soar / harmoni ! — 20 years old, she/her. in uni !! (mass comm major) panromantic demisexual. african american. (i’m from the south 🙂↕️). sept libra (09/28) born to be a film student.
mdni!! — i reblog + post nsfw fics & blurbs so 18+!! and no ageless blogs please.
media i love; formula 1 (33, 44, 81 !!) ✶ challengers ✶ moon knight ✶ the bear ✶ dune (2021) ✶ stranger things ✶ the batman ✶ spiderverse ✶ the boys + gen v ✶ big thief + film osts ✶ marvel cinematic universe ✶ sherlock & co. !
c.ai — profile ✶ masterlist (my profile and masterlist are both now archives, i don’t make bots anymore as of 06/04/26.)
just a thought… — masterlist ; for requests, use my inbox here. latest work here !!!
growing up gay and autistic felt like constantly standing in the wrong room; never quite fitting in anywhere, too much for some people, not enough for others and for a long time, i thought belonging was something everyone else got except me because i couldn't (and still can't really) know who i was.
i spent years trying to figure out where i fit with my gender, who i was supposed to be as a person, and why it always seemed so much easier for everyone else. but with time, i learned that i was never meant to shrink myself just to make other people comfortable.
turns out there was never anything wrong with me, i just hadn't found my people yet.
and if you're reading this, whether you're proudly out, quietly questioning, or still in the closet, i want you to know that you are loved. you are important, you are worthy of taking up space exactly as you are and your journey doesn't have to look like anyone else's.
this month belongs to you, too. 🏳️🌈
happy pride month to everyone still searching, everyone healing, everyone celebrating, and everyone simply trying to make it through. i hope you find people who make you feel seen, safe, and at home. 💛
busy thinking about jack abbot…. 😵💫 (nsfw under the cut !!)
something something thinking about jack gently pounding you until you can’t speak, cooing slightly as your eyes glaze over. “aw, sweet girl…” he says between thrusts, his cock hitting exactly where it needs, earning whines and whimpers from your throat. “there you go. just take all of me. what you were made for, baby.” he can feel you whine under him, basically turning into mush. your brain and your body. his fingers dig into the skin of your hips, growing harder at hearing your moans and babbling. “daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy..” you whimpered out.
“i know, honey.” jack murmured to you, practically encouraging your high with his tone of voice alone. “daddy’s got you. you’re okay, lovebug.” he can feel you clenching around him as your orgasm builds in waves, building his own release in return. jack notices the moment you go speechless on his cock, your mind swelling, falling deeper into the euphoric haze, the feeling stronger. “there she goes. hi, my good girl. there she is. all mindless on daddy’s cock, mm? that’s okay, sweetness.” the older man coos as he continues to thrust into you, his rhythm still steady.
“keep being mindless for me, sweet girl. let daddy handle all the thinking. all the thinking.” jack said, bringing his free arm around to the front of your joined bodies, rubbing at your clit feverishly. you jolted slightly at the overwhelming sensation, your eyes rolling back. “there you go. good girl. my good girl.” he whispered to you, a moan escaping him too as he felt you. you were absolutely soaking his cock with your juices, determined to milk it for everything it’s worth.
“i gotcha, honey. daddy’s gotcha. go ‘head and cum. let it all go for me. that’s it.”
🗒️— 😵💫😵💫 goddddd i wish he was real :(( feel free to also leave thoughts you have about jack abbot in my inbox because i would love to read all the nasty things you all think of :)
al-hashimi feels herself fill with a sense of shame. she was one to berate robby over and over again about the relationship between er leadership and their subordinates. professional. platonic. lines were supposed to be drawn at mentor and mentee. close friends were pushing it. but not illegal. not even knowing how easy it is to… become apart of the problem. a goddamn hr violation. parker had invited her over. drinks, maybe a meal if they wanted.
they held great conversation came 7 pm for shift change. parker initiated, asking how her first day was, feeling baran out. despite the older woman’s exhaustion, she kept the façade. that she was well put together. fine. it was bullshit, parker could see it even before their conversation had ended. “hey. it’s okay to not be okay. being mysterious about it never ends well for anyone. you’re gonna be with us for a while, might as well trust us.” the senior resident flashed a small smile before they parted.
