my-alter-ego777

[my-alter-ego777]

Short Clips

Eminem fanfic, Singer!reader, language, angst, loss, comfort, fluff, pda, made-up usernames for comments, shitty title, sry if I missed anything.

Word count: 2,421

Note: I just wrote a handful of ideas that popped into my adhd, scatterbrained head, and put them into one post. Hope y'all enjoy some random-ass content! - xo

One more thing, these clips are not in any particular order or specific era of Eminem's career.

Clip 1

The video showcases a fan's viewpoint from the audience. The loud cheers from those nearby overwhelm the phone's speaker as Marshall finishes the final line of his song.

-

You and Marshall have embarked on a world tour together, and tonight is your inaugural performance in this two-month adventure.

The audience is ecstatic to see you on stage beside him, especially after the news broke just before the tour commenced about your grandmother's passing.

People were genuinely concerned about you, knowing how much she meant to you (you often spoke about her in interviews when asked about your biggest supporter and inspiration). It was evident to everyone that your grandma was your foundation, your everything.

This led them to ponder whether you'd choose to step back from the world tour to take some time for yourself, which they would completely understand and not hold against you, but it wouldn't stop them from feeling sad at your absence.

So, when you stepped out onto that stage at the beginning of tonight's show, everyone was taken aback but utterly delighted by your appearance.

You mentioned early on that despite being profoundly affected by loss, you (and anyone in similar circumstances.) should have the freedom to feel and express your pain, sadness, and grief... however, it's also crucial to remember to keep moving forward in life, as your grandma would say, and not allow difficult times to hinder you from pursuing your dreams and doing what brings you the most joy.

So that's the reason you are here tonight. Standing before all these people you regard as family and alongside your best friends, who are so dear to you.

-

Marshall's song flows seamlessly into one of yours. The intro itself captivates everyone, including Marshall and Denaun, drawing them into its own world, its own universe. The melodic strings tug at the hearts of the listeners, while the low hum of your siren-like voice makes the hairs on their bodies stand up.

Not even three seconds into the song, fans, especially those who have been with you for a long time, recognize it instantly.

This is the song you composed and dedicated to your grandma some time ago, and everyone in the stadium proceeds to experiences a simultaneous wave of warmth and sorrow.

The phone's camera zooms in on you, adjusting to the spotlight that highlights your facial features.

You look gentle. Celestial.

Your eyes flutter open as you begin the first verse, and the corners of your lips lift into an endearing smile as you see every single person in the stadium turn on their flash.

Your voice glides effortlessly and gracefully alongside the instrumentals.

However, as you reach the midpoint of the song, you sense a tightening on your throat, making it somewhat difficult to deliver the next line.

And others can see you beginning to struggle.

This is the first time you're performing this song since your grandmother's passing, and some might argue that it's too soon, that you're too vulnerable to take this on right now. Yet, you felt compelled to sing it for her tonight.

To sing it to her as she watches over you.

You thought you could manage it, you really did... but at this moment, you're not so sure anymore.

Out of nowhere, you feel a solid, warm, familiar body pressing against your side, and tatted arms gently lift your trembling shoulders - When did they start trembling? - bringing you upright from where you were leaning forward, your hands resting on bent knees, - And when did you manage that? - wrapping you in a comforting embrace.

-

Marshall observes you from across the stage, admiring how effortlessly you can be vulnerable in front of an audience, the way you peel back your layers, while still maintaining control of yourself.

That was until you reach the midpoint of the song, and he hears your voice start to crack, and catches a tear somehow escape past your tightly shut eyelids.

The camera lens captures the shimmering water droplets on your cheekbones, reflecting the stadium lights, while your chest rises with a deep, albeit shaky, breath. Your shoulders roll back as you try to hold it together enough to finish the song, but it has become too much to handle.

Both the crowd and Marshall can see this.

The moment the microphone slips from your lips, catching the tail end of a broken cry, and you lean forward, your hands barely supporting you atop your bent knees, Marshall can no longer just watch; the camera focuses, adjusting on his figure as he strides determinedly towards your fragile one.

-

The crowd grows more expressive during this interaction between you and Marshall, primarily to demonstrate their support for you. They are shouting various words of solace that you genuinely value, but it's Marshall's comforting words and familiar presence that keeps you grounded.

