#mark hoffman imagines

[queendeeshorrorimagines]

Yep looks like mine got ate lol. Idk why but tumblr usually eats my request on the first attempt at sending it.

Anyways, could I prettty please request a hc for Thomas Hewitt, Bo Sinclair, Mark Hoffman & Nathan Wallace? 🍒

Where he has a s/o who's very doting on him. Like whenever he returns from work/ chasing down a victim she insists on checking him for injuries. And if there are any injuries not letting them do anything else until she's doctored them up. Always making their favorite meals etc?

Slashers with a Doting s/o:

Thomas Hewitt x reader, Bo Sinclair x reader, Vincent Sinclair x reader, Mark Hoffman x reader, Amanda Young x reader, Nathan wallace x reader, Art the clown x reader, Albert wesker x reader, Michael Myers x reader, Billy Loomis x reader, Stu Macher x reader, Asa Emory, Jesse Cromeans

Fem reader

Warnings: slight spoilers for the slashers, slight angst for Nathan

Thomas Brown Hewitt

Thomas is a touch starved man. He's never actually thought that he would even have a significant other.

He's always had fantasies and dreams of eventually finding someone to settle down with and eventually starting a family. You made his dreams an reality.

Thomas adores how much you care for him. From the little notes you write him with his lunches all the way to the way you massage his sore muscles after a long day of supplying meat for the family.

The only issue that Thomas would have is not wanting you around while he's butchering the meat because you're too angelic to see him doing such.

Bo Sinclair

Bo isn't used to anyone being doting to him. The most doting Bo has experienced was from his twin but never with anyone else.

At first, Bo would be frustrated with how doting you are. Especially growing up the way Bo did, it caused him to have a more avoidant type of attachment compared to his brothers.

He thinks that you're trying to infantize him at the beginning, or trying to "demasculine him." Bo's the type to patch himself up, even Vincent has to force Bo to let him patch his wounds up.

Once he gets used to your doting nature, Bo would drink it up. Not only does your doting nature makes him feel loved, it also helps with luring victims with your "doting house wife" role.

Vincent Sinclair

While Bo's childhood has been on the physically abusive side, Vincent was more so emotionally abused. Yes, Vincent was the favorite child, but he also was forced to hide his scars from a young age by Trudy under the guise of not wanting to upset her by showing his face.

With your doting affection, it made Vincent short circuit because of the fact that you were doing this even though you've seen and know about his scars.

Vincent adores how you always make sure that he eats and stays hydrated while he's working. He even loves how you try to coax him into going to bed and rest after him working non stop for a couple days.

He wouldn't want you around when he "preps" his sculptures because he couldn't afford the possibility of one of then escaping and hurting you, his angel. But if he ends up getting injuries, he would let you take care of it.

Mark Hoffman

Mark has spent a lot of his life before becoming Jigsaw's apprentice taking care of himself and of his sister (until she died). He's not the one to really know how to react to having a doting significant other.

Given the life he's living, your doting nature gives him an escape from the darkness he's been engulfed in. If you're not another one of John's apprentices, you're most likely ignorant to what he does when he's not with you.

The excuses he gets whenever he comes home with injuries would be "work related." Mark would let you tend his wounds once the both of you have been together for a long while. It's not because he doesn't trust you, the reason is similiar to Bo, he doesn't want to weak around you because he is a detective after all.

Mark will protect you at all costs. He's already lost all of his family, he's not going to lose you.

Amanda Young

Amanda isn't used to having people doting her. The closest she's had was John and he was a father figure to her.

With you, Amanda thought that you were an angel sent for her. With how much you show her your love by the small things like making sure she eats, helping her through her recovery as an addict, making sure she's taken care off when she's not around you.

Amanda allows you to help her if she ends up getting hurt. The only thing that Amanda doesn't like is when you look at the scars from her using.

Just like with Mark, Amanda wouldn't want you to know about her double life and would do anything to protect you from the cops. It doesn't matter if you're an apprentice as well, Amanda is going to protect you no matter what.

Nathan wallace

Nathan has been pretty much touch starved and alone since the death of Marni. He's more than used to taking care of himself and Shilo.

