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fiber-optic-alligator · 4 months

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Desperation vs. Domestication

Pairing: IDW Drift x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 3161

Summary: Trapped aboard the Lost Light and chosen by a certain red-and-white samurai mech as the perfect sapien companion and tasty snack, you decide to form a rudimentary plan on possibly escaping your robot captors and finding your way back to Earth…while also realizing that spending months living as a pet has messed with your judgment on a greater scale than you previously realized.

This is based off of an ask I saw on Relic’s blog about what might happen if a human trapped aboard the Lost Light tried to escape via an escape pod, and I liked the idea so much that I had to write something based off of it. This is my first time writing for the Tasty Au and the First Contact Au and I must say I am quite happy with the result. This is inspired by Callsign-Relic’s Tasty Au, obviously, and I am so utterly fascinated with the whole concept, as well with First Contact scenarios in general, that this certainly won’t be my last time writing about this sort of thing. Thank you all for reading and thank you to @callsign-relic for giving me permission to write about it!

Also available to read on AO3!

Here is the link to pt. 2!

Sticky globs of synthetic saliva coat your shivering body as you are carefully slipped out of the massive mech’s cerulean mouth. The red-and-white bot nuzzles you gently with his nose, cooing to you in soft alien words. You don’t understand his language; to your ears, he speaks with the purr of a car engine, the rumble of machinery, the smooth hum of something distinctively much, much bigger than you. And yet, after months of being trapped aboard this titanic starship, surrounded by these massive extraterrestrial robots that have turned your life upside down, you’ve come to comprehend some simple, short phrases your mech typically only says to you: Good. Proud. Love you.

You hate how you lean into his touch. You hate how you cling to these few words you can translate. You hate how your heart softens for him as he sets you down on his desk and begins to clean you up, rubbing his saliva off of you with a towel. You protest softly when he smushes you gently with both hands, struggling feebly before you reluctantly give up and go still. He chuckles deeply and shushes you. “Shhh, shhh….Safe…Safe.”

After a few minutes, he nods to himself, satisfied with his work. You stare at him with the deadpan look of a cat who was just dumped into a bathtub while he retrieves a fuzzy blanket from his bed and wraps you up in it snugly. The part of you that still clings to your autonomy wants to scream and shove his fingers away when he slowly rubs your scalp. It wants to curse him out and tell him you despise him, how you are traumatized because of him and the rest of his kind.

And yet, you can’t.

You know he won’t understand you. You know you’ve developed feelings for him in your weak, pathetic heart. Your bot cares for you. It is obvious in the way he treats you, and you can tell it’s gone beyond seeing you as a pet. He calls you sweet. Little one. He’s never hit you, never yelled at you, and actually respects your boundaries when you express them…sometimes. There are some days where you have clearly shown you don’t want to be eaten. He listens. Those days are few, but they happen regardless. You can’t help but sympathize with him. Call it Stockholm Syndrome, call it delusion, but you are at war with yourself, one side begging you to resist, the other side wishing to submit and accept the role you have been forced into.

Your mech scoops you up. For a good minute, he simply holds you, purring deeply while he traces circles against your back with his thumb. It feels good, and you hate that it does. His heavy rumbles are soothing. Despite what one might think, being eaten, massaged by a mechanical stomach for hours, and then regurgitated is an exhausting experience to go through. You find fatigue tugging at the back of your mind while your eyes flutter shut and you yawn.

The mech coos. “Sleep,” he whispers to you, his voice smooth as honey. “Sleep.”

If this were your first time, you would have fought it. But it’s not your first time, and you know resisting will get you nowhere closer to escaping. Darkness pulls you into its embrace with the glow of his eyes flickering in the background until it too fades away. It doesn’t take long for you to give in.

His name is Drift. That’s the first thing you think when you wake up. His name is Drift, and he saved you from the first set of robots that plucked you from your home and carried you off into space, saving you from one personal hell and thrusting you into another. It did not matter if this particular hell was a rather comfortable one. It was hell regardless. To have your sense of self snatched away from you, to be reduced to nothing more than a pet and a snack, to know you are possibly light years away from Earth and you are utterly alone here is enough to drive you insane.

