#mark hoffman x female reader

[markhoffmans-certified-slut]

The Slashers Responding to “There’s a Spider in My Room”

Pairing: Slasher Men x f!reader

Notes: I’m currently out, but when I get home I will add this into the list of chapters in the texting series. In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy this! Work has me beat lately so I’ve been slacking a little bit 😅

Characters in this chapter include: Art, Billy, Stu, Brahms, Corey, Dennis, Mark, Michael, and Pinhead.

You can find the other chapters I’ve written and will continue writing for the texting series here!

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[blueberrypancakesworld]

Saw characters comfort you

Mark, Peter, Lawrence, Adam

warning : fluff, hurt/comfort, tiny emotional, kissing, mention of smoking

Summary : Everyone has a bad day, a day when you're sad and can't go on, or a day when the world just seems to have got the better of you. How good that even in such a dirty city there is love and comfort that will help you no matter what.

info : Oh man it feels like years since my last Saw post so why not start with a bit of fluff to try and get back into it.

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mark

He had always been someone who was relatively alone well until the death of his sisters in law there had been at least the two of them but that togetherness came to a sudden end when he found her murdered since then it was just him and his target again as a successor to the man who had given him a new one.

So it seemed if he hadn't come across her during his work as an investigator as well as a follower for John, a woman who tried to show him that there could still be something good in this world if you just looked for it.

It was a time of love and emotion, but it was always a time when the shadow of John and the various spies was over them both and more and more often Mark came home less and less, much to the chagrin of his love, until the evening when she couldn't blink away the tears either and when the door opened Hoffman was confronted with a painful sight.

He just wanted to take a short break in the flat, thinking she was asleep, but when he entered and heard the crying and screaming he knew something was wrong, ,,Darling? Is everything all right, I'm-" he interrupted himself when he saw sir sitting on the bed in the bedroom, crying, holding a months-old picture framed in her hand, a present from him for her birthday when they had both come here from this town together, only for a few days but it had been the most beautiful days of her life.

Sitting down by her bed, he put his hand on hers and stroked her, ,,What's wrong?" he asked quietly, feeling the pain when he saw her tearful look and how reproachfully she looked at him. it hurt like he had only felt this pain the last time he had lost his sister.

She sniffled again and tried to pull away but he held her tightly and gently, wiping the tears from her cheeks, ,,Ma-Mark…how long? How-How long are you going to do it? I don't want to spend every day worrying that you won't come back," she said, looking back at the picture where she saw a smiling happy couple, a couple who knew that what he was doing could not go unpunished and as much as she ignored it, she knew only the utmost was about a future together.

In the past he would have withdrawn from something like this, but only he was so far from his goal that he could give up now, ,,I'm sorry about your pain…but believe me dear, I just need one last game, one last time and then we'll disappear, then we'll be free of all this," he said, gently embracing her face, looking into sad eyes that sought honesty in his gaze.

An honesty she actually found and slowly moved into his arms, ,,Please Mark keep your promise please" she murmured and sniffled away the last of her tears as she gave him a small smile before he pulled her into a holding kiss, holding her body and giving her the support she needed just for that moment to be free of hope again.

A hold they gave each other even in the last moments before the free ride, before the finish line and before the end of the game she believed Mark believed that if they could just hang in there together they would make it together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter

The FBI agent was the one above the law, at least in exceptions, and these exceptions arrived when the first victims were washed up, the first victims executed by Jigsaw in the most brutal way and with each new victim.

Not only Strahm and his colleagues became more nervous as they couldn't catch the killer but also his own drive to suspect his colleague Hoffman became more and more obsessive, an obsession that drew him more and more into this horror.

A horror from which he could only rarely emerge alone, either with his arrest or his death he knew he had to be right to keep the residents safe, to keep those he had sworn to protect safe but the question was if he protected the residents who would protect his partner, his love, his heart when she was home alone?

If she couldn't get back from her work at the vets until the evening and was alone, who would protect her? Questions to which he had no answer despite her pleas, ,,I'll take care of it love, just a little bit okay?" he had put her off every time he drove a short distance in his car in the city centre and left her alone again as he had done for almost the last few weeks…until he got a radio message from Perez that sent a shiver through his body and made him drive his car through the streets faster than allowed.

,,Where is she!" he shouted as he arrived at the police station, pushed past colleagues, victims and others and saw Perez pointing to an interrogation room. ,,Darling, are you all right?" he shouted as he pushed open the door and found his partner wrapped in a blanket with a plaster on her forehead and a small mark on her eyebrow.

,,Peter," she said weakly and fell into his arms as he held her and heard her crying Peter himself had to fight back a few tears as the pain was written all over his face, ,,I should have been there, forgive me for being so sorry" he said, reaching for the cold pack she had been given and pressing it gently against her forehead, looking towards her to see more injuries.

But he saw an amused, angry laugh next to the trembling body, ,,That's not the point…I defended myself through you…but-but if not Peter please I don't want any more" she sniffled, only slowly understanding what she wanted, what the bigger problem was and what was bothering her.

He hugged her to him, she held on to him, slowly trying to calm down and he stroked her back, ,,I'll stay with you every night, you can always stay with me, none of these bastards will hurt you, I promise you love," he told her, his gaze filled with gentleness and yet seriousness as she stroked his head, seeing that he was just as distressed as she was, perhaps not physically but mentally.

But even now as she slept in his arms he held her as they moved from the interrogation room to the couch he held her and watched over her and gave her comfort, comfort she needed now and he would never let her out of his sight again because in the end she was the greatest thing he ever had and would ever get from this filthy town.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lawrence

The sound of metal clicking and a twitching noise could be heard as the blonde doctor made his way through the corridors of the old factory to his operating theatre, the walking stick kept coming up and his prosthetic leg made a clicking sound as the splints, screws and leather moved uncomfortably but slowly getting more and more used to it he had hardly given a thought to the day.

He was here to fulfil another task, to implant another key and lock in his stomach and then to stay here for a while before he would go home with his loved one, even after his wife had left him he only had John, but eventually he had found her, a lost nurse with a search for a new purpose and a goal, a purpose she had found in John.

With a slight smile he pushed open the metal door and stepped into the operations room not the best but it was enough, ,,Morning love" he said as he saw his heart sitting on one of the operating chairs a tea in her hand and a slight smile on her lips as she returned his words.

The two of them engaged in the kind of light small talk they always did as they went through the files together, she occasionally nodding to him when he didn't get to things and he gave her a kiss, ,,What would I do without you?" he murmured, seeing her wry smile as they put on the blue surgical apron together and turned to the body on the table.

It was a minor procedure, almost like a daily routine back at the hospital, but he didn't see her smile as she sighed as she looked at the scalpel and put it back in the tray.

,,Is everything okay? Are you unwell?" he asked immediately, circling the table and trying to prop her up to look for signs of pain but she just shook her head, ,,No…not so Lawrence everything here…can you keep it up with them?" she asked, settling into the chair and looking up into his bright eyes that gazed at her.

A look of guilt crossed his gaze for a moment before he took her hand and stroked it gently, ,,It's not easy, not even for me at first…but darling, I see it as the only thing I have left. We can't go back without being eaten by each other," he gave the harsh reply that told the truth, but she knew that if they turned themselves in they would never get back together and sooner or later would be executed or die in prison.

Releasing her hand from his, she hid her face in her hands knowing he was right and yet, ,,Isn't there something we can do?" she asked, hearing the twitching of the stick and the slight squeak of his prosthesis as he knelt in front of her, roughly sunken, taking both her hands and leaving kisses on them.

He was relieved to see that she no longer looked like she was about to cry, he always kissed her when she was feeling bad, ,,When we're done with this one, why don't we go into hiding? Just the two of us together waiting somewhere trying to get through it together…with you together we can do anything yes?" he asked leaning his head against hers for a moment.

Feeling how hard it was for her to get hope sometimes but when he saw her nod as she gave him a kiss and stood up to help him up and he took her in his arms they both managed to gather hope. Hiding didn't have to be out of fear, it could also be a no new beginning a beginning together for their love and hope.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adam

The music boomed in his ears as the itars and drums tried to combine with the shrill sound of snoring, each louder than the other as Adam was out of the bus, the bag of groceries in his hand swaying back and forth, the cigarette between his lips judging him and the metal music on his ears making him moan from time to time or just bob his head slightly to feel the dancing.

The camera hanging around his neck had taken the latest photos, one assignment after another he always got from John every week, always from the same man…he knew why.

He knew that as soon as the photos were finished, it would soon mean the death of the photographed person, but he barely entertained this thought in his head, he was too used to it.

Walking up the stairs of the old apartment building past the same door and people, he found his door and unlocked it, ,,Honey! I'm back!" he called inside and closed the door behind him but got no answer.

At first he thought she was asleep, he put down his food and put out his cigarette before he looked for her in the living room and bedroom but she wasn't there.

He checked the bathroom to see if she was in the bath but she wasn't there either, ,,Honey?" he asked in amazement and heard a rustling sound, knowing that this paper-like rustling sound could only come from one room, the enlarged storage room, the place where he developed his photos.

Adam went there and actually found her standing in front of the photos thinking she was going to develop a few more while he was gone but instead she just stared at them, ,,Hey is everything okay?" he asked as he heard a sniffle and saw her flinch, seemingly trying to wipe away tears and turn to him.

Despite everything you could see that she had wept, cried a lot maybe for hours he didn't know but immediately his heart tightened, ,,No Adam…it's not all his fault…these photos I-I can't do it anymore…it's like a death sentence" she mumbled and held the photos out to him seeing how he was torn.

He knew they needed the money otherwise they risked being arrested, there was little other option but he also knew that his love for her meant more to him than the money or the prospect of something better, letting the pictures sail to the ground he grabbed her hand and pulled her close.

He pulled her into a kiss her hands wrapped around him holding on to him, ,,Thank you Adam…I know we'll find something but please stop" she said putting her hand on his cheek he could see he was fighting tears, he himself knew what they were doing was wrong he knew they would find something else and until then they would make it together.

It touched him how much she cared for him too, ,,No thank you darling I love you and we can do this…I promise I'll stop" he said pressing a kiss to her forehead and pulling her into a warm embrace holding her until their tears had dried and he lightened the mood when he announced that he had brought muffins which they ate together on the couch wrapped in a blanket.

