another month, another bit of terrible news; i found out SNAP is going to continue giving me just $24/month. it makes no sense, i make less than before so why are they giving me so little? i did everything they asked, i proved everything. financially things keep getting more dangerous, worse, and terrifying.
i make $220/week. i live in an adjusted rent apt but even so my portion of the rent is $750, and electricity is monopolized by one company who overcharge us so my half is usually around $85-110. idk wtf to do anymore. we apply for everything we can to try to get any asst. but things are dire. we live in this moldy apt that no lawyer will help us sue, we are being lied to by the owners, our health problems are worsening, and my aunt is trying to take the apt issue on by herself.
i also lost my insurance and can't afford self pay. there are many over the counter medical supplies i require for my disabilities which i can't get assistance paying for. i am disabled and getting worse, but i'm trying to apply to everywhere i can for job(s).
i stay sick, barely sleep, faint often, and i'm in a lot of pain. it is getting harder dealing with growing symptoms due to not having money to buy my meds. many of them u can't just stop taking all of a sudden, but the pharmacy won't give me any for free and even with the goodrx/adjusted pricing i have no money to buy them. indigent care will not give me asst with these meds or allow me to see my required specialists- just in case anyone was going to suggest that.
i'm not new to being poor and struggling, but it has never been as INSANELY TERRIBLE as it is now. please help me. anyone please. i'm very tired from working and i'm hungry and really need my medications.
please consider sending any amount at all possible. i need help w every possible thing: FOOD, medicines and otc medical supplies, rent, electricity (which i need to stay on for medical purposes), & sanitary/toiletries. *i've gone to as many free places, charities, kklllland filled out as many applications for help on these things as possible and still need help.*
Guys I truly really am sorry for asking so often, but the winter storm is coming and we have no food, so if roads and businesses go down I have nothing at my apt to eat. I have barely any water (which will be a problem when the pipes freeze or the water plant goes down preventing water from the pipes being safe to drink or clean with), and the electricity is going to be shut off if I can’t make a payment. This will mean having no electricity during the winter storm. Texans lose their lives during these events bc our infrastructure isn’t built to withstand the winter weather and our gov here refuses to update it. Ppl die every time bc the power grid fails and leaves ppl stranded in their residences w no source of heat/electricity/or ability to build a fire bc we are in apts. please if there’s anyone who can provide any amount and I do mean any amount- I will gladly accept it. Please. I’m begging. Help.
please sit with me and listen me talk about waxhouse!Slim Shady x reader
• Slim first sees you outside the church when you first show up in town, the fact that you're alone gives him a hint that maybe his two brothers have already taken care of your friends.
• It took a lot of emotional manipulation and tons of gaslighting, but he eventually has you high enough on him to not ask questions about some "unnecessary" things that are outside of the matters you need to know.
• B-Rabbit is the one who had led you to his brothers the first time he saw you, so he's surprised to see you again a few months later when he walk into Slim's house, seeing you being perfectly domestic while he's watching a Lions game on the couch with a cold beer in his hand that you'd brought him a few minutes ago.
• You're informed that Marshall lives in the same house, it isn't easy to ignore the elusive 1.73cm shadow that you see occasionally around, but you don't go down to his "art studio" and he has no interest in interacting with you much.
• In fact, the relationship you have with Slim is not decent at all, not at first, the months of honeymoon in which his character thrived with your affection and you enjoyed hours of sex was diminishing until the difficult moments of having to balance a relationship between "subject A" who loves with all it might and "subject B" who does not love nor let itself be loved remained.
• Spoiler alert, Slim is not Subject A.
• Little things that start to create friction between you two. That time you cooked a new recipe that he refused to try, your subtle insistence on at least one bite triggering memories of his mother forcing him to eat as a child, or the touch on his wrists you once accidentally gave him when hugging him from behind in an attempt to be affectionate that triggered a fit of rage due to the memory of being put in his highchair with shackles on his wrists and ankles.
• He wants you to want him and love him, but he doesn't and won't allow himself to be vulnerable by accepting that love and giving it to you in return.
• Then, a group of friends had arrived in town, one of them noticing you in the house and, believing that the tears in your eyes were because you ended up there like them, tried to push you out of the house, getting you into your boyfriend's black Toyota in the same way to use it as an escape method.
• With Rabbit on the outskirts of town and Slim at the gas station dealing with the last two "visitors" there were apart from the one who took you, it was Marshall who did the work of getting you out of there, with the intruder escaping in the same way, now alone, while you ran up the stairs, feeling completely vulnerable, having a panic attack.
• B-Rabbit had been the one who prevented the tragedy of what was happening inside the town being talked about in the rest of the world, remembering that the boy hadn't seen him when he took the rest of the group to Slim.
• Slim, for his part, quickly sensed the strong floral scent coming off the boy's clothes, the same one that is on your side of the bed and some of his clothes when you used them, believing that maybe he could have done something to you but having to stay to finish the job, knowing that Rabbit wouldn't do it.
•The front door of the house slams hard against the wall when he opens it upon arriving at least an hour later, with even more concern due to the wheel marks left in front.
• Marshall was the first thing he saw, pointing up the stairs with one hand while the other held the hot spoon he used to match his will mask to the reflection of the toaster, he didn't quite know how to help you, so emptying half a bottle of water with a sleeping pill almost at the entrance of your throat could have choked you a little at first but you passed out quickly.
• Watching you asleep on the bed you shared had never been such a pleasure for him as that night, quickly approaching to take you in his arms until you sat down, his nose carelessly passing over your neck, cursing himself when he remembered the time he had claimed the way your perfume gave him migraines, with one hand on your head, taking the strands between his fingers with some force but applying soft massages on the scalp, like the ones he should have done when you told him that perhaps he was treating you too roughly in bed, his free hand slipping under your shirt to caress the skin of your back, needing the warmth of your skin directly.
•And you know what you do when you wake up? The same, you cling to him during that time of the night crying from the fear you felt when you thought that they could have taken you away from him as if he had not been the same man who made you cry until you felt like throwing up during the morning
•What's going on with you, sweetheart? In his ocean of red flags you only know how to concentrate on the oceanic blue of those eyes? I'm not judging you, I am writing this after all.
•When you go back to sleep, Slim stays awake looking at you, watching your chest rise and fall with your breathing and running his fingers through your hair when you move, sigh or seem to have the beginning of a bad dream, reproaching himself for not having been able to do it before.
• Talking about what he feels and what he wants isn't easy, loving and letting himself be loved are things that put him in a situation where he is at the mercy of the other's affection, something he told himself he would never go through again.
• But here you're and not having you as a possibility is the worst thing he can imagine, even worse than trying to work on himself a little, he wants to be what you deserves, sometimes wanting is not being able to, but he starts trying to do his best, there are sweet moments, bitter moments, bittersweet moments and moments that taste like total shit, but hey, better than nothing...or not?
Note:I wanted to make this fic like the other fic that I made.
You’re in your twenties, with a few years of experience already under your belt in the music industry. It’s been a whirlwind ride of late nights in the studio, long days on tour, and the thrill of live performances that leave you breathless. Tonight, you’re preparing for another show, meticulously applying your makeup in front of a mirror. The familiar buzz of a nearby radio fills the dressing room with a mix of chart-topping hits and hip-hop beats. It’s just background noise—until a new track begins to play
She's got curves in all the right places, and a smile that can light up the night,
I'd do anything to be with her, to hold her tight.
I dream about her every night, and think about her all day,
I'd give anything to be with her, to make her mine in every way.
Hearing it, you’re momentarily stunned—this is Eminem, known for his raw candor and biting verses, rarely this personal. Fans and media latch on, fueling speculation. For you, it’s a mix of flattery and curiosity, leaving you to wonder about the intent behind his words as they echo through your world.
You were performing at a festival, a massive event where music fans gathered from all over, creating a charged atmosphere that crackled with energy. It was one of the biggest performances of your career so far, and you’d just finished checking your setlist when word came through the grapevine: Eminem was also performing. The realization sent a thrill down your spine. After his recent track where he’d dropped your name with lyrics that had set the rumor mill ablaze, you knew there was a chance you might cross paths.
During Eminem’s performance, the energy was palpable. The crowd was on fire, hanging onto every lyric he delivered with his signature intensity and precision. Midway through his set, the beat shifted, and you recognized the opening notes immediately—it was the song he’d written about you. The realization sent a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks, and you couldn’t help but feel both flattered and completely taken off guard.
As the track played, the massive screen behind him lit up with visuals. To your surprise, a snippet from one of your own music videos appeared. It was you—dancing, singing, completely in your element. The image faded in and out, perfectly synced to the lyrics he was delivering. The crowd erupted, clearly catching the connection and loving every second of it.
You felt your heart race as you stood there, unable to take your eyes off the screen or him. The mix of admiration and boldness in his performance was undeniable—he’d just laid it all out there, right in front of thousands of fans. You pressed your fingertips to your lips, feeling the heat in your face as you blushed deeply. It was surreal, having someone like Eminem make such a public declaration, and for a moment, you were overwhelmed by a mix of embarrassment, pride, and something far more personal.
As you made your way backstage, the crowd’s cheers outside provided a distant, rhythmic roar. The corridors were a chaotic mix of performers, stagehands, and crew members hurrying by. Just as you reached a quieter corner, you saw him—Eminem, unmistakable in his hoodie and baseball cap, talking with his team. For a second, your heart stopped. The man behind the lyrics was just a few feet away.
He caught sight of you, paused, and then walked over, his eyes holding a glimmer of curiosity mixed with that familiar intensity. You met him halfway, every step feeling like a blend of surreal anticipation and adrenaline.
You’re in your twenties, a seasoned performer in the music industry, and tonight, you're at one of the biggest festivals of the year. The air buzzes with excitement, the ground vibrating beneath your feet as crowds scream for the next artist to take the stage. You can hear the faint pulse of the music outside as you finish your makeup in front of a backstage mirror, perfecting the final details of your look. The lights reflect off your eyes, capturing the adrenaline coursing through you.
But the excitement of the night isn't just about the performance. Earlier today, a new track dropped on the radio, and to your surprise, it featured none other than Eminem—mentioning you in his lyrics. His words have been replaying in your mind, each line burning themselves deeper with every replay:
*“She's got curves in all the right places, and a smile that can light up the night,
I'd do anything to be with her, to hold her tight.
