sugar coated

AVANTIKA VANDANAPU at the Mean Girls premiere.

Avantika by Sonali Ohrie for Vogue India January 2024

there wasn’t ever an issue to get girls on their knees, but it was never something he felt he needed. because, in the back of his mind, there was a deep and dark desire that was itching at him. he could never shake it, but when he embraced it… fuck, it felt good. this felt good. better than any other time, and he wondered if it was because he was completely vulnerable. both of them were. her hands and her touch, the way her mouth opened for him… he wasn’t sure he wanted it to end ever. his hips moved, breathy grunts as the length pressed past her lips and into her throat. repeated motions, taking enormous effort to not shove her against the wall and fuck her mouth to his heart’s content. he knew he had the strength, but he also knew that he needed to pace himself in order to keep his composure. just the thought alone had him twitching against her tongue and he found his movements picking up the pace. “fuck, this is good,” he found himself muttering under his breath, surely hard to catch but loud enough that the mask wouldn’t muffle the words. after all, the party was getting livelier as they stayed in there. and he didn’t plan on going back for a long, long time.

cora knows full well the power she yields, the way she could make men crumble with her confidence, her lack of hesitation or self doubt. she also knows she's unrestricted in antics such as these, shameless where other girls might feel differently, finding satisfaction in bringing satisfaction. this was something more complex; whatever was happening between them was more than a man seeking pleasure and her being unafraid to give it. there was something here, in the dark and twisted nature of it all, that made the moment so good. he's no longer allowing her to tease him, delicious sounds slipping from below the mask as he worked his hips in the way that best satisfied him, to the rhythm he needed and she allowed it, welcomed it even. they both know she's far from innocent but she allows her eyes to communicate otherwise, doe-like as they gaze up at the mask, like if she stared long enough she'd be able to see past the material to his own. she doesn't dare look away, even as her throat constricts around him and brings soft, gagging noises from her throat, as the saliva is forced onto her lips and down her chin with each thrust. she has no way of being sure he can even see her, that he's bothering to look — and yet, she's certain he is.

the questions were difficult for foster to completely understand. they were more opinions, and she was so used to knowing straight answers. factual things. her brows knit as she began to think, which was already such an odd concept for her. “i don’t know,” she responded, stiff as a board. she wasn’t sure what it was that held her back, but it seemed that it was fear subsiding inside of her. the fear of getting caught. “what do you do to feel things? where you go? and… and should i do something different? do i look like an android?” being unsure was such a strange thing for her, but she would work through it the best she could.

"that's okay." because it was, wasn't it? you weren't born knowing who you were, what you wanted — those were things learned over time, found out through experiences and trying new things. if foster had only ever been what she was told to be, how could she know a world outside that? "that's perfect actually." the words conjuring an idea that tova hadn't had just moments ago. "we can start with clothes. you can raid my wardrobe or...we could go shopping." the words spoken like a scandalous after thought, the knowledge that her parents would be furious knowing she'd spent money dressing foster only making the idea that more worthwhile. "makeup, hair, nails. we can find what makes you...you."

maybe they both knew this was potentially the last time the two of them would be together like this. relatively safe, vulnerable. or maybe there just wasn't anything left to fight for, and that was the sad reality for libbie. she was tired. she never thought she'd be tired, but after everything was happening... well, a long vacation seemed needed. a permanent vacation, really.

at first, she was going to protest... and then she heard the end of the plan. "are you fucking crazy?" the question came out, angry with her for even suggesting it. james wouldn't let her leave alive. would he? it was a better plan than she ever had, but libbie felt sick. "what's the plan after that? hm? what's your escape plan?" she didn't think it was fair to assume that kaitlyn would just offer herself up, and stay there. but... it seemed like a death sentence.

it was stupid — a stupid plan, a stupid way of bringing it up, as if it was the smallest thing and not a million possible disasters waiting to blow up in her face. she'd anticipated the anger, more of it actually, had anticipated some of the blow up their last encounter had brought and perhaps that's why she'd brought it up so plainly, like she could fool them both into thinking it was something simpler than what it was, that their lives were something simpler than what they were, that they were something simpler than what they were.

for a moment she doesn't move, doesn't flinch or even blink, a stillness that to anyone else might be unnerving. then the words come. "i'm gonna kill him." yet again, simple. a solution that's been before her the whole time that she'd merely ignored rather than a possible suicide mission. "he wants me to spend my life ruining but..." she was tired. she, like libbie, was exhausted — and running was the very thing that was going to lead her into james' hands, a position better managed under her own terms. "i've had enough." only then does her gaze shift, do her eyes land back upon libbie, seeming as confident as she had when the woman had first walked through her bedroom door. "i just need you to help me."

rose felt like she was having an out of body experience. she didn't feel like herself in the fact that she was ready to scream at daniel, to tell him to do more, to do something to fix that growing ache in her abdomen. because it seemed like he was the exact reason for it, and it was getting so much worse as he kept going on. she shifts involuntarily, whimpering out and causing herself to blush completely at the fact that noises were coming from her that she wasn't used to. her jaw felt like it had dropped to the floor the minute his finger pressed into her.