But most of all they were not only cheerful but happy, happy to at least have another morning without playing judgement on a person they would never meet, they had each other and that was all that mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@megustadilf , @magmabayvi , @faultlessheart , @blackbunnymayw , @s1lut4adamstanheight , @icarus-star

[staarboyyy]

YAYYY YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

I was wondering if you could maybe write something about y/n being an apprentice and Hoffman flirts with them even knowing they are in a relationship with Amanda 😧 It goes on for a while and Amanda gets tired of it, gets really jealous and yells at Hoffman then takes y/n back to her room and… you know 🫣 NSFW, maybe slight choking if you don’t mind writing it (if not that is totally okay!) just some dirty talk here and there also for example: whenever Amanda catches Hoffman flirting with reader she whispers things into readers ear :) Thank you so much in advance!

territory

amanda young x gender neutral reader | specified anatomy

18+ characters / scenarios - minors dni

tags / warnings ; apprentice!reader, jealousy, amanda being a guard dog, anatomical terms for vagina, degradation, dubcon if u squint, biting, sadistmanda

summary ; amanda catches you and mark going over your lastet work.

word count ; 3.2k

a/n; sorry for the delay, i really loved this prompt and writing for the apprentice reader, they are so silly! please enjoy :D

Amanda had a bad feeling about Mark from the start. How could she not? She saw that wicked look in his eyes, that knowing spark every time he glanced at you while you sketched traps aimlessly. He knew that you weren't supposed to be anything more than teammates, but that didn't stop him from trying to turn it into something more - Something like what you and Amanda had. Mark had always been cold, bitter. He spoke the truth with no hesitation, taking in breaths with the intent to speak words meant to silence others in the room. He was a force to be reckoned with to most; And yet as he watched you from across the warehouse, his gaze was disturbingly ... Friendly. Seeing this did not just make Amanda angry, her gaze curiously stuttering past the dooframe just as Mark crossed the room toward you. He squared his shoulders, shoes thudding quietly against the cement floor as his eyes reached the sketchbook in front of you.

You had been drafting for some days - It felt strange, almost like having homework due. John was a tough judge, especially when the traps were made for a truly awful person; In truth you didn't want to dwell on the details of the man this trap was for. He had taken things from women that could never be given back to them, and that was enough to drive your sadistic spark. The spark that made John give a slight tilted grin, not speaking as he steadily nodded, studying your sketches. At first his silence worried you, but when your drafts ended up pinned to the wall near his desk, you took to planning more confidently. It seemed John wasn't the only one to take notice to your determination, your pencil coming to a sharp pause as Mark leaned the weight of his hip into the creaking metal table. His eyes were still lingering on the page, jaw shifting with a slightly tilted head, nearly perplexed at the scratched notes and crumpled discarded brainstorm pages. Not your fault your desk was cluttered. When the inspiration hits you, y'know?

"What is this?"

Mark asked quietly as he moved to grasp and hold up one of the crumpled sketches. It had been discarded because you accidentally drew it comically uneven and decided it was too time consuming to try and fix without a ruler on hand. Mark gave you a quizzical glance nonetheless, looking between you, the warped drawing, and the others on the sketchbook before you. You had originally planned to draw a second picture, a much less fucked up version with the same pose, but you got hung up on the details. A small laugh escapes your throat, lighting up the cold warehouse for a brief moment. Why did he take notice of the wrong sketch? And why did he have to remind you of it's existence? The small pursed smile pushed at the corners of your lips as gave a shake of your head.

"Bad proportions."

"I'll fuckin' say,"

Mark's response suprised you slightly, the way his tone so easily shifted from a cold demanding one to an almost playful chuckle. He gave a slight nod as he re crumpled the distorted sketch, eyes casting over his shoulder to locate the trash can and - Oh. There she was. Amanda stood slightly obscured by a stacked frame of chains, the light of the warehouse casting long shadows across her face. She could feel the distinct searing hot shaking in her fingertips; She had never seen Mark laugh, let alone smile. It left a harshly bitter taste in her mouth, shifting her shoulder to shrug past the hanging chains. Her body moved slow, steps quiet as she approached you and Mark with the stealth of a snake in high grass. Her dark eyes were still locked on Mark's, the way his free hand hovered over your shoulder, how he shifted his body to face yours, the smell of his subtle cologne brushing over your senses. Jealousy surged through Amanda's veins in chilling waves, goosebumps pricking the back of her neck, fingers clenching into fists, knuckles a bright white. No one could have you besides her, this was true. But Hoffman surely had to know exactly what he was doing.

Mark's eyes narrowed when they met Amanda's. He knew that look - An animal primed to kill, a woman who would cage herself over you in a storm of shattered glass without a second thought. He swore a flashing glint of red soared over Amanda's gaze, her attention faltering as it caught the sight of Mark's hand. In one moment, his palm had laid for perhaps half a second on your shoulder, and the next, a shadow cast over your sketchbook, a figure standing directly behind you.

You had grown used to Amanda's silence when walking around the warehouse, yet your body jolted with a sudden twist of fear, moving to turn towards the figure just as Mark pulled his hand away. Your hitching breaths relaxed as you caught sight of Amanda, your expression easing into a small smile. But when she did not return it, it faded from your lips. You immediately recounted the past few minutes - Surely there had been no reason to be angry with you. You've been working, and Mark's been... Ah. The dots connected then as you peered over toward the man beside you, then Amanda once again. The woman wet her lips slowly, tongue rolling over her bottom lip before speaking in a terrifyingly calm voice.

"Having fun?"

Amanda's gaze locked with Mark's, her thoughts flashing with an ugly picture of him with you. Mark shifted slightly, a frown tugging at the edge of his lips. He knew that look in Amanda's eyes. That possessiveness that bordered on insanity. She couldn't place if Mark even knew about her history with you - The countless times she'd press kisses to your cheek in passing, the brush of your thighs when you passed each other, your quiet desperate whispers in her ear promising to keep quiet if it meant she'd touch you. You belonged to her entirely, she was assured of that every waking moment of the day. Every time your bodies tangled together in bed, swimming amongst the sheets to get comfortable, taking in eachothers warmth and staying close, whispering sweet nothings. You were Amanda's everything. She'd flay anyone, any man that tried to ruin that.

"Having a blast." Mark speaks sarcastically, leaning once again against the rusting table, palms splayed over it behind him. "Our friend here was showing me some of their latest work, which I have to say seems promising."

Mark continues, not even looking at Amanda, instead focusing on your drawings. Amanda, for her part, remained motionless for a moment, her expression nearly unreadable, her breathing sharp and steady. Your face flushed, cheeks warming at the sight. In another world, you'd be terrified of that look. Primed to kill, stalking prey with the intent to ravaging it. Her fists curled tight at her side, mouth parted ever so slightly.

"Latest work?"

Amanda echoed, not missing a beat. She still had her eyes locked on Mark. There were no words there anymore, just unspoken emotions that Mark caught wind of almost immediately. He rolled his shoulders, feeling them tense up slightly. He should have known better than to cross claimed territory. That became only more apparent as Amanda's slow pace began once again, coming closer to you both until her hands could rest on both of your shoulders. Her hands were just abit smaller than Mark's, fingers slim and familiar, silver banded rings wrapping over them. They were familiar, warm as her thumbs swept over the backs of your shoulders. It comforted her having you in arms reach, especially with Mark so close by. Her grasp was ever so slightly too tight, fingers flexing over your shoulders as her head cocked, eyes still on Mark. She lifted her eyesbrows expectantly, chin jutting forward slightly, motioning the man to speak with an impatient expression.

"Tch,"

Amanda's possessiveness was so intense, you started to question if that was really a good thing - But the way her hands were now holding you, stroking your shoulder in a comforting caress? That was definitely worth the way Mark began to shift away from you both. There was no helping the way you bit your lip, trying to ignore the way your pulse was picking up pace by the second under Amanda's cold grasp. Her large scarred hands made you feel safe. Each arching scratch or healing nick on her finger tips had a story, one she would tell you with a lopsided grin, nearly bragging. She liked impressing you. Though, she'd never admit it to you without a myriad of stutters and flushed cheeks. Her presence made you feel warm, a space of safe welcoming heat in the middle of this seemingly endless freezing warehouse. You were so comfortable with her hands on your shoulders that you stopped wondering what Mark was feeling. Your gaze cast toward the sketches splayed over your desk, mind dwindling off into all different directions, all leading back to her. Mark was always cold. You and Amanda had something different - The way her breath caught in her throat as she realized you were starting to relax again, the way the fingers on your shoulder gripped tighter just for a moment before she pulled back, as if to assure you she'd be back in no time - you didn't even glance away as Mark's footsteps echoed away down a dingey hallway, presumably to leave for the night.

The feeling of your back hitting the lush mattress of Amanda's bed took the breath away, but how her hands kept your wrists pinned to the sheets made you gasp sharply. The palms pressed softly against your wrists, sending shivers rocketing up your spine, setting your every nerve on edge. Her dark hair curtained over you as her nails gently raked over your body - She cherished every inch of skin, biting her lower lip as her eyes watched you wryly, pinned underneath her. You didnt dare push past this to see through the pulsing haze that danced across your vision from the unexpected rough touch of the other. You tried to swallow your panic down, but nothing could be done to keep the soft whimper from escaping your lips; It pulled a low purr from the woman, tutting quietly before bringing an index finger to her lips, a motion to stay quiet. Amanda leaned down then, her whispered words catching the shell of your ear as she leaned more of her weight into you.

"Shh... You know exactly what you were doing. Don't try to fight me now."

Your eyes darted back and forth, body shivering with equal parts need and fear as she chuckled darkly. The sound was pillowed with a dark intent, lips moving to trace over the warm skin of your neck, lightly glazed with sweat. There was a moment where it felt like you were going to pass out from the thrill of being Amanda's plaything, but then her lips pressed gently against your throat, tethering your mind to focus on her. The way her tongue slid over the sensitive space of skin, teeth gently sinking down, reeling a quiet squeal from your chest. It only made her bite harder, though perhaps you knew that; Perhaps she was right. You wanted to play cat and mouse? So be it.

You squirmed at the slowly building pinch on your throat, back arching as arms fighting ever so slightly against Amanda's weight. After a long moment, the pain subsided, her tongue sweeping over the harsh bite before sitting up slightly. Her eyes were locked on yours, though she was clearly looking through you, to some private joke you were not exactly privy to. Her eyes slid down your body slowly, her left hand releasing one of your wrists to dive underneath your shirt. It seemed a dangerous gamble, taking the chance that she'd see your skin bare, chest rising and falling with frantic gasps of desire, like this. But then, Amanda had been a risk taker - And in this moment, there was nothing more you wanted, those poisonous moments where every sensation she caused seemed to leave a permanent mark on your body and mind. She molded you, carved you like granite as she palmed your chest greedily, one of her legs shifting to spread your own. Her knee pressed lightly against your clothed heat, applying slight varying pressure with a watchful eye; She always loved to see exactly what made you tick. What made your back arch and breath hitch with a carnal spark. She craved to have that practiced to a muscle memory, to turn you mindless in the palm of her hand whenever she chose fit.

"God you're sick huh?

You tried to say something in defense, maybe even a witty quip to get her to smile again. You loved when she smiled in moments like this; Between the passion, the rough bites and harsh words - It was nothing less than love. She knew how much you adored her like this. Dominant, protective, trigger happy with anybody who dared get too close to you. But you were breathless, body shuddering with the pleasure her touch brought. You were at your most vulnerable underneath the woman; Even with no way out, you could think of nothing better than being right where you were. Not much else mattered except for the feeling of both her hands sweeping back down your chest and stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. It wasn't until her finger tips hooked around your belt loops that your dazed eyes focused. Her fingers were slim, scarred, veins lacing over the back of her large hand and muscular forearm. She pulled away your pants with a bite of her lip, kicking them away with distinct impatience; She wanted to taste you.