I dream about her every night, and think about her all day,
I'd give anything to be with her, to make her mine in every way.”*
Hearing those lines for the first time left you stunned, a rush of disbelief mixed with flattery. Eminem, one of the most respected names in the game, had woven you into his story with words that were both bold and unmistakably personal.
Before long, you’re backstage at the festival, preparing to take the stage. The crew members buzz around, checking equipment and making sure everything runs smoothly. Suddenly, the atmosphere shifts, and you can sense him even before you see him—Eminem is here. He walks in with a confident stride, his presence magnetic and undeniable, his signature hoodie and serious expression unmistakable.
He spots you, and for a brief moment, his gaze softens, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you. He approaches, and the noise around you seems to fade away.
"Hey," he says, his voice low but carrying over the hum of the backstage commotion. "I guess you heard the track."
You smile, trying to play it cool despite your racing heart. "Kinda hard to miss when you’re broadcasting my personal life to the world, don’t you think?"
He chuckles, a genuine sound that catches you off guard. "Guilty as charged," he admits. "I meant every word, though."
There’s a beat of silence between you two, heavy with a mix of tension and curiosity. You search his eyes, trying to read the man behind the verses that caught you off guard.
"So," you say, breaking the silence and tilting your head playfully, "was that your way of asking me out, or do you just enjoy making things complicated?"
He grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Maybe a little of both. Keeps things interesting."
Before you can respond, a stagehand interrupts, letting you know it’s almost time for you to go on. Eminem steps back but not before leaning in, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath.
"Break a leg out there," he murmurs, his voice just for you. "I’ll be watching."
With that, he turns away, leaving you with a pounding heart and a renewed energy. As you make your way toward the stage, you can’t help but smile, knowing that tonight's performance—and whatever happens next—just got a whole lot more interesting.
With that, you stepped onto the stage, the festival’s energy washing over you like a wave. The world might have gone wild for his lyrics, but now you had a story unfolding that was just yours—and it was only beginning.
Eminem stood backstage, his eyes locked on you as you took command of the stage. He had seen countless performers before, but there was something different about you—something captivating. The way you moved, the fluid grace with which you danced, and the effortless confidence you exuded as you sang each note—it all seemed to pull him in, leaving him momentarily spellbound.
The lights cast a glow around you, accentuating every curve of your body as you swayed in rhythm with the music. Your energy was electric, and it radiated out to the audience, who moved and sang along with you, completely entranced. Eminem found himself leaning forward, his focus narrowing to just you. Every step you took, every flick of your wrist, every note you hit—it all carried a magnetic power that he couldn't tear himself away from.
He watched the way your eyes sparkled as you connected with the crowd, how your smile lit up your entire face, adding an extra layer of vibrancy to your performance. There was a raw authenticity in how you poured yourself into every lyric, and he couldn't help but admire it. To him, it was as if you weren’t just performing—you were telling a story, one that demanded to be heard and felt.
"She's good," he muttered to himself, barely noticing the words slipping out. But it was more than just skill. There was something intangible—a spark that made you shine brighter than the stage lights themselves.
When you spun around and your gaze briefly flickered toward backstage, catching sight of him, a knowing smile played on your lips. For a heartbeat, it felt like time slowed down. He felt a rush of something unfamiliar—equal parts admiration and intrigue.
As the final beats of your song echoed and the crowd erupted in cheers, Eminem couldn't help but smile, his awe evident. You took a bow, breathing heavily but radiating pride. And as you walked off the stage, he knew one thing for certain: you weren’t just another artist on the lineup. You were someone unforgettable.
As you stepped off the stage, the roar of the crowd still echoing in your ears, you felt the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your heart was pounding, and your chest rose and fell with each deep breath as you tried to ground yourself after the electrifying performance. As you made your way backstage, wiping a sheen of sweat from your forehead, your gaze fell on Eminem.
He was standing off to the side, his eyes fixed intently on you. There was no mistaking the look in them—complete awe and genuine admiration. He seemed mesmerized, as if he was replaying every moment of your performance in his head. For a second, you locked eyes, the world around you fading away. The intensity of his stare made your pulse quicken, but you managed to keep your composure.
A playful, almost shy smile curved your lips. You held his gaze for a moment longer, letting the connection linger before breaking it with a soft laugh. Then, with a casual flick of your hair, you turned and began walking toward your dressing room, your team moving around you like a wave of support. You could feel the weight of his attention, even as you walked away.
Inside the dressing room, you exhaled, your reflection in the mirror still glowing from the thrill of the stage and the encounter. As you fixed your hair and adjusted your outfit, you couldn’t shake the memory of his eyes on you, the way it made you feel seen—not just as a performer, but as something more. It was a moment that would linger, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last time your paths crossed.
As you touch up your makeup in the mirror, perfecting every detail, you take a moment to admire your reflection. The adrenaline from the performance still buzzes through your veins, and the roar of the crowd echoes in your ears. Just as you pick up your brush to fix a final smudge, the door behind you opens. You barely register it, assuming it’s someone from your team.
“Nice show out there.”
The unexpected sound of his voice makes you jump. Turning quickly, you find yourself face-to-face with Marshall—Eminem. There’s a spark of amusement in his eyes as he leans casually against the doorframe. You try to steady your breath, suppressing the thrill running through you.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he adds with a smirk. “Well, maybe a little.”
“Mission accomplished,” you reply, recovering with a smile. “But thanks. Glad you caught it.”
He walks over, closing the door behind him. The air between you grows charged. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of you, close enough that you can see the flecks of gray in his eyes.
“You’ve got everyone wrapped around your finger out there,” he says, his voice low. “Kinda impressive.”
“Is that a compliment?” you tease, raising an eyebrow. “Coming from you, I’ll take it.”
“Yeah? You should.” He steps even closer, and suddenly, his hands are on your waist. Without warning, he lifts you effortlessly, placing you on top of the desk. You barely have time to catch your breath as he moves between your legs, his presence overwhelming, his gaze intense.
“You always surprise me,” you murmur, feeling your pulse quicken.
“Good,” he replies, his lips curving into a slow smile. “I plan to keep it that way.” He leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “But you know,” he adds softly, “seeing you like this, up close? Way better than any stage.”
Before you can respond, his lips find yours. The kiss is firm and confident, with just a hint of the hunger simmering beneath the surface. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the connection, losing yourself in the moment. Time seems to slow, the world outside the door fading away until it’s just the two of you.
When he pulls back, there’s a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’ve been waiting for that,” he admits, his voice husky.
“Were those lyrics just an elaborate setup?” you tease, still catching your breath.
“Maybe,” he says with a grin, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Worked, didn’t it?”
You laugh, the sound light and easy, feeling the tension melt away. “I guess it did.”
His hands linger at your waist, fingers tracing idle patterns. “I’d say we make a pretty good duet.”
“Is that your way of saying you want more?” you challenge, feeling bold.
“Definitely,” he murmurs, leaning in again. “And I’m just getting started.”
As Marshall’s lips trail down your neck, a soft sigh escapes your lips. His hands rest firmly on your waist, pulling you closer as you run your fingers through his hair. The intensity of the moment is overwhelming, and every touch, every breath, feels electric. The room seems to shrink around you, narrowing your focus to just him—until the door suddenly swings open.
“Yo, Marshall, you ready for—oh, hell no.”
You both freeze. Turning your heads simultaneously, you spot Proof standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised, a mix of shock and amusement playing across his face. His eyes widen as he takes in the scene—Marshall standing between your legs, hands still on your hips, your flushed faces. There’s a beat of silence, and then Proof bursts out laughing.
“Oh, this is rich,” Proof says, leaning against the doorframe and shaking his head. “Am I interrupting something? Nah, scratch that. I know I’m interrupting something.”
Marshall lets out a low groan, pulling back slightly but keeping his hands firmly on you. “Man, do you ever knock?” he snaps, though there’s a hint of a grin tugging at his lips.
“Marshall, you ready to go out and celebrate? The night’s still young."
Marshall doesn’t even look up at him, his focus entirely on you as he steps closer. He takes a slow breath, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Celebrate, huh? Nah, I think I’ll pass on that. I’ve got better plans tonight.”
Proof raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Oh yeah? And what's that?"
Marshall’s lips curve into a flirtatious smile as he moves even closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "I’d rather spend the night with her, if you don’t mind." His eyes lock onto yours, a heat building between you both as his gaze lingers, making it clear he’s not just talking about any casual hangout.
You feel your heart skip a beat as Marshall leans in slightly, his breath warm against your ear. "She’s the one I’m celebrating with tonight," he adds, his tone rich with intent, sending a shiver down your spine.
Proof chuckles, looking between the two of you, clearly understanding what’s going on. "Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll leave you two to it. Just don’t keep me waiting too long." He smirks, walking toward the door. “But you owe me a drink later, man.”
Marshall barely acknowledges him, his attention fixed on you. As Proof exits, Marshall turns back, that same smirk never leaving his face. “Now, where were we?” he says, his tone both playful and hungry, eyes never leaving yours. <3
Awww, even Proof made an appearance! Love that❤️ and I love how he literally put himself out there for the world to see his little love declaration basically lol. Sounds like a man who knows he's gonna get what he wants😝 but then again who could ever resist😩 Love this. Love them!🥰❤️
please sit with me and listen to me talk about a Marshall x reader where he has spent almost half of his life getting to know you through "dreams"
Marshall has known the woman he loves since the 2000s.
Well...since a dream that he remember in those years.
He knows it was during a performance, during a song he couldn't hear but admired vaguely in his memories. He remembers the way your hair looked good with whatever was the style you have, the bright eyes that kept your attention on the audience and parts of your body in a slight glow that came from the sweat illuminated by the stage lights.
Did he know what the song said? No. Did it sound like pop music? Yes. Did he care? No.
During awards and events he had been discreet in looking for you, thinking that maybe you were an emerging artist who had gone unnoticed due to his lack of interest in the genre he believed you were dedicated to.
Why weren't you anywhere, damn it
He didn't have a name, a melody or a damn physical reference that was useful to find you somewhere, maybe the consumption of some things made him imagine you?
Things got more real during his time in rehab, where things got tough at times and he had started to hear your voice saying his name or your little giggles in his head.
Marshall had jealously kept your memory in the most private place of his mind and heart, only letting out small fragments in the lyrics of his songs, many of the most personal ones still kept in his home where the light of the public's eyes will never reach them.
With the arrival of the years following 2010, you no longer appeared and he didn't expect you to, the market wasn't promoting the things he had dreamed of you doing.