one thing lead to another and here baran was, mulling over parker’s message, wondering what the fuck was wrong with her. they got those drinks, had that meal. baran actually let loose, which was rare. parker opened herself up more a little too, in return. there was a spark there, tiny ones. ever since that night… baran couldn’t stop her mind from replaying the moment her and parker started speaking on past regrets. al-hashimi casually mentioned that she…. experimented with her sexuality during her college years. hookups, full on relationships with other women.
parker raised her brow, a slight smirk, her eyes giving an energy baran couldn’t place in the moment but in retrospect could depict. hope. mischief. maybe a bit knowing in the other woman’s gaze.
it was a little past midnight as baran stared at her phone screen in the dark of her own bedroom, staring at the past text conversation, the current text box waiting to be typed in. baran craved that connection again, to be seen, to be heard. to be cherished, to be understood past the façade that she so willingly places on herself day in and day out. a strong willed, always capable, brilliant woman.
but with parker? in the short time of knowing her, the older woman felt as if she didn’t have to be anything but just her true, authentic self. so, baran bit the bullet, fear and shame building in her gut as she typed out her message to parker.
‘I enjoyed our last outing together. I would really like to get together again sometime. Sunday, same time and same place?’ — Sent. Delivered.
in lieu of talking about jack’s disability/prosthesis; i’ve put together a list of facts specific to him/amputees in general. in ended up being kind of long, so feel free to skip if you want to. but here’s some info i thought could help all of us fic writers out there !!
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- jack specific facts:
- jack is missing his leg BELOW the knee. around the mid-calf area. his prosthesis is called a transtibial. his specific make/model is unknown. though it looks most like a conventional prosthesis. edit: i’ve been informed his prosthesis is an Enchelon Endolite, not sure what specific model, though it’s a few years old.)
- people with leg prosthetics will often shift their weight on their feet—sometimes almost constantly—to keep their balance. it can also SOMETIMES be called a Trendelenburg gait, and will only worsen over time. but a Trendelenburg gait can also be completely unrelated and different/occurs more at and in the hip area. (thank you to the person who sent in the information about that, it was very helpful !! you can find that here.)
- jack is missing his lower limb which means: he removes it/changes it before bed, showering, swimming, running etc.
- jack/amputees often have a rail or bench specifically made for showering for better accessibility and to keep themselves steady in the shower if they are standing/not wearing a waterproof prosthesis.
- he can sleep with it on, but it’s usually not comfortable & most amputee’s let their limbs air out overnight to reduce swelling, sores/irritation, chafing, etc. it’s feasible that he’d take his limb off right after a shift, and if he doesn’t; be in more pain/uncomfortable with the leg on.
- fluid fluctuates in the limb during the day cause the residual limb to swell/decrease in size, they require the addition or removal of sock “plies” to make sure the limb keeps a snug fit.
- his limb will require daily inspection and massage to check for blisters/keep proper blood flow to the limb.
- also requires daily cleaning of the limb and prosthetic liner to prevent skin breakdown and infection.
- amputation often causes anxiety, depression, and other emotional challenges; it’s reasonable to perceive that jack suffers/has suffered from one or more of these. he goes to therapy canonically.
- phantom pain is a thing !! nerve endings can still fire and cause pain/sensation of a lower limb even after it’s missing. it never goes away. jack has been portrayed with this at the end of pittfest in season 1 !! he absolutely suffers from it, and it’s important to represent !!
facts about prosthetic legs/prosthesis:
- first off; prosthetic vs prosthesis; a prosthetic is the field of study, design, and fitting of the device. a prosthesis is the artificial limb itself.
- the socket is the most critical part; it’s custom molded to fit each person, it connects the prosthesis to to the body.
- the suspension is how the prosthesis is held on; can be put in place by suction, vacuum, or locking pins.
- the pylon in the internal frame or pipe that provides the structural strength.
- modern prosthetic legs feature advanced materials—depending on the amputation level—that’s specialized in knee and ankles.
- temporary prosthetics are given right after amputation, permanent prosthetics are fitted 2-6 months after amputation, when the swelling has gone down.
- all prosthesis are fitted and customized based on each person’s lifestyle and activity level, and physical capabilities; including foot/shoe size.