It took a lot to let you in, both romantically and knowing of his secret repoman life. You in a lot of ways reminded Nathan of Marni because of how much you take care of both him and Shilo.

Nathan loves how both you and Shilo get along, helping her through the rough patches between the two of them. The both of you know that you will never be able to be Marni but Nathan hopes that she would be okay with you being in both him and Shilo's lives.

Nathan feels comfortable knowing that if anything happens to him that Shilo would have you there for guidance, love, and support.

Art the clown

Art is a rather touchy kind of person. This man probably has never been doted on in his existence. It's obvious that the only that that's keeping Art alive is some sort of dark diety.

Art is one of the very few people on this list that would gladly accept his significant other taking care of him. It doesn't matter how good or bad you are at cooking, it's way better that the food in the dumpsters that Art eats (or faces? Who am I to judge?)

It's a miracle that you're still alive around Art. The whole tending to Art's wounds wouldn't be needed but Art does appreciate when you clean the blood off his costume.

Being with Art and cleaning the amount of blood on his costume, you probably have a real good idea on what he does when he's not being taken care of at your house. Do you really want to potentially gamble on your life by asking?

Albert wesker

Wesker, depending on how long have you been with him would determine what ways you're doting towards him. If it's during his S.T.A.R.S days, he loves how you are always home to take care of him after the missions and trainings.

S.T.A.R.S Wesker would reluctantly allow his significant other to tend to his wounds after his missions, even give you a few flirty jabs if he's shirtless while you tend to him.

Wesker secretly enjoys having his significant other massage all the tense muscles of his shoulders and back. This is a common thing for both pre and post mutated Wesker.

Once Wesker becomes mutated, the healing his wounds wouldn't be needed because of the superior healing but he does find it nice when you stitch up any of his torn clothes.

Michael Myers

Michael hasn't been doted on since probably when he was a small kid before being institutionalized.

Similar to Art, Michael's diet before you was whatever he could kill and eat and that it doesn't matter what your skill level is when it comes to cooking, it's better than what he's eaten before.

It takes a lot for Michael to trust you enough to both see his face under the mask and for you to tend to his wounds after a night of killing. Once he trusts you, Michael would stay perfectly still while you quickly tend to him.

Michael would be shocked when you either gift him a new knife after noticing how his old one was failing him or if you cleaned and sharpened his knife for him.

Billy Loomis

Given that Billy has abandonment issues from his mother and to an extent, his father, Billy has a hard time truly letting someone in romantically. He usually uses his relationships to either make him look innocent or as side relationships to give him what he wants (i.e. sex)

It takes Billy a long time for him to get used to how caring and doting you are. Billy is similar to Bo when it comes to the Avoidant attachment style, often times getting agitated that you're babying him when the both of you were at the beginning stages of the relationship.

Once he's completely used to your doting ways, Billy will soak up the doting nature. Especially when it comes to you cooking hid favorite meals and making sure he's practicing self care.

Billy may not be vocal about his appreciation for you doting on him, he truly does appreciate how much you care for him . He wouldn't talk about his Ghostface side but you'll somehow figure it out but never said anything about him being a Ghostface.

Stu Macher

Stu was both lucky and unlucky to have the childhood he has. He has money to support himself while his parents are on business trips but he's never really experienced having someone dote on him as much as you

Seeing how caring and and doting you are, Stu instantly soaks up the attention you give him. This man loves it when you bake for him. Stu has a sweet tooth for your home made cookies and brownies and it makes his day when you give him a plate of your baked goods.

It's a possibility that you know about his Ghostface side. Or at least have suspicions of something going on because of the amount of bruises and scratches he has on his body that you've seen.

It's almost funny to see Stu make up a story about how he got the newest set of bruises on his skin. You decide to act like you believe his stories because you can see that Stu is hiding something and eventually he would spill the beans.

Asa Emory

Similiar to Jesse, Asa is all for having a significant other who's the "doting house wife" role when it comes to his day job where he's the professor.

