#saw x reader
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Traps || A Mark Hoffman x f!reader SMUT
Summary: Mark Hoffman and (Y/N) hate each other , but what happens when tinkering on traps in the same workshop leads leads to spicy tension?
Warnings: NSFW, hate sex, degrading/explicit language, only one partner being fully nude , Mark Hoffman’s temper
Note: Hello my fellow Big Bad Hoffman enthusiasts, this is my very first smut piece (as in ever) and I really hope it’s not too bad. I’ve read over it a couple of times and hope there aren’t any major mistakes.
Have fun reading ✨
“What do you want?” the deep grumble of Mark Hoffman’s voice vibrates through the room of the warehouse, as (Y/N) enters the room. “Certainly nothing from you.” She rolls her eyes, already annoyed by the man’s presence, as she walks over to the shelves across the table that Hoffman is working at. “I was in the middle of something important.” the man grumbles, looking up from the contraption he was currently tinkering on. She huffs, ignoring the man as she roams through the shelf in front of her. “Have you seen my blueprints anywhere?” Not lifting his gaze from the piece of metal he was currently securing, he gestures to the shelves. “Check your bloody work area. I’m not your secretary.” Pinching the bridge of her nose, the woman pauses her movements. “You know, if you’d answer me like a fucking decent human being, I’d be out of your way much quicker.” (Y/N) grumbles, shoving a box of scrap metal aside.
A few moments pass, before (Y/N) spots her blueprints on the very top of the shelf, leading her to mutter a string of curse words under her breath. The young woman turns around, pointing to the chair next to Hoffman. “Do you need that?” Mark pauses for a moment and shrugs his shoulders before he mutters a simple “Suit yourself.” Stepping over to the table, she wordlessly grabs the chair and drags it back to the shelf before climbing onto it in order to reach for her blueprints. “I’m gonna kill whoever put those up here,” she mutters, struggling to pull one of the prints out from underneath a box. A spark of amusement twinkles in Mark’s otherwise deadpan expression as he watches his fellow apprentice struggling to get what she wants. Cold, hungry eyes travelling up and down her body as she stretches to reach the blueprints, Hoffman suddenly finds himself grateful for whoever has moved her stuff to the top shelf, enjoying the view in front of him.
Feeling his gaze on her (Y/N) looks over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes at the man, before turning back around and opening one of the blueprints in order to inspect it. Hoffman decides to wait a moment before speaking in a mocking tone “Your temper is rather volatile.” Keeping her focus on the blueprint she murmurs “Thanks asshole.” “No problem, love.” the detective replies in a snarky tone, before picking up his tools again to continue working on his trap.
Ignoring the man and the feeling caused by the petname, she steps down from the chair, spreading the prints on top of the table to get a better overview of them. God, she couldn’t stand Mark Hoffman.
“You know, “ his voice interrupts the silence “It’s rude to ignore someone.” Looking up from her blueprint of a hand-trap, she meets Mark’s arrogant, smug expression. “Rude? No. Actually ignoring you is a really REALLY blissful experience.” she hums. “Is that so?” the mocking tone in his voice is as prominent as ever “Is it also a blissful experience being a fucking brat all the time?” he snarks.
“I don’t know, tell me about it.” (Y/N) shrugs nonchalantly, grabbing a pen to make some corrective notes on her design. “You’re an insufferable bitch. Maybe Kramer will realise that and kill you off first.” The detective snarks back at her.
“I hope your death will be swift and painful,” he remarks to himself under his breath. “Oh, believe me” (Y/N) retorts as she gathers some mechanical pieces from the shelf behind her. “Nothing could ever be more painful than having to share a workspace with you.” Mark Hoffman’s eyes watch the young woman like a wolf hunting for prey, his fist clenching around the screwdriver in his hand, as his frustration with her builds up. “God you’re infuriating…” He continues working on his contraption and mutters something. “...annoying little slut” being the only words she catches.
Tired of the man’s antics, (Y/N) slams her equipment down onto the table, looking over at Hoffman with fury burning in her eyes. “You're unbelievable, you know that?" (Y/N) seethes, gaze burning into Mark Hoffman's figure. "You can't just go around hurling insults like that and expect me to take it lying down." Hoffman meets her gaze with a mixture of frustration and amusement. "Oh, I'm well aware of what I can and can't do," he says, his voice dripping with condescension. "But it's not like you make it easy to get along with you, behaving like such a bitch all the time."(Y/N) takes a deep breath, trying to calm her rising anger. She knows that she should just ignore him, focus on her work, and get through this collaboration without any more unnecessary drama. But something about Detective Mark Hoffman just gets under her skin like no one else.
"Look," she says, her tone somewhat calmer but still laced with irritation, "we're stuck here together, whether we like it or not. We both work for Kramer and in doing so we have somewhat of a mutual understanding. Can we at least try and be somewhat civil, so he doesn’t come for our heads?"
Hoffman seems to consider her words for a moment, and then he lets out a begrudging sigh. "Fine," he mutters, finally releasing the screwdriver he'd been clutching. "I suggest you start working on your trap. I don’t want to be around you for much longer." (Y/N) smirks, satisfied that she's at least made a small dent in his armour of arrogance. "Likewise," she replies, turning back to her blueprint and resuming her work. As the tension between the two persists, the air in the dimly lit workshop crackles with a strange energy.
Their exchanges alternate between moments of begrudging cooperation and stinging sarcasm. The attraction they feel toward each other simmers just below the surface, an unspoken truth neither is willing to acknowledge. However, the more they try to fight it, the more it intensifies. It's a dangerous game they're playing, one that could lead to unforeseen consequences.
Hours pass, and the traps they've been designing near completion. Hoffman’s rugged confidence and the air of danger that surrounds him ignite a forbidden curiosity in (Y/N). She can’t help but steal glances at him when she thinks he’s not looking, admiring the way his muscles flex as he handles the tools. His hands move with precision as he assembles the final components, and for a brief moment, she finds herself captivated by his expertise. She despises herself for being attracted to someone so incredibly insufferable.
Hoffman, on the other hand, can't deny the way (Y/N)'s dedication to her work is both impressive and alluring. He's never met anyone who can infuriate him to this extent yet simultaneously arouse his curiosity. Her intelligence and determination draw him in, even as her stubbornness drives him mad, it awakens something deep inside him, something he thought he’d buried long ago. He’s drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
Putting the tools in his hands back into the tool box with a loud clang, Hoffman suddenly leans over the table, his voice low and dangerously close to (Y/N)’s ear as he examines her contraption. “You know,” he begins, the low rumble of his voice and the feeling of his breath on her skin sending shivers down her spine, “you have a way of pushing people’s buttons.”
(Y/N) grits her teeth, trying to ignore the effect his proximity has on her. “I could say the same about you.” she retorts, her voice equally low. Hoffman smirks at that. “I find this never-ending game of cat and mouse rather….exciting.” There is a dangerous glint in his eyes. (Y/N) scoffs but can’t deny the truth in his words. “Exciting, huh?” she raises her brow “More like infuriating.”
“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching” he whispers, voice laced with arrogance, lips dangerously close to her ear. “Yeah keep dreaming, Hoffman.” she glares at him, eyes filled with anger and something else she refuses to admit. “This is ridiculous,” Hoffman mutters, this time with a different tone in his voice.
Before (Y/N) can ask what he means, Mark has rounded the table in a sudden urgency, yanking her head towards him by the neck and slamming his lips onto hers in a heated kiss. (Y/N) responds instinctively, her anger melting into desire as their mouths battle for dominance that neither is willing to concede. (Y/N) can feel the edge of the table pressing into her back as Mark traps her beneath his body, making her bend backwards onto the cold metal. The sheer sight of her body trapped beneath his seems to fuel Hoffman’s desire even further, a dark look of hunger in his gaze, as his hand grabs her throat, roughly pushing her down onto the table. His eyes focusing on her chest, as her breasts bounce with the movement. A surprised moan escapes her mouth at the action, her back arching as it gets pressed into the cold metal, making Hoffman’s eyes snap back up at her. “Fuck, you look so good with my hand around your throat.” the dangerously low grumble of his voice making her feel the heat pool in her abdomen, leading her to clench her thighs together. Noticing her arousal Hoffman squeezes her throat a little tighter, whilst his other hand sneaks under her shirt, groping at her breast. “God, you’re such a filthy slut. Coming in here in those tight clothes , showing your curves off to me like an attention whore.” Hoffman’s hand yanks (Y/N)’s shirt up, a low, animalistic grunt leaving his throat as he sees her nipples stiffening through her bra.
“Took you long enough to do something about it.” (Y/N) smirks, seeing his the outline of his erection through his pants, she decides to play a dangerous game. Opening her mouth and lowering her jaw a little, she lets her tongue trace over the thumb resting on her jawline as Hoffman’s is still gripping her throat, before sucking on it gently, all the while looking up at him through her lashes. “Fuck.” the detective grunts as his dark gaze watches her mesmerized. Noticing Hoffman’s mesmerized state, (Y/N) dares to make her move, fingers travelling up and down his hand which had previously groped her breast, before swiftly yanking it to the side.
The metallic click echoing through the room, breaks Hoffman out of his daze, furious eyes snapping to his right hand which he now finds to be locked into the trap, (Y/N) had been working on all night long. “You fucking bitch.” he bellows, voice seething with fury. “I’ve decided it’s my turn now” she smirks at the man, sitting up on the table. “Don’t worry.” her voice is low and seductive as she whispers into Hoffman’s ear. “I don’t think it’s fully functioning yet.” she playfully bites his earlobe, before pushing him backwards into the chair behind him. “Your a worthless brat.” he hisses, his free hand trying to pull the other out of the glove-like metal contraption,on the table.
“Hmm.” (Y/N) hums , taking off her shirt painfully slow “Does big bad Hoffman suddenly not like to play games anymore?” Her hand wanders up the trapped arm, before wandering to his chest, as she gets off of the table and straddles the detective’s lap. “And here I thought we were finally having fun working together.” She purposefully rocks her hips, feeling his hardened cock underneath her. Another low growl leaves Hoffman, as his free hand grabs a fist full of her hair, yanking her head back before attacking her exposed neck with his mouth.Sloppy kisses trailing up and down the soft flesh. He singlehandedly opens her bra with expertise, ripping the garment off her body. “I fucking hate you, little brat.” Mark snarls , hungrily sucking one of her breasts into his mouth, twirling her nipple with his tongue, whilst his free arm encircles her waist, holding her against him. “You’re such a bastard, Mark Hoffman.” she moans, hand gripping his hair, as she presses his face further into her chest. With her other hand (Y/N) reaches down to unbuckle his belt, earning a bite from the man.
"Bastard" she repeats again, trying to sound angry but failing miserably as arousal floods her body. She bites her lip as her hand slides into his pants, feeling the size of his erection. Pulling her body from his hungry mouth, (Y/N) slides from his lap, positioning herself on her knees between his legs. Her mouth already watering at the thought of what she is about to do. (Y/N) looks up at Mark’s eyes and smirks, taking control. Slowly, she moves closer, licking and kissing her way down his throbbing shaft. Each gentle touch sending vibrations through her body. As she takes him deeper into her mouth, Mark groans loudly, unable to hold back. His hand clenching the back of her head, desperately wanting more.”Why don’t you use those perfect tits of yours?” Mark grunts out between pants, pulling (Y/N)’s head back a little to look her in the eyes, before his intense gaze follows the string of salvia, running down from her swollen lips onto her chin. Enjoying the feeling of dominance over the detective, (Y/N) doesn't allow him to take over though, pulling out of his grasp suddenly. Leaving him on edge.
“You don’t always get everything you want.” she purrs, leaning back in to lick the length of his erection in a painfully slow manner.
When suddenly Hoffman’s hand forcefully grips her hair again, yanking her head back once more. Mark’s voice is dangerously low as he speaks, leaning down towards her “See, this is where you’re wrong, princess.” The name leaves his mouth in a threatening hiss when suddenly he pulls his trapped hand free and yanks (Y/N) upwards. He had figured out how to escape the trap way earlier, but the sight of his competitor taking him into her mouth tempted him to hang on and play pretend for just a little longer. Enjoying the sight of her trying to dominate him. “Seems as if that little trap of yours does indeed still need improvements. If you behave like a good girl, I might teach you a trick or two.” The detective’s arrogant gaze shamelessly travels up and down her body.
“And why would I behave like a good girl for you?” (Y/N)’s snarl is mixed with arousal as she glares back up at him, feeling the increasing wetness between her thighs as Mark’s eyes roam her naked form. “Because, “ the man shoves a hand between her legs, calloused fingers pushing her panties aside and boldly slipping into her entrance, making the woman let out a strangled moan, “I always get what I want.” he states matter-of-factly, pulling his fingers out of her and examining them. “God, look how fucking wet you are already. You’re such a whore.”
Before (Y/N) can open her mouth for a witty comeback, the detective has already
spun her around and bent over the table. Pinning her wrists on the small of her back. Hoffman wastes no time as he rips her panties off, lining his cock up with her entrance without hesitation. (Y/N)’s breath becomes shaky as she arches her back and pushes her ass up in anticipation, her tits pressing further into the cold metal table. His tip shortly teases her entrance, before he forcefully slams into her. “Fuck, Marks-” she blurts before a filthy moan interrupts her own phrase, as Mark fully pulls out of her dripping cunt only to roughly plunge into her again. All control leaves Mark's body when he hears his name coming from her lips over the wet sounds of her pussy and her lustful moans. His hips slam into hers, and the sound of skin hitting skin fills the cold, dimly lit workshop.
"You always come here thinking you're better than I am or that you can play games with me, but now look at you letting me fuck you completely exposed on a table and not even being able to form coherent sentences because you've never been fucked by a man's cock like you are by mine.” Hoffman's voice sounds almost animalistic next to her ear as he presses into her back, groaning against her skin. (Y/N)’s eyes roll back as her walls flutter around his cock in response to his words, she finds herself at a complete loss for words, overwhelmed and almost drooling by the sensation of the detective burring himself balls-deep into her dripping cunt.
