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sweetcalebb · 17 days ago

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AI Zayne: Feelings?

Even though you're an adult, your dad insists you need an AI "bodyguard." You don't want one though, especially not one that feels so real. But you don't have a say in the matter so now you're stuck with one.

cw: controlling dad, attachment issues, slow-burn (?)

INSPIRED BY: @syluses and their yummy fic!

thank u sm! <3

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"I'm not a kid! I don't need a—" Your eyes flick to the thing in the corner. Zayne. Or whatever its name is. He's standing in his charging station, head bowed, eyes shut, looking way too... human. "A creepy babysitter!" you snap.

You pace around the room, your eyes drifting back to him every few seconds like he might activate on his own at any minute. "I'm an adult for God's sake!" you hiss into the phone, knuckles turning white with effort.

"This isn't up for debate," your dad snaps back, his patience wearing thin. You'd had this argument about 5 times already, and you were both getting sick of it.

You sigh, running a tired hand through your hair. You glance at Zayne for the twentieth time. He's still motionless. You're not sure what you expected, but something about him—or it—is unnerving.

You want to argue back. Want to tell your dad you won't put up with some operating system disguised as a human following you around, but the argument dies in your throat.

Because you know your dad.

And you know there's no winning.

"It says he's off," he finally says, his words calm, but laced with an undeniable edge of frustration. "Turn him back on."

You bite your lip, heat rushing to your cheeks. Who the hell did he think he was? Telling you what to do? Assigning someone—something—to dote on you? To strip you of your privacy under the guise of safety? It was bullshit.

But you don't say that.

You simply scoff into the phone. "Fine."

You hang up and immediately toss your phone on the couch harder than you mean to. It bounces off the cushions and lands on the floor with a loud thud, but you don't even bother to pick it up.

You pace the room instead, muttering silent curses and tugging at your hair.

Your dad was unbelievable!

He just—

He was always—

You pause, taking a stuttering breath. You need to stop thinking about him. Just.. do literally anything else.

You pad over to Zayne, your arms crossed, your brows knit together, and your breath uneven. You reach toward him, pressing the button behind his ear, and step back when his eyes blink open.

He takes a moment. Blinks again, then focuses on you.

He's silent for a second before saying, "Good evening."

You don't say anything, just stare.

For a moment, you almost feel bad. Zayne just looks so human, and you're here, ignoring his attempt at polite conversation. Then you remember he's only an operating system. Then you don't feel bad. Just mad all over again.

Zayne blinks again. "Your heart rate is elevated."

Your brows pinch closer.

What the fuck? Was he doing bio scans on you now?

"Are you experiencing stress?

"Don't do that," you huff.

"Don't do what?"

"Don't.." You pause, taking a small step back. "Don't scan me."

"My job is to protect you. I have to sc—"

"Stop it," you snap, your voice rising with frustration. You're not mad at him. Not entirely. But he's the only one you can take your anger out on right now. "Just don't."

There's a beat of silence before Zayne nods. "Okay. I won't scan you anymore."

You bite the inside of your cheek.

Thanks, Dad.

—

The next weeks blur past. You can't tell where one day ends and the next one starts. All you know is Zayne won't leave you alone. It doesn't matter where you go, he's always a few steps behind. Quiet, yet always right there.

It makes you want to scream. At nothing, at him, at your father for giving you this thing that can't seem to give you a second of peace.

You did once.

You just got sick of hearing his heavy footsteps behind you every second of the day, so you snapped back around and began yelling at him to stop following you like you were some glass doll.

He didn't even flinch. Just stared at you, then nodded and said, "I'll keep my distance from now on."

He didn't stop following you completely. He always lingered nearby—at a safe distance.

Still, you hadn't yelled at him since. You thought it would've made you feel better, but it only made you feel worse. Like you were screaming at a pet that didn't understand what they did wrong.

Instead, you were nicer.

Just a little nicer.

…Then a lot nicer.

Suddenly, his presence didn't bother you as much. No, you'd sit near him instead of across the room like you did the first few weeks with him.

Suddenly, you were making offhand comments about whatever you were reading for the pure sake of starting conversations.

And Zayne seemed to follow the same sentiment. You weren't sure you could call it that, but it felt like it. He started bringing you tea without asking. Started noticing things you weren't sure he was programmed to notice, like your haircut or your new clothes.

It was unsettling and comforting all at once.

And now you're in your room, screeching into the phone. "Maintenance?! Doesn't he have like—I don't know—auto updates? Or.. something?"

