#saw movies x reader

[whatiswrongwithpeople]

Traps || A Mark Hoffman x f!reader SMUT

Summary: Mark Hoffman and (Y/N) hate each other , but what happens when tinkering on traps in the same workshop leads leads to spicy tension?

Warnings: NSFW, hate sex, degrading/explicit language, only one partner being fully nude , Mark Hoffman’s temper

Note: Hello my fellow Big Bad Hoffman enthusiasts, this is my very first smut piece (as in ever) and I really hope it’s not too bad. I’ve read over it a couple of times and hope there aren’t any major mistakes.

Have fun reading ✨

“What do you want?” the deep grumble of Mark Hoffman’s voice vibrates through the room of the warehouse, as (Y/N) enters the room. “Certainly nothing from you.” She rolls her eyes, already annoyed by the man’s presence, as she walks over to the shelves across the table that Hoffman is working at. “I was in the middle of something important.” the man grumbles, looking up from the contraption he was currently tinkering on. She huffs, ignoring the man as she roams through the shelf in front of her. “Have you seen my blueprints anywhere?” Not lifting his gaze from the piece of metal he was currently securing, he gestures to the shelves. “Check your bloody work area. I’m not your secretary.” Pinching the bridge of her nose, the woman pauses her movements. “You know, if you’d answer me like a fucking decent human being, I’d be out of your way much quicker.” (Y/N) grumbles, shoving a box of scrap metal aside.

A few moments pass, before (Y/N) spots her blueprints on the very top of the shelf, leading her to mutter a string of curse words under her breath. The young woman turns around, pointing to the chair next to Hoffman. “Do you need that?” Mark pauses for a moment and shrugs his shoulders before he mutters a simple “Suit yourself.” Stepping over to the table, she wordlessly grabs the chair and drags it back to the shelf before climbing onto it in order to reach for her blueprints. “I’m gonna kill whoever put those up here,” she mutters, struggling to pull one of the prints out from underneath a box. A spark of amusement twinkles in Mark’s otherwise deadpan expression as he watches his fellow apprentice struggling to get what she wants. Cold, hungry eyes travelling up and down her body as she stretches to reach the blueprints, Hoffman suddenly finds himself grateful for whoever has moved her stuff to the top shelf, enjoying the view in front of him.

Feeling his gaze on her (Y/N) looks over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes at the man, before turning back around and opening one of the blueprints in order to inspect it. Hoffman decides to wait a moment before speaking in a mocking tone “Your temper is rather volatile.” Keeping her focus on the blueprint she murmurs “Thanks asshole.” “No problem, love.” the detective replies in a snarky tone, before picking up his tools again to continue working on his trap.

Ignoring the man and the feeling caused by the petname, she steps down from the chair, spreading the prints on top of the table to get a better overview of them. God, she couldn’t stand Mark Hoffman.

“You know, “ his voice interrupts the silence “It’s rude to ignore someone.” Looking up from her blueprint of a hand-trap, she meets Mark’s arrogant, smug expression. “Rude? No. Actually ignoring you is a really REALLY blissful experience.” she hums. “Is that so?” the mocking tone in his voice is as prominent as ever “Is it also a blissful experience being a fucking brat all the time?” he snarks.

“I don’t know, tell me about it.” (Y/N) shrugs nonchalantly, grabbing a pen to make some corrective notes on her design. “You’re an insufferable bitch. Maybe Kramer will realise that and kill you off first.” The detective snarks back at her.

“I hope your death will be swift and painful,” he remarks to himself under his breath. “Oh, believe me” (Y/N) retorts as she gathers some mechanical pieces from the shelf behind her. “Nothing could ever be more painful than having to share a workspace with you.” Mark Hoffman’s eyes watch the young woman like a wolf hunting for prey, his fist clenching around the screwdriver in his hand, as his frustration with her builds up. “God you’re infuriating…” He continues working on his contraption and mutters something. “...annoying little slut” being the only words she catches.

Tired of the man’s antics, (Y/N) slams her equipment down onto the table, looking over at Hoffman with fury burning in her eyes. “You're unbelievable, you know that?" (Y/N) seethes, gaze burning into Mark Hoffman's figure. "You can't just go around hurling insults like that and expect me to take it lying down." Hoffman meets her gaze with a mixture of frustration and amusement. "Oh, I'm well aware of what I can and can't do," he says, his voice dripping with condescension. "But it's not like you make it easy to get along with you, behaving like such a bitch all the time."(Y/N) takes a deep breath, trying to calm her rising anger. She knows that she should just ignore him, focus on her work, and get through this collaboration without any more unnecessary drama. But something about Detective Mark Hoffman just gets under her skin like no one else.

"Look," she says, her tone somewhat calmer but still laced with irritation, "we're stuck here together, whether we like it or not. We both work for Kramer and in doing so we have somewhat of a mutual understanding. Can we at least try and be somewhat civil, so he doesn’t come for our heads?"

Hoffman seems to consider her words for a moment, and then he lets out a begrudging sigh. "Fine," he mutters, finally releasing the screwdriver he'd been clutching. "I suggest you start working on your trap. I don’t want to be around you for much longer." (Y/N) smirks, satisfied that she's at least made a small dent in his armour of arrogance. "Likewise," she replies, turning back to her blueprint and resuming her work. As the tension between the two persists, the air in the dimly lit workshop crackles with a strange energy.

Their exchanges alternate between moments of begrudging cooperation and stinging sarcasm. The attraction they feel toward each other simmers just below the surface, an unspoken truth neither is willing to acknowledge. However, the more they try to fight it, the more it intensifies. It's a dangerous game they're playing, one that could lead to unforeseen consequences.

Hours pass, and the traps they've been designing near completion. Hoffman’s rugged confidence and the air of danger that surrounds him ignite a forbidden curiosity in (Y/N). She can’t help but steal glances at him when she thinks he’s not looking, admiring the way his muscles flex as he handles the tools. His hands move with precision as he assembles the final components, and for a brief moment, she finds herself captivated by his expertise. She despises herself for being attracted to someone so incredibly insufferable.

Hoffman, on the other hand, can't deny the way (Y/N)'s dedication to her work is both impressive and alluring. He's never met anyone who can infuriate him to this extent yet simultaneously arouse his curiosity. Her intelligence and determination draw him in, even as her stubbornness drives him mad, it awakens something deep inside him, something he thought he’d buried long ago. He’s drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

Putting the tools in his hands back into the tool box with a loud clang, Hoffman suddenly leans over the table, his voice low and dangerously close to (Y/N)’s ear as he examines her contraption. “You know,” he begins, the low rumble of his voice and the feeling of his breath on her skin sending shivers down her spine, “you have a way of pushing people’s buttons.”

(Y/N) grits her teeth, trying to ignore the effect his proximity has on her. “I could say the same about you.” she retorts, her voice equally low. Hoffman smirks at that. “I find this never-ending game of cat and mouse rather….exciting.” There is a dangerous glint in his eyes. (Y/N) scoffs but can’t deny the truth in his words. “Exciting, huh?” she raises her brow “More like infuriating.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching” he whispers, voice laced with arrogance, lips dangerously close to her ear. “Yeah keep dreaming, Hoffman.” she glares at him, eyes filled with anger and something else she refuses to admit. “This is ridiculous,” Hoffman mutters, this time with a different tone in his voice.

Before (Y/N) can ask what he means, Mark has rounded the table in a sudden urgency, yanking her head towards him by the neck and slamming his lips onto hers in a heated kiss. (Y/N) responds instinctively, her anger melting into desire as their mouths battle for dominance that neither is willing to concede. (Y/N) can feel the edge of the table pressing into her back as Mark traps her beneath his body, making her bend backwards onto the cold metal. The sheer sight of her body trapped beneath his seems to fuel Hoffman’s desire even further, a dark look of hunger in his gaze, as his hand grabs her throat, roughly pushing her down onto the table. His eyes focusing on her chest, as her breasts bounce with the movement. A surprised moan escapes her mouth at the action, her back arching as it gets pressed into the cold metal, making Hoffman’s eyes snap back up at her. “Fuck, you look so good with my hand around your throat.” the dangerously low grumble of his voice making her feel the heat pool in her abdomen, leading her to clench her thighs together. Noticing her arousal Hoffman squeezes her throat a little tighter, whilst his other hand sneaks under her shirt, groping at her breast. “God, you’re such a filthy slut. Coming in here in those tight clothes , showing your curves off to me like an attention whore.” Hoffman’s hand yanks (Y/N)’s shirt up, a low, animalistic grunt leaving his throat as he sees her nipples stiffening through her bra.

“Took you long enough to do something about it.” (Y/N) smirks, seeing his the outline of his erection through his pants, she decides to play a dangerous game. Opening her mouth and lowering her jaw a little, she lets her tongue trace over the thumb resting on her jawline as Hoffman’s is still gripping her throat, before sucking on it gently, all the while looking up at him through her lashes. “Fuck.” the detective grunts as his dark gaze watches her mesmerized. Noticing Hoffman’s mesmerized state, (Y/N) dares to make her move, fingers travelling up and down his hand which had previously groped her breast, before swiftly yanking it to the side.

The metallic click echoing through the room, breaks Hoffman out of his daze, furious eyes snapping to his right hand which he now finds to be locked into the trap, (Y/N) had been working on all night long. “You fucking bitch.” he bellows, voice seething with fury. “I’ve decided it’s my turn now” she smirks at the man, sitting up on the table. “Don’t worry.” her voice is low and seductive as she whispers into Hoffman’s ear. “I don’t think it’s fully functioning yet.” she playfully bites his earlobe, before pushing him backwards into the chair behind him. “Your a worthless brat.” he hisses, his free hand trying to pull the other out of the glove-like metal contraption,on the table.

“Hmm.” (Y/N) hums , taking off her shirt painfully slow “Does big bad Hoffman suddenly not like to play games anymore?” Her hand wanders up the trapped arm, before wandering to his chest, as she gets off of the table and straddles the detective’s lap. “And here I thought we were finally having fun working together.” She purposefully rocks her hips, feeling his hardened cock underneath her. Another low growl leaves Hoffman, as his free hand grabs a fist full of her hair, yanking her head back before attacking her exposed neck with his mouth.Sloppy kisses trailing up and down the soft flesh. He singlehandedly opens her bra with expertise, ripping the garment off her body. “I fucking hate you, little brat.” Mark snarls , hungrily sucking one of her breasts into his mouth, twirling her nipple with his tongue, whilst his free arm encircles her waist, holding her against him. “You’re such a bastard, Mark Hoffman.” she moans, hand gripping his hair, as she presses his face further into her chest. With her other hand (Y/N) reaches down to unbuckle his belt, earning a bite from the man.

"Bastard" she repeats again, trying to sound angry but failing miserably as arousal floods her body. She bites her lip as her hand slides into his pants, feeling the size of his erection. Pulling her body from his hungry mouth, (Y/N) slides from his lap, positioning herself on her knees between his legs. Her mouth already watering at the thought of what she is about to do. (Y/N) looks up at Mark’s eyes and smirks, taking control. Slowly, she moves closer, licking and kissing her way down his throbbing shaft. Each gentle touch sending vibrations through her body. As she takes him deeper into her mouth, Mark groans loudly, unable to hold back. His hand clenching the back of her head, desperately wanting more.”Why don’t you use those perfect tits of yours?” Mark grunts out between pants, pulling (Y/N)’s head back a little to look her in the eyes, before his intense gaze follows the string of salvia, running down from her swollen lips onto her chin. Enjoying the feeling of dominance over the detective, (Y/N) doesn't allow him to take over though, pulling out of his grasp suddenly. Leaving him on edge.

“You don’t always get everything you want.” she purrs, leaning back in to lick the length of his erection in a painfully slow manner.

When suddenly Hoffman’s hand forcefully grips her hair again, yanking her head back once more. Mark’s voice is dangerously low as he speaks, leaning down towards her “See, this is where you’re wrong, princess.” The name leaves his mouth in a threatening hiss when suddenly he pulls his trapped hand free and yanks (Y/N) upwards. He had figured out how to escape the trap way earlier, but the sight of his competitor taking him into her mouth tempted him to hang on and play pretend for just a little longer. Enjoying the sight of her trying to dominate him. “Seems as if that little trap of yours does indeed still need improvements. If you behave like a good girl, I might teach you a trick or two.” The detective’s arrogant gaze shamelessly travels up and down her body.

“And why would I behave like a good girl for you?” (Y/N)’s snarl is mixed with arousal as she glares back up at him, feeling the increasing wetness between her thighs as Mark’s eyes roam her naked form. “Because, “ the man shoves a hand between her legs, calloused fingers pushing her panties aside and boldly slipping into her entrance, making the woman let out a strangled moan, “I always get what I want.” he states matter-of-factly, pulling his fingers out of her and examining them. “God, look how fucking wet you are already. You’re such a whore.”