(he didn't know if he could say he saw you in his dreams, but it was better than thinking he was going crazy)
Beyond the years that passed, in which he had thought of you intermittently, his life continued its course normally, letting go of the desperation and obsession to meet you.
Until his performance at the VMAs with Houdini.
He heard your voice that time, so clear that it scared him of the power of the mind until he noticed that you were actually in the same place, physically, not as an echo inside his head.
The performance was just as he remembered it, now all the fragments fit together perfectly. An artist new to the industry who came from outside the American market who wonderfully fused the old bases of pop together with moments where the track seemed more like a rap base, your voice in high and low nuances crossing through different parts, almost as if they were different people in each one, with a stability in the singing and dancing that accompanied it that had not been in the industry for a long time.
You were there, he was seeing you, he was hearing you perfectly clearly, the problem? You were the young woman around 20 and he was now 50
OMG!!! THAT IS NOT FAIR!😭 The whole time I was like 'aww, he's going to find her and they're going to fall in love'. Then he found her and I was like 'this is it! Their big moment'. But then...... you killed me😩 How cruel of the universe to do that to him!
Ps: reminds me of the song Truly Madly Deeply by Savage Garden.
I looked up the translation because I had never heard it mentioned before, but the part: "Oh, can you see it, baby? you don't have to close your eyes It's standin' right before you, all that you need will surely come" it fits so well, it's a really nice song 🤧
I'm an idiot because I meant I Knew I Loved You by Savage Garden not Truly Madly Deeply lol. But you're right!😭 that part did fit🥺 My poor Marshall deserves his happy ending especially after decades of waiting patiently!!😩
OKAY, SO HOW ABOUT THIS IDEA: The reader is Eminem’s assistant (with major office siren vibes), and Marshall quickly becomes intrigued by her. He finds her serious, focused personality incredibly attractive and can’t resist flirting with her at every opportunity. While she finds his advances annoying and stays professional, underneath it all, there’s a spark she tries to ignore.And at the end they end up together 😍😍😍
Eminem x assistant!Reader
Caution: sexual content ♡
Note:this is the most creative request I’ve ever seen…And I love it!
The famous Detroit rapper, Eminem, was your boss—and working as his assistant was nothing short of stressful. It wasn’t just the demands of the job that made it challenging; it was the fact that your boss seemed to have a noticeable attraction toward you.
He often flirted openly, dropping sly comments and playful remarks, sometimes catching you off guard when you were trying to focus. His advances weren’t limited to private settings either—he’d casually ask you out on dates even in front of his friends, leaving you flustered and unsure of how to respond.
One memorable incident occurred when you accidentally dropped a stack of papers. As you bent down to pick them up, you felt the unmistakable touch of his hand coming into harsh contact with your ass. Turning around quickly, you met his mischievous smirk. "Couldn’t help myself," he had said, his voice dripping with casual confidence.
Despite how overwhelming his behavior could be, there was something undeniably magnetic about him. You tried to maintain a professional exterior, brushing off his advances and focusing on the work at hand. But deep down, his charm was difficult to ignore. Every teasing word, every lingering glance, left a tension between you that neither of you could deny.
One day, while you were busy at the printer, you heard Marshall call out, "Hey, come over here for a sec." Sighing and feeling a bit irritated, you left your work and walked over to him.
“What is it, Marshall?” you asked, trying to keep the impatience out of your voice.
He leaned back in his chair, giving you a playful look. "Come sit on my lap," he said, patting his leg as if it were the most casual request in the world.
Your eyes narrowed. “Absolutely not,” you replied, crossing your arms defiantly.
He raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Alright, but I might have to dock a little of your pay if you don’t."
You hesitated, glaring at him. “Are you serious?”
He chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. “I’m always serious,” he replied with a mischievous grin. You knew he was probably joking, but the thought of him actually cutting your pay made you huff in annoyance.
Reluctantly, you lowered yourself onto his lap, trying to keep your posture as stiff and professional as possible. Sitting there, you couldn’t help but notice how close his face was to your chest, and the look in his eyes made your cheeks warm.
"There. Happy?" you asked, avoiding his gaze.
Marshall gave a low chuckle, clearly pleased with himself. "Very," he replied, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he looked up at you. “You’re always so serious… It’s kinda cute, you know.”
You rolled your eyes, fighting the urge to smile back. "Are you done now?"
He shrugged, still smirking. “Maybe… but I think I’m starting to like having you this close.”
Despite yourself, you felt a small flutter of excitement. But you kept your expression neutral, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting under your skin.
He leaned in slowly, his breath warm against your neck as his lips brushed softly over your skin. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your resolve slipping. His hand moved up to gently caress the soft locks of your hair, his fingers threading through with surprising tenderness. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you found yourself blushing, unable to ignore the rush of feelings that washed over you.
Marshall lifted his head and looked into your eyes, a mix of mischief and sincerity flickering in his gaze. Before you could say anything, he closed the distance, pressing his lips against yours in a slow, lingering kiss. You felt your heart race, and despite every intention to keep things professional, you couldn’t help but melt into the moment.
His other hand cupped your face, and you instinctively reached up, placing one of your hands on the side of his face. The stubble on his jawline tickled your fingertips, grounding you in the reality of what was happening. The kiss deepened, growing more intense, as if the two of you were releasing every unspoken word and every stolen glance that had built up between you.
When you finally pulled away, your breaths were ragged, and neither of you spoke for a moment. Marshall’s thumb traced small circles on your cheek, and he gave you a lopsided grin. "You know," he murmured softly, "you really do drive me crazy."
You bit your lip, unsure of what to say, but knowing deep down that everything between you had just changed in ways you couldn’t ignore.
Without another word, you found yourself leaning back into the kiss, your hand sliding around to the back of his neck to pull him closer. The chair creaked under his weight, but it didn’t matter—you were lost in the moment. His hand slipped from your hair to the small of your back, drawing you closer still, until there wasn’t an inch of space between you. The feeling was overwhelming, but in that moment, all you could do was give in to it.
Marshall’s hands began to roam, exploring the curves of your body with an urgency that seemed to match your own. You felt his hand move up to your waist, and he began to lift you up slightly, adjusting you on his lap so that you were straddling him. The fabric of your skirt rustled as you moved, and you felt a thrill at the thought of someone walking in on you—the scandal of it all.
The chair groaned in protest as you shifted your weight, but you were too lost in the sensation of his hands on your body to care. His kisses grew more demanding, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that made your head spin. You could feel his desire pressing against you, and it was all you could do not to moan out loud.
Your own hands found their way under his shirt, feeling the warm, firm planes of his abs. His skin was surprisingly soft, and you couldn’t help but trace your fingertips over the tattoos that adorned his body. He sucked in a sharp breath as you touched a particularly sensitive spot, and you felt a surge of power knowing that you could elicit such a reaction from him.
Marshall’s hands moved up to your low cut blazer, deftly unbuttoning it with one hand while his other arm held you steady.
He broke the kiss for a moment, his eyes dark with desire as they searched yours for permission. You nodded, your own eyes glazed with lust, and he took that as the invitation he needed. His mouth descended to your neck, kissing and nipping as he unbuttoned your shirt and pushed it aside to expose your black lace bra. His hand slipped under the fabric to squeeze your flesh gently, and you gasped at the contact.
The chair rocked slightly as he adjusted you on his lap, his hands moving to the clasp of your bra. With a swift motion, he unhooked it, and it fell away, revealing your breasts to the cool office air. He took one in his hand, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak before taking it into his mouth. You threw your head back, a soft moan escaping your lips, as the sensation sent waves of pleasure through your body.
Your own hands had been busy, too—they found the hem of his shirt and began to lift it over his head, revealing his toned torso and the tapestry of tattoos that covered his chest. You traced the ink with your fingertips, feeling the warmth of his skin and the beat of his heart beneath. His muscles flexed as he removed the shirt entirely, tossing it aside.
With your bodies now fully engaged, you both seemed to be in a silent understanding of where this was heading. You reached down and unbuckled his belt, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room. The button of his pants followed, and you slid the zipper down, freeing his hardened length. He groaned against your skin, his teeth grazing the soft mound of your breast as he tasted you.
You pushed his pants and boxers down, and he adjusted his position, lifting you slightly to align your bodies. The anticipation was thick as you felt the head of his erection at your entrance. The chair’s leather was cold against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat building between you. With a gentle thrust, he filled you, and you couldn’t help but gasp as you took him in.
The chair rocked rhythmically under the weight of your passion, the sound muffled by the thick office carpet. His hands gripped the armrests tightly as he began to move his hips, his eyes locked on yours, searching for every sign of pleasure. You wrapped your legs around him, grinding down to meet each thrust, the friction sending sparks of sensation through your core.
The leather of the chair was cold and unforgiving against your bare skin, but the heat from Marshall’s body and the passion burning between you was more than enough to warm you. Each time he entered you, a gasp would escape your lips, and he seemed to take it as a challenge to make the next one louder.
Your hands had moved from his neck to his broad shoulders, gripping tightly as his hips drove into you. The chair groaned in time with your movements, the rhythmic sound a testament to the intensity building within. The office around you faded away, the only reality being the two of you, entwined and moving together as one.
Marshall’s grip tightened on your hips, his breathing growing ragged as he fought to keep his strokes slow and measured. You could feel his restraint, his desire to let go and take you harder, faster, but he held back, savoring the moment. His eyes never left yours, a silent promise that he would never let you fall.
With each deep plunge, you felt your orgasm building, the tension coiling in your belly like a tight spring. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moans that threatened to spill out, not wanting to be caught in such a compromising position by anyone who might walk in. But the pleasure was too intense, and soon you couldn’t hold it back any longer.
Your nails dug into his shoulders as the spring inside you snapped, sending waves of ecstasy through your body. You threw your head back, letting out a loud moan. Marshall’s eyes widened, and he paused for a moment, looking at you with a mix of surprise and admiration before leaning in to capture your mouth again.
He picked up the pace, his movements becoming more erratic as he approached his own climax. The chair creaked and swayed precariously, echoing the intensity of the moment. You could feel the heat of his breath on your neck as he kissed and nibbled, his hands now squeezing your ass as he pushed you down onto him, filling you completely.
The room was a blur of passion, the only clear focus the two of you and the chair that was now the stage of your forbidden act.
“I guess I should get back to work,” you said, reluctantly standing up from his lap and straightening your clothes. You tried to keep your tone light, but there was no hiding the lingering warmth in your cheeks.