- a prosthesis and parts usually need replacements over time from wear and tear, even though they are durable. (most last around five years.)
- poor fit can cause blisters, pain, swelling, and skin sores.
- prosthetic weight varies; thermoplastic models often being the lightest.
- amputation often causes anxiety, depression, and other emotional challenges.
- most prosthetics are made of titanium, aluminum, and carbon fiber.
- most regular/everyday prosthetics are not designed to get wet/be submerged and will rust.
- all amputees have to wear a sock or stump shrinker, it prevents swelling in the limb and when the prosthesis is not attached. it’s basically a carbon fiber cup. if the sock does not fit correctly, it can cause restricted blood flow; forcing blood into the distal end and cause more swelling.
- swelling in the residual limb called edema (occurs especially when irritated) can cause the sock and prosthesis to not fit/fit uncomfortably.
- there are special types of prosthesis; including waterproof, adjustable, and microprocessor controlled.
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different types of below knee prosthesis;
- conventional:
conventional prosthesis are the most traditional prosthetic legs, and are the most common form of below-knee prosthesis. they consist of a plain socket, pylon (the supporting rod), and foot. They are strong and cost-effective, making them a popular option for most users.
a conventional prosthesis is usually constructed from lightweight materials; such as plastic and metal. they are plain with few moving parts, have basic mobility, are ideal for everyday use, and usually cost-effective compared to advanced alternatives.
- endoskeletal prosthetic legs:
endoskeletal prosthetic legs have an internal support-build, usually with a cosmetic outer covering. they are usually made to appear more natural and provide better mobility and comfort.
endoskeletal prosthesis are usually lightweight and flexible, they can be made to look more natural, are usually easier to fit and alter, and are better for individuals who want a more realistic appearance.
- exoskeletal prosthetic legs:
exoskeletal prosthetic legs are usually made of a strong, long-lasting, rigid outer casing, but are not as commonly used today. the prosthesis lacks the internal frame that an endoskeletal prosthetics have. the main structure is instead the rigid outer casing.
exoskeletal prosthesis are usually very hard and long-lasting. they are more damage and wear-resistant. better for those with heavy-duty requirements. are usually less customizable in looks.
- dynamic response prosthetic legs:
also called specialized energy-storing feet, these are created to help more energetic/athletic people move easily. they store energy/movement better when each foot is on the ground release it when each foot is off the ground; making walking and running easier.
a dynamic response prosthesis usually allows for more natural movement, improves walking, can reduce stress on the other leg, and is better for very energetic people; like athletes.
- microprocessor-controlled prosthetic legs:
these legs use more diverse forms of advanced technology to improve mobility and stability within the prosthesis. they usually have sensors that detect movement and can adjust in real-time; they enhance the quality of balance and walking.
microprocessor-controlled prosthesis usually have advanced sensors that respond to changes in movement. they can make you steadier if the ground isn’t flat, put less stress on the joints, are best for active individuals who need movement control, and are rather pricey but still usually efficient.
- waterproof prosthetic legs:
are usually made from materials that are not susceptible to corrosion or wear down. they are intended for people who use their prostheses in aquatic/water filled areas; like pools, or showers.
waterproof prosthesis are made using waterproof materials, can be used in wet conditions, are strong and more resistant to rust, and are best suited for swimmers and water sports athletes.
- adjustable prosthetic legs:
adjustable prosthesis allow a person to change how the socket fits around their limb as needed. they are better for children or those with changing weight/strength.
adjustable prosthesis have an adjustable fit, are a good option for children and people with fluid retention, can provide more support and comfort, and help to prevent discomfort from poor fitting.
- blade prosthetic leg:
a blade prosthesis is a high-performance prosthesis made from carbon fiber, usually designed for running, jumping, and high-intensity sports. similar to a dynamic response prosthesis, but not the same.
blade prosthesis are typically shaped like a “cheetah’s hind leg” to maximize energy return, are lightweight, usually J-shaped, they store energy upon impact and expel to propel the person forward. they act as a type of spring rather than a walking foot. the sole of a running shoe/sneaker can sometimes be glued to the bottom of the blade, as they can be slippery.