"daniel..." the name left her lips weakly, hips moving upward in order to welcome him a little more, encourage faster movements. but he seemed to have a plan for her. with each movement of his hand and fingers, she could tell that he knew exactly what he was doing. any time it seemed that his finger would almost pull out of her, she let out a whine to indicate that it'd be the last thing she wanted. she didn't understand how simple, slow movements had her dripping around the thick digit so easily. she was almost embarrassed how wet she was getting from the way he spoke to her. "goodness..." she breathed out, pussy tightening around his fingers as the second pushes in. she's tempted to close her thighs around his hand, but she found herself gripping onto the man's shirt tightly and desperately. "oh my g--mmm, right there, please, holy... moly," she struggled with the words, as if he hadn't just explained to her that he knew exactly what he was doing.

there's very little he wants more in that moment than to adjust her, to pull her petite frame into the safety of his arms and keep her there until he had led her to multiple orgasms, until she was so fully satisfied that all she could do was drift off peacefully for the evening. he wasn't sure she'd ever looked prettier than right now — so delicate and flustered, so needy and desperate, still trying so hopelessly to cling to her manners even when in the midst of her pleasure. it's both another a reminder he shouldn't be touching her and further encouragement; he had to show her, to teach her, to educate her on the things no one had bothered to normalize in her life or where would she be? lying on her bed day in and day out seeking out a satisfaction she didn't know how to reach? or worse, welcoming selfish and clumsy men into her room only for them to use her and leave her with a false idea of what she deserved?

her walls are so tight, clutching to the digits as they work their way in and out of her slick core, a sure difference from her own slender fingers. his lips turn upwards in a way that it sometimes seemed only she was capable of making them move, wondering if he had hit a sweet spot or if she was merely that unused to the satisfaction, free hand curling around the fingers that clutched his shirt in an offer for comfort. "that's not even the best part." his fingers sink in deep, stilling, allowing his thumb to dance up through her folds until it brushes against that tender bud, dark eyes moving to her face. "this is your clit and it deserves...so much attention." a point he makes by rubbing slow, small circles against it, practically salivating with his own words. "if anyone touches you and they don't get you wet...they don't touch your clit...they don't deserve to touch you." they didn't anyway — no one did. "you understand?"

orphiccherry​:

it's impossible to stop her eyes from seeking out his own when he beckons for her attention, to lift her gaze and latch it onto his own, to find herself captive there, in his eyes. it was a special talent she wasn't sure he even knew he possessed, the ability to ensnare her, to make the room around her melt until they were all that was left. his touch is like a rush of warm water, easing from her scalp down over every inch of her, assuring her body that it could relax. it's only with the question that she reacts, giving a small smile and shake of her head. "no...no." her voice is soft but somehow insistent, assuring he knew she meant it. "it's been...it's been so long since you've been out...everyone's happy to see you." dainty fingers drift absentmindedly to toy with his own, to remind herself that he's something real and not just an illusion in her mind. "i'm okay."

a chef by day, a CIA agent by night?

MARCUS BROOKS and SYDNEY ADAMU in THE BEAR (2022 — PRESENT)

˗ˏˋ SUKI WATERHOUSE as Karen Sirko in DAISY JONES & THE SIX ˎˊ˗

SUKI WATERHOUSE for FLAUNT Magazine (March 1, 2023)

“ah, fuck,” he grunted out, not sure what he was expecting by their conversation. it felt like they were talking around the point, but also he was getting a mouth on his dick so he thought it better to not try to make sense of it. she looked good like that, he thought. keeping any murderous thoughts at bay, even when she had pulled away and his length was throbbing for more. he closed his eyes, keeping in an impatient groan as he listened. she wasn’t as crazy as they made her seem, but he was surprised there was any truth to the rumours. “sounds like the fucker deserved it and a lot more.” he had half a mind to ask his name and location. before he could answer, he was gasping out again, dropping the fucking knife on the ground so he could put a hand at the back of her head to help guide her. he held up the cloak with his other hand, pale chiselled abdomen peeking out as he got a better look at her. “mom’s a professor, my dad’s got a… good job around here. real estate. he’s a piece of shit… fuck… uh,” he pushed his hips forward a little. “this class she has. they caught her, i guess… with a TA. wrote a cute little letter with pictures that they were gonna show it to her husband. they wanted… better grades.” that was the gist of it. he wasn’t going to mention that back on his college campus he slit the throats of predatory fuckers, and couldn’t not kill someone. and he didn’t answer her second question, either.

