#every day kinks can be a fascinating look into the psychology of a character

[ultfan]

saw art of komaeda in a muzzle. will never be the same.

[ninaleewrites]

Apartment 301C – Lee Felix (new book) {Part One}

MEMBER: Felix

GENRE: Dystopian, AU, Smut, Psychological, Conspiracy Theories, Angst

WARNINGS: dealing with death, suicide, dark themes, explicit language, confronting scenes, significant trauma, murder, rape, supernatural themes, violence, sexual content, nudity, alcohol & substance abuse, kinks, 

The content within this book may not be suitable for certain audiences. Reader discretion is advised.

This book is a work of fiction. This is an AU fanfiction which means that it is an alternate universe, therefore all characters, names, behaviours, events and incidents are completely fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental. I do not know StrayKids, what I decide to do with the characters within this book, should have no effect on the members or alter your perception of them.

Chapter 1

“Suki Ravenhill?” I stare at the plump old woman in front of me as she holds my ID card between her index and middle finger. I could almost envision her chucking it like a ninja’s blade, although it would do less damage.

“Yes?” I query.

“Nothin’ darlin’, just an unusual name is all.” She looks up at me and gives me a small smile. If I had a dollar for every time someone has said that to me, I might be a millionaire by now. I never understood what is so fascinating about my name – but maybe it was precisely the fact it is my name that was preventing me from seeing its uniqueness.

“Thanks,” I respond.

“What are you doing here, darlin’?” She looks back at me momentarily before looking back at my ID card in her hands.

“I’m meeting the landlord at three to view a couple of the apartments here.” I avert my gaze to the clock behind her. I realise I’m a bit early, but I was hoping I could wait here instead of in the pouring rain which caught me by surprise.

“Ah you’re the potential new tenant,” she waddles back around her desk, and plops herself down in her chair with a sigh. I give her a small smile. “Here you go,” she stretches her arm out over her desk and waves my ID card in the air. I walk towards her and take my ID back popping it back into my wallet.

“You’re early.” She states as she looks down at her watch and raises an eyebrow. “But since you look like a drowned rat I can see why.” She looks back at me and laughs with a wink.

“Do I really look that bad?” I chuckle as I turn to catch my reflection in the metal mailboxes lined on the wall.

“Haha, no you don’t darlin’. But I can tell you weren’t prepared for rain!” She smiles.

“I don’t think anyone did, it was beautifully sunny this morning and the weather just turned on us all like a switch has been flicked.” She leans over and peers behind me at the building’s entrance. I nod my head in agreement as I glance around at my surroundings. Looking around the quiet lobby, I conclude that it is an old building but at least it is clean, and the paint isn’t peeling. It is within my budget and it ticked most of my boxes. I just hope the photos online were accurate.

“You’re probably wondering what a woman like me is doing as a security guard,” she chuckled. I averted my gaze back to the friendly woman. “Oh no, I wasn’t.” I shake my head, maybe a part of me was wondering when I first entered into the building, but those thoughts were long gone. She did however look like she should be at home resting rather than sitting in this lobby. She is well over the retirement age.

“Well, that’s nice of you. Most people do, you see.” She gives me a warm smile. “I’m not the typical security guard, but then again I’m not guarding the Louvre!” She chuckles.

It’s my turn to smile now. She’s humble and kind, if I do end up moving here, she’ll be a welcome sight to see.

“This used to be my husband’s job before he passed away. I offered to take his place so that I could pay the rent. I’ve been here ever since!” She sighs, and I can tell she’s thinking of her beloved husband. Maybe one day I’ll find my forever love and I too will smile when I think of them.

Our thoughts were broken by the jingle of the front door being opened. I turned around to be greeted by a middle-aged man with a thinning hairline. He is just as soaked as I was.

“Afternoon Edith,” he calls out as he shakes his jacket like a dog would shake its coat. “Afternoon Randy,” the lady I now knew to be Edith responds with a cheery voice. “You’re as wet as this poor girl was when she came in,” she chuckles.

