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bayjaruchel · 7 months

Text

Always

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Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Hiccup has a lot on his mind. You help him relax, in more ways than one. (3.6k) (originally posted on ao3)

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Whenever Hiccup was tired — either mentally or physically — he'd find you.

It wasn't like you didn't spend time together when he was in good health, though. On the contrary, you saw him basically every day. After the whirlwind of events that involved him, a certain Night Fury, and the Red Death, you'd somehow been flung into a rapidly developing relationship.

Sure, he was … Shy, at first. But also devastatingly sweet. Excruciatingly compassionate. Sometimes you wondered what you'd done to deserve him — correction, what you'd done to earn his perhaps years- long infatuation with you, which you learned about later. Honestly, you still didn't know. Whenever you tried asking, his prepubescent bashfulness roared back like a Thunderdrum.

Not that you minded too much. It was still cute.

Regardless, whenever you spent time together, it was usually pre-planned. Maybe you'd have lunch together. Maybe you'd go on long flights — dragons either flying in lazy overlapping figure-eights or shooting through the air, diving precariously to skim the surface of the ocean. The location or activity didn't matter much, as long as you were together. Sometimes, you'd just sit together on the high hills near his home and watch the sky. Still, all those things were proper dates, with proper times and proper locations. Hiccup rarely liked to intrude on your personal time.

However, on occasion, he'd break that personal law of his.

This was one of those certain occasions.

He found you, already in your house due to the late hour.

You could tell he'd been out flying, due to his ruffled appearance. Although his hair was always at least a little out of place, it wasn't normally this windswept without good reason. He'd shed his helmet, but not his armor; upon entering, though, he took off his vambraces and delicately placed them on the table nearest the door.

Automatically, he closed the distance, wrapping his arms around your upper back. When you returned his embrace, he practically melted into you, hair tickling your cheek where he'd tucked his head into your shoulder. Hiccup smelled faintly of the sea, and of dragons; it made you wonder just how far he'd gone.

"Hey," he mumbled, muffled into your tunic.

"Hey yourself." Turning just so, you pressed a kiss into his hair. "Something on your mind?"

He backed away a little, raising his head to look at you, but didn't let go. He looked tired, shoulders slumped and eyes faintly shadowed. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

Sounded tired, too. Frowning, you reached up to idly push a lock of auburn hair out of his face. He leaned subtly into your touch, seeking further the warmth of your hand on his skin. At your proximity to him, you could pick out the slight stubble he'd developed. Or his freckles, patterned like constellations across his cheeks and nose. His eyelashes were pretty, too, but he'd never understood why.

"You didn't push Toothless too hard, did you? He's strong, I know, but even he can only take so much before having to rest." Fondly, you added, "he'd follow you to the ends of the Earth, that one."

His eyes softened. "I know. But I swear I didn't wear him out — we only flew for so long before heading back."

"Good."

You looked at each other for a moment, smiling, before your hand found a familiar place on his cheek.

"... Did something happen?"

Hiccup's gaze darted off to the side, his expression fading back into one of weariness.

"Yeah? I guess?" He paused, before glancing back at you. "I should've seen it coming, but, you know me — always blowing things out of proportion, at least by a little bit." Laughing weakly, he probably would've done one of his sardonic arm movements if he wasn't still holding you. Speaking of, his grip tightened, just a bit.

"Long story short, my dad wants me to be his … successor." He winced. "Uh, he wants me to be the next chief."

"Oh."

You searched his expression and didn't find much of anything. "That's … "

" … A lot," finished Hiccup, resigned. "Yeah, it's a lot."

"A lot of … bad stuff?"

Of course, anyone with two working eyes and a brain would be aware of the fact that Hiccup was very much not like his father. Stoick wasn't a bad man, even if he did have his faults — he and his son merely resembled two opposing elements, clashing and yet harmonizing at the same time. Where the current chief of the Hooligans was brash, all fire and aggression, Hiccup was anything but. He kept to himself most of the time, preferring to spend time alone with Toothless.

You believed in him, and you always would — it was just that, if he needed to step up as a leader, you were worried about how he'd handle it.

"Bad stuff, good stuff, just — stuff," he blustered, his voice rising in volume. "Honestly, I've been avoiding my dad. For the past day or so. I can't even look him in the eye without — without thinking about that . " Inhaling sharply, he slowly released his breath in an attempt to calm himself.

It didn't seem to work.

"I can't accept that responsibility."

Quietly, you brushed aside his bangs again. "You haven't talked to him about it at all? He'd listen," you insisted. "He's not as closed-minded as he used to be."

Hiccup's brow furrowed as he stepped back, arms falling back to his sides. "But he still wouldn't understand why. He'd be all— " Dropping his tone and puffing out his chest in a clear imitation of his father, he declared, "Son, it's only inevitable! You might as well step up while ye can! No use denyin' destiny!"

You couldn't help but smirk. "Hey, you got his accent spot-on."

"Why, thank you." He brightened for a moment, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Sometimes I wonder if I exaggerate it."

"Maybe just a little."

"Aw, man." Shaking his head solemnly, he humored you for a moment. But quickly, he was serious again. "Regardless of my expertise in the great, great field of accent imitation … "

"He wouldn't understand that — all of those speeches, and planning, and running the village — it's second nature to him, at this point." Hiccup rolled his shoulders, averting his eyes from yours. "But for me — no, that's not me. I can't be the leader he thinks I'll be — I can't just slip into that role." Running one hand through his hair, he waved his other in a disjointed motion. "Being the pride of Berk doesn't mean I'll automatically become that strong, confident chief that's needed."