The cold air chilled your lower half as she worked at your jeans, a soft chuckle following as her finger tips glided over your hips, dipping into the waistband of your underwear. She took more deliberate care with these, her fingers finding the exact mark in the fabric to pull them down, leaving you fully exposed. She wasted no time in exploring the full breadth of your bare front, leaning slightly downward to press soft kisses along the hard pulse of your left thigh. It was maddening, feeling the woman in her element as she lavished attention on your vulnerable skin, biting like a starving animal; Arousal spun your mind, her hot breath and desperate tongue so close to your needy cunt.

You couldn't think through the fog in your mind - Only feel. Only see. Her fingers danced across your skin in search of its most sensitive areas, leaving strewns of light bruises on the soft of your thighs. Hands swept over your thighs with surprising gentleness, positioning your legs to rest on her wide shoulders. She didn't let them linger there, letting go to slip those same palms over your ass, pulling you closer to her with yet another dark snicker. The air in your chest seemed to catch fire when she spoke, her whispered breath causing your hips to sutter forward, whimpering needily.

"I haven't even touched you yet... You think Mark could make you this fucking pathetic?"

It was a sharp question, despite being spoken in one of the softest tones you've ever heard from the woman - She gave you no time to answer, let alone recover before letting her tongue dip firmly into the space she whispered into.

“You're mine,” She murmured, letting her senses all fall away from her head, her spiraling thoughts. She was quick to pull your legs apart from one another, letting his tongue ease over your cunt, starting down firmly at the base, one of her thumbs moving to spread you open gently, to let all her have complete access to you. You gasped sharply, instinctively trying to close your thighs at the sudden electric euphoria lashing at your senses. Yet when her teeth grazed over your clit, your breath hitched tightly in your chest, gazing down at her working at your cunt with the desperation of a starved animal. A groan vibrated into your heat, and you let your head fall back, propping yourself up with her elbows as beads of sweat rolled over your temples. Your eyebrows knitted together, one of your hands reaching to the back of Amandas head, hoping for everything that she wouldn’t stop no matter what you said.

“Fuck - 'Manda!”

You strained the words, your hips shaking slightly as Amanda pulled your clit firmly between her lips, the fingers once used to hold you down had been moved to ease into your cunt, her index and middle fingers sliding in with little resistance. You felt so full just from the pair of fingers, and when she curved them upwards, you could feel your thighs trembling, biting your bottom lip. The quickening tips of her fingers reached that perfect spot, the one that you could barely reach by yourself. You tossed your head over the sheets, your fits gripping the blankets beside you so tightly you could feel your fingernails digging into the palm of your hand. Amandas tongue worked wonders over the small area, her fingers keeping the repetitive motion inside of you; You felt a small fire start to rise in your lower stomach, spiking up into your veins, clouding your vision with stinging tears - Your body screamed for release, your moans aimless, begging Amanda not to stop.

          Your squeals always seemed to motivate her more than anything else. Amanda used her free hand to pull one of your legs up onto her strong shoulder, leaning herself deeper into you - So willing to make you come undone just from her fingers and tongue alone. A smile reached over her lips as she pulled her mouth from you, her fingers not wavering.

      “That's it...” She murmured, her dark eyes piercing deep into yours, expression contorting, able to see you finally cum around her thick fingers. Your eyes watered with the immeasurable amount of pleasure that reigned over your senses, head spinning, saliva falling from your bottom lip. Amanda shuddered out a sigh at the sight of your twitching heat, her thumb rubbing over your senstive clit harshly now, post orgasm. This caused you to try and pull away once more, head shaking instinctually. The sensitivity was too much for you, a strangled sounding out cry made Amanda chuckle casually, her teeth now nipping at the insides of your thighs as you rode out your forcefully coaxed orgasm.

When Amanda removed her fingers, she eased her tongue over them, humming with approval, eyes not leaving your dazed expression. She let your trembling leg slide off her shoulder as the air filled with your unsteady gasps, hardly able to put words together as the woman before you moved to sit on the bed beside you - You tried to move, lifting your shakey hand, finger tips numb from your shallow breaths, yet Amanda shook her head and returned your hand back in place. You needed rest, even as she pulled you into her arms and wrapped her thick quilt over your shoulders, keeping you in her lap while she gingerly offered you water and pecking your cheeks and head with kisses. Amanda would spoil you until the end, even if it meant reminding you exactly who you belonged to every once in a while.

[applesontheground]

play the game 'til i'm dead 🧩

KINKTOBER 2024 | DAY EIGHT - SWALLOWING & COCKWARMING

major shoutout to @bisexual-horror-fan for giving me a little idea on how to tackle what i already had in the thinktank for this <3 <3

the working title for this one was "a case of epic bad luck" but i ended up changing it last second. seemed too on the nose, but know that the temptation was there.

NSFW | Word Count: 2,205 | Mark Hoffman x Female Apprentice!Reader contains DUBIOUS CONSENT TO MENTIONED SWALLOWING, teasing, predator/prey, manhandling, brief mention of voyeurism but nothing comes of it, edging, mouthfuck 🎼: x

You were working under Jigsaw. Of course you had a little too much interest in playing with the wills of others.

It started casual enough: tapping his shoulder when walking by, adjusting your pants so the arches of your thong showed for a split second, and that wasn’t even including the instance where you bent over, sliding part of your body into an incinerator that was going to be utilized for the next trap just to hang a syringe for an individual to have to crawl all the way inside for. Of course, you tried to do it with your backside still out, but eventually had to bend one knee, slide even further inside.

He was standing a few paces away, having to remain there like a tied up dog while John was in eyeshot just outside of room, able to catch of anything he may do and unaware of what was going on just around the wall. There was a pretty ragged part of himself that didn’t particularly care what Kramer spotted, but he chose to keep control of himself by focusing on something else in the room that needed rigging.

When you slid back out, shirt riding up and showing the matching color of bra, a dropped screwdriver made you look over at him. You two held the stare, and part of you wondered if he knew you were well aware of what you were doing.

A strike of bravery ran through you, and decided you were going to make that clear. You strode over, eyes downcast and smile barely subdued. You then adjusted, bending down in front of him to get the tool, hair curling by the toe of his boot as it hung down, and then handing it over with an innocent murmur. “Dropped this.”

He nodded back slowly, taking it without so much as a cough that resembled thanks. You walked away promptly, asking John about something that needed to be reconfigured somewhere else in the house that was being set up.

It was going to be fine, so long as the constant stayed constant, and someone else was around to keep him in line.

“You guys have to go where?”

Amanda turned to look at you, and explained again, “There’s a problem with a few of the traps over in the warehouse across town. It can be handled by just two of us, so I was thinking that John and I could go take care of it while you two finish up here, right?”

You glanced around the dim workshop, not sure where Hoffman had walked off to, but then you thinly answered, “Sure, think that’s easy enough.”

Most of your tempting had been a couple hours ago, but his hard glares were a sign it wasn’t going to be forgotten, and that you were getting payback the second he had you alone. He wasn’t meatheaded enough to do it with others around, so you comfortably kept walking along that tightrope: licking your fingers before straightening something on the diorama on the tables, stretching rather playfully, and now?

You had just set up the stage for the moment these two would drive away.

The other woman seemed to read something akin to what was going through your mind in the way your calm expression twisted a little, and she walked over carefully. “Are you worried about being left alone with him?”

Your eyes shot up from staring at the table, and playing dumb you asked, “Should I be?”

Amanda scoffed, “No. He’s surprisingly fair when it comes to…how he treats women. Doesn’t take advantage – and I would know, both of us scoured his records after he started working with us.” You tilted your head, matching her halfhearted smile. She then touched your shoulder, and assured you, “Really, he’s safe. …And if he isn’t?” Her fingers slid off your shoulder, “We’ll take care of it.”

You grinned now, and finally sighed, “Alright, alright. You guys have my burner number if you need anything. Or his, but-“

Amanda started walking backwards, and she quickly declared, “I’d call you, [Y/N].” You laughed now, but as soon as she smiled to signal her exit and turned her back to you, your eyes widened. Quickly, you scoured the room, hearing John and Mark discussing something casual in the other room. Most likely the same thing she just told me, you figured. You started looking around for good hallways to slink off to, somewhere to hide while hopping a little in place, unable to just stand there.

It was idiotic to admit this prospect excited you, but remembering the few times you had seen what he does to people who’ve caused him problems, the pit in your stomach fluttered in both terror and arousal.

The doors to the warehouse slid shut somewhere on the other side, and the sound of footsteps now approaching the room you were in made you brace. You rushed over to a nearby shelf, pressing into the shadows and watching for his entrance. He wouldn’t be hard to miss, squared shoulders coming into view.

“Think you’re funny, huh?” He asked, “Well, let’s see how hilarious this mess can get, [Y/N].” You swallowed hard, seeing him circle the table you had just been standing at. Your heart raced, not able to see where he was looking, and whether or not he could see as clear in the dark as you were. When a turn of his head swiveled back to stare straight, right where you would be in a clear line of view, you shot out to make it for the door.

What you had advantage for in speed he did in strength, one yank of the hem of your shirt making your feet slip under you in a botched run and torso slam into the doorway, his own weight shoving you twice as hard into it from the back.

“John was telling me your ability to anticipate how plans are going to pan out was growing sharper since he dragged you into all of this.” He then spoke, taking your upper arm that wasn’t pushed into the wall and twisting it behind your back, “I disagree. This is turning out pretty poor for you as far as I can tell.”

You winced, but then let out a laugh, “Shit, I try not to assume it’s gonna work out in my favor every time, but this was really unexpected.” You let him pry you off the doorway, and mentioned, “Amanda told me you were going to be harmless.”

He grimaced at that, eyes narrowing as you then asked, “Well, and speaking of the others, if Dr. Gordon comes in here?”

“Neither of us should be thinking that far ahead.” He muttered down at you, his eyes catching an open spot on the table and turning you around with him. You made this last part hard, slamming your shoulders into his chest and finally groaning in a satisfied defeat as he got you doubled over the hard surface, an ugly clang echoing through the room.

His will was fun to play with, but now it was your turn. He took a second as his hand snaked around, undoing your belt and finally getting to see the underwear you had merely shown glimpses of in its full appearance.

He lingered on it for a second, and you were surprised he knew what taking its time meant as you enjoyed the pause before they were pulled aside and a middle finger slid through, bumping your entrance and not even taking the time to tease.

“Oh, give me a break.” He muttered, craning down to loom over you and speak directly against your face, “You’re that wet before I even did anything?” You looked down at what he was doing, unable to make eye contact as he muttered another curse, pulling away and wasting no time replacing his finger with the tip of his cock.

You let out a strained noise, almost hurt as he slid halfway in, a hand running up your back, under your shirt to feel the bra now, and he then went the rest of the way. You spat through the labor, the initial pain that made you shiver through your words, “You’re just going for it, huh?”

“Oh.”

Your eyes widened again, practically feeling the dread spur your core as he stilled, “I’m not moving, hon.” You squirmed, and he responded by immediately bracing the back of your neck, “And I don’t think you are, either.”

