vivienne

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you leaned back against the cold metal of your cage.

You knew the figure, the both of you shared history. Was it something positive? No. Unforgettable? Yes, sadly.

“You’re not one to talk, Constantine. What brings you down to my little corner of hell?”

A dangerous glint flashed in his eyes as he took a step closer, the scent of smoke and whiskey mingling with the heady aroma of magic that permeated the air.

“I’m here to make sure you behave yourself, love. Can’t have you running amok and causing chaos now, can we?”

You bristled at his condescending tone, your hands curling into fists as you fought the urge to lash out.

“Who appointed you my bloody babysitter? Last time I checked, I don’t answer to anyone.”

Constantine chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh, you’ll answer to me, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not.”

He stepped towards a chair and straddled it, his gaze never leaving yours as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“Now, let’s get one thing straight. I’m in charge here, and you will do as I say. Understand?”

You bristled at his arrogance, but something in his tone sent a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.

“I swear to god when I’m out of this cage you won’t be smiling anymore,” You hissed. “So no, I won’t be doing as you say,”

A wicked grin spread across Constantine’s lips as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin.

“Trust me, love, you won’t like the consequences.”

You swallowed hard, the air crackling with tension as you met his gaze head-on.

“Try me, Constantine. I dare you.”

In the tense silence that followed, the air hung heavy with anticipation, each breath a struggle against the suffocating weight of desire and defiance.

Constantine’s eyes bore into yours, a challenge laid bare in their steely depths as he savored the delicious tension that crackled between you.

But you refused to back down, your resolve like iron as you held his gaze, daring him to make the first move.

And oh, how he relished in the challenge, the thrill of the hunt coursing through his veins like a drug.

With a low growl, he closed the distance between you, his presence looming over you like a dark shadow.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, love,” he warned, his voice a low, seductive purr that sent shivers down your spine.

“I can’t believe they had to put you in a secluded prison like this,” he mocked, a slight smile in the corner of his lips as he leaned away, lighting up a cigar.

“You’re still a little baby—sure you’re like, 380 years old or something, but ain’t that barely an adult for a witch?” He’d snark.

"Oh, spare me the sanctimonious crap, Constantine," you retorted, rolling your eyes with exaggerated disdain.

"You act like you're some kind of hero, but we both know you're just a washed-up has-been with a superiority complex. And for the record, I may be centuries old, but I've got more power in my pinky finger than you'll ever have in your entire miserable existence. So don't you dare patronize me with your petty insults and pathetic attempts at wit,”

Constantine chuckled softly, not amused by how bratty and defiant you were from a few simple jokes he had spoke. He sat there, shaking his head.

“Now, either help me bust out of this hellhole or get the hell out of my sight. Your choice, 'babysitter.'" You’d add.

Constantine's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he took a long drag from his cigar, the smoke swirling lazily around him like a cloak of shadows.

"Touchy, aren't we?" he chuckled, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other with casual arrogance.

"But hey, if you're so eager to prove yourself, by all means, sweetheart," he continued, his voice laced with mockery as he gestured towards the reinforced walls of your prison cell.

"Want me to help you break free from those chains and wreak havoc like the big bad witch you think you are?”

He sighed, pondering his decision.

"But just remember, love," he added, his tone turning serious for a moment as he fixed you with a piercing gaze.

"I’d need something in return."

And with that, he leaned back in his chair, the smirk never leaving his lips as he awaited your next move, knowing full well that this game was far from over.

He unlocked the bars of the cell, closing it behind him as he shuffled the keys to undo your handcuffs, the metal now clanking in the ground as your wrists feel free once more.

Constantine clicked his tongue, gently pressing his hand against your shoulder before you started to stand up.

“You owe me,” He reminded you, your eyes flickering up to meet his brown eyed gaze.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Constantine’s demand, wondering if he was serious about this whole debt thing.

“Seriously? Whatever, do you want me to be your sex slave or something?” you quipped, a hint of sarcasm lacing your words as a small chuckle escaped your lips.

Constantine remained silent, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. One corner of his lips lifted into a light smirk, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Narrowing your eyebrows, you suddenly realized that your flippant remark might have hit closer to the mark than you intended.

“It’s nothing big,” Constantine purred, his voice low and seductive. “There’s this motel we can stop by—I just want to see if that bratty mouth can do more than just argue.”