“Fuck,” Mark rasps out, beads of sweat rolling down his temples “Do you know how many times I’ve fucked myself to the thought of seeing you all desperate for me like this?”
(Y/N) whimpers as she pushes her hips back into him, enticing another lewd groan from Hoffman. He was still hunched over her back, grunting near her ear, as his cock hits all the deepest spots inside her. “Make me cum, Hoffman.” she breathes, the friction in her cunt becoming almost unbearable. “Only because you behaved so well, princess.” Hoffman husks, straightening himself, his thrusts picking up in pace. “Oh fuck Mark!” (Y/N) cries out in loud ecstasy, her jaw almost going slack as her climax takes over, eyes rolling to the back of her head and knees almost buckling as her body spasms and she continues to moan in sheer pleasure. Mark makes a strangled sound, the sight of (Y/N) cumming with him inside her making his cock throb.
His hand rears back slapping her ass, as her sensitive cunt clenches around him. He keeps ramming into her mercilessly as she rides out her high, murmuring incoherent slurs behind gritted teeth. (Y/N) was sure that her upper body would leave an imprint on the metal table if Mark kept up the force of his thrusts any longer. With a primal grunt and stuttered breath, the detective reaches his climax, thrusts becoming more sloppy as he releases inside her.
For a moment both of them are silently trying to catch their breath before Mark pulls out of (Y/N), smirking at the sight of his cum dripping down her thighs.
The sound of a zipper and belt buckle snaps (Y/N) out of their dizzy state. She straightens up, her eyes wandering over the sweaty print left on the table as a testament to Hoffman's and her little escapade.
Collecting her clothes, she turns to Mark as she begins to dress herself. “This changes nothing.” The man raises a brow at her. “I still hate you.” she states, grabbing a piece of cloth from the shelf behind him to wipe down the table.
“I wouldn’t expect anything else from a brat like you.” Mark answers nonchalantly as he pulls a screwdriver from the toolbox "Now let me show you how to improve that pathetic trap of yours."
(Y/N) couldn't help but smirk at Mark's retort. As Mark began to work on the trap, he explained his modifications in detail, his hands deftly moving as he made adjustments. The woman watched him intently, despite her attempts to maintain an air of indifference. She couldn’t deny that their rivalry had a strange way of bringing them together.
#detective mark hoffman#mark hoffman x reader#mark hoffman smut#mark hoffman imagine#saw franchise#saw smut#SAW movies x reader#saw x reader#saw fanfic#mark hoffman fanfic
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tonights thought? letting adam hit it raw for the first time.
you two had been dating for a little while, and you’re well on birth control, but you’ve still been using protection up until now in your relationship. but… it’s his birthday, and you wanna give him something he’s always talked about
its no secret adam has always wanted to. even when he’s got a condom on, he’s always mumbled thoughts of breeding your pussy, stuffing it with his cock until you’re full and he’s spent. even so far as complaining about his lack of feeling close to you.
you’ve already got him on board with birthday sex, but when you grab his wrist as he goes to grab a condom, he swears he’s done for.
and you can never forget the sound he makes as he slides in for the first time. a strangled moan that almost makes you pity him. his voice breaks, hands gripping the sheets as he tries to hold back from immediately fucking into you
you were already planning on letting him- but when he gets close, and starts begging you to let him cum inside? how can you deny him?
“please, please can i cum inside you? it’ll- fuck, it’ll feel so good, baby, i need to, please- fuck, please let me cum in you. i jus- i just wanna see you full, shit, please, baby?”
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✰࿐ ˊˎ- “BITE ME.”
Hi Doves!! This is my first fic from the Saw franchise!
I’m really excited for the months following as I’ll be posting more frequently and have a lot more lined up!! I hope you all enjoy this fic!
🫧Pairing: Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x Fem!Apprentice!Reader
: ̗̀➛ WARNINGS🦢: I am NOT responsible for the media you read and consume! Your warnings are the following: Kidnapping, Stalking, Taking pictures without consent, Sex, PIV, Blowjobs, Pervert Behavior by Adam and Reader.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Summary 🕊️: Adam believed his life would be over, but it turned out a certain apprentice had a different idea in mind. Now he has to follow a new set of rules
The scraping of metal tinged in your ear as you hauled the heavy contraption down the grimy hallway. You just nearly felt the vibrations through the tile flooring beneath your feet.
Adam’s eyes were droopy and his body frail and tired, yet his mind was widely awake. He couldn’t remember where he was last; he recalled picking at the skin of his shoulder that once was flushed with dried blood and the means for infection, courtesy of Dr. Lawrence Gordon’s gunshot that still rang in his ears weeks later. He hadn’t expected Lawrence to come back for him; in fact, he truly believed that he would die in that room, only surrounded by white tile and shit stains on the walls. His ankle was covered in blood and blistered skin. The friction of the chains caused his skin to burn and ache, leading his voice to scream and call out to anyone who was listening. His last wish was for someone to hear him, but he didn’t ever expect to truly be out of this nightmare. He wasn’t aware someone was coming for him, stalking him and preying on him.
But you did.
You pulled open the door to the room, and it screeched like nails on a chalkboard against the concrete wall. Adam’s blurry mind at the loud noise Other than his own desperate screaming and beckoning, he hadn’t heard any relevant sounds to aid him in his escape in days.
There was no sound to indicate another life. Lawrence had abandoned him; Jigsaw was nowhere to be seen, and all that was left was the burning ache of his wailing and the sound of the security cameras buzzing.But none of those things are registered in Adam’s mind now. His eyes were wide and fearful. The sight of an unknown face—someone who looked like them—was enough to make him startle and panic. His mouth was gagged, and his neck was embellished with a metal collar. On the inside of the collar were several rows of nails, and the tips of the needles were each plucked and perfectly arranged to suffocate him and create panic. Connected to his collar was a chain padlocked into the wall.
He was just barely being suffocated by the claustrophobic heat of the room and the relentless tugging of the chains that bound him to his collar. The air that entered his nostrils was thick and stale and tasted sourly of iron.
Sweat poured from his forehead onto his already sweaty hairline. It pooled at the small of his back. He began to quiver once he realized that whoever came into this room had no intention of leaving it anytime soon. “Hello Adam. I want to play a game.” Your voice echoed throughout the chamber-like walls. “You’d consider yourself a photographer, wouldn’t you, Adam? I sure would.” You stepped further towards him and shoved a box of photos in his lap, the box containing pictures of yourself in excessively vulnerable situations, like finding yourself in the hallway of different hook-up apartments or in your own home, some even depicting yourself getting undressed in the shower. “You’ve spent your life following others, but you’ve chosen the wrong person to follow, Adam.” You took another step towards him, reaching your hand out and pressing it against his face, caressing the side of his cheek. “You probably thought you could live your life without consequence for your actions, but you’re wrong. Just like how one wrong move could be the end of your life, so follow my rules and play nice, sweetheart." You smiled a thin smile filled with malice and lust.
A grin so fake that it was more than believable, if a bit unsettling. You grabbed his collar and yanked him upwards, the metal biting deep into his flesh, untying his makeshift gag and throwing the fabric onto the ground. His swollen cheeks and puffy eyes only made your lust for him grow so much stronger. “What do you want from me?” His voice was hoarse but whiny and strong with misery. “What’s wrong? You wanted to see me so badly before, and now that you can, you don’t like it? You should be grateful. John wanted to leave you there to starve; Mandy wanted to put you out of your misery, but not me. I wanted to meet you face-to-face." He let out a small breath as your hands slipped over his bare shoulders, down his chest, and back to his arms, squeezing them as you reached them, his muscles flexing under your hands. “I guess you’ll finally get to see everything in live motion, and not just from one of your silly pictures.” You moved your lips closer to his ear. His breathing hitched as he looked at you with glossed-over eyes, and his pupils dilated to slits as he stared at you. “Tell me what else you think is wrong, Adam. Tell me how you feel about being here. Tell me how you really are." As you whispered in his ear, you squeezed your fingers harder onto his upper arm.
You watched him squirm and whimper. “Oh fuck, man.” His hands found their way to your hips. “What did you do with those photos of me, Adam? Did you think about me at night?” You gave him a sly smile as you toyed with the lock on his collar. “Do you want me to take off my shirt? Do you want me to lay it across the chair so you can touch me? What kind of fantasy do you have of me, baby?” You leaned forward so that your chest pressed firmly into his.
Your lower leg rested against his crotch, pressing down and giving him his strongly desired relief. “Do you want me, Adam?” Your hand brushed his hair back; it was greasy and had dried blood and sweat in between strands, but at that point in time, nothing else mattered; only he did. "Shit, you’re fucking crazy, dude.” Your face snapped at his response, changing from pleasure to anger. “I would watch your attitude if you want to get out of here alive. Remember my rules, Adam; play nicely.” You tugged on the chain binding him, drawing a few beads of blood out of his neck. “Bite me.” He spat at you, his words stinging on your lips as you captured his in an angry, heated kiss.
He sucked your tongue into his mouth while you moaned into it; your lips parted slightly as you explored your tongue with his, and your hands were wandering his body. They slid up his chest to his shoulders, then his neck, then his jawline, until they tangled in his dirty locks. He pulled you closer until you were completely wrapped around him, grinding your hips into his groin as minutes felt like hours with your lips interlocked. “Fuck, I fucking knew you were perfect, so pretty.” He cried out against your lips, his hands gripping your waist tightly and pulling your hips down against him.
You both moaned when you felt his erection rubbing against your clitoral area through your trousers and underwear, his cock hardening even more against you. Your hips slid against his jeans as you sat on the floor, tucking your knees under your thighs. Cold hands slid across his jeans, unbuckling his belt and sliding off his blue trousers, hooking his underwear, and pulling them down.
You opened your mouth slowly, sliding your bottom lip along the tip of his erect penis. Your tongue danced delicately, sucking him off gently and softly. His head hung low as he groaned against your mouth.
His arms encircled your waist, keeping you pressed into his warm, hard body. “Are you enjoying yourself, Adam?” you asked quietly, licking away the last remnants of cum. He nodded quickly, turning his face away so he didn’t have to look you in the eyes. He couldn’t hold your stare and instead opted for staring at the ceiling, his arms still tight around your waist. He shivered as you continued sucking on his cock. “Yes, yes. That feels so good.” He gasped as your lips closed around the head, taking his full shaft into your desperate throat. He buckled his knees, his hips rocking into you roughly as you swallowed him down, moaning lightly as your nails dug deeply into his skin, nearly breaking it and almost bruising them as he tried desperately not to cum too early.
He clenched his fists, digging his own nails harshly into the skin of your shoulders as he guided your head up and down his hard cock. You licked the length of the base of it until it was throbbing painfully.
You took him to the back of your throat, holding him in place as you drank him down slowly. “Oh shit…” He breathed out as his body trembled, his eyes wild, and he panicked with desire, feeling his own orgasm rising in his abdomen. You pulled his cock out of his mouth, much to his displeasure and anger.
His whimpers made your hole clench around the emptyness that you so desired to be filled. “If I unchained you right now, would you scream and run? You remember the rules, right? Let’s see if you’ll still play by them once you’ve gotten your freedom. Get on your knees.”
His face was distorted in confusion, not quite understanding what for. "Look, man, I’m not into that sort of thing." He shook his head and looked at you in fear, sitting down on the cold floor anyway. “I’m taking your collar off, not pegging you with a knife.” The keys from your pocket jingled as you unlocked them, the heavy metal contraption falling to the floor. He removed his white shirt that was covered in dried blood, his pale body glistening with sweat and grime that covered every inch of his smooth chest. You placed the collar on the table next to you as you pulled him to the chair nearby. “Are you sure that this is what you want, Adam?” Your expression showed genuine concern.
Even though it was true you had locked him up in this room and kept him as your personal hostage only to give him a sloppy head, you still had a heart, and you were determined to give it to him in its entirety. “Put that pretty pussy right on my cock, please.” You smiled at him as you pushed your black pants and panties down to the floor, straddling his muscular thighs and kissing his neck.
His body twitched as you slid down his shaft, bottoming out as your pussy stretched around his dick, gushing around his flesh. “Shit, Adam.” You sighed, loving the heat of his body in the cold room, the wet warmth against your insides, and the way your juices trickled down the shaft of his dick and dripped in soft puddles onto the floor. You began moving up and down his cock with slow, steady strokes, adjusting your puckering hole to his shaft. Your legs started shaking as he lifted himself up, thrusting into you deep, your nipples pebbling, and your core tightening as your body began to move in rhythm to his movements.
His face flushed red, his eyes became glassy, his head thrown back, and his mouth opened in pleasure. His hands gripped your waist tighter, taking full control of your body movements as they related to your wet heat. His hands ran up and down your hips, his fingers sliding up and down your waist, causing you to tighten and pull harder on his shaft. He groaned loudly, his cock hitting all of your sweet spots as he pumped into you.
You were panting, your eyes closing as you focused on the way your walls tightened around his cock. “Did you ever touch yourself with those pictures of me, Adam? Did you imagine what it would be like to fuck me?" He bit his lower lip as he began to growl against your shoulder, releasing his grip on your waist as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. “F-fuck, every night. I wanted to know what your tight pussy would feel like around my cock.” He ground against your pussyrelentlessly until your whole body started shaking. “I knew you were a disgusting little pervert." You were so close, and his confession only drew you closer.
You could feel your juices dripping into your pussy as he continued to pump into you, pushing you further and further toward your release. You arched your back, reaching your hands behind you to grab onto something to help hold on to as you came. You screamed his name as you came hard, your pussy clenching around his thick cock, still chasing his orgasm as he pound into you, overstimulating your sore nerves.
His body tensed, his muscles trembling violently as he spilled his seed inside you, filling you to the brim. His arms wrapped themselves around your back as he held you close. “That felt so good. So fucking amazing.” His voice shook as he spoke against your neck. You turned so that your faces were level, and his arms were still wrapped around you. You kissed him tenderly, your lips lingering on his, before you pulled away. “Congratulations, Adam. You’ve won your game. You have been reborn.” He smiled and wet his lips. “So was that, like, a reverse rebirth kind of thing?” Your face turned from joy to bewilderment, and it only took one sentence from an idiot. “Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
#veras1ne#adam stanheight smut#adam stanheight x reader#adam stanheight#adam faulkner stanheight#Adam Stanheight imagine#saw x reader#saw imagines#saw 2004#saw franchise#saw x#saw movies#saw#Adam Stanheight Fluff
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𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒎 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
pairing: adam stanheight x reader
warnings: none!!! pure fluff
send requests for other hc’s / stories!!!!
☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ . . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ . . • ☆ . °☆
his hands are always FREEZING for no reason. like you could be doing anything and this man will needs his hands somewhere on you to “warm them up”
this also gives him the excuse to always be touching you because you’re just “so warmmmm”
he wears different variations of the same outfit every day (jeans, t-shirt, flannel of some kind)
he always has music playing. he doesn’t like the quiet :(((
literally so fucking sassy
ask him ONE question and you can see the gears grinding in his head on how cunty he can get
doesn’t really like driving places. not for any reason in particular, but whenever you two go somewhere he likes to walk so he can take pictures of everything (mostly you)
speaking of…this man has THOUSANDS of candids of you, you’re his favorite muse
little spoon little spoon little spoon little spoon
when you’re spooning and you have your arms wrapped around him, he’ll gather your hands in his and hold them to his chest
if we’re in more modern times, his guilty pleasure music is ayesha erotica. he would never say it out loud. but you came home early one day and he had it BLASTING.
makes so many playlists for you omfg
he usually smells like cheap drugstore cologne and cigarettes
it’s hot tho
if you’re in school for literally anything he’ll think you’re an absolute genius (i imagine him going to like a semester of community college and then quitting)
whenever he goes out to buy cigarettes he always brings you back a little sweet treat or drink
he just adores you so incredibly much, he doesn’t know how he went through life before he met you
#saw#adam stanheight#saw movies#adam stanheight x reader#adam stanheight headcanons#adam stanheight hc#adam faulkner stanheight#adam faulkner stanheight x reader#saw x reader#saw 2004#saw franchise#saw x
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mark hoffman fingering u with leather gloves hcs
Warnings: afab!reader, leather glove kink, fingering, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, 18+ MDNI
omg i’ve never done smut before pls let me know if y’all like it 😭😭
smut below the cut
- The feeling of his gloves on your face as he takes your chin in his hand, making you look up at him
- his hand slowly moves to your neck, the feeling already making u wet fr
- making out while he’s touching EVERYWHERE
- he’s so cocky about it cuz he can tell you’re falling apart from him barely touching you
- “i haven’t even touched you yet”
- “you like that? good fuckin girl, so desperate”
- the cold leather on your ass as he pushes your pants off, tossing them somewhere random and lifting one of your legs, spreading you open for him
- he’s fully dressed while this happens 😻😻
- gloved fingers against your clit before he pushes his middle finger inside
- it’s such a strange and pleasurable feeling
- doesn’t take long to add a second finger, fucking you with his hand alone
- you’re a mess so fast — holding onto his arm with your head tipped back against the wall, mouth hanging open
- “good fuckin lord, can feel you squeezing my fingers”
- depending on his mood he might make you finish like that, or maybe he’ll take you right then and there
- he tries to act like he’s not all that affected but watching you fall apart for him makes this man so damn proud (both of you and himself)
- it also turns him on so insanely much
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Enabler (Mark Hoffman x Female!Reader)
a/n: y'all missed me? i binged the entirety of the saw franchise while sick and... yeah.. f the police right?
Warnings: Non-Con (like, fr, be warned, be safe), a lazy ass idea for a Jigsaw trap, Workplace Crush heehee, Smut, Strahm's also here
Summary: You've survived a test, made for you by Jigsaw. As your two coworkers visit you in the hospital, Hoffman thinks back to that faithful night of your kidnapping. Cross-Posted on AO3.
Live or die, detective. Make your choice.
The mechanically distorted voice follows you through your journey to regaining consciousness. It's words flicker in and out of existence, as your eyelids flutter against the white light of the hospital room. Your eyes water and you groan, as the mixture of the night's events comes back to you in a wave of nausea and dull pain engulfing your entire body. Your fingers scratch lightly at the crispy white duvet, and you feel every single tendon in your hand flex, earning another groan from you.
There's a steady sound of beeping present in the room. It makes your brows furrow slightly. It must've been really bad, if they had you hooked up to a heart monitor. You don't really remember just how bad it was, your mind flickers to the moment you slid your hand into the metal box and then... Pain, so much pain, and the smell of blood that follows you like a phantom even in the pristine light of the hospital room.
- Thank God you're awake. - a voice brings you back from beneath the surface, a familiar one, laced with inexplicable worry.
You force your eyes to open all the way. Bright light attacks your pupils and you can't bring your arm up to shield yourself, even if you tried. Pain, bordering on tearing, floods your system whenever you try to force your upper limbs to work. Tears form beneath your eyelids and you blink forcefully to distribute moisture across your eyeballs.
There are two men in your room, and even their blurred sillhouettes are enough to let a wave of relief wash over you.
One standing by the foot of your bed, towering over the entire space, even with the slight hunch in his back. The other one sits by your side, hands fiddling with the edge of a green blanket the hospital staff must've left for you. Even with the grogginess of sleep still hanging onto you, you immediately notice the sudden lack of his wedding ring, which he usually kept on. Perhaps he's just washed his hands. On instinct, your head rolls over towards the sitting man, and your lips pull back into a tired smile of recognition.
- Hello ladies... - your voice doesn't sound like a voice at all.
It's hoarse, barely recognizable, sounding more like a huff of wind going through rusty machinery. Still, Special Agent Peter Strahm lets out a puff of air, tension sliding off of his shoulders as if a tangible weight has been lifted from them. Your eyes shift downwards, towards his hands, and you watch as his fingers twitch, so close to grabbing yours, yet deciding against it at the last minute.
God bless professionalism, you think bitterly, before straightening your head on the pillow and looking towards the other man.
Detective Mark Hoffman watches you intensly from the foot of your bed, his expression unreadable, as he takes in the sight of you. Face almost washed out of any color, sunken cheeks and eyes, lips so close to blue it's almost making him pity you. Almost.
Then, there are the bandages. Starting at both of your palms, running up and up, all the way towards your elbows, where your skin peaks at him from under the hospital gown. They've managed to stop most of the bleeding, but he can see clear as day, specs of drying blood showing through the cloth, creating a contrast that's strangely hypnotizing. He doesn't want to imagine how your arms look underneath. Doesn't need to, he has seen those wounds first hand. Both after you were rescued... And before that.
- How long have I been out? - you ask after a moment of silence, your voice regaining a bit of your usual color.
Mark opens his mouth, but it's Strahm who answers you first. The Detective bites down on a scowl. He was never too interested in literary heights, but even he must admit there is something poetic about the both of them crowding around your bed, while you lay there, stricken by tragedy. It makes him feel ridiculous. You make him feel ridiculous.
- Two days - Strahm supplies, his eyes flickering around your face, the bed, the medical apparatus - You've been unconscious most of the time, lost a whole lot of blood.
To that, you scoff, or laugh, neither of them are sure. Of course you've lost a lot of blood. That was the point of the game, wasn't it? To bleed yourself dry. And supposedly some important life lesson was also hidden in there, but after five minutes of pissing blood from your veins into a beaker, you really must've lost it in translation.
- Fuck... - you sigh, slowly trying to move your muscles under the covers.
You try to lift your hand towards the bedside table, where a water bottle with a straw is waiting for you, but your hand starts to shake so badly, you have to give up. Oh, you hated this. This feeling of helplessness. That's when Hoffman springs to action, closing the distance between himself and the other side of your bed. He snatches the bottle from the table like a man on a mission, and places the straw right at your lips.
- Thanks - you mutter, eyes connecting with his for a split second, before focusing all your efforts on drinking.
You don't remember water tasting this good, and as you swallow, you let yourself hum with delight. After a while, the bottle is finished, and Mark dutifully places it back on the table, debating whether to shuffle back to his original place, or to somehow stay here, looming over you as there was no chair for him to sit in. You decide for him, patting the side of your bed and attempting to shift your legs a little, to make more room. He takes the hint and plops himself right next to your foot, his hand coming up to grab at your calf reassuringly. Immediately after that, all reservations seem to leave Strahm, as his hand slides over yours in a warm embrace.
If you weren't so goddamn tired, you would've laughed. Two manly men, fighting like a bunch of petty schoolgirls. Your chest swells with something dangerously close to affection. Quick, someone call for the doctors to bring back professionalism into the room.
- Do you remember anything from that night? - Hoffman asks with slight tension in his voice.
- Is this really the best time to be asking this? They've barely woken up - Strahm's always close to outrage when Hoffman's around, and you silence him with a slight shake of your head.
- It's fine, I can talk - you mutter, brain already working overtime, as you think hard on every single detail from your recent kidnapping.
- I called you.
Your eyes focus on Hoffman, and you can see his jaw shift under his skin as he swallows. His lips twitch into a small smile, but you can see worry settling heavily over his brows, as he looks over the bandages on your arm, his thumb rubbing circles into the skin of your calf through the blanket.
- That you did. - and at the time, it almost startled him to death.
***
The puff of smoke you let out flows into the night air of the city, as you lean your head against the cool wall of the restaurant. You're dressed a bit too elegantly, too much like a costume of a successful woman, with skinny heels and too big of a coat.
Hoffman watches with unreserved fascination the way neon lights illuminate the column of your throat. Hidden in the shadows of his car, finally he can watch you without the confines of his professional reputation restraining him. Only if for a fleeting moment, before he has to put on the mask and fulfill his other duty.
Still, his eyes glide greedily over your body, dolled up specially for this fancy dinner with your highschool "friends". You've been buzzing around the station for almost a week now, complaining about this particular meeting, and every time you've mentioned it, Hoffman was making plans. All he had to do, was wait until you were ready to leave. He was certain, you would like a long, calming walk after this whole spectacle. You always did those, whenever a particularly hard hitting case appeared.
Another puff of smoke, and you reach towards the pocket of your coat, fishing out your phone and flicking it on. His eyebrows raise in curiosity, as he watches you dial a number and place the device between your shoulder and your ear. Your hand reaches down to loosen the strap on your heel, and Hoffman is so transfixed by your display of calculated clumsiness, he almost flies from his seat, when his phone starts to ring in his pocket.
Your number is displayed proudly next to your name, and he blinks a few times, before answering.
- Hoffman speaking.
- It's me - your words are slightly slurred, and from his hiding spot he can see the smile forming on your painted lips.
- Did something happen? Why are you calling me? - he asks, trying to sound as bored and tired as he possibly can, while fighting off the sudden jolt of adrenaline surging through his body.
He sees you straighten out against the wall, finally giving up on the strap of your heel. Then he hears the shuffling. And laughter, a short chuckle that sends something swirling in his stomach.
- I'm fine, I'm fine... I just... - you hesitate, hand coming up to tug at the roots of your hair, before taking a long drag from your cigarette, irresponsible, Hoffman thinks - I just wanted to hear a voice of someone who's not a complete asshole.
His laugh comes out in a huff, and it seems contagious enough to make you chuckle as well. If only you knew on how many layers you were in the wrong. Perhaps you'll find out someday, most likely not. Not after tonight.
Still, the sheer notion of you calling him of all people. Calling him instead of your favorite Special Agent even. There's a feeling dangerously close to pride climbing up Hoffman's chest, and he has to swallow it down, before he does something stupid. Which, in this case would be not doing anything. He has to remind himself, why this whole situation is taking place, and all feelings of flattery turn to ash in his mouth. His eyebrows furrow.
- I take it the dinner isn't going well.
- Oh it's fucking terrible - you shake your head in frustration - I don't really care about what they say, I just want to eat food. Which, as it turns out, is a lot to ask for at a dinner party.
- Want me to come over? - he asks, hand playing idly with the black synthetic hair of his pig mask.
For a second, you seem to be actually considering it, and Hoffman would lie, saying it didn't make something swell up in his chest again. Dangerous, very dangerous.
- Nah - you sigh, before throwing a long, disgusted look at the door to the restaurant - Give me permission to ditch them.
He doesn't hesitate to engage in this short, familiar dance of yours.
- You have my permission to ditch them.
Another sigh, then a wave of giggles. Your expression in the neon lights looks almost affectionate. Hoffman reaches for the chloroform bottle.
- Thank you - is this a blush Hoffman sees on your cheeks, or is it just his mind supplying what he wishes was true, who's to say - For the talk and everything. I'll see you at the station.
- Good night, Detective.
He disconnects with one hand, while the other wrestles the mask over his face.
You don't even notice, when he slips behind you, with a chloroform cloth in his palm. It takes a couple of seconds of wrestling, but it still makes him pretty worked up, in more ways than he has anticipated. There is no screaming, for which he is grateful. Your body is strong against his, as you give him all you've got, trying to shake his much larger frame. Your heel digs painfully into his foot, as you slam it down, and he fights back the urge to scream. You can't hear his voice, it would be too telling. While his one hand presses the cloth to your face, the other tries to contain the flurry of panicked punches you throw his way.
The way you wriggle against him shouldn't really affect him that much, hasn't affected him with any other victims. But the sheer fact it's you he's overpowering, seems to be enough. He balls the cloth in his hand sticking it further down your mouth, and shudders at the feeling of your teeth dragging against his leather gloves.
A muffled scream is all that you have left, as your hips buck into his forcefully, hands scratching down his forearms. His breathing heavily behind you, watching with mixed emotions as, finally, consciousness leaves you.
You fall down in a heap at his feet, to which Hoffman has to admit, he has never felt so powerful. There's blood on your stiletto and a perfectly round hole in his shoe. He grunts in annoyance at the prospect of having to hide a limp for a couple of weeks.
Getting your lifeless body into the trunk of his car is laughably easy.
***
- So you didn't see who attacked you? - Hoffman clarifies, and you nod solemnly.
His hands flex, your leg underneath his palm twitching slightly. Strahm sighs heavily next to you, his head hung low, as he massages your fingers so gently, it's almost as if he's afraid you'll break under his touch.
