tags — mdni. 18+ nsfw. contains explicit sexual themes and content. angst. sex pollen. enemies to lovers. hate sex. mommy/mama kink. controlling marilyn.
synopsis — principal weems has given you a detention with miss thornhill. she needs help with getting some plants from nevermore's stores. you accept, only because you don't want to get into any more trouble. however, you seem to stumble on an unusual plant along the way.
wc: 4k
masterlist
you have been given a detention by principal weems because of your bad grades in botany. it was never your favourite subject, even with your last teacher. but now you have miss thornhill; you despise it. you frequently skip class, give attitude to her and don't even pay attention.
you are sat in her conservatory, supposed to be doing the extra work that miss thornhill has given you. but you aren't. all you can think about is how annoying that very woman is.
how she sits there writing, scraping her pen on her paper, pushing those glasses up her face that look completely and utterly stupid on her. you think she looks so dorky; it's like you can't stand to even look at her, yet you do anyway.
you huff, leaning back in your chair and tapping your pen on your empty page. it's not like you could stop either; all thoughts end in her, and that just fills you with rage.
after a while, miss thornhill looks up, making direct eye contact with you.
"bored?" she asks, giving that overly kind smile she always gives you.
"no. i'm so so interested in how plants photosynthesise," you say sarcastically, crossing your arms. "thanks for asking."
she stands, rounding her desk until she is directly in front of you. her eyes move down to the piece of parchment on your table.
she sighs, "you've been here for 45 minutes already, and you've written nothing. how about we do something else?"
"we? as in us? together?" you say, as if you can't stand the thought of it.
"...yes? i need to grab some plants from nevermore's storage. so it's either we stay here for another..." she looks at the clock. "...hour, or you come with me down to the storage."
"ugh, fine," you say, standing up, your chair scraping the floor.
"great!" she says, smiling.
you walk round the table, trying to get past, but she just stands there looking at you with her wide eyes behind her glasses.
"...so are we going or what?" you ask, frowning, getting impatient.
"oh!" she says, unfreezing and pushing her glasses up her face, "yes, of course."
she leads the way, walking through the corridors of nevermore. she doesn't say anything and you don't either. what was there to say? how much you hate each other? you are her worst student, and she is your worst teacher.
you get to nevermore's storage. miss thornhill reaches into her pocket, taking out a key. you wait next to her as she opens the door. she turns on the light, revealing a long and many different pathways of storage.
as she closes the door, she speaks, "we need to go down a few flights of stairs."
you turn your head towards her. "wait...underground?"
she starts walking, expecting you to follow her. "these plants are sciophytes, meaning that they thrive best in low light intensity, so they're stored underground."
"yeah, this doesn't need to be a lesson," you huff, thinking that this is really stupid. though, you can't deny that you actually listened to her that time.
she doesn't reply, as you are at the bottom floor, where you need to be. all around you are plants, most on storage shelves, some on the floor.
"this way."
"ugh. more walking?"
"stop complaining. this is better than writing about photosynthesis, is it not?"
"hardly. i'm with you."
she stops walking, looking at you, "why do you hate me so much? i'm just doing my job," she frowns behind her glasses.
"because you—" you look at her face, trying to describe your hatred for her. "it's—ugh!" you are unable to find the words. "i'm not talking about this. in fact, i dont have to tell you," you huff, walking down the row of plants.
as you storm off, miss thornhill trails behind you, though she doesn't say anything more about the situation. she manages to catch up to you when something catches the ribbon in your hair.
"ouch!" you let out, trying to turn to see what it is, but you can't. so, you pull at the ribbon, undoing it.
you are finally able to turn. it's a plant. it still has your ribbon. in fact, it's moving, pulling your ribbon closer to its centre.
"hey! give it back!" you reach out, trying to grab it from the plan.
miss thornhill tries to stop you. "stop," she says, pulling on your wrist, trying to pull you away.
you don't let her; you're so annoyed by the fact that you are with her and that the plant has just stolen something of yours. so, you still try to reach for the ribbon.
"stop, it's a—" but before she can tell you, the plant releases pollen around you both. "a sex plant," she says, helplessly.
you pause from the pollen around you, but mostly from her words. "a what?" you turn to look at her shocked.
"oh, no, this is bad. this is very, very bad," she panics.
"what do you mean by a 'sex plant'?"
