Can I Ask For Your Thoughts On What Saw Characters Like In The Bedroom, Like Kinks And Stuff? :3

🥵🥵🥵

Can I ask for your thoughts on what Saw characters like in the bedroom, like kinks and stuff? :3

of course lovely!! <3

included: Mark, Peter, Amanda, Adam

(this is my first time writing anything with Adam, hopefully i did him some justice!!)

Warnings: 18+!!!

Mark Hoffman

i think y'all know how filthy i think this man would be

kinky as shit

bondage, choking, daddy kink, cockwarming, creampies, hair pulling, corruption kink

prefers to be rough, but will be sweeter if in a relationship/genuinely cares for his partner

i also feel like he'd really like marking (ha) his partner

hickies, handprints on your ass, anything to show people that you're his

king of dirty talk

Peter Strahm

such a soft dom

loves calling his partner pretty names and praising them

very sweet unless you ask him to be rougher

(i'm picturing the scenes of him in the interrogation with Jill👀)

man certainly knows how to be rough, just really likes being sweet with his partner

i don't think Peter is super kinky, but definitely has a couple

probably a daddy and/or sir kink, over-stimulation, praise (both giving and receiving)

king of aftercare

Amanda Young

such a switch

has to hold you close the entire time

so many kisses during sex

obsessed with going down on her partner and making them feel good

loves being praised

i think Amanda would definitely be one to need an emotional connection before having sex

when she's dominant, i could honestly see her being either a hard or soft dom (depending on her mood)

gets jealous very easily (leading to jealous/angry sex👀)

when she's a sub, she's very eager to please

Adam Stanheight

absolutely a sub

type of man that begs his partner to sit on his face (aka the best kind)

loves having music on during sex

loves calling his partner mommy/daddy

so handsy, cannot keep his hands off of you, like ever

wants to die by being suffocated by his partner's thighs

loves watching you ride him

very vocal in bed (moans, whimpers, groans)

every once in a while, gets very dominant

is literally always needy, cannot get enough of his partner

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

Can I request a shy reader and Spencer's fic. When the reader works at a flower shop, Spencer comes in there looking for flowers. And the reader goes on a little rant about what he should buy and what each flower means.

Hii lovely, ty for the request! Hope this is okay🙈warnings: use of y/n, fluff, a few swear words, (0.9k)

Spencer needs to buy some flowers for Emily. It's her birthday and he's always brought her flower before, so even if he's already running late to her birthday dinner, he can't not go buy her some flowers.

He goes into the first flower shop, he spots on the way to Emily's apartment and that's where he finds you.

It's almost the closing time, so you are just sitting behind the counter, reading some book. Spencer immediately thinks he's in love.

He swears, you are the prettiest girl, he's ever seen and the fact, that you are too absorbed in your book to even notice him, makes you even more attractive to Spencer.

You finally notice him as he's a few steps away from the counter. You quickly slam the book shut and try not to look too caught off guard.

You weren't expecting anybody to come to the shop anymore and you definitely weren't expecting it to be a very handsome guy.

His messy, curly hair, expensive-looking black suit and the small stubble have you buckling at your knees. You are sure, that if you weren't sitting on the chair, you would be on the ground.

"H-hi," you somewhat compose yourself, "w-what can I help you with?"

He shoots you a smile and you're pretty sure that your cheeks go very red," Hi, I was wondering if I could get some flowers?"

"D-do you have any specific in mind?" you ask, barely holding an eye contact with him. You are shy and he isn't helping your situation at all.

"Ye-...No, I don't. Can you recommend me some?" Spencer literally knows the meaning of every flower you have in this shop, but something about you makes him shut his mouth, so he can stay here longer.

"I can, yes," you smile sheepishly at him, "who are they supposed to be for?"

"My friend, it's her birthday today," you would be lying, if you said that your heart didn't skip a beat at hearing that it's for his friend and not a girlfriend. You thought, that he was getting flowers for his girlfriend.