there's no regret over the actions she'd taken and since the start of this, the bodies and the bloodshed, cora had been left to think the very thing that slipped past max's lips — the fucker deserved a lot more. it would be easy to say it was a desperate need to be believed, that his acceptance of her words where everyone else had spun it upon her left her eager to be close to him, to give him what he wanted. it didn't feel so simple. the knife clatters to the ground so that he can touch her and there's a hum of apparent approval vibrating against his cock, continuing her slow and appreciative bobs. there's something depraved in the fact that he's still in costume, robe lifted and face covered, and cora shows her appreciation by allowing her nails to rake along the toned stomach exposed to her, exploring his skin. fuck me. perhaps both literally and figuratively. why was it so satisfying that this had been to protect his mother? or was that a lie? after all, it wasn't something she'd ever been apart of — wouldn't have been a part of and he had still followed her here with a knife. there were a million questions still swirling, a million questions she needed to ask and yet she let's them all go for that moment. her hands ease downwards, wrapping around the backs of his thighs, gaze remaining cast upon him as she encourages him to take what he wants, what he needs.

a flicker of relief showed on the android’s face, the smile seemingly more genuine though she wasn’t entirely sure how she was able to show these intricate emotions. “i will not tell them, if you believe that it would not be within your best interest,” she responded, nodding her head gently. selfishness didn’t seem to full come over foster, still unsure if she should just reset and be what she was made to be. but if tova was seemingly in favour of keeping her this way she would make sure to be of service. after all, that’s what she was programmed to do. “belong to each other? you do not belong to me, miss tova. i could never…” she laughed, thinking the idea of a human belonging to her? it was funny. “thank you. for keeping this version of me alive. but, i will understand if you choose to reset me sometime soon.”

as hard as the words were for the android to understand, it's equally as impossible for tova to grasp onto all foster meant to her. there were others that had androids, families with money much like her own, yet they all seemed different; routine and trapped, an accessory rather than something cherished. was it because they were suppressed? or was tova lying to herself in hopes that foster was something more? it was a thought she had no interest in facing. no. they needed to embrace this, to find who foster was. "i think we should do something. go somewhere, watching something, try something new." something that could help her feel. something that would help them find her. "is there anything you want?" want — was it the right word? was there any right word for this? "anything that...interests you?"

the casino. libbie... didn't know how to feel. the casino was where everything could end, and she had been so desperate for that ending that she made some pretty stupid decisions. they both knew that. so why now? "why?" she asked, sitting up a little so she could turn and look at the girl who had been the reason she couldn't have the casino job those years ago. there was some of that underlying, residual blame that libbie placed on katelyn. how she wanted to steal her away from the world, from their world and just... be. she wanted to slap her, or something. angry that she had to resort to hiding out because of the way she had gotten too greedy. missing the missing link in every good score she had in the last ten years.

"why now? what's changed?" she had a seamless plan, she thought. but she was convinced that no one around trusted her anymore. who used to be one of the most notorious criminals now a dog with her tail between her legs. they'd have to find just as desperate people, wouldn't they? less trustworthy. but who was trustworthy anymore? the way her fingers ran along her head honestly did help, because otherwise she'd probably be shoving her against the wall and interrogating her. needing answers. instead, she settled back down, eyes closing for just a moment to enjoy the feeling.

there's a tightening in her chest the instant that libbie pulls back, waiting for the moment this turns to something else, turns into a repeat of one of their last encounters. it would be easy to say that she didn't understand, that the reason why the nerves were stronger in merely mentioning the plan than going through with it were unclear to her, but such would be a lie. it felt as if they had been dancing on the edge of a cliff for some time now and she feared that even her words may be all it took to finally lead them to the end of their line.