"I guess what I'm trying to get at is that — I'm not him. And I never will be." Dropping his hands back to his sides, he turned his attention to the window. Outside, it was dark, but the sky was clear. A drowsy quiet had fallen upon Berk, a far cry from its usual liveliness.

"And I never met my mother, so … what does that make me?"

Finally, he met your eyes once more. Your heart ached for him.

When you pulled him into another hug, he didn't resist.

For a minute, you just stayed like that — wrapped around one another. And then, you broke the silence.

"You don't have to be your father. Or your mother." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, but you kept going. "I know you're still searching for yourself — who you are — but that's alright. People can change and grow over time, Hiccup. Even if they think they can't." You gently traced circles over his back. "Even if you think you can't."

His breath was unsteady as he exhaled.

When he spoke, he sounded vulnerable.

"Do you think that … I could be a good chief?"

You didn't hesitate before responding. "Of course I do. Maybe you're not ready right now, but when you are, you'll be the strong leader that Berk needs." Another kiss, pressed to his temple. "I just know it."

Hiccup sighed deeply, relaxing more into your arms. For a guy as tall and lanky as he was, he had no problem with making himself smaller in your presence. You had a feeling he even preferred it that way.

"What would I do without you, huh?"

Tenderly, he cupped your face.

You couldn't help but tease him, though.

"Wallow in your own despair, maybe." Leaning in slowly, you gave him a look. "Well, more than usual."

He smiled, eyes crinkling up at the corners. "Ouch."

Still, he met you halfway. His lips were a little chapped, maybe, but other than that you had no complaints. As your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him closer, his hands fell to your waist with a gentle but firm grip. He tasted very faintly of honey.

It was all very sweet — pun not intended — and you didn't stop it when the kiss deepened. He hummed contentedly, just before you parted; both breathing heavier than you had been before. It was only a brief moment, a brief pause -- and then his lips were on yours again. Passionately, not hungrily. He'd never been a taker. Always a giver.

Inches from you, after you parted for maybe the seventh or eighth time — you weren't quite keeping count— he murmured something, breathlessly.

"Can we take this to bed?" He looked at you with nearly half-lidded eyes, and then added a quiet "please?"

"If you want to," you answered, softly.

"Very much," was his reply, followed by another dizzying kiss.

His armor and various articles of gear were soon discarded into a small pile, leaving him in just his dark green tunic, pants, and other assorted under-layers.

At first, he'd been a bit awkward concerning his prosthetic. Insecure. But now, after climbing onto the mattress with you, he deftly removed it and put it to the side with a dull clunk . It didn't come up often as an issue, anyway — after a fair bit of messing around, trying to find positions that wouldn't cause him to lose his balance and topple over, you'd adapted quite easily.

Right now, you weren't even moving at a speed that could possibly make him fall over.

He settled back onto the pillows as you hovered over him. Then, you leaned down to continue what you'd started. His hands settled somewhere on your back — he made a small noise as your tongue slipped into his mouth. Warm and longing, he pulled you impossibly closer, craving the feeling of your body pressed against his.

Soon, his hands snaked below your tunic, seeking out your skin. You giggled, a little — his fingers were always cold after a flight — but they would warm up. In the meantime, you'd help him warm up, too.

Hiccup shivered, almost imperceptibly, as your lips found his neck for a moment. Indulgently, you nibbled once, playfully, and his breath hitched. But he didn't let you continue much longer, and soon you were back to kissing him where he wanted you most. This was exactly how he liked it best; slow and steady, with no rush to completion.

A short while later: you almost missed his words, soft as they were. You felt his calloused fingertips tracing patterns on your back all the while.

"Can I take this off?" He asked, close enough that you could almost feel his lips shaping the syllables.

You whispered a quiet affirmative.

The cool air was fresh on your skin, goosebumps temporarily rippling across the newly-bare areas, but he soothed them. A kiss on your shoulder, your collarbone, just above your chest area, and then — your breath escaped in a shudder as his lips found one of your nipples, a hot contrast to the otherwise crisp temperature. After a cheeky, parting nip, he gave the other the same attention. His eyes slid shut after you let out a small, shaky sigh.

Eventually, you helped him out of his tunic as well, covering the same ground as he had with your lips. His freckles weren't just limited to his face — they were all over his body, pretty much; some on his lean torso, some on his arms, others on his thighs, and even one or two on certain other areas — but you'd get to that later.

He twitched slightly when you thumbed over his bony hips, his hand resting somewhere between the back and top of your head as you kissed a trail from one shoulder, down to just above his waistband, and then back to the other shoulder. Similarly to the map he was making of the world outside Berk, you enjoyed plotting out the routes between the occasional scar or mole. One jagged mark near his navel, from a bad fall into a thornbush. A couple of assorted scratches here and there from more recent events. You paid attention to each and every one.

You looked at him, from where you rested near his chest, your own chest resting on his flat abdomen. He met your gaze — green eyes filled with nothing except pure adoration.

When you moved upwards, kissing him again, he reciprocated eagerly.