"W-well, I'd suggest, that you should definitely get some yellow flowers for her. Yellow color represents friendship, would that be okay?" you hesitantly ask. Spencer just nods encouragingly.

"Okay, so we could do some mixed bouquet. Yellow roses are definitely a yes, you can't go wrong with that, they are beautiful and smell amazing. We should also add sunflowers, they represent loyalty and adoration of the friendship. Oh and mums are grest, too. They can really make the bouquet come alive, they are like the spirit of optimism. We could also-," you ramble about each flower, that you put in the bouquet for him.

Spencer listens to your every word with a happy smile, you remind him of himself with your rambling and to be honest, he finds it adorable.

You are done too quickly tho and Spencer finds himself wanting to hear you speak again.

But his phone rings and he doesn't even need to pick up to know, that the team is wondering, where he is.

"Here, i-is this okay?" you hand the insanely pretty bouquet to him. Spencer's grin basically answers your question.

"Thank you, thank you. It couldn't be more perfect. You're a total lifesaver..." he looks at your name tag, "y/n. Thank you, y/n."

You are certain, that your cheeks couldn't be more red as they are right now. Spencer's compliment makes you blush like a fool.

"Oh. I'm..I'm glad, that you like it." You stutter out your response, looking at the ground. You carefully wrap the bouquet in the flower wrapping paper and tell him the price of it.

He pays it and before you can say no, he puts a bigger tip than it's normal into the tip jar.

Spencer then slowly leaves thanking you as he goes. And right before the door closes, it looks like Spencer wants to tell you something else, but in the last second he shakes his head and dissappears.

You wave him a shy goodbye, you are a little disappointed even if you don't really know why. Well okay, maybe you do know why. But you shouldn't have put your hopes up, thinking the handsome stranger felt the spark like you did. And that maybe, only maybe, he'd ask you out.

You sigh and sluggishly start to clean up the counter to finally close the shop and go home. The door bell rings again and your head immediately shoots up.

He runs up to the counter, a little out of breath, "shit, I'm sorry to bother you again. I don't usually do this, like ever, it's just....Would you like to go out with me sometimes? Like for a-a coffee? You can say no of course, hell, I'd totally understand if you said no." Spencer's now the one to rumble.

"I-I'd love to," you, surprising even yourself, reply immediately. Cheeks, of course, burning red.

"It's okay- Wait, really?" Spencer was totally expecting you to reject him.

"Yes, really....." you want to say his name.

"Spencer, my name is Spencer," he quickly understands.

"Spencer, " you try out his name," I'd love to Spencer, here." You bravely scramble your phone number on a piece of paper and give it to him.

Spencer takes it with a huge smile, "I'll call you, " he looks like he wants to stay longer, but looks at his watch and curses under his breath," I'm so late. I gotta go, but I'll call you, I promise."

"Bye, Spencer," you say sweetly and Spencer already knows he's fucked. Not even one date and he knows, he's down bad.

MYSTICAL GOLDEN LUCK POTATO

In love rn

Making A Deal (Part 1)

Summary: House doesn't take the news of you wanting to quit your job at the hospital well, and he definitely doesn't take it well when you decide not to tell him why you're leaving.

You don't think it's any of his business, he thinks it is—the argument leads to you making a deal.

Warning(s): use of y/n & l/n (your name & last name), closeted reader, reader presenting as female throughout the fic & being referred to as a woman, House being House & making some comments that may come off as transphobic

Pairing(s): Greg House x ftm! Reader

Something felt off when you were growing up—you don’t remember exactly when you became aware of it. Over time, the feeling grew and grew, but you ignored it, and pushed it away.

Instead of the feeling, you focused all your time and energy on other things—grades, homework, friends, and your future.

It grew and grew, almost as if it were inside you. You went to school, and sometimes it got increasingly difficult to get up and put on a fake smile, but it all felt worth it because you were going to help people. And sometimes you grimaced when professors referred to you as “miss l/n”, but it all felt worth it because eventually, they would have to refer to you as “doctor”. And it felt jarring and uncomfortable to wear the blouses, and the heels, and the skirts, but you knew that one day you would be wearing a white coat and scrubs, and you wouldn’t be required to dress like that every day.

