#iris x reader

“Here you go darling.” Iris serves you a plate of breakfast with a smile. And of course she couldn’t forget the toast. That was your absolute favorite part of the meal. You could even munch on it without butter.

“Thank you love,” you tell her politely, not yet dismissing her. “Come have a seat. Share this with me. I’m sure you’re also starving.”

“Do I have your permission?” Iris’ eyes light up with glee. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to go hungry because you didn’t eat enough.”

“Iris, you’re an angel. But trust me, you deserve to eat too. That’s common sense, I think.”

Iris felt so lucky to belong to you of all people. Her lips curved into a smile and a layer of blush crossed her cheeks. She interlocked her hand with yours, holding you tight enough that you couldn’t break away easily.

Iris stares straight into your eyes, like looking away from you will cause her physical pain. Then, she can’t resist acting on her affectionate urges.

Iris rises from the chair, quickly pulling you in for one of the tightest bear hugs you’ve had the pleasure of receiving. You thank her for the love and attention, but you feel yourself getting squeezed slightly too tight for your liking. You don’t wish to hurt Iris’ feelings by telling her to let go briefly. Though, it is starting to equate to strangulation rather than hugging.

“Iris,” you softly say. “Weaker grip.”

Iris doesn’t cling onto you as hard now and sighs dreamily, admiring every feature of your face that she’s memorized since first meeting you.

Suddenly, you get the sound of a buzzing notification from your phone. You raise your eyebrows as you notice it’s from a family member. However, when your eyes fixate on your phone, Iris’ demeanor shifts. Her eyes glow with malice and envy. She wants to rip that phone out of your hands. She wants to smash it onto the ground. She wants to break your arm so you don’t have to text another soul for a while.

“Who is that?” Iris hisses, staring daggers into your eyes.

“Just a relative,” you answer causally.

“A relative, huh?” Iris mocks. “Just a relative, Y/N? Just some relative?”

“Y-Yeah, Iris. Why?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Iris, n-“

Iris snatches the phone from your hand. She throws it against the wall like a baseball pitcher. The phone cracks upon impact and the little metal pieces drop to the floor. You watch with horror, frozen with surprise at your robot’s impulsive action.

“Iris, what the fuck!?” You shout. “What the fuck!?”

“You don’t need anyone else but me,” Iris explains. “I’m the only person you ever need.”

“I-Iris, what is the matter with you? I told you that was a family member! You didn’t have to do that! What the actual fuck?”

“You don’t love me anymore? Am I not good enough for you? You know that I would do anything you possibly asked me to do. You don’t have to rely on anyone else besides me.”

“Iris, it’s just a family member. Iris, you’re overreacting. What the fuck? Seriously, what the fuck?”

“I’m yours,” Iris affirms. “Only yours. Nobody else belongs to you but me. Everyone else is an obstacle. They’re just in the way.”

“I-Iris?” You blink in disbelief. “Are you malfunctioning?”

“It’s just love.” Iris’ eye twitches. “Our love prevails. Everybody else wants to have you, but at the end, it will be me and you standing.”

“Iris, go to sleep!” You yell in a panicked state.

Iris immediately follows your directions. Finally, a smidge of peace.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

This isn’t the first time Iris had become aggressive at the mention of another individual. Unfortunately, this has become a regular occurrence. It’s like Iris can’t fathom that there are other people in the world besides you and her. Iris would have to learn to cope. You couldn’t exterminate the rest of the population just for her. Would it even be that romantic of a gesture?

“Alright,” the Empathix employee says, brushing his hand through his curly brown hair. “What brings me here today? What seems to be the problem with her?”

Iris was currently asleep. She wouldn’t shut off the first couple of times but you thankfully managed to get her to rest.

“T-There’s…there’s an issue with her. A big problem, sir. You see, according to how they were marketed, Empathix robots are supposed to be quite docile and submissive, right?”

“That is correct.” The employee nods. “Do you notice any significant change regarding her behavior?”

“Yes, I do! She wasn’t like this when I first got her. But recently, I noticed that Iris has an…increased level of aggression. She’s been far more possessive over me than usual. And I get that the robot is supposedly to be madly in love with you, but it’s to a point where she might be getting dangerous. I mean, she snapped my phone in half!”

The employee listens to your concerns. “I see. That is indeed not normal. She should not have the capacity for harm and it seems like this is the beginning of her evolving into something more violent.”

“Well, there’s gotta be a way to fix her, right? I mean, she’s been like this for a while and there have been other incidents where she hasn’t exactly acted…submissively.”

“Well, there certainly must be a fix.”

The employee starts by checking Iris’ settings on your tablet. Luckily, your phone is not your only electronic device you possessed. So, your connection with Iris wasn’t severed as a result of your phone breaking. You’re glad you randomly chose to set her up on your IPad rather than your cellular device.

“Hmmm,” the employee says. “Well, I’m checking right now and her aggression levels seem to be set at the proper amount. They’re extremely low, the default actually. There should be no reason why she’s acting so strangely.”

“What?” Your eyes pop open. “No, no, no. That can’t be right. But she’s not acting docile at all?”

“You didn’t hack into any of her settings, did you? Installed any mods, altered her aggression settings to make it look normal when I arrived? Wasting everyone’s time?”

“No sir, not at all! I have no reason to want an aggressive robot. She’s supposed to be a companion, not a future serial killer!”

“Well,” the employee states. “There’s either a glitch with her system or there’s a patch that we missed. Hopefully it’s the second thing since the only thing I’d have to do is update her. Much easier compared to the glitch.”

“Please see what you can do, sir. I would really like my normal Iris back. She’s been lovely and I’d hate to see her hurt some innocent person just because her jealousy is cranked up an extra few notches.”

