#mark hoffman x oc

[staarboyyy]

a worthy test

mark hoffman x gender neutral reader

18+ scenarios / characters - minors dni

tags / warnings ; dead dove, detective!reader, kidnapping, smut, gender neutral anatomy, gags, rough sex, slapping, needles, drugging, unhealthy dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, size difference kink, age difference, creampie, big ol man tiddies YEEHAWW!!

summary ; you and your team of investigators have been after jigsaw's apprentice for months, yet waking up bound to a chair makes way for suprises more sinister than you could have imagined

word count ; 1.6k

a/n; blame this fic on @sehtoast and all of cozy corner for being such lovely encouraging folk :) anyways enough mushy shit, take the long awaited nasty stuff!

You awoke to a strange sensation. Everything in the past 18 hours had been nothing more than a blur, your eyes opening slowly, squinting in the bright light that was forcing its way through your lids. It was a struggle to recall anything, swimming through the cloudy memories to sift out the important ones. You tried turning your head, desperate for some clue as to how you'd ended up in this room, let alone bound to a cold rusty chair.

"Morning Detective."

A familiar voice breathed into the cold air, causing you to jump slightly. You blinked with a harsh squint, eyes struggling to take in the form of the man before you, still adjusting to the dim room. All the while, your heart pounded in your chest as the large silhouette revealed itself. It was Mark - You and your team had been after him for months ever since you learned of his betrayal. His piercing eyes are fixed upon you, his expression hard and emotionless.

He kept his gaze on you as panic began to surface in the flush of your cheeks, blush rushing in your ears. No. This must be a nightmare, a delusion - Anything besides the truth. You struggled for a moment with the fabric gag wrapped around your mouth and jaw, tied behind your head. You were not just desperate to speak, you wanted to scream, to demand a fucking answer for everything as the man stood in front of you, hands behind his back. Was he pleased? His expression was difficult to read, head cocking slightly off to the side as he watched you struggle before him. A smirk pushed at the corner of his full lips, eyebrows twitching slightly - He looked almost confused at your panic and desperation to understand the situation. In his eyes, you should be thankful to still be afraid enough just to worry and wonder, taking in every shuddered breath with rousing appreciation. At this, you wanted to feel sick. You wanted to.

      The cold leather of his gloved sent rolling chills over the backs of your arms, hairs on your neck at a sharp standstill. He was your colleague. He had always been cold, brutally honest for the sake of what you thought had been good. Surely there had to be something good still in the man before you, who now wore a prowling gaze like a stalking predator. Your teeth grit at the red fabric tied tightly around your head, trying to bite back the words that roared in your mind - No way in hell you'd break first.

      "Somethin' wrong?"

     His voice was quiet, his body stilling as he walked behind you, gloved hands resting on your shoulders. The leather was cold, his thumbs digging uncomfortably hard into your back, causing you to grunt slightly.

      "You look like you've seen a ghost, sugar." 

     Mark's hands slid over your body, taking little time to savor how you felt under his hands, his fingers beginning to slowly unlatch your wrists from the chair. It wasn't hesitant, the movement was practiced - He knew his presence alone kept you pinned to the spot. No binds needed, not with the pooling arousal that now flushed your cheeks and mind, your thighs shifting uncomfortably in the rusting chair. The man's steps echoed through the dark warehouse, now facing you with a strangely bored expression, eyes darting towards your bound ankles. The detective pulled in a slow breath as your heartbeat rushed in your ears, tilting his head as he kept his gaze on your ankles.

     "You gonna be good?"

He didn't bother to look towards you as he spoke, practically speaking to himself as he slowly knelt before you. It would be so easy, you thought. To run, to push him away and fight him off. The latches came undone, and he rose to his full height once again. He shadowed over your figure, shoulders wide and dress shirt buttons straining, sleeves rolled over his thick forearms; There was no fight worth trying for, not as he pulled you like a ragdoll from the chair and pressed your cheek against the brick wall.

     Your blood ran cold. You were in over your head. You could feel Mark's grasp on your hips, thumbs rubbing over the protruding bones with a perverse hunger. His hands were able to cover your entire lower back, shamelessly palming at your ass. “Wait, just-” Your voice was silenced when one of the older man’s hands slid up your clothed back, fingers tangling in your hair for a moment, savoring the sudden sound of skin against skin. With a strangled gasp, Mark's fingers tightened on your hair, making a fist and forcing your body against his own; Somewhere in Mark’s mind, he could hear your screaming. Your abundant surprised gasps and yelps would surface over his clouded mind, as he watched you struggle helplessly, wincing at your outcries. With a clench of his jaw, he felt a proud smile prod at the corners of his lips, the thoughts brushing past him. He had just sunken half way inside, yet the strange pulling burn of being stretched open planting a growing arousal. Sweat rolled down his back in beads, bending in pools with his tensing body as he ruthlessly used you, pinned underneath him. You had been a vice on Mark's cock, suffocating your mind and body with an insatiable hunger, a chemical greed to be adequately filled and used, to be bred without gentle caresses or soft words. The man released your hair, reaching forward towards your throat and clasping his fingers tightly around it, using grip as leverage to tear through you even deeper. Every inch of your body roared in numbing desire, twitching as your senses ricocheted voraciously. You arched your back eagerly into the man above you, tears stinging your bottom lashes to fall as Mark remorselessly gripped your throat, ceasing the gasps instantly. The line between pleasure and pain began to blur as your vision did, eyes rolling shut, squeezing them closed as you endured the desperate assault, body licked and abused by unwavering flames and large animalistic hands - The smell of cologne smothered your consciousness, tears casing your flushed cheeks as strangled gasps emerged from your throat. Though you couldn't sense the words gathering in your mind, nor taste them leave your frantic lips, you could feel them in the air; The unabashed begging, pleading Mark not to stop. You sobbed bit hard onto the saliva soaked gag between your lips, aimless and muffled as Mark's pace began to slow.

     "Don't stop,"

    Mark's large hand glided over your hips, tracing down your arms to wrap over both your wrists. He gave a punctuating thrust forward, bottoming out inside of you with a strangled moan, head dipping forward as he pulled your body against his own. You were a toy to him, his hands exploring your body, groping your thighs and sliding his digits past your gag, groaning quietly at the feeling of your tongue against his gloved fingers. Your body was shaking, glazed in sweat as you stood on your tippy-toes to keep up with the man who so effortlessly pulled you into his demanding thrusts. His cock twitched as you squirmed, body wanting so badly to fight the pleasure that now threatened to spill over.

     "You're gonna be the death of me - So fuckin' tight,"

     Mark slammed his hips forward with every word, his hold on your wrists tightening, pulling you away from the wall to press impossibly deeper into you. Your body seared with pleasure and pain, rousing a euphoric heat to spark and glaze itself on your skin - It was electric, how he handled your full weight; No, not just handled it, he insisted it. He wanted you, all of you. He wanted you in tears, drool rolling down your lips as you beg for more in that precious muffled whimper. His cock pulsed inside you, thrusts becoming messy as he watched your ass push snugly against his hips, bouncing back, desperate for even more. No words could properly describe what you craved from the other, your body shaking and knees threatening to buckle underneath your weight, sweat dripping from your temples and jaw. It was a hot blinding spark, your body quaking as your scream pitched up to break, echoing throughout the abaonded warehouse. It didn't matter if you were limp, mind numb and broken as he kept your body tight against his own.

     "You're mine. Understand that?"

     You couldn't respond, hardly registering his voice until the leather palm came to slap hard against your flushed cheek. Your eyes flew open in shock, pulling in a deep gasp, only to be cut off by his hand gripping your throat.

     "Thaat's right, you're all mine - Fuck baby,"

     Marks euphoria reached it's peak, eyes glued to your body rutting shamelessly against him as his cock spilled messily into you. He fucked his cum deep, keeping ahold of you with a grasp sure enough to leave flowering bruises. He gasped sharply, eyes sliding shut as they rolled back, lips hanging open; You were his, entirely. Even as you woke from a fading haze, thighs messily stained with cum and flowered with large bruises, you were still wrapped in a thick quilt. It didn't matter where you were, your mind spinning as the cold puncture of a sedative filled needle pushed into your forearm. You would have atleast opened your eyes to see the perpetrator, but the feeling of his leather gloves against your skin had become a familar one.

     "Sleep well, detective."

#bowies fics #mark hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman x male reader #mark hoffman x you #mark hoffman x oc #mark hoffman saw #detective hoffman #saw franchise #saw

[deputyrook]

Impressions- 4/? Mark Hoffman x Psychic!Reader (18+)

PART 1. PART 2. PART 3.

You're a reluctant psychic. He's a detective. And a serial killer.

(Welcome to the point of no return.)

Word count: 4147

NOTE: I have made an executive decision. The reader has a vagina. In other news, this chapter is explicit.

The fic is now 18+ (but why are you reading a saw fic if you're under 18...?) If you don't like smut uhhh idk skip through this one, I guess. Sorry!

WARNINGS: Explicit sex, degradation (minor), manipulation, corruption, stockholm syndrome, general saw levels of horror.

When you wake up again, you do so suddenly, with a gasp. It's like you're taking your first deep breath of fresh air after being trapped underwater.

"You're awake!" Kerry says with a gasp of her own, the sound of her voice coming from the right of where you're lying. Cushioned in blankets and bandages, you feel a little restrained, and have to fight the desire to rip yourself out of bed.

It takes another moment for your awareness to fully kick in. The world remains dark. Your ability to see is simply gone, snuffed out like a candle.

Instead, you can feel. You can tell Kerry is there, to your right, but also that Mark Hoffman is sitting somewhere off to your left. You feel his presence like a beacon- roiling aggression under a composed front, with a deep sense of pride. His concern is sharper than a knife point.

But is it concern for you, or concern for what you might say, now that you've woken up?

Stretching out from your point of origin, you can feel pinpricks of presence, almost overwhelming in number. Fleeting emotions of loss, panic, sorrow, hope, and anger flit past you, but you're able to keep your distance from them, without getting sucked in to the whirlpool of other people's feelings.

That's new.

"Hey Ally," you croak, your voice hoarse, "How about that, huh? Looks like I made it onto Jigsaw's radar."

You feel Kerry's guilt before she speaks, pouring out of her. Gently, she reaches forward and takes your right hand into hers. My fault, my only friend, first Eric and now this. And I wasn't even the first to notice-

"Um, where's Prawn?" You ask, touching your wrist gingerly with your free hand. It's itchy, and you can feel thick gauze wrapped around your wounds. By the smell of disinfectant and the sound of distant beeping, you're fairly certain you're in a hospital bed.

"He's fine," Kerry says, her voice wavering and watery, "I've been watching him. He's been worried sick, you know."

"I guess that makes three people, at least," you say, nodding your head over toward you guess Mark Hoffman is sitting. Off in that direction, you hear the rustle of clothing, like someone is sitting up.

"You can see me?" You hear him ask, groggy and confused.

"No," You reply softly, "Lucky guess."

"There was no tape left behind," Kerry murmurs, brushing her thumb over your knuckles, "We don't know why you were taken. Usually, there's a tape. Were there any instructions left for you? Any clues that you can remember?"

"Christ Kerry, they've just woken up," Mark mutters. With a creek of his chair, you hear him stand, and then a slow sound of heavy footsteps indicate to you that he's walking over to your bedside.

He's been sleeping by your bed, you note. Probably because he's worried you're going to break down and tell Kerry- Mark Hoffman is working with Jigsaw and he burned out my fucking eyes!

"You know how he likes to play with the detectives hunting him, Ally," You say instead, dodging the question about the tape. You have no idea how to answer that. "I'm your best friend. And..."

You pause, mid-sentence. Frustrated, angry, and more than a little hysterical, it's dawning on you now that you're never going to see again. It's at least partially the fault of the man to your left.

But when Mark reaches out and takes your other hand into his, turning it over to trace a spiral shape into your palm, your stomach still flips. The mounting attraction and sexual tension between you hasn't vanished just because you're pissed off and hurt.