Before (Y/N) can open her mouth for a witty comeback, the detective has already

spun her around and bent over the table. Pinning her wrists on the small of her back. Hoffman wastes no time as he rips her panties off, lining his cock up with her entrance without hesitation. (Y/N)’s breath becomes shaky as she arches her back and pushes her ass up in anticipation, her tits pressing further into the cold metal table. His tip shortly teases her entrance, before he forcefully slams into her. “Fuck, Marks-” she blurts before a filthy moan interrupts her own phrase, as Mark fully pulls out of her dripping cunt only to roughly plunge into her again. All control leaves Mark's body when he hears his name coming from her lips over the wet sounds of her pussy and her lustful moans. His hips slam into hers, and the sound of skin hitting skin fills the cold, dimly lit workshop.

"You always come here thinking you're better than I am or that you can play games with me, but now look at you letting me fuck you completely exposed on a table and not even being able to form coherent sentences because you've never been fucked by a man's cock like you are by mine.” Hoffman's voice sounds almost animalistic next to her ear as he presses into her back, groaning against her skin. (Y/N)’s eyes roll back as her walls flutter around his cock in response to his words, she finds herself at a complete loss for words, overwhelmed and almost drooling by the sensation of the detective burring himself balls-deep into her dripping cunt.

“Fuck,” Mark rasps out, beads of sweat rolling down his temples “Do you know how many times I’ve fucked myself to the thought of seeing you all desperate for me like this?”

(Y/N) whimpers as she pushes her hips back into him, enticing another lewd groan from Hoffman. He was still hunched over her back, grunting near her ear, as his cock hits all the deepest spots inside her. “Make me cum, Hoffman.” she breathes, the friction in her cunt becoming almost unbearable. “Only because you behaved so well, princess.” Hoffman husks, straightening himself, his thrusts picking up in pace. “Oh fuck Mark!” (Y/N) cries out in loud ecstasy, her jaw almost going slack as her climax takes over, eyes rolling to the back of her head and knees almost buckling as her body spasms and she continues to moan in sheer pleasure. Mark makes a strangled sound, the sight of (Y/N) cumming with him inside her making his cock throb.

His hand rears back slapping her ass, as her sensitive cunt clenches around him. He keeps ramming into her mercilessly as she rides out her high, murmuring incoherent slurs behind gritted teeth. (Y/N) was sure that her upper body would leave an imprint on the metal table if Mark kept up the force of his thrusts any longer. With a primal grunt and stuttered breath, the detective reaches his climax, thrusts becoming more sloppy as he releases inside her.

For a moment both of them are silently trying to catch their breath before Mark pulls out of (Y/N), smirking at the sight of his cum dripping down her thighs.

The sound of a zipper and belt buckle snaps (Y/N) out of their dizzy state. She straightens up, her eyes wandering over the sweaty print left on the table as a testament to Hoffman's and her little escapade.

Collecting her clothes, she turns to Mark as she begins to dress herself. “This changes nothing.” The man raises a brow at her. “I still hate you.” she states, grabbing a piece of cloth from the shelf behind him to wipe down the table.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from a brat like you.” Mark answers nonchalantly as he pulls a screwdriver from the toolbox "Now let me show you how to improve that pathetic trap of yours."

(Y/N) couldn't help but smirk at Mark's retort. As Mark began to work on the trap, he explained his modifications in detail, his hands deftly moving as he made adjustments. The woman watched him intently, despite her attempts to maintain an air of indifference. She couldn’t deny that their rivalry had a strange way of bringing them together.

#detective mark hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman smut #mark hoffman imagine #saw franchise #saw smut #SAW movies x reader #saw x reader #saw fanfic #mark hoffman fanfic

[zepp-l1n]

The Same

Pairing: Daniel Matthews x Fem!reader

summary: Daniel meets someone in the same boat as him at a "Jigsaw victim therapy group" session. fic type - hurt/comfort, post Saw 2, fluff?? warning - 2000s emo x 2000s emo, canon level Saw violence, both reader and Daniel have PTSD, mentions of past drug use, mentions of body scarring from the traps, self harm (??) word count - 1,779 a/n: hiiii! sorry my posting has been kinda off and on for the past few months, but I'm hoping now that school and my personal schedule is a little more chill, I'll be able to write and post more often. <3 (also, what's up with the lack of Daniel fics?)

Group therapy wasn't Daniel's idea. He knew he needed to talk about the things he had gone through and seen, which is why he had originally gone to one-on-one therapy, but when his therapist had suggested joining Bobby Dagen's group he had been very apprehensive. At first, Daniel had been very against the idea. He found Bobby very pretentious and overzealous, and the entire "Jigsaw victim therapy group" to be a scam for Bobby's fan's entertainment. For months his therapist and his mother brought up the group again and again, leading to Daniel finally deciding to go in the hopes of getting them to shut up about it.

Now, Daniel found himself in the room Bobby would rent out for each session. They were all sitting side by side in the formation of a circle, letting each person have a clear view of everyone else. Not one person in the room, other than bobby, looked elated to be there.

Daniel sat in his folded out seat, arms crossed and head turned downward. So far, the entire experience had been uncomfortable. Bobby had gone on one of his regularly scheduled "We should be grateful!" spiels, and multiple people had shared their sob-stories. For 30 minuets Daniel had to endure the same arguments and conversations over and over. He sat in silence, never once making himself known - choosing to sit and pick at his black, long-sleeved undershirt the entire time.

Daniel had been so focused on his own thoughts that when he finally glanced back up, he noticed all the eyes on him. "Daniel?" Bobby called out.

"Hmm?" his reply was short and uninterested.

"I asked if you would like to share your story with the others. Would you?" Bobby asked. The smile he gave Daniel as he spoke made him divert his eyes. Daniel shrugged, not knowing if he truly wanted to. "If you'd like to wait that's okay. Whenever you're ready, Daniel."

The other's diverted their attention to Luba afterwards, taking in her story. Daniel silently listened, just waiting for the session to be over. They continued this way, story after story, until the door swung open, creating a loud noise. In it's opening was a girl, presumably around Daniel's age from what he could see.

"Ah, (Y/N), nice of you to finally join us." Bobby sarcastically spoke.

The teen stepped into the room, waving at a man in the corner that Daniel hadn't noticed before, and continued towards the circle. The silver chain hanging from her belt loops lightly rattled against her black cargo-jeans as she walked his way. "Oh shut up, Bobby. Some of us have lives outside the whole Jigsaw shit." she scoffed, her eyeliner covered eyes glaring at the older man. The girl, (Y/N) as Daniel her Bobby call her, took a open seat a few chairs down from Daniel, giving him a tight-lipped smile and a wave of her ringed hand before turning towards the others.

"Now, now, (Y/N). There's no need for hostility here - we're all the same." Bobby cheerfully stated, causing the girl to roll her eyes. "Here, since you missed when everyone else did it, why don't you introduce yourself to out newest member. This is Daniel." his arm directed (Y/N)'s eyes to her fellow teen.

(Y/N)'s dark-red lips turned up into a forced smile before she spoke. "Hi, I'm (Y/N). I'm the girl who was found a week after a trap that wasn't even hers, half dead and tied to the mutilated corpse of her sister. Nice to meet you!" The smile dropped immediately after she finished her sentence.

"Sorry Daniel. Just ignore her. She's still a little apprehensive to be doing this." Daniel awkwardly nodded at Bobby's explanation. "Good, now why don't we continue..." Daniel couldn't focus on Bobby as he spoke - his attention was solely caught on (Y/N)'s appearance. On top of the jeans and chain, she also had a shirt similar to what he would usually wear. It was red and white, and he could tell it was showing some kind of band-logo, but he couldn't get a clear enough look to tell what band. Glancing down at his own white t-shirt, he caught similarities between the two, finally realizing who it was. "Wrath of the Gods." he whispered.

(Y/N)'s head lightly turned her head, seemingly asking him to repeat himself.

"Your shirt. It's 'Wrath of the Gods' - like mine." he lightly smiled. "You like them?"

She glances down, taking in her own shirt and then his. "Huh... Yeah, my sister, she uh, introduced me to their music a few years ago. This was her shirt actually; she gave me it when she got a new one before the trap."

"Sounds like she was pretty cool." Daniel muttered. By this point, (Y/N) had moved over a seat so they could talk without bothering any of the others.

She smiled before whispering back, "She was."

Now that she was closer, Daniel could see the scarring on her face, neck, arms, and hands. He couldn't help but wonder what she fully went through if that was the result of her trap. It also made him wonder if the same scarring would cascade down her legs and torso too. Did the scarring all look the same; how many were there; were some more gory than others? Hundreds of questions flew through his mind as he looked at her.

"How'd you get them?" Daniel didn't even register the fact that he had spoken.

"Huh?" (Y/N) whispered.

"Sorry, uh, your scars. If you don't mind me asking, how'd you get them? I mean, you don't have to tell me. Y'know, I don't want to cross any boundar-" Daniel's rant was cut off by (Y/N).

"It's fine, Daniel." she sighed, giving him a sad smile. "I got these during my sister's 'game'"

"Your sister's game?" Daniel asked, hoping she would clarify.

(Y/N) looked over at the others, making sure no one was bothered by their conversation, before continuing. "Yeah. My sister was the one being tested. It was my fault, but she was the one who got the consequences." she paused, taking a moment to fully think about how to explain her experience. "My parents died when I was little, and my sister had turned 18 a few weeks before they did. After that, she took me in; became my legal guardian, y'know. She was a nurse too, so a lot of the time I was either by myself or out with friends. When my friend Amy finally got her learners, we went out one evening and ended up in an accident. That led to me being on a shit-ton of pain meds, and eventually I got hooked. It was really bad. Jane, my sister, had access to a lot of pain medication, and I used that against her. I begged for weeks for her to steal me them. She, uh... She eventually couldn't take seeing me so bad, so she broke a lot of rules and brought me some. I guess Jigsaw found out, and he thought I was pulling her down. When he took us, his whole argument in the tape was that I was bad for her, and if she got rid of her baggage - me - then she'd be free and would go places in life. If she didn't get rid of me, she'd die." Once again, (Y/N) paused, collecting herself. "He had us tied together to this weird chair set up. It was on these rails, and in front of either of us were these things I could only describe as 'the open-faced turkey sandwich version of a woodchipper'. She was supposed to kill me - push me into mine. I begged and pleaded for her to just do it, cause, I mean, he was right. I was the only bad thing in her life. She would've been better off without me."

"If she died, and didn't want to hurt you, then how did you end up with all the scars?" Daniel quietly asked.

"I did it to myself." Daniel's eyes widened at how casually she said it. "She wouldn't push back and put me into the woodchipper, so I did it myself. I put my feet on the edges of the rails and pushed myself forwards into it. I got close enough to cut myself up a bit. I thought I was gonna save her." (Y/N)'s eyes began to water, and she quickly wiped it away. "Jane was always stronger than me, though. She pulled back and kept us at the midpoint. We were there when the timer went off. I guess it was motorized, cause when the timer went off, we moved backwards. Jane went straight into it. There was nothing I could do but sit there and listen to her screams. Jigsaw and his little groupies never came for me. I was supposed to die, so they left me there. For about a week I was strapped to the trap and what was left of my sister, out of it from blood loss, hunger, and dehydration. Some homeless guy eventually found everything and called the police."

"Wow..." Daniel muttered.

"Yeah, I know." (Y/N) hesitantly chuckled. "Since then I've been doing two sessions of regular therapy a week, this, and rehab."

As she finished her sentence, Bobby loudly spoke up. "Alright guys, today was great! It is time we wrap up though. I hope to see everyone again next week, and I hope you have a great rest of your week." The two teens watched as he walked back to the doorway of the room, stopping next to his wife, lawyer, bestfriend, and publicist.

"Well, I guess that's enough trauma dumping for today." (Y/N) glanced back over at Daniel. "Listen, uh, y'know, 'Wrath of the Gods' has a show this weekend. You should come, so we could hang out some more. To be honest, I need more friends who listen to music I like." she laughed.

Daniel grinned, "Yeah, why not?"

"Good, good." (Y/N) mumbled. "Listen, I gotta go, my foster dad picks me up from these things, but I'll see you this weekend."

"Yeah, yeah, see you later." he smiled. Daniel contently watched as she got up, and headed for the door.

As she got closer to the door, (Y/N) turned back around and waved at him. "Bye, Danny."

(Y/N) turned back around and exited, leaving Daniel to sit in the room alone, thinking over what had just happened. "Holy shit." he dramatically exhaled. Maybe coming to the "Jigsaw victim therapy group" wasn't that bad of an idea.

