#moster

It was just another day living in the newly created world. The house's blueprints had been drawn from the moment you first set foot there. However, it wasn't until you gathered the right wood and stone that you were able to build it. It took more than two nights to complete, which, consequently, also served to increase your XP and enchant your tools.

And luckily, when she'd explored some caves earlier, she'd found a lot of diamonds. This helped her, even if it was just the basics; in a few days, she'd need to explore the other dimension to improve even further. But for now, it wasn't the time. Living alone, her household chores and survival duties doubled significantly.

The next step required planting a plantation. You were starting to get tired of eating only chicken, and you missed eating vegetables and bread. Even pumpkin pie would do, as long as you didn't eat just one thing.

With lunch served, you walked a little away from the building you called home and stood between the protective fence you'd put up to keep zombies from invading your yard. It was actually quite practical, but it didn't work against skeletons or endermen. Creepers were a special case, as they only explode if you got too close.

This happened a few times when she was distracted and suffered the explosion, breaking half the floor and disappearing her fence.

Half the day passed, and you'd managed to plow almost the entire field. The initial plan was to finish everything in one day, but the weather wasn't cooperating. The clouds in the sky suddenly turned gray, and the wind brought with it the smell of wet earth. With no choice, when the spray started falling, you had to run to the porch.

The flashlights were already on as night approached. You watched the rain fall for a while, testing the quality of the porch you'd built. Luckily, there weren't any leaks anywhere. As you considered your next steps, you heard a teleporting sound nearby. It wasn't too loud, but you couldn't decipher where it came from.

If the Enderman appeared, his sword should be in hand.

But before you could actually get up to retrieve it, purple particles were already visible. The creature was making a loud, indecipherable noise. It was quick, but you saw the black color before closing your eyes and lowering your head. It was obviously there to hide from the rain.

You got up, felt your way along the wall until you reached your door, and entered. Initially, you were supposed to grab your sword and kill him. But then a thought occurred to you. That Enderman was also fighting for his life, just like you. Besides, you didn't need to kill one just yet.

Making the final decision to leave him alone, he decided to lock the door and do something else while he waited for the rain to pass. However, the closer the night approached, the heavier the rain became. With little choice, all that was left was to try to sleep and wait for the next day.

You had a habit of always waking up at the same time in the morning. And as you approached your front door once more, the sound of the rain hadn't subsided. A frustrated sigh escaped your lips, and everything only worsened when you spotted the chest of seeds you'd left near the exit. Afraid it was raining, you didn't think twice before opening the door and leaving.

You immediately regretted it; the cold you felt made your body shiver and shiver. Running to the chest, you retrieved the seeds and turned to go back. It was at that moment that you looked directly at the creature still under your roof, motionless. You were so startled that the seed bags fell to the floor as you stared desperately at the ground.

Oh, sure. It was obvious that Enderman would still be there.

You looked at him, certain of it. Naturally, that was when he approached and tried to attack you. But so far, nothing came. No hostile screams, no teleportation. Nothing. You hurried and gathered the seeds from the ground, but the feeling that something was wrong persisted.

Giving way to curiosity, before entering the house, your hands went to your face, covering it until a gap was visible between your fingers. The moment you looked at the Enderman, his expression left you speechless. The corners of his mouth were pulled back in an almost sarcastic smile. He was mocking you with an air of superiority.

Shock made her frown immediately, her body retreating back into the room. It wasn't a figment of her imagination. Anyway, as long as he didn't attack, you'd probably be safe at home. Pushing any thoughts from her mind, she wandered to the stove to prepare the rest of the chicken she'd gathered last week.

Unfortunately, you didn't do anything really useful that day.

But to make up for this day spent cooped up at home, the next morning the rain had stopped, and your troubles seemed to have disappeared. The Enderman on the porch had left, and you were finally able to plant the seeds you'd so desperately wanted in your garden. While you didn't have much to complain about, some strange occurrences kept recurring.

If it wasn't blocks disappearing from her garden, it was new blocks being brought in and placed randomly inside and outside the fence. That's when she wasn't finding various flowers of different colors being left at her door. Initially, it was frightening. But with years of wisdom and study, she immediately knew the cause.

"Shit…" He cursed under his breath as he stared at the clump of dirt on his porch. Every time, you had to clean these spots to keep your house even remotely organized, you grabbed the stone shovel you'd already left in your inventory for this very purpose as you approached the mound of dirt.

Before she could dig, a loud teleportation sound rang out, and purple particles hovered in front of her, along with the black. The Enderman had teleported in front of her; the sudden contact caused her to stumble backward, falling pathetically to the ground. The pain wasn't severe, but enough to elicit a grunt.

"Not again…" You whimpered, feeling the contact of your palm against the ground. While you weren't paying attention, the Enderman held out his hand, containing a single blue flower. "This is…" You blinked a few times in confusion, your eyes rising to his level. This only confirmed the theory that he hadn't actually intended to attack you.

Still holding the flower outstretched, the Enderman hisses and swings its long arm toward you.

You're not sure what to do, but you end up picking up the flower. The gesture seems to have made the creature happy, as it appears to be celebrating. Still, the interaction doesn't last long. The Enderman teleports away and eventually disappears from your field of vision. Okay, then. Maybe you did the right thing?