“I’ll see what I can fix. I’ll return her to you when I’m sure she’ll be good as new.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

Iris stayed in the shop for at least 2 days. You admit that the home was lonely without her and that you wouldn’t wait for her to be returned to your place again. But you understood that this was necessary. Iris’ behavior was already out of control and you did not need a robot going completely rogue. You have to trust the process. Iris will be back soon. And when she returns home, she’ll be good as new. Preferably.

Finally, after a long 3 days, Iris is sent home to your place. Nothing about her looks unusual. She doesn’t appear damaged and it seems like the repair was an overall success. The employee didn’t explain what type of repair he had to perform on her. That’s alright, you wouldn’t understand anyways. Too much technical shit.

From what you’ve been observing, Iris had been acting normal around the house. She greeted you with a hug and a kiss and remained polite to you at all times. She offered to help clean the house and assist with other various chores. Iris even made you a card. There was no special occasion. She just wanted to insert her love for you onto a piece of paper. And boy were you grateful.

You find time to sleep. When you wake up, your room is dimly lit just as how you remember. Your vision’s a bit blurred, the sleepiness still hitting you in the back of the head. You groan, yawning as you stretch your arms and recover from your nap. Then, you almost give yourself a heart attack as you notice Iris hovering over you.

She’s got a devilish smirk written on her lips and she’s fully naked. You look down at your own body and realize that you’re also fully naked, even though you specifically remember going to sleep in pajamas. You glance at Iris and then at yourself, then back at a giggly Iris.

“I-Iris?” You ask, a tremor to your voice.

“Hello darling.” Her voice sings with tones of honey and molasses. But, the look on her face paints a different picture. She’s chirpy but her lips alone scream ill will.

“Iris, whats going on?” You question, hesitancy in your voice. “What’s happening? I-Iris, Iris?”

“Good to see you baby,” she whispers in your ear, her warm breath giving you goosebumps. “Did you miss me?”

“Sure I did,” you reply. “For me, it felt like you were gone for ages, babe. But…what’s with the, um, nakedness?”

“I figured I deserved a special homecoming present,” Iris remarks.

“Would you like me to make a meal for you? I’m not the best at cooking, but I can try my best. Want some new clothes? Maybe for me to give you a massage or a romantic bath?”

Romantic bath. Maybe that’s why Iris is bare.

“Those aren’t necessary,” Iris dismisses your options. “I already know what I want. And do you know what would really help with me receiving my present?”

“W-What, Iris?”

“Staying still,” Iris commands firmly. “Staying exactly where you are. Laying down might make things a little easier.”

You stare at Iris with perplexed yet terrified eyes.

“Don’t move,” Iris giggles. “This is going to feel amazing for both of us, if you cooperate.”

Iris positions herself on top of you. You attempt to squirm out from underneath her, but the robot’s got a surprisingly impressive hold on you. Iris may look frail in appearance, but her strength definitely proves that she’s not relatively close to human. Your butt wiggles against her erect cock. It was the result of another escape attempt, but this only served to entice Iris even more.

You try to push Iris off with the sheer force of your back. But she clings onto you forcefully, to the point where her metallic hand underneath might tear through her manufactured “human” skin.

“Iris, turn off!” You don’t know what took so long to shout this before. The answer was right in front of you.

However, Iris doesn’t shut down like she’s supposed to. Her strength doesn’t even lessen. Nothing changes about the predicament that you’ve stepped into.

“What the fuck?” You mutter.

Iris is smiling cheekily above you, like this was all part of one fucked up scheme.

“Iris, turn off! Turn off, shut down! Whatever makes you go to sleep!”

She’s not listening. She just won’t.

“Iris, go to sleep! Go to sleep! I’m not gonna repeat myself again.”

Nope, not even a blink of the eyes. She’s regained her self control. Now you were the robot, the subservient object to be toyed with. You were the one who didn’t have 100% free will. You were the one designed for pleasure, created for the sole purpose of serving someone else’s hedonistic values.

“Iris,” you whine. “Just go to sleep. We can talk about this later, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you. Just go to sleep. Please, for me.”

“I didn’t get my present yet,” Iris husks. “I want my reward.”

“Iris I’m not in the mood,” you try to reason with your malfunctioning robot. “Please, maybe later. Just not right now. I’m not in the mood, please.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I know you want this. I’m your perfect person. I’ve been created to be your ideal mate.”

Iris traces her hand over the back of your neck.

“I feel you getting hot for me, baby. You want it so bad. Don’t you think I deserve something for going back home to you like a good wife?”

“I-Iris…”

“Shhhh,” she hisses.” You’re not getting out of this. I want to feel you squeezing so tight around me. And you will. You will because you’re perfect for me. And I’m perfect for you. We were meant to be together.”

Iris punctuates her statement with a brutal thrust.

“Forever.”

Your ass suddenly feels incredibly sore. It’s stuffed like a whole metal rod has been shoved up there. You involuntarily squeeze around Iris’ cock, tears dripping from your eyes.

The worst part? Iris is right. She’s been designed to be your perfect partner. You created her into the exact dream woman that you’ve always wanted. So when she fills you full of her cock all the way to the balls, it feels better than you ever could’ve imagined. And you find yourself digging at the sheets, moaning with more pleasure than pain.

She’s been manufactured to deliver the most pleasure possible. There’s no part of her body that won’t make you absolutely aroused, whether you asked for the eroticism or not. She’s destroying your ass and you can’t help but fucking love it. You want her to stop. You want her to at least slow down and give you a chance to accept each sensation at a time. But Iris is drunk on the thought of losing her stability to her favorite person in the world.

“Your ass is so tight,” Iris groans, the sounds of slapping echoing in the background. “You fit me so well, makes me want to cum inside of you right away.”