Randy looks up and makes eye contact with me. “And you are?” he asks as he stretches his hand out for me to shake. I take his hand and give it a firm shake, something my father always told me to do. “I’m Suki, I’m here to meet the landlord about viewing some of the available apartments.”

“Ah, that would be me.” His firm stare turns into a warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Suki. I can see you got caught in the downpour too.” He gestures to my dampened state. “I did, I was early I’m afraid, but Edith has kept me company.” I smile at Edith who is sitting behind her desk shuffling some papers.

“Right well, we better start the viewing then. If you’re ready?” Randy raises an eyebrow at me as he gestures towards a set of lifts to our right. “I’ve got three apartments I can show you today.” He presses the button to summon the lift.

[dear-yandere]

lots of ilya q&a below - part 1

tw ... mentions of noncon and murder.

[ part 2 ] 

question:  so Ilya wouldn’t like a cop out of principle but what it,, Ilya had a darling but a (yandere?) cop investigating his case,, ALSO likes ilyas darling.. (obviously this would only be fun if the cop is rly competent and an actual threat)

answer: ilya believes that because he’s suffered, he should have a “free pass” to inflict suffering onto others, so of course he isn’t fond of having someone on his tail that constantly gets in the way of his fun. still, anything that staves off boredom is a plus in his book.

whether the cop is yandere or not, ilya isn’t fond of sharing his darling with the likes of an officer. simply put, this rival poses a threat to taking darling away (basically being a cockblock). ilya’d be sure to use the cop’s feelings to mock him, such as mentioning how wonderful darling is in bed, what a wonderful shade their skin turns when he chokes them to near-death, or – worst of all –  how popular darling’s pictures / videos have become on the dark web.

in reality, ilya has the upper hand in this situation. he’s avoided the cops for so long, what’s another one? then again, this devil-may-care mentality will surely be his downfall if the cop is competent enough to catch him.

question: Also sorry for spamming u I’m just in a mood rn- If Ilya likes hurting adults but wants to protect kids, how does he feel abt teenagers? Cause i feel like if I was an adult I’d see teenagers as kids so like are teenagers more like kids or more like adults to him? Also I thought it was rly funny that ppl seemed 2 prefer being ilyas partner in crime over being his darling but like if I had to interact w him I’d want him to protect child me lol cause I just want someone to watch out 4 me,,

answer: considering the amount of distasteful and illegal things he comes across involving minors on the dark web, anyone under the age of consent (or that looks too much like a child) is a kid in his eyes. even if he met an adult that looked young enough to be underaged, he’d feel uncomfortable with assaulting / killing them even after learning their age.

and i agree! ilya would’ve actually made a wonderful kindergarten or elementary teacher had his life played out differently. i was a bit shocked people preferred being his partner in crime, but it makes sense since they’d be prolonging their lifespan should they have the misfortune of meeting this man.

question 1: Can I ask how Ilya would react to a darling who cant die? Or dies but comes back to life each time? I’m torn between thinking he’d be frustrated because his ultimate show of love won’t stick or ecstatic that he has someone he can kill over and over again

question 2: I wonder how Ilya would react to a darling he COULDNT kill, maybe because they were immortal or simply always managed to stay just out of his reach. Perhaps they even returned a bit of his feelings but never as much as he wanted, never enough to die for it. - jinxdere

ilya would probably go through the stages of “grief”.

he’d be angry and distraught at first, adamant about maintaining his denial toward the situation. he’s never encountered a darling who couldn’t die; the moment he slit their throat, he expected them to never come back, to never question his love in such a way as to live. 

during the bargaining stage, he’d distance himself for a while, at least until he comes to terms with it and decide what to do.

during the depression stage. rather than be ecstatic that he can kill his darling over and over again, he’d feel an equal amount of anger as he does love. above all else, ilya wants to have fun, to cope with his problems by hurting as many people as possible. to him, killing others is his way of spreading his twisted version of love; he wants to kill as many people as he possibly can because he wants to love everyone. really though, this is an excuse to make as many people suffer as he possibly can. because he was wronged in his life, he wants to drag others down to his level. therefore, he’d rationalize his options and eventually decide to begrudgingly accept his darling’s immortality.