You sit up slowly and groan, running a hand through your tousled hair. You're still wrapped up in the blanket Drift gave you, and you're resting on his berth. It’s covered with more blankets and even pillows, all courtesy of the mech who has done what he can to make your life here as comfortable as possible. The lights are dimmed. Drift is nowhere to be seen. He must have had some other matters to attend to and decided to give you a moment of solitude while you were resting. It was considerate of him. The sympathetic side of you feels appreciation. All that’s left is relief he is not here to stuff you back into his maw.

Drift does not understand you. In his eyes, you are simply an adorable little creature he has adopted. He cannot speak your language, and you cannot speak his. No level of displaying your intelligence will ever prove to him that you are worthy of being considered a true person by him or the other mechs. Oh, he cares. You know he does. He’s not a bad guy. You’ve seen bad, and he’s a welcome change from it. But he will never view you as an equal. You are simply just an animal in his mind’s eye.

Your fists clench with subdued rage without you even realizing it at first. The frustration bubbles up and leaves a foul taste on your tongue. You’ve screamed. You’ve begged. You’ve done everything you can to show them that you do not belong here. But they don’t listen. He doesn't listen. You're too cute, too tasty. For the first time in your life, you truly wish you had it in you to be a violent person and live up to the horrible reputation humans have given themselves on their own planet. Maybe if you had the power to destroy like the rest of your kind can, the mechs would finally learn to respect you. But human beings only destroy what is theirs. And here? Not even you belong to yourself anymore.

“Damnit,” you whisper under your breath. You haven’t felt this level of helplessness in a long time. Your chest tightens, and hot tears trickle down your cheeks and drip off your chin. You close your eyes and grit your teeth as a low sob heaves up from your throat.

“I want to go home,” you say to no one in particular. There’s no one to hear you. Even the gods of your world are too far away to listen to your prayers. “Please. Please. I want to go home. I just want to go home.”

So why don’t you?

Your eyes fly open.

Wait.

There are escape pods on this ship.

You’ve only seen them once. Drift usually keeps you perched on his shoulder when he travels around the ship and tends to his duties. He’s walked by them before. They’re towards the middle of the vessel, all lined up in single file.

What if you were to steal one?

A plan begins forming in your mind. It’s stupid. It’s risky. It could cost you your life. But you're so scared, and you’ll do anything to relieve that fear. You could return to Earth…you could go home.

You look around Drift’s room, taking in how absolutely massive everything is compared to you. The escape pods will be the same. One single little human will have a hard time piloting it. But what other choice do you have? Sit here and live the rest of your life as a pet?

A part of you actually finds it tempting. But you can’t let that side of you win. You cannot allow yourself to slip into the stupor that is slowly breaking your spirit. You must keep fighting. You must take back what was stolen from you: your life.

Drift is not a stifling owner. He does not demand your attention 24/7. He understands you need your space, and usually, if you protest enough, he will simply coo at you understandingly and leave you in his room for a few hours while he leaves.

You come up with a plan. It’s not a particularly stable one, and there are way too many points where it could go horribly wrong. But you will go through with it anyway, because you don't know how much longer you can take this. You're desperate for release, frantic for an escape from this nightmare reality you are in. You will find a way back home. You can’t give up. You refuse to give up. You are a human being. You belong on Earth.

As much as your plan relies on Drift leaving you alone, it also depends on his presence too. It’s impossible to traverse this starship by yourself. To be seen without your mech companion would lead to some robotic stranger scooping you up and bringing you right back to square one.

So, you will have to trick Drift.

You will use the advantage of your harmless appearance and have him bring you to the escape pods. You could blast away right under his nose and he won’t even know it because his belief that you are just an innocent, adorable little thing who can barely think for yourself is just too strong.

Guilt flashes through you.

He has no way of understanding, a tiny voice whispers inside your mind. It’s not his fault there’s a language barrier between the two of you. He’s trying his best. He’s trying. Can’t you appreciate that?