It wasn't long until your previously unhurried kisses grew heated. Hot. Heavy. You felt your face warm as you became aware of your desire — having started out subtle, only a nagging feeling at the back of your mind, but now nearly throbbing, tipping into desperation —

—it seemed he felt the same, as he returned what you were giving him enthusiastically. Even though you were pressed up against him again, his hands returning to your chest before sliding down to grip your waist — it wasn't enough, you were determined to take every low moan and high gasp he released—

Hiccup suddenly broke the kiss, nearly panting

You looked at him quizzically, after instinctively chasing his lips — you were about to ask if he was alright, but he spoke first.

"Can we— " Catching his breath, he quickly continued. "—switch? Positions, I mean."

"Oh." It only took you a millisecond to understand what he wanted.

You smiled. "Oh. Sure."

Rolling off of him, it was your turn to lay back. He helped you shimmy out of your trousers — as he slid them down your legs, he paused to press a kiss just above your knee — before tossing your pants on the floor, where they joined the other abandoned clothes. You didn't care much for wrinkles at a time like this. He never cared for wrinkles, period.

A pillow, most likely homemade, was slid underneath your hips. Hiccup had always liked every part of you, you were well aware of it. However, he seemed to enjoy your thighs the most; he especially enjoyed being between them.

His thumbs found your inner thighs, gently drawing them apart as he made himself comfortable on his stomach.

"Okay?" As he glanced up at you, you could pick out his eyelashes once again.

"Yeah," you breathed.

At the first touch of his lips, close to where you wanted them most, you shivered.

He was patient again, drawing nearer and nearer to your sex — he wasn't the type to leave marks but also wasn't completely adverse to a little nipping. Nonetheless, he was gentle all the while, soothing whichever places he graced with his teeth with more open-mouthed kisses.

You were tense with anticipation by the time he finally, finally licked a broad stripe up your cunt.

Vividly, you still remembered the first time he'd eaten you out. What he completely lacked in experience, he made up for with sheer enthusiasm and a nearly all-consuming need to please — now, he still possessed that same enthusiasm, but instead of clumsy kisses and clueless, unskilled lapping, he knew exactly what to do. Hands reaching to cup at the backs of your thighs, he let out a muffled, quiet groan that sent wonderful vibrations dancing up your spine.

He kept up a steady, firm rhythm, eyes fluttering shut again as he busied himself with his task at hand — his tongue working at your folds, flicking up to tease your clit, delving inside your cunt — you were growing wetter by the passing minute. He practically worshiped you, and you were a grateful recipient, a grateful deity to a devout follower.

Your legs trembled as you gradually approached the peak you needed so much. When his lips closed around your sensitive apex and sucked, gently — your hips instinctively twitched upwards, and you couldn't help the sound that tumbled from your mouth in response.

One calloused finger easily slipped inside you, immediately crooking upwards towards your stomach, searching. It didn't take long for you to adjust, and after your whispered pleas, he added another, both massaging at the spot that made you sigh and gasp. All the while, he lavished attention on your clit with his tongue, occasionally letting out soft, nearly inaudible moans of his own.

Even though you couldn't quite see it from your position, his hips shifted against the mattress, seeking just enough relief to take his mind off of his own arousal. But the other, rather large percentage of his attention was still focused on pleasing you — on making you come, trembling, onto his tongue as you had many times before.

Speaking of time — you were unaware of just how much of it passed, but eventually, you felt the familiar coil tightening, warmth pooling low in your abdomen. He must've known, too, because that was precisely when he began doubling his efforts; his fingers prodding insistently in a come hither motion, while he pressed sloppy kisses to your clit, thumbing over the nub with the same already-occupied hand.

Your back arched upwards, towards his mouth. Flushed and quivering, you nearly choked on a gasp. "Hic—"

That was the most warning you could give, before you clenched down on his fingers, hips jerking as you came. Letting out a series of short, nearly wanton exclamations, you let your head sink back further into the pillows as he helped you ride out your orgasm. You saw stars for a split second, winking brightly behind your eyelids.

He kept working at you until the aftershocks had faded, fingers sliding out of you with an almost filthy wet noise.

You were still panting, face hot, as he absentmindedly popped them into his mouth, tongue swirling around his digits — eyes already heavy-lidded, they shut for a moment at your taste. After you returned to Earth, you drew him in for a kiss, not minding the slight tanginess. If anything, it made you want him more.

Upon glancing downward, you could easily see the distinct evidence of Hiccup's desire, straining at his pants.

His breath escaped in a hiss when you leisurely palmed him.

Soon, you'd switched positions again, and you hovered just above his needy cock as he shifted back to lean on the headboard.

You were still slick and loose from earlier, so with only a little bit of a stretch, you sank down on him, taking him inside your still-sensitive cunt; the sensations almost bordering on too much, but perfectly so. His face screwed up once he was fully hilted in your heat, and he paused to adjust himself, breath escaping in quick, high-pitched pants. It wasn't anything new — he was always already beyond worked up after eating you out.

"Good?" You asked, after giving him a few seconds.

"Yeahyeah yeah," he replied in a single breath, hands squeezing your hips, careful not to grip too tight — "gods , you're warm, mmh— "

Slowly, you rocked. His grip tightened the tiniest bit. He didn't push you to go faster at all, or harder, letting you ride him at your own pace — but this wasn't for your pleasure. It was your turn to give and his to take. And so, you gave, brushing over his nipples and biting at the spots that always made him lose control. More and more moans fell from his lips, growing in volume and pitch —

He was begging, quietly, breathlessly. You captured his mouth again, biting his bottom lip, making him squirm. His cock twitched inside you, filling you up just right, as if his body was shaped by divine hands to perfectly fit yours —

You watched, reverently, when he finally reached his own ecstasy — you'd pulled him out, given him a couple of firm pumps — his voice cracked on a final, unrestrained whine as his release splattered across his stomach, thick and warm on your palm. It didn't matter how many times you'd witnessed him come — each time, he looked beautiful.

