marilyn thornhill x fem reader

uprooted secrets

a/n omg im so bad with updating here sorry!!! this was meant to come out last week w the ao3 update x

tw for suicide mention and death, and minor smut

-

The following few days, just two weeks before finals, turns into something more closely related to a never-ending dream than actual reality.

Ever since that night (you can't refer to it as anything but, because just remembering it makes your chest tighten with need at how Marilyn's fingers felt in your mouth, how her hands felt caressing your abused wrists) you feel like a completely different person. When you're able to, any minute you have with her, you've been attached to Marilyn's hip, like you couldn't be away from her presence for a single moment. Marilyn's noticed, of course she has, but if anything she indulges it; the thought of you so undeniably caught in her attention has her feeding your addiction.

You stare at her during her class, try and brush up against her hand every time you pass her in the halls, and you delight in the small warning glances she drowns you in every time. You sneak out almost every night now to her dorm, you don't even care if Yoko notices because not being near her feels wrong now, like something about the cave tied you to her.

(If you believed in sacrifice and ritual and gods, you might entertain the thought that it did. What did you awaken inside of yourself when you deep throated her fingers? Knowing that if they were coated in her blood instead, it would all be the same to you?)

You feel slightly embarrassed at this new found attachment, and your thoughts have you shifting in Marilyn's hold with a blush.

You're both on her living room couch as you lean back against her front in her embrace. You've been aimlessly reading over your study notes that sit on your knees, and Marilyn's been preoccupied by her own novel and scheduling classes. Yet her free hand has been steady and gentle as she rubs soothingly where she holds you, just above the small of your belly underneath your shirt.

Every so often, she'd sneak a glance at your notes and tilt her head, ask you a question regarding the subject then drown you in the softest praise when you answered correctly. "Good job, baby," dripped from her lips repeatedly like the sweetest honey, making you blush and smile shyly.

It started to lull you into that headspace, letting those thoughts enter your head; and you may as well just be staring into space with how suddenly it felt like her thighs holding you in place weren't just for comfort and safety, but ownership. How because of the warm heat of the fire, Marilyn rid of her jeans hours ago, just holding you with bare thighs and a soft oversized sweater and her comforting solid arms.

You shift in her lap again, trying earnestly to think about anything else. Your entomology notes are just gibberish at this point, you've read the same fucking line fourteen times now. The lifecycle of Dragon Wasps is almost on par with its close relative, the yellowjacket. Complete metamorphosis occurs when a fertile queen emerges from its nest and-

"Darling," Marilyn's amused voice rings out, making you blink out of it and turn slightly in her hold sheepishly. She sends you a quirk of her eyebrow beneath her glasses, smiling lightly.

"Is everything alright? You're so-" She puts her book down in favour of tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear, making you melt. "Well, for the lack of a better word, squirmy."

You laugh at the little nose scrunch she does, shyly looking to the notes in your lap and nodding softly.

"Yeah, m'okay just..." You tangle your legs with hers, still pressed tight against her warm body and chest, and bask in this easy domesticity. "Finding it really hard to concentrate."