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Gotta start off by saying this: I didn't think I was going to love this man as much as I do, when I started the game. But here we are. Feel free to send in requests btw!
Word Count: 1k+
Warnings: None
❗️Reader is 18 in this ❗️
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The Potions Classroom, Late Afternoon
The lesson had long ended, yet you’d lingered. Your parchment still out, quill idle. You’d been speaking with a classmate, Leo, who was clever, loud, and always far too eager to fill the room with a charm he hadn’t quite earned.
You laughed at something he said.
Not a polite chuckle. A real laugh. Bright. Effortless. The kind of sound that Sharp rarely, if ever, coaxed from you.
Across the room, you felt it before you saw it. His gaze. The sharp stillness that always preceded something he wouldn’t say aloud.
Professor Sharp stood at his desk, pretending to mark papers, but the quill in his hand hadn’t moved in some time. His jaw was set tight. His eyes narrowed. But it wasn’t the familiar sternness of a dissatisfied professor.
It was something else.
Tension.
Restraint.
As Leo leaned a little too close, brushing your arm while pointing to your notes, you saw it. The briefest flicker in Sharp’s eyes. Not anger. Not annoyance.
Jealousy. Quiet and bitter, like a potion gone slightly too hot.
When your classmate finally took the hint and left, Sharp spoke before you could reach the door.
“Interesting… the way you smiled just now.”
You stopped and turned.
“With him,” he added, voice low. “It was… easy.”
You blinked. “He was just-”
“Helping you with your notes?” he interrupted, though his voice was calm, too calm. “Of course. How noble of him.”
You frowned, stepping closer, searching his expression. “You think there was something more?”
His eyes finally lifted to yours, and what you saw wasn’t jealousy alone. It was longing, tangled with something he was clearly trying to suppress.
“I think,” he said, carefully, “that I’ve grown too used to hiding what I feel to notice when it begins to show.”
A beat passed. The silence between you stretched, heavy with things unspoken.
“He made you laugh,” he added, softer now. “And for a moment… I resented him for it.”
You tilted your head, voice just above a whisper. “Why?”
His gaze held yours, unflinching now. And finally, quietly, with a trace of ache:
“Because I wanted to be the reason you smiled like that.
The words hung between you, fragile and electric.
You took a step closer, slowly, deliberately. The scent of herbs and crushed flobberworm still lingered faintly in the air, but now all you could focus on was him. The man who never said what he felt… until now.
“You could have been,” you murmured, voice low. “You still can be.”
He drew in a breath, deep, steadying. But his hands betrayed him, fingers twitching slightly at his sides as if fighting the urge to reach for you.
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he said, though there was no conviction in his voice. “Not to me. Not here.”
You tilted your head, reading him with the same precision he so often demanded in class. “Why? Because it’s improper? Because we’re supposed to pretend that whatever this is, whatever we are, doesn’t matter?”
He looked away then, just for a moment. His voice was quieter now, as if he were afraid someone would hear him.
“Because I’m used to being alone. And you… you’re the first person who’s made me wish I wasn’t.”
You step forward, not to touch, not yet, but to close that last inch of space between you.
“I don’t need you to be perfect, Professor. I just need you to stop pretending you don’t feel what I already know is there.”
His eyes snapped back to yours, sharp with something unguarded. He didn’t speak for a moment. Didn’t breathe.
And then,
Very softly. Almost like a confession:
“Every time you walk into that classroom, I feel it. Every time you look at me like I’m something more than a name on your timetable. And Merlin help me, I’ve tried to ignore it.”
He took one small step closer, so close now your shoulders nearly touched.
“But if I let this happen… if I let us happen… I won’t be able to go back. I won’t be able to pretend.”
A beat. His voice dropped, warm and reverent:
“Are you ready for that kind of truth?”
You didn’t look away. Not for a second.
“I don’t want you to pretend,” you said, voice calm and quiet, “Not with me. Never with me.”
Your hand finally moved, slow and deliberate, brushing lightly against his. A whisper of contact. Enough to feel the tension that lived beneath his skin, coiled and waiting.
He didn’t pull away.
Didn’t dare move, either.
“I’ve known what I wanted for a long time,” you went on. “And I waited because I thought… maybe I was the only one feeling it. But now I know better.”
His fingers curled, barely brushing yours in return.
