you single handedly feed me every time you post THANKYOU
may I timidly ask for some Doorman “relationship” headcanons? I feel like a conventional relationship or romance with him would be next to impossible what with the whole “god in disguise” thing.. but also it’s not like he’s an older eldritch being with tons of knowledge being a fledgling and all ^^ I want to hear Your Thoughts..
Doorman Relationship Headcanons
Content Warnings | Mentions of potentially unhealthy relationship dynamics
Synopsis | Relationship headcanons for Doorman
Word Count | 1.2k
Notes | Not proofread. I also think I'm gonna nickname Doorman "Dorian"
🚪Doorman is incredibly attentive. I mean, his main goal of even residing within this corporeal world (or at least a part of his goal) is to literally observe and learn; of course he’d be observant towards people. But, when he begins to take a particular liking to a person, he becomes even more aware of everything about them.
🚪He doesn’t talk about feelings much. On a more personal level, they’re just things that he doesn’t quiet grasp the way he should, and he knows that. But he always notices when something is off with you; a shift in posture, your tone, or how you pause before speaking or if you start to wring your hands.
🚪The art of service is another core component to his daily machinations. This is shown in how he shows affection; acts of service, of course. He does obvious things like opening doors for you, pulling out and pushing in chairs, so on. If you have a cup of coffee or a snack, the cup or mug or wrapper is taken from your hands and discarded or sent to be cleaned the moment you’re finished with it.
🚪He’s unlike many other men in the roster; he is not one to stand in front of you and impose himself, but that doesn’t mean he’s not there in tense or uncomfortable situations. He’s there, beside you, calmly navigating the situation with that lingering, hidden threatening feeling that manages to worm its way under people’s skin.
🚪Physical affection is minimal, especially at first. He just doesn’t ache for it like a normal person would, cause he’s not a normal person. Initiating it just doesn’t cross his mind, especially because intimate touches like that actually go against what is typically expected in the type of job he willingly does; you don’t expect the hotel worker to hug or hold you, y’know? And that service part of his brain doesn’t ever really shut off.
🚪Another part of him not really initiating very romantic things is because of how patient he is, especially with you. This man will never push or pressure you. It can come off as him not caring sometimes. That’ll probably be the biggest hurdle with him, is it’ll feel like he doesn’t care anymore than he does with anyone he serves.
🚪You have to keep in mind; he’s some eldritch mini god. The relationship will start out odd. His initial interest in you is like that of some deity looking down upon a slightly more than interesting pet. That is exactly what it is at first.
🚪If you can power through this stage though, you’ll see a subtle shift. It starts with him actually trusting in your competence rather than choosing not to voice how little he believes in your capabilities. Then, alongside that trust, the protectiveness will creep in.
🚪Doorman isn’t controlling. In his nature he may be, but he makes an active effort to not control you, and that reflects in how he does start to grow protective, like I said. It’s part out of care, and part out of a repressed sense of possessiveness. When he does find himself genuinely trusting in your competence, it starts to feel like you aren’t reliant on him or the service he provides that so many others do depend on, even when they can’t realize that it’s there. Because you don’t need him, why would you want him?
🚪This is slight headcanon territory (regarding the lore itself) but I don’t think it’s wild to imagine that he’s one of MANY other eldritch beings, and that these eldritch beings very rarely keep someone around or engage in personal bonds with other beings unless there’s some sort of need there. When there is no need present in his mind, well, why on Earth would you just willingly stay?
🚪There’ll come a point where he’s begun to care beyond that deranged curiosity. He will have that realization that you don’t need him. He will then become desperate. This is when he will over do his servitude, when he will step into even a minor altercation. “See, you need me!” Is what his actions try to convey, but it’s more to convince himself than you. And, in reality, it isn’t the fact that he’s trying to prove you really do need him, it’s him trying to avoid acknowledging that he needs you to need him.
🚪It’s crucial that the relationship never becomes codependent. If he’s allowed to become unhealthily dependent on you, it’ll become a borderline yandere situation. If you become dependent on him in that way, it’ll devolve into one of those master and pet dynamics. The best time to establish the required boundaries while still opening the door (lol) for a true relationship is shortly after this desperation period sets in.
🚪Once this happens, and he manages to cool his jets, he’ll go back to his normal self but around you, there will be changes. That’s the thing with him though; even the biggest differences in his behaviour are so incredibly subtle.
🚪As normal, Doorman listens more than what he speaks. He treats everything you say with equal importance, whether you’re complaining about an annoying encounter earlier in the day or venting about an awful week.
🚪When it comes to caring for you, he becomes incredibly gentle. His behaviour is similar to before but now has an additional layer of tenderness. Compliments from him will always remain rare, and they come as simple things but mean so much more; “You did well” or “I’m glad you’re here.”
🚪While he can be quite chivalrous, he’s awkward with overt romance, but he tries for you.
🚪Doorman is shockingly jealous once he’s at this point, though it is quiet and restrained. He is deeply loyal, and once you’re his person, that’s it. No wavering, no second thoughts.
🚪A relationship with him starts and progresses weirdly, and you need to be very aware of and communicative about the oddities. There is a strange power imbalance that can become problematic just because he’s some immortal cosmic horror, but this imbalance isn’t just in his favour. In obvious ways it is, but in others, the power is in your hands. When it comes to the instinct of human emotions and feelings, you hold the control because you are not naive to these mundane things like he is. You both have the potential to become harmful to the other, and that is why clarity, boundaries, and communication is necessary for a relationship with him.
🚪That fact will always be clear in the quirks of his behaviour and deeper thoughts. But, as your relationship develops, that more naive side can appear, and helping him understand the reality of human emotions, not just seeing them from the perspective of an outsider is one thing that can not only help deepen your bond, but keep those imbalances in check and prevent them from getting in the way of what you could potentially share together.
🚪Comparatively though, it’s a lot easier than what it could be; he’s young for what he is, and his seemingly infinite wisdom has a level of childishness to it because, for a cosmic horror, he is still like a child in some ways. Or, more so a teenager.
A/N: I'm obsessed with the conversations in Deadlock so I thought I'd write some x reader ones. It was basically like throwing darts at who to choose for this one and I settled on just doing four.
It also wouldn't be me if I didn't give reader a base of some kind so reader is kind of an avatar for an animal god. So think New Yorker Snow White (singing is optional). But I didn't bring it up much so don't worry.
The Doorman
Doorman: I find myself becoming fond of you. That's dangerous.
You: (chuckles) Why?
Doorman: I may…have to keep you inside the Baroness.
