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obutsuwrites · 5 years ago

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Gods & Monsters (mirio x reader)

Summary: Calloused fingers pinched coral cheeks. Hot breath vanished in her chest. Oxygen-starved lungs heaving into the night. “I think for such a divine right… you can offer me your body!” Mirio’s eyes beamed, passion radiating from him.

word count: 3,215 xxx basically, smutty deity!mirio x reader meme i originally posted on ao3

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She had traveled through this swamp only once before. The bog was foreign; humid musk mixed with flora assaulted her senses. It was exhilarating. Exploring such alien terrain was a mere fantasy. She knew the marsh was off limits.

"Honey, I know you wanna explore, but I need you here,” Grandpa said, his voice cracking. Even his voice was aging.

She lowered her head, realizing how absurd it was. Grandpa was steadfast in his faith. The swamp was dangerous. “Monster’s live in these marshes.”

She knew monsters didn’t exist anymore. No sighting in decades. No heroic tales of glory. No reason to not explore the marsh. Besides, the swamp offered a shortcut home. The humid bog sat on the brink of their farmland. Coming home meant circling to avoid the swamp like a fool. She had the beating heart of a lion.

It was autumn, trees had begun to shed their vivid displays of color for the muted palette of autumn. Bog ground had softened. The air was crisp, her breath easily visible. The harsh, muggy marsh was almost scenic, she thought. Maybe a painting.

A small click quietly echoed through the air. Bringing a camera was a good idea. The frigid evening had produced tranquility in the swamp. Her quiet breath and occasional sounds of nature permeating.

She relaxed, examining the photo with keen eyes.

The evening sky had exploded into delicate pastels of purple. Tiny novas. She needed to finish up, she was expected home soon. The swamp gained magic at night, her Grandpa would say. Whatever. The trek home would simply be impossible in such a low light, old man. Soft feet crunched lifeless leaves, stumbling in weak evening light. Fuck, fuck fuck. Staying so late was fucking stubborn. Fucking stupid. Monsters didn’t exist, but Grandpa sure as fuck did. The geezer was going to have an absolute field day. Staying late, fucking around in the monster-infested swamp? What the fuck were you thinking?

“I don’t know,” she muttered, stopping to catch her breath. Sweat had pooled at her temples. Warmth had spread to her flushed cheeks. Periwinkle orbs.

In the corner of her eyes was a flash. A flash in the twilight of the bog. Maybe her Grandpa had found her!

“Hey! Grandpa, I’m right here!” She called, a rush of oxygen crashing into her starving lungs. Quickly, she scrambled to follow the twinkle in the marsh. Her salvation. She stopped, her lungs craving air. Any trace of the sun had been eradicated by the moon. The gleam of light was irradient. She knew it wasn’t Grandpa. Why would he search the swamp? The old man could hardly walk now. It was a silly notion, she’d realized. Despite this, she continued to chase the alluring glow. It was attracting her. Calling her.

“You’re cute like this.” The disembodied voice was bubbly and masculine.

Her breath caught in her throat, dread pitting into her stomach. Adrenaline flooded her anatomy. Goosebumps emerging on supple flesh. “Wh-who are you? Come out!” Her words were rubbery, slipping out in a meek stutter.

The beam was flashing now; alabaster beams radiating. A simple flash. Before her now was no longer a galaxy of glow. Before her now was a man. He stood bare, sun-kissed skin blemished by maimed flesh. A nebula of stars had exploded across his arms. His posture was proud, muscles quivering and contracting in the chill. His flaxen hair shimmered in the moonlight. He was a deity to be worshiped.

A squeal burst from her. Oh my fucking god. He’s fucking naked! She had never seen a man like this. Manhood exposed.

Instinctively, meek hands rushed to cover her eyes. This materialized god was shameless. He made no attempt to cover his nether regions. She felt as if she would implode, steam rising to her rosy cheeks.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Tender, calloused hands gingerly gripped her wrists. “Up close, you’re beautiful!” he beamed, his voice reverberating from his athletic chest. Delicately, he removed the hands from her eyes. His embrace was gentle. Almost as if he’d never touched such soft skin before. Sculpted fingertips lingered on her flesh.

Being this close to a man was unfamiliar. His warm breath was fanning her cheeks in waves. He was too close. The heat from his body deepened her crimson flush. Virgin eyes examined him, a pit of wanting in her chest. He caught her gaze. Perfect orbs of cerulean engulfing her. She was staring.

“Do you enjoy looking at me?” he asked, his voice carrying innocent verve. “I like looking at you.” His tone dropped, a lustful undertone hanging.

