trailofhues
Recent bookmarks
-
Tags
Summary
Control is a precious thing. It’s something pet-humans don’t get a lot of. It’s not so unthinkable that Sua might want to sample the control that Mizi has always had, but nothing has ever terrified Mizi more.
Dead Dove Kinktober Day 19 - Nice Try (flipped power dynamics)
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,221
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 15
- Kudos:
- 82
- Bookmarks:
- 6
- Hits:
- 1,556
Bookmarked by trailofhues
27 Oct 2025
-
Tags
Summary
Sua and Mizi and the beginning of college.
Series
- Part 2 of Alnst college (and beyond) AU
Bookmarked by trailofhues
15 Oct 2025
-
craving expectations that are unattainable temptations by sangatsumi
Fandoms: Alien Stage (Web Series)
16 Dec 2024
Tags
Summary
”It hurts,” she says, her voice pained, as if momentarily coming to her senses. Mizi mouths it directly into the base of one of Sua’s floppy ears, a hand coming to gently stroke Sua’s face. “‘M sorry.”
And it must, if Sua can already feel her own core blooming with an untended ache, antsy and sensitive when she herself is only beginning to feel an induced heat take hold of her senses. “I know, I know.” Sua huffs, partly in commiseration. “You’re in rut, aren’t you?”
Or, Sua is very lucky that her wolf girlfriend is awful at lying and fantastic at sex.
Bookmarked by trailofhues
09 Aug 2025
-
Tags
Summary
The literal concept of an Alpha seizing control of an omega's freedom, as if it were an innate quality, frustrates Sua. Such influence could only come from a place of avarice.
That said, it's not surprising she can only manage her brother's, Ivan, scent the most. A leading quality of all alphas is to smell like sweat and overwhelming desire to conquer and devour.
Yet, when Sua meets a weird pink-haired Alpha, her view starts to shift slightly.
Maybe not all Alphas are bad. Not all pink ones, anyway.
Bookmarked by trailofhues
08 Aug 2025
-
Tags
Summary
“Sua, your shirt—” Till wheezes, finally. He gestures frantically around his chest area, with all the grace of someone playing a bad game of charades. “The uhm–”
“Hm? Did I spill something?” Sua responds, feeling before she looks. What she makes out is a dampness against the pads of her fingers. She feels around some more, careful not to make it appear like she’s groping her tits in front of her childhood friends.
It is impossible to quantify how badly Sua wishes it was appropriate or realistic for her to fake her own death, never to be seen or heard from again, as she realizes, then confirms, that the wetness is accumulated precisely in two spots, where her nipples are covered by the fabric of her bra and shirt.
“You’re lactating,” Ivan clarifies, because he has to state the obvious. “Producing colostrum, more specifically. It’s leaking through your shirt.”
All things considered, Sua should be grateful that premature lactation is the worst of her troubles.
Bookmarked by trailofhues
05 Aug 2025