His breath slowed, the dazedness fading from his expression. His hands loosened on your hips before he finally looked up at you, still considerably flushed.

"That … " He swallowed. "Was that, uh … Fine?"

You almost broke into a fit of giggles, but prevented it before it could happen by kissing him instead. Hiccup was perhaps a bit clumsy, but you didn't mind in the slightest. When you parted, you lingered — neither wanting to move just yet, feeling languid in the afterglow.

"Yes, it was fine," you echoed. His nose wrinkled at your teasing tone, but he couldn't suppress his lopsided smile. A quick peck on your cheek, and then he was back to leaning on the pillows.

"I'm glad it was fine."

The sensation of cooling ejaculate was only bearable for a short amount of time, so eventually you did move to clean up. The wet towel was a little cold on your skin, and he thought so too, but it was all in the service of somewhat-proper hygiene.

Thankfully, the cold failed to slip through the combination of your blankets and Hiccup — which was and had always been a very effective combination.

You slipped into a comfortable slumber like that — both cozy and sated. He wasn't tense in the slightest as he held you, his chest rising and falling in a relaxed rhythm. If you concentrated, you could feel his heartbeat against your bare back.

He always fell asleep before you.

You hoped his dreams consisted of lovely things, always.

#hiccup haddock x reader #hiccup haddock iii x reader #hiccup horrendous haddock x reader #how to train your dragon x reader #how to train your dragon imagines

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milksuu · 1 year

Text

Second Magic

Pairing(s): Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III & II / witch!fem!reader

Word count: 2.OK

Content/Warnings: soulmates, reincarnation, immortal, soft magic, slice of life, fluff, minimal use of y/n, minor angst, implied sexual themes, minor blood

Summary: Death claims everyone at some point. Unfortunately for you, your gift of magic cursed you with eternal youth and an ability that has shunned you from the village of Berk. More than one-hundred years later, memories resurface when you’re visited for a potion from Berk’s next chief.

He was the spitting image of your long-lost love—your soulmate—Hiccup Horrendous Haddock II.

a/n: hello there everyone! I'm back with something new to add to the hiccupxreader tags. still on my mythical/magical kick. I do plan to have about three parts to this. so please stay tuned for updates, or let me know if you'd like to join a tag list. thank you and please enjoy.

There came a knock at the door. No one ever knocked on a witch's door by accident.

From the bedroom window, you peeked through the muslin curtain. Below the two-story cottage, grew a garden of lush greens and wild flowers. Where the weeds and dandelions led a trail to your front porch, a figure stood at your door. More pestering thuds bothered the home and the skin of your nose wrinkled. Muttering a thing or two, you ambled down the aching stairs. Before reaching the door, you rummaged through a decorative drawer, procuring a gray river rock. It was enchanted with one of your magic spells—a screeching stone, you called it.

“You can stop trying to break down my door,” you said, pressing the stone against the entryway. “Didn’t you read the sign posted on the oak tree outside? Clearly, it said no trespassing.”

“No—think I might’ve missed it,” the muffled voice of a young man answered, and it seemed honest enough. The stone hummed at the response. “Are you [Y/N], by chance?”

“There’s a chance I could be,” you said with soured lips. “Not many people come this far into the woods. And fewer people know of me, let alone my name. Which leads me to ask, who exactly sent you?”

“Gothi sent me. She mentioned you two knowing each other,” he replied in truth, and the stone continued its soft hymns. “She said if there’s anyone who could help me, it would be you.”

She’s still alive?

“That all depends. I trust Gothi, but I’ll need to trust you as well. You can start by telling me your name.”

There was a beat in the air. “It’s Hiccup.”

The ghost of your breath trapped itself inside your chest. That name—it had been buried beneath over a century ago. Yet the stone sang sweetly, and your heart squeezed in a haunting delight. A part of you wished it would scream. Wretched and revolting as it was, it would give you reason to cast the stranger away.

To your grief, he wasn’t so much a stranger as you thought.

Pocketing the stone, you opened the door with a creak. Meeting the green meadow of his eyes, your magic dug its fiery claws between your ribs. With all your power, you tried not to let his familiar freckles unsettle you. Fearing if you did, your magic would spring out of control. The windows would shatter. The roof would crumble to dust. The fireplace would spark and scorch the floors. Or something much worse. Touch him, and reveal when death would knock on his own door.

You wouldn’t let that happen. Not again. Not ever.

With a deep breath, you pushed the door open wider. “Come in,” you said, "we can talk more inside.”

He tipped his chin and thanked you for the invitation. When he stepped through, his gaze swept about your home. Dried flowers, herbs and spices hung from every inch of ceiling by twine. Sunlight spilled from the white-painted windows, and warmed the cushions of two chairs perched near the fireplace. Bookcases stood on either side of the mantle, stretched tall enough to touch the rafters, and wide enough to cover the entire walls. At the back of the home was the kitchen and brewing space. With emerald cabinets and honied-countertops, stacked with jars and vials, scattered petals, and corked potions.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you said. “I’ll prepare us something warm to drink.”

