puppy love (Patreon)

synopsis: you didn't think things could get worse when your owner brings a dog around to keep you company during the day. until you go through your first heat while he's gone!

pairing: obsessed!dog hybrid x cat hybrid!reader

wc: 4.1k

content: smut, porn with plot, hybrid au, reader has claws, tail, fuzzy ears, heats/mating cycles, collars, bratty reader, teasing, embarrassment, oral sex (f! receiving), he's down bad enough to be sucking on reader's clit through her panties lmfaooooo, knots, creampie

⭒ ˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

“Bad girl.” 

Honestly, he should be grateful you didn’t piss on his shoes while he was out.

You pouted at him, tail thumping against the floor as you pretended not to know what he was referring to, holding your nose up high while he waved a noise complaint in front of you.

“You can’t just whine when I’m not here,” he scoffed, tossing it down on the coffee table before pinching the bridge of his nose. “The neighbors don’t want to hear it. This is the second time this month and-” 

“I just miss you,” you purred, pushing your bottom lip out further as you tried to claw at his clothes, drag him closer to the couch – and distract him enough he wouldn’t notice the fresh scratches along the arm rests and the missing pillow you ripped up while he was at work. 

“I’m gonna have to muzzle you if you keep this up,” he sighed, disappointment dripping in his even tone – but he still pet your head after removing his tie, tossing it onto the couch before grabbing your collar.

Thick fingers slipping underneath the smooth leather, pulling you down onto the floor with another long exhale. 

“I hate being here by myself,” you complained, tilting your head to the side and giving him your best puppy dog eyes – even if you were technically part cat. 

You were a problem hybrid.

Most of your life had been spent bouncing around from shelters and shitty homes just to be returned the second they realized you weren’t as low maintenance as they imagined. No, you were too loud, too destructive, too needy. 

You ended up in the streets a couple of times, shivering in the rain and surviving on scraps until you were picked up and shoved back into a cramped living space to be put up for sale again. 

It was a miracle you hadn’t been declawed. 

Or spayed. 

They left you intact in case some breeder would take pity on you and purchase you anyway. 

Most hybrids were treated better. Respected more. You could find a cow working at the local coffee shop. A wolf in a suit standing in front of board meetings. 

But even they saw you as nothing more than a pet. 

Not good enough to be treated as a person. 

Until you met him. 

He was an animal trainer.

For real ones and hybrids. 

Your last family had sent you to him as a last resort. Hoped he would train you to be something more tolerable — threatening to have you put down if he couldn’t fix you. 

He offered to just take you off their hands instead. 

You expected to find pity in his eyes. 

But there was warmth there, unblinking certainty that you were more than just a defective product. 

He liked to say you just needed stability. A safe routine and clear expectations. Reciting the same concise rules for you to remember when you misbehaved. 

But really, all you needed was him. 

“I can’t stop going to work just to keep you company,” he tutted at you, his fingers warm against your throat before he let go. 

You trailed after him as he walked back towards his bedroom, craving for him to touch you again as he started to unbutton his shirt one by one. Heat curling in your stomach, thick and heavy, at the sight of his bare chest, the glimpse at his own happy trail making your mouth water. 

“Why can’t I come with you?” You huffed at him, plopping yourself down on his bed and splaying out across the bottom half of it, eyes narrowing to watch him change. 

“You know how reactive some of the hybrids I work with can be,” he chided, throwing you a look that carried the faintest hint of condescension in it. It wasn’t the first time he explained this. Not the first argument you had over this same subject. “Besides, you don’t even like other animals.” 

“That’s not true,” you whined, batting your lashes as you looked up at him as sweetly as you could. “I do.” 

You didn’t.

But you’d tolerate nipping dogs and skittish cats if it meant you’d get to spend eight more hours of the day by his side. 

Couldn’t you just curl up under his desk during your afternoon naps? 

You wouldn’t even mind it if he put you on a leash and left you tied to it as long as you weren’t stuck in his apartment wishing he was there. 