You appreciate that, him leaving his bad cop persona on the hanger by the door. Still, between his tactful worry and Hoffman's stressed twitchiness, one of you has to be the stern policeman. And it seems this time the honor falls on your shoulders. So, you wiggle in your place, rising into a sitting position. The suddenly stern expression seems almost foreign on your sunken face, a caricature of a person you used to be. No, scratch that, you still are. This is the one thing you won't allow Jigsaw to corrupt.
- He's strong though - you say, eyes glued to the edge of the green blanket, as you focus on all the sensations from the night of your attack - Uses chloroform to sedate his victims.
- Kramer? - Hoffman asks and you immediately shake your head.
- I can take a dying cancer patient. That man was healthy, fucking gigantic and... - your eyebrows furrow - He caught me by surprise right after we ended the call.
Hoffman looks like he has something else to say, but he swallows thickly, his palm pressing further into your calf. You try to give him a reassuring smile, convince him, that it's alright. It falls flat against his tense expression, and you know deep down, he feels guilty for not talking to you longer, not checking up on you. He shouldn't, but it's just the way he works. And you appreciate it.
He's enjoying himself far more than he would've anticipated, listening to you talk about him without actually knowing anything.
He likes the way your entire face scrunches in focus, trying to remember anything of note, while he's sitting right here, right in front of you. Perhaps he's becoming an adrenaline junkie? All thanks to you. Yes, he thinks, eyes gliding over your disheveled hair, you're absolutely the enabler here, and you don't even realize that.
Even after what he put you through.
His jaw tightens at the thought of you never actually learning from this special, intimate experience he has concocted just for the two of you. Haven't you heard the tape? Or perhaps you're just too goddamn dense to comprehend the lesson. As he looks into your doe eyes filled with pity and misguided understanding, he's beginning to think the latter's the case.
- And after that? - Strahm is still careful, as if you are some startled animal, and Hoffman huffs through his nose, letting some of his bubbling anger out.
You visibly shudder, and while on the surface both men have the same, worried reaction, Hoffman feels as if he's ready to run a marathon. You're scared, scarred forever by him, and yet here you sit, unaware. Letting him pet your leg like some goddamn pet. Good thing Kramer doesn't actually know how to read minds, otherwise Hoffman might end up in a trap himself for just thinking about you.
- I woke up in a chair - you answer after a while, your voice numb and emotionless.
That won't do, Hoffman thinks, eyes burrowing into your skull, as if he wants to drill a hole and look straight into your brain. He wants you crying, unconsolable, changed. That carefree, light persona you've been flaunting before him since the moment you've arrived at his station. He wanted it gone.
- My legs were tied, and my wrists were hanging down from the armrest. There were boxes underneath, with buttons...
Suddenly, you head snaps up, eyes fiery and filled with righteous fire none of the men expected. Hoffman thinks, for just a second, that something has clicked in your mind. Something that would unmask his entire operation. The thought excites and terrifies him at the same time and subcontiously, he throws a quick look towards Strahm, who's too absorbed in your statement to pay him any mind.
- He was checking the restraints when I woke up - there is something in your voice, something that makes Strahm lean closer in his chair, something that keeps Hoffman from breathing too deeply, because deep inside he knows what comes next - I think this whole thing can be psycho-sexual.
There. You can hear the pin drop, as your words register in the men's brains.
- How...? - Strahm starts, but you cut him off harshly.
- He got hard while tying me up.
Silence.
Only the beeping from the medical apparatus can be heard in the room. Strahm closes his eyes, bracing himself for the next question he has to ask. Hoffman on the other hand is becoming redder and redder under the collar of his shirt. How far will you go with your story?
- Did he...? - Strahm swallows, cutting himself off.
Hoffman leans forward, as if he wants to pull the answer from between your teeth himself.
Did he? You're avoiding both their gazes, eyes flickering between your bandaged arms, something darker settling over your features as memories flood you. Did he? Hoffman's hand clamps itself down onto your calf, you can feel all five fingers digging into your flesh. How much will you tell, how much are you willing to share with your darling Special Agent? With him? Hoffman feels his chest tighten, every breath becoming more and more shallow. You, on the other hand, inhale slowly, deeply, then exhale.
- He didn't.
Hoffman wants to laugh.
***
He tightens the restraints on your left arm, when you start to rouse from sleep. Your head lolls to the side, cheek pressing into his arm. He freezes in his spot, one hand flying towards his face to secure the pig mask over his features. Silence hangs heavily between the two of you, cut only by the quiet groans coming from your waking body.
Transfixed, Hoffman watches the way your lips seem to hang slightly open, lipstick smeared, mascara running, staining his shirt, as you all but rub your face against his shoulder. You look lovely like this, so vulnerable, with your face mushed against him. Nothing like the headstrong, strudy woman he's come to know over the short time you've spent at his station.
Were your superiors aware of what they were doing? Sending some pretty young thing, straight from the academy, eyes still shining with ideals, all the way into the heap of corruption that was his city? And right in the middle of the biggest serial killer case the world has ever seen. They must've known you were doomed to fail. The narrative was never on your side, no matter how hard you tried to deny it.
- Mmm... - finally, he can hear your voice get clearer, still groggy from the chemicals he has pumped into your neck - Mark...
He nearly jumps at the sound of his name. Thoughts run rampant through his skull, heart beating so hard, he's scared it will fly right out of his chest. Have you recognized him? He made sure to leave all traces of the Detective Mark Hoffman at the door before starting this. It was impossible, he did everything right.
Your head rolls back against the backrest of the chair, your throat exposed to the world, to his hungry eyes. Your pulse runs rampant through your veins, and Hoffman feels a sudden urge to rip your trachea out with his teeth. Or, press an open mouthed kiss behind your ear, he can't seem to decide.
- Oh, Mark... - a moan slips from your lips, and this time, he fully comprehends what is happening.
The realization runs past his brain and straight to his crotch. With shaking hands he reaches for a leather belt, and forcefully pushes it into your mouth, causing your eyelids to flutter.
Finally, your eyes start to open. Pretty eyes, he thinks, especially now that they're surrounded by dark stains from your mascara, glossy and unfocused. You writhe in the chair, as if you're waking up from a wonderful nap, arms straining against the restraints when you try to stretch. Then, your body freezes, realization that something is terribly wrong settling over you in an almost visible shadow.
Panicked, you turn your head towards him. Tears flow freely down your cheeks, and Hoffman flexes his fingers. The urge to rip his mask off, to show you who he really is grows in him like a tumor.
Oh the look on your face would be something for the history books. Your favorite grumpy detective, your best work buddy. Would the truth about his identity crush you? He liked to think it would. He liked to think it would suck any will to live right out of you.
He wanted to have that power over you.
Hoffman drinks in your terrified expression like a man parched. The confusion between your eyebrows, the click in your jaw, when you realized you've been gagged, the way your eyes find him in the darkness of the room. It's almost too easy to let himself be enchanted by the way you look, so different from your usual appearance.
Where is that young profiler teasing him about his gruff exterior any chance they get? He could never decide whether he wanted to kill you or fuck you in these situations, hiding his frustrations behind an exasperated eyeroll, or a smile if he felt generous.
Right now, he can't decide either, as you begin to move in the chair, tugging at the belts holding your limbs down, scanning the room behind him, You're smart, he knows and despises that with his whole heart. Because if you weren't, he could just write you off as a naive, stupid girl, who doesn't know her place. But he can't, which means everything you've done, you've been doing intentionally, and the thought boils him from the inside.
Your gaze falls towards the boxes under your hands, the slits in the armrests, where stainless steel blades reflect the light from a singular lamp. And the beaker, right in front of you, ready to be filled. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what you're supposed to do, and you give out a pathetic whine, which Hoffman immediately commits to his memory.
Killing you is out of his hands now. The game has been set, and the outcome rests solely on your trembling shoulders. The second part however...
His eyes rake across your entire body, taking in the elegant blouse, which is now stained and torn in a couple of places. The tight pencil skirt you've chosen for the dinner, and how it has ridden up your thighs. Your stockings, torn on your knees, where you fell to the floor. And those damned stilettoes, one of which still has his blood on it's heel . Which reminds him...
Hoffman steps in front of your chair, your eyes following him cautiously. He can see thoughts run rampant through your head, searching for a way to get out, trying to determine his intentions, anything that might be helpful.
Well, good fucking luck Miss Profiler.
He kneels down in front of you, taking a hold of your calf in a manner so gentle he's surprised himself. The leather gloves on his fingers make the task of unclasping the small belt around your leg a hassle, but he doesn't falter. You two have all the time in the world.
Figuratively speaking. He needs to be out of here in half an hour.
The heel slips from your foot and Hoffman lets out a barely audible chuckle, as he's greeted by neon pink nail polish.
Professionalism, you would remind him every single time, whenever he even dreamt of coming closer to you. It was infuriating, the way you led him by his nose, coming to work in the tightest of clothing, swaying your hips like the place belonged to you. And then, you would walk past him with a laugh and wink at Strahm of all people, when you thought he wasn't looking.
His hand splays out all across your calf, a touch so unexpected, he feels your muscles jump under his fingers. All your focus shatters immediately, as his second hand joins the other, running up and down your leg, stopping just short of your thigh. Realization hits you like a ton of bricks, and he follows your line of vision straight to a very visible problem brewing in his trousers. Mentally, he scolds himself for loosing control so easily.
If Kramer could see him now, he'd shoot him on the spot.
But then again, maybe not. After all he agreed to let Hoffman orchestrate this entire game, and then allowed him to carry it out, despite his connections to the victim. You could never guess with that old bastard, and for that, Hoffman is eternally grateful.
Your body twitches in the chair, as he finally drags his hands higher. You squirm, leather gloves feeling foreign on your skin.
He knows, he knows, he wants to coo at you from under the mask, swallowing the urge with a sigh. You can't hear his voice, he reminds himself, almost too enraptured by the heat radiating off of your body.
He continues to massage your leg, fingers hooking into the torn material of your stocking, pulling at it, tearing it further in an agonizingly slow pace. Almost as if he wants to watch closely as the fibers give away. Then, in a sudden change of pace he rips them entirely apart, until they fall in strips of sheer fabric on the chair.
A gasp escapes you, and you spring into action, legs clamping shut in an instant. You're fast, but Hoffman is faster, and he wedges both his hands between your shaking thighs. It takes little to no effort to open you up again, and he leans down, squeezing his torso between your knees.
Time freezes for a moment, as the both of you watch each other closely. Your chest is rising and falling in rapid succession, as fire begins to brew in your eyes. Hoffman leans even closer, hands skimming just short of your core, as they forcefully drag your skirt up.
God, he loves this look on you. The heat, the anger, the swirling desire. Because he can clearly see the way you take in his frame, unknown to you yet so familiar. Were you able to decipher some familiarities? At this point he can't seem to care, he's so close to his reward.
Touch me, and I'll kill you, your eyes scream at him.
If you kill me, I'll drag you down with me, the dark holes of his mask seem to reply.
Two forceful tugs and the material of your underwear tears from your body. Cold air makes you uncomfortable, yes, but it's nothing compared to the stillness of the man before you. He stares, intensely, for a moment completely frozen in his spot. You can hear deep, heathing breaths coming from the rubber mask and wonder what is going through this strange man's head. For a second you're actually worried this will be the end of it. As much as you hated what was happening to you right now, you would hate it much more, if you were left wanting.
Your worries are disproved in a split-second, as gloved fingers wiggle their way into your core. They take you apart, delicately at first, as if the man before you is trying to commemorate your every nook and cranny to memory. This slow exploration twists into adoration in your mind, as you fight off an onslaugh of shivers deliciously running down your spine. You huff, muscles tensing at the intrusion. Despite your growing wetness, the man in front of you has some real thick fingers, made even bigger by his leather gloves.
He turns his masked head to the side, and you desperately want to know what he's thinking. Your head rolls back, as you bite down on the leather belt in your mouth. Eyes closing, your mind starts to wander into places you're too ashamed to acknowledge.
God, you're sick. Thinking about your much older coworker in this beyond fucked up situation. But your mind has already supplied you with images of him rolling his sleeves up. His eyes following you around the room when he thinks you don't pay attention. Lingering touches that burn through your clothing. Oh, how much you reveled in the attention, how you stored all those small moments in your mind, just to bring them up in the privacy of your home.
Perhaps you deserve to be put in trap, perhaps this is your lesson. Discovering the depths of your depravity.
With a deep sigh, Hoffman pushes his finger in, as far as it can go, and your hips nearly fly off the chair, bucking into his palm. The sound you make bounces off the walls of the room, surrounding him in an echo of your cracking voice. Then, he starts to work you, adding a second finger until you wail through your gagged mouth. His entire arm is put to work, body pressing incredibly closer, as he soaks in your face twisted in pain and pleasure.
This is so much better than what he imagined. And he has had quite the imagination, from the moment you appeared in his life. All the times he would zone out during a meeting, letting you talk to Strahm about a new discovery in the case, while he let his mind wonder. It was torture, pure and simple. There were points where he couldn't be left alone in his office without his pants tightening. Horrible, awful feelings, all of which were your fault.
His fingers curl into you, and for a second you swear you can see stars flying across your vision. He notices the sudden change, and doubles the efforts at hitting thet exact spot over, and over again until your legs start shaking. His leather-clad thumb presses tightly into your bundle of nerves, bordering on overstimulation. While his right hand brings you closer to your release, his left one grabs every inch of flesh it can find, fondling with your breasts, squeezing your throat, playing with your blushed cheeks. The rubber of the pig mask is cold against your collarbones, as the man presses his weight to your front, as if he wants to bury himself into your chest.
No one can hear your screams, no one except Hoffman, and he commits every note to memory. Then, your voice snuffs out completely, as your entire body tenses so much, he's actually concerned you'll free yourself from the binds. Your release sneaks up on you and seizes your body in a sudden chokehold. For a moment, you can't breathe, teeth grinding against each other. God, it's been an embarrassingly long time ago since you've had even a resemblance of an orgasm like this one.