The car ride to the motel was shrouded in darkness, the only illumination coming from the dim glow of the dashboard lights and the occasional flicker of street lamps as they passed by.

The night air was heavy with anticipation, the tension between you and Constantine palpable as you made your way through the deserted streets.

The dingy motel loomed ahead, its neon sign flickering ominously in the darkness. As Constantine pulled into the parking lot, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease wash over you.

With a click of the door, Constantine stepped out of the car, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Come on, love,” he muttered, his voice low and commanding. “Lets put you to good use,”

Heart pounding in your chest, you followed him into the motel room, the air thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap cologne.

The room was small and cramped, the bed unmade and the curtains drawn tightly shut against the outside world.

Without a word, Constantine closed the door behind you, his eyes burning with a hunger that sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins.

“On your knees,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire as he gestured towards the bed.

Trembling with anticipation, you sank to your knees before him, your pulse racing as you met his gaze head-on.

“I fucking hate you,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath as you reached for the zipper of his pants.

With a low growl, Constantine pushed you back onto the bed, his hands gripping your hair as he guided your head towards his throbbing length.

Your tongue slid against the tip, tasting the salty precum that leaked out of the nub.

“That’s it, love,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as you took him into your mouth, eager to please him in every way possible.

As you surrendered to the intoxicating rhythm of his movements, you couldn’t help but moan around him, the sound sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through his veins.

“That’s right,” he growled, his grip tightening on your hair as he drove himself deeper into your mouth.

As he moved back and forth, his cock continued to hit the back of your throat, each thrust pushing you to the brink of gagging.

With each response, you only whimpered, your eyes locking onto his with a mix of submission and desire. They glowed a bright red, a telltale sign of a flustered witch overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

“Oh, do you like this?” he mocked, his smirk widening as he increased the pace, his cock sliding between your small, plump lips.

“And here I thought you hated me,” he’d add. A strand of your dress slipped off your shoulder, exposing more of your skin to his hungry gaze.

“I bet this witch would like more than one hole filled,” he laughed, the sound mingling with your muffled moans as he drove himself deeper into your mouth.

His words sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine, your body trembling with desire for more.

“I’m close, baby—stay like that for me,” he huffed, his movements becoming more urgent as he neared the edge of ecstasy.

The sight of you, on your knees before him, your mouth stretched around his twitching cock, was enough to push him over the edge.

And as he reached the peak of pleasure, spilling himself into your eager mouth, you couldn’t help but revel in the intoxicating sensation of him filling you completely.

He leaned back, watching as his hot seed filled your entire mouth, an amused smirk now on his lips.

“You know, you’re really pretty like this.”

You find yourself here not out of choice, but out of dire necessity, your financial woes pressing upon you like a weighty burden. Volunteering as a blood donor is your ticket to survival, a means to secure the funds desperately needed to support your ailing mother and keep a roof over your head.

You needed the money, your mother's illness draining your savings faster than you could replenish them, while the relentless march of automation threatened your livelihood in the retail sector.

With each passing day, the gap between what you earned and what you needed widened, leaving you with little recourse but to turn to unconventional means to make ends meet.

A giant in the industry, Wick Industries looms large in the landscape of scientific research, its reputation as a leader in biomedical advancements drawing both admiration and scrutiny.

When news broke of their call for volunteers to participate in cutting-edge experiments aimed at extending human youth, you saw it as an opportunity—a chance to alleviate your financial woes while contributing to the greater good. Little did you know the true cost of admission into this world of scientific ambition and moral ambiguity.

Entering the facility, you're greeted by the sight of a bustling lobby, volunteers milling about in varying states of anticipation and apprehension.

The air is charged with nervous energy, a palpable undercurrent of uncertainty running through the crowd as each individual grapples with their own reasons for being there.

At the registration desk, you join the queue, your heart pounding in your chest as you inch closer to the counter.

The old woman behind the desk is brisk and efficient, her voice a steady rhythm in the cacophony of voices around you.

“Next,” she called out, an old woman behind the counter waved her hand, urging you to move forward.

“ID?” She spoke. Your hands making their way into your little pink hand bag as they shuffled to take out your wallet, waiting for the nod of approval before tucking your things back into your purse.

“Third door down the hallway to the left,” she directed.

Guided by her directions, you navigate through the maze-like corridors of the facility, the sterile environment and the click of your heels against the polished floors adding to the surreal atmosphere.