Marshall leaned back in his chair, a playful glint still in his eyes. “Or,” he began, a slow smile spreading across his face, “you could take the day off and spend it with me.”
You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “And what about all the work piling up on my desk?” you teased, though a part of you was tempted by the idea.
He waved a dismissive hand, as if it were the simplest problem in the world. “Forget about it. Work can wait.” Then, he leaned forward, his expression softening. “Come on. Don’t worry—I’ll still pay you for the day.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “You really know how to sweeten the deal, don’t you?”
“Is it working?” he asked, tilting his head, a touch of hopefulness in his voice.
You pretended to consider it, tapping your chin with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “Hmm… I suppose a day off might not be the worst thing in the world.”
He grinned, standing up and closing the distance between you in one stride. “That’s what I like to hear. So… what do you say? Just you, me, and no distractions?”
You hesitated for a split second before nodding. “Alright. You win.”
Marshall’s smile widened as he reached for your hand. “Good. I promise you won’t regret it.” And with that, the two of you stepped away from the confines of work, ready to see where the day would lead. <3
Hey! So, imagine it’s the 2000s, and Eminem has this huge crush on a super-famous pop singer. In an interview, the interviewer asks his opinion on her, and he openly admits that he finds her attractive, which gets everyone talking. Then, they end up collaborating on a song together, and the music video they make is super hot. Fans completely lose it because they can totally tell there’s something going on between them!
2000s Eminem x pop singer! Reader
Caution:sexual content <3
During an interview, Eminem was asked about the up-and-coming pop singer Y/N, and he didn’t hold back his admiration. “I think she’s incredibly attractive and makes really good music,” he said, a slight smile hinting at something more. For a while now, Eminem had found himself drawn to her—her beauty was undeniable, but it was her warm, genuine personality that truly captivated him.
Though he’s known for his tough, edgy persona, Eminem couldn’t help but soften when he spoke about her. Y/N was different from anyone he’d encountered in the industry. Her presence was refreshing, a mix of talent and kindness that seemed to come naturally to her. He’d been following her rise to fame, noticing the way her fans adored her and the way her music connected with people. Eminem couldn’t deny it—he was crushing on her, and the thought of a collaboration had even crossed his mind more than once. Little did he know, his candid words in the interview would spark rumors and excitement among fans who couldn’t wait to see what might happen between the rapper and the rising pop star.
When you found out about what Eminem had said about you during the interview, you were completely taken aback. At first, it didn’t seem real—it was hard to process that someone as big as him would openly talk about you like that. The words played over and over in your head: “I think she’s incredibly attractive and makes really good music.”
You were shocked, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth spreading through you. It was flattering, sure, but also a little overwhelming. You’d always admired Eminem’s music, his talent, and his larger-than-life persona, but the idea that he had noticed you, let alone had a genuine crush, sent your heart racing.
You couldn't help but feel a little flustered. His words were unexpected, and the attention was something you weren’t quite used to, especially coming from a major artist like him. You thought about it all day, the weight of his comment sinking in. Was he just being polite, or was there something more behind his words? Either way, it definitely left you with more questions than answers.
A week later, you received a message from none other than Eminem himself. He reached out to ask if you’d be interested in collaborating on a song. The moment you read his message, your heart skipped a beat. You couldn't believe it—Eminem, the legendary rapper you had admired for so long, was asking to work with you.
Without hesitation, you excitedly agreed. You had no doubts, no second thoughts. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, and the idea of working with him, especially after everything that had happened with the interview, sent a rush of excitement through you.
You immediately replied, expressing how thrilled you were at the prospect of collaborating with him. The thought of creating something together felt surreal, and you couldn’t wait to dive into the creative process. You knew this was going to be huge—not just for your career, but for you personally.
Our teams met to discuss the creative direction of the collaboration, and the conversation quickly took an intriguing turn. They proposed making the song sensual and centered around the complexities of a relationship—intense, passionate, and unapologetically raw. As they laid out the concept, I felt a warmth rise to my cheeks. I couldn’t help but blush at the idea.
The thought of creating something so intimate, especially with him, was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. It would be a bold step, a departure from anything I’d done before, and the prospect of exploring that kind of connection through music was electrifying. I glanced over at him as the conversation unfolded, trying to gauge his reaction. He seemed unfazed—confident, even—his expression suggesting he was more than ready to dive into the challenge.
After finishing the recording sessions for the song, the next step was to film the highly-anticipated music video. The energy on set was electric, a mix of excitement and nerves hanging in the air. You sat in front of the mirror, makeup artists diligently working to perfect your look. Brushes moved with precision, adding the final touches of shimmer to your eyes and gloss to your lips. The anticipation built with every passing second, and you could feel your heart pounding just a bit faster.
You adjusted the robe draped around you, its fabric soft against your skin. Beneath it, you wore delicate, lacy black lingerie chosen specifically for the shoot—a bold move, but one that fit the sensual vibe of the song. It felt both empowering and a little nerve-wracking to know what was coming next.
One of the makeup artists stepped back, admiring her work. “You look stunning,” she said with a smile, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
“Thanks,” you replied, managing a small smile in return. “I just hope I don’t trip over this robe or something,” you joked, trying to shake off the nerves.
The door to the dressing room opened, and he walked in. Eminem, in all his calm, cool confidence, took a quick glance around before his eyes landed on you. There was a spark of something in his gaze—approval, maybe even a hint of surprise. “You ready for this?” he asked, a playful edge to his voice.
You nodded, tightening the belt of the robe instinctively. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough that only you could hear. “It’s gonna be fire. Just do your thing.”
His words sent a jolt of confidence through you. “You too,” you replied, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before he turned and walked out. The weight of the moment sank in. This video was going to be unforgettable, and you were ready to give it everything you had.
You took a deep breath and stood in front of the mirror, taking one last glance at yourself in the lingerie before slowly sliding the robe off your shoulders. The cool air of the room hit your skin, but the heat of anticipation made you feel warm all over. With one final look at your reflection, you stepped toward the door, ready to face what was ahead.
As you opened the door and stepped out, you found Marshall already waiting for you. He was sitting on the bed, his shirt off, his toned chest and arms on full display. His tattoos, which you had noticed before but never fully admired, seemed to tell stories with their intricate designs, each one adding to his raw, unapologetic energy. The way the tattoos stretched over his muscles caught your attention for a moment, and you couldn't help but admire the way he looked.
He glanced up at you, his expression unreadable at first, but as his eyes traveled over you, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You look incredible,” he said, his voice low and almost hushed.
You smiled, sitting down beside him on the soft bed, the sheets rustling under you as you settled into place. The room was charged with an electric tension, and the crew started setting up the cameras, ensuring everything was in place for the shoot. The anticipation in the room grew as you waited, a sense of nervous excitement bubbling up inside you.
Once everything was ready, the cameras began rolling. Without missing a beat, Marshall started rapping, his words flowing effortlessly as he moved closer to you. He didn’t need a microphone—the raw power of his voice was enough to fill the room, his lyrics sharp and intense. As he rapped, he reached out and pulled you closer, his hands confidently guiding your exposed body toward him. The camera captured every movement, every kiss, as he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. His hands roamed, tracing the curves of your body as if the song was meant for this exact moment.
The kiss deepened, and you felt the heat rise between you. His lips moved with yours in perfect sync as the music played on, his touch both tender and commanding. His body pressed against yours, his rhythm matching the intensity of the song, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, lost in the moment. The cameras captured it all—every kiss, every touch, every second of undeniable chemistry.
The atmosphere in the room was palpable, the energy of the shoot merging with the passion of the music. As Marshall continued rapping, you couldn’t help but be swept up in the power of the moment, your body responding to his, and the song taking on a life of its own.
His hands moved lower, tracing the line of your body as the music echoed through the room. The entire world outside the set seemed to fade away as you both got lost in the moment, the only thing that mattered being the connection between you and the music.
You brung your soft manicured hands up to your soft breasts engulfed by a lacy bra and squeezed them to appear more sexier to the camera as Marshall flipped off the camera.
This would most definitely be the thumbnail for the video.
The director called "cut," signaling the end of the scene. You and Marshall both took a step back, the intensity of the moment slowly dissipating as the crew moved in to adjust equipment and set up for the next shot. You exchanged a quiet smile before heading to your designated room to relax for a bit.
After a few hours, you wrapped up your recording, feeling a mix of accomplishment and exhaustion. The excitement of the day was still buzzing in your veins, but now you were looking forward to some downtime. You changed out of your wardrobe, slipping into something more comfortable, and made your way outside to your car.
Just as you reached the door of your vehicle, you heard someone call your name from behind. You turned to see Marshall walking toward you, a playful glint in his eyes.
"Hey," he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "So, I was wondering... would you want to grab a drink sometime? Maybe go out... on a date?"
The question caught you off guard, but in the best possible way. His voice had a casual tone, but you could sense there was something genuine beneath it. You paused for a moment, taking in the sincerity of his expression, then smiled back at him.
"A date, huh?" you replied, teasing him slightly. "Are you asking me out, Marshall Mathers?"
He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I guess I am. I mean, we’ve spent all this time together on set, and I think you're pretty cool. It’d be nice to get to know you outside of all this craziness."
Your heart skipped a beat, the warmth of his words settling comfortably in your chest. It felt like a simple question, but in that moment, it carried a weight that made everything feel real.
"Alright," you said with a smile, feeling the excitement rise in your chest. "I’d like that."
Marshall grinned, clearly pleased with your answer. "Great," he said. "I’ll text you the details. We’ll figure something out."
As you got into your car, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. Something had shifted between you two, and this date felt like the beginning of something new—something that, at the very least, would be interesting to explore.
When the music video dropped, it immediately sent shockwaves through the entertainment world. The buzz was undeniable, and the media couldn't get enough of it. News outlets were abuzz with headlines discussing the video, focusing on the undeniable chemistry between you and Marshall. The press quickly latched onto the idea that there was more than just a professional collaboration between the two of you. Everyone seemed to think that what they saw on screen was more than just a performance.
Magazines, tabloids, and news articles were all over the story. Some claimed the chemistry between you two was off the charts, while others speculated about a potential romance, pointing to the way your bodies intertwined during the video and the flirtatious energy that seemed to linger between every take. The media was fascinated, and the public couldn't stop talking about it. Fans and critics alike were all over the speculation, analyzing every glance, every touch, and every word exchanged between you both on screen.