Asa would be on the stubborn side when it comes to having his significant other taking care of his wounds because he deems it unneeded. He would probably let his significant other tend to him if he's probably passed out from blood loss or something similar.

You know about Asa's "Collector" side gig but between keeping yourself away from that business and the fear of Asa turning you into one of his pieces makes you keep quiet about the whole thing.

Asa does appreciate that you don't ask him too much about his secret life when you do have to tend to his wounds or patch up his sweaters constantly.

Jesse cromeans

Ever since the combination of the death of his late wife and nearly dying/ basically losing his physical appearance, Jesse lost any hope for anyone to even fake being with him as a front. That was until he got with you.

It takes a long time for Jesse to trust you to help tend to his face because of both Jesse not wanting you to see the full extent of his injuries and the fact that his face has became delicate for anyone to touch due to the scaring.

Jesse is all for having the "house wife" kind of significant other because it give him a more human side when it came to his "day job" and having you be there after his trips makes Jesse feel like he's not all monster, there's a man under a huge layer of brutality.

Unlike some of the others on the list, you do know at lease some of what Jesse does while on these trips. He wouldn't want you directly involved but he has made it so if anything happens to him, you would be safe with Spann.

[normanbateswife]

the warehouse aftermath

mark hoffman x reader

warnings: typical canon violance, saw five spoilers, plotless comfort

The silence was the worst of it. You could feel yourself needing to speak to comfort yourself. The situation seemed neverending. How long would you be stuck in this loop created by a man who knows nothing but pain. A man you had never agreed with but had gotten your boyfriend in his grips and wouldn’t let him go. It felt deafening. It felt like being cold and suddenly very warm, like a relief that you know was ill conceiving. 

You watched the warehouse with intense eyes. He had run you through it. He had told you exactly what would happen, over and over again. You enjoyed seeing him sober but it felt like he was drunk in some other vice. He was not doing this alone. He was creating half of his life with you and the other half with some shrouded mystery. Something you understood only portions of. 

“You got here fast,” you heard someone say beside you. You turned, removing your thumb from your mouth. You had been chewing at your nails anxiously, picking at the loose keratin. You recognized the face in front of you only abstractly. You knew you had seen him but you were aware of the fact that you never bothered to learn his name. Maybe you had seen him in passing on the way to Mark’s office. Maybe you had seen his picture on the wall of decorated officers. 

“I have a scanner in the house,” you said, voice more confident then you felt. Your eyes remained on the warehouse but you could feel the man looking at you. You turned to glance at him. He must have been aware of your relation with the hostage. With the kidnapper. “He didn’t answer my call. I went looking.” 

“I’m sure he’s okay,” the man said, lying through his teeth. This was Jigsaw. Jigsaw. How could he even have the heart to lie to you right then? Your distaste must have shown on your face as you moved a step forward, watching the doors. 

Finally it opened, crashing, loudly. You welcomed the break in the silence of your mind. You recognized the face of the man, despite a little girl half blocking it. He was gripping her tightly, the fear on his features half sincere. You wished you could question anything except your own relief. You pushed through the crowd and right past the man who took the little girl out of Mark’s arms. 

“What the hell man? What happened?” the man asked, a man you recognized but another you didn’t know the name of. “Where’s Riggs?” 

“I tried to help,” Mark said as you walked up. “He didn’t make it. Nobody made it.” The officer turned to grab a shock blanket for him and you wasted no time in throwing yourself into his arms. He caught you with ease, almost giving up his composure of fear. The relief of having you in his arms was genuine. It was over. It was over now. 

You didn’t speak, scared that whatever you would say would give information you didn’t mean to. He shamelessly buried his face in your neck. 

“Made it,” he grumbled against your skin. You could feel each breath reach your lungs. You could feel how cool it was, suddenly realizing just how icy the night was. You could think again. You could process information again. 

“We got a live one!” A blanket was shoved onto Mark as you pulled away in surprise. You both turned around, eager to see the survivor. Peter Strahm was on a gourney but he was alive, breathing, barely. A loose end. You glanced at Mark’s face. He was even keeled, too even. He needed to have more reaction. 

