Deepwaters

I'm trying to boil it down to this. She gets one half-good look between your spread stance before you start fumbling with your panel manually and trying to cover yourself up. Deltashock hasn't intermixed the 'high-energy activities' in her life together very much. She tries to avoid the type of scandal that comes with sleeping with a fan who could fair and well take it to some media, lie, and get her accused of something criminal.

Her red optics are still kinda- stuck there for a moment. Maybe not long for a human, but enough of a glance for a Cybertronian to pick up too much detail. Tense isn't the right word to describe things. Humiliating? Avoidant?

You're ashamed, don't want to look down and see your half-hard spike between the two of you. Whatever warmth between your legs is quickly outclassed by your engine running hotter in your panic. It feels like disengaging would be acknowledging it, but the stillness while your servos scramble doesn't make anything better.

Deltashock will try to make excuses for you in her head, not overthink it until later, but it's something that keeps twisting around in your processor, the sound of your panel clicking open stuck on repeat.

Cybertronians don't forget things so easily. She knows what color your array components are. She could focus an inappropriate, shameful amount on that glance she couldn't help but steal and guess at the shape of your biolights, draft up an image in her head of it slicked over.

Deltashock is too tense to make a similar mistake. It's easy to pretend to be composed when your face doesn't emote much in the first place. Starting up the spar again is her way of playing it casual and trying not to break a routine that has already been broken. She certainly not perfect, but she doesn't want you avoiding her.. she'll think about her reasons for that later.

-

I'll be so honest I've been thinking about an older ask you did on this au where you said smtn about Delta 'fucking (you) in the aft and fingering your valve' and I'm so sad my sex drive evaporated back then because that sounds SO hot, actually.

I don't think I've played with aft stuff so far because. Dunno. Suppose I just haven't. Deltashock purposefully choosing to frag your aft instead of your valve has kind of.. a humiliation angle? Could be pain play, too. It reads as not caring as much for your pleasure as hers, but then bringing up her fingering your valve is kind of? Super hot?

Having Deltashock overwhelm you, carrying the energy from a fight into a fuck. Stuffing her servos into your valve, maybe rubbing her spike into it until you're both slick. Prying your aftport open and feeding her fat spike into it and having that aching stretch crawl up your struts. Deltashock fucking into you at her own pace, ignoring whatever speed you're shifting your hips or helplessly jerking into her servos at.

I can picture her teasing you pretty mercilessly. You can't tell her how wet you are and not expect her to want to touch you. But just.. taking it almost painfully slow. Using one or two servos to stroke you off but holding you in place with her other hand so you can't hump into it all dazed. Whining and leaning back into her chassis while she runs her vents and just keeps stroking and stroking until you're achingly hard, begging her to do something.

Deltashock just wants you to relax, be patient, let her take care of you. And she does that by just continuing to torment you, dipping her servos into your hole like she's going to slip inside, groping your shuddering chest, rubbing circles around you and pulling back whenever your thighs start shaking too much for her metrics.

She's greedy, and she knows that. Keeping you suspended at the edge, in a cycle of getting so close and moving elsewhere when the sensation gets too good. Deltashock doesn't have the self-restraint to edge you with her mouth. She'd keep sucking until you start pulling too hard at her armor, kicking her away, wouldn't stop lathing her glossa over your core until you were too tired to keep squirming. She barely has the restraint to resist sinking her servos into you. The thought of curling up her big, big fingers inside of your tiny pussy has her panel hot.

Dunno if she'd let you over the edge by just not stopping her stroking or really fucking you. Just another cycle in the heinous process until you get closer and closer with smooth metal gliding over your hard t-dick, jerking you off while your fuzzy brain waited for the sudden drop only to climb higher and higher and writhe in her servos while your sopping wet hole seizes. Maybe overstimulating you at that point, sliding herself inside while you're still pliant and touching places she's left unattended since the beginning.

Having you jerk and squirm while she fit her fat cock into you would be really hot, using your hole to pleasure herself now that you've been taken care of. You're so tiny, but so wet, aching with the stretch as she oh so carefully grasps your sides and gradually sinks into you. Petting your sweaty body and cradling you while you whine. Rubbing your slick, overstimulated dick in an attempt to comfort you only to make it even more overwhelming.

Letting you do stuff like get hideously overcharged to the point that you're barely hobbling on your pedes is a privilege to her. You can do it wherever you like when she's there- because then Delta can make sure no one else can rape you. Who knows if it's happened more than once? You've had a few bad nights, sore joints once or twice, maybe the bruises in your protoform are from you being clumsy, maybe you got in a fight before Deltashock found you.

You're so soft and dumb and vulnerable when you're drunk. Being impaled on her spike is the safest place you could be, because you won't mind if she hurts you, right? Your processor is so fuzzy that the servos around your throat don't hurt as much as they logically should. You don't have the reaction time to squirm away before she's ripping your legs apart.