He views me as a pet, you think back. He thinks I’m an animal. A snack. Is abandoning my will as a human being worth it if it means I please him?

Yes.

The realization makes your heart sink.

Are you really that far gone? Have you become that accustomed to your life here? Have…have you truly been broken in?

The soft whoosh of the room door opening interrupts your thoughts. Drift slips in on silent feet; you still don’t know how such a large mechanical creature can move so quietly. He doesn’t look at you, and instead trudges to the mirror attached to the wall opposite his berth with his shoulders slumped and his head hanging low. Through the reflection of the mirror, you can see him staring at himself with a complicated expression. His mouth tightens and his hand rises to slowly begin tracing the metal beneath his eyes. You watch, with growing concern, as he just…looks. He’s observing his features, taking in every scar, every dent in his armor, every sign of age.

He vents out a soft exhale. With a surprising amount of weariness, he takes his swords and places them on their display stand.

“Drift?” you call out to him.

He turns to focus on you. His eyes immediately soften, and his grimace uplifts into a tired smile.

He looks so much older than he really is.

Your heart twists painfully. All of your previous foul thoughts towards him vanish as your empathy takes over and you raise your arms to make grabby hands at him. This is a language anyone can understand: Pick me up please?

He wastes no time in obliging. Swords and reflection forgotten, he makes it to you in four long strides. Gentle fingers push the blanket aside and free you from your fabric burrito. They curl around you, holding you in his right palm while he slowly lifts you up and slips his left hand under to support you. You no longer feel the queasy flip of your stomach turning circles from the dizzying experience of watching the floor grow further and further away. That reaction was long lost with your time here.

He presses you to his chest. The metal is warm, and deep within, you can feel the steady beat of his heart. It thrums through your entire body and causes you to shudder with awe. This is an alien being, one you hardly understand. Yet, he has a heartbeat. It connects the two of you, in a way. As your heart begins to beat in tandem with his, you feel so small. Yet…it helps you feel for him all the more, because it proves he is alive.

After a few minutes of hugging you, Drift lifts you higher. The soft blue glow of his eyes washes over you as the mech observes your tiny face. There’s a moment when he pauses, and then his thumb caresses your cheek, lightly running over the stains decorating your skin from your previous bout of tears. His smile falls into a concerned frown.

“Little one?” he whispers. He knows what tears are. You’ve heard him cry himself to sleep some nights. So he must understand you are not in a particularly good headspace right now.

“Drift,” you whisper back. He whines when he hears how your voice trembles. With great sadness weighing his expression down, he brings you close and presses his lips gently to your forehead.

You automatically freeze, and your eyes widen in shock as you feel the slightly plush metal against your skin. It’s so…intimate. All too quickly, you melt into the embrace, closing your eyes as a fresh wave of emotion washes over you and threatens to unleash the waterworks again. You sniffle and cling to him. “I hate that I’m enjoying this,” you quietly say.

He hums in response and slowly pulls away. The smile he offers you is so sweet, it makes your heart skip. You feel like a foolish schoolgirl in love. It’s the wrong emotion for the wrong person in the most wrong scenario you could ever imagine, but it feels so right.

He leans back in, and you think you are going to receive another kiss. But then his mouth opens wider and you have a full display of the squishy segmented tongue that’s shifting in eager anticipation for the taste it desires: you. Strings of saliva connect between metal teeth as large as your head. Inside, there’s light that softly pulses with the same color as his eyes, and it runs all the way down into his throat, illuminating the journey you know you are about to take. Fear jumps through you. “Drift,” you say, pushing frantically at his fingers. “Drift, wait!”

“Shhhh,” he murmurs. There are some incomprehensible words that, to your ears, sound like the garbled slurs of a broken radio. Your mind works overtime to comprehend. “Little one…safe…comfort…”

Oh.

He wants to comfort you.

You feel absolutely disgusted with yourself when you bite your bottom lip and contemplate his request.

