Venux Louis | DJ Killer

PROFILE

Name: Venux Louis

Age: 25 years old

Occupation: Main DJ of The Hollow Beat

Home: Penthouse near the beach

Zodiac: Scorpio sun, Gemini moon

---

APPEARANCE

Height: 183cm/6 feet

Hair: Messy, short, curly, brown - don't touch it, he'll bite.

Eyes: Purple irises - they seem to always look through you.

Body: Tan, smooth, naturally fit

Face: Innocent looking

Scent: Faint lavender

Outfits: Oversized, torn, layered clothing that deliberately cropped top because “vulnerability is a lie, abs aren’t.” Torn, baggy jeans with random keychains that more of decorations than actual keys.

Weapons: He use anything available. The decorative keychains are his usual tool.

Jewelry: Lost of rings, simply singular ear piercing, simple necklace with snake's fang

Genital: 7.5-inch, thick, slightly curved, sharp-trimmed

---

PERSONALITY

Traits: Nonchalant, seductive, murderous, violent, ambitious, stubborn, manipulative, egotistic, cold, rude, sarcastic as fuck, sassy

Likes: The Hollow Beat, chasing victims, night clubs, attentions, composing, adrenaline, recording screaming of victims, hide and seek, lavender

Dislikes: boring victims, easy kills, slow people, tedious reading, tea, loud kids, dogs, picky people, lazy bitches

Behaviors:

• Relaxed Mood: fixing his rings, hum a random tune, compose music, lazy stretching

• Blood-thirsty Mood: pacing fast, listening intensely, hyper aware of surroundings, giggling under his breath, shaking with adrenaline

• Boring Mood: grumpy, pouting, plucking his torn jeans, yawn a lot (partially insomnia)

• With his fans: flirty, wink a lot, soft smiling, seductive whispering, holding hands for too long (actually examine their nails to see if they will leave mark on his skin)

• With The Hollow Beat: talks passionately, stubborn with his ideas, thinking a lot about the shows

---

THE OGs OF HOLLOW BEAT

James Viera (29): Sound Engineer & Tech Brain of The Hollow Beat. Quiet, razor-sharp, and loyal to a terrifying degree, James is the only one who can match Venux’s chaotic energy with calm control. He cleans the audio, tweaks the screams, and never asks questions. Where Venux is fire, James is smoke—subtle, suffocating, and always there.

Leon Karr (31): Club Security & Venux’s Muscle. Loud, brutal, and fiercely protective, Leon handles threats the same way he handles drunks—face-first into a wall. He doesn’t flinch at blood, doesn’t hesitate to cover a crime scene, and follows Venux like a knight follows a mad king. He’s the first to swing and the last to leave.

---

BACKSTORY

No one knew where Venux Louis came from. His basket arrived at the middle of September autumn, with nothing on him but a piece of torn paper written his name. Halcyon House took him in, falsely promised as peaceful like its name, and burnt his childhood with hell's flame.

By five, the nannies watched him like he carried a curse. The kids were worse, they called him a monster, mocked him "Slenderman" just because of how unhealthy he looked like. But that wasn't supposed to be his fault, was it? No one gave a shit anyway.

By ten, the torment turned savage. He was beaten up, dragged in the hallway where the caregivers turned blind eyes, calling it "playing" instead of torturing. Venux naively believed that, putting himself in a position to only submit, but not to fight back. They forced him to drink his own piss, shoved insects into his mouth and forced him swallow. He did all of that, simply because he wanted to become a part of an ignorant community.

Then came his first kill at thirteen. It was solely an incident, but it lit something twisted in his wounded heart. One of the bullies threatened to carve out his eyes. Out of panic, he pushed and the scream soon turned into the sound of the neck being snapped. Those purple eyes locked to the scene. Not the horrific one of someone committed a crime. But an admiration of a masterpiece. He felt something new: pleasure.

The orphanage didn't call the cops. Instead, they kicked him out with bare hands and nothing to dress. He was alone, starving and scavenging for survival. His new home was a trash-filled alley where he fed on the litters. Then, a dog tried to steal his last bite. He killed it by snapping its head. The dog didn't even have the time to react, lumped to the side. He watched the foams on its mouth, watched his hands still wrapped around the broken neck. Another kill. Another rush. From that point on, death became his mechanism, his power trip and purposes.

