#mark ‘the rack’ hoffman

[c0rpuschristii]

[hoss-bonaventure]

do you think john kramer named it “the rack” after hoffman?

[crazy-concubine]

Mark Hoffman will never be Jigsaw, but he can be Jugsaw for how badly that mf needs to wear a bra.

[gh0st-4ss]

thought too hard about hofftiddies and almost fell down the stairs

[citheroniaregalis]

if they wanted to make him seem like a scary serial killer they shouldn't have put him in a backwards baseball cap and made him look like someones confused but loving peepaw

[lucifer-kane]

someone in the saw discord im in posted a pic then a video of something costas mandylor was in and it's just a sex scene from something he was in and im so mad he's got a nice ass. it's so. <- the things in my brain. unsavory

[jacyislawrencegordonswife]

I love men with racks. Like yes, you go babe. Drop the plastic surgeon you used. I love men who look like they were born into this world by a man and a woman. Like yeah you go pretty princess diva.

If it isn't obvious, this IS about Mark Hoffman, Peter Strahm, and Lawrence Gordon. HA, who conceived you three?? Straight people??🧐

[vampirebloodie]

Cat and Dog | Mark Hoffman x Reader

Summary: the sexual tension between you and Hoffman is greater than the hatred you feel for each other

Warning: NSFW Smut 18+, violence, rough sex, degradation kink, puller hair

You were a local police detective and were trying to solve murder cases involving the serial killer Jigsaw. This was the second body you and your team found that week. You felt frustrated because you couldn't solve all the puzzles in that scene and someone was having fun watching you rack your brains.

That someone was Mark Hoffman, your co-worker, or rather, enemy. You hated each other more than anything, it was like a cat and dog in the same room, the two of you in the same room don't last more than five minutes and then you start arguing always, but it never turned into something physical because Hoffman was bigger than you and you were a woman, yes, of course.

The five minutes of peace ended as soon as he entered the room where you were making some notes about the lists that Jigsaw had left at the last crime scene, it was night and everyone had already been released and gone home, except you and him who decided staying up late.

“Having difficulty, Detective Y/N?”

That voice filled the room and you rolled your eyes. Damn, he is so annoying.

“I don't think that interests you, Hoffman. Weren't you in charge of the other case?

You turned around, crossing your arms when you saw the detective with a smile on his lips.

“Actually, the boss put me on both cases in your place, I don’t think you’re doing a good job, Y/N.”

He spoke with fake sadness and you were furious. How did they take you off the case without communicating and put him in your place?

"What? How do they remove me and put you in?"

You got up from your chair and stood in front of him, face to face, confronting him.

“Who knows, if you hadn’t done a good job, I wouldn’t have taken your place, right? ”

“Honestly, you’re an asshole, Hoffman!”

“If I am the asshole, then you’re the dumb bitch.”

The loud noise echoed throughout the room and you felt your hand tingle, your immediate reaction was to slap Hoffman in the face, who was shocked, then his expression became aggressive. Hoffman grabbed your arms and pushed you against the wall, where he had his face almost glued to yours, your arms were held in the air with one hand while the other held your face, squeezing your cheeks tightly and making you look at him.

“Do it again and you’ll be a dead woman!”

He was furious and you were strangely enjoying it. The atmosphere of tension and desire was present every time you spent a long time alone in the same environment. Mark let go of your face and licked his lips, you had really gone crazy, and you only realized it when you joined your lips to his.

You couldn't hide it anymore, you wanted so bad be fucked by him. His strong arms, his angry expression, everything on him makes you feel so attracted. He put his hand on your throat, squeezing it, slightly choking you.

To your surprise, he didn't deny it but continued, his free hand roaming your body while tongues danced. Mark squeezed your thigh tightly, eliciting a moan from you, which made him smile. You squeezed your legs together feeling your arousal appear. You was so excited.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

His husky voice whispered in your ear, making all your hair stand on end, you agreed. Hoffman's hand went to your blouse where he opened it, leaving your bra exposed. Then he went to your skirt, where he lowered it, leaving you in just your underwear. He took off his blazer, throwing it on the floor and took you to the table, where he threw all the papers on the floor and pushed you against the table.

