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Healing Hands

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Healer AU - Chapter 2/3

Summary: you can’t seem to get the same feeling Agatha gave you

Tags: naive reader, fingering, good girl, praise kink, dubious consent, brief orgasm denial, manipulative agatha, corruption kink, medical play(?)

no pronouns used for R, wearing non-descriptive dress

masterlist | ao3

Authors note: here is some more manipulative agatha goodness for you i hope you enjoy <3

You’re back at Healer Harkness’ place much sooner than you were hoping. Which was somewhere between the next day and never.

You had attempted to treat yourself, multiple times. But no matter how good it had felt you hadn’t been able to…finish it like Healer Harkness had. You had hoped that it wasn’t necessary, that it’s only effect was making the gel more potent. Not that it was the key ingredient. But the feeling inside of you, which had been so minorly tempered after your trip to Agatha’s, grew exponentially every time you tried to treat it yourself.

It has only been embarrassment at your inability to do what she said and how the feeling grew every time you thought of her that kept you away for so long. But it’s become unbearable. The few moments you’re able to not think about it have become rare and only the smallest thing flings your thoughts back towards Agatha and her hut.

So, you force yourself back down the long path before anyone notices how unwell you are.

Knocking on her door a second time is easier but waiting for her to answer is so much harder. The heat inside of you banks a little at the thought of her not being home but longing flares. It’s the same agony that’s been haunting you since you left.

The door opens and the look on Agatha’s face changes the moment she sees you.

“Back again?” she asks as she opens the door wider and allows you inside. You duck your head as you nod. She doesn’t sound disappointed, exactly, but she doesn’t sound surprised either. “Healing or ingredients?” she asks just like the first time.

“The um- the same thing as before,” you say.

“Oh, yes,” her eyes run down your body. “Your little problem.”

“It’s not so little anymore,”you try not to squirm.

“The treatment isn’t working?”

“I’m not sure,” you wrap your arms around yourself. It still feels so strange to be talking about this with another, even though she is your healer. “You said I had to do the thing. And I wasn’t able to on my own.”

“The thing?” she asks imperiously. “Do I need to remind you of what I said last time?”

“I don’t know what it’s called,” you admit quietly.

“Of course not,” Agatha snorts to herself. “You came, dear.” At your still vaguely confused look she continues. “Orgasmed. Climaxed. Creamed. There’s a few words and many euphemisms but the proper term is come, which is what you will use when referring to your treatment.”

You swallow nervously before making yourself speak again.

“You weren’t there to- I mean I wasn’t able to- to come,” you stutter.

It’s easier to say than the other word since you haven’t heard it before Agatha but it still feels dirty, despite it being the proper term. Agatha sighs.

“It’s understandable given your experience but it does complicate things.”

“But- you can do it, right?” you rush out. “I mean you did last time, so I thought…” you trail off, abashed at your aggressive start. “I don’t want to feel this way forever and it truly keeps getting worse.”

You’ve had to fight the horrible impulse to leave whatever social gathering you’ve attended to lock yourself in your room and do as Agatha said. It’s made doing much of anything most difficult.

“Yes, I can. But do you remember how often I said it needed to be done?” she doesn’t give you a chance to answer. “I’m very busy, dear. I can’t drop everything to fuck you.”

You squirm as she says that word from last time.

“Maybe if you show me again I might be able to do so on my own this time?”

“Doubtful. There is a slightly different method we will try instead. It will mean that you may go longer between doses but they aren’t as effective. We’ll need to increase the amount, and then again for how long it’s been since you’ve properly started your treatment.”

“Anything,” to not be so consumed by the thought of her.

“Very well” one corner of her mouth tilts up into what you think is the hint of a smile as she completely clears off her workbench.

“Why didn’t you show me this the first time if I can go longer between doses?” you ask while she does.

“Because it must be done with two people.”

“But last time-I mean,” you stumble. Her resulting smile doesn’t help.

“I was showing you what to do at home,” she reminds you.

“Oh, right,” embarrassment floods you again.

“Does that mean I’ll need to come to you for each dose?” A strange twist of hope and anxiety curls around your lungs.

“Yes,” she says. “It is dire enough now that we can’t risk missing any while you struggle to make yourself come. Now, bend over.” She gestures at the workbench.

“Bend…over?”

She only allows you a moment of confusion before her hands grab your hips and position you in front of the bench. You don’t get out much more than a squeak before a hand between your shoulder blades is pushing you down. You don’t fight her as she bends you over. She lifts the skirts of your dress up over your hips. You don’t stop her. She’s a healer. She knows the persisting wetness is a symptom of what’s been plaguing you.

Her cold hands skim over your thighs and that ache deep inside of you returns. The memory of her fingers inside of you has you squirming. You want to feel it again and you don’t know if you’re allowed to. Want can be so dangerous.

“Symptoms?” she asks as she spreads your legs wider apart.

“The same as before but-,” her fingers run through your wetness and you gasp. When she doesn’t say anything, languidly stroking you instead, you continue, “But stronger. A lot stronger. And it gets worse with every day.”

“I suspect it’s because you haven’t been coming when you apply the gel,” her finger dips into your entrance and your hips twitch when she pulls away. “You should’ve come back sooner.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimper.