- below are pictures of different types of prosthesis:
- conventional prosthesis:
- endoskeletal prosthesis:
- exoskeletal prosthesis:
- dynamic response prosthesis:
- microprocessor-controlled prosthesis:
- waterproof prosthesis:
- adjustable prosthesis:
- blade prosthesis:
- jack’s prosthesis:
if there’s any other questions you have, please let me know and i’ll see if i can figure it out !! i hope this helps some of you and i can’t wait to (hopefully) see more representation of jack’s prosthesis/disability !! i know im going to try my best to include some of this stuff !!
love you all so much !! <3 i hope to have more fic updates for you soon !! :)
2 year anniversary of challengers is rapidly approaching and i petition for it to be put back in the theaters again so we can all experience our favorite tennis throuple. yes? okay great
— ୨୧ ˖ ˚ summary : this is how the golden years of your marriage with victoria begin.
— ୨୧ ˖ ˚ tw : established relationship, alcohol, nsfw, fem!reader, happy marriage, victoria calls reader 'my wife' (a lot), fluff, they're two foolishly infatuated people, +18.
— ୨୧ ˖ ˚ masterlist
victoria’s smile could have lit up all of times square without any effort. there was something almost youthful in the way she carried herself — light, unguarded, completely surrendered to happiness.
“my wife.”
she kept repeating it like it was a recent discovery, like the words were still too new in her mouth.
“my wife,” she murmured again, just passing by you.
“my wife,” she told anyone who came close — friends, colleagues, even strangers who had no idea who you were.
you had already lost count of how many times you’d heard it since the ceremony ended.
and honestly? you weren’t tired of it. not even a little.
victoria looked… radiant. there was no other word. her eyes shone in a way you had never seen before, not even in the best moments of her career. there was no calculation there, no strategy — just pure emotion.
even stan edgar seemed quietly intrigued, watching his daughter display so much affection without even trying to hide it.
you, on the other hand, could only smile.
because you knew every version of victoria: the politician, the strategist, the ruthless one.
but this one? this one was only yours.
the version of victoria who looked at you like you were her entire world, who treated you like the most precious thing she had, who would bend reality itself just to give you what you wanted… no one else had access to that version of her.
only you.
“hello, mrs. neuman…”
her voice came low against your ear, followed by the familiar feeling of her arms wrapping around your waist from behind. the kiss to your neck was soft, lingering, like she was still absorbing the reality of it all.
you closed your eyes for a moment, tilting your head slightly.
“are you really going to say that every time?” you asked, amused.
victoria laughed quietly, her lips brushing your cheek as they slowly moved upward.
“of course i am.” a pause. “you’re my wife.”
there was so much pride in the way she said it that you couldn’t help but smile.
you turned in her arms, meeting that look — intense, but softened now by something almost… silly.
in love.
yes. in love. that was the right word.
victoria lifted a hand to your face, her thumb brushing gently over your skin before leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose.
“you look beautiful, you know that?”
you laughed, stepping closer.
“i know. you’ve already said that today.”
and then, with a small, playful smile, you kissed her chin.
“you look hot.”
victoria let out a genuine laugh, her head tilting back slightly — a rare, free sound that made a few people nearby glance over.
“i’m trying to be romantic here, okay?”
“calling you hot is romantic too, vicky.”
she narrowed her eyes for a second, like she was considering it… then nodded, fully convinced.
“alright.” she leaned in again, her nose brushing yours. “then you look very hot too.”
the way she said it made you laugh again — but the sound softened when her hands slid to your hips, pulling you a little closer.
“so hot,” she continued, her voice lower now, almost like a shared secret, “that it’s making me want to end this party early…”
you raised an eyebrow, clearly interested.
“interesting proposal.” you leaned in, your lips barely brushing hers. “i’m listening.”
victoria smiled like that — the same confident smile as always, but softened by affection.
“hm… we could disappear for a few minutes,” she murmured, her fingers pressing lightly into your hips. “no one will notice.”
“they will,” you replied, but didn’t pull away. “you haven’t stopped calling me ‘my wife’ for even a second.”
“good.” she shot back immediately. “that way they know exactly who you are.”
and before you could answer, victoria pulled you into a kiss — not rushed, not urgent.
but full.
full of everything that day meant.
when she pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours, still smiling in that completely undone way.
