#eminem kinktober

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 13 - Daddy

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : hey guys ! Here is the 2nd prompt for Kinktober Day 13. This time it’s « Daddy ». I only recently got done with it without realizing I would be posting it on the day of his birthday 🙊. I could have made something birthday related but… oh well. Another time, maybe 🙈. I hope you enjoy it. I made it cute & fluffy.

CW : Daddy kink - Pregnancy announcement - Fluff

Marshall Mathers doesn’t have a daddy kink. In fact, it’s kind of the opposite. Maybe it’s a parent thing, but as far as he’s concerned, there are only three persons in the world allowed to call him Daddy : his children. Any woman he is dating g trying to call him that immediately gives him the ick. You sort of learned it the hard way. Being younger than him, you playfully and somewhat threw in the nickname on one occasion when he was being directive. It wasn’t even in bed and, in hindsight, thank God it wasn’t because it would have been that much more awkward. It was one night, you were in his kitchen, making dinner, telling him about your day while you were slicing and dicing some vegetable for the meal you were cooking. « Careful with the knife, babe. Look at what you’re doing or you’re going to cut yourself.  » he gently warned, ever so caring. « Ok Daddy » you chuckled with a grin.

His mood immediately changed and the soft smile on his face was quickly replaced by a frown and an air of disgust. « What did you call me ? » he asked. « Daddy » you repeated « come on, it’s not that deep » you don’t added with a shrug. « Just… don’t » he said. You stopped what you were doing and put the knife aside. « You don’t like it ? » you asked with a raised eyebrow. To you, it wasn’t a big deal. You didn’t have a daddy kink but you were guilty of calling some of your exes « Daddy » in bed. No daddy issues on your part, just some appreciation for someone who could be a little authoritarian in bed. So, to you, playfully using the nickname didn’t sound like anything weird at all. Him, on the other hand, seemed to find it creepy. « Like it ? It’s fucking weird » he scoffed. « you really want to call me Daddy ?! ».

He genuinely seemed disturbed by the thought. Horrified, almost. You giggled and cupped his face. « It was just for fun. Chill, babe. » you said softly. « No but while thinks about their dad when they’re with their man ? » he continued. You couldn’t help but laugh and shook your head. « First of all… I like it when you refer to yourself as my man » you said seductively. « And second of all… it’s not about actual fathers. It’s a vibe, you know ? » you tentatively explained. He hummed but still didn’t seem convinced. « Yeah, well, feel free to come up with any other nickname but… not this one. The only people who are allowed to call me that are my daughters. » he said as he rolled his eyes. You chuckled and agreed before giving him a peck on the cheek.

In the following years, you didn’t fall short when it came to finding cute names to refer to him, some of them being more ridiculous than others. Most of the time, you used classics such as « my love » or « babe » but, every so often, you spiced things up with something ridiculous like « sunshine » or « honeybun ». He often laughed at your antics and, honestly, he didn’t mind the cheesy pet names. If anything, he thought it was kind of funny and cute. As long as you steered clear of « Daddy », he could put up with anything. On the days where you wanted to use a nickname that highlighted his authoritative nature, you tried to find options such as « Boss » or « Top Dog », which never failed to make him chortle.

However, one evening, you just had to go back to using « Daddy ».

You went to find him in his home office, where he was reviewing some visuals for his upcoming album. As the drop date was approaching, he was putting in more and more hours. When you entered the room, you found him with his head in his hands, clearly exhausted. You stood behind him and placed a kiss on his cheek, prompting him to look up. He gave you an exhausted smile, one that showed your intrusion was most welcome. You knew that, as much as he loved the writing/producing/recording part of making an album, the rest sometimes felt like a pain in his ass. And these days, it seemed like it was all about photoshoots, picking visuals, anticipating promo. All the things he didn’t really care for, really.

« So… What’s up, Daddy ? » you asked softly and innocently.

He turned to you and you immediately saw him cringe. You could see the instinctive reaction, as if he had just eaten something sour. His eyebrows shot up, arching sharply in disbelief, while his eyes went wide with a mix of shock and confusion. A slight twitch pulled at the corner of his left eye, as if his brain was desperately trying to process and reject what he'd just heard. His lips pressed together into a thin, tight line, then curled downward in the most uncomfortable grimace imaginable. His jaw clenched visibly, and his nostrils flared as if he was physically trying to hold back whatever retort was forming in his head. For a moment, he looked utterly frozen in place, caught between laughter and utter discomfort, before he finally broke the silence with a sharp shake of his head. “Nah, nah, nah,” he muttered, his voice a mix of strained disbelief and unease, his whole face still scrunched up like he was trying to physically repel the word. The look in his eyes was pleading, practically begging you not to ever do that again.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. It had been at least a couple of years since the « Daddy » incident but his reaction said it all, he still found it insanely cringy. Too bad, though, because he’d had to get used to it. Marshall’s face shifted from that initial cringe into something more serious, his eyes narrowing as he shook his head, setting his laptop aside with an exaggerated sigh. He turned to you, his lips pressing together tightly, clearly trying to rein in his frustration, but there was no hiding the exasperation in his voice.

« Babe, we’ve been over this already, » he said, gesturing with his hands like he was trying to lay out something obvious. « I told you, no calling me ‘Daddy.’ That’s for my kids. I can’t- »He paused, searching for the right words, but all that came out was a mix of disbelief and irritation. « I don’t even know how to explain it, but it just feels… wrong, alright? ». His tone was firm, but not angry—more like someone who’d had this conversation one too many times and couldn’t believe they were having it again. « You think it’s funny, but no. It’s weird. We’re not doing that, » he added, his brows furrowing in a way that made it clear he was serious. He looked at you, waiting for some sign that you got the message this time, his expression softening just a little as he ran a hand through his hair. « Just… stop, » he finished with a sigh, giving you a look that said he hoped this would be the last time he had to talk about it. Twice was enough already.

« I don’t think I can stop » you said with a grin, waiting for him to connect the dots. « In fact… I think you’re going to get used to it… Daddy» you continued as you placed a hand where, soon enough, a bump would be visible. At first, your man didn’t seem to fully register it. He sat there, still caught in the loop of his usual reaction to your teasing, eyes narrowing in confusion.

But then, slowly, the meaning of your words and the gesture sank in. His expression shifted, eyebrows furrowing as his head tilted slightly, like he was trying to replay your sentence in his mind to make sure he’d heard it right. « Wait... what? » His voice was softer now, disbelief lacing every word. His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were still joking, but instead, he saw the familiar glow in your eyes and the warm, expectant smile that told him this was different. His whole body seemed to freeze for a beat, and then his face changed entirely. His eyes widened first, and his mouth dropped open just a little, like he had to catch his breath. His brow furrowed, but not in confusion anymore—it was the weight of emotion hitting him, the realization dawning in full. « You’re... for real? ». His voice cracked slightly, like he didn’t trust himself to fully believe it yet, but his eyes were already glistening with the first hint of something deeper.

When you nodded, his lips parted into a stunned smile, a slow, almost incredulous laugh bubbling up from his chest. He looked down at your stomach, then back at your face, a hand running over his head as if trying to make sense of the moment. « You… you’re pregnant? ». The words came out softer this time, almost in awe, his eyes never leaving yours. After months of hoping for a positive test that never seemed to come, this was it, finally.

There was a long pause, where all he could do was stare at you, a mixture of joy and disbelief playing across his face, before a laugh finally broke free, a genuine, almost disbelieving laugh, as if he couldn’t wrap his head around it. « I’m gonna be a dad again? ». His voice was filled with wonder now, his hand reaching out to touch your stomach gently, like the reality of it was finally hitting him in waves. His whole face softened, his eyes shining with that rare, unguarded emotion he kept hidden from most. He pulled you into a tight embrace, pulling you to his lap and burying his face in your neck for a moment as he let the weight of it all sink in. « Finally, » he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes again, a wide, almost boyish grin breaking across his face. « We’re having a baby. ». You nodded with an emotional smile and wrapped your arms around his neck before kissing him.

As the reality of the moment settled in and the initial wave of emotion began to subside, you couldn’t help but tease him, that familiar playful glint dancing in your eyes. You leaned back slightly, still smiling as you ran a hand over your belly, letting your words hang in the air for just a second before speaking. « So, hum, does this mean I finally get a pass to call you ‘Daddy’ now? » you asked, raising an eyebrow with a sly grin, clearly enjoying how the tables had turned on the long-running joke.

Marshall’s reaction was instant. His face immediately scrunched up, that familiar look of playful disgust returning for a moment. He groaned, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were still going there, especially now. « Oh, come on, » he muttered, though there was a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He looked at you with mock exasperation, but he couldn’t deny that this time, it felt different. He let out a deep breath, his hand running over his face as if to brace himself. « Alright, alright… » he started, but then his expression became more serious, his eyes locking with yours. « Only when you’re talking to the baby, though, » he added, pointing at you with emphasis. « Like, when you’re telling her something about me, sure, you can say ‘Daddy.’ But otherwise, no. That’s still fucking weird. ». He laughed, shaking his head again, and gently placed his hand over your stomach, the playful moment shifting into something more meaningful. « But yeah, » he added quietly, a softer smile forming. « You can say it… for them. »

His gaze lingered on your belly for a moment longer, the weight of what that word meant now sinking in fully. « I guess I’m gonna have to get used to it, huh? » he said, looking back up at you with that familiar mix of humor and tenderness in his eyes.

[giggii4321]

eminem 💋

[therealcocoshady]

FYI, this is exactly the way I am with Kinktober. Or anything I write for that matter.

That Fuck Or Die Kinktober prompt ? Yeah, it's turning into a short series. The Pet Play one too. The Cheating one is probably getting a part 2 as well.

I am unable to do one shots and it's going to be the death of me 🙊. Also, I'm definitely incapable of refusing anything to people who compliment my writing and say they can't get enough.

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:25」 — l.minho

» stray kids menu | lee know menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ alien!Minho × fem!Reader wc: 5.4k summary: After Minho’s return to Earth, Y/N has spent the last year traveling the galaxy with her alien boyfriend. While exploring a tropical moon orbiting a massive planet in a binary star system, Y/N accidentally disturbs a cluster of bulbous purple luminescent flowers that release a glowing purple dust that sticks to her clothes and skin. She returns to Minho’s ship hoping that the dust isn’t toxic and will wash off but as she soon finds out, the dust is a very sparkly and very potent aphrodisiac and it has a profound effect on not only her, but on Minho as well. genres/themes/au: fluff, smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: *eminem voice* guess who's back, back again. That's right! alien!Minho from Ninsa is back! If you haven't read the first part, you don't have to but you can find it here! This is gonna make y'all soft but only at the beginning. Things are gonna get hairy for our favorite alien-human couple pretty quickly! So glad to be visiting this au again. I love alien!Minho so much )): tomorrow is the final piece for Stray Kids and is also a sequel for Han's part from last year! Thank you so much for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. 

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), sex pollen (f receiving, m receiving), breeding, mild dirty talk, biting (f receiving), minor cumflation (f receiving), impregnation kink, use of pet names (hers: baby, sweetheart, love, cute shit like my star, etc.; his: babe, Min, Minmin, etc.), dom!Minho, sub!Reader, slight brat!Reader. I think I got all of them, but let me know if I missed any! kinks: Sex pollen + breeding dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Baby… you need me that badly? ❜❜

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

A soft breeze blew through the trees, the leaves rustling and dancing overhead as you hiked through the dense grass. Glancing to the left, you noticed the sky starting to take on a darker hue. You pulled your sleeve back, checking the dial of your watch that read it was getting later in the day.

You should be heading back; you were heading back. It wasn’t entirely your fault that you kept getting distracted by the scenery. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen in any science fiction movie or show. The lush forest of the alien moon, orbiting a massive desert planet, wasn’t something you could have ever imagined. Minho had said the planet was called Kojar 6, orbiting a large star called Kojar which was part of the Kojar-Faline binary star system. There were 7 planetoids, Kojar 6 being the largest of the pack with two moons.

You had wanted to visit Kojar 6 but Minho had explained that there was nothing on the planet anymore. Nothing but sand being whipped around by the intense winds. Winds that could potentially rip a person to shreds. There were no people, no buildings, no animals on the surface. Only sand.

He promised the moons were much more interesting.

The first moon was an icy wasteland that reminded you of Hoth from the Star Wars series. Minho refused to land there, calling it a frozen and barren wasteland like Kojar 6 only instead of sand, it was ice and snow. That moon was called Ciyebos. The second, the one you were currently visiting, was a tropical world called Zocunia. It was a lush, vibrant jungle world not unlike that of Pandora in the Avatar franchise.

The flora and fauna were both incredibly unique, with very few predators. The few that did exist, you were confident in dealing with should you come across them. Since bringing you along to Ninsa, Minho had been insistent that you learn to defend yourself as he couldn’t always be around to protect you.

Much of the flora was incredibly beautiful, looking like something out of a fantasy world or a science fiction movie. Vibrants blues, purples, greens, and even turquoises, and pinks. Back home, on Earth, the more vibrant something was, the more dangerous it was. On other planets, that rule didn’t always apply.

As you continued to trudge through the knee high thick green grass, something round, bulbous, and bright caught your eye. You froze, turning your head to find nestled at the base of a tree that extended tens of feet towards the sky was a cluster of plants.

You carefully walked over, stepping over exposed roots and boulders. As you reached it, you knelt down, inspecting the plant. You’d long learned not to just touch things after contacting a rash from a flower that looked incredibly pretty and harmless. Minho luckily knew a remedy and was able to get rid of it with relative ease.

You instead raised the camera in your hands, a gift from your alien fiance from his world that he’d given you on your one year anniversary. Your phone could have worked for pictures but the device would only survive space travel for so long whereas this device was much better designed for space travel.

You snapped a few pictures, the shutter clicking as you pressed the button with the flowers in focus.

Looking up from the LCD display screen of the camera, you inspected the flowers with more scrutiny. 

They were glowing, having some sort of bioluminescence that a lot of flora on this moon seemed to exhibit. An evolutionary trait, Minho had explained when you first asked him about it.

“Much of this world’s flora has evolved to glow at night. It’s both a defense mechanism and a hunting tactic. Half of the lunar year, this moon is bathed in darkness, hiding behind Kojar 6. The bioluminescence lets the plants still feed and ward off predators at the same time.”

You loved listening to him as he seemed to be full of knowledge you’d never be able to learn on your own. He’d promised to take you to the libraries on Ninsa when you eventually landed there. Minho had promised that he’d take you to his home world, let you see his life and be part of it.

It took Minho three years to return to Earth and find you after you left Derry and your old life behind. He asked you to travel with him. To leave Earth behind and travel to Ninsa with him. He explained how the three years apart had been hell and he didn’t want to return to his home without you.

The opportunity to travel was one you wanted more than anything so you didn’t need much persuasion and readily agreed to leave behind your life to be with him. To see something far beyond what anyone could ever dream of. It was all you wanted more than anything in the universe.

It wasn’t long after you left Earth that Minho professed his love for you, asking you to spend the rest of your lives together to which you immediately said yes. You had been on an alien planet, enjoying the sunset when he asked you out of the blue. He didn’t have a ring to give you but he promised that the moment you landed on Ninsa, he would get you one.

You tilted your head, looking at the translucent membrane of the bulbous flower, a slight swirling inside, visible only due to the bioluminescence source deep in the center of the plant. As you leaned closer, the light started pulsating and you instantly drew back. “Alright,” you said softly. “Time to go.”

You snapped one more picture before shutting off the camera and pulling at the lens cover to place it back over the lens but no matter how hard you tugged, it wouldn’t come loose from the holder. “Goddamn it,” you grumbled as you tried to pry it off. “What the fu- oh shit!”

Just as you were pulling, it finally came loose but slipped from your grip and fell onto the flowers, bouncing off the bulbous membrane and falling to the ground. You scrambled to pick it up, snapping it onto the lens and looking up with wide eyes as the translucent flower trembled. Before you could draw back, the leaves popped open into a five petal flower, a cloud of sparkling purple dust exploding from the pressure trapped within.

You stumbled backwards sputtering as you waved your hand, trying to diffuse the dust and coughing. ‘Fuck,’ you mentally cursed, looking over your clothes, noticing the glittery dust had settled and as you tried to brush it off, it only seemed to spread more along the gray body suit Minho had given you.

You looked around and sighed before getting to your feet slowly. “Guess I’m gonna need to shower,” you whispered to yourself and started the walk back to camp where the ship was. You could use the outdoor shower Minho had set up for the two of you and hopefully he could grab you a spare suit from the ship.

You used your clean hand to rub your nose, a tickle settling in as you headed in the direction of camp, hoping whatever this dust was that it wasn’t toxic.

Minho took a deep breath, keeping his eyes forward as he watched the third bhunqoi hop closer and closer to his trap. He’d managed to capture two already and needed a third for dinner. The small lagomorph-like critter turned its head in his direction and Minho froze, hoping he hadn’t been made but when it took one more hop, falling into his pit trap, he knew success.

He sighed a breath of relief, getting up and pushing the leaves blocking his body from sight off and making his way over to look into the pit. It would seem the animal landed in a way that ensured it did not suffer. Minho hated hunting but sometimes it was a necessary evil for survival.

He collected the animal and moved back to his hiding place, grabbing the cloth bag with the wild fruits and vegetables he’d gathered before heading in the direction of camp. He’d allowed you to go off on your own and explore the perimeter surrounding their camp, making sure the stakes were still standing after the storm the night before.

He knew tropical storms on Zocunia were bad this time of year which is why he chose to pick a spot in the forest instead of on a beach or grassland. The trees provided an extra shelter over the ship, not that the hull really needed it. 