"I thought you'd be relieved. You've been stuck with him for a month," your dad says.

You stay silent.

You should be relieved. You were against Zayne from the very start.. but now? Do you really want him gone?

"He's supposed to have maintenance every month. He'll only be gone for a day or two."

Still, you say nothing.

Because who the hell does he think he is?

First, he forces this robotic bodyguard, or babysitter, or—whatever it's supposed to be—on you, then he thinks he can just take it back? What a fucking—

You shut your eyes, bringing your hand up to your face to rub your temple. You're overreacting. You know that. It's not like your dad's taking Zayne away forever.

It's just a day or two.

It's the principle that upsets you. That's what you tell yourself, anyway.

"He's doing just fine," you finally mutter. "He doesn't need maintenance."

Your dad sighs, and you can practically hear him pinching the bridge of his nose. "You don't get to decide that." His voice is smooth, but it's tinged with that controlled edge you know too well. "It's already scheduled."

"Then cancel it."

Your dad scoffs. "Why do you insist on being such a stubborn..—" He doesn't finish his sentence. Just lets out a low rumble. "I'm not canceling it. Why are you fighting me on this, of all things?"

He waits, then slowly adds, "Are you attached to it?"

Your breath hitches at his question.

"No," you mutter. "I'm not attached."

"Then what's the issue?"

"There's no issue."

"Then stop fighting this."

You groan. It was always the same thing with your dad. You were sick of him making choices for you.

"No. You can't just take him."

"Are you just arguing for the sake of arguing? When will you learn to—"

"He's mine."

It slips out before you can stop it.

And the world stills for just a second when the words finally register.

He’s mine.

It's childish. So embarrassingly childish, and you know your dad is on the other line with his brows furrowed and his mouth open.

"He's yours?" He echoes. It's silent for a second, then he laughs. The mocking sound grates on your nerves. "If you're this upset over it, then maybe the AI's gotten too close. Should I report it?"

You have to stop yourself from blurting out 'no' too quickly. You remind yourself to rein it in before speaking.

"It's not like that," you huff. "I just don't like you deciding things and then telling me at the last minute."

Your dad sighs. "Because if I asked, you'd argue. Like you're doing right now."

"But you can't just—"

"It's getting maintenance tomorrow. That's final."

"You don't get to just—to just decide that! He’s with me all the time—I should be the one to say when he gets maintenance!"

Your chest heaves with your angry breaths as you wait for your dad to argue back—because he always does—but it's silent.

Too silent.

"Hello?"

You pull your phone away from your ear to look at the screen, and you scoff. He hung up. That bastard hung up.

"Fuck you!" you yell into the speaker (even though he can't hear it) before slamming your phone down onto the bed with a quiet thud. The sound isn't nearly loud enough, though. So, impulsively, you turn to your nightstand and shove your humidifier off.

Your dad had no right.

No right whatsoever.

You're not attached.

Zayne is just a robot trained to keep you safe. Nothing less, nothing more. And yet you find yourself storming into the living room just to look at him.

You stop in front of him, the tension slowly bleeding out of your shoulders. He's charging, head bent and eyes closed—the way he always looks when he's plugged in.

He's so peaceful like this. So blissfully unaware. It makes you want to slap him because it just isn't fair.

It isn't fair that he doesn't have to feel these feelings. It isn't fair that he doesn't have so much frustration that he thinks he can punch a hole into the wall.

Slowly, you reach out, touching your fingertips to his lashes. The designers made them so long and pretty. Almost like he was made for you to like him. To lure you in. That wasn't fair either.

You stare for a moment longer before your fingers gently slip behind his ear. You want to make yourself believe this is a grudging decision, but you know it's not.

You press the power button, your stomach twisting as you wait for him to blink his eyes open. When he does, you don't even have the chance to say anything before he eyes you—once—then says, "You're upset."

You let out a soft breath through your nose. "I'm fine."

"You always say that when you're not."

You remind yourself he's programmed to be perceptive, but it doesn't stop the little squeeze your heart does.

"What's wrong?"

You shrug. "Nothing."

Zayne looks at you, searching for any shift or twitch that might tell him what happened. You don't give him the chance, though. You're already shuffling over to the couch and sink down.

Zayne follows, still trying to figure out what's bothering you.

"Do you know what maintenance you need?"

Zayne's eyes flicker to the floor. They flash a mechanical blue for a few seconds before they return to their normal hazel-green.

