacked.”

Sharp frowned, lifting the handkerchief to get a better look at the wound. The cut was long and gushing blood, there also appeared to be some dirt mixed in.

“I’m alright, really I am,” she tried to reassure him, placing her hand on his.

“We should go to the hospital wing, have the nurse check it,” he suggested.

“It’s just a scratch-“

“There are all sorts of things out there in those woods, could get infected if you’re not careful,” he explained. “Come on.”

“But I should really take these back-“

“Your health is more important,” Sharp pointed out. “Parry will understand.”

Sharp escorted y/n to the castle and up to the hospital wing. He lingered while she was examined, sitting quietly with his brow furrowed, while he mulled things over.

It wouldn’t be reasonable for him to ask her not to go back, especially with her line of work. Perhaps he could suggest that next time he could accompany her, however, as a retired auror he knew that dangerous witches and wizards were everywhere, not just lurking in the Forbidden Forest.

From what he had seen y/n had proven to be a capable witch, skilled at potions and quite knowledgeable about other subjects, maybe with more support she could learn to properly defend herself. She most likely knew the basics, but he could show her a few more advanced spells, help her be prepared for next time.

Sharp cleared his throat, his dark eyes locking onto hers as the nurse finished treating the wound. “Starting next week, I’d like to offer you lessons.”

Y/n lifted her brow and tilted her head, “Potion lessons?”

“Defense against the dark arts lessons,” he stated, rising to his feet. “With some practice, I’ll have you ready to take on any dark witch or wizard.”

He acquired a practice dummy from Professor Hecat and brought it up to his classroom. He flicked his wand and all the tables and potion stations moved to the side clearing the space in the center of the classroom.

They met once a week for lessons, Sharp taught y/n advanced spells that were not part of the basic curriculum as well as strategies he had used back when he was auror. Sometimes two seemingly unrelated spells could be a powerful combination if used in the right order at the right moment.

Sharp’s main goal was to get y/n more accustomed to using these spells, make it so it was second nature for her to defend and attack if posed with a threat. The only way for that to happen was practice, lots and lots of practice.

Her nerves and discomfort were apparent from the beginning. Her hand would tremble slightly each time she attempted to produce a combat spell.

“Defensive magic wasn’t exactly my favorite while in school,” she explained one day as Sharp pushed the practice dummy in front of her. “Was always too much pressure, too much risk, I didn’t want to accidentally hurt anyone.”

Sharp sighed, “Unfortunately the world doesn’t share that mindset, cause out there,” he gestured to the window, “There are plenty of witches and wizards who couldn’t care less who they hurt, and if you’re not prepared, you’ll wind up injured again or worse because of one of them.”

Y/n nodded, taking his words in, she hadn’t shared with him how shaken up she had been after the attack. In all honesty, she was quite scared that something like that would indeed happen again.

“Let’s retry that spell,” he directed. “And no holding back this time. It’s important to have conviction when casting, remember that.”

Y/n practices the spell a few more times, getting better with each turn. She wondered if Sharp is this patient with his actual students; she had graduated from Hogwarts before he took on the role of Potions Master.

“You’re improving,” Sharp pointed out as they finished for the evening. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Good night Professor Sharp,” y/n smiled, heading towards the door.

He frowned for a brief moment. “Y/n?” He called.

“Yes,” she answered, spinning around on her heels to face him.

“You know, it’s unnecessary for you to call me ‘professor’,” he said, his hands clasped behind his back. “You aren’t my student.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” y/n pursed her lips for a moment. “Mr. Sharp…?” She addressed him, but unsure as the words left her mouth.

“Aesop would suffice.” His eyes remained as cool as ever, but in truth the matter had been bothering him for quite sometime now. Her referring to him as Professor Sharp presented a hierarchy when there shouldn’t be one, or at least he didn’t want her to think there was one.

“Oh, alright,” she responded, a little wide eyed, heart fluttering more than it should. “Good night Aesop.”

A barely noticeable half smile formed on his lips as he prepared his classroom for the following morning, it even remained as he retired for the night.

In the weeks that followed, Sharp observed y/n’s growth, she had become more confident and casted spells with ease. But besting a dummy in the safety of a classroom was nothing like a real duel.

“Today we will be doing something different,” he explained while shucking off his coat and laying it on the back of his desk chair.

Y/n tilted her head, face heating up as Aesop also removed his tie and vest. “What did you have in mind exactly?”

“Dueling,” he answered with a smirk.

Her face fell, “Me duel you?”

His smirk grew, “I’ll go easy on you, but this is the best way to see how you’d fare in an actual fight.” Aesop drew his wand, “Ready?”

Y/n raised her wand but she hesitated to cast a spell, Sharp, however, didn’t.

“Expelliarmus,” he shouted.

“Protego,” she responded just in the nick of time, deflecting the curse.

Flashes of lights lit up the classroom as the duel evolved into a dance as they circled each other. There wasn’t a single pause or lull between spells.

“Depulso!” Y/n blinked in surprise when the spell actually landed, sending Aesop flying back. Immediately she rushed over.

“Aesop!” She knelt beside him, her hands cupping his face as he groaned slightly. “Are you hurt?”

Her touch was so light and gentle as she cradled his head. It had been quite a long time since anyone touched him like this.

Looking up at her so close to him, his face began heating up. Sharp cleared his throat, “I’m fine.”

“Looks like you can hold your own in a fight,” he commented, rising to his feet and dusting himself off. He frowned for a moment as his own words sunk in. “I suppose that means you don’t need anymore lessons,” he explained solemnly.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she agreed, with a hint of disappointment in her voice.

They both stood at the doorway, realizing that they wouldn't be seeing each other anytime soon.

Sharp could try to go back to the shop, but he knew after spending so much time in his classroom that she had noticed his well stocked shelves. He racked his brain for another excuse to spend time with her but he was drawing a blank.

He sighed, glancing at y/n, she had probably had other things to do tonight, “Well, good night-“

“We should get drinks!” Y/n chirped, interrupting him. Her face revealing her excitement over the prospect. “To celebrate and as a thank you!”

“As a thank you?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Yes! For teaching me how to properly defend myself! Nothing big,” she rattled on. “Just drinks and maybe dinner. Does next week work for you at the Three Broomsticks?”

Aesop smiled, “See you next week.”

#aesop sharp #aesop sharp x reader #professor sharp #professor sharp x reader #female reader #reader insert #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic

[jesuschristwhatsgoingon]

Diffindo?More like DILF-indo?Haha get it???

This man is so fucking fine and can (disrespectfully)Descendo my back anytime

Edit:Did everyone get Hogwarts Legacy for Christmas because the amount of notes have drastically increased since Christmas lol

#I’m so down bad for this fucking man and it’s not even funny #game please give me a chance to treat this man right #cue ’After Last Night’ #Aesop Sharp #Professor Sharp #Aesop Sharp x reader #professor sharp x reader #hogwarts legacy

[sweetsreverie]

Lunch Visitor

Pairing: Aesop Sharp x Professor!Reader Requested? Nope, this is a little self-indulgent piece tbh Plot: Aesop has been stopping by your classroom during lunch lately.

Aesop started coming to your classroom during lunch a week ago. He didn't stop by every day, but every few days or so. It was curious, and you were wondering why he suddenly had free time to visit you. During lunch, he normally tended to his duties in the classroom while the students were away for a while.

The first time he came by, he asked you about a potential new potion he was thinking about teaching to his students. You gave him your opinion of course, but instead of leaving after getting an answer, he stayed and sat with you for the remainder of lunchtime.

Today when he stopped by, you were sipping on some tea made from a tea blend that Mirabel had given you, and munching on some custard tarts while you worked on grading the arithmancy homework your students had turned in.

"Did you come by to help me grade this homework?" You call out when you hear the door open, because although your back was turned to it, you knew it was Aesop.

"There's a reason I chose to teach potions and not arithmancy," Aesop replies as he approaches the table you're working at, and you can't help but grin at his words. Normally that's the closest thing to humor you're going to get out of him.

You turn to look up at him as he sits down, and you offer him a soft smile before you motion to the tea pot that was sitting nearby.

"Tea?" You ask, and he gives you a silent nod before you begin to pour him a cup, and you slide it and the saucer over to him. "Mirabel made the blend for me. It's delightful," You tell him as you lean back in your seat, and watch him take a drink from his cup. He looks pleased with it.

"You know, you always tell your students that you're too busy to speak when class isn't in session. But you have time to sit here with me?" You ask him more as a joke, but you could swear you heard him chuckle.

"Perhaps I'd rather spend my free time with you than entertaining their questions that I've answered countless times," He tells you with a slight raise of his eyebrows, and you were just hoping he would miss the blush that rose to your cheeks.

"What are you trying to tell me, Aesop?" You ask him, hoping you would be able to get more out of him.

He actually chuckles then, and he takes another drink of his tea before he sets down the little cup. By now he has an... affectionate look in his eyes.

"I'm trying to tell you that I'd like to see you outside of work, Y/N. Let me take you out one day,"

While you were hoping for this response from him, you couldn't help but still feel surprised by it. You send him a little nod, and he smirks slightly before he leans forward and snags a tart from your plate.

"Splendid. And I'm going to take one of these since you depleted my stash of toffees that were in my desk," He tells you, and your eyes widen slightly; you didn't think he would notice that you would take one... or a few when you would stop by the potions classroom.

#Aesop sharp #Aesop sharp x reader #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #professor Sharp x reader #aesop sharp x professor!reader

[moonmaiden1996]

New Postion

Smutty/filthy. Please be warned. Age gap. This just had to happen as I have a soft spot for broody men. Sorry

Please leave comment below

Aesop eyed his fiancé wearily. He had no idea how he had got someone so beautiful and young as you to look at him with any affection, let alone agree to marry him. His little seductive half-Veela, whom all the men and women fawned over. Yet here you were, in all your glory, his.

The Hog’s Head was not a very fitting place for you to be in, but alas, it was the only place that could afford privacy. The dull and gnarled wood of the back room looked grim compared to your glowing body. You belong in the guild halls of France or Italy, not the savage Highlands of Scotland. Yet his was the type of place you would be if you remained with him.

