Dirty Eminem imagines

Love you more- pt 2

A.N: I don't know if this is what people wanted in part two, but here it is anyways, I tried lol

It's been a week since I was driven back to Detroit, and now I feel like his prisoner. Marshall is incredibly clingy towards me, he feels the need to have me be around him all the time.

He loves to go on and on about what he would do to anyone who laid their hands on me that wasn't him.

"Y/N, come on, I don't have all day" he shouts at me from downstairs. I'm busy up here, covering all the hickeys I've been given by him, and he thinks he gets the right to complain? I've got to come to the studio everyday with him, to avoid suspicion he's told everyone that he's given me a job to do.

"I'm coming! ... god" I shout, mumbling the last word under my breath. Grabbing my purse, and running down the stairs.

"About time" he grumbles, grabbing my wrist, then wrapping his arm around my waist. "Mmm, you smell good" he tells me, his nose nuzzled into my hair.

"Stop being creepy" I groan, trying to pull myself out of his grasp, it only strengthens.

"I'm not creepy, I'm just complementing you, you're so cute when you're angry, baby" he says, opening the door and forcing me outside. We get in the car and Marshall's hand assumes its place on my thigh, rubbing it firmly. "Be a good girl today, mk?" He mumbles, turning to me and giving me a dreary smile.

"Whatever" I say begrudgingly, crossing my arms and sighing.

I honestly don't know what is wrong with him, but when I shout at him or get scared, he gets even more turned on, he's so psycho...

***

It's been hours in the studio, I've been given a dumb task of over looking people's resumes, I've done resume work in the past, but I'm not skilled in the rap department. I just try to accept who I think sounds the most professional and skilled.

I'm just getting so bored, and like an idiot, I drop the pages down on the table that I've been sitting at. Marshall's recording room is quite spacious. There's a table in the far corner (where he's made me sit at), the mixing table, taking up all of the other side of the room, and beyond it is the recording room, that you can see into obviously.

Marshall is currently running through a verse, but other than him, I'm alone. I get up from the table, walking up to the mixing table and taking a seat at the chair that occupies it. Marshall notices but doesn't pay me mind, he'll screw up the recording if he does.

I bob my leg of boredom, looking over the intense amount of buttons on the board, waiting for Marshall to be done his job.

He finishes the verse and leaves the room, walking up to me, "what you doin'? You should be working" he tells me, narrowing his eyes at me.

"I'm bored" I state, crossing my legs. He groans, grabbing me and pulling me out of the chair.

"Well what do you want?" He asks, snaking his hands around my waist from behind, his hot breath fanning on my neck.

"I want to go home" I try to say with confidence but it just comes out as a whimper, I'd be lying if I said he wasn't turning me on right now.

"Do you?" He asks me, bringing one hand to my breast.

"Y-Yes..."

"I want to be inside you right now Y/N, I want to fuck you till you bleed, making you scream about how much you know only I can make you feel this good" He whispers in my ear then bites onto it, nibbling it softly.

I let out a shocked moan, I hate him and what he said did partially scare me, but I can feel myself getting wet.

"Well, is it a yes or no baby girl?" He asks softly, placing kisses on my neck.

"Yes Marshall, fuck me please" I whine, feeling him smirk against my neck.

He pulls us into the recording room that's obviously sound proof, hoisting me up against one of the walls. "I'd kill for you, no one gets to touch you like I do" he growls, tearing my clothes off (not literally lol) and I assist, pulling down his pants, hooking my fingers into the hem of his boxers and forcing them off him. He pounds into me without warning, thrusting into me without any build up, just instant, intense speed. He was serious about the bleeding thing...

"Fuck Marshall!" I scream, not caring for how loud I am since no one will hear.

"You're such a dirty cunt, letting me fuck you whenever I want, tell me how much you like it!" He grunts, gritting his teeth.

"I love when you fuck me Marshall, please don't stop!" I whine out, my voice quivering. "Oh yes, oh fuck yeah, don't stop ugh!" I add, my nails digging into his back, he groans at the pain.

"All you're good for is me, remember that" he shouts, pausing for a few thrusts, "this body of yours belongs me me only ok?"

"Fuck, don't stop using me" burying my head in his neck, my eyes rolling back as far as they can, I bite my lip, loving the pleasure I'm receiving.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum" he tells me, throwing his head back.

I too am feeling it approaching, clawing at his back harder than before. "M-Me too, Marshall don't stop"

We both cum together, letting out loud and satisfied moans, holding onto each other for dear life it seems.

"You aren't ever, ever leaving me again, I'll make sure of it" he threatens, pulling out, shoving his pants up and grabbing a sharpie from his lyric stands behind him. He turns back to me and pulls off the sharpie cap, getting on his knees and bringing it to just above my pussy. He writes "fuck me" with an arrow pointing at it. Then he moves to just above my tits and writes "Marshall's whore" onto my skin.

"Just the blueprints for future tattoos" he smirks, chuckling lightly.