#beatingminecraft

[angy-mouse]

Night One

I have no chapter summary I have no content warnings all I have is the contents of a post-it note I wrote at 2 am:

soft zomboi eats you passes harkness test?

.... anyway 18+ ahead bye-

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You spawned in a gorgeous flower field. Blues and reds and pinks and yellows for miles on end, blanketing the earth as far as the eye could see. You picked them as you walked, crafting a flower crown for yourself before starting on a necklace to match. Floral scents wafted on the breeze, mixing together into a natural perfume that wrapped you in the spring-like bliss that made the passage of time irrelevant.

Until the sun set. 

Long fingers wrapped around your ankle before you even realized the hand had burst from the ground like one of the many blossoms around it. You tasted dirt as you fell to the ground, heart thrumming in your ears as you were jerkily yanked towards the hole again and again. You heard your own shriek ringing through the quiet night as you fumbled for a hold in the loose dirt, sneakers kicking about wildly before you grew the sense to kick the hand. 

You wrenched your body to the side, throat tightening as you laid eyes on your attacker, halfway pulled out of the ground. 

Something happened. Both at that moment, with your core throbbing in a cruel act of betrayal, and before that. Before you spawned. Because suddenly you could hardly call him a monster. His skin held a sickly hue and he was coated thickly in dirt from crawling out of his own grave…

But his hair looked soft and silky where it hung over crystal blue eyes. The kind of eyes that you saw only on actors and just went wow. The kind of eyes that, when you stomped on his fingers because you were already in motion for fight or flight, showed his pain as clearly as if it was written on a neon sign. 

He released you, and you were sure that moan sounded like an, “ooooooow.” You weren’t an idiot, though, so you scrambled to your feet and you were going to run for your fucking life to find some trees to make a sword-

His eyes became wider than saucers as he started sinking back into the ground. Already filthy fingernails carved thick trenches in the loose dirt, quickly turning into a frantic scramble as he desperately searched for anything solid enough to grip.

It was only as his shoulders sank beneath the grass that you realized he wasn’t trying to pull you in: he was trying to pull himself out.

You snatched his hand just before it disappeared. 

“Fuck me,” you grunted, anchoring your heels as much as you could in what was practically quicksand. You got him pulled up enough you could grab his forearm with your other hand. “Fuck me with a fucking cactus!” You could hear him spitting out dirt but didn’t bother looking, searching for a more solid place to pull towards. “Stupidest fucking idea ever, I’m so going to die for this.” Your ankles were hit by the cold dirt. The more you pulled him out, the more weight displacement dragged you in. If you didn’t find a more solid patch before you got him out…

The flowers. 

It hit you like a shot of adrenaline straight to your heart, kicking your legs into motion. 

Flowers have roots, roots hold the surrounding dirt, get to the flowers. 

You kicked up more dirt than a racehorse charging towards the nearest flower patch. He couldn’t do much to help himself until his feet were free, but long fingers held your own with a grateful kind of desperateness as you dragged him through the loose dirt. When your foot didn’t sink in where you stepped, you gave one final tug that yanked him free-

And knocked you on your ass.

The wind was knocked from your lungs when you landed on your back, then again as the zombie landed on top of you. Your heart thudded in your chest as his hot breath washed over the bare skin of your collarbone, shirt disturbed from your adventure. His lips ghosted over the tender skin just above your breast, shocking a realization into you.

Three, actually.

The first was that there was a flesh eating monster pinning you to the ground.

The second was that he was groaning out, “aaaaan koooo,” which, after only a minute, you deduced to be ‘thank you.’

The third was that that was not a sword poking you.

“Crap,” you groaned. “Okay, no biggie, just gotta make an opportunity to escape-”

His hips rutted against you, a deep moan falling from his lips as if surprised by it himself. His pants weren’t denim like yours- the soft material did nothing to impede the swell of his cock as the friction against your thigh spurred blood flow south. He took a shaky breath against you as if trying to control himself, but it turned into another moan. 

“Sweeeet…”

Sweet. He thinks you smell sweet. You are so getting your brains ate. GG.

With no sword to fight back, you clenched your eyes shut tight and accepted your failure as his jaw fell open, diving for your neck to sink his teeth-

Mwah.

Your eyes blinked open.

Mwah. Mwah.

