mdni. cw: hybrids. takes place a little before this drabble.
it’s not his fault you smell so good—that’s what your tiger hybrid tells himself, anyway.
yuuji does what he can while you’re at work: he cleans the apartment, exercises, and bathes (though he struggles to reach the base of his tail). he even makes food for you—what little he can, anyway, given the sad state of your kitchen. the rest of the day is his own, and is usually spent daydreaming about you.
that’s why he’s frantically rutting against the pillow on your bed. he knows it’s wrong, knows you would flip out if you caught him humping your pillow as if his life depended on it. but his cock aches for you; every time you cross his mind, every time he thinks about your soft skin and warm smile and shimmering eyes, he leaks a mess in his shorts.
usually, yuuji buries a nose in your sheets to soak in your scent while he jerks himself off. but your pillowcase is smooth and cool to the touch, the insert deliciously plush. it makes him think of you, how he wants to mount you—to put his full weight on your back and feel the friction of your dewy flesh against his. to fill you up yet leave you craving more.
but he can’t have you. so he fucks your pillow the way he yearns to fuck you. he can smell you everywhere; your scent embraces him, makes him feel like you’re there as he shuts his honey deep eyes and pants raggedly. and when he climaxes, he does it with the sweetest cry, one that would surely have you stroking his rosy ears.
yuuji whines as he floats back to reality, rolling onto his back. he’s still hard and thobbing, though he doesn’t want to deal with it, and your pillow is covered in his creamy spend. he makes a mental note to wash your bedding before you come home (he’ll frame it as a surprise). but for now, he curls up and drifts off to thoughts of you.
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As Missa slips into bed, he is very careful not to touch Phil, not to disturb him in his sleep. He doesn’t deserve to share a bed with him, much less have physical contact with him. He stays as far away as he can without falling off.
When he wakes up the next morning, Phil is still sleeping on the other end of the bed.
But one of his long, black wings is stretched out, covering Missa under a blanket of feathers.
And Missa feels at home.
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