Quick sketch of our rock/bismuth god. Will draw more if someone is interested and his design will probably change.
Someone is in your house. You’re convinced.
The night was another Friday night. You were quick to pack your bag and leave work, eager because today was self care day. You had your nails and toes done the day before. You were scrolling through inspo photos when you swiped too far and landed on the picture of when you bought your new furniture set. The nail artist was thrilled and went all out. It was simple gold base with small thin strips of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple and some small intricate gold scrollwork and filigree on the thumbs and pinkies. You ate some takeout so you could skip to the fun part. You lit some candles on the floor of your bathroom, waiting patiently for the soaps to form into a nice layer of foam on top of your water—which was also the perfect temperature.
After a while and feeling your body begin to prune, you get out. Before you can look at the mirror you see many finger prints and what looks to be dots. You have grown used to seeing the random dots and fingerprints ever since you bought this mirror and the other new appliances you recently picked up as a set.
As you move from the bathroom to your bedroom, you notice the small dots on the mirror on your bed. You can feel the eyes on you increase as you walk around getting your stuff together for the night--no convinced--someone is watching you. You hate to admit that although you hate the thought someone has been watching you--and especially this long--that you hate it even more that a part of you is somewhat thrilled by the idea.
As you settle on your towel on you nice silk sheets, as you hear the buzzing of your new vibrator, you truly start to relax. The little spark on your clit is what you have been looking forward to. Once you truly give in to the sensation everything else falls into place.
Your shoulders relax. You stop propping your arms up to look at where you're placing the vibrator and just let your mind go blank. With your eyes closed as you lay on your back, you can really feel the eyes on you amp up. The sicker part of you starts to speak once again.
You wiggle your body forward, angling it until you can see everything in the mirror including part of your face. One dot appears on it followed by the sound of tapping as two more dots pop it next to the first.
A small smile forms on your face. You moan, turning up the intensity, fully giving into it, into the pleasure of everything. A part of you can't believe that you denied yourself this small pleasure when you were younger.
You feel like you're gonna cum, in fact you know it. You still haven't worked yourself to look at the mirror in front of the bed. It's one of the reasons you even put it there.
You wake up every morning to your face even though it took a while. But after about two weeks of seeing yourself in the mirror whether it was to wash your face, doing your hair, or having trouble picking out an outfit you noticed something different. Maybe it was seeing yourself in a different light-literally and figuratively--but it was less about your face and more so the body attached it. You loved your body through and through; however, you would be lying if you said you didn't feel some type of way by the silent glares, the ignorance from others when in groups, and everything else that followed you for being a bit bigger.
You keen, toes curling, slowly working up the courage as you flick your eyes for the mirror just a bit. Your covered in a sheen of sweat, toes curled, one of your hands toying with your boobs while the other keeps a firm grip around the handle of your vibrator doing a fast circle motion on your pussy experiencing nothing but bliss. You feel a small smile creep on your face before you fall back into onto the sheets, hips elevated off the bed as you cum. In the middle of your haze you toss it--somewhere you don't care--to playing with your clit, rubbing to fast and hard back in forth, anything to prolong your orgasm. You feel yourself gush, only stopping when you can feel yourself come down from your high. You're glad as you relax on the bed since your hand just started to cramp.
Like usual, you don't remember when you closed your eyes all you know is that you are opening them. However you are glad you open them slowly, shutting them as tight as possible when you feel hands on you.
Although you can feel the weight on your bed, you feel no heat from the intruder as they grab your legs, spreads them open, and puts something warm and wet on them. You slowly realize you're being... washed via washcloth before flipping you over and does it again.
The intruder leaves coming back to wash you all the way down--only briefing between your lower lips--before leaving again. It's cold whatever they put on you but the smell you recognize all too well from your peach and lemon scented lotion. After the intruder is done, he pushes you off your bed, levitating before you feel some thin night dress slipped on you before you are laid to rest back on the bed. The sheets being pulled over you is when you truly feel... different.
The intruder feel like nothing, like there is no one truly next to you almost like a ghost. But you know this isn't a ghost when you feel something between rock and smooth crystals touch your face. The touch is light as it goes from your cheek to up and down your arms. Nothing else.
Then, you hear something twinkling like wind moving against a windchime. You wait a bit before opening your eyes.
There are six dots on the mirror.
He’s convinced you are the one. He hasn’t dreamt in years but being close to you-- even if its just for a bit--means a night of picturing a future with you, like in the past.
"Head forward," your head lolls to the side and jaw slack. He tilt your chin up as his little fingers detatch from the main "hand" which is a part of growing bismuth from his main hand. He knows you’ve always been a bit resistant when it comes to looking at yourself but he loves seeing you—it’s one of the reasons why he misses his old mirror realm made specifically for you. He wishes you could see how beautiful you are, peer into his many mirrors and see how you look in his “eyes”.
But alas you are unable to so he’ll settle on tilting your head, making sure you see just how beautiful you are in the mirror, in his eyes.
You barely put up a fight due to your brain being mush from the vibrator he’s kept held to your clit the entire time. Your thighs are pinned to his with the very tips of his pointy “feet” like stilts planted firmly on your carpet floor. Your back is flush with his hard chest, your plumpness molding against his hard exterior like y’all were made for each other—but he knew that from the moment he met you.
He taps his finger rocks together, bringing your head forward forcibly, turning up the intensity so your eyes shoot open. He leans forward, careful with his weight as he wedges his head in the crook of your shoulder, maintaining eye contact.
