avonnimimi

[avonnimimi]

Plugged

The Series. Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

☥| a/n: im feeding yall with love. do you think this story is getting to long? should i cut it short? whatever you guys want you receive;)

tags: @wannabe-fic-reader @hcneymooners @halle5s @st0nerlesb0 @famebydefinition @luvrgrl07

☥| content: drugdealers!vi x black fem reader, arguing, drinking, smoking, weed, clubing, strap-on-sex(r!receiving), cunnilingus(r!receiving), semi hard dom!vi, overstim, degradation (if you squint), praise. lmk if i missed anything. MEN AND MINORS DNI.

Donte knew Vi had come back the night before.

He heard it through the grapevine—friend of a friend, whispered between smoke breaks and dice games. It was hard to stay low when your ride growled louder than your name. Vi’s SRT wasn’t stock, not even close. That custom engine roared through town like a war cry. Everybody knew the sound.

And Donte?

He never forgot it.

He didn’t know where she was exactly, but he knew the town. Knew the energy shifted the second she pulled in. It wasn’t long before he started plotting again. Watching. Waiting. His pride still bruised, his ego still bleeding.

Vi knew she was seen. She felt the eyes. The whispers. But she couldn’t give a fuck. Not when you were crying yourself to sleep in the bed she’d left you in every night. Not when your voice cracked in that voicemail like it was breaking you to be ignored.

She needed to see you. Needed to feel you.

And after that night, your body in her arms again, your scent on her clothes, she regreted leaving so early just to watch you moan and whine in your sleep. she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay away.

But you?

You cried the entire night after she left. Loud, broken sobs into the pillow. Your chest ached. Your throat burned. And between your thighs was a heat you didn’t want to deal with alone. You couldn’t even touch yourself without imagining her hands instead; rough, precise, possessive.

You called. Again and again.

No answer.

You fell asleep around sunrise, still puffy-eyed and clinging to the shirt she wore. When you finally woke around noon, your mouth was dry, and your body felt hollow. But on your phone?

One message.

don’t cry, pretty mama. | 3:42am

That was it.

And of course… you threw a tantrum.

A dangerous one.

You FaceTimed Shay, barely letting her speak before saying, “Come get me. I’m done.”

An hour later, you were done up. The smallest skirt you owned; tight, black, barely there. A cropped top that clung to your chest like a second skin. Kitten heels on. Braids pulled into a high ponytail that snatched your whole attitude up with it. Makeup soft, glossy, intentional.

You looked unreal. And you knew it.

If Vi wouldn’t come home, you’d draw her out.

Simple.

You and Shay hit the club. Not just any club, the club. The one you knew Vi’s people always pulled up to when they wanted to be seen. You didn’t know who in there was loyal to her. Didn’t know who was watching. But someone would be. They always were.

You danced like you were possessed.

Bass-heavy dancehall rattled the floor, the rhythm infecting your bones. You grinded, dropped low, twerked like your life depended on it. Shots poured back-to-back. You downed them with no chaser, letting the burn in your throat distract you from the one in your chest.

Your body was glowing, drenched in sweat and rebellion. You lost count of how many people pressed up behind you, hands lingering too long, eyes too bold. You didn’t care.

That was the point.

Your phone vibrated in your hand.

A message from Vi.

don’t test me. | 1:22am

Your stomach flipped. That was all she said.

You knew it meant she saw you. Knew somebody had already reported back. Maybe it was the girl by the wall pretending not to record. Maybe the guy who passed you the blunt. Or maybe the bartender who hadn’t let you pay for a single drink all night.

Perks of being Vi’s girl?

Shay stood to the side, watching you like she didn’t know who you were anymore. Her arms crossed, face tight. She knew what this was. She knew you were lashing out, spiraling with glitter and lipstick and spite. And she had no idea how to pull you back.

She’d never seen you like this.

And then, you took it a step further.

You were on the dancefloor again, letting some guy put his hands on your waist while you bent in front of him, his chain dangling over your shoulder like a countdown. You took another blunt, this time from a girl with too much lip gloss and a smirk too familiar.

You lit it. Smoked it like you weren’t being watched.

But you were.

By everyone.

Including Vi.

An hour later, the club doors swung open, and the one you’d been waiting for finally stepped in.

Vi.

She looked like a storm wrapped in denim and leather. Jaw locked. Eyes set. Energy dark and lethal.

She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t scan the room. Didn’t play cool.

She saw you.

And headed straight your way.

The crowd barely had time to part before her hand was wrapped around your arm, yanking you into her chest like she owned you and was two seconds away from showing it.

You grinned up at her, all soft eyes and drunken sweetness, like you hadn’t just been grinding on strangers and smoking other people’s blunts all night.

“Get your ass in the fucking car,” she growled in your ear.

And just like that, heat rushed between your thighs.

You weren’t even surprised.

Still drunk. Still high. But not too far gone to miss the way her voice made your body respond.

You walked out with her behind you, hips swaying with every step, exaggerated on purpose. You knew she was watching. Knew she was pissed. And somehow, that only made it better.

Vi opened the SRT’s door for you like a gentlelady, except her glare was anything but sweet.

You slid in.

She got in beside you. Slammed the door. Engine growling as she peeled off.

She didn’t say a single word the entire ride.

Back at the apartment, the silence clung to you even heavier than the bass at the club. You stepped inside, kicked your shoes off.

Then stripped.

Right there in the middle of the living room.

Top first. Then that tiny skirt.

You stood there in nothing but your panties, bare and unbothered. Let her look. You wanted her to.

And she did.

Vi’s eyes dragged over your body, slow and dangerous. But the fury in her chest made it hard to enjoy the view. Not like she usually would. Not when all she could think about was the sight of you grinding on someone who wasn’t her.

She walked up without a word and grabbed your face, her fingers rough but not cruel.

“Why the fuck you gotta play with me like that?” she asked, voice low and sharp. “You like fuckin’ with me, huh, precious?”

You bit your lip, nodded slow.

“I wanted you here. Best way to do that was piss you off…”

Your pout deepened. “You didn’t wanna see me?”

Vi exhaled hard through her nose, trying not to snap.

“I missed you,” you whispered, like you hadn’t just lit the whole night on fire.

She damn near groaned.

The way you were looking up at her, drunk, bratty, half-naked and full of guiltless desire, made her want to fuck you so hard the world disappeared. Made her want to ruin you until you couldn’t even remember what her name was.

“Fuck…” she muttered under her breath, her hand slipping down to your throat, thumb brushing your jaw.

And just like that, you knew she was gonna break.

You weren’t going to bed sober.

You weren’t going to bed alone.

And tomorrow?

You’d definitely regret how much you liked being dragged home by the woman you refused to stop testing.

“You think that shit was cute?” Vi’s voice was sharp, low, dangerous in that quiet, shaking kind of way. She was pacing the room now, jaw locked, fists clenched, like moving was the only thing keeping her from exploding.

You were leaned against the wall, arms crossed under your bare chest, lips pouted like it wasn’t your fault at all.

“It got you here, didn’t it?”

Vi stopped mid-step, eyes snapping to yours.

“You’re fuckin’ insane,” she said, voice heavy with disbelief. “You were out there grindin’ on people who don’t even know what they’re touching, on people who would never protect you if shit went sideways.”

You shrugged, slow and deliberate. “Didn’t need protecting.”

“Bullshit.” Vi stalked toward you. “You were drunk off your ass, high, wearing damn near nothing, in a club outside your town, with my name still in your mouth.”

“Yours,” you said quietly, tilting your head. “Still yours.”

That was what broke her rhythm. For a second, Vi just stared at you. Breathing hard. Like she couldn’t decide whether to yell or grab you.

You looked up at her, eyes glassy from everything you’d smoked and drank, but still sharp. Still soft. Still bratty as fuck.

“I wanted you to come home,” you said, voice low now. “I missed you. You didn’t come. So I made sure you’d see me.”

“By letting random motherfuckers touch what’s mine?” she snapped.

You shrugged again. “They ain’t touch me like you do.”

That did it.

Vi’s chest rose and fell fast, and her tongue pressed against the inside of her cheek. She stepped in close, grabbing your chin and tilting your face up roughly, but not too rough. Her thumb hovered over your lip like she was about to shut you up with a kiss and a choke at the same time.

“You think this shit is cute?” she growled, eyes locked on yours. “You think acting the fuck out makes me wanna be soft with you?”

“No,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath. “I think it makes you wanna fuck me.”

Vi’s jaw twitched.

You were still pouting, but your thighs were pressing together now, barely-there panties damp with want. You tried to act like it didn’t matter, like your nipples weren’t hard, like your legs weren’t starting to shake from how close she was, how angry she was.

“I can smell you,” Vi muttered, inching even closer. “You’re dripping for me while I’m tryna yell at you.”

“Then stop yelling,” you said softly, like it was the simplest answer in the world. “Touch me instead.”

Vi let out a bitter, breathless laugh, eyes dragging down your body. Her hand dropped from your face to your throat.

“God, you look so fuckin’ sweet right now,” she rasped. “Like you don’t even realize what you’re doing to me.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” you whispered.

Vi’s grip tightened just enough to make your knees buckle. She pushed you back against the wall, one hand on your neck, the other slipping down to your waist, gripping your hip like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

“You don’t want me to lose it,” she said, but her voice was shaking now, husky and low. “You don’t want what’s gonna happen if I really snap.”

“I do,” you said, and your voice cracked. “I want all of it.”

You tried to act like your thighs weren’t trembling. Like your breath wasn’t hitching every time she leaned closer. But Vi could see it. Could feel it in your pulse. Could taste it in the air between you.