Unfortunately, Drift doesn’t give you a chance to decide whether to accept or not. Apparently, your tears are really worrying him. With one last reassuring purr, he delicately pushes you into his mouth. You yelp when his tongue curls around your little body to begin slicking you up for a smoother ride. Drift rolls you around carefully, tasting every inch of your exposed skin with happy hums of pure pleasure.

You want to fight off the large muscle and demand he open his mouth to release you. However, you know there is no point. He’s not listening to you today. He believes this is the only way to bring you the reprieve you need. So, you give in. You go limp and allow your mech to toy with you.

He presses you to the roof of his mouth and suckles gently. A low moan rumbles up from within him. You are delicious. You know you are delicious. The way he savors you both terrifies you on a raw, existential level, and also makes you feel…wanted, in a way. He wants you. He cares about you. This is just another way of him showing it.

Eventually, his tongue lowers, and everything goes tipsy as Drift tilts his head and begins to push you towards the back of his throat. You instinctively scrabble at the base of the biomechanical muscle, but you cannot stop yourself from sliding back. When you look behind you and see the pulsing metal waiting to slurp you down into its dark, wet confines, you want to scream.

“Glk.”

One gulp.

That’s all it took for Drift to swallow you.

It is extremely unnerving to be reminded of how small you are.

You are sucked into Drift’s throat with no resistance. The glow of his mouth sticks with you while you are squeezed downward from all sides by the soft, moist walls of his esophagus. You wriggle as much as you can, but it is virtually impossible to move due to how tight the passage is. You find yourself holding your breath as you close your eyes and try to remain calm while you listen to the steady sounds of his internal systems working to keep him alive: the heavy thudding of his heart. A rhythmic intake and outtake of air that is eerily reminiscent of human breathing. There are other low whirrs and hums you cannot identify as well. All consuming. All just for you to hear.

Space opens up beneath you, and you drop into his stomach with a wet plop. The organ gurgles, welcoming you back like an old friend. You bounce a little as the floor jiggles, then you find yourself sinking into the mesh metal. The walls close in, squeezing you, kneading at you, all while a melody of rumbles and groans fill the space. You pant, taking a moment to catch your breath as you lay on your back and stare up at the soft biolights all around you, filling the stomach with a comforting hue.

Something presses against you from the outside: Drift’s hand. Above you, the mech says something. His voice is soft, yet loud at the same time. You are utterly, completely surrounded by him. Locked away behind all of this metal, you truly feel like you are his.

For some reason, this is not as scary as it usually is.

You sit up and try to wipe saliva off of your face, but only succeed in smearing it all over you even more. Drift speaks again. “Little one?” His tone is urgent, worried. The stomach growls with nervous trepidation.

You crawl on your hands and knees to the organ’s wall. Sitting up, you press your hand into the wet muscle, watching as your fingers sink into the squishy grooves. “I’m okay, Drift,” you murmur. “I’m okay.”

You feel him relax all around you. Drift presses his hand right over where yours is and rubs you tenderly. You cuddle up against him and close your eyes, listening to your mech’s happy purrs, enjoying the feeling of being constantly massaged by his stomach.

It is warm.

You are warm.

You no longer want to cry.

Maybe…maybe you can put off your escape plan. Just for a little longer.

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neurotypical-sonic · 1 year

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rouge why are you, an 18 year old, letting a 12 year old drive

#her car is so so cute tho #idw live blogging #idw #amy #rouge #egg.txt

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cokowiii · 8 months

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Each issue about the turtles changes style????! It’s nice ngl

#tmnt idw #live blogging

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000marie198 · 1 year

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Scrapnik Island Easter Egg?!

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic scrapnik island #sonic prime spoilers #sonic prime #SP live blog #sonic idw

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in1-nutshell · 4 months

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hellooo!! i want to say your blog and writing are so so soooo wonderful! i love it, haha, and buddy became dear for heart x) aaand!! thanks to you I like family fluff even more, it's my comfort zone now!

can i ask about older seeker, who care about skywarp and thundercracker with star? despite canon and w∆r, it's pretty nice to think that they're actually good with each other 🥺

Thank you for the compliments! I'm glad to hear that The Buddy's are leaving such a good impact on people!