‘So? Should I accept?’’ You bet your lips as you leant in closer over. Your warm palm rest on his open hand.

‘’I never saw you settling into the life of a schoolteacher.’’ He sighed.

It was true; you were a brilliant witch but locking you away at Hogwarts wasn’t a very fitting fate to give you.

‘’Aesop….’ You frowned, gripping his hand tighter.

‘’My love… I am almost old enough to be your father; I’m old and crippled. You are a philosopher and a scholar; you should be tied down to something so humdrum as Master of Ancient Studies.’’ Or me…

‘’Aesop, you certainly are not old enough to be my father; he is nearly sixty! You are 42, hardly an old man and most definitely not a cripple. You have a limp, for Merlin’s sake. Not that would matter. I love you exactly the way you are, as a sweet and kind grump. Besides, Professor of Ancient Studies is perfectly respectable and fun, and luckily close to my future husband.’’ You cooed, cupping his cheek with yours, fingers running down the edge of his scar.

Your heart surged as his eyes fluttered closed.

‘’Hmmmmm’’

For all your fiancé’s gruff exterior that might scare his students, you saw his softness. Despite all his insecurities, he made sure that he offered you your favorite bloom or book or some trinkets that he knew you would like on every date. Or how he would give you his jacket if he even so much as thought you felt the cold or how he never missed a date.

‘’You could not take a position here before you married me.’’ He muttered as he kissed the palm of your hand with a sigh.

‘’Luckily, I have already agreed to have you as my husband.’’ You purred as you shifted closer to him, sliding your hand down to rub his clothes thigh. You giggled as you felt his body stiffen beneath you.

‘But I have to admit I have an ulterior motive in wanting to accept the position.’’ You purred as you settled onto your knees.

‘’And what is that?’’ the words strained out his tightening throat.

‘’I get to suck your cock every night.’’ With two flicks of your wand, the door tightly shut as your other hand freed his cock from the tight restraints of his trousers.

Never will you grow accustomed to how thick he was or how he was slightly crooked, so when he was seated snuggly inside you, he slotted perfectly against that sweet spot in you.

’You know’’ you started as you suckled his balls, lavishing attention on one before moving on to the other and speaking again. ‘How much I like it.’’ You moaned as you sucked at his balls again, slowly stroking his shaft from base to tip. A strangled groan escaped his taunt form.

‘Is that the only thing.’’ He huffed, panting as you took his other ball in your mouth.

‘’One of the many things.' Your purred, kissing the base of his cock and working your way up to suckle his tip. ‘’Like getting to warm your cock with my pussy as your plan your lessons or have you fucking me on your desk. Hmmm you letting me ride you in the Forbidden Forest. Waking up with your head between my legs before you pump me full of your hot, thick cum.’’ You smirked as you felt him surge under your touch. “Once we are married and I am safely in your bed, you can do whatever you want to me. Think about it, love….’ You gave a playful lick under the base of his cock ‘’how much better will it be to start your morning cumming on my face and chest….or in me.’’ Your purred, bobbing your head down before he could manage a reply.

You took him in fully, or as much as you could.  Relishing the musky taste as you struggled against his thickness. Glancing up, his head was thrown back; lips parted as he let out a string of groans, each more lurid than the last. Rolling his balls between your palms, you set a rhythm.

Rarely did Aesop let you do this, he thought it was demeaning, he much preferred worshipping you, but secretly you knew he loved it. The string of half-formed words, the clenching muscles that shifted under your touch as you licked and sucked at his sensitive cock. As much as he hated to admit he would never be rid of you, you had made him an addict and one he would never get rid of.

Hollowing your cheeks, you sank your mouth further onto his cock.  His eyes fluttered open, looking at you in hazy lust-filled eyes, his fingers tangled into your hair as your tongue rolled over his tip, earning a low moan as he screwed his eyes shut tight. Slowly, you started bobbing your head up and down, taking as much of his as possible.

“Feels so…” he closed his eyes as your fingers rolled over his heavy balls, leaving him breathless as you sped up, gagging slightly as he bucked up into your mouth.

Worried eyes peer down at you, tugging at your hair slightly, trying to pull away, hips shifting as you dip your mouth back down, taking him deeper into your throat.

‘‘Love...’ he moaned out, throwing his head back. His fingers gripped your hair tightly, pulling you closer.

Smirking, you worked your way up and down his cock savoring the salty precum that filled your mouth. His hips stuttered in the chair, and he struggled not to buck into your mouth. Glancing up, you saw his brow puckering as he panted lowly, fingers scraping, tightening the hold of your hair and the arm of the chair.

Doubling your efforts, bobbing your head faster, fondling his balls with just enough pressure to push him forward. ‘‘Please, Aesop,’ you pleaded, twirling your tongue against the bundle of nerves on the underside of his cock. ‘’Let me do this every day.’’ You kissed the tip. ‘‘I want you so badly ….’ You purred as you let your lips tighten around him, taking his as far as he could.

Aesop’s hips juddered and trembled as he let out a strangled cry as he came in a long spurt of saltiness; the head was thrown back, gasping, half lulled eye watching weakly as you sucked him gently swallowing as much as you could, earning another grunt from he watched his cum leak from around your lips, glistening in the candlelight as it collected at the base of his cock while you massaged his balls, milking him for every drop you could.

His breath was ragged as he rode out his orgasm, body shuddering as you carried him through to his was spent.

‘We will go see the headmaster first thing tomorrow.’ He puffed. ‘’and arrange for your things to be brought over as soon as we married.’’ Aesop mumbled. ‘’But first, get on the table and spread those plush little thighs for me.’’ He growled.

What do you think?

Do we want more Aesop Sharp? ;) Requests welcome

#hogwarts legacy #aesop sharp #aesop sharp x reader #professor sharp x reader #professor sharp

[bountydroid]

Gnomes, Sunflowers, and Broken Men

Aesop Sharp x Professor!reader

Description: There is a new Muggle Studies Professor at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her bubbly personality was nearly the opposite of Sharp's own, but little did he know, she has a soft spot for men like him.

Part 2

Notes:

(f/c) = favorite color

L/n = last name

"I can't wait to see Y/n again!" Mirabel Garlick squeals in excitement. Y/n and Mirabel were close during school, always sneaking into the greenhouses together to tend to their favorite plants.

Y/n, however, was not sneaking in for the magical plants, but the sunflower she convinced the herbology professor to let her grow. "Sunflowers may not be anything special," Y/n always said, "but they are my favorite."

Headmaster Black didn't hesitate to make his distaste for her excitement known. "Settle down before I change my mind about hiring her." He sneered.

Mirabel quieted down, but her excitement had her buzzing in her seat as she saw Y/n bust through the door, determined not to be late for the housing ceremony.

The housing ceremony was eventful thanks to the dramatic entrance of Professor Fig and the new 5th-year student, a student Y/n was most excited to meet. Not too long after it quieted down to a regular welcome feast. Now that the important things were out of the way, Y/n made her rounds to all the professors, introducing herself and making small talk with each of them.

Aesop was not particularly interested in small talk with Y/n, but that didn't stop her from having the biggest smile on her face as she took the hint and moved on to the next person. This caught his attention, "what a strange woman," he thought to himself.

Once the feast was over, all the professors retreated to their classrooms, making sure everything was ready for classes to start in the morning. Aesop was finishing up when he heard a knock on his door. He looked over to see a familiar face. Y/n was there with her signature smile and something obviously hidden behind her back.

"Can I help you with something?" Aesop asked, eyeing her suspiciously as she shuffled her way to his desk.

"I have a gift for you," Y/n said. Aesop couldn't help the warmth crawl up his face at her words.

"A gift?" He scoffed out, eyes wide in surprise.

She excitedly pulled out the object behind her back—a small gnome statue with a yellow hat. "Gnomes make me happy, so I thought you might also like one. It would be nice to see you smile. You have a reputation of being grumpy." she giggled as she held it out before her.

Aesop stared at her as his face when from surprise to confusion. "Is she serious?" he thought to himself as he searched her face for any sign that she was joking, but all he found was her bright smile and hopefulness in her eyes. He hesitantly reached out and grabbed it from her, studying the object in front of him. "Why do you care?" he asked her.

"As I said, it would be nice to see you smile." She repeated, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. "Do you like it?"

Aesop stood there quietly, unsure of what to say as he stared at her face, again looking for signs that it was all a joke. It wasn't. "I guess," he muttered, fidgeting with the statue.

"That is wonderful! I hope you will put it somewhere nice," she exclaimed happily before heading back out the door. Right before she completely disappeared, she stuck her head back in the classroom and gave him a wink and a small giggle at the flabbergasted look on his face.

-

"Where were you? I was waiting for you to come visit!" Mirabel said as her friend entered the greenhouse.

"Visiting Professor Sharp," Y/n said nonchalantly as she took her place next to Mirabel, who nearly dropped her potted mandrake at Y/n's statement.

Mirabel laughed as she placed the pot back down, "You did what? Why?"

"I gave him a gnome. To make him smile." Y/n said as she propped herself up on the potting table.

"You always loved gnomes." Mirabel chirped. "Gnomes, sunflowers, and broken men." She said smirking at her friend.

"Yea," Y/n said giggling as the blush covered her cheeks.

-

The first week was uneventful. Students were not particularly interested in Muggle Studies, especially compared to the other classes. Muggle Studies is arguably the most boring class in Hogwarts to the students, but she tried her best to make it fun for them. When she was in school she always appreciated the fun professors, and she wanted to be that person now that it was her turn to teach.

On the other hand, Aesop was obviously avoiding Y/n, and she was starting to feel bad. Y/n knew she could sometimes come across as a little strong, but she didn't mean to make him feel uncomfortable around her. She was determined to make up for it. Face-to-face may be too much for him, so this time she thought she might write him a letter. She sat down at her desk and started writing,

Aesop,

I am very sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable the other week. I know I can come across a little strong, but I truly just wanted to make you smile. I hope we can still be friends.

Sincerely,

Y/n L/n

She sighed as she folded up the letter and put it in an envelope. She shoved it in her pocket as she wandered the halls. It was late, and most everyone was asleep so she thought she would slip it under his door and be done with it. Her (f/c) sleep dress dragged along the floor while the pitter-patter of her feet echoed in the empty halls as she finally reached her destination. After slipping the note under the door, she slowly returned to her sleeping quarters, ready for a full night's sleep.