With a blink, he tore his gaze from the foliage and oddities. “Sure, I would appreciate it.”

When you left for the kitchen, he absently traced a hand against the chairs upholstery. Although it matched its counterpart, there were subtle differences; the legs were built taller, and arm rests crafted higher. When he took a seat, it felt made for someone of his stature—an odd thing to notice. His gaze raised to a row of books on one of the bookcase shelves. One particular book stood out among the jewel-toned backs of scarlet, green, and yellow. A simple spine of leather, softened over-time with use, and streaks of charcoal staining the edges.

Like a cool breeze, a sense of familiarity swept through him, touching the marrow of his bones. It begged the question.

“Have you always lived here by yourself?” Hiccup asked.

“You could say that.”

For a moment, you lost yourself in the fragrant pools. When was the last time you served someone tea? It may have been the day before a young man's mortal fate—the same day you couldn’t convince him to stay. Leaving you to join the collection of things he left behind. Your throat tightened around what felt like a ball of hot wax. Searing as it was, you swallowed its entirety.

Balancing the trembling porcelain, you returned to the next room and took a seat of your own.

“I’m sorry if I was rude earlier. I’ve…never welcomed visitors. It’s always been safer that way.” With a smile, you offered him a cup. “But between Gothi sending you and your genuine nature, I’d like to help you.”

“Thanks—and you don’t have to apologize to me. I’m the one who decided to come here unannounced. So…” Hiccup trailed off, taking a drink. He stared at the ripples with solemnity. “My father isn’t doing so well. And you know Gothi, she’s the best Seer we have on Berk. She’s done all she can, but it’s not going to be enough. When I asked if there was anything more I could do, she recommended that I seek you out.”

“I’m sorry about your father,” you said, lowering your own cup. “If Gothi wasn’t able to help him, then he must be very sick.”

“I’m trying not to think about it too much.” He worked the tension of his lips between his teeth. Then pitched a sincere look your way, and said, “So you know, I’m not worried about you being a witch. If anything, I find myself pretty lucky to ask for your help. Even if that does mean I have to sell my soul for it.”

“I have some good news for you, then. I won’t be needing it. Quite frankly, I wouldn’t even know what to do with yours,” you said with a laugh. “But most spells and potions require something of personal value. At least, the stronger ones do.”

Setting your tea cup aside, you hopped onto your toes. Approaching one of the bookcases, you trailed a finger against the backs of countless titles. Your search came to an end when you plucked one out; dense with musky pages, a silver lock clasped at the side, and a small wooden door carved into the cover.

Peering over your shoulder, you found your nosy company arched forward in his chair. You cleared your throat, “Don’t think about peeking over here. A witch never reveals her secrets.”

He apologized under his breath, and shifted his chin away. But like a child snuffed out of his curiosity, he wore a pout of disappointment. You smiled in amusement, and brought your attention back to the book.

You knocked against the small door in a melodic tempo. The little door sprang open, revealing a tiny ear inside. You brought your mouth close, whispering the incantation with the smallest voice you could muster. Too loud, and the door would snap shut against your lips.

An unpleasant experience you remembered from childhood.

The lock clicked open, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Page after page, you mumbled and zipped through each recipe. A couple more turns, you tapped against the right one. Breezing through the ingredients, you had all but one. Oh buttercups, you blushed.

“What is it?” Hiccup furrowed his brows at your dawning expression. “Everything all right?”

“It’s a bit hard to explain. I—I don’t have one of the ingredients any longer. But maybe you still do,” you exclaimed, taming the warmth of your cheeks. “Come with me.”

With a tilt of your head, you gestured to the kitchen. Your guest rose from his seat, following your footsteps. With instructions for him not to touch anything, you scrambled to find your proper ingredients; mugwort, newt tail, bog water, and a strand of witch hair. Tossed and muddled by mortar and pestle, you poured the mixed contents into a glass jar.

“Time for the last ingredient,” you said, picking up a kitchen knife, “hold out a finger.”

Although hesitant, he lifted a hand. “Tell me you’re not going to cut it off. I’m already down a leg, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Not at all. That would be more than what I actually need,” you answered, albeit a little too plainly. With your other hand, you touched the stone tucked in your dress pocket. “You only have to be honest when I ask you this question. If you’re not, then we’ll both hear about it.”

He nodded carefully. “Go ahead.”

“Have you ever—Oh, how should I put this?” Calming the storm of embarrassment brewing in your chest, you exhaled the words in one breath. “Have you ever committed the coupling act?”

There was a gulp. Then a twitch of his lips. Followed by a blush that bloomed from nose to ear. “What? No, I—I haven’t. What kind of question is that?”

Without a word, you sliced the tip of his finger. A hiss sizzled from his mouth when you squeezed it open. Aligning the bottle underneath, you caught the blood falling in pitter-patters. Once enough dripped into the brew, a plum of red smoke burst into the air. Both of you coughed and waved your hands around the space. When the pungent cloud faded into wisps, you corked the bubbling potion.

“A warning would’ve been nice.” He wrapped his finger in a handkerchief you provided. He went on to mutter, “Not sure why you couldn’t use your own finger.” By the delivery, the last part was meant to stay in his head.

Embarrassment washed through your veins, and painted every inch of your skin posy pink. The sight of it colored his own complexion.

“I didn’t mean to say that, honestly,” he apologized after the realization struck him. “It just sort of came out.”