“You were never alone,” you whispered. “Not really. You just had to let someone close enough to prove it.”
He exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding that breath for weeks, months, maybe longer. His eyes flicked between yours, as if memorizing the way you looked in this exact moment: unafraid, unwavering.
“You make it… very difficult to keep my walls up,” he said, voice low and rough with honesty.
“Good,” you murmured. “Then let them fall.”
Something in him broke at that moment. Not in pain, but in surrender. Quiet, beautiful surrender.
He stepped in fully, no more space between you now, his forehead brushing lightly against yours, his hand ghosting along your jaw but not quite touching, still waiting for one last permission.
“Tell me this isn’t a mistake,” he whispered, as if the fear still clung to the edges of hope. “Tell me I’m allowed to want this.”
And when you spoke-
“It’s not a mistake,” you said, steady as ever. “And yes… you are.”
-he kissed you.
Not rushed. Not desperate. But deep, and real, and full of all the things he had held back for too long. Regret and tenderness. Fear and need. Longing and restraint, finally, finally unraveling.
When he pulled back, barely, he rested his hand on your cheek, eyes burning with something vulnerable and alive.
“Whatever this is,” he said, his breath brushing gently against your lips, “I’m in it. Fully. No more pretending.”
In that case i would like to request numbers 36 and 48 from your celebration prompts for an Sharp x fellow professor reader ☺️
First time writing for Sharp so sorry if it's bad 😬
lil disclaimer: reader is a fairly new Ancient Runes professor after working as a traveling runes researcher for years.
Nightcap
Professor Sharp x Professor!reader
1.5k words
cw: drinking, fluff
You were finishing up your nightly rounds when light from a cracked open door catches your eye. It’s coming from the Potions classroom so your immediate thought is a student is up far too late brewing. You have your wand at the ready, fully prepared to tell off the pupil and remind them that they aren’t to be out of bed after curfew. You hold your breath as you ease the door open quietly. You scan the classroom. There’s no student in sight and all the stations are clean and empty.
“Huh,” you breathe, noticing the light is coming from the open office.
So not only was a student out of bed, they were in a professor’s office, likely stealing from Professor Sharp’s personal stores.
“You know, it’s quite late,” you say as you enter the office expecting to see a student caught red-handed.
There was no student. Again, but worse.
A sigh.
“I suppose it is…” Professor Sharp says, looking up from the pile of essays on his desk.
“So sorry, Professor!” you say quickly, eyes wide. “I thought a student was in here.”
“No, it’s just me.” He looks you over. “Finishing your rounds, I assume?”
You nod. He sighs again, sending worry coursing through you. Were you annoying him by simply being in his office? You really had thought a student was in here.
“I think I will finish these tomorrow,” he says, adjusting the stack of paper and moving it to the side. Then he looks back at you. “Would you care for a nightcap?
The offer takes you by surprise. Yes, you were coworkers, but Sharp usually kept his distance from the professors. When you started, Professor Garlick described him as a bit harsh and standoffish. Yet, here he was offering you a drink after you interrupted his grading. He could have easily just dismissed you, kicking you out of his office and claiming he was going straight to bed himself. The offer hangs in the air as all of this runs through your mind. You’re not sure if Sharp notices your delay in answer, having stood up to retrieve the alcohol and cups from a cupboard.
“If you’re pouring,” you say, taking a step into the office.
You remove some things off of a barrel and move it closer to his desk. When Sharp turns around with the drinks, he lets out a low laugh; it’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh all term.
“You could’ve conjured a chair, you know,” he tells you and you blush.
You look down at the barrel you’re perched on. “Bit late for that now…”
He sets the drink down in front of you before bringing over his own barrel.
“Also, you needn’t call me Professor. Aesop is fine.”
“I’m still getting used to being a professor myself, that’s all,” you say, reaching for one of the cups. “Being back here, even after years of being in the field, I feel like a student again.”
“I remember that feeling. At least it wasn’t injury that brought you here.”
You snort a laugh, realizing that it was probably an insensitive response since Sharp’s leg was why he was teaching rather than still being an auror.
“Yay for needing financial stability,” you say before taking a sip, hoping it will prevent you from putting your foot in your mouth again.
“You’re still doing what you’re passionate about though, aren’t you?”
“It’s more consulting and writing about ancient runes. I really liked getting to travel and seeing where they are inscribed, discovering new artifacts. That’s a bigger thrill than standing in front of students and lecturing.”