That morning Aesop noticed a letter on the floor of the classroom. He slowly reached down and picked it up, inspecting the envelope. "Professor Aesop Sharp," It read on the outside. He ran his thumb over the writing, recognizing it as Y/n's.

He made his way into his office and sat at his desk as he slowly started to open it. He felt bad as he read the letter. "I have upset her." He thought to himself. That was not his goal at all. He only avoided her so he could avoid his own feelings. Feelings that were foreign to him. He looked down at the gnome on his desk, "I need to make it up to her."

-

"Professor Garlick, I have a question for you." Aesop said as he slowly made his way down the greenhouse steps.

"Of course Professor, how may I help you?" Mirabel asked in surprise. He had never visited the greenhouse as long as she had been there.

"You are close friends with Y/n, yes?" He asked quietly, obviously unsure of trusting her with this. "I am afraid I may have upset her. I of course want a good relationship with ALL of my coworkers." He added hastily at the end.

Mirabel smirked as she watched his nervous state. "Sunflowers. She likes sunflowers. I believe there is a field near Hogsmeade."

-

"What on earth has gotten into me?" Aesop wonders as he stares at the flowers in his hand. He wrapped them in a yellow cloth he bought at Gladrag's Wizardwear for this very purpose, tying the bouquet together gently with some twine. He wonders if he should even do this, if this would be too much, if Mirabel was wrong. Before he can psych himself out of it, he slowly starts making his way to her classroom.

"Have a wonderful weekend, everyone!" Y/n shouts as her students rush out the door, nearly knocking the flowers out of Aesop's hands. When Y/n notices the professor, she breaks out into the biggest smile, "Professor Sharp!".

"Professor L/n." He responds as he makes his way to where she is standing.

She looks down and notices the bouquet and gasps. "Those are beautiful! Who is the lucky lady?" She giggles.

"I-" he stutters, "I wanted to apologize." He says, "I didn't mean to be rude."

"Rude? Never!" She says as she gently takes the flowers from his hands, face red with embarrassment. "I will put these in water immediately."

Aesop finds himself at a loss for words as he looks down at her smiling face, the blush evident on her cheeks. "She looks beautiful." He can't help but think to himself.

"The gnome." He chokes out.

"What about it?” She asks hesitantly, afraid he will say that he hates it.

"It does make me smile." He says to her with a slight grin on his face.

tag list: @mothgirl-is-tired

#professor sharp #professor aesop sharp #aesop sharp #aesop sharp x reader #professor sharp x reader #hogwarts legacy

[mrs-sharp]

Something crossed my mind today. Aesop Sharp lost his partner in Scarborough. What if they weren't just partners as co-workers but also as lovers? Remember the medieval song 'Scarborough Fair'? I looked up the meaning of the four herbs mentioned, and they fit so well to Aesop's story it blew my mind:

• Parsley stands for death and misfortune, but also for love.

• Sage is a word from Latin (salvere) and means 'healing'

• Rosemary stands for loyalty/faithfulness, love, and commemoration

• Thyme is a symbol of courage, pride, and bravery

Considering all this, Aesop lost his love due to a misfortune. Remember how he stressed it was fate that led to his current situation?

He now has to search for a way to heal his injury. All that remains for him now is to honour and commemorate his partner by loyally making amends for his mistakes by acting courageously and bravely in his current duty. That's why he fights for the school and defends his students at all costs.

#aesop sharp #professor aesop sharp #professor sharp #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy screenshots #hogwarts legacy fanfic #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #professor sharp x reader #professor sharp x oc #daddy sharp #gaming

[julietpricee]

MC being deep: I usually solve problems by letting them devour me

Horny Aesop: From now on call me ‘Problems’

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #professor sharp #aesop sharp #professor aesop sharp #aesop sharp x mc #daddy sharp #hogwarts #harry potter hogwarts game #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #aesop sharp smut #aesop sharp x reader #professor sharp x mc #professor sharp smut #professor sharp x reader

[myveryownfanfiction]

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.

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[aesopsharpmybeloved]

The Storeroom Incident

When professor Sharp asks you to assist him with fetching some more volatile ingredients from the storage cupboard in the dungeons, of course you come to his aid. What's the worst that could happen? It's not like the door will lock behind you and trap you inside, right? Right?

Shout out to my amazing consultant, @tea-withjamandbread <3

header made by yours truly

18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN

The Storeroom Incident (6.2k words)

tw: explicit, vaginal sex, orgasm denial/edging, dubious consent (but not really), teacher-student relationship (reader is an adult), age difference, dirty talk, light swearing, porn with little plot

How did you even end up in this situation? Your front was pressed against a door, you were breathing and blushing heavily, your heart was beating out of your chest. Two large hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as your potions professor’s hot breath scorched the skin of your neck. 

It was a day like any other. You woke up and went to breakfast in the Great Hall, idly chatting with some of your housemates about nothing in particular, other than the upcoming exams and everyone’s nerves. You gently rejected Natty and Poppy’s proposal to enjoy the Saturday in Hogsmeade in favour of preparing for the practical exam from NEWT level potions. Your essay was long since written, proofread about a dozen times and even appraised by professor Sharp, whom you asked for criticism. 

Speaking of professor Sharp, you gave him a little smile and a ‘good morning, sir’ as you entered his classroom sometime later. He was sitting behind his desk as usual, enjoying a cup of tea and some biscuits. You haven’t seen him in the Great hall, so he either ate earlier than you, or he decided to forego the full English breakfast in favour of sleeping in, and later decided that biscuits were a acceptable breakfast substitute. 

Judging by his still quite sleepy eyes, you decided it was the latter.

He murmured something unintelligible in return and waved his wand. Another teacup appeared and the steaming hot earl grey was poured into it. You sat down on the other side of his desk and thanked him, bringing your tea to your lips and blowing on it softly.

“So, miss (L/N),” he drawled in his gruff voice, although there was a certain amount of warmth hidden inside it, “what will you be brewing today?”

Yes, you could have easily used the Room of Requirement for your potion making. You did use it, for potions like Wiggenweld, Maxima, Wideye or Dreamless sleep, however,you preferred to brew the more complicated concoctions in the safety of the classroom, as well as professor Sharp’s company. The man always provided you with useful advice, guiding you towards unlocking your full potential.

“Oh, I think it’s nearly time to finish the Polyjuice potion, sir,” you chirped cheerfully, sipping on your tea and leaning back in the chair before his desk. “I think you may be right,” agreed the professor, “remember, Miss (L/N), the entirety of that potion stays here. I don’t want you running around the castle impersonating your classmates, or, Salazar forbid, your professors.”

You give him your most innocent smile, batting your eyelashes. 

“I would never, sir.” 

That was a lie. One of the best Christmas presents you’ve ever received was the chance to impersonate Headmaster Black in your fifth year. Yes, you did so in order to get a password for his office, where Niamh Fitzgerald’s Keeper trial was waiting for you, but you had to admit to yourself that it was pure, unadulterated fun. Very much unlike the following trial, which still sometimes made you wake up in cold sweat.

Though Sharp probably knew you were lying through your teeth, he decided not to comment on it, giving you an unimpressed sarcastic expression instead before placing another biscuit into his mouth. You copied him, a little smile still present on your face. 

The potions professor, you found, had a bit of sweet tooth. Sometimes when you’d come over, you’d make a stop in the kitchens first and sweet talk some baked goodies out of the house elves there. Well, sweet talk… the little fellows pretty much pushed them into your hands the moment you stepped in! You only ever took enough for the two of you to share. It always improved the grumpy man’s mood slightly.

“Before you go get your cauldron from my office, there is something I could use your help with,” professor Sharp said as he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, brushing away the few little crumbs that stuck to his lips and beard. His pink tongue appeared and he licked at his lips. You couldn’t help but follow the muscle’s movement with fascination. “Of course, sir, how may I aid you?” you said innocently.

“There are a few ingredients in the storeroom that I’ll need for later. They are a little volatile, which is why I can’t just summon them, and as useful as Hogwarts’ house elves are, I’d still feel more comfortable to fetch them myself. And as I don’t want to have to make two separate trips there, your assistance would be greatly appreciated.”

You finished your tea, the hot drink making your body warm up. Or was your teacher’s dulcet tones? Nevertheless, you smiled at him again: “Certainly, professor Sharp. I am entirely at your disposal.” 

“Good,” he replied curtly and stood up from his chair, “let us be on our way then.”

You made your way down towards the storeroom in comfortable silence, descending further into the dungeons. The air was cool and damp down there, a big contrast to the outside of the castle’s walls, where summer was quickly approaching, bringing the sun and its warmth. Professor Sharp used a key to unlock the door to the storage closet, no doubt enchanted to be nearly or entirely resistant to the unlocking charm. 

You stepped into the room together, the space so tight your shoulder was touching his upper arm as you stood next to each other there. “So,” you began, your voice a little quiet as you found yourself slightly tense to be so close to the former Auror, “what are we looking for, sir?” Professor Sharp cast a non-verbal Lumos and started skimming his eyes over the shelves to the left and the various jars and bottles they held.

Suddenly, the door closed shut with a bang, startling you both. Professor Sharp’s surprise forced him to drop the charm and you were suddenly plunged into total darkness. “A draft of wind?” you chuckled awkwardly, embarrassed at the high pitched yelp that escaped your lips. You could almost hear Sharp roll his eyes: “A draft of wind, Miss (L/N)... In the dungeons where there are no windows… With all due respect, Miss, that seems highly unlikely.” You went red under his remark. He was, of course, right.

With a sigh, the potions master reached for the door, making you blush even further, as his body brushed against yours in the process. He gripped the handle and… nothing. You expected him to open the door and let some of the dim light of the corridor inside the tiny room as well, but you both remained in total darkness. You felt his confused little sound before you heard it, as his strong chest pressed against your own. He gripped the handle again and this time you heard him repeatedly pushing and pulling at the door. 

It didn't budge.