“my wife,” she repeated again, like she would never get tired of it.
little by little, the reception began to empty.
the lights felt softer now, the music distant — almost like an echo of what the night had been. a few guests still lingered by the bar, laughing too loudly, clearly too drunk to realize the party was already over.
victoria, on the other hand, was counting the seconds.
not out of exhaustion.
not out of obligation.
but because finally… finally she would have you to herself.
the country club that stan edgar insisted on paying for had served its purpose: privacy, elegance, and a small enough circle to keep everything intimate. nothing excessive. nothing impersonal.
just… perfect.
and memorable.
especially the speeches.
you could still hear your mother’s voice, thick with emotion, talking about the first time you brought victoria home — how nervous you were, how you wouldn’t stop talking, how it was obvious you were already completely gone for her.
victoria had squeezed your hand then, trying to hide her own smile.
and then came her friends.
merciless.
embarrassing stories, public confessions — and that one in particular, the one that made you laugh too loudly:
victoria, at two in the morning, knocking on your dorm room door because she couldn’t sleep knowing you might be upset with her.
you didn’t even remember what the argument had been about.
but you remembered her expression perfectly — almost desperate, completely in love, looking like she had already lost any sense of dignity for you.
some things never changed.
“finally.”
victoria’s voice came from behind you, low, satisfied.
before you could react, she was already there — hands firm on your waist, pulling you back against her.
no audience now.
no interruptions.
just the two of you.
“you were counting the minutes, weren’t you?” you teased, turning your head just enough to meet her.
“every second,” she answered without hesitation.
her nose brushed your neck, breathing you in slowly, like she was still getting used to the idea that this was real.
“my wife…” she murmured again, almost smiling against your skin.
you let out a soft laugh.
“you’re not going to stop, are you?”
“never.” she replied immediately.
and then she turned you in her arms like it was the most natural thing in the world. the look she gave you made your chest tighten — not from intensity, but from softness.
victoria neuman, completely undone.
“i married you,” she said, like she was still processing it. “do you realize that?”
“i do,” you smiled. “i was there too.”
she laughed quietly, lifting a hand to your face. her thumb brushed slowly over your cheek, with something almost reverent in the gesture.
“no, you don’t understand…” she murmured. “i’ve waited so long for this.”
there was no dramatics in her tone.
just honesty.
raw and unfiltered.
you leaned in, resting your forehead against hers.
“was it worth it?”
victoria smiled — that smile that belonged only to you.
“every second.”
the kiss that followed wasn’t rushed.
it wasn’t urgent.
it was slow, deep, full of meaning — like every second was something to be kept, remembered, lived again. her hands moved along your back, keeping you close, like she was still afraid it might disappear.
when she pulled away, she didn’t go far. she never did. she never would.
“let’s go,” victoria murmured, brushing her nose against yours. “before someone remembers we’re still here.”
“go where?” you asked, already knowing.
her smile widened — playful, but still soft with affection.
“home,” she said. a pause. “or anywhere i can be alone with my wife.”
you laughed, but didn’t argue.
because deep down, you wanted the exact same thing.
and this time, nothing was stopping you.
the house was quiet when you arrived.
a different kind of quiet — not empty, but comforting. like the walls already knew something had changed, that the space itself carried a new meaning now.
victoria closed the door behind you slowly, but didn’t step away. in fact, she didn’t even try.
her hands found yours immediately, fingers lacing together like it had been too long since she could do that freely.
“my wife…” she murmured again, almost like a sigh.
you laughed softly, shaking your head.
“i should charge you every time you say that.”
“i’d pay without complaining,” victoria replied instantly, stepping closer. “it’s worth it.” her tone was light, but her eyes… her eyes were still full.
full of everything.
you took a few steps inside, pulling her with you, your shoes abandoned along the way without much thought. your dress still fell perfectly against your body, but it didn’t matter as much anymore.
nothing had to be perfect now. just real.
victoria watched you like she was trying to memorize everything — the way you moved, the sound of your laughter, the way the light touched your face.
“you’re still smiling,” you pointed out, turning back to her.
