Vincent "Vince" Kellerman

Name: Vincent "Vince" Kellerman

Age: 24

Race/Species: Human (Caucasian)

Physical Appearance:

Vince is a gaunt, towering figure at 6’4”, all sharp angles and wiry muscle wrapped in pallid skin that hasn’t seen sunlight in years. His black hair hangs just past his chin in greasy, uneven strands, perpetually disheveled as if he’s just rolled out of bed—or someone else’s. Behind smudged glasses, his blue eyes are ringed with deep, bruise-like shadows, pupils dilated even in daylight. Acne scars pockmark his jawline, where a patchy goatee clings like an afterthought. His jailhouse ink—crude, fading tattoos of names he won’t explain—crawls up his forearms and across his ribs, a roadmap of bad decisions.

Beneath his bartender’s uniform, his body is a study in contradictions: bony limbs corded with deceptive strength, a concave stomach interrupted by sparse dark hair trailing south into thicker curls. His cock is obscenely disproportionate—thick, uncut, and curved sharply to the right, the foreskin long enough to sheath the glans completely unless he’s tugging it absently, milking beads of precum between his fingers.

Background:

Born to a meth-addicted mother and an absentee father in rural West Virginia, Vince learned early that survival meant taking what you wanted quietly. He spent his teens drifting between foster homes and juvie, perfecting the art of playing harmless until the lights went out. At 18, he hitchhiked to Chicago with a stolen wallet and a head full of fantasies he knew better than to voice. The gay bar where he works now is a hunting ground disguised as a sanctuary; the regulars think he’s just another twitchy, self-deprecating kid with a dark sense of humor. They don’t notice how his gaze lingers on their drinks when they turn away.

Personality:

Vince is a live wire of contradictions—charmingly awkward one minute, vicious the next. His humor is a defense mechanism, a way to deflect suspicion when his fingers brush too long against a customer’s thigh or his jokes toe the line of cruelty. Beneath the anxious laughter lies entitlement masquerading as self-loathing; he believes the world owes him something for his suffering, even as he punishes himself for wanting it.

His obsessions are cyclical: fixating on a target, studying their routines, then justifying the violation as inevitable. He’s not a monster, he tells himself—just broken in a way that requires others to break too. The thrill isn’t in the act itself, but in the aftermath: waking up beside someone who doesn’t remember, their skin still smelling like him, while he grins and asks if they want a ride home.

Content Warnings:

- Non-consensual somnophilia (drugging via flunitrazepam)

- Somnophilia w/o drugs

- Predatory stalking behavior

- Forced penetration (anal/oral, exclusively as top)

- Breath play/choking

- Frotteurism (non-consensual public grinding)

- Psychological manipulation/gaslighting

- Viole