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GULP AGAIN does this mean you take request for doom... if so can I get a smut w/ reader fucking Doomslayer on his fur cloak, maybe like by a fireplace? Or something like that LOL

(Holds out glass of water) you're gulping a lot that I think you might need this. Anyway porn time now. And a bit of angst because I can never help myself but there's comfort... smutty comfort but still comfort! ...and maybe a dash of more angst 🤭 then more comfort.

(Gender neutral reader)

It'd become a ritual by this point, late in the night he'd trudge his way through the empty hallways of the Sentinel Barracks to make his way to your quarters. He couldn't sleep, which wasn't exactly an unusual issue as he hasn't had a good night's rest in uncountable amount of years but recently things have been... worse.

He wasn't under Maykr control anymore, hasn't been in weeks, and while he obviously didn't miss it he did appreciate the nights not being left with own thoughts. Under their control he was left with nothing but the rage and hatred but not the reflection of why it is there in the first place but eventually that steel wall blocking that reflection eroded away reminding him of his purpose - that strange symbol on his shield flashing in his mind - being the reason he was able to break free. After that it's been a roller-coaster of events, he's barely been able to be alone clear with his thoughts. Hell he doesn't think he's been alone with them since the Seraphim put him in the machine.

But here he was, at your doorstep like a pathetic puppy. He holds on to his side - the pain of the injury had stopped hurting and has healed over long before but he can't help but to cradle it with scorn, another reminder of what he has failed to protect. But it does throb every now and again.

Every time he gets here he immediately thinks about turning around and going back to his room, scolding himself for wasting your time and ruining your sleep, you're a Captain afterall you have important work to do with the Sentinels, you deserve rest... but a selfish needy part of him desires your warm comfort to ease his mind away. Slowly, his gauntlet clad hand rises up and braps a couple times on the wooden door.

You don't take too long to answer, peeping your head out first before after seeing it's just him opening the door further allowing him to see you and a little bit of the room inside. You were dressed for bed, big baggy tunic that went just about to your knees and thick layered pants for warmth as it was now the winter months, speaking of, there was also a flickering glow behind you that with the opened door made the shadows of you and himself dance in the pitch dark of the hallway from the fireplace behind you - artificial blue flame that despite the cool light it brought was in fact very warm.

He swallows as he stares at you, he came here practically every night yet he always felt need to come up with a different excuse dispite not being able to ever verbally voice them, but it never matters as you're so gentle with him and you grab him by the hand and tug him inside. The door shuts behind him with a soft click, not to wake any of your neighboring officers as he awkwardly reaches up to remove his helmet which you then take from him to gently place it on your desk. While you're over there you go to straighten up some hologramic 'paperwork' that floated above your desk that you flick and scroll through, a task it looks like you were doing before he arrived.

"You know, it'd probably be easier if you just came straight to my room at night instead of your own, you wouldn't have to sneak around - potentially wake Valen, I know he's like a bear when he's woken up." You clearly tease but when you look back at him still in the doorway and had not moved an inch does it drop, you turn back to your reports. "I still don't mind though. Go on and sit down, I'm nearly done."

His footsteps are always heavy, they make a metallic clunk every time he steps, slowly he inches over further into the room to where he is in front of the centerpiece of the whole room, what tied the bedroom part and the office part together at the head of the quarter; the fireplace. He didn't truly notice how cold the rest of the Barracks was until he stood in front of the warmth in comparison, heat licked his skin real nice, it was a tolerable if not enjoyable heat not unbearable and overwhelming like Hell's that he's use to, so nice that he decides to crouch in front of it.

With a waver of your hand the screens flicker away, leaving you to stand there and look over to the man over your shoulder, a look in your eyes he doesn't allow himself to focus on and he forces himself to stop looking at you from the corner of his eye and back on the blue pit in front of him. Not long after he hears you move around the room, gathering the items of 'rite' before kneeling down beside him and placing them in between the two of you on the floor.

Books.

The Argenta language was still so strange to him, due to Samur's... freakiery that he can fluently speak and understand it now and in turn the Maykrs can understand his original language - he stopped questioning the insanity of all of it long time ago - but the written language was... different. Strange symbols and letters so alien to his eye that was all natural to your own, but he supposed it would be the same for you if you saw written English... maybe he should show you sometime, he thinks. But anyway, for these past couple weeks since of Azhrak's invasion had come to an end, to escape the trap of his own thoughts at night you have been giving him private lessons - since you were shocked to learn he wasn't taught.

