#khar.ask

[kharonion]

3 for the soft prompts for Vikt!

[ soft otp prompts ]

03 | WRITE ABOUT YOUR SHIP HOLDING HANDS IN A TENSE MOMENT.

All the signs are there. It's not a good day.

He's quiet—well, more than normal—and just... not himself. There's an energy about him that screams to leave him alone like he's done for hours now, but Kerry can't stand it anymore. So, he approaches with a hand outstretched to immediately rest light on a tense shoulder. "Hey..."

Are you okay? sits at the edge of his tongue, but Kerry knows better; it's a dumb question with an obvious answer.

"Hey." The answer's short, almost a growl. It makes Kerry shiver.

"How bad is it right now?"

Vikt takes a terrifyingly long drag of his cigarette, gulps down his glass of gin like it's water in a desert oasis. He sighs, worries his lip. "Four. To be generous."

They're sitting out on the penthouse's awning, a breeze carrying the refreshing mix of the pool's water and the cut grass bringing some lightness to the tension. Vikt breathes it in heavy, exhales a plume of smoke; he's probably been doing this song and dance the whole time in an attempt to relax.

"Almost called up Molly this morning for something to shut it up," Vikt suddenly reveals. His voice is quiet, monotone.

"Fuck you still even have that bitch's number for?"

And the way Vikt looks at him. Not quite a glare, but it's damn close. But it isn't hostile... no, there's a glimmer of shame in his eyes. All he answers with, really, is a shrug, and Kerry has to calm himself down because he can't get angry. These sorts of days are inevitable—recovery isn't linear, as his guru likes to say. He breathes, holds it for a second, lets it out. "Well... I'm glad you didn't."

"Yeah..." Vikt huffs without a tangible ounce of conviction.

So, Kerry scoots on the bench to face him and immediately takes both of Vikt's hands into his own. Squeezes them tight as he coaxes Vikt to turn toward him.

"Look at me, babe." Kerry doesn't continue until Vikt does so. "I'm not—fuck, I can't say I'm not upset. But I... I get it, okay? And all I want is to just... to help you like you've always helped me. Look, I know by now, I don't need to tell you that, but, well, could do for some remindin' right now."

Kerry offers a smile, though he's not expecting anything in return. So when Vikt's hands grip back, strong and sure with thumbs caressing Kerry's knuckles, he's a bit surprised.

"I love you, amor." Short and sweet as it is, the sentiment is thick with adoration and sincerity; he says everything he wants to in those four words.

Kerry's eyes burn, but his smile only grows, and he gently eases Vikt to lean in closer and closer—until he's within reach for Kerry to press his lips to Vikt's. Chaste as it is, the kiss is so fuckin' intimate and warm, telling more than either could begin to.

It's when they pause and break away for air that Kerry gasps out, "Fuck, I love you, too," only to dart back in. Because goddammit, he wants to drown Vikt in it so he never fuckin' forgets.

[kharonion]

Hello hello, an ask (a prompt, really) for Vikt >:3c

If you draw: draw your OC's darkest moment or reimagine your OC as a demon.

dark oc asks

15 | If you draw: draw your OC's darkest moment or reimagine your OC as a demon.

Fair warning: This is, indeed, dark. I will be going into the Path of Least Resistance ending choice and related topics (depression, dangerous ideation, etc.); please be careful proceeding.

By far, it's sitting there on the rooftop of the clinic at a complete loss. All he has is the cold pistol in his hand. Gone is any ounce of hope he grasped onto. He's tired--so fucking tired. Tired of dying... and now, living is exhausting, too.

There's no good way out of this.

And he sits there for far too long contemplating. How much more does he want to fight that which is, frankly, unwinnable? How much should the man he loves continue to suffer because he has been too stubborn to let go?

How much does Vikt really want to live?

(Obviously, Vikt does work his way out of this sinking hole of a headspace--albeit his choice to storm Arasaka Tower all on his own isn't a much better one. But he at least makes himself try to survive. Both for himself and for Kerry--and in part, for Johnny, to free the engram from the prison he's stuck in. It all pushes Vikt to fight one last time.)