"I've got you, sweetheart, I've got you." He coos against your head, his hand rubbing soothingly along your spine.

The next action taken by Marshall is something no one would anticipate.

He raises his own microphone to his mouth and begins to sing the remainder of the song. - Now, while Marshall may not possess a traditional singing voice, he certainly knows how to carry a tune. - You look up, as he does, and into his eyes with your watery ones accompanied by a smile full of admiration, and find the strength to continue.

Raising your own mic to your lips and conveying a "thank you" with your gaze, you two finish the song in perfect harmony.

<Comments>

EminemStan14: Through thick and thin those two 🥺🩷❤️

(Y/n)sGuitarPick: Damn it, now I'm crying!😭 Hope she's doing better 🩷

(Y/n)sChild: Sending all my love @(Y/n)(L/n)🩷

Clip 2

The lone paparazzo's camera captures footage of you and Marshall as you walk to retrieve his vehicle in a parking garage located somewhere in Detroit. Both of you remain unaware of his presence, as he stands at a distance, just outside the boundaries of the complex.

The lens zooms in, offering a clearer view of your faces as the two of you appear to be engaging in light-hearted conversation.

However, the mood shifts when you say something with a mischievous look that causes Marshall's facial expression to drop and prompts you to cackle shamelessly at his now displeased features.

You revel in the moment, your head thrown back and hands clutching your stomach, before you fall a few steps ahead of him, continuing your journey to the car.

But, with an almost evil smirk, Marshall takes advantage of your turned back and delivers a firm smack to your rear, the sound resonating throughout the garage level and accompanied by your surprised yell, which is swiftly muffled by his hand as he pulls you back against his chest, his arm wrapping securely around your waist.

Marshall stops in his tracks and leans down to whisper something in your ear that causes your shoulders to shrink in a submissive manner. Then he proceeds to move the hand over your mouth down to your throat, holding it in a gentle yet assertive grip that has your eyes looking up into his as if you are entranced by a spell he just cast.

Marshall's predator-like stare looks about ready to devour you in the worst - or best - way possible.

The last thing the camera captures is Marshall leading you with purposeful steps towards the passenger side of his car, cutting off its view of you two completely.

<Comments>

Slim69_Shady: OMGGGG!! Sir! 😅😏🤭

(Y/n)Stan33: Did y'all see the recoil on that booty!?! 😳🍑 Eminem is a lucky man 😩

Slim12: Tell me you're in a brat-tamer x brat relationship without telling me. 😐🥵

Clip 3

An 11-second video from Denaun's Instagram story features him along with a bunch of others (who fans quickly identify as team members of Shady Records upon seeing Paul and Tracy, flanked by some hefty security personnel) walking down a long hallway.

"Countin' down, 20 minutes till showtime, baby!" He shouts at his phone, then flips the camera, making you and Marshall the center of attention now.

You two are positioned near the front of the group, and the sight alone has fans raving.

Your chest is pressed against Marshall's strong back while your arms are affectionately draped over his shoulders, and his tatted ones hold your thighs snugly against his hips as he carries you effortlessly.

"How you feelin' about tonight's performance, Chipmunk?" He asks you, all pumped up.

"I'm feeling fucking amazing!" You belt out, chin raised from where it rested on Marshall's head, and your heavenly voice echoes off the walls, captivating everyone nearby.

And as viewers look closer, they see a small, loving smile tugging at the corners of Marshall's lips as he attempts to look up at your stunning face.

"That's what I'm talkin' about!" Denaun exclaims before the video ends.

<Comments>

Emslover22: Em looks so happy! 🥰

Fan1999: Reply to Emslover22: Ikr, they deserve each other ❤️

BabySlim: Her vocals are unreal 🤩

AllAbout(Y/n): Love Denaun and (Y/n)'s relationship 😊

Clip 4

"Well, hello there!" The interviewer exclaims, both surprised and delighted, as a cat strolls into the camera's view.

Marshall and an interviewer, Stacy, were lounging comfortably on the couch in the spacious dressing room you and he have been using for tonight's show, and he had just finished answering a question when the friendly feline jumped into his lap, curious about the chunky foam head of the microphone he was holding, before rubbing its cheek against it.

"Who is this adorable little one?" She asks sweetly, observing as Marshall gently strokes the smoky orange fur along its back.