“You better be fuckin’ sure,” she whispered against your lips, her voice rough and breaking. “Because once I start…”

“I’ll take it,” you breathed, head tilting, lips brushing hers. “I’ll take all of it.”

Vi groaned low in her throat, and her mouth crashed into yours like she was drowning in you. Like she’d been holding back for too long. Her hands pinned your wrists above your head, her thigh sliding between yours to press against that aching heat you’d been trying so hard to ignore.

And just like that?

The argument didn’t matter anymore.

Not when you were moaning into her mouth.

Not when she was losing her mind over how soft and needy you were beneath all that attitude.

Vi didn’t give you time to think.

The second her lips crashed into yours, everything else vanished, your bratty act, the guilt, the ache. All that was left was her, solid, hot, overwhelming.

Her mouth devoured yours, tongue sliding over your lip before her teeth sank in, not gentle. Her hands gripped your wrists, dragging you from the wall like you were weightless, walking you backward until the backs of your knees hit the couch.

“Sit.”

You dropped onto the cushions, thighs already clenched.

Vi stared down at you, jaw tight, chest heaving. She pulled off her shirt slow, like she wanted you to watch. Wanted you to see the sports bra stretching over her chest, the muscles in her arms flexing as she reached for the strap in her bag….she was planning to fuck you regardless.

And fuck.

The harness sat low on her hips, black leather snug against her abs. The strap was thick. Long. Mean looking. A deep shade of violet with veins and curve, too real, too much. Definitely more than what you were used to.

You swallowed, thighs pressing tighter together.

Vi caught that. Smirked. Dark.

“What?” she said, voice low as she stepped between your knees. “You nervous now?”

You shook your head, but your breath hitched.

“Nah, don’t lie. This is bigger than what that soft-ass bitch ever gave you, huh?”

You blinked up at her, and your silence was too loud.

Vi grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes on her.

She pushed you back against the cushions, dragging your panties off with one hard tug. You gasped when the air hit your soaked cunt.

“Look at this,” she muttered, dragging two fingers through your folds. “Already sloppy. You been acting up all day just for this dick, huh?”

Your breath came out shaky. “Vi…”

“What, precious?” She knelt between your legs, dragging her tongue flat against your clit before you could even think. You jerked, moaning loud as her lips wrapped around it and sucked, slow and deep.

“Tell me what you want,” she mumbled against you. “Since you wanna act like a fuckin’ brat, make a scene, start a war…”

You choked on your moan, fingers tangling in her hair.

“Tell me what this sweet little pussy need.”

“You,” you whispered. “Need you inside. Need you to fuck me.”

Vi’s eyes flicked up, glinting with heat and something darker.

She stood, climbed over you, and lined the strap up to your entrance, rubbing the thick head against your folds, teasing your soaked clit.

“You better hold the fuck on,” she said, voice a low growl. “You wanted real dick? You’re gonna take all of it.”

You barely had time to breathe before she pushed in, slow, steady, but deep. You gasped, hands flying to her biceps, nails digging in as your body stretched around her.

“F-fuck—Vi—”

“Too much?” she teased, leaning down to kiss your cheek, then your ear. “Should’ve let me stretch you, baby. But no, you wanted to act up. You wanted this.”

She bottomed out.

You cried out, head falling back, thighs shaking from the pressure. It was so much. Too much. But it felt too good to stop.

Vi didn’t move at first. Just stayed deep, grinding slow against your clit with her hips, letting you feel every inch of that thick, heavy strap.

“This what you needed?” she breathed. “Not that weak-ass stroke Donte gave you. Not that shit that left you frustrated and dry.”

She rolled her hips once, and you screamed.

“This is how you fuck someone, baby,” she whispered against your lips. “This is real dick. This is mine.”

You whimpered, trying to lift your hips for more.

“Oh, now you want it?” Vi laughed darkly. “Now you remember who the fuck owns this pussy?”

She pulled back, slow, then slammed into you hard. You gasped, legs trembling.

Vi fucked you like she was punishing you and worshiping you at the same time. Deep strokes, mean thrusts, the kind that had the couch creaking and your brain slipping out of your ears.

“Who this pussy belong to?” she growled, snapping her hips into you.

“You,” you moaned.

“Say it louder.”

“You—fuck—Vi, it’s yours!”

Vi grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you up so your chests were flush. “Look me in the fuckin’ eyes when you cum.”

You tried. God, you tried, but your vision was going blurry, and your body was already twitching, coiling, breaking.

Vi leaned in, lips brushing yours. “He never got you here, did he?”

You shook your head. “Never.”

“And I’ve barely even started.”

Her thumb rubbed your clit, the angle of her strap hitting everything. Your moans turned to gasps. You were unraveling. Dripping. Gone.

And when you came, it was messy, loud, legs shaking, nails clawing into her back, your whole body going limp under her.

Vi didn’t stop.

She kept going. Kept fucking you through it, through the overstimulation, through the tears slipping from your eyes, kissing your throat as your body gave in all over again.

“You gonna pull that stunt again?” she asked low.

You shook your head, fucked-out and dazed.

Vi smiled against your neck. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You were limp, gasping, tears drying on your cheeks, your body still twitching from the last orgasm she fucked out of you, but Vi wasn’t done. Not even close.

She slid out, strap glistening, your thighs still slick and trembling beneath her. She kissed your neck once soft, like a secret, then flipped you like you weighed nothing.

Your back hit her chest, your legs weak, but Vi just pulled you up, standing behind you, one arm wrapped under your tits, the other guiding the head of the strap between your legs again.

“Vi—” you whimpered, voice wrecked.

Her lips brushed your ear, and her voice dropped into something dark and sinful.

“Don’t run now.”

She pushed back inside you, slow. But it was so fucking deep, deeper than any angle before. You choked on a moan, your knees buckling.

Vi held you up effortlessly, forearm locked under your ribs, her hips moving with a deep, punishing rhythm. Her breath was hot on your neck, her grip tight on your waist, keeping you right where she wanted you folded against her, dripping, shaking, ruined.

“That’s it,” she murmured, dragging the strap out slow before slamming it back in. “Let me fuck you just like this.”

You moaned again, loud, mouth falling open.

“You take me so good like this,” she breathed, voice getting rougher. “This pussy so fuckin’ wet—gripping me like she knows who I am.”

You gasped, head falling back against her shoulder, your body completely at her mercy.

Vi kissed the corner of your jaw, hips snapping again, making your ass slap against her thighs.

“You feel that? That stretch?” she whispered, voice soft now, almost reverent. “God, I fuckin’ love this pussy…”

She buried herself deeper, her strap hitting the back of your walls so perfectly you couldn’t stop your hands from reaching down to grab her arm, fingers digging in.

“So soft,” she groaned. “So warm. She always opens right up for me, huh?”

You whimpered, nodding helplessly. “Only for you.”

“Damn right.” Her pace picked up just a little, deep, slow, dragging strokes that had your legs shaking all over again. “I missed her. Missed the way she pulses when you cum, the way she makes a fuckin’ mess on my dick. You know how good you feel, mama?”

You were barely breathing, overwhelmed by the pressure, the pleasure, the filth of her words melting into the rhythm of her hips. She was fucking you like she was savoring you every inch, every squeeze, every breathless moan.

Vi’s fingers slid down your body again, two of them slipping between your thighs to rub your clit while the strap filled you up from behind.

“That’s it, baby,” she whispered, kissing your shoulder. “Let go again. Cum for me. I know she’s close.”

“I-I can’t—”

“Yes you can,” she growled.

You were crying again, lips parted, body arching, stars popping behind your eyes as she fucked you straight into another orgasm. It hit slow, then fast, your whole body seizing in her arms, hips twitching, moans dissolving into sobs.

Vi held you close as you came, whispering filth and praise into your ear, her fingers still stroking you through it like she never wanted to let you go.

“Fuck, baby,” she breathed. “You’re my favorite thing in this world.”

You were boneless in her arms sweaty, shaking, lips parted, skin flushed all over. Vi held you up like she never wanted to let go, kissing your temple as your breathing slowed.

“Good girl,” she murmured. “So fuckin’ good for me.”

She eased the strap out of you carefully, slow, her hand sliding down to steady your thighs as you whimpered from the sensitivity.

“You okay?” she asked, voice suddenly so gentle it made your throat tighten.

You nodded, barely able to speak, body still trembling from being fucked half out of your mind.

Vi kissed your jaw, then your shoulder. And then, without a word, she knelt behind you lifting one of your legs over her shoulder as she lowered herself to the floor like she was meant to be there.

You looked down, dazed. “Vi…?”

Her eyes met yours. That usual fire still there, but now it burned soft.

“I’m not done,” she said.

Then her mouth met your pussy.

Slow.

Warm.

Loving.

She dragged her tongue through your soaked folds, savoring the taste of you like she’d missed it for years. Her lips wrapped around your clit with the softest suction, pulling a shiver straight down your spine.

You gasped, fingers sinking into her hair. “Oh my god…”

Vi moaned softly against you, like you were the best thing she’d ever tasted.

She took her time.

No teasing. No roughness.

Just slow licks, soft sucks, her tongue curling and flattening in patterns that made your legs twitch and your eyes flutter shut.

She kissed your clit between licks, her hands gripping your thighs gently, grounding you. Keeping you open. Keeping you safe.

Vi wasn’t trying to make you cum again.

Not this time.

She was worshipping you.

Mouth moving like a prayer, soft breath ghosting over your swollen heat between kisses. Every movement was slow. Focused. Tender.

Like she was saying, I’m here.

I love you.

You’re mine.

Your hips bucked just a little, and she hummed in approval, tongue circling your clit like she already knew your body better than you did.