“Really?” He asked, cocking his head to the side and arching up one of those perfect brows at you as you eagerly nodded. 

“Pinky promise,” you purred, nodding eagerly, aching for his approval. 

“We’ll see how you do,” he relented after a short pause, a big smile curling across your lips as you launched yourself into his arms, wrapping him into a warm hug and burying your face into his throat. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you squeaked, hiding your smirk by nuzzling your nose deeper into his neck. 

You might not have thanked him if you realized what he really meant. 

“Well, what do you think?” He asked, his hand wrapped around a leash that wasn’t yours as you curled defensively into the corner of the couch. 

You thought this was some sick joke. 

Hair raised on the back of your neck as you resisted the urge to hiss at the thing he brought. 

Okay, perhaps that was hypocritical of you, but what else were you supposed to make of the mutt standing five feet away from you? 

“He’s not going to hurt you,” your owner murmured, careful to keep his voice soft as he stroked the mused hair of the mongrel by your front door. 

You going to his work was one thing – but him bringing another hybrid to the home you shared together? 

“He’s big,” you blinked, staring at the massive frame of the dog hybrid he somehow thought was a wonderful idea. He wasn’t scrawny or starving the way some of the other shelter hybrids had been. No, muscles had been packed onto his broad chest, and you were willing to bet there were big, sharp teeth behind the leather muzzle fixed over his mouth. 

“They were going to put him down,” he hummed, as if you should extend some sympathy. But you just held your nose up, scrunching your features together as you scowled at him. “He’s going to be staying with us until I can arrange a proper home for him. Depending on how you do with him, perhaps I’ll let you accompany me to work.” 

Of course.

There had to be a catch. 

You should’ve seen it coming. 

Not even his love was unconditional. 

He wanted you to just allow a stinky dog hybrid in your space and say nothing while he tore up the throw pillows and stole away your attention. 

“Okay,” you grumpily acquiesced anyway, acutely aware you didn’t exactly have other options. 

The mutt seemed far more satisfied about the situation than you.

Even if you couldn’t see his mouth, his eyes practically glittered, glued to you like you were his new chew toy. 

He kept you separated during the day at first. 

Even though the scratching at the locked door was driving you nuts, the low keening whine carrying through the apartment as a constant annoying background sound no matter how much you turned up the tv. 

You told yourself it was temporary. 

That he wouldn’t be around all that long – and all you had to do was prove you could tolerate him until he was rehomed. 

But dealing with him was more difficult once your owner decided to let him roam around during the day, making both of you promise to keep your paws and claws off of each other while he was at work. 

You had no problem upholding that deal. The last thing you wanted to dirty your hands with was him. 

To his begrudging credit, he didn’t try to mount you or slobber all over your skin the second you were left alone. 

But he nipped at your heels everywhere, insisting on being in the same room as you no matter what you were doing. You had to practically drag him out into the hall by his collar every damn time you wanted to take a cat nap in peace without him panting in the corner. 

You ignored most of his attempts at conversation. 

Offered the bare minimum in replies, keeping your nose in books or eyes stuck on the television. It was only when your owner was home that you pretended to enjoy your now no-longer lonely days. 

But you weren’t the only one playing along. 

He took the chance to cozy up to you every time you were forced to act like you didn’t loathe him, rubbing his head against yours and scratching behind your ears, talking up how fun it was to spend every day with you. Taking absolute advantage of your feigned smile, insisting that you were getting along great. 

“You think he’ll be mad if he knows how mean to me you are?” He muttered one morning in between scarfing down his breakfast, shoveling bacon in his mouth and offering you a smug little smirk you wanted to scratch off his face. 

“I’m not mean,” you retorted, tilting your nose up as you resisted the temptation to kick him under the table. 

“You called me fleabag five minutes ago.” 

Your eye twitched, but you just picked up your own empty plate, turning your back to him with a little huff as you carried it back to the kitchen to place it in the sink. 

He followed you. 