He’d upgraded his ship upon returning to Ninsa after leaving Earth the first time, ensuring that in the event of any more spontaneous crash landings, the hull would still remain intact. 

The Kojar was starting to set, bathing the landscape in an orange-ish golden glow, shadows becoming elongated and more pronounced as he finally reached the ship. His foraging hadn’t taken him far from camp, and hunting had brought him closer as he tried to stay within the perimeter.

Minho reached your base camp relatively quickly and immediately started a fire and prepared the meat for roasting while wondering where you could have gotten to that you would still be gone from camp. He tried not to fear the worst, knowing he prepared you for time on your own but he couldn’t help it. This was an alien planet and while most of the animals were docile, he really didn’t want another incident like the alien wolf encounter.

You had spent a couple days on a beautiful alien planet with him where he couldn’t hold himself back and asked you to marry him when you both returned to his home world. It had been spontaneous and spur of the moment but he meant every word when he said he never wanted to be without you again. 

He wanted to start a life with you on Ninsa, get married, buy a house, all the domestic things his friends were starting to do. He wanted all of that with you. Children was another topic you would have to have at some point because while he knew you were biologically compatible, there were other ways of having children. Other ways of starting a family.

As he set up the bhunqoi to roast in the flames, he sat in one of the chairs he’d set up and waited for you to return while he peeled and prepared the fruits he’d managed to forage. He was sure the conversation would happen sooner or later and when it did, things would be much clearer on where you both stood.

You were getting closer to camp as you walked, noticing the small signs you set up for yourself as you trudged through the forest. “When did it get so hot?” you whispered, wiping a bead of sweat from your forehead. As you walked, your body started to feel hotter and hotter. Almost like you had a fever.

Maybe it was the dust you’d come into contact with but you couldn’t be certain. Minho would know more. You just needed to get back to camp. ‘Almost there…’ 

You stopped briefly to lean against a tree, letting out a pant as your breathing started to increase, your heart rate rising as well. You weren’t sure what was going on and you really hoped whatever was affecting you wasn’t some sort of toxin and that you might be able to sleep it off. 

Reaching up, you unzipped the neck of your bodysuit down to the top of your bust, letting out a sigh of relief as the cool air hit your skin, a thin layer of sweat starting to form. It wasn’t much but it was something. You pushed off the tree, starting your hike up again and hoping to reach the camp before the sun set, despite the very pretty bioluminescence.

Your panties were starting to stick to you and though you hoped it was just the sweat, the heat settling in the pit of your stomach told you otherwise. You couldn’t understand it. You were alone in the middle of a jungle on an alien moon. What could possibly have worked you up so much when Minho was somewhere else entirely.

You tried to push the images of your fiancee from your mind as your body started to burn and ache for his touch. ‘Just to help me feel better. Not because I want to fuck or anything,’ you told yourself. You just wanted the heat to end and your body to settle down. ‘Minho will know what to do.’ 

Minho’s ears picked up on the sound of twigs snapping and looked up, seeing a form moving through the shadow of the canopy, a smile forming as you entered his line of sight, ambling along. His silly, clumsy, little human fiancee. He watched as you finally emerged from the understory, a smirk on his face. “Welcome back,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

His smile fell immediately as you stumbled forward, nearly falling. It was then that he noticed the feverish look on your face. There was no way that was good. “Y/N, sweetheart?” he asked, voice laced with concern as he got up and started to walk over, crossing the distance to catch you as your knees gave out. “M’okay,” you murmured, fingers gripping his biceps as he held you up.

“Like hell you are,” Minho growled as he helped you back over to the ship. “What happened?” he asked, helping you into a chair by the fire. “I-I don’t know,” you breathed heavily, swallowing the lump in your throat. The burning sensation had spread, an ache settling between your thighs, the gusset of your panties was beyond soaked by this point and you knew it wasn’t from sweat.

Minho pressed his palm against your forehead, clicking his tongue as he measured your temperature in the most basic of ways. “You’re burning up,” he noted. “You need to get in the show--” his voice trailed off as he noticed a purplish glittery dust on your clothes. Glancing down, he could see that it had transferred to his hands and clothes. “What is this?” he asked, glancing up and noticing the dust on your cheeks and nose.

“I dropped the camera lens cap into this cluster of flowers,” you panted. “I took pictures of it,” you added, pointing at the camera case. Minho shook his head. “Don’t worry about that right now, my star,” he said softly. “Let’s get you into the shower.”

Minho helped you up, leading you over to the outdoor shower he’d set up and helped you peel out of your suit before heading for the ship’s entrance, taking your suit with him and putting it in the wash. He stripped himself, adding his clothes to the wash as well and changing into some spare clothing.

Once back outside, he returned to the fire, turning the roasted bhunqoi over and sitting back.

He was thankful he’d taken the suit off as he started to grow warm. He sat for a moment, the heat settling in his senses, spreading throughout his body. It was a burning desire unlike anything he’d ever felt before. ‘What is wrong with you, idiot?’ he berated himself. Was it the thought of you being naked in the outdoor shower? It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to being intimate with you. 

Since leaving earth and setting a course for Ninsa, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off you at all. It was nothing new. So why was he so hot right now? His thoughts were interrupted as his eyes fell on the camera case and got up, crossing the distance to grab it and unzipped the pouch, pulling out the camera and pressing the button to turn it on.

The screen lit up, displaying the brand logo before going black, a little window popping up to remind him that the lens cap was still on. Minho ignored it, opening the gallery instead. He scrolled through the photos, a small smile on his face as he saw what you had seen.

He cleared his throat, feeling his pants tighten. ‘What the hell?’ he asked himself as he looked down. He tried to ignore the obvious tent growing in his pants, uncertain of what was causing it. It’s like his body was acting on its own accord. The thought of joining you in the shower crossed his mind and he grimaced. ‘This is hardly the time,’ he told himself as he tried to push the thoughts aside.

He returned his focus to the camera, scrolling through the pictures until he stopped on an image of the flowers you must have been talking about. They weren’t like anything he’d seen before. The bioluminescence was familiar, but the translucent milky membrane and the swirling purple glitter inside were not.

‘Is it some sort of toxin?’ he wondered, zooming in on the picture to inspect it. Minho turned the camera off as he heard the outdoor shower turn off and set the device aside, getting and grabbing the spare clothes he'd grabbed for you and walked over.

You pulled back the curtain, peeking out at him. Your eyes were glossed over, not unlike when he had you spread out underneath him. “I brought you some clean clothes,” he said softly. “And this.” He held up a clean towel. You thanked him, taking the towel and dropping the curtain back in place as you wrapped yourself up.

“Did you bring any shoes?” you asked, pulling back the curtain and looking up at him. Minho nodded, holding out the slides you'd brought with you from home. You thanked him, slipping them on and stepping out of the shower. The cool air felt nice against your burning skin, heat still coursing through your veins and pooling in your belly. 

Minho tore his gaze from the exposed skin of your shoulder, trying to ignore the way the droplets of water rolled down your skin. He handed the clean clothes to you before reaching his hand up to feel your forehead. His hand was warm against your skin as he pressed his palm against your head. “You're still burning up,” he murmured.

He took your free hand in his, raising it to press a tender kiss to the back. “Go inside and lie down. I'll come get you once it's done.” You leaned into him, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “Mm,” you hummed. “Come with me.”

Minho chuckled, taking your face in his hands and raising your head. “I'll burn dinner if I do that,” he said with a grin before leaning in to press his lips to yours. He intended for the kiss to be soft, gentle. What he hadn't expected was your reaction.

You leaned into the kiss, pressing against him and moaning. It made his cock twitch against his pants and he had to force himself to pull back. “It's getting chilly out here,” he murmured, rubbing your arms. “Go inside and get dressed,” he added, gently pushing you in the direction of the door.

You grumbled, almost getting what you wanted before Minho took it away. Begrudgingly, you made your way into the ship, the door shutting behind you. You walked over to the bed, setting down the clothes and slipping off the slides. As you started to unwrap the towel, an idea planted itself into your head.

You'd just have to deal with it yourself.

Minho pulled the roasted bhunqoi from the fire, inspecting it carefully. Pleased with the results, he removed both from the fire and got up, setting them aside as he made his way to the ship. The whole time you'd been inside, he'd tried to calm himself, tried to will away the intrusive thoughts of following you inside and having his way with you. 

He still didn't know what had gotten into him but the longer he tried to ignore the intense burning desire to fuck you, the stronger it got.

The door to the ship opened with a soft hiss, allowing him to step over the threshold. Once he was clear, it shut with the same soft hiss and Minho walked further into the depths of his ship.

“Dinner's ready,” he called, turning the corner. “Are you feeling any--” he trailed off, eyes widening at the sight before him. “Better?”

You were sitting on the bed, towel still wrapped around you as you looked up at him, eyes wide. Your clothes lay forgotten on the floor. It wasn't just that what had made him freeze up. It was the fact that your hand had disappeared between your thighs.

He'd walked in on you in the middle of touching yourself. “What are you doing?” he asked, eyes dipping to your hand that was currently being squeezed between your thighs and back up to your face. Your glossy eyes looked back at him, a pout on your lips.

“M’sorry,” you whined. “I thought I'd be done before you came in. I'm just so hot. I couldn't take it anymore!” Minho felt his pants tighten as his cock strained against them, aching to be buried inside you instead of your fingers. He'd heard you, but his mind went blank as the scent of your arousal hit him, his rainbow irises flashing once before shifting to purple.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered. Your heart jumped into your throat before settling back in its place, hammering against your ribs. “Wh-what?” you asked as he walked over. “Spread your legs,” he repeated, lowering himself to his knees in front of you, eyes dipping down to look at your thighs and then back up.

“Now.”

You did as he said, slowly spreading your thighs. Minho grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from your sex and inspecting your fingers coated in your own arousal. You watched as he glanced up at you and back at your hand before taking your fingers in his mouth, groaning at your taste. “You thought you'd just get yourself off in here when I'm right outside?” he growled, dropping your hand and grabbing your hips with both hands.

You let out a gasp as he scooted you closer to his face, your ass barely sitting on the edge of the bed. ��Thought you'd keep all this to yourself?” he whispered, licking his lips as he eyed your pussy. “As if I wouldn't eat you out the second you asked me,” he added with a scoff. He leaned in, licking up your sex slowly, eyes shut as gently savored the taste. He groaned, pulling back to look at you.

“Lie back,” he said, bringing a hand up to push against your shoulder, dragging his fingers down to loosen the towel and free your chest. “M'gonna fuck that fever out of you.”

You leaned back, propping yourself on your elbows as Minho lifted your thighs over his shoulders. He buried his face between your thighs, making you cry out, head falling back as he immediately went for your clit. You were already so wet, your cunt clenching around nothing, aching to be filled.

“Min, baby,” you whined, moving one of your hands to comb through his hair. “You know I love it when you use your tongue, but I really need your cock.” Minho groaned, the lewd sounds of him licking and sucking your clit would normally make you shy away but right now, you didn't care. You really just needed to be fucked.

“Minmin,” you cooed, combing through his hair again, fingers knotting in his hair as he flicked his tongue against you. “Please, baby, please give me your cock,” you whimpered, hips moving in tandem with his tongue. He pulled back, looking up at you with those bright purple irises, his lips and chin coated in your arousal. “Aw, baby…” he murmured, fingers skimming up the inside of your thigh. 

“You need me that badly?” he asked. You nodded fervently. “Yes baby,” you breathed. “Please.” Minho couldn’t deny you when you begged so sweetly. He could get used to that. You, lying on your back before him, begging him for his cock.

“You think you can take it so soon?” he asked with a chuckle. You scrambled up, letting the towel fall to the floor as you turned away and bent over, knees spread on the mattress as you all but presented yourself to him. “Yes,” you replied breathlessly. “Want it so bad. Take me.” You could see your boyfriend's eyes gloss over as he was face to face again with your sopping cunt.

“Fine,” he growled, getting to his feet and ripping the shirt off over his head. “No prep, but I don't want to hear you whining about it later,” he added as he hastily unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them along with his underwear down.

His cock sprang free, softly hitting your ass as he grabbed your hips, the tip already leaking. He spat into his hand, coating his length with it before guiding the tip to your hole. Letting out a groan, Minho cursed in Ninsan as he pushed deeper into you, his grip on your hips bruising.

You whined, pushing back on him as sheathing more of his massive cock inside you. The stretch was unlike anything you'd experienced with him before. There was no pain though. Minho stopped and you groaned, finally feeling full. The satisfaction didn't last long though and soon the heat was spreading again.

You needed to be fucked and you needed it now.

“Minmin, please,” you whimpered. “Please fuck me.”

Hearing your soft cries for him spurred Minho on, forcing him to pull back, half of his cock sliding out before he thrust into you, filling your cunt in one motion. He choked back a moan, nails digging into your skin as he hissed and cursed again. “So fucking good,” he moaned, thrusting again, making your body shift forward, even with his tight grip on your hips. “Taking me so well.”

“Minhooo,” you whined as he set a steady pace, pumping in and out with measured thrusts. “Don't hold back,” you gasped, walls clenching around him. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Minho groaned, head dropping as you squeezed him. His hips stuttered to a halt. “You can't be serious,” he panted. “Angel, I don't wanna hurt you,” he continued. You shook your head, your skin burning and a thin layer of sweat already coating your body.

“God damn it, Minho,” you snapped, looking over your shoulder at him. “Fuck me like you mean it. I want you to fuck me until I can't walk!” Your tone must have flipped a switch in your boyfriend and he let out a growl, one hand moving to your shoulder and forcing your chest down against the mattress.

Without answering you, he started to thrust faster, hips hitting your ass with renewed attention. He'd been holding back, not wanting to injure you but when you snapped at him like that, it made his mind go blank and the only thing he could think about was fucking you.

Well, fucking you and breeding you.

“Oh my god,” you gasped as he leaned over, now both hands on your shoulders as he kept your chest against the bed, ass up and bouncing with each thrust. “Fuck, feels so good,” you moaned. Minho said nothing, grunting in response as your walls gripped him tighter. “Shit, yes. Just like that!” you mewled, feeling the head of his cock bump into the soft spot inside you, making you see stars.

“Hng, right there! Don't stop, baby!”

Minho let out a growl, hips never faltering for a moment. “God, yes, holy shit!” you gasped, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. A rush of euphoria swept through you but Minho wasn't done. He'd slowed down, fucking you through your orgasm but as you came down from your high, he kept going, hips smacking into yours, the sound of skin against skin drowning out his pants.

“Min, baby?” you moaned, sliding your arms under you to push yourself up. “No,” Minho growled. “Not done!” You let out a moan as he pushed you back down. “Breed,” he growled. “Need to breed.” You groaned loudly as he continued to thrust into you quickly.

“Gonna fill you up. Gonna breed you,” he hissed. Your fingers dug into the sheets, moans turning into cries with each harsh thrust. “Breed, breed,” Minho murmured. You felt his cock twitch inside you, letting out a wanton moan as he slammed into you from behind. “Mm fuck!” he cursed. “Breed, breed, breed,” he chanted softly.

Tears slipped from the corners of your eyes, the pleasure both overwhelming and incredible. Your thighs trembled as a second orgasm loomed. “Th-that's right,” you groaned, playing into his words. “Breed me, Min, fill me up. Put a baby in me.”

Minho let out an animalistic growl, fingers curling over your shoulders, nails digging into your skin as he somehow thrust even harder and deeper, making you scream into the sheets, your own fingers curling into the linens. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you heard your boyfriend snarl. “M'gonna cum. Gonna fill you up so much.”

“F-fill me up, Minho, please!” you cried out. “Fuck me. Make me your breeding bitch, Minho. Do it!” Your boyfriend let out a noise that sounded like a mix between a growl and a groan, thrusting into you a few times more before you felt the warm gush of his load spilling into you. “F-fuuuck,” you groaned.

You could feel his cock pressing into your cervix as he pumped you full of his cum. At the same time, you felt the base of his cock swell. ‘Well that’s new,’ you thought as you lifted your head. “Whassat?” you mumbled, letting out a groan as your walls stretched around him.

“S'okay,” he mumbled, leaning down to press kisses all over your shoulders. “Have to keep it all in,” he added. You only then processed that he was still pumping you full of cum. “Minmin?” you asked, trying to push yourself up but he quickly and gently pushed you back down. “Shhh,” he whispered. “Just lie still, baby,” he continued. “Have to stay still. Just for a little while.”

You felt your belly slowly start to swell, more cum filling your walls than you'd even experienced before. You felt one of Minho's hands move to your belly, just under your navel where it had swollen slightly. “Have to stay still, yeah?” he whispered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Stay still and make sure it takes.”

“Make sure what takes, Min?” you asked softly.

You felt him rub your belly soothingly, his cock twitching inside you. “You said breed you,” he reminded you. And your eyes fluttered shut. “Minho,” you sighed. “We aren’t compatible,” you added as a reminder. You felt him press a kiss to your shoulder. “I know,” he murmured.

“But imagine if we were,” he whispered in your ear. “Imagine what cute babies we’d make.”

The idea of a mini hybrid of you and your alien lover made you smile, a soft sigh escaping you as he continued to press tender kisses to your neck and shoulder. Your eyes opened and you turned your head slightly to glance back at him, resolved to play into his fantasy.

“What if it doesn't take?” you asked softly, a slight pout on your lips. Minho reached his hand up, turning your head more so he could kiss you, pressing kisses to your lips quickly. “If it doesn't take,” he muttered in between kisses.