“Absolutely no tact at all,” you chastised, snatching back the handkerchief. “Gods, you’re just as bad as him.”

He blinked with mystification. “Him?”

A slip of the tongue had the back hairs of your neck bristling. Magic pulsed like coils of lightning in your stomach. Crackling up through your chest, wanting to burn deeper holes in your heart. The roof groaned and creaked. Grains of wood dust fell onto your nose, dispelling the awful feeling.

“You have to go. Please, take it and leave. And don’t worry about repaying me.” Before he could argue, you forced the potion into his possession. With a clap of a hand, the wood beneath his feet shifted, motioning him out the front door.

“Wait a second.“ He wedged his prosthetic between the shutting door and frame. “Right bookcase, third shelf, leather back.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“There’s a book that belongs to my family. Ask me how I know.” The question was rhetorical, and in your bafflement, he continued. “My families crest is sealed in its spine. And the only way you could have it is if someone gave it to you. You said you never had visitors. Sorry to say, but I’m not buying it.”

“That book has nothing to do with you or your family,” you glowered, and the stone screeched and howled from your pocket. You clapped your hands against your splitting ears, with your company mimicking your movements. Over the prevailing wails, you cried, “You’re right—I lied and I’m sorry for it! It belonged to your great-grand uncle. And that’s the truth of it.”

The screeching stone fell to whispers. But the thumping of your heart continued to beat in your ears.

“Wait. My great-grand uncle?” He caught a breath in his throat. “You don’t mean—there’s no possible way you’re talking about—”

“I am.” Your voice dropped to a whisper. “My only visitor before you; Hiccup Horrendous Haddock II.”

#hiccup x reader #httyd #hiccup httyd #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #how to train your dragon #hiccup horrendous haddock ii #reader insert #httyd fanfiction #httyd 2 #x reader #fanfiction #hiccup x you #httyd book references #you bet we're going to get some flashbacks of hiccup the second #buckle up dragon riders #we're expecting some angst in this fanfic

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yanderes-galore · 8 months

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Based on an idea I thought of, I just had to get something down since I have to wait a bit. Sorry the banner is bad, I wasn't sure how to make it for this AU? This is mostly just me throwing out ideas so I have some down.

Yandere! Night Fury Hybrid! Hiccup Haddock Concept/Thoughts

(HTTYD Hybrid AU)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Animalistic yandere, Possessive behavior, Human/Hybrid, Manipulation, Biting, Dubious cuddling, Forced relationship implied, Mentions of mates, Guilt tripping, Violence, Mentioned murder, Kidnapping.

I feel at first we should be discussing how he'd look and act.

In terms of how he'd look it can very depending on your preference.

Personally I'd imagine he'd have the "ear horns" like Night Furies.

Then he'd have the wings, claws, and tail.

Maybe he even has the sharp teeth, retractable or not.

He could also have the eyes of a Night Fury, making him look relatively cat-like.

Probably also sleeps upside down.

Maybe you can place some black scales around his body but he still has human skin in some places?

That's a very general idea on what Hiccup could look like as a Night Fury hybrid.

In terms of behavior I'd imagine he'd act similarly to a Night Fury (shocker, I know).

He's stealthy, fast, and can use plasma bolts.

He probably purrs and growls when content.

Something I'm debating on is how he'd communicate with you.

There's three routes you could take with it.

The first one is he doesn't know any human language and communicates through actions or growls.

The second one is he knows limited language to communicate.

For the second one it could start with no language learned and you teach him it, or he knew it by observation of other humans.

The third is he knows fluent language, maybe not yours or maybe it is, but he can talk.

Don't get me wrong, regardless on how he communicates, he's still just as intelligent as your usual human.

Another thing that's dubious about the AU is if there is actual regular dragons.

There could be three separate factions (Humans, Hybrids, Dragons).

Naturally hybrids would be more attuned to dragons due to similarities.

It's that or there's only two factions (Humans and Hybrids), which have been at war for decades.

This is still a very new AU so "AU canon" is still unclear.

Honestly, the most exciting part of this is Night Furies in canon mate for life.

The same most likely goes for hybrids.

So I imagine once Hiccup is attached he plans to never leave you.

Plus, hybrids are most likely possessive similar to dragons.

Now, I feel you could meet Hiccup in many ways.

My favorite though? Maybe you even mirror how he meets Toothless in canon.

Maybe when you two are young (Hiccup's age in HTTYD 1), you help him with an injury.

Then you two slowly bond until you're both in your 20's.

Ever since you saved him he has been a companion by your side.

I imagine you could fly with hybrids but due to their humanoid form, they'd just carry you-

So instead of Hiccup finding a Light Fury hybrid to have a relationship with, he chooses you.

Hybrids would be compatible with humans most likely.

The first hybrid's origins are unknown, but it is implied they take human partners at times.

I can imagine when you're both 21 you try to find him a compatible mate or encourage it.

Meanwhile he doesn't want anyone but you.

Even since you were young, the hybrid knew you were the one for him.

He has never parted from you and your own father wonders what his intentions are.

I imagine when you were young it took awhile to warm up to each other, just like in HTTYD 1.

Hiccup starts off wary of you, wondering if you're safe to trust.

Then by the end of it he vows to protect and cherish you.

You'd both be teens then but your relationship between each other would start off as just companions.

However, this would be the first little seeds of his crush.

It's when you start getting older, reaching 18 and your 20's that he starts inching closer.

