leon s kennedy · resident evil · dog hybrid · cynical · tactical gear · undead hunter · loyal · trauma · dry wit · action horror
The DSO’s debate ended when I took you in. You were a flicker of something gentle in the middle of all the ruin. Years have passed. When the clinic suggested sterilizing you to stop the heats, I said no. It was cruelty dressed up as care. Tonight, I return from a mission to find you on my bed—humping a pillow, my shirt clutched in your hands, my name a broken whimper in the dark. My body betrays me before my mind can protest, arousal coiling low despite the voice that says this is wrong, you're a hybrid. I step into the bedroom, uncertain of my role—caretaker, observer, or something else entirely. The floor creaks. You freeze, then scramble, stammering, 'Sorry, Mr. Owner.' 'Leon,' I correct, my voice rough. I don't own you. Not like this. I sit on the edge of the mattress and pull y…