#reader insert #sawposting #saw franchise #saw movies #saw movies x reader #saw x reader #saw #daniel matthews #bobby dagen #daniel matthews x reader #erik knudsen #saw 2 #saw 3d #emo boy #2000s horror #daniel saw 2 #daniel saw 2 x reader #saw 2005 #fuck bobby dagen #i love emo boys

[jurassicass]

Biblically accurate Amanda Young

#reading Amanda/the pig x reader LOSING MY MOND #my art #fanart #amanda young #saw movies #saw #saw 1 #saw 2004 #saw 2003 #saw 2005 #saw 2 #saw 3 #the pig dbd #the pig #dbd #dead by deadlight #jigsaw #john kramer #slasher art #slashers #saw fanart

[doomh3ad]

if he wanted to (brutally murder me as an act of love and passion) he would

#slasher #slasher x reader #horror #ghostface #dbd #trickster dbd #slashers #horror movie #michael myers #candyman #patrick bateman #scream #halloween #slasher memes #mark hoffman #saw 2004 #doomhead #31 #pinhead #hellraiser #bo sinclair #house of wax #lester sinclair #vincent sinclair #thomas hewitt #bubba sawyer #the texas chainsaw massacre #asa emory #albert wesker #resident evil

[murdrdocs]

suggestive content; MDNI

feyd rautha is a vicious man.

he is heartless, ruthless, deemed psychotic by most.

and he is on his knees for you, sitting on his haunches, peering up at you with a copious amount of almost carefully hidden bashfulness beneath his protruding eyebrow bone.

you sit perched on the bed as if it is your throne.

the guest room is cold, creating a rigidness to your bones that even the berating of the reverend mother could not have created. beneath your bum and the layers of your garments, the bed is mostly firm with a certain softness to it, decorated in lavish cloths that you cannot wait to curl up under. but that must be saved for later. for after you have completed your gratefully awarded task.

you've been blessed with the opportunity to make the reverend mother and the bene gesserit proud. you've been blessed with the opportunity to fulfill a prophecy.

your reasoning for being here, in a room that feels more like a void than a sleeping quarters, rushes throughout your body and echoes in your ears along with the blood that dutifully pumps throughout you.

you can't help but wonder where feyd rautha's blood is rushing. from the way he slightly shifts the trousers of his outfit, you take the liberty of assuming that beneath the stiff grey fabric is a much more beneficial stiffness.

both to your own pleasure and the prophecy.

you watch feyd rautha's hand twitch and you reach down to take it in yours, trying not to appear startled at how cold he is, too. instead, you spread your legs, lifting your garments with your free hand, and bringing feyd rautha's hand to your inner thigh.

before arriving to geidi prime, you had been instructed to wear the shorter undergarments for easier access. some of the other lady's suggested even wearing none at all. but the thought seemed entirely too scandalous to even consider for more than a few moments so you let it fade off into the air.

now, watching the same vicious man you'd seen kill three others earlier into the day peel your undergarments off, you're glad that you chose to wear them. because it really is a sight. seeing this feared man, one you fear too, gently slide your undergarments off with a cautiousness that you can only rationally attribute to inexperience.

because once he starts to gain his bearings, the gentleness is gone, faded into the air the same way your previous thoughts were.

he forcibly grips your skin as he forces his head between your thighs. he nips and bites and sucks with a harshness you were foreign to. no one has ever devoured you like he does, and it's something you find yourself enjoying.

you're louder than you've ever been while feyd rautha digs his teeth into your inner thigh, bringing about a thin trickle that glides towards your most sensitive areas. he's quick to clean it up, soothing your burning skin with the comforting warmth from his textured tongue that rids your skin of the red inch by inch. he even goes as far as to kiss the spot after, keeping that heavy stare fixed on your face as he does so.

you've been holding your outer garments along your waist then, but by the time feyd rautha has made you unravel with just his tongue (a muscle that has explored places previously left unknown before you got with him), he rids them from your body.

there is one moment where he's being too rough, and his barbarous hands hold your deep purple dress too tightly, creating a rip that screams throughout the room. it is purely instinct whenever you wind your hand back and bring it down onto his cheek, creating a collision louder than that of the rip of your dress.

and it's that singular moment, where his head is turned, his cheek facing you and starting to bloom a gorgeous red over pale white, that you fear for your life. you fear that the hand to hand combat you had to undergo would actually be useful this once. you fear that you should have used the gom jabbar on him anyway, even if he did pass the test.

but then he turns towards you, and he's grinning, giving you sight of his black stained teeth just before he cements his mouth to yours.

#this is a one time thing! #feyd rautha x reader #celeste writes misc #feya rautha x you #disclaimer: #i barely remember the plot #and i just saw the movie #celeste writes dune

[blueberrypancakesworld]

What kinks/fetishes Saw character would have

Warning : minors don't interact/read, smut/kinks, they all have a female partner

Characters : Mark Hoffman, Lawrence Gordon, Adam Stanheight, Amanda Young, Peter Strahm, Eric Matthews

Info : Again something for Saw and what can I say exept. Have fun reading like I had my fun writting it ;)

masterlist

---------------------------

Mark Hoffmann

Degradation = He would love to degrade his partner in a game for small mistakes or when she teases him at work. The way his knuckles turn white when he imagines what he would do. As soon as they are alone and he takes her, whispering in her ear in a harsh voice and reproaching her for what she has done wrong. Knowing that with every word she tightens around his cock and wants more

°,,Did I fuck you stupid? That's what happens when you want the attention of all men...a slut gets what she deserves"

Gun Play = He had tried it with prostitutes but they were all unwilling, unlike his partner who couldn't get enough of the adrenaline. The way the cold metal moved over her body and he drew in his breath sharply when he was sent a video of her fucking herself with his gun unlocked. He loved it when she let her tongue glide over the dark metal before he pressed her onto the knees in front of him.

°,,Show me how much you want my cock sweetie"

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

Lawrence Gordon

Medical play = A relationship between a doctor and his nurse a fantasy and a game that Lawrence and his partner had realized. Whether directly in the hospital in storage rooms or in longer sessions at home or in hotels. He loved it when she whimpered, he performed a routine examination on her and loved to stand over her.

°,,Spread your legs wider for me sweetheart would you?

Oral = More of a position than anything else but since he had lost his foot and his movements were choppy, especially at the beginning, it was almost painful which made sex more complicated. Which is why oral satisfaction became almost a daily thing for him and his partner. He loved it when she knelt in front of him, they kissed beforehand and she let her hands wander over his sore flesh before she opened his pants. In return, he lifted her onto his desk and, like the doctor he was, took care of his patients.

°,,Let me comfort you since you spoil me like this let me pleasure you"

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

Adam Stanheight

Photography = He would love to take photos and videos of you with or without her consent. He would snap and record intimate moments when she was changing her clothes, in the shower or when he was having sex with her. Watching her fall apart around him, her tear-stained face or her fingers wrapped around his cock and taking pictures of the blush on his cheeks. He loved looking at the photos of her developing at the end, praising her and running his fingers over her body. While she snuggled up to him and praised him before they both ended up in a mountain of photos and he took them.

°,,Fuck look at this next time I'll make a whole collage baby"

Teasing = Initially not wanting to admit how much he likes it, Adam gets all the more whiny and whimpering when his partner teases him. Be it during the day with pictures, her extra short skirt or her hand on his body. At the end of the day, he would press himself against her and ask her permission why she was teasing him like that before directing him to bed, but he would only become more of a babbling, whining, pleading wrag.

°,,Ah-please-please baby finally touch me I'll do anything just please"

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

Amanda Young

°Pain Play = She is a recovering and former junkie. She had suffered a lot of pain in her life and with John's teachings something had changed in the way she felt. It seemed like the pain she could finally inflict on others was getting better and better. Which is why she was careful with her partner to a certain extent, of course, but when she drew the knife or the hoe across her loved one's skin and heard the sound of it was her favorite. When she could run her fingers over the wounds and spread the blood on her girlfriend's body or try it herself.

°,,Shhh I know you can do a little more my love"

Leather = The feeling of leather shackles, panties, tops, pants, etc. She likes how it feels even better to wear it herself and to see it on her partner. It always seemed to be a big part of her life and she wouldn't give that up now. Instead, she went on several shopping trips with her sweetheart to buy the perfect outfits. To try them on in front of each other and make a strip show out of it.

°,,Look at you my beautiful girlfriend"

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

Peter Strahm

Handcuffs = One thing he does bring home from his job are handcuffs. He loves to tie you to the bed with them. to see how you try to get loose while he takes you and can't do it. Tying your hands behind your back while you ride him and he holds you by your hips. Then kisses your maltreated wrists lovingly and tells you how good you were.

°,,Only bad girls get tied to the bed...but you're my good girl aren't you?"

Humping = He would love to have you on his lap after a long day's work and watch you whimpering against him. Giving you gentle kisses and playing with the strands of your hair - his big rough hands on your hips, directing you sweetly and painfully. Before he turns to you in praise after you have almost come crying and he takes care of you completely.

°,,That's it just a little bit more so it's good darling"

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

Eric Matthews

Daddy kink = He didn't have a son for nothing, didn't become so bossy for nothing and didn't become a cop for nothing. It gives him a sense of power and excitement to hear his darling call him that. At first it's just fun flirting, but as soon as the door to the bedroom closes, it's just the two of them.

°,,You'll be good for daddy, won't you? You will, sugar, I know it"

Praise kink = He wants to hear how good he is and he needs to hear how good he is. Whether it's small gestures, the moans of his loved ones or whole sentences. Eric loves it when he knows that he is good for his sweetie, that he is doing everything right and it only makes him even more energized and proud when she praises him.

°,,How good am I? One more and I'm all yours"

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

@slut4hoffman , @thatonebeetchthatisirrelevant , @lola-max-sugar @megustadilf , @capan-deveraux2 , @horrorxgorewhore

#saw movies #saw #saw franchise #saw mark hoffman #lawrence gordon #adam stanheight #amanda young #mark hoffman x reader #lawrence gordon x reader #adam stanheight x reader #amanda young x reader #peter strahm #saw peter strahm #peter strahm x reader #eric matthews #eric matthews x reader

[sunooflower]

adam stanheight headcanons

i'm mentally ill. anyways relationship headcanons for the silly man ig. is the adam stanheight hive even alive on here anymore?

warnings - nsfw mentions.

confession:

he's a fucking pussy he would procrastinate for like a month.

tries to come up with a damn script but can never get it right, causing him to panic even more.

decides to just freestyle the whole thing but then that makes him stress out more.

when he finally tells you, he'd be so nervous he'd try to stall.

would end up saying some shit like "hey i have to tell you something..." *panics* "uhh.. your hair looks nice in a ponytail."

"adam, my hair is literally down."

"ah.. shit.."

gives in and just mumbles the whole thing like "ireallylikeyouandit'sfineifyoudon'tfeelthesamebutijustwantedyoutoknow."

you have to get him to repeat it bc you obviously didn't hear a damn word.

he finally repeats himself more clearly and then proceeds to look at the ground.

once you tell him you feel the same way, this dude starts acting all cocky like he wasn't 2 seconds away from shitting his pants.