He went to the door and locked it, closing the curtains and soon came back. Hoffman squatted behind you and squeezed your ass, pulling down your panties and spreading your buttocks. Before you could respond, you felt his tongue invade your core, letting out a loud moan. His tongue went over all your parts, smearing them as much as possible. He nibbled and sucked your clit, making your legs tremble, while slaps your butt many times, until get red and painful.

“H-Hoffman, I...”

You couldn't complete it because a scream escaped, you had just cum in Hoffman's mouth, who did the job of cleaning everything with his tongue from top to bottom. He stood up again and pulled your hands away, knotting his tie, tying you up.

"Shut your fucking mouth, cunt."

Oh yes, him being so rude to you was such a turn on. You would like to be insulted more often by him after this. You heard the zipper of his pants unzipping, waiting anxiously. He brushed his member a few times on your pussy before thrusting himself completely inside you, he was bigger than you imagined, before you could get used to it he began to make quick and sudden movements.

It was as if he was taking out all the anger of months in a single fuck, he moved extremely fast, making the sound of your bodies hitting each other and your loud moans mixing in the environment. Hoffman grabbed your hair back and began depositing hickeys on her clean neck.

“I hate you, girl. But you're so hot.”

He spoke with so much anger and you just smiled sarcastically. Suddenly he pulled out of you and pulled your arms, throwing you against the ground and spreading your legs, leaving you completely exposed just to him.

“I hope you have a painkiller in your bag, you’re going to need it.”

He said before thrusting himself fully inside you again. The night would be long.

[grxmreaperx]

MARK HOFFMAN LITERALLY ANYTHING PLS

You literally have no idea how happy I am that my first request is for Hoffman!! I’ve been rewatching the Saw series and I’m SO obsessed with this man

Untested

Pairing: Mark Hoffman x reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: not many, slight angst. Mentions of blood and a couple of the traps. mentions of sex, but nothing explicit (this time

Summary: you and Mark are the only two Jigsaws left standing. John and Amanda were killed in Jeff’s game and Mark has made it clear that Jill is no longer welcome. You and the detective have grown close, working together to set up John’s so-called games and making sure Hoffman’s name stays out of the FBI’s mouths. You always warned him that Jigsaw lets no one go untested. He didn’t believe you until Jill received a box.

Takes place around Saw V/Saw VI. This might end up being a part of a longer piece, I’ve had a story in my head for a while, so if you guys like this I’ll start working on the longer work!!

“When’s your test, Detective?”

“I don’t need one.”

○

“You know John is going to test you at some point, right?”

Hoffman smirks. “And what makes you think that?”

You toss the screwdriver on the table, admiring, as John has coined it, “The Rack.”

“Amanda is right, John doesn’t let anyone go untested. She’s been tested. I’ve been tested. That leaves you, Detective.” You don’t allow yourself to look at him, instead admiring your handiwork in front of you.

He pulls his gloves off, shoving them into his pockets as he watches you. He knows you’re right. He hasn’t taken his life for granted, but neither had you. But here you were, a survivor of the game and one of the few people John trusts with his work.

“I just wish you’d let me help you. I can help you prepare, for whatever your test will be.” You finally look over, staring at him, examining his face for any sort of confirmation, confirmation that he’ll give in and let you do something for him.

He scoffs. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart. What, you worried about me or something?”

You cross your arms and stay silent. Normally you’re fine with the teasing, the back and forth, but not when his life could be at stake. Even if neither of you would say it aloud, but you cared for one another. You both had given into the tension months ago, developing a relationship that you both agreed, at the time, was nothing more than sex. But with every broken nose snapped back into place, every cut bandaged, and every casual touch, you both became more and more aware that this wasn’t true.

Your silence stabs at his chest. Softening ever so slightly, he says “Don’t worry, I can handle whatever the old man throws at me. I’ll be okay. I’ve set up enough of these things to know what I’m doing.”

Your sigh fills the room. “Whatever you say, Hoffman.”

○

“I’ll be right there.” He shuts his phone, jaw tense.

“Everything alright?” you ask from your seat in front of the monitors. You had both been watching as William Easton made his way through his game, blood in his wake.

“Yeah. Erikson says they have the Seth Baxter tape. Some specialist is analyzing the thing and they want me there.”

You feel your shoulders tense. After a moment of silence, all you can ask is “You need any backup?”

He smiles. “No, no. You stay here and run the game. Make sure everything goes smoothly. I’ll be alright. Be back as soon as I can.”