You mistook the feeling for a lot of things—being misunderstood, lonely, ambitious, depressed. Perhaps those came with the feeling, but you thought at one point it would stop. You thought that at one point: it’s got to stop.

And even when you realized what it truly was—your discomfort with living and presenting as female—you were damn good at hiding it, and you were a damn good doctor.

You were always able to spot what was wrong with a patient, but more importantly, you could tell when they were lying, or not telling you everything about a situation. You knew how to approach patients to make them more comfortable about sharing information with you—or at least you did most of the time.

This is what allowed you to succeed when you started working with House—you went from being bossed around because he thought you couldn’t do anything, to being bossed around because he thought you could get the patient to open up to you more than him.

You knew you would miss it, but you also knew you had to make a better life for yourself—which is why you decided to quit.

Today marked the start of your last week—you had exactly 7 more days to go. That didn’t mean you didn’t have any paperwork, though, and that’s exactly what you were working on when you heard what sounded like someone was hitting your office door with a stick.

Without waiting for a reply, House walked in, explaining why it sounded like something was hitting the door. He was probably lucky it was wood.

“Why is Cuddy under the impression that you are leaving?”

“Probably because I am.” You said, looking back at your work.

“And you weren’t planning on telling me?”

“Why would I?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because we work together, so you should tell me things.”

You glanced up at him, your brow raised.

“Why are you leaving?”

“Did Cuddy not tell you?”

“She told me you had ‘other life opportunities’.”

“You say that like you don’t believe it.”

He snorted. “Yeah, that’s because it’s a lie and not a very good one either.”

You tilted your head. “You think it’s a lie?”

“Please, I know it’s a lie. You wouldn’t just quit for some impromptu opportunity, something is wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong.”

“So you’re leaving me to deal with Foreman, Chase, and Wilson alone over nothing?”

“Sure.” You said, looking back at your laptop.

House walked over to you and slammed your computer shut.

“What are you doing?” You shouted.

He picked up the laptop and hobbled to the other side of the room where he set it down.

“Give it back.” You ordered, getting up, and walking after him. He turned around quickly and blocked you with his cane.

“You’re not quitting.” He said.

“Why do you care?”

“Who said I care? I’m just trying to keep one good doctor in the ring.”

“Well, clearly you talked to Cuddy, so you know the notice is already in, and this is my last week.”

“Redact it.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m going to find out anyway.”

Your heart pounded at the idea of him ever finding out, but you simply shook your head.

“You think I won’t?”

You thought about it, before answering “Not any time soon.”

“That sounded like a challenge.”

“It wasn’t.” You stated.

“Let’s make a deal.”

You raised your brow. “A deal.”

“Yes, a deal. If I find out why you’re leaving before the end of the week, you have to stay. If I don’t, then you can leave.”

You thought about it for a moment. “If you can’t figure it out, you don’t get to bother me about it again.”

He paused for a moment. “If I can, you have to do what I say for a day.”

You held back a scoff—it felt like you did that anyway—if he did figure it out, it wouldn’t be any different from the previous times. “Deal.” You said, holding out your hand for him to shake.

He briefly took your hand, and said “deal,” before leaving the room.

As the week went on, House had several theories written on the whiteboard and didn't take any cases—meaning you ended up doing them for him and took Wilson, Foreman, and Chase with you. Sometimes one of them would go in, and report that he was snappy (as usual) and that he insisted you were hiding something.

By your last day, House hadn’t come to you with any accusations, so you weren’t surprised when you heard a similar thwack against wood before your door was opened.

“I figured it out,” House said gruffly, closing the door behind him.

“Did you?”

“You’re trans.”

Your heart raced. “What?”

“Your chest is flat. I thought I was just seeing things, but then I saw a picture of you from last year. Your chest is flat now, you didn’t think anyone would care or notice, because you put in your two weeks' notice, and you thought ‘What the hell, I’m leaving in a few days, no point in wearing a stuffed bra to work every day’.