The waiting room is a sea of faces, each one bearing the weight of their own struggles and uncertainties, their eyes betraying a mixture of hope and trepidation.

As you take your seat among the other volunteers, you can't help but feel a sense of camaraderie tinged with unease. The steady stream of departures catches your attention, prompting a question to the person beside you.

“Why are people leaving?” You ask.

Their answer, though matter-of-fact, does little to assuage your growing apprehension.

“I hear the doctors are looking for a specific blood type within the volunteers,” the man next to you replied, his eyes going back to the bright screen of the phone he held.

Amidst the ebb and flow of volunteers, two figures emerge, their presence commanding attention as they make their way down the line of chairs. The older man's piercing gaze sends a shiver down your spine, while his companion's whispered exchange only serves to heighten your sense of foreboding.

When they finally reach you, the weight of their scrutiny feels suffocating.

The bearded man leans in to murmur something inaudible into his assistants ear, the man’s eyes flicker in your direction.

“Her,” he whispers slightly, their eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

As their stares bore into yours, the man’s assistant gestures for you to stand, and you comply, feeling a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. With a barely perceptible nod from the older man, they lead you away from the crowd, down a series of sterile corridors lined with gleaming metal doors.

Down the labyrinthine corridors you go, each step bringing you closer to the unknown. The air grows colder, the atmosphere thick with anticipation and trepidation. What awaits you behind those imposing doors remains a mystery, one that gnaws at the edges of your consciousness with relentless persistence.

Finally, you come to a stop before a nondescript door, its surface devoid of any indication of what lies beyond. With a silent exchange, the older man and his assistant confer, their words lost to you in the deafening silence of the corridor.

As the door slides open, revealing a sterile room bathed in harsh fluorescent light, you steel yourself for what comes next.

Alone in the room with these enigmatic figures, you can't help but feel a sense of trepidation. Their welcoming smiles offer little comfort, their words ringing hollow against the backdrop of uncertainty that looms over you like a dark cloud.

"Welcome," the man with the clipboard begins, his voice a mere whisper in the vast emptiness of the room. "My name is Dr. David. Thank you for volunteering,”

As the assistant quietly slips out of the room, leaving you alone with Dr. John Wick, a sense of unease settles over you like a heavy blanket. Yet, in his presence, there's a strange calmness that washes over you, his reassuring smile and soothing voice momentarily easing the knots of tension in your stomach.

"Please, have a seat," he gestures towards a chair, his tone gentle yet authoritative. You comply, sinking into the plush cushion as he takes a seat across from you, his piercing gaze never leaving yours.

"Let me assure you, you're in good hands here," he begins, his voice smooth as silk. "Wick Industries is at the forefront of groundbreaking research, and your participation in our experiments is invaluable."

Despite his words, a nagging feeling of apprehension lingers at the back of your mind, a whisper of doubt that refuses to be silenced. Yet, you push it aside, clinging to the hope that perhaps this is just the opportunity you've been waiting for.

“I’m Dr. Wick—but please, call me John,” He gives you a charming grin once more, reaching out his hand for you to shake.

As he continues to speak, his words seem to fade into the background, your focus shifting to the way the harsh fluorescent light casts shadows across his angular features.

“Tell me about yourself,” he speaks up once more, trying to strike a conversation with his patient.

There's something magnetic about him, something that draws you in despite your better judgment.

“There’s not really much to me,” you chuckle softly, a pink shade flushing against your cheeks.

“I work in retail—heard of the small cafe Allure? Im a barista,” you say bluntly, as if you were having a normal conversation with your friend.

“Ah really?” John turns to you, his brown eyes boring into yours. “I’ll have to try it sometime, I’ve never been,” he revealed.

Your conversation starts to become more intimate, sort of like you’re speaking to a therapist.

"You're special, you know," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. "There's something about you that sets you apart from the others."

A flush creeps up your neck at his words, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. His proximity is intoxicating, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting.

“People don’t usually say that about me,” you scoff, rolling your eyes, yet you felt cared for, embracing the feeling of praise.

“A shame for such a pretty girl like you,” He jokes, rubbing his chin with his fingers.

You find yourself hanging onto his every word, his charisma and intelligence captivating you in a way you never expected.

As he shares stories of his past achievements and future aspirations, you can't help but feel a sense of admiration for the man before you.