You: Not my idea of a first date but…I'll allow it.
Doorman: Delightful with a poor sense of judgement. You are enticing.
////
You:……
Doorman: Is there something wrong?
You: Hm?
Doorman: You keep staring at me.
You: It's your eyes.
Doorman: My…eyes?
You: They're bright and blue and just so…mesmerizing.
Doorman: Bright you say?...Interesting.
You: Was that rude?
Doorman: No. I'm becoming quite fond of your odd compliments.
(I think that the brightness of The Doorman's eyes isn't really visible to most even other supernatural beings, so he's genuinely shocked that Reader sees it.)
////
Doorman: It's quite a pleasant surprise to see you at the ritual.
You: And it's quite a pleasant surprise to see you taking a break for once, I was about to alert a union for you.
Doorman: I can assure you, I'm not being taken advantage of. But your concern is much appreciated.
You: Someone's gotta look out for you.
Doorman: (Smirks) I believe that would be my line.
////
Doorman: Darling…
You: Dearie…did you like the flowers?
Doorman: I adore all of your gifts of affection, however…
You: Oh no…
Doorman: I would much prefer it if you were the one delivering them.
You:……People have been complaining about the pigeons, haven't they?
Doorman: Quite.
Silver
Silver: There's a high price on your head, dollface, and don't think for a second you're gonna use the ritual as cover from me.
You: Aww, and here I thought we'd patch things up just for the ritual.
Silver: I never forget a slight.
You: Really? You don't seem the type to a hold a grudge.
Silver: Let me correct myself…I never forget a slight from you.
////
You: You're not still mad are you?
Silver: That you tied me up with my own bolas? No, I'm pissed!
You: In my defense, you made it very easy. I'm starting to think you like being tied up.
Silver: After this ritual, I'm going to maul you and any animal that comes to help.
You: If you can catch me.
////
You: I'm curious. How do you usually find me?
Silver: Simple. I've got a really good nose so I just sniff out the coyote smell that's suspiciously close to a strip mall in Washington.
You: Well that's not fair. Washington has a lot of coyotes…probably.
Silver: Inside of a shoe store though?
You:……I should invest in some cologne or perfume.
Silver: Oh yeah, cause smelling like a lavender scented squirrel is a better idea.
////
Silver: So who was the loser I caught you with?
You: Loser?
Silver: Yeah, the sap that couldn't run from me fast enough when I found you.
You: Aww, is the puppy jealous?
Silver: Nope. They're not enough of your type for me to be jealous.
You: Maybe I changed.
Silver: You'd never settle for someone that couldn't keep up with you, dollface.
Mina
Mina: Your little animal friends keep growling at me. It's rude.
You: Yeah, I don't if you remember but you're a walking corpse. It ain't natural as far as they're concerned.
Mina: Well, tell them that if they growl again, I'll turn them into a coat.
You: Mina, sweetie, try as you might, you couldn't even skin a fly…but I'll tell them to try and be a little nicer to you.
////
Mina: You know, you'd be much cuter if you didn't smell like you bathed with pigeons.
You: Pigeons are actually the cleanest this side of the Mississippi. Definitely cleaner than prissy baby bats.
Mina: (scoffs while blushing) You…annoy me.
You: I'd annoy you less if you didn't try to be a smart ass every five seconds.
////
You: I'm not gonna have to worry about some evil ex coming to hunt me down for flirting with you am I?
Mina: (Rich girl laugh) Oh trust me, I'm not seeing anyone.
You: And your parents? Someone like you doesn't get their snobbiness from nowhere.
Mina: Even if my parents had a say, I'm the vampire and they're not.
You: Yeah, that's all I needed to hear.
////
Mina: You know when I become the Viscount of New York, I'll be needing a companion. Maybe I can even share the dark gift with you.
You: I mean, I'll be your companion but I like being able to walk in the sun. Besides, I think my patron would prefer if I stayed mortal.
Mina: Hm. You'll change your mind once we're married.
You: Once we're married? You're quite presumptuous, aren't you?
Mina: When I want something, I take it. And I'll be making sure that you walk down the aisle.
The Drifter (Yandere tw)
Drifter: Well, well, do my eyes deceive me? Or is that my little red rabbit?
You: (eye roll)
Drifter: Come now. Don't act like you don't know me. I still see my teeth marks on your gullet.
You: I shouldn't be surprised that a potential bloodbath summoned someone like you.
Drifter: (Evil laugh, sniffs the air) You have new friends.
You: I guess that's the only thing I can thank you for.
Drifter: How many of them you think I gotta tear through to get to you again, red rabbit?
////
You: Why are you following my birds?
Drifter: Cause I know they'll lead me back to you, red rabbit?
You: And you want to find me because….
Drifter: I like looking at ya.
You: Well that's…unfortunate to hear.
////
Drifter: You like my gift, cher?
You: Did you just ask me if I liked the bloody earrings you left me?
Drifter: It matched yo little birdie's coat.
You: It still had an ear attached to it.
Drifter: I ain't hearing no 'no'.
////
Drifter: Don't worry, red rabbit, I'll make sure not a single hair on that head is harmed.
You: By everyone else or by you?
Drifter: (Evil laugh)
You: Yeah that's what I figured.
The Doorman x Reader
SFW and NSFW headcanons for The Doorman
a/n: college beating my ass so i haven't been posting. anyways have a headcanon post okay?
SFW
Transportation won't be a problem with him around. If you ask nicely, The Doorman would happily help you get to your destination. Be it your workplace, the store, or your home. He always winks and brings his finger up to his lips whenever he does so. You'd laugh and mimic the motion of a zipper closing on your lips.
You try to get him to try out the little things in life. Getting him to try out your favorite foods and when he tells you what he likes and dislikes, you take note of it in your head and get him similar foods to the ones he enjoys.
You also get him physical gifts, mostly flowers, and The Doorman would store them away in his pocket dimension. It makes the space less scary, you think.
Due to The Doorman refusing to give himself any time off, you find yourself visiting The Baroness very often. Even the other employees recognize you and there are some you even consider a friend.
The days when you do book a room in The Baroness, the one that tends to you would always be The Doorman. You ask and secretly tease him about it, but all he does is smile and tell you he does it to every guest in the hotel. He can't be having favorites now.
He's very new in the 'boyfriend' department and it's endearing to watch such a powerful being be confused and awkward whenever you two are alone in the break room. (They allow you in somehow!)
He would always be watching over you, of course. In the early days it was unnerving, you couldn’t shake off the feeling of someone watching you. But after setting some boundaries, it was easier to differentiate when your partner is checking up on you or when something more sinister is at play.