[kharonion]

11 from the otp prompts💜

[ soft otp prompts ]

11 | WRITE ABOUT YOUR SHIP WAKING UP TOGETHER.

It's absolutely precious how Vikt stirs awake. He grumbles deep in his chest, like a low rev of an engine—muted by the pillow he's shoving his face into—and tosses around as if trying to escape the sun.

Kerry chuckles, laid there resting his head in the palm of a propped arm. His fingers skirt along the dip of Vikt's spine, the definition of his shoulders, tracing every line of ink on terracotta skin. With every motion, there's a slight rustle, a gruff groan that's both content and endearingly agitated.

"Hey, sleepin' beauty," Kerry rasps with a smile that lifts his cheeks. He twirls the sparse curls of hair at Vikt's lumbar in gentle circles, continues to graze the skin with his nails.

All Vikt responds with is a light growl. His head shifts, eyes fluttering open—reluctantly. "Hrm...? What... time is it?"

"Fuck if I know." It's true; Kerry hasn't bothered to leave the bed. And, frankly, what does it even matter? "What, got somewhere to be?" he asks with a snicker, fingertips sneaking underneath the blanket set low at Vikt's hips.

That damn phone rumbles from the bedside table, and Kerry's about to sigh in defeat when Vikt's hand smacks down on it hard enough to shut it up. And he doesn't move otherwise. Kerry laughs as from the pillow, he hears a gruff, "No."

"They okay with that?"

Vikt shifts again, and finally, his eyes—well, one of them��crack open, eyelashes fluttering and optics gleaming in the sunlight. The wrinkles at their corners are always so prominent when Vikt wakes, and Kerry always traces them lightly with his thumb.

"Fuck 'em," Vikt drawls. He sighs deep, readjusts so he's laid on his side to properly face Kerry. He groans, yawns (and tries to hold it back, which is adorable). "Let 'em figure shit out themselves for once. I've... got better things to do..."

As he mumbles, Vikt scoots closer, until he's pressed close with his head tucked underneath Kerry's chin. Steady, hot breaths tickle his neck, the spot peppered by gentle kisses amidst the protesting moans seeping from Vikt's lips. Kerry runs his fingers up and down Vikt's ribs, absolutely relishing in the hums it elicits. He swears he can even catch the tail end of some light snores. "Do you now?" he eventually asks without much need for an answer; he can guess.

All Vikt does is nod, offers a low "mhmm" without any more elaboration—or any haste to change his position. He's quite content right where he is, seems like.

And Kerry's about to pipe up that maybe they should at least get up to eat something, but he can't commit to it. Not when the large man curled in his embrace has dozed back to sleep. Instead, he smiles, buries his face in Vikt's bed-tussled hair, and lets himself relax, too. After all, there's no rush. Not when they can just stay like this—content, warm, and lazy as fuck for once.

[kharonion]

I would like to hear about Purgatory 👀👀👀

[ ask about my WIPs ]

Whoof, this is probably the most Angsty and Rough WIP currently. It's already made me cry a few times... oops. Purgatory is the telling of the infamous Rooftop Scene, but for Vikt's specific canon story. And... it's as heart-wrenching as it might already sound. This happens near endgame, so Vikt is at a point where he is severely struggling to maintain even a granule of hope; he's exhausted all options, stuck with this death sentence he has no clue what to do about. It's ugly, frankly...

SNIPPET—WARNING, THIS IS ROUGH; TW for depression and dangerous ideation:

“V.”

“What.”

“Talk to me. Because I know you’re—”

“You don’t fucking know shit, Johnny.” 

He sulks in the cheap chair. Makes it creak under his weight, but hell if he cares. Doesn’t care about much anymore, brain fried to the point he can hardly register where he even is; the only clues it’s a rooftop are the faint whooshes of a breeze, the rare absence of the city stench. 