You put your hand on his shoulder. He looked back to you. 

“Let’s get you checked up,” you said, gently. He nodded once and realized his slip up as you spoke. He followed you, staying close. There was press here now, taking pictures, their bulbs flashing in your face like a mockery of your emotions. Someone sat him on the back of an ambulance. 

“I don’t need to go. I’m fine,” he said, more to the pushy nurses crowding him than to you. You knew that wasn’t true if things had gone how he planned them. Hours of sitting next to a dying man, gagged, tied, near death if one thing went wrong. 

“You need to go,” you argued. He looked up at you. You weren’t used to being higher than him but as he sat you were now subject to his gaze. He wanted to go home. He wanted to go to bed. “Let them take your vitals, make sure nothing is broken. All I have at home is a first aid kit and a high school health class,” you said gently. He smiled a bit, in exhaustion. 

The paramedics waited anxiously around you.

Mark nodded, halfheartedly. 

The pounced, holding up stethoscopes and taking the blanket off his shoulders. You took a step back, watching everything unfold. You searched for the little girl in the crowd but didn’t find her. Strahm was gone already. They had rushed him away. 

What was his trap? 

They blended together in your mind after a while. 

The water box, you recalled. You looked back at Hoffman who looked distant in his own failures. You looked at his hands through the paramedics, hands that had set someone up to die so many times. The cold ate at your skin. You move aside for a few moments, to allow for some space. 

“Hey.” You were looking away when he spoke. You breathed evenly as you fought back through the small crowd. “Can we go home now?” You looked around at the paramedics. They looked sympathetic but not worried. That made you feel better. 

“He’ll live. To be safe he should come in, in case there’s anything internal we can’t account for,” one of them said. You looked back to Mark who had pleading eyes. You weren’t worried he would create an internal injury himself. 

“I’ll monitor him like a hawk,” you promised evenly. You put your hand on his elbow, helping him stand, not that he needed it. His button up was soaked with sweat. It was drenched in the dry blood of others. 

You were walking together, slowly, to where you had parked your car. Hoffman was quiet until the doors were shut and you were both inside the silence once more. This time you were together. 

“Strahm,” he grumbled, putting his hand to his forehead. “Fucking Strahm.” He hit the dashboard and you tried not to jump. You were pulling away already, in hopes no one would see the outburst. “I locked him in there. There was no way he could-”

“Let’s not worry about that right now. They don’t know if he’ll live through the night and I doubt he knew or saw enough to puzzle piece things together.” 

“Do you always have to be the voice of reason?” he questioned, though his voice wasn’t with a tinge of anger. He was tired. You had observed that plenty of times in the few minutes he had been back to you. You needed to get home. 

“Yes,” you answered, after a long bout of silence. 

-

The home you shared with Mark Hoffman was nice, though it wasn’t fancy. It was a home. It was just his to start. It was clear now, that it was a home of two. Your things melded together. You had nothing of your own. Mark was protective and all consuming. 

It wasn’t healthy, but you didn’t mind. 

You turned the lights on as he walked in front of you. You hadn’t grabbed anything in your desperate attempt to leave the house for the warehouse. All you needed to drop was your keys and your shoes. The air inside felt stagnant, unlived in. How often were the two of you even here at the same time? At night? When your breathing was even and you were unable to revive the air? 

He discarded his clothes as he walked. The door of the bedroom opened and you followed, wordlessly, silently. The master bathroom door creaked as he pushed through it. You weren’t going to push or say anything but regardless he stopped in the archway. He had lost the once white button up already. You observed his silence. He was looking down, not directly down, but just away. 

You were opening the dresser drawer. He walked back to you and breathed heavily through his nose as he engulfed you in his arms. Your arms were folded up to hold his back, palms down against his skin. 

You recognized his breath. Deep. Slow. He was coming down and you weren’t even sure what he was coming down from. You closed your eyes, just happy to have him here again. You could be content with this right now. There was so much to be discussed but there had been enough worry for one day. 

“Go clean up before you go to bed,” you muttered against his chest. He didn’t speak immediately, nor did he move. 

