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#alpha bride
bitterdrop · 2 years
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😌🔥🔥🔥
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starshideurfics · 8 days
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Build a Life with You
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Seeing the words laid out like that so bluntly makes his heart ache. Eddie wishes he could have courted Steve properly, perhaps met him at a barn dance, chatting over cider and sneaking outside for a stolen kiss. To hold his hand and scent at his hair, only to walk him home and ask permission to call on him as is decent.
But here he is proposing marriage in a telegram after receiving exactly one beautifully penned letter. He knows so little about this young omega, and yet his pulse races at the thought of meeting him. It could very well be fear; anxiety over making so hasty a decision, to offer his hand so quickly without exchanging more letters or requesting a photograph, something to build a foundation upon before committing ‘til death do they part.
❧❧❧
Steve Harrington is a former society omega, cast out for an unforgivable indiscretion.
Eddie Munson has just inherited his father’s small farm and become caretaker to his much younger brother.
An advertisement and a letter bring them together, a clear attraction forms when they meet. But will that be enough to build a life upon?
Rating: E
Chapters: 7
Status: Complete
featuring some beautiful fan art by @lulalulens
Read on ao3
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fizzigigsimmer · 2 months
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To B, With Love
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Moodboard by @prettyboylikeyousteve
Genre: A/B/O Mail Order Bride Au!
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Harringrove
Summary: Steve, a society omega, puts out an add in the paper looking for an alpha among the lonely hearts expanding the west. He’s answered by Billy, a lonely cowboy living in a growing settlement in California rich  in just about everything but available omegas. Even though it is clear  that Billy hasn’t had the schooling that Steve has, Steve finds himself  charmed and intrigued by the intelligent and silly alpha who hangs on  his every word, who actually seems to want to listen to him. He seems  like the perfect choice, but there’s one problem. It’s not Billy who has  been writing Steve but his little sister Max.
Preview: In the aftermath of Max's near abduction Steve finds himself in an unexpected circumstance. Meanwhile Billy tries to keep himself and his companions alive in their hunt for Vecna's missing cattle. A dance of wills between him and Mac Owens leads him to an impossible choice.
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ganseyboiiii · 1 month
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Misery: Get your head out of your ass, Lowe! Lowe: Is that the way to talk to your Alpha? Misery: My apologies, Alpha. *curtsies sarcastically* Lowe: ... Misery: *looks back up at Lowe* Get your head out of your ass, Alpha!
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choicesenthusiast · 9 months
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these two are separate books
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starshideyourfics · 5 months
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Chapter three of Build a Life with You, the omegaverse mail order bride au, is up now!
Enjoy a quick preview here, then enjoy the rest on ao3!
Angel of the Home
Steve’s nausea settles, but Eddie encourages him to take things easy and rest when he comes out to join them. Not that any of the Munsons are doing anything particularly taxing when he does; they’re spending the late afternoon talking in the front room, and Eddie keeps Steve pressed against his side once he joins them. Dustin bounces around until the sun begins to set, yawning and stretching as he visibly sags. Wayne’s just said his goodbyes, needing enough light to get home, and Eddie tells Dustin, “I think you had so much fun this week that your body needs a break. Go on and get ready for bed.”
Dustin sulks, fighting his clear exhaustion, and sits next to Steve, arms thrown around his neck. “Do I have to?” he asks, only a little whiney as he snuggles into Steve’s shoulder, his breathing already getting deep and even.
Steve looks to his husband, not wanting to overstep his bounds, but also desperate to comfort Dustin. Eddie sucks his teeth, but refrains from saying anything, simply nodding to Steve so they can present a united front without turning this into an argument. Stroking down Dustin’s back, Steve says, “I think you’re already halfway asleep, Dustin. You need to rest, and so do I. I promise you won’t miss anything exciting.”
“Pinky promise?” Dustin murmurs, looking up at Steve and holding out his little finger.