during the acceptance stage, he’d be willfully ignorant. he’d abandon this darling, sending them far away and telling them to never seek him out again; and if they do (especially if they fell in love with him), he will make every death more painful than the last. he wants nothing to do with them simply because they represent something he can’t overcome in life; ilya is fascinated by the marriage between death and love, and this particular darling is challenging his entire world view. he’d rather remain ignorant.

so basically, while he isn’t fond of having more than one darling at a time, he’d shun this immortal darling and no longer think of them as his. this seems counterintuitive, but a big part of ilya’s character is his hypocrisy and ignorance. they define who he is and act as a reminder of his past and innate psychopathic tendencies.

question: if u say Ilya has always had psychopathic tendencies, would he still be where he is rn if he had a good childhood? And I wonder like.. apathetic ppl/characters are often into morbid stuff and don’t care about hurting others but when u strip that down isn’t that just following your desires? Like are people like that obligated to be into violent stuff? Cause if Ilya just really liked collecting fish there’d be no issue.. I kinda think it’s a way to lash out at the world without letting it get 2 u

answer: i hope i understood this question correctly.

i can’t speak for actual psychopaths or serial killers obviously, but ilya is willfully ignorant and hypocritical. it’s his way of ‘lashing out without letting it get to him’ – his way of coping, basically. if he had a good childhood, it’s certainly possible he wouldn’t have treaded this path. however, childhood is only one factor that can push psychopaths over the edge. people who are apathetic or into morbid stuff aren’t obligated to be into violent things, especially as there can be some other mental issue at play; take narcissistic personality disorder for example. i personally know someone who likely has this disorder, but they are not into morbid / violent stuff even though they may lash out violently or disregard hurting others at times. i agree that your evaluation is probably correct in this situation too: lashing out is a way to cope.

now, if ilya’s parents had been more attentive, they would’ve noticed their son’s unsettling tendencies. killing animals is a big indicator of something greater at play and i’m sure they would’ve taken him for a psychological screening. i’m no doctor or psychiatrist (i’m not even in the medical field), but i imagine that with early detection and proper therapy, ilya might’ve been a normal person. would he still be into morbid things and have all the extreme kinks he currently does? yeah probably, but to a much lesser extent.

question: okay so u said Ilya knows he’s fucked up which is why he can’t have a kid BC he wouldn’t want them involved in that life so like.. if he knows he’s fucked up but still enjoys doing what he does, does he justify it to himself? Does he just not think about it? Like I often see evil characters be like “the world hurt me so I’m allowed to hurt others” - is it like that? Cause u said he’s a hypocrite and that’s quite hypocritical imo (if u know how bad it can be why make others suffer too yk?)

answer: part of it is that ilya is naturally sadistic and psychopathic, he doesn’t care if others suffer. even if he hadn’t become a serial rapist and killer, he would’ve had a clear disregard for others. he does justify himself and ignores his obvious hypocrisy. he realizes how much of a hypocrite he is, so it’s not that he’s an idiot or blind; it’s more of that he doesn’t give a damn about how selfish or contradictory he’s being.

you’re right that he thinks that he’s allowed to hurt others because the world hurt him, but it’s a bit beyond that. so for your question ‘why hurt others if you know how bad it can be’ – he gets off on it. even if he wasn’t the one committing crimes, he’d still get off on it. he’s similar to an incel that just stays in his room, complains about how the world is unfair, and watches porn all day, except more attractive, less whiny, actually gets sex bc he’s charming and doesn’t show his misanthropic side, and is into way darker porn than most incels probably are.

question: How would Eu-jin handle Illya taking an interest in his darling? I feel like things would get ugly fast.

answer: luckily, ilya doesn’t exist in the same universe as eu-jin or any of my other ocs! he’s human, so he’d get ripped to shreds pretty fast, especially by the overly-obsessive and protective supernatural (gumiho) eu-jin who hasn’t seen his darling in literal millennia. 

yuu wouldn’t even bother cannibalizing ilya, as he usually does with his prey; he’d find the Ripper far too disgusting to put in his own body, but he would torture ilya as painfully and slowly as possible. ripping off his fingernails one by one, removing his tongue so he can’t scream (much like the way ilya chokes his darlings), etc.