“Vi…” you whispered, voice shaking. “Please don’t stop.”

She didn’t.

She stayed between your legs, licking and sucking you sweet and slow, until your legs gave out and you collapsed back onto the couch, chest rising in deep, shaky breaths.

Vi kissed the inside of your thigh, then your hip, then crawled up your body, her hand brushing your hair out of your face as she hovered above you.

“Still with me, pretty girl?” she whispered.

You nodded, tears pricking your eyes from how full you felt.

She smiled soft, crooked.

Then kissed you one last time.

Slow. Deep. Like a promise.

—————————————————————————

┈─★ this is my original post, please don’t repost, translate, or plagiarize my work ;)

©️avonnimimi 2025

[avonnimimi]

Plugged

The Series. Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

☥| a/n: guess who’s back bitchessssss, did yall miss me :) i missed yall. heres part 6 for all the pretty girls that have been waiting. I KNOW ITS BEEN MONTHS but your girl been working on her self <3

tags: @wannabe-fic-reader @hcneymooners @halle5s @st0nerlesb0 @famebydefinition

☥| content: drugdealer!vi, black fem reader, weed, intox, sexual themes, fingering(r!receiving), “greening out”, depression, abandonment(?), stalking(?). lmk if i missed anything! MEN AND MINORS DNI

Vi was two towns over, handling business the only way she knew how; quiet, brutal, and thorough. You hadn’t stepped foot out her place unless it was for school, work, or to re-up. And Vi? She was busy cleaning up Donte’s mess, hunting down his weak-ass crew, one by one.

She kept her eyes on you, though.

Tiny cameras were scattered across the apartment, feeding her constant streams of you: crying into her pillow, smoking too much, cooking half-hearted meals you never finished. Walking around in nothing but her t-shirt or nothing at all. Bending over like your body was still waiting for her to show up and take what was hers.

Vi missed you. Bad.

Ached for you in a way that pissed her off.

But after everything? After you ran back to Donte, even if it was out of fear, she had to be sure. Had to know you wouldn’t pull that shit again. Had to finish what she started. A month felt long enough. But Donte still needed dealing with. Completely.

Tonight was different.

Vi watched you on her laptop, a faint smirk pulling at her lips as you danced around the living room, a fat blunt dangling from your mouth. It was the first time she’d seen you smile in weeks. You looked light again, like your body forgot how heavy it’d been. But then came blunt two. Then three. Then four. Then five…

You were gone. High as hell.

For a second, she wondered if maybe you were finally okay. But the untouched food on the counter said otherwise. The way you’d only pick at meals when she forced you to on FaceTime told the truth.

Vi sighed. Rubbed her face, jaw tight.

Then she stood. Walked out of her Airbnb, slid behind the wheel of her SRT, and floored it. The tires screamed their way into the night.

An hour and a half later, she pulled into her usual spot outside the complex.

She took the elevator up, heart pounding in her chest like she was walking into a warzone. When she reached the door, she didn’t knock. Just slipped the spare key out of her pocket and let herself in.

The place reeked of stale smoke and sadness mixed with the faint smell of your perfume.

Vi didn’t flinch.

Lights were off. But she knew where you’d be.

Sure enough, you were curled up in her bed, wearing her t-shirt like a second skin. Your leg was thrown out from under the blanket, mouth slightly open, face soft in sleep.

She stood in the doorway for a long second, watching you.

Then she crossed the room and ran her hand gently along your back.

You sighed in your sleep. The sound cracked something in her chest.

Vi slipped in behind you, pulling you tight against her chest. You moved instinctively, melting into her like your body still remembered what it meant to be held by her. Her arms locked around your waist like she was scared you’d vanish again. She kissed your forehead, your nose, your lips. Soft. Slow.

Sweet nothings spilled from her lips until your lashes fluttered open.

Still high. Still dazed.

“Miss you s’much…” you mumbled, voice thick and small.

Vi kissed you again. “Yeah, mama. I miss you too.”

You hummed, tucking your face deeper into her chest. Her scent;weed, sweat, the same cologne she always wore, wrapped around you like safety. You didn’t even try to make sense of it. You just breathed her in and let yourself exist.

Vi tightened her grip around you, fingers lazily tracing patterns across your back. “You been smokin’ a lot,” she murmured, voice a low rumble against your skin.

You shrugged, words slurred. “Jus’… feelin’ things.”

Vi pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, then slid her hand down, squeezing your ass. “I know, mama. We’ll talk later.”

She pulled you closer, chest to back, thigh sliding between your legs. The warmth of her body soaked into your skin, grounding you. You didn’t speak. Just hummed again, letting her hold you.

Vi hummed back, a soft tune under her breath, and let her hand explore. Down your waist. Over your hip. Cupping your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it hardened beneath her touch.

The heat, the weed, her voice, it all blurred together. You felt yourself drift, heavy and warm, like the world didn’t matter.

Then her hand dipped lower.

Between your thighs.

Her fingers found you wet, soaking. Her touch lit something in you instantly. You gasped, the fog in your head slicing clean in two.

“Vi…”

“Shhh.” Her voice was velvet and warning all at once. Her fingers moved slow, circling your clit, building pressure with the kind of patience that made you want to scream.

“Just relax, baby. Let me take care of you.”

You nodded, blinking up at her with glazed eyes. Reached up and let your fingers graze her cheek, just to make sure she was real.

Vi chuckled low, then leaned in and kissed you again, deeper this time, her fingers still moving in slow, taunting circles.

“This pussy missed me, huh?” she whispered against your lips.

“Yes,” you breathed, too fast. Too honest.

Vi laughed, low and teasing. “Damn. Missed me that bad?”

You bit your lip, embarrassed, but it only made her hungrier.

“I love you so much,” you whispered, voice breaking as her fingers pressed a little harder, a little faster.

Vi’s breath caught, but she didn’t stop. Didn’t slow.

“Please don’t leave again,” you whimpered, your hips already rolling into her hand.

Vi kissed your neck. “Feel good, mama?”

You could only nod, your moans rising with every stroke. Her name slipped past your lips again. And again. And again.

“I love you too, baby,” she murmured.

She slid her fingers inside, slow and deep. You gasped, thighs trembling.

She pulled them out, rubbed your clit, then pushed back in, fucking you with that rhythm she always knew drove you insane. Wet sounds filled the space between you, sticky and obscene. Your high was mixing with the pleasure, making everything more raw, more desperate.

“Gonna cum, precious?” Vi whispered.

You nodded frantically, hips bucking, needing more. A soft whine leaving your lips from the nickname.

Her other hand reached up, tugging your nipple as her fingers curled inside you. “P-please don’t leave, Vi, please…” you whimpered.

Vi groaned, body tensing behind you. She was soaked too, her boxers damp from how turned on she was. God she missed you, more than she realized.

“I’m not gonna leave again, baby,” she whispered against your ear. “I swear.”

But it still hurt.

Still felt like maybe she could disappear the second you blinked.

“P-please…” you begged, not even sure what you wanted. To cum. To be held. For time to stop. “Don’t stop.”

“Tell me what you want princess,” Vi said, her voice wrecked with need.

“I… I don’t know,” you breathed. “Just don’t stop.”

Vi chuckled, dark and sweet. “Not a chance, baby. I’m right here.”

Her fingers slammed into you harder now, the tempo building, the wet sound of your pussy echoing in the stillness. Her breath was hot on your ear.

“You’re so wet, all this f’me?” she whispered. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

You cried out, your body locking up as the orgasm tore through you. It hit like a wave, violent and fast, left you breathless, your moans raw in your throat.

Vi held you as you shook, her fingers still inside you, slow and soft now. Her lips brushed your forehead.

“I told you I wasn’t going anywhere,” she whispered.

You woke up with a heavy ache in your chest.

Vi was gone.

Of course she was.

It was a dream. A vivid, weed-soaked fantasy stitched together by your need and your loneliness.

In reality, she’d held you while you cried. Scolded you gently for smoking so much. Kissed you goodnight. And you’d passed out. She left right after.

The dream had taken care of the rest.

Now, you were wet between your legs. Empty. And Vi? She was watching you from her laptop, your voice still echoing through the speakers as you moaned her name in your sleep.

She watched in silence, jaw tight.

The dream had left a mark on both of you.

And as she watched your face twist with grief in real time, tears slipping down your cheeks… Vi’s fingers hovered above the keyboard, wrestling with one bitter question:

Was all this distance worth it?

Vi watched from her laptop as you scrambled across the bed, hands shaking as you reached for your phone. You were crying again, voice cracking, fingers fumbling, her contact glowing on your screen.

You called her.

And Vi didn’t answer.

She couldn’t.

Her jaw clenched, her eyes locked on the screen while the ringtone echoed outside her headphones, followed by the heavy silence of missed call.

Then came the sound she hated most, your quiet, broken sobs. Sniffles. Hiccups. The kind of crying you only did when you thought no one could hear you.

But Vi heard every bit of it.

It burned in her chest, settling low and heavy like regret.

Coming back had already been a risk. She knew the second she crossed city lines, Donte’s people would clock her. She shouldn’t have even stepped foot near you right now.

But fuck…

She missed you.

So bad it hurt to breathe. Heart hammering as she watched the tears smear down your cheeks, her mind slipping back to the sound of you moaning her name in your sleep. The way you begged her not to stop. Not to leave.

Vi’s fists clenched.

“Fuck,” she muttered, low and sharp, like cursing was the only thing tethering her to reason.

She ran her tongue over her teeth, eyes narrowing as the screen kept playing, your body curled up, shaking, calling her again.

It rang once. Twice.

Vi closed her laptop with a snap like if she didn’t, she’d cave all over again.

But it was already too late.