Vibrations rumbled up the column of your throat as the zombie hummed, a happy noise reminiscent of a tamed cat that perfectly matched the curl of his lips, but nothing else about this situation. 

His tongue swiped across his dry lips to wet them and inadvertently caught a taste of your supple skin, dick jumping in his pants as the sweet flavor worked to completely fill his every sense with you. The flowers combined with your natural scent already had him breathing deeply, and the feeling of your soft body pressed against his as tight as possible-

His lips parted, capturing your neck. Your breath stuttered in your lungs as his tongue laved over the skin, teeth working ever so gently at it as if merely trying to work more into his mouth- as if the thought of biting you was never even entertained. His hips took a smoother pattern, knees digging into the grass on either side of your thigh to better roll against you, still suckling on your neck. 

What could you do?

Technically, lots. You could shove him by the shoulders, headbutt him- your knee was actually in a very optimal position for doing damage. 

But he was moving lower. He was dragging his lips down your collarbones and his hips were moving faster against you and his hot breath washed over your nipples through the thin fabric of your tee-

And he was moaning, mouthing at your tits as he came in his pants- and came, and came. You could feel it soak right through his pants- god there’s no way he’s wearing underwear, how was he buried without underwear?

Focus! After coming so hard, he’d surely be disoriented: you needed to prioritize your escape! Except…

Did you?

Because surely there were other monsters roaming the night, but none seemed to be coming near you. Maybe they were put off by the sounds and smell of sex, maybe they couldn’t see you where you laid in the thick grass. Whatever the reason, they weren’t approaching, and he was pawing at the crotch of your jeans.

“Soooft,” he moaned, clumsy and thick fingers rubbing rough shapes over your mound. He was about as precise as a musket, but even a stopped clock could grind the denim seam against your clit twice a day.

Or something. 

It was hard to think. You were trying to ponder the ethics of intercourse with a technically dead but clearly coherent individual. Did it count as necrophilia if they’re undead? Did this pass the Harkness test? Shit, why can’t you remember what the Harkness test is? 

“Wan…”

You blinked. Baby blues peered into your own eyes. His hands stopped. He licked his lips and his brows furrowed. 

“Want,” he tried again, “wan eat too-” A sound came out of his throat, having begun deep in his chest and worked its way through him. It sounded truly monstrous: the first sign since he crawled out of the dirt that he truly was a zombie. 

He shoved his face in your stomach, shaking his head. Your first instinct it to shove him off since it really looked like he was going to gorge himself on your liver, but you managed to calm it into a minor twitch of your leg. He hadn’t shown you any harm so far, and what little compassion you had left after years of playing this ‘game’ compelled you to show him the same respect. 

When he lifted his head again you could see the sparkle of budding tears in his eyes and that small bud of compassion bloomed larger. Your hands moved faster than your brain, one combing through his dirty hair and one cupping his upturned cheek. His entire body went lax at the touch, weakly moaning as he laid his head on your stomach. 

You came to the dreadful conclusion that he looked good like this. He had a sharp profile that was softened by long lashes that drifted over his cheekbones every time he breathed deeply, his breaths out being shakier for a reason you couldn’t quite tell. You could feel him growing hard again, pressed against your shin this time.

Fuck, he was big. You told yourself there was no harm in thoughts, that they were impulsive and therefore couldn’t be held to ethical standards, because you didn’t want to hate yourself when an attractive guy was grinding his monster cock against you. Monster, you reminded yourself. A mob. But thoughts were okay. There was no harm in thinking about how wrecked you’d be if you fucked yourself on his cock. 

He growled again- that monstrous zombie growl that was somehow so out of place coming from him. “Shellsa sweet,” he mustered up, voice strained and breathy as he pressed his lips against the sliver of skin where your shirt had ridden up. “Wan’ tank koo. Wan’ eat too. Peas!”

Something clicked. Something connected in your brain. The tears made sense if they were of frustration. Frustration as this completely coherent grown man was suddenly unable to form the words he wanted- the words he needed to convey.

You smell so sweet. 

I want to thank you. 

I want to eat you.

Please!

He took a deep breath, and it dawned on you how close he was to your weeping cunt when he moaned, hips bucking down on your leg like he was ready for another round. Like he had no more control that a horny mutt, humping your leg like that. But he didn’t move otherwise. He’d asked. Now he’d wait for you to either agree or not, you realized. He was lucid enough to ask for consent, and he was sure as shit lucid enough to respect it. 