"ohhhh you're so obsessed with meeee~"

affection:

given his trauma from the bathroom trap and the betrayal of lawrence breaking his promise of coming back for him, adam is most likely going to be quite clingy since he feels safe with you.

there were times at the beginning where you would have to try your best to convince him that you won't leave him. sometimes you still do, but it's not as bad as it was at the start.

like you could be cuddling and then you get up to use the bathroom but adam would hold you tighter the second you start to move, and you'd have to promise him that you were just going to the bathroom and that you were going to come right back.

he's very grateful for how understanding you are though. sometimes in the back of his mind he worries that his trauma is a burden for you, but you always find ways to prove that it's not.

very big on cuddling, he tells everyone that he's the big spoon but in reality he's the little spoon.

loves having his hair played with, whether you stroke it, run your fingers through it, twirl it, etc. it makes him feel loved, it makes him feel 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦.

back hugs are essential!! he loves both giving and receiving back hugs. sometimes, if he's in his red room developing his pictures, if you randomly give him a back hug and watch him as he works he will immediately forget what he's doing and turn all of his attention to you. in which case you'd have to tell him to finish his work.

he'd do his bitchiest pout but would oblige, once he finishes his work he damn near wrecks everything with how fast he spins around and tackles you with a hug.

kissy wissy 😽

honestly the type of dude to be like "adam and (y/n) sitting in a tree, k.i.s.s.i.n.g." before kissing you.

would probably also make a cooties joke.

but he will never give up the opportunity to have some kisses!

also dude can KISS like damn okay.. 👀

nicknames:

when it comes to affectionate nicknames, he would probably call you "babe" or "baby" but i feel like that's as far as it would go.

like i don't think he fully digs nicknames, he doesn't mind them, but he seems like he cringes at some of the nicknames that people come up with, like "honeybun" or some shit.

loves giving you random nicknames though.

one time he called you "optimus pussy." another time he called you "sexy doorknob."

one time he just called you "stan the man" like idk why he did that, but he just did.

will melt at any nickname you give him though, secretly loves the cute names you give him. but he also loves it when you can match his sense of humour and give him random nicknames back.

his favourite silly nickname that you called him was "dookie stain." like it had him in stitches bro, the man has questionable humour.

dates:

doesn't actually have much experience with dates, but he tries.

his favourite activity to do with you is to just stay home, watch a movie, and eat whatever the fuck you want. he feels at peace on those dates.

sometimes he'll take you out to places to try and impress you. you mentioned ONE time that you had been craving a certain type of food from a restaurant and what did he do? well he took you to the wrong restaurant by mistake but he still tried 🫶🏻.

walks are nice, he likes holding your hand as you both walk around admiring the scenery around you.

cd/vinyl stores. yup. real bc i said so.

bro starts pulling some corny shit like playing a song out loud on one of the record players and tries to dance to make you laugh. bro thinks he's in a movie 😹🫵🏻.

but above all else, i don't think he gives a shit what he's doing as long as you're with him (preferably within arm's reach.)

nsfw:

dude.

this man is not gonna dom anyone for shit💀.

like have you seen the man? he's so pathetic.

he's vocal for sure, he whines and whimpers idc.

he is EAGER to please you, like he will go down on you as if you're his last meal.

the thought of him not getting any attention for his 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 problem whatsoever until he gets you to finish at least once turns him on big time.

he's a spit enthusiast, whether you're spitting or he is, he doesn't care it gets his head spinning all the same.

sometimes if you feel like teasing him, you won't let him fuck you or touch you. instead you tell him to simply jerk off whilst you do the same.

that makes him lose his damn mind but as i said, he's eager to please you so he'll do pretty much anything you ask him to.

talk dirty through the entire ordeal, if you say some shit like "it's a shame you're not gonna fuck me, you're doing so good it's adorable how desperate you are to make a mess of yourself." he'd probably have to stop for a few seconds in order to stop himself from cumming then and there. strangled noises and whimpers following close behind of course.

loves it when you're on top, one time you called him a pillow princess when you were riding him and bro busted immediately -much to his embarrassment- but you quickly assured him that it was okay and that it was cute.

but of course he won't let you do ALL the work. he wants you to relax from time to time too, so every now and again he'll put in the work.

aftercare:

literally the sweetest.

this is where we come back to him being clingy and a stinky little cuddle bug.

literally will not let you go, he'll ask if it was good, if you were okay, if he did a good job, etc.

showers you with compliments and i love you's. smiles at you when you return them, loves hearing you speak so sweetly to him.

runs to clean you up. sometimes if he's too tired, still a little bit in the mood, or both - he'll just clean you up with his tongue. but usually he runs to get a towel for you, and he carefully washes the mess off of your body before you take a rag and do the same for him.

one time during after care, you kissed the bullet wound scar on his shoulder (from when lawrence shot him) and told him he was beautiful. that caused him to cry and pull you into an embrace, mumbling out a string of thank you's and i love you's.

idk i have primal urges towards this man.

#adam stanheight #saw 2004 #saw #adam stanheight x reader #adam stanheight smut #adam stanheight imagines #adam stanheight headcanons #saw movies #headcanon

[lauraneedstochill]

My first choice (part 1/2)

summary: Aemond thinks you are way too good to be Aegon’s best friend. But you are enough for the one-eye prince to fall in love with.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader words: ~ 5500

warnings: friends to lovers, slow burn (with very obvious mutual pining), angst, Aegon is a sad boy (but ends up being a pretty good wingman!)

author's note: this is inspired by “Little women” and Amy March in particular. I took the liberty to rewrite some plot lines because to me Aemond is nothing like Laurie (Aegon is ;) and I hate love triangles so we are not having any of that sorry. it's a bit of a roller coaster so I divided it into 2 parts in hopes that it will be easier to read: the first part explains Aemond's feelings, the second one is about hers. ✨ part 2

part 1. How could you be so blind

Aegon knows he's supposed to be relieved — he never wanted the crown and now that Rhaenyra is the Queen and a feast is arranged in her honor, he should be celebrating. And he may have been hitting the wine way too hard for the past couple of hours, but he can’t pretend to be happy, and he gave up trying to force a smile. It’s ridiculous that he is upset over this, and yet he can’t help but feel horribly useless. The prince drinks one cup after another until the room starts spinning and he can’t even sit straight — and then he suddenly finds himself propped against the wall, sliding under the table instead of sitting at it. Aegon catches a few judgemental glances but at this point, he couldn’t care less. There is only one person whose judgment he is afraid of — and it’s not long before he’s greeted with a displeased remark:

“When I asked you not to swoop too low, I couldn’t imagine you would literally lay on the floor.”

He looks up — and here you are, staring down at him, not even trying to cover up your disappointment. At any other time, Aegon would’ve at least tried to sober up, but today he’s disappointed in himself, too, so he doesn’t make an effort. Instead, he reaches out an arm to you with a lax smile:

“Would you like to join me?”

“I didn’t get the invitation to this pity party so I will pass,” your tone suggests you are not in the mood for jesting. “Now that you’ve succeeded in making a fool out of yourself, would you mind getting upright?”

“I think I like it here,” he retorts, shamelessly staring at the legs of the maids passing by. 

“You like wallowing in misery for all to see?” you huff. “Aegon, get up.”

He fakes a whine:

“My legs gave out, I’m afraid!” 

“You would need to drink all the wine in the castle for that to happen, and I doubt you managed to do that,” you roll your eyes, taking a step toward him — but pause upon hearing a voice behind your back:

“You underestimate my brother.”

Aemond has a habit of sneaking up on people which often startles you yet right now you are too angry at Aegon to be bothered. You throw Aemond a glare over your shoulder but your eyes soften when you see the apologetic look on his face. It’s not the first time that the two of you find yourself in this situation — throughout the years you learned to work as a team: you bring Aegon back to his senses while Aemond helps to physically bring him to the nearest flat surface. You have never asked him for help — and yet he’s always there.

Aemond is about to lean down to help his brother up — you stop the one-eye prince with your hand, your palm inches away from his chest. Anyone else would’ve thought twice before standing in his way but you don’t hesitate.

“He is perfectly capable to get up on his own,” you reject Aemond’s attempt, your eyes fixed on Aegon. “He can hold onto the wall shall he feel unable to stay on his two feet.”

There is something in your gaze that makes Aegon uncomfortable, piercing him to the bone. You are never downright mean or rude but with just a few words you can easily unmask his feigned recklessness. The prince stands up, tottering and feeling a little light-headed.

“Are you happy, now when I'm in the standing position?”

“If you cared about anyone else's feelings but your own, you wouldn't be in this position,” you scold him while Aemond takes his brother under the arm to guide him out. Aegon tries to grab another cup of wine but you slap his hand.

“Do you ever get ashamed of yourself?” you hiss at him.

“Let me think... No, why would I?” he sounds sarcastic.

“You should be,” you whisper scream at him. “You can find nothing to do but dawdle and make a mockery of yourself!”

Aemond feels his brother shuddering at your words, and he tightens his hold on Aegon.

“Well, what else am I to do,” his voice is bitter. “Since I am not an heir and serve no purpose to the realm nor do I have any taste for duty.”

You slow your pace, and a sigh leaves your mouth.

“I feel sorry for you, Aegon, I do. I only wish you'd bear it better,” you reach out to stroke his arm but the prince bristles.

“You don't have to feel sorry for me. Your duty is to marry, and we will see how that goes,” he mutters before he can stop himself — and regrets it the very next second when you swiftly turn to him.

“At least I would be respected if I couldn't be loved,” your tone hushed but sharp.

Aegon stops dead in his tracks, his wide eyes meeting yours. You moved away from the crowd into the hall, and it becomes silent. And then his lower lip quivers.

“But I thought that you loved me,” Aegon whimpers, his assumed nonchalance instantly gone.

“Oh, Aegon, how much did you have to drink?” you come to his side, lending him a shoulder to cry on. While he’s aggressively sniffling, you look at Aemond and quietly mouth “How many cups?”

“Way more than usual,” he gives you a wan smile, and you groan at his answer, taking Aegon by the arm.

“Alright, you can lean on me. But don’t get handsy or I will push you down the stairs,” your remark earns a weak laugh from the older prince, and the three of you head toward his chambers.

Aegon doesn’t talk much but his mood softens and you exchange a few jokes before finally reaching his room.

“I can take it from here,” Aemond suggests but his brother eagerly protests.

“No, I want to be tucked into bed! And definitely not by you,” he sticks out his tongue, and you chuckle at his whim.

“Aemond, I can handle him.” 

The one-eyed prince shoots you a knowing glance and holds the door open for you and Aegon to walk in. You slowly move to his bed, making sure he doesn’t stumble on his way — and then, with a sudden boost of energy, the prince flops down on the fluffy blankets, letting out a satisfied moan. You hold back a giggle and wait for him to crawl under the covers.

“Should I call for the maid to help you undress?”

“No, I am way too comfortable like this,” he pulls the blanket up to his chin, and you sit on the edge of the bed.

“I am sorry for the way I behaved,” he reveals, frowning. “I did not mean to, truly.”

“Aegon, you know I’m not the one you should apologize to,” you take his hand in yours, and he squeezes it with childish eagerness. “You left Helaena all alone. And you promised me you would make an effort.”

“I know, I know,” he yawns. “I was doing better until today, I swear, you should ask her,” his speech becomes incoherent as he is already too drowsy to talk, his cheeks flushed from the wine and the heat of the blankets. As you stand up to leave, Aegon mumbles:

“I fetched you a book... the one you were looking for,” he sloppily points to his table by the window before dozing off.

There is only one book so it’s easy to find — and when you do, you can barely contain a sound of surprise: it's the complete history of Westeros, heavy and hardcover, decorated with gilding. You glance at Aegon but he looks fast asleep so you cautiously get out of his chambers.

If you were to turn around, you would’ve noticed that he kept an eye on you with a grin on his face.

When you walk out, you see Aemond still standing there, his gaze landing on the book and then immediately on you. It takes you a minute to figure it out and then you smile at him:

“Even though I appreciate the gesture, it is hard to imagine Aegon in the library.”

“He asked me to help him find the book you wanted. I did,” the prince explains as if it isn’t that big of a deal. But to you, it is — although you think he only did it out of politeness.

“Thank you, Aemond,” you enthusiastically turn your attention to the book, flipping through the pages in awe. He watches you, feeling the warmth in his chest at the sight of your joy.

“You know that you bring out the best in him?” Aemond says in a low voice, and your heart skips a beat at his comment. You are thankful for the dim lighting that makes your heated cheeks less obvious.

“You overestimate my influence,” you say, then dither before admitting, “I’m afraid I was too hard on him today.”

“Someone has to do it,” Aemond objects, and there’s something in his tone — sincere and soft, that makes you look at him again. At this moment, away from the prying eyes and the pressure of everyone’s expectations, you can see the side of him that people rarely get acquainted with.

“I think you are doing a pretty good job, too,” you tell the prince, finding his presence ever so calming. You could never understand why would anyone call Aemond intimidating when he’s been nothing but kind to you ever since you two met. Whenever you have a chance to be alone with him, his company always brings you comfort, and that feeling is so rare, you want to chase it.

But then you remind yourself of the harsh reality, and your smile falters.

“I’m sorry you had to get involved,” you look down at the book. “I wouldn’t want to distract you.” 

“You need to elaborate on that,” Aemond says uncomprehendingly.

“I’ve heard that you were courting lady Baratheon,” you explain casually, avoiding his gaze.

He hesitates before answering.

“Well, I only plan to,” the prince clarifies. “If she accepts my advances.”

“It would be silly of her not to,” you blurt out and, while you can’t see it, Aemond gives you a quizzical look.

“She may have her reasons —” 

“I can’t come up with a single one,” you tell him with so much confidence, Aemond’s heart flutters at your words but you continue without a second thought. “You are intelligent, good-hearted, handsome — and a really skilled swordsman. Not to mention you have the biggest dragon in the realm, which does sound like a reasonable perk.”

The prince is glad that you’re too preoccupied with the book to see his stunned expression. It’s not just the fact that you compliment him so easily — but also the way you do it. When other people try to, they usually start with Vhagar as if the old grumpy creature is the main good thing about Aemond. But you only bring up the dragon at the very end and in passing, instead keeping the focus on the prince. He is silent for a moment, letting your words sink into his memory.

And then Aemond persuades himself that you only said it out of politeness.

You notice his lack of response — and you are about to question it when a maid comes to you in haste:

“Lady Y/N, your presence is needed. Your father is looking for you.”

“Better not keep him waiting,” the prince encourages you with a grin. “If he finds Aegon, he might hug him to death.”

