#eminemxreader

This is short but i’m quitting my job in 10 minutes and i have nothing to do.

You were sitting in your office just finishing with some lyrics, then Marshall comes in.

”Hey honeybee, have you seen my keys?”

Alicia, your agent makes a chuckle. as you look through your jacket.

”Honeybee?” she asks.

Marshall looks at her ”That’s what I call her.” he explains.

”Why ’Honeybee’?” Alicia asks.

”It just suits her.” he explains, but Alicia just looks at him as if she wants more.

”Well, they’re adorable, like she is, she’s sweet like honey, but she can also be angry as a bee.”

You roll your eyes as you grabbed the keys from your pocket and throw it at him. It hit his chest and he said ”ow”.

”See?” he said pointing at you.

”She can be mean.” he says, kissing you at your forehead, you playfully slapped him at his cheek, before he walked out.

”You kinda proved his point.” Alicia says after he left.

”Shut up” you snapped at her and aggressively looked back at your notepad,.

Marshall mathers x reader

The door clicks shut behind him with a quiet finality, and you can tell before you even see his face—he’s drained. His shoulders slump, his beanie half-sliding off his head, jacket hanging open like he didn’t even have the energy to zip it.

“Hey,” you greet softly from the couch, keeping your voice gentle. “How was it?”

He drops his keys in the bowl by the door with a dull clink. “It was… fine.”

You watch him cross the room, slow and heavy, like each step takes effort. When he finally sits beside you, he exhales—more of a sigh than a breath.

“They mean well,” he says after a moment, staring down at his hands. “I love ‘em, I do. But—man—it’s exhausting when everyone’s tellin’ me how I ‘saved their life’ or how much my music means. I’m grateful, but…” His voice softens into something raw. “…I just wanna be human sometimes, y’know?”

Your heart aches a little. You shift closer, wrapping your arms around him. “You are human,” you murmur. “And right now, you’re mine.”

He lets out a small, humorless laugh and folds into you, resting his head against your chest like it’s the only place that feels safe. His arms snake around your waist, holding on like he needs the contact to stay grounded.

Your fingers find their way into his hair, brushing through the strands slowly. You can feel the tension start to melt out of him with each pass.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you tilt your head. “Wanna watch a movie?”

He doesn’t lift his head, just mumbles, “Yeah… would love to.”

So you queue up something familiar and comforting, keeping the lights low. He snuggles in even closer, one arm hooked around your ribs, breathing evening out as the opening credits roll. The movie plays, but the real story is the quiet warmth between you—the way his weight feels against you, the way your hands keep moving through his hair without thinking.

Marshall Mathers X reader

“I want a prenup.”

Your voice is steady, but your hands fidget in your lap as you look at him.

Marshall freezes. He was relaxed a second ago, but now he just blinks at you, like he didn’t hear you right. “...What?”

You take a breath. “A prenup. You’re so rich, Marshall. And people—people are gonna think I’m marrying you for your money. I don’t want that. I don’t want anyone, not even you, to ever question why I’m here.”

His brow furrows, and he stares at you for a long moment. “So… you’re already thinking about us splitting up?” His voice is low, quiet, but heavy.

“No.” You shake your head quickly. “That’s not it at all. I’m saying I love you, and I want our marriage to be about us, not money. This way, no one can twist it.”

He exhales sharply, looking away. His shoulders sag a little. “You really think I’d ever look at you like that? Like you’re just after what’s in my bank account?”

“Of course not,” you say softly, moving closer. “But other people will. And I don’t want to give anyone a reason to doubt me, or us.”

For a second, it looks like he’s about to argue, but instead, he just shakes his head. His voice cracks when he says, “Why does it feel like you don’t believe in us lasting? Like you’ve already got one foot out the door.”

Your heart twists. “That’s not what I mean, Marshall—”

But he steps back before you can touch him. He grabs his jacket from the chair, movements slow, heavy. Not angry—just tired, wounded.

“I need some air,” he murmurs, avoiding your eyes. And before you can say anything else, he’s out the door, the sound of it closing softly behind him.

You stand there in the quiet, the papers on the table untouched, wishing you could make him see that this wasn’t about planning for an ending—only trying to protect the beginning.

Marshall Mathers x reader

Summary: Marshall gets jealous of an opponent when you work in a movie.

Words: 700+

When Denaun pushed the studio door open, he nearly doubled over laughing at the sight in front of him. You were perched comfortably in Marshall’s lap, legs tucked to the side like it was the most natural thing in the world. One of his arms was looped loosely around your waist, the other absentmindedly twirling strands of your hair between his fingers. He wasn’t even really paying attention—eyes tipped toward the ceiling, lowly humming under his breath, half lost in some beat still working itself out in his head.