Linking his own pinky around it, Steve whispers, “Pinky promise,” against his fist the way he would with Tommy when they were still young enough and close enough for such things. Dustin grins, fighting to keep his eyes open, and Steve adds, no longer whispering, “But you can’t just come to me if Eddie tells you to do something you don’t like, all right? We’re pack and we work together.”
“All right,” he agrees, yawning again and hiding his face against Steve’s shoulder.
Eddie smiles indulgently at them both, Steve smiling back as he rubs little circles between Dustin’s shoulders. “I’ll go get the animals bedded down for the night and when I get back I can carry him up to bed,” Eddie whispers before dropping a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Scent sharing like this should be good for you both,” he adds as he ruffles Dustin’s hair before turning to leave.
Steve hums his assent, happy to continue cuddling the pup, feeling warmth spread through his body as Dustin’s powdery sweet scent fills his nose. Dustin mumbles something incoherent, fingers gripping harder at Steve’s shirt. “Shh,”Steve soothes, “Rest now. Just relax here with me.”
Pretty soon, Steve has his eyes closed too, letting himself drift…
A gentle, “Nooo, don’ wan’ go,” mumbled near Steve’s ear wakes him. Dustin clings to him, and Steve holds him tight and buries his nose in the boy’s curls.
“I’m just taking you up to bed, Dusty,” Eddie says, gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“I can take him,” Steve announces sleepily, blinking to try and focus on his husband’s face. He shifts his arms, doing his best to cradle Dustin close and get an arm under his legs.
He tries to stand, but Eddie’s hand on his shoulder keeps him down as he leans to whisper in Steve’s ear, “Don’t think that’s a great idea, sweetheart. I don’t want you to strain anything, and you’re clearly too tired as it is.” He carefully peels away Steve’s arms, omega and pup both huffing small whines at the loss of contact, and picks Dustin up, tucking him to his neck to calm him.
Steve stands, getting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and trailing behind him up the stairs. Walking gets his blood moving, wakes him up enough that he can dig through Dustin’s small chest of drawers and retrieve a nightshirt for the pup while Eddie gets him out of his clothes. Together, they have Dustin ready for bed in about a minute, Eddie tucking him in and Steve brushing a hand over his forehead, pushing his hair back from his face. “Night,” the pup mumbles as he turns on his side and presses his face into his pillow.
“Good night, Dusty,” Eddie says from the doorway, already leading Steve slowly from the room and back downstairs.
Once in their own bedroom, Steve rests his head against his husband’s shoulder and hums. Eddie easily wraps him in his arms, a purr rumbling through his chest. “Sweetheart, you need rest. Let’s get you ready for bed.”
“You too?” Steve asks sleepily, nuzzling forward to press his nose to Eddie’s neck and drawing in his scent. No matter how tired he is, Steve dislikes the very idea of sleeping without Eddie touching him. Two nights and he already can’t imagine going to bed alone.
“Me too, Stevie.” He drops a kiss to Steve’s temple and tugs him closer.
Steve rewards him with a smile as he lifts his head and leans in for a proper kiss. “Can you help me? Too tired for buttons.”
Eddie chuckles, cupping Steve’s cheek and kissing him again. “I can handle buttons,” he says, gently flicking open the placket of Steve’s shirtwaist, revealing his lace-trimmed chemise. His fingers trace over the lace, then move up to stroke over Steve’s collarbones. “Such a pretty package for my pretty wife,” Eddie murmurs, leaning in for another kiss.
Glowing at the compliment, Steve wants to keep kissing his husband forever. He’s too tired to do so, and certainly too tired to even consider attempting more, but it doesn’t stop the wanting. “Eddie…”
“I know, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed.” Eddie pets his hair and strokes down his back. Focus shifted, he helps Steve change into his nightgown, then strips down to his underwear to join Steve in their bed. “Wanna touch you,” he whispers by way of explanation, “Feel your skin against mine.”