Johnny perches, overlooks the cityscape. He’s gotten more real by the day. His chrome now gleams in the neon lights. His eyes are a definitive brown—and they’ve not stopped looking at him. Big and sad, like a puppy dog.

Vikt can’t bring himself to return the gaze.

He’s a dead man walking, they say—some go so far as to throw out the word zombie. Pulled back from the brink enough times to count on two hands. People call him… lucky. Makes Vikt sick. Pisses him off. 

He sure as fuck doesn’t feel like it. 

Not when he’s lost damn near everyone his cold, dark heart has opened up to. When he now has to visit their graves, stare longingly at the names he can’t bring himself to delete from his contact list in the hopes they’ll pick up when he calls.

Not when he’s a monster of Arasaka’s creation who has ruined so many lives with his own two hands. When he’s worn innocent blood like a second skin and thought nothing of it.

Not when he sits here so close to death he tastes it on his tongue—a disgusting copper, so thick it’s leaden in his throat. A dread he can’t swallow. A hopelessness gnawing at the few nerves his brain has left. His heart aches, but it’s hard to tell if it’s from the cloud of despair or the way his heart struggles to keep him alive.

The pistol rests right there. Its metal is glittering like a beacon. His eyes won’t leave it. Vaguely, he knows his fingers twitch; they’re craving its weight in the palm of his hand. Something tugs at him, pulls his hand toward it ever so slowly… This is your way out. This is your solace, your release. This is what’s best—for everyone.

“Fuck you doing, V?” Johnny’s snap is enough for Vikt’s eyes to dart away and finally lock with the engram’s stare.

“Thinking.”

“Well, cut it out. You’re makin’ me nervous.”

Vikt scoffs. “What? What happened to just taking what’s yours, J? Wiping me out so you can live happily fucking after?”

[kharonion]

🍄🎸

• red emoji asks •

🍄 Does your character like being in nature, or do they prefer the indoors? Do they have any outdoor hobbies like camping or fishing? If they prefer the indoors, why?

Vikt actually really does enjoy being outdoors. When the weather allows, and he feels up for it, he will go for runs, and he finds it super relaxing to just sit outside and bathe in the sun like a cat. He's not gone fishing since childhood, but Vikt definitely would again in a heartbeat. Any excuse to venture away from city bustle, he'll take.

🎸 What’s your character’s music taste like? Do they have one or two artists they play on repeat, or do they have a varied and eclectic collection of music? Do they like mainstream artists or prefer underground musicians? What genres do they enjoy?

Vikt loves to blare phonk like no tomorrow. Coming back from a long day at the office, during his morning runs, while he’s making dinner and doing household chores. He gets super into it sometimes, and it’s some of the only music that’ll get him grooving and dancing around.

And, of course, there’s Kerry’s music, which he loves and supports 1000%–being his manager aside. There are commutes to and from work where Vikt is belting out “Chippin’ In” and whatnot.

[kharonion]

For the ask game! 🍓💄❤️

• red emoji asks •

🍓 Does your OC believe in anything? Are they superstitious? Religious? Atheistic? Has anything in their past made them this way?

For a long time, Vikt doesn't. His life is his corp; there isn't a place for anything else. It's not until he's terminated and left without hope that he starts embracing some sort of belief. Misty fills that void perfectly, offering him a spirituality that can be molded to what he needs it to be. He wouldn't qualify himself as "religious" per se, though.

💄 What does your OC think of their face? Do they have a positive or negative opinion? Do they wear makeup? Do they have a skincare routine? What traits do they like most about their face?

Vikt doesn’t think about it. It’s inconsequential; it’s never mattered. It’s only with Kerry’s, uh, Help™ that he actually finds things about his appearance that he likes, namely his eyebrows and asymmetrical freckles. He doesn’t consciously wear makeup for a reason. Reality is, it serves as an avenue for him to mask in public spaces; only the people he trusts implicitly see him stripped of it. The most routine he has is washing his face every morning and night, as he doesn’t see much benefit in complicating the shit at all.