…

As the days pass, your normal routine changes before your eyes. The Enderman from that day returned several times. Unlike the previous occasions, he simply remained motionless, watching you work or guarding your home. Interestingly, he even helped fight off approaching hostile mobs, as if protecting the place.

Because of this, it was no surprise to find him on your porch or at your bedroom window. The first time, you nearly fell out of bed when you saw his silhouette there. And even though you couldn't understand what he was saying, you knew he was amused.

It wasn't right away, but when you worked up the courage to actually approach him, you realized he wasn't as tall as most Endermen you'd encountered. Furthermore, the part of his head was also peculiar; its silhouette resembled a haircut, with dark strands falling down to his neck.

One night, when the heat decided to set in, you decided to put your pillows on the balcony to keep your newest friend company and escape the stuffy room. "It's better here..." You murmured, sitting on the floor, adjusting the pillows. The Enderman looked at you curiously, but didn't come closer. With the silence of the night and the slight coolness that was coming, several thoughts came together.

"I think... you need a name." The idea came unexpectedly, but it had a hint of meaning. That creature was practically living with you, helping you, protecting you. The Enderman didn't make a sound in response, just stood there staring. "You look like you've had many names, now it's time to choose a definitive one."

The names were listed in order and counted on your fingers, but no sound seemed to please you.

That's when the creature opened its mouth, the dark purple in its mouth deep. As always, it spoke words you could barely make out, but somehow you thought you heard something like "$c@r@m0u¢h3" being uttered. After several more tries, you finally managed to make it out. Scaramouche. That was the name it was saying.

"That was impressive! Scaramouche. But it's really long," you admit, giving a smirk. "How about Scara or Mouche? Scar sounds nice too." The mention of the latter nickname didn't seem to please him. "Heh, Scara, then." He wavered, looking away. You were so comfortable, you didn't even notice the strap of your nightgown slipping to the side, falling over your shoulder.

But the Enderman, Scaramouche, noticed.

His eyes glinted subtly as he stood up. He walked toward you, his long, large hands gripping your ankle. "Hey?!" The word escaped him as your body slid across the floor, coming to a stop just below Scaramouche. "What are you—" His sentence trailed off as he felt his hands reaching for his shorts. His heart slammed against his chest, and he quickly closed his legs.

The possibility of being touched by him crossed your mind and left your throat dry. It's true that since you woke up in that world, you were the only person in it, except for the Villagers who, well... didn't count. Soon, the lack of physical touch had to be overcome. Your knees gave way first, and the shorts you were wearing were being removed. Little by little, his hand found your panties.

The garment was removed in an instant. With your legs spread, Scaramouche could see everything, from the protruding flesh to the other hole. At first, you thought he would use his long fingers. But when something cold and wet pressed against your entrance, you looked at him once more. Crouched on the ground, his "hair" fell forward, and his thin, sticky tongue was long, very long.

The first lick was timid, as if testing the waters. But it was enough to make you shiver and cringe.

Rolling your tongue around the raised mound, you let out a louder moan. Scaramouche likes the sound he just heard, so he squeezes again, curling and sliding. Saliva, or what you thought was saliva, dripped down his long tongue, dripping and dirtying the floor. As he played around the edges, his tongue inadvertently entered your slit.

The sensation was different, he could feel it. It was hotter, stickier inside, and the inner walls pulsed and squeezed him. Scaramouche slid his tongue deeper, and you groaned. "Hm. That's it!" His voice trailed across the balcony. The way your feet twitched as your legs spread wider was a signal for him to continue.

You move your hips, seeking to take him deeper, and Scaramouche complies. His saliva mingled with your taste, and even though he tried to take it all, it still dripped down your thighs. He let out a husky noise, perhaps something akin to a groan. At some point, you could feel him deeper, pushing past the barrier you barely managed when touching yourself.

His body moved downwards, matching his tongue's movement.

"Fuck, that's it…" You feel your inner walls tremble, until you finally come. The release was so strong that your hips jerked forward, suspended in the air. You sighed through your teeth, feeling the ice of the floor against your warm body. Scaramouche's tongue slowly slipped out of you. Crawling toward you, he rises above your prone body.

Your legs are lifted up to his shoulder. You stare at him in confusion for a few moments, until you feel something thick press against your entrance. A cock. Since when did he have one? Either way, it slides inside, squeezing your inner walls and bumping against your cervix.

It's big. It stretches you completely. One hand is near your head while the other grips your thigh. When it finally slides in completely, you're whimpering, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. The sensation of being filled completely increases as it moves, slamming its body against yours.

It goes deeper than the tongue, catching the deepest spot that clouds your mind.

You don't even care what he is anymore, just that it's so good to have him there.

His mouth opens and his tongue slides out, penetrating the sweaty, sheer blouse he wore. One of your breasts is quickly enveloped by his sticky tongue, where he presses and licks the hard peak. You moan louder and more slowly, being driven to the brink of pleasure.

"Scara," you moan before your hands touch the Enderman. He makes a sound, going deeper than before. His thrusts become more violent and forceful, reverberating through your body. Adding another surprise to the night, Scaramouche suddenly stops moving, roaring as he releases hot spurts inside you.