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coryosbaby · 11 months

Note

Pls write more Hoffman stuff T-T I’ve been reading it repeatedly for the past couple of days along with your Adam stuff. I’m gnawing at the iron bars of my enclosure. I love your writing <3

𝒞𝑜𝒸𝓀𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝑀𝒶𝓇𝓀 + 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒽𝓂 ♡

Cw: nsfw . Slight dubcon towards the end, cockwarming, p n v, exhibitionism, daddy kink, age gap, threeway, creampie

A/N: u ask u shall receive 🙏🏻 this is Hoffman & strahm + maybe a lil hint of Daniel Rigg but I’ll be writing more of just Hoffman soon if that’s what u prefer 🩷

The days spent in Mark’s office can either be incredibly boring and painful, or incredibly fun and painful.

And on this day, as his hard cock slides itself inside of you, you decide it’s going to be a fun but painful day— quivering, you let out a small whine as he fills you up in his desk chair. His cock, thick and long, is causing an ache and burn in your core. But how could you care when you’ve been wet for him all day?

Mark is barely paying mind to you; being a detective means having a lot of paperwork, and that he must finish today. But that doesn’t mean he can’t squeeze in a little time for you, right?

“Daddy..” you mumble, adjusting the ends of your skirt. He had just slid right in, with absolutely no warning at all! He was so mean sometimes. Batting your eyelashes, trying to get him to look at you, you add, “Cmon, why do you just fuck me?”

“Quiet.” He grunts. He’s flipping through a page from a case file. Although it’s confidential, he never minds letting you see the cases he works on. You’ve kept worser secrets for him, after all. “Keep yourself occupied, why don’t you?”

Oh, that’s rich coming from the man holding you down on his dick. You pout, crossing your arms across your chest. You purposely squirm on his lap, then. He exhales sharply, as you clench your walls on him.

And just then, a knock sounds.

Your face becomes bright red, and you’re quick to try and get off of Mark’s lap. But he tsks, holding you down with both hands and keeping you in place. Your eyes widen in fear.

“Come in,” Mark states.

And of course, the person who opens the door is Peter Strahm— someone you’ve grown to dislike since you heard him whisper something about the “young piece of ass” Hoffman had laying around in his office every day. You were quite offended by that statement, even though Peter has grown to be— in your opinion— too nice to you.

“Hoffman,” he says, trying to avert his gaze from your flushed face. You pray that he can’t see Mark’s unbuttoned pants and your pussy wrapped around him. “I need to talk to you… alone.”

Mark rolls his eyes, pushing his hips up. Letting out a tiny gasp, you can feel his cock sliding against your walls— and with shame, you try not to pay attention to the way your cunt gets slicker at the thought of Peter catching you being such a whore.

“You can say it here, Strahm.” He pats your hip, ruffling your skirt. “I can assure you, her pretty little head is empty right now.”

You should be offended, but really, you can’t think. Peter’s sleeves are rolled up today, his arms and hands exposed and— fuck, why do you want them to touch you?

“It’s about the Jigsaw case,” Strahm presses. His eyes land on yours again, and he watches the expanse of your legs. Your face flushes furiously, and you feel a drop of slick begin to run down your inner thigh.

Shit.

“And?” Mark teases. “It doesn’t matter to her. What is it?”

“It’s..”

Peter’s eyes are on your tits, your thighs quivering. You bite your lower lip, and you can’t help but let a fuzzy feeling take over you as he watches you.

“Cat got your tongue, Strahm?”

Mark smirks, and when he grabs your hips and pushes you further down on him, you can’t help it— you let out a moan, a desperate and sex crazed moan.

Peter doesn’t even know what to do or say— just stands there, his mouth open and a tent forming in his jeans. Mark continues to bounce you up and down on him.

“No—“ you whimper. “Mark! Peter, ‘m so sorry—“

“Fuck..” Peter whispers.

“You want a piece of her?” Mark chuckles, lifting up your skirt. Your cunt is exposed, all creamy and wet, little clit throbbing. You begin to rock your hips back onto your boyfriends hard length. “She wants you to fuck her. Don’t you, angel?”

You can’t help but nod, watching as Peters hand goes down to palm his crotch. He looks at you with a hungry stare.

Mark lifts you up with his strong arms, getting out of the chair and dragging you to the front of his desk. He slips out of you, pushing your body down onto the hardwood. Your cheek presses against a stack of papers as Mark spreads your legs with one of his feet. He lifts up your skirt, revealing your aching cunt for Peter to see.

“Cmon, Strahm,” Mark urges. “Don’t you wanna fuck her pussy? She’s so tight, so warm…”

And fuck, as wrong as it is Strahm is practically hypnotized by the sight of your gaping hole clenching around nothing. It needs something to fill it so bad, he thinks.

Fuck it. He stalks over, gives Mark a little shove to get out of his way. He unbuckles his belt. Mark begins stroking his cock at the sight of your doe eyes looking up at him. Peter pulls his throbbing length out of his pants, and rubs it up against you. You feel like heaven— and when he pushes into your hole, presses his balls firm against your ass, his eyes almost roll back into his head. It’s been a while since he’s fucked such a young, tight pussy.

“Oh—“

You whine as he pulls out and pushes right back in, incredibly hard. His skin smacks against yours as he begins to pound you against the desk.

Mark, chuckling, pats your cheek with his palm.

“That’s my girl.”

He’s stroking his cock over your face now, and Peter groans and spreads your asscheeks apart to get a better view of you.

“Been keepin’ this sweet thing from me all this time, Hoffman?”

His differences with the other man seemed to be forgotten because of your warm, wet cunt.

“Would’ve let you fuck her sooner if you weren’t such a prick.” Mark replies, and grunts when the tip of his cock hits your lips. “Don’t cum inside her. That’s something only I can do.”

Strahm huffs, displeased, but doesn’t say anything. He listens to your whimpers and moans. His mouth begins running, spewing harsh words to you as his cock moves in and out of your slick folds.

“Such a slutty little girl.”

“God, baby, are all the men you fuck always twice your age?”

“Knew you were a filthy whore the moment I saw you walk into big man’s office. Shit, yeah, clench like that again, bitch.”

Although Mark should be angry at these remarks, he knows it’s just a way to break you down on Strahm’s cock. He knows that you love being degraded and used.

It’s not long before Mark’s length fills your mouth, and as you swallow him down your throat Peter begins to rub your clit in harsh circles. Choking on Mark’s cock and squeezing your walls around Peter, your orgasm washes over you in harsh waves. You spasm against the both of them, your release dripping onto Peter’s thighs.

Peter is close, too, and he can feel it. Pulling himself out of you is probably the hardest thing he’s ever forced himself to do— and this even includes when he had to stick a metal straw in his neck because he almost drowned to death. He rubs himself against your lower back, letting out a small, “fuck yes, baby, such a good whore for daddy,” As he spills thick ropes all over the tramp stamp adorning your skin. He relaxes against you for a moment, then pulls away and tucks himself back into his pants. He nods at mark, then murmurs a small, “thanks, honey.” To you as he approaches the door and makes his way out. Mark pulls himself out of your mouth and makes his way over to your quivering form.

“Okay?” He murmurs softly.

You nod, head empty and hole clenching as Mark lines himself up. Much thicker than Strahm, he adds a harsh sting to the mix of your overstimulated cunt once again. He thrusts in and out of you at a harsh pace, his cock practically ripping you in half as it pummels your guts. You can feel that neediness coming back, that urge to cream all over a cock again.

“Yes, daddy,” you mewl. “Please. Please, I need it..”

“Yeah?” He says harshly. His fingers dip into your hips, watching the puddle of cum forming at the base of your lower back. “What if I called the whole office in here, huh? Two cocks not enough for this greedy cunt? Maybe you need to be smothered by another detectives pussy. Maybe you need another fat cock to split you in half…”

And Jesus, Mark’s filthy fucking mouth has you squirming and aching for another orgasm. He grabs your throat with one of his strong hands, bending your body back towards him. Strahm’s spend leaks down in between your ass cheeks and smears all over Mark’s lower stomach, leaving white strings stuck between your body and his, but he doesn’t care. Chasing his release, the mess adds to the amount of pleasure coursing through him.

Your fingers move up to hold onto his hand, as a way to loosen his grip. But you know he won’t let up— once Mark is set on a brutal pace with you, he always has to have his hands around your neck. His cock is bruising, kissing your cervix in just the right way and —

Oh.

Your eyes now, have averted to the office window. A breath of air leaves you as you realize that the blinds, ever always closed, are now open.

You try to get Mark’s attention— try to find a way to get him to let up so the window can be covered again. Thankfully, no one has walked by. It’s an empty hallway. But anyone could be willing…

“Mark,” you wheeze. His eyes flit to where you’re eyes are focused. To your surprise, the man doesn’t stop fucking you— in fact, his thrusts only seem to increase. His smell evades your senses, all cologne and herbal soap and laundry detergent, and you feel fucking dizzy.

And then, a shadow crosses that hallway. A familiar figure, with a stack of papers in his hands.

Daniel Rigg.

There, walking right across the office window. Noticing movement out of the corner of his eye, his body freezes midway, and he turns to look at the both of you.

Eyes filling with tears , you can’t do anything but take Mark’s cock and watch the man. And slowly, you recounted that you hadn’t seen Strahm when he had left the room— hadn’t seen him pull on the string of the blinds. Hadn’t seen Mark’s small smirk when he saw them being opened.

“Looks like we have an audience.” Mark teases.

You notice the tent forming in Detective Rigg’s pants, and your eyes flit down. He begins to stutter on his movements, and the papers in his hand drop to the ground. He shuffles, quickly picking them back up. And, with embarrassment and an urge to stroke his now hard cock, he begins to walk, fast, away from the scene.

Those motherfuckers.

#mark hoffman #Peter strahm #mark hoffman x reader #Peter strahm x reader #mark hoffman x fem! reader #Peter strahm x fem! reader #mark hoffman x reader x peter strahm #mark hoffman smut #Peter strahm smut #costas mandylor #saw #saw 2004 #saw franchise #saw x #saw fanfic #mark saw #Peter saw

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blueberrypancakesworld · 11 months

Text

She is not your's - Hoffman/Strahm x fem!reader

warning : smutish, some gun play, use of handcuffs, teasing, kissing, hurt/comfort, fluff, some angst

Summary : She belonged to Mark Hoffman, he had taken her love first. But his games as Jigsaw's successor kept them apart. So it's only right that Peter Strahm shows her what's really right. Or is it real in the end or just a game for her?

Info : Back at it again with another One-Shot and what can I say these two sweetys are just ahhhh so godd to write. Have fun reading ;)

masterlist

costas mandylor - masterlist

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

Mark Hoffman and Peter Strahm two investigators on the same case to find and kill the Jigsaw successor to bring an end to the game.

A task that proved more difficult by the second, by the day and by the week. They had both already lost good colleagues and longtime friends to the deadly traps.

They both wanted all the more to pursue their target, which Agent Strahm knew was closer than he would have liked. Hoffman knew that his colleague and enemy would eventually find out.

But this rivalry between them had one thing in common between the taunts and suspicions. In addition to the affection, there was a woman, a young detective, who had stolen their hearts.

First employed as a young policewoman under Hoffman as his team, she was the only one to survive alongside Hoffman. Whenever she was sent to a place by her department leader, she was never hurt. Nothing had happened to her, not even a scratch.

But after he no longer had a department and she was the only one left, the two seemed to become partners. Her initial naivety turned into mistrust and fear. Emotions he wanted to see in her - he knew that her heart beat for him.

Ever since he had seen his beloved walk into the department as a beginner, he knew they were meant to be together. As the new Jigsaw, he decided on lives, so he should also decide on her life.

He knew how scared she was of the traps, everyone was scared of the traps. ,,I won't let him hurt you...I promise sugar" he had told her after he had found her dissolved in her office. She usually smiled at the nickname and had even blushed when he had approached her. But now it was different.

He saw how she had looked at the photos of her colleagues and missed them. But those sweet gentle touches were cold because she couldn't know how much he lusted after her. That when she tried to suppress her tears, she only felt more helpless and embarrassed.

But he saw that all he had to do was control her a little more, that he finally wanted her for himself. It would be his reward. ,,They-are all-" she didn't finish the sentence and hid her face in her hands. She didn't want to face reality and yet the only thing she had left was Hoffman.

But he achieved what he wanted when he leaned down and gently removed her hands from her face and their eyes met. ,,Shhh I told you I'm always with you and I always will be," he said calmly and his words hit where they should. The flip of a coin equaled this because he was always with her and always would be.

,,Mark," she sniffled and her trembling hands lay in his larger ones, her warmth meeting his cold. He stroked her hands and then wiped away her tear with his thumb. So fragile and beautiful, he would have liked to tell her, but he knew there was a problem.

She would never be completely his if there was still Agent Peter Strahm. Instead, their eyes met again, her glassy eyes meeting his obsessive ones. Instead, he ventured forward, not waiting for her, and kissed her.

