#im a pioneer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ask-the-pioneer · 5 months ago

Text

"I've always been captivated by them. Something about the shiny exterior, how they glimmer when you tumble them around in your hands. My younger self would obsess about them, a childlike fascination. Even back then I instinctively knew they had value. My mom would use pearls I found to pay for a safe passage at scavenger tolls. We tried to bypass those points as much as we could, but sometimes it was unavoidable."

"It's a looong story…. I was found roaming the wilderness by my mentor, who brought me to er, an entity, called an interator. Do you know of iterators? Apparently they are what was left of an ancient civilization that once inhabited these lands. I couldn't wrap my head around it at first. Iterators are massive, absolutely huge, like mountains. Do you see that big structure of a regular, smooth shape?"

[She points towards Five Pebble's can in the distance]

"That is an iterator's «superstrucute». A mountain, the entire thing… is a person. It still sounds crazy when I say it."

"Ah, right, my name… like I mentioned, I got lost and my mentor found me. He brought me to his iterator. If my memory serves me right, his name is «No Significant Harassment», or NSH for short. I recall thinking at that time, «Harassment? I hope he won't be cruel to me». I had no concept of iterator names, their meaning, why it's three or however many words long. It was incredibly confusing to my young mind, though looking back at it I consider myself very lucky. The iterator was, dare I say, «god-like» (his own words), but benevolent. I saw how well he treated Hunter – my mentor – and it made me trust him more, even though I was scared and wary in the beginning."

"Would you believe it if I told you… there are stories written inside the pearls? That those things I’ve been obsessing about all my life are used for storing information? I had many of them leftover from when I lived at a scavenger outpost. One cycle, NSH noticed my interest, and – I wish Hunter had told me about this sooner, but – the iterator shot at my head with something…? And suddenly I could understand everything he said. Not that he said much, because I started crying loudly and ran straight out of there, haha. But before I bolted, he gave me one of his pearls as consolation. I think he felt bad for the scared little me."

"After that, he would eagerly read all the pearls I brought to him. That is how I learned more about the culture of the peoples who were here before me: the Ancients, their customs, why the iterators were built, and much more. It was like the knowledge of the entire world was suddenly revealed to me – to a seemingly insignificant being, a tiny speck in an endless ocean of life. It both made me feel very important, and very small. And, yeah, it has intensified my obsession with pearls beyond mortal limits. What if I could write into a pearl? I could archive the history of my entire species! All the stories my mom told me when I was small? All the places I’ve been to? Or other scugs have been to…"

[Her eyes widen, sparkling with glee]

"Y-yeah… that would be nice… sadly I am what I am – a slugcat. I don’t know how to do this very advanced stuff at all. I have no means of doing this. I once asked NHS for help, but there’s only so much he could guess from my frantic signing. I don’t think he understood me, in the end. But he did appreciate my efforts, and I was given a title – the Pioneer, like a person who is the very first to explore something uncharted. Apparently no slugcat before me thought of reading from or writing into pearls? I find it a little hard to believe."

"This one! This is a very special kind of pearl – it contains an ancient poem from which my name originated. See, my name was a gift from NSH the iterator. It’s spelled: «Mirmyntasseth». The best way I would describe it, is… it’s a name for a feeling, or an experience. The way it was explained to me, is that the word «Mirmyntasseth» is an expression of seeing a marble roll on a flat surface, then hitting another marble. Ah, right, you may not know this – a marble is like, like a pearl, but translucent and even more ornate. I was told that marbles were used by the Ancients for entertainment. They had a game where you rolled one to hit another. I'll admit, I can see the appeal. Throwing rocks is fun, although I image this game was considered a more dignified pastime."

[She tumbles the dark pearl in her hands, admiring its luster]

"The poem inside this pearl, one of its verses spells: ��Eight Marbles Cast in Stone». The poem itself is long… very long… I had the iterator read it to me once, and we had to stop in the middle because the rain was coming. Maybe I will ask NSH to read it again, when I’m back at his superstructure with Hunter."