Interviews with both you and Marshall quickly followed. Journalists from all over lined up to ask about the video, the song, and, of course, the undeniable tension between the two of you. Everyone wanted to know if it was real—if what they saw in the video was an accurate reflection of what was going on behind the scenes. And while you both kept things light and playful, the questions kept coming, making it nearly impossible to escape the growing rumors.
The attention, both positive and negative, was overwhelming. The video had clearly left a mark, one that many believed was the beginning of something far deeper than just a professional relationship. Whether you were together or not, the world seemed to be entranced by the idea of the two of you.
And of course we decided to keep the people guessing <3
please sit with me and listen to me talk about a Marshall x reader where he has spent almost half of his life getting to know you through "dreams"
Marshall has known the woman he loves since the 2000s.
Well...since a dream that he remember in those years.
He knows it was during a performance, during a song he couldn't hear but admired vaguely in his memories. He remembers the way your hair looked good with whatever was the style you have, the bright eyes that kept your attention on the audience and parts of your body in a slight glow that came from the sweat illuminated by the stage lights.
Did he know what the song said? No. Did it sound like pop music? Yes. Did he care? No.
During awards and events he had been discreet in looking for you, thinking that maybe you were an emerging artist who had gone unnoticed due to his lack of interest in the genre he believed you were dedicated to.
Why weren't you anywhere, damn it
He didn't have a name, a melody or a damn physical reference that was useful to find you somewhere, maybe the consumption of some things made him imagine you?
Things got more real during his time in rehab, where things got tough at times and he had started to hear your voice saying his name or your little giggles in his head.
Marshall had jealously kept your memory in the most private place of his mind and heart, only letting out small fragments in the lyrics of his songs, many of the most personal ones still kept in his home where the light of the public's eyes will never reach them.
With the arrival of the years following 2010, you no longer appeared and he didn't expect you to, the market wasn't promoting the things he had dreamed of you doing.
(he didn't know if he could say he saw you in his dreams, but it was better than thinking he was going crazy)
Beyond the years that passed, in which he had thought of you intermittently, his life continued its course normally, letting go of the desperation and obsession to meet you.
Until his performance at the VMAs with Houdini.
He heard your voice that time, so clear that it scared him of the power of the mind until he noticed that you were actually in the same place, physically, not as an echo inside his head.
The performance was just as he remembered it, now all the fragments fit together perfectly. An artist new to the industry who came from outside the American market who wonderfully fused the old bases of pop together with moments where the track seemed more like a rap base, your voice in high and low nuances crossing through different parts, almost as if they were different people in each one, with a stability in the singing and dancing that accompanied it that had not been in the industry for a long time.
You were there, he was seeing you, he was hearing you perfectly clearly, the problem? You were the young woman around 20 and he was now 50
OMG!!! THAT IS NOT FAIR!😭 The whole time I was like 'aww, he's going to find her and they're going to fall in love'. Then he found her and I was like 'this is it! Their big moment'. But then...... you killed me😩 How cruel of the universe to do that to him!
Ps: reminds me of the song Truly Madly Deeply by Savage Garden.
A/N : so, my first attempt at doing Kinktober taught me that one of the pros of using someone else’s prompts is that you don’t have to come up with them by yourself. Sadly, it has also taught me that one the con of using someone else’s prompts is that… well, you end up having to write things you’ve never tried before 🤣. Anyway, this is my attempt at writing something « cockwarming ». Shoutout to people on Reddit who shared their experience on various posts. Really couldn’t have done it without them 😅. Oh, and this is Dom!Marshall x Sub!Reader !
CW : Smut? - Cockwarming - Anxiety
It had been a couple of months since Marshall had agreed to show you more of what being a submissive entailed. He was a great teacher, willing to answer any question, offering detailed explanations, putting the emphasis on consent and safety. Obviously, this brought a shift to your friendship dynamic. You weren’t just buddies anymore. There was something deeper there, something based on trust and intimacy. Both of you had access to parts that each other kept hidden. In the past few weeks, Marshall had gotten to know your body like the back of his hand, as well as your mind. He was able to anticipate your needs, knew exactly when he could push you further or when it was time to hold back. And, in spite of the rigid structure inherent to the weekends you spent at his place, that the untrained eye would identity as some distance between the two of you, he had become some sort of safe place for you. Not only as a close friend but also as your Sir.
You’d had a really rough week at work. Not only was your boss even more of an asshole that usual, but you had been assigned to some big project that had you stressed out. The anxiety was paralyzing and the tension followed you home, too. Even out of the office, that thing remained on your mind. And for the first time, you weren’t sure you’d be able to last a whole weekend with Marshall. You had texted him a few days earlier, letting him know how you were doing (as part of your agreement). You had been pretty straightforward and expected him to cancel, but he seemed pretty adamant on having you come over as usual. And when you showed up, as soon as he opened the door, he took notice of how disheveled you look. Big dark circles, eyes glistening with exhaustion and a drawn out stance. It didn’t take a genius to tell you were a mess. You looked down, bowing your head as he had taught you, waiting for him to invite you in.
Contrary to what was usual, he pulled you into a warm embrace, one that reminded you of the ones you’d shared as friends who showed up for each other during hard times. You leaned into it, closing your eyes, though you had a hard time letting go of all the tension. He seemed to notice it and gave you a reassuring smile before kissing your forehead. « I know you had a rough week, » he said in a tone that with both firm and gentle at the same time. « You don’t have to worry about anything now. You’re here with me and I’m in charge ».
His tone did not leave room for argument or doubt. You nodded, anxiously hoping that he wouldn’t go too hard on you. He had never given you any reason to doubt the fact that he’d make your comfort and wellbeing a priority, but you were the one you didn’t trust. You weren’t even sure what your own limits were. Everything in your mind was blurry, noisy and messy. You took a deep breath and entered the house. And as was now usual, you put down your bags and knelt in the foyer, waiting for him to properly greet you and give you your instructions. He stood before you, his hand gently patting the top of your head. « Good girl. Welcome home. » he praised in that low voice of his. « You may go to your room and get ready. Your checklist is on the bed », he instructed.
You nodded and did as you were told. It was the same start every weekend : you’d kneel, he’d greet you and you’d go to make yourself at home in the guest bedroom next to his. Then, you’d take a shower, put on the clothes he instructed you to wear and read the checklist he had prepared in advance. Most of the time, it was the same thing : you were in charge of making dinner for the both of you, as well as doing some reading on submission. Some other tasks included helping him sort out his cassette collection or library. On occasion, if he had a specific event coming up, he tasked you with outfit recommendations. This time, however, the checklist was pretty brief : «Put on comfy clothes - No chores - Rest - Obey».
When you walked back downstairs, you found him on the couch, scrolling on his phone. He glanced and your direction and gave you a nod, signaling he was happy with your outfit choice. He gestured for you to have a sit and you noticed that a cozy blanket and a cup of herbal tea were waiting for you. « Figured you’d need this. Take a moment and have some tea. I’ll be right there. » he instructed. You settled onto the couch, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders and cradled the mug into your hands, the warmth seeping onto your skin. You took a sip, the comforting taste calming your nerves, and let out a small sigh. Normally, simply being in the house would be enough for your mind to go quiet but not this time. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on your surroundings, the comfy couch, the familiar smell… but you kept on replaying moments of the past week. Your boss yelling at you. Your colleague pressuring you about the deadline. Instinctively, your hands clenched around the mug. You felt Marshall’s hand in your back, rubbing comforting circles. None of you spoke for a while, before Marshall cleared his throat, signaling for you to look at him.
« This weekend, I want you to let go and rest, understood? », he said, his gaze meeting yours with quiet intensity. « You’ve been pushing yourself and now, I’m going to take care of you », he added. Your eyes softened at his words and, though you found yourself nodding, you were met with a surge of anxiety. You didn’t want to be a burden. And you didn’t want him to think you’d given up on your progression as a sub either. « Thank you, Sir. But you don’t need to-», you began. He silently raised an eyebrow, making you shut up instantly.
« Who am I to you right now ? » he calmly asked. « You’re my dom, Sir », you replied softly, looking down. « Which means you are…? » he asked again. « Your sub, Sir », you replied. « That’s right. You’re my sub. Mine. And I take care of what’s mine. » he said firmly, in a tone that didn’t leave room for you to second-think. You nodded and he cupped your face, his thumb gently brushing your skin. You finished your tea and he led you to the movie room where he put on a movie, in an attempt to distract you. He was sitting on the couch while you were at his feet, sinking into the soft carpet, your head resting gently against his leg. One of his hands was in your hair and his presence grounded you.
You enjoyed the movie, but it still wasn’t enough to put your mind to rest. Contrary to your habits, you were fidgeting, nervously biting your lip, the skin around your nails. Marshall kept on swatting your hand but you couldn’t stop, much to his exasperation. « Stop doing that », he scolded. « Sorry, Sir. Can’t really help it. », you apologetically replied, to which he rolled his eyes. « It’s stressing me out. And you’re going to hurt yourself.» he continued. « Sorry », you mumbled, without really stopping. He firmly grabbed your wrist and watched you intently. « Y/N » he said sternly. « It’s an oral fix- » you began, though he cut you off with a loud sigh. « Do you need me to help you with that ? »
You looked at him, trying to scan his face to make sure what he was implying. Your eyes traveled to his crotch, then back to his eyes. You were about to make a comment about him just needing to tell you to get on your knees if he wanted you to satisfy him when he clarified it. « Not asking for a blowjob » he said. You looked at him, slightly confused. « So, uh, what is it, Sir? » you asked with a raised eyebrow. « Just you, keeping it in your mouth. Ever heard of cockwarming? ». You nodded. You’d vaguely heard of it but you had never found it too appealing. In your opinion, it kind of lacked the fun of an actual blowjob and you didn’t quite see the point. « Some people like it. They say it’s soothing,» he continued. « We can give it a try if you want. It’ll be less disgusting than… you biting your nails or whatever ». You nodded after a couple seconds of consideration. Worst comes to worst, you’d find it disgusting and wouldn’t try it again. Plus, if there was anyone you trusted with this, it was him. And in the best case, it might actually work. « Words, doll » he ordered. « When it comes to anything like that, I’d rather have you verbally consent », he added. « I consent to trying it, sir », you said with a slight smile, finding it quite endearing, the way he always made it feel safe. He nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. « So, uh… I just… put it in my mouth and not move? » you asked. He chuckled and shrugged a bit. «That’s the idea. You can gently suck and lick if you feel like it, too» he nodded. « But is that going to be… enjoyable? » you asked again with a raised eyebrow. « For me? Yeah. It’s agreeable. Pretty intimate, too. Might be enjoyable for you too. Apparently, it does a great job satisfying oral fixations. You’ll tell me. If you don’t like it, we stop. And you know the safe words and moves anyway, don’t you ? » he said with a smile and you nodded.