“It sounds like the door’s just… locked,” you say curiously. Professor Sharp is quiet, it feels as if he nearly doesn’t breathe, and it suddenly occurs to you as to why. Uh oh. The door is locked, and the key is inside the lock on the other side. Therefore, judging by your professor’s silent state, this door really cannot be opened with the unlocking charm. The two of you were stuck.

“Lumos,” you say and the tip of your wand flares up with a bright light. Your professor is still standing very close, looking at the door morosely. “Um, sir…” you nearly whisper, “we couldn’t… blast the door out?” The tall teacher turns to look at you, a dark amused expression in his brown eyes. “By all means, Miss (L/N), be my guest. That is if you’d like the two of us to die - the door is reinforced by enchantments, and I’m fairly certain there’s some highly explosive powdered Erumptent’s horn somewhere in here.”

You huffed. Sometimes he was really driving you mad with his snarky comments. “Then what do we do, professor Sharp? Just wait here until someone passes by and unlocks the door for us? It’s Saturday, sir, nobody’s going to come through here until Tuesday when the Fourth years have Alchemy class.” You may have sounded a little desperate… If only one could apparate in Hogwarts! You understood why the no apparition rule was set, but why on Earth couldn’t teachers be excepted from it? Were you really going to spend three entire days stuck with the potions master? What would you eat? Where would you sleep? 

Oh… Oh, no… How would you use the bathroom?

Professor Sharp seemed completely calm where he stood in front of you, if not a little bored. “Why don’t you try and call out, Miss (L/N)? Bang on the door? You never know, maybe someone’s wandering through the corridors, lost or looking for mischief… Or perhaps a friendly ghost will hear and glide for someone to aid us.”

You put the light out on your wand and pushed it into your robes, so that you could use both of your hands pounding on the door. And pound you did. “Hello! Hellooo-?! Can anyone hear me?! We’re stuck in here! Hello?! Anyone?!”

Your shouting and beating on the door caused you to not hear the movement behind you. So when you were suddenly pushed against the cold wood, there was nothing you could do but gasp and yelp in surprise. Professor Sharp’s large, powerful body pressed into your own from behind, his hands on your hips and his lips inches away from your ear. His breath was scorching hot when he spoke: “See, my dear. Nobody will be able to hear you. You poor little thing…” he said darkly then, and you felt something hard push against the curve of your bottom, “Stuck with me out of all people… I am going to ruin you for everyone else.” 

And with that, his mouth attached itself to your neck, making you shudder with both fear, but also a strange surge of arousal. In any case, you weren’t able to do anything about it, as you were perfectly sandwiched between the door and Sharp’s body, your wand absolutely out of your reach when your front was squished against the wood like this. Sharp growled into your ear and bucked his hips against your behind. 

You were helpless… Completely at his mercy. 

He began nibbling down your earlobe, his teeth sinking into a little spot between your ear and your neck, and you suddenly moaned, the sound torn out of you unexpectedly. Your body felt way too heated, and the air around you terribly heavy. “P-professor…” you gasped when he rutted against your bottocks again, his large build making you feel like you were going to be crushed. You cried out softly when a calloused hand slipped under your skirt and trailed between your legs, making you instinctively close them and trapping the curious hand there in the process. You shuddered: “Sir…”

“Such a sweet girl you are, Miss (L/N), so very innocent…” said professor Sharp, his voice a hoarse whisper. Two long fingers pressed against your folds roughly and you suddenly realised just how damp your underwear felt. “Do you even know what your body wants? What is it aching for?” The fingers searched blindly along your soaked drawers, looking for a way to get under them, touching your most intimate areas and making you writhe as well as you could in his iron hold. You were filled with so many sensations, the burning pleasure, the confusion, the slight twinge of fear at professor Sharp’s sudden shift in personality, but also a sense of wild heady want. 

One strong arm curled around your abdomen, keeping you in place between Sharp and the door, while his hips started rhythmically rubbing against your behind, the feeling of his hot hardness making your cheeks burn even more, and when his gruff voice began grunting right into your ear, you could barely stand it anymore. You tried to move again, unsure whether you wanted to move away from him, or further into him. The arm around your stomach gripped you harder immediately, and you were promptly reminded which one of you was stronger.

The long digits of his hand finally found their way into your underwear, and you whimpered when they made contact with your soaked core. This was wrong. He shouldn’t be touching you like this. And you definitely shouldn’t be putty in his hands, moaning for more, your legs quivering. Your back tried to arch in vain when he pressed against your clit with his thumb.

“That’s right…” he said, his voice low and dangerous “yield to your master, my little lamb.” 

Silence. 

And then.

You let out a little breathless chuckle. And then another, And then a few more until you’re laughing fully. 

“A lamb?! Really, Aesop?” you ask through your laughter, leaning your head against his shoulder behind you. He’s slightly shaking with his own giggles: “I’m sorry, dear, that was so bad.” You laugh together, your position getting slightly awkward, as he’s still squeezing you tightly with one of his arms while his free hand’s just sort of resting against your core inside your underwear. You make a move to turn around and he releases his hold immediately. 

“Lumos,” you say once more that day and the soft white light illuminates the small room. You put your wand on one of the empty shelves. “Oh, Merlin’s beard,” you chuckle again, running your hand through your hair, your cheeks still blushed heavily, “As much as I enjoyed this little play of ours, I don’t think I can take it seriously now, not when I’m being called barn animals.” 

“Alright, first of all, it was a barn animal, singular, and second of all, I mean… It’s not the worst barn animal one can be called, lambs are cute.” was Aesop’s facetious answer, as his arms slowly wrapped around your waist, much gentler now. “Meh, true enough,” you relented, letting yourself be pulled into his embrace. 

“Thanks for not calling me a cow, by the way.”

“Oh, come off it, you!”

You kissed his lips slowly, teasingly. “Is there actually a powdered erumpent horn in here? Should I be worried?” you asked then. “There is, but it’s fairly safe without the explosive fluid. Still, best not to take down any shelves while we’re at it” Another long, passionate kiss.

“Speaking of which, do you want to continue, or shall we retire to my chambers?” The potions master offered after a while, and you could feel that his throbbing need had not subsided in the slightest. Neither has yours. “No more barn animals,” you said cheekily then, pointing your finger at him and admiring his features in the soft light of your wand on one of the shelves. His eyes, darker than two bottomless pits, twinkled momentarily as he lifted his hands in surrender: “No more barn animals, promise.”

After another heated kiss, during which his fingers kneaded the flesh of your behind, one of your hands moved to his front to return his previous teasing, easily slipping into his trousers and underwear and finding the hot stiffness there. Your first sexual adventure was still fairly fresh in both of your memories, but you already knew how he liked being touched, you knew what made him groan, what made him throw his head back. He knew the same about you, and he promptly proved such, when his hand disappeared into your drawers again to resume fondling your cunny. 

You played with each other for a little, sharing open mouthed kisses and a single breath. “How would you like me then?” you asked before a whimper was forced out of your mouth by a particularly delicious twist of his fingers. He responded by giving you a wolfish grin, and you suddenly found yourself one pair of drawers poorer, as the sound of ripping fabric tore through the otherwise silent room. “Oi!” you protested, “those were perfectly fine underwear!” “I’ll get you a new pair,” replied Aesop dismissively, shoving the ruined piece of garment into his trousers pocket. His smug little smile was so handsome, yet so infuriating, it made you want to kiss it off his blasted face. So you did.  

The potions master hummed against your lips, his hands coming to squeeze and fondle your now bare backside, massaging the cheeks in his large palms for a little while, before dropping them lower, to the back of your thighs. 

Your feet suddenly leave the ground, and your surprised sound forces your mouths to part, as you scramble to grab onto both of his shoulders, and wrap your legs around his slim hips in an instinctive effort to not fall. He chuckles slowly. His teeth are illuminated by the glow of your wand, making him appear slightly predatory, and forcing a shiver roll down your spine. Once again, you are sandwiched between the door and his body, except this time you’re facing him.

Using the door and his body for leverage, Aesop lets go off one of your legs in order to hurriedly tug his straining trousers and underwear down, finally revealing the throbbing erection he sported since the moment he originally pinned you to the door. Maybe even before that. You feel your lover push your skirt up as much as he can, his engorged tip teasing at your soaked folds. He gives you one more heated look, and his voice is clouded with lust when he speaks: “Alright?” 

Despite being quite fond of the occasional rough play and wild passionate coupling, one thing about Aesop was that he always made sure you wanted it too. And how could you not?

“Alright, love.”

And with that, Aesop gave you one last smile before positioning himself. He let gravity help him, loosening his hold on you just enough to make you sink on his throbbing prick fully. You gasped at the intrusion, your back arching against the door. Even after quite a few fun escapades together, your lover was still a lot to take in, not to mention a force to be reckoned with. He licked hotly into your mouth while your body adjusted to his considerable size. The searing arousal combined with the thrum of anticipation, as well as the blissful feeling of intimity, made you feel lightheaded. The potions master was breathing hard, being enveloped in your tight heat making him tether on the edge of sweet madness.

Aesop pulled out then ever so slightly, before plunging back in immediately, the movement making both of you shudder and groan into your still loosely connected mouths. He set a slow rhythm at first, savouring the delicious friction, your walls stretching around him, squeezing him. Both of his hands moved to your bottom, fingertips digging into the plush flesh as his mouth left yours in order to attach itself to the tender skin of your neck instead. The sensation of his rough, prickly stubble only served to heighten your desire, and a trembled moan poured out your lips.

“Good heavens, lass, the things you do to me…” he slurred between thrusts, voice cracking with pleasure, “making me feel- ah! like a bloody teenager. Making me- hngh… crave to be inside you with a single look.” His current libido was most likely only a bit bigger than that of any other man who was in a fairly new intimate relationship, however, after years of dry spell, Aesop genuinely felt like his yearning suddenly went from below zero to red-hot. You weren’t exactly making it any easier for him - you weren’t a stranger to the act of bringing pleasure to oneself before, however, that first ardent, lust-filled night has awakened what felt like a sexual renaissance within you. It made you long for him as much as he longed for you, and the two of you always connected in a searing inferno of mutual desire and the sweet surrender to it.