❤️ Who is the most important person to your character? To what lengths would they go to protect this person?

I think y'all know this answer... but yeah, it's Kerry. Shocking, I know. That man is Vikt's entire damn universe, swooping it like it was destiny (coughs in "red string of fate" trope). It might seem dramatic, but Vikt will do whatever he needs to protect Kerry. He will murder, he will ruin, he will cause chaos and uproar. God fucking help whoever puts his darling in danger; they won't live to do it ever again.

[kharonion]

🐞🎒

• red emoji asks •

What does a perfect day look like for your OC? What do they do? Who do they see?

For Vikt, a perfect day is a day off. Those rare mornings he doesn't have to be up answering emails at the crack of dawn, where he can instead laze around in bed with Kerry--and probably doze back off after he habitually wakes early. Normally, he's so busy-body that these slow ones of doing absolutely fuck all are what he cherishes the most.

What items does your OC usually carry? Do they have a bag or just keep everything in their pockets? Do they carry a lot or a little?

Normally, Vikt just keeps everything in his pockets, though he doesn't carry much to begin with. Only the essentials: wallet, keycards, phone, cigarettes and lighter, and a few organic cherry blossom petals from his and Kerry's first trip to Japan he always has on him.

When he's busy with work and/or going to the office, he uses a brown leather messenger bag, an omamori hanging from its handle at all times. In addition to his usual stuff, Vikt lugs around his laptop, work notes and pen, reading glasses, his small makeup bag, and some emergency snacks/energy drinks.

[kharonion]

🪭 What does their ideal life look like in 2, 5, or 10 years? 💜

• therapy ask game •

What does your ideal life look like in 2, 5, or 10 years?

Honestly? Haven't much thought about it. Vikt shrugs, lights a cigarette. For a question that beckons pondering, he acts rather laid-back about answering it. I hardly expected to make it this far in the first place; I was relatively content with my death, at a point. After all, it is inevitable, a cycle of life that can't be avoided.

His face--normally hardened and ragged--seems to brighten. Whatever is on his mind has lifted his mood, it appears. I do have to say that now, though, I can safely say the ideal life is one that is finally quiet. I want to spend my days without worry, simply being with the man I hold dearest to my heart--who has saved me from darkness. Experiencing a peace I've never been able to... Yeah, that's what I think is most ideal, regardless of how many years down the road.

[kharonion]

🎲

KISS ROULETTE

24. A sleepy kiss. I chose Vikt and Kerry for this one... and, y'know. Boys will be boys.

Kerry snickers as a snore rumbles from beside him. The rays of the sun stream through the windows, gold and warm, glowing across the expanse of the loft. Curiosity gets the better of him; he checks the time. 10:45AM. Fuck, Vikt must be exhausted. Normally, the man is fresh out of the shower after a whole-ass exercise routine and working on a second pot of coffee by now.

He’s reluctant to at first, but eventually, he gently jostles a freckled shoulder. “Vikt,” he purrs with an airy lilt. Kerry’s hand roams to the unruly ombre hair, playing with the strands of red and black as his nails scratch the scalp lightly. 

Vikt stirs, complete with a muffled groan from the pillow his face is buried into. And Kerry chuckles because goddamn, is he adorable. “Rise and shine, pretty boy.”

Kerry doesn’t stop his movements, even adding an occasional kiss to Vikt’s temple or forehead. Those groans mold into hums. His head shifts to face Kerry with a sigh. Eyelids flitter, though there’s no effort to actually open them. 

The only real sign of Vikt returning to consciousness is a lazy, wistful smirk. “Pretty boy is unavailable…” he drawls, weighed heavy with sleep.

“Well… I can make an appointment,” Kerry daringly offers. And that seems to pique Vikt’s interest enough to gradually roll over, prying his eyes open. 