[Her gaze trails off to somewhere far away for a moment, a subtle grimace on her face. She closes her eyes and shakes off the thoughts that cloud her mind]

"So, um… yes… that is why I am called Eight Marbles Cast in Stone, or Marbles for short. I like how it sounds, it has a nice ring to it. And it’s a gift from an iterator, a god-like being. I consider it a great honor."

"…that said, I wonder why he didn’t just name me «Pearl»? Wouldn’t that make more sense? Maybe it didn’t sound cool enough. They’ve used pearls just to store information. I guess it’d be silly to be named «Dirt» because you doodle in dirt, or «Batfly» because you love eating batflies? Hmm…"

#rain world #rain world oc #rain world au #rw pioneer #rw no significant harassment #rw nsh #rw hunter #slugcat #slugpup #rw iterator #artificer's pups #ask blog #GATHER 'ROUND FOR A BEDTIME STORY #au lore #im going to crawl into a hole now and hibernate for a couple of days

672 notes · View notes

bloody-peach · 2 months ago

Text

Click (A Clickolding smut fic)

~~~♡♡♡~~~

Now Playing: Creep by Radiohead, Sweet Dreams are Made of This by Marilyn Manson

Goodie bag: clicking (if you're into that), cuckolding(?), vaginal sex, creampie, gunplay (not used in sex, but the threat is still there), sex work, missionary position, doggy-style, [Let me know if I missed anything!]

A/N: Don't worry, I'm just as ashamed of and disappointed in myself as you are. I just had this idea after watching a few let's plays, so yeah. I just like being told what to do, ok? Btw, this is made with F!Reader in mind.

~~~♡♡♡~~~

The digital clock beeped on the hotel room nightstand, signaling midnight. You sat at the edge of the bed, with the clicker in your hand, waiting for him to enter.

You were in need of money, so you offered yourself for any work on craigslist. Any job someone needed done, you were willing to do it for a price. You had no luck until you received an email one day. The request was very odd, to say the least: sit in a room with him and click a clicker for as long as he wanted. It seemed weird, but simple enough. He offered $14,000 for the job, so you immediately said yes. Now you weren't sure if you made the right choice or not.

You heard the door open, along with approaching footsteps. "Hello. Glad you made it. Thank you for taking my request." He handed you the clicker and sat in the chair across from you. You finally had a good look at him and....you were confused. He appeared to be a normal man from the neck down, but he wore a long burlap sack on his head as a mask, his eyes peeking through holes in the sack. He must’ve wanted to be anonymous, you figured. "Now. Start clicking," he commanded, in a deep, husky tone. “Yes, sir,” you responded. And thus the night that would change your life began.

You could hear the clicker sound, click, click, click, click, echoing in the small room. The air is heavy with the tension of the situation. The man seemed to be satisfied with the clicking, as he’s whispering how good it felt to hear the click. The motel room was plain and smelled of stale cigarettes and old dust. You looked at the bed you were sitting on, it was against the far wall, covered in a bright, floral, patterned bedspread. You looked around the rest of the room, the furniture looking old and mismatched. A small TV on a stand was mounted on the wall just above a nicked-up wooden dresser. Suddenly, the man shifted in his seat and pointed to a spot on the floor. “Over there,” he commanded, his voice carrying a hint of frustration. “Stand there and click.” “Yes, sir,” was all you said. You stood up and went over to where he was pointing and continued to click the clicker. “Is this better, sir?” The man’s breathing grew heavier as you clicked the clicker. The sound, once satisfying, seemed to agitate him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his bag-covered head bobbing up and down. “Faster,” he demanded, his voice rising with urgency. “Yes, sir,” you said as you clicked the clicker faster, the sound ringing in your ears.

The man leaned forward, his eyes bulging more as they strained to watch your hand. The number on the clicker ticks up, nearing 3,000. “Move,” he commanded again, pointing to a spot by the bed. “Yes, sir,” you said as you went to the spot he was pointing to and continued clicking, the number slowly climbing toward 4,000. The man’s eyes darted back and forth between the clicker and you. He seemed more at ease here, the heavy breathing easing slightly as he relaxed in the chair. “How do you feel?” he asked, his voice softer. As you kept clicking, you cleared your throat and said, “A little nervous, honestly... I’ve never done this before, sir.” The man shifted his weight, the springs in the chair creaking with the movement. His breathing picked up again, growing heavier. “You’re doing fine,” he said, his voice strained. “Keep going.” You noticed his hands were trembling slightly, his fingers curled in awkward positions as if they didn’t quite work correctly. The number on the clicker ticked over 5,000. The man’s bulging eyes flickered to it briefly before returning to you. You couldn’t help but blush from his gaze as you continued to click the clicker.