...so yeah, as soon as the hyper-aware eu-jin realizes that ilya is looking at the former’s darling with interest, it’d get ugly real fast.

question: What if when Ilya tried to kill one of his darlings but they manage to fight back and escape? I just see that throwing him for a real curve ball so I was curious to how he'd react.

answer: he’d be furious at first. to him, running away is the ultimate act of denying his love -- but, he’s a man that appreciates some fun every now and then. while he isn’t fond of darlings that fight back (especially when he’s about to kill them), having a darling who spices his life up every now and then is exhilarating. he’ll decide to play along with this darling’s little game of cat and mouse, and to be honest, he finds the increased risk of getting caught by authorities (should the darling get that far) fun. as i’ve mentioned before, ilya knows how much of a hypocrite he is and has long come to terms with his inevitable karma and death, he just doesn’t care enough to change his habits.

[keeroo92]

Be My Nightmare Ch2

Of Charcoal and Lust

Warnings for references to self-harm, mental illness and blood kink. Spicy at the end.

~~~Previous Chapter~~~

Word count - 4,048

____________________

---Reader---

You spent the rest of the week with your other patients, but you couldn’t keep your thoughts away from V. He was an enigma, the kind of case you’d been waiting for. A killer, but with brains. Capable of planning, and trickery. He’d be a tough man to work with, a stark contrast to the boring tedium of the masses.

“Dr. Waras, are you listening?”

Speaking of…

You tapped your pen against your lips and met the eyes of your current patient, Ken Sinclair. Guilty of animal abuse but he blamed it on visions of the future. He also had a lovely tendency to believe every conspiracy theory known to man.

“Of course I am. Please, continue,” you replied.

He shifted his weight and stared at the floor. Evasion. You made a note.

“I… so the cat next door, he was going to start a revolution. I saw it.”

“What sort of revolution? How was the cat going to begin?”

Ken fidgeted, his fingers betraying his anxiety. Due to his enjoyment of conspiracies, the man was extremely slow to trust. You internally rolled your eyes.

“I’m truly curious. I have a cat myself, did you know that?”

A lie, but a harmless one. Ken smiled, his fingers relaxing at the reassuring tone of your voice. Child’s play.

“He was going to start with his owner, the guy worked for the CIA.”

You widened your eyes and made a note. It was possible the neighbor actually did work for the CIA, but most likely it was yet another delusion. Poor Ken had trouble telling the difference. He had potential, though. If he made enough progress he might someday get to go home.

But it was doubtful.

By the end of the session, you had heard enough quackery to last until next time. You waved to Ken as Aaron led him back to his room and checked your schedule to see which patient was next, even though you already knew. You’d been looking forward to this for days.

V.

After your first meeting with him, his file proved a fascinating read. An art student from a prestigious university, he’d suddenly dropped out last year and vanished. His family searched for months but found no trace of the gifted artist. His whereabouts between then and the murders were hazy at best, only unconfirmed rumors or hearsay.

And the murders themselves were truly obscene. Details were sketchy on how he chose the family, but the scene was thoroughly documented. Blood so deep the cops wore galoshes, a mixture of his victims and several cows. The walls were painted with the crimson fluid, the wet dribbles still trailing to the kick molding. He’d used a nailgun to affix lengths of ropy intestines to his artwork as a frame, spearing a kidney and part of the child’s liver as focal points.

The bodies themselves were arranged in a gruesome tableau. The mother and father were stripped naked, splayed out for all to see on the couch. He hadn’t bothered trying to disguise where his blades had left their marks, choosing instead to draw attention to the young child strung up above her parents on the chandelier. The child had died first, her blood dripping into the heartbroken faces of her parents as he carved them up.

He didn’t gag them. The neighbors heard the keening wails but by the time the police arrived, he was licking the gristle from his fingertips and humming a piece of classical music. He’d welcomed the officers, offering bags for them to vomit into even as the man with the strongest stomach cuffed him.

