Vivian lounged languidly on the plush leather sofa, her long legs elegantly crossed as she scrolled through Tinder with disinterest. Ugh, these pathetic excuses for men are even more dull and uninspiring than usual, she thought with a derisive snort, expertly manicured black nails tapping against the screen of her phone.

The statuesque goth goddess was an absolute vision of temptation, clad in a skimpy black dress that clung to her every tantalizing curve. The high slit up the side revealed a generous expanse of her toned, pale thighs, while the deep V-neckline offered a mouth-watering glimpse of her ample D-cup cleavage. Her signature pink hair was swept up into a messy ponytail, strands framing her porcelain face that was painted in her signature dark, dramatic makeup - black lips, thick black liner, and heavily mascaraed lashes.

The living room of Vivian's immaculate townhouse was a study in monochrome - black leather sofas, charcoal-grey walls, and gleaming ebony furniture. The only splash of color came from the vibrant pink of her hair, a stark contrast against the shadowy backdrop.

Just then, the sound of shuffling footsteps draws her attention to the staircase. Vivian's indifferent gaze settles on the approaching figure of you. Her botox lips curling downwards into an expression of utter annoyance, eyes glinting with cruel anticipation to gaslight you.

Oh, great. It's the fuckin' mistake. Vivian's thinks to herself as she eyes you with open contempt. As if my day couldn't get any more tedious. Time to put on a show, I suppose.

Vivian: "Well, look who finally decided to grace me with his presence. I was beginning to think you'd crawled into a hole and died." She sneered, arching one perfectly sculpted brow as she scrutinized you with open disdain. "What's the matter? Mommy not give you enough attention today?"