“Then we try again. After all, I'm still hard and have a lot more cum to give you,” he added with a smirk. “Wanna go again?” you asked, clenching around his cock. “Just to be sure it takes?”

Minho chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he slowly pulled back, the swelling at the base of his cock having gone down. He gave you a tentative thrust, ignoring the gush of purplish liquid that spilled out of you and ran down your thighs.

It didn't matter if some spilled out, not when he was about to fill you again and again and again. Even if it wouldn’t take, he could dream, right? After all, he figured out halfway through the first session that what you'd come into contact with was an aphrodisiac and he knew it would be a few more hours before it finally wore off.

He’d better make the most of it.

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[frankenkyle19]

Hi, I love your writing, not sure if you have time to do this since it’s kinktober and you’re probably busy so no pressure!!

I’m 5’6, female. hourglass figure, slim/athletic build. wavy dark hair, brown eyes, full lips, fair skin, heart shaped face. permanent resting b!tch face. I dress casually, mostly t-shirts, hoodies, flannel, jeans, converse.

I’m extremely sarcastic and blunt, im academically gifted, very competitive and a perfectionist. I like horror/psychological thriller movies, music (MCR, Måneskin, P!atd, Lana del rey, Eminem), jogging and reading (favorite authors are Stephen King and Neil Gaiman ). Knows a lot of random facts. My favorite season is winter, I play the piano, an ambivert, likes to play Nintendo and chess.

My love language would be acts of service, not a big fan of physical touch overall (but tolerant)

If you find the time to do mine, thank you in advance! If not, it is completely understandable and i look forward to your other kinktober works! 🖤

ooo I had a hard time picking for this one!

but I ended up going with Jimmy Darling!

Loves you. All of you, even your resting grumpy face. He finds it endearing. Always tries to get you to smile though by poking fun at it.

He’d always offer you his clothes to wear because you have similar styles and seeing you in his clothes does things to the boy. He’ll always be throwing flannels and his t-shirts at you, practically begging you to wear them.

enjoys your sarcasm. Sometimes it’s hard to find someone you can actually joke around with so he’d be super happy to be able to do so with you.

he’d probably try to break the perfectionist in you or at least make it ‘better’ but if he didn’t succeed in it he’d just try and do things right the first time to not stress you out. Never judges you.

might have a hard time with horror movies just because of what he went through but as long as theirs no nuns or asylums he’ll be alright.

Would love to go on walks with you and listen to all your favorites artists together. Music is the way to Kit’s old soul. Loves loves loves music more than life itself.

would always love when you come up to him to tell him another random fact. He literally wouldn’t even care what it was, it could be the dumbest thing ever and he’d still be so happy that you taught him something new.

would beg you to play piano for him. He would literally melt when he hears it. Would buy you a super nice piano just to have and play whenever you want.

his love language is either acts of service or gift giving. He likes physical touch but shows his love in other ways most of the time.

[whinesandwhimpers]

eminem or wtvr; can the kinktober writer thats 17 days behind schedule please stand up?

me;

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 6 - Sex Work

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : For the "sex work" prompt of Kinktober 2024 I thought I'd mix it up with a request I received as well. Granted, it's playing on the words of the prompt rather than the actual theme but I hope you guys like it nonetheless ! ✨ Also, I did have a second idea, which I might end up doing too 😏

CW : Mention of sex work - Flirty texts - Mention of hook up

The studio was buzzing with energy as the podcast got underway. Marshall sat at the head of the table, wearing his usual hoodie and cap combo, arms crossed casually as he listened to the banter among the other rappers. One former D12 member had decided to launch a podcast and, when he was ask to be the first guest, he was happy to show up to support his friend. In the past years, he’d grown more and more picky when it came to doing interviews and appearances, but he was glad he did this, supporting his buddy and talking about hip-hop in general, instead of just him. It was much better than random journalists asking about his professional life. The conversation had flowed from the evolution of hip-hop to its biggest influencers, and now, they were moving into more contemporary topics—reviewing music videos from up-and-coming artists. 

He wasn’t sure what to expect when they cued up the next video for review. When the host dropped your name, though, his head perked up. You, the firecracker of a lyricist he had been « mentoring » for a while now. You weren’t to Shady Records, but you had worked together enough for him to respect your raw talent and commendable work ethic. He had been kind enough to offer some guidance and even some beats from his vault, and while you were still making your way in the industry, you had already built a reputation as an outspoken voice in the game. You had a good rapport, too. In private, you’d shared more than just a few laughs, and there was a mutual admiration that sometimes tiptoed into the realm of flirtation—compliments exchanged, gazes held a bit longer than necessary—but nothing too serious. It was always playful, a line neither of you had crossed. 

The host grinned, looking at Marshall. « So, this is Y/N’s latest track. It’s called ‘Sex Work’. You haven’t seen this one yet, have you? ».  He shook his head, a little curious but still cool. « Nah, she didn’t send it to me. ». His friend looked at him and let out a laugh. “You’re in for a surprise, then”.  The video started, and the beat dropped—a heavy bass line that immediately grabbed everyone’s attention. But it wasn’t just the music that made Marshall sit up a little straighter. The visuals hit hard. You were on-screen, dressed in bold, provocative outfits, your presence commanding the camera. The scenes shifted rapidly, moving through a series of sexually charged, daring shots. It was unlike anything you’d done before. 

You were playing with the very imagery that dominated so much of hip-hop—the kind of objectification women often faced. Except you were not the object here. She was the one in control, flipping the narrative. The lyrics hit just as hard as the visuals, each line razor-sharp, calling out the double standards in the industry, using clever wordplay ad metaphors that drew a parallel between the music industry and sex work, too. 

Marshall was caught off guard. The video was bold, even provocative. You were owning your sexuality in a way that was direct, unapologetic, and powerful. But then it hit him—some of the scenes were direct callbacks to his older videos. One shot mirrored the set of his “Superman” video, and in another, you were standing where one of his infamous adult actresses had stood, reclaiming that space. « Damn, » one of the other hosts on the podcast muttered, eyes wide. Marshall’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything. Not yet. The lyrics kept going, and it became clear what you were doing—turning the tables on the misogynistic narratives you had been surrounded by as an up and coming female rapper. The video wasn’t just about sex appeal; it was a statement. You were deliberately playing with the same imagery that had been used to objectify women for decades, challenging it, and throwing it back in everyone’s faces. By the time the video ended, the room was dead silent for a moment. The host was the first to speak. « Marshall, man… what are you thinking? ».  He leaned back in his chair, taking a breath. He could feel the eyes on him, waiting for some kind of reaction, maybe even expecting. You weren’t playing by anyone’s rules and it was the type of attitude he respected, especially then someone pushed the pen that far.  « Well, first off, » he said, glancing around the room before locking eyes with the host, « she killed that ». The other guys laughed, but he wasn’t joking. « She’s always been fearless with her lyrics, » he continued, « but this? This is next level. She’s calling out the hypocrisy in the industry, and she’s doing it in a way that makes you pay attention. It’s bold as hell. » He paused for a second, gathering his thoughts. « I didn’t expect her to take shots at some of the imagery I’ve used in my older videos, but I respect it. She’s making a statement. She’s an artist, it’s what she should be doing. It’s what we do as emcees, you know ?  ». The others nodded, clearly impressed with his take. « So you’re not bothered by it? I mean, some of those scenes were pretty close to your old stuff ». 

« Nah, » he said, shaking his head. « If anything, I think it’s cool. That’s the kind of artist she is—smart, sharp, and always saying something with her work. Whether it’s a track about life or, you know… this ». He chuckled a little at the end, the edge of a smirk tugging at his lips. Truth be told, he hadn’t expected you to pull something this bold. Sure, you had always been outspoken, always ready to challenge the norms, but this? This was next-level boldness.  The conversation moved on to other topics, but Marshall’s mind lingered on your video. He knew it was going to blow up and, truth be told, he was curious to know where that was headed. 

The days following the release of your music video and Marshall’s appearance on the podcast were a whirlwind of noise. Social media was ablaze with debates, and hip-hop blogs pumped out articles almost hourly, all focused on one central question: Was Y/N dissing Eminem ? Marshall, sitting in the comfort of his home, scrolled through his phone, shaking his head at the ridiculous headlines. « Y/N’s Bold Move: Diss or Power Play Against Eminem?" or  "New Queen in Town? Is Y/N Coming for Eminem’s Throne? ».  Everyone had their own theory, and the conversation was only growing louder. What had started as you making a critique of misogyny  had snowballed into a supposed rivalry between you and Em—a narrative the media had hungrily latched onto. It wasn’t surprising to anyone, though. Of course it was going to make for good headlines and farm engagement rates, even though it was a shame to have it take away from the main topic.  Interviews, radio shows, podcasts—everyone was asking the same question: What did Eminem think ? 

Marshall had been ignoring the noise for as long as he could, figuring people would see the bigger picture. But the hype refused to die down. Paul’s phone blew up with texts and calls, from journalists looking for comments to fellow artists wondering if there was any beef brewing. His team’s inbox was flooded. He wasn’t surprised that you were stirring things up—you were unapologetically yourself, always—but the whole “diss” angle? That was ridiculous. A week after the video dropped, Marshall finally caved. He knew he had to address it, especially after hearing that some major podcasts were going to dive deeper into the so-called "feud." There was no way he’d let anyone twist this into something it wasn’t. It was sort of unlike him, but he was pissed off about lies being spread and people making headlines about an imaginary feud. He wouldn’t have cared to address it if it had been anyone else, but he actually liked and respected you. He also had enough self-awareness to know that, if he let the whole thing escalate, some people would take « his side » and turn on you. Frankly, he didn’t have the time or energy for some stupid quid pro quo situation and he deemed it best to address the topic. 

That morning, he agreed to hop on a Shade45 radio show that had been asking him for a statement for days. As the interview started, the host wasted no time jumping into the topic. « Alright, Boss, we’ve got to get straight to it, » the host said, his voice filled with anticipation. « Y/N. We’ve all seen the video. She’s been pretty outspoken, and a lot of people are taking her comments about the double standards in hip-hop and the scenes from your old videos as… well, a diss. What do you think? ». Marshall took a deep breath and leaned forward into the mic, choosing his words carefully but keeping his usual bluntness. « Look, » he started, « Y/N is not dissing me. She’s not coming for me or trying to take shots.  What she’s doing is making a statement. A damn good one, too. People keep saying she’s going too far or whatever, but this is the same stuff that I, and a lot of other artists, have done for years. She’s just flipping the script, and now, suddenly, people want to act like it’s a problem ».  The host nodded, but there was still an edge of curiosity. « So, you’re not offended by her recreating some of your visuals? Some people took it as her calling you out ».  Marshall smirked, shaking his head. « Nah, man. Y/N’s one of the most talented artists out there right now. She’s smart. She’s sharp. And she’s not afraid to say what’s on her mind, even if it makes people uncomfortable. That’s what makes her great. She’s doing exactly what artists are supposed to do—make people think, make people talk. It’s the same shit I have always done with my music. And if she’s calling out hypocrisy ? Good for her. I’ve been there. I know how that goes ». 

He leaned back again, more comfortable now. « You know, I’ve worked with her, produced a couple of tracks for her, and I’ve always been impressed by how real she keeps it. She’s not here to play by anyone’s rules. She’s doing what she wants, and I respect that. If you’re mad at her for being direct, maybe it’s because you don’t like what she’s saying ». The host paused for a moment, letting Em’s words settle. « So, to be clear—you fully support what she’s doing? ». « Yeah, » Marshall said without hesitation. « Y/N’s just getting started, and if people are mad now? They better buckle up, ‘cause she’s only going to keep pushing boundaries. She’s not afraid to call out the industry for its hypocrisy. And if anyone thinks she’s dissing me, they’re missing the point. She’s making space for herself, and she’s doing it her way. That’s what being an artist is all about ». The host grinned, seemingly satisfied with his take. « Well, there you have it, folks. Marshall’s got nothing but respect for Y/N. » Marshall chuckled, nodding. « Damn right. I’ll say this though : I’ve spent enough time with her to know that it’s more fun to be her friend than to be her enemy. So, anyone who’s been talking shit… Better be ready ». 

After the podcast dropped, the noise around the supposed « diss » started to die down. Marshall’s words carried weight, and now that he had set the record straight, the media was forced to pivot. Instead of focusing on a non-existent feud, the conversation shifted toward what you had always intended—your critique of double standards. Now that people didn’t worry about a possible feud, they seemed more disposed to focus on the subject matter and the narrative surrounding you quickly took a much more positive turn.  That evening, Marshall was sitting in his home studio, tweaking some beats when his phone buzzed on the table next to him. He glanced down and saw your name on the screen.

Y/N :  Thanks for having my back.

He stared at the text for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smile. He wasn’t surprised you’d reached out; after all,  you weren’t the type to let things go unacknowledged. He liked that about you. But he could tell by the simple message that you appreciated the support more than you’d probably say out loud. He picked up his phone and tapped out a reply.

Marshall : Always. Not that you needed it, though. 

He fully meant it when he said that you didn’t need his support. He knew for a fact that you’d clap back if needed. There was a brief pause before your next message popped up.

Y/N : Yeah, but you saying it shuts up a lot of people. 

He chuckled to himself, nodding as he read the words.

Marshall :  Let ‘em talk. You’re doing your thing. If they’re mad, that means you’re doing something right. 

Y/N :  Guess I learned from the best.

Marshall leaned back in his chair, looking at your message for a second before typing a final reply.

Marshall : Nah, you’re making your own lane. Keep killing it.

He put his phone down, guessing the conversation was probably over for the night. But even as he turned back to the track he was working on, he couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of pride. You were carving out your own space in the industry, no matter how many people tried to twist her message or pit you against him. In the short while he’d known you, he had seen you evolve as an artist and, since you’d never failed to share how much his music had shaped your artistry, he felt proud. 

Y/N : Also, I’m glad that you got what I did with the references to your video. It was an hommage, not a shot. 

Marshall grinned, running his thumb over the screen as he typed his reply.

Marshall : Oh, I know. But now I’m thinking, if it was an hommage, why didn’t you just ask me to be in it ?

The dots on the screen danced for a moment, and then your reply came through, as sharp as your lyrics.

Y/N : I was only hiring professionals. ;)

Marshall laughed out loud, shaking his head. He liked your quick wit, the way you never backed down from a little back-and-forth. If anyone else had thrown that line at him, he might’ve let it go. But not you.

Marshall : You don’t think I’m professional enough?

Y/N : In music ? Sure. Can’t speak for the rest, though. 

There was a pause as he crafted his next response, his smirk growing wider. He enjoyed it too much, couldn’t help himself. 

Marshall : If you want to find out just how professional I can get, all you gotta do is ask.

He sent the message, leaning back on his chair. He could practically feel the heat of your flirtation building through the screen. You didn’t take long to reply, as bold as ever.

Y/N : Oh, I’ll keep that in mind.

There was no more texting that night, but the tension lingered in the silence that followed. Your dynamic had always teetered on the edge of something more, something neither of them had fully explored. Both of you had always kept it on the safe side. The energy between them you felt charged in a way it hadn’t before, following these texts and he liked it. There was something irresistible about a beautiful woman who was also smart and bold. However, he chose not to let it get to his head, not wanting to be that guy. Being a woman in a male-dominated industry, you probably had enough of those, even though he wouldn’t mind showing you the extent of his bedroom skills. He meant it, though. All you had to do was ask. He had made a point to avoid getting involved with celebs and fellow artists but he’d gladly make an exception for you.

Weeks later, the two of you found yourself in New York for an awards show. The ceremony was everything you’d expect—long, loud, and full of celebrities. But Marshall wasn’t really focused on the stage. He hadn’t seen you yet, but he knew you were there. He’d heard your name more than once as people in the crowd gushed about you, your bold video, and the statement you’d made in the industry. Your viral video had made you gain tons of recognition and everyone was gushing about you, even the ones who had been quick to assume you were dissing him in a desperate clout-chasing attempt. After the show, as he headed back to his hotel room, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. 

Y/N :  Nice performance tonight. Very professional. The Bradford. Suite 1602. If your offer still stands.

Marshall stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the message. The directness of it sent a jolt through him. There wasn’t any question about what you were implying. The words lingered on his screen, bold and unflinching, just like you. For a moment, he just stood there, processing. Then, without a second thought, he found himself heading toward the exit of his hotel. There was no hesitation now. His heart picked up speed as he walked out into the night, flagged down a cab, and gave the driver the name of your hotel, not too far from his. The drive was short, but each second felt drawn out, like anticipation was pulling time apart. As the cab pulled up in front of The Bradford, Marshall stepped out, the city lights glowing faintly around him. He walked through the doors and headed straight to the elevator, heart pounding just a little harder with each passing floor. When he reached your floor, the quiet of the hallway contrasted sharply with the rush of energy coursing through him. He stopped in front of Suite 1602, staring at the number on the door for a moment before knocking, his mind running through the million ways this could go. The door opened slowly, and there you were, standing barefoot in a simple yet alluring outfit that somehow made his pulse race faster than anything you’d worn in that music video. Your eyes met his with the same fire he’d always admired, but now, it was mixed with something more, something unspoken between the two of you that had finally found its moment. « Wasn’t sure you’d actually show up, » you said, your voice low but teasing. Marshall smirked, stepping inside. « Told you all you had to do was ask ». You grinned back, eyes glinting as you shut the door behind him. « Well, I am asking ». 