He glances back up.

"Diagnostics say all systems are operating within normal parameters."

Your chest tightens. If Zayne can do a little check-up on himself, why the hell did he need to get sent somewhere else?

Almost like he can read your mind, Zayne adds, "But all AIs under contract are required to report for monthly maintenance unless otherwise overridden.”

You take a small breath.

"Oh."

"You sound worried." His eyes run over your face, filing each expression into a personal folder in the corner of his mind. "Is that what you're upset about? My maintenance?"

You bite your lip, trying to stop the words from spilling out. It's silly, letting yourself get so vulnerable with a damn robot, but you can't help it.

"What happens if something goes wrong during maintenance? Do you even know?" you blurt out.

The minute you say it, Zayne's expression softens like he's finally put it together. "..You're worried about.. me."

You tear your eyes away.

It's not like he can judge you, but you still feel the need to avoid his gaze. "Just tell me what can go wrong."

He waits a beat, then softly— "No."

You snap your head back up, your brows furrowed. "What—? Zayne. Tell me."

"I think it's best I don't."

"Zayne—"

"It's highly unlikely anything will go wrong."

You huff, your lips curling with a frown. "What if you come back differently? Like.." You know you should shut up, but you don't. "Like, what if you start talking differently? Or don't remember who I am?"

"I'll remember you," he says, his voice lowering just a fraction. "I promise."

Your heart stutters.

"You're not just saying that?"

"No." Zayne takes a step closer, his gaze darting down to your hand like he's thinking about comforting you. Of holding it with his own.

Or maybe you’re imagining it.

Because he doesn't.

"I'll recite everything I know about you when I get back." His words are confident. Final.

You let out a soft breath. "Okay then." You stand back up, walking him back to his charging station. He hesitates for a second, something like sympathy passing through his eyes before he finally steps in.

"You'll recite everything when you're back?" you ask, standing in front of him, your fingers hovering over the button behind his ear.

He nods. "I'll recite everything."

Your chest feels tight. You want to believe him, but there's a part of you that's still doubting. It's why you don't press the button. Why you just let your fingers linger there, palm pressed against his jaw.

When you still don't say anything, Zayne reaches up and gently wraps his hand around your wrist. It almost feels like he's going to lean into your touch, but instead he just gives your wrist a light squeeze.

"You don't have anything to worry about."

"Okay."

You scan his face, like you're trying to memorize it in case they make any changes to his face. Maybe you are. Then, against your better judgment, you lean in and press your lips to his cheek.

It's warm. Soft. Like yours. It feels real enough to let your lips linger a second longer than you mean to before pulling back.

Zayne's forehead creases—something you didn't even know he could do—as he watches you lean back. His gaze darts down to your lips, up to your eyes, then back down again.

"Goodnight, Zayne," you murmur.

He hesitates. "..Goodnight."

And then you're powering him down.

—

Your dad said it would only take one to two days to do maintenance, but it actually took three.

Three whole days.

The minute his men bring Zayne back, you shoo them away to inspect him yourself.

You stand in front of Zayne, raking your eyes over every feature until you're certain they're the same. But you feel like something else is wrong.

Like they messed up. Fucked up his coding or whatever the hell is that makes Zayne Zayne.

That makes him.. yours.

You fumble with his power button and bite your nails as you wait for him to power on. You think it takes him a second longer to turn on, and it makes your stomach churn.

Even when he blinks his eyes open, you feel something isn't right still.

You can't help it. Quickly, you blurt out, "What's my favorite color?"

Zayne looks at you, but he doesn't answer. Just roves his eyes over your face like he's discovering it for the first time, and then you feel it.

Panic.

They fucked up.

For a moment you're quiet. Then it hits you. Dread, anger, and hurt all at once.

You groan as you spin around; you can't bear to look at Zayne like this.

"I told him to cancel it. But he didn't listen! No, he wanted to fucking—" You breathe in sharply. "He wanted to be an asshole!"

Your voice rises and falls with every syllable, chest heaving with angry breaths. You're so frantic, you don't even realize Zayne has stepped out of his charging station.

"I'm going to—to—"

Realistically, what would you do? What could you possibly do? It's a ridiculous notion because really, you can't do anything. Your dad is untouchable.

Because of course he is. Stupid, fucking—

Suddenly, you feel a hand on your shoulder. It's comforting. Heavy. You slowly turn around, your frustration melting away the minute you look at Zayne again. He looks so calm. So… Zayne.