Quickly, she snaked out of his grasp. Had this mountain man been following her? Shameful eyes abruptly averted, staring holes into the frozen ground. This Adonis of a man was abnormal. He simply manifested in the lights. The act seemed so commonplace to him. Was… was he a monster from the marsh?

“W-what are you?” The words tumbled out, anxiety slurring her speech. She felt blood coursing through the irregular beating of her heart. The sound was a constant in the bog.

A modest smile formed on his handsome features. “I live here.”

She shifted, the bare man before her obvious to her discomfort. Suddenly, his hands wrapped around her, the sweltering heat from his body consuming her. Flesh marred from battle, fitting against virgin skin. An aroma of mint and earth seeped into her senses. His scent was intoxicating. Her mind muddled by his presence.

He pulled their bodies close, a heated face colliding with his cicatrix chest. “I’m sorry! You guys haven’t seen me for decades, huh?” A hearty chuckle vibrated into her hair. He felt like a fever dream. Sultry and almost intangible.

“Seen you?” Monsters live in these marshes.

Monsters. A defining feature was their grotesque appearance. Their tyrannical, boorish nature. The lack of divinity. This man certainly wasn’t the phantom of monsters. No. He was a god. His existence triumphed the sun.

“Yeah! A swamp spirit? Oh, I know! A naiad?”

Naiad. Tales of old had started it. Her curiosity into monsters.

Aged books sat in various positions of disarray around Grandpa’s office. She had raced to the library, her arms carrying ancient texts of gods and monsters.

“Hey Grandpa! Oh my gosh, can you believe deities used to exist? The same as monsters?!” Her voice had ascended in pitch, a passive squeak escaping.

Grandpa leaned against the door frame, his posture suffering from age. A brief expression of shock jolted through his commonly stoic features. “Never told you about the naiad. They’re like monsters, little one. But… different. Holy. We used to worship them. Folks would travel hundreds of miles simply to leave a gift and pray.”

The first time Grandpa smiled.

“You’re -- oh my god -- you’re a deity?” she questioned in between violent giggle fits. Relief had racked her being. The war drum of her heart was gone. Her cheeks a light dusting of pink. A mortal was still in the deity’s grasp. Soft flesh had tensed against him. The fever of his skin persisted.

He laughed, a rough hand stroking the crown of her head. “Naiad. Names are still a thing, right? Naiad is too formal, so is ‘swamp spirit.’ Wait! You can call me Mirio-chan.” A smile had manifested on Mirio’s bewitching features. He knew how syrupy his name would sound.

“Mirio-chan?” she questioned, nectar shrouded in her tone. Like that.

“I don’t see why not! Consider it… a privilege.”

Her eyes lit up, the promise of a privilege from an Adonis was irresistible. “Mirio-chan, my name is--”

“I know who you are. What sort of naiad would I be otherwise?” he mused, breathing into her hair. She was a bouquet of citrus and fir. She smells soft.

A naiad. A deity was leaning onto the crest of her head. Divinity. Air hitched in her rib cage, choked out by her thunderous heartbeat. Meekly, cold hands wrapped around his upper chest. He’s so warm.

She curled into him, rouge cheeks squished against calloused skin. The frigid air was assaulting her frame. He provided warmth. A heated embrace that felt like home. Mirio continued to rest his head atop hers, coarse hands brushing through smooth hair. So soft. So delicate.

“I don’t have an offering for you,” she mumbled abruptly, palms slapping onto his toned chest. Azure orbs observed her. Mirio’s seraphic face scrunched into a pensive expression, golden brows furrowed in thought.

Calloused fingers pinched coral cheeks. Hot breath vanished in her chest. Oxygen-starved lungs heaving into the night. “I think for such a divine right… you can offer me your body!” Mirio’s eyes beamed, passion radiating from him.

“M-my b-body?” she whimpered, her tone meek. She was inexperienced in the ways of pleasing a man. Nothing beyond aching glances between classes. Glances that set her face ablaze. He’s so beautiful. I’m not worthy.

Mirio nodded, his eyes darting to her lips. “Can I kiss you?”

She gulped. Her mind still muddled, core aching for him. Mirio-chan’s touch.

“Please…” she pleaded. Satin hands bracing against cicatrix flesh. Mirio’s muscles contracted under her. Crimson heat spread like wildfire from his sun-kissed cheeks, to the peak of his ears. Flustered. Silky hair illuminated against his ruddiness. Soft toe tips melted into the earth, straining to ensnare roseate lips.

Mirio bent down, his form no longer dwarfing her. Rough hands finding purchase on her shoulders. She braced against him, arms into her chest. It felt almost inappropriate to lean against him bare-handed. A naiad.