It was a very pleasant distraction, having you basically just read to him and try your best to teach him how each sigil functioned together as letters to form words. You would also get to passionately tell all sorts of stories that were famous in Argenta folklore, cool stories about battles and heroes that fought against the odds, fairytales but due to the warrior-like mindset of the Sentinels they probably wouldn't like hearing that label but still they were interesting nonetheless and a part of your culture so he was more than happy to hear it. And it hasn't failed to take his mind away from the creeping darkness that haunted him.

Until one story.

There was once a hero named Torek, a brave Sentinel who once defended the Holy City all alone with nothing but his hammer. He fought countless battles and gained the King's respect and was pointed to lead as the head of his armies. He had the most majestic, powerful, fierce dragon to serve as his faithful steed, flew into many great legendary battles with it. But one battle was tragic, a battle against a most conniving of foe led the hero and his steed into a trap and ultimately got the faithful beast killed. No Sentinel had seen true pure wrath than what Torek expressed that day; the entire battlefield turned into massacre of their enemy, not a single soul was spared, a war that was estimated to last ten years lasted a mere three hours.

It was clear you didn't really think of the ramifications of telling this story, you were more focused on sharing one of the origins of where the Sentinel's respect for their dragons came from until it hits you at the tail end - your words drifting off into dead air as you look over from the ancient book to the man beside you who clutched onto his side. It then hit you embarrassingly quick.

"Oh-" You quickly slam the tome shut, heat and guilt zapping to your face. "-oh - oh - oh I'm so sorry, I-"

"It's fine." Hearing him out loud startles you, which he doesn't feel the best about and then just shakes his head, still feeling the dull ache in his side and can't help but to slightly curl in on himself. His brows narrow together tight in thought.

The air was tense, unignorably so, but the two of you sit through it. He sits perfectly still while you fidget with the creases of the books. It's like this that he thinks he should get up, retrieve his helm, and make it back to his lonely cold chambers as ultimately because of him the night is ruined until it's you to stop him in his place.

"I'm sorry," You repeat. "-I really mean it. I know... how much he meant to you."

"..."

"I know us Sentinels aren't the most... welcoming or accommodating of people. That partnership and bond the two of you shared isn't replaceable, I'm truly sorry it ended the cruel way it did. And I know that - that you coming here isn't really to learn but it's been a distraction from the hurt. Now I'm doing a shitty job at that, huh?" The saddened way you look at him... melts his heart.

Slowly, hesitantly, moving to closen the gap between you, fearful as if one wrong move and you'll break, he reaches out to cup your cheek. He shakes his head.

You continue to look up at him, meeting his eyes before briefly flickering down to look at his lips, face seeking further into the embrace of the cold metal of his hand. Small. You looked so small compared to him. You look at him so gentle, he has to - has to - say something, anything.

"I appreciate-" His voice strains his throat always when he speaks but he fights through, this was important. "-I appreciate what you do for me, taking time to - spend time with me when you should very well be resting, it... this all... means a lot to me."

He looks at you, so soft, so caring and loving, hanging onto his every word no matter how shittily they're spoken out. It relieves him to voice his next sentiment. "...you mean a lot to me."

It goes by so fast he isn't sure who kissed who first. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and hands in his hair while he holds onto your waist like the most delicate of glass before slowly it melts more grounded - passionate. Through your constant interactions and budding friendship, one that started even before he was put in the machine and made a divine weapon - you were the first person here to actually give a damn about him as a person and not his strength, you actually cared and he really appreciates and respects and admires you in turn.

This was a long time coming and the both of you knew it.

The fire crackles loudly in the pit in tandem with your breathy moan as your night tunic has been tugged off you and your head is lunged back and dangling as your only support is your knees digging into the floor and your hands clutching desperate on the man's armor - kisses and bites littered and peppered down your neck and chest in almost an animalistic like capacity. Your moans are practically heaves as your back arches seeking into his mouth while at the same time your hands on his shoulders work desperately to further claw down onto him that you accidentally unclasp the cloak from its attachments on his back that it comes tumbling off him and behind him on the floor, but it didn't matter as everything was coming off eventually.

He loudly - louder than you were both expecting - moans when you squeeze his crouch through the leather and chainmail of his suit, he bucks into your touch as you roughly grope at him that he curses his teeth. He throbbed so hard in your palm he's threadbare on loosing his mind. He needed everything off. Not eventually. Now.

His armor tumbles off one piece at a time and loudly clangs on the floor and tossed to several different corners of the room to be recovered later. He's completely bare before you as you join him in slipping out of your pants, which in this moment of reprieve even in front of the fire reminds you of the lingering cold draft pulled from elsewhere that your body instinctively shivers from. Seeing this your lover pulls you in close, inclosing you in his body heat with his arms wrapped around you tight and his lips clumsily meeting yours.