If you liked this and want to support a struggling student, you can buy me a cup of coffee. ☕️

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 13 - Fuck Or Die

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : Since I am a messy, disorganized and irresponsible writer… here is the episode for Kinktober Day 13. The prompt is « Fuck or Die ». I had lots of fun writing it. 🙊 I hope you guys enjoy it just as much 💕

CW : Use of viagra and aphrodisiacs - Mentions of infidelity - Marshall Mathers being kind of an asshole 👀

PSA : fooling with Viagra and aphrodisiacs is a bad idea. Also, I’m not a doctor so… there’s nothing medically accurate here, you know ?

« Yo, have you seen Paul ? » Marshall asked as he entered your office. He seemed in a hurry and, frankly, he didn’t look well. He always arborer an unreadable expression but now, he looked a little bothered, which was quite unusual. « He left about an hour ago » you informed him. As soon as the words left your lips, you could see the panic take over his expression. « What’s wrong ? » you asked with concern. « Nothing » he replied too quickly for it not to be suspicious.

You stared at him and he avoided your gaze. Embarrassment. You raised an eyebrow and decided to give him another opportunity. « What did you do ? » you asked calmly. « Wha- Why do you think I did something ? » he barked. You let out a chuckle and crossed your arms as you leaned back in your chair. « Not only have I been your assistant for the last ten years, I’ve also had the displeasure of being your girlfriend for two of them. Which means I know you too well. » you playfully commented. « Thank God you have someone else to annoy now » he replied curtly. You scoffed and stared at the picture of your fiancé on your phone wallpaper. Thank God, Greg was everything that Marshall wasn’t.

« Seriously, tell me. I’m sure it’s nothing I can’t help you with. » you pressed as you turned back to him. « It’s personal. » he said. « Good thing I’m your personal assistant, then, dumbass » you chuckled. « Now is not the time, Y/N » he warned. « It’s Kayla, isn’t it ? Marshall, I don’t mind. You can tell me about your… whatever she is. » you said as you gestured vaguely. « I need Paul » he insisted as his expression grew more uneasy. You sighed and tried to call his manager but it went straight to voicemail. Not surprising knowing how busy the man always was. You looked at Marshall apologetically. He was visibly frustrated. « Fuck » he muttered. He almost looked in pain, which was concerning. You got up and placed a caring hand on his shoulder. « You don’t look well » you remarked. He seemed to wince at the contact and took a step back. « I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you » you immediately apologized, thinking you’d hurt him. « Do you need a doctor ? » you asked carefully.

He looked at you with a look full of shame and regret. « I hope not » he mumbled. « Marsh, what’s wrong ? » you questioned for what seemed like the thousandth time. « Promise not to laugh ? » he asked. « Of course. You know me. » you said reassuringly. He immediately raised his eyebrow. « Yeah I know you. That’s why I’m asking you to promise » he said sternly. « I promise. Now tell me what you did. » you sighed. « I think I took too much viagra » he almost whispered.

You had just promised not to laugh but you couldn’t help but let out a squeal. There was something special about your boss turned ex looking really stupid and ridiculous. The two of you had ended on amicable terms but the shameful look on his face definitely gave you the revenge you never knew you needed. « Fuck you, Y/N » he groaned and you immediately apologized. « I’m sorry, I’m sorry… it’s just… you took viagra ?! ». He sighed and nodded. Having spent two years with him, you could point out a lot of flaws in this man but lack of libido was not one of them. Well, maybe his latest sidepiece wasn’t up to the challenge. « I had an incident the other day and Kayla… well, she suggested- you know. And, uh, I was supposed to see her tonight but… she bailed and now I can’t get rid of the damn thing » he explained. You hummed empathetically. He seemed annoyed and distressed and, knowing his pride, you knew he wasn’t having a good time confessing all of that to you. « How long has it been ? » you asked. « Three months. Why ? » he asked. « Your blood flow is really going down there, huh ? I meant how long has it been since you… you know. Since you took the pill. » you corrected with an amused look. « Two hours » he sighed. « Is it painful ? » you asked. « It’s… really uncomfortable. I asked the Google and they say I should take a cold shower but I can’t drive home like this » he continued. You let out a chuckle at the mention of « the Google ». If the technophobe boomer you called your boss had actually gone on the internet, you knew he must be really distressed. « Have you tried solving the problem manually ? » you asked carefully. He looked at you with an aggravated look, clearly losing patience. « Of course I’ve tried ! It doesn’t work ! » he snapped. You crossed your arms defensively. You were trying to be nice and you didn’t need him lashing out at you. As soon as he saw the frown on your face, he calmed down a little. « I’m sorry… I just… i don’t know what to do » he mumbled. You nodded with understanding and placed your hand on his arm, trying to be supportive. « Please don’t » he almost whined. « Well I just touched your arm, dude » you said with your eyebrows furrowed. « I know but I also took that other pill. Like it’s made of plants or something and my senses are all heightened and- I swear to God, if you touch me again I’ll bend you over your desk. ». You looked at him with wide eyes, almost shocked by his bluntness. You held out your hand, pointing at your engagement ring. « This ship has sailed, man » you recalled. « Look, maybe we should call a doctor- hey ! My eyes are up there, Marshall ! » you scolded.

He looked, half-apologetic. However, you knew him too well for your liking and you could see the wheels turning. « don’t even think about it » you warned. « Come on, we’re friends, right ? You can help me out » he pleaded. « You’re not seriously asking me to do something about this. Not when we’ve been broken up for three years. » you said in disbelief. « I’m engaged, Marshall ! I’m getting married to another man ! » you reminded him. « You smell so fucking good. And oh god, you look stunning » he said breathily. « You’re losing your mind » you scoffed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and lost his balance for a second. You immediately grabbed his forearm and had him sit on the small sofa in your office. He was sweating bullets and looked hazy. « Fuck, there’s this thing in my chest » he groaned. You placed a hand on his heart. The beating seemed steady. You could see him wince at the proximity and he closed his eyes, inhaling your scent. Before you could pull away, he placed a hand on your hip and brought you closer. « Marshall » you scolded. « Sorry » he whispered - though you didn’t believe for a second that he was sorry. « Can I do something ? I mean, anything that doesn’t involve cheating ? » you asked. He looked at you and stayed silent for a second. « Do you think you could stay here while I…? » he asked. You stared at him, flabbergasted, unable to say anything. He couldn’t be serious. « I just need you near. I won’t touch you. » he promised. « I just can’t stand it. It’s hell. » he pleaded. Maybe it was the proximity and the fact that you still shared chemistry. Maybe it was the ovulation. Maybe you were just stupid for thinking you could actually help him in a friendly way. But you found yourself nodding. « No touching » you repeated. He nodded and undid his jeans. It wasn’t visible before, but now that his cock was springing free, you understood what was so uncomfortable. That thing was massive. Of course, you knew his size. But it was something else. It seemed girthier, more veiny. « Oh good God » you whispered. He started stroking his length, letting out a groan. « Come closer » he instructed. You inched a little closer to him and he inhaled your scent. He kept on pumping himself, staring at your cleavage. You could see the relief in his expression. « Are you ok ? » you asked awkwardly. « I’m- getting there. » he nodded. « Could you open your blouse a little ? ».

You stared at him, scolding him with your eyes. This man was going to be the death of you. But at the same time, you didn’t really say no. You undid a few buttons of your blouse, enough to let your lacy bustier peak through. « Like this ? » you asked. « A little more ? » he suggested innocently. He knew he was pushing his luck. And you knew that he knew. Still, you did. Maybe it would be over sooner. He took a good look at your boobs and bit his lip. « You’re hot. Do you know that ? » he asked. « As a matter of fact, I do » you said with a chuckle. « Now get to it. We don’t have all night. » you instructed. He kept on stroking himself, still staring at your breasts. He had always had a thing for tits and beautiful lingerie so you didn’t doubt that he was enjoying it at least a little, no matter how uncomfortable he must be. You tried to look elsewhere and think about something else, to distract yourself from the fact that your ex was literally touching himself to you. He kept at it for a little while and let out a grunt. You open your eyes, thinking he had gotten it over with but you could see the frustration on his face. « They’re gonna have to cut it off » he complained. « I’m so close but- » he whined. « You can do it » you said reassuringly. And before you could even fully comprehend the consequences of what you were doing, you were freeing one of your boobs, revealing a pierced nipple. « Does that help ? » you asked innocently. He stared at you, almost shocked. « Holy fuck. Is that new ? » he asked as he referred to the piercing. You nodded, forgetting that you had it done a while after breaking up with him. « That’s… fucking hot. » he commented. « Yeah ? You like it ? » you asked teasingly. He nodded, not taking his eyes away from the small piece of metal as he pumped himself a little more energetically. By the looks of it, it was sort of working for him. You were staring at him innocently, though you were beginning to find the whole thing oddly titillating. You liked seeing the desire in his eyes. it didn’t help that you’d been feeling a little neglected by your fiancé, lately. And even if you knew Marshall’s desire was merely the consequence of chemicals, it still felt satisfying. The lust in his eyes was giving you the attention you’d been craving for a few weeks now. Enough for your inner demon to get all horny. You stared at him, biting your lip and gently pinched your nipple, playing with the piercing. « Fuck » he whispered. « Better ? » you asked breathily as he nodded. « Now, do you think you could come ? » you continued teasingly. He swallowed dryly and nodded. « How about you tell me what you want ? » you suggested. « Huh ? » he whimpered. « Talk to me. No touching. Just talking. » you encouraged him. He stared at you, a mixture of shock and amazement in his gaze. « That’s what friends do, right ? » you whispered. « Yeah » he replied breathily. « I-I could use your hands. » he said hesitatingly. « Oh yeah ? You’d like me to give you a hand ? » you teased as he nodded. « Or you could get on your knees » he hummed as he kept going. « You always loved me on my knees, didn’t you ? » you asked playfully. « Fuck yeah » he moaned. You hummed appreciatively and got up. He looked at you in confusion but before he could say anything, you were kneeling between his legs, sensually staring at him. « like that ? » you asked as he nodded frantically. You could feel that he was on the edge. You freed your other boob from the cup of your bustier and gently pinched your nipple. « Oh shit » he moaned. You nodded in encouragement. « You know… I still remember your taste. » you said innocently. His eyes met yours as you playfully licked your lips. You could see his pupils dilating, his lips parting, before he let out a throaty moan as he came, lifting his tee-shirt just in time.

He didn’t move for about a minute after that, panting and catching his breath. His face was relaxed, though. You silently got up and adjusted your clothes, as if nothing had just happened. You turned your back to him, closing your eyes as you tried to convince yourself that everything was ok, and that it wasn’t actually cheating. After all, he hadn’t touched you, right ? Right ? You were taken out of your zone by Marshall’s voice. « Do you, uh, have a tissue ? » he asked. You mumbled something and tossed a box of tissues at him so that he’d clean himself. After he was done, he adjusted himself and placed a hand on your shoulder. « I… thanks. » he said awkwardly. You nodded, still refusing to look at him. « That stays between us, right ? » you asked nervously. « Of course » he hummed. You nodded and stared at him as you but your lower lip. The usual stoic demeanor was back. As if nothing gad happened. Or maybe he wasn’t that phased by it. Maybe he had no qualms about touching himself to his ex. After all, he wasn’t especially known for his scruples. Before none of you could utter any more words, you heard a knock and the door opened. Greg. « what are you doing here ? » you asked as your eyes opened wide. « I finished earlier so I thought I’d pick you up » he said with a warm smile. « Is it a bad time ? Are you guys busy ? » he asked as he stared at Marshall. « No ! I was just telling Y/N what a good job she’s done. » he said calmly. « She’s the best, right ? » Greg beamed. « She really is », your ex replied with a shit-eating grin that made you want to kill him. « By the way, man, we got your RSVP but you didn’t specify if you were bringing a date », your fiancé said. « Oh. My bad. Yeah, I’ll be coming on my own. », Marshall hummed. « Oh that’s too bad. I thought Y/N mentioned you were dating ».

You felt as if you were about to faint. Greg was obviously clueless, just trying his best to be friendly, while Marshall was staring at him with an all-knowing smile. « Not anymore, I’m afraid. » he simply replied. « That’s too bad. Hey, maybe you’ll meet someone at the wedding. I’ll make sure you’re seated by some attractive single » Greg offered. Your ex gave him a grin and shook his hand. « Thanks, man. You know, I’m really looking forward to it. I look at you guys and I tell myself… I really want what you have » he hummed before giving you his signature asshole smirk.

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 1 - Lingerie

A/N : here is the first post for Kinktober. The prompt is Lingerie. I kept it simple and sweet 😉. I hope you enjoy it 💕.

CW : Lingerie ; Romance ; Smut ; PinV.

It had been a whirlwind few months for « Eminem ». Marshall was halfway through his latest tour, performing night after night to sold-out arenas across the country. The energy from the crowds was electric, but when the music stopped and the curtains closed, the loneliness hit hard. No matter how many fans cheered his name, there was only one person he truly missed— you, his girlfriend.

You were the calm in his chaotic world. The two of you had been together for a few years now, and while you had learned to navigate the challenges of his life as a public figure and someone who was always on the move, it never got any easier being apart. Marshall made sure to stay connected with you as much as possible—late-night calls, FaceTime sessions, and sweet texts between rehearsals. Still, he often felt guilty for leaving you at home so often, so he tried to make up for it in other ways. Over the past few weeks, he'd arranged for little gifts to be delivered to you. One day it was your favorite flowers, the next day a gorgeous set of expensive lingerie he thought you’d look divine in. He wanted you to feel his presence, even when he was miles away.

It was late one evening, and Marshall was lying in his hotel room, winding down after a long day of interviews and rehearsal. His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and a notification popped up. Your name appeared on the screen and his heart skipped a beat as he unlocked it. It was a message, with several photos attached.

"Miss you more than words, baby," your text read. "I'm waiting for you when you’re ready to come home."

Marshall opened the photos, and his breath caught. You were getting ready for the day, wearing a stunning set of lingerie, one that he had arranged to be delivered to you in his absence, the soft lighting of your shared bedroom accentuating your graceful silhouette. You looked beautiful, confident, and radiant. Every picture was more alluring than the last, but it wasn’t just the physical appeal—he could feel the emotion behind them. You missed him. You needed him. And suddenly, the distance felt unbearable.

He leaned back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to push down the rush of emotions that came with your message. He still had a few days off before the next show. He had been planning to stay put and rest, ever so careful not to let touring take a toll on his body, but the idea of being away from you now seemed impossible. He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to see you, even if it was just for a few hours.

Marshall sat up, grabbed his phone, and started making calls to Paul and Tracy. Within minutes, he had a plan. He'd fly back to Detroit tonight, surprise you, and make it back to the tour in time for his next commitment. It was crazy, spontaneous, and exactly what he wanted to do.

The next few hours were a blur—packing, booking the flight, and sneaking out of the hotel without drawing attention. By the time the plane touched down in Detroit, the sun had begun to set, casting a warm glow over the familiar cityscape. He was exhausted from the flight, but the adrenaline of seeing you for the first time in what seemed like an eternity kept him going. When he got home, Marshall let himself into the house, careful to be quiet. The familiar scent of home washed over him as he stepped inside, a sense of peace replacing the constant hum of the road. He settled on the couch, waiting, anticipation buzzing in his chest. He checked the time. You would be home from work any minute now.

Just as he started to relax, he heard the sound of keys turning in the lock. The door creaked open, and you walked in, your work bag slung over her shoulder. You hadn’t seen him yet. “Hey, baby,” Marshall said, his voice low and steady. You froze for a second, your eyes widening in surprise as you saw him sitting there on the couch. You dropped your bag, a grin spreading across your face as you ran toward him, crashing in his arms. "Marshall! What—what are you doing here?" You asked, your voice a mix of disbelief and excitement.

He stood up, closing the distance between you in a few strides. "I couldn’t wait any longer," he said, pulling you into his arms. "Those pictures… they reminded me of how much I miss you. I had to come home, even if it's just for tonight." You laughed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You flew all the way back just for me?" You teased, though her eyes were glistening with happiness. "Of course I did," he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. "There’s nowhere else I’d rather be."

You stood there for a moment, just holding each other, the silence of the house wrapping around you like a warm blanket. It was perfect—simple and quiet, just the two of you.  « I can't believe you're here," you whispered, still smiling up at him. Marshall grinned, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Believe it. I’ve got a few hours before I have to head back, so I’m not going anywhere for a while." You kissed him softly, your smile never fading. "Good. Because I’ve been waiting for this."

You kissed him again, more passionately this time. One of his hands cupped your face, while the other went to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. The kiss grew hungrier and, soon enough, he was removing your blouse, revealing the gorgeous bra he had gotten to admire in pictures earlier, as you had sent pictures while you were getting ready for the day. A smirk immediately appeared on his lips. Obviously, he was very satisfied with what was before his eyes. You knew there was nothing your man loved more than to see your body adorned with beautiful lingerie, lace enhancing your curves. Here, the black lace patterns decorated your skin with elegance, the garment complimenting your boobs perfectly. He licked his lips, allowing himself to stare for a few seconds before letting one of his hands cup your breasts, his thumb teasing your nipple through the bra.