“i can’t stop,” she admitted, without a trace of embarrassment. she shrugged, almost shy. “i don’t think i want to.”
you stepped closer, stopping right in front of her. “well… i’m not complaining either.”
victoria let out a quiet laugh, lifting her hand to your face again — like she needed that constant contact.
her thumb brushed gently over your skin, and this time you noticed something different.
it wasn’t just desire.
it was… calm.
like, for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t chasing anything. wasn’t planning the next move. she had already arrived.
“you know…” she started, her voice softer now, quieter. “i always imagined what this moment would be like.”
“and?” you raised an eyebrow.
victoria tilted her head slightly, studying your face like she was comparing expectation to reality.
“it’s better,” she said simply.
your chest tightened — in the best way. you took her hand again, lacing your fingers together.
“romantic,” you teased, smiling softly.
“don’t get used to it,” she replied, stepping closer. “it’s exclusive.”
the kiss this time was different from all the others that night.
no rush.
no urgency.
no audience.
just… the two of you.
slow. soft. the kind of intimacy that only exists when there’s nothing left to prove. when love has already been spoken out loud — at the altar, in front of everyone — and now only needs to be felt. when you pulled apart, victoria didn’t let go. she never did. she simply rested her forehead against yours, breathing slowly.
“do you want to take this dress off?” she asked, her tone gentle, almost careful.
“i imagine it’s not the most comfortable thing in the world.”
you laughed softly. “finally, someone sensible.”
“i’m always sensible,” she shot back, mildly offended. then paused. “i just get a little… distracted when it comes to you.”
“a little?”
“okay, a lot.”
you smiled, pulling her by the hand toward the bedroom.
the lights stayed off along the way, the quiet of the house wrapping around you both like an embrace.
victoria's lips met yours in an almost hungry way, her hands gripping your waist as if her life depended on it.
you, so hopelessly surrendered to her, didn't care when your dress fell to the floor, not even when your back met the soft mattress of your bed. all that mattered now was victoria's body against yours, the way your thighs embraced her hips, pulling her even closer.
victoria pressed her naked body against yours, feeling her warm skin against yours. her mouth met her wife's in a passionate and hungry kiss, her hands tracing the curves of the body of the woman she loved more than anything.
she could feel her wife's heart beating rapidly against hers, their bodies touching in harmony as victoria's hands explored every inch of her soft skin. she slid her hands down her wife's back, feeling the waves of her hair as she kissed her deeper and deeper.
victoria pulled you even closer, wanting to feel every curve and hollow of your body pressed against hers. she slid her hand down your round bottom and squeezed it with relish, pulling you tightly against her as she kissed you passionately.
they kissed for long moments, lost in each other as the world around them faded away. the touch of their bodies was electric, sending sparks through their nerve endings as they surrendered to passion.
victoria pulled back just a little to look at your beautiful face below her: flushed and breathless, completely surrendered to her.
“my love,” she whispered, her voice full of desire. “i love you so fucking much, my dear wife.”
victoria lowered her head and kissed your cheek, then the corner of your mouth, then your soft, full lips. she kissed you deeply, tasting the champagne you had drunk during your wedding dinner.
victoria left a trail of kisses down your neck, feeling your quickened pulse beneath her lips as her mouth slid across your soft skin. she could smell your perfume, mingled with the natural scent of your skin, a scent victoria had learned to love so much.
when she reached your breasts, victoria paused for a moment, admiring the sight of your full, soft mounds. she had a particular passion for your breasts, and loved spending hours exploring every inch of them. “so fucking perfect…”
victoria placed a soft kiss on the top of each breast, then slid her tongue over the soft, sensitive skin. she could feel you trembling under her touch, your nipples hardening even more as she teased them.
then, victoria took one nipple into her mouth, sucking and pinching the sensitive flesh while her hand squeezed and massaged the other breast. she loved the way you moaned beneath her, loved knowing she had the power to make the woman she loved feel so good.
“i love you…” she whispered countless times, as if repeating a prayer. “…i love you…”
victoria slid her hand down her wife’s stomach, then down your thighs, savoring the sensation of the soft skin beneath her fingers. she could feel the wetness between your legs, she could feel how much you wanted her too.