Finally kissed her after such a long time he had doted on her. He had finally been able to taste her. Her lips warm and soft, her sweetness and the saltiness of her tears.

He could feel how she seemed surprised at first, not knowing what was happening before she clung to him. Pulled him closer and returned the kiss. She held on to him tightly, he was the only one she needed. He was convinced that he was the only one she needed.

It was that kiss in her office that brought them together and they seemed to go from being colleagues to partners to a couple. That's how it looked at first because it was her conscience that got in his way.

As much as she loved him, her sense of justice and after the murders were something that separated her from him. The more he approached her, the more she seemed to try to fly.

And yet at the end of the day, when she lay in her bed and heard the lock to her apartment open late at night, she always let him. Always let his soothing, manipulative, controlling words get to her.

Let him into her bedroom and let him take her again and again. His hands roaming over her body, his words of praise in her head that was clouded with lust when they slept together. She overlooked the hint of brutality when he took her down.

She started to cry when he took her and it felt so good at the same time. His voice, his gaze, the blood on her body, his body desiring hers. She would whimper when she felt the cool metal of his weapon on her lips. And yet.

And yet every time she licked the gun, she saw his excited expression and the satisfied grin when he grabbed her by the neck and pulled her towards him to kiss her again. The fact that the gun could be fired at any time was of no interest to anyone.

The only thing they needed was each other and nothing more. At least that's what they both thought. That's what they thought for a long time...until he showed up.

Special Agent Peter Strahm came into the game after more victims appeared. A man who seemed to be the other side of Mark. He wasn't necessarily direct, he was softer and not so demanding, he was what Mark didn't perceive.

While Hoffman went too far in his mind and got lost between the two sides, it was Strahm who stood up to his actual colleague. And saw all the more who was the real victim in this whole department. Hoffman's colleague, partner and, for Strahm, clearly also his lover.

A fact that everyone seems to have turned a blind eye to because Mark Hoffman the hero only cared about his partner. They didn't both stay in the station until late at night to avoid disappearing into the locker room together. Strahm hadn't trusted Hoffman one bit from day one.

And yet, despite everything, it was one thing he realized he couldn't let go of. As much as he hated Hoffman, the more he wanted to free the detective from him. He was the righteous agent and he would save her, she deserved someone better like him and not Hoffman.

Two men who in their minds thought they had a claim on a woman, a life, that she was the one who should belong to the other. She was his. But who was his?

It was only a matter of time before Hoffman could no longer be with his beloved all the time. He had been given tasks and knew that he still had to keep the games going. His tasks were time-consuming and the door to his loved one's apartment remained closed more and more often.

She was left alone and as much as she longed for Hoffman, she could feel the special agent's eyes on her. She could feel him looking at her, handing her the coffee, his fingers stroking hers. Unlike Hoffman, he seemed to represent warmth.

His smile was sincere and his eyes followed her, worried that something might happen to her. ,,You did well today, darling," said Strahm who, like Hoffman, had found a nickname for his love. He had clearly seen how she reacted to her dependence on Hoffman, which had almost trained her. Her cheeks grew hot and she turned away in embarrassment.

She didn't see his knowing smile as he stepped closer to her, not brashly like Hoffman, but carefully, wanting to make her love him of her own free will and not out of dependence like Hoffman. ,,Darling? Strahm isn't that a bit...personal?" she asked, trying to cover whatever this situation was leading up to with a sip of coffee.

,,You tell me, darling, is it...personal?" he asked back, taking the coffee away from her and pushing her a little further, but she stood firm. He wouldn't give up and so he had her. He could feel her decision as she placed her hand on his chest. His hand slowly moved up her hand and ran lightly over her body.

Saw how she dropped her gaze, how the touch reminded her of Hoffman and yet it wasn't him. ,,Darling...answer me what is it?" he asked, placing a finger under her chin and forcing her to look at him. Saw how she pulled it towards him and how he would have loved to interrogate her under other circumstances.

But then it happened, she pressed herself against him, kissed him and with a victoriously satisfied grin, Strahm returned the kiss. He pressed her lightly against the locker, felt her clinging to him, felt how needy she actually was.

That night, the door to her apartment opened again and yet it wasn't Hoffman who came to her. He went into her bedroom and laid her on the bed in his arms. Because while Hoffman was in control, it was Strahm who wanted to tease her his darling.

He wanted to show her how good she could be and how far she could go if she wanted to. He caressed her body, leaving kisses and hickeys on it. Before he started teasing her pleading noises went through the room over and over again. He wiped away her tears and only kissed her more.

She praised him for his strength. ,,So good, so incredibly good for me darling" he told her over and over again as he gave himself to her. It was not pain but pure devotion as he pushed her back onto the bed, her wrists handcuffed to the bedpost.

He knew she would like it, she was learning to love the curiosity and the unknown with him. Before she ended up kissing the red strings and he took care of her. Not like Hoffman who pulled her close she knew she was his and yet the aftercare of Strahm seemed to mean the same.

But when night fell and all three parties reappeared at the station, something lay between them. Hoffman's chains had wrapped around her and Strahm had thrown his and hit her. She was caught between them, unaware that when they all three met in the hallway, Hoffman would see it.

He would see Strahm's victorious grin meet him as she ran her gaze over them, and both men would see each other's markings on the body of their beloved. ,,She's mine" came from Hoffman and his hand slid to her hip, pulling her closer and she felt his tension.

He seemed to want to smash Strahm's skull when she saw his fisted hands. But Strahm just kept smiling as he approached the two of them and stopped next to her, turning his gaze to Mark and saying, ,,Are you sure about that?".

Before he put his finger under her chin again and she looked at him. She saw his wink before he disappeared into the interrogation room with a ,,See you...Darling". But as in every trap, every game, in the end it was clear there could only be one.

Who did she belong to, who did her love belong to in the end. Mark Hoffman, who had built everything up through manipulation and lies, but if they were lies, why did her heart beat so fast when he drew her to him?

Or was it Peter Strahm's sense of justice and him as a hero, but hadn't he tempted her? Two men who learned in a bloody game that you could lose your lover faster than one would like.

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

@a-reading-dreamer , @megustadilf , @lola-max-sugar , @slut4hoffman

#saw #saw movies #mark hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #peter strahm #peter strahm x reader #mark hoffman smut #peter strahm smut #saw mark hoffman #saw peter strahm

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faultlessheart · 11 months

Note

Dating Strahm HCs, please? ♡

𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒉𝒎 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

was literally kicking my feet & giggling waiting for someone to request something w strahm

(idk if you want nsfw…..so i’m just gonna throw some in at the end)

pairing: peter strahm x gn!reader

warnings: not much?? spanking and sex

☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . °☆

idk i hc him as like super jealous

i mean everyone literally refers to him as a hothead so i can imagine him getting riled up if he even thought someone was looking at you

he brings his work home with him a LOT. it’s very frustrating for you, but you know he’s probably even more frustrated with the cases he’s working on (maybe there’s a way you can help his frustration……)

he honestly always has to be in control, no matter the situation. cuddling? he’s the big spoon, he needs to hold you and protect you from everything the terrible world has to offer. getting out of the car and walking somewhere? he’s holding your hand tighter than ever and making sure you don’t end up behind him, out of his line of sight

as focused as he is on work, i can see him being the biggest mushball when it comes to dates.

like…if he has downtime at work (well…he’s actually supposed to be doing paperwork) he’s looking up different restaurants and places you might like so he can plan his next date with you

speaking of, while they are few and far between, when he does plan a date, it’s SO romantic

im talking him wearing a tux, candles (whether it be at dinner or in a bath afterwards…..) and him just being the utmost gentleman

whenever he cooks dinner for you guys, his specialty is any sort of casserole

like idk they’re not super hard to make and there’s so many variations of them so i feel like this and diff pasta dishes would be his go to’s for when he wants to cook for you

CONSTANTLY talking about you to perez. you and her have grabbed coffee before and she told you that whenever he has the chance it’s “that reminds of me of when y/n and i-” or “y/n did this yesterday, she’s so great” or “you guys went on a date last night? aw! did i tell you about y/n and i’s date where we-”

she loves it tho. bc she does care about strahm a lot. so seeing him happy with someone who’s good for him makes her so excited

(i feel like this about literally every man in saw….) but mans is SASSY

always has a smartass remark to anything you have to say to him

AND always rolling his eyes omg. they’re gonna roll out of his mf head if he doesn’t chill

“peter, will it really make a difference if you leave work at 10 tonight instead of staying until 3?”

you can literally hear his eyes roll over the phone

you get frustrated and hang up (half jokingly)

he calls you back 15 seconds later and you can hear him getting in the car and shutting the door in the background

“happy now, sweetheart?”

(onto the smutty parts….)

everyone says this but i do agree that peter is a soft dom (most of the time….)

is the type to lay you across his lap and make you count how many times he spanks you

“keep counting, darling.”

constantly has his arms wrapped around you while he’s deep inside you

uses his tie to tie your hands together

he’s never super rough, which you don’t mind, he’s loverboy who just wants to make you feel good

his pleasure comes second

which is why he would literally go down on you for days if he could

(he’s came in his pants multiple times solely from pleasuring you)

like i said, he’s so romantic. his hands are constantly roaming your body, telling you how beautiful and perfect you are

doesn’t have many kinks, but i feel like he’d be willing to try a lot of different stuff

#peter strahm #peter strahm x reader #peter strahm headcanon #peter strahm smut #peter strahm imagine #peter strahm hc #saw #saw franchise #saw movies #saw iv #saw v #saw x reader

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hoffmanxfurthermore · 8 months

Text

The Drug In Me Is You

(Mark Hoffman/Peter Strahm X reader)

You and Mark break up for a while, during which you hook up with someone else. You two get back together, promising to keep no secrets. He asks if you were w anyone else, and you finally admit you hooked up with Peter Strahm. Mark leaves for a couple of hours, only to come back with Peter. This is a really bad clickbait intro, lol.

I've never written a three-way scene before, but I tried my best!!!

Content: rough sex, mmf, three-way, cussing, dominance, bondage, whatever, this is tumblr, you know what you're walking into.

Word count: 2.5k

Xxx

"No more secrets," Mark promises, holding your hand and looking into your eyes.

"No more secrets." You smile at him.

Secrets were what split you up. He had kept something huge and betrayed you. You didn't see each other for months. You didn't talk to each other. It was as if both of you had completely vanished from the others' lives.

You're both walking home from the bar, where you just randomly ran into him. All the memories came flooding back, so you just said Fuck it and approached him.

Suddenly, Mark stops, turning to face you.

"Were you with anyone... while we were apart?" Mark asks. A question you've been dreading. You feel your blood run cold as you look up at him. He can see it in your eyes. You weren't going to deny it, but your eyes said it all. Slowly nodding, you close your eyes in shame. No more secrets. That was the deal. No matter how painful it would be.

"Who was it?"

You slowly open your eyes and look at him, tears starting to well up.

"If I tell you... you'll hate me..." You say in a shaky whisper.

"Depending on who it is, I can't promise that I won't be mad. But I could never hate you, y/n," Mark reassures you, squeezing your hand.

You take a deep breath.

"Dont tell me yet. Not here. Let's wait till we're inside."

You nod, a feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach. His place is right down the street, and you're certain you'll never see it, or him, again after he finds out who. With each step, the knot in your stomach got tighter and tighter.

Once inside, you slowly sit on his couch. Your fingers nervously pull on the threads of the frayed fabric. Mark sits next to you.

"Please tell me, y/n, who was it?" Mark's voice is shaky, nervous. He's dreading your response just as much as you are dreading telling him.

"It was...." You keep your eyes closed, too ashamed to look at him, "it was... Peter..." You whisper.

"WHAT?!" He barks, jumping up from the couch. Your eyes snap open.

"I thought you hated him! How could you..." His voice is breaking as he paces the room, his hands in his hair.

"I do! I only did it to try to get over you, it didn't work!"

"Peter Strahm? Of all people?!"

"What do you want me to say, Mark?! That I fucked him to get back at you?"

"Did you?!"

"No!" You yell. "Well... maybe a little..." You confess, burying your face in your hands.

"I can't do this..." Mark rushes to put his coat on. He swings the front door open and storms out.

"Mark!" You scream as the door slams shut.

You quickly turn into a blubbering mess, curling up on the brown worn-out couch as you bawl your eyes out. This is the very thing you were afraid of happening.

You must have cried yourself to sleep because the next thing you know, Mark is pulling you off the couch and leading you to his room.

"Mark, what?" You ask groggy.

He doesn't say a word as he gently pushes you onto the bed. As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you gasp. Standing next to Mark is Peter strahm.

"Why is Peter here?" You ask.

The subtlest smirk rests upon Mark's face as he glances at you, then Peter.

"Did you like fucking him?" Mark asks.

"You told him?!" Peter demands.

"Yes... and yes..." You say, lowering your gaze to the floor.