“Better than me. Closest thing I have is tracking down which student had the gall to ‘borrow’ from my personal stores,” he says, using air quotes.
You lean toward him. “Has someone been stealing?”
“Not recently,” he says, giving you an amused smile. “Hoping to show off some detective skills?”
“Goodness, I don’t know if I would actually be any help with that. More your department of expertise,” you say with a shake of your head. “I had thought I was catching a student red-handed when I came in.”
“Must’ve been a disappointment to find me,” he says, looking away from you.
Your eyes widen slightly.
“No. No! It’s better I found you… I’m glad I found you… Trust me… Although, I didn’t mean to interrupt your grading.”
“It’s good you interrupted. I was probably giving Acceptable work O’s.”
“And we can’t be having that,” you say with a small laugh.
Sharp looks over you again, a smile playing at his lips. It’s an unfamiliar look on his face, but you like it. You think you’d like to see him genuinely smile more often.
“Besides the name thing, are you adjusting to Hogwarts well?”
“Oh, I think so. I do enjoy not having to sleep in a tent.” You debate your next words. “It’s also nice to share a drink with someone.”
Sharp gives you a disbelieving look. “I find it difficult to believe that someone as beautiful as you didn’t have someone to drink with.”
“You flatter me, Pro-... Aesop,” you say, correcting yourself as you almost called him Professor Sharp. “But it’s true. I usually drank alone, unless a friend was visiting or I was collaborating on a project.” You take a sip of your drink. “I’m fairly convinced that I’m difficult to approach.”
“Some people are scared of a beautiful woman who exudes confidence,” Sharp says.
With the drink in your system, you feel a bit more confident, which you’re appreciative of.
“Are you, Aesop, scared of beautiful women who exude confidence?” you ask, leaning forward again, your elbows digging into your knees.
Sharp clears his throat. He’s scanning your face, trying to get a proper read of your intentions. When he offered a nightcap, he hadn’t expected the conversation to take this turn, not that he was complaining. He just wanted to be sure. He smirks at you.
“Don’t get my hopes up, darling, if you’re just going to leave like everyone else.”
You raise an eyebrow with your head cocked to the side.
“Leave like everyone else?” you repeat, unsure of who had all left him.
He sighs but his expression toward you is soft. “Being an auror isn’t kind on one’s relationships.”
“Neither is being a traveling researcher,” you say with a smile. “But you’re retired and I’m stationary.”
“Those are… both true.”
“And I have no intentions of leaving.”
Sharp was looking at you with an intense look on his face. One that was begging you to be serious and sincere. His internal thoughts were asking how he ended up in this situation, with the temptation of you in front of him, saying things he had only dreamed of. Since his auror partner died, he had avoided getting close and forming real relationships with anyone. But something about you had him offering you a drink. Something about you got his hopes up that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to be so closed off to the rest of the world.
You finish your drink and set the cup on his desk. He’s still staring at you. It’s obvious he’s lost in his thoughts of uncertainty.
“Aesop, just kiss me.”
He didn’t need to be told twice by the beautiful woman in front of him who exudes confidence. He sets his own cup down next to yours before leaning forward toward you. One of his hands gently holds your face as he brings his near. His eyes hesitantly search yours, half expecting you to say “Sike” and pull away. You don’t. You’re waiting patiently for him to close the space between you.
When he does, you can’t stop yourself from smiling. The kiss was a little too forceful, but he quickly eases the pressure. It shifts into something far more gentle in nature than you thought Sharp had in him. You deepen the kiss, one hand going to hold his arm and the other finding his knee. Your lips move in sync.
You feel breathless when he pulls away. There’s a nervous smile on his face that gains confidence as he sees your own smile. There air between you is charged with unsaid emotions and the uncertainty of where this left you.
“This is probably my favorite way to end nightly rounds,” you say with a nervous laugh.
“With a nightcap?” he asks, earning a light shove from you.
“Aesop,” you say, a lightness in your voice.
“Well, um, if it was late when you first got here…” His voice trails off.
You laugh, “It certainly is late now.”
You stand up and walk to the door, ready to say good night. Sharp follows you, but the confidence in his walk is hindered by the development in your relationship.
He clears his throat. “So this was a one-night thing?”
You shake your head, going on your tiptoes so you can press a kiss to his cheek. “There’s no way this was just a one-night thing.”