“is all this for me, my love?” she whispered against your skin, smiling as she felt the sticky goo on her fingers. “so wet… so delicious… so mine.”
then, victoria slid a finger into her wife’s wet cleft, feeling the moisture that had already accumulated there.
“fuck” you cursed softly, your lips parting in a moan that victoria used to devour you in another intense kiss.
victoria began to move her finger in and out of your wet cavity, increasing the pace as you writhed in pleasure beneath her. she added another finger, and then another, feeling your walls tighten as she brought you closer to climax.
her thumb found your clitoris, stimulating it with the same intensity.
“v-vicky, i’m gonna—” your voice sounded trembling and almost desperate, your nails now scratching victoria’s back, who groaned in response.
“i-i know, come to me, my love… please,” victoria begged, biting your chin, feeling a wave of pleasure in giving your pleasure. “come for me, beautiful, please.”
victoria slid her fingers deeper, feeling her wife’s walls contracting around them as you got closer and closer to climax. she slid her thumb over your swollen clitoris, massaging the sensitive flesh as she brought you to the edge.
victoria felt your body stiffen beneath her, your muscles contracting as you reached the peak of pleasure.
“a-ah, vicky!” you cried, your whole body trembling as the orgasm hit you hard. victoria could feel the heat emanating from your body, she could feel how every inch of your skin was warm and sensitive.
victoria continued to stimulate you, sliding her fingers in and out of your pussy as you writhed and moaned with pleasure. she wanted to prolong this moment as much as possible, she wanted you to feel every wave of pleasure you could feel.
your body went limp beneath her, your limbs trembling as you tried to catch your breath. victoria could feel your racing heart, she could hear the way you gasped as you tried to catch your breath.
beautiful.
she removed her fingers from inside you, bringing them to her lips and tasting your pleasure. victoria smiled at the satisfied expression on your face, at the way you looked at her with so much love and desire.
"my god, i love you so much," victoria whispered, leaning in to kiss your soft lips. she could feel the tears in your eyes, she could feel how emotional you were with all the love and affection.
“i love you, vicky!” you repeated, smiling against victoria's lips. she pulled away and you tried to chase her for another kiss, but her hand was firm, keeping you lying on the mattress.
“open your legs for me, love… i want to taste you on my tongue.”
So, if Sydney is the Bear, how come she never dreamed of a Bear until S4, or doesnt see the Bear until the opening night in season 2? Carmy dreams about the bear from the pilot while he's working at the beef; the season ends with the sign reading "The Bear is coming." And I thought there might be some symbolism in why this was done this way. Because technically, the bear was there already.
One, cause Carmy did met the Bear in the pilot: he met Sydney. The Bear was always there; the thing is, until the end of season 2, the Bear didn't have any authority yet.
Which is consistent with what he said later: any chance of anything good started when she came in.
But Sydney doesn't see the Bear until the opening night because that's the first time the Beef is officially gone. The building now has her name, putting an end to the Barzatto curse that was the beef (how his father started it, and Donna and Michael had to continue it; it was such a curse that nothing could prosper in that ambiance).
And she also doesn't see the Bear until that moment because, like Carmy, she had refused to acknowledge this part of herself, this untamed beast. In both Carmys and Sydney's case, the bear really represents two things: potential and catharsis.
Catharsis allows them to process the feelings they have been bottling up, about their childhood traumas, about the cooking industry, and about their relationship.
And the potential is the best version of themselves; they are afraid to meet. That's why Carmy and Syd can only see the bear in each other.
Carmy could not imagine his healing until he met Sydney. And Sydney did not imagine her full power and light until he met Carmy. Why? Because that's the potential within themselves, only the other can show it to them. Only through Sydney's compassion and guidance could he imagine himself capable and worthy of healing. And only through Carmy's absolute belief in her, she could imagine she had everything inside of her she could possibly need to achieve her dreams.
something something being casually asked by robby if i want some coffee in which i say yes but instead of fixing me a mug he spits the coffee in my mouth so i can swallow it in the comfort of our own home thank you sir
something something being casually asked by robby if i want some coffee in which i say yes but instead of fixing me a mug he spits the coffee in my mouth so i can swallow it in the comfort of our own home thank you sir