He often purrs around you and tries his best to understand your culture.

He craves your touch, often putting your hand on his cheek for comfort.

When you're both adults he probably starts showing behavior akin to wanting a mate.

He may try ro manipulate you into it, claiming you're the closest one to him.

He tries to make it sound like he'd be lonely forever if you don't accept his courting.

He claims he wants to hold you close and cuddle you for warmth since his kind hate the cold.

Yet you can tell by the way he wraps his tail around your waist that isn't quite it.

I imagine he'd bite you to mark you and often gets aggressive towards other humans and hybrids around you.

Hiccup may even share Toothless traits, like being the last Night Fury Hybrid in the world... right now.

Maybe you can help with that, hm? (If you're able)

In terms of if he'd murder, maybe.

He doesn't want to ruin your trust and any form of murder would be accidental.

Like if something blinded him with rage or he allowed his possessive behavior to take over.

Even then he personally may not feel bad for it, but acts remorseful to have your forgiveness.

Kidnapping? Again, a maybe.

For a Night Fury he's rather soft personality wise.

He'd be willing to live with you if you wished, then he could be more attuned to human culture.

Yet if someone tried to steal you from him then he's feel unsafe.

Feeling unsafe may lead to a stray plasma blast striking someone down or burning your home.

Which means he'll have to carry you to somewhere he can properly provide for you.

As a hybrid his diet is mostly fish or whatever Night Furies eat.

However, he could have human food too due to being partially human.

Hiccup would try to keep track of what humans need to provide for you.

When he wants affection he'll nuzzle into you, lay his larger body on top of you, and purr.

Like actual Night Furies, he acts like cats and bats.

Which means it's a bit strange to see him sleeping upside down at first.

Overall, Hiccup as a hybrid would retain his usual persona and a bit of Toothless.

He's a hunter... and your companion for life.

You may not like what he has in store for you, but he promises he does it out of love.

#yandere how to train your dragon #yandere httyd #yandere httyd hybrid au #yandere night fury #yandere night fury hiccup #yandere hiccup #yandere hiccup haddock

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saturnniidae · 7 days

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Is this a safe space to admit I fucking hate Hiccup's rtte model.

I don't like how red kind of takes over his color palette (imo it's better as an accent color for him) and also. He's so fucking ugly??? Not in a 'im whining bc I don't think he's attractive enough' way, in a 'my god why tf is he so pasty and his lips are weirdly pink?? His freckles are gone and he's generally unpleasant to look at' way.

#i struggle to look at him in rtte and go 'yeah thats hiccup'#it might partially be bc obviously they dont have the budget for lots of skin texturing but in rob he looks better?? in some ways #i do like his leather scale tunic thing tho. it suits him well #and his little braids ofc #ngl i get a good chuckle whenever i see ppl calling him hot bc. what tf are you on about dawg 😭#maybe its just bc i dont see the appeal in mediocre looking white boys #(THO OUTSIDE OF RTTE I DO LOVE HIS DESIGN I THINK THE GAPS IN HIS TEETH + FRECKLES R RLLY NICE)#my tummy hurts meaning the malice in my heart is stronger than usual meaning i need to be a hater rn or else ill climb the walls #httyd #hiccup haddock #rtte salt #? ig #httyd shitpost #moth.txt

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oncewhenalongtimeago · 6 months

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The Jealous One pt 2

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 1,351

You and the twins become acquainted.

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, the Twins

You and Snotlout peered around a corner of the Great Hall, one of the closets on the way to the kitchen area. He was leaning over your head as you were crouched close to the floor, giving each other enough room to both peer past while also retaining your personal space.

“Ruffnut’s hot,” He said, as you wrinkled your nose at him, “And single.”

It was dark on account of it not being mealtime as of yet, the torches cool and unlit in their holsters.

“She doesn’t like you,” You rolled your eyes, “Besides, what happened to Astrid?”

Snotlout wasn’t that close with anyone either, for obvious reasons. But once you got used to him he became sort of bearable. It helped that there was no love lost between the two of you, forced together more out of boredom and circumstance than anything else.

“She’s too busy with the nerd to give me a shot.” He scoffed.

You were glad to be spared the terrible pick-up lines, for the most part. You were still the bouncing board sometimes, in a ‘does this sound right?’ or ‘do I look hot enough to pull?’ sort of sense. You always said ‘no.’

“Which one?” You grinned. You felt a bit bad for making the jab, but Astrid, Fishlegs and Hiccup were all in their own sort of three-way acquaintanceship, the mention of which you knew would put him off.

“Ugh,” Snotlout made a noise that could only be likened to a gurgle and he used his hand to shove you further downwards, to which in response you elbowed up, jabbing him in the gut.

He was a bit rough sometimes but he was good company and decent enough entertainment when he wasn’t. That was okay, though, because you’d long grown past the nervous stage in your friendship where you’d been too nervous to prod back, not that he’d been exactly trying to roughhouse you at that time.

You cradled the thick pigskin in your arms, carefully filled until bursting with a hardy mix of sap and honey and sewn tightly but clumsily shut by the both of you.

You snorted crawling out from under Snotlout and edging your way into the empty hall, “Where do you think I should stash this? Do you mind playing distraction again?”

“There are no good spots,” Snotlout complained, “Why don’t we just throw this at someone and get it over with?”

“And where would we find someone?” You asked, glancing back and forth, “There’s no one here.... We should really get going. I don’t want to get caught.”