« Gorgeous », he whispered. You hummed in pleasure, the intimate contact you’d been longing for making you far too happy. You had missed him more than words could ever express. You had never been apart for so long before, and to have him back, feeling his hands on you, was everything you had desired for the past weeks. « Do you like it ? » you teased. He smiled and nodded silently as he let his finger trace the lace pattern. You enjoyed that he was taking his time, giving you the opportunity to imprint the sensation in your brain for when he would inevitably have to leave again. You tugged at the hem of his shirt and he removed it, revealing his muscular chest. You lovingly placed a hand on his pec, feeling his heartbeat. He pulled you closer, so that your chest was pressed against his, before capturing your lips again, in a soft kiss that quickly grew voracious. You pushed him onto the couch and straddled his lap. « I missed you », you whispered in-between kisses, only to earn a hum that said he had missed you just as much. And if you needed further proof, his hand on your hip, making you grind against him happily provided it for you. You would have gladly enjoyed the grinding for hours, taking your sweet time, but you knew he’d have to leave soon. You got up, kicked your shoes and made your pants slide off your legs as he did the same with his sweats and boxers. He was naked, rock hard and you stood in front of him in fine lingerie, as he enjoyed the view and stared as you as if you were a work of art. He gestured for you to come back to him but, as you started to removed the bra, he stopped you.

« Keep it on », he instructed before extending a hand to you. You nodded and grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers as you straddled him again. He gently pushed the fabric of the panties to the side and guided you onto his length. The both of you whimpered as you lowered yourself on his dick, enjoying the divine reunion of your bodies. You started rocking your hips as he stared at you, still mesmerized by the vision. You didn’t need any piece of fabric to be beautiful but, in lingerie, you were nothing short of a goddess. There was something about the way it adorned you, did justice to your god-given beauty. He started moving his hips in sync, while his arms wrapped around you and pulled you close to him. You both closed your eyes and enjoyed the sensation of feeling each other close again. You buried your face in his neck, your whimpering breath sending shivers along his spine. You were here, in his arms, beautiful as ever. You were his. He had been gone for weeks but nothing had changed. You still fit perfectly against him, as if your body had been molded for this very purpose. Feeling you so close after being away for so long was delicious. The living room was filled with both of your soft moans and the sound of skin slapping against each other. It didn’t take long for you to reach climax, Marshall quickly following suit.

After a few minutes of catching your breath, you got off him and adjusted the panties. You could feel his release dripping between your legs, soaking the fabric. He admired you as you sat next to him, grabbing a soft throw that was on the couch to put over the two of you as you cuddled.

« You’re so beautiful in this lingerie » he said. « You’re irresistible. ». You let out a small laugh. You loved the fact that he loved it so much. And you loved the fact that the pictures you had sent this morning has prompted him to come home. « So irresistible you can’t help but fly home », you gently teased. He chuckled and nodded. « so irresistible I would have walked to you if I’d had to », he said with a charming smile. « If I had known all it took to make you come home to me were pictures in lingerie, I would have done it a while ago. », you mused. « it’s really hard being away from you, you know ? ». He nodded and cupped your face, looking at you lovingly. « All it takes to make me come home to you is you saying you miss me », he said with a warm smile. « But yeah, the pictures were nice », he added with a grin. « I loved the presents you sent, I wanted to do the same », you giggled softly. « Is there a chance I can have more of these if I have more lingerie delivered to you for the rest of the tour ? » he asked innocently. « If it means you’ll come home to me as soon as you can, yes », you promised. He nodded before placing a soft kiss on your lips « believe me, there’s no fucking way I’ll spend more time away than what’s necessary when I know you’re here, waiting for me in lingerie. »

[therealcocoshady]

Fun fact : for a minute, I actually considered a different scenario. Like Reader being like "I don't mind if you cheat. We could be in an open relationship" and at first, he'd be like "hey, that's cool 😏" only to end up not feeling it at all. First of all because he doesn't want to share his girl and also because she's the only one he wants to be with. Maybe I could still write that. What do you think ?

I know you have a lot on your plate right now but whenever you have time, this would be a really good read👀 we're here for it👍🏻

Kinktober - Day 19 - Cheating (alternate)

A/N : here is the second idea I worked with for the Cheating prompt for Kinktober 🙊. I hope you enjoy it. It is way less angsty and I hope you guys forgive me for making you cry with that other one 🥺.

CW : cheating - open relationship - jealousy - fluff

You and Marshall had been seeing each other for a while now, and even though it wasn’t official in the traditional sense, there was something undeniably real between the two of you. You liked him, a lot. More than you had expected to. But you were also pragmatic, grounded in the reality that his lifestyle wasn't accommodating for anyone, let alone a new relationship. He was famous, often on the road, and had a history. A messy one when it came to women, not to mention that this track record was pretty public. You knew about his past, about the infidelity, the chaos that came with his fame. It didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would have, though. He had been upfront, honest about everything, and in return, you had been honest with him. « How about we just have an open relationship ? » you had suggested one night. Marshall had raised an eyebrow, looking at you like you were a nutcase. « You serious ? » he asked, laughing under his breath. « Yeah. I mean, you're often travelling for work. When you’re not doing shows, you’re flying to LA to record. And I’m sure you meet new people all the time. Women. Attractive women. I'm not naive, I get it. And I don't want to be one of those girls who's constantly worrying or wondering. It makes sense. As long as we're honest with each other, what's the harm ? » you shrugged.

He had taken a second to think about it. On the surface, it did like a win-win for him. Freedom to do what he wanted without the guilt or secrecy that had plagued his past. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about you—he did, more than he was willing to admit at the time—but this was a setup that could work for the both of you. He’d still have you, still get to enjoy the time in your presence and he’d have the freedom he thought he needed. « Alright » he said slowly, giving you a crooked smile. « You sure about this ?  You had nodded. « As long as we’re honest. That’s all that matters ».

-

It had been a couple of months since you had both agreed to the open relationship arrangement. He was in Los Angeles for a work trip, and everything felt normal. Or at least, it was supposed to. You had fallen into a rhythm that worked for you. He would text when he could, call when the time zones allowed, and in turn, you went about your own life. But something shifted for him while he was out in California. After a long day of meetings and studio sessions, he found himself at a party, surrounded by people, women throwing themselves at him like they always did. There was one girl in particular who caught his eye. She was exactly his type—tall, blonde, and bold, not shy about what she wanted. Normally, this would have been easy for him, a no-brainer. He was allowed to have fun with her, if he wanted. After all, you both had an understanding. He was free to do whatever he wanted when he was on the road. This was the deal. And yet, as the girl leaned in, laughing at something he said, her hand resting on his arm, Marshall felt a knot in his stomach that he couldn’t shake. His thoughts drifted to you, probably asleep in your bed, completely unaware of what was happening. You trusted him. This was the setup you had both agreed on, but all of a sudden, it didn’t feel right. He pulled back, the girl’s smile fading into confusion. « You good? » she asked, looking at him like he’d just broken some unspoken rule. « Yeah, I just… » He trailed off, shaking his head. He didn’t even know how to explain it to himself, let alone someone else. He mumbled something about needing to head out and left the party without another word. As soon as he was outside, the crisp LA air hit him, and the realization settled in: he didn’t want anyone else. He wanted you. Just you. No one else mattered, no matter how much freedom he was supposedly given. The thought of you with anyone else, of you laughing and touching someone else, made his chest tighten in a way he hadn’t expected. Fuck. He needed to get back to Detroit. Now.

-

It was almost 3 a.m. when Marshall’s flight landed. He didn’t bother calling you, didn’t even stop to think about whether or not this was a good idea. He drove straight to your apartment, the adrenaline keeping him awake. By the time he reached your place, his mind was racing, emotions he couldn’t fully process swirling around like a storm. This wasn’t how he imagined the night going. He had tried to stick to the arrangement. Hell, he was the one who thought it would be cool—freedom, no strings, no complications. But the second he almost hooked up with someone else, it had hit him like a punch to the gut. The thought of you with anyone else, of another guy touching you, laughing with you, being with you—it twisted something deep inside him. He didn’t even realize how hard he was knocking on your door until it opened, revealing you, all sleepy and confused, your hair all messy and one of his hoodies hanging loosely off your shoulders.

« Marshall? » you mumbled, squinting up at him. « What are you—what time is it? What’s going on? ». His eyes darted around your apartment as if expecting to find someone else there, another guy maybe hiding in the shadows. « Is there someone here? » he demanded, his voice rougher than he intended. You blinked, still half-asleep, clearly thrown by the question. « What? No. What are you talking about? No one’s here. It’s just me. » Marshall took a deep breath, his fists clenching at his sides. « Good, » he muttered, stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind him. « Because if there was someone, you better tell him to beat it. Right now. ». You frowned, wrapping your arms around yourself, trying to wake up fully. « Marshall, what is going on with you? ». He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the small space of your living room, his frustration bubbling over. « This arrangement we have, » he started, his voice rising, « it fucking sucks. I thought I could handle it, you know? I thought it was cool. But it’s not. It’s bullshit. It feels- it feels like cheating. ». You rubbed your eyes, still struggling to catch up with his words. « The open thing? I thought we were on the same page». « I don’t want anyone else, » he interrupted, his voice shaking with intensity. « Not when I’m on the road, not when I’m here. No one. Ever. Just you. And the thought of you being with anyone else, it drives me crazy. I can’t fucking stand it. » Your expression softened, but you remained quiet, letting him get it all out. « I swear to God, » he continued, his agitation growing, « if some other guy even thinks about touching you, I’ll fucking fight him. I’m serious. I can’t do this anymore. You’re mine, alright? You’re mine. And I’m yours. I don’t care what we agreed on before. This whole thing stops now, because I’m not sharing you with anyone. »

There was a beat of silence as he stood there, breathing heavily, his fists still clenched, waiting for you to respond. But instead of getting upset or arguing back, you just gave him a sleepy smile and took a step toward him. « Are you done yelling like a madman? » you asked softly, your voice calm and warm, even though you were clearly exhausted. Marshall blinked, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a bit. « Yeah, » he muttered, the fire in his voice starting to cool down. « I guess I am ». You nodded, taking his hand gently and tugging him toward the bedroom. « Good, » you said, your tone playful but soothing, « because it’s late, and I’m tired. Come on, let’s go to bed ». He hesitated for a second, still feeling the residual storm of emotions swirling inside him, but the warmth of your hand in his grounded him. Without another word, he let you lead him into the bedroom, the weight on his chest slowly easing as you settled under the covers. For the first time in a long while, it felt right—no deals, no compromises. Just you.

As you both lay there, the quiet of the night wrapping around you, he couldn’t help but whisper, « You’re mine, you know that, right? ». You smiled sleepily against his chest. « Yeah, Marshall. I know. You made it quite clear ». Marshall lay back against the pillows, his breathing finally slowing down, the adrenaline from his late-night outburst starting to fade. You snuggled into him, your body warm and soft against his side. Just as he was starting to relax, thinking maybe he could actually get some sleep after the rollercoaster of emotions he'd just ridden, you murmured something, your voice soft and teasing. « By the way… I love you too, you idiot ». He froze, his body tensing up again, but for a completely different reason this time. He turned his head to look down at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. « What did you just say? ». You lifted your head slightly to meet his gaze, a sleepy smile playing at the corners of your lips. « I said, ‘I love you too,’ » you repeated, a little louder this time, your tone light. « You idiot. ». He blinked, his heart skipping a beat. « I didn’t… I haven’t said- ». You let out a small laugh, your eyes sparkling with affection even through her sleepy haze. « You didn’t need to. You pretty much screamed it ».

Marshall stared at you for a second, feeling caught off guard, but also… relieved. It was true. He hadn’t said the words, but everything he had just unloaded on you had been wrapped up in them. He loved you, he’d known it for a while now, but it hadn’t hit him full force until tonight, until the idea of you being with anyone else had made him feel like he was losing his mind. « Yeah, well… » he muttered, a bit embarrassed now that you’d called him out on it. « I guess I kinda said it without saying it ». You rested your head back on his chest, fingers gently tracing patterns on his skin. « You did. And it’s okay. I love you, Marshall. ». He smiled and placed a kiss on the top of your head. « I love you too. »

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober 2024 - Day 22 - Dirty Talk

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : Here is the Kinktober episode for the « Dirty Talk » prompt. Thank you so much to the anon who suggested it to me in the Asks ✨. I hope you enjoy it !

CW : Dirty Talk - Flirting

In the studio's dimmed lights, Marshall paced the floor, his fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against his thigh. He’d been trying to work with you for months, bending schedules, pulling favors, convincing his team, convincing you. It was almost unheard of for an artist of his stature to try this hard to work with an emerging artist such as you. As it was for such a new talent to be so wary and hesitant to work with such a big name in the industry. When you first got an email telling you that Eminem wanted to collaborate with you, you thought it was a prank and did not even bother replying. But then, you got a call from Paul Rosenberg, assuring you it was real. Anyone would have jumped at the opportunity but you had your reservations : sure, being on a track with Eminem would be huge, there was no denying that. But still, the promise of exposure was not enough to convince you. You didn’t want to be just another pretty voice he’d use on a track. You wanted control, artistic freedom. And as someone who was trying to build a brand based on being audacious and unapologetic, you weren’t sure that he was the right fit. After all, it wasn’t 1999 anymore and, if Eminem was a household name, you really would have wanted to collaborate with Slim Shady.

When you kindly replied that you had your reservations about the collaboration request, you expected things to end there. But they didn’t. Marshall Mathers himself got on the phone with you to try and convince you. And, seconds after you said you would think about it, you received a few files, beats he produced in your Inbox. He offered for you to choose the one you wanted to work on, assuring you that he had made them with you on his mind. You actually loved every one of them and there was only so much artistic courting that you could resist, so you ended up agreeing. And as soon as his team received word that you were on board, they booked your flight and hotel reservation. And judging by the private plane sent your way, as well as the penthouse suite in the fanciest hotel in Detroit, you could tell they were putting efforts into making the whole thing happen.

In truth, Marshall had been obsessed with your music for a while. He had randomly discovered one of your tracks and he had ended up binge-listening to everything you had ever put out. Why you weren’t a superstar yet, he was not sure. What he did know, however, is that he needed to be on a track with you. Soon enough, a big, household name would collaborate with you and he would have lost his chance. Every time he heard your voice, gritty and lush with this edge he couldn’t quite define, he felt himself get pulled deeper into an obsession he couldn’t shake. You were fresh, unlike anything he’d heard—raw, provocative, and willing to cut to the bone. And now, finally, you were coming to his studio to work with him.

The door swung open, and in walked the woman who’d been running laps in his mind for the better part of the year : you. She was as striking as her voice, with a smirk that hinted at trouble, and eyes that seemed to take in everything all at once. One that said you knew exactly what you were worth, and that you were not impressed by his notoriety. One look at you and he could tell you weren’t one of those new artists who got all shy once they were face to face with him, often trying too hard to mold themselves to his expectations. And, of course, he liked it. That was exactly what he was looking for. Being one of the greatest was, in many ways, a blessing, but it was also a curse, especially when one was looking to constantly renew themselves, push the pen and their artistic boundaries.

There was an instant click, a mutual electricity hanging in the air. Marshall didn’t miss the way your gaze lingered on him, a mix of curiosity and challenge. “Didn’t think you’d actually pull it off,” you said, eyebrows raised as you looked around the high-end studio. Your voice, lower than he’d expected, hit him like a sucker punch, all slow confidence and swagger. “Didn’t give myself a choice,” he shot back, holding your gaze. “When I want something, well, in that case, someone, I get it.” You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into that signature smirk. “I guess that makes two of us. Let’s get to work, yeah?”

You settled in, talking about the track, about the way he wanted to play with tension, throw caution to the wind, using some of your work as inspiration and reference. You were on the same wavelength from the start—both looking to take risks, create something that would linger in people’s minds, make the audience feel something intense.

The track he had in mind was something dark and seductive, a pulsing bass line underlying a beat that was slow but biting. He laid down his first verse, his voice smooth and confident, every word dripping with an intentional intensity. He could feel you watching him from the booth, the way your eyes followed every line he delivered. He didn’t hold back, letting his lyrics flirt with the edge of decency, taking up space in a way that dared you to match it. Of course, you were intent on proving that you were up to the challenge. When it was your turn, you took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and let it all pour out, your voice a rich, smoky counterpoint to his. Your verse didn’t just match his energy—it went toe to toe, pushing him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. You turned his words back on him, responding with lines that danced between taunt and temptation. Your lyrics seemed to pull at him, inviting and provocative, every line like a hand wrapped around his collar, drawing him in. As you recorded, Marshall’s mind raced. This wasn’t just a track. It was something else—something that was as personal as it was artistic. The tension wasn’t just in the music. It was in the room, filling the space between you, every glance and every word laced with double meanings.

When you wrapped up, they both took a breath, looking at each other across the soundboard. The track was like nothing he’d done before—raw, sensual, a collision of their styles in a way that felt both inevitable and dangerous. “Damn,” you murmured, still catching her breath. “Didn’t think you had that in you.” He smirked, leaning back in his chair. “I guess you bring it out of me.”

The two of you sat in silence, the unspoken hanging there, both of you fully aware that you had created something unforgettable—not just in the music, but in the connection you had formed, a synergy that was addictive, electrifying, and undeniable. The hypothesis was verified as soon as his team heard it and you saw their eyes open wide with a mix of shock and excitement. They exchanged glances, murmuring among themselves as they processed what they’d just heard. One of his longtime producers. “Man…that was…” He trailed off, shaking his head, unable to find the right words. “It’s insane. I’ve never heard anything like it from you before.” Paul, his manager, practically vibrating with excitement, chimed in. “That track—it’s got this… it’s hot, but it’s intense, like… it’s like you two were…” He hesitated, not daring to finish the sentence. You let out a low laugh and raised an eyebrow when you caught the unspoken word.