“I don’t like you,” you stiffly insisted as he practically caged you in between his thick body and the counter. Not quite touching, but his presence was heavy enough you could imagine his huge hands holding onto your hips, his breath tickling the nape of your neck as phantom fingers brushed your hair back off of it. Grazing over your fuzzy ears with a light laugh, amused by your annoyance.

“I like you,” he grinned, sniffing you while you squirmed around his presence. 

Before you could scoff at him, he was stepping back — and your owner was walking in, dressed for work with a bag slung over his shoulder and a now-empty cup of coffee in his hand.

Pride glinted in his eyes at how well he thought the two of you were getting along, nodding approvingly as he walked over to deposit the ceramic cup beside your plate.

“I’ll be gone for the night,” he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll have dinner delivered for you guys.”

“Where are you going?” You frowned, your own sharp nails digging into your palms as you resisted the instinct to protest and claw at his shins to get him to stay. 

“Work dinner,” he answered, all nonchalant and neutral. “Convincing a sponsor to fund a new shelter. It might run late, so I booked a hotel.”

Yeah, right. 

Ugly jealousy reared its head, slick and oily in your stomach as you stopped yourself from accusing him of just wanting to sleep with said sponsor. 

If he wasn’t here, you might’ve. 

But your pride was still intact enough you refused to break pieces of it off and embarrass yourself by openly displaying your envy for the other women in his life. 

The ones that were fully human. 

Who he could go out to feed and fuck without getting weird looks or judgmental whispers. 

“Okay,” you swallowed hard, shoving down your resentment. 

“Have fun,” your companion chirped, clearly content with the situation as he placed a palm over your shoulder and squeezed. “We can take care of ourselves.” 

“I trust that you will,” your owner hummed, nodding towards both of you before slipping his keys out of his pocket. “Have fun here too.” 

You knew you wouldn’t. 

But you never dreamed of how fast things could derail when you stomped off to the bedroom a couple hours later for your daily nap just to wake up wet. 

Sniffing the air as you slowly came to, shifting in the cologne-scented sheets as heat struck you. For a second, you thought the air conditioning was out, but there were a bunch of little goosebumps raised on your arms, and you realized you were shivering despite the warmth sweltering inside of your chests. 

Were you sick? 

That would be your luck, to catch something the one night your owner wasn’t here. If he was, he’d take care of you, wouldn’t he? Help your trembling body into the bath and wash your hair for you, scratching that spot you liked behind your ear and murmuring that you’d feel better in the morning? Tuck you into his bed and let you curl into his chest? 

The thought had you shuddering, and before you even noticed that your hand was slipping south between your thighs. Touching yourself sent a funny tingle down your spine, unlike any other pleasure you’d experienced as you gasped at the intensity behind the sensation. 

Before you knew it, one of his pillows was placed between your thighs, damp with your slick and sweat as you bit into the top part to muffle your own desperate whimpers, struggling to pull yourself together when the more you tried to focus, the harder it seemed to think of anything other than the blinding need boiling you alive. 

You didn’t know what was happening to you. 

Couldn’t comprehend the seemingly bottomless hunger gnawing into your bones as you scrunched your eyes shut, muscles starting to get sore from the desperation in your weak thrusts. 

“Food’s here.” His voice didn’t fully pull you out of it, but it reminded you that you weren’t alone, horror and humiliation barely putting a dent in your horniness. 

You didn’t reply to him. 

Teeth still clamped between the soft feathers, threatening to rip a hole in the silk pillowcase as you swallowed your next moan.  

“Poor kitty,” he dryly mocked, and you did manage to turn your head enough to see him watching you from the door frame. An obvious outline in the gray sweatpants he wore, the ones low enough on his hips to let his tail hang over the waistband. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. 

He rarely did. 

“Shut up,” you hissed at him, unable to stop your body from humping the pillow, your clit aching for friction, for any attention at all as he stared at your ruined appearance. Sweat sticking your hair to your face, tail twitching as you sucked in broken gasps. 

Embarrassment burning beneath your face as you struggled to make yourself shoo him off, but every limb felt like it was stuck in place, frozen in your fervor to fuck yourself closer to a climax. 