Your fingers knotted into his hair, pulling at the locks near his nape perfectly, while simultaneously sinking your teeth into the edge of his jaw, right under his ear. You knew this particular combination of sensations drove him wild. His hips stuttered mid-thrust and his hands squeezed you harder, a low growl reverberating around the tight space. The snapping of his hips increased in speed and his large manhood throbbed within you, his heightening need evident. You moved against each other with increasing desperation, your previous activity having left you feeling the first faint hints of an upcoming climax, which were becoming more and more pronounced under Aesop’s relentless pounding into your willing body.

One of the potions master’s hands dipped down between the tight fit of your bodies and he began rubbing harshly at your lovenub in time with his thrusting. The double stimulation, his hot ragged breath on your even hotter skin, the wonderful ache of your current position, and his groans turned short moans made the knot in your core grow tighter and tighter. You were rushing straight towards that peak, tugging at your lover’s hair and pushing his face closer to your neck, your eyes closed and mouth opened in a consistent stream of wanton sounds. However, before you could reach it and jump straight off to claim your release, all of the wonderful sensations suddenly stopped.

You were left trembling and breathing hard, imprisoned between the door and your beloved, your sex aching and screaming at you. You couldn't move, couldn't buck your hips, couldn't arch your back, couldn't do anything to bring that sweet friction back - Aesop was holding you too tight. Your upcoming climax got fainter and fainter until it became nothing but a blurry vision. You threw your head back against the door, as it was the only thing you could move, ignoring the pain and the banging sound your movement caused, too busy letting out a very unhappy whine. 

“Why?!” your voice was high and desperate, unwanted tears of frustration gathering behind your screwed shut eyelids. So close, you were so close! Why would he stop? You were suddenly angry with him for ripping your orgasm away from you and you took a breath to give him a mouthful, when a pair of hot lips pressed against your own. 

Aesop's hold lessened and you regained some of your freedom to move. He started a slow rhythm once more, and your anger slowly dissipated. The pleasure began coming back, but it felt different. More intense. It felt like it was rippling under your very skin, as if every single nerve ending was connected to your core by an invisible string. Aesop’s hands, his mouth left a scorching heat in their wake, one that spread throughout your flesh a sweetly invaded and imprisoned your mind, taking away from you all of your higher mental functions.

The climax came back into view, even though Aesop was moving considerably slower than before, and the fingers on your clit retreated. With every single second, every deep thrust, your abdomen tightened, body preparing itself for its unravelling, and when both of his hands grabbed your hips again, his own speeding up, you felt about ready to beg. And so you did.

"A-Aesop, p-please… Please don't stop now! Please," you were long past any actual coherent speech, tears were still running out of your eyes and your body ached and tensed for release, feeling like it might burn to a crisp if it's denied again. 

It wouldn't be.

With a dark chuckle that turned into a groan, Aesop continued his deep thrusts, angling you slightly to find that very special spot inside you. He was successful in his endeavour merely a few seconds later, and if you weren’t currently in the midst of releasing a frankly pathetic wanton sound, with your nails clawing at his back, you would’ve surely made a remark that bringing you pleasure was his greatest talent. 

He pulled away slightly to watch where his thick cock kept pistoning in and out of you. “Dear Merlin,” he growled between his harsh breaths, his voice an octave lower, “look at you. Taking me so bloody well.” He leaned back in, releasing shuddering puffs of air against your now perpetually open lips. “You are mine… No one else’s. Say it.” He was close. Aesop quite often doubted himself and his deserving of you, however, when he was close to his peak, he got deliciously possessive. He got selfish. Nobody else was going to have you, nobody else was going to be allowed to do to you the things he did, nobody else was going to make you feel this good. 

“Y-yours,” you whimpered out, your answer the same as it always was. Your head dropped to his shoulder, and your thighs were beginning to quiver around his pumping hips. However, the potions master wouldn’t quite allow you to hide your face from his sight like this. One hand came to grab it and pull it right back with gentleness that contrasted the roughness of his voice. The knot in your stomach was growing heavier with every snap of his hips, it was glowing brighter, becoming red-hot. Your eyes fluttered as you were forced to look at him. His own eyes were bottomless dark pits of molten lava, and you craved to fall into them and burn. You could see his pleasure, his love, his utter devotion, even as his voice came out a strained growl: “Say it again.”

Time stopped. There was nothing but him. No Hogwarts, no blasted ingredient cupboard, nothing but him loving you, and bringing you to your edge. It was over, you felt yourself tipping over and plummeting down. “I am yours, Aesop,” spoke a voice you barely recognised as your own, before a loud cry forced its way out of your throat and two more tears fell from your eyes. 

You felt yourself being ripped out from your body by some unseen force, only to return a fraction of a second later to a gratification so overwhelming, it was nearly too much. The orgasm he denied you earlier came back, and it shook you to your very core. Your head trashed against the door, your legs were shaking violently, and your walls were clenching and unclenching around his prick tightly, the proof of your pleasure squirting out and staining his trousers.

It was like a hurricane rolled through you, and you weren’t exactly aware of the sounds you were releasing, nor the sight you were making. However, Aesop absolutely was. And it forced him to grab your hips harshly and increase the speed of his rutting: “Oh, fuck…f-fuck, sweetheart…” When Aesop Sharp began cursing, he was either extremely mad, or mere seconds away from an earth-shattering orgasm. 

His cock pulsed heavily, getting even stiffer as he repeatedly rammed it into your trembling body, precum leaking out in a constant drizzle by now, before finally - Aesop’s strong hand closed around your silky locks, and he tugged. You moaned at the sensation, still lost in the throes of your own explosive climax. The professor pressed his forehead against yours, his wavering gaze desperately locking onto your own, and his choked out moan falling against your lips. His hips stuttered as he emptied himself within you.

You were vaguely aware of the hotness that spread inside of you as your lover reached his peak, still very much out of it from your own thunderous release. You did take notice, however, that the professor’s body began trembling slightly. His orgasm left him slightly weak, therefore holding you pinned against the door was quite the effort. He used the last of his strength to lift you off the door, turn so that his own back was leaning against it, and slowly sank down onto his bottom with you in his arms.

Aesop let his head rest against the cool wood, his ragged breaths mingling with your own in the tight space, his tired arms having released their vice grip on you and closed around your waist loosely instead. Your brain has been masterfully turned off, unable to comprehend any concept more difficult than 'pleasure', 'gratification', 'love' and 'exhaustion'. You reposed in the storeroom quietly, basking in the heavenly afterglow of your shared ardour. 

You stirred slowly, fatigue making your eyes strangely heavy, while your limbs positively felt like they were made of lead. It was quite curious - not you feeling a little tired after a lovely culmination of your lovemaking, but the fact that this was no ‘little tiredness’. You felt about ready to ignore absolutely everything in favour of just closing your eyes and dozing off. Then again, your release today has been a particularly thunderous one…

“What the devil did you do to me…” you slurred against the heated skin of his neck, fighting to keep yourself awake. Aesop, still coming down from his high as well, took a few moments to answer. “Oh… that. Sorry, I should have warned you beforehand. I did mean to tell you, but then… you know. With the lamb…” Despite your tiredness, a chuckle broke out from your lips, one Aesop soon joined into. “I really am sorry, though… Are you alright?” You thought for a while. While you really could’ve used the heads up, you supposed the result was quite worth it, even if it meant your energy levels had dropped to almost zero. “Hmm…” you sighed, snuggling further into his neck: “I’m great… Though, I might just fall asleep on you.”

Your lover chuckled once more. “As much as I’d like to let you, I’m afraid that you wouldn’t be able to get me back onto my feet afterwards. I’m not twenty anymore, napping on the floor has severe consequences.” It was your turn to laugh. You sluggishly moved your hands to his shoulders and braced against them as you got up, releasing a tiny groan as you found yourself empty, your combined releases running out. Still, you extended a hand towards Aesop and aided in pulling him up and to his feet. 

With a flick of his wand then, you were both squeaky clean of all bodily fluids, the door clicked unlocked and the silencing charm was dropped. He languidly tucked himself back into his pants with a content expression, slightly leaning back against the door. “You owe me a pair of drawers,” you reminded him. 

“I’ll happily buy you a hundred of them, as long as I get to watch you try them on.”

“You utter beast, Aesop!”

You stuck your head out of the door after making yourself a bit more presentable, and, unsurprisingly, found that the corridor was completely empty. It was a Saturday after all, the majority of third years and up were in Hogsmeade, many students were enjoying the sunny day on the banks of the Black Lake, and some were simply in their common rooms or out on the school grounds. First and second years had no business around here, unless they were looking for trouble or very very lost.

You made your way to the nearest floo flames, Aesop’s hand holding your own cautiously, ready to let go immediately in case anyone popped out from behind the corner unexpectedly. However, it seemed the Faculty tower was similarly deserted, and the two of you walked hand in hand all the way to his chambers, sharing quiet banter, your yawns interrupting the conversation every few moments. Sweet Merlin, you really were beat…

The door of Aesop’s chambers closed heavily behind you, locking itself promptly, and you leaned back against it, happy to finally be in the comfort of Aesop’s rooms, with nobody else but the man himself. 

“One would've thought you’d have enough doors against your back for one day,” Aesop teased quietly. You didn’t even bother answering his remark, or opening your eyes for that matter. There was nothing but silence coming from the potions master for a while, but then a very gentle pair of lips brushed against your own. Despite your fatigue, your mouth stretched into a little smile, and you returned the kiss, your arms trailing up to wrap around his shoulders on their own accord.

After a series of little kisses and pecks, you felt Aesop shift, and suddenly one of his hands was placed at the back of your lower thigh, the other curled around your side. You opened your eyes just as your beloved lifted you into his arms, and, with utmost care like you were something incredibly precious, carried you over to his bedroom. You stifled another deep yawn against his throat, prompting Aesop to chuckle softly. “Aren’t I usually the one who wants to rest afterwards?” he quipped again. His face took on an expression of mild worry when his little jab went unanswered once more. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked once he gently placed you upon his bed, your head and body immediately nestling into the soft, clean sheets. He sat on the bed’s edge beside you, his hand placed on your hip. “Hmm, alright…” you mumbled, looking at him through your lashes, “Please tell me I actually did finish that polyjuice two days ago… I don't think I'd be able to brew even a Wit-sharpening potion right now.” 