Since you did not specify which continuity this was, I assumed you meant by the IDW continuity. If this isn't what you wanted, please let me know.

Now we've had a Human Buddy senior, get ready for Bot Buddy the senior!

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the Senior Seeker being a parental figure to Thundercracker, Skywarp, and Starscream

IDW

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronian reader

Buddy was one of the older seekers in the aerial troops.

If fact Buddy was probably the oldest bot in the Decepticon division. But despite being one of the older bots Buddy made it up with being an experienced flyer.

With their results it landed Buddy as one of Satrscream’s right hand assistant /teammate.

This meant that Buddy would be spending a lot of time with the Elite Trine.

“Buddy, reporting for duty, Starscream.”--Buddy

“Finally, someone who has some respect for the future Leader of the Decepticon army.”--Starscream

“Urgh.”--Skywarp

“Great another suck up…”--Thundercracker

“Well, isn’t that a bit ambitious isn’t it Stascream? Maybe not the future leader of the army—”--Buddy

“How dare—”--Starscream

“Don’t interrupt me Kid.”--Buddy

“Kid!?”--Starscream

“Nevermind I like this one.”--Skywarp

“Shush! Both of you!”--Buddy

“I was saying use your position to improve the lives of those who work with you.”--Buddy

“Now why would I do that!”--Starscream

“More kindness you spread the more kindness you’ll receive in the end.”--Buddy

“Buddy you might want to save your energy on that.”--Thundercracker

“Yeah, Screamer here doesn’t do kindness. I don’t think he knows the meaning of the word.”—Skywarp

“Worth a shot.”--Buddy

Enough time the Elite Guard had become too accustomed to the older bot being there all the time. Even after the war the Trine continued to have communication with Buddy.

Starscream wanted Buddy to stay on Cybertron as one of his advisors.

No offense to Rattrap but he isn’t the best bot to always have around. And he refuses to hang out with Windblade anymore than what he has to. Buddy does take time to visit Starscream whenever they are back on Cybertron.

“Screamer?”--Buddy

“Buddy?”--Starscream

“What are you doing?”--Buddy

“Having the mechs repaint your ship.”--Starscream

“Paint my ship?”--Buddy

“Yes, it was looking rather dull. Your ship shouldn’t have to look like that scrapheap.”--Starscream

“This isn’t a way for you to have me stay on Cybertron?”--Buddy

“No…”—Starscream

“Well then since I’m going to be here for a while, what’s going on between you and Windblade?”

“…”--Starscream

Buddy has made their home on Earth. It’s much more peaceful there now that the war is over. Buddy has to schedule meetings with Skywarp as his work has him moving all around with The GI Joe.

Skywarp likes it when Buddy comes over and races them around.

“C’mon Buddy best out of 25?”--Skywarp

“How about we take a breather? I can’t fly like I used to Skywarp.”--Buddy

“Aww! C’mon!”--Skywarp

“How about you tell me about that Rock guy?”--Buddy

“How about we take that breather.”--Skywarp

Buddy has to wait by themselves for a while to see Thundercracker.

9 times out of 10 Buster finds Buddy before Buddy has to try in finding Thundercracker. He gives Buddy a lot of copies of his screenwriting.

“Wow TC! This is a lot of screen writes.”--Buddy

“Yeah! I’m trying to get some of them to be produced soon!”--Thundercracker

“You seem to have a lot of good ideas here. But you might want to go over some of them again. I don’t think human’s have a last name like ‘Boyfriend’.”--Buddy

“I mean you can help me out as my editor. Just as a thought.”--Thundercracker

“Sorry kiddo, not my thing. I am however invested in how this one human having a crush on this other human that sounds suspiciously like Ms. Marrissa Farborne.”--Buddy

“Umm…”--Thundercracker

“And your love interest here kind of reminds me of y—”--Buddy

“HEY! Buster wants to play with you now! Isn’t that right Buster!”--Thundercracker

“Arf!”--Buster

Each seeker tries to keep Buddy longer each visit.