"james has control of the casino." it's a fact, stated as simply as the time. before she continues, her face turns in order to bury itself into libbie's hair, embracing the familiarity of her that she'd been without for so long. there's a softness here that's rare, not just for the pair but for them individually, and katelyn wishes that they could simply rest there without having to confront their futures. "i need you to get caught..." a bold statemtn and yet — somehow not as bold as her next words. "and i need you to make a deal...and hand me over in exchange for letting you walk...with the money."

this was really happening. this was really happening. rose couldn't understand how her heart didn't shatter at the rate that it was pacing... not of nerves, she realized. excitement. she longed for the day where daniel would reach out and touch her like this, staring at him, wondering if he even saw her in that sort of way. and... goodness, even if he was just being kind right now she would beg for this sort of kindness any day of the week. he had barely begun to touch her, and her body was jolting at every little movement.

"oh, mmmmhm," she mewled out, finding it so hard to focus as those thick fingers seemingly knew exactly where to go and exactly where to touch. she shuddered, tempted to grab him and pull him closer. tell him to forget about teaching and helping her, and just... well. she wasn't exactly sure what she wanted him to do but she knew it was more. she wanted more of daniel, so much more. she couldn't help her eyes as she glanced down at the seemingly new bulge in his trousers. she felt a wave of arousal flood over her, and she began to wonder if daniel could feel that new surge of wetness on his fingers as he pushed inside of her. "i... must be turned on," she muttered, gasping a little. she wanted to be a good 'student' in this situation... like she always knew to be. but she couldn't help it. "daniel, please, you're—" she cleared her throat, whining a little, "—please just... gosh, i need more."

it feels like he's clinging on for dear life to whatever scrap of decency he has left within him — she was right there, dangerously close, her heat and smell overwhelming his senses and leaving him even more tempted to pull her into his arms and never let her go. since the instant rose had entered his life, she had been the sweetest thing he'd ever witnessed and somehow, despite the depravity of his actions, this instant is no different. "usually if you feel that ache...this...wetness-" god, it was delicious. "it's because you're in need of release."

his digits glide along her folds a few more times, an action he's not sure is for her benefit or his own, before finally his pointer finger presses against her entrance. "this...well judging by what I walked in on, I believe you know that sliding things here-" his finger slips slowly inside with his statement, eyes focusing on her face, offering her a teasing grin. "can make you feel pretty good." perhaps it's not fair to tease her in this moment, with her in such a vulnerable state, but it felt truer to the relationship they had built as of late. "you do have to be careful." his finger draws back til it's nearly removed from her completely before easing back in, picking up a slow and steady pace even as he speaks. "if you're not turned on enough..." she was. "if you're not wet enough..." she was. "it's not going to be satisfying and that's counterproductive." this time, when his finger draws back, it's joined by a second, sinking two digits deep into her core and pressing his lips together to avoid the sounds that threaten to escape him. "some women also find there's a special spot here..." his fingers curl upwards, slowly stroking the expanse of her walls. "that makes them feel even better."

he wonders if she could feel him freeze up at the mention of recording and the police. why was he letting this girl get under his skin as easily as she was? why was he compromising his entire fucking life because she was ballsy enough to think of the perfect way to stop a guy like him in his tracks. he doesn’t respond, he doesn’t want her to know that she struck the fear of god into him. and despite all of that, with the way she’d been touching him? max was not about to run out of there. or end their conversation early. “funny… a strong woman raised me and said the exact same thing,” he muttered, glove-less hand reaching forward to cup her face. the knife in his other hand was dangerously considering dropping the damn thing. but, it was his only saving grace at the moment. especially with his dick jutting out, half hard. “it’s making me harder thinking about what kind of crazy shit you’ve gotten yourself into, moretti. so how about you humour me, give me something before you decide to chop my cock off.”

he's quiet. surprisingly so. for the first time since she'd scared the voice out of him, it seemed she'd scared the voice back in. and yet, just like her, he's not running. was it stupidity or a gravitational pull? something neither of them could understand nor much cared to in the moment? "well, you know what they say. mother knows best." his skins against her own now and she takes it as encouragement to touch him in return, her fingers dancing along his exposed length with the same gentleness she had used before, tormenting him. "mm..." cora leans forward, a hum of consideration vibrating against him as her mouth wraps around just the head of his cock, as if attempting to make a decision on both it and his words. she sucks for a moment, giving one teasing bob and allowing her tongue to swirl around him before she withdraws. "it wasn't a gangbang, it was one guy, but yes, the library. i stabbed that teacher with a pencil because he grabbed my ass and suggested i satisfy him with something other than my brain to get a good grade and the poisoning? well, that was just laxatives in a cake i so kindly prepared as an apology for my actions against the aforementioned teacher." retaliation for believing his word over her own, harmless in the grand scheme of things. "your turn, maximus. why did you kill who you did? why do you want to kill me?" and as if to emphasize how silly the last question was, her mouth descends once more upon him, hazel orbs locked upwards as she begins to down his length.