Steve has the same desire, perfectly happy to snuggle against Eddie’s chest, falling asleep in the span of a few deep breaths.
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wangxianficrecs · 7 months
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a ghost for a ghost by dragongirlG
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a ghost for a ghost
by dragongirlG (@dragongirlg-fics)
M, WIP, 8k, Wangxian
Part of the Danmei Diaspora Creatives
Summary: Lan Wangji had been comatose for a week when his uncle and brother discovered the glowing blue thread around his wrist. When Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren discover that Lan Wangji's mating bond to Wei Wuxian's lingering spirit is keeping him comatose, they turn to an alternate solution to break the bond and save Lan Wangji's life: marrying Wei Wuxian's ghost off to someone else with Jin Guangyao's help. Kay's comments: I am so weak for ghost marriage stories and this one really has its hold on me and I was so excited to see that it's updating again! In which Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji bond before Wei Wuxian's death to ensure Wen Yuan's safety, but of course, Lan Wangji's family has something to say about that and with Jin Guangyao's help, they attempt to marry a dead Wei Wuxian off to the Ghost General himself. Very cool idea and I am excited to see how it plays out! The Untamed canon. Excerpt: “Wei-gongzi,” Jin Guangyao greeted, face half-hidden in shadow. Wei Wuxian let his lips curl into a mirthless smile. “Lianfang-zun, you look well. Was it you who summoned me?” “Not exactly.” Jin Guangyao’s brow lifted slightly, his eyes widening in practiced surprise. “Have you not checked your wrist yet? I thought that would be the first thing on your mind.” “My wrist?” Wei Wuxian echoed, keeping his voice low to hide his alarm. “I suppose you haven’t.” Jin Guangyao let out a small, disappointed sigh. “Ah, well. I found it fitting. A ghost for a ghost. Some would say it’s karmic justice.”
pov alternating, omegaverse, alpha wei wuxian, omega lan wangji, bittersweet ending, canonical character death - wei wuxian, endgame wangxian, ghost wei wuxian, ghost bride au, ghost marriage, coma, dubious ethics, ghosts, hurt/comfort, angst and hurt/comfort, chinese mythology & folklore, weddings
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~*~
(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)
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masked-alien-lesbian · 9 months
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manicmitchiemedia · 1 year
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Motionless In white - Trinity of Terror Tour Part III - November 17th 2022, Tsongas Arena, Lowell MA - IG: ManicMitchieMedia
https://instagram.com/manicmitchiemedia
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korgbelmont · 2 months
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ramblingoak · 10 months
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when will be see cowboy secondo 😭
He'll be in the next chapter!
Here's a little taste (catch up with the story here):
“What now?”
Mist narrowed her eyes at Secondo’s tone as she shoved past Alpha. 
“Got a problem on the floor. Some asshole thinks Cirrus is cheating him at poker.”
Secondo shoved his chair away from his desk and ripped open a drawer. His gun belt rested inside, something he rarely wore anymore. Mostly because he’d be too tempted to shoot anyone that pissed him off. 
“She’s supposed to be playing the piano.”   Secondo settled the belt around his hips and then grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair.  “Who the fuck is on stage right now?”
“Cowbell.”
Fucking Cowbell.  He straightened his jacket and stalked around his desk, glaring at Alpha when the deputy still hadn’t left. 
“Shouldn’t you be doing something?”
When Alpha hesitated Secondo narrowed his eyes at him. 
“Uh, are you going to shoot someone?  I should probably stick aro—“
“You’ll do what I fucking tell you.”  
Alpha held his hands up and quickly turned, heading out of Secondo’s office. He could hear the Ghoul’s boots thunking down the hall as he went. 
“You ready?  Cirrus might’ve killed him by now.”
Secondo placed a hand on Mist's shoulder and spun her around towards the door.
“I’m not that lucky.” 