None want Buddy to leave.

Buddy never stays, but they always come back at the end of the day.

#transformers #transformers x reader #maccadam #idw mtmte #transformers idw #idw starscream #idw thundercracker #bot buddy #idw transformers #idw skywarp

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mychlapci · 2 months

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So going back a day or so about needing Merformer Optimus needing to exist and getting successfully knocked up by the most unexpected choice. Ratchet was, of course, fucking awesome, but I’ve always had a soft spot for Optimus/Rung, especially in IDW due to a very good fic.

Rung, the oldest mer not only in their facility, but known to exist. They believe he is the last of his subspecies and as far as they are concerned will be the last of them. He is treated a bit like those old slow tortoises and the staff is all fond of him and he freely moves around largely unbothered by the other mers universally.

Unbeknownst to the staff the reason no one bothers him is that he is ancient and is well known for being the Best Sire hands down. He has had hundreds of offspring and outside of the facility has spent a season at least once with plenty of the inhabitants. Part of his appeal is that the offspring with him generally take after the carrier but with little to no health issues and are longer lived and he is always willing to assist with unrelated clutches, so he’s generally very popular. Everyone is either old fuck buddy on good terms, a descendent, or he helped babysit their offspring from a previous clutch.

Due to his age and species his breeding seasons are centuries apart (like that one old shark that takes centuries to hit puberty) and the fact most of the mers in the facility are already paired up and those that aren’t (or aren’t monogamous) aren’t his type he hasn’t been offering himself when others get horny. The staff think he doesn’t have a breeding season anymore (wrong) and don’t bother keeping an eye on him as he has been known to be helpful for first-time carriers or ones without partners or large clutches. He’ll just show up in a tank and the mers there usually accept his help for the season.

Optimus though, shy, confused, pretty Optimus, just happens to line up both with Rung’s preferences and his first Rut in 800 years. So, smiling sweetly he takes himself over to the tank slips in, completely unbothered by staff and proceeds to gently coax Optimus into a dance and then into his private space to finish the courtship before he gets too far into the Rut and reveals more than he wants the staff to see.

Optimus is absolute putty as Rung spends his millions of years of practice taking mer Optimus’s virginity and insuring he keeps him full and dazed to make sure he succeeds in getting him pregnant.

Another reason Rung doesn’t normal try anything?

He’s a little intimidating when he goes into breeding mode because he’s actually a deep sea mer. Lets add a little eldritch abomination to Rung for this. Picturing a mix of those monster Rung and Spark Eater rung designs to be honest. Like claspers and teeth and tentacles and hypnotic biolights all branching out form the translucent plating over his Spark to keep his partner placid as they generally breed with those not in their species. All normally stored inside him and fangs with just a bit of venom to keep his partner going as long as he is. Optimus though, new to the facility, has his resting place without cameras.

If the staff could see it would look more like Optimus being eaten then having sex, especially with the wailing and wriggling being stopped by Rung digging into him.

I'll be honest, I briefly considered Rung as well. I love me some ancient, deep sea monster Rung who bred his way through the ocean. (We’ve already agreed on this blog that mer Rung would be a dick wielding menace.)

The thought of Rung casually hauling himself into Optimus’ tank, like he had done many times before, unsuspecting, friendly, fluttering his tail around as he subtly initiates a mating dance… I like that. Rung turns the bigger mer into a pretty little doll in his hands, keeping Optimus under him with paralyzing venom and tendrils that he previously didn’t have.

It’s been a while since Rung had a nice, virginal slit to breed. There were times he’d help out young mers come into their own regularly, but it’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself to really indulge. Despite his… very intimidating appearance, I think Rung remains gentle and sweet, coaching Optimus through the mating, giving him everything he needs while taking what he wants.

Optimus has no idea what he’s getting into. By the time Rung is done with him, he’s barely lucid, lost in a haze of overloads tripping into each other, and definitely pregnant <3

#i love everything u said about rung in this one i am obssessed #merformers #dubcon #<- only because of The Implications #texty #valveplug

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