Your breaths were labored, but that was all you gave him at first. Staying still, both arms on either side of your head and his moving to hold you down by your wrists. You set your chin against the table, forming a hunch that you could outwait him.

He was the one who adjusted now, and you quickly bit, “Oh, get a load of this lying bastard.”

“What? I’m not moving.” He lied, another slight pull out before bumping your core again, and the first huff melted into a groan. A spike of bravery, the same one that had been toying with you all evening as you did him, struck again. “I don’t know why I expected you to play fair.”

You clenched your walls around him, the heat from the act (or lack thereof) seeping through to you as the hold on your wrists tightened. He breathed deeply through his nose, and you decided there was a new angle you could take. “I can’t believe I wanted to play with a man who can’t keep his word.”

You smiled, seeing a slight shake in his arms, and his lips purse tight from the corner of your eye as you pressed your ear to the table and spoke over your shoulder, voice trembling and stuttering but continuing to egg on. “Here you are, telling me to stay still when you’re on the verge of fucking my brains out. Wouldn’t that be enough of a rut for the both of us? I don’t even have to come-“

“You’re not going to if you keep talking.” He sputtered, the snarl to his voice making your jaw fall open, and somehow you felt as though he slipped even deeper, holding the position as your voice fell from grace, and you asked, “I th-think I just…” You heaved a breath that jostled both of you slightly, and splayed your legs just a bit more comfortably.

“Sure. I just want you to do it, then.” A twitch in you made you twist the knife, and you even put a little hum to your voice now instead of the brutality you had laced it with, “Please.”

Another awful sound from above was all you got before your hips were released from digging into the table – and then promptly shoved back in. Forming bruises made you yelp as he started taking a pace that was half orchestrated, a decent rhythm, and quickly spiraling out. He released your wrists, one hand now pressing back on your neck while the other hooked around your thigh.

“Stupid whore,” He muttered, and you merely hummed in reply, “Don’t forget how easy it was for me, how badly you fucking wanted this.”

“I do,” You agreed, “And you’re giving it to me. It’s a t-two way street-“ You cut yourself off with another hiccuped moan, jostled to the point your feet barely stayed on the ground as you melted back into his pace, barely heard what he said next.

“This isn’t ending the way you think it is.”

You sighed in relief, an itch feeling closer to being scratched and assuming it meant he was going to let you come, let both of you have some sort of release after the day you spurred on, no consequence for you after all.

That was lost fast, the sensation and warm tickle inside quelled as he suddenly pulled out. You almost had something else to say, whimpering slightly as he pulled you off the table, turning you around. You stayed silent for once, breathing through an open mouth and trying not to beg any more. Still, you gave him one look, and he responded by pushing you down to your knees.

A position you had teased him with before, you realized as you fell forward from another pull of your hair, positioning you to take the erection he still had, blue-balled to hell and back and burning against your tongue, into your mouth. You went all the way back, retching against him and grabbing his knees to brace yourself.

He froze, and suddenly you realized you weren’t just drooling out onto his base. You tried to pull back, begin gagging up the thick semen that was now dripping down your throat, filling your mouth, but he suddenly plugged your nose and held you still as you demurred loudly against him.

When he did pull out, he came down to one knee, hitting your head against the edge of the table and covering your mouth.

“Swallow it.” He demanded, and when you made eye contact but stopped struggling against him, stunned from the bump your head had taken, he nodded with his hair slipping into his face. Your breaths were muffled against his hand, but you supposed the best thing to do was play with him, not against him. He seemed to agree too, feeling you shudder as your throat finally started to take it down and your eyes closed.

“Good girl.”

[sexy-monster-fucker]

going absolutely crazy there is absolutely no sub!hoffman x reader in the world… so I am very humbly asking.. for brat Hoffman and dom female reader… pretty please with a cherry on top

I have been thinking about this Fic ever since it got submitted and just haven’t been able to bring myself to write it. happy to finally be able to dedicate the effort I wanted to for this! :D

Brat Sub!Mark Hoffman x Dom!Reader

CW: bondage, choking, hair pulling, biting, unprotected p in v, creampie,

a/n: Mark Hoffman is most definitely the ultimate switch

~~~

You stood at your table tinkering with one of your newest traps for your next game. Following the instructions John had left for you. You were always good at following orders.

The man who stood in the room with you on the other hand was not.

Mark Hoffman. One of the other many workers for John Kramer, a.k.a. the Jigsaw killer. He had been alongside him much longer than you. That fact made him cocky. Holding himself to a higher standard than you and the others. Unlike the rest of you, he had not been given a traditional game to play and win. Simply being taken under John’s wing.

Mark was kneeled down inspecting some of the loose parts under his table. Trying to find a way to make this trap his own.

“He gave you instructions for a reason, you know,” you chimed in still focused on your trap in front of you. An annoyed look was shot over his shoulder as he rose to his feet. Scoffing at your statement and walking over to you. “I’m aware of that,” a simple statement as he hovered over you. Mark had a habit of going off book. Something you knew better than.

You continued with your work, ignoring the looming man. Attaching parts to the chair for the upcoming game. Squatted down in his shadow. He admired your ass in front of him. Loving the days he got to be here alone with you.

Mark had taken a liking to you when you were first introduced to him. Surviving a game and becoming one of Jigsaw’s apprentices was no easy task. You were special to him. Not like Amanda or Lawrence. Something about you made him crave you. You were innovative, brilliant, and beautiful on top of it.

Often spending late nights in the shop together. Sometimes leading to some rather intimate moments. You sat up on the table leaned back trying to take a break. Mark stood directly in front of the table. Finding his place between your spread legs. Hooded eyes darting up to him. Stiffening your posture to be face to face with him. One of his large hands caressed your cheek, falling into his touch. Your hand joining his. Lips finding their place on yours.

“Can you hand me that screw driver over there?”

Mark snapped back into reality. Passing the screw driver over to you. Intently watching you work on the contraption. Your knees were growing uncomfortable on the cement floor. Feeling Mark’s eyes on your ass and how your tight jeans hugged it. You leaned forward really stretching yourself to make sure he got the best view possible.

“Mark…” you doed your eyes up at him, “Can you help me?”

“What do you need?”

“I just really want to make sure this trap works right. Can you sit down and let me attach it to you?”

Mark laughed at your question. Mockery written on his body language. “As if I would ever do something like that.”

Rising to your feet, you held your hands in front of your body, swaying back and forth slightly. Puppy dog eyes staring up at him. You saw his expression lighten softly.

“It’s not fully operational yet. I just want to make sure you can’t get out of the hand locks without the key,” you fluttered your lashes at him.

You watched as his nostrils flared. Internally fighting himself from giving in to you. But you looked so innocent and sweet batting your eyes up at him. He growled to himself.

You danced your fingers up his exposed forearm. Nails grazing his skin softly. “Please, Mark?”

Heat ran through his veins. A soft glow painting his cheeks as his lips tightened together. Heavy eyes staring into yours.

“Fine,” Mark grumbled. Stomping over to the chair you had been working on. Sitting with his arms behind his back. You gleamed squatting behind the chair and guiding his hands into the confines. A loud locking mechanism confirming that his hands were not getting out on their own. Mark tugged and fought against the cuffs. Groans and grunts fell from him. Showing you that no one was getting out of them.

“Alright. You got what you wanted. Unlock me now,” Mark growled. You twirled the key ring around your finger. You tapped your finger against your cheek pretending to debate his demands. “Hmmm. I dunno. I kinda like how you look tied up,” you teased. Sensual eyes meeting his.

“Ha Ha. Real funny, Y/N. I’m not playing around, let me out,” Mark bared his teeth at you. Shit-eating grin painted your face. His eyes widened seeing the thought behind your eyes. Growing more frustrated by the second. You walked around the back of the chair, resting your arms on his shoulders. Hands running over them and lying against his chest. A soft moan being pulled from him at your touch. You rested your torso against his back, lips finding their place by his ear. Breasts pressed into his back, arousing him. You pulled his earlobe between your teeth. “You’re gonna have to earn your freedom, pretty boy,” you whispered. Chills ran down his body. Thoughts of you going to his cock. Breath hitching in his throat with your touch.

You ran your fingers through his hair, softness painting his demeanor. You locked your fingers in his hair, tugging his head back revealing his neck. A whimper fell from him. Your eyes lit up at the noise he made. Not thinking he was the type for whimpering. You pressed your lips to his neck, sucking and kissing at the soft flesh. Leaving purple marks all over his neck. Mark moaned meekly. Eyes squinted shut, enjoying the feeling of you.

"I didn't know sounds like this would come out of you, Detective," you whispered in his ear. Walking around the chair, his lust blown eyes tracking your every move. You gripped the arms of the chair, leaning down to be nose to nose with him. Lips mere inches apart. Soft, desperate eyes stared into yours. His lips slightly parted as he stared at the bit of cleavage that showed through your tank top. Your finger led his gaze up to your eyes. "I'll keep looking where I want," Mark smirked as his eyes fell back to your chest.

Your lip twitched. There was the asshole Mark you knew.

You wrapped your hand around his thick neck, manicured nails digging into his soft flesh. A loud moan falling from him, vibrating your hand. Blue eyes meeting yours. "Good boy," you grinned. His eyes fluttered with your words, the pet name clearly to his liking. You planted a sweet kiss against his plump lips. His body chased yours as you pulled away. His eyebrows furrowed.

Your fingers tugged at the tie around his collar. Loosening the knot and pulling it from his neck. Small breaths fell from Mark as your fingers found the buttons on his shirt. Undoing them one by one until you were on your knees in front of him. The last button directly above his belt buckle. Sensual eyes glancing up at him. Slightly hunched as he stared slack jawed at you. You bit at your lip as you stared at the outline of his hardening member through his slacks. Placing a soft kiss on it, pulling a groan from Mark.

"You want me to..."

"YES" Mark interrupted you. His face flush from his clear excitement.

You smirked up at him. Sitting back on your legs and straightening your back. "Awfully eager. I wanna hear you beg for it," you teased him.

Mark rolled his eyes, throwing his head around with them. Ignoring you as he pushed his lips together. A slight twitch on his brow. You frustrated him, but that's what made it fun. His brow told you he was not going to play along with you. You sat with a look of waiting on your face.

Mark wrapped his thick legs around you. Trapping you in his grasp against his groin. You shot a look of frustration up at him. “This is not how you’re going to get your way with me,” you gritted your teeth. A deep chuckle escaped him. You were beyond annoyed with him. "Please, Y/N," he began, "I need you to..."

You grinned ear to ear. "Need me to what, Mark?"

"Need you to touch me," he admitted.

Your hands undid his belt, pulling it through all the loops and throwing it behind you. Staring as you watched his cock grow harder as you toyed with the button of his pants. Pulling the zipper down and pulling his clothed cock from his pants. Mark's legs quivered with your touch his head thrown back loving the feeling. You placed an open mouthed kiss on him. His boxers already damp with his pre-cum. You traced his member with the tip of your finger. Loving how his cock would twitch when you would hit that certain spot he liked.

"Are you just going to play with me or fuck me already?" Mark groaned with a roll of his hips.

You cocked an eyebrow up at him, "No patience at all." You wrapped your hand around his cock, stroking him through his boxers. His body jerked at the sudden friction, eyes widening as he looked down at you. "Oh fuck," he moaned bucking into your hand.

"You better quit moving or I will stop all together," you gritted your teeth. Wanting to be the one taking care of things on your own terms. Mark's body froze, a shaky breath escaping him. Swallowing heavy as his face contorting in pleasure.

"There you go, pretty boy. Let me take care of you for a bit," you kissed the tip of his cock. Licking over the moist fabric feeling the slit on his head through it. You twisted your wrist around his throbbing member.

Pulling away and rising to your feet suddenly. An angry grunt coming from Mark at the loss of contact. You leaned over, freeing his cock from its confines. The cold air making him jump. You licked your lips at the sight of him.

"Please. I need you," Mark's eyes were squinted shut. Cock throbbing and leaking, begging you to come take care of him. You slowly stripped your lower half down, stepping out of your pants and panties. His mouth was agape at the sight of your bare pussy. Practically drooling, his eyes unable to look away from you. You strutted over to him, straddling his lap. His arms fighting with the confines, instinctively wanting to caress your curves. A mild look of frustration painted him now.

You grabbed his cock by the base, sinking down on the hard member. Mark's eyes rolled into the back of his head. Any prior frustration washing away. Lost in how you engulfed him. You hopped up and down on him, his thick cock stretching you perfectly. Watching how his face contorted with every movement of you. Moans poured from his sweet lips. Curses and your name gambled together.

Both of you lost in ecstasy for a moment. Mark's eyes found their place on your chest, watching your breasts bounce with your thrusts. Hooded eyes begged to be buried in them. He leaned forward, his face finding itself in your cleavage. Lips kissing and biting at the tender flesh. Your hands tangled in his hair holding him against you. Teeth grazing your nipple through your shirt. Your head thrown back as you fucked him. You felt his cock twitch inside you.

"You gonna cum in me? Gonna fill me up? I want you inside me, pretty boy. Come on, I know you can do it," you encouraged him. Speeding up your motions, his hips meeting your thrusts half way. You felt your walls contorting around him, his head hitting a perfect spot inside you. The friction of his pelvis against your clit edging you along.

"We can do it together. Come on, Mark. Be a good boy for me and cum," you purred. Your walls spasmed with each smack of hips. Mark nodded aggressively, "I'll do anything for you. Promise I'll do it for you. Fuck, please, Y/N. Feels so fucking good."

"Good boy. Fill me up," you kissed his lips. Sharing in your moaning as you felt your orgasm rip through you. Walls milking his cock. Mark's hips buckled up flush against you as he came inside you. Small erratic thrusts as he finished. Lips kissed through your highs. Your hands held both sides of his face, foreheads pressed together. You felt his cum and your slick pooling around the base of his cock. You remained in your same position.

Mark smiled breathing heavily. It was not often a smile painted his face so genuinely. You enjoyed seeing him so happy.

"Did I earn getting out?"

"Of course you did, handsome."