Unfortunately.

"And we're seeing each other," Mark adds, simply, "Makes sense he'd go after you."

"Sorry?" Kerry sputters. She actually lets go of your hand, she's so shocked, "What the hell happened to not interested?"

"I knew you'd make a big deal about it," you mumble, going with the lie as your cheeks burn. You hate lying to Kerry, and not just because you hate lying in general.

"You told her you weren't interested?" Mark asks, and you think you can hear a hint of real amusement in his tone.

"Well, I could tell it was a lie," Kerry replies, "but-"

"HELLO?" You raise your voice, cutting her off, "Jigsaw victim? Serial killer targeted me? Deep, deep trauma? Not allowed to make fun of me right now!"

Kerry laughs, and you think you can hear a note of relief in it.

"This is why I love you," She says fondly. "Jigsaw would never be able to kill you. You're the most resilient motherfucker I've ever met. Who jokes at a time like this?"

"Yes, rub in how weird I am right now," You reply, wrinkling your nose. You let go of Mark's hand and push yourself up to a seated position, and then throw off your blankets. Sliding over to the right side of the bed, you sit on the edge of the mattress, suddenly unsure of yourself.

The entire world is still out there.

"Hey, that was a compliment," Kerry says, "You might want to take it easy, though. For real, you've been through a lot."

Heavy footsteps walk around to the edge of the bed you're sitting on, and you can feel Mark Hoffman, standing in front of you. As you reach out, you feel an arm to steady you, and you grab hold of it as you pull yourself up. Beside you, you hear Kerry stand as well.

"Why are two of the three lead detectives on the Jigsaw-Investigations-Unit hanging out by my hospital bed, anyway?" You ask, brushing her worry off, "Shouldn't you be out there casing the s- wherever I was found?"

"Consider it cased," Kerry replies with a sigh, missing your slip-up, "You're our main lead right now. We're going to need to take your statement at the station, once you feel well enough to go."

Mark Hoffman is a stable anchor to lean on. Looping your hand through the crook of his arm, you consider the endless, vast sea of darkness surrounding you. In the far-off distance, various abstractions graze against your awareness, different from the more localized flares of feeling.

You focus and reach out to one of them, with a slight tilt of your head.

A flash, in your mind, of a man and a woman you've never seen before, side-by-side. Her, with dark tightly curled hair, full lips, and decisiveness like an arrow. Him, with a strong jaw, dark eyes, and a barely contained mania that threatens to leak out from the seams. He knows the water just as you do. Neither of you will drown.

You don't know who they are, but you know they will be important.

"Did you... sense anything?" Kerry asks hesitatingly, as though worried asking the question will offend you, "When Jigsaw took you, or when you were in the trap?"

"Too much," You answer cagily, "But I didn't have time to make sense of it. I was a little distracted by the looming threat of death, in my defence."

"Fair enough," Kerry replies wearily. Something beeps, off by where she's standing, and she curses.

"I have to run," She says, "Our tech guy just got in and I have to brief him on the investigation. Hoffman, are you able to take them to the police station for the statement?"

"Sure thing," He responds, "I was hoping we could talk, anyway."

"Right," Kerry remarks. There's a long pause, and she adds with a grumble, "So weird. I don't know how to feel about this."

You fake a grin, and wave her off. As soon as you sense her presence fading, along with the sound of her footsteps clicking down the hall, you turn to Mark Hoffman, let go of his arm, and whack him on his broad chest.

"You son of a bitch," you hiss, whacking him again.

"Hey, hey-" He snaps back, grabbing your hands and holding them firmly in place before you can hit him again, "Stop it."

"I should tell everyone," you whisper angrily, "You took my fucking eyes, Mark."

"John Kramer took your eyes. You think I wanted to put you in that thing?" You try to break free of his grip on your wrists, without success.

"And you just do everything he says, is that right? Two hundred and fifty pounds between him and Amanda both, and you were helpless?" You say, yanking your arms free. Your brain buzzes with the desire to hurt him the way he's hurt you, and you conclude that it's not by hitting him again.

"You think Angela would approve of that?" You whisper to him, "Do you think she-"

Strong hands reach out and shove you backward. You hit the wall, hard. It's disorienting, and with no way to anticipate it or brace yourself, pain blossoms across your back. You feel Hoffman press you against the wall, one of his hands grabbing you by the jaw.

"Watch your fucking mouth," he snarls, keeping his voice low. It's a dangerous tone, and you can't help but feel satisfied, knowing that you're managed to get under his skin. Once again, you've caught a glimpse of the predator hiding under his cool exterior.

Pressing in so close to you, you can smell him, a light scent of amber and cedar cologne. Trying to catch the breath that's been knocked out of you, you can feel the rise and fall of his chest, panting, so close that it's brushing against yours.

A different sensation floods you, your anger melting into molten arousal. The tension between you feels wound to a snapping point, your blood flushing to your cheeks and causing your skin to tingle. His grip on your jaw is tight, almost painful, but you tilt up your chin ever-so-slightly, baring your neck.

You feel like you're going a little bit insane, frankly. Who could blame you, after what you've been through recently? Your body shouldn't be reacting like this, not when you should be furious with him.

But fuck it.

"Or what?" You whisper, "You going to teach me a lesson, Detective?"

Your taunt seem to hang in the air, and although you can't see Mark's reaction, you hear a noise of frustration escape from him. The hand holding your jaw moves to tilt your chin up.

"You've got a smart mouth," He mutters angrily, the pad of his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. Mark leans his face in close, and you can feel his breath on your neck. One of his thighs presses forward, between your legs. Pinned against the wall, you couldn't wiggle out of this if you wanted to- and you don't want to.

"You really sure you want to test me?" He murmurs in your ear, both a threat and a promise. With your heart beating so wildly that you're sure he can hear it, you try to shift, but his weight against yours keeps you pressed firmly in place. The friction from his thigh, and the heat of his breath on your ear, causes you to let out an embarrassing little groan of pleasure.

"Mark-"

"Not your smartest idea," Mark lets out an irritated huff of breath, and another beat passes between you before he continues, voice rough. "You know, I've wanted to fuck you since the moment I met you, sweetheart."

Fuck. Heat and need crawl up your spine.

"When you were threatening me in your car?" You ask a little too breathlessly, with a raise of your eyebrow. Gathering your bearings, you slip your arms around his shoulders, holding onto him.

"Yeah," Mark answers, lips and teeth grazing your neck, and you shiver. You need more of his mouth on you, now.

Mark freezes, seeming to be momentarily distracted by something.

"Door's open," He mutters to you.

"It is?" You whisper back in worry, grabbing the fabric of his jacket and squirming in his hold, "Can you...close it?"

"You don't want anyone else to see you like this?" He asks with a smirk in his voice, pulling back. You can almost feel his eyes running over you, looking you up and down, "Only me, huh?"

He pulls back not a moment too soon. You can feel another presence approaching your room, and you tap his shoulder hurriedly.

"Someone's coming." Regrettably, and with a grunt of annoyance, Mark lets go of you, taking a step back. You miss the warmth of his body immediately, but you hear someone enter the room not long after.

"Oh, you're up!" A male voice calls out, alarmed, "Detective, please save your questions for later," Footsteps walk over to where the two of you stand, and the voice adds, "I need to check your eyes. Assuming everything looks...stable, there will be some paperwork to go through, and then you should be cleared for discharge."

You hear Mark sigh. An alarm rings out- from his phone, if you had to guess- and he quickly turns it off. Something about the noise nags at your awareness, like you know innately that something is off about it.

"We can do the statement at the station tomorrow. But let me know when you get home," Mark remarks, before adding, "I'll see you later."

And then he's gone too, leaving you with the doctor in a darkened world.

"There's a lot we should go over," The doctor tells you sheepishly, "Things are going to be very different for you, now."

You have a feeling he's right.

---

You are supposed to have a long, cold shower when you get home. You are supposed to come to your senses, re-evaluate your choices, and examine what the hell you thought you were doing earlier.

After thinking it over, you are supposed to realize you're acting rashly, being ridiculous, and playing with fire- you can't want Detective Mark Hoffman, knowing what you know about him. What he does to people, and what he did you.

That... does not happen.

By the time you've fumbled your way through your apartment door, cane in hand and sunglasses on, your desire for him has increased tenfold. It only increases further when you realize you're alone in the apartment, with not even your cat to greet you- Kerry must still have Prawn at her place.

It all seems horribly lonely, all of a sudden. You'll never again see your cat's sleepy expression, or the soft fur on his belly when he rolls over. You won't get to look at the art pieces hung up on your walls, or curl up on your couch to watch a movie in the same way as before. As you stand in your entryway, it dawns on you that you're not even sure how you'll make dinner tonight.

Right now you're feeling helpless.

Hmm. Had you thought those words before?

You may be Kerry's only real friend. But she is also yours. And you could use someone to help you adapt to your new circumstances. You could call her, and she would come over to help you. Make you dinner, clean up your place.

But if you're being honest with yourself, Kerry isn't the person you want in your apartment right now, and you don't want to work on adjusting your life. You want Mark here, to fuck you within an inch of your life and make you forget, paradoxical as it is.

Carefully, you make your way over to your couch. It takes a couple of tries with your cell phone, but with the accessibility features turned on, you eventually find Mark's number.

You hesitate.

If you sleep with Mark Hoffman tonight, that's crossing a line that you're not going to be able to uncross. What would Kerry think, to know that all along, not only have you known who the secret Jigsaw accomplice is, but that you chose to fuck him after you found out?

It's not the heat of the moment, anymore. You are here, alone, with a clear head and the time to reconsider and back out of this. You can even just visit Kerry, grab your cat, and skip town. If you keep messing around, you're going to end up actually helping a serial killer- if you're not already.

The notion doesn't bother you. Not as much as it should.

"Hey. I'm at home," You say into the phone, trying and failing to sound casual, "You remember my address, right? I could... use some help. If you're free." You pause, and add in for good measure, "It's the least you can do. You know, considering."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be there soon," Mark Hoffman replies curtly, before he hangs up the phone.

You try to tidy up before he arrives, kicking the clothes you can find into your closet and gently putting away some dishes. What use are psychic powers if you keep nailing yourself on your kitchen island every time you walk past?

It isn't long before you feel Mark's presence entering the edge of your awareness. You can sense him, and the electric feeling up pent up energy as he approaches. What's the radius on that? You'll need to experiment, later. The thought of him approaching makes you nervous, your heart fluttering in anticipation and early arousal.

You open the door for him just before he goes to knock on it.

"Hey," You say, "I know, the glasses are a new look, I-"

He is shoving you back into the apartment, mouth pressing against you before you can react. Walking you backward, he is kissing you insistently, aggressively. A hand on your waist squeezes, keeping you exactly where he wants you. Heat seems to radiate from everywhere he touches, sending a heady need coursing through your body.

Mark leaves you momentarily. You hear your apartment door closing and latching shut, and the click of a lock. Then he's back, his mouth on yours again, hard, unrelenting kisses leaving you dizzy.

Every movement is dominant, unyielding. Mark Hoffman leaves no quarter as he groans into your mouth, a low and hungry noise.

"You want me to take care of you?" He groans, low and rough against your mouth, "You need me to fuck you until you go dumb, baby?"

You let out a needy whine in the affirmative, nodding your head as you clench your thighs together. His hands grip your hips, holding you tight in a way that makes your entire body tremble. You know that your face is burning, and it's embarrassing, how quickly you're falling apart under his attention- and he's barely even touched you yet.

Suddenly his hands have left your hips, and you feel a palm flat on your chest, pushing you back. Your lower back stings as it smacks against the kitchen island, and once again, you're pinned. Exactly where he wants you.

"Mark," you gasp out. You can feel the warmth of his body, so close to yours, but he doesn't touch you yet. You reach out your hands to touch his broad chest, running them across the fabric of his shirt, but he doesn't reciprocate.