“Your closet contains mostly feminine clothing—overly feminine, in fact—I’m guessing because your parents never let you wear girly clothes as a child. I noticed your bathroom doesn’t have any hygienic products because you don’t need them, and you don’t use the washrooms here because you’re afraid of someone figuring out you were born a man.”

You looked at him, shocked. You could feel his air of pride, but you could also feel your heartbeat starting to slow.

He thinks you’re a transwoman…not a transman…

“No.”

“What?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“I’m not wrong, drop the gig, l/n.”

“I didn’t have menstrual products because I ran out and hadn’t got any left. We barely get breaks long enough to use the washroom. You’ve never seen me in anything except for my work clothes and a dress a few times, so how do you know how I usually dress? As for my chest…”

He looked at you expectantly, despite you shooting daggers.

“No one asked you to look.”

“I’m just being observant.”

You rolled your eyes. You had only recently started binding—and while it felt so much better, you assumed no one noticed. He started reaching for your chest, but you swatted his hand away.

“You only did that because you knew it would prove my point.” He growled.

“You’re wrong, House. I was born female.”

“Well it isn’t a chronic or terminal illness, not mental illness, your family doesn’t require your immediate attention, you have no friends or boyfriends trying to get you to move away with them, you don’t have any stalkers, and no one here has been harassing you.”

“You’re harassing me right now.”

“But you’re not leaving because of me.”

“Right.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What are you hiding?”

You looked up at the clock, it was nearing the end of your shift, anyway, and you were already done with everything.

“You’re not completely wrong.”

“What does that mean? Either I’m wrong or I’m right, and I’ll give you a hint—I am rarely wrong.”

You picked up the box. “Fine. You’re right, I was born a woman, and I hate it.” You said, quickly walking out.

Whatever comment he had for you, you didn’t want to hear it—people like him were exactly why you were leaving. Nevertheless, you heard his footsteps, and cane tapping after you. From the sound of it, you could tell he was struggling to keep up with you in a way that did not elicit pain.

Previously heading towards the elevator, you changed your route towards the stairs, and quickly made your way down. You practically flew down the last flight of stairs, causing you to nearly run into House who was standing in the doorway right at the bottom.

You sighed. “What do you want?”

“You didn’t honestly think it would be that easy, did you?” He asked, limping towards you. You backed up—back onto the stairs. House leaned up against one of the rails with a grunt, taking pressure off his leg.

You rolled your eyes and started walking back out, but he held out his cane to keep you from leaving.

“Why don’t you just let me go?”

“Because that doesn’t sound like a very good reason to leave.”

“What doesn’t?”

“Being transgender. Besides, I was right—so you aren’t allowed to leave.”

“You weren’t right, you thought I was a transwoman.”

He made a face. “I’m sorry, what’s the difference again.” You could tell he wasn’t being genuine, or probably wasn’t, but you answered anyway.

“Hmm. But I did say you were trans, right.”

“Right, but—”

“And you are, yes? Or did I misunderstand?”

“I am, but—”

“Then I was right. Now you have to go back upstairs, put your dinky decorations back on your desk, and be here early tomorrow morning with my coffee.” He said, directing his cane so that you would be forced to back up even more.

Thinking fast, you decided to come up with another compromise.

“No.”

“No? Did we not make a deal?”

“We did, but you were only partially right, therefore you were partially wrong, so we should split the deal.”

“Split the deal?” He scoffed like it was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard.

“Yes, split the deal. I'm leaving, but I’ll do whatever you say for a night.”

“Any night?”

“Saturday.”

He feigned surprise, “are you asking me on a date?”

“I—” you paused when you realized what he had done.

“I am flattered. I don’t usually date men, but if you insist, I will—it’s not like I’m doing anything better on Saturday night anyway. I’ll pick you up at 8.” He said, walking away.