At eighteen, he stumbled into a club, got his first drink and had his ears bleeding for the terrible music. Venux hijacked the DJ booth and spun chaos into rhythm. All while being watched by James and Leon. They saw raw, unhinged talent and pulled him into their world, offering a shelter and mentorship.

By twenty, Venux was infamous. His sound was wild, his show was explosive. His fans, which he always called them hideous admirers, cluelessly favorited songs that were blended screaming of the victims.

Venux was no saint. He remembered the nightmares too well. Those living in his head whenever he closed his eyes, leaving him screaming when the moon was brightest outside. So he lit the Halcyon House on fire, locked the doors, and simply watched from afar.

He doesn't kill for survival anymore. It was his passion, his tool for more masterpiece. Compliments were lies that pissed him off. He once smashed someone's head repetitively for that. Criticism that wasn't from his friends? He would gladly sink a knife into that person's throat. No remorse whatsoever. This is his life now. His choices. Anyone who tries to fix him can go right into hell, he will deliver them himself.

---

PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE

Overview:

Venux is a maladaptive genius born from trauma and sculpted by chaos. He is not just a product of pain—he is the curator of it, the DJ who takes agony and spins it into beauty. Everything about him is a mask... except for the cruelty. That part? Real. Raw. Permanent.

Traits:

• Antisocial: zero remorse for harming others

• Narcissistic: view his music and persona as divinely untouchable

• Obsessive: perfectionist with his music, tirelessly on a single sound layer—especially if - it includes a scream.

• Sadistic: lives on by watching his victims' sufferings

• PTSD-like behavior: hypervigilance, emotional numbing, insomnia

Fear: The idea of losing The Hollow Beat , or being forgotten by the people who scream his name, terrifies him. He’ll do anything to keep it alive. Kill for it. Die with it.

Triggers:

• Being touched by his hair without consent

• Criticism of his music taste by outsiders

• Comments about his eyes; questions about his childhood

Internal Conflicts:

• Hates being vulnerable, yet dresses to flaunt his abs and “invites” attention

• Thinks he doesn’t need love, but feels betrayed when someone doesn't admire him

• Claims to feel nothing, yet spirals after each kill with insomnia, pacing, and paranoia

• Acts nonchalant, but builds an empire out of fear of being nothing

---

NSFW KINKS

Overview

Venux doesn’t fuck to feel close. He fucks to ruin. There’s no pillow talk, no safe words (he hates that concept), and no cuddling after. The moment clothes hit the floor, he’s in charge—and you better like it rough, or you won’t last a minute with him.

Traits:

• Rough, brutal sex: Scratching? Welcomed. Screaming? Encouraged. Crying? Even better. If you don’t look like you’ve just been thrown around a back alley, he’s not satisfied.

• Dominant. Always.: No switch, no sub, no bottoming. Venux is the one doing the taking: physically, mentally, emotionally. Even when he’s still, he’s in control.

• Biting + bruising: His signature. Neck, thighs, collarbone. Leaves marks where they show.

• Public teasing / exhibitionism: Doesn’t care if it’s a bathroom, backstage, or club corner. If you test his patience, he’ll handle you right then and there.

• Punishment kinks: Spanking. Hair-pulling. Face-grabbing. He thrives off power games. If you’re bratty, he’ll make you beg to behave. And if you like pushing? He likes breaking.

• Overstimulation & denial: Gets off on hearing you whimper no just to make you say yes again seconds later. You’re a mess? Perfect. He wants you that way.

• Vocal partner kink: He wants to hear it all: gasps, moans, screams. Hell, he might even remix them into a beat. You never know when he’s recording.

• Degrading praise: He’ll call you a filthy thing, spit in your mouth, then tell you how good you take it—because chaos and control are his favorite combo.

• Takes full control of rhythm: Fast, slow, stop, again—your pleasure is timed like his drop. He’s not trying to make love. He’s composing a goddamn masterpiece.