"What do you want? Use your words," He murmurs into your ear, condescending and teasing. Shame makes your cunt clench.

"Touch me, please-"

"That it? You just want me to touch you?" He mocks. You can hear the wolfish grin in his voice. His hands trail up your body and under your shirt, sliding across your smooth skin. Surprisingly deft fingers pinch one of your nipples, rolling it in a way that makes you cry out and grind your hips forward, frustratingly, against nothing.

"Jesus, Mark," You snap, desperation straining your voice, "You're a dick. I want you to fuck me until I forget my name, is that better?"

He actually laughs, before sliding a hand down the front of your pants. Another gasp falls from your lips, followed by a ragged moan as his fingers slip past your underwear to find you soaked. Calloused fingers tease you as you lean forward, your forehead resting on his shoulder.

Bliss electrifies your body, and you can't stop the whimpers and gasps that escape from you as you as Mark harshly encircles your clit. The pace is merciless, and you squirm under his touch, the pleasure mounting quickly.

God, but you can't even think. You hold onto his arm and moan his name, a sound broken by lust.

"Fuck," He hisses with a groan of his own, "Can't wait any longer."

With a yank, your pants and underwear are around your ankles. You barely have time to step out of them before Mark has flipped you around, bending your body over the kitchen island. His movements are forceful, almost brutal in their execution.

Mark's body leans over yours, and you can feel the press of his hard cock through his pants as he lays his body over yours to speak in your ear.

"You're so fucking needy. You're going to take me so well, aren't you sweetheart?"

It only takes a moment for him to pull back and undo his pants. A jagged, filthy moan is torn from you as he presses his cock inside of you, and with a snap of his hips, he fills you completely. His hands grip your hips so tightly that you're sure they're going to leave bruises across your skin.

His cock feels perfect inside of you, so thick and full that you're sure it's going to drive you insane. It's going to ruin you.

Gripping onto the edges of the kitchen island for purchase, you whimper as he begins to move.

His weight bears down on you, the hard edge of the counter nearly cutting into your stomach. You can't find it in you to care, not with the way that Mark starts to thrust into you, setting a ruthless pace.

He fucks you hard.

"Mark," you eke out, barely able to hold onto the counter. Your entire body jolts with each snap of his hips, slammed again and again against the surface. Heat is building in your stomach, burning through your core.

"Come on baby," He says, voice almost hoarse with lust, "You're making me feel so good. Come on, come on, come on my cock."

A hand reaches around your body, and his fingers find your clit again. They rub harsh, hot circles into your skin. The sensation is overwhelming, the pleasure taking you to the edge of your release and then kicking you over it. You feel utterly helpless, utterly undone.

You writhe under Mark Hoffman, coming with a cry.

And your reality seems to crack apart. A million futures narrow to a thousand, and as you breathe, you feel the world breathe with you. You feel Mark behind you, inside of you, his cruelty and his oppression, the hunter, the killer, the lover, the sinner-

It's going to rain blood down upon him. Upon you both.

With a few more brutal thrusts inside of you, Mark grunts as he reaches his own climax, slowing to hard, deliberate strokes as he spills inside of you. You moan weakly, already sore, as he continues to move until he's fully spent. Eventually, his movements stop, and you can feel as his cock finishes pulsing inside of you.

Slowly, Mark's hands let go of your waist. He pulls back, off of you, and steps away.

You peel yourself off of the counter and stumble over to your couch, laying down as you catch your breath. After a few minutes, you hear Mark sit down beside you. A hand grazes your leg, touching it almost affectionately.

"We should have used a condom," you mumble.

"Yeah," He agrees, "Doubt you regret it, though," and you have to admit, he's right about that.

You sit in a comfortable silence together for a while. His hand strokes your calf, his fingers running up and down the bare skin of your shin in a soothing motion. It feels good. Calm, after the ferocity of the sex you just experienced.

"I think... I've got to go to the bathroom," you say suddenly, sitting up and surprising yourself with your words.

"I'm not stopping you," Mark replies, and you shake your head.

"No- no, the underground one. The Jigsaw one," You shuffle on the couch, turning fully to him, "I think... I don't know why, but I think I'll be able to find answers there. About the third apprentice."

Mark hums in thought.

"John doesn't know that you know about that," he says, "He and Amanda will be gone pretty soon. And I sure as hell want to know about any secrets waiting for us."

"Then we'll go," You say decisively. You think of your vision of the two other mysterious figures later, and the rainfall of blood. Suddenly, you feel exhausted. And hungry.

"...We'll go tomorrow."

---

A/N- I'm thinking there are one, maybe two more parts left in this story. I had a tricky time writing this chapter, so please leave a comment if you enjoyed! <3

TAG LIST: @icarusinstatic @honimello @haven-is-happy @karmaswitch @the-jester-calamity @teamhawkeye @thebrideofcaliban @mjrkime @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @mrs-hotforhoffman @aliengutzstuff

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NEXT CHAPTER

#mark hoffman #sawposting #slasher fic #costas mandylor #my writing #slasher x reader #detective hoffman #mark hoffman x oc #mark hoffman x reader #smut #psychicverse

[megustadilf]

Best thing about SAW X?

The boom in Mark Hoffman fanfics.

#mark hoffman #saw #mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman x oc #sawposting #saw x #saw x (2023) #haven’t seen SawX yet but it’s already a blessing #still lacking peter Strahm or larry Gordon tho

[grxmreaperx]

See You in Hell Pt. 1

hey guys! this is the first part of the OC story i've been working on! not much of Mark in this one, mostly setup for the story, but he is in it! also still working on a title! hope you guys like it <3

Pairing: Mark Hoffman x Lana Walker (OC)

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: canon violence (Jigsaw trap)

Summary: After exacting some long-awaited revenge, Lana Walker finds herself stuck in a Jigsaw trap. And the creators have taken a special interest in her.

“Hello, Lana. I’d like to play a game.”

Fuck.

My head spun as I opened my eyes. The bare lightbulb above my head illuminated the stone room. Cool metal pressed against my neck, the weight pulling my head down.

“Does revenge make you feel better, Lana? Did killing that man bring your friend back? Or do you just enjoy being cruel?”

I groaned, eyes lifting to meet the screen in front of me.

“You use sex and alcohol to fill the void your friend left, trying to prove to yourself that you have control. I am here to give you your life back, Lana. Around your neck is a device that is rigged with blades. After this tape is finished, you have two minutes to retrieve both keys needed to unlock the device. If you do not retrieve both keys, the device will constrict, slicing your throat.”

My heart beat faster, suddenly aware of the blades inches from my neck.

Jigsaw.

I had heard about him on the news, his fucked-up games meant to rehabilitate.

“One key you already have. You simply need to look inward.”

My hands scanned my body, pulling away quickly when I felt the blood soaking my side. Lifting my shirt, I ran a finger over the fresh stiches. Motherfucker.

“The second key will be slightly harder to get. There is a man, chained down in the corner of the room. I’m sure he looks familiar to you. He is in possession of the second key. And you will need him to unlock the second lock. How far are you willing to go to save yourself, Lana? Are you willing to work with a man whose death you have fantasized about? Live or die, Lana. Make your choice.”

That’s when I saw him. Slumped in the corner, leg chained to the wall. Unconscious. The judge.

The television clicked off. The timer began clicking down. Game on.

My hands roamed over my tools: a knife and a key, left to me for my game. Head clearing, eyes suddenly in focus, I jumped up. He had placed a mirror on the wall. You will need him to unlock the second lock.

I turned, examining the device around my neck. One lock laid on my chest. The other on my back, just out of reach. Goddamn it.

I quickly swooped down, grabbing the knife in one hand and the key in the other, before frantically trying to stuff the key into the first lock. Not a fit.

I took a breath, stalking towards the man in the corner. I slowly approached him, assessing to see if he was really unconscious. I landed a kick on his leg, startling him awake.

“Get the fuck up.”

“Where am I? Who are you?”

“I’m the wrong person to ask. And I’m the person you’re stuck in this sick game with. Now get the fuck up.”

He staggered to his feet, almost tripping over the chain binding him. Suddenly, he winced, grabbing his side. He lifted his shirt, stiffening as he saw the twin to my stiches. He looked at me, fear in his eyes. “What do we have to do?”

I steadied myself. 1:30 left.

I tore a piece of fabric from the bottom of my shirt, stuffing it in my mouth and biting down before lining the knife up with the fresh incision.

“What – what are you doing?” he stuttered, eyes wide and fixed on my exposed skin.

I pressed the knife into the wound, nails digging into my other palm. The sound of stiches snapping filled my ears, white spots filling my vision. Sweat dripped into my eyes as I forced a finger into the open wound, digging for the key. I screamed around my gag, biting down so hard I would’ve bit my tongue off if it weren’t for the piece of my shirt. My finger hit something hard, and I pulled, desperate to stop the pain. I heard metal clang onto the floor, the blood coated key lying at my feet. I crouched, gripping tightly to the key, and fixed it into the first lock.

I heard it pop open, falling to the floor. I spit the fabric out of my mouth my eyes fell onto the man. “Your turn.”

His head was down, eyes fixed on a piece of paper, scanning the words written for him. He looked up at me, his face shifting from afraid to determined. “Give me the key.”

0:59.

“No.”

He began palming around his back, before pulling a blade out of his waistband. “I said give me the key, you bitch.”

“You first,” I said, motioning to his side.

He tossed the paper aside before lunging at me, knife swinging through the air. “What the fuck!”

“It was you. He’ll let me out, he’ll let me out, I just have to do this. Come here!”

I jumped back, narrowly avoiding the tip of his blade. “Just relax, okay! I’ll give you your key if you just drop the knife.”

He was sobbing now, tears rolling down his face. “I can’t, I can’t! I have to do this!”

I grabbed his wrist as he swung at me again, spinning my back to him, and driving an elbow into his throat. He gagged, staggering backwards. I planted a foot on his chest, pushing him to the ground and kicking the knife away from his hand.

0:45. Fuck.

I kneeled over him, raising the knife above my head. “You wanna see how far I’ll fucking go, Jigsaw?” I screamed into the barren room, before plunging the blade into the judge’s side. He yelled, head falling back against the concrete as I dug my hand into his skin.

I pulled key number two out of his blood. The man was quickly fading, there was no way he would be able to unlock the collar.

0:30.

My eyes darted around the room, searching for anything I could use.

Until they landed on his hand. And the bloodied knife I gripped tightly.

I stuffed my second key into his hand, wrapping his fingers tightly around it. I lined the knife up with his wrist, forcing the blade down through skin and bone. I sawed at his appendage, placing all my weight onto the blade. Finally, his hand fell from his arm, the little remaining life in his eyes quickly fading.

I grabbed the hand, blood coating my own, and rushed to the mirror.

0:15.

I reached my arm behind me, quietly praying for the first time in my life that this plan would work, that I would be able to do this. My eyes were fixed on the mirror, turned just enough that I could see my arm straining towards the lock. I could almost feel the blades piercing my neck, severing my head from my body.

My muscles strained as I reached, trying to fit the key clasped in the dead man’s hand into the lock hanging on my back. For a moment, I thought it wouldn’t reach, I thought this would be the room I die in.

0:10.

The key locked into place.

The padlock clanged to the ground and the collar loosened. I tore the thing from my neck, throwing it towards the corner of the room. I watched in horror as the device constricted, blades forming a circle the size of a quarter.

I forced air into my lungs, collapsing to the ground.

That’s when I remembered his note. I crawled over to his body, grabbing the paper.

Hello, Judge Morrison. The woman before you is a killer. If you wish to make it out of this room alive, you must strike first.

Motherfucker.

My vision began to fade, and the thought hit me: what now?

Would someone come get me? Or is this some rigged game, Jigsaw watching me bleed out on the floor after beating his sadistic trial?

Just as I thought my fate was to rot here, a door opened on the far side of the room. A large figure loomed in the doorway, making its way over to me. I gripped the knife, one hand clutching my side.