The room was tense, the only sound being your clicking and the man’s heavy breathing. The air was thick with the smell of dust and cigarettes. It felt like an eternity had passed as you clicked the clicker, but eventually, it hit 6,000. The man let out a soft moan, his head bobbing up and down in apparent satisfaction. “Good girl,” he said, his voice thick with lust. You couldn’t help but feel self-conscious, blushing as you looked down at your feet. Your hand was beginning to cramp, but you kept going, determined to please this strange man who had a bag over his head. It was at 8,000 when he spoke again, his voice low and menacing. “You better keep going,” he said, “or I’ll have to do it myself.” A chill ran down your spine as you glanced back to see the man’s trembling hand, his fingers curled in a weak grip. He couldn’t click the clicker; you knew that. But the threat was enough to make your heart race. “Yes, sir,” you said as you continued to click the clicker. “Is there any speed you’d like me to go, sir?” you asked nervously. The man watched you intently, his breathing growing heavy. “Slower,” he commanded, his voice thick with desire. You slowed down the clicking, taking more time between each click. The man’s eyes darted between the clicker and you, his gaze lingering on your chest for a moment. You could feel yourself getting flustered, fighting the urge to cross your arms over your breasts. “Good,” he whispered, his voice filled with lust. “Keep going, nice and slow.” The number on the clicker ticked upwards, and the room is filled with the echoes of the click. The man sat, enjoying the sound and the sight of you clicking the clicker. At 9,000, he cleared his throat. “We’re getting close,” he said, his voice strained. “Don’t stop now, Y/N.” Your eyes widened, realizing he knew your name. You shivered, the air in the room growing colder. You could feel his eyes on you as you continued to click the clicker, the number growing closer to 10,000. As you clicked, you asked, “If..I may ask...what happens when we reach 10,000, sir?” The man’s breathing grew heavier as you approached 10,000. He leaned forward, his bag-covered head bobbing up and down. “You’ll see,” he said, his voice low and menacing.

The clicker reached 10,000 with a final, decisive click. The man let out a groan, his head lolling back. “Keep it right there,” he whispered, his voice filled with desperation. You stood there, the clicker in your hand, unsure of what to do next. The man remained still for a moment, his breathing heavy. Then, he slowly sat up, his bag-covered head staring you down. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a gun. Your heart raced as he pointed it at you, his hand trembling. “I’m going to give you a choice, Y/N,” he said, his voice cold. “You can either stay here with me, clicking the clicker all day long, or...” He left that sentence unfinished, the situation clearly showing the second option. You felt a rush of fear go through you, you had to think of something to say. “I..I have nowhere to be, sir. If you want me to keep clicking, I don’t mind. I’m here to please you, sir.” The man considered your response, the gun wavering slightly. “Good girl,” he said, his voice low and menacing. He lowered the gun, tucking it back into his coat pocket. “Let’s start again, then. Let’s see how many times you can click to 10,000 before I get bored.” You let out a sigh of relief. “Yes, sir.” You clicked the clicker, resetting the counter to 0 and starting the process again.

The man watched you intently, his eyes never leaving your hand. You couldn’t help but feel a bit dazed, your mind racing with what just happened, but the threat of the gun was enough to keep you clicking. The minutes turned into hours as you clicked the clicker, the man sitting in his chair, enjoying the sound of the click intermixed with the heavy breathing and the occasional moan of satisfaction. You could feel your hand cramping, but you didn’t dare stop; you knew the consequences. As the day turned to night, you sat on the bed in front of the man, your hand aching. You’ve clicked the counter to 10,000 about 2 times now, but the man showed no signs of leaving, content with this bizarre form of entertainment. “Um..excuse me, sir. My hand is getting really sore.. Do you mind if I switch hands? I’ll still keep clicking,” you asked. The man barely flinched at your request, his eyes never leaving your hand. “Go ahead,” he said, hsi voice thick with apathy. “Thank you, sir,” you responded.