“it wants us to have sex,” miss thornhill says, matter-of-factly.
you look at her like she's just told you 2 + 2 equals 5. “sex?” you say, baffled.
“yes. it’s also an aphrodisiac plant, native to rare jungles. its job is to encourage mating between compatible species.”
"compatible," you scoff. “you and me? farthest thing from it.”
“it doesn’t know that..." she gasps as she already feels the effects from the pollen.
"wait...hang on, we're two women. that doesn't make sense," you say, frowning but also trying to delay the impact.
"oh? so you do know something? maybe you aren't so stupid after all," she says, tilting her head, her voice now with a huskier lilt to it. "this one is different, though. it doesn't care what your gender is."
"stupid? i'm not stupid. if you weren't such a shit teacher, maybe i wouldn't be in detention, and we wouldn't be in this mess."
her eyes darken; she tries to fight the arousal coming over her, but it's too strong. she moves forwards, tilting your face up with her hand, and then you feel the unmistakable heat in your core.
you watch through half-lidded eyes, taking in the way her lips part, eyelashes fluttering behind her glasses.
fuck. those glasses. she was so gorgeous.
my eyes drift down to her lips. “i can't help it, i—"
you try to stop yourself, but your body is moving before you can process it. you kiss her, your whole body aching with need.
the kiss is desperate and messy. the pollen has integrated into your very soul to the point where you cannot distinguish right from wrong; you only see her.
you tug needily at the front of her jumpsuit. she doesn't hesitate.
you don't even have time to think about why the botany teacher does not have a way to stop this. maybe she has just given up. maybe, deep down, she wants this, and you do too.
she takes off her jumpsuit, throwing it somewhere; who knows where? you were too busy watching her.
she is a spectacle as she walks towards you; her chest is bare and her eyes are almost predatory as she pushes you back onto some sort of table.
you reach out, fingers twitching with a desperate need to touch her skin, but before you can make contact, she catches both your wrists in one strong grip. her hold is firm, pinning you against the surface beneath you.
"oh? you want to touch mama now?" she murmurs, her voice dripping with a sickening sweetness. "after that bratty, horrible display you've been giving me since the moment i stepped into that classroom?"
your pupils dilate until the colour of your irises is nearly swallowed by black. you can't tell if the reaction is purely the pollen flooding your bloodstream or if it's the way her voice shifts when she claims that title and the way she is practically manhandling you.
your heart hammers against your ribs like a trapped bird.
she tsks softly, shaking her head as she leans down, her breath hot against your ear. "clothes off. now."
the command bypasses your brain entirely, striking directly at your nerves. all you feel is an overwhelming, primal need to obey to be stripped bare, to be seen, and to be completely consumed by her.
your eyes never leave hers as you fumble with your clothes, your movements clumsy with urgency.
when you finally drop them onto the floor beside the table, you only feel the need to be filled by her.
"good girl," she purrs, watching your undressing with predatory satisfaction. "that wasn't so hard, was it?"
you can barely manage a nod, your mind reduced to a haze of need. the praise is almost too much for you to deal with
"mama, please," you whimper, the words slipping out before you can stop them.
she doesn't make you wait. stepping forward, she settles herself between your thighs, using the weight of her body to force them wider. the contact makes you gasp.
"such a pretty little thing," she husks. her hand abandons your neck, sliding down the plane of your stomach to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, hovering dangerously close to where you ache most.
"to think that merely minutes ago you couldn't bear to be in my presence, but now…" she squeezes your thigh hard enough to leave a mark, teasing the edge of your arousal. "…now you're begging for me?"
"i'm sorry," you blurt out, tears of frustration and lust pricking at your eyes. "i'm sorry, okay? just touch me, mommy. i need you."
her index finger finally makes contact with your swollen, sensitive folds, sending a jolt through your entire nervous system that forces a broken, high-pitched gasp from your throat.
she doesn't pull away; instead, she lingers there, pressing her finger firmly against you to savour the evidence of how thoroughly you've undone yourself.
she can feel how slick and hot you are, and there is a dark, knowing smirk playing on her lips.
she knows the pollen has amplified your body's responses, but she also knows this hunger belongs entirely to you.