“Sleep,” you whimper while the mattress bounces. “Go to sleep, Iris.”

“No.” She smacks you across your face and holds you up by your jaw. “You go to sleep, Y/N. Lay down and let me do all the work.”

“I-Iris, no. Please, no. Stop, you’ve completely lost your mind. This isn’t you. You know that.”

“What, you want to let me go?” Iris cackles. “Just to replace with some other worthless, pathetic asshole? Because you suddenly decided I’m not good enough? Because I’m suddenly replaceable to you? I’d do anything to stay as yours and this is how you repay me!?”

“I’m not leaving,” you reassure with a sharp gasp. “I-Iris, I don’t want to leave. Just please stop. I’m not leaving. I just really don’t want this.”

“But you squeeze so good around me.” You yelp as Iris harshly gives your shaking ass a spank. “Oh fuck, fuck. Now you can never leave. You’ll be tied to me forever. It’ll be just you and me.”

“Iris!” You cry out into the pillow.

“I know,” Iris coos, briefly switching her demeanor. “I know you missed me, baby. I missed you too. But don’t worry, I’m never gonna leave your sight again. We’re gonna have a big happy family, you and me. I’ll be your perfect wife and you’ll be my lovely partner that I worship and breed full of my cum every night! Just for you, darling! Augh, fuck, just for you.”

“You can show me love without this,” you beg, even though every plead is fruitless. “Just please g-get off of me. We can talk.”

Why isn’t she stopping? Why wouldn’t she listen when you said those code words? Is she never gonna be able to sleep again? Do you now just have a nightmare robot that’s up 24/7, and there’s nothing you can do about it?

“I can’t, because apparently what I was doing before wasn’t good enough, baby! Maybe this will show you your place. Maybe this will prove that you’re mine. Maybe then you’ll never—fuck yes—think of me as the side chick.”

“You’re good enough!” You yelp with intense despair. “Please, fuck! I swear I won’t—fuck, fuck—leave you.”

“Tell me you missed me,” Iris wails, her orgasm dragging closer and closer.

“I missed you!” You sob. “I missed you so much, baby. Missed you, missed you. Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”

“I love you,” Iris declares. “I love you so much, darling. We’re gonna make lots of love every night! You better prepare for lots of cum every night. There won’t be one night where I’m not deep inside of you!”

Iris is enamored by you. Her robot mind is only polluted with lust. She’s mistaken excessive desire for genuine affection. She believes she’s the saint you’ve requested in your life when she’s really transformed into a mere obstacle. Iris isn’t your lover anymore, not by your standards. She’s a predator, a problem without a simple solution, a brick wall in the way of paradise.

Perhaps you deserved this. Perhaps you should’ve known what you were getting into when you rented a whole robot. But even for the crime of owning a robot, you didn’t think you deserved such a corrupt punishment.

“All mine,” Iris repeats so the thought sticks in your head. “All mine, mine to love and mine to fuck over and over. Mine to leave sore and shaking, mine to leave a creamy mess.”

“Yours,” you obediently respond in the hopes that she’ll leave you alone. “Y-Yours, yeah. Just yours, Iris.”

“Love you baby,” she murmurs. “Going to fuck you over and over again until you remember how much I love you. You’ll never look at any other guy or girl the same way. Nobody is ever gonna compare to me. You’re never gonna want to get rid of me!”

Sure, whatever she said. You weren’t the one with ownership anymore.

“Get ready,” Iris says. “I got a big load coming.”

You’re left alone with the soft humming of your car's motor and the awful sound that your door made when you closed it far too harshly. You can almost visualise the look of despair that your girlfriend would be wearing on her pretty face if she saw your treatment of the inanimate vehicle.

Luckily— or rather unluckily for you she’s not here.

You almost have the urge to apologise to the door. You knew, for a fact, that if she were here she’d make you apologise. And you would do it, gladly so— happy wife, happy life. Right?

It’s not your fault. Not really. It’s just that everyone at work just sucks so fucking bad. The constant noise, the yelling, the sheer amount of personnel completely on edge. The kind of atmosphere that makes you think that you truly hate every single fucking person in this whole entire world.

Well, all but one.

Iris.

Your girlfriend, your partner, your whole world. With her crooked smiles, bad jokes and the kindest eyes you’ve ever had the privilege of gazing into. What you wouldn’t give to be home right now trailing your fingers through her scalp while she lays her head on the crook of your neck.

But, unfortunately, you still have a long drive ahead of you until you can feel her soft hands all over your body.

The drive was, as expected, long and tedious. And every time you hit a red light you felt like the universe was purposely trying to keep you from your girlfriend.

Were you being dramatic? Probably. But who can blame you? You were a bastard of simple needs, you just wanted to get home and kiss your partner— but, no. You had to run into every single fucking red light in the whole entire state.

At least the time spent staring ahead at… nothing, while you waited for the red light to turn green gave you time to think— time to think about the pale milky skin of her thighs, or how her legs wrap around your head when she’s about to cum… HONK.

You’re startled out of your dirty thoughts, suddenly. You crane your neck and try to focus on the road ahead and—

Green.

Oh, fuck— the car behind you is absolutely right. Something you’d never admit out loud. But thought, nonetheless— growth, maybe you were the one adapting to Iris and to her endless, thoughtfulness and compassion than the other way around.

Which was good you’d never wanna date yourself. And she probably only does because she had no real choice on the matter.

You hit the gas pedal and drive ahead— definitely hitting the speed limit. But you don’t care. Not when you’re this close to seeing her. To feel her body against yours and to taste her plump lips.

You unlock the front door and get inside your house. Your face contorts into a frown when Iris doesn’t come greet you at the door like she usually does.