You switched hands, the feel of the clicker different in your new grip. The man continued to watch, his heavy breathing and occasional moans filling the room. The air was thick with tension, the one window covered in thick, dirty curtains. You clicked the clicker, listening to the repetitive sound. You’ve lost track of time, the only hint of the passage of minutes being the change in the light filtering through the curtains. The man remained completely still, his bag-covered head bobbing up and down. As you clicked, you couldn’t help but think about your situation. You were stuck there, seemingly hostage, clicking a clicker for a complete stranger. It’s degrading, and yet, the man seemed to have a hold over you. You didn’t know how long it would last, but you knew that until he got bored or decided to leave, you’d be trapped in this motel room, clicking that infernal device. For now, you focused on the sound, the repetition becoming almost hypnotic. Click, click, click. The room was your prison, and yet, in a twisted, masochistic way, it was also your sanctuary.

“So...if I can ask...what made you into this, sir?” you asked, figuring you’d fill the stale air with conversation to pass the time. The man’s breathing hitched slightly as you spoke, and for a moment, you wondered if your question had upset him. “An...accident,” he finally said, his voice filled with sadness. “I used to be just like you, Y/N. But one day, everything changed. I’m a broken man now, a shadow of my former self. This...this is the only pleasure I have left.” You felt a pang of sympathy for the man, saddened by his past. At that moment, you somewhat strangely felt glad that you could help this man forget about his pain for at least a while. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m happy that I can give you this pleasure, sir. I just hope I’m satisfying you enough.” The man’s breathing grew heavier as you spoke, a moan escaping his lips. “You’re doing just fine, Y/N,” he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. He shifted in his chair, the springs creaking under his weight. You could see his hand trembling, his fingers curling inwards. He seemed to be fighting some kind of internal battle, his head moving up and down as if he was trying to reconcile his past with his present. You continued clicking, the sound becoming almost soothing in its repetition. The room was dark, the only light coming from a small lamp in the corner. You could see the man’s bag-covered head, the shadows playing across the fabric.

As the minutes ticked by, you found yourself wondering about the man’s past, his accident. You couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be in his position, to have lost so much. And yet, he seemed to have found solace in your presence, in the sound of the clicker. As you continued clicking, you spoke, “If talking more about your accident will help you feel better, you can. I don’t mind, sir. I’m also here to listen, sir.” The man’s hand trembled for a moment, the bag-covered head tilting to the side. “It was... a chemical spill at the factory where I worked,” he said slowly, his voice dripping with pain. “The chemicals burned through my skin, my flesh. I wasn’t recognized for days. When they finally pulled the sheet off my face, my wife couldn’t take it. She left me, as did everyone else in my life. I was alone, left to rot.” He let out a soft, pained moan, his head bowing. “But when I heard the clicker, I felt something. I felt... alive. And you, Y/N, you’ve brought that feeling back, even if only for a little while.” You couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness as he spoke, your heart aching for the man. You continued to click the clicker, the sound echoing in the room as you listened to his story, your role in providing him relief making you feel both miserable and comforted.

“If..if there is anything else you’d like me to do while I’m clicking, sir, I can do it. I don’t mind at all,” you said. The man seemed to consider your offer for a moment, his head still bowed. “Just keep clicking, Y/N,” he said, his voice strained. He shifted in his chair, the springs creaking a bit from his movement. “But, if you don’t mind, I’d like for you to stand in front of me on your tiptoes while you do it. The sound is somewhat more pleasing when you do.” You nodded, understanding his request. You stood on your tiptoes, the clicker in your hand. The sound was different, more high-pitched, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it truly was more pleasing to the man. The sun started to set, the sunset streaming through the dirty curtains, casting long shadows across the room. The man’s breathing remained steady, his bag-covered head barely moving. You wondered if he was asleep or just lost in his thoughts.