You are currently away at your meet and greet, which is happening somewhere on the property. You always held these events before shows so that you could head to bed afterwards.

"This is my son, Cowboy," he introduces the cat in a melodious tone. "How's it going, little man? Do you have something to say to the audience?" Laughter fills the room when Cowboy chirps into the mic as if he understood Marshall's question.

"How long have you had him?" Stacy inquires, extending her hand for Cowboy to smell.

"Well, he and Thalia over there," he gestures towards Cowboy's sister, who is lounging peacefully at the top of the cat tower in the corner like royalty. "are both originally (Y/n)'s cats. She adopted them from an Abyssinian cat rescue years ago, but I kind of became their cat-dad early on in our relationship. It's great."

"That's so lovely," Stacy coos. "I had no idea you were a cat lover," she adds with genuine curiosity.

Marshall lets out a soft, small laugh, "I had no idea either, to be honest," and gently scratches behind Cowboy's ear for a moment, who has decided to climb onto his shoulder and snuggle his face against his neck and cool gold chain. "But these two have really grown on me over the last couple of years. I love 'em like my own kids, ya know?"

<Comments>

(Y/N)sLover11: (Y/n) takes those cats everywhere. Amazing pet parent right there! 🐱❤️

(L/n)xMathersForever: Cowboy, if ever the attention whore 😂❤️ love him.

MathersMaddness: Aww! Marshall's finally a boy dad!

Clip 5

50 Cent is spotted lounging on a couch during his latest Instagram live session, with his phone propped up on the small table in front of him, while Marshall's body keeps appearing partially in frame as he sits next to him.

Curtis engages with his audience, responding to questions and more. Marshall even joins in occasionally.

Comment: IS (Y/N) THERE?!

Curt's gaze catches the question just before it gets pushed up with the other comments.

"Yeah, yeah, she's here." He nods and looks up past his phone at you and Denaun, who have been tossing jellybeans into each other's mouths for the last 15 minutes. (Every time one of you catches a jellybean, you take a step back. Right now, you both are standing 20 feet apart. You could say you're quite proud of how far you've come.) "She and Denaun are throwin' jellybeans at each other like a couple of kids." He jokes.

"Aye!" Denaun pretends to be offended, while you just laugh and shake your head, continuing your impressive streak of catching jellybeans.

Not even five minutes later, as Curtis and Marshall are discussing a particular topic, a loud crash, reminiscent of a bull in a china shop, erupts in the background, causing both men to look up, startled.

"Oh my- (Y/n)!" Marshall exclaims first, his eyes widening when they land on you.

"What in the hell happened?!" 50 nearly shouts in concern, standing up from his seat, unlike Marshall, who has already jumped up and rushed over to you.

"Shit, baby, you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?" The speaker picks up on Marshall's caring and worried tone, and the brief silence that follows is broken by your infectious laughter.

"That was freaking amazing!" You exclaim with a laugh.

"Oh my God." Curtis sighs, exhausted but relieved that you seem to be fine. "Look at this mess, man..." He grabs his phone to turn the camera towards your situation.

The chat is filled with a mix of concerned and amused comments as everyone sees you sprawled out in a pile of what used to be your perfectly upright drum set.

But that's the result of being so focused on catching a flying jellybean that you forget to watch where you're going.

"No, not fucking amazing," Marshall scolds in frustration, dragging a hand down his face. "'Aight, we're finished playing with jellybeans; hand me the bag." He extends his hand, and Denaun, who appears somewhat embarrassed and ashamed, gives it to him.

De understands that what happened isn't his fault, yet he can't shake off a slight feeling of guilt. Even though you show no signs of pain or injury, he has kind of taken on the role of your protective older brother, ensuring that you, his sweet and vibrant little sister, are always safe.

"No, no, wait, look," you say, capturing their attention once more as you move your tongue to your right cheek and then stick it out to reveal a green jellybean resting on your taste buds, a proud expression lighting up your face. "I actually caught it!"

< Comments>

(Y/N)sNum1Fan: I fucking love (Y/n) 🤣

SlimGravy: (Y/n) always keeping Em on his toes, lmfao!!

Superman69: This just made my day 💀. Glad she's okay, though. 🩷

Again, I hope y'all enjoyed this post, and let me know if you'd be interested in seeing more content like this!

