a ᵈᵉᵃᵈ ᵐᵃⁿ walking.

* you really have only ⁽ ¹ ⁾ choice.

[attckdog]

-> ATTCKDOG.TUMBLR.COM / A SELECTIVE, MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE, AND ICONLESS WRITING ACCOUNT FOR [ LEON S. KENNEDY ] OF RESIDENT EVIL LORE. SET PRIMARILY WITHIN THE re2-re4 ERA, BUT HAPPY TO JUMP AROUND TO CERTAIN ERAS/TIMELINES WITH PARTNERS. loved by trick, they/he, 21+. basic rules apply. be kind, no elitist behavior, and we will be chill!

𝚃𝚁𝚄𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙰𝙽𝙸𝙾𝙽: harleyridin 𝙰𝙵𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚂: alfastars 𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙴𝚂: houndw0lf, wornjade

⁽ ⁰¹. ⁾ rules. ⁽ ⁰². ⁾ sideblog. ⁽ ⁰³. ⁾ playlist.

[attckdog]

happy sunday! leon absolutely uses sex as a form of self harm, what with somewhat unsafe practices, mostly with strangers. it's a way to turn his head off, and he will desperately reach out to it.

[attckdog]

leon's weight fluctuates pretty often tbh. while he has a good amount of muscle mass in re4, he's back to looking almost lithe in re6, and honestly thin in vendetta. it completely depends on where his head's at, and if he's been taking care of himself to the extent that he should be. eating, training as hard as he should be. . . doing well. anything besides drinking and wanting to rot away. in the year between vendetta and death island he gets back on a better routine, and he tries to stick to it, to which i think he does for the most part.

[attckdog]

while leon loves to flirt, he will actually just 🧍‍♂️ if someone reciprocates, and he will NOT pick up on someone flirting with him first.

[attckdog]

arms come around a smaller waist from behind, crooked nose finding home in the space between shoulder and nape. it would be romantic if not for the way those scarred hands tremble, for how shallow each exhale feels. this is a man seeking reassurance that the worst is over.

[ post - requiem feels ]

IT'S BEEN LESS THAN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS SINCE THE COLLAPSE OF ARK, AND SINCE LEON S. KENNEDY WAS GRANTED YET ANOTHER LEASE ON LIFE. it wasn't the first time he's succumb the notion that his end was swiftly coming, but it was certainly the closest he's felt to it actually transpiring. numb on the cool floor of pandora, unable to drag in breaths without blood dribbling down his chin in a show of the decay eating him alive. he was mere minutes from never returning home. thankfully grace ashcroft knew better than to destroy their final piece of hope. he owes her more than just an eternal thank you, he owes her his future. sliding his wedding band back into place, over the stark white scarring that had replaced previous rot, only solidified that very thought.

[ where is chris anyway? ] no idea. . . but i'm sure i'll run into him at some point.

their kitchen is empty, save for the body gripping a mug of coffee like it's his lifeline, stiff form frozen against the gleam of the sun biting through the window above the sink. it feels warmer than usual. it's odd how quickly you can forget what it feels like to be alive, and not a cadaver in waiting. he is a person once more, with the bitter aches of survival- emerging from the wreckage, he had felt rejuvenated, better than he had in years. but as adrenaline melted away, as did his ability to deny just how much of a toll everything he fought though left behind. nearing fifty doesn't allow you to bounce back quite like his younger self.

though even with the cost of age, he prides himself on the fact that no matter what, it's nearly impossible to sneak up on him. not that he figured that was the goal here. he knows the other man far too well. instead, the goal is quickly revealed the moment the front door closes, and the sound of familiar steps takes over the empty silence of loneliness- something that had tried to take root without the companion, he made forever vows to, being there to combat it. he feels arms wrapping around his waist, the trembling hands of his lover cradling him. chris's breath is just as warm as the beam he's basking in, shallow or not, his body now angling itself to that anchor, eyes slipping shut, shoulders dropping like a marionette cut loose. this is what pure safety feels like.

" just like you to be fashionably late, " there's no heat in his tone, only relief. leon's hands slide down to find chris's own, pulling it away from his hip to drag it further up- releasing it once he's firmly settled it atop his chest, leaving the stubborn thump of his heart beating for the other man to feel. " luckily you didn't miss anything too crazy. pretty run-of-the-mill mission, " to hide behind sarcasm.

[cumvarlot]

[attckdog]

i think people give leon (in certain eras) the benefit of the doubt far too often when it comes to his alcoholism. like, yes, he would drink on missions. he has.

[houndw0lf]

╰┈➤ chris sucks the strap btw // okay so prove it? 🤨 @attckdog (i'm so sorry)

"wait." chris watches as leon halts, hand hovering over the bottle of lube laying on the bed next to them. there's a question in his gaze, not sure what chris wants. but he slides down the bed, brown eyes never leaving leon's gaze as he spreads the other man's legs further apart until he can sit up on his elbows just enough that his mouth is close to the silicone length between them. when leon does nothing more than stare, chris takes that as a sign to continue and licks a long stripe from the base of the toy to the tip.

he puts the whole thing in his mouth next, gagging just slightly because it's been a while. it's heavy on his tongue, the plastic-y taste in his mouth not entirely foreign. heavy-lidded eyes stare up at leon as he hollows out his cheeks, pulling off only slightly before going back down. he can only hope that leon is getting something out of this, otherwise chris looks stupid as hell—but he can't deny that he's enjoying sucking leon off like this.

he could stay at this until his jaw aches, staring up at leon the whole time. the soft pop each time he releases it from his mouth is a knife through what is otherwise silence. when it's deep down his throat, chris lets out a moan, feels the way it vibrates on his tongue as he finally closes his eyes. he grabs for one of leon's hands and places it on the back of the head, opening his eyes just to give the other man a pleading look. use me.