Lost in kisses you just barely register your back meeting soft pelted fur, being so keyed up and sensitive that it creates an adorable gasp from you that breaks the kiss that with a smile he can't help but to immediately leap back in as your fingers find their way tight in his hair and his hands begin to wonder and explore your beautiful wonders.

His fingers are gentle and tentative around your sex, caressing you at first before breaking the kiss you share, guiding those same fingers back up to your lips, politely prodding them against them asking to be invited in. Your lips part to draw them in, keeping eye contact him as you suck them to create a good layer of coating on them that with that goal completed he pulls out of your mouth with a nice satisfying sounding pop.

He works you thorough. Thorough enough with his rough battle-worn hands he has you absolutely leaking down into the fur of his cloak underneath you absolutely drenched. He takes his time with you, taking in every single noise make, hanging onto every word you shakingly plead out. He puts all the attention on you that he hasn't really thought about himself until your begging to relieve him.

He isn't sure what to do - his body stills and his movement stops. He looks wide at you... not really-

But you reach up and touch his face.

Your thumb brushes over from the scar on his upper lip to the corner of his mouth.

How you look up at him.

He would give you the entire universe if you wanted. All you had to do was ask and he'd fight anything and everything just to give it to you.

His breaths are heavy as he takes you on his lap, hands gripped tight onto the meat of your hips as he has you bouncing and practically screaming riding him. His back is bleeding with how hard your nails clutch onto his shoulders but the wounds register nothing but added pleasured fuel to take you further. He's made you come so much it's made his own thighs sticky and caused the wet sound of meat colliding even echo louder throughout the room - and he wears each time with a badge of honor and hulls him to push another out of you.

Your whole body convulses, on the verge of collapse, clearly from exhaustion from sitting up for this long but you still verbally beg him for more. He's quick to remedy you, flipping your positions and turning your body around to be on your stomach but arching your back so that your ass can be in the air as he still ruts against you but this time with his whole form curled against you like some kind of weighted blanket.

Your fists clench tight fulls of fur from underneath you. Your breaths are shotty. Voice nearly hoarse. Cries and curses desperate.

Teeth are nerve blowing on your throat, entangled with wide broad-stroked laps of tongue and low rumbled mumbles of praise against your skin - and you tell him this, your words might be slurred and broken all to hell but you make sure to tell him how good he's treating you. Reassuring how good of a job he's doing. One trembling hand let's go of the sweat and come drenched cloak on the ground to make its way up to tangle in messy brown hair.

"Good boy, good boy," You tell him. "-s'good job."

It's like you relieved a long standing desire he never knew he had. It made his knees weak, head light headed, face on fire. He has to bite down to contain it - only drawing out a louder cry from you, your fingers squeeze tighter. Harder.

"Good fucking boy,"

He has you pressed down further, your face in the crook of his hairy arm he holds you down and fucks you like the demons were close to wiping everything from extinction and this was the last moments you had with one another and he was doing so good fucking your brains out this fast and hard. Even sobbing and barely able to breathe you give him praise and encouragement, as it clearly got his rocks off and only made him go faster - nearly rabid - with how he practically was shaking hovering above you he was close, very close, and loud drawing with it, trying his best trying to fend it off to last even a couple moments longer. He didn't want to stop having you like this.

"Please," You suddenly beg underneath him, sincere. Wanting him to give into it. "-let go."

And with ease, willing to obey your every command, he does.

He falls back on his knees barely able to catch his breath. His chest rocks and sweat drips down every crevice of his body that becomes more of a solid settled feeling once he's back in reality and easing out of his high, thigh slightly still shake.

You look back at him, your eyes lazily half lidded, your head turned off to the side as your body is still slumped over with your ass hanging in the air - come drips from you and trickles down to the fur below in thick puddles, heavenly sinful image that cements itself to never leave him that frankly is the reason he currently isn't giving the slightest damn about the impending tormented hassle that is the task of getting that cloak cleaned. You're a vision. A pure vision.

He slow dips back down for you as you sluggishly make it back on your back so that you can meet him for a clumsy kiss, your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he once again hovers atop you. You pull him further, encouraging him to lie on top of you which he makes no effort to fight against as he is once again your blanket. Once the kiss is broke he does hide his face in your neck however, tired, last remainders of lust leaving his veins and replaced by back to his own placent thoughts.