She closed her eyes, ebony lashes laying atop crimson cheeks. Mirio’s chapped lips met hers, the pillowy sensation inducing a tighter grip on her shoulders. He could break her like this. A runty, naive mortal lying beneath him. No. Her cherubic form was to be savored. Deities deserved offerings.

He pulled away, the glint of a pink tongue chasing the after taste. Her lips were velvet. Satin. Rose lips that tasted divine. The coiled abyss in Mirio’s center ached for more.

Innocent eyes opened, the need in her chest growing. Mirio’s bare body overstimulating her. “Can… can you kiss me again?”

He leaned in, his lips roughly slamming against hers. A muscled arm padding its way to her waist. The warmth his touch provided was euphoric. She responded to his touch, soft flesh mollifying against him. This kiss was starving for affection. Mirio tugged her closer, his fever enveloping her.

Mirio’s other hand migrated from her shoulder, finding comfort against her balmy cheeks. A large calloused thumb swirling circles them. She had forgotten the duty of offering herself to him. Mirio’s hands were a holy revelation.

His hands wandered against her side, no longer attached to her waist. Supple skin brushing against maimed flesh.

Pink lips parted, meek pants forming in the chilly air. Greedy lungs gulping down oxygen. I fucking want him.

“Touch me more,” she muttered, modesty getting the best of her. The violent pounding of her heart was making it difficult to focus. Mirio had ignited an inferno of desire spreading from her pulsating womanhood. This feeling was foreign to her. Hot longing forming a coil in her stomach.

Mirio graciously obliged, eager hands roaming. Delicate skin tensed under his touch. He caught her virgin lips again. Mirio’s ravenous tongue demanding entrance. Virgin lips separated for him, her breath sultry against him. The hint of fresh apples danced on her tongue. Syrupy kisses consuming her.

Battle-worn hands grasped her bosom, eliciting a soft gasp. Her body was so fragile beneath him. Virgin skin prickling at his touch. Large, gentle hands began to massage her breasts, palming through autumn layers. Her breath hitched, tender arms wrapped around his neck, hoisting herself closer to his lips. Mirio’s curious hands snaked under her layers. Greedy hands desperate for cherubic flesh.

“You feel so good,” he whined, palming through her sweater. She felt his engorged shame poking against her clothed thigh. Mirio was impatient for her, his body crushing against her.

Suddenly, she broke the heavy kiss. “I -- I don’t know if I can be a good offering… I’m a virgin. I don’t know how to please a man.” Her tone melancholy, tears festing under. The hot sensation of Mirio’s rugged hands still atop virgin breasts. Mirio’s hands paused, the ghost of fingertips on her sternum.

“Do you not want me?” he asked, his tone a prism of raw curiosity and dismay. His posture slumping. A proud body now crestfallen. Am I not enough?

“N-no,” she stuttered. “Y-you’re fucking beautiful. I want to… To feel you!” Using profanity plainly felt exuberant. A virgin mouth now foul.

“Then feel me,” Mirio said. Coarse, damaged hands crept under her sweater, cupping a brassiere. Her flesh seared from his touch. Flustered skin arched into him. Her body throbbed for him. Mirio’s fingers worked gingerly, exploring her clothed bosom. Delicate skin prickled under him.

An unruly moan flowed from her lips, the pitch a squeal. His fingers were celestial. Hands only a god could possess. A naiad. His divine being needed to be worshipped. Gently, she palmed his chest, virgin hands eager to touch. Deep grooves decorated his chest. Pale raised bumps that encompassed stories. Mirio felt sturdy. A body carved from marble before her.

Greedy digits responded to her moan, kneading her breasts. Worn hands dwarfed her bosom. Mirio’s touch was electric, her veins ablaze. His hands now roughly groping unblemished skin. Mirio was desperate to replicate the whine, his manhood heavy against her thigh. Slowly, delicate hands traveled down his abdomen, savoring his seraphic anatomy. Tender fingers learning every scar. How could a mangled man possess such brilliance?

She stifled a moan, biting down on her tongue. It was embarrassing to share such intimate, foreign sounds.

“I want to hear you, please,” he begged. The deity’s desire grinding into her thigh, the delicate flesh stimulating him.

A lustful whimper escaped from her, rampant hot breaths following. He feels so fucking good. Her inexperienced hands made short work of her bra, the thin garment quickly falling between them. She wanted to feel Mirio’s explicit touch. Rough hands penetrating her core and deflowering her.

Mirio’s rugged fingers ghosted across pink nipples. She trembled under him, feverishly drinking in his touch. Mewls began to creep from her. Fragile, wet noises that perforated the night. Mirio’s member hardened from the sounds. So pretty.