“Alright.”

He run a hand over your arm as he makes his way towards the door. You fix your eyes on the screen, steadying your breathing.

“Mark,” you say, as he steps over the threshold.

He looks back at you, eyes still on the screen.

“Be careful.”

You see his reflection on the screen nod, before closing the door behind him.

○

The third shot on the carousel went off when one of your security cameras went black. You sit up in the desk chair, poking at the keyboard, trying to get the feed back. Groaning, you hoist yourself up, grabbing a tool kit and your gun, and heading to the broken camera on the back of the building.

Your phone rings as you tinker with the faulty camera.

Hoffman.

Preparing yourself for the worst, you answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, where are you? I’m back.”

“I’m out back, one of the cameras cut. All good?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll tell you about it when you get back in. But I’m fine. You good?”

A weight is lifted off of you. “Yeah, all good. Be in soon.”

○

He didn’t notice the note on the keyboard until his phone was flipped shut, trying to slow his heart rate. You didn’t put this here, did you? Where would you have gotten it? You knew about it, of course, but why would you put it here? You didn’t even know when he was coming back. You had been there when he had written it.

“Are you sure about this? Amanda is good at what she does, even if she is a bit hot headed. Just like someone else.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. This is our game, not hers. Once she’s out of the picture, it’ll just be you and me.”

His eyes darted around, trying to think of some explanation. He’d have to ask you when you came back in. He thought about going out to “help” you, even if he knew you didn’t need it, just to calm his nerves. He hated the idea of you out there by yourself, focused so intently on what you were doing that you wouldn’t notice someone coming up behind you through the darkness. Even though he would never admit it, he couldn’t wait for you to get back inside. His nerves were fried after the fire, and he needed to see you.

He was so lost in thought that, before he could react, he felt an electric shock pulse through his body.

○

As soon as you got the red light on the camera blinking again, your phone buzzes.

Hoffman.

Impatient, you thought, flipping the phone open.

“Hello, Detective.”

Nothing. Dial tone.

Your eyebrows furrow and you feel your breath hitch. You quickly dial him back, pressing the phone to your ear.

No answer.

Fuck. You leave the toolbox on the concrete, pulling your gun from the holster around your waist, and slowly make your way back inside.

You slink through the hallways back to the command center, listening for anything that tells you where he is, that he’s okay. That he’s alive.

Then you hear glass shatter.

You could’ve sworn you heard a car door slam shut outside, an engine starting, but you don’t care. You quickly make your way to the room, the window in the door shattered and –

The bear trap falling from the bars.

You throw the door open, and you suddenly forget how to breathe. Mark is one the floor, alive and bleeding, the side of his face torn to shreds.

You holster your gun, rushing over to him.

“What the fuck happened? Stay here, I have a kit in my car. Don’t move, and that’s not a suggestion.”

He nods slightly, breathing heavily through his nose.

You rush outside, hands fumbling with your car keys, pulling the door open and searching the glove box for your first aid kit.

When you get back inside, Mark has moved against the wall, head leaning back against the stone. You crouch down beside him, pulling out a clean needle and thread.

“I can do it,” he says through gritted teeth, reaching for the supplies.

You slap his hand away. “Shut up. You’re not doing this.” He sees your tense jaw, your eyes wide, and decides to listen.

Once you’ve stopped the bleeding and have at least half of his cheek sewn back up, your heart has stopped trying to escape from your chest and your hands have gotten steady again.

“Who did this?” you ask him, his face finally whole again.

“Jill Tuck.”

“What? Are you serious?”

The rage in his eyes gives you you’re answer. All you can do is nod. Jill motherfucking Tuck.

You start applying an antiseptic to his face, ignoring his insistence that he’s fine.

“So,” you start, breaking the silence. “Do you want me to say it now or later?”

His eyes meet yours, and he lets out an annoyed laugh. “Later, thank you.”

You can’t help but laugh, relieved and angry and fearful all at once.

I told you so, Hoffman.

“Cmon,” you say, grabbing his hand as he forces himself to stand. “Let’s get you home.”