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
my masterlist
my ao3
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starshideurfics · 9 days
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It’s finished!!! Enjoy a preview here and then read the rest on ao3 🥰
“Eddie, have you seen Josie?” Steve asks over his shoulder, wrist-deep in bread dough, punching down the first proving.
“Pretty sure she followed Dustin out to the barn to ‘help’ muck out the stalls,” his husband says, coming up behind him and playfully squeezing his bottom. “I can go fetch her if you need.”
“No, just nervous when I don’t know where she is. It’s worse than normal right now.” He hefts the dough in his hands before tipping the bowl and turning it out on the floured counter to start kneading.
“Aw, sweetheart,” Eddie teases, pressing himself along Steve’s back, holding him around his waist, and kissing his neck, “Are you feelin’ broody? Ready to build a nest for us?”
Steve leans his head to the side, offering better access to his neck, his eyes closed and hands still. “I can feel my heat coming. I think next week by how badly I want your touch right now.”
Read on ao3
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fizzigigsimmer · 5 months
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To B, With Love: Chapter 22
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💕 Moodboard by  @prettyboylikeyousteve   💕
Genre: A/B/O Mail Order Bride Au!
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Harringrove
Summary: Steve, a society omega travels west to marry the cowboy who answered his matrimony ad. The problem? Billy isn’t the one who was actually writing to him. That was his ward, Max who is determined to find her stubborn alpha brother a mate.
Preview: Steve takes his first stab at running a household and makes an enemy while Billy realizes he might have been too lenient with his. Back in Hawkins, Nora deals with the fallout of Douglas' discovery, and makes a discovery of her own - she's got nerve.
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simsxxmotherboard · 7 months
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It’s never too early for Halloween
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anon-e-miss · 2 years
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The War's Bride
Prowl stood on the small pedestal as the detailer and her assistants spun about him. They held lengths of silken cloth against his protoform and debated their futures. Already, he was armoured, such as you could call it that. It would not protect him from anything. The bikini cut girdle covered his array, and nothing else. It did not even cover his aft segments but cut between them; he found it odd feeling armour. His chestplate ended just under his wells and tightly followed their shape. The thin black and white metal was inlaid with fine gems. It was the armour of a Polyhexian Bride. A bride was meant to be an Omega. He was neither Polyhexian nor was he Omega but he had been chosen from the Praxian host to go in bonding to the Polyhexian King of the Torus States to cement the peace between their lands. That Prowl was an Alpha, as their king was, had not troubled the Polyhexians and so, Prowl was to be an Alpha’s bride. From General to Ornament, it was quite a twist in fate.
“Yes, this is the one,” Hotwire, the detailer, declared, holding up a linen whiter than snow.
They placed a belt of gold inlaid with red and white crystals on his hips and draped panels of that linen over his front and back. The same linen was clasped to his shoulders and made to fall under his doorwings, already cover in gold mesh that was strung with crystals. Sleeves of the same linen fell from cuffs on his upper arms and connected to bands on his wrists. He was made to kneel so they could put the strung crystals on his chevron and connect the veil to it. The train was so long, Prowl thought it would be unmanageable but then, he was not meant to walk far, certainly not with the heels outfitted to his peds. Prowl did not dare move less he trip and the the linen, or the cuffs smear the ornate paint that had been applied to his protoform. Only the detailing on his face could not be smudged. Fine dots and line marked his face, the etchings inlaid with gold. They were the symbols that would mark him forever, whatever armour he wore, that Prowl was a bride. He had no idea what any of the symbols meant but the detailer had been very precise in her orders.
“The picture o’ a perfect bride,” Hotwire declared. “Surely fit for a king.”
There would be concubines, in time, Prowl knew. The Polyhexian king would no doubt have a harem of them to give him the heirs he would need to secure his dynasty. He could not be expected to gain them from an Alpha bride. Prowl looked at his servo, at the delicate paint that ran over the back of his digits, drawing attention to his claws which were also painted gold. The Alpha had always kept them capped; long claws were a status symbol for Omegas, not Alphas, to show how well they were looked after. If an Omega’s claws were chipped or rough, or filed down, it showed they were expected to perform manual labour.  Prowl supposed his would be kept long and uncapped from now on.
