𖹭 IDW/MTMTE Drift [Human Pet AU] 𖹭

Several cycles ago Drift was lying on his recharge slab, Deadlock nagging him inside his own processor again, when he finally decided to order that human pet. He flicked on his datapad and went to the Helix Association's customer portal. It took him the entire night to find the perfect one for him; he checked nearly all of the catalogs they had and was about to cast his datapad aside when his optics caught your profile.

He knew in this spark that you were meant to be his.

Then came the hardest part: the bureaucratic adoption process. He understands why it is so lengthy, but that didn't make it test his patience any less. He made multiple human pet acquisition requests to Ultra Magnus. All of them were rejected, along with a multi-page explanation of why Drift is inadequate to take care of such precious organic life. Each time Deadlock would whisper in the back of his helm about how easy it would be to use his position as third-in-command and his relationship with Rodimus to acquire you.

He didn't want to abuse his power. He was vehemently against it until he checked your profile again, a daily occurrence, and saw that it was marked as 'adoption in progress.' Drift doesn't remember what happened after he processed that, but Deadlock does. Deadlock fronted and swiftly made his way to Rodimus's habsuite. After some smooth talking and rough fragging, he convinced the Prime that you were essential to him. Rodimus overrode Ultra Magnus's dozens of denied acquisition forms and sent an urgent message to the reserve you were owned by.

From that moment on, you have been legally his.

That doesn't stop rumors from spreading across the Lost Light, bringing into question Drift's caretaking abilities. He'll prove to every bot, especially himself, that he can have you thrive under his care.

Drift hears the ping before he sees the comm: From Roddy 𖹭: Your human pet's here! They're so cute. Can I touch them? [one image attached]

He doesn't even mind that it has interrupted his meditation.

As soon as he opened the image, he began to feel dizzy. Seeing you in your small stasis pod so defenseless and innocent roused Deadlock.

"You wouldn't have them without me."

Drift shakes his helm, attempting to push Deadlock far back in his processor and lock him away in old data banks. He fails as usual.

"You're nothing, Drift. No one here takes you seriously. Rodimus only cares about you because you kiss his aft so much."

"That isn't true," Drift grits out quietly.

He intakes deeply.

1... 2... 3... 4...

Hold.

He vents out.

1... 2... 3... 4...

Deadlock quiets.

Drift would like to assume it is because of his regulation skills, but he knows it is more likely that Deadlock does not want to delay your meeting any longer.

Drift moves through the halls of the Lost Light with more purpose than usual. He isn't so hesitant to take up space. His EM field lacks its usual bright placidity, instead holding a certain amount of coiled tension along with something much darker—the something that everyone accuses him of still being.

When he approaches docking bay two, he realizes that quite a few crew members have gathered to see the coming of their first organic on board. It makes his processor itch ravenously.

Rodimus is at his human's stasis pod's left side, smiling mischievously, while Ultra Magnus is glaring at him while standing at your right. He approaches the stasis pod and disengages it, watching you rise. He would normally allow someone to gather their bearings, especially someone in your circumstance, but all of the conflicting auras and prying optics surrounding him are inadvertently threatening to set Deadlock off.

He gives terse greetings and farewells, then departs.

He can feel your panic and confusion as you wake in his servo. He hums an old Cybertronian lullaby in an attempt to calm you. He wonders if you understand it. As far as he is aware, every domesticated human learns basic Cybertronian or is equipped with an intergalactic translator.

"Greetings, my light. I am Drift, your new caretaker. Do not be afraid, for I will neither inflict harm upon you nor allow others to harm you. In my presence you are something to be loved and cherished."

He looks down at you and smiles.

"You are so adorable, such a good little organic."

He pats your head with one of his digits.

He enters his habsuite and sits down on the floor, posture perfectly straight.

"Your arrival interrupted my meditation, not that I mind. I have procured numerous items I have been told organics are fond of, but I'd also like to learn your own preferences."

He grabs a datapad from his subspace and winces as he feels Deadlock pushing against his consciousness.

"I should be disciplining them so they know their place."

"No, Deadlock. I will not allow you to put your servos on my light!" Drift snaps back internally.

A forced smile appears on his faceplate as he flicks on the datapad.

"What first, sweetspark? Clothes, toys, food, or maybe we could fill out some of those owner and pet quizzes! The ones that tell us about our personalities."

Drift is kneeling before your naked body, engraving ancient symbols in your flesh like they're of the utmost importance to your shared survival. He's using something like one of the tattoo guns you've seen on Earth, although it's much bigger considering his servo size, and the ink is, well, you aren't exactly sure if it's ink.

He insisted on moving you to a private workshop within the Lost Light to complete this ritual. It has several work benches, one of which you're sitting on, legs spread, and various other tools that you assume are for engraving frames. Drift checked the lock on the workshop four times to ensure that it would stay sealed. Deadlock momentarily fronted and threatened several crew members that if they interrupted his time in here, their sparks would be extinguished. Not that he allowed you to witness this; no, they both enjoy keeping you on edge. The threat of someone overriding the lock and seeing you in such a way is enough to keep you complacent while he works.

His non-tattooing servo is running along your body in an attempt to soothe you. He is tracking your reactions and takes the growing heat between your legs as consent, not merely a physiological reaction.

"You're doing so good. I have the best human ever, you know that? Now sit still for a little longer."

He is doing his best to behave, but he feels his spike pressurizing and valve lubricating behind his interface panels. You smell like salvation and look like you were made by Primus's servos just for him.

"Take them, Drift. Impale them on your spike. Drown them in your transfluid," Deadlock purrs inside his helm.

His servos falter, optics trailing down between your legs. He feels his intake's lubricant production increase. He swallows it quickly before he accidentally drools on you.

"These symbols are a finalization of our bond. There is a tether being drawn between our souls. No matter how far you go, I will be able to find you. With a simple activation of my sensors, what I have engraved into your body will glow."

His systems are running hot as Deadlock continues to force lewd imagery into his mind.

His intake comes closer to your abdomen. He pretends to inspect you but quickly gives up the poorly thought-out ruse. His glossa darts out and licks you from sternum down to your pubic bone.

With a final flick of his servo, he finishes off your last tattoo (for now) and sets the tattoo gun down. Each of his servos holds one of your thighs open, gripping hard enough to bruise but not enough to break any of your bones.

"Finished at last. Oh, my guiding light, the only one I look to at night. You deserve everything. Let me worship you—" His vocalizer cracks. "please."

He's begging; he doesn't know how long he can restrain Deadlock from fragging you if he isn't allowed to suckle on you.

𖹭 [free space for your own scenario using the lore already established] 𖹭