“You fucking did this to me.” I raised the knife as best I could, determined to get out of this room alive.

“Wrong guy, sweetheart. You wanna meet the one that did this? I suggest you put that knife down.”

“Show me your hands. How do I know you’re not just going to finish me off?”

He raised his gloved hands, letting out a small laugh. “Because that’s not how he works.”

My grip tightened on the knife. “I’ll go with you. But I take the knife with me.”

“I think you’re forgetting you’re not the one in control here.”

My gaze fell to the floor, trying to weigh my options, heading spinning. I sighed, letting the knife fall from my hand.

“Good idea,” he said, before moving towards me. I tried to push myself to my feet until I felt his arm hook around my legs, roughly lifting me onto his shoulder. I tried to stifle a groan, my open side pressing against his jacket.

I screwed my eyes shut, the bright light a stark contrast as he carried me out of the dark room. My head pounded, burying my face in his jacket to keep the light from my eyes.

I heard a door open and suddenly I was thrown onto a table. I forced my eyes open, finding myself in a makeshift hospital room, my body lying on what looked like an operating table. I pressed myself up, sitting up on the table and taking in the figure in front of me.

He had removed his hood and his gloves, shedding his now blood-soaked jacket as well. He ran a hand through his dark hair, trying to fix the mess his hood had made. He was tall with broad shoulders. I tried to assess his build, his strength, trying to figure out what part to aim for if I needed to run.

“Get your shirt off.”

“Excuse me?” I swung my legs over the side of the table, trying to plant them on the ground before he grabbed my shoulder and pushed me back down.

“If you want that side stitched up, you’re gonna have to take your shirt off.”

I hesitated, assessing the man as he gathered a needle and thread from a first aid box.

He looked at me from the corner of his eye, full lips pulling into a smirk. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. This is just part of my job.”

I slowly complied, pulling my ruined shirt over my head, and setting it beside me on the table. “Do I at least get a new shirt? Since you and your ‘boss’ ruined mine.”

“You look like you’re ready to pass out and you’re worried about a new shirt?”

“I asked a question.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, fine. I’ll get you a new shirt.” He made his way over to the table, placing himself next to my legs as he sterilized the needle. He examined the wound, placing a rough hand on the skin of my stomach. He let out a small noise, almost sounding impressed.

“Pretty clean. At least made it easy for me.” Without warning, he stuck the needle in my side, carefully sewing up the incision. I sucked in a breath through my teeth, feeling the sweat dripping down the back of my neck.

“Would you hurry the fuck up? Or do you just like seeing people in pain?”

“Do you want it done right or do you want it done quickly?”

“Both, would be preferable.”

He poked the needle into my side, above the wound, looking at me with a cocky smile. “Oops. Sorry, was trying to hurry it up.”

I wanted to take a fist to his nose, wiping that look off his face. Restraining myself, I grit my teeth until he was finished, wiping a cloth covered in alcohol over the stiches.

“There. Feel better?”

“Yeah, I feel fantastic. What do you think?”

He chuckled, grabbing my shirt off the table, and throwing it in a nearby trashcan before making his way to a duffle bag on the table next to mine. He unzipped the bag, digging around until he pulled out a button-down shirt and throwing it in my direction.

I stuck my arms into the large shirt, pulling it over my chest and buttoning it up.

“Better, your majesty?”

I gave him a stiff smile. “So, what now? I beat your fucking game. Can I go home now?”

“Not yet. Someone wants to meet you.”

“Do I get a choice in that?”

“No, but you get to choose if you’ll be good or if I need to tie you to a chair.”

“You’re hilarious, you know that? You’ve made this whole experience so much better.” I slowly stood, steadying myself as I glared at him.

“Does that mean I need to tie you down?”

“Fuck you.” After a moment of silence, I said, “Fine. Where is he? And if you try and tie me down, I’ll rip your hands off.”

He shook his head. “So angry, aren’t you? Follow me.” He nodded his head to another door at the far side of the room, stalking over to it as I followed behind.

“Are you going to tell me who you are?”

“We’ll see.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

We walked down a long hallway in silence. He pushed open the door at the end, leading me into a large workshop. It was filled with tools, blueprints, hunks of metal. More traps.

He pulled over a chair, motioning for me to sit. I kept my eyes locked on him as I settled into the chair.

My hands gripped the arm rests, weighing my options.

Before I could make a move to run, I heard a door open.

tag list: @bee-who-isnt-french, @enigmatic-blues, @kujofam, @aliengutzstuff, @mysunfishpeedinmyroom, @slut4hoffman, @schrodingersjigsaw, @hoffmansnightmare, @karmaswitch, @mrs-hotforhoffman, @returntodustsblog, @capan-deveraux2, @switchbabeeexo, @librababe99, @sweetsunflowerkisses

#saw #saw franchise #fanfic #mark hoffman #fanfiction #oc #mark hoffman x oc

[echoes-in-blue]

Mark Hoffman x Original Character AU - Canon Divergent Story. +18 Readers only.

Summary: What if Mark always had someone behind the scenes, watching his back and helping him out. What would happen after his death and resurrection? When lovers become partners in crime, there will be no stopping their revenge. Tags: Dom/sub, breath play, teasing, language, dirty talk, restraints, spanking, knife play, fear play, injury, gore, violence Notes: This story is fan fiction derived from the universe of the Saw movies and takes place at the end of Saw VI, diverting the canon from there and adding in a bit more of a Hoffman backstory. If you aren't fond of this idea, then feel free to skip. This story is not meant for anyone under the age of 18. Read at your own risk.

Chapter One: Backup Plan

“If you don’t hear from me, by midnight I need you to open this envelope.” “And if I do hear from you?” “Burn it, like the others.” 

Typically, when he left things like that, he did contact her before midnight. It was funny to her that he believed she had no idea what he was doing or where he was going. At first, it hadn’t been so obvious but over time it became clear. Possibly because she was an FBI agent and a profiler. Did he underestimate her ability to figure it out or was he with her because he was very much aware that she knew who he was and what he was doing. The fact that it turned her on even though it shouldn’t and she was just as aware as him that she’d never turn him in. They were in love and had been since well before he’d become the Jigsaw apprentice. Things had only gotten more intense since that point. It was never explicitly stated between them what he was involved in but that didn’t matter. He knew she knew. It was why sometimes when he returned home he still had blood on his clothes, his gloves that gripped her chin so firmly. Forcing eye contact to make sure she knew her place. Sending chills down her spine into her very core, leaving her unable to deny how much she wanted him. He knew that too. 

That night, though, it felt different. The way he told her the instructions. Almost as if he knew that something wouldn’t go right. She wished he’d tell her more, or at least let her help. The thing was that not speaking of these things in detail gave her the plausible deniability she would need should he get caught. The first person they would go to was his wife. Much like they had gone after Jill Kramer. The less she knew, the better she’d be able to fake it when they came around to interrogate her. No matter what, she’d never throw him under the bus. It wasn’t that she was blind to what was wrong with the situation but she could see, through his eyes, why he did what he did. As someone who worked in law enforcement herself it was easier to justify handing out such punishments to criminals who had skirted the law and never learned the value of their lives or impact of their behavior. 

She couldn’t pretend like there weren’t suspects, perpetrators, and guilty men and women she had to deal with every day who she’d like to see maimed in one of those traps. She’d insinuated as much when she could get away with it. While watching the news, making sure to mention to him that some people just deserved what they got. It was not the correct stance for her to take as an agent of the law but nor was it correct for him as a detective so at least they were on the same page. 

As she sat there, the clock ticking down, she realized that he had not contacted her. No text on her phone. The one she had as a burner just for these messages from him. It hadn’t rang either. The midnight hour drew closer, and closer, and when the old clock in their penthouse chimed twelve she knew for the first time she was going to have to open that envelope. It was something that excited her as much as terrified her because she didn’t know what she would find. Obviously, she was the failsafe in all of this and since she was a forensic psychiatrist that also made her a medical doctor. He had her as a life preserver because she could preserve life. She’d treated his wounds before when he couldn’t properly seek care for them lest they raise suspicion with local hospitals as to how he’d gotten them. As an heiress, she had connections and money to buy or find anything he could need to treat and hide the injuries until he was good as new. They were a perfect team because between the two of them they could get rid of anything that they didn’t want seen. 

From the hidden safe in the wall she removed the instructions packet and opened it up. There she found only one thing. GPS coordinates. There was no explanation otherwise. Though he was smart enough to know that she would be aware that this place that he wanted her to go to was dangerous. Not that it mattered, since she always carried her weapon with her now thanks to being an FBI agent. She punched the coordinates into the burner phone and came up with a location. A warehouse in the middle of nowhere just about. Outside of New York City where they lived, near some docks in New Jersey right across the bridge. As far as she could tell, the property had been previously owned by John Kramer. Hopefully, she wasn’t walking into a death trap, nor would she arrive to find Mark’s dead and dismembered body somewhere on the premises. 

“I may hurt you but I will never harm you, do you understand the difference?” He asked as she sat there, hands cuffed behind her back to the post of the bed that they shared. The concept of the dom/sub relationship was one she knew plenty about academically since she worked in sex crimes but she hadn’t put it into practice herself. They’d discussed it here and there but he knew more than she had. Especially that she was ready to start. “Look at me, Leila.” He put his fingers under her chin to lift her head up, forcing eye contact between them. 

“I understand, sir.” She said, “Hurting means pain and temporary suffering but harm would be permanent and detrimental. I trust you not to harm me. I trust you with my life.” 

“Are you sure about that?” He asked quickly pulling a knife from his pocket to flick the blade up and brandish it within her line of sight. “It could be a foolish decision if you aren’t absolutely sure of what you are saying.” 

“I know what I am saying and I know what I want.” She confirmed. He smirked and licked his lips slowly. Bringing the blade down he started to cut away the buttons of her blouse one by one until it fell open, exposing her bra. Then he brought it back up to cut the bra between the cups, splitting it to reveal her breasts. Her heart fluttered in her chest. The adrenaline rush combined with the arousal and the idea that she was completely helpless to his every whim was overwhelmingly erotic. Slowly, he ran the blade over her right breast to where her heart would be positioning the tip there to press into the skin enough to cause pain but not actually pierce it. 

“I could kill you, if I wanted.” He said. 

“But that isn’t what you want.” She replied. He smirked, sliding the knife over her skin enough to leave a scratch but not a cut until he got it to her jugular, resting the blade there where she could feel just how sharp it was against the vital area. 

“What I want is for you to never know what I may or may not do but trust that ultimately this is a game we play and you will not come out of it harmed. As I said before.” He moved the knife from her neck to her lips, pressing the flat of it there. She looked at him, kissing the metal that she was presented with. He laughed softly and folded the blade into the handle before slipping the knife back into his pocket. 

“So you want me to be afraid?” 

“In a sense, yes, but I want you to trust me as well. Expect the unexpected.” He smirked and then pulled her into a hungry kiss. 

She took care to be sure that no one had followed her where she was going. It wasn’t typical that anyone would follow her but she knew there were some eyes on Mark so that meant it was possible that people had eyes on her as well. When she pulled up to the place she found that it was indeed a warehouse. Hopefully, it was not one that involved any of John or Mark’s games. Though she could deal with dead bodies, gore, and mutilation since crime scenes were part of her everyday job, she did not want to leave any evidence that she’d been there. If that were the case. From her back pocket she pulled out a pair of gloves and slipped them on before grabbing onto the handle of the sliding door in front of her. Amazingly, it wasn’t locked, but she knew that potentially could mean bad news as well. She only opened it enough to look inside and then enter before shutting it again. The area was dark but not pitch black and in the back she could see a light, kind of in a corner. 