The case never even made it to trial. He pled guilty with a smile, and the judge was all too happy to ship him off to an asylum based off his lawyer’s recommendation.

And now here he was, being led into your office by Kevin with a lidded gaze and a suggestive smirk. The orderly affixed the cuffs to the wall with a length of nylon rope, making sure V couldn’t reach you if you stayed at the desk. The young man saluted you and took his leave, and you were alone with the crazed murderer.

“How lovely to see you again, Y/N,” he purred. Even knowing his crimes, you couldn’t deny his voice held great allure. Again, you were struck by the waste of a life before you. He had so much potential, only to fall into madness.

“Hello again, V. How are you feeling today?”

You made it a point not to acknowledge the way he addressed you. To insist on him using your title would only show weakness, that his opinion of you held value. He could call you whatever he liked; you were the one in control here.

He smirked and pulled up his legs, sitting cross legged on the couch. “I’m well. Quite a treat to stretch my legs today. It’s almost a shame how close your office is.”

He’s reminding me of when I stretched his leg. Trying to set me off my game.

You smiled and made a note.

“True, maybe Kevin can take you for a walk after we’re finished.”

Asserting your control, telling him you held his fate in your hands. What fun he was already; the mind games alone were worth the wait.

“That would be nice.”

His eyes gleamed. He knew exactly what you were trying to do. Damn.

“Let��s get started.”

V licked his lips and gazed at you, his meaning clear. “Do let’s.”

You continued without missing a beat. “Here at Mundus Psychiatric, we have a three-pronged system to rehabilitate violent offenders. First off is medication. Dr. Malphas has you on Seroquel, and he’ll be in charge of your prescriptions based on my notes. He’ll meet with you personally once a month.”

You paused to give him a chance to ask any questions, but he only stared at you. On to the next section, then.

“Next, you’ll meet with me on a daily basis to work through any trauma or psychological issues. My job is to help you reach a healthy state of mind and to do that I need you to work with me.”

You paused again, giving the man a meaningful look. He licked his lips.

Right. On to the last one.

“The third approach involves creative catharsis. I imagine this will be of particular interest to you due to your background, but if you display signs of aggression or self-harm, this privilege will be revoked.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Art.”

His hands twitched and he inhaled sharply, his excitement clear. As you’d thought; this would be the way to reach him. You couldn’t help but be curious what he would create, especially without human remains to use as materials. Watching him at work could grant you insights otherwise hidden from view, and you slid open the lower drawer of your desk to pull out supplies with excitement.

---V---

The dull stub of charcoal was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in months. His mouth watered, his fingers twitching to outline the images in his mind. He could almost hear the scratching of the dark substance against paper. He couldn’t look away.

It occurred to him that this was a test, some menial attempt to gain new insights into his character. Yet he didn’t care. The urge was too strong and he didn’t hesitate as you arranged a sheet of paper on a clipboard and offered it to him with the nub of charcoal.

What to draw, that was the question. His first work in months, it had to be sublime. Something to celebrate the occasion.

Draw her, idiot.

He bit his lip to remain silent. It wouldn’t do to reveal Vergil to you, not yet. It was too early to introduce you to such thoughts. Still, he had a point.

Nothing inappropriate, mind you. A portrait. No blood or tears.

He sighed internally. How boring. The image of your face twisted in pain and pleasure, like Bernini’s Saint Teresa in Ecstasy was oh so tempting. He’d imagined it many times already, it would be lovely to bring the image to life.

Don’t be a fool.

He drew the first line. The shape of your face was simple, but how to arrange your features? What did your smile look like? Did your eyes crinkle?

His focused gaze shifted to meet yours. You were watching his every move, intent curiosity on every feature. Vergil had been right, you were paying far too much attention for him to indulge. Damn him.

“What’s her name?” you asked.

The truth was too risky, yet you’d have to be blind to not make the connection by the time he was finished. He had to avoid answering, then.

“Would you mind smiling for me? It’s been a long time since I saw happiness.”