"fuck, baby," she rasps, her voice dropping to a gravelly, dangerous register that makes your stomach flip. "look at you. so wet for your mama."
her finger begins to circle your clit in slow, deliberate motions, teasing the nerve ending until you're practically vibrating. the sensation sends you into a frenzy.
your hips buck involuntarily against her hand, seeking more friction, more pressure, more of her.
your fingers dig into her upper arm, gripping the solid muscle as if it's the only thing keeping you anchored to the earth as your mind begins to drift.
"mmph," a sound escapes you as you feel her muscles tense beneath your grip—it is clear she works out.
her pace quickens, her movements becoming more urgent, more demanding, but even that isn't enough to satisfy the hollow ache between your thighs.
"m'mmy… m're…" you slur, the words tripping over each other. your brain has gone completely soft, reduced to nothing but a desperate need to be filled.
"such a greedy girl," she murmurs, though she immediately rewards your desperation.
two of her fingers slide inside you in one smooth motion. she doesn't give you a single moment to adjust or catch your breath; she immediately begins to pump them inside you, matching the relentless, maddening rhythm of her thumb grinding against your clit.
"but you're my greedy girl, aren't you, baby?"
"uh huh," you whimper pathetically, nodding against her upper arm. "yes, mama. yes."
the only sounds in the dim, underground storage room are your ragged breathing and the wet, rhythmic slapping of her fingers working deep inside you.
your entire world has narrowed down to that single point of contact; you feel as though you are being consumed from the inside out, hollowed out by her touch.
"mommy, i'm… i'm gonna cum," you cry out, the warning breaking through your haze as your body begins to tremble uncontrollably.
she hums in approval, a sound of pure, possessive satisfaction that vibrates through your own chest.
"i know," she says, her tone dripping with the absolute confidence of someone who has already claimed every inch of your soul.
she watches your eyes roll back, sees the way your fingers claw at her arm, and knows exactly how close you are to breaking. "go on then. cum for mama."
that permission, that command, is the final trigger that tips you over the edge.
"mommy, mama—" the names tumble out in a broken, desperate stream as your walls contract violently around her fingers. your vision blurs into white heat as you climax, your body convulsing against the table in waves of overwhelming pleasure.
you lose all sense of where you end and she begins, burying your face against her arm and clinging to her as if she were the only thing keeping you from shattering completely.
her fingers continue their work even as your body convulses, not pulling away from the slick friction of your climax, but instead pressing deeper to prolong the sensation.
your ragged gasps fill the quiet space as she rides out your aftershocks, forcing you to feel every pulsing contraction of your muscles.
"that's it," she coos, her voice softening but retaining that possessive edge as she strokes your hair away from your sweat-dampened forehead. "let it all out for mama. just give it all to me, sweet girl."
you can't answer. your throat feels tight, and your lungs burn as you struggle to draw air. your limbs feel like lead, heavy and boneless against the cold table, while your heart continues to thunder erratically against your ribs.
you stay pressed against her arm, your cheek hot against her skin, too overwhelmed to move, too spent to do anything but exist in the aftermath of what she's done to you.
miss thornhill leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your temple before nipping lightly at your earlobe. "there we go," she whispers approvingly. "such a good, obedient girl."
you nod weakly, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax.
but, as you try to settle into the exhaustion, something shifts. the thick, sweet scent of the pollen still hanging in the air seems to surge through your lungs.
it reignites something primal and hungry deep in your gut. it's as if the plant itself is feeding off your arousal, refusing to let the fire die down.
desperate for more, you reach up, your hands finding the bare skin of her chest. this time, she doesn't stop you.
she lets out a low, approving hum as your palms slide over her warm skin, your fingers tracing the curves she had so recently exposed to you.
the need becomes too much to contain while sitting on the table. sliding off of it with uncoordinated movements, you pull her with you.
you crash your lips against hers in a greedy, demanding kiss, your hands tangling in her auburn hair, pulling her closer until there is no space left between you.
you manoeuvre her around until she is the one leaning back against the edge of the table, her thighs parting instinctively as you press against her.
then, without breaking eye contact, you sink to your knees before her.
"fuck, sweet girl," she breathes, her voice cracking with genuine surprise. her hand rises to her face, and she slides her cat-eye glasses off, setting them aside on the table.
without them, her brown eyes appear larger, darker, and infinitely more predatory.
the dorky teacher persona has completely evaporated, if it hadn't to you before, leaving behind something raw and hungry.
she looks devastatingly more beautiful than you ever thought possible and the sight of her unguarded gaze makes your breath hitch in your throat.