[my-alter-ego777]

His Nose

Eminem fanfic, 18+, dirty talk, suggestive, language, Sry for any poor grammar or cringe; I'm still new to writing fanfic and am not fully confident in my work yet.

Marshall's sitting at the kitchen counter, answering some emails on his laptop, when you come walking past him.

You planned on getting a little something to snack on, since you were only a little hungry and dinner would be in a couple of hours, but when you see his cute, concentrated face, a familiar urge delays you from your intended task.

"Boop," your fingertip departs from the tip of his nose just as swiftly as it made contact with it, and Marshall's head jerks back in the opposite direction in response.

"Would you quit that?" His voice comes out a hair raised and irritable, and you stop in your tracks, turning fully towards him.

"What?" you chortle, only slightly taken aback by his mini outburst. He gives you a stink eye.

"Don't play dumb with me; that's like, the 100th time you've done that shit to me today." With a shake of the head, he looks back at the screen. "Enough."

Okay, it was more like 6, but who's counting?

Your eyes flicker over, noticing the "I'm feeling..." blue-colored frame of Marshall's "Mr.Potato Head non-verbal mood magnet" on the fridge has been placed over the Stressed Mr. Potato Head, before flickering back. (It's something you got for him last Christmas as a stocking stuffer, to which he rolled his eyes, but you'll catch him using it sometimes.). You don't really comment on it, though; you just smile to yourself, then move about your day.) Which is understandable. He's been pretty overwhelmed lately.

With the weight of his upcoming tour, getting everything to run smoothly, and a big shipment of his new merch getting sent to the wrong location, you'd be stressed too, at the very least frustrated, and you are, because you sympathize with him.

He's your husband, for God's sake.

What affects him affects you, and you care so deeply about him; you just want to see him happy and taken care of. Marshall works his ass off, and there are times when he can forget to take a break and other times when he just flat out rejects it.

Like now, for example. He may not outright say it exactly, but his body language oozes with the unhealthy amount of strain he's putting on himself.

Isn't this stuff what he has Paul, Tracy, and other members of his team for? You inwardly ask yourself.

This man does too much, I swear.

But knowing Marshall, it'll be difficult to pull him away from his determined task at hand, so... you start formulating a plan in your head.

"Ooo," you express playfully, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist. "Someone is grum-py."

"Babe, for real," he warns, not even glancing at you now, "I don't like my nose bein' touched." and mumbles, almost to himself, after, "I don't like my nose, period."

"But, I love your nose." You argue softly, resting your cheek on his shoulder, getting a closer view of the adorable side profile of his snoot, and tightening your arms.

"Stop playin'" he grumbles, about done with your antics, and carries on typing out a response to one of a hundred emails.

"I'm not," you justify, "I love it." then proceed to speak with a mellow fondness. "I love how it flares when you get angry..."

"I love how it crinkles when you laugh... or when I boop it."

You smile when he rolls his eyes and continue,

"I love how it tickles my neck when you nuzzle your face into it..."

"...And I especially love how it presses against my clit when you're eating out my pussy."

His fingers go still for a moment, but it's just a moment too long that you notice before they're tapping the keyboard again, clumsily this time, you might add.

Hook.

"Makes my legs get all shaky, but I still manage to suffocate that gorgeous head of yours with my thighs, huh?" Your voice has slid into a sultry tone with ease, and you watch as his jaw flexes and his chest begins to rise with heavier breaths. "... and my hips just grind harder and harder into your face while those sweet, desperate sobs rip from my throat, begging you for more." One of your manicured hands draws lazy, teasing small circles into the skin right above the band of his sweatpants, and you feel his stomach muscles tense.

Line...

"You like that, baby?" You purr in his ear, and his hands have then formed into tight fists atop the marble countertop, and those cerulean eyes are relentless in breaking their stare on the cupboard straight ahead of him, like he's trying his hardest to hold onto that last thread of self-control. "'Cause I'm getting so fucking wet just thinking about it."

The blue that once invaded his eyes is swallowed whole by a deep, dark, and deliciously dangerous black.

Sinker.

You don't have a reaction time fast enough for what Marshall does next.

This man is out of his seat at the speed of light, and you tumble backwards in the process, about to land on your ass, but a pair of strong hands stops that from happening, and instead, throws you over their owner's shoulder.

