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Skinsuits. He hated every single one of them.

Part of you suspected there may be more to it, maybe he wasn’t just a pissed-off murder robot, as Elliott would call him. From the times that you had been paired up together in both trios and duos, he had been nothing short of an asshole. That was to be expected with the robot that everyone had come to hate, and when Loba showed up, the hatred only grew in number and felt amplified.

You wished you could hate him.
You knew he was cruel, that he was a murderer and no doubt a sadist as well; someone who clearly got off on hurting others and toying with them. The words he uttered when his victim met their end gave that away. You were the only one who met his rude comments with sarcastic, or equally rude remarks.

Anita did so sometimes, too. As did Octavio, though, for some reason, it was you that caught his attention. He wouldn’t thank you after you tossed him a weapon? Did I ask? Your thanks to him, whenever he was feeling generous, was curt and met with what sounded like him clearing his throat, even if he wasn’t capable of it. You found it entertaining to banter with the lanky robot, and soon, it seemed he began to find it entertaining too.

Talk outside of the games grew more intense and more frequent. In the dropship, he’d stare blatantly, make you shift in your seat, and his disdainful attitude while in the ring became more sarcastic and teasing than a real threat. He’d thank you now, although it was clearly to mess with you, and when you’d pull him back up from a fight, he almost seemed smug. Could robots be smug? He was.

You being you, either suicidal or brave, still met him with the same behavior. However, his threats became less of anger and more… pleased.

“Watch your mouth, girly. It might get you into trouble someday.”

It did. God, it did.

This was new. He’d never found you before in the ring just for his own amusement. It was clear that was why when he didn’t put a cap immediately in your skull. You were stuck with Elliott at that time, who was busy looting the building across the cavern. You had moved ahead enough to be out of immediate earshot, and once that was determined, he jumped on you, almost quite literally. The rocks were sharp and uncomfortable against your back, even through your clothing. He had you pinned to the cavern’s wall, a darker corner within that left you exposed to him but hidden from Elliott’s line of sight. Elliott hadn’t called for you yet, but the ring would be closing soon, and it was inevitable.

Your own hand had pressed the wingman to Revenant’s chest, and it remained there until one of his steady mechanical ones wretched it away. A deep sound came from him, a chuckle, and he pushed into you further. You were quite literally stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“You could’ve taken the shot,” he spoke lowly, sounding quite pleased with your behavior. You hadn’t tried to push him away, hell, you barely moved a muscle aside from the irritating frown that now spread across your lips. “But you didn’t.

He was teasing you again, though something was different. It could have been the close proximity making your heart jump in your chest, or maybe it was the intention of his words, which you were slowly unraveling. One of his thin hands came back from the wall and gripped your chin. It wasn’t as rough as you were expecting, but it wasn’t kind either. Your lips parted as you considered telling him off, but you were cut off by another deep chuckle before you could.

“I told you this mouth would get you into trouble,” if he had movable lips, he’d be smiling no doubt. A cold finger brushed against your bottom lip briefly, pushing into the plush skin, considering something before he swiped away. That’s when his hand fell down lower, coming to squeeze your hips and pull you closer, if at all possible. He towered over you, and he was still able to push his leg between your legs. “I’ll take this instead.”

His hand tightened briefly against your hipbone, almost as if testing the waters if he cared enough to do that. When you didn’t pull away from either his words or his touch, his hand moved down further, dragging along your pants before cupping your clothed heat completely. His hand was cold even through the fabric, and you gasped. This prompted his other to clamp down onto your mouth. His eyes glowed threateningly in the damp darkness between you. His hand didn’t remain above clothing for long. It only took one swift pull for him to yank your pants down to mid-thigh, damn near tearing the fabric and pulling you to your knees. His hold on you didn’t relent, and if it did, you surely would have fallen from the strength behind the pull. Once your pants were down enough, he moved onto your underwear, not even glancing down to them before he pulled them, too. This fabric gave way much easier, and it was left as nothing but scraps in his curled hand. They left your line of sight a moment later.