~~~

[END]

// Thank you for reading! This is only my second work for Mark Hoffman and I would love to write more about him. If you want to be tagged in the future, please let me know. Requests are always open! //

{tags}

@sleepybunnybobby ~ @lacvkart ~ @vics-chick ~ @heif ~ @mrsmandylor ~

[plutoswritingplanet]

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. 

[jiggy-manda]

hiiii

please write about Amanda Young x fem!reader :)

she gets very jealous and furry when someone flirts with us :)))))

jealous!amanda young x fem!reader

warnings: none… age gap kinda? obv amanda is in her 30s but reader is in her 20s so just take that how you will

wc: 1.6k

your situation with jigsaw and the apprentices was… different.

you weren’t an apprentice, per se, but you also weren’t completely a victim; you floated around somewhere in between. like a middle-man, almost. you were never directly involved with the crimes, though you were definitely knowledgeable of them. you’d been tested as well, but for some reason it seemed like your test wasn’t… as brutal.

you’d talked to amanda a few times, mainly when you were begging to be let go and she was busy laughing at you. some part of you kind of thought she went easy on you, but you couldn’t tell if that was true or if it was just you making up things to cope with what had happened.

ever since your test, you’d been staying with john and the apprentices— which you later learned was not normal for other jigsaw victims. you never found out why, but there was always a slight feeling in your brain that the lingering looks from his female apprentice had something to do with it.

either way, it was something you chose not to dwell on because you knew it would only lead to more questions and more disappointment.

it felt pointless to continue stewing over it, so for the next few minutes you continued on in your notebook, writing down different plans john or the apprentices had mentioned over time and looking over the new list of people and their offenses.

you were so busy reading a file on some new contraption that you didn’t even notice the shadowy figure suddenly hovering above you.

mark hoffman was perched on the side of your desk with one leg hanging off the edge. “what are you working on?”

amanda quietly scoffed at his presence from her makeshift bedroom, a bit in shock that you would even entertain the man. you, on the other hand, were just looking for a way to exit the conversation with him.

looking up at mark, you quickly realized he was way too close— you could smell his cologne, or lack thereof.

she tried not to keep looking at you, but amanda couldn’t help but stare. she smirked as she watched, noting how you subtly crinkled your nose when he leaned towards you.

amanda has never liked hoffman. hoffman, not mark— she’d never dare give him the pleasure of addressing him by his name. she never liked him, but she disliked him even more when he interacted with you. in the back of her mind, a small part of her thought he just continued to talk to you simply to piss her off. he’s not completely clueless; he knows how to push amanda’s buttons. he’d probably talk to you even if he didn’t like you just to fuel his vendetta against the small brunette.

she didn’t like it when he was around you.

“…oh, you know. just, traps and stuff, i guess…”

“you guess?” he laughed at that. “c’mon sweetheart, you gotta have more confidence than that.”

you sighed, setting down the pencil you’d been holding to look up at him. “do you need something, mark?”

“oh come on, don’t be like that,” he replied. “you barely talk to any of us! i’m just trying to get to know you.”

you looked down at the hands you had eventually clasped and set against your desk. you then gave him a tight smile. “okay… what do you want to know?”

he grinned. “you got a boyfriend?”

you instinctively recoiled back, hoping the disgust you felt didn’t show on your face. if you asked amanda, she would’ve said it did— but she wasn’t even watching, of course not.

taking a moment to clear your throat, you met his gaze to respond. “no, i don’t.”

the brooding woman in her makeshift bedroom finally spoke up, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “but i’m sure she’d love to hear a proclamation of love from a man twice her age.”

he turned his head towards amanda, the force of his movements causing even his body to shuffle. “can’t you just mind your business?” he shot back.

you were planning on jumping in, eventually— but the decision of what to say was still playing around in your mind. to be fair, you were in a borderline cult of serial killers, so your sexual preferences really should be the least of their concerns.

“whatever you say, old man. im just pointing out the obvious, that’s all. i don’t think a woman your age would even go for you, honestly.” the corner of amanda’s lip turned into a grin when she saw mark’s hand twitch.

“you know what, smartass?” he said, slamming his palms on your desk as he stood up. “you wanna say that again? what the hell is your problem?”

amanda pushed herself off of the perch she called a bed. “you’re my problem, asshat. you think you’re so much better than me and everyone else just because you’re some high class detective who’s never failed a drug test in his life,” she spat out.

mark got closer to amanda, nearly backing her up to one of the desks close by. at this point, your brain had finally started working again, so you rushed to get between the two.

“okay, can we please be a bit rational here?”

you were facing mark, watching as the upper part of his mouth twitched, and you just managed to keep a straight face when amanda mumbled something about ‘his lip injections going haywire.’

“and can you please sit down?” you finally addressed both of them. they both grumbled as they made their own separate ways to take their places.

clearing your throat, you returned to your seat and ran your hands through your hair. “she’s not completely wrong,” you said as you faced the man who’d started this whole thing. “i don’t mind if someone’s older than me,” you started, looking back at amanda to correct her comment.

you looked back at mark, studying his face before finishing your statement. “but i don’t date men.”

amanda, for once, was happy your attention was focused on mark and not herself. she did not need you to see the shock (intrigue) on her face at that revelation.

mark just stared at you for a few moments, not quite sure what to say.

“oh.”

“yeah,” you started, your face starting to heat up at all the attention on you. it didn’t help that the topic of the matter was your sexuality and love life. “so. um… yeah.”

“then… you got a girlfriend?”

amanda perked up at this, wishing she could appear less interested.

“nope,” you let out with a sigh. “but it’s whatever. i like it here anyways, working on traps and helping out.”

“sure,” he said, scanning the room. it seemed like he didn’t really know what to do at that point… it was clear that flirting with you was his only objective, so it’s not like you had anything else to talk about. “i’m gonna go ask john about one of the next traps but i’ll be back soon.”

you nodded, while amanda gave a “yeah, whatever.” you tried not to laugh at their back-and-forth demeanor. it was clear they didn’t like each other— though, you weren’t a very big fan of mark either. you had a hard time believing anyone was, really.

amanda, however… you weren’t quite sure how to feel about her. you never interacted much; mark made more of an effort to talk to you, and you didn’t even like him. if anything, you were confused by amanda.

she didn’t really talk to you, but for some reason it was like she didn’t want anyone else talking to you either. on the rare times that she did give you more than a few minutes of her attention, she would snap at anyone who interrupted the conversation— anyone besides john, of course.

“so you’re gay?”

the question struck you out of your thoughts, nearly making you jump. you turned and faced amanda completely, pausing a few minutes to take in her presence.

“yeah.”

“cool.”

a few silent seconds passed before amanda spoke again with a slight smile playing at her face. “me too.”

“yeah?” you tilted your head, meeting her eyes.

“yeah… and i really didn’t like seeing hoffman flirt with you,” she replied.

you paused, not sure whether you should push it any further. “amanda young,” you said with a dramatic gasp. “were you… jealous?”

she immediately scoffed, rolling her eyes where she stood. “you wish.”

“i think you were,” you replied, taking a step closer. you tilted your head to the side and looked into her eyes. “i’m not stupid, amanda. you’re not subtle in the way you snap at everyone who tries to interact with me.”

her face slightly flushed at that. “that’s not true,” she sputtered out. “i snap at everyone.”

“pfft, yeah, whatever,” you let out.

“im serious,” she said, taking hold of your arm. you looked down at your arm and then back up at her, raising your brow. she quickly let go of it and brought her arm back. “i just don’t like people,” she reasoned. “it’s nothing personal.”

“sure.”

“whatever,” she huffed out. if looks could kill, you would’ve been six feet under by now. you didn’t know a small body could hold so much rage, but you figured you’d save the psychoanalytics for later.

it was clear that you’d gotten under her skin, and a small part of you felt a bit of pride that you’d gotten the usually stoic girl to stutter and blush.

you grinned, making your way back to your desk covered in blueprints and plans. “and amanda,” you started. “let me know if you ever want to… collaborate.”

a/n: yayyyy more amanda fics 😙😙 this was really fun to write <3 i might make another part? idk i feel like leaving the ending open was kinda fun 🫣

[grxmreaperx]

YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD AAHHH 🥰🥰 If you’re still taking requests, could I get something for Hoffman x Female reader?? You can decide the main plot points, I’m just looking for something with maybe a hurt reader and fluffy ending and smut, if you’re okay writing that of course!!