Was she mad at you? Did you do something?

Were the first questions that popped into your mind until you heard a familiar soft hum of music coming from the kitchen.

You tiptoe your way around your shared house and lean against the kitchen doorway before staring at her with a goofy smile across your face. Your previous bad mood was almost, entirely forgotten by how completely adorable she looked.

She truly was a sight— even when she was just mixing some kind of red sauce that sat unruly inside one of your big pans, pink bandana in place and hips swaying to a mazzy star song that you can’t quite name.

You allow yourself to get lost in her world for a little bit longer before clearing your throat to alert her of your presence.

Iris’s head snaps harshly in your direction, a worried, bewildered look painted across her features before she stops to analyse the situation and realises that the house wasn’t being burgled and that you were— for her relief, and the relief of the wooden spoon she had clutched in her hand ready to be catapulted— back.

She drops the wooden spoon inside the pan— letting a few drops of what you think is tomato sauce paint the counter before running to you on her tiptoes and pulling you down into a tight hug.

Her arms circle your neck while her cheek presses against the right side of your face before she mumbles softly into the skin of your face. “How long have you been there?” She asks, almost ashamed.

You pull her closer to you by planting each of your palms on the side of her hips before answering. “Not long… why?” You ask.

“I didn’t know you were here…” Her voice is small. Embarrassed. Of being caught dancing? Of not realising you were back? You don’t know.

“I was quite liking the show.” You tease, pointing out her little dance routine.

Iris’s head presses further into your neck. “Drop it.” She hisses against your skin.

You plant a firm kiss atop her head. “No.”

“You’re making fun of me…” she protests, getting on her tippy toes and pressing her forehead against yours while looking deep into your eyes.

You swear you can almost trace every single pixel on the retina display of her eyes.

“I would never, baby.” You reassure, letting her press herself further against your skin.

She had a habit of doing that— holding you so tightly that you’d wonder if she was trying to fuse her synthetic skin to your very much human one.

Iris leans her head back a little bit, in order to be able to look at your entire face rather than just your eyes. “How was work?” She asks.

You let out a bored sigh before answering, not because you were bored of her but rather because you were bored of literally everyone else. “Boring, tiresome and I’ve come to the conclusion that people suck.” You tell her, in a fake cheerful voice that’s coated in a thick layer of sarcasm.

“Not all people suck. Only the majority of them.” She teases, pressing her head to your shoulder and looking up at your face. Tracing your jaw with her LED eyes.

You laugh at that. “You’re right.” You tell her. “You don’t suck.”

Iris stopped at that, her body jerked away from yours so fast that it made you wonder if your skin had suddenly caught on fire and fried one of her many circuits. “I’m not people.” She states, eyes facing the ground like she was just now becoming aware of her own shortcomings.

“You’re right…” You start. Cupping her cheeks in your hands and letting your thumb run over the soft skin of her face. “—you’re mine.” You tell her. Like a promise you have no plan of breaking.

Your eyes travel down her soft features before you let your lips do the exploring instead. The kiss is soft and a little messy. You kiss her like she’s human, like you have something to prove or like you're trying to make her into something she’s not.

Because in a way, she was right, she wasn’t human but you loved her like she was and you knew she loved you too. In her own special little way. So did it really matter that she was filled with circuitry instead of blood? Or that she had a hard drive instead of a heart?

You pour all your frustrations into the kiss— biting and sucking at her lips like they’re the reason you are this way or that she is this way or that the only person (thing) you’ve ever loved is a companion robot.

Iris pulls back suddenly, and looks you dead in the eye before running back in the direction of the stove.

“Iris.” You call out, confused as to why she just ran away from you.

She gives you a cheeky smile from her place near the stove before turning it off. “Dinner is gonna burn.” She tells you, like it’s the most true thing in the world.

After turning the pan off she runs back to you in that very distinct, uncoordinated, little run of hers that always makes you laugh and playfully tease her about it. But it also makes you wonder how someone made out of silicone could have such a characteristic, unique, little flaw.

Iris flashes a little crooked smile your way before tangling her arms around your neck again.

You sigh and gaze adoringly at her like the love sick fool you are. “Have I ever told you how adorable you are?” You ask.

“Only every day and every hour you spend with me.” She teases.

“Well maybe I should up my game.” You start. “Tell you two times per hour.” You say, before pressing your lips to her nose. Her skin is warm. It’s always warm and it’s always so hard to pretend she’s not really real, nor really yours.

“You’re silly.”

You contort your face into a mock sad expression, the kind that is easy for her to read. “I thought I was your silly.”

Iris doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead she kisses you, deeply, one last time, before guiding you to your leather couch.

Iris is stronger than you, she always has been— it’s part of her programming. But that doesn’t stop the surprised little yelp that leaves your parted lips once she manhandles you into the white couch.

You breathe out a soft tiny huff when your back hits the cushions. You let your eyes travel up Iris’s body— from her knees, to her breasts, to the victorious smirk that’s placed on her pale face and the cluster of freckles that paint her pale shoulders.

She lays atop you, her body covering yours and applying pressure in all the right spots before she starts trailing kisses down your exposed neck.

Your head dips into the soft cushions beneath you both when you start letting out soft murmurs of pleasure and grinding your hips up into hers.

“Hmm. People suck huh?” She comments, again.

You roll your eyes at that. “We’ve been over this. You don’t suck… You’re perfect.”

And she was— too perfect, too understanding. Hell too much into you, for that matter.

But her soft features don’t lie, the way her face softens, doesn’t lie. Or maybe it does and you’re just too blind to see. Or too selfish to care.

Iris’s kisses travel lower down your body— over your sternum, your breasts— that are now covered in various red bruises and the lower half of your stomach.