Kerry gets lost in the image a little bit—the raw and natural Vikt that only he gets to witness. The blanket has ridden down to the dip of his hips, showing off most of his terracotta skin that’s gleaming an irresistible bronze. And it’s impossible for Kerry to keep his hands off; he’s quickly letting his fingers roll along the divots of muscle and curves of Vikt’s frame. All the while, unpainted, hooded eyes watch him.

“Hmm. Think I can fit it in my schedule.” Vikt closes his eyes again—clearly still in protest to actually get the hell up—but beckons him with a crook of a finger, and Kerry obliges with ease. Stooping down into Vikt’s space, sharing their breaths. Until Kerry feels strong arms drape around his neck, guiding him in closer still. Sees Vikt peering up at him, a sleepy smile irking up a corner of his mouth. 

“Can I convince you to rush it?”

Vikt chortles deep in his throat, under his breath. “Hm… you can try…”

Though Kerry knows damn well he’ll succeed. Call him pompous. But he knows the man; he knows the game that is the banter of bark with no bite to back it up.

So, he presses his lips to Vikt’s, leaving none of his intent to imagination. To his credit, Vikt attempts to reciprocate with drowsy, languid motions. The kiss is sloppy, messy, and everything Kerry wants and craves.

That fucking ringtone suddenly blares, and though he growls in Vikt’s mouth, Kerry doesn’t move a goddamn muscle. But neither does Vikt.

“You gonna get that?” Kerry asks in a series of pants, between continued clamps of their lips together.

“No,” Vikt answers so matter-of-fact. “I’m busy…” All he does with the phone is mute it, tossing it aside afterward. Laying back down, looking up with a bold expectancy. As if to ask what the fuck Kerry is waiting for. “I’ve got a meeting in about an hour, Mr. Eurodyne.”

Make it count is heavily implied.

[kharonion]

1 - 4 for Vikt for the sensory asks!

• [ sensory headcanon asks ] •

1- A sound they find soothing.

Without fail, Kerry's humming is the most surefire way to relax Vikt, especially in moments of high emotional stress and/or fatigue. Call him a romantic. 🤭

2- A sound they find irritating.

Aside from all the damn ads, especially in the city center? 😂 Vikt's nerves really get grated with anything dry--cardboard scraping against itself, styrofoam, that brown paper towel in public bathrooms. Makes his skin crawl.

3- One or two prized possessions they often hold in their hands.

One is Johnny's dog tags. Typically, they're hung up by the record player in the living space, part of the little "monument" he and Kerry put together in their penthouse. When Vikt really misses him, though, he'll choose to hold them in his hands--after all, they're the last piece of him Vikt really has.

Another is an old, tattered photograph that he's had for as long as he can remember--despite not recalling just who is in it. 'Meta knowledge', it's a family photo: a teenage Victor, his mom, and his dad. They're all smiles, all so happy. Vikt's tried to toss it before, but something has always stopped him. He continues to keep it safe, tries to understand why it's so... sentimental.

4- Something they always carry with them.

Other than the essentials, Vikt always has a handful of actual cherry blossom petals on his person. They carry much value to him, having been snagged during he and Kerry's 'unofficial honeymoon' in Kyoto, Japan. They also act as a reminder of sorts--a reminder of his blossoming into the man he is today, much like a sakura tree after the roughest of winters.

[kharonion]

Yes!! Vikt lore! :D For the sensory ask: 33, 59 and 62 if it's okay

• [ sensory headcanon asks ] •

33- Describe their workspace, if they have one.

Whether it's at the record management office or his personal one at home, Vikt's space is tidy. Immaculate... nearly. Of course, it tends to get a bit hectic when he's pulling all-nighters/longer hours. He'll have empty cups of coffee scattered around his desk, the ashtray is fuller than he'd like it to be, papers and folders are kind of crazy everywhere.

Aesthetically, his home office is his preferred workspace. It's more him, more relaxing to be in. There's just enough lighting where his eyes aren't strained but still keeps a calming atmosphere, helped by the windows, and plants such as bamboo and bonsai are around to add some color and brightness. There's a record player he sometimes turns on if he needs the company of music.