I’m so glad there’s more people writing for Saw and Hoffman. 🫶🏻

Of course, lovely, you’re so sweet!! Y'all get to eat good tonight, fic writing has become my way of winding down at the end of the day, so the Hoffman stans get two smut fics in one night!

Also, I am working my way through my replies! If you have submitted a request, I promise I will get to you (don't worry Strahm babes, I haven't forgotten about you <3)

I wrote this from Hoffman’s POV, just for funsies.

Nurse Hoffman

Pairing: Mark Hoffman x female reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: canon violence (gas house trap), hurt reader, Mark being angry and protective; smut 18+!! Mark making the reader feel better in more ways than one; oral sex (f! receiving), p in v penetration, Mark being filthy and cocky as fuck

Summary: You and Amanda go into the gas house to make sure the game goes smoothly. When Xavier goes on a rampage looking for everyone’s number, he gets a little too close to you for Mark’s comfort.

--

“Let me in the fucking house, John!” Hoffman yelled, slamming his fist against the table.

“Not until the game is finished. We need the recording for the police.”

The two men were watching the security cameras as the women made their way through the house, Amanda trying to protect Daniel, and you looking for something, anything to stop Xavier.

“This wasn’t part of the plan! Let me in the fucking house!” Mark felt like he was going to explode, watching the tank of a man stumble after you through the house of death. He paced around the room, fists clenched tight, eyes not once leaving the screens.

The toxin had started to show its effects on you: Mark could see the sweat coating your face, the blood you retched up into your hand. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He had told John not to pick Xavier, he was too much of a liability, too big of a wild card. But no. The fucking game.

He saw what you were doing. You lured Xavier away from the starting point, away from your point of escape, so Amanda and Daniel could have more time. He watched as you backed yourself into the needle pit room, Xavier moments behind you, and pried one of the broken floorboards off its final nails.

He knew they needed Daniel for the plan, they needed something to lure in Matthews. But he’d give everyone in that godforsaken house to have you sitting safely in that room with him.

His breathing stopped as Xavier entered the room, that taunting smile spreading across his face.

“You think that piece of wood is going to stop me, huh? Cmon sweetie, I just need the number on your neck. It’ll be quick, I promise.”

You stood, knees slightly bent, eyes boring into the man in front of you. Hoffman watched as you backed slowly closer to the pit of needles, plank raised in front of you. “Come get it then.”

Xavier lunged at you, knife swinging through the air. Mark’s heart stopped when he saw blood blooming on your shirt sleeve. Oh, he was going to kill him. He was going to kill him, and he was going to make it hurt.

You dropped to the ground and for a moment, Mark was ready to raise Hell and bring it into the abandoned house. Until he saw you slide between Xavier’s legs, jumping up behind him, and taking your shot.

He didn’t breathe again until he saw the blow land on the back of Xavier’s head, knocking him off balance just enough for him to teeter into the pit of needles.

“You bitch! You fucking bitch!” The man swam around, trying to get a grip on something besides the sharp point of a syringe.

You fell to the ground as, on another camera, Amanda and Daniel made their way into the old bathroom. Game over.

Mark hurried toward the door, ready to tear down the walls of that house if he needed to.

--

When Mark saw your eyes flutter open, it felt like the world began to spin again.

“Hey there, Detective,” you said softly, voice hoarse. “How long have I been out?”

“A couple of hours. I gave you the antidote and had to bandage up your arm.”

You looked down at your left arm, almost as if you had forgotten Xavier had even come close. “Ah, shit. Motherfucker.”

Mark let out a small laugh. “How you feeling?”

“Better than ever. You been here taking care of me?”

He gave a shallow nod and watched as you looked around, trying to get your bearings, before realizing you were safe in your apartment.

You looked over at him. “How did you know where I hide my key?”

He laughed. “I thought a smart woman like you would know not to hide her key under the mat.”

You rolled your eyes at him. You slowly sat up and before he even knew what he was doing he was right by your side. Your eyes met his as a smirk spread across your lips. “What, you worried about me or something, Hoffman?”

Pulling his gaze from your eyes, clearing his throat, the only words he could conjure were “I’m gonna get you something to drink, you need to rehydrate.”

He felt you reach up, wrapping your hand around his shirt collar. “I’m fine,” you muttered, before pulling his face down to meet his lips.

Something snapped deep in his stomach and suddenly he was on you, caging your body under his own, careful to avoid your bandaged arm. Your lips crashed together, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. He felt your hands reach up, burying themselves in his hair. He reluctantly pulled away from your lips, dragging his down to your neck.

“You sure you’re up for this?”

You nodded, running your hands over his chest. He grabbed your wrists, pinning them down on either side of your head, lips making their way over your throat.

“You want me to make you feel good, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you breathed, wrapping your legs around his waist.

A growl rumbled in his throat as he ran his hands down you body, pulling down the sweats he had dressed you in and your underwear in one tug. His eyes flicked to your shirt. “Take it off.”

You quickly complied, sitting up just enough to slip the shirt over your head and unhook your bra. His eyes roamed over your body, watching your chest rise and fall with each breath. His hands squeezed your thighs as his lips brushed over your stomach. “Tell me what you want, princess.”

You let out a soft sigh. “You, I want you.”

“Cmon, sweetheart, you can do better than that. Tell me what you want.”

“I want your fingers. And your tongue.” He felt your breathing speed up as his lips moved lower, gliding across your hip bones.

“Much better.” He buried his face between your legs, savoring the whimpers that fell from your mouth. His tongue drew circles around your clit as he slowly slides two fingers inside you, pumping them deeper each time.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathed, legs clamping shut around his head.

He pulled his lips away, drawing a whine from your mouth. “Spread your fuckin’ legs for me or I’ll stop.”

You forced your legs apart, sliding a hand behind each knee to keep yourself from closing them again.

He could tell you were already close by the way your legs were shaking, your breathing heavy. He began pumping his fingers faster, sucking on your clit harshly. “God, baby, already gonna cum for me? How long’s it been since someone’s touched you like this?”

“Too long,” you said softly, feeling the tension build in your stomach. “God, please don’t stop.”

He curled his fingers and felt you arch underneath him, legs shaking violently as your orgasm washed over you.

“Good girl,” he growled as he pulled away from you, making his way back up your body. He sat up, slowly unbuckling his pants, watching your face for your reaction. You were watching him intently, eyes clouded from pleasure.

He pulled his dress pants down just enough to free his dick, a cocky smile crossing his face as your eyes took him in. “You see something you like, baby?”

You nodded quickly, letting out a chorus of soft whimpers, begging him to do something.

Normally, he would force more out of you, teasing your cunt until you had tears in your eyes, but he figured you had already had a long enough day. He’d be nice, just this once.

He lifted one of your legs onto each shoulder, lining his cock up at your entrance before slowing sliding in. He savored the feeling of you pulsing around him, the look of euphoria on your pretty face as you took every damn inch. “So good for me, such a pretty whore, huh?”

Your moans were music to his ears, eyes drinking in the sight of your body bouncing with every stroke.

“God, you look so pretty, full of my cock. Such a good girl.” You cried out, throwing your head back, rolling your hips to meet his. He smiled, the only words falling from your lips were “please,” “fuck,” and moans of his name.

You were his.

He felt your legs shake against his shoulders as you rode out your second orgasm, so cock-drunk you couldn’t even form words. He grabbed your hips, picking up speed before his own euphoria rushed over him, emptying himself deep inside of you.

He stilled, both of you trying to catch your breath, before pulling out and lying down next to you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, gently pulling you to him and laying your head on his chest.

“Well, Detective,” you said softly. “You have to be the best nurse I’ve ever had.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, and pushing your hair off your forehead. “Dumbass.”

--

When Xaiver next opened his eyes, all he could see was the outline of a television.

He was painfully aware of each and every puncture in his skin, now soaked in citric acid.

The TV clicked on, a white doll with black hair staring at him through the screen.

“Hello Xaiver. You thought you were done after your little performance in the house? Oh, no.”

“I’d like to play a game.”

[bosinclairsgff]

MASTER LIST PT. 1

Bo Sinclair x reader

Sawyers go to Disneyland

Slashers with a housewife reader

Slashers reacting to female rage

NSFW head canons

Slashers when their s/o is on her period

[lucyswinter]

Request guidelines

Requests are : OPEN<3

Masterlist

Who/what I write for:

-Cillian Murphy/ characters: (Jackson Rippner, Tom Shelby, Neil Lewis, Jonathan Crane, Kitten Braden, Jim: 28 days later, Emmett: a quiet place part II, Raymond Leon, Robert Fischer, Tom Buckley)

-Criminal Minds: Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia, JJ,

-The Bear: Sydney Adamu, Richie Jerimovich, Carmen Berzatto, Sugar Berzatto

-Saw: Lawrence Gordon, Adam Stanheight, Mark Hoffman, Peter Strahm, Amanda Young, Jill Tuck, Lynn Denlon (for ships: I’ll do chainshipping, coffinshipping, and shotgunshipping/lynnmanda!)

-American Horror Story (All seasons up to Cult with the addition of 1984. Only ships if they are canon (by season, I mean)! i.e: I won’t do Kit Walker (s2) x Madison Montgomery (s3) or anything! And for canon relationships, I will do any season besides NYC and Delicate as long as they are already together. For example, I would do Montana and Richard from 1984.)

-Nip/Tuck: Sean McNamara, Christian Troy, Matt McNamara, Julie McNamara, Liz Cruz, Eden Lord, Sophia Lopez, Kimber Henry

-DC villains (from the Nolan trilogy or Gotham tv show! I will specify from which one I mean. I’ll also write Batman but that’s the only “hero”/vigilante)

-Peaky blinders: Luca Changretta, Tom Shelby, Alfie Solomons, Finn Shelby, John Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Oswald Mosley

-Top Gun/ Top Gun: Maverick: any characters! (For ships, I only rlly know IceMav 😭 but I’m open to others! I’ll also do penny!reader)

-Bridgerton/ Queen Charolette: Daphne x Simon, George x Charolette, Anthony x Kate, Colin x Penelope (and all of these characters individually as well as Benedict, Violet, Eloise, and the Featherington sisters! *Edit for season 3*: Lord Debling, Lord Stirling, Lady Arnold, Lord Anderson, Francesca Bridgerton, Cressida Cowper)

-Community: Professor Ian Duncan, Jeff Winger, Abed Nadir, Britta Perry , Annie Edison, Troy Barnes

-Impractical Jokers: Joe Gatto, Sal Vulcano, James Murray, Brian Quinn

-Supernatural: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Destiel (will not do Wincest or Wincestiel)

-X-files: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, MSR

-BBC Sherlock (only JohnLock)

-Good omens (only Ineffable husbands)

-Hannibal (only Hannigram)

(Any other characters im open to! Just PM me to see if I know the fandom/media they’re in, or rec with a few options! I’ll ignore if I don’t know them <;3)

I will write: A bit ooc (depends on scenario 🤭), fluff, smut, small-ish age gap, AU’s, non romantic pairings, alternate endings, fem!/gn!/afab!reader, character x reader, character x character

I won’t write: Male!/nonbinary!/trans!reader (im a cis female so I will write gender neutral reader if requested, but most fics (unless specified) were written with a fem reader in mind :)), incest, underage reader (or character), dub/non-con

Thanks for reading! Feel free to PM requests if you aren’t comfortable sending them through the question button or want to work through the request :)

[markhoffmans-certified-slut]

The Slashers Responding to you Asking Them “On a Scale of 1-10, How Annoyed Are you With Me Right Now?” After a Fight

Pairing: Slasher Men x f!reader

Notes: I don't have much to say for my absence other than life is being s real bitch lately and I didn't have the energy to do anything 😅 despite how long it took, and how long this has been waiting to be posted, I have this chapter for you and I hope that you guys enjoy it!