This made him grin impishly: “You can’t seriously think I’d leave such a potion unattended after it’s finished stewing, can you?” 

“Oh, and here I thought I made you stop thinking altogether.”

You look at each other fondly for several seconds.

“Really, though, are you-” “Yes, Aesop, I promise I’m alright, just get in here, you beast!” You laughed out loud and pulled at his hand until he was forced to climb into the bed behind you. You immediately nuzzled into his arms, relishing in their warmth and comfort. Aesop hasn’t stopped grinning. “So… I know ‘lamb’ and other barn animals are a no-go, however, you definitely cuddle into and purr against me like a kitten." You groaned lightly, no actual annoyance in your voice.

“Hmm… ’Kitten’ I am pretty alright with,” you said eventually, opening your eyes to look up at him in good humour. “Is that what we’re doing now, by the way? Animals? Because if so, you are absolutely a big bad wolf. Always trying to eat me right up…” 

“Eat you up, you say?” is all Aesop said with a positively wicked grin, before descending down on you, his teeth immediately going for your neck, pinching the skin there and scratching it with his beard. You squealed softly at the feeling, hands going into his hair, unsure whether to pull him closer or push him off. He eventually pulled away himself and settled on the bed once more, pressing himself to you. “I’ll stick to the more human terms of endearment, I think. Nothing wrong with ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’,” he said quietly then. You smiled against the material of his shirt: “Hmm… I love it when you call me that, Ace.”

Aesop froze momentarily. Ace. It was Ashley’s, his Auror partner and oldest friend’s nickname for him. Nobody has called him that in more than a decade, by his own wish. The last time he heard it was in that godforsaken harbour.

“Alright, Ace. Lead the way.”

The potions master swallowed audibly. It’s been so long. He blinked his eyes rapidly and suppressed a shaky breath. The strangest thing was - while his heart panged at the memory of his late partner, the nickname that fell from your lips caused it to speed up and flutter.

When you said that one simple short word, it felt like a wave of warmth rolled through him. And while he was reminded of the past, what he felt most of all was… a strange sense of elation. The word rolled from your tongue so naturally, as if it’s always been there, as if you never called him anything else.

And he wanted to hear it again. 

“Aesop? Love, are you alright, have I said something wrong?” The professor realised you had been looking at him with equal parts worry and confusion. “No, no…” he breathed out and his mouth stretched into a little smile. 

“Not good? The nickname? I just thought, you know… Aesop - Ace. Sorry, I guess it’s a little silly.”

“It’s not. You’re not the first person to call me that, but I couldn’t stand the nickname for the past 12 years. You though… You can call me that, if you want to… I'd like you to.” Aesop said quietly, his large hands drawing little circles against your back where he held you. You looked deep into his eyes, before taking his face in your palms. 

“Are you sure, Ace?” 

His breath hitched again, but he couldn't deny the pleasurable shudder that overtook him when he heard the word in your tender voice once more. He closed his arms tighter around your form, pulling you against his chest. You curled up into your lover once more, nosing at his throat and caressing him wherever you were able to reach.

“Will you tell me someday?”

“I will. One day, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

Hiya! I hope you enjoyed reading. You can also find this story as well as all of my other stories on AO3. I love feedback <3

#hogwarts legacy #fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #reader insert #aesop sharp #professor sharp #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x you #professor sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #aesop sharp smut #slight dubcon #roleplay #smut and fluff

[slytherinsomniari]

A Breaking Point Like No Other| Aesop Sharp x F! Reader

Pairing: Aesop Sharp x F! Reader

Summary: In your last semester at Hogwarts, an encounter with your Potions Professor in the restricted section gets heated, prompting an invitation from the man himself for a whole lot more.

Word Count: 3187

Themes: Smut, teasing, fingering, orgasm denial, cock warming, student/teacher

A/N: Okay, so I made a headcanon where Sharp secretly took a potion that would temporarily relieve the pain in his leg, making it easier for him to have sex in this fic. Idk how else he would without feeling pain in that leg lol I kind of feel like the sex scene is too short but I honestly don’t know what else to write and didn’t want to write too much and make the fic feel cluttered. 

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Potions was your favorite class, but it wasn’t because you loved making potions, though that part was both relaxing and stress-inducing. No, you loved potions class because your favorite professor taught it–Professor Sharp. His gruff attitude had scared many off but he did have quite a few admirers despite this. You were one of these many admirers and had long fantasized about him. You couldn’t do anything of course, but you were in your last semester so you did toy with the thought of confessing before you left Hogwarts and never saw him again.

You went to your last class of the day–Defence Against the Dark Arts–and spent a challenging time learning Bombarda Maxima and how to cast it properly without blowing up everything around you. It was difficult but you got the hang of it at last and nearly perfected it when class was dismissed. As you headed out, you made your way towards the library. Thankfully, Madame Scribner had allowed you access to the restricted section as you had proven to her that you liked to research the things found in hidden books for pure knowledge, not for practice or for nefarious purposes. The idea of learning something new and strange excited you, making you walk a bit more excitedly towards the section.

You walk further and further into the section, walking down some stairs and through a few gates until you find a narrow hallway filled with books and begin to walk down it when you see a silhouette becoming clearer and clearer as you approach. The silhouette takes form and materializes as a familiar face. You didn’t expect to bump into Professor Sharp in the restricted section but there he was. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t hide. Making sure you didn’t look startled or off put, you continued walking and stopped near him, calling out to him, “I didn’t expect to see you here Professor.”

He turns towards you with a look of surprise, clearly not expecting you to be there either. 

“Ah, Miss Y/N.  I assume you’re not here to revise for your N.E.W.T.s?”

“Um, no sir. But I am revising alongside this! I just like to research subjects that interest me outside of the curriculum” You say, trying to recover from your blunder. 

“Hmm, good. I admire your constant pursuit of knowledge, but try not to put aside your studies in favor of your extracurriculars.”

“Y-yes sir!”

Chuckling, he changes the topic. “I noticed you have been spending more time with the Sallow boy. I do hope his disregard for the rules doesn’t influence you too much. Can’t have you ruining your reputation and failing before graduation.” 

You perk up. You hadn’t expected him to continue the conversation, let alone talk to you. Even more, he was being friendly with you–and that was saying something, as the two of you had never really talked that much in class. He had gone over to your cauldron to check on how your potion was going, but he did that to everyone else. He would also give you words of praise, words that would bring a blush to your cheeks, but again he did, occasionally, give others praise. Him being friendly now outside of class was, quite frankly, only making you more hopeful for a mutual affection for one another–though there was still some doubt in that regard.

“I won’t let that happen. Sebastian is a good friend and we haven’t done anything wrong.” A fib at best, you tried to stand up for your friend. He’d been there for you and you for him, and despite the two of you getting into trouble because of his ideas, you were fiercely loyal to him.

“While I certainly trust your judgment, I don’t quite trust his. Just make sure you don’t get into too much trouble.”

“I will, professor.” Sensing the lack of things to talk about, you ended the conversation and attempted to find a book that piqued your interest, kneeling down to look at the bottom shelf. There was a peaceful silence for a time but it was disrupted when you heard a sigh. Turning slightly, you see Professor Sharp with a curious expression on his face. He appeared to be conflicted about something but you couldn’t tell what. You turned back and continued to look for a book, pulling your hair out of the way and putting it all on one side, leaving your neck exposed. He inhales, and chuckling softly, mutters underneath his breath. 

“You really are going to be my downfall, aren’t you?”

Frowning, you turn to him and say, “Did you say something sir?”

He looks at you for a moment, questioning what he’s about to do. With eyes full of a hunger you could not see, he chooses his path. 

“Are you really here to research, Y/N, or are you here for something else?”

Not waiting for you to respond, he continues, “It appears to me you may have some…ulterior motive in coming here. I tend to come here to spend my time researching and never see you here and yet here you are now. Am I to understand that it is simply a coincidence? That you are simply choosing a book over what you’re really here for? No, I believe you came here with one goal in mind.”

Committing himself to this line of questioning, he approaches you confidently and swiftly. He slams his arm against the shelf, trapping you there against his body. You could feel the heat radiating from him, causing your skin to prickle in arousal. He tilts your chin up with one hand, speaking in a hushed but seductive tone, “I believe you have set yourself in my path, knowing full well your affect on me. Your constant teasing in class only to play the meek school girl when we are alone is enough to drive me mad. Now I find you here, alone, open and ready for me. How much longer are you going to tempt me?”

“Sir…” You softly mutter, hands on his chest, clutching his shirt in your trembling fists. Your legs were weak, craving his touch and to be dominated by him. He moves his hand from your chin to your waist, holding you to him and increasing the pressure on you, forcing you to feel how erect he was. You really had nowhere to escape now, your professor made sure of that. You could only breathe heavily, showing him how ready you truly were for him. 

The arm that was holding you to him went lower, making you gasp as his hand stopped on your ass and squeezed. You turned your eyes towards his and it seemed like time stopped. It was only a few moments but in that time, you had lifted your head to his and he had lowered his to yours, and the two of you had locked lips. He placed his hands on your face, deepening the already passionate kiss. It felt like fireworks inside you as you realized what was happening. You were finally kissing the man you had had a crush on for so long, and he had wanted to do the same for a long time.

He lifted you by the waist and you jumped, wrapping your legs and arms around him and continuing the kiss. You ran your fingers through his hair as he moved with the force of the motion. His back hit a shelf on the opposite side of the hall and he slid down, forcing you to sit on his lap. Your underwear was wet from all of what happened and Sharp could feel it through his clothes. His member poked through his pants and you could feel it pressing up against your entrance. You moaned lightly, slowly grinding against it and drawing a pained grunt from him as he tried to resist tearing off your clothes. You were so close to being ravished by him but even you knew this was not where you would want that to happen. There were too many ways for you to get caught, even in an abandoned area of the restricted section.

Blinking, you took in the situation once more. His hands gripped your waist and you were on his lap, clothing ruffled and arms around his neck. In the silence a gate was heard opening in the distance and soon after another opened, though it was much closer. At the sound of someone quickly approaching, the two of you shot up, trying to fix your appearances before they saw you in a compromising position. Your face was flushed and you were shaking a little, but besides that, you looked fine. 