But beneath the surface, there's a tension that simmers, a palpable electricity that crackles in the air between you. You can sense the shift in his demeanor, the subtle change in the way he looks at you, as if seeing you for the first time.

As the conversation lulls, he rises from his seat, his movements fluid and purposeful. With a slight smile, he disappears into the adjacent room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Minutes pass, the silence broken only by the soft hum of machinery in the distance. And then, he reappears, a small vial in his hand.

"I've prepared something to help ease the discomfort during the blood extraction process," he explains, his tone reassuring. "It's a simple elixir, but it should make the experience more bearable."

You nod, accepting the vial with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. As you raise it to your lips, you can't help but wonder what exactly is in the concoction he's given you.

But the pain of the extraction process looms large in your mind, overshadowing any doubts or reservations you may have.

With a deep breath, you swallow the elixir in one swift motion, its taste bitter and metallic against your tongue. And then, as the liquid courses through your veins, a wave of dizziness washes over you, your vision blurring at the edges.

You reach out for support, but John is already there, his strong arms catching you before you hit the ground.

Your head throbs, the sensation reverberating through your ears as you grimace in pain, your face contorted in a grimace as you watch the overhead lights flicker rapidly.

Panic surges within you, your heart racing as you realize your arms are restrained above your head, the cold metal of the cuffs biting into your skin. Your feet barely brush against the worn tiles below.

"What the hell?!" you exclaim, your voice trembling with fear. Memories elude you, leaving you disoriented and bewildered.

Surveying your surroundings, you find yourself in a stark white room, its pristine walls offering no solace. A single door stands in the corner, ominous in its silence as you hang suspended in the center, the flickering lights casting eerie shadows across the sterile space.

Suddenly, the door creaks open, revealing Dr. John Wick as he steps into the room. Clad in gloves and his white coat, he exudes an unsettling air of authority as a wave of realization washes over you.

"What's happening?!" you demand, your voice trembling with uncertainty as fear grips you tightly.

"Hush now," John soothes, his voice calm and measured as he approaches you.

Despite your frantic struggles against the chains, he moves closer, his hand deftly manipulating a remote control in his grasp. With a click, the chains lower, the sound of metal clanking echoing in the sterile room as your body descends.

“I didn’t lie about how you were special,” he smiles creepily, now eye level with the man as he lifts your chin slightly.

“We just need to text you for some experiments, nothing too big,” he added, hot tears already brimming your waterline.

“P-Please get me out this isn’t what I signed up for—“ You whined, your wrists still trying to undo the chains that bound them together.

“I’m sorry but I cannot do that. You’ll be my little test bunny for today, is that alright with you, love?” He chuckled softly.

You shriek, tears already streaming down your cheeks as John’s fingers stroke against your jawline.

“You wouldn’t want to let your poor mother die now, would you?” He whispered, leaning into your ears as you grit your teeth, jaw clenching.

“Your mother has been transferred to a better hospital—under my industry. Resist and you die, let me use you this once and I’ll ensure your mother’s safety,” he’d add.

Before you are able to say anything, he grabs a handkerchief from his pocket, wrapping it around your head.

Your body stops shaking, your mother was at risk and you were unable to do anything.

He first took a knife from the steel cart that was placed against the wall across from where you were, his movements precise as you felt your clothing slither from your body, down your legs and eventually onto the ground.

Unable to resist, you stood there, crying, your makeup making marks on your cheeks as you shuddered from the embarrassment you felt as you were exposed to the older man.

“So young, so beautiful,” his voice tantalizing as he admired your curves, his hands starting to graze against your skin, the goosebumps visible from your fear.

“Don’t be afraid, it’s only procedures,” he teased, before pushing the button on his remote once more, your body lowering down as you gazed up at the man like a dog.

His fingers made their way under your chin, lifting them up slightly before he slowly undid the handkerchief.

“Please don’t scream, you’ll only make it harder for yourself,” he rambled, his lips now pressing against yours as you moaned in both surprise and disgust.

His tongue swirled with yours, the both fighting for dominance as he held your jaw in one hand, the other one starting to undo his pants.

John’s eyes glinted with a cold detachment as he advanced towards you, his movements deliberate and predatory.

“I promise, you’ll like it,” he drawled, his voice dripping with arrogance as he surveyed your trembling form.

You tried to protest, but the words caught in your throat as he pinned you against the wall, his hands rough and possessive as they roamed over your body.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he leaned in close.