Instead of the reprimand you’re expecting or the slightly detached voice she’s been using, she gently rests a hand on your back.

“It’s alright, dear. You’re young and naive. There’s still time to fix it. Don’t worry, we’ll get it sorted in a jiffy,” she says and slides two fingers inside of you.

Trying to treat yourself so many times has made the feeling almost familiar now but being filled by Agatha makes it so much more and you don’t think it’s only from the new position. Although, the new angle does change the feeling. You aren’t sure which is more thrilling.

Agatha hums lowly.

“So wet,” she says, voice husky.

“Is- is that a bad thing?” you say, squirming as her fingers push into you again.

“I told you it was good [?],” she reminds you. “Now be still, dear.”

Her hand moves from your back to your hip and gives a reassuring squeeze. You force yourself to still but immediately fail when her fingers spread apart still inside of you.

Gasping, you press back onto her fingers, grabbing the edge of the desk to try and ground yourself.

“Um- Healer Harkness?” you ask, voice higher than usual.

“Yes?” she asks, sounding very much like she isn’t listening.

“The gel. You haven’t used any yet.”

There’s a long pause as her fingers continue to languidly pump in and out of you.

“Ah, yes. Of course,” the abrupt departure of her fingers is makes you whimper. “Merely checking your symptoms without its effect.”

“Okay,” you say, only thinking about her fingers to being back inside of you.

The sound of the jar opening has you spreading your legs further apart without consciously thinking about it. Your hips jump again at the cool gel.

“Be good for me,” Agatha says and you try your best to. Her fingers slip so easily inside of you and you whimper when she curls them.

“There we go. Nice and deep.”

It’s not a question so you don’t bother trying to struggle with making words. You happily sink into the feel of her- her fucking you. You moan the next time she curls her fingers and your own dig into the desk. It isn’t enough. The building pleasure has stopped. Something’s missing but you aren’t sure what.

“Oh!”

Her finger circles your clit and you try to jerk upwards. Her other hand threads through your hair and pushes you back down.

“You need to come, dear.”

“I’m trying,” you whine.

“You aren’t if you’re trying to get away from me.”

“I wasn’t- “ is all you can get out before she presses down on your clit and the huge wave crashes inside of you. The hand in your hair moves back to your hip to keep you still as your arch under her. She fucks you through it like last time and you expect her to stop when you finally go limp. She doesn’t. Her pace slows slightly but otherwise nothing changes. Her other hand grips your hip tighter as you begin to squirm. The pleasure building much faster than before.

“Hea- “ is all you get out before her finger swipes over your clit again and turns it into a broken moan.

“You need to catch up on your treatment. We’ll have to go again, dear.”

You moan. It feels too good to be embarrassed by how much you want her to keep going. The awful empty feeling of the last few weeks is gone. Replaced by spine-tingling pleasure. Why would you ever want to treat yourself when she makes it feel this good?

“There we go,” Agatha murmurs as you fully give in to her. “Such a good girl.”

Your toes curl. You want her to say it again. She only said it the once last time but surely if you behave better than you did then, if you accept everything she gives you, she’ll call you it again.

Her fingers curl every time she bottoms out inside of you and you’re a moaning mess. You don’t try to hide the sounds. You don’t care anymore. You just don’t want her to stop.

You’re suddenly empty.

“No!” you gasp, desperately humping the hair.

“We need more gel,” Agatha says and runs her hand down your side like it’s meant to be soothing. The only thing you feel is the ache of wanting it inside of you.

“Please,” you whimper.

“Hush,” she says.

You can’t hear anything else over your heart beating in your ears. You resist the urge to beg again. She told you to be quiet so you will be. Even if the ache inside of you feels like it’s going to kill you.

One hand returns to your hip and you eagerly push them back towards her. She gently spreads the gel around your dripping lips and you make a pathetic noise as you try and get her inside of you. She laughs quietly and nudges your clit so you make another.

“Please.“

This time she pushes three fingers inside of you and you can’t help the guttural moan that bursts out of you. Her movements are harsher than before. Her fingers slam into you with a force you haven’t felt before and her other hand is gripping you so tight her nails are digging in. It feels amazing. Your skin stings as her nails release you. She finds your clit within a second and you see stars.

You come hard enough to arch off the table. You swear you hear Agatha moan behind you as you squeeze so tightly around her.

She works you through slower this time, and her hands are gently by the time electricity stops zinging through your body.

“Very good, dear,” she says and it feels almost as nice as when she calls you a good girl.

Her hands stay on the the same as last time and it takes you a little longer to fully come back to yourself. Eventually, you push yourself back up. You wobble a little as you feel how wet you are down there. But Agatha hasn’t said anything so you’re sure you’re fine.

Turning to her, you’re greeted with the same blown pupils from last time.

“You’ll need to come back tomorrow,” she says.

“That soon?” you ask like you aren’t jumping for joy inside.

It feels wrong to want it so badly. Agatha is only healing you. Yet you can’t stop the want from growing.

“Yes. Like I’ve said. We have a lot of catch up to do.”

You nod your head obediently and go to the door. You hesitate at the threshold, biting your lip.

“How many times?” you force out.

Many, you beg her to say. The idea of never experiencing this again is too awful not to be comforted by memories of it.

Her smile is sharp. “However many it takes.”