"you're being very bold all of a sudden," she murmurs, her fingers threading through your hair and tilting your head back to expose your throat to her. "what makes you think you can take charge?"
"i just want you," you whimper, the words muffled as you press your face against the soft skin of her inner thigh. "please, mama."
"oh, i know. you're absolutely desperate for me." her grip tightens in your hair, not painfully, but with enough pressure to remind you exactly who is in control of this moment.
her free hand slides down to cup your jaw, forcing you to look up at her one more time before you lose yourself again. "go on then. show mama how much you need her."
miss thornhill shifts her weight, spreading her legs wider to grant you full access, offering herself up to your desperate gaze.
the sight of her flushed, swollen, and glistening with her own arousal makes your breath catch audibly.
a broken whimper escapes your lips as you stare at how thoroughly she has been undone by you, the evidence of her own need laid bare between her thighs.
"don't just stare at it, baby," she coos, her voice thick with command. "you know exactly what you want."
she doesn't wait for you to initiate; she guides your head with firm pressure, pressing your face against her heat. it is a silent reminder that even in your momentary boldness, she is the one who sets the terms. she is the one who decides when you taste her and when you stop.
"there we go," she breathes as your lips make contact with her slick skin. "that's my good girl."
the moment you taste her, you realise she is just as affected by the pollen as you are.
her thighs tremble against your cheeks as you begin to work, your tongue seeking out the sensitive bundle of nerves that has been driving her mad.
she arches her back, a sharp inhale escaping her as she grips your shoulders, her nails digging slightly into your skin.
"mmm, yes… just like that," she gasps, her hips rolling forward to meet your mouth. "use that tongue, sweet girl. show mama how well you can use that mouth."
the taste of her sends another wave of heat through your body, and you become ravenous. you work with a desperate intensity, your hands sliding up to grip her hips to hold her steady.
you want to consume her, to swallow every sound she makes, to prove that you can be as good as she demands.
"fuck, baby," she groans, "you're being so good for me." her breathing becomes erratic, her hands move to your head, fingers tightening painfully in your hair as she guides the rhythm of your mouth. "don't stop. don't you dare stop until i tell you to."
the taste of her becomes your entire world, a heady mix of salt that seems to contrast the intoxicating scent of the pollen.
you press closer, your nose brushing against her soft skin as you lap at her with increasing urgency.
every moan that vibrates from her throat pushes you further into a trance of pure devotion.
miss thornhill's control begins to fray at the edges. the confident, composed teacher is gone, replaced by a woman whose hips are bucking against your mouth in a desperate, uncontrolled rhythm.
"yes… oh god, yes, baby," she pants, her voice breaking. "right there. don't stop; don't you dare stop."
her fingers tighten even more in your hair, guiding you with increasing desperation. she isn't just directing you anymore; she's clinging to you, her knuckles white where she grips your scalp.
the wet, sucking sounds of your mouth against hers fill the space between you, amplified by the silence of the underground chamber.
you can feel her inner muscles twitching against your tongue, betraying how close she is to the edge.
you increase the pressure, your tongue working in fast, fluttering strokes against her clit while your fingers reach up to stroke the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.
"ohmygod–" her head falls back against the table with a thud, her eyes squeezed shut as her breath comes in short, ragged gasps. "i'm—i'm going to..."
miss thornhill’s entire body goes rigid, her back arching off the table as a guttural cry tears from her throat.
her thighs clamp around your head, squeezing you tight as her climax crashes over her in overwhelming waves.
you feel every pulse, every violent contraction of her body as she unravels beneath you.
"oh god… oh fuck…" she whines, her voice fading into breathless whimpers as the tremors slowly subside.
she sags against the table, her chest heaving as she tries to reclaim her breath.
the silence that follows is heavy, broken only by the two of you gasping for air in the dim light.
slowly, she relaxes her grip on your hair, her fingers sliding down to caress your cheek with surprising tenderness.