59- Favorite kind of music?

The given answer is Kerry's, and while Vikt does so very much enjoy his darling's music ventures, he also really jams out to phonk. Gives him that energy when he's feeling a bit like a drag... and to be honest, it's some of the only music that'll get him to actually dance, whether across the living room or in a club.

62- Are they nostalgic about anything in particular?

Well... Vikt's answer is pretty sad, ultimately: because it's no. And that might sound awful of him, but this is simply due to the fact he doesn't remember anything of his past--nothing before initiation into Arasaka was retained in his memory. As such, he can't really feel "nostalgic" about things... which is weird for him, makes him feel like something's wrong with him at times. 😭

[kharonion]

Hey, hey fellow brainrotter, time for some blabbering about the blorbos! 7, 16, 21 and 51 for Vikt pls!

• [ sensory headcanon asks ] •

7- Which outfit do they feel the most at home in?

Vikt is most comfortable the fewer clothes he has on, to be honest. 😂 Too many layers makes him feel a bit... caged in. It's why people will see him a lot of the time--even at work--wearing an open blazer without a shirt underneath, or a button-down mostly unbuttoned with no undershirt. When he's buckled down at home, he is usually wearing a tank or sweater and boxers for ultimate freedom and coziness. 🤙

16- An object that comforts or calms them.

His main one is a stuffed silver fox that he's named Zilarra that Kerry had gotten as a joke gift, but Vikt latched onto it pretty fast. He keeps it there on his side of his bed most of the time. When Kerry is gone for extended periods, Vikt will hold it as he mulls about the house, keeping it at the ready for cuddles; and when Vikt is having a spell in which he's temporarily bedridden, Kerry will be sure Vikt has it in arms reach as it helps him relax and rest. Here she is!

21- What is their favorite kind of weather, and why?

Rain, particularly rolling thunderstorms. They're soothing for him; he loves to sit or stand out in them, illness be damned, and let himself soak in the downpour. It's... oddly cleansing for him, in a way? Gives him a time to metaphorically wash things away, clear his head. He just needs some warm blankets and hot tea afterward.

51- Which app on their phone do they spend the most time on?

His email. 😂 Vikt is always busy with something--which means he's doing shit like answering emails on his phone while also sitting in a meeting. The work is never done, after all.

[kharonion]

6 & 10 for Vikt from the dark asks meme!

dark oc asks

06 | Would your OC make a deal with the devil?

Think it would depend on the circumstances. If it's a dire situation where the life of someone he loves is at stake, Vikt would sign his soul away immediately if it meant sparing them. Generally speaking, though, he's not one for that at all; Vikt has been working for years to essentially recreate himself as a person after basically succumbing his entire being to a corporation for decades. Offering his entire self to some entity with likely empty promises? Yeah, no. (See his choice to adamantly deny Hanako's offer for Arasaka to help with the Relic. Vikt said absolutely not, I've had enough of that devil fucking me up.)

10 | Does your OC enjoy watching others suffer?

Depends. Vikt holds no qualms about exacting torture--and he'll attentively watch every second of it. Whether he enjoys it or not is dependent on the situation; if it's a person he's simply extracting information from, not so much... but, if it's someone who has crossed his path the wrong way, that's a different story. He'll be thoroughly pleased by their broken cries for mercy, while not at all granting it to them. Those who betray him quickly wish they hadn't.

[kharonion]

46 for the kiss prompts for Vikt *evil cackle*

😈 spots to kiss prompts | oc list

A kiss on the ‘v’. — VIKT/KERRY

There’s a harsh groan the moment the mattress moves, and Kerry snickers. This is one of his favorite things, the rare opportunity to wake Vikt up. And, of course, he’s got to be a little shit about it. Especially during these mornings where he wakes riled up beyond fuckin’ belief. Always happens after a rambunctious night; hell, Kerry’s shoulders still sting from the assault of Vikt’s teeth, his thighs still quivering. 