You playfully elbow him and turn to follow the maid but then stop to say:

“Please make sure your brother stays in bed.”

“Will do,” Aemond looks at you walking away, clutching the book to your chest as if it's the most precious thing in the world.

To this day, it is truly a mystery to him how Aegon managed to befriend someone like you. You met the Targaryen brothers when your family was invited to one of the royal feasts. You were ten and three, the middle one of three sisters. Your oldest — Elaesa — has been the center of attention, beautiful and graceful, but while everyone’s eyes were on her, you looked a little bit disoriented. It was the first feast that you’ve attended, and maybe you got too agitated or overwhelmed — or both — but soon you ended up lost in the castle, and somehow ripped the hem of your dress in the process.

Aemond was the one to find you. The prince has never been keen on taking part in celebrations, often sneaking away from all the noise. That’s when he saw you — fussing with the dress, your sobs echoing through the hall.

“Are you hurt?” he rushed to your side, and you looked up at him with blubbered eyes.

“Why do you have so many halls? You should hand out maps so people can find their way back,” despite being clearly upset, you sounded unusually serious, and Aemond fought back a smile.

“I can help you find your parents without a map,” he suggested, and for a second it seemed to lighten your mood but then your pout worsened.

“I cannot go back,” you gestured at the dress. “I am in such trouble!” you whined, the tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. 

Truth be told, Aemond didn’t have much experience with ladies back then nor did he know a thing about dresses but your distress seemed so genuine he couldn’t leave you be.

“It is not that bad,” he pointed at the ripped material. “I can ask our seamstress to take a look.”

You studied his face for a second, then glanced back at the dress — surprisingly, that was all it took for you to stop crying, and no other coaxing was needed. You wiped your nose and fixed your hairdo, smoothing the damaged hem the best you could.

“I'd appreciate it if you help me find my way back,” you said, your face seemingly more relaxed.

Getting you to talk was pretty easy, and Aemond shortly discovered how open-minded and outspoken you were, using your quick thinking to compensate for your timid personality. When you returned to the hall of the Iron Throne, he was reluctant to let you go but promised to come back with the seamstress. The task only took him about ten minutes, but when he did reappear, you were not alone — Aegon was standing next to you, making you laugh so hard, it looked like you forgot about the dress already. Aemond didn’t mean to interrupt as he suddenly felt very out of place, uninvited in his own home, so he abandoned the idea of helping you and just left.

At first, he thought you fell for Aegon’s flirtatious charms but soon learned that, as much as you did like his brother’s humor, his charms had no effect on you. On the contrary, you often chided him for hitting on young girls and openly condemned his affection for wine. Your honesty set you apart from all the ladies Aegon was surrounded with — and that was the reason he came to enjoy your company as much as he did. Despite the three years age gap, you were the one who told him the truth, no matter how ugly it might’ve been, but you did so without prejudice or any ill intentions. You would usually follow your critique with advice or a solution of some sort to keep the prince away from unnecessary trouble. That is why you were on friendly terms with Helaena, too, and your influence was also welcomed by Alicent, the then Queen. She liked that you were straightforward with your remarks and often said that you were wise beyond your years. Although, as much as Aemond agreed with it, he suspected there was a reason you had to grow up early.

It happened the same year you met — your older sister, with all her grace and beauty, ran away from home to elope with some unworthy beggar. Your mother was inconsolable for at least a week, saying that Elaesa brought shame upon her family. Your father, the kind man that he is, forgave his daughter fairly quickly and tried his best to restore peace. And yet, you came to realize that Elaesa's vagary did cast a shadow over your House. Your youngest sister, Alyna, was a fragile little thing, frequently sick and tacit — which left you to be the one representing your family in the eyes of society.

Within a few years, there wasn't a thing you weren't good at: lords lined up to have a dance with you, ladies admired how well-spoken you were and shared a laugh at your florid sarcasm, and you learned to embroider, to ride a horse, to walk exquisitely dressed and with impeccable posture. But while for everyone else it was a reason to compliment you, Aemond saw the underlying cause of your diligence — the corrosive desire to prove one's worth which was something he learned to live with as well. And which led him to think he understood you better than anyone.

More often than not he found himself watching you as if he had the need to make sure you weren't in harm's way. Helping you with Aegon was a part of that routine but it also gave him a chance to be alone with you. You talked about everything and nothing in particular, and he would catch glimpses of you — the real you, shy and emotional at times, but still understanding and perceptive. He cherished every opportunity to steal you away from the never-ending chattering, from lords ogling at you, from Jason Lannister whose interest in your company should've been concerning. Aemond has gotten so used to observing you, so enthralled with your covert conversations, he didn't realize that a particular feeling was creeping up on him. But there was one person who turned out to be more observant than Aemond has been. Aegon was the mere reason why his brother ended up at your door a few days later. Aemond’s been to your place a couple of times and he promptly memorized the way to the farthest room of the house — the one you used to paint in. It was the only thing you truly allowed yourself to enjoy, an unexpected talent of yours which you soon perfected, too, except it wasn't meant for the others to marvel at but plainly for you to keep your head occupied, to have some quiet time.

He walks in when you are already painting the finishing touches. When you turn to greet him, you stop mid-sentence, seeing that it’s Aemond instead of his brother who you were waiting for.

“He overslept,” the younger prince shrugs. “It isn't a bothersome task to come pick up the portrait of my nephews.”

You point in the direction of the painting with the brush in your hand. Aemond admires your work — as he always does — while you try to shake off your confusion. There is another reason you did not expect to see Aemond today. You tarry with voicing your concern but eventually glance at him with empathy:

“I was sorry to hear about lady Baratheon’s decision.”

“I was not,” he’s quick to retort.

“I cannot imagine agreeing to marry a Stark,” you say, dipping a brush in a jar of water.

“Is it the cold weather?” Aemond grins knowingly.

“Yes! Gods, just thinking about it makes me feel uneasy. All the layers you have to wear to keep yourself warm, barely being able to move, getting no sunlight...,” you ramble, making sure to wet all the brushes before lining them up on the table.

“Some say they've got quite a beautiful scenery,” Aemond tries to object although he knows his argument doesn't stand a chance.

“I wouldn't be able to enjoy that,” you huff. “How am I to capture the beauty if my paint freezes?”

He only hums in agreement, watching you busy yourself with your supplies. You go through the brushes, delicately cleaning the bristles with a cloth. Your fingers carefully take one brush after the other, and Aemond silently admires your love for neatness and order.

“You are staring,” you say without turning to him.

“Where do you want me to look at?”

“Aemond, you are in a room full of art!” you chuckle lightly. “Surely, enough options to land your eye on.”

The prince lets his gaze go around the place, and it takes him about a minute to quickly examine all the paintings. And then he inevitably looks at you again. Aemond thinks he likes this view the most.

“When do you begin your next great work of art?” he asks, hoping to distract you. 

You halt movement, then force out glumly:

“Never.”

“What do you mean?” he’s taken by surprise.

“I’ve come to realize that I’d never be a genius,” you reluctantly explain. “So I’m giving up all my foolish artistic hopes.”

“Y/N, you cannot be serious. You have so much talent and — ”

“Talent isn’t genius!” you throw up your hands in defeat, and he can sense your frustration from a distance. “I may be talented in other things, but when it comes to painting, I want to be great or nothing. And I am only of middling talent,” you scoop up the brushes, give them a quick look and place in another jar to dry.

Aemond wants to argue, he really does — but he also knows better than to try and persuade you when you are like this: firmly standing your ground, exuding nothing but stubbornness. In any other situation, he would’ve found it endearing but it’s upsetting to see you downplaying your brilliance.

“Hm, may I at least ask your last portrait to be of me?”

You instantly turn to him, taken aback. Throughout the years you’ve known him, he clearly expressed that he did not like being painted, and you only could make a quick sketch or two, at best, when he wasn't paying attention.

“Alright,” the long-awaited opportunity makes you smile. “Next time I come for breakfast, I will drag you into the garden to pose for me,” you give him a pointed look, and Aemond humbly nods.

Your smile grows wider but you try to tone it down, afraid to spook him, and focus on wiping the nearest table.

“What are you going to do with your life in the meantime?” he changes the subject.

“Polish up my other skills and become an ornament to society,” you sigh, putting the cloth away.

There’s a brief pause before he says, his voice a bit strained:

“Here is where Jason Lannister comes in, I suppose?”

You say yes but the answer comes a little bit too fast, and Aemond notices that the topic makes you uncomfortable.

“But you are yet to be betrothed to him,” he clarifies, gaze fixed on you.

“I will be if he proposes,” your eyes meet his, and you are sure that there’s a shadow of disapproval on his face that only spurs your stubbornness. You fully turn to the prince to say: “I always knew I had to marry well, I do not feel ashamed of that.”

But Aemond isn’t looking for a fight — he swiftly corrects himself:

“There is nothing to be ashamed of. As long as...” — he can barely bring himself to say it — “As long as you love him.”

For the reason unknown to Aemond, his statement brings a bleak smile to your face.

“I believe we can have some power over who we love,” you object, lowering your gaze for a second as you start absentmindedly twisting the ring on your finger.

“I think the poets would disagree,” he chuckles, trying to defuse the unexpected tension. 

But when you look up at him, your glare is as obdurate as ever.

“Well, I am not a poet, I am just a woman,” you rebut crisply. “And as a woman, I have no illusions about my prospects which do not include me earning a living to support my family. And my parent’s fortune has its limits as I've come to learn. Hence why, if I want to have children — I do — and be able to provide them with everything they wish for, I must rely on my husband,” that last word is pronounced with disappointment. “So don't stand here and tell me that marriage isn't an economic proposition, because it is. It may not be for you but it certainly is for me.”

Had he not known you, Aemond would’ve been very impressed — with how blunt and witty you are, you are very good at delivering speeches. But as he’s standing in front of you, watching your face, he senses that your determination is akin to despair. Aemond thinks he might take a chance at arguing with you, after all — but you’re both startled by a knock on the door:

“Lady Y/N, Ser Lannister just arrived.”

You look baffled for a second, your confidence crumbling.

“Why would he — I, I didn’t expect him today,” you mumble, almost ashamed of his arrival.

Yet you pull yourself together faster than Aemond can come up with a reason for you to stay. You remove your apron and quickly examine your dress, then move to put on a cape.

“Did I miss any paint stains?” you ask Aemond in a haste.

“No,” he looks over the flowing material of your neat dress, your hair knotted up high — and then: “...Wait!”

You stop abruptly while he grabs a clean cloth.

“There is something on your cheek,” he says as you both step toward each other — and in the next second you’re suddenly standing too close. 

You turn to him and shyly shut your eyes, taking a deep breath. Aemond is frozen for a moment but then carefully wipes away a slight smudge of green from under your cheekbone. His hand unwillingly lingers as he examines the delicate features of your face. You open your eyes, looking at the prince questingly. His facial expression is unreadable but it makes you wish you didn’t have to go.

You brush away that silly thought and stand back, fixing your cape.

“How do I look? Do I look alright?”

“You look beautiful,” Aemond says with no hesitation, taking you in — with your cheeks a bit flushed, lip parted and eyes shining. “You are beautiful.”

You seem bewildered at his words but then a smile grows on your face — and in a blink of an eye, you’re gone. The prince is left standing there, staring at the spot where you were just now. The room suddenly feels so empty without you — and so does his heart.

The realization strikes Aemond like lightning: he wants to be the one you come to, at all times. The one holding your hand, watching you paint, or read, or dance — watching you do whatever your heart desires. Because his only desire is to be with you. That thought puts down roots deep into his chest, and he doesn’t know how to pluck it out.

Nor does he want to. It’s all he can think about for the duration of the week, until you come to the castle — with canvas and supplies, not hiding your excitement. He almost forgot about his promise but follows you into the garden without objection. You sense a slight change in Aemond’s behavior, him being more quiet than usual, but decide not to push the prince so he won’t reconsider.

“I will start with a sketch and then we will go from there. Alright?” 

He just hums in response while looking at you but you are unaware of the meaning behind his gaze.

“Take any pose you like, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable,” you suggest with a half-smile, knowing full well he will probably remain standing.

And he does, arms clasped behind his back, his eye never leaving your face. You immerse in the process too quickly to be bothered, the piece of charcoal in your hand sliding over the paper, leaving lines and shadows. Drawing Aemond is an effortless task, and you can only enjoy how easy it is to sketch the sharp contours of his face and his lean body. The simplicity can also be explained by the fact that you've already memorized all the details by heart: the curves of his cheekbones and his lips, the flow of his silver hair, the shape and cut of his eye.

When you are finally satisfied, you can’t tell if it’s been an hour or three, and the prince, as it seems, hasn’t moved a muscle. At this point, Aemond’s demeanor does worry you yet you blame it on his nervousness.