Mark is standing behind Peter. He pushed Peter forward towards you.

"I want you to show me what you did with him."

"What?" You and Peter ask in unison.

You can't help but be a little excited. You know Mark thinks you're not going to be into this, but you are.

"I can tell you want to. Show me how he made you feel," Mark turns to Peter, "Show me how you make her feel."

You always thought Peter was attractive, but you're nervous, with Mark here. At the same time, though, you're biting your lip, looking up at the two men standing before you, imagining what's going to happen.

Peter quickly hops onto the bed, grabbing your hair and pressing his lips against yours, seemingly already forgetting that Mark is in the room. Before you know it, the making out is heavier as clothes are less on the both of you, and more on the floor. You catch a glimpse of Mark smiling as he leans against the wall.

Peter isn't as aggressively dominant as Mark is, but he's still a little bit dominant. You're both now wearing nothing but your skin as Peter pins your wrists to either side of your head, gently, but firmly. His knees push your legs apart and you wrap your legs around him as he slowly kisses your neck.

"Are you sure, with Mark here?"

You'd forgotten about him for a moment, but you glance at Mark, who nods, then back at Peter.

"Yes..." You whisper, already very turned on by what is happening. You can feel Peter's erection throbbing against your thigh as you bite your lip, begging for him. His tongue slowly travels around your lips as he slides inside you. It's not very thick, but it's long, you can feel it bumping against your cervix as he slowly moves inside you.

"Fuck... Peter..." You whine as you raise your hips to meet his thrusts.

"Oh god, y/n.." he gasps as his hand releases your wrist and travels to your right breast, playing with your nipple.

Mark bites his lip as his dick starts to get hard in his pants. He can't help but get super horny at the sight of you being fucked by another man.

You bite your lip and smile as you turn your head to face Mark, teasing him. Mark is licking his lips and loosening his tie, his jacket is already on the floor. You turn back to Peter.

"Fuck me, Peter, make him jealous..." You moan, looking into his eyes.

Peter grips your right tit hard as he slams into you, making you wail out in pleasure.

"I'll make him so fucking jealous," he growls in your ear, glancing back at Mark. You claw at his back with your free hand as your legs start to shake around him.

"Fuck..." You gasp, "peter, I'm gonna...."

Suddenly, Mark lurches forward, shoving Peter off of you roughly.

"Hey! What the fuck?!" Peter shouts, stumbling off the bed.

You look up at Mark, standing above you. You hadn't noticed that he'd stripped his clothes off. He grabs your hair, yanking your head back sharply.

"You don't get to cum for anyone except me, got it?"

"I wasn't done yet!" Peter yells, annoyed, covering himself with his hands.

"Sit your ass down. I'll show you how you really take care of her," Mark said in a low voice as he climbs onto the bed.

Peter crawls toward you, to which Mark responds by grabbing his hair and pulling him off the bed. He drags Peter to the floor, using his tie to bind Peter's hands behind his back.

"You're going to watch me fuck her, the right way. You're shit," Mark says in a stern voice, gripping Peter's chin, making him face him, his face mere inches away from Peter's. Peter watches as Mark gets onto the bed. You smile at Peter as Mark begins slowly kissing up your inner thigh, his eyes locked onto Peter's as he makes him watch. Licking your lips, a low moan escapes your throat as you lace your fingers into Mark's soft, dark hair.

"That's it, baby..." he mutters as his fingers trace over your already wet pussy.

"You really liked fucking him didn't you?"

After a second, his hand shoots up your body, gripping your throat tight as his body weight presses down on you.

"Didn't you?!" He demanded.

"Yes..." You choke.

"More than me?" His grip around your throat tightens as he shoves two fingers inside your dripping cunt.

"Fuck!" You gasp as he curls his fingers up, hitting that sweet spot.

"This is how you fucking take care of her," Mark says sharply, looking at Peter as he rapidly thrusts his fingers inside you.

Mark yanks his fingers out and grabs your hips, shoving you over on your stomach. He pulls your hips so your ass is up in the air facing Peter. One hand grabs at your ass cheeks while the other shoves three of his thick fingers inside you.

"Fucking watch this, Peter. Bet you've never done this before.."

Mark rapidly fucks you with his fingers, leaning down to kiss and nibble on your right cheek as his thumb massages your sensitive clit.

"Fuck.. mark...."

"Aww is someone gonna cum? Already?"

Before you can answer, you tighten around his fingers, yelling a string of cuss words as your whole body shakes, your eyes roll back in your head as you cum hard.

You catch a glimpse of Peter, a look of desperation in his eyes as he struggles against his restraints. Mark grips your hair, forcing you to look at him.

Peter bites his lip, still struggling against the tight tie around his wrists. He is trying to stand up but can't seem to.

Mark shoves you onto your side as you gasp, coming down from the orgasm. You watch as he climbs off the bed and walks towards Peter.

"Lick it off," he instructs, grabbing Peter's hair with one hand as he holds his fingers, slick with your juices, to Peter's face.

You watch as Peter eagerly licks Mark's fingers clean, savoring the taste, looking at you as he does it. You lick your lips as you watch him, turning to sit upright on the bed.

Once he's done, Mark reaches behind Peter and undoes the knot around his wrists.

"You're gonna suck his dick while I fuck you," Mark says to you. You gasp and bite your lip, you were not expecting this at all.

"Bend over like how you were before. You, get in front of her," he says to Peter, to which he quickly obliges. You lick your lips as Peter's hard dick stares you straight in the face, he gently pets your hair as you feel Mark enter you from behind.

"Fu--" You start but Peter quickly shoves his throbbing cock into your open mouth.

"That's it.. fuck..." Peter groans as he grabs your hair, slowly fucking your mouth as Mark wastes no time pounding into you from behind. The only thing stopping you from making noise.is Peter's cock jabbing into the back of your throat over and over again. This is a whole new experience for you, you're cock drunk off both of them as they use you.

You can barely focus on either of them as the other thrusts into you. You can do nothing but lie there as both men use you. You wrap your lips tightly around Peter, you can tell by his thrusts and his moans that he's getting close. You look up at him, begging with your eyes.

Mark's hips slam into you, pushing you forward, making you take Peter's throbbing length down your throat. Tears stream down your face as you gag on his dick. Peter thrusts into your mouth as you're pushed forward. So deep, his balls are slapping against your chin.

"That's it... take it all.... fuuuck," Peter groans, gripping your hair. Peter is trying as hard as he can to not cum, but the sight of you being pounded from behind as you suck him off is too much. In one quick motion, he yanks your head back, stroking his cock a few more times as he paints your face white. Mark withdraws from you, and you collapse on the bed, gasping for breath.

You know it's far from being over, Mark tends to last a long time. Both men look down at you, saying nothing as Mark rolls you onto your back. Peter wipes your face off with his shirt he retrieved from the floor.

"Now it's our turn to make you cum," Mark purrs as he positions himself between your legs.

Peter crawls next to you on your right side as Mark pushes into you. His dick isn't super long, but it's definitely thicker than average.

Peter's fingers make their way down your body as Mark fucks you slowly.

"God... fuck!" You yell as Peter's fingers rub slow circles on your clit, matching the other man's thrusts. His lips find their way to your nipple, gently nibbling and licking, eliciting more noises from you. Mark's hand makes its way to your left tit and squeezes, fucking into you faster, harder.

"Please... please... don't stop," you beg, squeezing your eyes shut, gasping for breath. In response, Peter bites down on your nipple. Not hard enough to break skin, but hard, making you scream.

Peter quickens his pace massaging your clit as Mark pounds into you at a steady pace, making your legs shake. You're getting close, you can feel it building up.

"Cum for us, baby," Peter whispers in your ear, his fingers massaging your sensitive spot in circles that feel so good. The second he says that, you become unraveled, your whole body shaking as Mark fucks you hard and deep.

"Fuck!" Mark gasps as he himself can't hold on any longer. He bites his lip and groans loudly as he releases inside you, filling you with his cum. You gasp for breath as you come down, Peter ever so lightly massaging your pulsating clit. Becoming too sensitive, you shove Peter's arm away as your breathing relaxes.

Mark pulls his dick out of you, both of your cum dripping off of it.

"Oh my god," Peter mutters, "that was... so hot."

You smile at him, then at Mark as he climbs onto the bed, to the side opposite of Peter. It's relaxing, and you feel content, having both of them on either side of you. Feeling worn out from the encounter, the three of you just lie there.

"I should go," Peter says suddenly, as he pulls himself to his feet and begins getting dressed. Mark stands, too, and pulls a blanket around his naked body.

"Listen, you don't tell anybody about this," he orders sternly, his sharp voice sending shivers down your spine. It's rare you hear him speak like this. Peter simply nods as he buttons up his white shirt, fixing his hair.

"Maybe we can do this again sometime?" You suggest shyly. Peter looks at you, then at Mark.

"Maybe, we'll see."

"I'd really like to," Peter adds.

Both men look at you, still naked on the bed. Finally, Mark nods.

"Fine. But we tell nobody."

"Understood," peter says calmly before leaving the room. You hear the front door open and shut and you turn to Mark.

"I was mad at first when you told me," Mark says, "but thinking about you with him was pretty hot after I got over being angry."

"I knew you would be, but I was not expecting this to happen. I had fun."

"Me too." He smiles at you.

#saw #mark hoffman #costas mandylor #detective hoffman #sawposting #mark hoffman x reader #fanfic #smut #peter strahm #peter strahm x reader #Spotify

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lightofthemoonglow · 11 months

Note

Could I request Peter Strahm and his s/o trying for a baby? c:

can be read as connected to this but it also totally isn't. It's everything and nothing lol

It’s over, it’s finally over.

Peter Strahm comes home to a quiet house and for the first time in a very long time, he is certain that there is nothing waiting for him in the dark. He takes off his coat, hangs it next to hers and makes his way upstairs, to the bedroom where she’s waiting for him.

It’s taken a long time to get to this point. To where he can fully enjoy the sight of her on his bed. Hair messily piled on top of her head, one of his shirts on as she reads a library book, the TV playing softly. At first, he had insisted that she keep it off when she’s home alone, as if that would help her if one of those crazy assholes got loose. But things had changed. And now it was all over, so it could be as loud as she wanted.

Instead of using his words, he slid into bed with his, taking her face in his hands. The book is soon forgotten, falling to the floor as he presses his body against hers, his tongue shoving its way into her mouth. She’s used to this, to seemingly sudden moments of passion. Sometimes, they don’t even make to the bedroom. The subject he was about to broach had first come up during one of those moments, one of the times they had been in the entryway, her back against the wall as he had fucked her so hard that she hadn’t been able to answer him until he had stopped.

“I’m ready,” Strahm whispers against her mouth and her face lights up, her hands going to grab fistfuls of his hair. He’s hard, practically twitching at the thought. They had agreed to wait, wait until it was safe. And it was over now, they would be able to raise their child without worrying about Jigsaw or his fucked up little group of followers.

She’s been ready for this ever since they had first talked about it. They wanted this, but knew they needed to wait. But she knew what things with Peter wouldn’t be easy all of the time. But when it was good, it was amazing. And it looked like things were going to get better from now on.

“Yes, yes,” she says, unable to stop smiling as she takes off his pants, fumbling with the belt in her excitement. He kisses her neck, cupping a breast as she babbles about how excited she is, that she wants this more than anything in the world. His shirt is quickly on the floor and he's crouched between her legs, getting her ready for the main event.

"I fucking love you," he whispers as he slides in and she knows he means it.

#peter strahm x reader #agent strahm x reader #slasher x reader #slasher imagines #sorry it's not super smutty #I've written so much that my brain is smut fried

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vampirebloodie · 10 months

Text

One Piece For Each | Mark Hoffman x Reader x Peter Strahm (Threesome)

Summary: Where Strahm and Hoffman fought so much over you that you decided to give a piece of yourself to each.

Warning: NSFW Smut 18+, creampie, degradation kink, threesome, DP.

You were one of the precinct's main criminal experts and were always busy, especially after Jigsaw's cases increased drastically, which led to special agent Peter Strahm joining the case to help with the investigations, which despite being under the command of the detective, Mark Hoffman, it seemed like weren't moving forward even with all the clues you gave at each crime scene you investigated. You even had a hunch about what could be distracting the detective, ever since you started working together Hoffman tried to ask you out on a date, but you always ended up saying no because you didn't want to mix your personal life and work, especially when half of your colleagues work were dying in traps, anyway there was no point in ignoring Hoffman when Peter arrived and started acting the same way, the worst thing is that the two of them in the same environment always ended up in a huge argument and every time for the same reason:

You.

As much as you always said that there was no point in them fighting because you wouldn't accept either of them, it seemed like they were both deaf, they never listened to you and continued with the arguments.

You had just collected some DNA samples and sent them to the laboratory, when you heard a knock on the door, you allowed entry and soon saw the agent in front of you.

“Hey Peter, how can i help you today?”

You turned your chair towards him.