You'd have stronger resistance to others playing with your mind. Like a vampire's glamour or a mermaid's song. Gods above, spare them for even thinking of trying to manipulate you!
NSFW
Let's get it out of the way, I personally think that he can have anything he wants. He can have nothing, or a cock, or a pussy, or both. He's free to mold his human vessel, I'd say.
He never really needed to fuck before, but I wouldn't say he's completely clueless. His whole thing is that he likes to observe humanity. Not saying that he's a voyeuristic pervert, but he knows a thing or two.
Doesn't really have a sex drive, but if the hotel isn't busy and you ask him for a bit of his time, he wouldn't say no.
He's more giving than receiving. He wants to see what makes you twitch and tick. What you like and what you dislike. The first time he was a bit sloppy but after your guidance, he's a natural and fast learner.
He's good with his hands. His fingers reach the spot inside you that makes your vision blur/his slender hand feels nice wrapped around your cock. He can probably coax a good release or two from you just with his hands.
Worship kink. Both ways. If you play more into that powerplay, it'd make him go a bit crazy. And he enjoys telling you exactly what he loves about you.
He likes to tease. Making you lose your back arch in pleasure before taking that high away from you. If you start crying from pleasure and his edging, it'll spur him on to do it again. But he can tell when the tears are from displeasure and he knows when to stop and give you your release.
He's open to try out anything you want. In my opinion, his favorites are roleplay, hunter/prey, hypnosis, and... portal sex.
The best aftercare. Are you kidding? Look at him. The Doorman cleans you, gets you water, and even gives you a massage. He talks to you through all of it, quietly. But if you're overwhelmed, he's content with just taking care of you in silence until you replenish your energy.
hihii!! may i ask for a doorman x reader (deadlock)? the prompt would be running away from the doorman after the reader accidentally walked into/overheard a conversation thyre not supposed to know (regarding the doorman's true identity), reader is a famous actor)actress so it really would be trouble for the doorman because the reader has a lot of influence. thank you!!
hi thank you for the ask! one thing though couldn’t really work in the over hearing things part (?) i don’t personally think doorman really cares one way or the other if people are aware of what he actually is, much less if some random actor/actoress knows, he casually drops hints hes not really human all the time in game, its not really a secret, maybe if you were someone from like paradox musuem sure since they have a habit of capturing/killing/stealing things but even then it’s still not really an issue for him
in this the reason is a little different ;) (he just finds this human very interesting!)
Warnings: Obsessive behavior, implied eating disorder/unhealthy eating habits, reader's weight and size is not described
It’s your last day at the Baroness hotel; after a nice week get away from everything just to relax the hotel had been fairly well. You enjoyed sipping through mimosas in the morning, napping, and doing some other leisurely activities around the premises, primarily reading. The hotel had a rather robust reputation, something along the lines of never wanting to check out once you’ve visited. You don’t really remember it all too well, but it lives up the sentiment. Although it has been rather empty despite the reviews, most haunted in the tri-state, yet you hadn’t seen nary a ghost, ghoul, or wraith frequenting the establishment. It is on the off season however, so perhaps you’ve happened to plan your trip whilst the premises is mostly vacant.
You’ve already pre-packed even though check-out isn’t for a few more hours. You still wanted to relax while you had the time to before you went back to well… everything.
From the moment you were five and you’d been scouted by an acting company after that your life has been one commercial break to another, playing side characters, in movies, and talk shows. You’re surprised your voice hasn’t given out with how much of yourself has been on film. Vacations are few and far between given your contracts you’re obligated to do, and your family having signed you onto them when you were young and not so knowledgeable many of these bindings do not favor you in the slightest. You’re expected to work long hours on sets, maintain diets, and be perfect photo ready in case any paparazzi come by. You hardly ever even get privacy to yourself. It’s difficult to say the least, and in the first time in a long time during your stay you were pleasantly surprised you’d not been hounded by any prying eyes.
The doorman, as the only help or staff you’d seen on premises had assured you when you checked in that he’d make sure to bar anyone who wasn’t paying for a room and double check the halls for you. However more importantly that you appreciated was that he claimed he didn’t really know who you were, when he asked why you’d been nervously checking into the hotel; afraid of being recognized and a scene being made. He’d just given you a pleasant small smile and helped you get your bags to your room. You do feel a little guilty though, you can’t recall his name, you know you must have asked at some point, or maybe he told you? You aren’t sure, but you are too embarrassed to ask at this point.
Other than that however, it’s been bliss, no managers telling you what to eat, no directors yelling at you for not thinking you weren’t ‘trying’, no crowds around you clamoring for photos or asking rather embarrassing and personal questions. It’s just been you and that lovely doorman, staying be your side refilling your drinks and entertaining small chat here and there. You even found they had some books you could read, and you found you enjoyed it, you like reading. A small fact you hadn’t realized you liked when the only things you could read before were magazines which often didn’t have the most thrilling things to say about you.
You’d also been a bit embarrassed, but due to your early stardom you never got to have a ‘real education’, you never even touched high school so you’d had to ask the doorman occasionally what a few words meant. Gosh, you could only imagine he must think you’re such an airhead, but at least he was kind enough not to laugh in your face or make a snide comment in front of you. You can appreciate that at the very least.
Right now you’re leisurely laying in bed, a pillow beneath your arms as you read, ‘Of Mice & Men’, a classic the doorman told you it was; when you hear a knock on the door. You take a quick glance at the page number to remember where you’re at before closing it. Setting it down beside you, you stretch you arms and back before coming to answer the door. Standing tall, and perfectly poised as always, never a speck out of place on his red uniform, the Doorman greets you with a kind smile. With red curled hair just coming out around the hat strapped around his face, freckles lightly dusting his cheeks and a unique blue eyes. You swear you’ve never quite seen a color like them before. He has beside him a silver cart show casing various delicacies of breakfast items still fresh a top it.
“Good morning Miss,” He greets you warmly, saying your name.“I’ve come to serve breakfast directly to you today.”
“Oh? Is there something wrong with the dinning room?” You question, typically you would go down stairs to get food or order it in to your room. You don’t recall ordering in though. You still step aside though to allow him to roll the cart in. You follow slightly behind him as he wheels it towards the small table by the window to your room.
“None at all. Seeing as how it is so slow, I just didn’t wish to trouble you with having to walk and fetch it yourself when I could just bring it to you directly.” He replies starting to set dishes down over table and various cutlery and even a set of napkins for you to use.