He slowly drops his hand to his side.

"Zayne?" you murmur softly.

There's a small silence before he speaks.

"You kissed me."

Your eyes go wide, heat rushing to your cheeks.

"I wasn't programmed to respond to affection… But… I.." His eyes drift down to your lips. "I liked it. And I wasn't supposed to."

#zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace #love and deep space zayne #lads x reader #ai zayne #android x reader #robot emotions?#slow burn ish #AI zayne x reader #android zayne #sci fi #fluff #i have a crush on zayne guys #a bit of angst #daddy issues

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yeehawhorsey · 2 years ago

Note

An apology, but we all want to read how they are inside and possibly the Autobots lose control when what they have been imagining for so long happens (like Mirage / Bee / or Optimus) you made us addicted to you writing

there are special little places where yall can get help with your addiction!! im not the remedy!! (i bite the walls every single time i get a compliment) ALSO lets just pretend bees vocal cords werent ripped out to the point he couldn't moan like a slut :) dubcon:/

Bee was desperate.

The way your hips swayed when you walked, the way the soft tone of your voice echoed in the insides of his helm, the way you'd wrap your fragile fingers around his steering wheel and squeeze it ever so slightly in a playful manner—he needed you.

And one day, after spending countless nights on imagining you stretched out on his throbbing spike, your tits bouncing with every slap of his hips against your bare ass, he finally got the honour of actually seeing you underneath him, not just picturing it in his mind.

Bee was desperate for you, but he was also shy. Which meant that you had to initiate all the talks, all the touches, and all the kisses. However, when he finally understood that he had you exactly where he wanted you, and when he heard you vocalise your desire for him, he just couldn't stop himself.

The soft exchange of pecks on each others' lips turned into a heated make-out session, his glossa quickly asking for permission to slip into your mouth just so he could get a proper taste for the first time. His metal body began overheating as soon as he felt your body straddling his lap, your legs on both side of his hips. Your bold move made him only crave more of your touch, him barely able to restrain himself from just having his way with you, manhandling you until you'd beg for him to stop absolutely ruining you for the pleasure of you both.

And he wanted to continue making a mess with his lips on yours, especially when you were making so many sweet noises just for him... But he had to take things further, feeling like his spark might just explode if he didn't.

So he pulled away slowly, making eye contact with you for just a mere second, only to see the needy expression on your face, which gave him a silent permission to jump right into what he'd planned to do. His lips quickly found their place on the side of your neck, his servos landing on your hips, subconsciously pushing your core into his abdomen to create more friction between you.

He began licking, kissing, nibbling, and sucking the skin gently into his intake to create pretty bruises on your neck which would show anyone that you belonged to him.

Your breaths were getting heavier, much more chaotic, them hitching in your throat every time he paid special attention to a particularly sensitive spot. Your needy whimpers were mixing with the sound of his vents trying to stop him from overheating, his reaction to you making you want more of him than you already had.

And you didn't know you already had him whole. He was yours.

"Bee, please..." you whined, your eyes closed shut, hands on both of his shoulders with a strong grip which he didn't mind at all.

Your words made him transform the area under his abdomen, now a hard spike on full display, its length slapping against your stomach with every intense throb. He didn't stop taking care of your neck for even a second, every whimper and groan of desperation being muffled by your skin as he continuously planted wet kisses all the way down from your jaw to your collarbone.

He was growing impatient.

His spike touching you was sending constant pleasurable electric shocks down his bipedalism cord, his spark nearly exploding when you grinded against it with your clothed core.

The grip of his digits on your hips tightened, and you'd probably have endless bruises on your sweet, soft skin tomorrow, and this thought should've made him feel at least a tad bad but he adored knowing that he left something while doing such sinful things with you.

When you moved and brushed against his length again, he groaned in impatience, pulling away just to lift the hem of your loose shirt with his digit to signal to you that he needed it off. You made eye contact with him as you got rid of the piece of clothing on your upper half. But it wasn't enough for him—he had to have you naked against him, every inch of your warm, human skin against his hot, metal one.

Before his digit moved to the waistline of your pants, you were already unbuttoning and unzipping them, getting out of his lap just to be able to take them off fully alongside with your panties, them ending up somewhere on the floor, probably next to your shirt.

His optics immediately shot to your cunt, the temptation to put his spike inside you overwhelming his body. He didn't even wait patiently for you to get back onto his lap on your own, as soon as he stopped devouring the sight of you in front of him in just a bra, he immediately pulled you towards him with both servos on your hips again, placing you on his lap, exactly where you belonged at that moment.