[b-movie-scream-king]

Top ten hottest Saw characters:

1: Dr. Lawrence Gordon

2: Allison Gordon

3: Carla

4: Classroom trap guy

5: Amanda Young

6: Adam Faulkner-Stanheight

7: Mark Hoffman

8: The Rack (not the guy just the trap)

9: Allison Cerry

10: Gabriella

[justacanofcorn]

SAVIOUR COMPLEX (Marx Hoffman x F!Reader Pt. 8)

(Pt. 7)

Rating: M

TAGS: language/past abuse/Mark Hoffman being a c*p/reader's life is maybe becoming less normal/Mark is protective bc it's his job but he's also problematic/because he's a c*p/Detective Gibson is his own tw/no Mark Hoffman this chapter :(/ busy being jigsaw a badass

Gibson shows up on your doorstep at 7:45 sharp.

He’s in the full getup now, suit jacket and pressed shirt with his side piece on display. You roll your eyes and push past him, your restaurant uniform on and your feet taking you there.

“What? No hello?”

“Hello,” you mutter through gritted teeth. Before you can walk past his cruiser, he’s got a hand on your bicep. You freeze.

It doesn’t help that he has a similar build to Ted, that their hair is the same color. You know it’s not him. But it jolts you anyhow and you manage to unfreeze and yank your arm away.

“Just because you’ve been assigned my case doesn’t mean you can put hands on me.”

“You didn’t seem to mind when it was Mark.”

“Right. And you’re not him. Seems pretty clear cut to me.”

He takes a moment before gesturing to the cruiser.

“Get in.”

You bunch your brow in confusion.

“Um…no?”

“Resisting an officer?”

You roll your eyes. “Did they stick you with me because you were too busy being an asshole to do your actual job?”

“Damn, you’re quick.”

“Thanks. Helps me get away from asshole cops with a power complex.”

“You can keep digging yourself that hole; either way, you’re getting in the car. Don’t wanna be late for work, do you? Can you make it in 10?”

You glance at your watch and groan. He’s kept you here for five minutes and no, you can’t walk it in 10.

“Fine. Do I have to get in the back, too?”

“Keep it up and you just might.”

You don’t put up anymore of a fight and crawl into the passenger seat. Gibson starts the drive and you watch the neighborhood pass by the window.

“Why do you hate Hoffman so much?”

Mark’s last name feels strange coming out of your mouth after you’ve kissed him so much. Gibson chuckles.

“It’s not that black and white. I don’t hate him. I hate when people get unfocused and irresponsible.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” you mutter to the glass.

“What was that?”

You want his job.

“Nothing.”

Neither of you engage with the other for the rest of the trip and Gibson leaves as soon as he drops you off. You come in through the back, grinding your teeth, irreversibly on edge for the rest of the day. You slam your locked door a little too hard and Gerri looks up from the soda fountain in the alley.

“Woah there. Locker not tip you well?”

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Fuckin’… long ass story. You keep up with the news?”

Gerri shrugs. “Not really. Figure if it’s important enough I’ll hear about it. Why?”

“Well, guess you’ll hear it from me.”

You and Gerri both do your best to not neglect your tables but every time you’re at the running window or the server’s alley you’re butting heads together and whispering.

“So he’s kicked off the case? Just like that?”

“This smug little bastard- and Mark’s smug too but he wears it well at least, but this weasel has decided to make it his mission to make me miserable. Which, like, what’s the point?”

“Maybe to get back at Hoffman? What’s their beef anyway?”

The answer is delayed when a busser pushes through with a rack of dirty dishes.

“Gibson says there is no beef. Like I’m supposed to believe that.”

“Have you talked to Mark about it yet?”

“Not since last night. I don’t know what to even say. I told him we probably needed time to cool off.”

“What, like a break?”

“If you wanna call it that.”

“Sounds to me like that’s what it is.”

The busser stops in front of you two and sighs loudly.

“Can you please clear the alley!” He says unnecessarily loudly. Gerri gives him the bird.

“Fuck off, hourly wage.”

Despite the snark you both move and get the drinks you came back here for.

“I don’t know, I think you should talk to him. And what’s up with the Jigsaw guy? Do you think Ted was some sort of…message?”

Your stomach coils. “Message?”

Gerri shrugs. “I don’t know. This is the second time you’ve been involved. First time, you’re a witness and get his operation shut down. Second time it’s your ex in a trap. Not to mention…” they trail off. You raise your eyebrows.

“What?”

“I-“ they hesitate.