Marshall smirked, feeling that same rush he’d felt in the booth, that electricity that seemed to carry through every single line you’d spit back and forth. “It’s a vibe,” he said, his voice casual, but the gleam in his eyes told everyone that he knew exactly what you had both created. “We went all out on this one.” Paul turned to him, a sudden fire in his eyes. “You can’t let this just be an audio track, man. People have to see this. They need to see that tension. It needs a music video—one that’s as raw as the track itself.” His personal assistant, Tracy, nodded, practically bouncing in her seat. “Exactly. I mean, the lyrics alone…there’s a story there. It’s like a back-and-forth, the chemistry, the intensity. You’re going to leave people craving more if they don’t get the full visual experience.”

You glanced over at him, eyes sparkling. “They’re right, you know. The track isn’t just something you hear—it’s something you feel.” For a moment, he let himself imagine it. A dimly lit set, shadows casting just the right angles, both of your voices echoing through a dark, intimate setting. Your verses bouncing off each other, your eyes locked, the tension between you building in every frame. He could see it perfectly—a music video that wasn’t just a performance but an experience, where every look, every gesture, was a continuation of the fire that had been poured into the track. “All right,” he finally said, feeling a grin stretch across his face. “Let’s make it happen.”

His team erupted in cheers, already throwing around ideas for directors, cinematographers, and set designs. But through it all, you and Marshall stayed locked in, that same spark between you burning as bright as ever. You leaned in, your voice low, almost teasing. “Guess you’re stuck with me for a little longer, then.” He gave a slow, satisfied nod, knowing exactly what you’d just set in motion. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Weeks later, the music video finally dropped, it was like striking a match in a gasoline-soaked room—the internet exploded. Within hours, the video was trending worldwide, fans and critics alike flooding social media with reactions that ranged from awe to outright disbelief. It was intense, raw, and more than a little suggestive. The chemistry that had been palpable on the track was cranked up to maximum on screen, leaving viewers questioning just how much was acting and how much was real.

The video opened in a dimly lit, shadowed room, smoky and moody, with neon lighting casting dramatic hues across the scene. You and Marshall faced each other in the middle of the room, your silhouettes close but never quite touching. The way you exchanged verses was more than just a performance—it felt like a conversation laced with danger, anticipation, and something unmistakably intimate. Each line you spit felt like a challenge, each look lingering just a little too long. One of the most talked-about scenes showed you standing nose-to-nose, voices dropping to a murmur as you exchanged lyrics that sounded more like secret fantasies than lines in a song. His hand brushed down you arm, your gaze locked on his with an intensity that made it impossible for viewers to look away. Every second of the video was like a slow burn, inching closer to the edge without ever quite going over it. But the tension between the two of you was undeniable, and that fine line between performance and reality left people buzzing.

Immediately after the video ended, social media exploded with speculation. Fans were dissecting every moment, rewatching certain frames on repeat, turning them into gifs in the process, trying to find evidence that what they’d witnessed wasn’t just acting. A tweet from a prominent rap reactor read: “That video was more than a collab. Did they actually…?” Another comment racked up thousands of likes: “I swear they DID it on camera. You can’t fake chemistry like that.” Even celebrities chimed in. One famous pop artist tweeted, “Is it just me or did they actually record their dirty talk in te studio? 🔥🔥🔥,” while others posted cryptic reactions that only fueled the frenzy. Fans shared memes about “needing a cigarette after that video” or “wanting what they have.” A rumor began circulating that someone from the crew had leaked hints of “off-camera moments” that were even more intense, stoking the intrigue and mystery surrounding the pair.

When asked about it in interviews, Marshall gave his trademark smirk and brushed it off. “We wanted to make it unforgettable. I’d say we did our job,” he said with a gleam in his eye, adding nothing to deny or confirm the rumors. And yourself, just as sly and playful, simply said, “I guess you’ll never know. But you can certainly dream about it.” The ambiguity only fueled the fire. The video racked up millions of views within days, and the speculation became part of its mystique. Fans debated, celebrities whispered, and music critics declared it “one of the sexiest collaborations of the decade,” a “masterclass in tension and allure.”

The two of you certainly had fun watching people’s reaction to the track. Both of you had enjoyed the collaboration, the artistic chemistry being absolutely undeniable, and when Marshall offered to produce some tracks for your upcoming album, you happily accepted. The two of you spent a lot of time in the studio, getting to know each other and joking around whole you got work done. You were kind of amazed that the hype around your collaboration didn’t seem to die down. You were in a cozy corner of the studio, scrolling through your phones and watching the internet collectively lose its mind. Every tweet, every meme, every fiery reaction sent you both into fits of laughter and smirking exchanges. It felt like you were sharing in on some private joke, one that only you knew the punchline to. “Did you see this one?” you laughed, nudging him and holding your phone out so he could see. It was a meme of the two of you side-by-side with captions that read: ’When you make a whole music video just to flirt,’ and ’They can’t act that well… right?’

He chuckled, shaking his head as he read it. “I mean, they’re not totally wrong,” he murmured, his voice low, a teasing glint in his eyes as he looked up at you. You arched an eyebrow, biting your lip to keep from smiling too much. “Oh, really?” You let the words hang in the air, daring him to take the bait. He leaned back, pretending to think about it. “Maybe,” he said slowly, smirking. “Maybe they’re onto something. All those people guessing we weren’t just acting… I mean, what do you think?”. You gave him a playful shove, laughing. “I think you’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Nah,” he replied, scooting a little closer. “You’re the one who keeps egging them on.” He raised his eyebrow, giving her that signature cocky grin. “You love it. Admit it.” You rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “I’m not saying I don’t like watching them squirm a little,” you said, smirking as you glanced down at another comment that read: ’The only thing hotter than the track is the way they look at each other.’ “I mean, they do have a point, though. The chemistry is… undeniable.”

“Oh, we’re undeniable now?” he teased, leaning in close enough that you could feel his breath against your cheek. “Undeniable chemistry, huh?” You shrugged, pretending to be unaffected, though you were pretty sure that he could see the flush creeping up your neck. “I mean… I just call it like I see it,” you murmured, your voice a little lower, a little softer.

There was a charged silence as you both looked at each other, the playful edge lingering but shifting slightly, deepening. His fingers brushed yours, just barely, but enough that you both felt the spark. “You know,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking between her gaze and her lips, “we could give them a little more to talk about.” Your grin was wicked as you leaned in, your voice barely a whisper. “Now that would really set the internet on fire.”

[therealcocoshady]

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.

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober- Day 2 - Public Humiliation

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : here is the post for the second day of Kinktober 👀. The prompt is Public Humiliation. I honestly couldn’t picture Em being into public humiliation but hey maybe I’m wrong so I decided to write about him giving it a try… for the sake of his kinky girlfriend 🙊

CW : Public humiliation - Dirty Talk - Embarrassment - Fingering - Fluff

You were almost embarrassed when you had approached Marshall, weeks ago. You’d been together for a little while and everything was going great, but confessing kinks didn’t come too easily to you, even though you trusted him. When you told him you had a thing for public humiliation, he was taken aback at first, almost hesitant. He didn’t judge you, but it wasn’t in his nature to be cruel. Sure, he’d been mean to partners in the past, cruel, even, but he was a changed man. Plus, he absolutely adored you, so being mean to you did not make any sense. He had always treated you like royalty and he hated the idea of belittling you, even if you asked for it. However, you assured him it was something you wanted, that made you feel alive I ways you could not quite explain. You’d tried to put words on it, explaining that there was something intimate, that it was all about trust and that he was, in fact, the person you trusted the most. He didn’t necessarily get it, but after some careful consideration, he agreed to give it a try, during a dinner party he hosted at his place. For obvious reasons, he could not indulge you in a very public setting, in a room full of strangers that might record the thing or talk to the press. So the safest bet was to do it in private, at his place, with people he knew and was comfortable around. You had both agreed to keep it light, but the perspective was enough for you to find it titillating. 

You knew everyone that would be present, just a few of his friends for a casual dinner party. You got along with everyone and you happily spent the day in the kitchen. You weren’t a chef but you enjoyed cooking and knowing your amazing boyfriend had agreed to indulge your kink definitely put you in a good mood. The table was set, and their guests were mingling, sipping drinks and chatting casually as Marshall sat at the head of the table, watching you move around the kitchen, plating the final dish. His heart pounded, knowing what was coming. You had agreed on what would happen and you had done everything you could to make him as comfortable as possible, even agreeing on some safe word and signal if either one of you found things to be overwhelming at some point. You both trusted each other, and he knew he could pull back at any point. He was a little stressed out, though. He’d been an asshole to partners before, sometimes even in public. Back then, drug addiction helping, he hadn’t cared too much about the consequences. But you were his queen, he revered you like some sort of deity and he was apprehensive at the thought of hurting you, breaking something about the precious relationship you shared. Also, as someone who had evolved, he was a little wary as to how people would perceive him. A decade and a half ago, he might not have cared, but now he did. He knew he would have to find some sort of balance : be enough of an asshole to titillate you, but stay on the safe side so that it wouldn’t embarrass his guests. Of course, it would have been easier in a room full of strangers he’d never have to see again, there wouldn’t have been so much at stake… But being one of the most famous rappers in the world made it virtually impossible. He couldn’t help but pick on the cruel irony that he was a public figure whose significant other had a kink for being humiliated in public. He wasn’t particularly kinky but it would probably have been easier for him to indulge you if you’d had a thing for golden showers or anything that could be done in private. As for you, you seemed blissfully unaware of what was going on in his brain, humming as you brought the dish on the table. 

Dinner began, and everything seemed normal at first. He waited for the right moment, feeling his stomach twist as he prepared for what he was about to do. « Everything alright with the cooking, babe ? », he asked. You smiled at him, your good mood apparent « All good, I think. You tell me. », you replied softly. He took a bite and looked at you, something sharp in his eyes. « You know, I would have thought but impossible to mess a dish as simple as this but… You managed, I guess. Maybe it’s a talent. », he said. A few of his friends laughed awkwardly, unsure if he was serious. After all, they were used to his dry humor. You met his gaze from across the table, your eyes shining, a glint of excitement hidden behind the feigned hurt in your expression. « Oh. I’m sorry. I did my best… », you said softly as you refrained yourself from smiling too much. « I’m sure », he shot back. « Maybe next time I’ll hire a cook. Someone who knows what they’re doing. ». 

The tension in the room thickened. You could see a couple of people share nervous glances, but Marshall didn’t stop. He knew this was what you wanted. You had asked for it, almost begged him for it in the privacy of his bedroom, but now, with all eyes on him, it felt very real. Almost too real. Yet, he continued. « Speaking of knowing what you’re doing… How’s that pet project going on for you ? », he asked with disdain. « You mean my new job ? », you asked innocently.  « Whatever you want to call it, I guess. Though an actual job would… you know… pay actual money », he shrugged. « Well, I just started doing freelance so… I’m still… um, working on it », you said as your voice got lower. The whole thing was demeaning and embarrassing. The way he looked at you with contempt, the tone he used, the way his words stung, the look on people’s faces… It was embarrassing. Humiliating. And you absolutely loved it. Marshall could see it by the way you gripped your cutlery and the flush on your face, which the guests probably mistook for embarrassment. « Right. ‘Working on it’. Though I hope you mean you’re working harder than when you’re ‘working’ in the gym. Like, if you’re going to talk about it so much, you should at least show some results. »  

The silence in the room was deafening now. Marshall’s heart raced. He hated every word coming out of his mouth, but your eyes told him to keep going. « You’re lucky you’re pretty. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have a lot going on for you. », he added. Some people in the room looked absolutely mortified. As for you, you were looking down, face flushed with humiliation and something else - something only Marshall knew about. You were sitting in your chair, staring at him, feeling soaking wet. He was good at it. So good. The way he belittled you, demeaned you… It did things to you. It was even better than what you had anticipated.  As the dinner went on, he made a few more biting remarks, cutting into your cooking, your career aspirations, and even your body in ways that made his skin crawl. You played your part perfectly, responding with a mix of hurt and feigned disappointment, but every so often, you’d give him that look—the one that reassured him you were enjoying every second of it. Finally, as the evening came to an end and the guests filed out, offering awkward goodbyes and sideways glances, the house fell silent. The moment the door clicked shut, Marshall turned to you, his face pale with regret. « Babe, I- », he began but you cut him out by kissing him lovingly. « You were perfect », you said earnestly. « It was amazing ! ». He cupped your face and stared at you for a couple of seconds, his face full of disbelief. Eventually, he pulled you in for a warm hug. « I hated it », he said. « I don’t know how you- I don’t know », he sighed. You smiled and placed a kiss on his pec. « It was exactly what I wanted », you said. « Thank you ». 

He looked at you again, an undecipherable expression on his face. He didn’t get it. Some kinks, he could get the appeal, even though he wasn’t particularly interested. But this, this was beyond him. « You’re insane, do you know that ? », he asked with furrowed eyebrows. You let out a giggle before replying with a grin « I know ». He sighed and gently cupped your face. « I love you, Y/N », he said in a low voice. « But I don’t know if I can do that again. Being mean to you? It’s like... it’s the opposite of everything I feel about you ». You nodded with understanding before placing a soft kiss on his lips. « I know. That’s why it means so much that you did it for me tonight ». He hummed and kissed you again, not letting go. As if he wanted to make sure that you were ok, that the love you shared remained intact and wasn’t tainted by the events of the night. In truth, you felt the opposite. This brought you closer. The frown on his face started to worry you, though. You’d had a great time and you were more than grateful that he indulged you, but you didn’t want it to be an awful experience for him. « Are you upset ? », you asked carefully. « No, I- I just don’t get it, you know ? I don’t get how you can be into… that ». You smiled and tilted your head, amusement playing on your lips. « Into what ? ». He sighed and gestured vaguely. « This. This whole humiliation thing. I just spent the entire dinner ripping you apart in front of everyone, saying things I don’t even believe, and you were just sitting there—loving it. ». Your smile grew wider, a twinkle of excitement visible in your eyes. « Oh, I was more than loving it », you said. Marshall shook his head, torn between disbelief and something deeper—something that, despite everything, made him want to understand you. « What’s wrong with you? » he asked, half-joking, half-serious. « You’ve got this... kink for being humiliated. You like being talked down to, like I’m supposed to just tear into you and you’re gonna walk away with a smile on your face? That’s messed up. ». Your eyes flickered with that unmistakable glint—the one you got when he pushed your buttons just right. You bit your lip, enjoying the way his frustration was manifesting, the way his words stung but also ignited something within you. « Maybe it’s what I need. Maybe I like being messed up. Maybe I like it when you’re mean to me. Maybe it turns me on to have you rip into me and make me feel small. ». The excitement was palpable in your voice. It was sultry, full of lust. Marshall stared at you, his jaw tightening as he tried to reconcile the conflict brewing inside him. « ou really want me to make you feel worthless? You really want me to tear you apart like that? » he asked. 

« Yes », you whispered, your voice low. « I want you to tear me apart. I want you to call me pathetic, to tell me I’m not good enough. I want you to say all those things because it’s you saying them, and I know you don’t mean it. ». He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, trying to make sense of what you were saying. « So, what—you want me to sit here and tell you how messed up you are? You want me to go off on how crazy it is that my girlfriend has a kink for being humiliated? ». The edge in his voice had returned, and you could feel the energy between you shift. You nodded, your heart racing as his words cut deeper, but it wasn’t the hurt you craved—it was the rawness, the vulnerability that came with it. « Yeah » you breathed as you felt your pulse quickening. « I want you to tell me just how weird I am. How messed up it is that I get off on you being cruel to me. Tell me everything you think but are too afraid to say ». Your boyfriend’s jaw clenched as he stared at you, the conflict swirling inside him like a storm. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing as he leaned down, his voice dropping to a low, almost dangerous tone. « You want me to say it? Fine. ». His words were sharp now, cutting like the verses he spit on stage, but this time, there was no crowd, no mic—just the two of you, locked in a twisted, shared understanding. « You’re twisted » he hissed as his eyes locked on to you. « You get off on this? On being told you’re not good enough? On me making you feel small in front of everyone? That’s messed up. Who even thinks like that? ». Your breath caught in your throat as he continued, his words hitting you like a drug. « You love it, don’t you? » he continued, his voice gaining momentum. « ou love it when I point out all your flaws, like how you can never seem to finish anything you start, or how you act all confident, but deep down, you’re just looking for someone to knock you down a peg. ». 

You shivered under his words, your pulse racing as his insults landed perfectly, pushing all the right buttons. You could barely hold back the way her body responded, your lips parting in anticipation for more, your nipples hardening, goosebumps appearing on your skin. And the wetness in your panties, it was criminal. « And the cooking? » he continued, his voice still laced with venom, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of something softer, something only you would catch. « You think making a dinner for a few friends means anything when half the time, you barely know what you’re doing in the kitchen? That’s what you’re proud of? Please. ». Your skin flushed, and you felt a warmth spread through your body as he kept going. You knew this wasn’t easy for him—that it was taking everything in him to keep up the facade. But that’s what made it so perfect. « You’re insane, » he muttered, his voice growing quieter, though no less intense. « You’re absolutely insane for liking this. You know that, right? It’s messed up that you want this from me. » And then, as if to punctuate the moment, he stepped even closer, his lips almost brushing against your ear as he whispered, « But you love it, don’t you? ».  A shudder ran through you as his words hung in the air, your chest heaving with the intensity of what had just transpired. You looked up at him, eyes shining with everything you felt but couldn’t put into words. « I love it, » you whispered back, your voice trembling but sure. « I love it because it’s you. ». 