The person turned a corner, entering a different section of the library and missing you entirely. Breathing a sigh of relief, you started to get ready to leave but were stopped by him. Before he left, Professor Sharp came up to you and put his mouth to your ear, speaking quietly, “Meet me in my room in the faculty tower at midnight. Don’t be late.”

And with that, he left, leaving you incredibly giddy and lustful, deep in thought for what was going to happen that night. You left quickly, not wanting to attract attention to yourself for staying down there for too long and went to your dorm to pass the time.

Later that night, you quickly made your way to Sharp’s room, making sure you were not detected by any of the prefects or lingering adults. You quietly knocked on his door and he let you in. He was still in his work uniform but he had taken off his coat, blazer, and vest, leaving him in a white button up and loosened tie. Blushing, you turn to look at the room instead, noticing how huge it was. It was so much bigger than the dormitory and it felt quite cozy and relaxed. While you were distracted, Sharp was muttering something outside the room and entered after a moment, closing the door behind him.

After observing you, he turns to you and declares, “You don’t have to worry about the sound. I have placed a silencio charm on the outside of this room–no one will be able to hear you.”

You shudder at his words, ready for the fun to begin. He steps forward until he is right in front of you and grabs a lock of your hair, twirling it around in his fingers.

“From now on, when we are alone you are to call me either sir or Aesop. Understood?”

You meekly nodded your head, becoming mute in your longing for him. After receiving the response he desired, he took off his tie and his shirt but left his pants on. You could see his muscled body entirely and greatly wanted to grab onto him and feel him all over. Turning his attention to you, he begins to undress you. He takes off your skirt, taking the underwear down with it and begins to loosen your tie. Once loosened, he pulls you to him, placing teasingly quick kisses on your lips as he both pulled and pushed you. Once you got too close to giving in he would pull away, making you beg for more. Eventually, he gets rid of the tie and unbuttons your shirt, throwing it aside and exposing your breasts. His gaze pierces your soul, letting you feel how badly he wanted to ravish you. Instead, he swiftly picks you up and walks over to his bed, promptly throwing you on it.

Sharp gets on the bed and removes your socks, spreading your legs open for him. He takes one leg and kisses it, leaving a trail starting from your ankle. He gets to your inner thigh and bites down, sucking on it and causing you to whimper. His facial hair tickled against your sensitive skin, amplifying the effect he was having on you. He did the same to the other leg and by the end of it, your body was shaking and pulsing from desire. It pulsed so loud you thought he would be able to hear it–to hear your need, but he didn’t need to hear it. He saw all too clearly what exactly you were feeling.

“You have been a very difficult girl today. It appears I have to discipline you for enticing your professor.” With that, he jams three fingers into you without warning, making you cry out. Your body is ill-prepared and clenches tightly around his fingers as he drives them in and out. From time to time he would move them around, teasing you and enjoying watching your body cling to him. Once you become used to the sensation, you grind your body against his fingers, chasing the pleasure they gave.

 He takes as much pleasure from this act as you do, but he doesn’t allow himself or you to finish that quickly. Just as your body starts to tense up and prepare for release, he pulls his fingers out, denying your orgasm. You quiver as your body tries to recover from his careless teasing. The orgasm may have left you, but in return it made your body all the more sensitive. Your primal instincts were driven to the extreme and they took over you completely.

“P-please,” you weakly got out, “Fuck me.”

Your chest heaved with the effort, making you feel like putty in his hands. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you. What is it that you want?”

Glancing up at him, you see him staring straight at you, challenging you to tell him what exactly you wanted him to do to you. What he was going to do to you. Not being able to take it anymore, you cried out, “Please Aesop, fuck me!”

Sharp’s eyes darkened with hunger and a smile formed on his lips. He got off of the bed and removed his pants, revealing his long and hard member. Your eyes widened and you felt another pulse run through your body. You longed for him, longed for him to be inside you and make you his. Watching his every move, you saw him approach you and get on the bed. He moved to be on top of you, ensuring that his member was primed at your entrance. The anticipation drove you mad, making you wrap your arms around him to keep him close to you. He gave you a quick kiss before remarking, “And now, since you’ve been so good, I think it is time for your reward.”

He enters you and you groan at the impact. He is just as relentless as he was with his fingers as he pounds into you. You cling tight to him, leaning your head back and moaning loud for him. Grinding your body into his, you attempt to follow his tempo while he places wet, heavy kisses on your neck.  Stopping on a spot on your neck, he bites down and sucks, making a dark marking on it. Feeling him tongue the mark and kiss it, you softly whimper before deciding to do the same. 

You move your mouth to his chest, kissing it slowly upwards until you come to his neck and bite down. You suck lazily and mark him with the same marking he placed on you. He grunts, placing his hand on your head and pulling you back to face him. Your breasts bounce against his chest, stimulating you both as he thrusts harder into you, forcing lewd moans out of your mouth. His arousal increases as he watches you so completely taken over by lust. Your eyes are glazed and your face is flushed, your breath coming out in quick heavy spurts. You gasp, feeling your body tense up and your vagina pulse wildly, indicating the arrival of your climax.

“Aesop, I’m about to–” You barely get out when you cum, releasing the tension in your body and letting the viscous fluid pour out from you onto your legs and onto his dick. Your body deflates while your highly ravaged pussy sticks to his penis, submitting itself to him and his desires. Still not finished, Sharp continued to use you until he was satisfied with his work.

Leaning down, he kisses you roughly, relishing in the sweet moans you make against his mouth as he continues to plow into you. All you can do right now is hold onto him as you let him use you until he’s spent. Each movement triggers your already sensitive body, making you grind into him more to chase the remaining high. He leans more into you and growls, his own orgasm fastly approaching and releases into you, coating you with his cum. He gives a few more thrusts into you, forcing his cum further in you and preventing its escape. Shaking, he gets off of you, his member dripping with your fluids, and lies on his side. You turn towards him and snuggle up to him, his arm holding you to him.

With your lips now swollen and your body spent, you put your head on his chest, eyes lidded with exhaustion. Sharp grabs your waist, pulling you into his dick where it lay at your entrance. It appeared that while he was indeed tired, he still had some libido left over. Not even being able to think of another round, your body shook against his touch, displaying some of your own leftover desire despite the exhaustion.

After recovering his breath, he huskily says, “I hope you didn’t think you got away this lightly, Miss Y/N. Tomorrow you will be serving detention with me in my classroom. Or rather, you will be serving it with me for the foreseeable future.”

Feeling a slight pulse in your weakened body, you grinded into him and let him enter you once more. Your body welcomed this familiar feeling and hugged his penis, lightly encasing it in you. He groaned in approval, forcing himself more into you as he grinded with you before the two of you settled down.

“Well, if detention is going to be as fun as this, I’ll gladly serve it every day, sir.”

“I think you need a harsher punishment then. I will not be this lenient with you from now on. You will have to take whatever punishment I give you without complaint.”

“I shall look forward to it then. I wonder how many ways you will have me. On your desk, on your chair, in your–”

He cuts you off, nipping at your lips. “Say anymore and I will have you again–with or without your permission.”

Lowering one hand, he places it on your clit and runs his fingers lightly on it before removing them, giving you a reminder of what he is capable of. You shudder in delight, feeling excitement creep in as you look forward to the next day. Satisfied, he turns the lights off with a single nonverbal spell and rests his head on your head, letting the two of you fall asleep with lustful hopes for the future.

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy x reader #professor sharp #professor sharp x reader #aesop sharp #aesop sharp fanfic #aesop sharp x reader #professor sharp fanfic

[seriouslysnape]

Saving a Life

Aesop Sharp x Fem! Student! Reader Tags: None. Word Count: 2.8k “I’m really happy you did.”

꩜꩜꩜꩜

When you came barreling into the classroom, he was sure that something horrible had happened.

He was used to you coming by pretty much any time of day, but when you came rushing in positively panicked and frantic, he knew that something was wrong.

You looked as if you had sprinted all the way from Poidsear Coast based on the way you were barely able to stand. There were beads of sweat scattered across your forehead, despite the frigid January air outside. Your breathing was short and rapid, both from over exertion and emotional turmoil.

This was not normal behavior for you. He found it peculiar, which is why he dropped everything to assist you. He shot up from his chair at his desk, making the quickest strides towards you that his battered leg would allow him to.

Your arms were wrapped around your midsection, clinging to your abdomen for dear life. The expression on your face was particularly concerning, because you looked as if you had just witnessed something unthinkably tragic.

“What’s wrong?” He had asked, his hands gripping the bottom of your forearms as if you’d collapse. “Are you hurt?”

He felt partial relief when you shook your head no, but he still didn’t have an answer for what was happening.

He could feel the chill of your skin through the material of your robes. He couldn’t believe you were out in this weather so severely underdressed. You could’ve at least ditched the robes and put on a coat.

“Are you sick?” He tried again. “Talk to me.”

There was some slight movement underneath your robes, and the way that you had your arms wrapped around yourself made it clear that you were keeping something shielded underneath.

“He’s hurt!” You wailed.

“Who is hurt? What is that?” He asked, making the connection that whatever you had bundled up in your robes was the cause of your stress.

Your right arm freed itself to pull the left side of your robes back. Your left arm was supporting the weight of something, and the sudden exposure to the cold air of the classroom caused it to stir.

You presented a small creature, just barely small enough to fit in one of your palms. It had soft black fur, a long snout, and a fluffy tail. Aesop identified it as a Niffler, and based on its current condition, it wasn’t looking so good.

Its body was curled up in a ball, the muscles on the small animal were constricting and releasing rapidly, causing it to shiver like no tomorrow. It was lethargic and what little voluntary movement it did make was slow and weak — very abnormal behavior for a healthy Niffler.

“It’s a Niffler! I found him at the bottom of a tree up on a mountain.” You cradled its limp frame.

“Nifflers are usually burrowed down this time of the year. I wonder what it was doing all the way up there,” Aesop glanced over the critter. “What in Merlin’s name were you doing up there? And without a coat?”

Quite frankly, Aesop was much more concerned about you getting sick from being outside without a sustainable source of heat. The Niffler was the least of his worries, but it was at the top of your list.