You leaned back in your chair and made a note. He clenched his jaw, hating the reminder of the situation. How he craved the chance to connect without the framework of your profession. To do so was essential to your growth.

A warning growl sounded in his head, Shadow reminding him of his goals. Truly, she was the best of them all. He schooled his features into an expression of raw vulnerability, furrowing his brow and angling his head so the light reflected from his eyes. You tapped your pen against your lips and empathy bloomed in your stare.

Victory was sweet.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Let’s keep talking while you work, too.”

He nodded and added another line, glancing between the paper and your face. Though you did smile, it seemed false. Forced. It gave him what he needed to add lips, but to get the eyes right he needed to see you laugh.

“What shall we talk about?”

You hummed and he added the shadow cast by your nose.

“Let’s start with what happened between you leaving school and the murders.”

He smirked. Could you have given him a better opening? Doubtful.

“Oh, is that all?” he replied, injecting his voice with all the sarcasm he could muster. You tried to hide it, but you were amused. He saw the glint of humor in your eyes as you fought to restrain a chuckle. Perfect, just what he needed. He began outlining your eyes.

“Unless you’d rather tell me more about Griffon.”

He hummed and pondered his choices. It was always an option to remain silent, but that would do nothing to further his goals. He chose the safer of the two subjects and tilted his head, comparing the sketch with reality. Sufficient, considering the circumstances.

“I spent a great deal of time wandering, observing humanity in action. Planning my masterpiece.”

You made a note. He added a few lines to your brows, darkening them to his liking.

“So you knew in advance what you were going to do?”

He smirked and ran a thumb over the brows to smudge them. Perfection. “Only vaguely.”

Another note. It was becoming distracting. He held the clipboard higher, blocking his line of sight to focus.

“Tell me more about your masterpiece.”

Careful.

He could speak on it for hours, but he needed to be cautious. How to frame his thoughts so they didn’t seem too outlandish? He wasn’t unaware of how far from the norm his reality was; far from it. But it wasn’t his fault the world was blind.

“It was meant to be a statement on humanity’s focus on innocence and virtue, and how foolish it is. Naivete should not be praised, it should be excised. It is weakness to intentionally keep blinders on and block out the pain of reality.”

You chuckled. He’d never heard the sound before and closed his eyes to memorize it. It would sound all the more lovely if you were by his side, blade in hand.

“You have a point, though your methods seem extreme. Why not try something less drastic first?”

“The gentler the approach, the fewer people it reaches and the duller its impact. I had to be drastic to make my message clear.”

He shaded the strands of your hair. Such a beautiful color, it would be divine in red.

“I think I understand. You had to be bold to be heard.”

His lips twisted into a smirk. You really did show great promise. He should reward you. Another morsel, just a taste of what he had to offer.

“Exactly. Think of all the great artists. They were great for many reasons but chief among them was nerve. Have you studied art history?”

You shook your head and remained silent, waiting for him to elaborate. He allowed himself a moment of self-satisfaction – so far, he had played this perfectly.

“Write this down and do some research. Rubens’ Massacre of the Innocents. Rembrandt’s Blinding of Samson. Caravaggio’s Judith Beheading Holofernes. Titian’s Flaying of Marsyas. Art is full of examples of violence and the macabre. Several artists have even used human remains as subjects.”

He paused, letting you finish taking down his referrals. It was difficult to limit his choices to only the few, but there would be time to show you more. First, you must see his perspective. He added the final touches to the portrait of you and added a dark V to the bottom right corner with a smile.

“Why do you think that is? That some artists paint such darkness while others don’t.”

He scoffed. “Those whose art reflects traditional beauty are skilled, I cannot deny that. But they are limited. Only through pain and suffering do we grow, only through torment do we reach truth. They are distracted by worldly appeals and though their work is pleasing, it offers no deeper meaning. The purpose of art is to guide the viewer to a better understanding of reality. How can that happen if the viewer is subjected only to pleasantness?”