It was at that moment when he suddenly grabbed you and pulled you into his lap, facing him, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you close as you were clicking. You blushed from the sudden invasion of personal space, “Um...sir..?” The man’s arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you close. You could feel his breath on your neck, his body trembling slightly. “Just keep clicking, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with desperation. You were trapped in his embrace, your body pressed against his. You could feel his heart racing, his breathing growing heavier. The clicker was between you, the sound echoing in the room. His hand moved, sliding over your body, caressing your curves. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice filled with desire. “I’ve never had someone so willing to please me for a long time.” You shivered at his touch, your mind racing with the implications of his actions. You were completely at his mercy, unable to move, forced to continue clicking the clicker as he held you close.

His hand slid lower, his fingers grazing over your thighs. “Keep clicking,” he commanded, his voice thick with lust. “Don’t stop now, Y/N.” You continued to click, your hand moving in a blur, the sound growing faster, more urgent. The man’s breathing grew heavier, his body trembling with excitement. As you clicked, you could feel his erection growing hard, pressing against you. You blushed red as you clicked faster. He grabbed your hips and quickly pulled you down onto his lap, his erection rubbing against your groin, accidentally causing a soft moan to escape your lips. The man let out a groan, his body arching upwards as he heard your moan. His erection pressed harder against you, his hand squeezing your hips tighter. “Y/N,” he growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble. “I want you to feel it, too.” He shifted you slightly, his hand reaching down to unbutton your pants. Your heart raced as he pushed your pants and underwear down your legs, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. “Spread your legs,” he ordered, his voice thick with lust. You obeyed and spread your legs, still clicking the clicker. You watched as he undid his pants and pulled out his cock, your heart racing at the sight. It’s hard and thick, the tip glistening with anticipation. “Keep clicking,” he commanded, his voice dripping with lust.

He reached down, spreading your legs wider, exposing your wet, throbbing pussy. You clicked faster, the sound growing louder and more urgent. He lined his cock up with your entrance, the head pressing against your wet folds. With a swift movement, he pulled your hips down, burying himself deep inside you. You let out a cry, the sensation overwhelming. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he started to move, his cock sliding in and out of your tight, wet hole. “Fuck,” he grunted, his thrusts growing harder and faster. “You’re so tight, Y/N. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t click anymore.” You continued to click, the sound becoming a part of the symphony of sex in the room. The man’s groans and moans mixed with your cries of pleasure, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. “Ahh..ohh..sir..i..it’s so good..” The man’s thrusts grew harder, his hips slamming against yours as he buried himself deep inside you. “That’s it, Y/N,” he grunted, his voice strained with pleasure. “Keep clicking, keep making that sound.” You clicked faster, the sound mixing with your moans and cries of pleasure. The man’s cock is relentless, his thickness stretching you, filling you up completely. His hand reached up, pulling your shirt and bra up and grabbing your breast, squeezing it roughly. He pinched your nipple, twisting it slightly, sending jolts of pain and pleasure through your body.

As you clicked, he then stood, lifting you off of his lap and pushing you onto the bed. You landed on your hands and feet, your ass in the air, offering yourself to him. He quickly took you up on the offer, grabbing your hips tightly as he thrusted back into you. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his hips slamming against yours. “Keep clicking, Y/N. I need to hear that sound.” You did as told, clicking faster, your body moving with his, your moans mingling with the sound of the clicker. The man’s thrusts are merciless, his cock stretching you to the point of pleasure and pain. His hands gripped your hips tightly, leaving red imprints on your skin as he fucked you relentlessly. The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the clicker, and your cries of pleasure. You were lost in the moment, your mind a haze of sensation as you were fucked into this dirty motel bed. The man’s breathing grew heavier, his thrusts more urgent. You could feel him growing close, the tension building between you, the room filled with sweat, sex, and the ever-present click of the clicker.