Birthday breakfast to bed leads to a different indulgence entirely.
(*) Explicit sexual content. Minors DNI!
This one basically wrote itself. It was incredibly fun, too 😁
7. Birthday (3.5k)
Professor Aesop Sharp was largely unused to waking up in the morning with a smile on his face. That is, up until the last few years.
Many mornings were quite similar to this one - Aesop woke to the sound of birds singing and chirping in the thick trees outside, the cool morning air wafting in from the opened window bringing in the subtle scent of dew-covered wildflowers.
The only difference was that he woke up feeling just a tad chillier than normal, which he supposed he should blame on the empty spot beside himself, where normally a very soft and warm body would lie, snuggled against him.
Aesop took a while to fully wake up, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes following a deep yawn. His large body stretched upon the king-sized bed, and he inwardly winced when a couple of joints popped audibly. He used his fingers to comb through his sleep-matted hair, then settled back down against the mattress for a moment longer.
Life was slow in this part of the world, especially in the mornings. Most people were leaving for work, and only the retired folk and children with their mothers remained in the village of Willow Creek. Surely his elderly neighbour Mrs Pruitt was already bustling around in her flower garden, the small greengrocer cart was being set up a few streets over, and the peaceful morning would only be disturbed by the few owls delivering letters. Normally, soon thereafter, Aesop too would leave and Floo over to Hogwarts, but, as it so happens, it was the very first day of summer holidays.
Still, just as he was about to get up to clothe himself and hopefully find his fiancée, who had left him alone in their bed so cruelly, the door of the bedroom clicked open, and there she was.
Aesop immediately felt the corners of his mouth turning upwards, looking at her. She was wearing a light blue sleeping gown, one which he absolutely adored, as it had her cleavage on display, adorned by fine lace. Her white dressing gown gently embraced her form, and the potions master found his hands itching, unsure whether it was to rid her of the garments, or reach for his sketchbook to immortalise her in it just like this.
“Good morning,” she said, her own mouth curved in a smile, “I hope I didn't leave you waiting too long?” Aesop softly sat up until his back was leaning against the headboard, a lazy grin on his face when he saw her eyes momentarily flick to his own bare chest. He preferred to skip wearing his pyjama shirt during the summers.
“Not at all,” he replied, his voice still somewhat thick with sleep, “I only just woke up. However, I'm sorry to say, but I did wake up missing one very important thing.”
“Oh?” She leaned sideways against the doorframe, “and what would that be, professor Sharp?”
Aesop's grin got wider. He wouldn't say it out loud, but he adored when she called him that. He needn't say it out loud, even, she knew full well what effect she had on him, and she used her knowledge to her advantage. She wouldn't have been a half-bad Slytherin, had she not been a Ravenclaw.
“I rather think you know the answer to this question, but so as there is not any misunderstanding - I woke up missing my lovely fiancée, with whom I could roll around in the sheets until I would, sadly, have to come to terms with the fact she's leaving for work.”
She smirked at him, crossing her arms on her chest: “Oh, my sincere apologies, Aesop, dear. However, perhaps I may make it up for you?”
And then, she turned her back to him and reached for something to the left of the door. When she turned back around to face him, Aesop saw that there was a tray in her hands. Almost immediately, the smell of bacon and eggs hit him, and he felt his belly rumble. As she came closer, Aesop could see that she went all out for their breakfast.
Bacon, sunny side up eggs, some grilled tomato, crispy looking lettuce leaves, a couple of sausages, and of course a few slices of bread, toasted to perfection. And, of course, a steaming kettle of tea with a small cup of milk on the side.
Aesop hummed contently. “My, my,” he said, “a breakfast to bed. And what a feast this is. What's the occasion?”
She clicked her tongue and carefully sat down on the bed, bringing the tray down carefully so as not to spill anything: “I'd rather say you know all too well.”
She leaned in closer and Aesop mirrored the movement until their lips connected in a sweet, unrushed kiss.
After a few seconds, they parted. “Happy Birthday, my love,” his fiancée whispered against his mouth, her warm breath feeling delicious on his lips.
“Another year older,” the potions master sighed, “but I'm not sure whether any wiser.” She grinned and leaned away in order to pour them their tea. “A wise man would, in my humble opinion, eat his breakfast before it goes cold, what do you say?”