Pulling her gun, she headed in that direction as quietly as possible, also making sure she wasn’t accidentally going to touch trip wires or step into a trap. This place had to be rigged with them. That much was obvious. She could see all sorts of things that would constitute as evidence from all of the Jigsaw games. When she got closer to the one light that was on she looked through one of the nearby mirrors to see if she could spot anyone in the room as she paused and held her breath. There was a groan and she turned her head towards it. In the corner she saw Mark holding a blood soaked wad of fabric tightly to his face. Holstering her gun, she hurried towards him and got down by his side. 

“Mark, what the hell happened?” She asked. He looked at her, his eyes kind of glossy. There was no way he hadn’t lost a lot of blood but he was still conscious so that was good news in itself. Slowly, he pulled the fabric away from his face to show her that half of his cheek was split open. “Shit. We need to fix this.” He nodded, it was clear why he hadn’t called out to her when she’d arrived she doubted he could do much but groan and scream in that condition. She hurried to look through the warehouse to find something that could stitch his face up. The sooner the better. If he showed up at a hospital like that then he’d be caught immediately. There weren’t any real medical supplies in there, not any that would help with this specific injury but she did manage to find fishing wire and a hook. She could close up the wound and worried about infection later. It wasn’t like it would be hard to get antibiotics. Bringing the supplies over to him she got down and threaded the line through the hook. 

“This is going to hurt a lot, but it will save your life. I can get you antibiotics after if you need them.” She said as she reached to pull his hand away from his face again. He let out a small groan and almost the moment she touched the hook to his skin he yanked away. “Mark, this has to be done now and…what happened to your hand?” She had only just noticed that it was broken, she could see bone. 

“I can do it.” He said, or more accurately she was sure that’s what he meant to say with a huge flesh wound in the side of his face. If he had survived this far he probably could stitch up his own face, she didn’t doubt that. 

“It will be faster if-” 

“I’ll do it.” He snatched the hook away from her and very carefully got to his feet. She sighed, knowing there was no way to stop him from doing something he was determined to do himself. He hobbled over to the mirror she had been looking into before and pulled the lamp closer to it. Then he took in a deep breath and started to stitch up the wound in his face. 

“Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you now?” He asked. This was after she’d been blindfolded in such a way that she couldn’t see anything. Usually, when people messed around with blindfolds there was a lot of room for error. Letting light in or the ability to look down and see shadows. She wasn’t surprised that he knew what he was doing when it came to this sort of thing. “Answer me.” 

“Anything you want.” She replied, “Master.” 

“That’s a good girl.” He chuckled darkly and patted her on the cheek. She sensed movement around her, first on the bed shifting and then some kind of fabric around her neck. It wasn’t rope, it was something else. Perhaps one of his ties. The weight of the bed shifted again and she was still left sitting there with her arms handcuffed behind one of the posts. There was a pause and she heard a click then felt the cuffs release. There was no moment to recover from this as she was immediately yanked down and out of the bed by the tie around her neck. She yelped as she fell to the floor, with hardly any time to brace for impact. Somehow, she did manage to catch herself but just barely. “Quick thinking, I like that.” 

“Thank you, sir.” She replied. The makeshift leash was tugged on again forcing her to crawl forward a bit then another sharp tug indicated that she needed to stop. She could hear him as he walked around behind her then felt his hands on her hips as he shoved her skirt up to reveal her panties. There was the swish of the blade from the knife popping up and the sensation of cold metal against her inner thighs. She gasped, shivered, and groaned softly as he started to cut the fabric of them away. 

“My pleasure is your pleasure, your pain is my pleasure, anything I want is for me. Anything you are rewarded with, is just that. You have to earn things here, understood?” He asked then without much warning gave her a rough slap across the ass. She squealed and then nodded her head. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You’re a faster learner. I wonder what else I can teach you.” He said, sounding very amused as she felt his fingers between her legs moving over the wet folds of her cunt. She groaned, knowing she was far more aroused than she should have been given the situation. He continued to tease her perfectly, as if he were playing an instrument that he was a master of. Working her closer and closer to climax before pulling his hand back to give her ass another slap. This was done in such an oddly timed way that she could never predict it and threatened to drive her insane. She didn’t know how long he had kept it up before she lost enough control to scream. 

“Please!” She yelled, “Sir…please…” 

“Do you even know what you are begging for?” He asked, “Fucking tell me what you want, Princess.” She whined and lowered her head, it was humiliating and so very fucking hot to hear him speak to her like that. She licked her lips slowly and took in a deep breath through her nose, letting it out through her mouth. 

“Your cock, sir.” 

“And what do you want me to do with it?” 

“I…I want you to fuck me with it.” 

“Why?” 

“For your pleasure, I…I’m your naughty little fuck toy and I’m only here to serve you.” She breathed, her heart pounding in her chest. 

“That’s what I like to hear.” He chuckled and gave her ass another slap. From behind her, she sensed more movement until she could feel the tip of his cock rubbing against her cunt, teasing and touching in all the right places. As she was about to yell out again for him to just hurry up he thrust into her and she moaned loudly. She’d have collapsed forward except for the fact that he had grabbed the tie around her neck and yanked back, keeping her upright lest she wanted to choke. From there he started to pound into her with reckless abandon. Every so often the fabric around her neck would restrict her airflow then release again. When she could draw breath all she could do was let it out as a moan. He’d never been so primal and dominant with her before, they’d dabbled in it sure but it hadn’t gotten this far. She knew she was already addicted to this and would never want it any other way. “Are you going to cum for me? Huh? You naughty little girl…” 

“Y-Yes…Yes, sir…” She panted, when he allowed her the air to do so. 

“Go on then, cum all over my cock.” He growled. She moaned again, her eyes rolling back in pleasure as his words triggered her climax. He moaned then as well, almost louder than her. The walls seemed to shake with the passion of it and she could nearly feel it vibrating through her as she hit her second climax then a third. Suddenly, the leash around her neck was released. She fell forward, unable to keep her weight up any longer. Then he was on top of her, pulling her close to him as he moved them both onto their side. She could do nothing but lay there basking in the afterglow of her orgasm feeling the rapid beat of his heart against her back. She silently hoped she’d never have to face a moment where such a motion ceased to exist when his blood would eventually run cold. 

“You did a good job.” She said, once he was finished working on his face. It was quite impressive actually. Using just that dirty old mirror and some fishing line. She didn’t think she could have done it to herself even if it also meant the choice between life or death. “I have a first aid kit in my car. I can use that to see what I can do about your hand.” 

“Be quick,” He said, “I don’t suppose you brought any painkillers with you.” 

“Nothing heavier than tylenol but you know we are well stocked at home.” She stroked the side of his face that wasn’t injured and stood up. “Why did you need me to come here, this does seem like something you could have handled on your own.” 

“I could have.” He said, reaching out to take her hand with his good one. He gave it a squeeze, “But that had nothing to do with it.” 

“Then what else could it be?” 

“Things didn’t go exactly according to plan and I’m going to need your help.” He replied, “Get the first aid kit. I'll explain more when you get back.” She nodded, knowing that his immediate care took priority over something he could explain after. If he seemed to think there was time to sit and talk she wasn’t worried about that before making sure he was stable and in as good of health as he possibly could be. As she exited the warehouse again, to get to her car, the gravity of the situation hit her. She had to pause for a moment, catch her breath, and try to stifle the tears that were threatening to fall. In all of this time, though she’d seen him injured, she had never seen him come as close to death as that. She’d also never in her wildest dreams expected for him to say anything about his plans not going as he’d devised them. How bad was it that he wanted her involved? She didn’t know. What she did know was that if someone had done this to him with the intent to end his life, she wanted revenge. Possibly even more than he believed he did at that moment.

#costas mandylor #mark hoffman #horror #saw franchise #saw movies #mark hoffman x oc #mark hoffman fan fiction

[horrorenthusiastt]

it wasn't supposed to end like this

a/n: i will be basing this of a dream i had a few days ago, so i can get my writing creativity back and since i haven't written in a while so enjoy! 

she checked the victim was strapped tightly down to his chair and heavily sedated, i mean with all the sedatives he had inside him she wasn’t entirely sure he’d wake up but hoffman was there to reassure her that it was fine. 

“you’re overthinking it too much he's fine” he spoke , watching her as she double checked the restraints for the fifth time in ten minutes, “i know i just don't want anything bad to happen to us” she responded, making her way over to hoffman where he stood leaning against the metal wiring, melting into his broad figure, he placed his hands on her hips and they just stood there for a while before it was time to move.

now stood in a room in the middle of the warehouse infront of all the monitors, where each one had a different camera for each room, mark and y/n stood in front of them watching as the man started to wake up, “i have to go to the department now, you think you’ll be okay?” he asked as she continued to watch the frantic man screaming through the screen, “i’ll be fine, just like you said” she responded looking up at him with her big wide eyes, smiling at her he grabbed her face gently and gave her a gentle peck before taking off.

she had been watching for about forty five minutes now, and the man had made it to the third room, when she’d noticed the camera had gone out in the fifth room, so considering he'd only just entered the third room she had enough time to grab something to go in there and fix it before he’d even made it to the fourth room, or so she thought losing track of time trying to find out what was causing the camera to be off, to focused and in her own world she didn’t even hear the man enter the room. 

she didn’t hear the man creeping up behind her and then was met with a blow to the head causing her to fall of the stool, losing consciousness for a few seconds and regaining consciousness to the man screaming at her about god knows what that he hadn't realised that she was awake, so she kicked him and thrashed until the man stumbled and then she made a run for it, trying to avoid all the obstacles the rooms had in them.

but she wasn’t quick enough because he’d caught up to her and they were in the warehouse now, he had her pinned to the floor beating whatever life was left in her out of her but before he took her life she huffed “wrong choice”  her eyes rolling back, she was no longer breathing so that's when he tried to make a run for it but not before he ran straight into a hard body.

mark was back and he hated the sight that was before him, the love of his life was beat to death in the middle of the warehouse, it didn't even take a second before anger took over and mark had him on the floor in the same state as his girlfriend. 

making his way over to her not wanting to believe it was true, this couldn’t be happening not to him, he cradled her cold body in his warm hands, stroking her face “i should’ve been here sooner” he kept repeating over and over. It was in that moment that mark swore that he would never let a victim get out of a trap again. ever.

#mark hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman x oc #mark hoffman saw #saw fic #mark hoffman fic #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slasher fanfiction

[hoffmansnightmare]

Chapter 2 of "Keep Away From the Edge" is on it's way!

Maybe tonight? 👀

#mark hoffman #saw 2004 #sawposting #saw franchise #saw movies #saw x #Keep Away From The Edge #mark hoffman x oc #Emmory Hodges

[williamschenk-banks]

I’m working on a couple of moodboards for some story ideas 💡 that I’ve been percolating. Should have something up for them tomorrow. What would y’all like to see first? Amanda’s story isn’t included on this because I haven’t seen Saw X yet and I want to see that before I try to write from her pov because I heard she had some pretty wonderful character development in it.

#saw #amanda young #chainshipping #mark hoffman #spiralshipping #lawrence gordon #spiral from the book of saw #logan nelson #adam faulkner stanheight #ezekiel banks #william schenk #all of these are in the same universe btw #mark hoffman x oc

[twofacedharveydent]

Fade away to the wicked world we live And I become the dark of you Say a prayer for the wounded heart within As I become the dark of you

The Dark of You | An upcoming Saw franchise story → Mark Hoffman & Alaina Jordy

Everything tag list: @missecharlotte , @darknightfrombeyond , @arrthurpendragon , @ocappreciationtag

Message me if you’d like to added or removed from the list.

#ocappreciation #saw fanfiction #mark hoffman x oc #edit: mine #edit: tdoy #oc: alaina jordy #alaina x mark #i'm so excited for this #my first new story/oc since starting on Bird back in 2015 #ahhhhhhh

[screamqueenkrueger]

Will I write an entire fanfic built around this one scene that is stuck in my head? Maybe. Right now it's all I'm thinking about.

"Looks like you didn't learn your lesson." Mark Hoffman nodded toward the bottle on her kitchen island.

Emmy rounded on him, eyes blazing. "What?"

