marilyn thornhill x fem reader

truth serum

tw for heavy smut, dumbification, consensual drugging (?) and mention of abuse

-

Marilyn does make you tea, and hold you, and tell you everything.

It just happens in a way you aren't expecting.

Sometimes, like now, when you're leaning against her front with her legs around you on the couch, you feel a particular safety you've never felt before. There's a unique security in feeling the diaphragm of someone you love against your spine, a particular coveting and shielding from the world, that takes over.

When Miss Thornhill takes a breath, you do. When you feel her voice vibrate against your back behind you, you hum so she knows you're listening, that she has every part of you.

Marilyn's body makes you feel safe, small, even when her rib digs into the soft flesh of your love dips. Or like now, the other woman's collarbone is soft yet defined under your head. You crane your neck a little from where you lay back against her chest, listening to her as she opens her mouth to speak. Even after everything, how you went behind her back, she is still holding you like this, loving you like she always does.

Maybe that's why, what you end up doing for her tonight, happens so easily. So readily accepted by you, urged by the guilt and the shame and the hurt that bled from Marilyn when you first showed up at her door with that book.

Lying here, you make sure you take in every one of Marilyn's micro expressions, attentive with your eyes as warm as you could ever make them because the guilt over your actions is consuming you; you want her to see how good you're being, how there's thousands of questions burning against your tongue but you haven't uttered a single one – simply staying doe eyed and obedient in Marilyn's hold.

But, as if noticing your eager expression leaking through, Miss Thornhill cups your cheek and urges you to look up into her eyes. The little eyebrow quirk she does is so attractive you can't help but reach up for your necklace, lightly play with the gold chain that rests between your breasts.

"Okay," She huffs in amusement to you. "Where do you want to start, sweet girl?"

You practically balk, completely unprepared for her easy acceptance as you open your mouth in confusion.

"Wait, what?" You say, a little lost for words. "But I-You want me to ask you questions?"

Marilyn tilts her head slightly, blinking behind her glasses back to you, equally confused. "Is that...not what you wanted?"

You gape a little, because usually Marilyn is so good at reading you and your wants and your desires that you think fuck, have I not made it obvious?

You don't deserve to be the one demanding things from her again, because her betrayed and hurt voice is still ricocheting around your mind and the warm, confusing flush that entered your belly from hearing her say "Because you chose to, what, confront me about it? Like a spoiled brat?" is still sitting there inside you.

You swallow thickly, biting your bottom lip softly as you twist and twist your necklace, pull a little too. Marilyn notices, eyes softening at your nervous tell; how she knows it's a way for you to say I don't feel in control. I need you to take it from me. Please.

"I..." You breathe out, eyes stinging in regret as you speak; you shift a little, opting to say laying against her front because you can't look at her when you say this, wracked with shame and embarrassment as you shut your eyes briefly and hold tight to the chain.