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covenofagatha · 3 months ago

Note

heyyy, could you maybe write an agatha x reader piece where reader is innocent and agatha takes advantage of that? praising her, showing her new things, etc. Maybe from school or doctor environment. Thanks!

I've been really into manipulative Professor Agatha lately

Sex Ed

During a make-up exam for Professor Harkness's Sexual Education class, she helps you out when you don't know a few answers

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: virgin/naive reader, praise kink, manipulative Agatha, dub-con, fingering

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This is possibly the worst time you could’ve gotten a cold.

Three weeks into your first semester of college, classes had just begun picking up in terms of workload, most of your professors were giving the first exam, and you had forgotten to bring a jacket the one day it poured during a cold spell and you had to walk almost a mile in it back to your house, where you lived with your mom. Her house was so close to campus that most of the time you didn’t bother driving.

You had walked through the front door that day, shivering and shaking and soaked and your mom had taken one good look at you and said, “You’re going to get sick.”

And she sure was right. The next day, you woke up and felt like you were clinging to life by a thread: your throat ached, your head felt full, and your lungs hurt. Your fever made you bury under three blankets and then strip down to practically nothing the next minute. It was hell.

Not to mention, you missed four days of classes. In most of them, you just needed to get notes from a classmate, but in Sexual Education, you had missed a test.

Sexual Education, taught by Professor Agatha Harkness, is your least favorite class. You hadn’t taken it in middle or high school as your mom hadn’t let you, so you had to take it in college. There was something about the subject that made you squirm, and the way Professor Harkness talked about sex, so blatantly and forward, that made your stomach get a weird feeling.

You had emailed her and told her that you wouldn’t be able to take the exam because you were sick, attaching the doctor’s note and everything, and she had replied almost immediately, telling you to just see her during office hours whenever you could to make it up. She ended it with Feel better, honey ;) and for some reason, that made you get the same sensation in your gut as you did in her class.

The following Monday was when you decided to make it up. You had replied to her email and asked, and she told you that day was perfect.

You did feel better, and you had tried to study. The test is on anatomy and sexual intercourse, and although you kept having to take breaks because it kept making you uncomfortable, you had gotten through all the material.

But now, as you trudge across campus, a cough still tickling your throat every now and then, you wonder if there’s any way to postpone the make-up even more. Nerves have settled into your body and you’re worried your mind is going to go blank. Test anxiety has always been something you’ve struggled with, and you think that with the sensitive nature of the test, you might be especially prone to it now.

The blinds are drawn on Professor Harkness’s door to her office when you get there, so you knock as to not catch her unaware. You hear a faint “Come in!” and you push open the door and step inside.

Your professor is sitting at her desk, a pair of big, black glasses resting on her nose, and she looks up at you from a paper she’s been writing on.

“Feeling better, sweetheart?” She asks.

You nod. “Much better, thank you. I’m here to take the exam that I missed?”

A smile slowly spreads across her face and she waves you forward. Your shoes pad lightly on the carpeted floor, one step for three beats of your heart. You wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt and you sit down in the chair facing her.

She reaches into a drawer and pulls out a packet of paper, handing it to you over the desk. You swallow roughly when you feel how many pages there are. It makes your heart sink when you see lines on the first page, meaning that it’s not multiple choice either. It already has your name on it, like she made it just for you.

“I have to write a harder test for the make-ups,” she explains, seeing your troubled look. Is that supposed to make you feel better? “It’s to discourage people from skipping the exam the first time and getting answers from friends or anything.”

It makes sense, it really does. But you had a legit excuse as to why you couldn’t take it. There’s no use arguing though, so you give her a tight smile and look down at the paper.

How does the body respond to sexual arousal, and what are the physiological changes that occur?

You rack your brain, searching for anything you remember about this, but there’s nothing. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself down, you skip and move onto the next one.

2. What happens during an orgasm?

You look at the next one.

3. What is the role of lubrication?

You don’t remember reading anything about that or even Professor Harkness saying anything about that.

Skip.

There’s nothing in your brain about the next question either. Visibly getting flustered now, you frantically flip through the pages of the exam to find a question that you do know, ignoring the stinging sensation in your eyes.

Finally, at the bottom of the third page, you find one. Incidentally, the last question of the test.

7. How does the sperm fertilize an egg?

You breathe a sigh of relief and scribble down the answer, and with renowned confidence, you find at least a few things you’re able to write for the three questions in the middle.

Feeling pretty good now, you go back to the start, and then you realize you just have the first three left, but they’re worth the most amount of points. The sinking feeling starts to come back. The other questions are worth ten points each. These are worth twenty. If you don’t answer, you are going to fail.

“Professor?” You rasp, having no other option to ask for help. “I’m having some trouble on a few of these questions. I don’t remember you saying anything about some of this stuff.”

Professor Harkness frowns and leans over to look at your paper. “Which ones?”

“Um, the ones about arousal, and lubrication, and orgasms,” you say, voice dropping to a whisper like it’s too embarrassing to say any louder. “You never said anything about it in class, unless I missed it while I was sick.” Even then, you poured over the slideshows she posted, and you swear you didn’t see anything about those terms.

Professor Harkness lounges back in her chair and fixes you with a certain look. “I didn’t necessarily say anything about those, but you should be able to infer based on your own experiences.”

And that makes your cheeks heat up. “Well, I, um–” You stutter, completely flustered.

“Ah,” she says, like she’s had a realization, and your eyes flit to hers. “Are you a virgin, honey?”

You nod hesitantly, feeling shame burn through you. Now you’re going to fail the test because of your lack of experience. “I’m sorry,” you mumble.

“Oh, sweetie,” Professor Harkness coos and reaches her arms out across the desk, palms outstretched. You blink back tears and take her hands and she squeezes in reassurance. “Don’t ever apologize for that. I shouldn’t have assumed. Here, why don’t I give you a quick lesson to make it more fair for you, hm?”