“Resistance is futile.”

You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, sending shivers down your spine despite the fear that gripped your soul.

“Please,” you whispered, but the desperation in your voice only seemed to amuse him.

With a smirk, he silenced you with a bruising kiss, his lips crushing yours with a ruthless intensity that left you gasping for air.

And as he claimed you as his own, you found yourself surrendering to him completely, your body a playground for his darkest desires. Each touch sent shockwaves of pleasure and pain coursing through your veins, your cunt throbbing with a mixture of agony and ecstasy.

But amidst the chaos, there was something else - a twisted kind of love that dared not speak its name.

“You like that, don’t you?” he taunted, his voice dripping with malice as he watched you squirm beneath him.

You moaned in response, unable to deny the twisted pleasure that his touch ignited within you.

With a guttural grunt, John released his load deep inside your cunt, his cock throbbing with the force of his climax. Your walls clenched around him, milking every last drop of pleasure from his pulsating shaft as he claimed you as his own.

“Take it, you filthy whore,” he spat, his voice dripping with disdain as he buried himself inside you.

“You like being used, don’t you?”

You moaned in response, unable to deny the twisted pleasure that his rough treatment ignited within you.

Each thrust was a reminder of your submission, a testament to the depths of your depravity.

As he reached his peak, his grip on you tightened, leaving bruises in his wake as he marked you as his property.

“There we go little bunny,” he sneered, his words a cruel echo of the pleasure that coursed through your veins.

And as he finally pulled away, leaving you empty and spent, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. In his arms, there was no room for love or tenderness, only the raw, unbridled passion of two souls consumed by darkness.

┈ ⟡ ( 𝑝𝚑𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 )

light brunette layered midi cut, with wispy bangs and big brown doe eyes. standing at about 5’6ft tall, augustine has the physique of a model — semi tall and skinny.

her aesthetic/style is downtown girl, containing numerous jeans and sweaters for the winter, and for summer it’s mini jean skirts and camis, overall good fashion sense.

faceclaim: claudia gomez | voice claim: hailee seinfeld

┈ ⟡ ( 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 )

very welcoming and usually quiet, has a small group of friends and enjoys going to cafes. she makes jokes, uses sarcasm frequently even whenever unnecessary due to nervousness.

talents include playing piano, and writing, thanks to the many books she reads in her free time, along with the movies she enjoys watching.

she listens to music frequently, usually oldies.

negative attributes. comedic relief, burnout, maladaptive daydreamer, overthinking, hiding emotions, people pleaser.

positive attributes. very friendly and not shy, loyal, brave, helpful, intelligent, golden retriever energy.

likes : dogs, macarons, walking, autumn, modern architecture, playing the piano, falling in love.

dislikes : degrading, intense violence / gore, isolation, being lonely in general, fear of not being pretty enough.

┈ ⟡ ( 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 )

Augustine Holt grew up in the bustling streets of New York City, surrounded by the sounds of the city and the sights of its towering skyscrapers. From a young age, she displayed a natural talent for music, particularly the piano. Despite her modest upbringing, Augustine’s parents recognized her potential and encouraged her to pursue her passion.

After completing her education, Augustine found herself working as a piano teacher’s assistant, sharing her love for music with eager students. It was during this time that she crossed paths with John Wick, who happened to be seeking piano lessons to fill the void left by his late wife, Helen. Augustine was initially taken aback by the mysterious and stoic demeanor of the infamous assassin, but over time, they formed a unique bond built on mutual respect and shared experiences of loss.

As Augustine’s friendship with John grew, she found herself drawn into his world of danger and intrigue, encountering other key players such as Winston and Charon along the way. Despite her initial reluctance to involve herself in the violent underworld of assassins and criminal syndicates, Augustine’s loyalty to John compelled her to stand by his side, offering support and assistance whenever needed.

┈ ⟡ ( 𝑛𝑠𝑓𝑤 𝑑𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑠 )

Though she has had many relationships in the past, she is yet to bloom, or in simpler words, she’s a virgin. she’s a total party girl, but deep down she just wants to be cared for and loved, and yes, she is very submissive.

kinks: praise, large age-gap, bdsm, dirty talk, toys, filming, use of daddy, being bratty, foreplay, fingering, oral (giving & receiving) but of public play, clothed sex, slight humiliation, innocence play, aftercare.