Hoffman feels wetness cover his entire palm, coming towards his arm. You're breathing heavily, when he slides his fingers out of you, the leather gloves shining with a souvenir of your altercation. He straightens himself above you, knees cracking as he does. Then, for a moment he just stands there, his shoulders rising and falling heavily, as he huffs under the mask. With heavy eyelids, you watch, as the man lifts it ever so slightly. Your vision is blurry, but your stomach still does a flip, when you see an outline of his tongue darting out to taste you. Then, the mask is back all the way on, and the reality of your circumstance becomes clear once again.
To his credit, he gives you a couple of minutes to gather yourself, as much as you can in this situation. Cold air makes you squirm in your spot, as you feel the stickiness of your release coat your thighs. Then, the man produces a small casette player from his pocket, presses start, and throws it between your still open legs. He's out of the room before the recording even starts and you're left alone to fight. Or to die.
***
- When I've put my hands in the boxes and pressed the buttons, knives came out from the armrests - you recount, voice steady despite the chills running up your back. - I had to fill the beaker with my blood, then the restraints would give away and the door would open.
- What was your lesson about? - Hoffman asks, a certain smugness to him, one, that makes you shift in your seat.
For a second you were worried, that he deduced what has truly happened from your expression. Perhaps he could read minds, and he discovered you've been thinking of him, while getting off on Jigsaw's apprentices hand. You had to physically shake your head to banish the thought. It was hard enough to look him in the face without impossible scenarios looming over you.
- The tape hasn't been recovered? - you ask with a tightness to your voice.
- It has, but I haven't listened to it yet - a lie.
A big, fat, fucking lie, and both him and Strahm know it. The other man turns to him with clear confusion, but Hoffman doesn't bother even acknowledging him. He's too invested in that delicate, blooming fire, which starts to eminate from your eyes. The same flame he has seen back in that room, where you looked at him like you wanted to devour him whole. And you don't even know it.
- He said - you swallow, and Hoffman follows the movements of your throat greedily. - He said I was an enabler, that I bring out the worst in people - another swallow, your gaze never faltering, and Hoffman feels his mouth run dry - That I revel in other's misery.
- That's not true - Strahm jumps towards you, ready to reassure, to be the gentle hand you undoubtedly need.
- I stabbed the fucker in the foot with my stiletto - your voice breaks, and Strahm pulls away with an unreadable expression.
- And one more thing...
Hoffman turns fully towards you, hands running up and down your calf, as if he's trying to massage the memories back to your brain, make you think of how you fell apart on those exact fingers. The thrill of having you here, so close to the truth is unlike anything he's ever felt.
- I know what he smells like.
Admittedly it's a small thing, an inconsiderable detail, that will most likely help no one. Still, the sheer tone of voice in which you've said it forces Hoffman to make a detour to his house, between the hospital and the police station. There, he takes a black garbage bag and throws away every single piece of cologne he can find in his house.
Except one. A small sample he remembers using that very night. He stores it in his cupboard, right next to his bed, a small reminder of what has transpired between you both. Balancing his work life and his secret identity has never been easy, but now... He's almost tempted to throw it all away if it means looking into your tear stained eyes again.
#mark hoffman x reader#saw x reader#mark hoffman#woop woop thats the sound of the police#woop woop thats the sound of the beast#my writing#saw franchise#saw
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The Same
Pairing: Daniel Matthews x Fem!reader
summary: Daniel meets someone in the same boat as him at a "Jigsaw victim therapy group" session.
fic type - hurt/comfort, post Saw 2, fluff??
warning - 2000s emo x 2000s emo, canon level Saw violence, both reader and Daniel have PTSD, mentions of past drug use, mentions of body scarring from the traps, self harm (??)
word count - 1,779
a/n: hiiii! sorry my posting has been kinda off and on for the past few months, but I'm hoping now that school and my personal schedule is a little more chill, I'll be able to write and post more often. <3 (also, what's up with the lack of Daniel fics?)
Group therapy wasn't Daniel's idea. He knew he needed to talk about the things he had gone through and seen, which is why he had originally gone to one-on-one therapy, but when his therapist had suggested joining Bobby Dagen's group he had been very apprehensive. At first, Daniel had been very against the idea. He found Bobby very pretentious and overzealous, and the entire "Jigsaw victim therapy group" to be a scam for Bobby's fan's entertainment. For months his therapist and his mother brought up the group again and again, leading to Daniel finally deciding to go in the hopes of getting them to shut up about it.
Now, Daniel found himself in the room Bobby would rent out for each session. They were all sitting side by side in the formation of a circle, letting each person have a clear view of everyone else. Not one person in the room, other than bobby, looked elated to be there.
Daniel sat in his folded out seat, arms crossed and head turned downward. So far, the entire experience had been uncomfortable. Bobby had gone on one of his regularly scheduled "We should be grateful!" spiels, and multiple people had shared their sob-stories. For 30 minuets Daniel had to endure the same arguments and conversations over and over. He sat in silence, never once making himself known - choosing to sit and pick at his black, long-sleeved undershirt the entire time.
Daniel had been so focused on his own thoughts that when he finally glanced back up, he noticed all the eyes on him. "Daniel?" Bobby called out.
"Hmm?" his reply was short and uninterested.
"I asked if you would like to share your story with the others. Would you?" Bobby asked. The smile he gave Daniel as he spoke made him divert his eyes. Daniel shrugged, not knowing if he truly wanted to. "If you'd like to wait that's okay. Whenever you're ready, Daniel."
The other's diverted their attention to Luba afterwards, taking in her story. Daniel silently listened, just waiting for the session to be over. They continued this way, story after story, until the door swung open, creating a loud noise. In it's opening was a girl, presumably around Daniel's age from what he could see.
"Ah, (Y/N), nice of you to finally join us." Bobby sarcastically spoke.
The teen stepped into the room, waving at a man in the corner that Daniel hadn't noticed before, and continued towards the circle. The silver chain hanging from her belt loops lightly rattled against her black cargo-jeans as she walked his way. "Oh shut up, Bobby. Some of us have lives outside the whole Jigsaw shit." she scoffed, her eyeliner covered eyes glaring at the older man. The girl, (Y/N) as Daniel her Bobby call her, took a open seat a few chairs down from Daniel, giving him a tight-lipped smile and a wave of her ringed hand before turning towards the others.
"Now, now, (Y/N). There's no need for hostility here - we're all the same." Bobby cheerfully stated, causing the girl to roll her eyes. "Here, since you missed when everyone else did it, why don't you introduce yourself to out newest member. This is Daniel." his arm directed (Y/N)'s eyes to her fellow teen.
(Y/N)'s dark-red lips turned up into a forced smile before she spoke. "Hi, I'm (Y/N). I'm the girl who was found a week after a trap that wasn't even hers, half dead and tied to the mutilated corpse of her sister. Nice to meet you!" The smile dropped immediately after she finished her sentence.
"Sorry Daniel. Just ignore her. She's still a little apprehensive to be doing this." Daniel awkwardly nodded at Bobby's explanation. "Good, now why don't we continue..." Daniel couldn't focus on Bobby as he spoke - his attention was solely caught on (Y/N)'s appearance. On top of the jeans and chain, she also had a shirt similar to what he would usually wear. It was red and white, and he could tell it was showing some kind of band-logo, but he couldn't get a clear enough look to tell what band. Glancing down at his own white t-shirt, he caught similarities between the two, finally realizing who it was. "Wrath of the Gods." he whispered.
(Y/N)'s head lightly turned her head, seemingly asking him to repeat himself.
"Your shirt. It's 'Wrath of the Gods' - like mine." he lightly smiled. "You like them?"
She glances down, taking in her own shirt and then his. "Huh... Yeah, my sister, she uh, introduced me to their music a few years ago. This was her shirt actually; she gave me it when she got a new one before the trap."
"Sounds like she was pretty cool." Daniel muttered. By this point, (Y/N) had moved over a seat so they could talk without bothering any of the others.
She smiled before whispering back, "She was."
Now that she was closer, Daniel could see the scarring on her face, neck, arms, and hands. He couldn't help but wonder what she fully went through if that was the result of her trap. It also made him wonder if the same scarring would cascade down her legs and torso too. Did the scarring all look the same; how many were there; were some more gory than others? Hundreds of questions flew through his mind as he looked at her.
"How'd you get them?" Daniel didn't even register the fact that he had spoken.
"Huh?" (Y/N) whispered.
"Sorry, uh, your scars. If you don't mind me asking, how'd you get them? I mean, you don't have to tell me. Y'know, I don't want to cross any boundar-" Daniel's rant was cut off by (Y/N).
"It's fine, Daniel." she sighed, giving him a sad smile. "I got these during my sister's 'game'"
"Your sister's game?" Daniel asked, hoping she would clarify.
(Y/N) looked over at the others, making sure no one was bothered by their conversation, before continuing. "Yeah. My sister was the one being tested. It was my fault, but she was the one who got the consequences." she paused, taking a moment to fully think about how to explain her experience. "My parents died when I was little, and my sister had turned 18 a few weeks before they did. After that, she took me in; became my legal guardian, y'know. She was a nurse too, so a lot of the time I was either by myself or out with friends. When my friend Amy finally got her learners, we went out one evening and ended up in an accident. That led to me being on a shit-ton of pain meds, and eventually I got hooked. It was really bad. Jane, my sister, had access to a lot of pain medication, and I used that against her. I begged for weeks for her to steal me them. She, uh... She eventually couldn't take seeing me so bad, so she broke a lot of rules and brought me some. I guess Jigsaw found out, and he thought I was pulling her down. When he took us, his whole argument in the tape was that I was bad for her, and if she got rid of her baggage - me - then she'd be free and would go places in life. If she didn't get rid of me, she'd die." Once again, (Y/N) paused, collecting herself. "He had us tied together to this weird chair set up. It was on these rails, and in front of either of us were these things I could only describe as 'the open-faced turkey sandwich version of a woodchipper'. She was supposed to kill me - push me into mine. I begged and pleaded for her to just do it, cause, I mean, he was right. I was the only bad thing in her life. She would've been better off without me."
"If she died, and didn't want to hurt you, then how did you end up with all the scars?" Daniel quietly asked.
"I did it to myself." Daniel's eyes widened at how casually she said it. "She wouldn't push back and put me into the woodchipper, so I did it myself. I put my feet on the edges of the rails and pushed myself forwards into it. I got close enough to cut myself up a bit. I thought I was gonna save her." (Y/N)'s eyes began to water, and she quickly wiped it away. "Jane was always stronger than me, though. She pulled back and kept us at the midpoint. We were there when the timer went off. I guess it was motorized, cause when the timer went off, we moved backwards. Jane went straight into it. There was nothing I could do but sit there and listen to her screams. Jigsaw and his little groupies never came for me. I was supposed to die, so they left me there. For about a week I was strapped to the trap and what was left of my sister, out of it from blood loss, hunger, and dehydration. Some homeless guy eventually found everything and called the police."
"Wow..." Daniel muttered.
"Yeah, I know." (Y/N) hesitantly chuckled. "Since then I've been doing two sessions of regular therapy a week, this, and rehab."
As she finished her sentence, Bobby loudly spoke up. "Alright guys, today was great! It is time we wrap up though. I hope to see everyone again next week, and I hope you have a great rest of your week." The two teens watched as he walked back to the doorway of the room, stopping next to his wife, lawyer, bestfriend, and publicist.
"Well, I guess that's enough trauma dumping for today." (Y/N) glanced back over at Daniel. "Listen, uh, y'know, 'Wrath of the Gods' has a show this weekend. You should come, so we could hang out some more. To be honest, I need more friends who listen to music I like." she laughed.
Daniel grinned, "Yeah, why not?"
"Good, good." (Y/N) mumbled. "Listen, I gotta go, my foster dad picks me up from these things, but I'll see you this weekend."
"Yeah, yeah, see you later." he smiled. Daniel contently watched as she got up, and headed for the door.
As she got closer to the door, (Y/N) turned back around and waved at him. "Bye, Danny."
(Y/N) turned back around and exited, leaving Daniel to sit in the room alone, thinking over what had just happened. "Holy shit." he dramatically exhaled. Maybe coming to the "Jigsaw victim therapy group" wasn't that bad of an idea.
#reader insert#sawposting#saw franchise#saw movies#saw movies x reader#saw x reader#saw#daniel matthews#bobby dagen#daniel matthews x reader#erik knudsen#saw 2#saw 3d#emo boy#2000s horror#daniel saw 2#daniel saw 2 x reader#saw 2005#fuck bobby dagen#i love emo boys
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HIHIHI I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM AND I SAW THAT YOUR WILLING TO WRITE FOR AMANDA YOUNG BUT IF YOU DONT FEEL LIKE IT THATS COMPLETELY OKAY ALSO!!
Can you do jealous Amanda x Fem reader? Somewhere around reader and Amanda having a complicated relationship and reader is an apprentice. Another apprentice flirts around with reader and Amanda doesn’t like it at all :$ Also some NSFW but if your not in the mood for it you don’t have to add it!
I hope you have an amazing day 😋😊
I love writing for Amanda!!!! I'm so happy to be getting more fem requests because I am a gay mf. Anyways on with the story.
-In the event that Michael Marks survived, he has became an apprentice. Michael Marks. Yknow, the key in the eyeball guy. So, let's begin.
A Deeper Understanding
Warnings: Literally nobody getting along, Jealous!Amanda, Cursing, Threatening, Fingering, Domish!Amanda, Getting Caught
John Kramer had collected quite the assortment of a team. He hoped at least one of you would continue his legacy perfectly. He'd make sure before he died that he'd live on through the lot of you. You were all currently at the workshop, bullshitting about random tests and other people you were interested in "helping". There was about four of you there, Dr. Gordon couldn't make it, like usual. Michael Marks had been your second choice, Gordon has always been your first.
His eyes traveled down your body, a look that made you feel a certain type of way, not a good way. He was your partner though, so you gave him the benefit of the doubt. "I'm glad everyone is here," John smiled a thin smile, Jill stood across from him, eyes trained on his every move. You knew that it'd been hard on her since his diagnosis. "I need your help with the scalping seat, I'm not sure it'll get done on time." He took a pause, "I've had some other things to tend to, my apologies."