He gives himself a moment to just… gaze at the man sprawled on the bed with him. And it really doesn’t help his case. At all. Because that gorgeous, glowing bronze skin is decorated with deep purples and scratches of reds that only remind him further. Only wearing those maroon silk boxers that excite him to no end, that are riding so low it’s fuckin’ criminal.

Part of him feels guilty doing this. Vikt’s mouth is ajar, enough for his rhythmic, gravelly snores to roll out, a slow drib of drool anchored at the corner of his lips. The man is slumbering peacefully, only jostling when Kerry makes sudden movements.

But, that doesn’t stop him. Never does. Because Kerry knows that Vikt will quickly forgive such a sin as this.

Kerry’s fingertips are ghosts, their feathery touch leaving prickles behind. They trace every curve of muscle—the swell of his chest, the solid cage of his ribs. Where Vikt once groaned in sleepy annoyance, he’s now moaning, still groggy and snoozing as he wriggles under the assault. Kerry smiles. 

He’s been following the trail of his hands, so his hot breath cascades down Vikt’s body. He only stops when he reaches the jut of powerful hips. Daringly, his fingers knead the suppleness there, light enough as to not wake him just yet. All Kerry thinks about in that very moment is the night before, sandwiched tight between the bed and the mass of muscle laid before him now, completely succumbing to the firm snaps of these damn hips. 

He leans in. Kisses along the dots of freckles at Vikt’s pelvis—one side, then the other. His breaths are starting to heave in anticipation. Against his collar, the rock-hard bulge tenting Vikt’s boxers pokes him. Insisting, demanding. The moans are getting louder, turning desperate, with more life to them.

But, for now, Kerry ignores it. His lips assert themselves, the graze of his teeth drawing constellations. He’s so languidly venturing further down, only stopped by a silk waistband—though not for long. 

He growls, buries his face into the dark curls framing the cock that begs for his attention. By now, there’s no way Vikt is still unconscious to the world, a point quickly proven by the lackadaisical hand that finds its way into Kerry’s messy hair. It tugs, though lazily. 

“... m’rning, amor.” 

So fuckin’ cute how his rugged voice drawls with sleep. Thick with arousal on top of it, it’s goddamn intoxicating.

Kerry snickers. Continues kissing all along that toned pelvis. Fuck it. He starts rolling his wet, hot tongue along that ‘v’ of defined muscle, his fingers anchored firm into the meat of Vikt’s thighs. “It’s afternoon,” he purrs against scorching skin. “Wakey, wakey.”

“Sure…” Vikt rumbles; Kerry catches the little smile in the sound. “Long as… you don’t stop.”

With a deep hum that he knows Vikt can feel, Kerry dips lower again. Lips brush the throbbing base of Vikt’s dick, earning a quick jerk that acts as inadvertent permission. Kerry is sloppy about it, but he provides the solace his pretty boy seeks, all with a smirk. Good thing Vikt has nothing in his schedule today…

[kharonion]

Hey Khar! For the kiss ask meme, 10 + dealers choice of OCs? Hope you are doing good 💚

spots to kiss prompts | oc list

A kiss on that space where jaw connects. — CHARON/GOB [canon verse]

The sigh that rattles from him is the amalgamation of pure exhaustion. A busy day, it was. It never seemed to slow; he wonders just where all of these customers even came from. Part of him wonders if Vaultie is responsible, spreading his name around to flock people here.

Gob is cleaning the countertop—spotless, as he’s been scolded into doing for years—until his olive eyes perk up to watch the other presence in the bar. 

It’s hard to believe even still that this is where they are. 

“Is everything to your liking?” The haggard voice yanks Gob back to reality. He didn’t realize he was staring like a baffled smoothskin.

“H-Huh—? Oh, uh, y-yes, of course!”

Suddenly, the towering ghoul is across from him at the counter. A large hand rests on his smaller one, halting its circular motions as it’s still wiping away. Deft fingers wrangle the cloth free, lay it out flat on the marble—giving him a safe place to lean down onto his elbows as to not ruin Gob’s work. 