Meanwhile, you were scrolling through your phone, lips twitching at something on the screen before breaking into a laugh. The sound seemed to ripple through him without his permission, because he glanced down when you nudged him.

“Marshall, look,” you said, turning the screen toward him.

For a split second, something unguarded passed over his face. He didn’t laugh—he almost never did—but he smiled, soft and a little crooked, like it surprised even him. His thumb brushed over your side, still idly stroking your hair, as though he hadn’t realized how natural the gesture had become.

Suddenly your phone rang. “Oh, it is my agent, it can be about my audition.” you said, walking off Marshall’s lap. 

“Okay good luck.” 

*you walk out of the room and Denaun makes a little snort laugh. 

“What’s your deal, dawg?” 

He scoffs.

“You don’t even see it, do you?”

“See what?” Marshall asks.

“Man…” Denaun gestured toward the empty chair you’d just left, then back at him. “You got her sittin’ in your lap, playin’ with her hair like you don’t even notice. Smilin’ at her like you ain’t smiled in ten years. That’s what.”

Marshall’s face twisted into a frown, the corner of his mouth pulling tight. He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head like the whole idea was ridiculous.

“Please,” he muttered, tossing the pen onto the desk. “She’s just a friend.”

Denaun’s grin only widened, like he’d been expecting that exact answer.

“Yeah? Friends usually sit in your lap for fun? You usually play with your friends’ hair too, huh? Bet you know exactly what her hair smells like.”

“Yeah, coconut mixed with…” He stopped once he saw Denaun's smirk.

“Man, shut up,” Marshall shot back, his tone sharper now, almost snapping. His eyes darted toward the door you’d left through, then back to Denaun. “It ain’t like that.”

Denaun let the silence stretch for a beat, then shrugged.

“Look, all I’m sayin’ is—I never saw you this happy with Kim.”

Marshall’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing like a knife.

“Yeah, well,” he snapped, voice low and biting, “you didn’t know me before I got famous. Before she became an evil bitch.”

The words came out harsher than he meant them to, thick with venom and something deeper he didn’t want to touch. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing a hand down his face like he could scrub the thought away.

Denaun just held up his hands, calm, not rattled in the slightest.

“Alright, man. I’m just sayin’. You look at her different. That’s all.”

Marshall exhaled hard through his nose, trying to smother the coil in his chest—the mix of anger, guilt, and something softer that he wasn’t ready to admit even to himself.

The door creaked open before Marshall could think of a comeback, and you walked back in with your phone clutched to your chest, beaming.

“I got it!” you blurted, practically bouncing on your toes. “I got the part!”

Marshall straightened up, forcing the scowl off his face. “Yeah? That’s dope. Congrats,” he said, voice softer than he meant, like he couldn’t help himself.

Denaun smirked at the shift in tone but didn’t say a word.

Marshall cleared his throat, leaning back in his chair. “So… what’s the movie?”

“A romance,” you said, eyes bright. “And my co-star is Jake Gyllenhaal.”

Marshall’s stomach twisted before he could stop it. Jake Gyllenhaal. Of all people. He leaned back further, eyebrows shooting up like it didn’t faze him, but his jaw ticked with tension.

“Oh. Romance.” He nodded slowly, lips pressing into a thin line. “With Jake freakin’ Gyllenhaal.”

You grinned, oblivious to the shift in his mood. “Yeah, it’s crazy, right? He’s such a good actor.”

Marshall scoffed, drumming his fingers on the desk. “Mm-hm. Bet he is.”

Denaun bit back a laugh, watching Marshall’s shoulders stiffen. “What, you jealous, man?”

Marshall shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Shut the fuck up.”

A/N: This is my first real smut so please stay with me.

Summary: You're jealous of fans being all over him, so he proves to you that you're his.

Pairing: Marshall Mathers (EMINEM) X reader

Warnings: Sexual Content 18+!

Words: 1235

Marshall brushed off his sweaty face as he stepped into his dressing room after finishing a concert. A frown flashed his face once he saw you, sitting on the sofa, crying and looking mad. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“Don’t baby me. You know exactly what’s wrong,” you snap, rising from the couch with your arms crossed tight over your chest.

He blinks, genuinely confused, brows furrowing. “Nooo, what…?” he drags out, hesitant.

You roll your eyes and grab your phone. No words — just action. You pull up the clip, your fingers tapping fast from anger and muscle memory. Then you shove the screen toward him. The video plays: young girls screaming, reaching, practically climbing over one another just to touch him. Shirtless. Sweaty. Smirking as they clawed at his abs — your abs.