Maybe you don't really know what she's doing, in a quiet mood, and just holding you. Deltashock is your refuge from loneliness, parties, terrible dates, questionable social events, and your own cold berth. It's not really your fault.

But she'll gaslight you to hell if you remember clearly enough to pin things together, make you doubt your own storage, or question your own feelings. You're exaggerating. She was drunk. You asked her to. You wanted it.

If you stay scared, stay quiet, you can stay right where you are if you want. Nod yes, nod no. If you don't confront her, she won't change a thing. Maybe you don't drink around her anymore, second guess what kind of things you're wanting to do, and it's fine. Maybe it never happens again.

You're not even a reliable witness to your own assault. And it was, she can admit that to herself, even if you did want it, did eventually comply or give in. You couldn't consent, even if you did have recharge fluxes about Deltashock crushing your helm into a wall and overloading inside your tight valve while you begged her not to. You could've opened your lipplates yourself, spread your valve, humped her frame, and it'd still be true that she took advantage.

But, really, just the picture of Deltashock molesting you in a state where you can't react properly. Friends kiss sometimes, maybe they don't stick their glossa into your intake. Stroking your hips and being gentle enough you're doubting what's happening until your panel is opened somehow. First time, it's probably just servos, oh so deniable. It doesn't ache that badly afterward, not more than your hangover can cover up.

If you're regularly doing this, not consenting but not stopping it from happening, she's going to keep escalating until you end up with a traumatic processor injury and she's accidentally knocked you up. Might help you find a partner to dilute her CDNA if you decide on keeping it.

Deltashock probably didn't mean to hurt you that bad, but you're real cute curled up into yourself and bleeding. Your crying gets her spike hard. Try to fight her off as much as you want, it's hot. The way you wiggle with her forearm crushed against your neck and a spike inside your valve is sexy. She'll keep comforting you when you cry.

Deepstrider's nonchalance and mysteriously effective chill vibes smooth it along and make it less alarming to his coworkers. Internally, he's a mess, but he presents himself as a put-together mech after a long life of practice ignoring the way his frame betrays him. It makes people question him less.

The mechs that know him a bit more personally are the type that like having the flexibility to be soft on people. Blaster is kind of riveted with watching you interact with him. Your dynamic is his afternoon entertainment. He still cares about the quality of Deepstrider's work, but he's an overall lenient mech, and now Deeps is all.. soft and squishy. His cassettes like it, pestering him and casually clambering over his frame with all the confidence of familiarity.

Deepstrider isn't very physically affectionate on-call, and as a soldier, he's kinda.. always on-call. He's awake during ungodly graveyard shifts sometimes to inform other people they've got work. So it's pretty rare for him to get touchy, and he's even less likely to be with mechs that he doesn't have normal conversations with.

Sometimes, though, when times are good or worries are high, Deepstrider, who has always been comparatively big, will offer somemech a hug. Blaster, Jazz, and even Optimus that one time have been the recipient of this, and they tend to agree it's worth it. Since you started wooing Deepstrider, though, they've noticed the difference.

Jazz has accidentally stabbed 'Strider in the past. It happens. Sometimes he gets back from an op, tentatively decides he's okay with sudden movements, and guesses wrong. There was some energon involved, and not all of it was Deepstrider's. Look- he panicked.

Wrapping his arms around Deepstrider these days makes Jazz want to knead his clawed servos into that soft, warm protoform and bury his helm into Deepstrider's chest. He is the absolute picture of restraint.

Giving Deepstrider snacks is a habit. He's never been real good at remembering to fuel himself, and it's practically second nature for whoever is on Teleraan duty to grab him something. That just.. didn't stop.

It's habit. They'd feel guilty. They find themself doing it before they think. (Deepstrider is the picture of indulgence and his shape feels like respite and they can't stop their optics from fixing on his jiggling protoform.) They're varying levels of embarrassed.

If you're publicly committed, you probably don't have to worry about anyone trying to interface with Deepstrider. Most mechs are too busy for that kind of drama, no matter how much they want to play with his fat array.

-

I'm doing alright, thank you. In a normal amount of pain now, which makes me getting up to shenanigans more likely and more dangerous, but I'm trying to be careful.

Here's my brief attempt at a bigger 'Strider.

You're going to get interrogated, and you're going to leave them with so many more questions than answers. They got a handle on humans being anatomically diverse with their sex organs and the two-party genetic contributions thing, but revealing that you don't even have the proper anatomy to impregnate someone is. It's something.

Deepstrider on his own wasn't exactly the stellar picture of Cybertronian health. They haven't really been reproducing for a few million years, and it's not because they're all chaste virgins. I feel like there's gotta be some coding component to it, a psychological block keeping warbound Cybertronians from sparking. It's certainly not a safe environment to have sparklings, and they don't really have the resources, either. The species is largely in preservation mode, I think.