Her hands were already shaking. Her keys already in her palm.

And her heart?

Still stuck in that bed with you.

—————————————————————————

┈─★ this is my original post, please don’t repost, translate, or plagiarize my work ;)

©️avonnimimi 2025

[avonnimimi]

hi hon! just wanted to stop by and say I love your work!! your writing is absolutely amazing 💛

hiii thank u sm☺️

i’m planning to start writing again soon i’m just dealing with some shit rn😅

[avonnimimi]

Red Waltz

The Series. Part 1 | 2 | 3 |

☥| a/n: i’m fighting for my life to keep my eyes open rn, i hope you all actually like this one. MEN AND MINORS DNI

☥| content: Silco raised Vi, dancer/assassin reader, fighting, kissing, pinning (both receiving) lmk if i missed anything.

After days of silent recovery, you were back in shape. You hadn’t returned to topside, too ashamed, too restless, too lost in your own head.

You replayed it over and over. The fight. The way she moved, how easily she could’ve snapped your neck, but didn’t. And why? Why hadn’t she finished you like all the others? The thought clawed at the back of your mind, an itch you couldn’t scratch. But none of it mattered anymore. Because you had something from that last fight. Something valuable.

A list. Locations of every warehouse under her control.

The first one was easy to find. Too easy. You slipped in through a broken window, landing silently on the concrete floor. The air was thick with the sickly-sweet stench of shimmer, tubs and jars of the glowing substance stacked against the walls. But something felt off. No workers. No guards. Just... silence.

And then, in the very center of the room, a scrap of paper, barely noticeable.

Try harder.

Your teeth clenched, fury bubbling up your throat. A scream tore from your lips before you could stop it. She was toying with you, like you were some wind-up doll in her twisted little game. You stormed out, pushing forward to the next location.

Same result. Another empty room. Another note.

Almost got me that time, sweetheart.

Warehouse after warehouse, all deserted. All waiting for you, expecting you. All leaving behind nothing but her words, her teasing, her presence curling around you like smoke.

I’m starting to think you like seeing me.

And that was when it hit you. She wasn’t going to kill you. She wasn’t trying to stop you. She was playing with you.

So, you changed the game.

A new strategy. A new enforcer. One who would take your place, walk your route, make it seem like you had finally given up. You moved in the shadows, letting this new recruit take the lead, knowing—knowing—that Vi would notice. Because anyone would be upset if they lost their favorite toy.

The plan was simple: draw her out. Make her strike first. Let the enforcer lure her in, then run before she could throw a single punch. Leave her exposed. Give you an opening.

And it worked.

You were watching from the rafters of a half-finished factory when she appeared. Expression dark, eyes sharp with something you couldn’t place. Annoyance? Amusement? Disappointment? You barely had time to register it before she moved, before she lunged at the enforcer.

Right on cue, he ran.

And then it was your turn.

You dropped from above, tackling her, twisting with all your force until you had her pinned beneath you, breath heaving, victory thrumming in your veins. Finally. Finally.

Then she laughed. Low, breathless, sharp enough to send a chill straight through your spine.

“God,” she exhaled, grinning up at you, “you’re even hotter when you’re on top.”

You froze.

The words sank in, slow and heavy, like ink spilling into water. For the first time since this chase began, you were the one caught off guard. And Vi? She saw it. Felt it. Took advantage of it.

Before you could react, she flipped you, faster than you could process, stronger than you could fight. Now you were the one pinned, wrists trapped beneath her iron grip. The heat of her breath ghosted against your skin as she leaned in, voice low, smoldering, dangerous.

“You keep coming for me like this, bunny,” she murmured, lips curled into something wicked, “and I’m gonna start thinking you want me.”

Your face burned. From exertion. From fury. From something else you refused to name.

And then, just like that, she was gone. Slipping away into the dark, leaving nothing behind but the ghost of her touch, the sound of her words seared into your mind.

She let you go.

Again.

Each night, you fought with Vi, and each night, the tension built. It was unbearable, every single fight growing hotter, closer, more intimate. Every time you thought you had her, she had you instead, wrapped around her finger like a plaything she refused to break.

Tonight was different. Hectic. Your movements were sloppy, desperate. Vi had shattered both your blades, and your fists were bloodied and raw. Yet, she had you caged against a crumbling wall, panting, bruised, her gauntlet pressing against your throat to keep you in place.

"You gonna kill me or what?" you rasped, voice edged with exhaustion and frustration.

Vi smirked, tilting her head slightly, eyes burning with the eerie glow of shimmer. "Not what I had in mind."

Before you could react, her lips were on yours,a filthy, unholy, searing kiss. Her gauntlets clattered to the floor, replaced by the grip of her hands pinning your wrists above your head. Her touch was rough, claiming, and her body pressed against yours, heat radiating between you.

"You're different. Special..." she murmured, lips tracing a path to the crook of your neck. She inhaled deeply, making your pulse hammer against her hold. And you hated it, hated that this wasn’t a fight anymore. This was something worse. Something you wanted.

A snarl curled on your lips. "You think you scare me?"

Vi pulled back just enough to ghost her lips over yours, her breath warm, teasing. "Nah," she purred. "I think you like it."

Her thigh pressed between yours, and you froze. Vi felt it, the sharp, involuntary hitch of your breath, the way your body betrayed you, tensing, waiting. And she fucking loved it.

"See? There it is." Her voice dripped with satisfaction, daring you to resist. Her lips hovered, pressing just lightly against yours before pulling away, testing, taunting. "Tell me you don’t like it."

You should. You should tell her to go to hell. But then she rolled her hips just slightly against yours, and fuck—

A sharp, shaky breath escaped before you could stop it. Vi heard it, felt it, and it ruined you.

Her grin was victorious. "That’s what I thought."

And just like that, she was gone again.

————————————————————————-

this is my original post, please don’t repost, translate, or plagiarize my work ;)

©️avonnimimi 2025

[avonnimimi]

Red Waltz

The Series. Part 1 | 2 | 3 |

☥| a/n: yall getting spoiledddd, im so tireddddddd ughhhg. MEN AND MINORS DNI

☥| content: Silco raised Vi, dancer/assassin reader, murder, death, fighting, idk lmk if i missed anything.

Commander Kiramman never reprimanded you for getting caught. If anything, she praised you for the intel you gathered, but there was no mistaking the urgency in her voice when she urged you to continue the mission.

So you returned to Zaun, sharper, faster, calculated.

This time, you tracked Vi herself. You swore it was luck, blending into the crowd when you spotted her, your pulse steady, your mind sharper than before. You weren’t going to let last time repeat itself.

You stalked her through the winding streets, the damp scent of oil and smoke clinging to the air as you followed. She slipped into an empty brothel; except it wasn’t empty. A meeting place. You lingered outside, eyes narrowed, breath measured. Through a window, you watched. The table inside was cluttered with blueprints, half-smoked cigars, and your camera discarded like an afterthought. A mental note was made: retrieve it at the first chance.

The meeting was brief. Talks of shimmer. Of making it stronger, more potent. Useless, mind-numbing words that did little to shake you. And then, one by one, they left. All except her.

This was it.

You slipped in through the front door, every step precise. Vi stood there, gauntlets strapped on, her stance relaxed, but you knew better. She knew you were here.

How?

A smirk curled on her lips before she lunged, the air hissing with the force of her swing. You barely dodged, breath catching in your throat as you twisted away. Another punch. A dodge. A huff. The grin on her face widened, wild, almost delighted. She was playing with you.

Her speed was unnatural, her movements sharp, unpredictable. Shimmer burned in her veins. You could see it in the glow of her eyes, in the way her muscles tensed like a predator toying with its prey.

You didn’t hesitate, your daggers sang through the air, a sharp arc of silver aimed at her face. A thin line of red bloomed beneath her eye.

You almost felt proud.

Then pain. Blinding. Unforgiving.

Your body slammed into the floor, the impact rattling your bones. You had lost your balance—trained, perfected balance—shattered with a single, devastating hit. Scrambling, you steadied yourself, back on your toes, but Vi was already moving, a force of nature. You leaped, twisting mid-air, but she was faster. Her grip locked around your leg, yanking you down, hard.

Your daggers flew from your grasp.

She was forcing you into a fight where your elegance meant nothing, where brute strength was everything.

Panting, you watched as she unstrapped her gauntlets, letting them hit the floor with a dull thud. Your mind raced. Was this a game to her?

You were back on your feet in seconds, fists raised. You weren’t a brawler, but you knew how to fight.

You bounced on your toes, measured your breath, waited.

She lunged. You dodged.

Your knuckles met her jaw; right, left, uppercut. And she…laughed.

A hand shot out, gripping your wrist, pulling you forward before you could react. A shift in weight, and suddenly, you were airborne. The world tilted before pain exploded across your back.

The bar.

When the haze lifted, you were slumped against the counter, breath ragged. But she didn’t arrest you. Didn’t break you.

She just… watched.

The flickering light above cast shadows over her face, highlighting something unreadable in her expression. Amusement? Intrigue? Something darker?

“You’re not just an enforcer,” she mused, stepping closer. “What are you, a ballerina?”

Your lip curled. “Fuck you.”

Vi’s grin widened, but the look in her eyes made your stomach twist. A thrill of fear, a whisper of something else buried deep.

“Sweetheart,” she purred, “you’re the one who’s been dancing for me this whole time.”

And then, somehow, you found an opening.

You ran. Just barely.

But Vi knew who you were now.

And she wasn’t letting you go.