“I’ve been tied up all day,” he grumbled. “Just let me stand here.” You smiled. 

“Mkay,” you hummed. You could feel the heat emanating off of him. You started to recognize the traits. The adrenaline in the thumb of his fingers, the fear in the tightness of his grip, and the accomplishment in a job done. 

You waited, quietly, for a couple moments before kissing his collarbone. You left your lips there, chastly trailing kisses. 

“Don’t start something we can’t finish,” he whispered, his voice gravelly. He pulled away finally to look at you. He held you in his arms. 

“You all sleepy Hoffman? What, did the attempted murder really wipe you out?” You leaned forward to kiss him before he could laugh but when you pulled away he was smiling. “Take a shower Lieutenant.” 

He hummed but it sounded more like a guttural type growl as you moved away from him. 

You wanted him to go to sleep so you could rest. You saw his phone on the nightstand. Had he even taken it with him today? There would likely be phone calls waking you both up in the morning, Texts from superiors, asking for a statement. You wouldn’t know peace for a couple of weeks. He would get his promotion. There would be questions from Strahm, never ending correct accusations. Newspapers asking for a quote. He would come home later. 

“You stay where you are,” he said, quietly, tiredly. 

“I’ll be here when you get out,” you promised. He watched you for a moment, trying to memorize you and then he shut the bathroom door behind him. You started to fish for your own pajamas. 

He came out of the bathroom twenty minutes later. His hair was soaked, matted down onto his head. You were in bed, only the lamp beside you was still on. He crawled under the comforter beside you. He wore only his boxers, limbs aching from the stress of the day. 

You faced him, cozying into the pillow. 

He pulled you closer to him, till you were practically in his chest. You threw an arm around him. He liked having what he needed protected. You let your eyes close slowly. 

“I love you Mark,” you muttered, brain already hazy. He kissed your forehead and you thought he whispered it back before you fell into unconsciousness. 

[godsplatter]

mwah

[avocadoraisin]

happy 4/20

[redactedcrowart]

regret (maybe you shouldn't have fucking panini pressed your mancrush, dipshit)

[whatiswrongwithpeople]

Traps || A Mark Hoffman x f!reader SMUT

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

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

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

Have fun reading ✨

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[vashti-refused]

[male--wife]

my hoffman video

[queendeeshorrorimagines]

Smutty Valentines: February Fourth

Day four: Risqué Polaroids- Mark Hoffman

Masc leaning! Gender neutral reader

Warnings: mentions of sex at the end, sexual pictures.

Your intentions was originally to take a few pictures for Mark to add on to his desk at work or even his wallet like other significant others that you've known.

The camera was something that you had as a graduation present from your family a few years ago. It was relatively inexpensive and easy to find more carterages for your camera.

The pictures started off rather normal, a basic selfie that was rather conservative in appearance- something that Mark would be proud to show you off. You were wearing one of his old button up shirts, sitting in his chair at his desk at your shared house.

The Innocent intention you had began to fade into more lewd as you decided to push the envelope more. It started with you unbuttoning his shirt, showing off the details of your torso.

You decided to do more risqué positions with the bedroom look on your eyes while posing around the camera. One of your favorite photos you took was you bending over his desk, showing the edge of the curve of your ass.

It was a couple hours since you finished with your photoshoot, neatly placing the photographs into an envelope with Mark's name on the cover with a heart next to it.

Hearing the front door unlock, you quickly place the envelope onto his desk before darting to the sofa, fake reading a newspaper. Mark greeted you with a kiss before going to his desk to place a new file on it.

Mark was in the middle of asking you about dinner for tonight as he opened the envelope, his eyes darkened lustfully as a smirk painted over his face. His footsteps grew closer to you as he stood behind you, his head beside yours as he whispers into your ear.

"On second thought, I think I'm craving something else other than food."