“First heat?” He questioned, and you wished you could scoff. Tell him to mind his own business.

But he was right, wasn’t he? 

You’d been too stunted and malnourished to have one before. 

You weakly nodded, turning your head away from him as your claws punctured the pillow, another whimper ripped out of you from the pain that came with pausing humping it. 

“Let me help,” he requested, not even a hint of sarcasm in his warm tone that you could detect. 

“Y-you’re gonna make fun of me,” you stammered, brows knitting together as you tried to resist. You’d been a bitch to him from the first day he got here. Why would he want to help if it wasn’t to humiliate you more? 

“Pinky promise I won’t. It hurts, doesn’t it?” He asked, cocking his head to the side as he approached the bed. He had stopped smelling like a dog within the first week. But you only now appreciated the scent of strawberry shampoo and sweet cologne clinging to him when he climbed onto the firm mattress after you. “I can make it stop.” 

He extended a hand, offering you his pinky as you turned your nose up at it. 

“Why?” You hmph-ed, even if the single syllable came out shaky. 

“I went through one alone at my last shelter," he shrugged, as if it was just distant history now. “It was torture.”

You could believe that. 

Imagine him curling up and fucking his fist, desperately moaning and groaning for someone that wouldn’t come. Imagine his cock, probably big and veiny and-

Okay, yeah, you needed something more soon before you lost it. 

Begrudgingly you extended a trembling hand and let him lace his pinky with yours, cementing his promise as you spoke up, “This stays between us.” 

Your owner didn’t need to see you as anything other than his pretty, perfect kitty. 

“Deal.” 

In a matter of a minute, the pillow had been tossed to the floor in favor of pressing his nose against your soaked panties, taking a long sniff before dragging his wet tongue along the damp fabric. 

Eating you out through your underwear, teasingly tonguing at it as he held your ass against his face. 

On your hands and knees for the last hybrid you ever would’ve imagined yourself spreading your legs for. 

You couldn’t stop watching him over your shoulder. Glued to the greedy way he sucked at your clit through the fabric, sloppy and slobbering and somehow still intensely attractive as his fingers dug into your thighs to keep you steady for him. 

But before you could comment on it, he pulled back, drool and slick still glossed over his lips as he grinned at your frozen gaze.

“Yeah, I don’t think our owner would approve,” he clicked his tongue, his shiny white canines catching the low lamplight as you scoffed. 

“I don’t care right now,” you whined, arching your back up to entice him to keep going. 

He flipped you over, grabbing your hips in those big mitts of his and yanking your panties down to your knees before diving back in to pull your pussy right against his mouth.

At least he was good for something. 

Heaven at your fingertips, your nails raking against his scalp as you tried to close your legs around his head, your own tossed back as you whined his name. 

You tried to clamp your mouth shut, to be mindful of the neighbors who might put in another noise complaint, but it was hard to be quiet when he seemed determined to drag as many moans out of you as he physically could.

“Come on, meow for me,” he murmured after licking a long clean stripe up to your clit, his warm breath fanning over the sensitive bud. 

“Are all dog hybrids this annoying?” You panted, like you weren’t on the verge of an orgasm just from his lips lingering over your needy clit. “O-or is it just you?” 

He laughed, and it sent a delicious reverberation through you, your body tensing in anticipation just for him to pull away again. 

It was too hard to formulate a grievance when your stare was glued to him yanking down his sweatpants enough to free a cock much bigger than you imagined. All thick and veiny, your mouth watering as you traced the slight crook to the left with your eyes. 

He was nestling it against your entrance before you had stopped staring, pushing in the swollen tip one slow inch at a time – but even then, it felt like a stretch, your walls struggling to accommodate his size as he fully climbed on top of you. 

“You’re too big, mutt,” you complained, claws clinging onto his bare shoulder blades just for him to chuckle at your insult.

“What, you wish they neutered me?” He cockily grinned, and you were forced to face how handsome he looked like this – looming over you, his collar matching yours as his lips curled up in that crooked smirk. “It’ll fit.” 

And it did. 