“Oh, well thank you. You know you really don’t have to. I could use with the walking anyways, oh,” You let out a small airy laugh, “My manager’s gonna freak out when he hears about how spoiled I’ve been eating.” However the doorman does not share in your joke, still maintaining that polite smile, yet not humor or joy reaches the bright blues of his eyes.
“You’ve been consuming fairly balanced meals here, mimosas aside that is, the Baroness hosts a wide variety of nutritional foods as well.” He instead stays and you try to still maintain your smile towards him. “I guess it’s just different in my industry, different standard of healthy and what not.” You say, but he doesn’t say anything else as he finishes setting up the table, giving you a small bow, hand over his chest, before pulling out the chair for you to sit down. “Please do enjoy.”
“Thank you.”
He seems to be about to leave before he stops himself short of walking away, “Oh and one more thing, I did want to ask, but how have you been enjoying the book?” He points towards where it is on the bed and your eyes follow his movements, before you reply. “It’s wonderful, thank you again for the recommendation.”
“Of course, anytime and remember just ring the bell should you need anything at all.” He then gestures towards said golden bell, right beside your nightstand. You haven’t actually used it yet, preferring to just call in with the phone. You’re sure there’s some magic attached to it or something to notify him, but you can’t help but feel that it’s a little demeaning towards him to call him via bell ringing. You just nod, and with that he turns and leaves bringing the cart with him.
It’s a bit bittersweet having to leave the hotel now, if you could you’d stay for the rest of your days. However time moves forwards, you still have life-long contracts to fulfill, and long nights ahead. You need to call for a lift back home, so using the hotel’s landline you start to dial up your manager’s number to send you one over.
You wait a few times as it rings.
And rings.
And rings.
Odd, they usually answer right away, and finally the phone let’s out a small dial-up ringtone before saying in a static robotic voice.
‘We’re sorry, but the number you have reached is not in service; please try again later.’
You must have put it in wrong, dialing in again, the phone rings yet still spits out that same message at the end.
Maybe these phones were only meant to be used in the hotel? A bit strange, but you decide it can’t hurt to ask and dial up for the front desk. The phone doesn’t even get a chance to ring once before it swiftly responded to you.
“Front desk of the Baroness, how can I be of service?” You hear the doorman’s voice crackle out from the phone’s speakers.
“Hi, I was just wondering; do the phones here, can they access numbers outside of the hotel? You see I’m trying to get in contact with my manager.” You explain.
“Yes they do.” He confirms.
“Oh, well… I might be having some technical problems with mine, it keeps saying the number is no longer in service. May I head downstairs and use the one at the front desk?” You try to ask instead.
“I am so sorry for that inconvenience, that shouldn’t be at all. Could I offer an extended stay at the hotel to makeup for this error on our part?” It’s a lovely idea, being able to spend longer here, but you really can’t. That choice just isn’t up to you.
“Afraid not, I’m supposed to be leaving today, although thank you for the offer, it’s really not necessary though.” You sigh wistfully, “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“See you soon.” The doorman replies and then the line clicks shut.
You go to make your way down decided to take the stairs over the elevator, just so you can linger around the premises a little longer before you need to make the call. You’re already dreading it, you can practically hear and feel the hot breath of your manager as they chew you out for how long you’ve spent on vacation. Your shoes make a distinct noise on the tile stairs as you move downwards, reminding you of just how empty this place is. It’s really astounding you’ve seemed to have picked the one week where you seem to be the singular patron on the building. So entirely devoid it seems they’ve even limited their staff to just one man who caters everything around here for you. You hope he doesn’t have any disdain for you or that he isn’t bother by your requests. He seems to not mind, he even seems to like his job very much, but you know how people can be with one person than different with someone else. Just the nature of people, still perhaps you haven’t been too much of a bother.
When you finally get to the bottom of the stairs it feels like you walked a lot longer than you should have. Your calves ache a little, and when you look up towards the landing you think you came from it doesn’t look very far at all. Strange, but maybe your minds just playing tricks on you, or maybe you’re not even looking at the right landing.
Pushing through a set of doors you come into the main lobby. Empty as ever, a distant background music plays and echos through the chairs in front for people to sit while they wait for help. A stand of books and magazines on another side. The pristine red carpet starting at the front entrance and rolled all the way over to the front desk. The outside window of the place show the quiet mid-day streets of Manhattan. Cars parked out front, the other business fronts seeming to be a bit empty as well.
The desk is empty for once though, only the bell is there, in all of your week of being here the doorman seemed to always be right where you needed him to be, or rather always where ever you looked first. You guess that convenience couldn’t be maintained forever. He’s probably helping another guest to their room, and you stand there waiting for him to return. You know you could probably just go behind the desk and use the phone, but that seemed extremely inappropriate. So you walk down over towards the waiting seat and sit down and wait.
Your eyes slowly blink open, a yawn leaving your mouth as you stretch out from your uncomfortable position on the chair. You sit there is a daze for a few minutes as you get your bearings your gaze turning to look out the windows of the hotel to see that night has fallen.
It takes you a moment to realize that you’ve just napped through far past your check out time and consequently far past the time you were supposed to be back home.
Your manager was going to kill you. They’d never let you live this down, you might not even be ever able to have a nice vacation ever again. You stand up from the chair, quickly making your way to the front desk to find the doorman still isn’t here. Your hand hovers over the bell, before you do tap it. The bell chiming no more than once before the door behind the desk opens and you see the man come immediately at the call of the phone. You can see his mouth open about to say something, but you speak first.
“Please may I use the phone, I need to call my manager. They’re probably freaking out, I’m surprised they haven’t come in person by now, Oh my God, they’re going to be so upset with me, I-” The words pour out of your mouth, but the door man speaks over you.
“Breathe.” He calmly demands, and you find yourself listening. Taking in a deep breath and exhaling out.
“Good. Now then, you seem rather stressed Miss,” He says your name quietly, still speaking in an even calm tone despite your more manic state. “May I interest you in a tiramisu? It’s made on the grounds.” His hand comes up from the desk itself, a plate of a dessert in hand seemingly from nowhere.
“What?” You say confused, unsure where he even got it from, before you dismiss the offer. “Look, I’m sorry I don’t need any sweets. God the magazine would have a field day if they saw how looked now, please I just need to use the phone.” He sets the dessert down onto the desk off to the side. You see his lips purse for a moment at your refusal, before the smile returns.
“I would recommend against calling your… manager at this time. You seem to be a bit dazed, and confused, please allow me to escort you to the spa room. We have a lovely cucumber mask this week that I think you will find soothing.” He tries to offer instead.