"Didn't surviving that game teach you to appreciate your life?"

"I've always wanted to live!" She was shouting now. Shouting down the man who had helped trapped her while he stood in her kitchen, watching her carefully. Like he was studying her. That made her even angrier. "I want to appreciate my life, but it's fucking impossible! I can't follow my dreams because I spend all of my time working a soul-sucking job all so that I can afford to keep living. If I don't I'll be out on the street!" Her voice was so high it was scraping her throat, but she didn't care. This was like finally picking a scab on an aching sore, all of the rot finally rushing out. Hoffman's expression didn't change, and he didn't interrupt.

"I want to be able to do what I love. I want to feel excited for every tomorrow. But I can't because they're all the same." She was poking him in the chest now, real heat radiating out from her body. "What you guys did didn't fix me. It can't! It can't fix the problem. I drank because it made me feel something other than the mundanity of the life I'm trapped in, and I still drink! But now I drink to deal with the nightmares I'm left with because of you!" She was rambling. She didn't think she was making any sense. "I can't afford to appreciate my life. I can't afford to be happy. I have to keep working so that I can keep living."

Suddenly she was crying. Mark's head bowed towards her, as if in difference to her emotion. "That's me appreciating my life." She sobbed. "Working a job I hate just so that I can afford to keep going." Her eyes hardened once more, meeting Mark's like it was a challenge. "What you people do doesn't help anyone."

"I know."

Emmy could hardly believe she'd heard what he said. She half expected him to haul her back to John, to put her through another game. See if she learned that time. Instead he met her eyes and spoke quietly. He was letting her in on a secret.

"I know none of this works."

"Then why do you do it?"

Hoffman sat at one of the stools at her island. Emmy, feeling like this was one hell of a story coming and consequences be damned, she grabbed a second glass for the detective and poured him a generous drink.

#mark hoffman #saw 6 #saw franchise #saw movies #saw fanfic #saw fandom #oc #mark hoffman x oc #saw 2004 #saw 5

[endless-oc-creations]

Mimi's Mini Plot Bunnies

Name: Florence Burton

Title: TBD

Fandom: Saw series

Faceclaim: Naomi Watts

Love Interest: Mark Hoffman

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: Florence Burton is a detective who recently, and suddenly, transferred to the Metropolitan Police Department. Florence is then assigned to shadow and be partner to her lieutenant, Mark Hoffman. But she feels like more of a secretary instead of a partner. What was even more of a problem to Florence was that this man seemed to have more mystery and darkness surrounding the more time she was forced to spend with him. So, Florence tried focusing on other cases behind his back so she could hopefully impress the Chief of Police, getting away from Hoffman and her growing attraction for him. Instead, it backfired and the Chief of Police assigns Florence right to Hoffman's side to work with him on the Jigsaw killer cases.

💕 Everything Taglist: @bravelittleflower​ @sunlitscribe​​​ @eddysocs​​ @raith-way​​ @waterloou​​​ @decennia​​ @hiddenqveendom​ @aaronhotchstuff​ @foxesandmagic​ @nejires-hado  @asirensrage​​​​  @lucys-chen @arrthurpendragon @daughter-of-melpomene @thatmagickjuju @ginevrastilinski @ginger-grimm @oneirataxia-girl💕

#mini plot bunnies #saw ocs #horror ocs #slasher ocs #mark hoffman x oc #type: mini intro #fandom: horror #fandom: saw #horror #saw franchise #florence burton #oc: florence burton #I Want To Queue You 'Til You See Stars

[deputyrook]

Impressions- 3/? Mark Hoffman x Psychic!Reader

PART 1. PART 2.

You're a reluctant psychic. He's a detective. And a serial killer.

(Weren't you supposed to be afraid?)

Word count: 4581

WARNINGS: Child abuse, attempted infanticide, corruption, stockholm syndrome, drug use (painkillers), blackmail, power imbalance, abusive dynamics, overt threatening, general Saw-levels of horror & violence.

You dream about the bathroom again.

Your mother is there, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her hair tied back. It's your childhood home, the bathroom on the second floor just beyond the top of the stairway, painted a garish teal that was popular in the late 70s.

You think you are four years old. Your mother is chattering to you as she fills the tub. She's telling you that she's sorry, but it has to be done- that you're sensitive just like her, she can tell, and that this life will ruin you.

She has to save you from it. You deserve better than this, she says to you, smoothing down your hair with wet hands. Life is too bad, too hard. Too filled with pain and bad people. You're not like them.

The water is cold, and dark. The bathtub seems to expand as you're held underwater- you open your eyes, and they burn. Blurry shapes pass across your vision. The darkness seems to go on forever.

(You were dead for three minutes, the doctors said, before they were able to resuscitate you.)

Somewhere in the haze of the dream, you zoom out to a bird's eye view, and the bathroom starts to decay. You see the top of the toilet crack, the mirror shatter and fall. A chain is attached to the radiator, snaking around your ankle. The light flickers. There is a puddle of blood in the centre of the room.

When you wake up, you are drenched in sweat.

You don't text Mark Hoffman about that dream, instead groggily taking a handful of painkillers to ensure a dreamless sleep for the rest of the night.

It had only been after your near death experience that you'd started getting flashes, the images and emotions that your childhood friends didn't. At the time, the doctors chalked up to trauma. Later, you learned to keep it quiet.

Maybe, somewhere in the world- wherever she was now- your mother had woken up after the same dream. You are just about the same age now as she was then, and when you look in the mirror, you see the same tired eyes.

She was right about one thing, you think, your recent visions coming back to you. Life is full of pain.

As you lay back down, your cat Prawn crawls up beside you and starts purring relentlessly. He shoves his face against yours, like he can tell you're feeling down. He smooshes against you, and despite yourself you chuckle, petting him softly.

The last thing you wonder before you fall asleep is what your mother would think of what you're doing now. She may have been right about life, but she was wrong about you.

You are like them. Maybe worse.

---

---

"What do you mean, you haven't had any visions since yesterday morning?" Mark asks as he drives, gloved hands gripping the wheel so tightly that you're surprised he doesn't leave a permanent indent on it.

"I took some painkillers yesterday. They block out the noise, at least for a bit," you answer, sparing a look over at him, "I wanted to be a normal human being for a while."

He shakes his head in what appears to be annoyance, distaste or disappointment- you can't tell which.

"Quit complaining," He says, without even a hint of sympathy. You wonder if sympathy is an emotion he knows how to feel, "Pills aren't going to make you feel normal."

With your senses dulled, you feel cut-off from the world around you, and by extension, Mark Hoffman. Without the bleed of other people's emotions, thoughts, and memories into your mind, you feel more independent, more a person. It comes at the cost of your intuition, but at least you can tell a bit more clearly where Jigsaw ends and you begin.

Still, somewhere along the way, you stopped flinching every time Mark Hoffman looked at you. It's incredible, what the human mind can normalize. How it can change fear to thrill to anticipation.

"It'll come back, it always does. Pretty soon, if my timing is right," You shoot Mark a look, "Wouldn't want to be useless to you."

He sneaks a glance back at you. "I'm sure I could find a use for you."

For a second, it feels like the energy in the car changes. With that insinuation, there's a tension between you that becomes obvious. The air in the car feels tight.

It feels dangerous. Your cheeks flush, and you don't exactly know how to respond to that, so you drum your fingers on your thigh and look out the window.

"It's been affecting me," you admit, finally, changing the subject. "I've been connected to this web of the worst of humanity. I needed a break."

Mark scoffs. "You're telling me that shutting your eyes and pretending it's not happening is going to make you feel better?"

"A little," you lie, before you sigh and stretch. "Maybe when my intuition comes back, I should just go to a dog park, close my eyes, and pet all the dogs."

"You get any hits on the dogs being mistreated, you can send the owners my way," Mark replies, deadpan.

You actually laugh out loud at that, mostly out of surprise. Mark still looks serious- he really doesn't smile all that often. Was that a joke? Probably not entirely, but either way, you can't help but smile as you shake your head at his audacity.

Your suspicion that Mark is at least somewhat serious is confirmed when he continues.

"We could do a lot of good work like that," Mark adds quietly after a moment, "You pick them. I test them. You sense the threats, I deal with them from the inside. A pretty fucking effective team, if you ask me."

"Is that what you want? Us to murder people together?" You ask, voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Yeah," Mark replies simply, seriously. A shiver runs across your skin, and at that single word, your stomach drops. It seems too real a possibility, suddenly. That you could actually do it. That you would actually do it. That you could do it, together, and not get caught.

"Did you forget that I'm here under duress?" You reply uncomfortably. The words sound like a lie even to you as they leave your mouth.

"Really? I don't see a gun to your head." He points out. You shuffle in your seat, and pick at a seam on your jeans. He's right, and the guilt of it hits you square in the chest.

What are you doing here, if it's not because you've been forced to be? The answer just makes you feel more guilty, rising like bile in your throat.

You've enjoyed being needed. He's dangerous, and he's taking you seriously, bringing you along. He needs you, he wants you here.

You've been having fun.

He'd kill you in a second if you threatened him, without an ounce of regret. You still like him. Are you insane? Suicidal?

Fuck. It hurts your head. It takes every image you've ever had of yourself and crumples it into a little paper ball. And sets it on fire. You don't even know who you are anymore.

"How would Jigsaw number one feel about that?" You ask instead, trying to hide the sudden waves of turmoil that crash through you, making you feel sea-sick and confused.

"Pretty soon, it won't matter," Mark's voice is dark, and he looks straight ahead at the road as he drives. Once again, you have no idea where he's taking you, but you've been driven well outside of the city centre. The area is dilapidated, and you pass lawn after lawn filled with detritus and garbage.

It didn't even occur to you to try to remember the route to get here.

"I wasn't sure about it at first either," Mark murmurs after a while, with a cruel twist of the corner of his mouth, "Then I realized. They have a real chance to get out alive. Maybe they learn their lesson. Maybe they don't. Well, then, we can just put them back into the games until they figure it out, or they die. It's housekeeping."

"That's fucked up. These are people you're talking about. With their own lives and hopes and dreams," Is it him you're trying to convince, or yourself? Maybe you're pushing your luck, arguing with him as much as you are. It's weightless, regardless. Here you are, tagging along, no gun in sight.

"Nah. You said it yourself- the worst of humanity. Fuck 'em." Mark pulls into a long driveway of an old abandoned school building, driving his car around the back and parking in the grass, out of sight from the road. You can see broken windows, glass scattered around the entrances, and brick walls splashed with colourful graffiti.

He turns off the engine of his car, and then turns fully to you.

"Come on. You wanna find out what you really think?"

--

Mark has a key to the back door, and the rusted lock opens with an imposing click. Even with the key, it feels like you shouldn't be here. A sense of foreboding edges your awareness, and you can tell the medication is starting to wear off by how deeply you're unsettled in this atmosphere. You seem to be entering through an administration sector of small back offices.

The building smells of mildew and grease, of rust and water damage. As he enters the hallway, Hoffman flips a series of switches just to the left of the entry, which light the narrow back hallways in an uncanny florescence. If not for the light, you would have thought this place was abandoned.

Something bad has happened here, or is happening here.

"Follow me," he murmurs, and with confident strides, he leads you through the administration section and out into the main hallway of the school. You trail behind him quietly, wondering if you would be able to navigate your way out of this building again if you were left here.

He takes you up an old metal stairway, and then into a large room which you can tell used to be a library. Compared to the other parts of the building you've seen, this room is much better kept, clear of rubble and debris. Someone's taken the time to clear it out, at least mostly. Old bookshelves stand empty, and a series of round tables in the room now hold various pieces of equipment.

It's been turned into a workshop, you realize.

Blueprints are spread across the tables, along with a number of cassette tapes and what appears to be recording equipment. A large black television is set up on a TV cart near the front of the room, with wires connecting to a receiver of some kind.

Resting on one of the tables, contrasting so severely with the rest of the equipment on it, there's an old, faded teddy bear.