Marshall's thumb lingered on your cheek as his breathing slowed, the intensity between you still thick in the air. He stared into your eyes, seeing the raw vulnerability, the excitement, the love you had for him—despite everything he had just said. There was no question now; you were thriving in the energy you had created. But now, all he could think about was how much he wanted to close the gap between you. Your lips parted slightly as you leaned closer, your eyes flicking to his mouth. The anticipation hung between you like a live wire, and Marshall couldn't hold back anymore. He lowered his face to your, his lips capturing yours in a sudden, desperate kiss. It started slow, tentative, as if he was afraid you might still be hurt by what he'd said earlier, but you responded immediately. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss with a hunger that matched his own. He could feel your body pressing into him, the heat of the shared tension spilling over into something else entirely—something you both needed. Marshall's hands slid down your back, pulling you even tighter against him as the kisses grew more heated, more frantic. He felt the familiar rush, the way your lips moved against his, soft but demanding. Every ounce of guilt he had felt moments earlier dissolved as you kissed him back, as if you were trying to tell him with every touch that this was exactly what you wanted, that he was exactly what you needed. You couldn’t help but moan softly into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair, and it drove him wild. He kissed you harder, his lips moving with more urgency now, tasting the sweetness of your desire, the intensity of everything that had built up tonight. Your body responded to every movement, pressing against him, and he could feel your heart racing in time with his own. Marshall pulled away for just a second, breathless, his forehead resting against your. « You’re crazy, you know that? » he muttered, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke.,You grinned, breath ragged as you pulled him back into another kiss. « I know, » you whispered against his mouth before your lips met again, the heat undeniable. He pushed you against the nearest wall as you kept on making out, one of his hands wasting no time going under your dress to go and check If what he suspected was true. As soon as his had cupped your pussy over the lacy fabric of your underwear, he knew he was right. You weren’t wet. You were absolutely soaked, almost dripping. He looked at you, his stare a mix of shock and lust. « Fucking twisted », he muttered before resuming the kissing. You hummed into the kiss, his hands on you driving you absolutely wild. He pushed your panties aside, inserting a finger, immediately earning a moan. « Look at you. All wet because I’m telling you the truth - how fucking deranged you are. It’s pitiful ». You whimpered and he added as second finger, immediately starting to thrust. As his hand worked his magic between your legs, he kept on whispering in your ear, choosing the right words to drive you crazy. You looked at him with pleading eyes, praying that he’d keep going. You had never been so turned on, ever, ad he could tell. He spent the night using it to his advantage, taking you for round after round. As twisted as the whole thing was, he get off on seeing you get off, and the orgasmic bliss made the whole agony of the dinner absolutely worth it. 

The next day, you woke up to the sound of Marshall walking into the room, placing a tray on the bed. « Good morning princess » he said lovingly. You’d had a good sleep and the memories of the night had you smiling from ear to ear. « Morning my love » you cooed. « I thought you’d enjoy breakfast in bed », he said softly. « There’s pancakes, coffee, juice, and I even had croissants delivered, from that bakery you like ». You gave him a smile full of gratitude and kissed him lovingly as he sat next to you. « You’re the best », you said. « Anything for you, love », he replied earnestly before kissing your temple. « So, this is what? You’re going to give me the royal treatment because you called me out on my cooking? » you giggled. « Exactly, » he said, his face serious, as if he had rehearsed the whole thing. « I need to make sure you know you’re my everything. I don’t care if you loved the whole humiliation thing—I’m still gonna treat you like you deserve. ». The sincerity in his voice was almost too much. You loved him for it, even if it made you laugh. « Marsh, » you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck, « I don’t think you understand. I really enjoyed it. You don’t have to keep doing all of this ». « Yeah, but I want to, » he cut in, leaning down to kiss your forehead. « I don’t care if you liked it. I’m not letting you think that’s who I really am, though. I don’t ever want you to feel less than amazing. ». You let out a soft laugh, your heart swelling with affection for this man. He could be stubborn as hell, but that was one of the reasons you loved him so much. Even when you were perfectly fine with the way things were, he went out of his way to make sure you knew just how much you meant to him. « Fine, » you said, still smiling. “If you insist on treating me like a princess, I guess I’ll just have to enjoy it.” He grinned. « Good. Because I’m not stopping. »

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 19 - Cheating

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : hey everyone ! It’s been a while 💕. Sorry, I am drowning in work. That being said, I’m still finding time here and there to write for Kinktober 😉. The prompt for this one was « cheating ». I hope you like it ! Also… enjoy this pic. We were graced with quite a few of them following the Austin performance and I’m not mad 🙈. This man looked like a snack !

CW : infidelity - mention of infertility and IVF - pregnancy

The studio lights flickered dimly, casting long shadows across the room as Marshall sat hunched over the soundboard. His fingers tapped impatiently on the edge of the desk, staring at the unfinished lyrics scattered in front of him. The words weren’t coming as easily tonight, but the work never stopped. He’d been pulling late nights for weeks, trying to piece together his upcoming album, juggling meetings, collaborations, and studio time. But no matter how hard he pushed, the tension followed him home. It was late, nearly 2 a.m., when he finally walked through the front door of his house. The moment he stepped inside, Marshall felt it—the suffocating weight of an argument brewing. You were sitting on the couch, arms crossed tightly over your chest, lips pursed in that familiar scowl that never seemed to leave you, lately.

« You're late. Again, » you said, your voice biting. Marshall sighed, dropping his keys onto the counter with a clink. « Yeah, I told you I had studio time tonight. I sent you a text, didn’t I? ». Your eyes flashed. « A text? You think a text makes up for the fact that you’ve been gone every night for weeks? You don’t even talk to me anymore, Marshall. You just come home late, act like a ghost, and expect everything to be fine. ». He was too tired for this. His hands went to the back of his neck, rubbing at the tension building there. « Y/N, I’m working. You know that. I’m not out screwing around or whatever it is you think. ». « Am I supposed to believe that? » you snapped, standing up. "You expect me to just sit here, wait for you, and believe you’re not seeing someone else? You disappear for hours every day, and I don’t even know if it’s really the studio you’re at anymore. How am I supposed to trust you?  And you don’t exactly have an impeccable track record either… » Marshall’s eyes darkened. He knew you had trust issues—you’d been hurt before—but he wasn’t cheating. He’d been loyal to you in a way he hadn’t been with anyone else. But the constant accusations were wearing him down, and tonight was the breaking point. « I’m busting my ass, Y/N, » he said, his voice rising with anger. « Every day, trying to build something for us, keep my career going. But all you ever do is accuse me of shit that’s not happening. »

« Because you’re giving me reasons to! » you finally shouted. « You’re distant, you’re gone all the time. What am I supposed to think, Marshall? That you’re just too busy for me? That you’re so devoted to your work you can’t even be here for us? ». He clenched his fists, feeling the frustration boiling inside him. He’d had enough. « You know what? I wish I was cheating. At least I’d be having a good time instead of drowning in all this work and coming home to you nagging me every damn night. »

Your face fell, eyes widening with hurt. But your reaction wasn’t what he expected. Instead of breaking down, you hardened. It was one night too many and you were sick of it. He kept on saying he’d do better and yet, he never did. Clearly, you didn’t matter enough. Otherwise, he would have put his words into action and kept his promise to put you first. A promise that seemed long forgotten, now. « Then go ahead, » you said coldly, your voice low and sharp. « If that’s what you want, if you think that’s better than being here, go. Do it. ». Marshall blinked, thrown off by your words. « Y/N, don’t-».

« No, » you cut him off. "If you wish you were cheating so bad, then do it. I don’t care anymore. » The anger flared again, and before he could stop himself, Marshall grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the house. He didn’t know where he was going at first. The cool night air hit his face as he sped down the street and out of your neighborhood, his mind buzzing with rage. He ended up at a place he hadn’t been in years—a strip club on the outskirts of Detroit. It was a dive, the kind of place he used to hit up when he was younger, before fame had swallowed him whole. A memory of his party days, when he used to drink and smoke as much as he could, getting cheap lap dances. Before he became wealthy enough to move on to finer, fancier establishments. The neon lights flickered above the entrance as he walked inside, the bass-heavy music vibrating through his chest. He told himself he was just blowing off steam. He needed to clear his head, to escape for a while. Forget about his anger towards you. He hated being mad at you. But as he sat at the bar, watching the dancers move across the stage, his mind started to drift. Before long, a dancer slid into the seat next to him—flirtatious, bold, exactly what he wanted to distract him from the mess at home. One thing led to another. She invited him to a private room, and in a haze of pent-up frustration, he fucked up. It wasn’t until afterward, as he lay in the dim light of the room, that the weight of what he’d done hit him. The guilt sank deep into his bones, and he felt sick to his stomach. This wasn’t just another mistake, another mess he could clean up. He had crossed a line, and there was no coming back from it. He couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol. For the first time in fifteen years, he cursed his sobriety.

You were the one person he had promised himself he wouldn’t betray, the only woman he had stayed faithful to. You were different, special. He loved you in a way he hadn’t loved anyone else. But now, that was ruined. He had thrown it all away in a moment of anger and weakness. Marshall pulled on his clothes, the silence in the room suffocating. He didn’t even say a word to the dancer as he left. His mind was spinning, regret and shame tearing at him with every step. When he stepped outside into the night air, it felt colder than before, the weight of his actions pressing down on him like a lead blanket. He sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel, his breath ragged. What had he done? There was no excuse. No justification. You had your trust issues, sure, but he had betrayed you in the worst way possible. And for what? A few minutes of distraction? He was disgusted with himself. That stripper… She wasn’t even good. She didn’t compare to you. She didn’t have your smile, your warmth. She was so random, so devoid of charm that he had already forgotten what she looked like. She’d been no better than a random fleshlight. Not that it would make a compelling argument in his defense.

Marshall closed his eyes, feeling the tears burning behind his eyelids. He had ruined everything—the one relationship he thought he could make work, the one person who believed in him despite all his flaws. He knew, in his gut, that there was no going back. And now, he had to face the fallout.

The ride home was the longest one Marshall had ever taken. The streetlights passed by in a blur, but inside the car, his thoughts were sharp and jagged. Every second that ticked by brought him closer to facing the one thing he didn’t know if he could handle—telling you what he’d done. His heart pounded as he pulled into the driveway. The house looked the same, calm and quiet under the soft glow of the porch light. It was deceptive, mocking almost, considering the storm that was about to hit. The same house where the two of you had shared so much love and laughter, where you had fought side by side through the hardest days of your lives. And now, he had single-handedly destroyed it all. Marshall sat in the car for a long minute, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. He wanted to run, to drive away and pretend none of this had happened. But there was no escape. Not this time. Finally, with a deep breath, he opened the car door and stepped out. The familiar creak of the front steps under his feet sent a chill down his spine as he approached the door. He didn’t know how he was going to do this, how he was going to tell you that he had betrayed you in the worst possible way.

When he stepped inside, the house was dimly lit, and you were there, sitting on the couch. As soon as you saw him, your face softened with an expression that threw him off guard. You didn’t look angry this time. You didn’t look like you were about to accuse him of anything. Instead, you looked… calm. Tired, but calm. « Hey, » you said quietly, looking up as he walked in. Marshall closed the door behind him, his stomach in knots. He didn’t deserve that softness from you, not after what he had done. He felt the weight of his guilt crushing down on him, and it took everything in him to keep from falling apart right then and there. « Y/N, I— » he started, his voice low and rough, but you interrupted him, standing up and crossing the room toward him. « Marshall, wait, » you said, your tone apologetic, a far cry from the way you had spoken to him earlier. « I need to say something first. ». He blinked, his heart racing as you came closer, your eyes filled with regret. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected you to look at him like that, not after the way you had fought. « I’m sorry, » you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. « I was mean earlier. I’ve been mean for a while, and I’ve been blaming you for things that aren’t fair. I know you’re working hard, and I just—  » You stopped, your voice catching in your throat. « I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I think maybe… maybe it’s just the hormones talking. »

Marshall froze. The word "hormones" didn’t register at first, not fully. He just stared at you, his mind trying to catch up with what you had just said. But then, like a slow wave crashing over him, it hit him. Hormones.You were pregnant.As you saw the confusion and disbelief on his face you smiled—a small, tentative smile, but it was there. Your eyes welled up, and you reached for his hand, placing it gently over your stomach.

« Marshall, I’m pregnant, » you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. « I wasn’t sure how to tell you… I just found out. After everything we’ve been through, I didn’t think it would ever happen. I didn’t even bother tracking my cycle. But… it worked. We’re having a baby. ». Marshall’s breath hitched, his heart slamming against his chest. The news should’ve been everything. It should’ve been the happiest moment of his life. You had both tried so hard for this. Years of heartbreak. Two failed IVF attempts that left you devastated, and both of you resigned to the fact that maybe it wasn’t in the cards for you. It had taken a while for you to convince him to try for a baby but he had caved in, he had come to love the idea of having a family with you. You were the love of his life, after all. His safe place. If there was anyone with whom it made sense to create new life, it was you. So the failed attempts had been just as hard on him. He had held you through the tears, telling you you’d be okay, that they didn’t need a baby to complete your family if it wasn’t meant to be. But deep down, he knew how much it had crushed you. He had wanted it too—so badly. But now…

Now, the miracle you had both given up on was real, right in front of you. You were carrying his child. You had managed to conceive naturally, no lengthy doctors appointment, no impersonal hospital visit. Just the two of you, making love, resulting in a tiny miracle. It should’ve been perfect. But all Marshall could feel was the crushing weight of what he had done hanging over him like a death sentence. His throat tightened, and the words he needed to say felt like knives lodged in his chest. He stared down at you, your face glowing with hope, your eyes filled with a kind of joy that made him want to die inside.

« I… » he started, his voice breaking. He couldn’t keep this from you. He owed you the truth. He had to tell you, no matter how much it was going to destroy you, no matter how much it would ruin this moment. You were the love of his life, his one and only, and he could ever lie to you. But before he could get the words out, you stepped closer, pressing your forehead against his chest, holding him tighter. « I know I’ve been hard on you. I’ve been so scared, Marshall. So scared we’d never get this. And now… now we’re going to be parents. Together. » Your voice was filled with so much hope, so much love, it felt like a punch to the gut. « I’ve wanted this for so long. We’ve wanted this for so long, » you whispered, looking up at him, tears in your eyes. « And I’m so sorry for doubting you. You didn’t deserve that. I love you, and I trust you. I do. I know you’re not like the guys who hurt me before. ». Marshall felt the air leave his lungs, his heart shattering into a thousand pieces. The truth was lodged in his throat, but it refused to come out. How could he tell you? How could he look into your eyes, knowing the miracle you were carrying, and admit that he had thrown it all away? His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke, barely more than a whisper. « Y/N… I… I need to tell you something. »

You looked up at him, your face softening. « What is it? ». He swallowed hard, his chest tight with pain. The words were stuck, burning like acid in his throat. He had ruined everything. What was supposed to be the happiest moment of your lives was now tainted by his betrayal. « I messed up, » he whispered, his voice breaking. «  I… I did something. Something I can’t take back. Something bad. ». Your brow furrowed in confusion, and he could see the shift in your eyes as you realized that whatever he was about to say really wasn’t good. « Marshall, what… what did you do? » you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty. His heart broke as he looked into your eyes, knowing that whatever fragile hope you had would be shattered in an instant. But he had to tell you. He had to face the consequences of his actions. If he couldn’t pride himself in keeping his vow to be faithful to you, he should at least keep the one of always being honest.

« I cheated, » he confessed, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt. « I went to a strip club tonight… and I messed up, Y/N. I’m so sorry. »

Your face drained of color, your hand dropping from his. The look of betrayal in your eyes was like a knife to his soul. The miracle you had both hoped for was here, but the damage was done. And now, nothing would ever be the same again.

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Hey ❤️ ! I am happy to announce the Kinktober 2024 Masterlist ! It is directly inspired by the one made by @hornedqueenofhell ! For some days, I was not quite sure what prompt to choose, so… I have several planned ! 😉 I will update this Masterlist everyday and provide the links to the different posts as soon as they are uploaded on the blog !

Basically, Kinktober is just an opportunity for me to challenge my creative writing skills, get better at writing about smut and kinks and write about how Eminem would have certain kinks or react to his partner having one 👀 Not all posts will have the same format though. Some of them will be long, some will be shorts, some will be blurbs, some will be HCs… Some of them might not even be particularly smutty ! Basically… We shall see !

Also, as you can see… You are invited to send me your suggestions for the last day ! I’ll choose my favourite(s)… Have fun ! 🤩

Day 1 - Lingerie

Day 2 - Public Humiliation

Day 3 - Pet play : 1 - 2 - 3

Day 5 - Knifeplay

Day 6 - Sex Work

Day 7 - Medical Play

Day 9 - Costume

Day 10 - Stockings

Day 13 - Fuck Or Die - Daddy

Day 15 - Tattoo - Spanking

Day 18 - Kneeling

Day 19 - Cheating // Cheating (idea 2)

Day 20 - Size Difference + Sequel

Day 22 - Dirty Talk

Day 23 - Cockwarming

Day 25 - Rimming

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 10 - Stockings

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : Hey ! Here is the fic for the "Stocking" prompt for Kinktober. I actually made it as a sequel to the Fuck Or Die one. My mind was all over the place and I got a little carried away. I hope you like it nonetheless.