[whore4hotdilfs]

Something New.

prompt : You tell Mark you feel bored with your sex life during an argument. He shows you why you should never speak down on him again.

warnings : 18+ audiences. Degrading. Dom!Mark Hoffman x sub!reader. Slight edging. Daddy kink. Age gap relationship. Power dynamics. Restraints. Hair pulling. Face-slapping. Subspace is implied. Aftercare, it gets softer at the end I promise he’s not a bastard in this one after. Victim play mentioned like once. Cursing. Use of the word cunt and cock when referring to parts. Porn without plot almost. Haven’t written smut in months, bare with me. Breeding. Alludes to squirting.

‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿

You really didn’t know exactly what had gotten yourself to this point. Didn’t know what possessed you to let such an insult slip past your mouth, even if deep down you knew you meant it. But god, you wished you didn’t. Your words got you here, your arms sealed into a knot tied to each bedpost, legs spread open and bound to stay that way, no Mark in sight.

You had no idea how long it had been until you noticed a familiar frame loom in the doorway, arms tight against his chest as a menacing chuckle escaped his lips.

“You really thought you could doubt me and get away with it, hm?” His voice is rasp. Deep. Just enough for his words to hit you in ways that it should’ve, enough to draw his point across. You didn’t answer, just looked in his direction, your eyes sparkling in fear of what he had planned to put you through.

It’s not long before he deeply sighs at the lack of any sign of response or acknowledgement of his presence, making his way over to your tortured form, a light slap stinging your cheeks. You gasp in response finally, his strong hand gripping your chin and forcing your eyes to peer up at him.

“Fucking look at me while I’m talking to you.” He spits venom from his lips, his eyes are a slick black, his pupils expanded to its max in a look that could never be mistaken as anything other than a desired hunger. He creates a stronger grip onto your jaw, shaking his head in faux disbelief at your actions. He pulls your face closer to him, his knees bent down in a laced mocking tone, as if you were nothing but a victim in that moment. “Speak when you’re spoken to, slut. We don’t have all day.”

You swallowed your pride, letting yourself morph into your permanent role. Nodding your head slowly and winced as his grip got impossibly tighter on your jaw.

“No. Use your fucking words. You can’t be that stupid.”

You could’ve sunk into a puddle of desire and need right there, practically leaking against the sheer fabric of the only material that was clung to your body. You had never seen this side before and while you were more than grateful that you managed to force this state out of him, you were all the more frightened that you pushed him to the point of no return when it came to your sex-life.

You finally brighten up the courage to open your silken lips, searching his eyes for any sign of your boyfriend’s caring nature when it came to you, but your search returned with nothing of the sorts. You swallow down a gulp that you were sure could’ve been heard due to the crisp environment.

“Yes.. daddy.” You hesitate. Not sure that that would’ve been the appropriate response. You knew that Mark had always been hesitant when it came to going out in public with you, he always thought he looked a bit too old to be with you, like a creep. But here he was in the same breath and the same mind, acting as if he was a dangerous predator stalking his prey.

Your words elicit a throated growl, black eyes continuing to peer down at you in your helpless position. He lets go of your jaw finally, letting your head fall roughly back onto the pillow without a care in his being. He himself probably had no idea in the slightest as to why he’s okay with being called daddy when he was already insecure in himself for snatching you up while he could. Maybe it was the way that anything sounded pretty coming from his angel, he’s sure that was it.

He pats your face as your reward, rubbing the soft flesh where his slip still lingered upon your face his thumb caressing your cheekbone. “Sorry, my angel.” He mouths down at you. You could tell he looked hesitant to continue seeing the handprint he left upon you but one look at your current state makes his gaze harden to its past form.

He starts to nonchalantly hum against the shell of your ear, his hand slowly making its way down your body. His pace was constant though, hand pressing firm onto your skin as he traces your helpless body. He stops once he gets close to your abdomen, smirk resting along the corner of his lips as his hand resumed slipping under the restraining lace fabric before ripping the flimsy material down the middle. His finger immediately hooks itself onto your wetness, slipping down to collect some on his finger, trailing his finger up your body again and forced it past your eager lips.

He doesn’t have to tell you what to do, you’ve seen too much of this move from him to know that you shouldn’t ignore it or freeze up when he presents himself. You wrap your lips desperately around the slick digit, using your tongue to sink it deeper into your mouth down to his knuckle.