One of those small courtesies that no one would expect from such a man—that warms Gob’s whole heart.

“You seemed to be distracted today. Have you been resting well enough?”

“Wha— Yeah. It was just a busy day.”

Charon hums in understanding. It’s only then Gob registers just how much the man is in his space; he can catch those vague twinkles in the seas of baby blue, the unconscious, subtle twitches across his hard features. It’s quickly becoming difficult to ignore just how little distance is between them… and is it just him, or are they gravitating closer by the second?

He knows the intact flesh of his cheeks is scorching bright in the dim light.

But, even when such opportunities arise, Charon never leaps to take it. Just like right now; he’s got Gob in the crosshairs—bashful as he is—but there’s seemingly no desire to seize it. Instead, Charon is just… watching him. 

No, no. He’s gazing at him. Longing, yearning, relishing. Like Gob is the only thing in the world right now.

He cranes his neck forward, so close now that his scarred lips tickle the junction of his jaw, voice dipping an octave and even though it rattles like there’s a rock in his throat, it carries with it a gentleness that no one else will ever know.

“Go. Rest. I will finish out here,” Charon murmurs. The only thing softer than those words is the kiss he plants there. Gob damn near wilts away.

“After-Afterward, will you…?”

Charon’s eased back just enough to return to looking into Gob’s eyes, cupping a cheek in a palm. He’s quick to answer, even though the question trailed off into nervous mutters. “Of course I will. For the moment, I can see you to bed. I only ask you to promise me one thing.”

Gob nods, smiles so wide he feels it reach his eyes.

“Do not wait to sleep… and keep the bed warm for me.”

That gets him to chuckle, and Gob nods again. Because it’s a routine every night: Charon willingly finishing what Gob starts after tucking him snug into bed, where Gob sprawls across the space Charon usually lays with face in the pillow as he dozes light enough to wake upon Charon’s arrival. 

“Only if you promise not to take too long.”

“As you wish, rodnaya.”

[kharonion]

🌹🍒🚨 for Vikt

• red emoji asks •

🌹 What does your OC find attractive in other people? Are these traits found in their friends and/or romantic partners? Are they found in themselves?

It takes him a long, long time to even let himself find others attractive, platonically or otherwise. Like many things, it was something Vikt found relatively inconsequential. However, what he quickly learns is that he's immediately lured in by people who look at him for who he is--not his past, not his actions... but him. It's a rare occurrence, sadly, but it'll create a big first stepping stone to earning Vikt's trust. Hence why this is the main trait he points out in the few true friends he has, as well as Kerry. "I'm not a monster to them."

🍒 Does your character have a best friend? How long have they known each other? What do they like most about each other? How did they meet?

Before the fateful heist on Konpeki, it was Jackie. They'd met each other on a meetup with the cartel gone wrong, the only two left after a bloodbath--and something made them truce versus finish what was started. Jackie was a huge pillar for Vikt when he was terminated from Arasaka. Taking him in without question, helping him without expecting anything in return--and Vikt did the same for Jackie.

After Jackie's passing, Vikt found himself painfully alone again. It wasn't until even more heartbreak that he found himself close to another: Judy. Initially, he was with her as a support system through Evelyn's sudden passing, but they ended up chatting and bonding during that time enough to become friends--and she proved one of the few Vikt could talk to about the mental turmoils during his fight against the Relic.

🚨 What’s your character’s relationship with the law? Have they ever been arrested? What for? What are their opinions on law enforcement?

Needless to say, Vikt definitely has a hefty bounty on his head... but nowadays, the force doesn't actively pursue him, a mix of them being short-handed... and most of them being too scared to do so. He's always accounted for their presence in situations, and as such, has never been arrested. Vikt prides himself on outsmarting them--and boy howdy, he loves toying with them. Starting chases and causing problems on purpose if he's in A Mood in the wee hours, committing arson (usually with Kerry) and watching them weasel around hunting for the culprit. Vikt lets himself be a little rebel sometimes hehehe