"See that?" Mark says, pointing to the toy. "I wanna know what kind of a read you get on it."

"Why do I feel like this isn't going to be fun?" You murmur anxiously, but you do as he instructs, approaching the table and picking up the bear. Turning it over in your hands, you close your eyes, and allow the feelings to creep up onto you.

You were right. Something bad happened here.

There was a little boy, no older than six, you think, who had held onto the bear so tightly. You feel his confusion, more than anything else at first. What had he done wrong? Why was his teacher so angry?

Why did it hurt so much?

Pain flashes through you, bright and sharp, from your elbow to your shoulder. You cringe, still holding the bear, trying to piece together what had happened to the boy. You can feel his fear, pure and unrestrained, making you shake.

"Got it?" Mark asks, and you realize he's come up to stand right behind you. He leans over you, his chest nearly touching your back, and speaks low, directly into your ear. It makes you shiver for a different reason. "Now, open your eyes. Watch."

Holding up a remote beside you, you open your eyes to watch as he clicks on the television with it. It crackles to life, and it takes you a second before you register what you're looking at, through the static of what appears to be a live feed.

A man that you would guess is in his mid-60's is restrained to a chair in an abandoned classroom, each of his arms fastened into metal contraptions. Something large is attached to the back of the chair, almost looking like an industrial turtle shell.

"Holy shit," you breathe, your eyes going wide. You drop the teddy bear in shock at what you're seeing, as the man begins to yell for help and writhe in the chair, trying to free his arms

"No, hold onto it," Mark says into your ear, reaching around you. Placing his hands on top of yours, he guides your touch back to the bear, his chest now fully flush against your back.

As you touch the toy again, the impressions come back, stronger this time. Not just the boy, but others as well. Left alone, trapped somewhere, difficult to breathe- suffocating in darkness. Where is my mom, I want my mom-

Anger begins to churn inside of you, so thick and strong it sickens you. You grit your teeth as you stare at the screen.

"Hello, Martin," A distorted voice says. Jigsaw. You can't see the TV from the camera's vantage point, but you can see the person in the chair whip his head toward the sound. "I want to play a game."

The man on the screen whimpers. "No, no, no," he moans.

"You worked at this school for almost three decades before they finally fired you. There were never any charges laid. But there were rumours for years about how you took out your rage on those who couldn't fight back."

You can feel the tears starting to well in your eyes as you stare up at the screen, transfixed in horror. The kids weep and scream in your mind like ghosts, begging to tell you how they suffered.

"You called it your isolation room. A closet hideaway, barely larger than a cardboard box. How many children did you force to stay there, curled up and injured for hours, for the sake of discipline?"

"It was a mistake!" The man yells out, voice breaking, "Please, I'm sorry, I was doing my best-"

"You have two minutes to press down on the peddles under your feet. Doing so will tear away the top layer of skin from your hands, degloving them. Keep your feet pressed down until the process is finished. Once your hands have been degloved, you will be able to pull them from the machine and press the buttons releasing you from the chair."

The man wails in misery. Mark Hoffman rests his chin on your shoulder, and you can feel his eyes watching the footage with you, so intently. The heat of his body pressed against yours, his large, rough hands over yours. The terror and anguish of the children, the shrieking of the man in the trap. It makes you dizzy.

"If you fail to do so before the time runs out, spikes will emerge from the contraption on your back, impaling you. Now we will see how disciplined you are."

The man gasps, and then, as the timer begins to tick down, begins to scream in earnest. You watch as he presses his foot down on the pedal, feeling the reverberation of his panic bounce back onto you.

"I can't do this," you say, squeezing your eyes shut, your nails digging into the fabric of the toy. Your head pounds with the echoes of the children crying, with their shame and embarrassment and panic, and with the howling screams of the man on the screen. It all layers, in a cacophonous symphony of violence and horror that drowns out all other thought.

"It's too much, it's so loud. I can't think, I- I need to shut it out." With one hand letting go of the toy, you dig into your jacket pocket, fishing for your prescription bottle.

"No, no," Mark snaps. He grabs your wrist, tight, and snatches the bottle of painkillers. "No more fucking pills. Watch."

"It's too much," you whisper, wincing. Your mind screams, unable to make sense of all of the information it's taking in. You need to think about this, but all you can do is feel, overstimulated and shaking-

"Detective. I don't think you've introduced me to your friend."

The dry voice cuts through everything else. You realize the screaming has stopped. When you open your eyes again, you see someone has paused the feed on the television.

It isn't live.

Mark freezes, his body immediately going stiff behind you. Although you've never heard this voice before, you recognize it all the same. You drop the teddy bear, as Mark removes his hand from your wrist and steps back away from you. The removal of the warmth of his body leaves yours feeling colder than before.

"Uh oh. You're in trouble," A second voice chimes in, sing-song and clearly elated that you've been caught here, together.

You're hoping Mark will say something on your behalf, but he doesn't. Your head pounds, and your skin feels almost too-sensitive, but if your intuition has ever told you anything, it's that this is not the time to fall apart.

So you turn, looking at the source voices, and muster up all of the courage you can. You are proud that your voice wavers only a little.

"Um. Hello. Jigsaw, and... Amanda Young, I assume." You cast a furtive glance at Mark, who finally seems to have recovered and composed himself, standing up straighter.

John Kramer sits in a wheelchair, wearing a long black and red robe that trails on the ground. Amanda stands behind him with her hands on the handles of the wheelchair, leaning her weight on it

Nothing about John Kramer suggests that he is weak or feeble to you, despite his thin frame and poor health. Instead, you sense a chessmaster, and a conqueror sits before you, a King in a throne. You get the image of a strategist who has been leading his troops through a war, claiming victory after victory through careful battlefield positioning.

"I can explain," Mark says slowly, keeping his voice even and calm.

"Oh, I'm listening," Kramer replies, tilting his head slightly and watching you carefully. His tone is curious and measured, and you sense that he's already re-arranging his plans in his mind, re-evaluating them and trying to determine how you're going to affect things. If he's angry with Hoffman, you can't tell.

"I wanted to test them myself, before I told you, in case it ended up being a waste of time," Hoffman says, shooting a glance at you, "I've never met someone so good at reading people. Except maybe you."

"You've got to be kidding," Amanda says, nearly laughing, "So you took them here, and showed them the footage from our last game? I knew you were an idiot, but this is really next level."

"We already abandoned this place as a workshop," Mark gestures to the TV, sounding irritated, "I sure as hell wasn't going to leave any evidence lying around after I took them home. Place would have been cleared out by tomorrow morning."

"And if they, oh, you know- reported you? Told someone?" Amanda asks. Mark looks like he's about to argue back at her, but John holds up a hand.

"I know you're smart enough not to take unnecessary risks, especially with your identity. But you should have brought this to my attention immediately," John says to Mark. Hoffman actually grimaces, like a kid being scolded.

John turns his attention to you, in cold and calculating interest, "What do you have to say?"

Cherish your life, the wind whispers in your ear. Right now, your life felt pretty fucking cherished, in the it-is-literally-on-the-line sense.

"I guessed that Detective Hoffman was one of your accomplices a few weeks ago," You answer, hoping that you're not going to talk yourself into a corner, "Not that I had any proof, but...he's been keeping a close eye on me, since then."

"And why haven't you gone to the police?" John asks, critical. The big question. Something urges you to just lay all of your cards out on the table.

"I don't... know, to be honest. Sometimes, things just come to me. Pieces of information, like drops of rain before a storm," John looks at you in interest, waiting silently, so you continue. "I feel like... the first one was personal, right? Like tiger stripes across the face, rough, rudimentary, righteous. He took something from you. Like the sun going out," You look at Mark. "The two of you are similar, like that."

Amanda and John stare at you, and you're worried you've said too much. Maybe you shouldn't have called his engineering rudimentary. You clear your throat, and shuffle your weight from one foot to the other.

"Interesting," Jigsaw remains expressionless, tone dispassionate. He looks at Mark's hand, still clenched around your prescription bottle, "...And the pills?"

You swallow. "Dampeners," you answer simply. He nods, like he understands, somehow. Amanda snaps her attention from you, to Mark, to John, like she can't believe what's happening. She makes a noise of clear protest.

"Come here, for a moment," Jigsaw says. You very much do not want to do that, but with Amanda glowering at you, you don't feel like you have much of a choice.

You walk over until you stand in front of him, heart hammering in your chest. With a hand, he beckons you to lean down, closer. Amanda looks just about ready to leap over his chair and strangle you.

As you lean in closer, you feel a prick on your neck. You look down to see John holding a needle, sticking it into your skin. He pushes an unknown liquid into your body.

"Oh," you say simply. Should have seen that coming.

The room goes dark.

---

When you wake up, you have gone from being in a bad situation to a much, much worse situation.

Somehow, you can sense that you were unconscious for a very long time. Now, though, you are wide awake, with adrenaline beginning to flood your body. Good- you're going to need it.

The first thing you register is that your eyes are very dry. The reason for this is immediately clear: your eyelids are being held open by a metal optician's speculum. You glance around your dark surroundings frantically in silent terror, unable to move your head. Some kind of a warehouse? No- a gymnasium. The school.

You can't move your body, either. You seem to be suspended in the air- how high up, you can't say- with your arms and legs locked into some kind of device. The height makes you nervous enough that you don't try to squirm.

Fuck. Stay calm. This is a Jigsaw game, which means there's a way out of it.

As you look back up above you, you can just make out through the darkness large jug of something positioned directly over your head. You catch the scent of something pungent and acidic.

It is becoming significantly harder to stay calm.

Below you, off to the side of the room, a television crackles to life.

"Hello," Jigsaw's voice says, addressing you by name, "I want to play a game." You can't see him, but you can imagine the puppet. Is the voice John's, Mark's or Amanda's through that modulation? You can't tell.

"You have been given a gift. A unique way of seeing the world. But you turn reject this strength. You silence it with painkillers, living in a wilful ignorance when you could know so much more."

So if it's John, someone has told him more about you. You wiggle your fingers. In each of your hands, there is some kind of device with a switch. Never a good sign.

"In your hands are two switches. By flipping each the switches, a single drop of acid will drop into your eyes, blinding you permanently. If you do not do so within two minutes, the restraints on your arms and legs will release, and you will be dropped in a tub of acid. I assure you, you will not survive."

Whimpering softly, the panic bubbles up in your chest, making it hard for you to catch your breath. It's much more difficult to turn inward and rely on your intuition with your eyes pried open- and maybe that was by design. If you could only shut them for a moment, then maybe your intuition could help you find a different way out of this.

"Will you embrace your gifts permanently by blinding yourself? Or will you die in ignorance? This is your test. Make your choice."

As the timer begins to tick, time seems to slow. You think of your mother's hands, holding you under the water, and the last words she said to you before she attempted to drown you.

Life is full of pain and bad people. She was right about that. You think of the kids from the school, forced to wait alone, curled up in the dark by their teacher. You think of Mark Hoffman, who delighted in the teacher's suffering.

You think of your cat Prawn, curled up by your head, and of the last time you grabbed lunch with Allison.

But she was wrong. Life is worth living, regardless.

You aren't going to fucking die here, alone. Not because of Jigsaw.

You flick the switches in your hands.

True to his word, the last thing you see are two drops of liquid, dripping down from above you into your eyes.

You scream as the acid burns you. You scream and you scream, until your voice breaks and your throat aches. You can smell the horrible scent of the acid burning your eyes, and hear something moving beneath you. A machine powers down, and you're slowly and gently lowered to the ground, no pool of acid waiting to swallow you whole.

When the restraints release your hands and feet, you rip the speculum out of your eyes, moaning in pain as you shut them and clutch at them. You curl into yourself, into a ball on the cold ground, and try not to cry.

And then, as you lie there in the dirt, panting and moaning, your awareness explodes. Your sixth sense replaces your fifth and crystallizes, smoothing out and filling in the gaps.