He moved a bit on the couch, before lowering his pants and boxers, letting his cock spring free. It was in a semi-soft state in which, not to toot your own horn, you weren’t use to seeing it often. You almost found it unsettling, not seeing it fully erect. He gestured for you to come and you settled between his legs, comfortably curling up and wrapping your mouth around his dick. You looked at him for a few seconds, as if to make sure you were doing it right. He gave you a small nod and a reassuring smile, before running a hand in your hair. « Good girl », he praised softly. « Now, try and relax, ok? ».
Much to your surprise, you didn’t find it as weird as you thought you would. Sure enough, you’d never had a cock that wasn’t fully hard in your mouth, nor were you used to not doing anything to it once it was in. But it wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as you expected. And it wasn’t disgusting either. In fact, he was right : it did do a good job at satisfying the oral fixation. As someone who had always been sort of « orally centered », there was something relaxing to holding him in your mouth. Soon enough, you let your mind wander, shifting your focus from work to your dom, who gently stroked your hair and neck. You instinctively suckled, not exactly on purpose, but you could hear Marshall humming lightly. You stayed like that for a while, enjoying the contact and intimacy of it, while the TV show played in the background. «All good, doll? », Marshall asked after a while. You let out a soft hum, your mind kind of elsewhere. He let out a soft chuckle and a « Good girl » escaped his lips. His fingers found the back of your head, stroking in soothing motions. You found yourself in some kind of meditative space, halfway between relaxation and submission. Finally. What you enjoyed the most. The point where the noise in your head went quiet and nothing outside really mattered.
You’d had enough conversations with Marshall to know what sub space was but you had never experienced it. In the back of your mind, you wondered if, perhaps, that was it. You were feeling both vulnerable and connected to your dom, your body feeling as if it were « floaty ». You were not exactly sure where you were, or how long you stayed like this and, frankly, you didn’t care. You felt serene, as if you were exactly where you belonged. Marshall’s fingers traced your scalp, your forehead, your cheek, grounding you, reminding you of his presence and him being in charge.
You could feel him twitch slightly in your mouth, hardening and softening at times. You went with the flow, instinctively shifting your position. At some point, however, it became too challenging for you to hold him in your mouth, to even breathe. It kind of took you out of your zone and you took it out of your mouth as you came to your senses. You looked at Marshall, who was seemingly zoned out. He gazed at you with a smile, his eyes full of silent praises. «All good, sweetheart ? » he asked in a low voice. You nodded, smiling at the sweet pet name. « All good. Thank you, Sir » you replied quietly. He cupped your face and let his thumb stroke your cheek. «There it is. That smile. Missed it. » he teasingly commented, making you blush. « So? I take it that you didn’t hate it? » he asked with a grin. « I didn’t » you agreed. « It was nice ».
« I’m glad » he hummed. « Wanna keep going? ». You lowered your gaze, noticing he was still fully hard. « Don’t think I’ll be able to hold it, Sir. Not like… this » you softly commented. He looked down and let out a chuckle. «Ah. Sorry. Side effect. » he replied with an unapologetic smirk before putting his boxers and pants back in place. « Means you’re a good girl », he added with a wink. You felt a familiar warmth through your body and for a second you wondered if he was aware of the effect his praises had on you. You let out an involuntary giggle before blushing and looking down apologetically. « Didn’t think you’d find me so funny » he said with a raised eyebrow. You shook your head, indicating it wasn’t that. He crossed his arms and stared at you. « Why don’t you share, then ? » he suggested with a smirk. « Before I punish you for laughing in my face », he added in a low voice. You looked at him and blushed slightly before tentatively explaining. « I, uh… I was wondering if it was an acronym, sir », you awkwardly replied, failing to hide a goofy smile. « An acronym? » he repeated, clearly not getting the pun. « Because it stands for me », you mumbled, trying not to let out the goofiest snort. He stared at you intently, sternly for a few seconds, before breaking character and face palming himself, letting out a loud chortle. « Oh Jesus Christ, Y/N » he sighed with a laugh. « Sorry » you giggled before looking down. He pulled you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.
You exchanged goofy smiles, both of you enjoying the moments when your friendship bled into the dynamic. «If the bad jokes and lyric references are back, I think it means you’re feeling better » he chuckled. You nodded and gave him a sincere smile. « I do. Thank you Sir. You’re a good dom. And a great friend. » you said with a heartfelt gratitude. He chortled and nodded. « I mean, it’s nothing special. Friendly cockwarming. It’s a thing. » he deadpanned. You couldn’t resist playing into it. «Makes sense. I might remember that next time work brings me down and ask my office buddy for a friendly favor » you playfully replied. The humor in your voice was unmistakable but it didn’t prevent him from squinting and his eyes from going darker. « oh yeah? Anything you want to share, doll ? » he asked sternly.
You gave him a smile and shook your head. You were well aware of the rules : the whole dynamic was basically a friends with benefit arrangement and, if you wanted to date or be involved with someone else, you were free to, but it would mean his domination would become strictly platonic. « There’s no one else, Sir. » you hummed. «I’m all yours », you added in a whisper, though you knew he could clearly hear it. « Good. I like the sound of that. You’re my good girl » he praised in a low voice, his face inching closer to yours. « I like being yours, sir » you added under your breath. You saw a smirk form on his face and, without adding anything, he pulled you to him and his lips crashed into yours, sending jolts of electricity through your whole body. You thoroughly enjoyed him having such a primal reaction. And it was quite rare, too. Most of the time, your dynamic didn’t involved a lot of flirting and teasing. Kissing, too, was quite rare. That being said, you found it quite exhilarating.
His kiss was possessive, not leaving room for doubt. His hands moved to your waist, his hold on you feeling fierce and raw. Though you were used to letting him be in control, this time, you couldn’t resist responding eagerly. Your body melted into his, your lips soft and insistent against his. Marshall’s hand slid up to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, a quiet growl escaping his throat as he claimed you fully. It was empowering and intoxicating, noticing the way he reacted to your submission. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy him being territorial. As your mouths parted, in order to allow for some much-needed breathing, you slightly pulled back, realizing that, regardless of how enjoyable it was, you might be overstepping. « Sorry, sir », you whispered before lowering your gaze. He shook his head and cupped your cheek before capturing your lips in another kiss, this one slower and deeper that had you surrendering, melting against him. The kiss deepened, your bodies pressed close as you lost yourselves in each other. You already knew he was rock hard, obviously, and you could feel it through the fabric of his clothes. You were slowly grinding against each other, as you let him take the lead and instinctively followed his movements. « What can I do for you, Sir ? » you asked as you bit your lip. Your desire had you feeling as if you were burning from the inside, and you were dying to have him telling you to get on your knees and get to work. He smiled and placed a tender kiss on your lips before shaking his head. « You’re not doing anything for me, this weekend. I’m taking care of you, remember ? » he reminded you. « What do you have in mind, Sir ? » you asked. « At least a couple of orgasms, and maybe some more friendly cockwarming. There’s more holes for us to try », he replied with a promising smile.
I feel so bad for getting turned on when it's meant to be a therapeutic thing for her but🥵 I wouldn't have been able to resist just full on gagging on it omg😩 I need!🤤 Can't wait for them to fall in love lol. I love them so much!🥺❤️
So I was thinking if you’re taking requests maybe a Em x reader where she’s plus size, they’ve been friends for a while and someone makes a comment making fun of her weight or how Em would never be with someone like her & reader overhears Em’s confession/response? In need for a happy ending type of fic.
Kinktober - Day 20 - Size Difference
Kinktober 2024 Masterlist
A/N : thank you for your request ! I think it fights right with the Kinktober Day 20 prompt, which is « Size Difference ». I hope you enjoy it 💕.
CW : Size difference - Plus sized reader - Fluff
The dining room was warm and buzzing with laughter and chatter as the evening settled into its comfortable rhythm. Marshall sat beside you, leaning back with that familiar, laid-back posture, fingers idly tapping the edge of his glass as he listened to some story being told across the table. You felt a flicker of contentment just sitting beside him, enjoying the moment. You loved a good dinner party : great food and good company. It was even better when Marshall was around : his humor and playful remarks were always the cherry on the cake. The two of you had been friends for years, your bond built on banter and that magnetic, unspoken understanding. There was a spark, sure, but you had always kind of danced around it, knowing it was always there, like a half-breath between you. It was playful and fun but, at the end of the day, he was him and you were, well, you. And even though you sometimes thought of how great it might be if the friendship turned into something more, you were simply grateful to be in his presence.
At one point during the dinner, you excused yourself to step outside, needing a breath of fresh air and maybe just a moment alone. As you headed for the balcony, you didn’t realize that your absence would become the focal point of a conversation you’d never intended to overhear. Marshall was taking a sip of his drink when he heard one of his friends, that you had not crossed paths with too often, chuckle, glancing toward the door you had just passed through.
“So, uh, what’s the deal between you and Y/N?” the guy asked, with that tone that conveyed his thought on your friendship, probably deeming unlikely. After all, most people wouldn’t expect one of the most successful rappers to be such good friends with a female, much less one that did not look like a Victoria’s Secret model. Marshall’s brow furrowed at the question. “We’ve been friends for a while. Why?” The guy shrugged, giving a half-smile. “Nothing, man. I’m just surprised. Thought you’d go for, you know…” He motioned vaguely with his hand. “Someone more your…size.”
Marshall’s eyes narrowed, but the guy kept going, oblivious. “Look, she's nice, sure, but I mean— she might get the wrong idea and think there’s something there. And, well, she’s not exactly…. In your league, you know what I’m saying?” A heaviness dropped in your chest. You didn’t mean to overhear a conversation you were obviously not privy to. You could feel your eyes starting to burn. How humiliating. You’d left your seat for a minute and people were making fun of you. Right when you thought you were having a great time. You stayed on the balcony, looking away, pretending not to hear anything, hoping the conversation would end soon, so that you could go back to your seat and pretend that nothing happened. You didn’t see Marshall glance toward the balcony door. “Yeah,” Marshall said, his tone cold, “you’re right.”