There was no preparation for what would meet your folds. It was cold, he was cold, and the sensation was not one you were entirely familiar with. Metal on skin. He was smooth at the moment, though fear pricked at your spine recalling how he had stabbed others before. It only took seconds for his hand to morph into what looked like the sharpest blade ever, and those seconds could occur at any time. Still, you couldn’t help but keen into his hand as fingers began to delve into your folds, parting them to dip into the wetness that had already begun to seep from your hole and push back out, rubbing slow motions against your clit. Already you were beginning to ache with need.

“Shhh,” he shushed you quietly, the sound somewhat smoother compared to his usual harsh voice. He was taking his time rubbing circles against you, his fingers blunt but precise with the motions. Your hips tried to push further into the touch, but he pushed back; metal to skin to solid rock.

Seconds were ticking by, and you were aware of every single one of them. In any other situation, you would have relished the slow pace, but it wasn’t the time, not when the ring close was inching closer and closer. He knew, too, and his touch against your clit only lasted a few more seconds before he pushed once again between your folds and prodded at your opening. You made a noise against his hand, and his gaze shot up from where he was watching your arousal slick his fingers.

You expected him to tease you again, but instead, you were met with two of his cold fingers pushing into you.

He watched your face intently, and even with his hand still covering your mouth, he was able to make out the desperate expression beneath with ease. You, the same girl who shot back the most snark with him, were taking his fingers so well. He loved it, loved teasing you, and all while he was quite possibly saving the face to his memory, he curled and stroked his fingers up into you. He was slow only for a few seconds before he quickened the pace of his thrusts, and as he did so, it felt as if his fingers had grown within you. He was pressing against the deepest parts of you, the tips of his fingers pressing completely into you before pulling back to rub against that spot. He found it just as quickly as he had taken you, and it wouldn’t be long before you came undone on the monster’s fingers.

“What if they could see you now,” his chuckle still rang in your ears, “Your cunt dripping all over my hand, you want to cum, don’t you?” His voice was low enough that you could begin to hear the sound of the slick metal pushing inside of you, and against his hand, you cringed. It was hard enough to pretend he didn’t get you riled up, and vice-versa, now that you knew. You half expected his words as he continued: “Beg. It’s good for both of us.”

The hand clamped over your mouth was released, and your defiant frown came into view. He stared down at you impatiently, but you offered no response. Your expression was enough for him to put the pieces together, and something of mock laughter met your ears.

“Would you rather I kill you now? Get it over with,” his fingers made the come-hither motion against your tight walls, and your hips jolted upwards with an audible gasp. He could kill you like that, you recalled, “You’re making it too easy. Come on, I want to hear you.”

It was right there. You could feel yourself trying to meet his thrusts, reaching your breaking point, but your lips remained shut. You were a brat, as he had come to realize, and he would have fun breaking you. It wouldn’t be long — As you tightened around his digits, they came to a halt. Your groan was nothing short of agitated, and he almost laughed again. You were desperate. If he didn’t kill you, the ring would.

“Please, fuck,” you hissed out, and his head tilted, beckoning for you to continue. “Hurry, just — please!” Irritation and desperation mixed, and your expression was stubborn, but you had done enough for him to find his own pleasure in your submission. His fingers began to thrust again, somehow even faster than they had before, and there was no covering the lewd noises that escaped both your lips and where his fingers met your skin. It took no time at all to have you jolting and choking out cries under him, your core pulsing around his fingers as he let you ride out your high. They stroked slower inside of you, almost testing the limits, but he pulled them out with a shlick a moment later. You sagged against the wall, chest heaving, and all he did was look you over. MEMORY REGISTER COMPLETE.

“Better hurry up, little girl. Next time I find you I won’t be as nice.


"Hey, uh, you think you could mute your comms next time?"

You came to a complete halt as Elliott spoke. He sounded almost as nervous as you were at that point, and your face visibly paled to him as you turned. He seemed to be having the same reaction, his eyes wide and darting from you to the area surrounding. A sound came from somewhere around the two of you, perhaps the shuffle of someone through the grass, and he began to laugh nervously. He was being much too loud, though clearly, you had no room to talk.

"You know what? Forget I said anything. It's fine. Never happened!"