“I-I don’t need a spa, I need the phone. Please.” You try again, eyes flicking from him to the phone on the desk.
“Hmm.” He hums for a moment, his eyes are locked on to you. They don’t for a second look elsewhere as he thinks on something.
“How about a dip in our indoor pool? I know you’re not much one for swimming, but perhaps that could help burn off all this nervous energy you seem to be experiencing.” He tries instead, as if your request was never heard of in the first place. It’s the first time he’s ever acted like this to your knowledge, he’s usually very accepting of your requests, why was the phone such a big deal?
“I don’t need any of that, I just need the phone. Let me just-” Your hand moves to reach past the counter to grab it for yourself, you normally wouldn’t be so rude, but needs must. Your manager is probably fuming right now. However your hand is stopped short right as it grips the phone handle. A gloved handing coming to rest over your wrist, gentle but firm. Silken and cold as his fingers wrap around you, you look up to the man, and see that his eyes are still looking down at you. A small wistful sigh leaving his lips.
“I always wish that it never has to come to this you know.” He admits, and your brows furrowed confused as he keeps talking.“But I just don’t get it. You hate your job, you hate your manager, you hate everything about it. Yet you always so desperately reach for the phone.” You pull your hand back from the phone and he lets you, his grip doesn’t follow settling on the desk instead, his gaze finally drifting off of you rather than burning holes into your soul as he seems to think.
“W-what?” You nervously mumble. He looks down to the dessert on the desk, eyeing it thoughtfully.
“I know you have an insatiable craving for tiramisu, but you never did get to try it this time around, perhaps if I’d given you some prior, or maybe I just need to find out what your other interests are.” He more so mumbles it to himself rather than directly towards you.
“A creative outlet for you, to help de-stress and put your energy into something. What do you think of knitting? Would you like to learn knitting next time?” He suddenly asks louder, looking to you again. Eagerly awaiting a reply as his smile returns to his lips.
“What do you mean by next time? I need to leave.”
“That’s what you think you need, but I know what you really need.” He says, with complete confidence. “So how about painting? Not dabbled much myself, but I can learn for your sake.” He tries once again, waiting for an answer.
He’s a stalker, he must be, an obsessive one, you’ve had letters and stuff sent to you before, but never in your wildest dreams did you think your hotel bellhop would be one. It’s insane, but it’s the only thing that makes sense to you right now, he somehow thinks if you just can’t make the call back to your manager you won’t leave. He’s completely delusional.
You take one unsteady step backwards, before you take another and another, keeping your eyes on him, before you turn tail and run for the front doors of the Baroness.
“They’re locked.” He calls out from behind you, still eerily calm despite your frantic state as you try to pull and push on the doors to no avail. They do not even rattle as you try the handles. You look upwards running back towards the doors of the stairwell, maybe there was an emergency exit you could find. However the doors there also remain firmly sealed. As if they were part of the wall itself rather than an exit. “Also locked.” He calls out again, still standing patiently by the front desk, seemingly self-assured you have no way of exiting. Your eyes dart around again to the windows, running to them try and find a latch or anything before you consider if there’s a way to break them open. You can hear the sound of slow precise footsteps from behind you as you start to bang your hand against the glass. Tears starting to pour down your cheeks as your breaths come in a ragged hot fast pace.
You didn’t want to die, you didn’t want to get hurt, you didn’t want this, God what was he going to do to you? You just want to go home.
“That doesn’t go anywhere.” He says, and you sniffle looking out through the window, tears blurring your vision only to find the view from outside is… wrong. There’s no depth, the image is completely static, like someone just pasted a wallpaper over the window rather than what was actually outside. You place your hand against, sore from trying to beat against it, your legs grow unsteady and you slide down to the floor. Staring off into the picture outside that looks back, offering you no answers and only more confusion.
“Wh-where am I? Who, who are you?” You ask through sobs as you turn to look back at the doorman as he comes to stand just a foot away. He bends down on one knee to meet you at eye level, his brows are furrowed just a touch. A look of pity as he brings as hand up and you flinch away from the motion, but he continues a handkerchief being produced and brought to your cheeks to wipe away the tears staining them.
“You’re at the Baroness hotel, exactly where you need to be. The other part doesn’t matter.” There’s a glow to his eyes, a color of blue you don’t think you’ve ever seen before, you don’t even really know what to ascribe to them other than otherworldly. It’s like it’s a new color all together in a way, there’s just no word for it, no sense, no rhyme, no reason, it just is. You find you can’t look away, you can’t even think.
“Hush, now let’s try again. I so do hope this time you’ll see things my way.” He says as you stare back into his eyes, lost in the impossible color.
It’s your last day at the Baroness hotel; after a nice week get away from everything just to relax the hotel had been fairly well. You enjoyed snacking on cheesecake, napping, and doing some other leisurely activities around the premises, primarily knitting. The hotel had a rather robust reputation, something along the lines of never wanting to check out once you’ve visited. You don’t really remember it all too well, but it lives up the sentiment. Although it has been rather empty despite the reviews, most haunted in the tri-state, yet you hadn’t seen nary a ghost, ghoul, or wraith frequenting the establishment. It is on the off season however, so perhaps you’ve happened to plan your trip whilst the premises is mostly vacant….
oh hello humble doorman!!! what are you doing here on my canvas even!!
trying out a new way to color & shade my drawings ! let me know if it looks nice and also feel free to yell at me to draw more deadlock characters in my asks..
You bribe The Doorman into spending a mundane evening with you. That's all.
CW: None. SFW. Complete fluff.
"No."
"What do you mean no? C'mon anyone else would be dying to be in your position."
The ginger squinted, lips curling into a small frown as he stared you down. You, the guest who was attempting to essentially rent him out for an hour as if this were some sort of seedy establishment. You, the guest who had been pestering him for days after being at The Baroness as a complimentary stay from your company. You, the guest who confused him since you seemed uncannily sincere in trying to “ask him out” despite his handful of polite refusals over the past few weeks towards you.
Why must you be so persistent? Yes this vessel he created was handsome, it was crafted by himself after all but his crafted persona wasn't that interesting was it? It's not like you really knew what he was right?
"This is a well respected establishment and I will not-"
"I have six hundred souls in the back of my car," you deadpan.
...