Characters in this chapter include: Art, Billy, Stu, Brahms, Corey, Dennis, Mark, Michael, and Pinhead.

You can find the other chapters I’ve written and will continue writing for the texting series here!

<>~<>~<>

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Carefully heal the flower

Mark Hoffman x girlfriend!reader

warning : depression, attempted suicide, emotional, comfort, no use of y/n

summary : In a dark city, there was the law and the lawless, and even though Mark and his steady girlfriend had been through a lot, they seemed to be okay. But when hopefulness settles in their hearts, their love Hoffman stays away longer and longer, pain becomes too great and only one way out seems logical….

info : I'm sorry that you have to wait a little I hope you @hoffmangirl and everyone else likes it and I hope I could do justice to the topic, have fun :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a town where they both lived there was never really hope or the light of improvement, it always seemed to be dark. During the day it was foggy and stuffy and at night it was cold and harsh and the only thing you could rely on was yourself…or so it seemed to everyone else, except Hoffman and his girlfriend.

The two who had found each other in this town in the early days had something like hope, his work with the police quickly made him a career and with every medal, with every case he solved, the happier they both seemed to become and the prospects of making something of this town seemed close at hand.

However, as you went up the ladder you felt more responsibility, with every meal in a restaurant you ate the more you realised how much was actually going on beneath you, how horrible everything seemed and a feeling of helplessness began to fill her more and more.

She loved Mark, loved him for his strong character that even in the darkest days of his career when he was confronted with death and violence he never lost his cool, he was strong but the more he became the hero of the city the more he was gone.

She always had to wait longer for him in the evenings, and during the day when she was at work she would write him a few messages which were answered less and less.

The little heart or a short ‘I love you’ was always missing, ,,Mark…you love me, don't you?" she had asked one day when he came home at one o'clock in the morning and she had waited with dinner to spend time with him. It was a question that made him stop, not because he had been caught, but because she could see that he saw her pain, her need for help.

,,Nothing changes, you're the most important thing," he had replied, putting his hand on her cheek for a moment, but if he had just put his hand on her bare forearm for a moment, he would have seen how badly she was actually feeling, what this hopelessness had driven her to.

Until it was that evening when her gaze went back to the window, to the balcony of her top floor flat and a thought formed, a thought that seemed to be stronger than Mark who had already disappeared again in the morning and she didn't go to work that day either just to walk around the flat for hours trying to decide whether she should call Mark or whether it would be worth it because in this town there would never be any hope.

A hope she saw like the coloured lights below her as the wind picked up around her and her cold hand clung to the railing through the night, her foot about to lift onto the railing and her decision seemed as sure as the wind that would carry her down, in a short fall before it ended with the thud.

That's how it should have gone as she pushed herself up and saw the end when she heard someone shout her name and she felt a hand on her arm pulling her back, someone holding her close and in her tear-blurred gaze she saw Mark looking at her in fear, ,,I've got you…don't worry I've got you, don't jump…I'm here" he said slowly seeming to search for his words for fear she would break in his arms.

Her hands clutched at him she herself was now afraid that she was dead, that he hadn't caught her but when he took her in his arms and carried her back inside and laid her softly on the bed kissing her cool hands and she heard the ,,Everything will be alright little butterfly" she released his name from her lips.

She seemed to come back to him and fell into his arms again as she apologised, crying bitterly and yet he just held her not wanting her to ever feel alone again ,,I won't go away I promise" he returned and sat down on the bed she snuggled into his lap and he pulled the covers lightly over them both.

,,Nothing will happen again, I got you dreamer okay?" she nodded her voice too heavy, her eyes too tired as she just snuggled up to him and yet that pain, the ache her heart had escaped at least for that night as she felt him beneath her, his calm heartbeat soon easing her into a gentle sleep…perhaps even in such a dark place as this there was hope for a better future.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[littleoddwriter]

Rules, Guidelines, etc.:

[Used to be: ronaldrx]

I'm a hobby writer and mostly write (x Reader) FanFictions and Headcanons. But I am also working on my original story whenever I can, so that I’ll hopefully publish it as an actual book someday. My Ao3.

Here’s a link to my Ko-Fi, in case you want to support me financially. It would mean a lot to me! (Obviously no obligation whatsoever! You never have to pay for anything on my blog, it’s merely an option for donations.)

Also, here are my sideblogs if you’re interested:

Dead Poets Society

Horror

Raúl Esparza

The Simpsons

Only ask for the characters I’ve got listed, please. I’ve written down all of the ones I actually write for, and the list is being updated regularly, as I often find new (actors, whose) characters I write for! (And yes, I always write for every character, so don’t ever worry if you wanna ask for one I haven’t written for in a long time, or ever, it’s fine!) Please always be patient with me. If I haven’t outright declined your request, it’s definitely in the works; even if it has been weeks or months since you’ve sent it in! And only send your requests via ASKs. No DMs or comments, please.

If you have a request, send an Ask to my inbox.

NO sexual NSFW requests, please (more details further down).

Requests = CLOSED (Max. Limit: 10)

Current number of requests: 10

Last updated: October 29, 2023

Masterlists are linked with fandoms/actors/characters below. I WRITE FOR:

ALFRED MOLINA characters:

Doctor Otto Octavius/Doctor Octopus

DAVID DASTMALCHIAN characters:

Abner Krill/Polka-Dot Man

Bob Taylor

Denham

James Lewis

Johnson

Kurt Goreshter

Lonny Crane

Murdoc

Philippe/Abra Kadabra

Simon Lynch

Thomas Schiff

ETHAN HAWKE characters:

Arthur Harrow

Ellison Oswalt

Goodnight Robicheaux

James Sandin

EWAN MCGREGOR characters:

Alex Law

Catcher Block

Christopher Robin

Curt Wild

Dan Torrance

John Bishop

Mark Renton

Obi-Wan Kenobi 

Roman Sionis/Black Mask* (Birds of Prey - Masc!Reader only) [Any other version of Roman Sionis/Black Mask can be with a Gender Neutral/Female!Reader.]

HUGH DANCY characters:

Adam Raki

Cal Roberts

Luke Brandon

Executive ADA Nolan Price

Will Graham

KARL URBAN characters:

Billy Butcher

Black Hat

John Kennex

Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy

Markiplier EGOS:

Darkiplier

Illinois

Wilford Warfstache

Yancy

PAUL DANO characters:

Alex Jones/Barry Milland [Platonic only!]

Dwayne Hoover [Platonic only!]

Edward Nashton/The Riddler

Eli Sunday

Jay (Okja)

Joby Taylor

Klitz

PEDRO PASCAL characters:

Agent Whiskey

Dave York

Dio Morrissey

Eddie

Ezra

Francisco “Catfish” Morales

Marcus Moreno

Marcus Pike

Max Phillips

Maxwell Lord

Oberyn Martell

Ricky Hauk

RAÚL ESPARZA characters:

Bobby

Dr. Frederick Chilton*

Jackson Neill

Jonas Nightingale

Rafael Barba

Characters from 9-1-1 (Lone Star):

Carlos Reyes*

Eddie Diaz

Evan “Buck” Buckley

Howard “Chimney” Han

Josh Russo*

Mateo Chavez

Paul Strickland

Bobby Nash

Tim Rosewater

TK Strand*

Characters from Law and Order(: Special Victims Unit):

Detective/ADA Dominick “Sonny” Carisi, Jr.

Sergeant Mike Dodds

Detective Nick Amaro

Executive ADA Nolan Price

ADA Peter Stone

ADA Rafael Barba

Deputy Chief William Dodds

Little Miss Sunshine:

Dwayne Hoover [Platonic only!]

Frank*

Our Flag Means Death:

Edward Teach/Blackbeard*

Frenchie

Izzy Hands

Stede Bonnet*

Prisoners (2013):

Alex Jones/Barry Milland [Platonic only!]

Bob Taylor

Detective David Loki

Renfield (2023):

Count Dracula

Robert Montague Renfield

Tedward “Teddy” Lobo

SLASHERS/Horror Film Characters:

Asa Emory/The Collector

Ash J. Williams [I will usually default to Ash from the TV show, unless requested otherwise!]

Billy Lenz (1974)

Billy Loomis

Bo Sinclair

Brahms Heelshire

Bubba Sawyer/Leatherface (TCM 1974 and TCM 2)

Charles Lee Ray/Chucky

Chop Top Sawyer

Corey Cunningham

Dewey Riley

Drayton Sawyer

Herbert West*

Jesse Cromeans/Chromeskull

Lawrence Gordon

Lester Sinclair

Luigi Largo

Mark Hoffman  

Nubbins Sawyer

Pavi Largo

Stu Macher  

Vincent Sinclair

William Easton

Star Wars:

Anakin Skywalker

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Qui-Gon Jinn

The Girl Next Door:

Klitz

Eli

Characters from The Simpsons:

Cecil Terwilliger*

Fat Tony

Frankie the Squealer

Grady*

Jack Lassen

Johnny Tightlips

Julio*

Legs

Louie

Moe Szyslak

Ned Flanders

Otto Mann

Seymour Skinner

Sideshow Bob

Sideshow Mel

Snake Jailbird

Timothy Lovejoy

Waylon Smithers*

What We Do in the Shadows:

Anton (Movie)

Deacon

Guillermo de la Cruz*

Laszlo Cravensworth

Nandor the Relentless

Viago

Vladislav

* Please note that an asterisk (*) means that these characters are Male/Masc/GenderNeutral!Reader only (including non-binary, of course). Platonic relationships with Female!Reader are possible, but no romantic ones.

If it’s a character that is open to all Readers, and you do not specify in your request what you want, I’ll usually opt for a Gender Neutral Reader by default.

SHIPS, such as:

BlackBonnet (OFMD)

SteddyHands (OFMD)

Black Pete x Lucius Spriggs (OFMD)

Buck x Josh Russo (9-1-1)

Dracfield (Renfield 2023)

Buddie (9-1-1)

Eli x Klitz (The Girl Next Door)

Nandermo (WWDITS)

Herbert West x Dan Cain (Re-Animator)

McKirk (Star Trek: AOS)

Oluwande x Jim Jimenez (OFMD)

Barisi (Law & Order SVU) 

Renfield x Teddy Lobo (Renfield 2023)

Sickrent (Trainspotting/T2)

Stobotnik (Sonic Movie)

Tarlos (9-1-1: Lone Star)

AnderPerry (Dead Poets Society)

ZsaszMask (Birds of Prey)

Lastly, I would like to add things I will NOT write (about):

Sexual NSFW fics/headcanons (I used to write those as you can see in my Masterlists, but I have my reasons for not writing them anymore. Any hints at sexual topics are fine).