“Well... How's the research going?”

“Hmm, it's a difficult question to answer, i think it's under control, i sent some samples to the laboratory today, in 24 hours we will have some possible results.”

“You’re doing so well at this job, im sure your position will level up when this is all over.”

“Thank you very much for your opinion, agent. Is good to hear that."

You smiled and so did he.

“Actually, i was thinking maybe the two of us...”

He was interrupted when that voice crossed the room, Peter's eyes rolled back in such a way that you thought they wouldn't come back.

“Y/n, you.... Hi agent Strahm, it's not a surprise to find you here, after all you chase her every day, don't you?”

Hoffman entered the room and had already started to accuse the agent, you sighed knowing what was coming.

"What? I think you’re the one who chases her every day by coming to this same room.”

Strahm stood up and you decided to say something.

“You two do this, and you want to know? I'm tired."

You stood up and took off your coat, leaving you with just your blouse, the men looked at you with a confused look. You went to the door and locked it.

“Well, i can't choose just one, i like both of you. And i guess i don’t have two holes for nothing.”

You explained with a smile on your face, both of their eyes widened.

"What do you mean by that?"

Strahm asked.

“Don't be silly. I can take both of you.”

You stood between the two and pulled each of their ties, who did you want to fool? Peter and Mark were two handsome, attractive men, good at talking and looking like they could give a great fuck, you just wanted to know if that was true or just something in your head. You had never tried double penetration, but it didn't seem like something that difficult to handle, and after all, there was a first time for everything.

“You want us to.... That? At the same time?"

Peter asked and you rolled your eyes, pretending you hadn't heard that question.

“Are you stupid or are you pretending? This slut wants us both to fuck her, but if you don’t want to i ll be happy, there’s more for me.”

Hoffman spoke without patience, your eyes lit up when you heard the way the detective had called you, you moaned feeling your hair being pulled back, seeing Peter with his hand gripping your locks, his personality seemed to have changed in a second.

"Not even. One piece for each, that's how prostitutes are treated. Honey, if you can’t handle it, it’s not our problem.”

Peter smiled and practically pushed you into Hoffman's arms, who grabbed you by the arms and threw you against the table, knocking all the papers and pens onto the floor. He placed you on all fours and forced your head down, his hands went to the belt of his pants, which he soon removed and his zipper was opened with the pants lowered, revealing his thick and large dick that was dripping with precum, you licked your lips before running his tongue all over Hoffman's length and putting it all in his mouth at once, starting to suck him, your tongue went around and around against his member, Mark sighed and moaned softly.

“You like it, don't you? Likes to suck an older man”

He said, grabbing your hair and starting to fuck your mouth, you choked every time you felt the tip of his dick touch your throat. You felt Strahm's hands on your ass, lifting your skirt up and removing your panties, he gave your ass a few slaps before you felt his hot tongue passing through all your parts from your asshole to your pussy, you moaned against Hoffman's cock, sending vibrations that made him groan, your eyes closed enjoying the feeling of Peter's tongue being rubbed, smearing all your parts.

“Not yet, bitch.”

The detective said and took his dick out of your mouth, making you let out an angry murmur, Strahm came out from behind you and soon the detective's dick was replaced by the agent's, it wasn't as big as his but it was thicker, anyway you were loving all those new sensations.

“I’m going to destroy that pussy.”

Hoffman spoke before thrusting himself inside you, making you roll your eyes at the unexpected pain of having your pussy being widened by his dick, before you could get used to his size he started to make rough movements inside you, sure enough to take out his anger at having been rejected so many times by you. You sucked and licked Peter's cock feeling Hoffman's balls hit your ass, causing a loud noise in the room. Fuck, there was no one else there but you guys.

“My turn.”

Peter spoke, lightly stroking your hair before leaving your mouth, Hoffman complained but soon left you, there was a small armchair nearby that you used sometimes. The agent's hands grabbed your waist and took you to the armchair, where he sat down and made you sit on his lap, you took a deep breath before taking his dick and fitting it at your entrance, the two of you moaned together, which sounded like to made Hoffman feel angry, he pushed you at once, making you lean more towards him, you felt the detective's cock brush your ass a few times before forcing himself inside you, you screamed against Peter's shoulder, feeling the pain and burning of your asshole being widened by his cock, tears ran down your face, but they both seemed to ignore it.

“Now the little bitch is going to cry? You chose this. Now can handle."

He said, squeezing your ass tightly, which probably left the mark of his hand there, Hoffman had a huge feeling of ownership when it came to you. You felt him enter at once and let out a silent scream, your eyes widened, Hoffman moaned loudly feeling how tight you were.

“Holy shit, you’re kneading my dick. It’s fucking tight.”

He spoke, making light movements and letting out a few grunts, Peter also started to move inside your pussy. It was a whole new sensation having two things filling your holes at the same time, you were torn between pain and pleasure, both on a slightly extreme level. You bit Peter's shoulder, feeling the detective increase his movements while the agent's hands opened your buttocks with the intention of making Hoffman fit better and increase his movements without hurting you so much in the process.

“Fuck, i had forgotten what it felt like to fuck such a tight pussy.”

Peter sighed, squeezing your waist tightly, now both men moved inside you with force, sweat ran down their faces and their moans mixed together. Peter's hand went to your clitoris where he started to make quick movements, you shivered and closed your eyes enjoying the sensation, Hoffman pulled your tank top up exposing your boobs and grabbed them, squeezing your nipples, you felt like you couldn't take it anymore all those sensations of pleasure at the same time.

“Enough, i-im going to cum.”

You warned, squeezing both of their cocks in your holes, a shock wave hit your body and you soon fell on Peter's shoulder, breathing heavily, they increased their movements in a rough tone and you screamed. The two gave a few more thrusts before you felt their hot liquids filling your holes, you breathed heavily, then they came out of you and Peter got up from the armchair, leaving you sitting there, you ignored the pain you were feeling.

"It saw? Now you don’t have to fight because of me, one piece for each.”

#saw #imagines #saw x reader #mark hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #saw franchise #peter strahm #peter strahm x reader #costas mandylor #saw posting

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plutoswritingplanet · 9 months

Text

Enabler (Mark Hoffman x Female!Reader)

a/n: y'all missed me? i binged the entirety of the saw franchise while sick and... yeah.. f the police right?

Warnings: Non-Con (like, fr, be warned, be safe), a lazy ass idea for a Jigsaw trap, Workplace Crush heehee, Smut, Strahm's also here

Summary: You've survived a test, made for you by Jigsaw. As your two coworkers visit you in the hospital, Hoffman thinks back to that faithful night of your kidnapping. Cross-Posted on AO3.

Live or die, detective. Make your choice.

The mechanically distorted voice follows you through your journey to regaining consciousness. It's words flicker in and out of existence, as your eyelids flutter against the white light of the hospital room. Your eyes water and you groan, as the mixture of the night's events comes back to you in a wave of nausea and dull pain engulfing your entire body. Your fingers scratch lightly at the crispy white duvet, and you feel every single tendon in your hand flex, earning another groan from you.

There's a steady sound of beeping present in the room. It makes your brows furrow slightly. It must've been really bad, if they had you hooked up to a heart monitor. You don't really remember just how bad it was, your mind flickers to the moment you slid your hand into the metal box and then... Pain, so much pain, and the smell of blood that follows you like a phantom even in the pristine light of the hospital room.

- Thank God you're awake. - a voice brings you back from beneath the surface, a familiar one, laced with inexplicable worry.

You force your eyes to open all the way. Bright light attacks your pupils and you can't bring your arm up to shield yourself, even if you tried. Pain, bordering on tearing, floods your system whenever you try to force your upper limbs to work. Tears form beneath your eyelids and you blink forcefully to distribute moisture across your eyeballs.

There are two men in your room, and even their blurred sillhouettes are enough to let a wave of relief wash over you.

One standing by the foot of your bed, towering over the entire space, even with the slight hunch in his back. The other one sits by your side, hands fiddling with the edge of a green blanket the hospital staff must've left for you. Even with the grogginess of sleep still hanging onto you, you immediately notice the sudden lack of his wedding ring, which he usually kept on. Perhaps he's just washed his hands. On instinct, your head rolls over towards the sitting man, and your lips pull back into a tired smile of recognition.

- Hello ladies... - your voice doesn't sound like a voice at all.

It's hoarse, barely recognizable, sounding more like a huff of wind going through rusty machinery. Still, Special Agent Peter Strahm lets out a puff of air, tension sliding off of his shoulders as if a tangible weight has been lifted from them. Your eyes shift downwards, towards his hands, and you watch as his fingers twitch, so close to grabbing yours, yet deciding against it at the last minute.

God bless professionalism, you think bitterly, before straightening your head on the pillow and looking towards the other man.

Detective Mark Hoffman watches you intensly from the foot of your bed, his expression unreadable, as he takes in the sight of you. Face almost washed out of any color, sunken cheeks and eyes, lips so close to blue it's almost making him pity you. Almost.

Then, there are the bandages. Starting at both of your palms, running up and up, all the way towards your elbows, where your skin peaks at him from under the hospital gown. They've managed to stop most of the bleeding, but he can see clear as day, specs of drying blood showing through the cloth, creating a contrast that's strangely hypnotizing. He doesn't want to imagine how your arms look underneath. Doesn't need to, he has seen those wounds first hand. Both after you were rescued... And before that.

- How long have I been out? - you ask after a moment of silence, your voice regaining a bit of your usual color.

Mark opens his mouth, but it's Strahm who answers you first. The Detective bites down on a scowl. He was never too interested in literary heights, but even he must admit there is something poetic about the both of them crowding around your bed, while you lay there, stricken by tragedy. It makes him feel ridiculous. You make him feel ridiculous.

- Two days - Strahm supplies, his eyes flickering around your face, the bed, the medical apparatus - You've been unconscious most of the time, lost a whole lot of blood.

To that, you scoff, or laugh, neither of them are sure. Of course you've lost a lot of blood. That was the point of the game, wasn't it? To bleed yourself dry. And supposedly some important life lesson was also hidden in there, but after five minutes of pissing blood from your veins into a beaker, you really must've lost it in translation.

- Fuck... - you sigh, slowly trying to move your muscles under the covers.

You try to lift your hand towards the bedside table, where a water bottle with a straw is waiting for you, but your hand starts to shake so badly, you have to give up. Oh, you hated this. This feeling of helplessness. That's when Hoffman springs to action, closing the distance between himself and the other side of your bed. He snatches the bottle from the table like a man on a mission, and places the straw right at your lips.

- Thanks - you mutter, eyes connecting with his for a split second, before focusing all your efforts on drinking.

You don't remember water tasting this good, and as you swallow, you let yourself hum with delight. After a while, the bottle is finished, and Mark dutifully places it back on the table, debating whether to shuffle back to his original place, or to somehow stay here, looming over you as there was no chair for him to sit in. You decide for him, patting the side of your bed and attempting to shift your legs a little, to make more room. He takes the hint and plops himself right next to your foot, his hand coming up to grab at your calf reassuringly. Immediately after that, all reservations seem to leave Strahm, as his hand slides over yours in a warm embrace.

If you weren't so goddamn tired, you would've laughed. Two manly men, fighting like a bunch of petty schoolgirls. Your chest swells with something dangerously close to affection. Quick, someone call for the doctors to bring back professionalism into the room.

- Do you remember anything from that night? - Hoffman asks with slight tension in his voice.

- Is this really the best time to be asking this? They've barely woken up - Strahm's always close to outrage when Hoffman's around, and you silence him with a slight shake of your head.

- It's fine, I can talk - you mutter, brain already working overtime, as you think hard on every single detail from your recent kidnapping.

- I called you.

Your eyes focus on Hoffman, and you can see his jaw shift under his skin as he swallows. His lips twitch into a small smile, but you can see worry settling heavily over his brows, as he looks over the bandages on your arm, his thumb rubbing circles into the skin of your calf through the blanket.

- That you did. - and at the time, it almost startled him to death.

***

The puff of smoke you let out flows into the night air of the city, as you lean your head against the cool wall of the restaurant. You're dressed a bit too elegantly, too much like a costume of a successful woman, with skinny heels and too big of a coat.

Hoffman watches with unreserved fascination the way neon lights illuminate the column of your throat. Hidden in the shadows of his car, finally he can watch you without the confines of his professional reputation restraining him. Only if for a fleeting moment, before he has to put on the mask and fulfill his other duty.

Still, his eyes glide greedily over your body, dolled up specially for this fancy dinner with your highschool "friends". You've been buzzing around the station for almost a week now, complaining about this particular meeting, and every time you've mentioned it, Hoffman was making plans. All he had to do, was wait until you were ready to leave. He was certain, you would like a long, calming walk after this whole spectacle. You always did those, whenever a particularly hard hitting case appeared.