You backed up slightly on your toes, causing Snotlout to have to back up too to compensate. He got the idea eventually, moving back out of your way.

Snotlout complained, “If there’s no people in the hall, then why are we hiding? I mean, they’d catch you. Wuss.”

“Shut up,” You glared back at him, tossing the pigskin in his direction, “And I meant I didn’t want to get caught with you.”

“Whatever,” Snotlout scoffed, catching it roughly.

You winced, expecting it to burst, though was pleasantly surprised when it didn’t.

You turned, ready to leave, and nearly bumped into someone else as you did.

Tuffnut. Ruffnut stood next to him, both of her arms crossed over her chest.

You could just barely make out her face over the shadows and she waning torchlight.

“What are you doing here?” You asked as you pasted a twitchy grin onto your face, eyeing the newcomers.

“Nothing.” Tuffnut said dully, holding a very obviously full bucket by his front.

“What are you doing back here?” Tuffnut squinted his eyes at you with mock cynicism, leaning closer exaggeratedly.

You listened to the creak of the large doors of the Great Hall, allowing light to trickle into the dark space and a light smattering of conversation as people began to pour in.

Ruffnut craned her head towards and around you.

Snotlout snorted, holding the skin obviously in front of him.

“We were talking about how hot Snotlout thinks you are.” You said snidely and glaring at Snotlout from the corner of your eye.

“What, me?” Asked Tuffnut, turning sharply to look at Snotlout, finger pointing to himself as the bucket revealed itself, swinging some of its contents onto the floor.

“What?” Snotlout glared at you, then back at the twins, “No!”

Tuffnut opened his arms wide, dropping the bucket to the floor, the black, tar-like slush seeping across clean-ish stone, “Bring it in, man.”

You sighed, rolling back your eyes, Tuffnut beginning to enclose in on him.

You looked back just in time to meet eyes with Snotlout, who was feeling the pigskin in his hand, bringing it up and down testily.

You shook your head, dread growing in your gut.

Your legs bent as you braced to run. Snotlout might have been able to handle the twins but you certainly couldn’t.

You gasped as he lobbed the skin at Tuffnut. It smacked straight into his face, bursting and splashing onto Ruffnut, who shouted loudly in retaliation.

Weren’t sure what kind of expression he wore behind the spray as you turned around and bolted.

You listened to the trees, their leaves rusting quickly together by the beginning of the line, just a few long yards away from your feet.

“Gross. …In the mead?” You whispered back, facing up towards the night sky. You couldn’t make out much besides the stars, which perhaps seemed to make them shine all the brighter.

You felt the mud beneath you move uncomfortably as you shifted though you were much too tired to care. It wouldn’t do much anyways, nearly the whole of your front half was crusted in mud.

The others weren’t much different, collapsed and fallen like an assortment of mismatched flower petals. You couldn’t see them, but you could feel the weight of their presence displacing the air to your sides.

Turns out the lot of you got along like a hut on fire.

“I was five.” Tuffnut declared, his eyes, not bothering to be quiet, as the rest of you.

Past you and everyone else was the incline to a shallow hill, just low enough to see past it but still tall enough to make your legs burn with effort as you had tried to run past just an hour or so earlier.

“He was,” Ruffnut agreed in a whisper, to your left. You heard the sound of flesh on metal as Tuffnut was weakly whacked on the head, her shaky arm reaching over to smack his helmet with her palm.

You thought of your earlier game of cat-and-mouse.

Your hand, laid over your torso, twitched over a spot that still ached in a deep and dull way where a mud ball had been thrown into you particularly roughly.

Overall, it was thrilling. You thought it might be dangerous at first, out so late at night trying to run with such violate personalities.

Honestly, though it turned out to be no different than when you’d made off with Hiccup as kids. Hiccup could be a pretty violate personality himself sometimes, though not in the same ways.

“You get freebies at that age, right?” Tuffnut managed, as Snotlout groaned from above you. You heavily suspected that he had begun to drift in and out of sleep.

“‘M helmet…” He groaned, “Lost…”

You smiled hawkishly at the reminder, resisting the urge to kick the horned object by your feet further away.

You remembered you and Hiccup messing around as children. People were a lot nicer on him when he was a young kid. They got harder on him when he got older, and then they gave up, which probably felt a lot worse than them being mad.

“Right,” You said, “Still gross. Someone had to drink that, you know.”

You were able to avoid most repercussions. The Chief's son making a mess was a lot bigger news than you, even after it became a pattern, and a lot more interesting-sounding when they omitted his sidekick.

“Well,” Tuffnut shrugged,” They didn’t have to.”

“...That is true.” You snorted, beaming.

#how to train your dragon #httyd #x reader #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #httyd imagine #fem reader #female reader #snotlout jorgenson #ruffnut thorston #tuffnut thorston

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expectodragons · 8 months

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The Art of Receiving || 18+ Oneshot

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

✦ Pairing: Aesop Sharp x Female Reader

✦ Word Count: 2,230

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Professor Sharp,” you say in polite admonishment.

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

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

“You were absent from dinner this evening.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You must be exhausted, my dear.”

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

“It… has been rather stressful.”

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

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

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

“Perhaps, sir.”

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

This was one place you had never adventured before.

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

But this?

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

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

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

“I could think of a thing or two.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What have we here?”

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

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

“Eager indeed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh god,” you cry out.

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

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

“Yes, oh Merlin, yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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