#cherry flavoured

[falsegodlife]

These feel so Cherry Flavoured Christina to me. Ty for this beautiful story, amazing world building and flow.

just needed everyone to see this because YES.

[riddletan]

this is me reading “cherry flavoured” by @falsegodlife on ao3 and taking to myself after running 15 laps around my room and giggling because the writings is just way too good

[celestial-bitchcraft]

the newest chapter of something borrowed has HEALED MY SOUL after the last chapter of cherry flavoured. thank you so much bro....

i completely get what you mean - the latest chapter of cherry flavoured did something to a lot of us. but i also think that is such a testament to how phenomenal the writing is. making people feel that much is no small thing, and falsegod has such an incredible ability to make every emotion hit exactly where it hurts. she is genuinely such a fantastic writer, and i'm hella excited to see what else she has in store for us.

but the fact that something borrowed could offer you a little bit of comfort in the aftermath genuinely means so much to me. i’m so, so glad this chapter brought you some joy <333

[prescriptionheart]

i kinda wanna post ch1 of my antique owner x surfer christina koch fic,,,but im scared - how do i post on here without making it seem like im completely copying off falsegodlife 😭 because cherry flavoured was AMAZING along with the moodboard/playlists but i dont want to completely copy 🙁

[mamaestapa]

Cherry Flavoured|| Mark Estapa x reader

• pairing: Mark Estapa x reader

• summary: Teasing all night and your cherry flavoured lip gloss sends Mark over the edge, taking him to the next level

• warnings: SMUT, public sex, unprotected p in v sex, fingering, lots of teasing, suggestive language, mentions of frosting on body parts, quickies, bathroom sex, i think that’s all-

“Y/n!” Mark called from the bottom of the stairs, “you almost ready babe?”

“Coming!” You yelled from Marks room upstairs, holding onto your black heels as you made your way down the steps of the hockey house. Mark's brown eyes lit up as he watched you from the bottom of the stairs. You looked absolutely gorgeous.

You always looked gorgeous though in Marks eyes. However, the satin, spaghetti strap navy blue dress that adorned your body and accented your curves nicely made you look divine.

“Wow, look at you…” Mark trailed off as he snaked his hands around your waist. “You like it?” you asked with a sly grin as you got up on your tip toes and threw your arms around your boyfriends neck.

Mark wet his lips as his eyes settled on yours, “I love it. You look beautiful, Y/n.”

You let your freshly manicured hands rest on his broad shoulders as the two of you leaned in to share a passionate kiss. Sharing kisses like these with Mark never gets old. You could keep your lips locked with his forever.

Mark pulled away from you and you started to massage his shoulder, gently digging your fingers into the muscles of his back. Mark closed his eyes and hummed blissfully as you worked at his sore muscles. Hockey had been taking a toll on Marks body the last couple of weeks. Strenuous team workouts, long and rough practices, and stressful games had Mark's body and mind tense and aching. You continued to dig your thumbs into the tight knots in his shoulders. You knew this little massage helped ease the ache in his muscles, but you also knew it made a different type of ache grow more and more. With Mark being so busy during the day with classes, practices and workouts, he’s usually exhausted by the time gets back to the house to shower and get a nice warm meal in his belly. Since the two of you don't live together, it’s been a while since you've shared an intimate moment.

You moved your hands away from Marks back muscles, bringing your delicate touch to his biceps which have grown significantly in the last couple of months. You gently squeezed the tight, bulging muscle before bringing your hands up to his broad chest. You let your hand rest on his sternum as you looked into his soft brown eyes.

“What time do we have to be at the banquet?” You asked. Mark glanced at the watch on his left wrist, “Well," he said sighing softly, "it's about twenty minutes off campus, so we should probably leave right now.”

You let out a small sigh as you took your hands away from your boyfriends chest.

“You ready?” He asked, to which you responded with a soft smile and nod of your head. Mark pecked your cheek before he took his hands off of your waist and walked away from you.

“I have to grab my jacket," Mark announced, "then we can head out.” He went off to the laundry room to retrieve his navy suit jacket that matched nicely with his white dress shirt and navy dress pants. It also matched your dress perfectly. When Mark appeared once again in the entry way of his house he shared with some of his teammates, he wrapped an arm around your waist and led you out of the house to his car that was parked outside along the street.