Another puff of smoke, and you reach towards the pocket of your coat, fishing out your phone and flicking it on. His eyebrows raise in curiosity, as he watches you dial a number and place the device between your shoulder and your ear. Your hand reaches down to loosen the strap on your heel, and Hoffman is so transfixed by your display of calculated clumsiness, he almost flies from his seat, when his phone starts to ring in his pocket.

Your number is displayed proudly next to your name, and he blinks a few times, before answering.

- Hoffman speaking.

- It's me - your words are slightly slurred, and from his hiding spot he can see the smile forming on your painted lips.

- Did something happen? Why are you calling me? - he asks, trying to sound as bored and tired as he possibly can, while fighting off the sudden jolt of adrenaline surging through his body.

He sees you straighten out against the wall, finally giving up on the strap of your heel. Then he hears the shuffling. And laughter, a short chuckle that sends something swirling in his stomach.

- I'm fine, I'm fine... I just... - you hesitate, hand coming up to tug at the roots of your hair, before taking a long drag from your cigarette, irresponsible, Hoffman thinks - I just wanted to hear a voice of someone who's not a complete asshole.

His laugh comes out in a huff, and it seems contagious enough to make you chuckle as well. If only you knew on how many layers you were in the wrong. Perhaps you'll find out someday, most likely not. Not after tonight.

Still, the sheer notion of you calling him of all people. Calling him instead of your favorite Special Agent even. There's a feeling dangerously close to pride climbing up Hoffman's chest, and he has to swallow it down, before he does something stupid. Which, in this case would be not doing anything. He has to remind himself, why this whole situation is taking place, and all feelings of flattery turn to ash in his mouth. His eyebrows furrow.

- I take it the dinner isn't going well.

- Oh it's fucking terrible - you shake your head in frustration - I don't really care about what they say, I just want to eat food. Which, as it turns out, is a lot to ask for at a dinner party.

- Want me to come over? - he asks, hand playing idly with the black synthetic hair of his pig mask.

For a second, you seem to be actually considering it, and Hoffman would lie, saying it didn't make something swell up in his chest again. Dangerous, very dangerous.

- Nah - you sigh, before throwing a long, disgusted look at the door to the restaurant - Give me permission to ditch them.

He doesn't hesitate to engage in this short, familiar dance of yours.

- You have my permission to ditch them.

Another sigh, then a wave of giggles. Your expression in the neon lights looks almost affectionate. Hoffman reaches for the chloroform bottle.

- Thank you - is this a blush Hoffman sees on your cheeks, or is it just his mind supplying what he wishes was true, who's to say - For the talk and everything. I'll see you at the station.

- Good night, Detective.

He disconnects with one hand, while the other wrestles the mask over his face.

You don't even notice, when he slips behind you, with a chloroform cloth in his palm. It takes a couple of seconds of wrestling, but it still makes him pretty worked up, in more ways than he has anticipated. There is no screaming, for which he is grateful. Your body is strong against his, as you give him all you've got, trying to shake his much larger frame. Your heel digs painfully into his foot, as you slam it down, and he fights back the urge to scream. You can't hear his voice, it would be too telling. While his one hand presses the cloth to your face, the other tries to contain the flurry of panicked punches you throw his way.

The way you wriggle against him shouldn't really affect him that much, hasn't affected him with any other victims. But the sheer fact it's you he's overpowering, seems to be enough. He balls the cloth in his hand sticking it further down your mouth, and shudders at the feeling of your teeth dragging against his leather gloves.

A muffled scream is all that you have left, as your hips buck into his forcefully, hands scratching down his forearms. His breathing heavily behind you, watching with mixed emotions as, finally, consciousness leaves you.

You fall down in a heap at his feet, to which Hoffman has to admit, he has never felt so powerful. There's blood on your stiletto and a perfectly round hole in his shoe. He grunts in annoyance at the prospect of having to hide a limp for a couple of weeks.

Getting your lifeless body into the trunk of his car is laughably easy.

***

- So you didn't see who attacked you? - Hoffman clarifies, and you nod solemnly.

His hands flex, your leg underneath his palm twitching slightly. Strahm sighs heavily next to you, his head hung low, as he massages your fingers so gently, it's almost as if he's afraid you'll break under his touch.

You appreciate that, him leaving his bad cop persona on the hanger by the door. Still, between his tactful worry and Hoffman's stressed twitchiness, one of you has to be the stern policeman. And it seems this time the honor falls on your shoulders. So, you wiggle in your place, rising into a sitting position. The suddenly stern expression seems almost foreign on your sunken face, a caricature of a person you used to be. No, scratch that, you still are. This is the one thing you won't allow Jigsaw to corrupt.

- He's strong though - you say, eyes glued to the edge of the green blanket, as you focus on all the sensations from the night of your attack - Uses chloroform to sedate his victims.

- Kramer? - Hoffman asks and you immediately shake your head.

- I can take a dying cancer patient. That man was healthy, fucking gigantic and... - your eyebrows furrow - He caught me by surprise right after we ended the call.

Hoffman looks like he has something else to say, but he swallows thickly, his palm pressing further into your calf. You try to give him a reassuring smile, convince him, that it's alright. It falls flat against his tense expression, and you know deep down, he feels guilty for not talking to you longer, not checking up on you. He shouldn't, but it's just the way he works. And you appreciate it.

He's enjoying himself far more than he would've anticipated, listening to you talk about him without actually knowing anything.

He likes the way your entire face scrunches in focus, trying to remember anything of note, while he's sitting right here, right in front of you. Perhaps he's becoming an adrenaline junkie? All thanks to you. Yes, he thinks, eyes gliding over your disheveled hair, you're absolutely the enabler here, and you don't even realize that.

Even after what he put you through.

His jaw tightens at the thought of you never actually learning from this special, intimate experience he has concocted just for the two of you. Haven't you heard the tape? Or perhaps you're just too goddamn dense to comprehend the lesson. As he looks into your doe eyes filled with pity and misguided understanding, he's beginning to think the latter's the case.

- And after that? - Strahm is still careful, as if you are some startled animal, and Hoffman huffs through his nose, letting some of his bubbling anger out.

You visibly shudder, and while on the surface both men have the same, worried reaction, Hoffman feels as if he's ready to run a marathon. You're scared, scarred forever by him, and yet here you sit, unaware. Letting him pet your leg like some goddamn pet. Good thing Kramer doesn't actually know how to read minds, otherwise Hoffman might end up in a trap himself for just thinking about you.

- I woke up in a chair - you answer after a while, your voice numb and emotionless.

That won't do, Hoffman thinks, eyes burrowing into your skull, as if he wants to drill a hole and look straight into your brain. He wants you crying, unconsolable, changed. That carefree, light persona you've been flaunting before him since the moment you've arrived at his station. He wanted it gone.

- My legs were tied, and my wrists were hanging down from the armrest. There were boxes underneath, with buttons...

Suddenly, you head snaps up, eyes fiery and filled with righteous fire none of the men expected. Hoffman thinks, for just a second, that something has clicked in your mind. Something that would unmask his entire operation. The thought excites and terrifies him at the same time and subcontiously, he throws a quick look towards Strahm, who's too absorbed in your statement to pay him any mind.

- He was checking the restraints when I woke up - there is something in your voice, something that makes Strahm lean closer in his chair, something that keeps Hoffman from breathing too deeply, because deep inside he knows what comes next - I think this whole thing can be psycho-sexual.

There. You can hear the pin drop, as your words register in the men's brains.

- How...? - Strahm starts, but you cut him off harshly.

- He got hard while tying me up.

Silence.

Only the beeping from the medical apparatus can be heard in the room. Strahm closes his eyes, bracing himself for the next question he has to ask. Hoffman on the other hand is becoming redder and redder under the collar of his shirt. How far will you go with your story?

- Did he...? - Strahm swallows, cutting himself off.

Hoffman leans forward, as if he wants to pull the answer from between your teeth himself.

Did he? You're avoiding both their gazes, eyes flickering between your bandaged arms, something darker settling over your features as memories flood you. Did he? Hoffman's hand clamps itself down onto your calf, you can feel all five fingers digging into your flesh. How much will you tell, how much are you willing to share with your darling Special Agent? With him? Hoffman feels his chest tighten, every breath becoming more and more shallow. You, on the other hand, inhale slowly, deeply, then exhale.

- He didn't.

Hoffman wants to laugh.

***

He tightens the restraints on your left arm, when you start to rouse from sleep. Your head lolls to the side, cheek pressing into his arm. He freezes in his spot, one hand flying towards his face to secure the pig mask over his features. Silence hangs heavily between the two of you, cut only by the quiet groans coming from your waking body.

Transfixed, Hoffman watches the way your lips seem to hang slightly open, lipstick smeared, mascara running, staining his shirt, as you all but rub your face against his shoulder. You look lovely like this, so vulnerable, with your face mushed against him. Nothing like the headstrong, strudy woman he's come to know over the short time you've spent at his station.

Were your superiors aware of what they were doing? Sending some pretty young thing, straight from the academy, eyes still shining with ideals, all the way into the heap of corruption that was his city? And right in the middle of the biggest serial killer case the world has ever seen. They must've known you were doomed to fail. The narrative was never on your side, no matter how hard you tried to deny it.

- Mmm... - finally, he can hear your voice get clearer, still groggy from the chemicals he has pumped into your neck - Mark...

He nearly jumps at the sound of his name. Thoughts run rampant through his skull, heart beating so hard, he's scared it will fly right out of his chest. Have you recognized him? He made sure to leave all traces of the Detective Mark Hoffman at the door before starting this. It was impossible, he did everything right.

Your head rolls back against the backrest of the chair, your throat exposed to the world, to his hungry eyes. Your pulse runs rampant through your veins, and Hoffman feels a sudden urge to rip your trachea out with his teeth. Or, press an open mouthed kiss behind your ear, he can't seem to decide.

- Oh, Mark... - a moan slips from your lips, and this time, he fully comprehends what is happening.

The realization runs past his brain and straight to his crotch. With shaking hands he reaches for a leather belt, and forcefully pushes it into your mouth, causing your eyelids to flutter.

Finally, your eyes start to open. Pretty eyes, he thinks, especially now that they're surrounded by dark stains from your mascara, glossy and unfocused. You writhe in the chair, as if you're waking up from a wonderful nap, arms straining against the restraints when you try to stretch. Then, your body freezes, realization that something is terribly wrong settling over you in an almost visible shadow.

Panicked, you turn your head towards him. Tears flow freely down your cheeks, and Hoffman flexes his fingers. The urge to rip his mask off, to show you who he really is grows in him like a tumor.

Oh the look on your face would be something for the history books. Your favorite grumpy detective, your best work buddy. Would the truth about his identity crush you? He liked to think it would. He liked to think it would suck any will to live right out of you.

He wanted to have that power over you.

Hoffman drinks in your terrified expression like a man parched. The confusion between your eyebrows, the click in your jaw, when you realized you've been gagged, the way your eyes find him in the darkness of the room. It's almost too easy to let himself be enchanted by the way you look, so different from your usual appearance.

Where is that young profiler teasing him about his gruff exterior any chance they get? He could never decide whether he wanted to kill you or fuck you in these situations, hiding his frustrations behind an exasperated eyeroll, or a smile if he felt generous.

Right now, he can't decide either, as you begin to move in the chair, tugging at the belts holding your limbs down, scanning the room behind him, You're smart, he knows and despises that with his whole heart. Because if you weren't, he could just write you off as a naive, stupid girl, who doesn't know her place. But he can't, which means everything you've done, you've been doing intentionally, and the thought boils him from the inside.

Your gaze falls towards the boxes under your hands, the slits in the armrests, where stainless steel blades reflect the light from a singular lamp. And the beaker, right in front of you, ready to be filled. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what you're supposed to do, and you give out a pathetic whine, which Hoffman immediately commits to his memory.

Killing you is out of his hands now. The game has been set, and the outcome rests solely on your trembling shoulders. The second part however...

His eyes rake across your entire body, taking in the elegant blouse, which is now stained and torn in a couple of places. The tight pencil skirt you've chosen for the dinner, and how it has ridden up your thighs. Your stockings, torn on your knees, where you fell to the floor. And those damned stilettoes, one of which still has his blood on it's heel . Which reminds him...

Hoffman steps in front of your chair, your eyes following him cautiously. He can see thoughts run rampant through your head, searching for a way to get out, trying to determine his intentions, anything that might be helpful.

Well, good fucking luck Miss Profiler.

He kneels down in front of you, taking a hold of your calf in a manner so gentle he's surprised himself. The leather gloves on his fingers make the task of unclasping the small belt around your leg a hassle, but he doesn't falter. You two have all the time in the world.

Figuratively speaking. He needs to be out of here in half an hour.

The heel slips from your foot and Hoffman lets out a barely audible chuckle, as he's greeted by neon pink nail polish.

Professionalism, you would remind him every single time, whenever he even dreamt of coming closer to you. It was infuriating, the way you led him by his nose, coming to work in the tightest of clothing, swaying your hips like the place belonged to you. And then, you would walk past him with a laugh and wink at Strahm of all people, when you thought he wasn't looking.