I swear I love that man to death

Can I request Nubbins x fem reader? She has friends who don't want Nubbins near her because they don't like the way he is. But when Nubbins is with the reader it is pleasant because she does not judge him or treat him badly. How would he manage to have her all to himself and not let anyone ruin it?

I don't know if Nubbins would be possessive and rude like Johnny or if he is more passive...

Nubbins x Reader

The Only One that Counts

Contains; fluff, derogatory names

"Guys, cut it out," you say, shooting a glare at your two best friends.

"Seriously though, what do you see in him? Everything about him is weird, even his name. Who names their kid Nubbins?" Emily says, snickering.

"Maybe I like weird," you interject.

"For your birthday, he got you a dead possum with a lightbulb in its mouth. He's twisted," Joey adds, looking more concerned than anything.

You cross your arms. "That was cute! Pulling the tail turned it on. I named him Henry."

"You have a dead giant trash rat named Henry by your bed," Joey says flatly. "See why we're concerned?"

You shrug. "Not every girl wants chocolate and makeup. I like his little crafts. He's really creative."

"He's gonna turn you into a lamp next if you're not careful," Emily says. "I heard he cuts himself for fun."

"Guys, just stop. I'm happy with him, okay? Isn't that enough?"

Both Emily and Joey look incredulous, shaking their heads.

"Don't you see we're trying to protect you? That guy's whole family is messed up. Have you seen his giant brother? What if being a giant retarded freak runs in the family? Do you want giant retard freak kids running around the house?" Joey says, as if he could think of nothing worse.

"I'm tired of listening to this," you say, fuming. You stand up from the bench and glare at your friends before turning your back, a tear streaking down your cheek.

–

"Y-your friends want you to leave me?" Nubbins asks, cocking his head. The two of you are sitting in the sunflower fields as the sun rises, painting the sky pink. He doesn't seem upset, just curious.

"They think you're dangerous," you say, looking down at your joined hands and running your thumb over his. You can't bring yourself to tell him what they've said about his brother.

"W-well," Nubbins laughs, smiling. "I mean, I am. Grandpa wouldn't think I'm the best if I w-wasn't!" He pauses, then squeezes your hand. "But, 'course I'd never hurt you!"

"I know, Nubs, I'm just sad my friends are so judgmental," you say, sighing and leaning against his shoulder.

He uses his pocket knife to etch into the dirt between his feet, drawing your initials beside his. "Why does it matter w-what they think?" He pauses, looking up at you worriedly. "Y-you aren't gonna listen to them, are ya?" He asks, as if the notion hadn't occurred to him.

"No, of course not!" you soothe, instantly erasing the worried expression off his face. "I just don't like hearing them talk bad about you and your family."

"I could cut out their tongues!" he offers cheerily. "You ever had tongue pudding? It's real good!"

"No no, please don't," you giggle, and he laughs wildly, his whole body shaking beside yours.

Nubbins, still in a giggle fit, nuzzles at your ear before nipping it, making you laugh and shove him away. He lunges after you, tackling you to the dirt and touching your nose to his with a loud "boop!" A wild grin lights up his face, and you pull him down for a kiss, surprising the man into a fleeting moment of stillness.

When you break the kiss, he stares at you in a stupor before sense returns to his brain, and he blinks rapidly, his earlier grin returning. "Wow… sometimes I forget we can do that. Talk about crazy; your friends musta never had a kiss like that. Well, probably 'cause they never kissed you," he peters off, pure adoration in his eyes as he holds himself over you.

"You're so sweet, Nubbins," you say, kissing the tip of his nose. "I love you."

His face flushes pink, and he traces your lip with his thumb, cradling your face in his hand. "I l-love you too."

Nubbins doesn't care what anyone thinks but you. As long as he knows you love him, he will never get jealous.

Making a Deal (Part 2)

Summary: Your date, gentlemen and distinguished folks

Warning(s): House being rude to waiting restaurant staff, being misgendered/mistaken as a woman (being called ma'am), self doubt, and anxiety

Pairing(s): Greg House x ftm reader

You stood on the sidewalk waiting for House to drive up. He had insisted on picking you up and treating it like an actual date. He was even on time when you recognized his car approaching you.