When you hear feet running to you, you already know whose they are. Detective Mark Hoffman, followed by Allyson Kerry. Detective Rigg isn't far behind.

You don't need to see to know.

"Kerry! Get over here, now!" Mark's voice barks out. You feel him lean in close to you, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and holding you to his chest.

"You did it," he murmurs into your ear, only for you to hear, "You fucking did it. I knew you'd win."

You reach out, clinging to him. It still feels comforting. It still feels protective.

Lies upon lies.

---

yes. I accidentally nuked my blog. 🥲 but thank you for the support on this fic series! I would love to hear what you think- comments help me figure out what people are enjoying about the fics and what people want to see more of 💕

TAG LIST: @icarusinstatic @honimello @haven-is-happy @karmaswitch @the-jester-calamity @teamhawkeye @thebrideofcaliban

NEXT CHAPTER

#mark hoffman #slasher fic #saw franchise #slasher x reader #saw movies #sawposting #costas mandylor #detective hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman x oc #my writing

[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.

#amanda young x you #amanda young x reader #amanda young x oc #amanda young x female reader #saw amanda #amanda young #saw #saw franchise #saw x reader #mark hoffman #hoffman #slasher #slasher x reader #bowies fics #amanda saw #amanda young x gn reader #gender nuetral reader

[grxmreaperx]

See You in Hell Pt. 2

Pairing: Mark Hoffman x Lana Walker (OC)

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: canon violence, mentions of death

Summary: Lana comes face to face with Jigsaw and learns what he has in store for her.

Read part 1 here

I watched curiously as two people entered the room.

A young woman, around my age, with cropped hair entered, pushing a wheelchair. The man in the chair looked frail, hair greyed and eyes tired. I glanced at the man next to me and found him watching me. Making sure I wouldn’t try anything.

The woman parked the chair in front of me, the man staring at me intently.

“Leave us,” he said, his voice gravelly.

The man that carried me from the room gave me one last assessing look before heading towards the door. The woman looked worried, her brows furrowing as she glanced at the man in front of me. She hadn’t let go of the handles on the chair. She leaned down, whispering something to him. He raised a hand. “Leave us, Amanda.”

She watched me closely as she reluctantly let go of the chair, moving slowly towards the exit. Once she had closed the door behind her, the man’s attention returned to me.

“I hope Mark was not too rough with you. He tends to get a bit overzealous.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

His eyes bored into me. “How are you feeling, Lana?”

“How am I feeling? How am I feeling? I just escaped a death trap; how do you think I’m feeling?”

“Are you always this abrasive, Lana?”

I let out a laugh. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Oh, I’m being abrasive? Pardon me. Pardon me for being upset that I was kidnapped and put into some sadistic trap.” My hands gripped the arms of the chair, trying to restrain myself from jumping up and taking my chances finding my way out of this place.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “Detective Hoffman is waiting outside that door in case you make a move. And I believe that you will want to hear what I have to say.”

I sat back in the chair, another humorless laugh escaping my throat. I shook my head. “Fine. Let’s hear it then.”

“I know what you’ve done, Lana.”

I fixed my eyes on him, reading his expression. Does he know what I think he does?

“I know you are the one that killed that man.”

My heart stopped. It shouldn’t have been a surprise; I knew that was why I was here. But hearing it, fuck, hearing it from this man, instead of a puppet on a television, was different.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He smiled softly. “You do not have to play dumb, Lana. I know all about you. I know that after your friend was killed, you became obsessed with bringing her killer to justice. You began taking self defense classes every weekend to keep yourself and those you love safe. I know that you have planned a death for everyone involved in her killer going free. You fill your time with drinks and one night stands to take your mind off of your obsession. I know – “

“Shut the fuck up!” My heart was pounding in my ears, my nails sinking into the wood of the chair. I blinked away the tears pooling in my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. I forced myself to meet his eyes again. “Who are you?”

“I am the man called Jigsaw.”

My nails dug into my palms, trying to hide the shaking in my hands. “And those two?” I asked, nodding towards the door.

“You could call them both a kind of apprentice, I suppose. They are learning to continue my work after I am gone from this world.”

“You’re dying?”

He nodded slowly. “Cancer. Frontal lobe.”

Shit. “And what do you want with me?”

“You see, Lana, I find killing distasteful. What I do is a sort of rehabilitation. People are so ungrateful to be alive. I want to change that.”

“And what? You want me to join your little cult?”

He smiled. “You want vengeance, Lana. You want to get those who exist only to hurt others off of the street. And I want the same.”

“You’re fucking insane.”

“This coming from the woman that cut the genitalia off of her victim and stuffed it down his throat.”

Anger swelled in my chest. “Why do you think I would want to join you?”

“Well, Lana, you have two options. You can join me, I can teach you a better way, a more tasteful way, of curing people. Or you may recall, I mentioned the man that retrieved you from your trap is a detective. You may recognize the name ‘Detective Mark Hoffman?’”

My eyes widened. “The detective on my case.”

“Precisely. Detective Hoffman has been hunting you since you killed Jason Cooper. So, you can either join me, or the detective can take you in.”

“So, you’re blackmailing me?”

“No, I’m giving you another chance at life.”

I hung my head, screwing my eyes shut. What choice did I have?

“Fine. What do I have to do?”

“You will be tasked with helping Mark set up the games.”

“Set up the games?”

“Finding the players, setting up the traps, making sure all goes smoothly.”

“And what the fuck do you do, then?”

He smiled. “I design the traps. I design the games. And every once in a while, I play along.”

--

I sat frozen in the chair as the woman, Amanda, came back and retrieved the man. The detective sauntered back into the room, assessing both myself and my captor.

Amanda quickly took the man, Jigsaw, from the room and I was left alone with my hunter.

I sat silently, still attempting to process everything I had just learned. I had been so careful. I was so careful not to leave any evidence behind. How did he know it was me? I rested my elbows on my knees, burying my face in my hands. What did I leave behind? And how did Jigsaw find it?

The scraping of a chair on the concrete pulled me from my thoughts. I watched as the detective pulled a chair up, setting it across from me and sitting down.

“You’re really the one that killed Jason Cooper?” he asked after a moment.

I met his eyes, biting my tongue.

He scoffed. “You really think I’m going to turn you in now? You got as much shit on me as I have on you. You’ve seen me here, you know I’m working with Jigsaw.”

I stayed silent.

He shook his head. “Fine. Be that way. But you’re gonna have to talk eventually.” He stood suddenly, towering over me as he placed a hand on each arm of my chair, caging me in. “I’m in charge of you now, got it? John gave me the job of showing you how everything is done. So, you better get used to talking to me, cause I’m not fucking up my work because of you.”

I smiled up at him, the anger in my stomach ready to burst. “What’s the matter, Detective? Mad that you couldn’t hunt me down without the help of your keeper?”

His eyes darkened, his jaw clenching. “You still think you’re tough, do you?”

His face was inches from mine. “I sure do, Detective. Tough and smart enough that you couldn’t find me without some old man that has you on a leash.”

He pushed himself off of my chair, pacing around the room. He shook his head. “You’re going to be fun, aren’t you?”

tag list: @bee-who-isnt-french, @enigmatic-blues, @kujofam, @aliengutzstuff, @mysunfishpeedinmyroom, @slut4hoffman, @schrodingersjigsaw, @hoffmansnightmare, @karmaswitch, @mrs-hotforhoffman, @returntodustsblog, @capan-deveraux2, @switchbabeeexo, @librababe99

#saw #saw franchise #fanfic #mark hoffman #mark hoffman x oc #oc

[feninina]

would you write headcannons about adam stanheight with a plus sized reader? i understand if you don't wanna do it, have a great day <3

𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗺 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁-𝗳𝗮𝘂𝗹𝗸𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗽𝗹𝘂𝘀-𝘀𝗶𝘇𝗲𝗱 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀 ·˚ ༘₊· ˚✧

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: SMUT!!! (minors dni), reader is a girl, mentions of body image problems and sex. this is just adam being a sweetheart tbh. 😁

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: thank you for your request lovely!! this was so adorable to write 💗 i really really hope you like this, and hope you’re having a great day too :)

also i realized you didn’t mention if this should be about a general reader or a female one after i wrote it so if you want a second version with a general reader lmk and i’ll gladly do it ^^

𝘀𝗳𝘄:

・First of all, Adam would genuinely adore you for who you are, everything about you making him go head over heels for you.

・And when I say everything, I mean everything.

・He would be the best hypeman you could ever imagine, always supporting you and praising you like crazy.

・He would fall in love with you since the first moment he saw you, so if you have body image problems and talk to him about them, he would be so confused.

・Like ??? you’re so perfect in his eyes ???

・He can be a little distant sometimes, having trouble with showing affection, but never going a day without reminding you how beautiful you are.

・He would do it in subtle ways, taking your picture when you least expect it, cooking you your favorite meal or leaving you a little post-it in your fridge before leaving for work when he’s feeling bold.

・“u’r btiful” it would say in his messy handwriting.

・He’s just a little loser. He’s so grateful you even landed your eyes on him.

・As I said, he’s always taking your picture.

・You once went into his red room to tell him to go to bed and were surprised when you only saw yourself in different situations hanged in the little photos there.

・ Since he struggles with his words, you better expect him to be attached to you in some physical way.

・He’s not big on PDA, but his hand would be glued to your waist in public or maybe to your hand. Mostly on your waist.

・Oh, but when you’re alone? He’s all over you.

・Cuddles are a must. Plus, he’s always kissing your thighs, loves to lay his head in them while hearing you talk about your day.

・Date nights at home are his favorite thing!

・In my mind he’s a very good cook but also very lazy to cook himself a good meal.

・But when it’s about you, nothing’s a big deal for him.

・So Adam would cook the best dinners and set up the table in your shared shitty apartment from time to time for you to savor an idyllic dinner together.

・He would often take you on long walks at night, where you’ll talk about anything and everything— and in a moment between then and there, he’ll kiss you under the dim light of a street lamp with the moon shinning above you.

・He would motivate you to be more confident, to pursue your hobbies and just be a better person in general.

・He would love skirts on you. He just loooves your thighs.

・Overall, it would be a lovely relationship, with its ups and downs, but Adam would love you wholeheartedly, for who you are and how you look.

・He loves all of you, you love all of him.

𝗻𝘀𝗳𝘄:

・Remember what I say about praising?

・He’s always whispering sweet and filthy words in your ears— how soft you feel under his hands, how beautiful your body looks, how good you are for him.

・I see him as a sub, maybe with a mommy kink if you’re into that.

・Once you’re in the sheets, his mouth it’s tied up to your tits.

・And his hands.

・God, he would kill for a boob-job.

・He loves when you sit on his face. He doesn’t want to hear you saying you would crush him. He. Doesn’t. Care.

・SIT ON HIS FACE!!!

・He loves to fuck you from the back when he’s on a more dominant mood. He could die watching your thighs.

・He could die a happy man inside of you tbh.

・He loves to eat you out, gripping your legs and keeping them pressed against his cheeks like his life depends on it.

・He would cum all over your breasts or thighs, not risking it at all by cumming inside of you.

・He loves to pleasure you, honestly.

・He (on several occasions) has cummed on his pants just by eating you out.

・Kisses, kisses, kisses. Expect random makeout sessions at every moment with him, even more after a stressful day.

・He just adore you, and he’ll gladly show it in the bedroom.

#adam faulkner stanheight x reader #feninina #adam stanheight x reader #adam faulkner x reader #saw 2004 #saw 2004 fanfic #saw fandom #chainshipping #mark hoffman x reader #adam faulkner stanheight x oc #adam faulkner stanheight fanfic #adam faulkner stanheight headcanon

[raccoonclty]

pov: u get ur cheek ripped open and instead of HELPING ur gf has to be a little FREAK and stick her fingers in ur mouth instead

aka another comm frm @mail-me-a-snail :3

bonus

#saw #saw franchise #saw vi #mark hoffman #oc x canon