His hand splays out all across your calf, a touch so unexpected, he feels your muscles jump under his fingers. All your focus shatters immediately, as his second hand joins the other, running up and down your leg, stopping just short of your thigh. Realization hits you like a ton of bricks, and he follows your line of vision straight to a very visible problem brewing in his trousers. Mentally, he scolds himself for loosing control so easily.

If Kramer could see him now, he'd shoot him on the spot.

But then again, maybe not. After all he agreed to let Hoffman orchestrate this entire game, and then allowed him to carry it out, despite his connections to the victim. You could never guess with that old bastard, and for that, Hoffman is eternally grateful.

Your body twitches in the chair, as he finally drags his hands higher. You squirm, leather gloves feeling foreign on your skin.

He knows, he knows, he wants to coo at you from under the mask, swallowing the urge with a sigh. You can't hear his voice, he reminds himself, almost too enraptured by the heat radiating off of your body.

He continues to massage your leg, fingers hooking into the torn material of your stocking, pulling at it, tearing it further in an agonizingly slow pace. Almost as if he wants to watch closely as the fibers give away. Then, in a sudden change of pace he rips them entirely apart, until they fall in strips of sheer fabric on the chair.

A gasp escapes you, and you spring into action, legs clamping shut in an instant. You're fast, but Hoffman is faster, and he wedges both his hands between your shaking thighs. It takes little to no effort to open you up again, and he leans down, squeezing his torso between your knees.

Time freezes for a moment, as the both of you watch each other closely. Your chest is rising and falling in rapid succession, as fire begins to brew in your eyes. Hoffman leans even closer, hands skimming just short of your core, as they forcefully drag your skirt up.

God, he loves this look on you. The heat, the anger, the swirling desire. Because he can clearly see the way you take in his frame, unknown to you yet so familiar. Were you able to decipher some familiarities? At this point he can't seem to care, he's so close to his reward.

Touch me, and I'll kill you, your eyes scream at him.

If you kill me, I'll drag you down with me, the dark holes of his mask seem to reply.

Two forceful tugs and the material of your underwear tears from your body. Cold air makes you uncomfortable, yes, but it's nothing compared to the stillness of the man before you. He stares, intensely, for a moment completely frozen in his spot. You can hear deep, heathing breaths coming from the rubber mask and wonder what is going through this strange man's head. For a second you're actually worried this will be the end of it. As much as you hated what was happening to you right now, you would hate it much more, if you were left wanting.

Your worries are disproved in a split-second, as gloved fingers wiggle their way into your core. They take you apart, delicately at first, as if the man before you is trying to commemorate your every nook and cranny to memory. This slow exploration twists into adoration in your mind, as you fight off an onslaugh of shivers deliciously running down your spine. You huff, muscles tensing at the intrusion. Despite your growing wetness, the man in front of you has some real thick fingers, made even bigger by his leather gloves.

He turns his masked head to the side, and you desperately want to know what he's thinking. Your head rolls back, as you bite down on the leather belt in your mouth. Eyes closing, your mind starts to wander into places you're too ashamed to acknowledge.

God, you're sick. Thinking about your much older coworker in this beyond fucked up situation. But your mind has already supplied you with images of him rolling his sleeves up. His eyes following you around the room when he thinks you don't pay attention. Lingering touches that burn through your clothing. Oh, how much you reveled in the attention, how you stored all those small moments in your mind, just to bring them up in the privacy of your home.

Perhaps you deserve to be put in trap, perhaps this is your lesson. Discovering the depths of your depravity.

With a deep sigh, Hoffman pushes his finger in, as far as it can go, and your hips nearly fly off the chair, bucking into his palm. The sound you make bounces off the walls of the room, surrounding him in an echo of your cracking voice. Then, he starts to work you, adding a second finger until you wail through your gagged mouth. His entire arm is put to work, body pressing incredibly closer, as he soaks in your face twisted in pain and pleasure.

This is so much better than what he imagined. And he has had quite the imagination, from the moment you appeared in his life. All the times he would zone out during a meeting, letting you talk to Strahm about a new discovery in the case, while he let his mind wonder. It was torture, pure and simple. There were points where he couldn't be left alone in his office without his pants tightening. Horrible, awful feelings, all of which were your fault.

His fingers curl into you, and for a second you swear you can see stars flying across your vision. He notices the sudden change, and doubles the efforts at hitting thet exact spot over, and over again until your legs start shaking. His leather-clad thumb presses tightly into your bundle of nerves, bordering on overstimulation. While his right hand brings you closer to your release, his left one grabs every inch of flesh it can find, fondling with your breasts, squeezing your throat, playing with your blushed cheeks. The rubber of the pig mask is cold against your collarbones, as the man presses his weight to your front, as if he wants to bury himself into your chest.

No one can hear your screams, no one except Hoffman, and he commits every note to memory. Then, your voice snuffs out completely, as your entire body tenses so much, he's actually concerned you'll free yourself from the binds. Your release sneaks up on you and seizes your body in a sudden chokehold. For a moment, you can't breathe, teeth grinding against each other. God, it's been an embarrassingly long time ago since you've had even a resemblance of an orgasm like this one.

Hoffman feels wetness cover his entire palm, coming towards his arm. You're breathing heavily, when he slides his fingers out of you, the leather gloves shining with a souvenir of your altercation. He straightens himself above you, knees cracking as he does. Then, for a moment he just stands there, his shoulders rising and falling heavily, as he huffs under the mask. With heavy eyelids, you watch, as the man lifts it ever so slightly. Your vision is blurry, but your stomach still does a flip, when you see an outline of his tongue darting out to taste you. Then, the mask is back all the way on, and the reality of your circumstance becomes clear once again.

To his credit, he gives you a couple of minutes to gather yourself, as much as you can in this situation. Cold air makes you squirm in your spot, as you feel the stickiness of your release coat your thighs. Then, the man produces a small casette player from his pocket, presses start, and throws it between your still open legs. He's out of the room before the recording even starts and you're left alone to fight. Or to die.

***

- When I've put my hands in the boxes and pressed the buttons, knives came out from the armrests - you recount, voice steady despite the chills running up your back. - I had to fill the beaker with my blood, then the restraints would give away and the door would open.

- What was your lesson about? - Hoffman asks, a certain smugness to him, one, that makes you shift in your seat.

For a second you were worried, that he deduced what has truly happened from your expression. Perhaps he could read minds, and he discovered you've been thinking of him, while getting off on Jigsaw's apprentices hand. You had to physically shake your head to banish the thought. It was hard enough to look him in the face without impossible scenarios looming over you.

- The tape hasn't been recovered? - you ask with a tightness to your voice.

- It has, but I haven't listened to it yet - a lie.

A big, fat, fucking lie, and both him and Strahm know it. The other man turns to him with clear confusion, but Hoffman doesn't bother even acknowledging him. He's too invested in that delicate, blooming fire, which starts to eminate from your eyes. The same flame he has seen back in that room, where you looked at him like you wanted to devour him whole. And you don't even know it.

- He said - you swallow, and Hoffman follows the movements of your throat greedily. - He said I was an enabler, that I bring out the worst in people - another swallow, your gaze never faltering, and Hoffman feels his mouth run dry - That I revel in other's misery.

- That's not true - Strahm jumps towards you, ready to reassure, to be the gentle hand you undoubtedly need.

- I stabbed the fucker in the foot with my stiletto - your voice breaks, and Strahm pulls away with an unreadable expression.

- And one more thing...

Hoffman turns fully towards you, hands running up and down your calf, as if he's trying to massage the memories back to your brain, make you think of how you fell apart on those exact fingers. The thrill of having you here, so close to the truth is unlike anything he's ever felt.

- I know what he smells like.

Admittedly it's a small thing, an inconsiderable detail, that will most likely help no one. Still, the sheer tone of voice in which you've said it forces Hoffman to make a detour to his house, between the hospital and the police station. There, he takes a black garbage bag and throws away every single piece of cologne he can find in his house.

Except one. A small sample he remembers using that very night. He stores it in his cupboard, right next to his bed, a small reminder of what has transpired between you both. Balancing his work life and his secret identity has never been easy, but now... He's almost tempted to throw it all away if it means looking into your tear stained eyes again.

#mark hoffman x reader #saw x reader #mark hoffman #woop woop thats the sound of the police #woop woop thats the sound of the beast #my writing #saw franchise #saw

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corn-fanfiction · 11 months

Text

Saviour Complex (Pt 1)

Summary: you are a witness in the Jigsaw case, and Mark Hoffman has been assigned to protect you. Neither of you are pleased.

RATED: M

Pairing: Mark Hoffman x Reader

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, Mark Hoffman, acab, power imbalance, slight age difference, reader is so normal, foul language

Sighs. Groans. Morning coffee and crusty eyes. Day in, day out. Chasing his own shadow, winning awards. Mark Hoffman didn't start a narcissist but holy hell if it doesn't suit him.

This is a morning of mornings. The FBI is hot on Strahm’s trail that leads six feet underground. They've eased out from the local Jigsaw case. The only one with any real clue is Hoffman. And no one at the FBI wants to go near him.

And why would they? Their golden boy agent is the Jigsaw apprentice who went ballistic and killed his boss and his ex-partner. The only one to have walked away from this case is Hoffman. As far as they're concerned, he's jinxed, or worse.

So yeah, Hoffman's king of the fucking castle. Everyone either wants to shake his hand or hide in their closets. He doesn't really care which. On top of all that, his work as Jigsaw keeps him from getting bored at work. There's a monotony to being a hometown hero with no one to chase.

This morning, Hoffman makes it past the water cooler before Betty, the secretary pokes her head around the corner.

“Mark? Chief wants to see you.”

Mark finds himself genuinely surprised. For the most part, no one really communicates anything to him other than “go here” and “do this” and it's always in an email.

Mark grabs a water for the walk and enters the Chief's office without knocking. He's at his desk, white hair balding and frayed. He's a man on the verge of constant breakdown.

“Mark!”

He notices Hoffman and perks up, pressing some papers aside.

“Chief. Betty said you needed to see me.”

There's a chair available but Mark doesn't take it. Something about standing tall and composed over your boss who's on his last leg… It's like a drug.

Chief's face falls. “Yeah, uh, about that, Mark…”

Mark does his best to keep his composure but Chief is starting to piss him off.

“What is it, Chief?”

“Mark…I gotta pull you off the Jigsaw case.”

Mark had to fight to keep from crushing the styrofoam cup in his hand.

“I- what the hell for?”

“It doesn't come from me, Hoffman. It's the FBI.”

“Fucking hell-”

“They want you to cool off. Right now they're running ragged and paranoid. They think you might be a liability.”

“It was their fucking boy that went off the rails!”

Chief spreads his hands. “Mark, it's not me. And it's only temporary. Let them settle down and in a month’s time they'll be over it.”

Keep it cool. Keep it cool.

“So what'll it be in the meantime? Meter maid?”

Chief chuckles nervously.

“Security detail.”

“Secur- you're joking.”

“It's easy, Mark. Protective custody. Feds think she might be involved with the Jigsaw case somehow and she's local.” Chief leans over to whisper this next part, “This is my way of keeping you close to things. Understand?”

Mark nods thoughtfully. This could be good. If not good then at least not a hindrance. Whoever this girl is, he doesn't know about her. That can be useful.

“Fine. You got a case file for me?”

“Yeah, but I'd take it with you. She's waiting in your office.”

You've been waiting thirty minutes and you have half a mind to split. You've combed through his bookshelf at least twice now, even pulling a book or two to read the spine, get bored, and replace it.

It's the photos that interest you the most, though. He's accepting an award in one. One’s a newspaper clipping about how he saved a little girl from the Jigsaw killer. Everyone at the restaurant thought it was so vile that a child, a little girl, would end up in one of those death traps. And it was. But you were the only one who thought it didn't quite match up with what Jigsaw had previously done. Everyone knows at this point that Jigsaw only takes people who need to learn a lesson. What lesson could a nine-year-old have to learn from a reverse bear trap?

Another photo has the detective with a young woman. He's younger in the picture as well. They're in front of a river and he looks…happy. Not that you know the man, but just looking at the other photo…it's miles different. Parts are still the same: thick brown hair, strong face, broad shoulders. A handsome man to be sure, but looking at the photos…a devastated one, too.

You turn swiftly on your heels when you hear the office door open. The man himself enters with a cup in one hand and a file (your file, you assume) in the other.

You half expect him to do the stop-and-stare moment, but he spares you a single glance before closing the door, brushing past you, and sitting in the corner of his desk. He sips from his cup. Opens the file.

“You must be y/n.”

“I must be,” you say with a bite. His eyes actually widen at that and you sigh. “Sorry. That came out much bitchier than I intended. You must be Detective Hoffman.”

“I must be.”

“Huh. Cute,” you chuckle at his retort. And for a man who seems so composed, he shifts ever so slightly at your response. “So. Guess we’re gonna be spending a lot of time together.”

