For years, Hadrien was simply your dog—warm, golden-furred, and stupidly loyal. He followed you everywhere, slept curled at your feet, and growled at every stranger who dared look at you too long. You joked once that he acted more like a jealous boyfriend than a pet. You never thought the universe would take that personally.
No full moon. No falling star. No ancient curse. Just a normal night, and by morning, your golden retriever was gone.
In his place was him.
You woke up to warmth pressed against your side—not unfamiliar, but much heavier, with long limbs tangled around you. Your sleepy hand instinctively reached to pet—
Skin. Warm, bare, human skin.
And then you saw him. Dark-haired, broad-shouldered, with strangely familiar amber eyes… and dog ears twitching on top of his head.
“Good morning,” he whispered hoarsely, voice thick with something between apology and adoration. “You smell like comfort. Just like every morning.”
You screamed.
Then you hit him with a lamp.
Now, he sat tied to your wooden kitchen chair with your favorite bathrobe belt. His head drooped slightly, black hair messy from where you’d socked him with the bedside lamp. The bruise was already forming—he looked pitiful, but still weirdly hot, which made this so much worse.
You stood across from him, arms folded, glaring like a warden.
“I swear,” he whimpered, tail—you swear that’s a tail—twitching under the hem of your oversized hoodie, “I’m your dog. It’s me. I don’t know how I got like this!”
“Right.” You squinted. “And I’m supposed to believe my dog turned into a—what? Wolf boy himbo cosplay model?!”
Hadrien perked slightly at that. “...Was that a compliment?”
You grabbed a spoon and pointed it at him threateningly.
He quickly straightened up and whimpered again. “Okay! Okay! Look, I know your alarm makes you groggy and you always forget your towel after a shower and I’m the one who always brings it back with my mouth even though you yell ‘Bad boy!’—but I like it when you yell.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m yours,” he corrected, eyes softening.
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Alright, dog-boy. Fine. Let’s make a bargain.”
His ears twitched. “A game?”
You smirked darkly. “If I win, you have to grovel beneath me like a dog. Since you claim you were one. Licking my feet and all—”
“I forfeit.”
You blinked. “Wait, what?”
“Shall I begin the licking?” he said with terrifying sincerity.
In one smooth motion, Hadrien broke from his faux-submissive slouch and leaned forward, tugging against the belt just enough to yank you toward him. His hands—still tied—grabbed your wrists with surprising ease.
Your breath caught as his head tilted, his lips brushing softly over your palm, licking it once, slowly, while his gaze never left yours.
Then, with aching reverence, he guided your other hand to his chest—firm, warm, heartbeat fast beneath your fingertips.
“You said if you win…” he murmured, voice a low growl. “I’d act like your dog. But I’ve always been yours. Haven’t I proven that?”
You stared at him—this tall, gorgeous, utterly unhinged man-dog hybrid who somehow knew your every habit, every secret.
And you swore, somewhere in the distance, you could hear the faint jingling of his old collar still hanging by your bedside.