And so that's how he ended up here. In a place far removed from the Baroness... A cozy but well lived in apartment. The sofas were worn, but not dirty, a fur covered blanket draped over the arm rest, possibly to try and hide the obvious scratches and breaking seams . Did you have a pet? Well, no matter. Not like he could smell it with the sickeningly soothing scent of cinnamon and oranges invading his nose. The potpourri honestly smelled better than any candle he'd ever gotten, much as he loathed to admit. A small part of him wished to incorporate this scent into the Baroness somehow but... Having a simmering crock pot out in the open wouldn't be very elegant would it?
He was staring at your stupidly smug expression across the table now. A cup of tea and pie having been served to both of you (courtesy to you of course). His blank expression betrayed the mild annoyance building inside him. Being taken away from his job for some silly little excursion... Unfortunately the idea of six hundred more souls inhabiting the ever expanding maze of the Baroness was far too tempting to deny.
"I will leave should any guest call for me you know," he said, narrowing his eyes just a bit as he idly stirred whatever unknown tea you had given him. His gloves and jacket having been neatly folded and set aside on a coffee table nearby; leaving him in a simple white button up and his freshly pressed work pants.
"Yeah, yeah. Just eat your damn pie," you waved him off like it was nothing. Rude. But you were never one for proper language, at least when it came to him. Perhaps you did it to annoy him?
The Doorman looked down at the pastry and tea like it personally offended him. You have the audacity to take him away from his purpose and serve him with mediocre food and drink? The tea was a deep red, certainly never a tea he'd seen before or served at The Baroness. The pie was staggeringly dull looking, nothing particularly stood out about it. Though the crust looked a tad over baked and the apple filling was oozing from the side. Mistakes he would never make, he notes to himself with a tiny smug grin.
In his usual orderly demeanor, he takes the teacup in hand, looking at his reflection in the garnet colored liquid, his glowing blue eyes a complete contrast to it. Based on the scent, it must have been some sort of floral or even fruity blend. Cranberry Tea? Pomegranate tea? He’d never had either, but those are the only possible conclusions he can come to. It didn’t matter as he was currently mulling over whether he should reduce you to a similar colored stain on the carpet or to just suck it up for the next 50 minutes.
The Doorman lets out a sigh, zoning out momentarily before finally taking a sip of the tea. In a matter of seconds he’s quickly coughing it back into the cup with a bewildered expression. It was unfathomably tart, not sour like a lemon per-say; but gods was it bold and bitter. The sourness was still sticking to his tongue stubbornly even after he had spit it out.
"This isn't tea is it? It can't be,” his voice cracks, lips curled into disgusted sneer.
"Mm, it's hibiscus tea," you respond, sipping on your own. Was his poisoned? No, his vessel wasn't reacting negatively besides his disgusted taste buds.
"This is a mockery to tea everywhere you foolish little-"
"Just add some sugar," you take a sip of your own tea, flashing him a small smirk as you easily down the liquid.
Oh he could throttle you right now. His glare was burning through you right now, yet he does as you say and drops three sugar cubes into the tea. Taking another drink to prove a point to himself that he could down this wretched blend of-
...
Ah. The sugar helped. The bitter flavor had significantly lessened, the sugar softening the blow of the tart blend. It wasn't nearly as offensive to his taste buds anymore, it was tolerable actually. A moment of silence passed afterwards, he wasn’t exactly used to relaxation and leisure, so for once in eons he found himself at a loss for words.
With a quiet huff, he set the cup back down.
"Why did you want this so desperately anyway?" The Doorman now idly picked at the apple pie, stabbing the apple slice within and examining it like it was a science experiment instead of food. “Surely you didn’t just invite me for a date. My purpose here is to serve, not to play house.”
You give him a shrug in return, pushing the small plate of pie closer to him, urging him to take a bite. "Mm, so serve me by tasting that. I made it myself you know."
If the pie ended up tasting like the unsweetened tea he would probably end up atomizing you, thankfully for the both of you it doesn't taste offensive at all. But in fact... It was good, actually. It certainly tasted different from the pastries served at The Baroness, he could tell an amateur made it, crumbly crust, the apple slices weren't evenly cut and the filling was just a tad too sugary.
So why did he find himself enjoying it?
"... It's... Serviceable. I suppose I enjoy it," he mutters in an almost confused manner. Unsure of himself as he continued to savor it, even if the flavor wasn't all that complex. It was odd, you were odd. Why were you indulging in such a menial and forgettable moment with him? He still couldn't seem to understand what your plan here was. What baffled him even more was your little puff of pride after his thoughts on your baking. Is that it? Did you just want him to stroke your ego? Surely there were better candidates for that.
"Hehe, good. That's all I wanted from you. You can go back to your job now," you hum, taking both empty plates with a little hop in your step. His jaw slackening at the abruptness of your actions, that was it?!
"Wh- Pardon?" That's all you wanted?! Just for him to taste your stupid pie? Did you have any idea who he was? Gods what an infuriating creature you were! His time was wasted just for some stupid excursion when he could have been spending quality time working and observing far more interesting people than you.
"Yeah. Family doesn't live around here and my friends are all busy. You seemed like a nice guy when I stayed at the hotel so I thought why not you? Wonderful service you give over there." You were already drying your hands after washing the dishes, giving him that same look as before that he still couldn't seem to read. He hated how soft you seemed to stare at him.
It takes him a moment to compose himself before he's heavily sighing, grabbing his jacket and gloves with stiff movements. "I... See. Well, please refrain from inviting me again. I am a very busy man," his tone is clipped, restraining himself and using his service worker voice despite the displeasure he was feeling. Looking at you similarly to how one would stare at a peculiar little creature.
"Thank you for the treat and goodbye."
With that, he's already out his own door. For once, utterly confused by a human of all creatures. There was more to what you wanted, but what?
...
It's only until a random bland Tuesday afternoon that he finally understands what you did. When he's perfectly wrapping together a pie lattice to prove a point to himself that he can do this better than any human could. When he's cutting apples slice into geometrically perfect rectangles that he gets it. When he tastes his own baking and finds it doesn't nearly taste as good as yours despite having followed a professional recipe to a T. So that was your objective. That truly was all you wanted in the end. You did end up getting what you wanted, you wormed your way into his head by striking at his innate curiosity. The taste of the hibiscus tea was still fresh on his fake tongue and your little grin of victory after he complimented your baking still remained fresh in his mind even after hours upon hours of tending to various guests.
You outplayed him by giving him a taste of human mundanity. By giving him a show of what more this world still had to offer to him beyond The Baroness. By giving him a taste of a life he simply could not and would not ever understand. The taste of tea and pie was simply unable to be recreated unless it was from you.
His face twisted into a scowl.