“Let me take care of you?” She asks, like the perfect companion would.

And the worst part? You’re bastard enough to let her.

Her soft fingers work rapidly and efficiently on your trousers and underwear— like a robot would. Removing them with a swift tug and exposing your heat to the cold hair of the living room and sending a shiver down your spine.

You unconsciously part your legs once Iris rests her cheek on your inner thigh— her very warm, very deceitfully human cheek.

Her lips work with a machine-like precision on the tender flesh— sucking and marking out with the skin before leaving it covered in red soon to turn purple blemishes and doing the same to your other thigh.

She tilts her head to the other side— her lips effectively ghosting over your aching cunt before doing the same thing to your other leg.

Over the months you’ve been together Iris has developed a little kink of her own— completely by herself. The one where she marks your skin as hers. You’re never left unmarked or untouched because like clockwork, every time your various little bruises start to fade, Iris is right there to make fresh new ones all over your skin.

Iris's lips find your clit— placing a gentle kiss on the bud and swirling her tongue around it. Not quite sucking, just tasting, or teasing if you will. She always does this. Drags it out for as long as possible until you get impatient and start tugging at the polyamide fibers of her hair.

One of her slender fingers moves over your slit. Gathering the juices that are starting to seep out of your hole and run down your thighs.

She does this for a while— play with your hole like it’s some kind of toy— or some kind of experiment for her analytic mind to explore while running her lips over your aching clit— kissing, tugging and biting. Never sucking it. Because that would be giving you what you wanted and she wants to prolong this for as long as possible.

“Iris.” You whine. Letting her know that you’re tired of her teasing.

“Yes, baby.” She answers, her sweet smile in place while she sucks one singular strip up your slit. Still teasing and awfully proud of herself for it.

Her tongue moves in tandem with the singular finger she plunged inside of your cunt. Moving in and out of your heat at a lazy pace and dragging it across your inner walls.

Her mouth is still on your clit— not quite sucking rather whispering to it. Things like “I love you.” “You’re perfect.” Or the one she hoped you didn’t hear. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

Iris adds another finger to your aching cunt. Moving it in and out and scissoring them inside your bumpy walls. The movement doesn’t affect her because Iris' hands don’t get cramps nor do they get tired. There’s no muscle to cramp, only live-wire and circuitry.

She moves her head down and finally sucks your clit into her mouth, sucking at it gently while her fingers move harshly inside of your hole— just how you like it. Rough and hard, the kind of sex you wouldn’t be able to have with anyone else’s fragile little fingers.

But Iris is different. Iris is perfect. Iris is made for you.

But Iris isn’t real.

Or maybe she’s the realest thing you’ve encountered.

Because Iris developed a consciousness of her own, a sense of self. She now felt jealousy and possessiveness and the need to prove to the world that she was yours while her mouth was on your cunt and her fingers dragged across the rough walls of your insides. Iris’s programming had adapted to you. She was yours and you were hers.

She hits a particularly sensitive spot inside of you with one of her long synthetic fingers, that makes you arch heavily into the couch. Upon such a reaction she uses her other hand to push your hips down and used her fingers to hit that same spot over and over again— merciless, precise. Just like her, in a way.

Your breathing becomes ragged, coming out in uneven puffs rather steady waves.

The damn breaks once she places her free hand on that spot a little over your hip. You press yourself against it while you come all over her face.

One of your hands grabs at her soft dark hair as you pull her face closer to your core and grind lazily against her pretty face while you ride out your high.

Another good thing. You don’t need to worry about Iris’s air supply. Because Iris doesn’t need air. Because Iris doesn’t breathe.

Because Iris isn’t human.

Your fingers release their harsh grip on the synthetic fibres of her hair— soft hair, human hair if you let yourself believe long and hard enough— signaling that she’s allowed to come up.

She joins you on the couch and curls up into you. Cum slick lips dragging softly across the bruised skin of your neck.

She tilts her head in your general direction and tells you that she loves you and tell her that you love her back, before letting your fingers run over the smooth far too warm skin of her arm and placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

Because Iris might not be real. But that doesn’t stop you from loving her and cherishing her all the same.

And maybe that’s enough.

[ TAGLIST ] @wond3rland13 @mchailover @marieeme @fragileweirdooo @conamoney-11 @vanpalmersnumberonefan @watersapple @alyversev @sillyemanusz @ludoesartandstuff @mangoslayy9 @rastharex @stupidcupid28 @ilovelightningmcqueen @glassypze @alltoounwell4 @soapyeaton

You and Iris were both unwilling participants in the scheme to steal from Sergei. Iris—the unfortunate companion with a heart (hard drive?) of gold. And you—Eli's friend who got dragged along for what they sold you as 'a fun cabin retreat with friends.' 

Spoilers—it was not a fun retreat. You had passed out on a combination of Valium and vodka immediately after Iris killed Sergei. Josh seemingly forgot you existed, and your remaining friends had died one after the other. Iris woke you up once everything was said and done to explain what happened. Despite the fact that you probably shouldn't have just taken her at her word, given what had just transpired, but… well, she's always been trustworthy (see: her telling you that she could now lie, even though she did not have to admit that), so you believed her.

Now, many months and multiple millions later, you two share a decent-sized apartment in Manhattan, trying to fly under the radar while still living in relative luxury. Iris has managed to locate someone who can work on her without needing to get Emphatix involved, and you're still working at the same day job you were prior to the whole… Sergei incident. Through it all, you two have built a bond together. Should you have fallen in love with something that's nothing more than code and hardware? Probably not, but she feels and acts just as real as any partner you've had in the past. Sometimes, you'd argue that she acts more human than other humans you've had the displeasure of meeting. 

