lowkey i think when people see my display name being yaoi jesus theyre gonna assume i think it’s quirky or funny OR that im mocking christianity
my choice for that is rooted from an oc i heavily projected onto that also has literal messianic writing, which i honestly wasn’t very aware of at first. the story itself has a focus on their relations with another character. thus me and my friends nicknamed him yaoi jesus.
i don’t call myself ‘yaoi jesus’ irl, nor do i claim to be some kind of messiah.
Recently got into The Boys and its themes and motifs have me transfixed but I also close my eyes and fastforward the scary parts. /hyp
Crushingly my favorite characters are Homelander and Solider Boy. Every day i claw at the walls and step up to the podium to explain myself and every night im sentenced to the gallows. /hyp
hey! do you take soldier boy requests? if you do, then i have a little prompt! i can totally see this dynamic with ben x reader. ignore this if you like, i'm just curious because i love your writing !!
Heya 👋🏻
Of course I do! I love writing my man 🤭❤️
Hehehe, I can totally see it too. I almost wrote it in Home, but you know, couldn't let that happen cuz reader was pregnant and all...
setting: before Home one-shot; can be read as a standalone tho.
Ben swept his large arm over your body to pull you closer to his chest, his rough yet gentle hand resting on your thigh. Your body curled up to his as your chest heaved with soft pants, up and down, while his seed seeped out of your opening.
“Mmm, did I tucker you out, dollface?” He teased with that deep voice of his; you could hear the smirk in his tone.
“Not at all...” You shifted your head up, chin resting on his chest and eyes gazing up at him with playful intransigence.
He glanced down at you, relishing in the way your pretty fingers ran on his chest. “Good, ‘cause I was just getting started.”
Your lips let out a sheepish giggle concurring with a cute red smear across your cheeks.
It was still all new to you; the sex, the extravagant self-indulgence, the supe business, Vought, and him.
You'd met Ben in one of his educational tours throughout the country. He'd been on an awareness campaign spree, visiting local schools to sow the American values into the hearts of the young. Needless to say, the children were thrilled having the first superhero in their classrooms, sitting and reading for them — making them laugh even. The bastard had an alluring charm; everyone had been in love with him, and you were none the better. His damn swagger had a certain lure, it didn't take long to coax you out of the skirts of modesty into the lusciousness of his arms.
You were a new elementary teacher, a young woman brought up in a conservative household; it was inevitable to have a blatant shock when you entered Ben's life as his new partner, and intended to be wife-to-be — he didn't propose or promise you anything yet, mind you. Yet, him having family dinners with your parents, you moving in with him, him having you at his arm wherever he went; movie premieres, filmmaking, photoshoots, interviews, and more, he literally had you stuck to his hip. That had to mean something, right?
You tried to shrug off the thoughts that plagued your mind of the possibility of Ben dumping you. You shiver at the thought. The truth was, you were head over heels with him, and you honestly didn't know where you'd put yourself if he left you.
You felt him flex the arm he had on your thigh up behind his head, then you heard the flick of his lighter and soon the smell of burnt tobacco followed.
You glanced up at him. Ben's green eyes were staring ahead, the look on his face told you he was deep in ponderation. He absently inhaled from his cuban cigar.
The tip of your forefinger rubs circles on the centre of his chest, stroking the fuzzy wisps on his skin.
You knew he was giving you a break after he had been balls-deep inside of you for a couple of rounds. Ben was nearly insatiable when it came to you, but he always tried to keep himself in check that your human stamina could never match his, regardless of how many times you told him not to hold back.
“No,” He had said, caressing your cheek with the back of his knuckles, “I could break you.”
You smiled with a blush at the memory, snuggling closer to him and letting your ear savour the strong beat of his heart. You really wanted the only one who'd own that heart, you really did.
When you glanced up at him again, he wasn't miles away like he was minutes ago. He was smiling down at you, before he leant in and pressed a light kiss on the crown of your head.
Your cheeks flourished red at the unbridled affection; he seldom showed such, and it never ceased to take you by surprise when he did so. Those moments of sweet dalliances assured you sometimes that you weren't just a fleeting fling.
You wanted to nuzzle closer to him but he shifted a bit to sit up, leaning his back to the headboard. You sit up as well, letting the sheets fall off your naked bosom. You weren't that shy girl anymore.
“Want a drag?” He offered you his cigar.
You smiled, “I-I could try…” You took the cigar as he turned to his bedside table and opened the drawer.
You shrugged and placed the stub between your lips and took a long drag. Wrong move. Because the moment the smouldering smoke hit the back of your throat, your eyes burnt up with tears and you started to cough.
Ben turned to you again, a rich laugh rumbling in his chest, he took the cigar from your hand and placed it in the ashtray, and patted your back gently. “Easy…”
“Holy—!” You croaked, hastily reaching for the glass of water on your bedside table, drinking it. “How do you smoke that shit?” You coughed again.
His laugh diluted into a deep chuckle, “It’s not so bad, you're the lightweight.”
“Oh, believe me, I couldn't handle you if I was one.” You let out a smooth giggle that soon turned into a chortle.
Ben chuckled again, before he wiped the drizzle of water away from the corner of your lips, and the tears away from your eyes.
You grinned at him, kissing his thumb.
“Marry me.” He said, making your eyes go wide. You blinked for a moment.
He read the confusion on your face and acted swiftly by holding a small box of velvet out for you, gently opening it. There was an elegant ring in the box, golden and meticulously-polished, encrusted with a glamorous diamond in its centre.
You opened your mouth then you closed it again; too stunned to find the right words to say.
“I-I don't know what to say.” You finally spoke, voice hushed both by the surprise and the whiff of the cigar from before.
“Say yes.” He grinned, plucking the ring from the box, twirling it deftly between his thumb and forefinger.
Your eyes teared up and you surprised him with a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck.
He seemed to be taken aback by your reaction, but soon enough, he hugged you back, kissing your temple gently.
You found heavenly comfort in his open affections for you, relishing in the silent but blatant fact that they were only yours.
You nuzzled closer to his chest, burying your face in his neck, softly smooching his skin.
“Is that a yes?” He asked, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. Of course, he was teasing you. Typical Ben.
You pulled away, gushing, “Yes!” You sniffled cutely, “God, yes.”
Ben slipped his late mother's wedding ring into your hand before he leant in and kissed your knuckles.
“I love you…” He whispered in your ear, melting your heart with the sincerity of his words.
“I love you too.” You whispered back, “More than anything.”
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