How sickening.
He would be coming over again very soon to show you just how much better he was at making pie, by the way.
You feel him long before you cross the Baroness' threshold. That sinking, foreboding feeling that bubbles hopelessly in the pit of your stomach whenever he graced you with his presence.
But why now?
It had to have been at least a couple of centuries since you'd seen him, and to be honest, he didn't seem too keen on a profession change when the two of you last spoke. You still remember the chill that rippled down your spine when he chuckled at your naivety.
"You want to learn…From mortals? Honestly, I commend your curiosity. Bravo, my dear. What you could possibly gain outside of relishing in their torment is beyond me, though. Do write back should you find anything of note, hm?"
Yet, despite his incessant mockery, here he stands before you, costuming as one of the things he so readily tortured at a moment's notice.
"And this is our doorman. He's usually a lot busier than this, so try not to take up too much of his time, alright?" Blake, your new coworker, motions to the man you so desperately wished to avoid. You try to avert your gaze, but find yourself unwillingly drawn to him.
Unfortunately, the form he chose is uncannily suited—from its almost inhuman height, to the soft curl of red hair that rests just above his arched brow. The only thing keeping you from falling for the guise is the malevolent glow behind his teal eyes that hold traces of the power you'd grown used to associating with him.
His lips tick up a bit too wide when a flicker of recognition crosses his face.
Fuck.
He wasn't suppossed to be here.
"The Baroness welcomes you with open arms," he smile broadens, deceptively sincere as he turns back to the spectres that mill about or mingle with guests. He pauses for a moment, pondering briefly before turning to your tour guide with an uncanny wink accompanied by a charming grin, "Say, Blake, how about you go and check on Francis in the lounge? Bottomless mimosas can be a lot for one man to handle, especially with rush hour in full swing."
"But what about—"
"I can handle a simple tour, and besides, you deserve a break." He waves her off with a flick of his wrist, offering her a look that has her cheeks burning bright red as she scurries down the hall.
When he settles his gaze back on you, you narrow your eyes, lip curling in distaste as he beckons you forward.
The former fledgling god leads you through the bustling hotel, going into detail on just about every stain and frayed carpet thread while you remain quietly trailing behind him.
It appeared as though he almost cared for the hotel, but there's no way that could be right.
He never cared about anything that wasn't the cries of terror from the mortals he tortured.
"Is something troubling you? I hope I'm not too dreadfully boring."
He's close—far closer than than what could be considered professional, or even normal, for that matter. You can practically feel the heat of every robotic exhale he lets out, his eyes boring into yours with the faintest glimmer of familiar amusement.
"I'd be happy to lend my assistance." Now he hovers by your ear, the ghost of a touch tracing the pulse point at your wrist for the briefest of seconds before it's gone.
Warnings: CNC, YANDERE, RAPE DONT NOT READ IF YOU DONT LIKE THESE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Notes: this is not proof-read and its realy bad. its my first time writing anything like this so please forgive me if its awful.
You don't know how long you’ve been stuck in this god-for-saken hotel, but you can’t count the amount of times you’ve tried to escape. He wants to give you special privileges, the ability to walk around, enjoy yourself without being watched by his eyes. You’ve proven you are not worthy of that for the past 20 times he’s tried. You always end up falling through those magical doors. Every. Single. Time. It wasn’t until he left you in the room for so long you thought you’d go crazy. Your nails chipped and cracked from trying to claw the window and door open. You’ve picked up a chair and thrown it at the widow so many times but it's like you are in a rubber room. Nothing breaks but you on mental, and that's exactly what he wants. He can feel your hopelessness when he's out doing those rituals. Gone but never truly leaving you by yourself. You’re finally getting where he wants you, lost and fearful of being left to rot in this room. So when he returns, there's a spark of hope in your eyes. A spark that lights his "Fledgling God" soul on fire. You're no longer alone, he’s returned and this time he had a bag with him. That same smile he wore and those glowing blue eyes. He turned to lock the door behind him, the jingle of his keys kept you waiting for his next move. Which was simple, he walked to hand out a bag of food. The grease started to darken the brown bag at the bottom.
“My apologies, the rituals have taken more of my time than I expected.”
He said, standing a bit away from you. An arm around his back and then the other straight down at his side. You slowly move to open the bag, revealing the food. Grumbles coming from your stomach, this is your first time seeing food in a long time. You guessed he just now remembering you have to eat to live, and dying doesn't seem to be the outcome he wants. Your hands pull the food out of the bag, starting to take in the greasy, almost cold food. The door of your room closing and being locked was the last “interaction” you and the Doorman had for a long time.
Yes, the hotel room is boring. No, the TV doesn't work, but at least there is running water. Fresh towels in the bathroom and enough stuff for you to at least relax and unstiffen your muscles. You were worried about closing but that's nothing you could fix with some water and a thin amount of soap. You stood in front of the sink, the large fancy boarded mirror showing your sleep deprived face, your skin was turning a bit pale looking, and your hair was almost as greasy as the food you ate. You felt and looked like shit, your appearance looked like you’ve been here for months, and it truly feels like it's only been a few weeks to a month.
Your hand reached to turn the bath on, warm water splashing into the porcelain white tub. You pulled your underwear off and filled the sink with the hottest water you could get your hands on. Put a little bit of liquid soap in there and let it sit. Hopefully this is the start of clean underwear. Maybe you could ask him to bring you a few things so living is a bit easier. You shook your head, that would mean actually talking and being nice to the “thing” that got you trapped here. Your hands worked the soap into the cloth, eyes staring into the suds and water. The shine of bright blue eyes caught out the corner of your eye. Your head snaps to the right, but they are gone. The only thing there was the ugly wallpaper of the hotel room. Your own heartbeat takes over in your ears. You pull your hands out of the water. Grabbing the heavy door and pushing it too. It doesn’t fully close, just enough to let out the hot air but closed to where you weren’t seeing out. This puts you at ease, slipping off your shirt and going left foot into the warm water. All of a sudden you are calling yourself crazy for thinking someone was there, let alone He was there.
The warm feeling of water all around your body took over your eyes closing and a sigh coming from you. The steam wafting your face in just the right way drains all the tension out. Shoulder slumping and your poster going further down. You almost fell asleep, eyes slowly opening as an unsettling feeling replaces your pleasant mood. You stared at the door, it's still in the same potion it was in when you got in. Nothing was out of the ordinary, you chalked it up to craziness, just like before. Eyes closing again, but then you saw it, in the mirror. Through the crack of the door, he stood. Eye wide as he watched your reflection of the larger mirror. You jumped, no you screamed. Pulling your knees to your chest, causing water to splash up and out of the tub. He slammed the door shut, leaving you terrified about the event. Your hands quickly pull the plug on the tub, getting up and wrapping a towel around yourself. You opened the door slowly on your own, standing in the same position he once was, but not trying to be a creep. You wanted to make sure he wasn’t there waiting for you, and from what you could see, he was gone. No where in sight.