He could not deny that he felt cyber-butterflies in his fuel tank as he was escorted to the litter upon which he would be carried to the temple. Prowl sat stiffly on the cushioned throne as he was carried down the road. Dancers, trumpeters and drummers led his way and mechanisms lined the road. Alongside his litter, groommecha threw coin into the crowd as guards in dazzling armour followed. This was his dowry, not paid to the king but to the citizens of Polyhex. It would pay for feasting for an orn in celebration of the bonding. He saw sparklings jostled by the excited crowds and he looked down to the groom closest to him.
“Lay coin in the palm of every sparkling and youngling you see,” he ordered. “See that none is robbed.
The groom did as he was asked and Prowl was pleased to see the young receive a share of the boon of his dowry. He was both fascinated by and detached from the spectacle of his procession. Prowl had spent his adult forms largely in the background, overseeing and directing battles. His strategies had earned him accolades from the Crown for a period, though his methods had not earned him great love from his soldiers. Generals who led from the front tended to earn the love of worship of their subordinates. They also died in greater number and Prowl’s best work was done when he could see everything around him. He had never been able to find the perfect balance. Prowl thought he would have made a better scholar, perhaps than a commander, hiding behind his tomes.
Now he would rust as a bride. His litter was lowered to the ground and as the band struck a lively chord, Prowl walked gingerly along a deep blue carpet as he made his way into the temple. The king of Polyhex, Jazz of Staniz, waited at the altar, its surface draped with cloth. Curtains were drawn back and at the sight of them, Prowl flushed. This was where the bedding would happen, where this king would make him his bride in frame and spark. The temple was filled with the elite of Polyhex, their allies and Praxus. Delicately, Prowl walked past them and made his way to his groom. Priests spoke blessings in an ancient tongue. Prowl stood tall next to his groom, the king of Polyhex would have been shorter than Prowl without the heels and with him the difference in their height was that much more distinct. The priests called for Prowl to take his place on the altar. As the curtains closed around it, separated Prowl and his royal groom from their audience, Jazz pulled back his veil and kissed him gently.
Jazz unclasped Prowl’s chestplate and set it aside. He did the same for Prowl’s bikini girdle. Nakedness did not trouble Prowl but in general but this was a different dynamic than he had ever faced. His royal conjunx cupped his wells as he kissed him. On the other side of the gossamer curtains, the bonding guests and priests waiting, singing psalms and burning incense. Prowl willed himself to relax as his kingly conjunx touched his frame. The paint smudged as Jazz, his conjunx, traced the symbols and Prowl realized it was intentional. It seemed like the paint had been a great deal of work for such a limit show. Jazz’s touch slowly but not so slowly grew Prowl’s charge and he moaned softly against the king’s lipplates. He felt his conjunx smile. His servo was between Prowl’s legs; Jazz stroked his node and behind his seal, Prowl felt his valve grow wet and he flushed. Of course, as an Alpha, Prowl had made some use of his spike but his valve had never been touched. His flush darkened as Jazz stroked his folds as they swelled and bloomed away from his sealed centre.
“Relax,” Jazz whispered in his audio. “I’ll break yer seal with my digits, so I can prepare ya better. It’d be a bad omen if I tore ya on Primus’ altar.”
It was a fair concern. Prowl shivered as his spike began to pressurize as Jazz continued to fondle his valve. Alpha valves did not lubricate the same; neither did they stretch as easily as Omega valves. More preparation was required to prevent damage. Jazz lowered his helm to Prowl’s well and kissed and then sucked Prowl’s nozzle. There was a wet sound as Jazz’s digits broke passed his outer seal and stopped just within Prowl’s untouched core. It did not hurt but it felt strange to have these digits inside of him. Prowl panted with increasing force as Jazz sucked and mouthed his nozzles at the same time as he gingerly tested Prowl’s tight valve. He stroked a cluster of sensory nodes and biolights at the roof of Prowl’s valve and the Alpha bride gasped as his valve tensed and a rush of lubricants sprayed from his centre. His spike stiffened against his belly but that did not seem to bother his groom.