Now your bare core was brushing against his spike, and he couldn't refrain himself from letting a couple of desperate noises roll off him glossa. You decided to undress fully for him, taking your bra off and tossing it onto the pile of long forgotten clothes. His optics could barely take in the view before his lips found themselves on your tits, his intake giving attention to both, switching from teasing, licking and kissing the left one to doing exactly the same to the right one. Your hardened nipples made it possible for him to gently bite them, making you buckle your hips and moan his name shamelessly, your own noises not allowing you to hear your thoughts, as if there was anything else on your mind other than how good Bee's glossa felt when it curled up on your nipple, it getting sucked into his intake.

The remains of self-control he could find within himself were slipping through his digits, the force of his touches increasing with every passing second. At the same time, he was also getting more and more intense reactions from you, your body craving more as it pressed against his.

Bee groaned, impatience getting the better of him, as he wrapped his arm around your fragile, human body, lifting you up with your chest still to his.

He moved fast like a starving man, placing you gently on the hard floor of the garage, its coldness radiating to your body, adding a completely new sensation. You arched your back, exposing your chest even more to him, hoping he'd put his mouth on your already swollen and sensitive nipples, but he seemed to have other plans when, without a heads-up, he grabbed the back of both your thighs, and lifted up your hips so that now the only body parts of yours making contact with the cement underneath you were your upper back and your head.

Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head as you bit your lip to stop yourself from whimpering at the absolutely sinful sight of Bee kneeling down and hovering over you, spreading your legs and holding them pressed to your chest for better access to your dripping cunt.

You felt the tip of his spike teasing your hole which has been clenching over nothing for the past couple of minutes, finally about to get what it needed the most. And then, with one swift motion, Bee slid into you, the wet sound of his length entering your core echoed against the walls of your head.

A loud moan escaped the depths of your throat, lips parted, eyes closed themselves shut before you could even stop them, wanting to watch as the robot began trying to bottom out inside your warm cunt, but unfortunately his spike was too big for you to take for now.

It felt good. The pain from being so suddenly stretched out around him mixed with the pleasure from his spike hitting all the sweet spots inside you with the very first thrust of his hips.

Bee felt as if he no longer had control over his own body, the feeling of you wrapped around him, your warm cunt so inviting to just ruin it without second thoughts. And he could find absolutely no strength within himself to stop the almost animalistic desire to make you his in every meaning of this word.

His optics were trained on your face for mere seconds before his gaze shifted to the place where your bodies connected, your cunt covered in your own slick, the hole visibly stretched out to take his spike, even if it was only a half of his full length.

The idea of pushing the entire thing in only made him groan, the images of the bulge in your lower stomach he'd create flashing in front of his optics.

He threw his head back when he felt you clench around him, the sensation too much to handle.

You knew he was about to begin pounding into you as if it was the only thing he was made to do, the expression on his face and the look he was giving you the entire time confirming it.

"Bee..." you whined his name, not being fully aware what that sweet tone of your voice was doing to him.

So he just positioned himself better, pressing your thighs harder to your chest, taking almost the entire length of his spike out of your begging cunt, only to slam into you and put even more of him inside you.

You couldn't even control the noises escaping you anymore, your head thrown back because of the overwhelming pleasure.

Bee has had enough of waiting, the memory of him sitting in the corner of this garage, his spike in his servo as he kept fisting himself, overloading onto the hard floor multiple times just to get some relief after having to watch you walk around in your damned little dresses, your hips innocently swaying, your tits deliciously bouncing with every step.

Before you could register it, the robot was destroying your needy cunt with aggressive pounding, feeling as if he able to put more and more inches inside you with every slam of his hips against your ass.

His speed and the way he could hit all the best spots, even though the tip of his spike was kissing your cervix, made you constantly moan out loud, as if the walls of the garage were soundproof.

He kept making noises as well, although his were much deeper, more frustrated, as if he was chasing something he was so closed to catch but right before getting it, it'd just slip away from him.

He thought of this moment for a long time, the pink transfluid painting his servos on many occasions as he was imagining you in this exact position underneath him, squirming in pleasure.

But then, he came up with an even better idea, his body immediately following through, without even analysing it. He stopped mercilessly pounding into you just to manhandle you on your stomach, lifting your backside by your hips, spreading your legs to allow him to penetrate your needy cunt even more deeply. He positioned himself over you, his spike yet again pressing against your core for just a second before finally entering you once more. He didn't even waste time on preparing you to take him, just like the first time he pushed his length inside your pussy.