“Fuck. You’re such a messy whore.” He belts out, his other hand swiftly taking his belt out of the confined loops, rushing his jeans past his ankles, kicking them off before his boxers fell swiftly behind. “All mine.” He grits his teeth, keeping himself tight-lipped.

He almost rips his finger from your mouth, moving slowly to crawl onto the bed and loomed over your smaller frame, sitting up on his knees as he admired you all spread out for him. He knew it would have been possible to keep your legs open for him, he naturally had that effect on you he caught on, but he figured the nature of learning a lesson would’ve been so much better and to his benefit.

You stare up at him, your doe eyes sparkling with faux innocence as he tangled his fingers through your hair, gripping onto a healthy amount of your hair with a deep smirk. He knew he had every and all control of you and your body he already couldn’t get enough of, he was fully up to taking advantage of this one moment. He rubs his tip against your cunt, groaning at the feeling of you still being wet, maybe even more than before. You shifted against your restraints, trying to buck up your hips in a desperate attempt to force him to slip inside, your actions answered with a grip on one of your hips to force you back down against the bed.

“I set the pace, not you. Understood?”

He didn’t give you much time to answer, he didn’t need one to the question anyways, he was setting the pace of the night rather you’d like it or not. He was the one that gave permission, not you.

It didn’t take him longer to give into you, though. Maybe it was a combination of how you already looked disheveled below him and those pretty eyes of yours but he could never say no to you even for a second. He forces his length inside of your aching cunt in one swift motion, wetness covering and enveloping around him. He possessively growls once more at your heat as a lethal result.

“Always fit me so well, don’t you? Like my own personal slut.” He grits his teeth and keeps his eyes locked on yours from below, nonverbally forcing you to keep contact. You wouldn’t dare break such a thing anyways, especially if he acted like this when provoked.

“Daddy.. please move. Need you.” You whimper into the air, hands pulling against your restraints once more in an overwhelming urge to rest your hands on his back to pull him closer to your body. You always needed to touch the few times you have had sex, he knew that. He knew you itched, yearned to use any way you could to get what you wanted. Suppose that that’s why the permanent smirk on his lips spreads to a motion that’s unrecognizable.

He hums in a mocking tone, tsking at the desperation leaking out of your every pore. “I said.” He starts in a low voice, whisking at your restraints to press them harder against your wrists, you whimper at his movements, eyes flickering to his cold ones.

“I set.” He pulls himself all the way out and shoves every inch back in.

“The fucking.” Harder.

“Pace.” The last word rumbles around near the bottom of his throat, his body leaning down so his mouth was leveled near your ear, causing him to curl deeper inside of you as he snapped each thrust.

“Behave, doll.” He whispers soft against your ear, pulling your weightless body right up against him. He starts to thrust into your tight walls faster, watching in amazement at how you took him so well every single time, mesmerized by the way your cunt practically swallows him whole.

He drinks in your noises from below him, every tiny purr begs him to just go faster until his pace is near brutality. You had no choice but to take it all, desperately needing to snap your legs shit due to the friction. You had always been sensitive when it came to any form of sex with Mark, he knew exactly how to reach you to that point in a matter of seconds, with just one touch you melted in his hands, every single time. If he was honest, it’s what kept his energy so high when it came to doing anything sexual for his most prized possession.

His thumb trails down your sides to press against your throbbed clit, rubbing circles that matched with the motion of his thrusts the faster he became. Your back arches off the mattress and a high-pitched gasp tears from your lips when he hits just where you need him to, squeezing onto his cock as your body depended on his touch to survive. He drinks the angelic sight and this time lets your hips buck on their own to push back onto him and match every one of his thrusts.

He can read your mind and movements in a matter of seconds, hissing at the feeling of your walls clamping down on him. He tried to regain his composure but he can’t control how he bottoms out right there at the feeling of your warmness.

His hand wraps around your throat with a strong force in his haste to get himself back under his own control, squeezing around your neck but still careful not to bruise you quite yet.

“Hold it. You don’t cum until I do.”