—————————————————————————

this is my original post, please don’t repost, translate, or plagiarize my work ;)

©️avonnimimi 2025

[avonnimimi]

Red Waltz

The Series. Part 1 | 2 | 3 |

☥| a/n: hi my babies!! i had this idea literally at 1am today and now it’s 5am, hope you enjoyyyy. @twinklestarslight MEN AND MINORS DNI

☥| content: Silco raised Vi, dancer/assassin reader, death, fighting, shimmer, yall idk im tired. lmk if i missed anything.

"There are thirty of our comrades dead, a few left injured," Commander Kiramman huffed through clenched teeth, her breath heavy, her eyes like stone. She sighed. We all stood in line, the air thick with a kind of tension that curled around us like a vice. You never got called out unless it was a situation that burned deep, this was that kind of call.

Most days, the hours bled by as you sharpened your blades, listening to the low hum of steel on stone, the steady rhythm grounding you. But now… now it felt like the air itself was holding its breath. You could feel the weight of the silence, pressing on your chest.

"I think it is time for us to stand down," Commander Kiramman said, the words flat, almost hollow. Her voice didn’t carry the calm assurance it once had, this was something else, something colder. She looked at us, but it was like she wasn’t seeing us.

Gasps rippled through the room before whispers filled the gaps, suffocating the quiet. The heat of our bodies, the weight of what was to come, was suffocating. The clock ticked in your ears as if it, too, was counting down.

"We will deploy Swan. She already knows her duty." Kiramman’s gaze settled on you. No hesitation. You nodded, your fist tight against your chest in salute. She barely flinched. "You have three days."

Three days.

The night swallowed you whole as you crept through the undercity, the blackness of your attire blending with the shadows. Every breath you took was a prayer, each step a whisper on the broken ground beneath you. The sound of your daggers softly tapping against your thighs was the only company you had as you moved, your body swaying with the wind like a dancer, light, silent, waiting. Waiting for something to snap.

One by one, you took out henchmen, slipping through the cracks of their defenses like smoke, every kill clean, methodical. But with each fallen body, the taste of bitterness lingered. The reminder of what was lost, of comrades forgotten, of the devastation left in the wake of Vi’s rampage through Piltover’s enforcers.

It almost hurt, but you didn’t have time for that now. Not when your life hung by a thread. Not when your mission felt like it was pushing you closer to the edge with each breath. Sentimentality would get you killed.

A loose pipeline caught your attention, a split second too late. You cursed yourself, but before they could spot you, you pulled yourself up, climbing with the ease of a shadow, your movements sharp, precise. Your back straightened, poised, like you were carved from stone.

Two men entered, their voices low, muffled by the clamor of the undercity, but you caught the words that mattered. You knew exactly who controlled what, and there she was—Vi—right at the heart of it all, tangled in the very fabric of this nightmare.

You didn't waste time.

You dropped silently behind them, your body folding like a spring. The world slowed as your daggers sang through the air, once, twice, three times. The first man collapsed with a gurgle, his face still frozen in surprise. The second lunged at you, his movements erratic, twitchy, too fast, too wild. Shimmer. You could smell it on him, thick and sour.

You sidestepped, your foot catching his ankle, tripping him as he came forward. He hit the ground hard, and you didn’t hesitate. Your blade sank deep into his back, a quiet promise to make it quick.

With the job done, you pulled your blade free, the steel whispering in the silence. You slipped the knife back into its sheath and grabbed your camera, snapping pictures of everything. Blueprints. Shimmer. Cash. Bodies. Whatever you could.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. You needed to move faster, but you didn’t know why.

The next stop wasn’t far, but the air felt colder as you approached. You slipped into another warehouse, careful as you slid through a gap in the roof. You weren’t sure if this was luck or just pure instinct, but you didn’t question it. The darkness swallowed you, and you moved like it was a part of you.

You perched above, hidden, waiting, your breath steady, your pulse thudding in your ears. Below, figures gathered around a table. The flicker of a dim light cast sharp shadows against the walls. You leaned in, closer, the wooden beams creaking beneath your weight, and for a moment, you froze.

Vi. She was staring right at you. But could she see you? You swallowed the knot in your throat, trying to steady your breath. No… no way. She couldn’t have.

But she kept talking. Her plans, her next moves, the meetings in this very place. Every word dripped with malice, a plan unfolding, a scheme that would lead to more bloodshed.

Her presence was undeniable. You had never seen her this close before. She was beautiful, in a way that made your skin crawl. Her skin, etched with intricate Zaunite symbols, was marred by the shimmer pulsing beneath it. You could see the gauntlets in the corner, the ones she’d stolen, the ones that had cost Jayce his life.

The memory made you flinch.

The next night, you found yourself in the same spot, poised, waiting. But something was different. You could feel it in the air, the way it shifted, how it pressed on you, making your skin feel too tight.

Vi had already spotted you. She knew. She had always known. The moment you made that noise, that mistake, she saw through you.

She watched you, calculating. She let you get close. Too close.

The meeting ended, and the others dispersed, but you stayed hidden in the shadows, your body coiled, ready to retreat. You thought she had gone, that maybe you’d made it through. But you didn’t count on her silence.

You untangled yourself from the shadows like a spider leaving its web. You grabbed your camera, ready to take the final round of pictures, but something was off.

It was too quiet.

You heard it then, a voice. Low, sweet, dangerous.

“Y’know, sweetheart, if you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask.”

Your heart dropped. Your cover was blown.

You tried to spin, to trip, to escape. But it was too late. She had you. Her grip on your ankle twisted you, holding you upside down, almost mocking you.

You pushed yourself off the ground with your hands, using every ounce of strength to break free, landing softly, poised like you had been taught. You reached for your daggers, eyes wide. She was right in front of you.

Vi.

And for the first time in your life, the future felt uncertain. Could you escape her? Would you survive?

—————————————————————————

this is my original post, please don’t repost, translate, or plagiarize my work ;)

©️avonnimimi 2025

[avonnimimi]

Red Waltz ★

The Series. | TEASER | 1 | 2 | 3 |

Piltover calls you the swan. Beautiful and graceful slipping through Zaun's underbelly with a dancer's elegance; silent, unseen, untouchable. You weren't supposed to be an enforcer. You were trained to be a performer, the next-gen of a long line of Piltover's finest dancers. But you turned your back on all that, choosing law over luxury, war over waltzes.

Piltover has been struggling for years against Zaun's growing power. The King of the Undercity may be dead, but his legacy lives on in his most fearsome creation.

Now your mission is simple: Take down Vi, the prodigy of Zaun, the girl Silco molded into his deadliest weapon.

You were supposed to stay in the shadows. Be invisible.

But Vi sees you.

And worse?

Vi wants to play.

—————————————————————————

this is my original post, please don’t repost, translate, or plagiarize my work ;)

©️avonnimimi 2025

[avonnimimi]

guys be ready i’m planning something you aren’t prepared for😉 (let’s just say i’m planning an AU where Vi was raised by silco)

[avonnimimi]

wait u turned 18????? HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAYYYYYY🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

yes i did my bday was the 27th of last month😁😁 thank you smmmm

[avonnimimi]

Ruin Me

➽───❥ The Series. Part: 1 |

☥| a/n: Hi my babies! i know i keep starting series and never finish them but i can’t focus on one thing for too long, i promise ill get to the others soon. Got the idea from this pretty girl @shoyoist you should go check out her work! MEN AND MINORS DNI

☥| content: boxer!Vi, journalist!reader, porn with a plot, obsession, lesbian sex, strap (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), squirting, petnames (princess, baby, doll, good girl), overstimulation (r!receiving), stone top!Vi, upcoming toxic relationship. lmk if i missed anything!

Your first glimpse of her in the ring was something out of a fever dream. Violet, they called her. An up-and-coming boxer, a force of nature in the brutal ballet of the ring. Your job, a lowly intern at a prestigious journalism corporation, was to document her ascent, to dissect her every move, to capture the essence of this enigmatic fighter.

Notebook clutched in your hand, you sat ringside, the energy of the crowd a palpable hum around you. Your pen scratched across the page, capturing the raw power of her form, the way her muscles coiled and flexed, the almost feral intensity in her eyes. The way she moved, each punch a symphony of controlled fury, each breath a ragged gasp of barely contained rage. It was mesmerizing, terrifying, beautiful.

Your gaze lingered on the intricate ink that adorned her back, a story told in lines and shadows. Her eyes, dark and smoldering, held a depth of resentment that both intrigued and unsettled you. You felt a pull, a strange, inexplicable yearning to understand the source of her anger, the fire that burned within her.

She won three fights that night, each victory more brutal than the last. Afterwards, you were ushered into a small, sterile room, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood and sweat. Violet sat across from you, her movements economical, her gaze distant. You watched, transfixed, as she unwrapped her hands, the stained cloth wiping away the blood that trickled from her nose.

You cleared your throat, the sound fragile in the charged silence. "Hello, Violet," you began, the click of your pen a nervous counterpoint to the pounding of your heart. "Since this is our first interview, I won't be asking any questions. Just say what's on your mind, yeah?" You offered a tentative smile, hoping to ease the palpable tension in the room.

Her eyes, finally meeting yours, held a warmth that belied the icy exterior. They were consuming, drawing you in, holding you captive in their depths. You felt the weight of her anger, the raw, untamed power of it, and instead of fear, you felt a strange sense of fascination, a desperate need to understand.

"My name is Vi," she muttered, her voice low and rough, each syllable a brushstroke against your already frayed nerves. Then, without another word, she rose and left, the door slamming shut behind her with a force that made you jump. You bit your lip, the taste of blood mingling with the metallic tang in the air. You had four words. Four words to show for your efforts. You were going to be in trouble.

But those four words, My name is Vi, resonated within you, a secret whispered in the darkness. They were a key, a starting point, a promise of something more.