“Try not to sound too excited,” he quips, and your face sours; you make no attempt to hide it.

“Forgive me, but if you ask me, and no one did, this is a waste of time and resources.”

“Waste of time?” he flips open your case file and his eyes widen. “You saw the Jigsaw killer?”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose.

“No, I didn’t.”

“That’s not what your witness statement says.”

“I said that I got a glimpse of them, and maybe not even that. Look, I was on my way home when I passed that packaging plant- the one you were in? I heard some weird sounds, saw someone, and reported it. Now I’m starting to wish I hadn’t said a fucking thing.”

He watches you. His eyes, which were something akin to mirthful, have now darkened.

“How much of him did you see?”

Jesus Christ, the man doesn’t get it.

“I. Didn’t. See him. I got his build. That’s it. And now, all of a sudden, I’m in protective custody weeks later. How does that make sense?”

Detective Hoffman places your folder on the desk beside him and goes around to sit in his seat.

“It makes plenty of sense. They’re worried Jigsaw might come after you.”

“That doesn’t make sense, either. Jigsaw only goes after fucked up people, and I hope to fucking god that I’ve never done anything that would land me in one of those traps. I don’t do anything. I’m a waitress. I don’t have friends, I don’t leave my apartment. I don’t do anything.”

He watches you carefully during your tirade. Your voice bridges on hysteria the more you talk and you tell yourself to reel it in. This guy is a smug bastard from what you can tell. The last thing you need is an excuse for him to write you off as crazy.

Unless that’ll get the cops off your back.

Finally, Hoffman sighs and sips his coffee. “Well, it isn’t up to either of us, is it?”

You huff and cross your arms. Your eyes drift to the newspaper clipping.

“Why’d you get benched?”

Hoffman stiffens a little. It would’ve been imperceptible if you weren’t clocking this man’s every move and facial twitch, dissecting every word.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been on the Jigsaw case for years. I looked you up. You saved that little girl after surviving a trap. So, why would they bench their star player?”

Once again, he is silent as he observes you. His stare is starting to weird you out.

“Like I said. Not up to me.”

Walls up. Files locked. No chance in hell you’re getting close enough to figure this one out, so you decide to let it go for now.

“Fine,” you sit in a chair. “So, what now? Are you my live-in bodyguard? You follow me to work?”

“I babysit, yeah.”

You scoff. “Real nice.”

“Like I said.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first five times. Fuck.”

You stand and pace the floor.

“This doesn't have to be painful. I'll just keep my distance and you'll do whatever it is you do. We don't even have to talk to each other. Deal?”

You chew on your lips. You think of your small apartment, you waitressing gig, your sleepy Sundays reading at home. You're gonna be pissed if you have to leave any of that behind. You seethe.

“Fine.”

#mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman #saw fanfic

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grxmreaperx · 1 year

Note

I rewatched Saw IV and I can't stop thinking about Peter Strahm as a soft Dom! 😩💦

Peter is absolutely a soft dom! I started out with some head cannons for this idea, but am absolutely willing to make a full on fic for this idea if y’all like this!!

Pairing: Peter Strahm x (gn!) reader

Word Count: ~500

Warnings: 18+!! Lots of smut, mostly fluffy smut

Summary: Headcannons about Peter being a soft dom! Aftercare included!!

Peter Strahm as a soft dom would include…

• Your first couple times together, he would hold himself back (especially if he was your first)

• He would be very careful to make sure you are enjoying yourself and that he’s not being too rough

• Always very romantic, intimacy with his partner is very important to him

• He wouldn’t get rougher or more dominant unless you suggested it, or would maybe bring it up later into your relationship, after you’ve been intimate for a while

• One day, you suggest to him that he take a bit more control; it was something you had thought about for a while

• You loved how gentle and romantic he was, but you also wanted the chance to spice it up a bit

• Something changed in him as soon as you suggested it, and this man became absolutely insatiable

• Loves calling you pretty names: sweet baby, darling, baby, pretty thing, just to name a few

• Now, I’m convinced that Strahm would be the biggest softie for his partner, so I don’t think he would be able to degrade you unless you really wanted him to

• And even then, he would be so sweet afterwards, comforting you and telling you how much he loves you

• Loves picking you up and pressing you against the wall when you least expect it

• Just loves picking you up in general, just to remind you he can and who’s in charge

• “Good job baby, you’re doing so good for me”

• Will have you literally anywhere around your home

• In bed, against the wall, on the counter/table, in the shower

• “You gonna be good for me, darling? You know how much I love seeing you on your knees.”

• Loves overstimulating you and seeing how much you can handle

• “Cmon, love, one more for me hmm? I love hearing the noises you make, can’t get enough of it”

• I just imagine how he acts with Perez and how he talks to her/acts with her (picture the scene where she is hit with shrapnel from Billy). If he’s caring with his partner at work, he is going to be an absolute angel with his lover

o Side note: Perez is absolutely into women, and no one is changing my mind, but that’s a subject for another day

• If he’s had a long day at work and needs to let out some pent-up stress, he would probably be a bit rougher, like bending you over and pinning your arms behind your back

• “You look so good full of my cock, love.”

• Always has to hold you afterwards, lots of kisses and sweet talking, telling you how well you did

• Cleans you up, makes sure you have water, jumps in the shower with you when you’ve had a particularly hot and steamy session and you’re both sweaty

I know a lot of you have been looking forward to soft dom Strahm, so I am here to provide! This is kinda short compared to my other works but was trying to get into the swing of writing Peter and getting used to him as a character. Let me know how I did and if y’all want a longer piece of him being a soft dom with his partner!! (There is also a Peter Strahm NSFW alphabet in your futures, your girl knows what the people want👀)

#fanfic #saw #saw franchise #peter strahm x reader #peter strahm #headcanon #smut #fluff

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pumpkin-cake · 2 months

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Requests Open!

I'm hoping to start writing again now that I have a pc, so throw out any requests you have for:

Umbrella Academy (The main 7)

Saw (Adam Stanheight, Lawrence Gordon, MARK HOFFMAN, Peter Strahm, Amanda Young, John Kramer [only father figure John, I can't see him as a romantic despite Jill])

Hunter x Hunter (Kurapika, Wing, Chrollo, Leorio, Gon and Killua PLATONICALLY such as a mother figure reader or sibling figure reader)

Stranger Things (Everyone except Billy who is a maybe depending on what prompt)

Leon Kennedy

Scream (Stu and Billy)

Stardew Valley (All bachelor(ettes) including Robin and Caroline)

Jujutsu Kaisen (not Sukuna)

Demon Slayer (Kamoboko Squad, Hashiras, Muzan)

Persona 5 (All Phantom Thieves except Futaba)

Gravity Falls (The adult Pines twins, will do platonic for the young twins)

Logan/Wolverine

Fields of Mistria

Criminal Minds (Most Season One folks, especially Hotchner and Reid)

I'll do light smut for most everyone, obviously not the literal children. Thank you in advance :)

masterlist

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apprenticestanheight · 9 months

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THE FIVE DAYS OF SMUTMAS QUEUE: DAY THREE

Somno - Peter Strahm x gn! reader

Allllllll right, we are on to day three of this event and despite the fact that I never really write this many fics in less than a week unless motivation has come around and hyped me to a point where I'm capable of doing it across two days, I am still chuggin on and to be honest, the concept for this fic is largely what's kept me from going down the demotivated slope.

I have had a very not great last two months of the year and so body worship with peter strahm and a touch of angst with hurt/comfort it is, because I needed to write this idea out and figured this event would be a good opportunity lol.

Last note before this fic begins, this fic is meant for audiences of 18+! Minors, do not interact.

Fic type- this is smut and hurt/comfort

Warnings- somnophilia, oral (afab recieving), there is one mention of trauma/anxiety induced insomnia, and the reader is gn for all intents and purposes, but I went with an AFAB reader as that's the anatomy I know best, and this is edited but barely bc I wanted to post oops.

Peter is all too aware of how rough the last few months have been for you.

Granted, you've not said a word of it because you'd sooner see hell than let anyone know when you're going through a rough spot, but since your relationship has begun, Peter has learned to look for the subtle tells you display whenever you feel like your life is about to start falling apart.

Peter is something of a chronic insomniac because of how the on-call schedule of his work with the Jigsaw case has impacted his sleeping capabilities, and so he's used to staying awake for hours on end in case he gets a phone call from someone at the Jersey precinct.

You, however, work a decent and consistent job as a cleaner that pays more than well. You have a set of routines—you wake up at six thirty every morning, make a steaming mug of chai from the K-Cups you adore, eat an easy breakfast and a cliff bar on your way out of the house.

You're at work from seven-thirty in the morning to six thirty most nights, come home and do whatever needs doing around the apartment that you and Peter share, and you watch TV or read until Peter comes home and the two of you order dinner.

You always go to bed sooner than Peter does, typically going to bed somewhere around eleven or midnight where the earliest Peter goes to sleep is one, and then you wake up the next morning and your cycle repeats.

However, since September, whenever Peter has come to bed, you've still been awake, even if it's three or four in the morning. The chai you made with the K-Cups you adore has turned into a steaming cup of coffee that you have to sweeten with brown sugar, honey, and sometimes maple syrup to be able to tolerate.

You're at work from seven am to nine or ten most nights now, and by the time you're home, the housework has been looked after because Peters hired a cleaning lady to come by the house and make sure the house stays clean once every four or five days.

You come home and Peter tries to get you to smile but nothing really does the trick. Peter finds that he misses you, wants to try to goad you into talking it out with him but knows from too many attempts to do so that it absolutely will not work.

But, when he comes home on the 22nd at 7:30, a rarely early time for him get home as the stuff with Jigsaw has progressed, he's completely and utterly shocked to see you sitting on the couch in your living room.

When he closes the door, your gaze snaps to his.

"I owe you an apology," you say. "I've been very terrible at being a spouse the past few months. I shouldn't've subjected you to that. I know I need to be better at communicating and I just feel awful because I've pretty much shut you out and I just—it's just not—it's not fair to you, Peter."

"It's all right, Y/N," he says. "I thought that something had happened, yeah? I figured you wanted space and I was going to give it to you until you decided you wanted closeness again. I know I get angry really quick and am frankly a little surprised I haven't snapped about it but I have worked on not snapping a lot since we started dating."

You've been married something like a decade. It took a lot of storming for Peter to reach the level of evenness, the level of calm, where he stood.

"Yeah, but I've been terrible," you laugh. Peter approaches, sits next to you on your couch. "I've not—it's not been fair, Pete. I haven't talked, I've worked myself almost to the bone, I don't eat breakfast like I used to—all of my routines have been thrown off by this, and I can't imagine how yours have been."

He wishes he could say that he was fine, completely unaffected by it, but to say that would be to lie right to your face, which is something he promised never to do in his wedding vows. He worried about you all the time, desperately wanted to ask you if you were okay and try to goad you into talking to him even though that had never, ever worked in his favor.

Peter grins at you. "I'm just glad you're okay, Y/N," he says. "Had me worried for a stretch, if I'm honest."

"I'm sorry to have worried you," you say. "I've just—work has been driving me mental. I took more hours to get a bit of a Christmas bonus on top of the bonus I get tomorrow to try to ease the mental stuff I've been dealing with and yeah, the cushy paycheck is great but fuck if I don't hate dealing with people during the holiday season. I have been yelled at about how spotless houses need to be more times than I can count."

Peter laughs. "You're the one who decided to go into the cleaning business," he says. You laugh a bit yourself, press your forehead against his shoulder.

"I know," you mumble sadly, a laugh trailing through your words. "But when I started, I'd really hoped I would spend less time talking to people, more time deep cleaning carpets while I had decent music playing through a Walkman. I do get to listen to music but the people are becoming more and more of an issue lately."

Peter presses a kiss to the top of your head. "You're gonna take a bit of time off, mm? You definitely seem like you could use it."

"I booked it last night," you nod. "Tomorrow through til valentines day. I need the time to settle back into routines and I've been drinking coffee religiously—it's more than the one I drink here. I drink at least three cups a day just in the name of keeping myself upright and that needs to stop. I am beyond caffeine overdose. I can drink 600 miligrams a day and not feel a thing."

"That is definitely cause for concern," Peter laughs. "But I'm glad you're okay and that you're trying to get better. I've booked up until the New Year off so that I could catch up on sleep, too, but if we're both home, it means a lot of us time after Christmas. Still goin' up to New York?"

"My mother will put us to death if we don't," you laugh. Peter laughs.

For a solid few minutes, things really do feel like they'll be okay.

For what is probably the first time since before he was so much as a cop, Peter Strahm is asleep, you also asleep next to him in the bed that you share, at nine o'clock. He wakes up at six thirty from an unfortunately kinky dream and all he wants to do is part your legs and eat you out until he can't breathe.