Your walls squeezing him nice and tight as he slowly bottomed out inside of you, no lube needed when something inside you was readjusting and shifting to let him in.

He didn’t mind you scratching him up. 

Just moaning every time your claws broke his skin, eyes rolling back like he adored the marks you were leaving, his cock twitching inside you as your hips twisted and bucked up. 

You’d dreamed about what it’d feel like to have sex in this bed before. 

But there were different hands holding you. A different mouth leaving lovebites across your throat and pressing kisses to the corner of your mouth, swallowing your whines and returning grunts of his own. 

You tried not to mind when his long fingers slipped down to your clit, toying with it just to watch you tremble at his touch. 

“Feeling better?” He teasingly asked, and all you could do was nod fast, scared of what kind of strangled noises would come out if you opened your mouth. 

It was embarrassing how close you were to cumming already.

Just a few minutes of fast fucking and you were on the brink, thighs wet with your own slick and the sheets probably stained with them too. The bed frame creaking and whining with every rough thrust, the head board smacking into the wall in time with them. 

“My pretty kitty,” he murmured, so gritty and gruff you almost expected him to bark next as he buried himself in even deeper, and even when you were in the midst of a moan, you realized something strange had started before your brain had picked up on it. 

Pressure. 

Increasing steadily as your body registered the fact that his cock was changing. 

The thick base swelling, practically ballooning as your pussy strained around it, locked in place as his knot took shape. 

A faint flare of fear stirred, but the fingers rubbed against your clit were soothing you through it, distracting you from the fact you were quite literally stuck like this as the heat running through your veins all seemed to flood your face. Your brain was being boiled. All your thoughts dissolved into a messy puddle as you melted underneath the weight of his body rocking into yours. 

“It’s alright,” he added, sickly sweet and smooth as you whimpered at how stuffed you felt. “Gonna make it all better.” 

For someone who didn’t know all that much about intimacy or relationships, you felt awfully content with how close he was. Unable to keep all your guards and shields up when it felt like he was penetrating straight through to your heart with those soft eyes (and definitely not just because of his hard cock).

You believed him when he said he’d make it better.

Let go of the tension tying you into a nervous wreck when his fingers coaxed you to a climax, pushing you over a cliff – and into his warm arms as you cried out his name and shuddered hard enough he had to wrap an arm around you to hold you closer to him. His bare chest pressed against the thin slip pushed up high, his warmth wrapping around you as he came with you.

All the cum spilling out sloshing around and plugged inside you with his throbbing cock. 

“Fuck,” you breathed, swallowing hard as your throat strained against your collar. 

“Fuck,” he agreed, half-collapsing onto you as his cock kept you locked together. “Need me to keep going?” 

You woke up with his cock still inside you.

His chest to your back, his nose nuzzling against your hair, his tail thumping against the mattress sleepily – but he was twitching inside you as you slowly realized just how sticky your bottom half was.

The feeling was softer now, not quite as intense, no swollen knot but his morning wood was enough to still keep you stuffed full as you tried to squirm away only for a strong arm to wrap around your neck. Not quite a chokehold, but it kept you locked in, unable to do more than shift  in his grip as you poked your claws at his forearm. 

“Wake up,” you whined, blinking a few times as you tried to rid yourself of your leftover exhaustion, every limb sore as you wiggled your hips. “We need to wash the sheets before-” 

“Mm,” he groaned, clearly not listening as he kissed the crook of your throat sleepily. “Later.” 

“I want a bath,” you complained, already preparing to tell him that he’d have to do the laundry. 

“I can lick you clean,” he offered, teasingly poking his tongue out to tickle your throat as he let you go. 

But before you could stand, there was the slow creak of a door swinging open, your ears perking up as you both looked up to see the last person you wanted to catch you in this position. 

“This was not what I meant about getting along.” 

⭒ ˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

a/n: originally this was going to focus on the animal trainer x kitty hybrid but i was more drawn to this dynamic. i think it would be interesting to do a part two and focus more on the animal trainer but i'll leave it up to you guys