That night, you lost yourself in the labyrinthine depths of the internet, searching for any scrap of information about this enigmatic woman. Articles painted a fragmented picture: a shadowy manager named Silco, a missing sister, a recently ended relationship with some polished, uptown woman. The images, though, those held you captive. Her unwavering stance, the defiant tilt of her chin, the messy dark hair, the full, sensual lips… You scrolled and clicked, each image, each article, fueling the growing obsession that burned within you. You wanted to know her anger. You needed to know her.

The next morning, you were reprimanded, your paltry four words deemed insufficient. They sent you back to the arena, back to the source of your burgeoning obsession.

This time, Vi was different. Distracted, her movements less precise, her focus fragmented. She still won, her raw power undeniable, but the fire in her eyes seemed dimmed, banked by some unseen force.

The post-fight interview was a repeat of the first. Vi sat across from you, her legs spread wide, her scowl etched deep into her features. The aggressive posture, strangely, made you blush.

"Hello, Vi. Good match today," you offered, your practiced smile faltering slightly under her intense scrutiny. "I have a few questions for you today."

She didn't respond, her eyes raking over you, assessing, analyzing, trying to decipher the meaning behind your words.

"How many matches have you won since you started four years ago?" The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the click of your pen and the soft hum of the air conditioner.

You almost repeated the question, fearing she hadn't heard you, but then, her voice, rough and gravelly, filled the small space. "Ninety-three."

You scribbled down the number, your hand trembling slightly. God, she's beautiful, you thought, the realization a sharp pang in your chest.

"Which opponent have you struggled with?" you asked, your gaze flitting between your notepad and her eyes.

She was watching you, her breath steady, her expression unreadable. She had fewer cuts and bruises than last time. A part of you, a small, desperate part, ached to reach out, to tend to her wounds, to soothe the ache in her jaw.

"None of them," she answered, her tone flat, devoid of emotion.

You nodded, dutifully recording her words, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. Fuck, she's hot.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the question that had been burning in your mind since you'd stepped into the arena. "Why did you look so distracted today?" The words were barely a whisper, but you knew she'd heard them.

She stared at you, her expression blank, unreadable. You waited, your heart pounding against your ribs, unsure what to do, what to say.

And then, just like last time, she got up and left.

You returned to work the next day, a newfound confidence bolstering the lingering ache in your muscles. The fleeting praise from your superiors was a mere distraction from the all consuming obsession that had taken root – Vi. She was a constant presence in your thoughts, a phantom limb you yearned to touch, understand, possess.

Two weeks later, you were drawn back to the arena. Anticipation thrummed through you, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. Vi's entrance was delayed, her opponent pacing restlessly, unaware of the impending storm.

When she finally emerged, your breath hitched. The controlled intensity you'd previously witnessed was gone, replaced by raw, untamed energy. Her eyes blazed with a feverish violet light, pupils dilated, focus fractured. Adrenaline fueled her, her movements sharper, more frenetic, each exhalation a visible plume of heat in the cool arena air.

The fight was a brutal ballet of controlled chaos. Her punches landed with devastating force, radiating palpable heat. She was a predator toying with prey, movements deceptively languid, lulling her opponent before unleashing a flurry of devastating blows. She fought only one opponent that day, leaving him shattered in her wake.

The wait in the sterile room was agonizing, anticipation curdling into restless frustration. When Vi finally arrived, a half-hour late, a dissonant grin stretched across her face, jarring against the vacant, unfocused look in her eyes.

"Hey, princess," she drawled, her voice rough, laced with a playful edge that didn't reach the depths of her gaze. "What kinda bullshit questions y'gonna ask me today?" She sprawled across from you, legs spread wide, a brazen display of dominance. Her presence filled the small space, sending a shiver of desire down your spine. Her eyes flickered downwards, acknowledging her effect on you.

"Are you on something?" you asked, genuine concern lacing your voice, your notebook forgotten.

She shook her head slowly, then let it fall back against the chair with a groan. "Y'know you're pretty when you try to analyze my fighting," she murmured, her words a caress against your raw nerves. The realization that she'd been watching you watch her sent a wave of heat through you. "But is that the only thing you watch me for?" Her eyes, slightly lidded, met yours, their intensity stealing your breath.

She rose, fluid and predatory, and stood before you, gripping your jaw, tilting your head up. Her thumb traced your bottom lip, sending a jolt of electricity through you. Your wide, innocent eyes locked with hers.

"I know when pretty things like you want something," she whispered, her voice low and husky, a promise and a threat. "And I can give that to you."

You couldn't answer, your voice trapped, but she wasn't wrong. She'd seen through you. You wanted her with a desperate hunger. You wanted to unravel her enigma, feel her heat, drown in her gaze.

And that's how you found yourself in her apartment, on her bed, her body a weight against yours in a mean mating press. She moved with controlled ferocity, her hands mapping your body, her lips leaving a trail of fire. The pleasure was sharp, intense, her voice a constant murmur of praise and encouragement, pushing you further into the abyss of sensation.

Her fingers teased your nipples, drawing moans, while her tongue traced a path down your neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. With each thrust, she whispered encouragement, her voice a dark melody against your skin. You cried out her name, your pleas mingling with her moans, the world narrowing to the feel of her joined with you, her hot breath on your skin. She was a force of nature, muscles tense and powerful, eyes dark and consuming.

"Good girl, baby," she growled, her hand tightening around your throat, the pressure a delicious counterpoint to the building pleasure. "Don't needa think about anything but this dick."

"Fuck, Vi," you moaned, the words torn from you, met with a deeper, harder thrust that sent pleasure crashing through you.

The intensity spiraled towards a blinding crescendo. She whispered promises, her voice a siren song.

"Yeahhh, you take it so well f'me," she panted, voice thick with desire. "Gonna make you cream all over my cock."

And you did. You came hard and fast, convulsing around her. But she didn't stop. She kept moving, pushing you further, the pleasure shifting, changing, almost painful.

"W-wait...Vi, it feels...nnggh...feels weird..." you gasped, the unfamiliar sensation a ripple of fear.

She silenced you with a deep, possessive kiss, then whispered, "Don't worry, pretty doll. Been takin' it like such a good girl. Gonna make you cum so hard. Wanna cum f'me?"

You nodded frantically, desperate pleas escaping your bruised lips.

She rode the waves of your pleasure, pushing you past the edge again and again. She filled you completely, her fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in time with her thrusts, sending you spiraling. She pulled out, then slammed back in, the pressure change triggering another orgasm. You squeezed around her, and a jet of your own arousal spurted out, slickening her stomach. "Fuck, you squirtin’ for me, princess?" she growled, the sound a mixture of surprise and possessiveness.

When your spasms subsided, but your pussy still throbbed, she pulled out, her fingers immediately diving between your folds. She curled and pumped, her touch expert and relentless, even as your overstimulated nerves screamed in protest. "Not done yet, pretty girl," she murmured, her voice rough with desire. "Gonna make you cum again." She stretched your slick walls, her fingers mimicking the rhythm of her cock, building the pressure until you were squirting again, crying out her name incoherently. This time, she lowered her head, her tongue lapping up your release, her moans a counterpoint to your cries.

Finally, spent and sated, she cleaned you up, dressed you, and took you home, leaving you with the throbbing ache between your legs and the ghost of her touch. Your notebook remained empty, journalistic ambitions forgotten in the raw, consuming desire. You had learned nothing about Vi, the fighter, but everything about Vi, the woman. And you craved more.

—————————————————————————

this is my original post, please don’t repost, translate, or plagiarize my work ;)

©️avonnimimi 2025

[avonnimimi]

if you’re ever depressed just shake some ass in the mirror, i promise you once you see that ass move you’ll feel better🫶🏽

[avonnimimi]

just so yk when yall comment on my shit or mssg me i get super happy, love talking to u🫶🏽

[avonnimimi]

idk but i was just thinking about g!p ellie who just lays back and lets you fuck yourself on her hard cock, her tip all sensitive because you just keep going, milking her for all she’s got.

of course she’s not gonna stop you, you’re her princess, you hear her whining, begging you to slow down but you ignore her and her tip brushes against your gspot.

the disgusting squelching noises filling the room as you cunt just keeps getting wetter and wetter but you can’t stop because ellie just stuffs you up so good.

ellie is just so overstimulated, whimpering your name, bucking her hips up as she groans about it being too much, but you just love the way her cock twitches inside you.

“b-baby let just take a break, five minute- hnngg p-please” but you just love it so much, feeling her cum fill you up as you grind down one her continuously, rubbing litttle tight circles on your pussy clit.

you’re using her like she’s just a dildo and deep down she loves when you get like this, all desperate and whiny, who is she to not give your cunt what she wants.

you’re so fucked out you could barely process anything, your not even sure how youre still bouncing on her cock.

gods she’s so big, stretching your little pussy put it hurts so good, and your cumming again, creaming all over her while she tries to praise you but all she can do it moan out your name when your cunt flutters around her.

she thinks your finally done but when you start bouncing again, harder and faster this time she starts loosing her mind, legs twitching, her hands gripping your waist trying to slow you down but god you love it so much you can get enough.

you keep going until she’s crying telling you it’s too much but when you do stop she whines, you know she wants more so you start again, grinding and bouncing on her like a braindead slut.

i need her to baby trap me

[avonnimimi]

I can’t stop thinking about Vi being so obsessed with your clit, loving how it feels so she just plays with it whenever she wants. She loves how puffy and swollen it gets, and how it twitches after she pinches it ever so slightly.

Your back pressed to her chest while you both watch a movie except her hand is stuffed up in your panties just circling your clit, not even trying to make you cum but yet your thighs shake and your back arches from how good it feels.