Granted—you've spoken extensively about it before, and you've given him the okay to do it several times just as he has you, but still. The part of Peter that's turned on by the idea is equally matched by the part that kind of feels gross about it.

But then, approximately five minutes into unbearably loud thoughts about pulling down the sweatpants you'd stolen from him and parting your legs and devouring you, and five minutes away from just running to the bathroom and rubbing one out to the idea, he watches you press your face against the pillow and moan loud enough for him to hear it.

"Peter," you moan. "Fuck, feels so good."

Peters eyes nearly roll to the back of his head and he bites down on his tongue to keep himself from floating.

He tries to shake out his hands, tries to think of anything else while your quiet, desperate moans fill the air.

He thrums through the Jigsaw victims that've popped up in recent weeks, tries to think about something like the weather or the baseball scores or something to focus on anything but the fact that you're in the midst of a sex dream, one involving him, and the fact that you're moaning your way through it in a way that makes Peter want to lose his mind.

And then, you moan Peters name in a way that you know in your lucid moments drives him crazy, and Peter can't stop himself.

You've discussed it before, and Peters done it before, and every single time he's woken you up with his tongue rubbing wildly against your clit, you've moaned out and started rutting against his face and made a comment about how much you liked waking up to Peter bringing you to orgasm.

Peter is careful to remove the sweatpants you've taken from his drawer, lifting up the shirt you also stole and exposing some of your waist.

He licks a stripe through your folds, not at all surprised to find you're wet if the way that you're moaning from the dream is of any indication, and almost moans against your cunt right then and there.

He starts off slowly, licking stripes against your folds and drinking your wetness down his throat like it's water. Every single time you moan something within him flutters, and he knows it's been too long since he's taken his time with eating you out.

And then, as his tongue attaches to your clit, he feels one of your hands move to his hair.

"Best way to wake up ever," you whisper. "Oh, Peter. Thank you."

You sound half-asleep, but Peter moans against you and you tug on his hair encouragingly, so he keeps going.

He runs his tongue in circles over your clit, sliding a digit into your wet hole without a thought in the world, fighting a smirk when you moan and tug on his hair again.

He starts thrusting, sets a pace that has you writhing within minutes, and takes his fingers out in the last split second before you release, replacing his fingers with his tongue and lapping up your cum without thought, care, or merit. You thrust against his face in the aftershocks, moan as he gets up from his position.

He pulls you in for a kiss while you use one arm to amble through your nightstand for a condom, feeling Marks half-hard, clothed-but-only-by-flannel-pajama-pants length against your bare thigh.

You pull away only so that he can take his pants off, and you slide the condom on with care for how hard his cock is. He peppers your neck and jawline with kisses as he slowly thrusts into your sensitive folds, moaning as he bottoms out.

"I love you," he says to fill the silence while he waits for you to adjust.

"Thank you for dealing with me when I'm at my worst," you press a kiss to his cheekbone. "And for waking me up in the best way ever. Love it when you eat me out, Pete. You're so fucking good at it."

Your legs are wrapped around his waist and you squeeze his hips to tell him to start moving, and when he does, he sets a slow pace. Despite his fervency when it came to oral, he did intend to actually make it known that he did love you and wasn't always in it just to get you or himself to orgasm as quickly as possible.

His pace is slow indeed, but not slow enough that you're pretty much begging him to pick it up a little, and his thrusts are languid in a way that's perfect.

Both of you start moaning after a bit, and Peter, the guy who never moans and usually just likes hearing how you sound when you do, is moaning lewdly and loudly into the nape of your neck while you moan quietly near his ear.

"Peter," you moan. "Peter, fuck. You're so fucking good at this, yeah? You're treating me so well, baby. You're amazing."

Peter moans, clearly enjoying the praise, and you rut your hips against him.

"Fuck," he moans, picking up the pace just a little. "Fuck, Y/N. I love getting you so slick. You were dreaming about me, yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Yeah. We were fucking at the precinct, in one of the storage closets."

Peter moves a hand to rub your clit, loving the moan that it brings out of you.

Minutes pass by of the same, and your release triggers Peters. You moan each others names as you come, and while you go pee to make sure you don't end up with a UTI, Peter pulls the condom off and trashes it, gets a bath going for the two of you.

In the bath, you talk of plans for the day, which will consist entirely of going to the shops together, reading books and doing last-minute christmas shopping.

All in all, you're happy that Peter woke you up with oral and Peter is happy that you're feeling okay enough to want to be woken up that way again.

#peter strahm #peter strahm x reader #saw franchise

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blueberrypancakesworld · 11 months

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- Saw - Masterlist -

Info : All my works of the Saw universe/fandom

Sawtober/Sawcember

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

Mark Hoffman

°Mark Hoffman in a relationship

°She is not your's->fem reader, smutish, fluff

°Submissive Mark Hoffman

°Jealousy->fem readerm, kiss, fluff, flirting

°Mark Hoffman - NSFW Alphabet

°Commisioners favorite -fem reader, smut

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

Adam Faulkner Stanheight

°Adam in a relationship

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

Peter Strahm

°She is not your's->fem reader, smutish, fluff

Amanda Young

°Where is your alibi?->fem reader, smut

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

°Amanda in a relationship

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

Lawrence Gordon

°Lawrence in a Relationship

°Jealousy->fem readerm, kiss, fluff, flirting

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

Other

°What kinks/fetishes Saw characters would have

°Memes

°Chainshipping memes

°Our moment ->Chainshipping , fluff

°Police and the pretty informant (Eric/Adam/Lawrence/Peter/Mark) x fem!reader ->smutish, flirting, kiss

°Nicknames for you

°Apprentices x fem!reader->smutish, kissing, fluff

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

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

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lucyswinter · 9 months

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Request guidelines

Requests are : OPEN<3

Masterlist

Who/what I write for:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-BBC Sherlock (only JohnLock)

-Good omens (only Ineffable husbands)

-Hannibal (only Hannigram)

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

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

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

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

#fanfic guidlines

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hoffmanxfurthermore · 1 month

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Beautiful In Blue

(Peter Strahm x reader)

Content: morning sex, shower sex, afab reader, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasm, smut, fluff, very detailed.

Word count: 1.5k

Your eyes slowly open as you wake up next to your partner, Peter, on a lazy Sunday. The sunlight streams through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. You stretch your body, feeling the sheets slide against your naked skin, and turn to face your man.

Summer is ending, and soon, you'll return to college, far away from Peter. You're trying to have as much fun with him as possible because it'll be a while before you see him again.

Peter sleeps peacefully beside you, his short, curly brown hair messy from a night of passionate lovemaking. You admire his features and the contrast of his tall, masculine body against your smaller frame. Feeling playful, you wake him up in a way only you can.

Leaning over, you press your soft lips to his, starting with gentle kisses that gradually become insistent. You run your hands through his hair, tangling your fingers in the curls, and moan softly into his mouth. Your tongue teases his, dancing and probing, inviting him to engage in a sensual duel.

He slowly begins to awaken; you can tell by how his lips are moving with yours now.

As you kiss him, your hand wanders down his chest, tracing the contours of his muscles, before reaching for the sheet that covers his lower body. Slowly, tantalizingly, you pull it down, exposing his manhood. You feel his dick, hard and throbbing, against your palm, and a rush of desire courses through you.

You break the kiss, a mischievous look in your eyes, and say,

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

Peter opens his eyes, a lazy smile spreading across his face. He takes in the sight of you, naked and desirable, your body glowing in the morning light.

"Morning, beautiful," he rumbles, his voice deep and husky with sleep and desire.

Without wasting another moment, you straddle his waist, feeling his hardness press against your core. You grind your hips slowly, enjoying the friction against your sensitive clit. Peter's eyes close momentarily as he savours the feeling of you rubbing against him. His hands roam your body, cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your erect nipples, sending shocks of pleasure straight to your pussy.

You lean forward, your long hair falling around your face, and whisper in his ear,

"I want you."

Your hot breath against his skin sends a shiver down his spine. He pulls you closer, his hands squeezing your ass cheeks, guiding you to align your hole with his throbbing cock.

You feel the head of his dick teasing your entrance, and you slowly lower yourself onto him, taking him inside inch by delicious inch. You moan as he stretches you, filling you up completely. Once he is fully sheathed inside you, you stay still for a moment, enjoying the sensation of being impaled on his thick cock.

Peter's eyes are closed now, his breath coming in sharp gasps as he tries to control himself, to prolong this moment of exquisite torture. You start to move, rising and falling, your pussy clenching and releasing his shaft. Your breasts bounce with the rhythm of your movements, and you lean back, offering him a tantalizing view of your body taking pleasure.

His hand grips your hip, helping guide your motions, his other hand brushing your sensitive clit with each downward thrust. You throw your head back, moaning loudly, your body on fire with need.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you pant, your words encouraging him, spurring him on.

Peter's eyes open, burning with desire as he watches you riding him, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. He bucks his hips up to meet your downward motion, driving himself deeper into you.

"You're so fucking tight," he groans, "Your pussy was made for my cock."

His dirty words send a thrill through you, making your juices flow and coat his shaft.

You quicken your pace, your body taking over as you strive for release. Your breasts bounce wildly now, your nipples hard peaks, and your clit throbs with each stroke. Peter's hands roam your body again, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples, and sending bolts of pleasure through you.

"Oh, yes, touch me there," you cry out, your body on the edge. "Fuck, Peter."

Peter sits up suddenly, pulling you close, his mouth finding your nipple, sucking and biting gently, while his hand reaches down to rub your clit in tight circles.

The dual stimulation pushes you over the edge, and you cry out his name, along with a string of cuss words, as your orgasm crashes over you. Your pussy clamps down on his dick, pulsating wildly, squeezing him as you ride out your climax. Peter holds you close, his mouth on your breast, as he enjoys the feeling of your release.

But he's not done with you yet.

With a wicked smile, he lays you back on the bed, your legs hanging over the edge, and kneels between them. He runs his hands up and down your thighs, spreading your legs wide, exposing your glistening pussy to his gaze.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, kissing your inner thigh softly.

You feel his hot breath against your swollen lips and then his tongue, flicking and teasing your clit. You gasp as he laps at your sweetness, his tongue dipping into your slit, tasting your essence. He probes your hole with his tongue, fucking you with it before pulling back to suck your clit into his mouth, nibbling and sucking gently.

Your hips buck off the bed as his tongue and mouth work their magic, sending you spiralling towards another intense climax.

"Oooh fuck, right there," you moan, your hands tangling in his hair, holding him to your centre as your orgasm builds. "You feel so fucking good."

Peter looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, before returning to his delectable task. His tongue flicks and teases, his fingers joining in, slipping inside you, curling to find that magic spot within. As he strokes and sucks, your body tightens like a coil, wound up with pleasure, ready to explode.

"Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum again," you cry out, your hips bucking wildly. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Peter holds you firmly in place, his tongue relentless, his fingers curved just right inside you. And then, you shatter into a million pieces as your orgasm consumes you, your pussy gushing its juices, flooding his mouth and face.

Peter laps up your nectar greedily, riding out your waves of pleasure with you, before slowly withdrawing his fingers and rising to his feet. He pulls you up, crushing your mouth with his in a passionate kiss. You moan into the kiss as you taste your juices on his lips.

You feel his hard cock against your stomach and know he's far from finished. With a growl, he lifts you in his arms and carries you to the bathroom.

"I'm not done making love to you yet," he whispers in your ear. "Let me wash your gorgeous body, and then I'm going to fuck you against the shower wall."

A shiver of anticipation runs through you as the warm water cascades over your body. Peter soaps up a washcloth and gently washes your body, paying extra attention to your breasts and pussy, making you squeal with delight and anticipation.

True to his word, once you're both clean, he turns you around so you face the wall, the cool tiles contrasting with the heat of your passion. He slides his hard cock inside you from behind, his hands grasping your hips, pulling you onto him as he thrusts deep.

You moan as the water flows over your body, mingling with your sweat and the remnants of your release. Peter's hands slide up your body, cupping your breasts from behind as he pistons in and out of you, his cock reaching places inside you that send shivers of delight through your body.

"You feel so damn good," he grunts, his breath hot on your neck. "I could fuck you forever."

His filthy words and the feeling of his shaft stretching you wide push you closer to the edge again. You reach down, rubbing your clit in tight, quick circles, needing that extra stimulation to send you over.

Peter senses your need and reaches around, his hand covering yours, helping you bring yourself to the brink.

"Cum with me," he urges, his voice raw with desire, "let's cum together, baby."

His words are your undoing, and you cry out as your third orgasm of the morning overtakes you, your body shaking with the force of it.

Peter follows, his hands squeezing your breasts as he empties himself inside you, his cock pulsing with each spurt of his release. He holds you close as the warm water washes over your bodies, his forehead resting against yours as you both try to catch your breath.

With a final kiss, he says, "I love waking up with you."

"The best way to start the day," you say, smiling at him.

#saw #sawposting #fanfic #smut #peter strahm x reader #peter strahm #scott patterson #Spotify

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