There was a little glint of mischief in Aesop's eyes, his smile turning sly: “And what if there's something else I would like to eat, hm?”
The professor was happy to observe his words had the desired effect - the young woman's eyes went wide for just a second, and a blush started creeping into her cheeks. “You scoundrel,” she said, her grin returning, “here I am, cooking up a perfect full English breakfast for you, and now I'll have it go cold? I don't think so, mister.”
“Oh, I'm sorry,” Aesop immediately placated, “it was never my intention to disrespect your hard work, my sweet, I'm sure the breakfast will be completely succulent, but you must forgive an old man for wanting to spend some more time with his beautiful fiancée before she leaves him for work.”
She moved his cup of tea closer to him, no sugar and only a splash of milk, just how he liked it. Aesop accepted the fork she offered him next, and without further ado and any more little protests, he began to eat.
“You needn't worry about me disappearing on you today. As it so happens, Ellie gave me a day off after I told her that I'd like to spend the day with my beloved to celebrate his birthday,” she said as she too started to eat, piercing a perfectly grilled tomato onto her fork. Aesop hummed in understanding: “Ah, I see now. Then please, once again, accept my sincere apology. Had I known that we had all the time in the world today, I would've been much more cordial with my advances, and waited until we finished the feast you so masterfully prepared before asking for some sweet dessert…”
This time, the young woman giggled before sipping on her tea: “You, Aesop Sharp, have absolutely no place calling yourself an old man. Old men tend to be far less incorrigible than you.”
“Oh, but not many old men have beautiful young fiancées. If they did, they'd be as incorrigible as myself,” he retorted, before being swiftly silenced with a crispy slice of bacon being pushed towards his lips by his sweetheart.
They enjoyed the rest of their breakfast engaging in more playful banter, as well as discussing the plans for their free day. Their friends and family would come to celebrate on Saturday, and Aesop's mother offered to bake his favourite strawberry cake for him for the occasion, so they truly had an entirely free summer day on their hands.
“Maybe we could go out later for a swim? Once the sun warms the water up a little?” The young woman offered, dabbing at her lips with a soft napkin once she was done eating, their tea long since finished. Aesop sighed happily. His hunger for food has been quenched, but his hunger for her has not been diminished even a little bit while they indulged in the hearty breakfast.
He felt sated, but not entirely full, which he presumed was intentional. The young woman has known him for years, she must've known he'd want to indulge in something else this morning as well, which is why she was meticulous in choosing the size of their servings.
She must've caught the way he was looking at her, the way his treacherous eyes kept sliding down to the delicate skin of her chest, lapping up at the part of the soft mounds of her breasts that was visible to him, because she carefully grabbed the now almost empty tray, and stood up to move it onto her dressing table instead.
However, before she could turn around to go back to bed, Aesop stood as well and moved to stand behind her. His hands found purchase on her hips, and he squeezed her close to him, his chest against her back. Without a word, she turned her head as much as she could towards him, and accepted the passionate kiss he immediately pressed against her willing mouth.
One of his arms curled around her waist in order to press her even closer, his growing hardness pushing against the flesh of her bottom, making her gasp into their kiss and therefore allowing entrance for his tongue.
The potions master plundered her mouth, his hips grinding slowly against her, the other hand on her hip moving around to where her legs joined. His large finger then found the small pink pearl between her petals through the delicate fabric of her sleeping gown. She separated their lips in order to release a small sigh, her head falling back on his shoulder. Aesop's mouth latched onto her neck then, teeth worrying at her pulse point before moving higher, to the sweet spot between her ear and jaw, which he knew sent shock waves straight to her rapidly dampening core.
Finally deeming their current position as not enough, Aesop turned his fiancée around, making the poor girl nearly lose her footing. Luckily, his strong arms were there to catch her. The professor grinned, watching her eyes blown wide and her cheeks flushing further.
“I love this night gown of yours, darling,” he said in a low voice, the fingers of his right hand tracing the edge of the lace, only ever so slightly touching the warm skin underneath, “makes me positively ravenous… However, I rather think I'd enjoy the sight of it on the floor even more…”
And with that, he gently pushes her dressing gown of her shoulders, the soft material sliding down her body with ease and a certain level of elegance. All the while, Aesop kept his eyes on her own, in case she wanted to stop or slow down, but no, his fiancée had a soft smile on her lips, and looked up at him with absolute trust and an overwhelming amount of emotions.