He watches it, face slowly falling, guilt flickering behind his eyes. When it ends, he looks at you, soft and apologetic.

“Baby, I…”

“Why do you let them do it?” you cut in, voice sharp but shaky.

He sighs. “It’s an act. You know I’ll lose PR if I act like—”

“Act like what?” Your voice cracks as your eyes lock with his. “A loyal boyfriend?”

He smirks — an infuriating, cocky little curve of his lips that only makes your blood boil hotter. You’re yelling at him and he smirks?

“You’re hot when you’re jealous,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with amusement.

Your jaw tightens, a retort ready on your tongue—until your heart betrays you. The heat crawling up your neck gives you away. You look down, cheeks flushed, lips twitching despite yourself. Damn it. Even in the middle of an argument, you couldn’t resist him. Not when he looked at you like that. Not when he said things like that. 

“Baby…” he murmurs, stepping closer . He gently reaches for your hands, wrapping his around yours. “You don’t need to worry,” he says, “I’m just doing that so they’ll buy my CDs. That’s it. Nothing else.”

His thumbs brush over your knuckles as he speaks, like he’s trying to remind you of the softness he saves just for you — the part of him the crowd never gets to see.

“I’m sorry…” you whisper, eyes dropping to the floor. “I’m just so jealous.”

He squeezes your hands gently, giving you the smallest smile — not mocking this time, but warm. Understanding.

“I get it,” he says softly. “Honestly? You’re handling it way better than I would.”

That makes you glance up, just barely. His thumb brushes your cheek, tilting your face toward his. “If it were you on stage, half-naked, with guys all over you?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “I’d be in jail.”

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes your lips, even as you blush. The tension lingers, but it’s softer now — a slow-burn vulnerability instead of fire. He lifts his head, leaning in until his forehead rests gently against yours. The space between you disappears — not even a breath could slip through.

“It’s ironic that you’re jealous,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours, voice soft and sincere. “Because those girls should be jealous of you.”

In one swift, confident motion, his hands slide down, gripping the backs of your thighs—then lower. You gasp softly as he lifts you up effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He doesn’t break eye contact, not for a second.

He walks the short distance to the couch and gently lowers you down onto it, settling between your legs as your breath hitches.

“They don’t get me like this,” he murmurs, voice low and husky. “Only you do.” He puts his lips against yours, pulling you in for a kiss. Then he trails down slowly, giving you kisses down your jaw, to the sensitive spot beneath your ear, making your breath hitch. One hand stays firm on your waist, the other slowly gliding down your side until it reaches your zipper.

You feel him pause there, his breath warm against your neck.

“You sure?” he whispers, voice low and sincere, all you do is nodding. He nods at your response and you feel his hands opening up your denim shorts, them being pulled off your legs. He leaves wet kisses on your thighs, and puts his thumb against the front panel of your panties. You let out a moan as his fingers moved in slow making deliberate circles on the fabric that grew wetter by the minute he touched you. 

“Marshall..” you whimper, closing your eyes.

You let out a groan as you felt his fingers being pulled away, you opened your eyes again and saw him going over to the dresser. He opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube. He coats his fingers first, ensuring they're slick. He goes back to you and then pulls your panties off and lets his fingers find your walls. He makes small circles, first, making sure you get all wet first. You whimper at the feeling of his fingers inside of your walls. 

He smirks at the noises you make and decides to thrust in and out of your wet pussy. His touch makes you squeal beneath him. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re doing so well…” He says as he pushes deeper, you gasp at the way you can feel all the juice coming out when he does that. His fingers move with a force that makes your entire body tremble. He pulls your top up, and you shiver as you feel his lips on your bare stomach. He leaves a trail of soft kisses, teasing you as he moves slowly up. When he reaches your breasts, he takes your nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking over it. 

You let out moans at the feeling of his touch, meanwhile he’s licking your nipples he lets 3 fingers rubbing up and down at your clit, and then makes circles. You put your hands around his necks, pulling him inside for kisses. Now he’s just thrusting, causing you to break the kiss to moan, hearing the sound of his hands meeting your thigh. 

"Oh my good Marshall” You squeal and your back arches as his fingers move deeper inside you, the sensation pulling a gasp from your lips. 

"I can feel you trembling... Does that feel good, baby?"

All you can do is nod, your mind was focusing on his fingers inside of you, thrusting in and out. The sound of his hands meeting your thigh echoing through the room. He grabs your thighs with his other hands and pulls them wider apart, just to take a closer look and plays with your clit. Rubbing it up and down. Loving hearing you repeatedly moaning at his touch. You felt your body tensed, every muscle tightening. He grabbed your forehead to hold your body still.

“Marshall…” you moan and let out screams at the following thrusts.