Today was the hockey teams annual banquet. The regular season was coming to an end and instead of waiting until after playoffs and post-season, the coaches decided to hold the banquet just before the season ended. Every year, the boys were encouraged to bring guests. Mark has been bringing you since Freshman year when the two of you just started dating. You've always enjoyed going to the banquets with Mark. Not only was it a fun night with the team, but it also gave you an excuse to dress up and see your boyfriend in a suit.

The drive to the location where the banquet was being held was calm and quiet. Mark had a hand placed on your bare thigh where the slit of dress started. His fingers occasionally brushed against your soft skin as his fingers on the steering wheel tapped along to the beat of some country song playing lowly in the background. Thankfully, the drive to the banquet wasn't too far outside of Ann Arbor. You and Mark arrived about ten minutes before the event was supposed to begin. The two of you found your seats next to Ethan, Rutger and his girlfriend Kayleigh, Luca, and Dylan.

Mark pulled your chair out for you and as you sat down you thanked him softly. He smoothed his suit jacket and buttoned it in the middle as he sat down. He nodded at his teammates, giving them each a small "hey".

“Hey Papa Estapa,” Rutger smirked playfully as he stood up and gave Mark their signature "bro hug". The two hockey players slapped each others backs before pulling away and sitting back down. You playfully rolled your eyes at the greeting. Kayleigh did the same before reaching out and giving your arm a gentle squeeze as she said hello. You said your hellos to the others sitting at the table, playfully complimenting everyone on how nice they looked out of all their hockey gear.

“Thanks Y/n/n,” Ethan said with a smile gesturing to the boy beside you, “Marky here cleans up nicely though doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, he does.”

You turned to look at Mark, who was eyeing you with a soft smirk pulling at his lips. You felt the butterflies swarm and the warmth pool in your lower belly under your boyfriend’s gaze.

“Well I’m starving,” Luca said, breaking the silence and moment between you and Mark. “You guys want to go get some food?”

All of the boys cheered excitedly at the mention of food. You got ready to stand up, but Mark gently pushed you back down by your shoulders.

He shook his head, “I’ll get something for you, babe. What do you want?” You smiled, “Thanks, I’m not picky, just get me whatever you’re having.”Mark nodded, smiling softly before placing a kiss to your temple.

“Easy enough. We’ll be right back.”

Everyone got back to the table at the same time, laughing hysterically about something Rutger said while Kayleigh looked at you and mouthed “help me”. The two of you shared a laugh as Mark sat a plate down in front of you. He had gotten both of you an assortment of appetizers and the chicken entree. You thanked Mark, and enjoyed your meal with your boyfriend and friends. As you all ate, the banquet started. Coaches gave speeches, players received awards, it was a nice time seeing everyone together and enjoying the team’s success.

Waiters came around to all of the tables, clearing plates and handing out flutes full of bubbly champagne. Mark thanked the waiter and grabbed two glasses, one for him and one for you.

“I thought you didn’t like champagne?” You asked, taking a sip of the bubbly. Mark shrugged, “It’s alright. Thought I would at least drink one with you.”

You hummed in amusement as you sat the flute back down on the table. You watched as Mark finished off his champagne. A bit of the bubbly liquid dripping down his chin. Your breath hitched as you watched Mark lick the liquid from his lips, his eyes never leaving yours. He put the glass down on the table and slowly took his gaze away from yours. He knew what he was doing to you.

Some time had passed and the two of you were engaged in conversation with Rutger and Kayleigh. As you were talking about your spring break plans, you felt Mark place his hand on your thigh, slowly bringing it up to the hem of your dress slit. His long fingers toyed with the satin material before they found their way under your dress. You glanced over at Mark, seeing him nod along to what Kayleigh was saying. He wasn’t even fazed by his actions. You brought your gaze back to Kayleigh, giving her a small smile.

They can’t get suspicious.

You gasped lightly as you felt Marks fingers sneak past the side of your lace panties and begin playing with your sensitive clit. Your hand gripped the table as he stuck two of his fingers into the slick entrance of your soaked core. His thumb still teasing your clit as he rhythmically pumped his fingers in out of you.

“So Y/n, you and Mark going anywhere?”

Mark added another finger and picked up the pace, rubbing his thumb against the sensitive bud even faster. Your legs began to twitch at his teasing motions. You brought a hand up to your mouth, muffling the soft whimper that escaped from your lips.