“That would be so great, thank you so much!” You exclaim gratefully.

Professor Harkness smiles, although there’s something dangerous behind it, and she gets up out of her chair. “Why don’t you come over here and sit on my desk?”

It’s a bit of a weird request, but she’s already helping you out so much that you don’t argue. You sit on her desk and she places her hands on your knees to gently spread your legs apart so she can stand in-between them.

“Have you ever touched yourself before?” She asks gently and you shake your head, upset. She tilts your chin up and then strokes a piece of hair behind your ears. “Hey, it’s okay. It can be hard to figure these things out by yourself. And I’m sure the slideshows and text, books and my lectures aren’t helping much either,” she jokes and you giggle. “Why don’t I give you more of a hands-on lesson? Some people learn a lot better that way.”

Your brows furrow. “What about the exam?”

Professor Harkness nods. “Don’t worry. Let me teach you some things and this should be able to answer those questions you were having. Now, I just need you to be a good girl and relax for me, okay?”

“Okay, Professor,” you agree, but stiffen when her hands start to slide up your thighs. She pauses and moves them back down and repeats, each time getting a little higher up.

Something is happening in your stomach, a heat is growing, a little like what happens when you’re in her class, but stronger than it ever has been. You suddenly feel like you’re running hot. Has the fever come back?

Your professor is watching you carefully, a slight smile on her lips. “The first step in the physiological process of an orgasm is excitement. During this stage, arousal builds. Pupils dilate. Heart rate and breathing rate increase. Your blood pressure rises, making you feel warm.”

“I think that’s happening to me, Professor,” you say faintly and she chuckles.

“I would say so, honey. And you can call me Agatha,” she tells you and the feeling inside you only gets worse. “Lubrication should be starting right about now.”

You gasp when she finally cups you over your underwear and your hips instinctively buck. You’ve never had anyone’s hand there, not even your own, and the sensation is indescribable.

Agatha is fully smirking now, rubbing up and down the fabric. You can feel how sticky it is, just from her light touches. “You’re doing so well for me, pretty girl. You’re almost in the plateau phase. Your vagina is getting swollen, your clitoris is becoming sensitive–” She rubs at a small circle towards the top of your vagina, you remember seeing a diagram of it, and it makes you keen. “–and you’re going to just keep getting wetter.”

There’s a fire inside you now, flames licking up your stomach into your ribs and spreading throughout your whole body. It feels like there’s an ache inside you and you just need more. “Agatha,” you gasp. “I need–” You don’t even have the words to explain it.

But she knows. She slides your panties to the side and swipes through your folds and then holds her glistening fingers up to the light so you can see. It takes your breath away.

“The role of lubrication,” she references the question you didn’t know, her hand dropping back down between your legs and toying at your entrance. “is simply to reduce friction, discomfort, and pain during sex.”

And then she pushes a finger into you and you make a strangled sound. She feels so good and when she curls her finger up and rubs against something, you clench around her and make another explicit noise.

She chuckles and presses on it again, enjoying the way you jump. “That’s your G-spot right there. Extra credit if you mention that on your exam,” she says with a grin and you’d make a note of that if there were any thoughts left in your head.

Agatha pauses for a second after she pulls out of you and you whine, before it quickly turns into a gasp when she slides two fingers in. It burns and you whimper, your hands scrambling to grab on her shoulders and cling to her while she gently works to stretch you out with shallow thrusts.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” she purrs. “Such a good girl for me, my best student. Look at how well you’re taking this lesson. So perfect.”

You preen and when she rubs her thumb against your clit, she’s slowly able to slide her two fingers into you. The feeling of fullness is just what you need right now, and even though you’re incredibly tight around her, it still feels so much better than anything you’ve ever felt.

Agatha starts lazily dragging her fingers against your walls, in and out, occasionally twisting and making your hips roll. You’re holding onto her body, panting into her neck, and the tension inside you is building.

“If only you knew how pretty you look right now,” she mutters, now picking up to a faster pace. Each thrust leaves you breathless and you can hardly comprehend what she’s saying. She circles your clit and you cry out with pleasure. “You’re so innocent, I see you squirming in your seat every time I talk about sex.” That makes you flush with heat even more. “Look at you now, honey. Taking my fingers like a good girl.”

You gasp out something incoherent and she starts to pump her fingers harder. You’re throbbing and pulsing around her, pleasure starting to spread from your stomach to the rest of your body and you don’t know how much more you can take.

She smiles when you moan her name. “You’re about to be in the orgasm phase. Your pelvic muscles will contract, and your vaginal walls will tighten. There will be an increase in lubrication and your heart rate will get even faster. It will feel euphoric.”

It’s happening, you can feel it. “Agatha, please,” you groan and she twists her fingers inside you.

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” she says and the pleasure explodes inside you, the release of the tension overwhelming you and making your mind go completely blank for a minute. You can barely feel Agatha’s fingers still inside you, gently stroking against your inner walls until you come down from your high, and while it still feels amazing, you’re incredibly sensitive now.

“Agatha,” you groan and she chuckles before pulling her fingers out of you, making you wince. They’re absolutely soaked and she pops them into her mouth to clean them and your jaw drops open.

She moans at the taste and sits back down in her chair, putting her hands above her head and nodding at your test that’s still sitting there. “You should have no trouble finishing now,” she says and you swallow hard before getting off her desk and going around it to take your seat.

You pick up your pen and begin writing, trying to ignore how you can still feel Agatha’s fingers inside you.

And Agatha? Agatha smirks to herself, still tasting you on her tongue, knowing that she got exactly what she wanted just by making a few well picked-out questions worth a few more points.

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