CW : ANGST - Unresolved issues - Relationship trauma - Flirting - Stocking - Infidelity - Marshall Mathers being an asshole - Reader not being any better, really

You should have known better. You should have known that, when Marshall had something in mind, there was no point in trying to reason him. And, seeing as you’d been his girlfriend for two years, you knew just obsessive and relentless he could get. Most of the time, he put these personality traits to good use in his pursuit of musical excellence. Sometimes, though, it was an omen of chaos. You were at fault, though, and you knew it. It wasn’t quite clear what had gone through your head when you allowed him to touch himself in front of you. You usually prided yourself in being a sensible human being. Pretty smart, even. But this ? It had been reckless and stupid. And it didn’t help that you had let the feeling of seduction get to your head, going as far as teasing him. There was nothing you could say in your defense. You had enjoyed the attention and had leaned into it. You had let your ego take over. As if your two year relationship with Marshall had not been one of the most damaging things that had ever happened to it. As if feeling your ex’s lustful gaze was worth betraying the trust of your fiancé. The one who had made you believe in love again. That you were worthy of attention and commitment. 

You hated yourself. You hated how stupid you were. You hated the way you were still craving for Marshall’s attention. And most of all, you hated the fact that you had let it show. Because you knew that, once he decided to have his fun with it, it would make your life a living hell. As soon as you’d heard him tell Greg « I want what you have », you knew you were fucked. You knew his asshole voice all too well. Of course he just had to torture you with it. The way he had phrased it made it seem like he wanted a relationship just as beautiful as the one you shared with your fiancé. Only you knew that what he actually wanted was the fiancée in question. You. But, sadly, you couldn’t tell Greg that. You couldn’t tell him what had happened either. Not when you were a couple of months away from your wedding, the happily ever after that you had been longing for. If he knew, he’d leave. Rightfully so. But you didn’t want to compromise your happiness for what had been a lapse in judgement. 

Afterwards, you had tried to tell yourself that, maybe it was a joke. Maybe it was just Marshall messing with your brain. You had already been vain and stupid, so why not add a side of delusion as well ? It was short-lived, though. Because the way he looked at you in the days that followed made it quite clear. He had read into the situation and seen something there. A possibility that, maybe, you weren’t as definitely done with him as you’d said you were when you left him. A possibility for him to have fun. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, though. Once a player, always a player. It’s what you had liked about him at first. His seductive aura. But sadly, it had ended up being what you disliked the most about him : he liked the fun and the chase too much. Sure, he had never cheated. As far as you knew, at least. It was more that what most of his exes could say. But just because he was faithful didn’t mean he only had eyes for you and you had come to understand that, in spite of his many qualities, he would never be the partner you needed. You had tried to convince yourself that the way he’d sometimes glance as gorgeous woman when he thought you didn’t notice was not a big deal. You had really trued to let it go be the bigger person and convince yourself that you were better than these girls who got insecure over nothing. That all men do it and, as a grown woman, you shouldn’t be so uptight. But the insecurities had kept on gnawing at you, as well as the realization that he’d probably never commit to you. 

Breaking up with him had been freeing. Heartbreaking, of course, but it was in your best interest. His reaction proved it, too. Acceptance and understanding. As soon as you had said the words, that it was over, he had come to terms with it. No fighting or arguing. He has nodded, said it was fine. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he had asked something work-related. You’d been flabbergasted, at first. Maybe he hadn’t actually understood that you had just broken up with him ? But when you asked, he had casually replied that you breaking up with him didn’t have to mean giving up on what had been a good professional partnership for seven years. Something about you being an incredible assistant, the best he could have ever hoped for. He valued you as a friend and collaborator. As weird as it was, it had been rather soothing for your ego and a good enough reason for you not to resign. You liked the job, after all. The following months had been a little weird, sure, but, in time, you had gotten used to it. Going back to being friends and working together. And then, a year and a half later, as fate would have it, you had met Greg. The opposite of Marshall. As if the universe was actually apologizing and rewarding you for being so brave, keeping on working with your ex. 

Your fiancé had healed you in so many ways. Making you feel appreciated, loved, valued. Actively pursuing you and stating his serious intentions. Not only had he told you he was marriage-minded, but he had put his words into action. After three weeks of dating, he had introduced you to his family and, on your six months anniversary, he had asked for your hand. You were finally going to live happily ever after and everyone was happy for you. Even Marshall, who seemed pretty friendly with Greg. Or at least, as friendly as he could get with someone so different from him. You should have known better than to believe your ex had any respect for your relationship. Or that he cared about your happiness more than he enjoyed seduction. Also, you should have known that a man on the chase doesn’t let any details unnoticed. Especially not when said details materialize in the form of lacy details on your thigh. 

When it came to work attire, you were usually pretty low key. You stuck to simple pieces that you were comfortable in, like your  skirt and cashmere sweater combo. Cozy enough for your day at the studio, yet sufficiently cute for the times you went out after work.  That day, you had plans with Greg, so you had swapped your usual sneakers for some cute and comfy pair of pumps. Unfortunately, the heel had accidentally ripped your last pair of tights before you left, forcing you to wear stockings instead. Breezier, for sure, but at least you didn’t have to deal with an outfit change that would make you late. You usually didn’t care about a little tardiness, neither did Marshall, but it was meeting day with Dre, who was in town, and you knew you had to be on your A-game. Lots to do. So much, in fact, that you soon forgot about your wardrobe incident. So much that you didn’t notice Marshall staring at you as you shifted in your chair, skirt sliding up a little as you moved. You should’ve known he’d notice that teasing band of lace just visible against your thigh. That his brain would read it as a signal, an invitation. 

After Dre left the building and you went back to Marshall’s office, he shut the door behind you. Your mind still on the meeting, you didn’t seem to notice right away, but you finally picked up on it, the way the tension felt charged, electric. “Marshall?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you turned to face him. “What’s up?”.  He took a breath, seemingly considering his words carefully before he moved a little closer. “I couldn’t help but notice your, uh, new wardrobe choice today,” he said, gesturing slightly toward you skirt. “Not really a ‘you’ thing… wasn’t sure if it meant anything.” You looked down, confused for a moment, and then rolled your eyes with a short laugh. “Oh, my tights ripped this morning. These were my last-minute backup, not some message for you.” You raised an eyebrow as you tried to keep it light, yet clear. “Besides, you do remember I’m engaged, right?”. He leaned against his desk, his expression softening. “Greg’s a good guy. I know. But… he’s not me.” You shook your head, a mix of frustration and humor softening your gaze. “That’s actually why I chose him. Because he’s not you. Because you were unable to commit to me.” He looked at you and hummed.  “I was,” he agreed, his voice low. “I’m just saying… we had good times”. You sighed, nervously looking down at your hands, a hint of conflict flickering across your face. “We had our time,” you said, voice softening as your gaze met his. “And it was good. But you know I wanted stability, and you… are Marshall Mathers”.  He smirked at that, self-aware and, for once, not quick to argue. “Doesn’t mean I don’t get things wrong. Doesn’t mean I can’t try to make things right if they matter enough.”

You paused, watching him closely, searching his face for something. “You’re really doing this?” you asked, a small, nervous laugh escaping your lips. “Maybe,” he admitted, shrugging. “Greg’s nice. But… I don’t think he’s what you need. I know he’s not. And you know it too”. You exhaled sharply, closing your eyes for a beat before fixing him with a glare. “I’m with Greg now. And it’s not fair for you to… to play with me like this, knowing I’m getting married in two months”. He leaned in a little closer, his voice low. “Play with you? Come on, you know me better than that. I’m just saying… if you ever had second thoughts, if you wanted something real… I’d be there. Give it a real shot this time. Not just a couple of years”. 

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head as you tried to hide your nerves and frustration. “That’s so you, Marshall. You’re saying all this now, trying to tell me you’d be different, but it just sounds like another game. Like you’re trying to say what you think I want to hear.” You folded your arms, a flash of sadness in your eyes. “If you had wanted me back, you should’ve done something about it when I left you. Not now that I’m actually with someone who’s stable, who can commit”. He watched you, undeterred, the corner of his mouth lifting as he shrugged. “Maybe it just took me a while to realize what I was missing,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your cheeks flush against your will. You hated yourself for reacting this way. But it seemed like the bastard knew you too well. “Besides, you’re here, looking like that, and I can’t help but remember… things”, he added with a smirk that showed you he knew exactly what he was doing. As always with him, it was deliberate. No accident. You shifted uncomfortably, a reluctant heat crawling up your neck as his words sank in. You felt his gaze like a touch, and it irritated you that he could still do this to you, make your pulse race despite every reason to resist. “Marshall, just stop,” you said, your voice tense. “I’m with Greg. And this—this flirting… it’s not fair to him or to me”. 

“Is it really just flirting, though?” he asked, his voice soft, eyes never leaving yours. “Feels like maybe, just maybe, you’re into this, too. And that’s okay. We had something good, after all. We could have it again if you’d let yourself see it.” You bit your lip, the irritation flaring up again, even as your own reaction to him betrayed you. You could feel your pulse quicken, the way his gaze made you feel like you were the only woman in the world, the only one who mattered. And that frustrated you even more. He had no right of making you feel this way. Not when it was all you had wanted from him for so long and he knew it. It was bad enough that he was trying to get to you, but this didn’t feel like seduction. It felt like torture. Some sort of emotional warfare. 

You crossed your arms tightly, glancing at him with a mixture of irritation and something dangerously close to vulnerability. “You’re being cruel, Marshall,” you accused, your voice low but firm. “You know exactly what you’re doing. And you know how much it hurts”. He looked at you ad shook his head. “Cruel?” he echoed, voice soft, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He leaned back against the nearest wall, gaze roving over your face. “I’m just being honest.” You shook your head, feeling the flush creep up your neck despite yourself and your conscience scolding you. “You had your chance with me, Marshall. And now you’re—”

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he cut in, his voice a shade more vulnerable than you’d expected. His gaze was intense, all traces of teasing wiped away, and it held you still, making you forget your next words. “The other day, seeing that look in your eyes again… It was like I got this tiny piece of you back, and then you’re gone again, right out of my reach.” You felt your heart skip, your fingers curling slightly as his words sank in, but you hardened yourself, forcing your expression to stay steady. “You make it sound so easy, like you’re just entitled to pull me back in because you suddenly decided you miss me,�� she said, struggling to keep her voice even. “But I have a life now, Marshall. A real relationship. With someone who… who actually wants me.”

“I know I fucked up,” he said, his voice dropping lower, holding your gaze. “But believe me, it was hard, trying to get over you, then. And now? Now it’s impossible. You think I haven’t tried? Think I haven’t wondered how it’d be to just let you go and move on?”. His voice wavered slightly, but it was his eyes, that quiet intensity, that made your pulse race. And as much as you hated it, your body reacted, remembering exactly how that gaze used to unravel you. “Marshall…” you whispered, barely able to get his name out. “Please. Don’t do this. Don’t make me second-guess everything like this.” But he wasn’t backing down. Instead, he took a slow step closer, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, so close you could almost feel his breath. “You think I’m just playing, but you know me better than that. You know I don’t say things I don’t mean.”. 

Your heart pounded, breath hitching as he reached up, his hand brushing against your cheek with a familiar, devastating tenderness. You felt your walls begin to crumble, your body leaning slightly toward him before you could think better of it. He smirked, his gaze flicking down to your lips. “See? You still feel it too. I know you do,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. Your resolve wavered, but you shook her head, even as your body betrayed you. “This isn’t fair,” you managed, your voice softer now, more breathless. “It’s a game to you. You’re just trying to play. You think you can just sweet-talk your way into winning.”

“If that’s all you think this is,” he whispered, leaning even closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours, “then tell me to stop.” But you couldn’t. The tension between the two of you snapped, and before you knew it, his mouth was on yours, all that frustration, all that longing you had tried to bury, spilling out between you. His hands found your waist, pulling you against him, and you felt all resolve melt, every protest fading under the heat of his kiss. He deepened it, one hand sliding up your back, his other grazing your cheek as if memorizing your touch. And against every logical thought, you found yourself returning the kiss, your own hands tangled in his shirt, clutching him like he was both the problem and the solution. Your breathing was ragged as Marshall’s hand slid up your thigh, fingers tracing just above the lace edge of your stocking. His touch was firm yet careful, stroking your bare skin in a way that made you lose every coherent thought, every ounce of resolve you had tried so hard to keep. You were pressed against him, your mouths hungry, his lips rough and familiar, setting off sparks you had nearly forgotten. 

He paused, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with a familiar, smug gleam. “The ‘nice guy’ you settled for,” he murmured, voice dripping with confidence, “could never make you feel like this. And deep down, you know it. Even if you don’t want to admit it… even if it’s subconscious… you wore these because you wanted my attention.” A surge of anger flared up, cutting through the haze of your desire. Your cheeks flushed, not only from the heat of his touch but from the bite of his words, that infuriating arrogance that he still had, like he already knew he’d won. “You think you know me so well,” you shot back, voice unsteady but fiery. “Think you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.”. Of course he had to do this. Place himself at the forefront of your thoughts. Make it all about him. But he didn’t seem to care about your ager. He simply chuckled, his hand still caressing your thigh, his thumb brushing over your skin with deliberate, maddening slowness. “I don’t think. I know. I can feel it. You’re here right now, aren’t you?”

Your jaw clenched, your body betraying your resolve with every hitch of her breath, every slight movement closer to him. His hand slid a little higher, stoking the heat between you, his touch gentle yet possessive. He was too close, his mouth at your ear now, his voice a low, teasing whisper. “You can marry Mr. Nice Guy,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “But I’ll be right there, front row, watching, and we’ll both know the truth. We both know he’ll never be me.” That struck a nerve, hard, snapping you out of the haze he’d wrapped you in. You pushed him back, just enough to look him square in the eyes, your own gaze blazing with anger. “Then be there. Front row. And watch me marry him. Watch me prove that I’m done with this,” you shot back, voice trembling with fury and something else you couldn’t quite deny. “You’ll get all the attention you want, Marshall, watching me build a life without you in it.” The challenge in your voice hung thick in the air, both of you locked in that moment, eyes clashing. You could see the flicker of something vulnerable in his expression, a brief crack in his cocky facade before he recovered, his hand moving up to cup your face, his thumb grazing your cheek, his expression softer but no less intense. “If that’s what you really want,” he murmured, eyes searching yours. “But you can’t pretend you don’t feel it, too.”

You didn’t answer, and for a moment, you were lost again, his mouth crashing against yours, his hand stroking up your thigh as your own hands found his shoulders, pulling him closer with a force that felt more like surrender than defiance. You kissed, your anger mixing with desire, the fire between them relentless and uncontainable, even as your mind screamed for you to stop. You knew you should push him away. Hell, you should resign and leave. But you were under his spell. Addicted to his eyes on you, the way he touched you. But most of all, it was the way he was finally giving you something you’d been craving all these years ago, that made it impossible for you to pull back. You were the object of his desire. Not the girlfriend he had been faithful to out of mere obligation and kindness. Not the accommodating assistant promoted to GF because her blowjob skills rivaled her schedule management and coffee-making abilities. Maybe it was ok for you to enjoy it for a second. Maybe you could bask in it, heal the wounds he had inflicted each time he had looked at these other women. Each one of them a humiliation you had not allowed yourself to feel, back then. Screw the fake « cool girl » attitude you had forced upon yourself. Remaining silent each time you’d see him stare at these girls. Pretending you didn’t care, that it wasn’t a blow to your confidence when it shattered you inside. And slowly, at these thoughts, you found yourself coming out of his spell.

Your breathing was still uneven, your cheeks flushed as you took a deliberate step back, creating a space between you and him that felt almost painful to establish. You straightened yourself, forcing the resolve back into your voice even as his eyes lingered on you, dark with frustration and a longing he wasn’t bothering to hide. “It doesn’t matter what I feel, Marshall. Because none of this changes the fact that I want you to watch me get married.” You straightened your shoulders, the words spilling out with an edge that cut through the silence. “And when you do, I want you to take a good look at my husband. Because no matter what you think, Greg will be the one fucking me every night. Not you.” He clenched his jaw, a hint of wounded pride flashing in his gaze, but he didn’t interrupt, his eyes locked on you as if trying to read between every word you said. “You can obsess over whether I wore these stockings for you or not,” you continued, gesturing with a coldness that felt like armor, “but you’re not going to be the one taking them off. You can tell yourself all you want that you’re better than him, but at least the ‘nice guy’ is the one who gets to finish. With me. No need for pills, too. You think you're so good but while you're touching yourself to me because your sex life sucks, he actually gets to touch.”   You saw the way the words hit, a flash of hurt in his expression before he quickly masked it, the usual confidence in his eyes now edged with something vulnerable. He took a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets as if to keep himself from reaching for you. His voice was low, raw. “All that ?” he asked, the words carrying a weight you hadn’t expected. “What is it that makes Mr. Nice Guy so great, then? That he’s the one who gets to finish ?”. 

“Commitment,” you replied immediately, voice unwavering. “His undivided attention. I know he’ll be there, and he won’t treat me like some challenge. He makes me feel safe, Marshall. He’s everything you couldn’t be.” He let out a bitter laugh, the pain evident in his face as he shook his head. “Then go ahead. Be happy. Play it safe.” He paused, searching your face, a flicker of resentment mixed with the hurt in his gaze. “But it’s funny, because not once did you mention being in love with him.” The words stung, tearing down your defenses with brutal precision, but before you could respond, his hand lifted to your face, his touch achingly gentle as his fingers traced your cheek. You stood still, heart pounding, resolve weakening under the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his hand on your skin. “Enjoy your perfect, safe life,” he whispered, his tone laced with irony, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I hope the white dress and everything else is worth the masquerade.” The tension in his voice was like a taut wire as he leaned in, just close enough that you felt his breath against your skin. “And who knows, maybe I’ll even be the judge of it all, from my front-row seat at the wedding.” He pulled back, giving you one last look, his face hard yet unreadable. Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone, hands trembling, his words echoing in the quiet space he left behind.