Now he had the opportunity to properly grope and slap your ass as much as he pleased, his hips constantly hitting it with every hard thrust he'd make. Tears began forming in the corner of your eyes, the feeling of being so perfectly stuffed by his spike making you shudder, moan and squirm beneath him.

His movements were rapid and chaotic, but he never slowed down, only increasing his speed, making mental notes of the noises you were making while he was fucking you so good.

"Bee, 't hurts..." you whimpered weakly in-between your loud, slutty moans, him taking it as an encouragement to continue ruining your cunt which was now clenching around him more than ever before. His one servo went to the back of your head tilted to the side, his digits gently stroking your hair as if it was supposed to help ease the pain mixing with pleasure, while the other one was still on your hip, pulling your body towards him at the same time he was pushing at it, making your skins hit each other with even more force.

You told him it hurt you but he couldn't stop.

He felt himself getting closer and closer to overloading, the warmth of your cunt getting sweetly unbearable as his movements became more sloppy, yet still as hard as before.

"Fuck." Curses kept spilling from your sinful mouth, feeling his thick spike throb inside you, indicating that he was probably about to finish.

The discomfort and pain of his metal hips hitting your much softer backside were slowly becoming less and less noticeable as complete pleasure washed over you, making you a wet, moaning mess underneath him.

With his two servos on your hips, he increased the speed of his movements once more, chasing the so desired release.

"Bee, please..." you whined again, your tits bouncing with every thrust, your hardened nipples brushing against the rough floor, "Overload in me..."

Your words were enough to tip him over the edge. With only a few more harsh slams into your tight cunt, he felt himself spurting his thick transfluid into your cervix, multiple groans and whimpers leaving his intake as he did so. He kept fucking the pink liquid into your cunt, not wanting a single drop to escape.

You could still feel his hard, metal hips hitting your ass, all until you clenched around him so tightly, he swore he could overload again just from that sensation alone. You came all over his thick spike, moaning loudly, your body shaking with indescribable pleasure from both his rough pounding as well as the knowledge that his transfluid was deep inside you.

Bee didn't pull out instantly, his thrusts decreasing in speed and force with every passing second, trying to ride out the remains of his and yours overloads.

You were panting and the robot was most definitely overheating, his metal body much hotter in touch than ever before, now his chassis pressed against your back as he began planting gentle kisses to your hair, his vents not being able to catch up.

After a long time that didn't feel long enough for him, he decided to pull away and take his spike out of your core filled with his transfluid, practically begging him to just fuck it again. But now, that his lust for you was somehow taken care of, he could regain the control over his body, and allow you to rest after getting absolutely ruined by him.

You rolled over onto your back yourself, clenching your thighs together when you felt his pink juices flooding out of you, wanting to keep them there for as long as possible. He smiled at your attempts to keep him inside you, the desire growing in his optics once again.

Bee gently wrapped his servos around your bare, exhausted body, lifting you up to place you down on the sofa he was previously occupying with you in his lap. As soon as you felt the plush against the skin of your back, you pulled the robot in your direction with your hands on both sides of his helm, making him bend his body so that you could kiss him passionately for the last time that night, knowing that he was most likely about to leave you to take care of his Autobot duties. He obliged without complaining, ready to slide into you again right then and there. And how disappointed he was when you pulled away with a soft smile, exhaustion finally catching up to you...

The corner of his slips curled up as he looked around in search for something to put on you. An abandoned blanket sitting on a wooden chair since he could remember would do. Before you could even notice he left you alone on the sofa, he was back, covering you from the neck down quickly but still making sure your whole body was under the soft fabric.

"Prime needs you?" you asked in a weak tone, your voice now only confirming how tired you actually were.

Prime needed him but he needed you.

Bee only nodded, to which you responded softly, "I'll stay here." And before he could even give you any sort of a physical confirmation that he got that, you already closed your eyes with a content expression written all over your face.

He smirked to himself, the sweet feeling of finally achieving his goal washing over him, him practically having been able to live in his dreams for a moment. His smile only widened when he came to a realisation...

He finally managed to mark you as his.

don't know if i made it he-lost-control enough but i tried and that's what counts in my books. also, i made it an oneshot but if you wanted separate hcs for these characters ill be more than willing to write it

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