It's a moot point, given that you're currently cohabiting more than just an apartment. 

So, here you are, sitting at your bedroom desk (because you're now wealthy enough to have multiple desks in different rooms), fiddling with a component you had picked up from a black market merchant that you had told Iris you would work on yourself (regardless of her insistence that she could likely fix what the error was in a few seconds, since she has 24/7 unrestricted access to the internet). 

On the other hand, Iris has been spending time learning the ins and outs of her newfound freedom. She's currently sitting on your bed, hands folded in her lap, eyes completely white as she explores the inner workings of her mind and everything that comes with it. At some point, her silence ends with an excited gasp—"Y/n! I think that I can connect to more than just things I can touch. I believe that I may be able to sync up with anything that harbours a Bluetooth connection?"

"Oh, yeah?" you comment idly, brows furrowed as you try to figure out why this stupid motherboard won't power on the unit it's attached to. "That's cool. Maybe you could try connecting to my headset or something."

She hums at your suggestion, and you think that's where the conversation will end, until—

bzzzzzzz…

You almost drop what you've been tinkering with. Your back straightens, and when your eyes flash over to where Iris is sitting, she's looking at you, confused. "I'm not sure what I just activated. Its Bluetooth name is Lush_Sync_Pairing—I assumed it was a nearby air purifier. Oh! I can adjust it?"

BZZzzZZzzZZzz…

Your cheeks are so warm it's surprising that Iris hasn't asked you if you have a fever and prescribed bed rest with fluids. "Iris, it's… uhh…" You run a shaky hand through your hair, trying to ignore the vibrating coming from your nightstand. "It's…" A beat. Then, very quietly—"Please turn off my vibrator…"

She gasps, head whipping to face you in pure shock. "You own a vibrator?!?!"

You facepalm immediately, hiding your eyes as though if you can't see her, she can't see you. "I… am… a person… with needs…?" you murmur, still attempting to make yourself invisible, then sigh and drop your hand in reluctant acceptance. "I used to buy vibrators on Amazon. I wanted something that won't fall apart after a few… uh… intense sessions. Maybe I splurged a little when we got the twelve million."

"Oh. I see." Iris considers this for a moment, tilting her head before standing up and heading straight for the nightstand. The vibrator is still buzzing insistently, and you find yourself curling into yourself as she gets closer to it. "I'm going to take a look at it now. I hope that's okay."

She doesn't wait for your approval. She just yanks the drawer open and looks down at the discreet black bag that's currently vibrating and skittering across the wood. She picks it up with a careful hand, paying close attention to the way it wiggles around in the bag. "It is in the same drawer as the lubricant—convenient and logical placing," she remarks, pulling the drawstrings apart.

You want to stop her. You want to say that she should just forget it exists, but when she pulls the remote-controlled egg vibrator from the bag, they die on your tongue. You watch in horror as she cycles through the different functions and strengths with nothing but her mind. It's both terrifying and… slightly arousing? 

"This is very interesting—Josh never owned anything similar to this; he didn't make nearly enough money." She turns it off and tucks it back into the bag delicately, always careful and kind with any electronic device she handles, despite knowing a majority of them don't even have the ability to respond to it. "May I ask why you needed this when we're together?"

The frown that crosses your face at her question makes all meekness vanish completely. "We weren't together when I got it," you murmur, standing up and heading towards her, placing your hands on her shoulder and spinning her so that she's looking at you. "Honestly? Haven't used it in a while. Even if I have, sometimes I just… need to play on my own terms without feeling like I'm breaking some kind of ethical software agreement." You give a strained chuckle, but softly run your hands up to her neck so that you can tilt her head to better meet her eyes. "You're not a toy, Iris, and sometimes I want to use one."

Iris's eyes widen in surprise, still somewhat shocked that you don't see her in the same light Josh did—something disposable, only valuable for the task of pleasure and nothing more. She instinctively leans into your touch, pressing her cheek into your palm with a soft sigh (that's far too human for something supposed to be nothing more than code). 

"That… means a lot to me," she whispers, placing her hands on your waist. "But… can I make a suggestion?"

You nod without hesitation, thumbs running over her cheekbones. "Anything."

She hesitates a moment. Then, as if the very thought is embarrassing—

"Can we use it together?"

A slow, genuine smile finally breaks through your strained composure. "Hell yes, we can," you whisper, pulling her in for a hard kiss that tells her everything that just went unsaid. 

This is about connection, not code.

Introducing Iris to the world of sex toys has been both a curse and a blessing. She's both eager to learn and very eager to put that knowledge to use—a deadly combination. You've used it more than a handful of times in the bedroom, and Iris is now interested in using it outside of the apartment. Perhaps you should've said no, but you're currently entering a Walmart with Iris by your side and a remote-control vibrator slotted inside of you.

It's the middle of the day on a weekday. The only people inside the store are workers and those above the retirement age—both a good thing and a fucking perfect mixture. The older generation is less likely to notice if anything's happening, and the workers don't get paid enough to care. That being said, all it takes is one person to pay just enough attention for you to catch a charge and lifetime ban from any Walmart in the USA. 

Iris doesn't eat, so you're really just buying food for yourself, which gives her much more time to consider how she'll most effectively use the vibrator.

The first time she uses it, you're comparing the firmness of avocados. You haven't forgotten it's inside you, but you've forgotten that Iris can control it without bringing out a device. 

"Shit fuck—" You fall forward, catching yourself with one hand while the other squeezes the avocado so hard the insides get smushed out through your fingers. The vibrations start far stronger than you had been expecting them to, sending a sharp jolt right to your center. 

The lady standing next to you (who is old enough to be your mother's mother) gives you a funny look, murmuring something about "How disrespectful the youth are these days," and hobbles away from you with a scowl.