Your yelp, from being handled like a rag doll, is quickly followed by bubbly laughter.

"You enjoy messin' with me, huh, minx?" His voice is rough as he makes large strides out of the kitchen and up the stairs to your shared bedroom. The incomplete email on his laptop was completely forgotten. Good. "Think you're so fucking cute..."

"Mm," you hum in feigned thought and a coating of innocence, your hands placed on his back to support yourself, "I think I'm pretty freakin' adorable."

Your comment earns you a firm smack on the ass, causing you to bite back a groan and your walls to tighten in response.

"Keep talkin', baby," he taunts, gravely, his thick fingers squeezing the soft flesh on the backs of your thighs, "keep talkin'..."

When you enter the bedroom, Marshall doesn't hesitate to throw you onto the bed, making you burst into giggles with anticipation.

"Now," he demands lowly, stalking towards you like a predator, "here's what's going to happen." The closer he gets, the faster your heart races. "You're gonna be a good little girl and show me exactly just how much you love my nose," His fingers grip your chin, tilting it up so you lock eyes. "Understood?" It wasn't a question, but you nod dumbly anyways.

"Good girl," he smirks darkly, admiring your submissive body like a starved man offered a feast, and it sends a shiver down your spine. "Take off your clothes."

Well, not that you care at the moment, but it looks like you're not having a little snack or, as a matter of fact, dinner anytime soon, because the way he's devouring you with just his stare alone tells you that you're in for a looong night.

[my-alter-ego777]

Food Aggression

Okayyy, so this one kind of turned out... bleh. Idk; that's just how I feel about it at the moment. Sry. But let me know what y'all think about it down below in the comments, please. And be honest. Don't worry about hurting my feelings or whatever. I like having my writing critiqued. It helps me become better at it. And maybe I'll remake this fanfic idea some day in the future, who knows...

Eminem fanfic, language,

You giggle with joy, hands making tiny claps close to your chest, like you're a villain who's just created the best evil plan ever, the moment Marshall walks in the room with a bag of French fries that you've been craving all day from the burger joint two blocks from the studio.

"Thank youuu," you sing to him as he hands you the warm, grease-spotted bag of heaven. Marshall chuckles fondly at your antics.

"You're welcome, baby." He leans down to where you sit on the couch, giving you a peck on the lips, then sits back down at the mixing console, putting his headphones around his neck.

You two chatter for a bit about what he's currently working on, the girls, and what to get your mom for her birthday that's coming up soon, before Paul and Denuan come in from their break, ready to get back to work.

As they go to sit down, Denaun spots the yummy bag of fries on your lap, piquing his interest, and you're too occupied by the beautiful necklace on your phone screen that you're thinking about getting your mom to notice.

"Oo, fries," he says to himself with gentle glee and reaches down to grab a few.

Paul glances over, seeing this, and alarm bells start ringing in his head. "Op, I wouldn't-" But you're too fast for Paul to finish his sentence.

At light speed, your head whips towards the intruder's hand, teeth bare, and your voice produces three consecutively strong snarl-like sounds directly at it, taking Denaun aback completely.

"What The?!" He rips his hand away, pulling it to his chest, a look of shock and horror on his face.

"-do that." Paul completes his warning, sighing in defeat as he runs a hand down his face.

"Did- Did you just Bark at me?!" Naun is flabbergasted.

"Damn straight," you mean-mug him. "These are my fries. Get your own."

Marshall watches in amusement, eyes slightly crinkling from the smile he can't contain, along with a short laugh.

"What?!" Denaun argues with his arms, making sure to keep a few feet between him and you. "I just wanted a couple, come on."

"Not how it works, man." Paul shakes his head. "Y/n doesn't share with anyone."

He furrows his brows at this. "What about Marshall?" he asks more calmly, pointing his thumb at the man himself.

The room goes quiet for a second, giving him his answer. "Wow," he draws out the word and slowly nods his head, going to his seat, "I see how it is."

Denaun huffs into his chair, "That's fuckin' bull..." His eyes linger on the thin, long pieces of fried potato covered in salt that you continue to eat happily. "Don't," Paul interjects his thoughts, seeing the conflict behind his stare. "It ain't worth losing a limb,"

This had Paul remembering the first time he ate your food...