The door opens with a soft creak. The air conditioning blasting at the coldest setting as you walk out of the hot bathroom. You stood in the doorway, towel wrapped tightly around you, feet still wet and water dripping from your elbows. The fear of going further into the room made your stomach do flips. Your head turned to see the door was unlocked, he was still in here. Which means he can be hiding around the corner waiting to attack you. You slowly and quietly took steps back, eyes watching further into the room for the unsettling man. Your hand reached the doorknob, turning it and pulling the door open quickly. As soon as you got the space you ran out. Wet hair sticking to you, and feet hitting the cold floor as you run away. You didn’t care that you were just in a towel. The same towel that one of your hands has to hold onto while you run. Not once slipping from your grasp.
You ran for so long, not once did you ever see him behind you. Maybe he gave up, allowing you to finally escape him. That's only if you can get out of this maze-like hotel. You came to walk after a while. Legs tired and feet hurting as you walked the empty long halls. Everything looked the same, you felt like you were going in circles. There was always three of the same turns, and they never connected. You were confused, head jumbled and hurting from all the sudden movement. Your eyes landed on an open door, you could see it was a different room. Without thinking your feet carried you towards it. The door has a metal plaque that read, “employees only” Your brain screaming at you that the Doorman would be here or around the area, that it wasn’t safe. You didn't care, it's something different, finally no longer endless hallways and constant colors. Maybe this was a way out. Your hand reached to push the door further open but was grabbed by a glove on.
Panic sets in, you attempt to yank your hand out of his grasp. It doesn't work, his grip gets tighter and tighter until he now has you up against the wall.
“Ah ah ah! Nice try… There is nothing in the room for you my dear.”
The pet name sends a chill down your spine, his voice is monotone, sly smile on his face and bright glowing blue eyes. He was only a few inches from your face. The closeness was making you uncomfortable. Your hand was still gripping your towel tightly, trying to prevent it from dropping and leaving your body fully exposed to this man. The same man you have no fucking clue how or what he’d do if that happened. You turned your head, closing your eyes tightly, all this did was expose your neck to him. He leaned in, stopping before he made contact with your skin.
“You seem to have put up quite the fight. I’ve never had to chase someone down so many times.”
His words were taunting, almost like he wants you to know, you’ll never be getting out of here… ever. He seems to already know what he's gonna do to you, your brain hoping and praying he is just going to swiftly end your life. Anything else would actually kill you. HIs lips touch your neck and he lets go of your free hand. Your hand goes to start pushing him away. Elbowing him with your arm and almost crying. He's now trailing a kiss and licks up and down your neck, a pristine white glove grabs at your side. Gripping the towel and tugging down, your tears started to pour. The realization of what is happening.
“Please..”
Your beg, still trying to push and elbow him away, he pulls away from you, body pressed up against you and a knee between your legs keeping you in place.
“Don’t cry… don’t cry”
Gloved hand coming to cup your face, making you look at him as he wipes a tear away.
“Youre going to experience such great pleasure here at the Baroness with me…”
His smile doesn't falter, eyes almost glowing in anticipation. He pushes his knee further up into your core, he gains a gasp out of you. He leans in to kiss you, you turn your head in relaxation, but you're forced to look at him, lips touching, he's kissing you but you're not kissing him. Your hand is pushing at his chest, you're trying everything to get him away from you. You even let go of your towel, both hands pushing at him. Your towel falls on your side. Still being held up between you and him. Covering your most intimate parts, but it's not like it matters, he was stalking you in the bath. He eases up on pushing you into the wall, his chest leaving and the towel falls. Your tears are still falling now wetting his perfect white gloves.
“My, I couldn’t dream of someone with a more perfect body.”
You let out a sob, hands moving to cover you bits from his glowing gaze.
“Don’t hide.”
Gloved hands grabbing at your hands and pulling them away from you. He lets out a longing sigh, head tilting as he takes your naked body in. This time not being hidden from him. He lets go of your arms, hands moving to turn you around.
“I have to make this quick, the patrons are in need of my time.”
You sobbed, putting your check against the wall. His hands pull your hips, giving him a better angle. You hear the russell of fabric, then movement down at the entrance of your pussy. Your tears run hotter as you squeeze your eyes shut as he pushes into you. He's slow with it, almost like he doesn't want to hurt you, you can feel your heart cringe at the thought of that. If he didn’t want to hurt you he wouldn’t be doing this right now. He continues his assault, movements picking up and the occasional moan and whimper leaving him. You’re fighting everything in you to not moan as he's inside you. His movements pick up and your core starts to tighten. Your mind telling you this isn’t how this goes, but your body is simply following its natural call…Pleasure. He rutts into you a little too hard and you moan, bodying recoiling off him and sending vibrations straight to your clit. Now you're both moaning together, he's getting louder and faster. He pulls you back into him, reaching an arm around you and rubbing your clit. He knows you're almost ready to come. You just wish he would have finished and let you go, but he doesn't. Your moaning picks up and body doing all the work for you as he rubs brisk circles into you. Your hands braced you against the wall, tear stained face wrinkled up from all the pleasure. You were trying to get there, your own attempt at making sure this goes by fast, but it's not working. Your body is fighting against it, him, everything.
“Fuck fuck fuck. Just hurry up please. Let it be over.”
Your plea with the man behind you, his thrust is not insanely fast. The wall in front of you is taking all the pressure from him. You hear one last whimper moan behind you before he pulls out. His arm no longer reaches around to you. You can feel his warm hot cum on your back. Your once clean and fresh feeling skin is not tarnished. He lets go of you, watching as your body slumps against the wall in front of you. You fall down to your knees. Haad in your hands and cry. He picks up the towel and gently wipes your back, cleaning it of any last drop of him. He wants to pull you into him, but he stops himself. Remembering the time and his regiment for the day. He wraps the dirty towel around you and pulls you up off the ground. You watch him open a door into the hotel room he keeps you in.
“After you.”
He says watching you step into the door and just stand there.
“I will see you soon.”
He says the door is closing behind you and your sobs are ringing out into the room. You really need to find a way out of here, even if it's the last thing you do.