He hadn't been looking at you, you weren't the mechanic of the group. John looked to you for ideas for traps. You had a knack at creating a symbolic test, one which would change the looks of the masses. Michael stepped forwards, eyes lingering on you for too long for someone who had just needed to build a trap. "I used to work as a car technician before Homeward Bound," He said, bending down and looking through the gears. "Unless Hoffman can do better." Hoffman wasn't much for Michael, he stayed silent.
"Nobody wants you to touch anything, you hardly beat your test. I don't know why John even wants you here because you're obviously not even serious about him." Amanda stood from her spot near John, she walked forwards and towered over Michael- only for Michael to size her up. "What are you even talking about?" He barked, his chest puffing. "Amanda calm down, we need to finish this trap. Brenda's test is what matters." John corrected her, his composure was always impenetrable. "No John! Have you seen this guy? He's been eye-fucking Y/N since we got here!"
Amanda's fists clenched as she yelled back at John. She seemed ready to blow a fuse, and you were thankful for it. "As far as I am concerned, He has not said anything to Y/N that has made her uncomfortable." "But-" "No, we'll deal with him later, we have to focus on the contraption now, we'll deal with him later. I need you to act level-headed if you're going to carry out my legacy." Amanda huffed, speeding past the group and into the hallway. "Amanda!" You yelled after her, jumping down from the table and following after her.
You found yourself in a grimy hallway, off to the side was an opening to what you presumed was where Amanda had went off to. You stepped forward, watching as the curtains to the archway swayed back and forth. "Amanda?" You called, and she opened the swaying curtains as you stood in front of them. "Finally got enough of Mr. Fuck-me eyes?" You shook your head. "We're not... doing anything." She nodded, stepping away to move back to a decaying workstation. You saw she had her reverse bear trap on the table, she seemed to be fixing something wrong with it.
"What are you doing to it?" You wondered, she glanced over at you for a moment. "John gave it to me to fix, fucking Hoffman took it somewhere and it broke." She gulped. "I hate this thing, but I'm about finished." Amanda was grumbling as she fixed her trap, she seemed elsewhere and you could tell that this was a coping mechanism for her. "What's wrong?"
She turned to you, and with a sigh she sneered. "I just don't understand why Michael is even here, he hardly completed his test and he's an asshole y'know?" Her voice elevated, and she turned towards you. "He's awful and I just don't understand why he can't leave you alone!" Your cheeks flushed, eyes widening as she stared right at you. "Uh-" But you cut her off, hands coming up to hold her face. It happened to turn out that she would be the one to press forward and kiss you. She only let it escalate from there when her hand moved to reach under your shirt and pull you flush against her chest.
Her nails dug into the plush of your stomach skin when she picked you up and placed you on the workbench, shoving the bear trap off to the side. Amanda placed kisses on your collarbone as you worked to pull your shirt off, and in the heat of the moment she found herself dizzy with lust. She had been dreaming about this moment since you joined the group, and she thought she might've entered her dreamworld when you finally got your shirt off. "You're fucking perfect," She mumbled, the androgynous tang of her voice flowed through your core and straight between your legs. You opened them right up.
Amanda leaned forward, tongue landing flat on your nipple and sucking at it until it pressed hard against the pad of her tongue. With her left hand, she groped you passionately, and she praised how you fit in her hand perfectly. You had leaned forward and pressed a kiss on the top of her head as she pushed your skirt up and over your ass, eager to get where she had wanted to touch most. You blessed her with it, gripping the edge of rotten wood when she hooked her long fingers inside your heat. "Shit..." She mumbled, her left hand dropping your tit to push you back by the stomach. You stumbled back against the wood with a whine, biting onto your left hand as the other gripped her wrist.
Amanda watched with an intense gaze as you moaned into your hand, she was more than interested, her left hand moving to rub circles on your clit as she fingered you. Your hips pushed against her fingers, desperate to feel more of her as she pleasured you- you knew her thoughts of Michael Marks were gone by now, her gaze enraptured by the way your cunt sucked her in. She felt herself becoming devoted as she listened to the gasps and whimpers you released of her name- you felt the same.
She began to kiss your hips as your legs shook around her fingers and your whines became more noticeable. Amanda gathered she had to be doing something right, her ego inflating as you rode her hand. "You're doing so well Y/N," She whispered, the fingers on your clit speeding up. You cried out, "I'm so close..." yelping when she pushed her fingers deeper and shushed you. You felt your insides clench and twitch, legs spreading wider as you held her wrist against your sex- whining out a flurry of "Thank yous," While you finished on her hand.
Finally, you leaned back down, huffing against your hand. You reached out to maybe grab her, and she reached to pull her shirt off. Unluckily, she didn't make it far when you heard Michael open the curtains, halfway through his sentence. "I'm sorry Amanda, I didn't- oh!" His eyes landed on you, and you yelped, flailing to cover your body as he stared.
Amanda's lip twitched in annoyance, pulling your skirt down with a little bit of attitude. You knew it wasn't directed at you though. "If you do not get the fuck out of my office, I will literally blow your brains out Michael."
And he turned around, scurrying down the hallway. Amanda turned back to you, giving you a happy kiss on the lips. "Maybe we can arrange a date this week?"
#Saw x reader#Amanda Young x reader#Amanda Young x reader smut#Saw x reader smut'#horror x reader#horror x reader smut#slasher x reader#slasher x reader smut
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A Father's Love (If you can call it that)
The reader is gender neutral but is John Kramer's child. Kramer's kid and Hoffman have been in a secret relationship that they think Kramer doesn't know about until he decides to cross a line and test Hoffman's Loyalty to you in the only way John Kramer knows how.
Notes: Minors DNI, No smut but not SFW. Gender neutral reader with no major pronouns used, probably a random they/them scattered throughout.
Your head pounded as your eyes cracked open. Your head felt heavy as you raised it up to peer around the room you had come too in. The room looked all too familiar to rooms you had seen in your father's traps.
You felt yourself freeze when an old model tv that you hadn't yet noticed in the corner of the room lit up. A grainy image of your father's puppet coming into view as you were suddenly met with two ugly truths.
Your head, felt heavier then usual due to the fact you were strapped into what your father referred to as a reverse bear trap. Something you had only ever seen in his drawings and models but never seen in action. A trap your boyfriend, his apprentice, Mark Hoffman has also come face to face with a time before that he didn't like to talk about.
The second ugly truth was the fact that you were now front and center in one of your own fathers traps. You thought yourself to be safe as John Kramer's only living child, surely blood is thicker then water, right?.
You felt tears well up in your eyes as the puppet on screen began to talk directly to you.
"Hello Y/n, my beloved child" It started, your own fathers voice echoing through your ears, you still couldn't bring yourself to think he'd actually do this to you.
"For this last year you and detective Mark Hoffman have been hiding something from me. I have given you two all the time to come to me with this so we can sort things out but that offer has come up empty."
Your blood ran cold, your father knew about you and Mark? Where even was Mark? was your father testing him too?
"Therefore I have decided that it is time to test the both of you, so I can see where Mark's loyalties truly lie when it comes to you. Mark has been placed somewhere in the basement of this building and will have 30 minutes starting now to find you and use the key on the inside of the door to set you free from the bear trap."
Your eyes flicked to the red timer over top of the door now reading 29 as the time ticked down from 30. With the bear trap in your mouth you weren't able to scream to help Mark find you. Your father knew exactly what he was doing.
"If Detective Hoffman fails to find you within the 30 minutes, the trap will go off putting an end to your and Hoffman's secret rendezvous and telling me everything I need to know about Detective Hoffman"
You started to sob around the trap, Your hands balling into fists as much as the restraints would let you. Somewhere in the distance you could hear Mark barreling through the house while yelling your name.
The tape clicked off as your eyes focused on the timer steadily ticking down above the door. The image was blurred through your tears but you could make out a 25. Five minutes had already passed as you were trying to keep yourself from panicking.
Your father had told you once, that most of the people he had trapped their downfall wasn't him. It was the fact that they panicked. Your eyes began scanning the room for something you could try and knock over to indicate to Mark which room you were in.
You noticed a rolling cart that was in kicking distance and the fact that your legs weren't restrained. This is exactly what your father wanted to happen you thought. You kicked the rolling cart as hard as you could and sent it into the stand that the tv was sitting on, Knocking the tv over and breaking it.
"Y/n? Baby?!" You could hear Mark yell from somewhere much closer then before, It had worked, Mark was getting closer.
Your eyes quickly scanned for something else you could use to make more noise as you heard Mark's footsteps towards what you could only assume was the end of the hallway. Your flicked up to check the time the clock above the door read 15 minutes left, you had to hurry and get mark here.
Your eyes met an old standing lamp in reach of your chair. Without hesitating you lifted your foot up and smashed it as hard as you could. Knocking the lamp over and breaking the shade and bulb inside of it.
"Y/n!" You heard Mark yell as his footfalls stopped outside the door you were in. You let out a muffled scream hoping to whatever god that he heard you.
Your prayers were answered as with three giant crashes he had broken through the door and spilled into the room. His eyes met yours as the relief of seeing you and anger at your father washing over him. He started to approach you but you shook your head and frantically motioned to the key hanging by the door.
Mark, having worked with your father before, picked up what you meant and turned to look for the key. Your eyes caught a red 10 flash above the door as Mark frantically looked, his fingers finally finding the cold metal of the key to the trap.
The clock red 8 minutes when he finally made his way over to you and slipped the key into the lock of the trap on your head. Disconnecting it from you and throwing it across the room.
Your sobs and the sound of Mark trying to calm you down as he untied you from the chair were the only things heard in the room after the clock had stopped ticking. Once you were untied Mark sat back on the floor as you slipped from the chair into his lap as he held you.
"It's ok sugar I promise" He shushed you "shhh Baby your safe now, I got here in time, You made noise to tell me where to go and I got here in time baby"
You buried your head in his neck as he rocked the two of you back and forth as your sobs died down.
"M-my dad" your voice broke as you talked "H-he was gonna kill me Mark" You brought your head from his neck and your eyes met his as fury washed over them at your father.
"I know sugar, He told me on my tape what he did, How he's known about us for a year and this is what we were getting for not telling him, he didn't tell me what trap you were in so I didn't know you couldn't scream for me and let me know where you were" He told you as he brought his hands up to cup your face and used his thumbs to dry your tears.
You put your hands over top his as you closed your eyes to try and take in everything that had transpired over the last 20 or so minutes. If your dad thought everything after this was just going to go back to normal he was wrong, so very wrong and you were almost certain Mark felt the same.
'What's that?" You heard Mark ask, You opened your eyes to see him Looking at the chair you were strapped to. You turned and followed his line of site to see a tape player taped to a leg of the chair.
One placed just perfectly that you wouldn't have noticed it while you were still sitting in the chair. Mark brought you into him once again, holding you to him with one arm while the other reached for the tape player and ripped it from the leg of the chair.
He leaned back once again and pressed the play button. The two of you waited as you heard crackling followed once more by the voice of your father.
"If the two of your are listening to this tape then that means Mark has successfully found you and disarmed the trap" You shut your eyes and leaned against Mark as he scoffed at your fathers words.
"Now I can reveal to the two of you, that had Mark failed in finding you the trap would not have gone off when the timer ran out. What you are wearing is a prototype that still doesn't work. A simply for show model if you will"
You looked up at Mark as you felt him begin to shake with anger that your father would not only make you think you were about to die but toy with you by using a fake trap.
"I'm sure the two of you are none to happy with my decision to do this. But as a father I needed to test the loyalty that you, Detective Hoffman have for my child. Mark's urgency to get to you and disarm the trap before it went off whether it was fake or not shows not only the respect he has for me and my traps to not for a second think they were fake or a joke but the loyalty and urgency he has to protect my child even if it means nearly costing him his life as in the basement he ran into various traps himself."
"What traps were in the basement Mark?" You asked him, He shook his head running a hand through your hair.
"Don't worry about it honey, worry about whether or not I'm going to kill your father for doing this to you" He said as the tape continued.
"There are a set of keys I placed inside the tv for the front door of the house so you two may leave and come back to the warehouse so we can discuss this further. I want to fully explain my reasonings of why I did this to the two of you even though I do not expect that to quell your anger at all. I will see the two of you when you return to the warehouse" the tape cut off.
Mark jerked his arm throwing the player against the wall and smashing it into millions of pieces of the cheap plastic it was made out of. You curled back into Mark, the last thing you wanted to do was go and face the man who had done this to you even if that man was your father.
"What are we gonna do Mark?" You said quietly.
"I don't know honey, I honestly don't have a fuckin clue" He replied holding you ever so slightly tighter.
"The only thing I do know is things aren't going to go back to the way they were, not after what that motherfucker did to you. No way" He seethed, You nodded in agreement.
Your father had crossed a line tonight. The burning of a bridge had begun and if it was up to Mark it would never be fixed.