"good girl," she manages to whisper, her voice raw and wrecked. "such an incredible, greedy girl."
miss thornhill's fingers slide from your hair to your chin, gently but firmly pulling you up from your knees until you are standing before her. her movements are languid as she captures your lips.
as her mouth presses against yours, the heavy, intoxicating fog of the pollen finally begins to lift. the crimson haze recedes from your vision, the sharp edges of reality snapping back into focus like a cold splash of water.
suddenly, the weight of the situation crashes down on you. your eyes snap open, pupils contracting as the last of the chemical euphoria fades.
you look down at your bare skin, then at hers dishevelled, flushed, and exposed in the dim light of nevermore's stores.
the memory of your begging, your degradation, and your complete surrender floods your mind. a wave of mortification washes over you, your cheeks burning with a heat that has nothing to do with arousal.
you realise exactly what you've done, how you've stripped yourself bare not just physically, but emotionally, beneath your teacher's gaze. additionally, it’s the woman you're supposed to hate.
your teacher seems to emerge from her own haze as well, her breathing slowing as her composure gradually reassembles itself. yet, unlike you, she doesn't seem shaken. there is no embarrassment in her brown eyes, only a terrifyingly calm satisfaction.
she straightens her shoulders, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear with a steady hand.
"such a good girl," she murmurs, her voice returning to that smooth, purring register that sends fresh shivers down your spine.
the dorky teacher is nowhere to be seen, even though the pollen has dissipated. her personality is completely replaced by something far more calculating and possessive. "see how much better it is when you stop fighting and just listen to mama?"
her words hang in the air, heavy with implication. you want to apologise, to explain, to retreat into the safety of propriety, but your throat feels tight.
the power dynamic has shifted irrevocably; you've shown her your deepest vulnerabilities, and she has accepted them as her own.
"i—i'm sorry, ms. thornhill," you stammer, the formal title feeling clumsy and wrong on your tongue after the words you've been screaming moments before.
a small, knowing smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. she steps closer, forcing you to acknowledge the intimacy still vibrating between you.
"ms. thornhill?" she echoes, tilting her head, her nose scrunches slightly. "we're well past formalities now, aren't we, sweet girl?"
she traces the line of your jaw with one black-painted nail, her touch light but claiming.
synopsis — an invitation arrives in careful handwriting, personally addressed to you; others are invited, but none so deliberately, calling you to some sort of party at the long-abandoned gates mansion. the gates family are said to be dead, the house empty. it isn’t. as the night unfolds, you are guided, watched, and chosen. these parties begin to happen more often and slowly, dangerously, you become enamoured, unable to imagine a world where she does not exist.
tags — mdni. 18+ nsfw. contains explicit sexual themes and content. angst. hurt/comfort. hurt/no comfort. slow burn. fluff. violence. alcohol. family death. family trauma. reader slightly oc. obsession. tags will be updated as the series continues.
synopsis — an invitation arrives in careful handwriting, personally addressed to you; others are invited, but none so deliberately, calling you to some sort of party at the long-abandoned gates mansion. the gates family are said to be dead, the house empty. it isn’t. as the night unfolds, you are guided, watched, and chosen. these parties begin to happen more often and slowly, dangerously, you become enamoured, unable to imagine a world where she does not exist.
tags — mdni. 18+ nsfw. contains explicit sexual themes and content. angst. hurt/comfort. hurt/no comfort. slow burn. fluff. violence. alcohol. family death. family trauma. reader slightly oc. obsession. tags will be updated as the series continues.
hey guys! i have decided to move my writing over to @prettyinlaces – my old writing will still be on here, and i am going to bring 'were both in you' into my new one, which will now be called 'no second thoughts'. access here.
heyy, i hope youre good, any chances of more chapters of your fic?🙏
Hi!!! I haven’t been here in a while! I’m planning to write more of my fic, but I’m in the middle of exams right now, so the chances of me actually writing are pretty low. I promise I’ll definitely update more in the summer!!
its like the worst thing being obsessed with a character that has like ten other fans so this year im contributing to the fanfics, art, edits anything to keep us alive!!
hey! hope you're doing okay <3 first of all thank you for writing both jen and helen- know that we are all feeding off your fics and most importantly know that the people need more so im shooting my shot here! (ignore if u dont wanna)
- its for jen actually, what if the reader is making their broadway debut in a big role and theyre close to having a meltdown before showtime (its opening night and it all finally dawns on them) and jen's there to save the the day!! sad ended with fluff ofc! i'll leave it all to you <3
Hey! Thank you so so much for the kind message! So, I have to confess... I actually wrote this request ages ago but I never posted it! I'm pretty sure it was because I wanted to tweak something and make it longer but never got round to doing so. It's not as long as it could be, and it's not my best writing, but it's something (and hardly proofread!). Enjoy <3333 read here.