Experienced, cicatrix hands playfully clawed the hem of her sweater, pleading to disrobe. She looked up at him, delicate mouth agape. Timid hands halted the memorization of his anatomy and clasped the hands on her sweater. Slowly, she lifted the sweater, revealing a supple abdomen. Mirio’s azure eyes flickered across unclaimed maiden breasts. His cheeks a light shade of pink. Exposed skin shivering from the chill.

Instantly, Mirio’s wet mouth latched to her bare bosom. A pink tongue swirling around her left nipple, his scarred hands caressing the other. His hands were god. Timid pants of ecstasy hung from her lips, the heat from her core overwhelming. Overstimulated.

Chaste hands wandered to the manhood grinding against her thigh. Slowly, she began to lightly stroke Mirio’s length. A husky moan burst from him, Mirio’s chest vibrating against her. Adoring hands explored him; inexperienced fingertips finding his leaking head. The stimulation of her thigh and stroking provided too much, causing pre-cum to leak. She brushed over it, using his juices as lube.

Veins ran alongside his cock, the head uncut. Mirio felt impressive in her hands. His godhood.

A pop sounded through her moans, Mirio switching attention to her overstimulated right nipple. The left puffy and slick with saliva. She yelped as he bit down, a muffled moan echoing from him. Pleasure and pain blended as Mirio harshly sucked her nipple, leaving hickies around her arola. The mark of a god.

Mirio was relentless in his assault of her bosom. She felt the aftershocks of his tongue, licking up her hickies. His hand passed down her stomach and stopped atop the edge of her pants. Cautiously, a damaged hand slid under. The fever of her core radiating.

“F-fuck me!” she blurted, her words slurring. Mirio’s hands worked miracles upon her maidenform. Her womanhood dripping and wanting. Driven only by pleasure, she pulled down her pants, exposing herself to him.

He obliged, a girthy finger gliding onto her clit. The foreign sensation sending violent shockwaves of pleasure through her frame. He gingerly massaged her clit, her delicate whimpers coaxing him. She was eager for Mirio. A calloused hand soaked in her slick. Delicately, Mirio slipped a finger inside her. Her moist folds contracted against him. Once she was used to him, Mirio began to lightly pump into her. His finger still massaging circles into her clit.

She quickened her pace, chaste hands now roughly slithering down his manhood. Mirio’s cock now covered in excessive pre-cum. A tremor of loud, unashamed moans pulsating between them. Her womanhood desired him. She ached for Mirio to fill her. A crater of lust forming.

Encouraged, Mirio ghosted a second digit inside her. The girth of his fingers stretching her. Her aching unsatisfied. She yearned for his member. Mirio could fill the pit of lust inside her.

In a haze of eroticism, she guided Mirio’s cock to her wet entrance. The head of his cock twitched in anticipation. A low growl resounding from him.

“You’re so excited for me, aren’t you?” he mused, pulling out digits soaked in her nectar So eager. Holding her gaze, Mirio shoved the fingers into his mouth, sucking on the aftertaste of her. A pop resonated when he pulled them out, saliva trailing between. Her sweetness lingered on his tongue.

Mirio slowly entered her, an animalistic grunt lapsing from him. She pulsated around him, her walls swallowing his cock. So warm, so fucking wet.

“Fuck,” he cursed, softly pumping into her. A robust whine was forced from her lips, ecstasy flooding her anatomy. Muscular arms locked her in a lover’s embrace, Mirio frantic for her. Her back arched, needy for him. Pent-up warmth finally escaping her core. The swamp ablaze with their combined noises of pleasure. Emboldened, Mirio fastened his pace, bucking into her. Scarred hands finding purchase on her hips. His tempo constantly rising. The sound of maiden flesh mixing with damaged skin.

Mirio rutted into her, heated breath on her collarbone. Her hands wandered his godly frame, finally resting on his back. A cluster of red lines decorated his toned back as Mirio hammered her womanhood.

Instinctively, Mirio’s hand reached down, teasing her clit. The sensation sending her into a quivering mess underneath him. Her cheeks ablaze with arousal.

She moaned against him, pink lips agape with euphoria. The crescendo of her pleasure approaching. She squirmed underneath him. The overstimulation too much. Euphoria trapped in her core, releasing in violent waves through her body.

Despite her release, Mirio continued to slam into her walls. Her wetness mixed with his pre-cum and cascaded down her bare leg. A second orgasm bubbled from the pit of her stomach. Scarred digits abusing her clit. She felt it, a second cruel orgasm being forced from her. A high-pitched squeal ripped from her lips. Muscles abruptly contracted as an orgasm racked Mirio, a deafening moan rumbling from him. Warm cum drenched her core, slowly leaking.

#mirio togata #mirio togata x reader #bnha #im finally shitposting this 2 tumblr jfc #posted on ao3 #smut #deity!au #quirkless!au

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