#slasher x reader#slasher fandom#mark hoffman x reader#mark hoffman#mark hoffman saw#saw movies#saw franchise#saw x (2023)#saw x reader
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gf amanda headcanons <3
nsfw under cut
very touchy feely. always touching you, needing to have some type of physical connection to you. whether it’s holding hands or just simply brushing against you, she has to have some type of physical contact
very attached, sometimes a bit paranoid… she trusts you won’t leave her or cheat on her and she knows you love her unconditionally but she’s just a bit silly sometimes and lets her thoughts get the best of her 🤧🤧
you always make sure to reassure her, telling her you love her no matter what even if she makes mistakes sometimes (we all do)
kisses. kisses kisses KISSES!!!!! she loooves any type of kissing. forehead kisses, cheek kisses, neck kisses, knuckle kisses… your skin is constantly tinted red from all the love marks on you 🥰🥰
takes the lead in the relationship because of her past issues with trust, but oftentimes lets her guard down around you and will let you “be in charge” in private.
takes the lead in public but secretly loves being doted on and cared for. (she would never tell anyone tho and said she would withhold sex for 3 months if you ever told anyone. as if she could even last that long)
nsfw gf amanda headcanons
top. top. TOP!!!!!!
she LOOOOVES having control over you
prefers to give rather than receive
obsessed with edging… she just wants to see you fall apart 😵💫😵💫😵💫
one orgasm is NEVER ENOUGH!!! quickies are basically the only time you’re one and done… other than that, expect a solid few hours crossed off your schedule for her plans with you
mainly a top yes BUT sometimes when she’s feeling fancy she’ll let you take the lead… not for the long tho. she usually just ends up acting like a power bottom
into bondage in the sense of blindfolds and cuffs but is a bit iffy about knifeplay or anything sharp… you’re okay with a bit of knicks small cuts, but with her history, she’s terrified of hurting you 💔💔
knifeplay is a hard limit for her on the receiving end. as much as she likes seeing you fall apart, it’s too much of a trigger for her to feel completely safe if she’s the one “under” the knife
we’ve established that she’s a top
but tbh she’s lowkey a service top
just wants to please you in any way possible… u want to have sex in a bathroom? she’s there. in a changing room? oh absolutely. she’ll do anything you ask for, but of course she’ll make it seem like her idea 🤭🤭🤭
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is there an audience for adam faulkner-stanheight/saw characters in the general sense? I'm very much in the mood to write for Adam and if anyone has any ideas I would love to work on a request or two lol (my requests are also open to Lawrence and Amanda, as well as Mark Hoffman!)
#saw (2004)#adam faulkner stanheight#adam stanheight#adam faulkner stanheight x reader#adam stanheight x reader#saw x reader#lawrence gordon#lawrence gordon x reader#amanda young#amanda young x reader#mark hoffman#mark hoffman x reader#saw franchise
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I miss him plz come back from being squished
#horror fan#saw fanart#jigsaw#mark hoffman#peter strahm#john kramer#amanda young#costas mandylor#horror#saw franchise#saw x reader#sawfranchise#saw memes#saw fanfiction#saw 2004#saw x#saw movies#saw#sawposting#peter strahm fanart#scottpattersonfanart
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Adam Stanheight SFW + NSFW headcanons
REQUESTS FOR SAW OPEN!
2.3k words
Sfw
How you meet!
you two meet probably in the hallway of your crappy apartment complex.
you run into him from the corner, he had his headphones in and was listening to it on full volume, and you were running late for work
crashing head first into neighbor? you dick he probably thinks to himself as he realizes he just ran into his neighbor.
he'd seen you around before: mostly rushing to whatever crappy retail job of the month you had
he had thought you were really beautiful, but he was a coward at heart, so never did anything about it
this time he didn't have the choice to not interact with you: well, without looking like a dick
"I am SO sorry. I'm such a dumbass." He rushes out before he can think
Youre still kinda in a little bit of shock, so you just look up at this incredibly handsome man who just face planted into you for a long while
he thinks your silence is you rejecting his apologies and he quietly apologizes and runs off
but you just were so enamored by him that you couldn't say anything
at work all you can think about is how you didn't accept his apologies and probably made him feel horrible
you were determined to make things right so after work you grab a couple packs of the smokes you always saw him with from the store and rush to his apartment
you timidly knock on his door and wait with bated breath
he sees you through the peephole and momentarily considers not answering it
but he sees the bag you have in your hand and is curious
he opens it, fully expecting to be yelled at for running into you
but all that happens is you raise the bag up quickly and say "i'm so sorry i didn't say anything, i feel so bad. i just was in shock because you're s-" you stop and say nothing after realizing your rambling
he looks in the bag and notices the smokes
you smile at him shyly
and that starts a beautiful relation
how you are as friends
you stay over ALOT
he tends to not eat the best so you make him alot of dinners and lunches to make sure he's eating regularly
his work as a professional stalker keeps him up at odd hours so those pre made meals are rlly a life saver
buying each other candy and snacks alot
when the other was having a rough month fiancially, you would try to pick up the slack andhelp them
that means buying the other small groceries and items to get them through till the next check
you stay over sm the other has toiletries like tooth brushes n soap at the others place
going to parties together but only talking to one another bc ur both not super extroverted
you just go for the free alcohol
speaking of which,,, taking care of each other when the other is drunk
he holds ur hair when ur sick in the toilet,
you rub his back when he's sick
when the other is actually ill as in cold or the flu, bringing each other soup n montioring each others temp
making sure the other takes their meds to get better
inevitably the other gets sick with the same thing, but it just ends up the same way with the other taking care of u
leaving notes in his mail slot when he's busy, and since its 2004, no fast messaging so "coming over at 5!! xoxo" in his mail slot
he lives kinda like a typical man with basically only a chair and essentials , bare ass living room
taking him to the thrift store to get like a decent couch n maybe an arm chair
helping him expand his wardrope to something beyond crappy second hand flannel n white shirt (preferably without blood on it)
helping him get through his trauma over the trap
you cant exactly help him get over it, but ur there when he has bad moments
holding him while he sobs in ur lap
just stroking his hair n reminding him hes here n not at the god awful bathroom
it really calms him down and reminds him he is present in this moment, not that one
he sometimes gets insecure about his scar on his shoulder and tries to hid it but you remind him that he shouldnt be embarassed for being strong enough to survive
helping him get back into normal non stalkery photographer- his need to make money to live kinda outweighed his desire to just take pics of birds
speaking of which: he def loves nature photography
he lives in new jersey, so its rare he gets to do that, but its a nice treat
road trips with him n he spends the whole time as a passenger princess asking you to stop n take pics of a dead tree that has a rlllly nice backdrop
ur crappy car probably breaks down once or twice but its part of the adventure
In a relationship
kisses. lot of f'ing kisses
neck kisses, forehead kisses, navel kisses. any types!
probably is the little spoon lbr
follows ur lead for the most part
want to go to the theatre? it may take out half his money but he WILL pay for the date
probably gets u sweet treats alot n writes a little note that says "love you babe!"
he def clings to you everywhere u go
got to go to the kitche? catch him hugging u from behind n not letting go
can't fall asleep without each other anymore
he used to have a twin sized mattress but he decided to buy a full after u moved intogether
speaking of which, he definitely moved into your apartment
you have a two bedroom n that allows him to have a red room for his photography and a bedroom
he probably only had a redroom and slept on the couch at his apartment tbh
typical man
very clean n likes to take showers with you
his fav thing is his hair being washed by you
the scraping on his scalp is incredibily grounding
he loves washing you as well, and not in a sexual way.
theres something so domestic about cleaning each other that he loves.
ultimately i think his interactions with cheating rich men has spoiled a bit of his view of marriage, but with you he really can see himself settling down and being a forever thing. beyond everything, he trusts you
he craves domesticity so he will enjoy providing for you and helping with the house
loves to cook, his mom probably taught him
doesn't really have a jealousy problem, though he can get jealous from time to time
very rare, but if he does, there might actually be a substantiated reason
doesn't want kids atm, as he can barely support himself and you.
waiting up for you to get home no matter how tired he is
wants to make sure you're home safe
rlly co dependent directly following the trap. can't be in the bathroom by myself, it reminds him too much of the trap. he needs you to be in the room with you while you speak to him through the curtain, or even better, being in the shower with you.
needs constant reassurance he isnt a burden on you
he feels like you don't deserve to be with a man who has so many problems
you tell him constantly that you will be there no matter what
holding hands just to remind him of your presence.
calms him down alot more than you expect
if you happen to be late getting home from work, he may partially freak out: thinking you left him finally
you'll find him sobbing on the couch curled in on himself
he's so vulnerable after lawrence left him there
he doesn't know that lawrence didn't break his promise intentionally so he holds alot of resentment for him
kissing his cheeks and telling him you'll never leave
onto more happy things:
MOVIE NIGHTS!!! you religiously watch movies together and spend most of the time talking about the stupidity of the characters or something.
never meeting his parents bc he's not on good terms with them
LOVES THAT YOURE ABOUT HIS HEIGHT, he's not a tall man and has never been insecure about his height, but the fact he's eye level with you makes it extremely intimate in his opinion
or if you're taller than him, his man brain goes ooga booga and thinks "tall woman/man" and all bets are off
NSFW
okay, to go ahead and put this glaringly obvious thing out there: HE HAS A THING FOR BEING A SUB!!!
He needs you to take control and tell him what to do
grab him by his hair and shove him in between your legs? yes ma'am
ask him to kneel and eat you out on a hardwood floor? done
he absolutely would do anything for you
he needs reassurance what he's doing is good: and rest assured, it is
he probably is a bit messy, and not very controlled
sloppy licks and desperate sucks are common
same thing for when he's inside you
ragged thrusts and a desperate pace
hes probably desperate bc you havent let him cum the whole session
his cock is probably a bit under average length wise, but good god is his girth something to marvel at
everytime he takes you he stretches you
very skinny man, and once you get your claws into him, he probably gains weight which gives him a cute bit of chub that you love to grab onto while he's thrusting into your hole haphazardly.
its almost like a leash
he absolutely needs direction the first couple times, hes so nervous he's shaking
you ask if he wants to keep going and he nods quickly n says theres nothing he's ever wanted more, but assuming this is following the trap, he absolutely needs someone to tell him what to do
could definitely get off from watching you cum (it's def happened before, his poor red cock hadn't been touched all night beyond the grinding on the bed he's hidden from you while eating you out and seeing your intense pleasure just,, he couldn't hold on anymore)
probably circumcised with a tasteful amount of hair, enough to be cute but not enough to be annoying
his nipples are probably so sensitive and he doesnt even know it, he's never thought to play with them
the first time you brush them he gasps and leaks precum
from then on they become a regular part of your routine when playing with him
PLEASE CALL HIM A GOOD BOY!!!
the first time you do, his head is thrown back in ecstasy from your mouth on his cock, and when you pull up, you tell him to look at you while still stroking his cock, and you say "youre my good boy. cum for me my baby boy."
he immediately cums and is embarrassed for weeks, even with your reassurance that it was the hottest thing you've ever seen
speaking of head, he loves getting it but he absolutely enjoys giving it more
theres something so sexy about being able to lick you to completion
when he gets head, he's so lost in his own pleasure that he forgets to breathe and when he remembers, he takes deep breaths
is so in love with your body
he thinks your the hottest person he's ever seen
would probably want to call you mistress or momma. i dont make the rules
RIDE HIM RN
he loves when you're on top, it makes him feel so helpless
alright so: he definitely wants you to peg him
grip his hands and place them above his head, and shove his head into the mattress
anything
his fav position is with his ass up in the air with his head shoved in a pillow and his cock hanging pitifully untouched. shove your strap into his ass while he begs you to make him cum
grab his face and kiss him while he wails out from the pleasure
shove your tongue down his throat,,, something!!
IN THE ODD OCCASION HE IS FEELING DOMINANT!!
rare
but it happens
he isn't some hard dom who leaves you bruised up
he will take care of you just like he does when he's subbing, but he won't let you order him around
grabs your neck and just holds. not enough to prevent you breathing, but enough for you to know its there
still sloppy either way
with him, aftercare is a must
thing is: you can't leave him alone after he's finished subbing, as it sparks some trigger that brings him back to the bathroom, where, in his mind, lawrence left him to die
you have to take him with you
you found out after he cries out and practically tackles you begging you to not leave and to stay with him and to not abandon him
its alot of rambling, but once you get him to calm down, he is pretty embarrassed, but you understand
you tell him to get up and hold his hand, or hug, while walking to the bathroom
wiping a rag on his oversensitive cock to clean it and seeing his face scrunch up is ur fav thing
you might make him eat his cum out of you to clean you up, but it just depends on how he feels. and it might start up a whole nother round so its a gamble
he probably doesn't fall asleep immediately afterward, and will stay there stroking your hair while you sleep to remind himself you're there, you aren't leaving and you love him
LOTS OF LOVE YOU'S DURING AND AFTER!!
something about you telling him you love him does something: it might be from him feeling useless and like a burden
when he finally sleeps, he's the little spoon and he whispers a quick,"thank you"before nodding off
I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS!!! I LOVE ADAM AND SAW AND AND pLS REQUEST SOMETHING!!
#adam faulkner stanheight#adam stanheight angst#adam stanheight fanart#adam stanheight imagine#saw fanfic#adam stanheight x reader#adam stanheight x you#saw x reader#dr lawrence gordon#saw#adam faulkner x reader#adam saw#adam stanheight#adam faulkner
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Dating Strahm HCs, please? ♡
𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒉𝒎 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
was literally kicking my feet & giggling waiting for someone to request something w strahm
(idk if you want nsfw…..so i’m just gonna throw some in at the end)
pairing: peter strahm x gn!reader
warnings: not much?? spanking and sex
☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ . . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ . . • ☆ . °☆
idk i hc him as like super jealous
i mean everyone literally refers to him as a hothead so i can imagine him getting riled up if he even thought someone was looking at you
he brings his work home with him a LOT. it’s very frustrating for you, but you know he’s probably even more frustrated with the cases he’s working on (maybe there’s a way you can help his frustration……)
he honestly always has to be in control, no matter the situation. cuddling? he’s the big spoon, he needs to hold you and protect you from everything the terrible world has to offer. getting out of the car and walking somewhere? he’s holding your hand tighter than ever and making sure you don’t end up behind him, out of his line of sight
as focused as he is on work, i can see him being the biggest mushball when it comes to dates.
like…if he has downtime at work (well…he’s actually supposed to be doing paperwork) he’s looking up different restaurants and places you might like so he can plan his next date with you
speaking of, while they are few and far between, when he does plan a date, it’s SO romantic
im talking him wearing a tux, candles (whether it be at dinner or in a bath afterwards…..) and him just being the utmost gentleman
whenever he cooks dinner for you guys, his specialty is any sort of casserole
like idk they’re not super hard to make and there’s so many variations of them so i feel like this and diff pasta dishes would be his go to’s for when he wants to cook for you
CONSTANTLY talking about you to perez. you and her have grabbed coffee before and she told you that whenever he has the chance it’s “that reminds of me of when y/n and i-” or “y/n did this yesterday, she’s so great” or “you guys went on a date last night? aw! did i tell you about y/n and i’s date where we-”
she loves it tho. bc she does care about strahm a lot. so seeing him happy with someone who’s good for him makes her so excited
(i feel like this about literally every man in saw….) but mans is SASSY
always has a smartass remark to anything you have to say to him
AND always rolling his eyes omg. they’re gonna roll out of his mf head if he doesn’t chill
“peter, will it really make a difference if you leave work at 10 tonight instead of staying until 3?”
you can literally hear his eyes roll over the phone
you get frustrated and hang up (half jokingly)
he calls you back 15 seconds later and you can hear him getting in the car and shutting the door in the background
“happy now, sweetheart?”