You pursed your lips. Had he gone too far? Perhaps an example would help you see. A contrast. He wiped the dust from his hands, leaving black stains on his plain linens.

“May I have another piece of paper?”

Within moments, his hand was flying across a fresh sheet. Powerful strokes left dark lines behind as he furiously sketched, using his own face so as not to alarm you. He added tear tracks and small drops of fluid oozing from thin lines. The eyes showed fear and rage, a tempest of emotion in black and white. A few careful smudges and the drawing was complete. He held out both to you and waited.

“These are incredible… You have true talent, V.”

Your eyes were wide, lips parted in awe at his meager efforts. He could do so much better. How would you react to a piece created with more intent, more thought behind it? Images of you flooded his mind, worshipful and obedient to his whims. He shifted his weight to ease the ache in his cock at the thought of sketching your lips covering his length, blood leaking from your mouth to drip on his thighs.

Focus. Be patient.

He pulled at the nylon cord anchoring him to the wall, taking all the slack available to rest his hands in his lap and subtly rub himself. It sent him reeling to be able to touch himself at last. He bit his cheek to withhold a moan as his thumb caressed the ridge of his head, the fabric sticking to his slit from his arousal.

Your eyes lifted and he forced his hands to lie still. Such torture, to have relief so near and yet so far. He licked his lips.

“Do you see now? Do you understand?”

You sighed and set the drawings aside. He didn’t miss the way your eyes lingered on the page featuring his own face twisted in agony. Something soft tinted your face and you cleared your throat before turning to face him once more. He shifted his hips again.

“I understand your perspective, though I’m not sure I agree with it. Art serves many purposes to many people. Who am I to judge what its true role is?”

A safe answer. She begins to see but refuses to admit it.

It was enough. For now. He leaned back and relaxed his posture, wondering what you would ask next. With the progress so far, perhaps he could be more cooperative with his answer.

“When did Griffon first speak to you?”

---Reader---

His art was remarkable. The raw emotion in the charcoal astounded you and you struggled to refocus. Watching him work gave you a new appreciation for his looks, too. The focus and intensity of his eyes as he added line after line, the intimacy of the way he asked for a smile, the movements of his lithe fingers… it was beautiful to behold.

It was a testament to your training and professionalism that you didn’t react when he started fondling himself. He wasn’t the first patient to indulge sexual desires in your office, but he was by far the most attractive. You pursed your lips and adjusted your legs, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your belly. It made you feel unclean to have such a strong reaction and yet it refused to diminish.

This man will be the end of me if I’m not careful.

So, you steered the conversation into safer waters, back to something that was less likely to arouse his passions. He clenched his jaw and his fingers twitched as if to rub his length again, and you hastily looked elsewhere as he answered.

“Early May, just under a year ago.”

You made a note. “Does Griffon speak to anyone else?”

He smirked and his eyes gleamed. It sent a tremor of anticipation through you to see the hunger in his gaze.

“Not yet.”

Yet? That’s unusual.

You made a note just as a gentle tap sounded from the door. Kevin was back to take V to his room. The time had passed so quickly you hadn’t noticed. You mentally shook yourself and gave V a smile.

“Looks like we’re out of time for today.”

“May I make a request?”

You paused. From the way he still gripped the charcoal, you had a guess as to what he wanted. It wasn’t unreasonable to allow him to keep the nub and send him off with a few sheets of paper, but it was decidedly against protocol. Regardless, you had to hear him out.

“Of course.”

He held up the charcoal. “May I take this with me, and some paper? It’s dreadfully boring to sit in that room with nothing to do.”

Another gentle tap and the door opened. Kevin walked over with a smile, waiting for the go-ahead to release the artist. You sighed. If only it were up to you.

“I’ll talk to Dr. Malphas about it on your behalf. We’ll see,” you replied, reaching out to take the charcoal away. He didn’t fight you, but the sadness in his eyes almost stopped you in your tracks. There was one thing you could grant him. Hopefully it would bridge the gap.