You could feel your heart drop. Of course you knew that Marshall was out of your league. Anyone could see that. And you knew he knew it too. But to hear him acknowledge it, as simple as that, it still hurt. You would have hoped he’d at least defend you and say what a great friend you were. You could feel a lump form in your throat, before he continued. “She’s way out of my league.” Marshall’s voice softened as he glanced back toward the balcony door. “She’s the kind of woman who’s smart and hilarious, who’s real and doesn’t fake a damn thing. She’s gorgeous and incredible and—well, you wouldn’t get it. Someone like her?” He paused, letting the words sink in. “She’d never go for someone like me.”
The guy stammered, clearly at a loss for words. “But I mean, what is it that you actually see in her?” Marshall shook his head, a glint of disbelief in his eyes as he looked his friend square in the face. “What do I see in her?” He gave a small laugh. “Everything. I mean, have you seen her?”
You thought you were about to cry from the humiliation, but then you heard Marshall’s voice, steady and honest, filling in every corner of doubt she’d ever had. By the time he finished, your cheeks felt hot. There was a moment of silence and you decided to come back. You took a deep breath, calming your nerves, and approached the table, quietly slipping back into your seat beside him. Marshall glanced over, flashing her that signature, knowing smile, like you were his favorite person to see across the room. The conversation switched to another topic, moving on to some workplace gossip.
Without a word, you reached under the table and found his hand. His fingers stilled for a beat, then curled around yours, his thumb tracing a gentle pattern on your skin, like he’d been waiting for this moment as much as you had. He looked over, and your eyes met, a silent understanding passing between you, deeper than words. “Out of your league, huh?” You whispered, your voice a mixture of teasing and something softer, more serious. He squeezed your hand gently, his demeanor oddly calm though you could see a flicker of anticipation in his eyes. “Way, way out of my league,” he murmured, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face.
You both focused on the table conversation, but neither of you could actually keep your attention from straying to the connection between your hands, fingers gently toying and tracing each other. Every once in a while, Marshall’s thumb would brush across your knuckles, a delicate and unhurried stroke that sent little shivers up your arm. You bit your lip, suppressing a smile, feeling your cheeks warm under the subtle, unspoken affection radiating from him. At one point, he leaned back casually, still holding your hand beneath the table, and threw in one of his usual sarcastic comments at something one of your friends said. But as he spoke, he lightly drew circles against your palm, his fingers grazing yours with a mix of playfulness and tenderness. It felt like a secret only the two of you shared, a silent language spoken in touch instead of words. You risked a glance at him, your eyes catching his for the briefest moment. He was mid-sentence, but when he saw you look, he shot you a crooked smile, raising one eyebrow in that mischievous way of his. He gave your hand another gentle squeeze, like he was saying, ‘I’ve got you.’
Your friends seemed oblivious, absorbed in their own conversations, while you and Marshall seemed to exist in your own bubble, a world of hidden smiles and quiet gestures. With each minute that passed, your confidence in this unspoken connection grew, and your touches became bolder. His hand slipped down to your wrist, feeling the steady rhythm of your pulse, while you traced your fingertips along the callouses on his, each touch a little thrill that left you wanting more. By dessert, you were leaning in just a little closer, your shoulder brushing his as you exchanged quick, playful whispers and comments about the evening’s conversations. The closeness of him, the warmth of his hand in yours, all made your heart pound in a way that was intoxicating.
Finally, as the evening wound down, people beginning to gather coats and say goodbyes, Marshall gave your hand one last squeeze, holding your gaze in a look that spoke volumes. As you stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut, the quiet tension that had been building all night seemed to close in around you. The moment you were alone, it was as though the air became charged, the silence between the two of you suddenly thick with every unspoken word and lingering look you’d shared at the dinner table.
You leaned back against the wall of the elevator, your breath catching as Marshall took a step closer. His gaze roamed over you, clearly taking in the way your dress hugged your curves, accentuating every line, every dip. He looked at you like he couldn’t tear his eyes away if he tried, and your pulse quickened, your body responding to the heat in his stare. He raised a hand, his fingers brushing along your cheek, trailing down to your jaw, gentle but deliberate. His voice was a low, warm rumble, barely above a whisper. “You’re so damn gorgeous, you know that?” You felt your cheeks flush, your lips parting, but before you could say anything, his mouth was on your, soft but insistent. The kiss was slow at first, like he was savoring every second, his hand slipping around to the back of your neck, holding you close as he deepened the kiss.
Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie as you pulled him closer, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of his mouth against yours, the warmth of his body pressing into you. She could taste the faint hint of Diet Coke on his lips, feel the steady beat of his heart against your fingertips, and it made your head spin. Marshall’s hands slid down, resting on your hips, pulling you against him, his touch possessive yet tender. His lips moved to your jaw, then to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made you melt against him, your breath coming quicker with each soft, lingering touch. “You have no idea…” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. “No idea how beautiful you are.”
His hand traced down your side, following the curve of your waist, fingers exploring every dip and line as though committing you to memory. You arched into him, your own hands roaming up to his shoulders, feeling the strength in him, the tension just beneath the surface. When he looked at you again, his eyes were filled with an intensity that made your knees weak. He brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb grazing your cheek as he leaned in once more, capturing your mouth in another kiss that was deeper, needier. The world outside the elevator ceased to exist; there was only the warmth of his touch, the soft hum of the elevator, and the way he made you feel, like you were the only woman in the world.
I'm squealing like a pig!! He's so fucking soft for her!😍 The physical contact, the looks they give each other, the silence speaks volumes!!! I was giddy the whole time, kicking my feet every time! And then the elevator scene!!!!💀 I'm dead! That was so hot!🥵 I loved this!!❤️
Maybe as a sequel to Size Difference, it’s their first date with a bit of smut. You just know he’s got quite the romantic side & going from friends to more he’d pull out all the stops.
From friends to lovers
Previous part
A/N : I got inspired by your suggestion so I ended up writing quite quickly 👀. I decided to keep this one soft and actually decided to save the smut for another part. In fact, I think this pairing would be ideal for the "Body Worship" prompt of the Kinktober Masterlist. 😉 I hope you enjoy it ! ❤️
CW : First date - Romance - FLUFF
A few days after the dinner party, you received a heard on your door. When you opened it, a delivery person handed you a bouquet of stunning deep red roses mixed with lilies, your favorite. You blinked in surprise, your heart leaping as you reached for the note nestled between the petals. You didn’t need to open it to know who it was from, but you did anyway, unfolding the small card to see his unmistakable scrawl.
“Dinner, you and me? Friday at 7. I’ll pick you up. - M”
Your heart skipped a beat as you read it, a smile tugging at your lips as you hugged the flowers to your chest. It felt surreal—after years of friendship, the man you’d secretly adored had finally asked you out, and not casually either. He’d sent flowers. An actual romantic gesture that made you feel special. . You’d never felt more seen and it was making you all giddy. When Friday arrived, you took extra care getting ready, choosing a dress that hugged your curves and made you feel confident. You couldn’t shake the nervous excitement as you waited for him, pacing your living room until you finally heard the knock. When you opened the door, your breath caught. There he was, dressed in a perfectly fitted outfit, looking at you like you were the only person in the world. His eyes traveled over you with a warmth that made your cheeks flush.
“Wow,” he said, his voice soft, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You look… stunning.” You felt yourself blushing, giving him a playful nudge. “Look who’s talking, Mr. Sharp Dresser.” He chuckled, offering his arm, and you looped yours through his as you headed out, the evening feeling like the start of something magical. Dinner was a mix of familiar and new—there was the same comfortable ease in your conversation, the laughter and banter that came so naturally between the two of you, but now there was something else, a heightened awareness in every glance, every touch. He pulled out all the stops, ordering your favorite dishes and insisting you try the dessert he knew you loved. He even stole a piece of your food, earning an eye roll from you that he met with a grin and a wink. The whole thing seemed effortless and yet, you could tell he was actually making an effort. Just enough to make you believe that dating was not a lost art after all.
After dinner, instead of taking you straight home, he suggested a walk, leading you to a nearby park bathed in the soft glow of streetlamps. You strolled side by side, shoulders brushing now and then, the quiet intimacy of the night making you feel bolder. At one point, he stopped and turned to you, his eyes soft as they met yours. He seemed to hesitate, as if gathering his thoughts, and you waited, your heart pounding as you wondered what he might say. “You know,” he began, his voice lower now, more vulnerable, “I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while.” You blinked, a laugh of surprise escaping you. “Really? You’re serious?”. The dinner party, the flowers, the date night had made it clear that he liked you, but you were still in disbelief. Your close friend you had a crush on telling you he’d been wanting to ask you out for ‘a while ‘ was definitely not on your bingo card. Never, in a million years, would you have thought that the man who could have literally anyone would be interested in you. He nodded, his gaze steady. “Yeah, really. I was just… I didn’t know if you’d even want that.”
You stared at him, your surprise giving way to something tender. “Marshall, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m… not exactly what people expect for you. I didn’t think I was even your type.” He gave you a look that was part disbelief, part amusement, his hand reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “Not my type?” He shook his head, a small smile curving his lips. “Y/N, you’ve been my type since the day I met you. Funny, smart, gorgeous.” His voice softened, his gaze intense. “You’re everything.” You felt a lump form in your throat, your heart swelling as you let his words sink in. For so long, you’d felt like you were on the outside looking in, doubting whether he’d ever see you the way you saw him. But here he was, looking at you with nothing but pure, unguarded affection.
Before you could respond, he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. Your heart raced, your hands finding their way to his chest as you kissed him back, melting into the warmth of him. Just like the first time he had kissed you, the world around you seemed to disappear, and it was just you, standing beneath the stars, sharing a moment that had been waiting to happen for so long. When you finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his arms wrapped around your waist. “I don’t know how you never saw it,” he murmured, a grin tugging at his mouth. “I’m crazy about you.” You laughed softly, feeling the last of your doubts fade as you looked up at him, your own smile bright. “Guess I just needed you to show me.” He leaned in once again, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was filled with years of friendship and hidden longing, every unsaid feeling finally spilling out between you. You melted into him, your arms winding around his neck as he pulled you close, his hands pressing against the small of your back, holding you like he was afraid you’d slip away. His kiss grew deeper, more urgent, and you responded with a soft moan, your fingers tangling in his hair as your bodies molded together. It felt like every brush of his lips, every slow exploration of his hands against your curves was a revelation—your heart pounded wildly, and you could feel his own pulse racing just as fast.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough with desire. “I don’t think you know how much you drive me crazy.” You smiled, breathless, your forehead resting against his as you caught your breath. His hands moved to your waist, tracing the lines of your dress, his touch both tender and possessive. Every inch of your body felt electrified, and the warmth of him, so close, made you want to lose yourself in him completely. The air between you grew hotter, his kisses trailing from your lips to your jawline, then down to the curve of your neck. His hand moved slowly, reverently, over your curves, exploring every line with a gentleness that made you feel seen, adored. You could barely keep yourself together, every touch of his lips and hands sending a rush of warmth through you.