“Eyes up here,” he whispers in your ear. “Or has someone else been whispering in your ear since I’ve been locked away?” He tilts his head, eyes squinting to look like he is smiling.
“N-no.” You stutter out quickly.
“Then did you forget—” he turns up the vibrator “—what I said?”
“Y-you wanna see me—”
"Correct, my butterfly" His fingertips tap rhythmically from your jaw to your thighs as your voice trails off into a moan. He discards the vibrator as you slouch forward, quick to pull you back.
"But," he fake pouts, "can't see your beautiful face if you won't look in the mirror."
His fingers caress your cheek, "From your cute cheeks," --they go to your nose-- "to the cute way you scrunch your nose when you're close," --fingers traveling further to tap beside your eyes-- "to the way your eyes have a certain... sparkle when you look at me--" --his fingers grip your jaw so you can see everything, eyes mainly on him--"the way mine do for you."
Small rocks wrap around under your knees, folding you in half like a pretzel. Legs pushed up to almost touch your chest as his arms lock around your waist. In the mirror you see parts of his crouch plate peel back, the hard crystal exterior revealing flesh the color of an oil spill. Small ombre tentacles of the rainbow surround bigger ribbed cock, leaking what looks like black goo. It doesn't look solid, texture closer to slime then a liquid or a solid. Your face is turned to the side to look him in his eyes. He fakes a pout as he peers at you before pecking behind your ear.
"Such a shame." his fingers tap your lips like he's waiting for approval to enter. "But don't fret, my butterfly," his fingers pull at the bottom of your lip before you open your mouth, toying with your tongue, "I'll make sure you can see how I see you if it pleases you."
You nod your head sluggishly.
"Good," and with that he thrusts up into you. His arm tighten around your waist. You thank god that his arms are smooth on the underside seeing how much they dig into you just like his cocks twirling and unfurling inside you as he pistons in and out.
He continues this harsh pace whispering in your ear, his fingers making sure you can’t move your face away from the mirror, from him, but mostly yourself. All you can do is watch as you take all of him. Drool dribbles out of the corner of your open mouth, watching as it goes down your chin, gathering in a blob before seperating and falling on one of his smaller cocks. It’s sandwiched between your lower lips, gathering your slick as it bumps your clit in unison with every thrust up into you.
“You seem to have forgotten everything I drilled into that head of yours,” he places a fat wet kiss on your cheek, “Before everything hit the fan,” he places another. “When it was just the two of us,” —and another kiss— “when we could sit by the fireplace,” placing another kiss on your lips this time whispering huskily in your ear, “flames dancing along your back, cradling you in my arms just warming my cock up.” His thrusts slow down.
His face suddenly darkens, forcibly your face to look at him, not in the mirror but truly at him and into those eyes.
“Never letting you go again,” something in his eyes flickers, “I fought tooth and nail before and I don’t mind doing it again.” He kisses you passionately, tongues clashing, his quick to domineer yours like he wants to force his tongue down your throat. He pulls away, wiping some hair away from your forehead.
“But enough about the past and more focus on the present,” he slowly leans down until your body is hovering above him with his back flush against your silk sheets, his body out of view in the mirror.
“Look at yourself not me,” he says and you listen. Your eyes, although hesitant, go back to your body in the mirror, folded like a pretzel by and semi for him, a delectable sight indeed—at least he thinks so. He could care less what anyone else thinks if it’s someone other than you. Only your voice matters. Only your opinion matters. Only what you treasure, cherish, and hold close to your heart matters to him simply because it matters to you. Because it will always be you. Only you.
“Good girl,” he slurs out as his thrusts speed back up. You bounce up and down, mewling and chanting what you assume is his name in some unrecognizable ancient tongue. He watches from below, eyes ping ponging between how you look from the mirror to you in real life. He can’t believe you are actually with him. He can feel your warmth, your breath quick and hitch as your close, your pussy squeeze him so tight as you cum, squealing into the air his name following by a few moans. He can’t help but tighten his hold on you, unable to fathom how lonely he was before you came back into his life. He doesn’t want this to end, to go back to his mirror all alone is hell on earth. And he’ll be damned to not use this opportunity given to him to the fullest extent.
“That’s it,” he can feel his power slowly come back to him along with his need to cum increase. “I’m close, my jewel.” He sputters out. He can manage to lift some jewels to aid him in seeing as the surround you like a halo. A multitude of colors bathe the room as the moon’s rays pass through every gem, reminding him of his old realm, wheee he could see you, every part of you from every angle, in any position. But this would suffice. For now.
He unsheathes himself, turning you around before slamming his cock back into you and setting a brutal pace. His face is so close that your nose is touching the smooth plane. Your eyes were scrunched up but seeing how beautiful his eyes were, you couldn’t look away—and neither could he. He couldn’t remember the last time he held you this close, this intimate—that’s a lie, he knew the exact date to the time before he was locked away—but he knew he didn’t want this to end. He didn’t want to awake from this dream and a sicker part of him wondered if you shared this same dream with him. An even sicker more selfish part of him wanted to keep you like this, with him, even if it meant you would never wake up.
He wakes up, cum all on his stomach and the floor. He stares at the ceiling before becoming enraged once again, rocks spewing from his body to bunch a mirror as it shatters into pieces before tumbling back up into place slowly.
One day he would make sure you would remember him and you can be back in his arms again. Forever