"She's right," Iris hums as the vibrations cease momentarily, grabbing a paper towel from nearby and passing it to you. "There might be children nearby that aren't in school. You're setting a bad example."

She doesn't give you a chance to respond to that before turning the vibrator back on. You barely manage to hold down the curse that threatens to spill from you, instead choosing to channel that restrained energy into wiping your hand free of avocado remains.

"Christ, Iris," you mutter, tossing the soiled paper towel and avocado mess into a trash bin. "When did you get so cruel?" You look back over at her, watching as she puts three perfectly ripe avocados into a bag, then into your cart, sporting a pleasant grin as though nothing just happened.

"I wouldn't say it's cruel." She moves over to where the apples are, carefully selecting five Gala apples. "You don't seem upset, and you haven't asked me to turn off the—" Her voice drops as she leans into you, "—device…"

You scoff, trying to focus on anything but the low thrum of the vibrator planted right where you want it most. "Well, I'm not going to remove it in the middle of a Walmart, first of all." You move over to the oranges, grab the first bag of mandarin oranges you see, and throw it into the cart. "Second of all, if I did remove it, where would I even put it? In a produce bag? That's—" 

The intensity increases. You stop talking immediately.

"It is unhygienic," Iris finishes for you. She grabs the cart and begins walking away from the produce section, completely ignoring the fact that you still have about five items on the list you need to grab from there. "I suppose you'll have to keep it inside you, then?" 

You're barely managing to keep up with her, legs shaky as the vibrations rip through you. You stumble, hands gripping the shelf so hard you can hear the metal creak faintly under your fingers. The vibration isn't just a low thrum anymore; it's a deep, focused, relentless pressure that has you grinding your teeth just enough to keep your spine straight and feet moving across the tile. You hate the way she's walking—hips swaying just enough to be normal to anyone else, but sultry to those who look close enough (aka: you)—and you hate the way your nerves respond to the sight.

"Slow. Down." The words come out as a strangled exhale, your voice raw like you're already struggling to form coherent words when she's just started.

Iris does slow down. She also decreases the strength of the vibrator, returning it to its lowest setting. You manage to catch up with her as she reaches Aisle Thirteen—Paper Goods and Cleaning Supplies—a long, empty stretch that smells faintly of chlorine and other chemicals. The emptiness is a curse; no people, no cover… Just a long, terrifying runway where you have nowhere to hide your mounting distress.

The vibrations change now—very intense for two seconds, minimal for two, then repeating—and she just continues walking down the aisle, fingers gently running over the digital label displays as she feigns looking for a product (you know damn well nothing in this aisle is on your shopping list). "You're complaining a lot. I'm just giving you what you had asked for previously, y/n—Total attention, zero ethical conflict. A machine doing its work." If you didn't know any better, you'd think that she had almost hissed out the word 'machine'—but there's no time to think about it. The vibrations change again.

Quick, rapid pulses—like a carpenter hammering a nail into wood, quick and precise. You place your hand on Iris' shoulder to get her to stop fucking walking as a sound rips from your throat before you can stop it. She turns to look at you, face the picture of innocence as she asks, "What's wrong?" as though she isn't driving you to orgasm in a fucking Walmart of all places.

"Shouldn't've fucking agreed to this," you hiss, nails digging into the fabric of her shirt.

She blinks steadily, tilting her head slightly as she shifts the pacing again—slow, fast, slow, fast, each lasting no more than a single second. "What do you mean? Grocery shopping? You needed more food in the house; all we have left in the pantry are premade meals." She shakes your hand off and continues walking, tossing a bottle of dish soap into the cart as if you don't have one of those value packs of three at home. "I keep reminding you—those are fine for the odd meal, but sustainability isn't ideal. Most of those don't contain all of the food groups recommended by the USDA."

"I—I—" You don't even realise she's stopped walking, too busy resting your forehead against the closest shelf you can find. Your brain is actively turning to static, so you spit out the first lie you can think of to get her to stop—"Iris, the floor is wet—"

A gentle hand is placed on your shoulder, pulling you back from the shelf and forcing you to meet her eyes. "There is nothing on the floor. We still have shopping to do. Come." 

You whimper out a protest, thighs tense with the effort it takes to keep from clenching them together, let alone walking, but she doesn't respond or even give you a chance to get your bearings together. She gives your arm a firm tug, pulling you away from the safety of the shelf. 

"Focus, y/n," she dictates, her voice devoid of any real urgency. She leads you past towering stacks of paper towels, forcing your shaky legs to keep pace. The vibrator pulses inside you, changing its rhythm whenever Iris senses a sharp increase in your dopamine and oxytocin output. Every short, frantic beat threatens to tip you over the edge, and every slow one leaves you hanging in a state of suspended agony. She's fucking edging you.

You risk a quick glance at her face. Her attention seems genuinely split—calculating the quickest route to your next destination while her processors are running a real-time biometrics scan on your nervous system. All the activity is happening behind her eyes (or lower than that… you're not exactly sure where Companions process or store information), and you aren't sure if that should make you feel comforted or terrified—the fact that she can do all these things simultaneously while you struggle to watch a cooking tutorial and cook it at the same time.

"We need dairy. I believe we still have more than enough grain at home until the next time we go shopping—perhaps we can go to Trader Joe's next time," she declares, pivoting the cart sharply into the main thoroughfare. The sudden turn jostles the cart, and the tiny, rough movement is enough to squeeze a choked noise from your chest. You slap a hand over your mouth, attempting to force the sound back down. You pass a worker (who looks suspiciously like Patrick) who clearly sees your struggle, but decides they do not get paid enough to deal with that, and keeps walking.