As he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his eyes were filled with something you hadn’t seen before—a mixture of desire, tenderness, and respect. You looked up at him, your fingers playing with the collar of his jacket, your own heart racing as you tried to decide what came next. For a moment, the words were on the tip of your tongue. You wanted to invite him back to your place, to see where the night would take you. Desire was evident on both sides. But there was a hesitation, a sense that this moment was special, and you didn’t want to rush it.
He seemed to sense your thoughts, because he gave you that half-smile you loved, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I want this, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice filled with honesty. “More than you know. But I don’t want to rush it. I’ve waited this long… and you’re worth waiting for.” Your heart softened, a smile blooming across your lips. “You’d wait?” He nodded, his thumb tracing your cheek. “I’d wait as long as it takes.” The sincerity in his eyes made your heart ache in the best way, and you pulled him in for another kiss, this one slow and filled with gratitude. You realized, in that moment, that he wasn’t just a friend, or a date—he was someone who saw you, who cherished you, and who valued every part of you. You stood there in the park, kissing under the stars, wrapped up in each other like you were the only two people in the world. And as you finally pulled back, hand in hand, and walked away from that tree, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful, something worth savoring.
Can I request an angsty one where the reader and Marshall/Em/Slim (whichever you prefer) they have an argument and at one point he tells her he doesn't need her, he can have whoever he wants and they won't complain about anything like she does. And obviously she feels hurt bc it's always been an insecurity of hers that he could have anyone. And he just confirmed her fear. Hopefully with a happy ending tho🙏🏻❤️ please and thank you! Sorry it's so long lol.
needed - eminem
fem!y/n x Marshall Mathers
masterlist
synopsis: Marshall says he doesn't need her, but what does he do when he doesn't have her?
warnings: cursing, drinking
A/N: loved this request! very fun to write. if you guys want anything written, my asks are open. hope you enjoy!
-Fuck you!
-Oh, piss off!
Shouts could be heard from the Mathers residence that night. Y/N and Marshall were arguing over something stupid, again. They seemed to be having these arguments more and more often these days. This time, however, they were arguing over Marshall’s lack of communication. He’d have a bad day, be rude to Y/N, and when she’d ask what was wrong he’d blow up at her without telling her what bothered him. Today it seemed like he’d had an extra bad day.
…
He got home from the studio later than usual. Y/N was reasonably worried, and when she called, he wouldn’t answer. So, once he got home, she asked him a ton of questions; questions like “where were you?” “what happened?” “are you alright?”. This angered him to no end since he hates explaining himself to people.
He refused to answer questions. Y/N knew he’d probably just had a rough day so she decided to make him his favorite home-cooked meal and some hot cocoa and treat him to a lovely night at home. But, when she brought him his food and drink, he just told her he wasn’t hungry, even after seeing all the effort she was putting in for him.
That’s when something inside of her just snapped. She set the plate and mug on the table fecklessly, spilling some cocoa in the process. Marshall seemed a bit startled, knowing Y/N doesn’t usually throw fits like this and she usually keeps her temper in check.
-God, Marsh! Would it kill you to at least give me a thank you? I’ve tried so hard to find out what’s wrong, and you won’t tell me! What happened to me being your #1 and your best friend? And come on! Look at this meal I made for you! Can’t you see how badly I want you to let me help you?
-Fuck! I’m sorry I’m not living up to your boyfriend standards, Y/N! But, clearly, I had a rough day so just drop it!
-You know what Marshall? I have bad days too! But you don’t see me bitching about it and acting like a little kid every time something doesn’t go my way! And even when I do feel upset, I tell you what’s wrong! Because I actually care about your feelings and I wouldn’t want you to worry!
- Oh, so, now I don’t care?! All I ever do is care about you Y/N! I write songs about you, I buy you everything you look at to make you happy, not to mention I make you feel pretty damn good!
- It’s not about that Marsh! God, are you even listening to me?! I don’t care that you’re upset, or that you’re in a bad mood or feeling mean; I just want you to tell me! I want you to communicate with me! I want us to work through our problems calmly, without me having to shout to get your attention!
-You always say that, but you never actually do it! Whenever you’re upset you just stay quiet! So don’t go telling me how to deal with my problems because you sure as hell don’t know how to deal with yours!
-Fuck you!
-Oh, piss off!
-Fuck, Marsh! This isn’t about me! We can work through what I do, but you seriously need to stop!
-Stop it, Y/N! Stop already! If everything I do is so terrible and wrong, then why not just break up with me already?
-Because I love you! I care so much about you and I just wish you could see it.
-You’re just saying that because you know I don’t need your ass. You know I can get with whoever the hell I want and they won't criticize me or complain about everything I do half as much as you do!
Y/N stayed silent for a bit. Her heart dropped and she could feel the lump develop in her throat. All this time she was with Marshall, she’d had her insecurities. But, he helped her work through them slowly. He helped her make sure she knew he’d never hurt her like that.
But, now, all that hard work was out the window. With those simple words. The tears began to prick her eyes and she looked down at the floor to try and conceal it. She felt like a little girl being yelled at. She felt helpless, and small. The man who was supposed to love her the most, to protect her, had failed her. He made her feel alone.
Marshall instantly felt a wave of regret wash over him. He felt it surge from his mind up to the tips of his ears down to the points of his toes. He looked at the girl he loves, knowing how badly he just hurt her. He opened his mouth to apologize, knowing he’d gone too far and he didn’t mean it; but, before he could, she had walked past him and into their bedroom. He quickly turned on his heels to follow her.
Y/N was grabbing a few of her things: a hoodie, her phone charger, some gum, her earbuds, and some shoes. He once again tried to apologize but she wouldn’t hear it. He followed her all the way down to the garage and watched as she hopped in her car and sped off. He wasn’t sure where she was going, and, to be honest, neither was she.
She hated herself for complaining and she hated him for being so mean to her. But, deep down, she knew she loved him more than anything and everything. She gripped her steering wheel harder, and turned up the volume of the song she was listening to.
She pulled into the parking lot for some random bar she heard of from one of her friends. Her friend said it was the best place to go if you’re feeling sad or having a rough night.
When she walked in, the bar looked exactly how she felt. It was dimly lit, the smell reeking of alcohol and cigarette smoke. There were barely enough people to call a crown in there, all sitting far apart with a drink in hand. Everyone looked glum in there, so she’d blend right in. She sat at the bar and ordered herself a few shots of rum. She downed them quickly, not feeling much different. She then ordered herself a vodka, which she kept refilling until the bartender just gave her the bottle.
She kept feeling her phone buzz in her pocket. She assumed it was Marshall. She didn’t really want to respond, but she still looked, just in case. It was actually a text from her best friend asking what happened. Of course. Marshall texted her friend to see if Y/N was okay (since she usually goes to her best friend in times of need). Y/N decided not to answer, she was in more of a “fuck the world” kind of mood.
She set her phone down on the counter, finally feeling the effects of the alcohol. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get home or if she was going to get home at all. Before she could continue that thought, she saw a series of texts, making her phone buzz repeatedly.
The contact name read “marsh :)”. She truly didn’t want to speak to him at the moment. She wasn’t sure why what he said affected her this way, but it did, and he knew that. She knew she was probably just being sensitive, but she couldn’t help but feel attacked.
She looked at her phone again and saw Marshall’s concerned text chain.
“hello?”
“babyyy??”
“look baby i’m so sorry i know i messed up big time. please call me back so i can fix this.”
She didn’t bother reading the rest. She got more texts from him and her best friend. They seemed really concerned now. It was unlike Y/N, not answering the phone. It was cold, far too cold for someone of her character. However, Y/N wasn’t in the mood or the headspace to care about her character. She was too busy trying to keep her head upright as her vision blurred a bit from the effects of the white russian she was creating in her stomach at the moment. From that point forward, she couldn’t really recollect anything that had happened. The next thing she knew, she felt a pair of strong arms lifting her up by the waist and into their arms bridal-style.
…
The next day, Y/N woke up in her bed alongside a snoring Marshall that had his arms wrapped around her tightly. She slowly shimmied out of his embrace, head beginning to pound when she stood up. She went downstairs and sat at the kitchen table with a small tonic for hangovers in hand.
As she was washing the cup she was just using, Y/N heard a set of booming footsteps as they pounded against the wooden staircase. She turned around to look at Marshall. He looked incredible. His hair was a bit tousled and his eyes and lips were puffy. He came down and approached her without a second thought. The first thing he did was put his lips against hers. The kiss was warm, brilliant.
Y/N crumpled under his touch. He pulled back and smiled slightly at her. His heart grew seeing her in front of him. He smiled even wider when he saw her smile back; however, he knew he wasn’t forgiven just yet.
-Wait, look, I gotcha something.
He quickly walked into the living room and grabbed a small box and turned to the kitchen.
-I bought this a while ago. I wanted to give it to you somewhere better but this seemed like the right time.
Y/N opened the little box gingerly, a little nervous to see its contents. Her jaw dropped a tad when she saw it.
A small ring, diamond encrusted and the exact type of metal she wears. It was perfectly tailored to her tastes. She looked up at him, eyebrow slightly raised.
-It’s a promise ring. I know what I said last night was fucked up but I didn’t mean it at all. I love you more than anything and you know that. I could never be with anyone else knowing that you’re out there in the world.
He took the ring out of the box and secured it onto her finger. He then kissed her hand softly. She smiled taking in the view.
Then, she knew, more than anything, that she was truly loved.
OMGG!!!🥺 I loved this so much! Thank you!!!🙏🏻❤️ Loved the angst! It hurt so good lol. But the ending healed me!🥰 The fact he already had the ring, waiting to give it to her🥺❤️ So sooo good!!👏🏻👏🏻