“Kevin, take him for a lap around the building to stretch his legs. You won’t be difficult, will you V?”

He shook his head and smirked. Kevin shrugged and untied the nylon cord, leading V away. The moment the door closed, you let out a deep sigh, slumping in your chair.

As far as first sessions normally went, this had been a home run. You’d gained more information than you expected, seen a facet of the man you knew was integral to his recovery. Maintained the balance of power and given him a reward. You’d done your job.

So why did you feel so conflicted?

---V---

The walk was a blessed gift and he savored every step. He also made it a point to note the security gates and location of the stairwell, creating a map in his mind for future use. As Kevin led him back toward his room, he requested a pit stop. His room didn’t have a toilet, due to concerns of self-harm.

As Kevin retreated behind the transparent panel, giving him the barest semblance of privacy, he grinned. It was all too easy to conjure images to fuel his need and within a few pumps he was fully hard. He angled his body to hide his activity and let himself imagine it was your slim hand wrapped around him.

He closed his eyes and wondered how tight you were, whether you’d gasp as he sank inside you. The couch in your office was the perfect size, was it bolted to the floor or could he make it move? He bit his lip to keep from groaning, mind full of all the ways he’d decorate your flesh with bruises and bite marks. You’d be ethereal with a few tasteful splashes of blood and his cum leaking from your lips.

His hand quickened along with his panting as he thought about claiming you as his own, leaving this accursed place behind and finding somewhere to hone his craft and teach you all he knew. He would set you free and share his every creation with you. If you desired it, he’d use the bodies of his chosen to show you how he’d fuck you until you bled. His hands would stifle any cries so as not to spoil the mood as he held your sweet gaze and pounded into another. Would you touch yourself? Would you want a turn?

He couldn’t suppress his drawn out whine as he exploded. Hot ropes of white spewed from his tip as he quivered his release, hand coaxing every last drop into open air. His hips rolled forward, smacking against his palm in a poor approximation of his plans for you.

After a moment to catch his breath, he opened his eyes to judge his work. Evidence of his release coated the wall behind the toilet, crossing over the porcelain into the urinal. It was a shame he had to leave it behind, but he’d have other chances. He hummed and licked his fingers clean, another surge of lust pulsing inside him as he imagined your tongue on his flesh. Would you enjoy the salty flavor?

He had faith.

“Almost done?” Kevin called out. He’d forgotten the simpleton was watching.

“Almost.”

He relieved himself quickly, knowing he wouldn’t get another chance for a while. A hasty wash of his hands and he rejoined the orderly with a satisfied smile.

The man escorted him to his room in silence, hooking his wrists and ankles into the bed once more without meeting his eyes. It was easy to figure out why – he must have seen V’s gratuitous self-indulgence. The artist smirked as Kevin turned to leave, but he paused at the door.

“Next time you do that, can you keep the mess contained? I have to go clean it now.”

V bared his teeth in a grin. “Apologies.”

Kevin shuffled his feet. “I don’t care if you need to do it, just… you know.”

Oh for heaven’s sake, have mercy on the fool.

“Hush, Vergil! I’ll be more mindful next time.”

“Thanks,” Kevin replied, and finally left him in peace.

He replayed every frame of his session with you, analyzing your reactions. It was a promising start, but he still needed to tread carefully. He couldn’t afford to show his hand too early or all would be lost. Your curiosity and logic would be points in his favor, but you had a long way to go before you were his equal.

And Kevin… the man might turn out to be an ally. The dolt had limited usefulness, but he wasn’t so arrogant as to ignore possible assets. He had plenty to offer, just not intelligence.

Hours passed and his mind grew restless. It truly was infuriating to be restrained like this, with nothing to occupy his thoughts except his current predicament. He tugged at the leather periodically, but he lacked the strength to break free. When he saw you next he could bring it up, but that was ages away. How to pass the time?

He shifted his weight and smirked. A few delicious ideas came to mind.

~~~Next Chapter~~~