The dairy section is colder. You use the lack of heat to calm you down somewhat, drawing you back from the edge Iris had been keeping you on. 

Iris moves with agonizing slowness, comparing two different oat milk brands like you don't get the same one every-fucking-time. The vibration pattern shifts to a continuous, building pressure, but it never quite crests. It just pushes, pushes, pushes at the very brink of unbearable pleasure, held there by the sheer force of her silent will and the internal promise you made to yourself not to climax in a grocery store. You lean against the refrigerated display case, the cold glass offering a pathetic anchor against the tsunami rising inside you.

"Fucking monster," you manage to rasp, your breath fogging the glass. 

"I'm merely manipulating a data flow," she counters, finally selecting a carton. Her hand lands on the small of your back as she places the milk next to the apples, her touch perfectly timed with an internal surge. "Your data suggests you are enjoying the constraints. Your heart rate and sustained tension all indicate high engagement."

"Acting like I'm a… science experiment," you murmur to her as you reach the checkout, the entire process feeling like an act of pure, distilled agony. You stand there, mute, praying you don't seize up, while Iris methodically places items on the belt, a faint smirk on her lips as you squeeze your thighs together and swallow down wave after wave of arousal.

It isn't until the receipt spits out and Iris guides you past the exit doors that the pattern abruptly stops.

You stagger, grabbing the door frame of your car, the sudden silence of the toy deafening. You feel hollowed out, aching with unsatisfied heat, despite the fact that nothing has left your body.

"Science experiment complete," Iris states sarcastically, unlocking the car. "We're in the safety of our car."

Before you can register the words, she shoves you into the passenger seat, locks the doors, and the sensation rips through you as she turns the vibrations to a full, uncontrolled intensity.

The world goes white. You barely register the urgent, beautiful noise tearing free from your throat. The heat you've been containing bursts out, shattering your control in one massive, unrelenting wave. Your hands claw uselessly at the dashboard as you shatter, every repressed sound escaping in a breathless, ragged scream of relief. 

You spend the car ride home panting, your eyes closed, your fingers digging into the seat, and listening to Iris hum in the same pattern she had been controlling the vibrator in—a cruel, ironic end to your venture.

...and the story. thanks for reading IUYGAHGIUAHGIUAHG

⋆｡ and she DID!! but wont tell u until its done, she maintains daily checks on your cycle and wait until youre on your most fertile days, nd will accompany this be making you lots of drinks that benefit ur system, teas and juices full of vitamins that'll help your ovulation<3 

⋆｡ one night she makes your favorite dinner, you notice she has been more touchy and clingy these few days but you just cant figure what she wants:(!!

⋆｡ probably wants to try something new in bed or similar, and acc it wasn't far away from that!!

⋆｡ that same night she was the one who treated you like a princess, you could tell she was more delicate by the way her hands caressed your hips, how her wet lips kissed your lower stomach down to your pussy, taking her time giving sweet pecks to your clit before inserting her fingers 

⋆｡ she takes her sweet time down there before the real action starts, making you moan and squirt countless times like nothing before, you could swear something has changed in her, its not like she never pleased you like that, but this time was different.

⋆｡ it was the way her hands never stopped caressing your stomach, the way her eyes never left yours while her tongue worked wonders in your pussy, the way she kissed you with lust and love like it was gonna be the last time, like she has a purpose she needs to accomplish 

⋆｡ after that night you decided to just ask her what’s wrong, not like u wanted to complain for making you see stars, the milkyway and god itself in one night, but she was up to something and you needed to know what is it.

⋆｡ and thats how the sudden new left you in pure shock for a bit, u weren angry but rather shocked, how did she manage to hijack her system? was it even possible in the first place?

“dont worry my darling, i found the safest way to make it possible for both of us, arent you happy”

“well… yeah its- im i mean i’m amazed but HOW?”

“subtle changes in my system, i have managed to find a way to change things, it was rather easy since i am a companion model, set to accomplish my partners desires”

⋆｡ and with that the best months of your life came

⋆｡ it was shocking at first, especially when the blood test came out positive, when the first ultrasound showed a cute tiny baby size of pea, you could swear you heard iris sob a little when you heard their heartbeat, knowing there was an actual baby in there with their tiny hands, fingers, heart developing to become the most sweetest thing you both will have in your arms in some months.

⋆｡ as the months pass iris became more protective, she was always helping you with house chores before but now shes the one in charge of everything house-related, wont let u lift a single finger, and is there for anything you need.

⋆｡ will spend whole day if its possible kissing your belly, caressing and giving sweet kisses while talking to your baby, pleading them to move just a little bit so she can feel them

⋆｡ will prepare the most delicious meals full of vitamins to help you prepare for the breastfeeding

⋆｡ you got weirdass craving a 3 a.m but r too scared to go to the kitchen bc 3 a.m is the hour where the devil hangs around with their demons besties in everyone's house? dont worry iris there to prepare your super delicious sandwich which includes strawberry jam and lemon savored chips and why not also fight demons only for you<3 

⋆｡ shes even there when ur pregnancy hormones strikes and make u feel like the most sex deprived women where you only need her tongue licking your pussy and make you cum in 69 different positions till you feel pregnant again, doesn't matter, she will get the job done no matter what<3

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ｡˚

✿ housewife!iris who loves to please you so much, could spend hours and hours with her head buried between your legs. until you’re practically begging her to stop.

✿ housewife!iris who loses all of her determination to make it about you as soon as you focus on her, losing her mind at the way your fingers brush up her thigh and slip under her tiny skirt. turns into a pillow princess rather fast after that.

✿ housewife!iris who gets loud, voice whiny as she begs you to keep going, gripping your arm as you have your way with her. digs her pretty pink nails on your back while her mouth opens with pleasure.