You nod frantically at his demanding words, your eyes squeezing shut as you tried to keep your focus on anything other than his movements. The obscene sounds of your slick echoing at each and every thrust. His rasped groans spitting from his chest as he picks up his pace for the final time. You can tell he’s brought himself closer to the edge, using you as nothing but his own personal toy as he ruts in and out of you.

Your mind is numb at this point the more that you’re forced to hold yourself in, your hands folding into fists. Nails digging into your skin and coloring your knuckles white. Your skin is a shade lighter, your mind beginning to float away as your body slips more into a stiff-like state, like a rag doll at his disposal.

“That’s it. That’s it. So good for me. Fuck.” He rambles out nonsense, words fuzzy and sounded faint as soon as the vibrations manage to hit your ears, eyes rolling back into your head at the pressure.

Lucky for your state, it isn’t a long wait until you feel him tense, hands flying to your small hips to keep him fully inside of you, the feeling of hot painting inside of you in slow strokes. Your body gives out fully before you even have a chance to free yourself with a right mind, letting yourself go with a shake to your thighs.

Mark watches with attentive eyes, in awe at your body as it reacts in a way he’s never seen before. Your eyes are glued shut, nose scrunched up at your release. He pulls himself out of you to see the whole show, your thighs continuing to shake and your hips bucking up to chase a high that far washed over you by now. He knows what is happening, he isn’t that oblivious to think that you’re fully down to earth with him, he actually researched before he actually got rougher.

He didn’t bother bringing you down from your space just yet, he read that it was best to keep you floated for a few minutes after and not tear you down off your faux reality yet. Instead, he just preens at his pretty little angel who did so good for him, undoing the hooks around your leather cuffs, his other hand catching your elbow so your arms wouldn’t snap back to your sides. Next is your leg restraint when your thighs have finally calmed down, a swift motion throwing them to the floor.

After a few long minutes of waiting, watching closely to make sure you were okay, your eyelashes flutter opened as you look up at him with wonder. Memories rush back to your mind of the night at hand but he left you barely any time to remanence before he wraps his arms around your hips and collapsed on the side beside you on the bed.

He pulls you towards his bare chest, thumbs rubbing soothing circles along the skin of your inner thighs, just where you wouldn’t be sensitive from the motion.

“Next time, let’s not question my abilities, baby doll.”

Your silence after his words is enough to celebrate his small victory.

‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿

a/n: repost repost come get your repost. i hope it isn’t too weird, first time writing smut in a long while :)

[dixxiemaegraphics]

“He looks sick I wanna take him for a walk”

More misc. drawings of Mark lookin’ wet, bloody, pathetic, bound, muzzled like a dog, etc. Because it’s the correct way to draw him.

[olive-garden-hoe]

I’ve got things to do and places to be but I heard this song and HAD to start making an edit I didn’t know how to do (it’s a wip rn and my tech has been bitchy running it so it’s very jagged in some places)

[internet-sadass]

Masterlist <3

All fics contain NSFW content!

American Horror Story

Thomas Browne x female reader

Closer To God

Impure Divinity

Unholy Conception

Michael Langdon x female reader

Portrait

Mind over Matter

Sticky

There's Nothing Sweeter Than My Baby

That's My Pretty Boy

Friday the 13th

Jason Voorhees x female reader

More Than Your Bargained For (But Better Than You Thought You'd Get)

Hannibal

Hannibal Lecter x female reader

Psychomachia

My Bloody Valentine

Harry Warden x female reader

My Bloody Betrayal

The X-Files

Fox Mulder x female reader

Inappropriate Workplace Behaviour

I Can't Wait For You To Knock Me Up

Can't Keep My Mind (Or Hands) Off You

Fox Mulder x Dana Scully

Don't Panic

Saw

Mark Hoffman x female reader

Cunnilingus On Company Time

Peter Strahm x female reader

An Eye For An Eye

David x female reader

A Little Something In Pink

David (solo fic)

Saw 0.5 (XXX Version)

Resident Evil

Albert Wesker x female reader

Tentacle Sex in the Name of Science!

Leon S. Kennedy x female reader

Totally Medical and Professional Knotting