You, he, Marshall, and a few others were watching Sunday football at your place. He thought you wouldn't mind if he had the last slice of pie that was in the fridge. You happened to have a piece yourself earlier that day. The crust was perfectly crisp, and the sweet, savory flavor of the warm fruit on the inside melted in his mouth.

Not too long after, you walked into the kitchen and saw him eating it, and that made your eye instantly twitch. That pie wasn't just any pie. It was a very special and specific pie that you can only get from your favorite bakery that is located five hours outside of Detroit. And when you looked down and saw nothing but crumbs on that plate, the last bite in his mouth, and lips releasing a clean fork... Oh. You lost it.

You stormed over, ripped the fork from his grasp, and tore him a new one, eyebrows furrowed and nostrils flared like an angry bison.

One that's quite small and not even half his size, but an angry bison nonetheless. You scared the living shit out of him.

It may have also not helped that it was the week before your period and you were an emotional roller coaster with a very short temper. Nobody was safe.

Marshall literally had to come intervene at some point and calm you down, and when Paul noticed the tears of frustration form in your eyes, he felt terrible. Like, he just killed your puppy in front of you- terrible.

Later that evening, you did apologize to him for how you acted and even felt a little embarrassed, and Paul accepted it, obviously, and promised he'd buy a new pie for you, and only you, the very next day. Even if that meant driving 5 hours to and from the bakery to get it...

"Trust me," he adds, tilting his head at Porter. "it just ain't."

Looking at Denaun right now is like looking at a grumpy child who's just been told off by his teacher for doing something silly. Arms crossed and face all pouty. You can't help but chuckle.

"Don't worry, Nauny, it's only sometimes." You humorously comfort him, "But that's only if he's been a good boy." You look in time to see Marshall roll his eyes. "Right, Marshie?" You tease.

Marshall just scoffs, turning fully to face the console while giving you the finger, and puts on his headphones, and you smile like the Cheshire Cat.

Denaun chortles after a second, showing fewer signs of discontent.

"That's wild," he says, almost to himself. "I've never seen someone act so territorial with their food." He chuckles now, and you join.

"What can I say?" You simply shrug, not knowing what else to say, "I just really love my food."

After finishing the last fry, you stretch your legs across the couch, pulling the throw blanket from it over your body to get a little shut-eye while the boys do their thing.

... and Denaun thinks up a plan on how to sneak a fry from you the next time you have 'em.

[my-alter-ego777]

Genres: 🥰-Fluff 😡/😢-Angst 🤤-Smut/Suggestive

One-Shots

Addicted 🤤

Leg Day 🥰🤤

Food Aggression 😡?

His Nose 🥰?🤤

Short Clips 🥰😢🤤

Mornings 🥰

[my-alter-ego777]

Mornings

Eminem fanfic, fluff

You wake up before him. Which isn't usual but wasn't rare.

You look over to see Marshall lying on his back, his arm draped above his head, his chest bare, giving you a great view of his firm pecs as well as abdomen, and the only clothing he wears are his basketball shorts.

As slowly as possible as to not wake him, you climb over his body, straddle his waist, and gently lay yourself on top of him, and pull the sheets over the both of you to retain warmth.

Your face fits perfectly in his neck, and you can't help but place soft kisses there. Not a second after, you feel his chest rumble with the cutest chuckle, causing butterflies in your tummy.

"Mornin', bubba." God, his morning voice is gonna be the death of you. It is the perfect mixture of honey and gravel. "Ya comfy?"

"Mhmm" you hum with a smile and snuggle into him further.

You feel his lips against your forehead and strong arms wrap around you, keeping you firmly in place. Not that you were planning on going anywhere.

You two cuddle like this for a while. Both not fully awake or asleep. You're just conscious enough to feel each other's slight shifts and soft breaths.

Inside a dreamy, euphoric state that you wish you could stay in forever.

The feeling of his cheek rubbing against your head like a cat would its owner's leg when they get home, and the way his hands grip your butt, lifting your body further up his chest to where your boobs rest under his chin, just to have you closer into his space, as if it were possible, makes you all fuzzy inside.

"love you." It's a breathy whisper, so quiet that your ears almost miss it.

Neither one of you has opened your eyes.

"love you more." you echo.

The squeeze he gives you argues "not possible."

[my-alter-ego777]

Leg Day

Eminem fanfic, language

"Come on, sweetheart, get up." he gently shakes your shoulder.