If Deepstrider wants it, they're not gonna say anything. You, however, are going to get a terrible crash course on Cybertronian carriages and a checklist to see if he's hitting normal milestones. Don't worry about that one, he can do it himself. The medics just fuss.

He's still stupid horny, though, and there's something really endearing about how proud you are of making life with him. Deepstrider can be a sap sometimes, and sometimes that involves him spreading his legs and putting his servos in your hair and making some really fun noises when you put your hands on his thighs and nip his plating.

Slowly swelling up, not showing until he suddenly is- he's got a big frame, it'd happen with most carriages- and getting to help him take his armor off and pet his backstrut. Kissing him and feeling his round front against your body. He would be eternally grateful if you ate him out, and not being able to see his entire face when you're ducked between his legs is hot.

He's real flustered whenever he needs to do a subtle adjustment throughout the day, plating shifting or protesting when he climbs under he desk to fish for a datastick that went flying and hearing something audibly pop. He probably installs some extra fixtures to make sure nothing trips open (again). Deepstrider keeps using the excuse of needing to replace his bolts when he has to conspicuously take his cattle guard off or adjust it.

Deepstrider probably hits his helm on the way up, but he's a big mech in general, and he's been doing that for probably as long as he's had the desk and needed to pull a similar maneuver. The difference is in the way he feels unbalanced on his pedes and the actual effort it takes him to lift out of a crouch. He's not proud of it, but with the assistance of his desktop, he gets back to his pedes fast enough for no one to comment.

It's not like people don't notice Deepstrider filling out and curving in a few more places than normal, but.. he's a soft bot. It's not like he was ever a very good frontliner in the first place. Deepstrider and you are the only ones really paying attention to how loud his vents have gotten, how it feels to have him affectionately hip-check you and stumble on your pedes. When he puts his arms around you, it's like you cam burrow into him, dig your servos into the protoform of his waist and feel them sink in, tuck your helm under his and press your lipplates to the thick cables of his throat.

He tends to eat smaller meals more frequently these days, doing what he must when he's on duty and feeling helpless to say no when you offer him more and more and more whenever you see each other. He has to awkwardly shift around in his chair after a meal sometimes, but the bulky containers at his waist cause the occasional problem- or serve as the occasional excuse.

Swapping out his chair is mean and purely for your own satisfaction. It's a tight fit settling down, but when his full weight sits, Deepstrider is uncomfortably aware of where it's digging into his frame. He can't really bend over his hood with his belly pressed into his thighs, and his attempts to wiggle into a more comfortable position just make his undercarriage bulge out with his legs pressed together. It's burying his pelvic armor, practically, and his pauldrons are awkwardly scrunched.

When he gives up and tries to get out, the chair goes with him, and he's mortified. He settles back on the floor as quietly as he can and digs his servos in between the armrests, only to practically trap them. He panics, honestly, but he's long practiced at pretending not to panic, and kicking his pedes out probably wouldn't do anything. His chest is heaving as he tries to twist his frame and get some leverage with the ladder strapped to his back, but you're really just occupied watching him squirm.

Deepstrider is embarrassed, and his protoform is flushed when you finally offer to help him. He can't really turn you down, and he's mortified that anyone saw that at all. Trying to pull him just puts you at odds with how much you thought your tow weight was, and the easiest solution comes when you find a screwdriver, or he wiggles his aft enough to strain the bearings himself.

Having charge running through your chassis and making you aware of all the components influenced by it. Hell, maybe having a decorative valve. Puffy lips and a node and protoform that aligns with the rest of your frame, but there's nothing but a shallow impression in between them and a half-affted lubrication system. Type of hole meant to make a mech look more 'real' without actually putting effort in.

Barely a hole, Prowl rolling his pelvis into yours. Maybe he's got a spike. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe you're a matching set of sticker valves. But he seems a bit more important. Slipping his average spike between your mound and rubbing, frotting against your array while you hook cables and loom over him, work him with what you have while you swap memories, tactile sensations, snippets of deviant porn you've both had the occasionally glance of before you corrected yourselves.

Playing with his chest with steady servos, outlining his grill while you knock your knees into his hips and let him fix your cords. Vividly knowing how charged up you both are, because you've both kept track. Grasping him by the hips and fucking forwards with yours like you could knock him up. He's caught up in the pocket of wet warmth his spike is slotted into and the feeling of you grinding into him, making his optics flicker.

Carring more about the cables that have you hooked up and trying to please each other than alternative equipment. I want to put Prowl's processor in a washing machine and watch him get dizzy and lazy while you carefully keep him on a mental tether and mouth his chassis.