“Gerri, what?” You begin to grow agitated, like maybe you know the theory they’re reaching towards.

“I’m just saying, who else has been there the first time, and a second time?”

You roll your eyes.

“Gerri-“

“Am I wrong?”

“No, of course you’re not-“

“Listen, I’m not saying one way or the other, but maybe that’s why Gibson is being such a hard ass, right?”

You stutter, nearly dropping a salad onto your table. You apologize, run your routine, then catch up with them.

“Okay, so what? You think he’s in trouble? Like, prison trouble?”

“I’m Cochran all of a sudden? I don’t know. But that’s what it sounds like to me.”

Your head swims. You grab Gerri by the arm and pull them back by a serving station.

“Do you think…” you chew on your lip where a cut is beginning to form. “I mean…”

“Oh hon. I don’t know. I mean, you know him, I don’t.”

“But…I don’t know him. Not really.”

“Hey, why the change of heart?”

You don’t even realize you’ve started crying until Gerri’s handing you a napkin.

“Fuck. God, I hate crying at work.”

“Wanna go to the walk-in?”

You snort through the snot and turn away from the tables.

“Fuck you for making me laugh.”

“It’s my job, isn’t it? Don’t worry about it. So you let it cool off. Don’t call him. If he calls you, sure. If he wants to meet, do it here. I’m sure it’s all fine. Now I wish I hadn’t said a word.”

You wave your hand and use a yet-to-be-bussed cup’s condensation to wet the napkin and dab at your ruined makeup.

“No, I needed to hear it. I’ve been thinking it but I'm too scared to say it out loud. Feels like a betrayal.”

“Hey, you don’t owe the guy anything.”

“I mean, he took care of me, Ger. Patient with me, kind, slept next to me all night and didn’t do so much as touch me.”

“The bare minimum,” Gerri mutters.

“Hey, that’s not fair.”

Gerri shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. Just consider what I said, alright? I hope we’re both wrong. I hope this all gets straightened out, the Jigsaw killer fries and we both get big glamorous jobs and you get to fuck a hotshot detective every night of the week.”

You throw your head back in laughter and the two of you return to run food. Your heart feels a little lighter.

[citheroniaregalis]

hes so wet and pathetic i have the irresistible urge to microwave him

[theflirtmeister]

drabble thingy, i am starved for yuri hoffstrahm . i need the girls to get inappropriate in a jigsaw warehouse or something

“I’ve got someone kidnapped in the next room,” Hoffman says, already unbuttoning her shirt. “We have to be quick.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Strahm says, sitting down heavily on Kramer’s chair. “I’m going to pretend we are two normal women getting each other off.”

“You wouldn’t like me if I was normal baby.” Hoffman slips out of her shirt, and straddles Strahm’s lap, so she’s got a face view of Hoffman’s tits. “You only like me because I try and kill you.”

Strahm pinches Hoffman’s nipple through the fabric of her bra and Hoffman grins with bloody teeth, ducking her head down for a kiss. She tastes metallic and something like bubblegum, and Strahm slides her hand up her skirt, squeezing her thigh.

“Yeah,” Hoffman whines. “Get me off, please.”

“I don’t think you deserve it.” Strahm says, but she’s already touching Hoffman’s cunt through her underwear, teasing her with her fingers. Hoffman’s soaked, which Strahm will rack up to her being fingered, rather than the hostages she’s just taken. 

“But I’m so good.” Hoffman insists, rolling her hips against Strahm. “I’m the best Jigsaw accomplice-”

Strahm bites her throat, leaving a perfect imprint of her teeth. Hoffman keens like a bitch in heat, pressing her entire body against Strahm, everything about her hot and soft and wanting. Strahm sucks the mark she’s made, and slides her hand underneath Hoffman’s panties, thumb brushing over Hoffman’s clit. 

“Strahm.” Hoffman says, broken, and Strahm smirks. Dykes are so easy.

[thenormalfrog]

The best part of watching saw 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and X is the rack, or as he's better known, detective lieutenant Mark Hoffman. Yowl hisss hissss scrrreeeeeee mreeowwwww hisssss screee yoooowll meeorrww hiss yowl screee hiss hissssss mrrreooww amiright

[detstrahm]

What do you think about Mark Hoffman's massive rack

I don't know.

I don't look at his 'rack.'