“I was trying out my new Quidditch broom!” You shrilled, growing more upset by the second. “I was only going to be gone for a little while!”

It wasn’t necessarily uncommon to see a Niffler out and about during the winter months of the year, but it certainly was odd to find one so far from the ground.

A Niffler as little as this one would have a hard time traversing out in the open with all the snow and ice on the ground. Nifflers were meant to be underground travelers, and they typically thrived in the warmer months.

“You could’ve at least worn a sweater,” He grumbled under his breath. “What was it doing?”

“He probably escaped a poacher or something,” You rambled, clearly more concerned with the current issue at hand. “Aesop, you have to help him! He was nearly frozen when I picked him up, and he’s not getting any better.”

Aesop realized then that this was a rescue mission. You hadn’t brought this little Niffler all the way here just to show him off (which you had done before with Nifflers and other various beasts), you had brought him to seek help in trying to keep him from becoming a popsicle.

“I have no expertise in this area. Did you try taking it to Professor Howin?” Aesop suggested, clearly not confident in his beast tending abilities.

“I can’t find her! She wasn’t in the classroom and no one knows where she is.” Your voice wavered as if you were on the verge of tears.

This was far beyond Aesop’s skill set. He knew nothing about Nifflers or how to care for them. He certainly didn’t know how to reverse hypothermic shock on one.

“He’s so little, he won’t make it on his own!” You wailed, the tears welling up in your eyes and one more rejection away from spilling.

He knew how passionate you were about beasts. From the smallest Puffskeins to the largest Hippogriffs, you were a lover of all magical critters.

If there was anything that could get you this worked up, it was a beast who needed help.

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin, I have absolutely no training in taking care of wild beasts.” He persisted, but his voice was sympathetic.

That was when the waterworks came, tears leaking from your eyes and spilling down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away. You trembled all over, both from nearly getting frozen yourself and with fear. You were shaking like a leaf and scared to death for what was going to become of this defenseless little Niffler.

“Aesop, please!” You begged. “He’ll die if you don’t help him!”

He was taken aback by your sudden passion and determination. It was very rare for you to get assertive and even more rare for you to be this desperate for help.

Him giving in to your pleas was mainly because he couldn’t stand to see you so frazzled and upset.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but he had to do something.

“Alright, darling, alright. You must calm down,” He cupped your face in his hands, stroking the apples of your cheeks with his thumbs. “Look, I will…I will do what I can. Now, please — try to relax.”

He didn’t want to be responsible for whether or not this Niffler survived or not. But he supposed that doing nothing was worse.

He took the Niffler from your hands carefully, holding it close to his chest to keep him from losing any more heat. He seriously had no clue where to start, but he was going to do what he could to at least try to save him.

If nothing else, he could get the little guy stable enough to where he could make it to someone who did know what they were doing.

He carried him to his desk, setting him down carefully and with ease. He sat in his chair to get closer to the Niffler, and you were standing next to him.

His main objective first was to get some heat back into the Nifffler’s body…gradually, of course.

“I need your robes. Take them off.”

In better circumstances, you most definitely would’ve made a dirty joke and teased him. But you obliged silently, whipping your robes off of your body and handing them over.

Aesop made a silent note that not only had you failed to wear a coat or sweater, but you were also wearing short sleeves. From now on, he was going to start making you carry hand warmers around.

He properly wrapped the Niffler in your robes, bundling the shivering critter up as much as he could, leaving just his head to be sticking out. He drew his wand, casting a warming charm to speed the process along.

“As long as we keep it wrapped up-“

“It’s a boy.” You sniffed, correcting him.

Normally, he would’ve made some kind of sarcastic remark back to you, but he knew you were upset and only trying to do what you could to help.

“Right. Well, as long as we keep him wrapped up, I believe he’ll have a fighting chance,” He said. “I’m afraid I don’t know what else to do beyond that.”

A makeshift heating pad really was the best he could do. He had toyed with the idea of giving the Niffler some kind of potion, but he wasn’t confident that a critter this small could handle something that potent.

He was going on the theory that the robes wrapped around the Niffler would hopefully create an incubator effect, and it would bring him back and show some improvement in him within a few minutes.

Aesop knew that there wasn’t much else that he could do for the Niffler. It was up to time and fate at this point, and for your sake and the Niffler’s, he hoped it wasn’t too late.

You had gone quiet now other than an occasional sniff and sigh. Aesop watched the way that you were so attentive and focused on this Niffler. This was tugging on your heartstrings for sure, and he just hoped that he wouldn’t have to see what would happen to you if the Niffler didn’t make it.

He wanted to console you, yet he didn’t think he was doing a very good job of it. It was something he was working on. He was learning to be more sensitive and not so dismissive in situations like this.

While a nearly frozen to death Niffler wasn’t a big deal to him, it was extremely important to you. And if it was important to you, then it was important to Aesop too.

The next four or five minutes passed, and neither of you said anything. You were both silently monitoring the Niffler, anxiously awaiting any show of improvement. Aesop was nonchalant each time he checked to make sure he was still breathing and had a heartbeat. He didn’t want to do anything too urgently and make you more upset.

It was touch and go for a little while. It couldn’t have been more than seven or eight minutes total, but it felt like an eternity. Aesop had never tried to save the life of a Niffler before, and he had never felt more helpless than just waiting for something to happen…or not happen.

But just when he was beginning to feel defeated, the Niffler’s shivering began to slow down and he started making more consistent movements and sounding out a few squeaks.

Whatever he had done, it was working.

“What do Nifflers eat?” Aesop asked, stroking the fur on the head of the Niffler, trying to comfort him so that he wasn’t completely panicked when he fully woke up.

“They’re herbivores. Roots, shrubs, and weeds mainly,” You let out a shaky breath, but hope was returning to your eyes. “And treats too.”

“Do they eat dandelion roots?” He inquired.

You nodded, and Aesop took his next course of action.

“There’s a few jars of dandelion roots in the closet. Would you bring one?” He requested.

“Where in the closet?” You asked.

“Left side of the wall, second shelf.” He instructed.

There was a swiftness in your legs as you all but sprinted to the closet, quickly locating the roots exactly where he had said.

“He will likely be famished when he starts coming around. It’s best to have something for him to eat,” He said once you had returned to his side with the jar. “He’s going to need the nourishment.”

He was showing improvement. His movements and noises were becoming more frequent, which was a good sign.

“Nifflers are hyperactive when indoors,” You said. “He’s going to freak out when he fully wakes up and realizes he’s far from home.”

“I don’t think that’s likely. It’s going to take some time for him to feel energized again,” He remarked. “I just hope he doesn’t spot anything shiny around. I do know that they go ballistic over anything of that nature.”

Aesop felt relief when you laughed at that. It was a small one, but genuine. You were feeling better, which made him feel better.

The Niffler’s snout began to twitch, his eyelids slowly opening to reveal his black, shining eyes. He blinked a few times, confused as to why two human faces were in front of him.

“It’s alright…you’re okay.” You used your softest voice to soothe the Niffler.

Aesop screwed the lid off of the jar, the clinking noise causing the Niffler to twitch in surprise. Aesop kept his movements slow and calculated. He didn’t want to startle him any more than he already was.

“Do Nifflers bite?” He asked as he removed a singular root from the jar.

“Not usually, no.” You said, continuing to speak sweetly to the Niffler.

Aesop was hoping that you were right, because he didn’t want to have his finger chomped on as repayment. Nonetheless, he offered the dandelion root to him, waiting curiously for a response.

The Niffler raised his head, taking a few sniffs before beginning to nibble on the end of it. There was no telling when he had eaten last, and based on how quickly he was chewing through it, Aesop guessed that it had been quite a while.

The Niffler made it through about half the jar before he sounded out a small belch, followed by a satisfied hiccup.

“That should perk him up,” He couldn’t help but grin when the Niffler nuzzled its head into his hand. “He looks better.”

He did indeed look better. Within five or ten minutes, he would be wreaking havoc and making a mess of this Potions classroom.

Aesop stood from his chair, standing tall and turning to face you. Not only did the Niffler look better, but so did you.

“I believe that your new friend is going to be just fine,” He declared, his small smile shining with pride. “No more tears, hm?”

He swiped at the last of your tears, pressing a kiss to your forehead with a hum. He knew that you would be okay now, but you had spooked him something awful.

“You really think he’ll be okay?” You sniffed.

“I do, but I suggest that you try to track down Professor Howin again and have her take a look at him.” He advised.

“Alright,” You scooped up the Niffler, keeping your robes wrapped around him snugly. “I’ll check her classroom again.”

He nodded, giving the Niffler one last scratch on his head. He seemed to like Aesop…that or he was just grateful for the dandelion roots.

“Thanks for helping him,” You almost glowed. “I’m really happy you did.”

That gave him a bigger sense of pride than saving the Niffler. There was nothing that he wanted more than to make you happy. He worked towards making sure you were comfortable, happy, and well. Suddenly, all the anxiety and stress of keeping a Niffler alive was well worth it.

“Once you’ve left him with Professor Howin, why don’t you come back here? Take a break for a little while,” He said. “And you can tell me all about your new broom.”

“Okay,” You smiled, and his heart fluttered. “I’ll be back.”

You turned to leave and continue your search for Professor Howin, but he stopped you before you made it far.

“Before you go…” He said, retreating to the closet. He rummaged around for a moment, but returned with an article of clothing in his hands. “Put this on. Please?”

You swapped the Niffler for the dark blue sweater, slipping it over your head and straightening it once it was on. It smelled like Firewhisky and sandalwood…Aesop Sharp’s signature scent.

He kissed the crown of your head once he returned the Niffler to you, his hands giving your shoulders a playful squeeze.

“Alright. Much better. I’ll see you in a minute.” He sent you on your way.

He returned to sit at his desk once you were out the door, a long sigh escaping from his chest. He chuckled to himself. What in the world had happened to him?

He couldn’t believe that he, the infamous and hardened master potioneer, was now bundling up frozen Nifflers and feeding them from his personal ingredients inventory.

He was suddenly filled with so much love and joy just by you thanking him for doing something seemingly so small…something that never would’ve moved him in such a way before.

He had changed much more than he originally realized.

And he was very, very thankful for it.

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