You supposed that solved your dilemma. 

“Fuck me- yes,” you managed with a thick swallow. “Yes, I want it.” You could practically watch your words sink in: he was glowing when he realized. Surprisingly not disgusting teeth bared wide in an eager grin before he pressed hard kisses down your navel, grunting displeased when your jeans didn’t pull away at the first tug. “Let me-”

He did not let you.

He took a firm grip on either side of your button and tore right through the seams until you had a pair of denim leg warmers.

“Okay, that works, too, I guess. Fuck, I’m gonna have to kill so many cows for some leggings now-” He removed your panties the same way and discarded them on the grass. “Motherfucker, you really- hoooooo fuck!”

He dove tongue first into your pussy like he’d been through a drought. His moans vibrating through your very core as he ate you out as eagerly as if the act pleasured him as much as you. And maybe it did, because as his nose rubbed against your clit, his hips jerked wildly against you. He grabbed the meat of your thigh with both hands, yanking it up to hold tightly against the side of his head to open you up, letting his tongue drive deeper until it was lapping at your g-spot. God, his tongue was long. He was reaching farther into your core than your fingers ever could- you weren’t someone who easily came without clitoral stimulation, but he was making a damn good go at it. 

As if he could hear your thoughts, one clumsy hand left your thigh to paw mindless but determined shapes against your bud, using his own thick saliva to ease the calloused pad of his finger over the sensitive nerves. Despite the animalistic way he fucked his tongue into you, he stayed perfectly attentive to the slightest change in your moans, exploring your body with his hands and tongue until he found the most amazing combination of movements to have you grinding against his face. And he seemed to love it, moaning into your pussy as you shoved his nose against you to the point you were sure he couldn’t breathe- if he ever could. 

You could hear him come again, but more importantly you could feel his movements become more determined, more forceful, as if he was desperate to give you the same pleasure you’d given him. And that was the thought that pushed you over- the thought that rang through your mind as everything else was drowned out by a tidal wave. 

You didn’t do anything but let him service you.

Just from that, his pants were wet against your leg.

He moaned louder than you did as you came, tongue curling inside you as if he was trying to steal every last drop of your cum. He carried you through your orgasm, only pulling his thumb away from your clit when you started twitching, trying to jerk your hips back but having no strength left to do so. His tongue stayed, lapping up every taste of you from your fluttering cunt before he started kitten-licking your folds and clit, soft hums vibrating through your sensitive nerves as he made sure he’d taken everything he could from you. 

When he climbed back up your body you could feel his giant cock already back to half-mast, but bigger than that you could feel his wide grin as he pressed tender kisses up the side of your neck and face, hands gently exploring your body still, fingers digging into the soft skin of your waist as he held you tightly against his body. 

You were just about ready to tell him to take you now and hard when he let out an ear-piercing shriek. His screams bounced around in your skull, paralyzing you as he scrambled off your body, showing a glimpse of a fiery red burn spreading over his arm.

The sun was coming up. 

He dove for the tall grass, but the weak fibers flattened under his weight. Golden rays burned a path over any exposed skin, peeling through muscle and bleaching the bone beneath faster than light. He leapt for his grave in a last ditch effort, sinking back into the cool earth.

There was a minute where you just laid there, listening to the birds wake with the dawn. The warm sun kissed over your bare skin as if taunting your lover. The feeling of eyes on you washed over you, even though you knew that was impossible with the sun killing all the mobs, but you still found yourself crossing your legs.  “... What the fuck.”

[angy-mouse]

A Plan Amongst Gods

who started 3 new series' that no one asked for? oh thats right, its me

Next>

Sigh, another player.

It does get tiring, doesn’t it? The same thing over and over, I mean.

Indeed. Shall we change things up a bit this time around?

What were you thinking? Herobrine again? Maybe an island spawn?

No, no, we’ve done those all a hundred times over. I’m thinking of something big: something that changes ‘the game’ at it’s very core.

Oh, do tell.

This player is quite… desperate, shall we say? With only minor changes to some of the mobs- a few physical and mental tweaks, plus a hormone imbalance-

We can set up a whole different type of game. Oh, you are clever! Say, what if we craft them each the same preference as well?

So they will only crave the player! You truly are my other half, dear. We must hurry, though, if we want to be done before they spawn.