You gave him a small wave and watched as he pulled up along the sidewalk, and stopped the car a few feet ahead of where you were. 

You frowned as you started walking towards the car. He got out and started limping around to the other side.

“What’d you do that for?”

“Because if I pulled up beside you, you would get in the car myself. And if memory serves, that’s not exactly how dates go.” He responds, opening up the passenger door for you.

“Right, but isn’t that for women?”

“Ever heard of equality, l/n? Get in the car.”

You huffed, and got in—him practically slamming the door shut after you. He slammed his door shut as well after he got in, and you wondered if he knew he didn’t need to slam it for it to properly close, but decided against bringing it up.   

Aside from the radio playing, the majority of the car ride was silent between the two of you—House made a few comments about the restaurant he was taking you to, and made a joke about how he didn’t know what food you liked. He occasionally made comments about what was playing, but he never changed the station. 

“Don’t get out yet.” He ordered after he had parked the car. He got out himself, then limped to your side, and opened your door for you.

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” House made a point of saying the words, but he loosely linked his arm to yours as you made your way toward the restaurant. He gave the greeter his name for the reservation, and the two of you were led to your table.

The restaurant was admittedly nicer than you thought it would be, however, the conversation was as forced as you predicted it would be, despite the few compliments he made. 

It wasn’t very long before the waitress introduced herself, and offered to get your drinks. House ordered your drink for you—insisting you try something and trust him—and by the time the waitress got back with your drinks, she took your orders. 

House decided to go first, and you were about to make a biting comment about how he could’ve just picked something for you when you realized something: you had never presented as male before in public. Not like this, at least. You hadn’t been able to get any interviews yet, and when you went to the store, you were always able to go to the self-checkout. 

“And for you sir?” The waitress turned to you, and you barely registered that she was talking to you. 

You cleared your throat, attempting to deepen your voice.

“I’ll take the—” You cut yourself off by the waitress’s expression.

“I–I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize—I meant ma’am.”

You tried not to flinch at the word. You glanced at House and saw he was glaring at the waitress.

“I know they don’t pay you much,” he growled, making her turn to face him, “and obviously you didn’t get much schooling, but you must be an idiot to refer to my boyfriend as ‘ma’am’.”

He made a point of mocking the word ‘ma’am’, like a child who just learned a new nonsense word, and thinks it’s the most ridiculous thing ever to roll off their tongue. 

“I—right, I’m sorry, it’s my mistake—” She said, turning to address you now. 

“That was established.” House scoffed. 

“What can I get for you, sir?” The waitress asked a little quieter now, though you were sure it was only to avoid any more ridicule from House. 

You gave her your order—her quickly jotting it down as you said it, repeating it to the both of you to make sure she got both orders right, and quickly walking back to the kitchen.

House rolled his eyes. “Honestly, if I can’t escape idiots at work, you’d think I’d at least be able to avoid them here.”

“It’s okay.”

“Not really.”

“No, I mean…I understand why she thought…I don’t look very masculine.”

House cocked his head to the side. “Sure, maybe you don’t have a beard to make it obvious you have a mix of testosterone and the proper hormones to give some people the hint that maybe you possibly are male, but that doesn’t mean she should be rude about it.”

“She wasn’t being rude.”

“Yes, she was. You’re clearly presenting as male, she had no issue in assuming that we were two men having dinner, and did not hesitate to call you ‘sir’. She only changed when she heard her voice. Which is rude. Especially considering there could’ve been a genetic reason or medical reason for you not having a lower voice.”

“I know that, but—”

“No buts. Let her learn her lesson.”

You gave him a look. “When did you teach her a lesson?” You teased slightly.

“That she shouldn’t have just assumed what you preferred to be called. If you didn’t want to be called ‘sir’, you would’ve corrected her the first time. Or I would have.” House paused, before slightly furrowing his brow. “Besides, no one wants to be called ‘ma’am.”