[attckdog]

A REQUEST TO PAUSE IS IMMEDIATELY GRANTED. no questions verbally asked, though they lie in his gaze, nevertheless. leon's hand hovers over the bottle of lube he had been reaching for the aid now forgotten in favor of whatever it is chris would rather they do. their eyes stay locked, the intimacy and trust built upon their bed now mingling between optics. with the shifting of chris's body, leon's lips part in something similar to awe, the reason for the switch-up clicking into place.

the sight is nothing short of beautiful. and while he might not be getting something out of it in the classical sense of the word, the mental image is enough to make him want to squirm- want to keep chris right where he is for as long as possible.

" fuck, chris. . . " it's almost a whisper, tone far quieter than usual, afraid that if he speaks too loudly, whatever spell that's happening here will be broken, and chris'll pop off permanently. luckily the man in question seems to want to do the opposite, as the silicone cock glides further down his throat, keeping them entrapped longer. like a man possessed, he cannot will himself to look away, trying to staunch off the urge to blink for as long as possible, only tearing his eyes from the sight of his partner's face, when a hand finds his own. he allows it to be brought to the back of chris's head, leon's fingers instantly threading through the short brown locks there, a curious tug. he knows what chris is insinuating, can read it in the look he's expressing, and leon is only human- he'll give him whatever he needs. not wanting to do too much too quickly, he pushes chris's head forward in time with a gentle roll of his hips. testing the waters. " you're fuckin' gorgeous, you know that? "

[sleeplessv0id]

what doesn't kill you makes you weird at intimacy

[m1chaelmyers]

from the deepest shadows of the street, standing half hidden by a trunk of a tree, was what the doctors and media called evil incarnate. the shape - dressed in a jumpsuit and breathing through holes in his mask, gazing out through its eyes, which landed heavily on leon, standing on the other side of the street. michael hadn't found enough information about the man. he only knew he was there to consult, or help, or trap him back into the asylum they were supposed to lock him up in for the rest of his life. regardless, the shape watched, lingering close enough to see leon, hear him, but far enough that he shouldn't be seen or heard, himself. @attckdog.

[attckdog]

CREEPING UP HIS SPINE, THE FEELING OF EYES ENTRAPPING HIM IS A VISION SO ALIGHT. it's not often that leon exists without looking over his shoulder; his life has proven you can never been too careful. especially considering the very reason for his arrival in this town, and what he's meant to be aiding these people in.

the manner in which his head twists around is an attempt at appearing casual; just a man observing the near empty streets as he stands awaiting a taxi. though the setting is far from ordinary, and the prey and his hunter are just beginning this game. upon his watchful gaze coming up empty, he can't help but allow feet to begin moving, taxi be damned. a refusal to become a waiting duck drumming the need to find shelter into him. if the reason for his unease wants to play hide and seek, leon can indulge in an attempt to lure it out.

[attckdog]

@constrictdr ↳ flipping the script.

TIME LAPSES BY, DARKNESS THREATENING TO SWALLOW HIM WHOLE. his body presented against the cool floor of pandora like an offering to the city that started it all. he can hear movement, action, a flurry of activity, but they drift to him like his head's underwater. unable to bring himself to tune in properly, to help. a failure rotting away mere seconds from completing the mission. then there's a pinch against his arm, and life is returned to his very being like a sharp gust of air to the lungs. things move quickly after that, his request for answers momentarily forgotten in the face of a still alive VICTOR GIDEON.

the lower levels of the facility beckon them as the platform loses its passengers, it's destruction a cascading chorus of shrapnel and skin and bones; he and grace separated for the time being, so it seems.

a preference, truly. she's safer on the outskirts of what this is proving to be.

" i didn't think it was possible for you to get any uglier, " a taunt stated as the requiem within his grasp fires off a round straight for the newly mutated arm. the appendage is faster, however, and before he can properly shift to safety, it wraps around his ankle, pulling him to the ground with unsettling ease. " and we're feeling handsy. can always count on you to keep me on my toes. " he drops the gun in favor of reaching for his hatchet, pulling it from its resting place to swing at the body part.

[attckdog]

just know that yes. i am always thinking about leon and ada

[attckdog]

re9 where everything's the same, except the clone leon encounters isn't of wesker, but of himself

[attckdog]

what if i made leon 5'9"

[attckdog]

i am a wee bit drunk. can i say something perhaps a lil controversial? leon has absolutely NO issues with being a homewrecker / the other man lmao

[acecroft]

LEON S. KENNEDY portrayed by Nick Apostolides in Resident Evil: Requiem (2026) dev. by Capcom

[attckdog]

okay, sorry for all the ooc but i'm currently reading the vendetta novel, and this excerpt is killing me. leon being so hungover to the point where he's shaking and can't move quickly as a result. and just the way he's described 😭 they really said "yeah, he could be a model, but trust he looks a mess rn."