This is his third attempt now.

You whine and scoot away from him with a grumpy "no."

You hear a deep sigh and his feet move across the floor, then...

nothing.

Hm, maybe he gave up?

You wait a second longer to hear something, but nothing comes.

Good. You hum a smile and nuzzle into the sheets.

More time for sleep.

How deeply mistaken you were.

In an instant, the comforter is off, and strong arms rip you from your cozy bed.

"Nooo!" your voice sounds like a cry for help.

A whiny.

Grumpy.

Adorable.

Cry for help.

"What are you, 5?" Marshall laughs.

Well, he's basically cradling you like you are.

You look up at him with the biggest puppy eyes you can muster, "Please?" voice soft but desperate.

"You're cute," he smiles at you with admiration. "but that look ain't foolin' me."

Your head falls back with a groan, in defeat. You don't see it, but Marshall is rolling his eyes, wondering, How the hell did I get here?

You stay like that for a minute. Dangling in his arms.

"Ya done?" you can hear the smirk on his face.

"Nope. I'm thinking I could go like this for another hour."

"Y/n."

"Fine." You shift in his arms as he puts you down, making sure your feet safely touch the floor before fully letting you go.

"Now," he taps your butt, steering you towards the restroom, "go get ready; we leave in 30 minutes."

"30 minutes?!" you ask in shock, "I need at least an hour!"

"Well you shoulda thought about that before sleeping in so late. Now getta move on, babygirl, it's leg day today." he says before leaving the room.

"Oh great," you huff, "when I thought my morning couldn't get any worse."

When you decided to start working out with Marshall, you didn't expect him to be such a drill sergeant.

"Keep it up, babe, you got it." Marsh says from behind you as he spots your barbell squats.

His bossy voice that started off as hot, has now become annoying, but it gives you the encouragement you need to complete your final rep.

"Nice work, baby!" He praises, helping you place the bar back safely. "Okay, take a sec, and we'll finish the last set."

"What?!" you whine breathlessly. "You said that was the last one."

"No I didn't," he chuckles, leaning against the machine, arms crossed. "That's just what you wanted to hear. Don't mean I said it."

"That's messed up." you grumble.

"The only thing messed up is the amount of wrinkles you're gonna get if you keep pouting like that." He teases

"I'm not pouting."

He leans forward and pecks your lips in an attempt to wipe the frown off them. "Yes you are."

One more rep later and you're lying starfish on the floor, totally exhausted.

"You know, if you wanted me to not feel my legs for the next week, I could've just rode you all day."

Marshall chokes on his sip of water, not expecting you to say such words in a public setting. You're usually more tame than that.

Once he stops coughing, he looks down at you. "I'll keep that in mind for next time, aight?"

"Good. 'Cause that's a workout I'll actually enjoy doing."

[my-alter-ego777]

Addicted

Eminem fanfic 18+

*Everyone's in the studio chattin' amongst each other, waiting for Marshall to get back from his bathroom break. You're chillin' on the couch, answering emails.*

"Hey (Y/n)" Denaun says, grabbing your attention.

"Yup?" You look up.

"Imma asks you a few questions and you answer 'em with the word 'addicted', aight."

"...Okay" you stretch the word in confusion.

"What do you call a person who does too many drugs?"

"Addicted."

"What do you call someone who drinks too much?"

"Addicted."

"What hit you in the face last night?"

You pause.

Dis boy really think he slick, huh?

A smirk slowly spreads across your lips followed by an innocent giggle.

Because it's funny

2. ...Because it's true.

You vividly remember your late-night activities that happened no less than 10 hours ago:

You, kneeling in front of Marshall, patient and oh-so ready. Him slapping your cheek repeatedly with his hard cock. Eyes locked on yours "Be a good girl and open wide." And you do. Fully submitting to him and his demands...

Well, Denaun, two can play that game

The room fell silent waiting for your response, and without shame, you reply.

"Marshall's big juicy cock."

Denaun chokes on his spit before bursting into laughter along with the others.

Marshall enters the room just then. A look of confusion on his face. "What I miss?"

"Oh, nothing," you shrug casually "just talkin' bout your dick hitting me in the face last night."

You've never seen Marshall's eyes widen faster.

"Duh Fuck?!-"

Fin.

[my-alter-ego777]