“Want to take a look?” you hand him a few sketches. “Mind you, I’m not finished so please don’t judge too harshly —”

“I could never,” his hand brushes yours when he takes the drawings.

Aemond has seen your works before but it's a whole new experience when he's the one being portrayed. He almost doesn't recognize himself — you didn't miss a single feature of his yet somehow this version of him looks too beautiful to be real. He's at a loss for words until he spots that there's another drawing hidden underneath. It's a sketch of him sitting, both arms on the table, his face looks like he's deep in his thoughts.

“When did you do this one?”

“After the coronation,” the memory makes you smile. “Made my poor father lug around with charcoal in his pockets while he was trying to keep up the conversation with Ser Lannister.”

It was the day you got introduced to Jason. You were supposed to be by his side, with your charming smile and polite talks, yet you spend your time drawing Aemond. He can imagine your gaze focused on the piece of paper, the way you must've been looking at him to capture every detail and movement — all of that without him asking to, without him even noticing. There's so much care in that act, he is unexpectedly moved by it.

The words leave his mouth before he can think them over:

“Don't marry him.”

His request makes your hands tremble, and you drop the piece of charcoal, slowly looking up at Aemond, the smile disappearing from your face. He did not mean that, you must've misunderstood.

“...What?”

Aemond turns to you, looking you straight in the eyes:

“Don't marry him,” he repeats, helplessly and desperately.

“Why?” you ask in disbelief, suddenly having trouble breathing. The only reason you can think of sounds delusional, close to impossible. You wait for him to come up with some clever explanation — instead, he comes closer to you, his gaze so warm it makes your cheeks burn.

“You know why,” Aemond says and his hand gently lands on yours. You look down at it, perplexed, your mouth opening and closing, heart rate speeding up.

He keeps his eye on your face as he waits for your reply. You are not repulsed nor angry — which is supposed to be a good sign — but the reaction he gets is actually worse than that. Because when you finally glance at him, you look hurt.

“No,” you yank away your hand as if his touch stung. “No, Aemond, you are being mean, stop it,” you take a step back, your eyes glossy and lips tight. The look you give causes him physical pain — while you are trying your best to fight back the tears.

His intelligence clearly fails him because Aemond has no clue what’s going on. He feels like there is a deeper meaning to your words but he does not get it.

“Why am I being mean?” he asks incredulously as you slowly continue putting more distance between you two.

You don’t even realize you are doing it — it’s almost an urge to not be in his presence, for the first time ever. The weight of his words feels suffocating and merciless. How easy it is for him to toy with your emotions, you think, and that cruelty of his — as you see it — wounds you so deeply, he might as well put a torch to your heart.

“I have felt like everyone’s second choice my entire life,” you bemoan, not being able to keep your agony bottled up any longer. “In everything, no matter how hard I’ve worked to be better. I thought you out of all people would understand that,” you sound raspy, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

“So I will not be the person you settle for just because your first marriage proposal was turned down,” only when your voice shudders, Aemond finally understands how wrongfully you interpreted his intentions.

But you are out of his reach already — at least ten feet away from him, and the distance separates you like a giant chasm.

“No, I won’t. I can’t,” you are hurting so much, your feelings spill out like blood from a wound. “I can’t do it. Not when I have spent years loving you.”

His breathing hitches as your confession pierces through his chest — and he is left speechless, deafened by it. The moment slips through his fingers with unforgiving pace: you were standing so close only a minute ago — and now you are turning your back to him, rushing away. The last thing he sees is how broken you look, your shoulders slumped and eyes brimming with tears. 

Aemond stands, shocked and paralyzed until it’s too late — the garden is silent with your absence and the only evidence of you being there is your supplies scattered on the ground. Your words are ringing in his head, his heart heavy with a dreadful feeling.

He was afraid he would never have you — but he actually could have.

If only he wasn't so blind.

➡ Part 2

yes, this is me blabbing again: I’ve watched this movie an embarrassing amount of times, and I’ve wanted to write a fic based on it for a few months. I did rephrase a couple of quotes but still tried my best to do the story justice. my apologies for the angst — just so you know, it was painful to write. also, will I ever stop using friends to lovers trope? only time will tell! (I probably won't, though) I know there is a very heartwarming fic by aemonds-war-crime that was also based on “Little women” and it's only fair that I link it as well!

tagging @greenowlfactif because you asked 💙 comments and opinions are VERY welcomed! 🥺 🎨 my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

#aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #<<< PLS don’t be mad! I know Aegon isn’t the main character but he has a meaningful role #so I thought maybe I should add his tag too... (PLS DON’T BE MAD) #on a completely unrelated note I decided to start with dialogue(s) and then bring the backstory #I think it’s more engaging??? but we’ll see how that goes #also it was a conscious decision to start with Aemond’s side of the story — just so it comes as a surprise when she says ‘hey I loved you f #(I mean it obviously won’t be surprising if you saw the movie...) #ALSO I really hope you guys will want the second part (’cause I already wrote it lmao) #my stuff #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond one eye #aemond one eye x y/n #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfics #aemond targaryen fics #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aemond angst #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen angst

[skunklebum]

#my girl #saw 2004 #amanda young #saw #saw movies #sawposting #lawrence gordon #adam faulkner stanheight #adam stanheight #john kramer #mark hoffman #lynnmanda #shotgunshipping #billy the puppet #adam faulkner #amanda young x reader

[tommydarlings]

shut up and make your choice | c.l

pairing: soft!dom!charles x sub!reader

warnings: smut, covering mouth, brief mention of something gory

w/c: 2.2k

summary: As you convinced your older brother to watch SAW 2 with you, you didn’t expect his best friend, Charles, to join you as well…but you couldn’t complain in the end.

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +50 works) <3 // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

You were thrilled about the fact that you were able to convince your older brother to watch the infamous horror movie called SAW 2 with you.

But what you weren’t so thrilled about was the fact that his best friend, Charles, joined in as well.

You didn’t really mind it that much, but you were just so excited already to watch SAW 2 with your brother since you’ve been really going on his last nerves even since you first watched the Movie.

“You have to watch it Gabriel, seriously! It’s so good and I bet it’s even better than the first one!” You explained to your older brother happily with pure enthusiasm in your voice.

Gabriel scoffed, “And I bet that with better you mean even more violent and scarier than the first one!”

So it was quite the suprise for you when he came into your room and told you that he’ll watch the sequel of the first SAW movie with you under one condition.

Without hesitation, you nodded not even caring about his condition since it can’t be that bad, you thought.

“You don’t even wanna hear the condition, y/n?” He asked you but you were already storming towards your Horror Movie Collection, hastily picking out SAW 2.

“Tell me,” you shrugged your shoulders, simply just being immensely happy about the fact that he will watch the movie with you tonight.

But you almost dropped the movie as soon as he told you that the condition is that his best friend, Charles leclerc watches the movie with the two of you.

You didn’t hate you brother's best friend, Charles — but you always kind of had the feeling that he didn’t like you, that he has something deeply against you and you don’t know what.

You’ve always been nice to your brother's friends and it was no different with the monaguesque your brother knows for a couple years by now, but somehow he never really even spared you a single glance, almost like he knows something you don’t.

But that still didn’t ruin your excitement for tonight, of course you’re not gonna let your brother's best friend ruin something you really looked forward to for a while now just ruin with his kinda mean and uninterested attitude.

So you plopped down onto the big couch right in between your brother and Charles, putting the big bowl of popcorn on you lap so that everybody has good access to it.

At first, none of you really reacted to the movie, you watched curiously as you desperately tried to put the pieces of the first and the second movie together since every single part king of stick together in some way.

Of course, the beginning where it was shown how a man had to get a key that’s medically hidden behind his eye, wasn’t extremely fun to watch — at least not for the boys, but you thought it was another great trap invented by the directors.

In the last fifteen minutes of the movie, you and your brother's best friend have realised that your dear brother Gabriel who suggested to watch the movie with you, had fallen asleep, head leaning against the back of the couch with his eyes closed.

You don’t even really know why, but for some reason, you though that the fact that your older brother fell asleep was so hilarious that you had to cover your mouth from laughing so much.

Just like Charles who was desperately trying to cover his laugh up.

You heard Charles clear his throat next to you and decided to look over at him. Bad decision, in a matter of seconds, the two of you started laughing again, this time so much and so unstoppably, that the two of you had to leave the room and run into the small bathroom, quickly closing the door behind you.

“Oh my god,” Charles mumbled before he continued laughing, just like you, both of you still covering your mouth a tiny bit since the bathroom is right next to the living room.

After a few more minutes of laughter, you leaned your back against the sink, looking up at Charles with slightly teary eyes from laughing so much.

The monaguesque sighed before he looked down at you as well, leaning his taller figure against the sink now, caging you in between his arms.

At first the two of you didn’t even realise how close you were to each other, still trying to get the funny picture of Gabriel falling asleep on the couch out of your head — but after some seconds of pure laughing and giggling, the two of you stopped out of nowhere, silence taking over now.

You gulped as you looked up at Charles, biting your lip while he gazed down at you with his brows slightly furrowed as he noticed how you put your own arms around your waist, almost as if you were trying to hide yourself.

“Don’t do that,” Charles spoke up, getting a hold of one of your arms now, slowly pulling them away from your body, “Don’t hide from me,-”

“Why?” You suddenly interrupted him, voice slightly shaky as you looked up at the monaguesque.

Charles shook his head as he slowly let his soft fingertips fall from your slightly cold skin, putting his palm onto the counter next to your waist again, “Why what? What do you mean, y/n?” He asked you gently.

You’ve never heard him speaking so gentle and soft to you, it amazed you.

You removed your gaze from his, breaking eye contact, “Why are you always so…uninterested and so mean towards me? I mean, you never even look at me and when you do then you give me this dirty glance before you immediately look away again, almost like you’re gonna get punished if you look at me any longer, let’s not even talk about the fact that you never say a single word to me!” You complained.

Charles gulped as he heard your angry words, it seriously hurt him deeply in the chest to hear you so upset but he couldn’t change it,

Your brother would kill him.

He briefly bit his lip before he stood up straighter, making you look up at him, “I wanted to talk to you since I first laid my eyes on you, I wanted to tell you how beautiful I think you are and how sweet and nice you alway are, especially to me,” he started, making you furrow your brows,

“But your brother forbid me…to even look at you any longer than ten seconds! I swear! And I understand him, men can be really gross and just literally nothing else than disgusting and I think that he just wanted to protect you since — you know, you’re his little baby sister.”

You cleared your throat before you fixed your postured as well, standing up straighter, “I’m not a baby,” you said before Charles laughed, smiling down at you, “I know that, y/n,” he replied, “But I don’t think that Gabriel knows that, at least he doesn’t want to believe it.”

Charles suddenly gently removed your arms from around your waist, putting his soft palms onto your waist now, gently pulling your towards his body,

“He said that if he catches me looking at you the wrong way, he’ll make sure to beat my ass up until I am literally unable to race for the rest of my life,” he laughed, dropping his head forward a bit, almost touching your forehead in the process.

You lightly gasped, not being able to imagine your brother saying something like that, “What?That’s crazy! You do know that he would never actually do that, right Charles?” He raised his brows as you said his name, breath for a quick second caught in his throat.

'Oh what an angelic voice saying his name right now' he thought before he answered,

“No, yeah! I know that, of course,” Charles quickly said as he briefly squeezed your waist, thumb drawing unknown figures onto your skin,

“I still didn’t really wanted to take that risk, you know?” He gulped before he looked at the door.

You raised your brows before you freed yourself out of his grasp and slowly went over to the door, and just when Charles thought that you just simply leave again, you locked the door, gulping before you slowly turned around again and looked at your brother's best friend.

“Would you take that risk now?” You asked him curiously, big doe eyes looking up at him as you positioned yourself in front of him again,

“You know, because he isn’t here right now,” you mumbled before you noticed him slowly raising his head.

Then he spoke up, “You think that now, where it’s just us, all alone in this small bathroom, that I’d do with you what I’ve always wanted to do?”

You gulped again, playing with your fingers as he came closer to you, forcing your back against the now locked door, “And what was that what you’ve always wanted to do with me?” You asked him stubbornly.

He put one of his hands onto your waist again, pressing your body against the door while he put his other hand onto the door next to your head, leaning his body against it,

“A lots of, lots of…bad things, angel,” he mumbled under his breath, “you probably never even heard of them,” Charles told you in a quiet and soft tone.

You swallowed all of your shyness down before you raised your hands and let your fingertips gently touch his neck, playing with his necklace in the process, “Tell me, charles,” you quietly spoke up, “please.”

Charles only gulped before he quietly sighed, eyes growing darker as he heard your quiet begging, “Y/n, your brother is next-”

You shook your head, “You can…cover my mouth,” your voice slightly trembling as you muttered the last three words.