Aesop slowly kneeled down then, his hands sliding down her ribs, waist, hips, the top of her thighs and even lower, until they reached the hem of her nightgown. Slowly, he started to lift the fabric up the young woman's legs, pressing open mouth kisses onto the newly revealed skin while the garment started bunching up in his hold.
He kissed her knee, then lower thigh, then her hip, before he brought his face to her core, glistening with arousal, a perfect pink flower covered by morning dew. His nose buried in the fine short hair on her mound, and lips touched at the split of her folds, the young woman sighing again above him, a hand on his shoulder to brace herself.
The professor then licked a long stripe between her petals before deeming his current position rather constrictive. Raising his head, he looked up at her, and slowly rose back to his feet, bringing the bunches material of her night gown ever higher, and over her head, finally fully baring her for his lustful gaze.
He gave her a loving smile, his hands once more caressing at the skin of her hips and waist, before palming her soft breasts, his thumbs circling her hardening nipples. Their mouths moulded together once more, this time harder than before, both of them now engaging in a sensual dance using their tongues.
Her fingers carded into his hair, pulling ever so slightly and making him growl into their kiss. Aesop was just about to start backing her up towards the bed, when a surprised moan fought its way through his throat. He didn't notice one of her hands leaving his hair only to slip down, beneath the waistline of his pyjama trousers, and grip his straining erection.
Aesop let her pump him slowly, letting the sweetness of her touch wash over him. Her hand was terribly clever, it knew just where to squeeze harder, where to tease him. After a few seconds though, he decided that two could play that game, and his own hand went on to explore her core. Their lips connected again just as his calloused fingers slid over her damp seam, one of them slipping just past it.
After a few minutes pleasuring each other, Aesop decided it truly was time for his dessert, and he very gently guided his fiancée's hand out of his pants.
Giving her another kiss, he finally started backing her up towards the bed. She sat down on it as soon as the back of her legs touched the cool wood of the frame, then scooted further back to make room for Aesop.
The professor immediately crawled over her body, and used his own to press her into the mattress, once more plundering her lips until she was gasping for air, and then moving down.
Like so many times before, he mapped her body using his hands and lips. The breakfast she had made for him was delicious, but the taste of her skin was positively divine. She whined when his teeth closed around her pebbled nipple, while the other was pinched by his fingers. He soothed the sting using his hot tongue, making her spread her legs for him.
He moved further down only when her teats were raw red and too sensitive, dragging his tongue down her belly and towards his prize.
His fingers spread her open then, and he buried his face between her soaked folds, his tongue pushing harshly against her fluttering opening. Both of them moaned out, and her fingers were once again in his hair, messing it up further. Aesop didn't care, not when her juices were soaking up his beard, not when he was so completely enveloped by her. All he saw, heard, smelled and tasted was her, and he was getting ridiculously high on it.
He lapped at her entrance, one of his fingers finding her lovenub, and circling it in time with his tongue thrusting inside her. Soon, her sounds became more rhythmic, her breathing harder, and her hand in his hair harsher.
He switched his hand and mouth then, his lips moving to surround the little pink pearl of hers to suck on it, while two fingers plunged into her quivering heat, forcing the air out of her lungs.
Aesop set an intense rhythm, not too fast, but swiftly overwhelming never the less. His teeth worried at her clit, and her breathy moans grew in volume. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her other hand fist at the sheets next to her, knuckles white.
“A-Aesop-!” She yelped, and he raised his head in order to look at her, a grin on his wet mouth.
“Yes, my dear? How can I help you?” He asked smugly. Her eyes were unfocused, her skin damp with perspiration, her flush pronounced in all of the best spots.
“P-please, I-... T-take me, please!” She stammered out, clearly lost in her pleasure. Aesop groaned and swiftly used his free hand to give himself a few quick strokes through the trousers, just to take the edge off.
“Oh?” He purred, “but I thought that I'd rather make you come for me first? Perhaps two, three times, before I pound you into the mattress?”
She gave a desperate whine, and Aesop's grin got even wider.
“P-please…”
Aesop slowly pulled his fingers out of her core, making her whine at the loss. Keeping eye contact, he then pushed the fingers into his mouth, his tongue lapping up her juices and his eyes closing at her taste, which only made her make a few more desperate sounds.