“A..Am I doing good, sir..? Is my clicking satisfying you, sir..?” you were able to utter out. The man grunted, slamming into you harder. “Yes, Y/N, your clicking is perfect,” he growled, his voice strained with pleasure. “I love the sound, it’s driving me wild.” His hands gripped your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fucked you harder, faster. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, his breathing growing heavier, more erratic. “Fuck, I’m going to cum,” he groaned, slamming into you one final time. He buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his hot, thick cum. You continued to click, the sound mixing with his moans of pleasure, your own body trembling with the force of your orgasm. You were filled to the brim with his seed, your pussy clenched tightly around his cock as you milked him for every last drop. He stayed inside you for a moment, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. “That was...incredible,” he panted. “You’ve pleased me greatly, Y/N.” You collapsed onto the bed, your body spent, your mind a haze of pleasure. You weren’t sure how long you’d have to keep clicking, but you knew that as long as you did, you’ll have pleased him, and that’s enough for now. As you were trying to catch your breath, you looked at him. “D..Did you..want me...to keep clicking, sir?” The man’s head bobbed, the bag still concealing his expression. “Yes, continue, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice filled with satisfaction. “My pleasure is your reward.” You nodded, understanding his command. Your body was still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure as you took the clicker in your hand and began to click once more, the sound echoing in the room as you both lay there, covered in sweat, exhausted, yet fulfilled. The motel room was your prison, yet it was also your refuge, a place where you had found a perverse form of intimacy, where your body and your mind had been used to bring a man who's lost virtually everything a semblance of pleasure.

Dusk soon turned to night, the moonlight shining through the curtains. As you continued clicking, you wondered what the future held, where this twisted dance of pleasure and pain would lead. You felt him stir inside you, his softening cock slowly hardening once more. He whispered into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Keep clicking, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice filled with desire. “I’m going to fuck you all over again.” He started to thrust, his cock slowly sliding in and out of your pussy. You moaned softly, your body still sensitive from the previous round. The sound of the clicker and your moans filled the room once more, a symphony of pleasure and depravity. The man’s thrusts grew harder and urgent. He flipped you over, pushing you onto your back. He spread your legs, his cock pressing against your wet, aching entrance. “Look at me, Y/N,” he commanded, his voice thick with lust. “I want to see the pleasure on your face as I fuck you.” You looked up at him, your eyes meeting the eyes of the bag. You clicked faster, the sound becoming more urgent and needy. The man’s thrusts grew harder, faster, his cock burying itself deep inside you. The room is filled once again with your moans, the clicker, and the sound of skin slapping against skin. The man’s body is a blur of motion, his hips slamming against yours as he fucked you mercilessly, your body writhing beneath him in ecstasy. It was clear that you had become a slave to his desires, a willing participant in his twisted game.

“Ahh..ohh..fuck...” you moaned out. The man growled at your moans, his hands grabbing your breasts roughly. He twisted your nipples, sending jolts of pain and pleasure, coursing through your body. “Keep clicking, Y/N,” he commanded, his voice dripping with pleasure. You did as told, clicking as your body moved with his, the sound of the clicker mingling with your cries of pleasure. “Cum for me, Y/N,” he growled, his hips slamming against yours. “Cum while you click.” Your body trembled, the edge of your orgasm growing close. You clicked faster, your moans growing louder, more desperate. The man’s thrusts grew more erratic, his breathing heavy, his body tense. “I’m going to cum,” he grunted, his cock pulsing inside you. He filled you with his thick seed once more, his hips still moving, milking every last drop. Your orgasm crashed over you, your pussy clenching tightly around his cock, your body shaking with the force of it. The clicker clicked faster and more frantic, its sound a testament to your pleasure. He remained inside you, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. “That was incredible, Y/N,” he panted, slowly pulling out of you. “You’ve exceeded my wildest dreams.”

You collapse onto the bed, your body spent, your mind in a daze. You looked at the clicker and noticed that you were at 0. It seemed the man knew that too, since you heard him move. But then you heard the sound of the gun. You looked at him and you saw that he had the gun out and..pointed at his head, his body shaking violently as his finger looped around the trigger, trembling. “Thank you...” he said. You quickly reached for the gun.

BANG!

#clickolding #clickolding game #look i like being told what to do ok?#plus the threat of the gun is kinda hot #that's it #im sub as fuck #well at least i might pioneer with stuff like this #maybe not. i dunno #this exists still

29 notes · View notes