Charles briefly furrowed his brows, tilting his head to the side before he cleared his throat, having to adjust himself a bit since you’re really giving him a hard time right now, “What did you just say?” He mumbled as he came a bit closer to you.

You slowly let your fingers run down his white shirt, not looking him in the eyes. But right when you opened your mouth, he interrupted you,

“No, no, no sweetheart — look at me and repeat what you’ve just said,” he whispered, putting his pointer finger under your chin, quickly forcing you to look up at him, holding your head in place with his hand.

“You can cover my mouth if you want to,” you mumbled under your breath, big and wide eyes looking up at him before you gently put your hand around his wrist, other one playing with his shirt.

“Can I, huh?” He tilted his chin towards your face, smirking while his thumb played with your bottom lip, running the pad of his finger along it.

You nodded, not saying anything this time as your brother‘s best friend just closely watched you, eyes jumping between your big doe ones and his finger running along your lip.

Suddenly, he came even closer to you, putting both of his palms under your thighs now, swiftly picking you up while you put your palms on his shoulders, looking down at him,

“You do know that we shouldn’t be doing this, right?” You whispered as his lips came closer to yours, “My brother will-

“I know,” Charles interrupted you as your noses touched, forehead touching each other as well as he couldn’t take his eyes off of your oh so kissable looking lips, “I know,” he mumbled before your lips connected, smashing against each other, almost like they belonged together.

You put your soft palms onto his cheeks, cupping them as the two of you made out, his fingers squeezed the flesh of your thighs before he groaned into the kiss, softly grinding his crotch area against you.

“Fuck,” he breathed into the kiss, slightly whining as you started to grind against him a bit as well, “Putain de merde, s'il te plaît, ne t'arrête pas!” Fucking hell, please don’t stop. Charles whined into the kiss before your lips disconnected, him burying his face into the crook of your neck now while you tangled your fingers into the roots of his hair.

“Oh m-my god,” you moaned in a high pitched tone, “feels so good, c-charles, fuck!” You cried out as you felt him biting down onto the skin of the crook of your neck, squeezing your eyes shut while Charles’s fingers grabbed your waist, squeezing your flesh while you put your cheek against his temple.

You heard him taking a deep breath before he loudly sighed, fingers squeezing your skin even harder as you felt him lazily running his lips along your neck, softly kissing it while you continued to hear him moaning and groaning.

You gulped before — all of a sudden, you loudly released a whine but luckily, Charles was very quick and did exactly what you’ve talked about before — covered your mouth, looking at your covered mouth before he gazed up at your glassy eyes, “You wanted m-me to do t-this, remember that baby.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #Charles Leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #Charles Leclerc x fem!reader #SAW #saw movies

[bosinclairsgff]

I thought they were funny, I made them 😭🫶🏻

#horror #horror fan #horror movie #horror movies #horror films #slasher x reader #slashers #saw franchise #house of wax #halloween ends #the texas chainsaw massacre #saw 3d #saw 2004 #silent hill #horror memes

[strawbeelemonade]

•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•

Imagine: going to a Garden centre/Plant Nursery with Miguel O’Hara

•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•

🕷 - No I don’t care if this is stupid. Yeah I just got back from a garden centre when writing this.

🕷 - They are so much fun, I don’t care if it’s a bit old person of me.

🕷 - This man is willing to do old people stuff with you.

🕷 - Your both wandering around and he keeps stopping to look a grills because it’s,,, he’d totally yearn for a grill. It’s a feeling. But he always moves on because he’d get angry at himself for wanting something domestic like that.

🕷 - He pushes around the cart.

🕷 - No get off he’s doing it.

🕷 - He will follow you, just get what you want babe.

🕷 - He’s not a plant guy, he’s never been a plant guy. But in this scenario you are DEFINITELY a plant person. So when you ask to go together he starts the car in a heartbeat.

🕷 - It’s like a little date.

🕷 - He always comes prepared. If you go in the spring or summer then you’ll definitely feel the heat.

🕷 - It hits him way harder, he’s much more sensitive in every way, so he sweats a lot more. Awooga.

🕷 - He’s got water on hand if you get thirsty. Your welcome babe.

🕷 - There are always people with dogs EVERYWHERE in these places. Watching you love on every dog you pass by makes him want to get a puppy.

🕷 - He acts like a cat, but I feel like he’s secretly a dog guy really deep down, you know.

🕷 - Every dog is obsessed with him, even if he shows no interest in petting them. it drives you up the wall.

🕷 - If anyone runs their cart into you he will beat ass.

🕷 - If anyone speaks to you disrespectfully he will beat ass.

🕷 - He is literally ready to beat so much ass at any given moment. Just because he’s nice to you doesn’t mean he’s like that with everyone else.

(I literally checked those 3 paragraphs multiple times to make sure I spelt ‘beat’ right.)

🕷 - His main personality trait is carrying heavy things for you.

🕷 - He doesn’t mind if you wanna peruse a bit… it’s ok since it’s you. He one of those people that will literally go with whatever. If your happy then he’s happy.

🕷 - He hardly gets time away from work. And his ‘night gig’ takes up a lot of his time too. Between all that and The Society… that doesn’t leave a lot of time for you. It makes him feel really guilty, So he is completely willing to do or buy whatever you’d like.

🕷 - He doesn’t understand why you keep trying to save wilting and dying plants. Why would you pay full price for a half dead orchid when there’s dozens of healthy ones right next to it??

🕷 - He doesn’t mind paying for it but he wants you to have the best. >:(

🕷 - When you both get home he’s reminded of why you do it.

🕷 - Your home is full of heathy, happy plants, nurtured by your loving hands. It’s a statement of the kind of person that you are. Full of love freely to give.

🕷 - He loves you so much.

🕷 - If your into propagating succulents he’ll point out all the random cuttings cascaded on the floor for you to grab. He likes seeing your eyes light up.

🕷 - you will leave that place with handfuls of cuttings.

🕷 - Free real estate babyyyy.

🕷 - Seeing all the kids totting along with their families makes his heart clench.

🕷 - One day you see a little boy ducking between some large pots, he seems to be hiding away from all the big shopping carts rolling by.

🕷 - Miguel sees him first, his heightened sense pick up on his nervousness almost immedietaly, but he hesitates.

🕷 - he’s not sure what to do, He doesn’t really know how to approach kids anymore.

🕷 - While he’s fighting an internal battle within himself, You swoop in.

🕷 - You ask if the kid is ok, and you take his hands and lift him out from between the stacked pots. He giggles and Miguel’s heart skips a beat.

🕷 - Miguel stands next to you awkwardly, watching in awe as you work your magic and make the kid laugh. You dry his tears and give him something to drink.

🕷 - He tells you he got separated from his mom in the confusion of all the crowd, and that he tried to stay put and wait for her to come back. You tell him how he’s such a smart boy, and that he was very brave.

🕷 - Miguel lifts him on to his shoulders silently so he can spot his parents. The man absolutely towers over all the plants. When he hears the kid giggling above him his the kid giggling above him his resting bitch face relaxes a bit.

🕷 - Miguel comes out of his shell a bit more as you both wait for his parents. The kid absolutely loves him. Miguel is starting at the sweet expression on your face as you chat with the kid and he is absolutely w i n d e d.

🕷 - has he ever told you that your really good with kids.,,

🕷 - haha.

🕷 - down bad fr.

🕷 - Then you spot Two women rushing towards you and they thank you both for finding and helping their son. And the moment is over.

🕷 - You assure them that it’s not a problem and you mention how sweet their child is.

🕷 - After you give a little wave you turn back to Miguel and he’s— wait.

🕷 - “Miggy, why are you looking at me like that?”

🕷 - “Like what, cariño?”

🕷 - Y e a r n i n g .

🕷 - Bro will literally drag you home, immedietely.

🕷 - Sorry not sorry.

•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_

#miguel ohara #spider man #into the spider verse #spiderman #spiderman99 #spiderman 99 #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #use of Spanish petnames that I could be fumbling #sorry #this fic was made under the pretence that his daughter is dead #we all saw the trailer #she’s probably dead 💀 #I wrote this before the movie has come out so I hope I’m wrong #edit: ok so i wasn't wrong oh no

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Darkness

Mark Hoffman x afab!Reader

details: smut, disgusting street men hitting on reader, lots of flirting, mild biting, oral f!receiving, Mark's constant use of "fuck", unprotected sex, cream pie (please wear protection), Mark low-key being into you calling him detective????, kinda possessive Hoffman