(onto the smutty parts….)
everyone says this but i do agree that peter is a soft dom (most of the time….)
is the type to lay you across his lap and make you count how many times he spanks you
“keep counting, darling.”
constantly has his arms wrapped around you while he’s deep inside you
uses his tie to tie your hands together
he’s never super rough, which you don’t mind, he’s loverboy who just wants to make you feel good
his pleasure comes second
which is why he would literally go down on you for days if he could
(he’s came in his pants multiple times solely from pleasuring you)
like i said, he’s so romantic. his hands are constantly roaming your body, telling you how beautiful and perfect you are
doesn’t have many kinks, but i feel like he’d be willing to try a lot of different stuff
#peter strahm#peter strahm x reader#peter strahm headcanon#peter strahm smut#peter strahm imagine#peter strahm hc#saw#saw franchise#saw movies#saw iv#saw v#saw x reader
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Something New.
prompt : You tell Mark you feel bored with your sex life during an argument. He shows you why you should never speak down on him again.
warnings : 18+ audiences. Degrading. Dom!Mark Hoffman x sub!reader. Slight edging. Daddy kink. Age gap relationship. Power dynamics. Restraints. Hair pulling. Face-slapping. Subspace is implied. Aftercare, it gets softer at the end I promise he’s not a bastard in this one after. Victim play mentioned like once. Cursing. Use of the word cunt and cock when referring to parts. Porn without plot almost. Haven’t written smut in months, bare with me. Breeding. Alludes to squirting.
‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿
You really didn’t know exactly what had gotten yourself to this point. Didn’t know what possessed you to let such an insult slip past your mouth, even if deep down you knew you meant it. But god, you wished you didn’t. Your words got you here, your arms sealed into a knot tied to each bedpost, legs spread open and bound to stay that way, no Mark in sight.
You had no idea how long it had been until you noticed a familiar frame loom in the doorway, arms tight against his chest as a menacing chuckle escaped his lips.
“You really thought you could doubt me and get away with it, hm?” His voice is rasp. Deep. Just enough for his words to hit you in ways that it should’ve, enough to draw his point across. You didn’t answer, just looked in his direction, your eyes sparkling in fear of what he had planned to put you through.
It’s not long before he deeply sighs at the lack of any sign of response or acknowledgement of his presence, making his way over to your tortured form, a light slap stinging your cheeks. You gasp in response finally, his strong hand gripping your chin and forcing your eyes to peer up at him.
“Fucking look at me while I’m talking to you.” He spits venom from his lips, his eyes are a slick black, his pupils expanded to its max in a look that could never be mistaken as anything other than a desired hunger. He creates a stronger grip onto your jaw, shaking his head in faux disbelief at your actions. He pulls your face closer to him, his knees bent down in a laced mocking tone, as if you were nothing but a victim in that moment. “Speak when you’re spoken to, slut. We don’t have all day.”
You swallowed your pride, letting yourself morph into your permanent role. Nodding your head slowly and winced as his grip got impossibly tighter on your jaw.
“No. Use your fucking words. You can’t be that stupid.”
You could’ve sunk into a puddle of desire and need right there, practically leaking against the sheer fabric of the only material that was clung to your body. You had never seen this side before and while you were more than grateful that you managed to force this state out of him, you were all the more frightened that you pushed him to the point of no return when it came to your sex-life.
You finally brighten up the courage to open your silken lips, searching his eyes for any sign of your boyfriend’s caring nature when it came to you, but your search returned with nothing of the sorts. You swallow down a gulp that you were sure could’ve been heard due to the crisp environment.
“Yes.. daddy.” You hesitate. Not sure that that would’ve been the appropriate response. You knew that Mark had always been hesitant when it came to going out in public with you, he always thought he looked a bit too old to be with you, like a creep. But here he was in the same breath and the same mind, acting as if he was a dangerous predator stalking his prey.
Your words elicit a throated growl, black eyes continuing to peer down at you in your helpless position. He lets go of your jaw finally, letting your head fall roughly back onto the pillow without a care in his being. He himself probably had no idea in the slightest as to why he’s okay with being called daddy when he was already insecure in himself for snatching you up while he could. Maybe it was the way that anything sounded pretty coming from his angel, he’s sure that was it.
He pats your face as your reward, rubbing the soft flesh where his slip still lingered upon your face his thumb caressing your cheekbone. “Sorry, my angel.” He mouths down at you. You could tell he looked hesitant to continue seeing the handprint he left upon you but one look at your current state makes his gaze harden to its past form.
He starts to nonchalantly hum against the shell of your ear, his hand slowly making its way down your body. His pace was constant though, hand pressing firm onto your skin as he traces your helpless body. He stops once he gets close to your abdomen, smirk resting along the corner of his lips as his hand resumed slipping under the restraining lace fabric before ripping the flimsy material down the middle. His finger immediately hooks itself onto your wetness, slipping down to collect some on his finger, trailing his finger up your body again and forced it past your eager lips.
He doesn’t have to tell you what to do, you’ve seen too much of this move from him to know that you shouldn’t ignore it or freeze up when he presents himself. You wrap your lips desperately around the slick digit, using your tongue to sink it deeper into your mouth down to his knuckle.
“Fuck. You’re such a messy whore.” He belts out, his other hand swiftly taking his belt out of the confined loops, rushing his jeans past his ankles, kicking them off before his boxers fell swiftly behind. “All mine.” He grits his teeth, keeping himself tight-lipped.
He almost rips his finger from your mouth, moving slowly to crawl onto the bed and loomed over your smaller frame, sitting up on his knees as he admired you all spread out for him. He knew it would have been possible to keep your legs open for him, he naturally had that effect on you he caught on, but he figured the nature of learning a lesson would’ve been so much better and to his benefit.
You stare up at him, your doe eyes sparkling with faux innocence as he tangled his fingers through your hair, gripping onto a healthy amount of your hair with a deep smirk. He knew he had every and all control of you and your body he already couldn’t get enough of, he was fully up to taking advantage of this one moment. He rubs his tip against your cunt, groaning at the feeling of you still being wet, maybe even more than before. You shifted against your restraints, trying to buck up your hips in a desperate attempt to force him to slip inside, your actions answered with a grip on one of your hips to force you back down against the bed.
“I set the pace, not you. Understood?”
He didn’t give you much time to answer, he didn’t need one to the question anyways, he was setting the pace of the night rather you’d like it or not. He was the one that gave permission, not you.
It didn’t take him longer to give into you, though. Maybe it was a combination of how you already looked disheveled below him and those pretty eyes of yours but he could never say no to you even for a second. He forces his length inside of your aching cunt in one swift motion, wetness covering and enveloping around him. He possessively growls once more at your heat as a lethal result.
“Always fit me so well, don’t you? Like my own personal slut.” He grits his teeth and keeps his eyes locked on yours from below, nonverbally forcing you to keep contact. You wouldn’t dare break such a thing anyways, especially if he acted like this when provoked.
“Daddy.. please move. Need you.” You whimper into the air, hands pulling against your restraints once more in an overwhelming urge to rest your hands on his back to pull him closer to your body. You always needed to touch the few times you have had sex, he knew that. He knew you itched, yearned to use any way you could to get what you wanted. Suppose that that’s why the permanent smirk on his lips spreads to a motion that’s unrecognizable.
He hums in a mocking tone, tsking at the desperation leaking out of your every pore. “I said.” He starts in a low voice, whisking at your restraints to press them harder against your wrists, you whimper at his movements, eyes flickering to his cold ones.
“I set.” He pulls himself all the way out and shoves every inch back in.
“The fucking.” Harder.
“Pace.” The last word rumbles around near the bottom of his throat, his body leaning down so his mouth was leveled near your ear, causing him to curl deeper inside of you as he snapped each thrust.
“Behave, doll.” He whispers soft against your ear, pulling your weightless body right up against him. He starts to thrust into your tight walls faster, watching in amazement at how you took him so well every single time, mesmerized by the way your cunt practically swallows him whole.
He drinks in your noises from below him, every tiny purr begs him to just go faster until his pace is near brutality. You had no choice but to take it all, desperately needing to snap your legs shit due to the friction. You had always been sensitive when it came to any form of sex with Mark, he knew exactly how to reach you to that point in a matter of seconds, with just one touch you melted in his hands, every single time. If he was honest, it’s what kept his energy so high when it came to doing anything sexual for his most prized possession.
His thumb trails down your sides to press against your throbbed clit, rubbing circles that matched with the motion of his thrusts the faster he became. Your back arches off the mattress and a high-pitched gasp tears from your lips when he hits just where you need him to, squeezing onto his cock as your body depended on his touch to survive. He drinks the angelic sight and this time lets your hips buck on their own to push back onto him and match every one of his thrusts.
He can read your mind and movements in a matter of seconds, hissing at the feeling of your walls clamping down on him. He tried to regain his composure but he can’t control how he bottoms out right there at the feeling of your warmness.
His hand wraps around your throat with a strong force in his haste to get himself back under his own control, squeezing around your neck but still careful not to bruise you quite yet.
“Hold it. You don’t cum until I do.”
You nod frantically at his demanding words, your eyes squeezing shut as you tried to keep your focus on anything other than his movements. The obscene sounds of your slick echoing at each and every thrust. His rasped groans spitting from his chest as he picks up his pace for the final time. You can tell he’s brought himself closer to the edge, using you as nothing but his own personal toy as he ruts in and out of you.
Your mind is numb at this point the more that you’re forced to hold yourself in, your hands folding into fists. Nails digging into your skin and coloring your knuckles white. Your skin is a shade lighter, your mind beginning to float away as your body slips more into a stiff-like state, like a rag doll at his disposal.
“That’s it. That’s it. So good for me. Fuck.” He rambles out nonsense, words fuzzy and sounded faint as soon as the vibrations manage to hit your ears, eyes rolling back into your head at the pressure.
Lucky for your state, it isn’t a long wait until you feel him tense, hands flying to your small hips to keep him fully inside of you, the feeling of hot painting inside of you in slow strokes. Your body gives out fully before you even have a chance to free yourself with a right mind, letting yourself go with a shake to your thighs.
Mark watches with attentive eyes, in awe at your body as it reacts in a way he’s never seen before. Your eyes are glued shut, nose scrunched up at your release. He pulls himself out of you to see the whole show, your thighs continuing to shake and your hips bucking up to chase a high that far washed over you by now. He knows what is happening, he isn’t that oblivious to think that you’re fully down to earth with him, he actually researched before he actually got rougher.
He didn’t bother bringing you down from your space just yet, he read that it was best to keep you floated for a few minutes after and not tear you down off your faux reality yet. Instead, he just preens at his pretty little angel who did so good for him, undoing the hooks around your leather cuffs, his other hand catching your elbow so your arms wouldn’t snap back to your sides. Next is your leg restraint when your thighs have finally calmed down, a swift motion throwing them to the floor.
After a few long minutes of waiting, watching closely to make sure you were okay, your eyelashes flutter opened as you look up at him with wonder. Memories rush back to your mind of the night at hand but he left you barely any time to remanence before he wraps his arms around your hips and collapsed on the side beside you on the bed.
He pulls you towards his bare chest, thumbs rubbing soothing circles along the skin of your inner thighs, just where you wouldn’t be sensitive from the motion.
“Next time, let’s not question my abilities, baby doll.”
Your silence after his words is enough to celebrate his small victory.
‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿
a/n: repost repost come get your repost. i hope it isn’t too weird, first time writing smut in a long while :)
#mark hoffman smut#mark hoffman x reader#mark hoffman#costas mandylor#saw x reader#slasher x reader#detective hoffman#sawposting#saw x#saw#saw fanfic#mark hoffman imagine
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any hcs about adam in a relationship?
Oh I totally do!!! Adam Faulkner Stannheight x Reader dating headcanons incoming!!!
Hope you enjoy <3
Adam is a bit more awkward than he'd like to admit, he likes to boast about being a smooth talker and a good flirt but most of his encounters end up nowhere.
Well, until you that is! You most likely meet at a gig, if he has the courage to come up to you or you pick him out of the crowd first you two can share interest about local bands, cheesy movies, photography, whatever it may be!
Once he warms up around you he's a lot more confident, especially when you're dating. He's not afraid to wrap his arm around your shoulder and pull you close. though he will fake a yawn just to get a laugh or two out of you.
He'll ask to take photos of you all the time, though he can be a bit sneaky and get them while you aren't looking too
He prefers those natural shots, where the two of you are happy just walking the town and your simple smile is the warmest thing he's ever seen. Of course he needs to keep a memento.
He's never been great with money but he always gets you something for your anniversaries and holiday celebrations.
Coming home not so secretly holding a bouquet of flowers behind his back or a silly card he picked up from the convenience store. (With a really lame joke hand written on the inside)
If you two end up moving in together he's going to beg to get an apartment that allows cats. You don't think you've ever seen him more desperate about anything else. Besides, you can make a date out of it when you visit the shelter.
Speaking of dates, he prefers to have you come over to his apartment for them, cooking you up one of your favourite meals.
That supprised you at first, you didn't expect him to be a good cook and thought his diet consisted soley of moutain dew and cigarettes but he proved you wrong!
Once dinner is finished you two cuddle up and watch whatever sitcom episode he pre-recorded the night before or play a movie from his DVD collection.
When you both can't stay up any longer, you go to the bathroom where he keeps a spare toothbrush in a cup just for you. You two brush your teeth together and settle down for the night in his small bed, wrapped up around one another.
#my headcanons#writing requests#answers#saw#adam stanheight#adam faulkner stanheight#adam stanheight x reader#saw x reader
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