“Good,” Jazz purred as he massaged that spot within Prowl valve, causing his valve to lubricate to an obscene degree. The king sank his digits deeper into Prowl’s valve, stretching them apart as he tested Prowl’s elasticity. “So responsive. So wet.”
Prowl watched as Jazz stroked the length of his turgid, Alpha spike with the bride’s own lubricants. His length glistened with them and still the king pressed his digits deep into Prowl’s tender core and gathered more lubricant. The bride’s jaw fell open ever so slightly at the sight of the behemoth the other Alpha was lining up to his tiny valve. Jazz lifted Prowl’s legs from where they had been dangling over the altar and held them up as he made the first push in.
“Ah!” Prowl gasped in shock as his valve was breached by so thick a spike.
His folds hugged Jazz’s girth as Jazz stood patiently still. Prowl wriggled his hips as he tried to adjust but he knew more was coming, he could see the vast majority of the other Alpha’s spike remained outside of his frame and he gasped like a cyberfish out of energon. Slowly, the king rocked his hips and work more of his great length into Prowl’s small, narrow channel. An Omega’s valve channel was naturally deep but Prowl’s was not. Jazz physically stretch him to his natural limits and still beyond. An Alpha’s plug was far firmer than an Omega’s but with only a fraction of his spike buried in Prowl valve, Jazz popped his plug and plunged his spike into Prowl’s gestational tank. It was, like Prowl’s valve, undersized but as Jazz began to actively frag his tank, battering his walls, Prowl’s internals stretched and shifted. Jazz forced every last micrometer of his spike in Prowl’s tender frame, making him ache with fullness. Faced with Jazz’s spike, Prowl’s valve was made to stretch, to lengthen until all that remained, pressed against Prowl’s taunt folds was the other Alpha knot.
They could surely hear Prowl over the psalms they sang, as he cried and squealed as he was remade on the other Alpha’s spike. His wells bounced on his chassis as Jazz took his due. Prowl’s jaw hung open as he gasped and grunted as the king sawed his spike in and out of him. The incredible ache as his frame was forced to shift and to stretch to take Alpha spike made Prowl sob and shake. Tears fell from his face and snot from his olfactory ridge as the other Alpha thoroughly dominated him. There was pleasure in the agony, however and, Prowl’s peds curled as the sensations overwhelmed him and Prowl overloaded with a cry even as he sniffled. He wailed, shrill and broken, as Jazz broke him on his knot and locked them together. Prowl shattered as he overloaded, his spike sprayed his belly with transfluids.
His belly, already bulging just with the king’s spike, swelled up as his small gestational tank was filled with Jazz’s spend. Prowl sobbed, overstimulated, overwrought as Jazz’s reservoirs emptied into his belly and forced his gestational tank to expand as the Alpha’s knot prevented even a drop of transfluid from escaping Prowl’s aching valve. Jazz bared his spark and Prowl mirrored him. As Jazz brought them together, their coronas merging, Prowl’s gamma cluster was ground against his knot. Even as Prowl’s spark meshed with the other’s, Prowl felt his nodes and biolights flash and his optics rolled back as he shattered again, overloading, seemingly endlessly as the other Alpha merged with him. He was limp, utterly strutless before Jazz slowly withdrew his spike and spark. Prowl was dazed and exhausted and he could not imagine how he was to be expected to walk.
“We ain’t done just yet, Lovely,” Jazz crooned, helping him sit up. “Still got the rest o’ the ceremony and then the feast.”
“Oh Primus,” Prowl moaned.
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