And of course she knows you enjoy it but she ignores you and purposefully stops when your close, just so she can feel the juices from your denied orgasm dribble out of you while your cunt clenches around nothing.

Sometimes she might prod your little hole open just to feel how eager your pussy is trying to swallow her finger. Pushing the tip of her index inside, hearing you gasp while you clench and accidentally push her out.

God image Vi just lazily lapping at your clit bc she can’t get enough while you lose your mind, it’s too much but not enough at the same time, because she’s just tasting you not trying to fuck you.

But she does it on purpose, making your thighs shake then randomly stop while you pout with tears in your eyes because now your little cunt is all drooly and desperate for her, so you beg her like the good girl you are and she pounds you into the mattress with her strap until you can’t walk.

i need her so bad

[avonnimimi]

i need a part two like yesterday😩 pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseeeeeeeee

B(W)ETTER THAN ME !?

꩜ .ᐟ basically: vi hears from you that it's practically impossible for you to cüm without having your cłít played with, and guys never seem to find it to begin with. she takes that as a challenge.

cw: female reader with female anatomy. close friend vi. you can read this as modern au if you want, idfk. sťráp usage. dòğgý sțýlê and then into another pöşițion idk the name of. mänhándłíng. mentions of ědgîñg. petnames (doll, baby, etc.). óvërştimülátion? sqüířtíng. very self indulgent if you couldn't tell. no plot just pórn.

a/n; shoutout to my girls who are literally impossible to please without playing w they cl*t, we fightin for our lives over here. don’t expect a lot of pretty looking posts like this, i got excited. again, if any stuffs missing, pls tell me!! hope u like it…

NSFW UTC

"oh, really, doll?" it was an innocent conversation at first, you swore it was. you really don't know how it wound up with you bent over, face down ass up in your bed. your dearest friend, vi, right behind you. pounding into you. "it's frustrating," you said. "i can never cum from somebody just fucking me. no guy even knows that the clit exists either." you had been around vi enough to confide in her, even with your most intimate stories and complaints. what you didn't know is that by saying that, you inadvertantly challenged her.

"fuck, vi, wait--" you gasp, hand clumsily reaching behind you, feeling up her hipbone to her hard abs, glistened with sweat. "break. break. break." she had been plowing into you for what felt like hours now. realistically, it might only be a few minutes, but it's far longer than any other dude you had a fling with. for a second you wonder what the fuck she's eating to have this sort of stamina, because it sure as hell isn't human. "hurts?" she asked you, tone way too kind and sweet for the position she had you in. "no," you pant. "just... just gimme a sec--" it didn't hurt. quite the opposite-- it felt amazing. like nirvana except maybe ten times filthier. she was pounding you to cloud nine and back and gods, it felt good, but you still hadn't cum. right, she didn't play with your clit once. because she has to prove a point! she doesn't care how long shes gonna spend plowing into you with this goddamn strap, she wants to give you the best orgasm of your life, clit untouched. right now, for somebody that had never done this-- it was torture. a constant build-up, her tip repeatedly kissing the deepest places inside you until you felt like she was in your guts, rubbing against your slick walls, filling you up so good. it was too much, but not enough at the same time.

you didn't know, but she was being tortured too. she silently vowed to herself the moment she manhandled you onto your bed that she would not cum until you did. so, she's just sorta been edging herself for the past, like, seven minutes. may the higher lords of sex bless doggy, because were you to see her face right now, her ego would be destroyed. sweaty, red, nearly teary-eyed.

"want me to sto-"

"no," you answer just a tad too quickly. she cracks an amused huff at that, hands trailing up and down the curve of your ass, squeezing the plump flesh.

"fuck- just- gh!-"

you didn't have to finish the goddamn sentence, because when you were about to, vi has your wrists in her hands, pulling back and slamming forward into you with a guttural growl. it’s harsher, it’s meaner, and it feels so goddamn good.

you don't even realize what's happening until your back presses against her chest. she pulled you up against her, hands still wrapped tightly together as she rut into you. with the closer proximity, her face buried into the crook of your neck. you could hear her panting, groaning, growling with every smack of her hips against yours. oh, and she could hear every little cry that came from you when she rut into that little spot you always found hard to reach.

oh, vi. shit, fuck, fuck me, yes. oh, she's gonna be dreaming about you for a while after this.

"viii!--" you whine, throwing your head back. there it was again, that heat bubbling in your stomach like a boiling pot, ready to boil over. it was stronger. far stronger. your head was fuzzy with the feeling.

"shit, vi-- fuck, fuck, fuck, i think i-"

"close, doll?" she growled. she just barely gives you the time to respond, shuffling a bit so she could angle her hips up, and oh-

"vi!" found it. head first (literally) ramming into that gooey, sensitive and swollen bundle of nerves, the good old g. bet none of those guys were able to find it, huh, baby?

she growls into your shoulder when she feels your stubby little nails scratch at her lower abdomen, where she held your wrists back tight. you were close, she was close, she could feel it. perfect.

"vi, wait, shiiit!--" you cry out, but she's not stopping. it's too much to process, unlike anything you've ever felt before. you can feel the pressure building exponentially, your abused little cunt spasming around her cock, clenching so tight she nearly finds it hard to move if it weren't for the drippy slick running down your folds. it's strange, and for a second you're worried with the pressure building in your bladder, only to send shocks up to your clit.

"fuck, shit, it's weird, vi--" your head lolls back against her shoulder, jaw hanging open as you let out wanton cries and babbles.

"it's 'right, baby. jus' let go, come on..." she doesn't know if shes talking to you or herself. but she knows it works--

you finally cum with a dragged out whine of her name (that almost sounded like a scream, to be fair. she's surprised your throat isn't hoarse). you swear you black out for a second, vision going white as you feel like you explode into pleasured little pieces. and--

oh. oh.

the splashing of that milky, yet watery liquid, gushing all over her cock. damn, that's fucking hot. you should see yourself from her point of view. not only does she make you cum, she makes you squirt. vi takes that as enough victory to rut into you until she reaches her own orgasm-- which, to be fair, doesn't take too long since she's been on the edge of cumming for the past few minutes. she buries her face into your shoulder, eyes screwed shut. it still steals a few more whimpers and whines from you--and from her too, but she manages to hide them by biting your shoulder with a grunt.

too weak by both of your highs to keep upright, she ends up sitting back down onto the mattress, letting go of your arms only to wrap her own around your waist, cinching you two closer from behind. her strap has long since slipped out of you, leaving you dripping and empty, but ultimately satisfied.

"enjoy yourself?" you need a few minutes to come to and fro, blinking a few times before you see where vi is looking and look towards the direction, only to see the darkened, wet spot of your own making on you sheets. fuck.

"oh shit, that's--" you sound embarrassed, and she's quick to cut you off.

"it's fine, baby. just glad you enjoyed yourself." she chuckled. gods, she's so sweet when she wants to be. she runs her hands over your sides, kissing your nape.

"but you owe it to me, was that not the best orgasm of your life?" she whispers into your ear, her hand trailing down and down and down, until her ring and middle finger press against your twitchy clit, earning a sharp gasp from you.

"imagine what i could do playing with this pretty thing, though?"

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 © bootycallin on tumblr. do not copy, translate or cross post without permission. ᛝ

[avonnimimi]

Fuck, the thought of Ellie, mean Ellie, holding your wrists above your head, pinning you down, legs spread wide open, your cunt practically aching for her.

"Aw, you need it so bad, don't you?" Her voice, a low purr in your ear, sent shivers down your spine. You squirmed, desperate for friction, any kind of touch.

Tears pricked your eyes, the need so intense it was almost painful. "Ellie, please, fuck me," you begged, the words a choked sob. Wanted her to fill you up, stretch you out, make you forget your own name. Clit throbbing, aching, swollen.

"Don't worry, baby," she whispered, grinding her hips against yours, that hard tip teasing your g-spot.

Your back arched, a moan ripping from your throat. "E-Ellie, please," you panted, on the edge of coming, but she'd said no, not yet.

The thought of cumming for her, all over her strap, made your pussy clench, the wetness so intense you could hear it squelching.

Ellie groaned, struggling too, the little tease. Then, she leaned down, taking your nipple in her mouth, sucking, teeth grazing, sending another wave of heat through you.

Finally, she slammed her cock into you, hard and fast. All you could do was moan, a string of "thank yous" and "yeses" spilling from your lips.

She pushed deeper, so deep you could see the bulge in your stomach, your cunt swallowing her whole.

"Yeah, you love this shit, don't you?" she groaned in your ear. Every thrust felt out of this world, like her strap-on was a part of her, like she could feel you clenching around her.

Her moans, her gasps, her whispered praises filled your ears, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Then, you came, hard, all over her cock, just for her.

i need her so bad

[avonnimimi]

❀·°∗✧🌸✧∗°·❀

Plugged

The Series. Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

☥| a/n: Hi my babies, i know you’ve been waiting for this so you shall receive, i hope you all are well and i’m open to talking if you’re feeling down <3 @wannabe-fic-reader @hcneymooners @halle5s @ashketchumzz46 i hope you all enjoy. MEN AND MINORS DNI

☥| content: drug dealer!vi x black reader, angst, abandonment? crying, mentions of murder, starving (ed)? kinda sad. lmk if i missed anything

As you left Donte’s spot, your stomach churned, a mix of anger and self-loathing riding shotgun. You hated yourself for being here again, for dragging Vi into your mess. You couldn’t shake the feeling that she deserved better.

You pulled up to her building, eyes scanning for her car like clockwork. Nothing. Her usual spot was empty, but you still got out. Still went inside.