He finally freed his nearly painful erection, and tossed the pants somewhere over his shoulder. Truth be told, he was so hard, he'd probably come untouched just using his hands and mouth on her, and then have to wait a little before he was good to go again.
He climbed back up her body, and caressed her cheek with his hand, the skin warm under his touch. She leaned into the contact, darkened eyes fluttering softly. He smiled: “Oh, but what a cad would I be if I denied my lady her request…”
And before she could react, he took himself in hand, and guided his dark, weeping tip against her entrance, pushing in halfway immediately.
His fiancée gasped loudly, and her arms immediately flew around him, fingers instantly digging into his shoulders and fingernails leaving behind crescent moon imprints. Aesop groaned at the mixture of pleasure and pain, and slid in the rest of the way, high on the tightness surrounding him.
He gave her a minute to adjust to him, his lips once more attaching to her neck and slowly moving up to her lips. Just as his tongue plunged into her accepting mouth, he pulled out nearly all the way before slamming back in, his hands on her hips for leverage.
Soon the previously quiet morning air was filled with the sounds of their bodies uniting, her breathy moans and pleas, and Aesop's own grunts and heavy breathing.
“O-oh, fuck…” he gritted out when she squeezed around him, feeling precome leaking out of his throbbing hardness. He kissed her again, muffling some of their sounds, but they were only able to exchange a few messy kisses before the need for oxygen became too urgent.
Speaking of urgent, he could feel the telltale signs of her getting close to her peak, her hands squeezing him tighter, her sounds getting higher, her delicious heat constricting around him.
“A-Ace, I’m going to-” she managed to get out.
The next sound to leave her mouth was nearly a yelp, as Aesop used one of his hands to rub circles onto her engorged nub in time with his quickening thrusts, and only a few seconds later, her thighs began to shake around his hips and her back arched against the mattress. Aesop swore under his breath again, pounding into her hard, her walls squeezing him and beckoning him to join her in her bliss.
He grabbed onto her hips again, to deliver a final harsh set of thrusts, and had the bed not been as heavy as it was, the headboard would've surely been banging against the wall with every single one of his movements. Her sounds were now little more than choked mewls, her eyes screwed shut, and her limbs positively trembling.
With a final loud growl, Aesop felt the dam break, and he was suddenly plunged into a world of pleasure, his aching cock flooding her walls in several long spurts.
He rode out his orgasm more slowly, his thrusts becoming more and more languid, until overstimulation made him still above her.
The professor pretty much collapsed atop his young fiancée, his breathing hard and his heartbeat rapid. He could still feel her legs trembling slightly around his hips, and he started pressing soft kisses against her skin wherever he could reach.
Finally, her arms around him relaxed, and one of her hands made its way back into his hair, stroking the damp strands lovingly.
“Happy Birthday, Aesop,” she whispered, her voice still weak.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he replied, lifting his head in order to kiss her cheek, then her lips, slowly and tenderly.
After several minutes during which their bodies calmed down, Aesop sighed and carefully rolled over to his side, taking the young woman with him, his softened shaft slipping out of her plush depths.
“So,” he said, good humour colouring his voice, “still up for the swim you talked about?”
Her eyes opened to look at him, and while exhaustion was clear within them, she chuckled: “The only place I'm willing to take a swim in right now is our bathtub. And even that would be preferable in a while, after I feel like I won't collapse on my feet the moment I attempt to stand up.”
Aesop grinned down at her: “I'm not at all opossed to such an idea. After all, we've got a full day ahead of ourselves.”
Her eyes were warm, and her smile even warmer. She gently shook her head: “I love you, Ace.”
He returned the smile: “I love you too… Another year older, not sure if any wiser. But I surely am the happiest man in the world…”
---
Hehe, I hope you liked this one 😁As always, you can also find me over on AO3
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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.
He rested his head against her chest and felt what he would often feel with her: a self-affection.
She made him like himself. With her, he was at ease; his skin felt as though it was the right size…
It seemed so natural, to talk to her about odd things which is something he had never done before with anyone.
The trust, so sudden and yet so complete, and the intimacy, frightened him… But now he could think only of all the things he yet wanted to tell her, wanted to do with her.
Thank you so much @aesopsharpstuff for drawing this beautiful sketch of Aesop Sharp and Juliet Price 🥹❤️ It’s beyond perfect
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.