Anything related to death as the main subject (this includes deadly diseases, anything fatal, really, etc.).

Anything that romanticizes Mental Illness (my Vent Fics about my own disorders obviously do not romanticize any of it and I do not stand for that).

(Recreational) Drug Use

Extreme Possessive Behaviour and/or Jealousy

Yandere

If you have something you would like me to write for, but you do not see it listed anywhere, please ask me before requesting it, so we can talk about it. I hope you enjoy yourself on my blog and have a good time!

My Asks and DMs are always open for any questions or simply to talk!

- Jesse

[chained-unchained]

I agree with you about Mark being gay. I’m a straight woman who usually ships m/f couples, but when it comes to Saw I’m all about same sex pairings (coffinshipping, chainshipping, shotgunshipping). The Saw series is SO gay.

There’s no straight explanation for the glass coffin scene. It’s so homoerotic. The way Mark stares at Peter, the way Peter becomes obsessed with catching Mark, etc. Plus, Mark never shows any romantic interest towards women. He just seems gay to me.

Mark Hoffman is gay and had a huge crush on both Strahm and Rigg, and no one will change my mind about this. Is it confirmed canon? No, but it makes sense and wouldn’t be that much of a stretch.

That’s why I can’t get into Mark x fem reader self insert fics that portray him as a pussy vulture who LOVES reader’s tits. People can write whatever they want, but whenever I stumble across a fic where Mark is 100000% straight I’m like, “Did they even watch the movies? This seems really out of character.”

Eating pussy? Nah. That man likes sucking dick.

“Pussy vulture” really cracked me up! XD Idk why it sounds so funny…

I agree, he doesn’t come off as straight even in the slightest, his interactions with female characters are just weird and far from charming, and I totally believe that he secretly had a crush on Rigg and Strahm… (but then got so nervous and accidentally killed them instead :’D oops!) Maybe he’ll get lucky with dr. Gordon, I bet it could be an interesting dynamic after all.

There’s definitely something inherently homoerotic about these movies - I’m very curious to know what causes it in particular, but they are queer coded 100% It’s very interesting. And also it keeps reminding me about Hannibal and Bryan Fuller who sweared in every interview that he wanted to explore a “platonic male friendship” on screen, but instead just made an iconic gay drama, bless him :D

[applesontheground]

the only thing inside of you that you cannot control🧩

KINKTOBER 2024 | DAY TWENTY SEVEN - HATEFUCK & LAPDANCE

this one was also an idea i got pretty early on, and i am very excited to get gay as hell one more time for mandy during this month.

NSFW | Word Count: 1,700 | Amanda Young x Female Apprentice!Reader contains toxic themes, BDSM, grinding, slapping, scratching, hickeys, marking, spitting, the girls are fightinggg 🎼: x, x, x (frothing at the mouth to find the perfect opportunity to use this song to its full inspirational potential hnnngH-)

She had called you jailbait last night.

It had been sudden, discussing the plan you were on tonight with her while toiling in the usual dank corner of the city with the rest of the rats in the pack. It had just been you, John, Amanda, and Hoffman – which was a full house compared to the usual spacing out of when everyone would come in to play their part.

Amanda was quick to step in when John made it clear he wasn’t well enough to take the next player in the game down, and Hoffman hadn’t been keen to jump on the prospect of finding the man at a local nightclub, either. She recruited you before you even had time to think on it, and she began telling you exactly what you were going to be doing, and comfortable to admit why you in specific were coming in the first place.

“Are you listening?” She asked when you feigned eye contact, making you snap back to attention. “I'm not being jailbait, so that’s where you’re going to come in. Look nice,” She nodded, “This guy is smart enough to evade cops, and other things, but judging by his track record, he won’t avoid a pretty face.”

She gestured at you one more time, making you dig your tongue into your cheek, nodding with a simmering furrow of your brow. John hadn’t responded, and Hoffman had to hide the smirk for the rest of the time he was in the room with you.

Still, you had a job to do. It couldn’t be personal, right?

That was something you knew you had over her, something that would keep your head screwed on correctly despite the jabs, and her weird attitude towards you as a whole.

A black long-sleeved dress hung in the doorway to your closet, swaying in the slight brush of air from you walking through to pull the rest of the outfit together: a pair of black high heels with ankle straps and dark pantyhose. The dress itself barely went to your mid-thigh, and while you weren’t keen to wear it because of that, you were going to follow Amanda’s guidance and leave nothing to the imagination. Dark eyeshadow, a sharp wing pointing straight out rather than up, and rouge-colored lipstick sealed your appearance.

Power came with feeling decent about this look as you scowled at yourself in the mirror. You did it not to go to work, to do something utterly unhinged after you got this target alone…but to show that you could live with being bait.

You could even show her what that really looks like on you if that’s truly where you fell in her plans.

The lights were low enough, and the music was loud enough for you to stay covert and slide in between a sea of taller people. Even better, you saw her before she saw you, waiting for you to arrive to put the night into motion.

You kept your eyes off of her as you scanned the room. Smiling at someone – and a compliment making you laugh out of a formality to play the part as someone unsuspecting – was what got her looking at you. While you felt her eyes, you pretended to be oblivious, once again looking over at the rest of the venue.

It was when you saw your guy you let your smile fall, watching him stand close to the wall and looking at something on his phone, another girl hovering over his shoulder. You tilted your head, considering whether you should get a drink before approaching or not.

“[Y/N]?” Amanda called, but you ignored her once more, instead turning to the bartender with another smile. You tipped generously, and hearing her grit her teeth, “Get over here. [Y/N]!” only made you look back at your guy. He was alone now, and you figured this was the time for you to cast your line.

Taking a final sip of your drink, willing down the taste with a twisting expression, you finally made eye contact with her. Now that you could spot her again openly, there was a confused expression on her face as she was fumbling to keep her cool.

She looked shocked, and you figured she might be surprised you could clean up. She could herself, a nice black skirt and white blouse making you wonder why she had gone out of the way herself. Feeling another spark of warmth, bravery gripping you by your throat but also pushing you forward, you winked at her before pushing off the bar and finally making your way towards the man.

“Hey, were you at the Stolen Pony last week? I didn't get a chance to say hi.” You chimed, making the man look up. He closed his phone, and replied, “Yeah, I was. How about you?”

Amanda was right, he didn't want to ignore you.

You stepped out the back door of the bar, pulling the long snout of the mask off as Amanda was already at the car she had come in. Surprisingly, she had offered to be your ride home, but now was silent as she pushed the final limb into the trunk, watching you throw his phone and wallet on top of him while walking to stand next to her.

“What the hell were you doing in there?” She finally spoke, unable to be quiet anymore when you were in close proximity. Holding the mask behind the car and looking around, you shrugged at her. “I did what you asked me to. I’m being-“ You slammed the trunk before spitting the last word out, “Your bait.”

You turned away again, a hip sliding against her leg as you turned to walk to the passenger side of the car. That didn’t fly, obviously, and she suddenly slammed her body into yours, tripping you up as you slumped against the car window, your arm twisting behind your back as she wrapped her hand around your wrist.

“I’ve had enough of your shit.”

“Me!?” You snapped your head, “I’m just saying your words back to you.” You strained against her hold on you, “Don’t act like I’m-“

“In my idea,” She interrupted, “You weren’t going to listen to me. You were going to look like you normally do, and I was going to have to pick up the slack.” You looked back at her, narrowing your eyes as her warm thighs were pressing into yours, knees driven up slightly as she muttered, “I didn’t want you to listen to me, [Y/N].”

You scoffed at that, forehead against the top of the car now as you grumbled, “Everything we work for? The mantra behind this little job we're on?”

Her grip on your wrists flexed, and you tried to shake out of it as you looked at her again, your own backside rubbing up against her and shimmying slightly. “You tell me the fucking rules, Amanda, and I’m going to follow them.”

She finally let go, but when you turned around, she had her hips against you again, “Oh, look at Miss Goody-goody.” She gawked, and you sneered, "Says the cunt who follows John's every waking move."

Rigid, she threw you back against the car again. "Get in."

You grinned, immediately opening the door and sliding inside, being sure to spread your legs in a slightly exaggerated way when doing so.

The slam of the door the second you were in only made you bust out in laughter.

"Had enough?"

You gasped for air, shaking your head despite your makeup ruined, head tilting to the side in case she kissed you again. "Do it again," You pleaded.

A hard slap to your face made your head press against the concrete wall, back in the same room this all had started in. She had hauled you in like a sack of potatoes after dealing with your guy, still sedated and propped in another room for Lawrence to handle in the early hours of the next day.

She told you not to move, and you had merely sat on the same desk you had been leaning against the day before, glaring daggers into her as she spoke down to you. You hadn't looked behind you, two steel loops over the desk now being utilized as she bound your wrists, hoisting them above your head before tearing your dress off.

Apparently, the guy you two had bagged hadn't been the only one unable to handle what you were looking like. Red marks -- lipstick and scratches -- covered your bare chest as you listened to her call you every dirty word under the sun between whispers against your skin, a hickey on the inner thigh just to remind you how she felt.

Bitch, motherfucker, doll...

She was regaining some composure through this destruction, and you merely lolled your head and didn't put too much of a fight up against her any more. She drove two fingers into your cunt, making your moan hitch and whine as you looked at her, framed between your legs and setting a brutal pace.

"I should've known you were in this for the long haul, [Y/N]." She then murmured.

"Wh-..." You looked at her, shivering out your lust to focus, and ask in return, "Why the hell d'you say that?"

"Because you've proven to be a better listener, and-" She slapped your inner thigh, nails dragging down as you yelped from behind clenched teeth, shaking as you held eye contact.

"A better learner than I thought you'd be."

Blinking through the prick of oncoming tears, you watched her remove her fingers from you, jaw loosening as she sucked the slick off her digits and stared smugly on.

"Hard not to listen to a pretty face." You then crooned, earning her saliva-covered fingers framing your jaw and shoving your head back as she finally kissed you, moaning into your mouth before a sharp movement. She had puckered her lips against yours, and as you reeled from the fact she just spit, she pulled off you.

"Stop stealing my lines, bait." She muttered, tapping your cheek as you hung your head down.

This name was going to stick, after all.

[i-arch-my-backula]

Hey, if you are still taking requests, can you write a Mark Hoffman x Female Reader fanfic for me where she is one of his colleagues and very close to catching him. Hoffman murders everyone personally or by traps he designed, but he can't bring himself to hurt her when it comes to the Female Reader?

I like this idea but I don’t write for female readers. I’ll tag some writers below who write for female readers and Hoffman.

@doomh3ad

@whatiswrongwithpeople

@michaelmyersgfff

@markhoffmans-certified-slut

I’m sure there’s more but these are the first people I found (also doomh3ad is a mutual)