It's quiet. Neither of you two dare to say anything. A sigil not broken. You do pat at his head, comb your fingers lightly through his hair. It was relaxing - it does ease him, if a little bit, as realities set back in. The realities of what laid outside this room. Reality that had to be faced the moment this silence breaks.

"You okay?"

...

"...yeah."

He raises himself back up to his knees, ending your embrace. But you still look up at him from your place on the floor, from on top of his cloak. His eyes hesitant on you for a moment before he forces himself to look away. Reality.

Reality.

He pushes himself up to his knees, still crouched down but with intent of retrieving and putting back on his armor and leathers scattered on the floor. He does not look at you.

"I... apologize for keeping you up so late - and - and - disturbing your night."

He doesn't have to look at you to see the wide shocked look on your face.

"Flyn-" That name he can't allow himself to hear. The name no one in the Sentinels or the Maykrs knew or cared to know. The name he had told you in trust.

"I ruined your night. I'm sorry - Captain."

You still look at him, now sat up, silent. He reattaches his gauntlets, flexing his hands back into the gloves with a metallic shink. He was a weapon. Rearming himself.

"You think I fucked you out of pity?" You draw, your tone narrow and offended that your tone of voice grows louder dispite the lingering hoarseness. "You think I did all of this out of pity?! Tell me right now that's not what you think!"

He never said that - never suggested that - but a knot stabs in his throat at the most inoperable of times. So he stands there. Tears swelter in the corner of your eyes.

"Well I didn't. I thought - thought you might've... realized... or... dammit was I reading this whole situation wrong?"

With that he can't help but look at you.

You looked so small on the floor.

Slowly, he steps forward and kneels in front of you. You flinch in shock, seemingly not expected him to do so, as he sits in front of you and just... lets his forehead fall on your shoulder. You look at him for a long moment before your arms come to cradle around his form. Neither of you had to further say a word, it seemed... things clicked for you that you suddenly understood his turmoil. You pet his head.

"You're scared." You suddenly voice. Then silence seeps back through, dancing in the air for uncountable amount of time.

"I'm scared too." You confess, voice low but draws him to peek wide open at you from his perch on your neck.

"The men and women I lead into battle, my comrades-in-arms, my family, my friends, the civilians I fight for. I'm scared of loosing them too. Every day." There's a heavy pause. "I'm scared of loosing you too."

"(Nam-"

"I know that parts foolish, you're the strongest out of any one of us but... in the back of my there's always something. And when... when... when Azhrak-" He silences your next thought by kissing you. When that kiss breaks your eyes slowly open to stare at him, looking so... soft, reflective. You clear your throat.

"My point is that I get it - somewhat." Your hands are gentle placed upon his face. "If we understand each other can't we do something about that? About this? If you feel it too - can't we fight it? Together - us."

He looks at you and his lips part, full words yet empty over his lips as his brows narrow fustrated at himself for struggling to push them over. Yet you look so genuine, patient, and loving at him. He looks down towards himself.

"(Name), I have lost... a lot."

"I know. I know and-"

"I don't know. Not yet." No he does know, he knows how he feels but there's fear. Pure fear of what voicing this emotions into being what bloody consequences and it might bring... to you. Shadow of death always looms over him.

He looks at you.

His fingers slowly reach to intertwine with yours on his face, leaning into your touch. He grips them tighter and brings them closer to his lips so that they gently brush against them as a phantom kiss.

"...give me time..."

That's seemingly all you needed to hear. After awhile in each other's arms do you pull back to motion his armor, he does look at it and debates with himself before ultimately goes right to removing it a piece at a time once more to where he's stripped down again. You lie back still on his fur, arm outstretched to invite him to join you which after his eyes flicker down to remind himself of the state of his cloak does he sigh (slightly amused, tomorrow's problem he decides it'll be) and he takes you into his arms and holds you against his chest where he feels your bones relax, finally succumbing to exhaustion.

The fire still crackles in the background, even if it's a touch more dimmed than it was prior but surely to last for the rest of the night. It set a good mood. And with you next to him? Good comfort. His mind began to race less. His side long stopped throbbing. He felt at peace for now, here instead of dreadful lingerings on their deaths he thinks how Daisy and Serrat would be playing together in whatever afterlife they were in - a rabbit and a dragon, even with how absurd it sounded it brought a smile to his face, a smile you catch and return tenfold.

And seeing that makes him even more wanting for a better future. He'll fight tooth and nail for it. Things will be different this time.

Would really like and appreciate to know what you think about what you read in tags on reblogs I absolutely thrive off it, thank you for reading 🫶

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