The elevator ride felt like an eternity, each floor ticking by slower than the last. By the time you got to her door, your chest was tight. You knocked once, light, almost timid, then again, harder this time. Nothing.

“Vi!” you shouted, voice cracking with desperation.

No answer.

Your hand gripped the doorknob, and it twisted too easily. Unlocked.

Stepping inside, her scent hit you like a wave, soft, warm, familiar. It wrapped around you, almost suffocating. Your chest heaved as the thought hit you: Why the hell is her door unlocked?

Heart pounding, you fumbled for your phone, dialing her number like muscle memory. It rang, and rang, and rang, each tone stabbing at your nerves. On the fourth ring, you almost gave up, thumb hovering over “end call,” when she finally answered.

“Precious,” Vi’s voice came through low, tired, and heavy, like she didn’t even want to speak. That pang hit your chest again, sharper this time.

“Where are you?” you asked, trying to sound steady, ignoring the way her tone twisted the knife.

“I’m not home,” she said flatly. “Not gonna be for a while.”

You frowned, the words knotting in your throat. “Why—”

Vi didn’t even let you finish. Her voice cut through, sharp but breaking, like she’d been holding it back for too long.

“I can’t just forget that you went back to Donte, bruh,”

And just like that, the line went dead. Silence filled the room, but it wasn’t quiet. It roared in your ears, that last sentence looping over and over, tearing through whatever was left of you.

Your eyes burned, blurring your vision as you hit redial, your hand shaking. The line rang out. No answer. You swallowed hard, throat dry and raw, before stepping deeper into her apartment, your legs feeling like lead. Something felt…wrong.

You looked around; little things were gone. A jacket missing from the hook by the door. The stack of books she always left on the counter? Gone. Your lip quivered as you walked into her room, your chest tightening with every step.

Her closet? Empty. Just a couple of stray hangers swinging like a cruel joke. The bed was perfectly made; too perfect, like she hadn’t slept in it for days. That’s when you saw it: a folded piece of paper sitting on the pillow.

Your hands shook as you picked it up, the words scrawled in her familiar handwriting:

“Don’t cry. Imma be back soon. Jus need time.”

She knew you were going to cry. She knew you too damn well. And she was right. The tears spilled over, hot and fast, as your legs buckled beneath you. You sat on her bed, clutching the note like it was the last piece of her you had.

The sobs came in waves, wracking your body as you pressed your phone to your ear, calling her again. And again. And again. Each time, it went straight to voicemail.

“Vi, please,” you whispered hoarsely into the receiver. “Just pick up. Please.”

Nothing.

You dropped your phone onto the bed, staring at the empty room through blurry eyes. It didn’t feel real. None of this felt real. She was your anchor, and now it felt like you were free-falling with no end in sight.

You wiped at your face with shaky hands, but it didn’t stop the tears. You didn’t even know how long you sat there, surrounded by her absence, trying to figure out how to fix what felt unfixable.

And then, like some cruel twist of fate, your phone buzzed. A message. From her.

“Stop calling. I just need space. I can’t do this right now.”

The words hit like a sledgehammer. You read them over and over, your mind screaming at you to respond, to say something. But what could you even say? Your hands hovered over the screen, typing and deleting a dozen times, before you finally just typed:

“I’m sorry.”

You hit send. And then you waited. Minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days. But there was no reply. Just silence, loud enough to crush you.

━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━

It had been a month since Vi walked out, and every day since had been its own personal hell. People, strangers, kept showing up at her door, pounding and demanding answers you didn’t have. Each time, you stood there blank-faced, repeating the same lie: I don’t know where she is. Even if you wanted to tell them, you couldn’t.

Every night, you called her. Every single night. Sometimes she answered, sometimes she didn’t. When she did, her voice was always the same; soft, distant, like she was right there but galaxies away. You figured she knew you were still here, holding it down. She was paying the rent, after all.

But what really messed with you? The whispers on the street. Two of Donte’s guys were dead. One missing. The kind of missing that meant they weren’t coming back. Donte was losing it, and it showed. He started blowing up your phone, sending vile, threatening messages that made your skin crawl. You deleted them as fast as they came, but his words stuck, lingering like smoke in your chest.

It was around 9 p.m. when you called Vi that night, sitting in the dark of her apartment like you did most nights now. She picked up after the third ring. You didn’t say anything at first, just listened to the sound of her breathing on the other end.

“When are you coming home?” The words slipped out, your voice barely above a whisper. You almost thought she didn’t hear you.

“Soon.” Her response was clipped, emotionless.

“When is soon?” you pushed, your chest heavy with the weight of everything you weren’t saying.

She ignored the question entirely. “Did you eat?”

You blinked at the shift, caught off guard. “Yeah,” you lied, though you couldn’t remember the last real meal you’d had. Then you started rambling, about your day, about how you cleaned the apartment, about the random person who came by earlier. Anything to keep her on the line just a little longer.

“That’s good, mama,” she murmured, her tone softening for the first time in weeks. It was the kind of warmth that made your heart ache, like a flicker of hope you didn’t know how to hold onto.

And then, without even thinking, you asked the question that had been gnawing at the back of your mind.

“Are you going to kill Donte?”

The silence that followed was deafening, louder than anything she could have said. You gripped the phone tighter, your breath hitching as you waited for her to respond.

“Precious,” she said finally, her voice low and calm, like she was treading carefully. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

Your stomach dropped. “Vi—”

“Stop.” Her tone shifted, harder now, cutting you off before you could press further. “I’ll come home when it’s safe. Don’t call me again tonight.”

And just like that, the line went dead. You stared at the screen, her name burning into your retinas, but the cold emptiness of her words lingered longer than the call itself.

You set the phone down, the room somehow feeling even smaller, even darker. That flicker of hope you’d felt earlier? It was gone now, snuffed out by the growing weight in your chest. The pieces of Vi’s world that you were holding onto were slipping through your fingers, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

You tried to sleep. You really did. But your mind wouldn’t shut off. Every time you closed your eyes, it was her voice, her face, her words echoing back at you. The weight of it all pressed down on your chest like a stone, making it impossible to breathe, let alone rest.

By the time 11 p.m. rolled around, you were still wide awake, staring at the ceiling, your heart pounding in the quiet. And then you heard it, a soft knock, almost unnoticed.

You froze for a moment, fear and hope crashing into each other. Sliding off the bed, you padded to the door cautiously, the air cold against your skin. Your fingers trembled as you unlocked it, slowly pulling it open.

No one was there.

But your eyes dropped, catching sight of a bag of Chinese takeout sitting on the floor. A folded piece of paper was taped to it, the sight of her handwriting punching the air right out of your lungs.

“We’re gonna have to deal with that lyin’ shit.”

A sob ripped out of you before you could stop it, the sound breaking the silence of the empty apartment. Your hand clutched the note tightly as you bent down, grabbing the bag and pulling it inside.

The smell of food hit you as you set it on the counter, but that wasn’t what made your breath hitch. Tucked neatly inside, next to the containers of still warm lo mein and dumplings, was a perfectly rolled blunt.

Your fingers hovered over it for a moment, your mind racing. This was so her. A peace offering that wasn’t really peaceful. A way of saying she was still watching, still thinking of you, even if she wasn’t here.

You let out another shaky breath, your tears dripping onto the countertop as you sat down, staring at the bag. The note. The food. The blunt. It was all so small, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but it felt like a lifeline.

She was out there. Somewhere. And even though you were breaking apart inside, this tiny, messy gesture reminded you that she hadn’t completely let go.

You didn’t think twice. You grabbed the blunt, lit it, and took a deep pull, not caring that you were inside or that you hadn’t even cracked a window. The smoke filled your lungs, heavy and bitter, but it was better than the suffocating silence.

It didn’t take long for you to finish, the ash tray already sitting there like it had been waiting for this exact moment. But the buzz didn’t do much, it only slowed your thoughts, making the ache in your chest feel heavier, harder to carry.

And then the tears came again. Hot and relentless, streaming down your face as you sat slumped on the couch. The food was untouched, sitting cold on the counter, but you didn’t care. Time blurred into a haze of sobs and quiet hiccups, dragging until the clock hit 1 a.m.

The vibration of your phone jolted you, cutting through the fog. A FaceTime call. From her.

Your heart stuttered as you grabbed the phone, wiping at your tear-streaked face with trembling hands before answering. “V-Vi?” Your voice cracked, raw from all the crying, your eyes red and puffy as you stared at the screen.

She was in her SRT, the phone propped up on her dash. Her face was lit by the dim glow of the interior lights, and she did not look happy. Her jaw was tight, her eyes sharp, cutting through you like a blade.

“Set that phone up,” she said, her tone strict, no room for argument. “Lemme watch you eat that food.”

Her voice sent a jolt through you, sharp and commanding, and before you even realized it, your thighs clenched together, a warmth pooling between them. You swallowed hard, shame mixing with the spark of heat in your stomach, but you didn’t question her. You couldn’t.

You did as she said, propping your phone up on the counter with shaky hands. Her eyes were on you the whole time, unyielding, waiting.

“Eat,” she ordered.

You nodded, your movements stiff as you opened the takeout containers, the smell of the food hitting you again. It was the last thing you wanted to do, but under her gaze, you forced yourself to pick up the chopsticks, taking a small bite. Then another.

“That’s good, mama,” she murmured, her tone softening just enough to make your chest ache.

You didn’t say anything, just focused on chewing, the food tasting like ash in your mouth. But you couldn’t look away from the screen, from her, the way her presence felt like both a comfort and a weight pressing down on you.

You knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. But for now, she was here. Watching. Keeping you grounded in the only way she knew how.

—————————————————————————

this is my original post, please don’t repost, translate, or plagiarize my work ;)

©️avonnimimi 2025