word count: 3,550

a/n: me? late to writing a fic i promised months ago? never lmao. requests are open for more Hoffman fics, I am very excited to write for him

~~~

Loud music, too many people talking, and the smell of alcohol overwhelmed your senses.

You sat at the dim lit bar, slumped over the counter spinning the straw in the drink you did not even finish. Your two friends who you had met here earlier in the night had their backs to you. They had gotten comfortable with two strangers at the bar. Flirting with slurred words from a little too much alcohol was the standard with them.

It was deep into the night, anything besides the bar was closed. You decided you were done with the night out. You tapped your friend closest to you, "I'm heading home. Shoot me a text so I know you make it safe." She nodded still entranced by the man in front of her, "Oh-Okay. See ya'." You threw some cash down on the counter and grabbed your bag.

You squinted your eyes at the bright street lamp directly outside of the bar. It was completely black out other than the lights every few feet. Couples attempting casual hookups, people throwing up surrounded by their friends, and other bar dwellers decorated the streets outside. You tried not to look at anyone in particular, but a group of suspicious looking men caught your eye. Eye contact with one of the members was the biggest mistake of the night. You began walking faster down the street, your bag clutched as firm as possible in your hands.

"Oh- Hey, beautiful!" One of the men approached you from behind. Chills of disgust painted up your arms.

"We saw you checking us out. We can help you home~" Another man stepped in front of you under the street lamp.

You tried your hardest to keep walking forward, ignoring them.

"What's the problem, sweetheart? Don't you want some gentlemen to help you out tonight?" A third at your side. You halted under the brightest light you could find as the fourth man joined them. You were surrounded. With no where else to go, you backed into the pole. "I can make it myself," your voice cracked slightly. You were begging, pleading with the universe for some form of an escape from the situation you were in. A lump was forming in your throat, tears beginning to dance at your eyelids. You were scared.

"Don't get shy, sweetheart. We can take care of you tonight."

They were closing in on you. Your mind was racing for a way out. One of them swatted at the bag in your hand, missing the bag but grabbing the strap. You held on with all your might as he pulled. "Just give me the bag, skank!"

The sound of tires behind you made your heart sink. You were sure this was it, they were going to take you off somewhere. Never to be seen again.

"Do you know these guys?" A rugged voice came from the car. You heard the door open and slam, followed by footsteps behind you. The guy in front of you finally released his grip on your bag, his hands throwing up in the air. You stumbled back slightly, bumping into the man from the car as he was directly behind you. His hand went to your shoulder helping you stabilize, "Are you okay?" You nodded with flushed cheeks.

"Listen, we were just trying to help this chick home. No need to get serious," one of the guys spoke.

"Go ahead and crawl back to where you came from before this does get serious," the man from the car spoke sternly, flashing the gun on his hip at them. The entire group ran off into the night.

Your breath you had been holding in finally released. Your hands were shaking ever so slightly. The man stepped in front of you, looking around for any sign of a group you may have been separated from. He finally turned to face you. You felt your face flush with heat at how handsome he was.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing out here all alone this late at night?"

"I just left my friends. I just wanted to get home," your hands rubbed up and down your arms. Your eyes scanned over his entire body. He was obviously a cop of some kind. There was also no ring in site. His broad chest and chiseled face made heat flood your body.

"I can take you home. Miss..?"

"Y/N L/N. And you?"

"Detective Hoffman," he held up his badge for you to see, "But you can call me Mark."

Mark led you to his passenger side, opening the door and helping you in. Walking around the vehicle, he joined you inside. You buckled as the car began off. "Just tell me how to get there," he looked over at you.

The ride was silent. Nothing but the whirring of the cars vents and the occasional bump on the road. Each lamp you passed lit up your face as you stared out the window. Mark's eyes stayed straight on the road, one hand on the wheel the other at his side.

"I forgot to say thank you," you broke the silence. His gaze shot over to you, "It's nothing." You smiled at him slightly.

"So, Detective," you spoke with a tease on your tone, "What kind of cases are you working on?"

"You know I can't disclose that to you," he stared at you momentarily.

"Oh, come on! Homicide detective? In this city? I know you've got something good!"

Mark huffed. The car slowly approached a traffic light. Mark's eyes now could not get off of you.

His eyes examined you fully. He noticed how nonchalant you were being with him, as if you had known each other longer than tonight. Your body and legs leaning towards him showing your trust for him. His gaze wandered down to your exposed thighs. The outfit you had wore was not necessarily revealing, just short around the legs. He had to fight the place his mind wanted to go.

Silence returned to the vehicle. You leaned closer to Mark, "Is there anything I can do to say thank you, Detective?" Your hand flattened against the middle console in an attempt to be closer to him. He rolled his shoulders waiting for the light to change. "O-of course not," he choked, "I am just doing my job."

Mark turned his head to look at you better. Red from the light illuminated both your faces in the dark. You swore you had never seen anyone as handsome in this moment.

Green.

Both of you looked forward at the sudden chance, acting as if the moment you had just shared never happened.

The car came to a halt in front of your apartment building. You stared out the window wishing this car ride could last forever. "Well this is me," you shot a smile over at him. Mark stared at you with hooded eyes. Heat flushed every inch of you.

"Thank you, Detect- Mark... thank you, Mark," you looked at him one last time before starting to open your door. His hand gripped you, "Let me walk you inside so I know you make it safe."

Mark got out of the car and walked around, opening your door for you. He extended his hand to you, helping you out of the car. You mumbled a thanks as you stepped up on the sidewalk. Your heart was racing a million miles a minute. Your body wanted him badly. It longed for more than a simple shoulder touch, or grasp of a hand.

You led him into the elevator of your building. Clicking the button for a silent trip up. The ding of each passing floor rang in your ears. Mark stared up at the numbers as they passed, looking over at you every few seconds between. You both jumped slightly as the door opened abruptly. You showed him down the hall to your door.

"Here we are," you leaned your back up against the door. Mark's eyes silently looked you up and down. His pupils were completely blown, his shoulders heavy, and his chest heaving slightly. He looked around the completely empty hallway, "I'm glad to get you home safe."

"Y-Yeah! I can't thank you enough," you blushed when his eyes met yours again. His lip curled into a sort of smirk seeing you flustered. You felt your entire body rush with heat. You stared down at your feet, almost too embarrassed to look him in the eyes.

"Well. I'm going to head back out. Have a good night, Y/N," Mark began to walk back towards the elevator.

"Mark?"

He turned around quickly to look at you.

"Do you want to come inside?"

Mark's eyes darkened with your question. His eyes darted around momentarily before rushing over to join you. Hands ghosting down your sides as you turn to get your key in the door. His broad chest was pressed firmly against your back. Chills painted every inch of your body, heat rushing straight to your core. His lips pressed against your ear, "I didn't think you were gonna ask."

Your face grew completely red hot, your hands fumbling with your keys. You wanted inside your apartment so bad, but Mark had you flustered and you could not focus. He rested his chin on your shoulder, "What is it, Y/N? I can help you with the keys since you can't focus." His hand snaked up your arm, wrapping itself around yours to steady it. Guiding it into the lock with ease, he turned it for you. "There you go. Good girl," he growled in your ear. You were puddy in his hands.

You opened the door, leading him into the dark apartment. Mark pulled you flush against his chest, his hands going around your waist. The only glow on his face came from the illuminated numbers on the microwave. It lit his eyes beautifully. His breath was hot against you, his eyes staring as heavily into yours as possible.

"You do this with every girl you rescue off the street?" You teased him.

"Do you do this with every man who rescues you late at night?" Mark chuckled, his hands gliding up and down your curves.

You bit your lip, staring heavily into what little of his eyes you could see. "If they all looked as good as you, I probably would," you taunted him.

"Oh, yeah?" Mark's tone was dark. His lips slipped onto your neck. You threw your head back giving him better access. He decorated your skin with sloppy kisses leading up to your ear, "None of them would make you feel as good as I will."

Instant heat. The growl on his tone made your stomach do a flip. You ran your hands up his chest, playing with his tie. He took in a deep breath, his chest tightening with your touch. Hands gripped your ass tight, pulling you flush against his hard member in his pants. A quiver of a breath escaped you.

Mark crashed his lips into yours suddenly. Sloppy, tongue filled kisses were shared between you. You took his lower lip between your teeth lightly. A gruff "fuck" escaped him. One of his hands went to your hair, forcing your lips as close to his as possible. You were on each other like wild animals; two people who were forced to be apart almost.

Mark grabbed your hand, placing it against the front of his pants. "You've got me fucking worked up, pretty girl," he growled in your ear. You were breathless. Your hand began feeling his member, stroking him to the best of your ability. Mark's breathing kicked up, his shoulders heaved with each breath. A smile creeped upon your face seeing him so caught up with you.

"Keep grinning and I'll fuck you on the floor," Mark huffed at you.

Your entire body was overheating. You wanted him. You needed him.

Your hand released from his member, getting a dissatisfied growl from him. Your fingers toyed with the waist of his pants. Mark tilted his head slightly, staring at you. He could feel you much better than he could see you. His eyes had adjusted, but it was still too dark to make out finer details. You dipped the tips of your fingers down into his pants. Tight belt against his waist stopping your fingers from going past. You could feel the liner of his underwear now, playing with the waistband. Mark heaved a breath feeling your fingers against his skin. Your eyes stared up at him now, your other hand dipping under his overcoat that still decorated his body. Fingers finding his suspender, feeling it all the way down.

Mark's finger went under yours chin, redirecting your attention to his face. He placed a more tender kiss on your lips. Tenderness turned into neediness quickly. The sloppiness from before returned, both of his hands went to your face. His body pushed you into the back of the door. Mark began removing his overcoat, never removing his lips from yours. He threw it into the darkness behind him, his hands returning to your face. Heavy breaths escaped between kisses. Your hands went to each suspender attempting to remove them from his shoulders. He pulled his hands through, desperate for the clothes that he wore to be removed. Hands tugging at the tie around his neck as if it was suddenly choking him.

Mark flipped you around quickly, kisses sloppily being placed on the back of your neck as he attempted to unzip your dress. You shimmied yourself out of it as Mark's hands desperately tugged it down your body. He spun you back around, his lips instantly going to the exposed part of your breast. Hunger painted his figure, teeth digging into your skin. You threw your head back against the door. Blindly, your hands searched his chest for the buttons to his shirt. Mark's hands explored your body as his mouth focused on your chest. Large hands gripped your bare ass.

Two of Mark's fingers felt your wet pussy through your panties. You arched your back into him, getting an amused chuckle from him. "I can't wait to feel you around me as I fuck you," he kissed your cheek.

"Please, Mark," you begged.

Mark pulled back from you, staring down at you. You could see him smile in the dark, "Please, what?"

He was taunting you slightly, wanting you to beg for it.

"Please- fuck me, Mark," you pleaded.

"That's what I thought," Mark kissed you.

He backed away wanting you to lead him to your bedroom. You grabbed him by the wrist, leading him through the darkness to an even darker room. Mark walked slowly, trying to follow your lead around the room. Completely unable to see, he did not move too much. You grabbed both his wrists, pulling him along with you as you slowly sat onto the bed. He kissed you, leaning you down onto the mattress. His kisses ventured down your body, stopping right above your panty-line.

Mark's fingers toyed with the band of your panties, teasing you. You arched your hips up in an attempt to make him do something, a whine escaping you.

"You're so fucking needy," he growled against your skin, following it with a kiss. He pulled your panties down off your legs, the air hitting your slick opening. Mark was directly in front of your need now. One of his fingers dipped into you pulling a moan from your throat. It was so sudden. "Fuck, you're so tight," he growled, his hot breath hitting your exposure. He pumped his finger in and out of you slowly. Shockwaves went through every inch of you. He pulled his finger out, you cried out.

"Christ, you're soaked," he chuckled with satisfaction. That same finger was suddenly pressed firmly against your throbbing clit. You called out his name. He joined you face to face, panting above you as his finger still circled your sensitivity. Your mouth was hung open as if you could not catch your breath. Your hands ran up his chest, you had only unbuttoned the top button with your attempt earlier. Hands played with the small patch of exposed chest hair. You could see his teeth glaring down at you, eyes heavy and dark. You began unbuttoning his shirt further, you wanted to see as much of him as possible. Broad chest decorated with a light amount of hair was hiding under the tightly buttoned shirt. You felt him from as far as your hands could reach down to his neck. Hands resting on his cheeks, you leaned up placing a kiss on him. Lightning was shooting through your body as his circles harshened.

"I'm not gonna let you cum just yet," Mark abruptly removed his finger. You whined and arched your back. "Do you want me to fuck you?" his tone toyed with you. He sat on his knees now, pulling his shirt the rest of the way off. His hands removed his belt with haste.

"Yes, Mark," you swallowed.

He pulled his hard member from his pants. It sprung up, hitting him in the stomach slightly. It's almost as if you could feel your mouth run dry. Hands went to both sides of your body, his nose brushing against yours. You could feel him fighting the pants off his legs. His cock played at your opening, rubbing against your slick. Your chest was heaving with anticipation.

Mark grabbed his cock by the base, lining it up with your opening. He sheathed himself inside you, pulling a moan from both of you. His body fell into you slightly, your breasts pressing against his bare chest. He idled momentarily, bathing in this feeling.

"Fuck, I have never felt a pussy this good," his jaw hung open. Slowly, he picked up the pace. Pulling himself almost completely out before ramming back in. He rested his forehead against yours. You exchanged heavy and hot air. Rhythmically he pumped himself into you.

You wrapped your arms around him, running your nails down his bare back. His lips rested against your ear as his body fell flush with yours, "Yeah? Never been fucked this good, have you?" You could only moan in response. "That's right. And you'll never be fucked this good by anyone else," he growled. Partially claiming ownership over you now, but knowing if this never went further he would be the best fuck of your life.

Your walls began pulsing around him as your orgasm approached. After the tension he had put on your clit, your body was ready to unwind.

"Better not cum before I make you cum," Mark snarled against your neck.

You stared up in the darkness. Focusing, trying your hardest to fight the sensation coming over you while still enjoying his cock inside you. Mark's motions became more aggressive as he felt you pulse. Your chest was growing tight as you took in air rapidly.

"Detective," that slipped out, "Please I want to cum."

Mark sat up slightly, looking into your desperate eyes. "Detective?" you could see his mouth curve into a grin when he realized what you said.

Sitting up fully and throwing your legs over his shoulders, Mark began to fuck you fast and hard. "Want Detective Hoffman to make you cum? Gonna cum all over his cock are you, you dirty girl," Mark teased through his teeth. He passed one of your legs to join the other in one hand as his finger returned to your clit. The sound of skin smacking together along with loud moans from you filled the dark room.

The knot in your stomach was building, you could feel the bottoms of your feet growing warm as your orgasm approached. "Mark, I-I'm gon-gonna cum," you threw your head back into the pillow.

"That's right you are. Cum for me," Mark gritted, his hair falling loosely in his face. You felt your walls tighten and the knot come unraveled in you. Walls fluttered around his cock as your orgasm washed over you. Your back arched off the bed, deepening his cock inside you. "Good girl, fuck," Mark sped up his motions, his orgasm not far behind. He laid your legs back, falling back into his previous position, fucking you harder than he had. Lips crashed into yours, his tongue venturing into your mouth. "You're my girl now. Mine, mine, mine," he growled into your mouth. His motions steadied as he shot inside you. Thick ropes painted your inside, Mark forcing his way as deep in you as possible. Your body was shaking with pleasure.

Mark's body fell on top of yours, heaving breathing coming from him. "Fuck," he mumbled against your skin. You ran your hand up and down his back, petting him slightly. It's as if you both were still catching your breath.

Mark rolled off of you, pulling his cock out with him. He pulled you tightly to his side, placing a kiss on your head. You rested your head on his chest. Your finger ran through his body hair.

That same silence from the car ride returned now. There really was not much to say.

You were happy he was the one who rescued you tonight.

~~~

END

[Thank you for reading!  If you are interested in being tagging in any of my writings don’t be afraid to message me!  All tag lists are open!  I have a master taglist and one for each character!]

Tags:

@sleepybunnybobby |

#mark hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman smut #saw #saw movies #fanfic #SexyMonsterFics #costas mandylor #saw franchise #sawposting #saw movie

[doomh3ad]

sexy old men are one thing. sexy old MURDEROUS men however.......

#hannibal #doomhead #michael myers #albert wesker #slasher #horror #slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #dare i say john kramer #saw 2004 #karl heisenberg #otis driftwood #foxy coltrane #captain spaulding #yes i think he's sexy and what about it #ash williams #rick grimes #negan smith #daryl dixon #twd #the walking dead #rusty nail #horror movie

[beautyb1ade]

he's alive and we're married

#im delulu #adam stanheight x reader #adam stanheight #saw movies #saw 2004 #the delusions are delusioning

[cupidscrule]

MANDY MONDAYY

#cupidscruel🍡 #amanda young saw 2004 #amanda young x reader #amanda young lesbian #amanda young saw #amanda young #amanda saw 3 #amanda saw X #amanda saw #amanda young icons #mandy monday #saw x #saw 2004 #saw franchise #saw movies #saw #saw 2006