“You OK?” Mark asked, giving you a concerned look. You looked at him with wide eyes. How he could act completely normal as if he wasn’t giving you an orgasm under the table was appalling to you.

You pulled your hand away from your mouth, giving your boyfriend a tight lipped smile, “I’m fine.” you breathed out, closing your eyes as you felt your walls tighten around Marks fingers.

You were so close.

“We’re actually going to-uh,” You cleared your throat, trying to hold back your moans of pleasure as you spoke. Mark stopped rubbing your clit and you used your free hand to pull his hand out of your dress. Your juices covered his fingers as he pulled them out of you.

“Miami with Ethan and a couple other friends.” You finished with a tight smile. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Mark nod in agreement to what you were saying.

Your core was aching, wanting more than just his skilled hands to bring you to your climax. Mark looked at you with a smirk as you grimaced slightly from the arousal between your thighs. The other guys at the table had gone off to talk to some other teammates and coaches, while Rutger and Kayleigh went off to find the dessert table.

Once the couple was far enough away from the table, Mark brought his glistening fingers up to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean. He did it in such a smooth manner that no one would even be suspicious.

“I can’t believe you just did that.” You said lowly, looking at Mark with wide eyes. “What?” he pulled his index finger out of his mouth with a pop, “fingered you under the table or didn’t let you finish?” He asked smugly.

You shook your head and looked away from him. You couldn’t believe him right now. Weeks of not having any intimate interaction and Mark chooses his hockey banquet to get frisky with you.

You knew you needed to tease him the way he teased you.

You looked around the room full of tables and bantering hockey players, trying to think of the perfect way to tease your boyfriend. It suddenly hit you when your eyes landed on the dessert table that Rutger and Kayleigh had just walked away from. A sly smile made its way onto your face as you gazed at the cupcakes sitting on the table.

You got up from your chair and flattened out your navy dress, glancing at Mark, “I’ll be right back.”

You grabbed a plate and picked up a vanilla cupcake. A large helping of Yellow buttercream frosting was perfectly piped onto the cupcake and finished off with just a hint of navy blue sprinkles. Perfect. You thought as you looked at the cupcake.

Satisfied with your choice, you walked back over to the table and greeted Mark with a sultry smile. You sat back down in your seat and carefully unwrapped the cupcake. You placed the wrapper down on the plate and carefully picked the cupcake up. Mark watched with lust filled eyes as you brought your finger up to the yellow frosting, swiping the side of the frosting so a generous amount was on the tip of your finger. You eyed him as you brought your frosting covered finger up to your mouth. You put your finger in your mouth, licking the sugary substance off the tip. You made a show of going back for more.

“Mmm,” you moaned out, “so good.”

You brought the cupcake up to your mouth, licking a stripe all the way around the white frosting. You smirked in amusement as you noticed Marks jaw clench at your teasing actions. As you licked the frosting you made sure to keep your eyes locked with Marks the entire time. The unbroken eye contact only adding to the built up arousal you both were feeling. You finished teasing Mark with the frosting and decided to actually eat your cupcake. After you finished the sweet treat, you wiped your mouth clean of any crumbs.

It was after you wiped your lips that you decided to reapply your lip gloss. You reached into your purse and pulled out your cherry flavoured lip gloss, eyeing Mark as you slowly applied the gloss to your lips.

That’s when he had had enough with the teasing.

"Meet me in the bathroom..." Mark whispered in your ear, breath hot on your neck making you shiver.

Mark pulled his head away from yours and straightened his Navy suit jacket. You watched as he walked off to the bathroom. His strides were so casual, acting as if he wasn't about to rock your world in a matter of minutes. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as you saw the door to the one stall bathroom open and close. You glanced around your surroundings, making sure nobody would catch you head off to the bathroom moments after Mark did. Many of the guys were either too busy being engaged in conversation or getting their third helping of food, so they wouldn't even take a second glance if they saw you walk past them and head to the bathroom after your lover.

You stood from the table and readjusted the navy material of your dress before you headed towards the bathroom. You reached for the door handle, swinging the bathroom door open. Before you had any time to react, Mark crashed his lips onto yours, feverishly kissing you. His tongue swirled over your lips, your cherry flavoured gloss filling his taste buds. You fell into the kiss, his strong arms supporting your body as he reached out to the lock the bathroom door. His lips moved against yours with a sense of urgency. You pulled away from Mark, already out of breath from the couple harsh kisses.

"We have to be quick," you breathed out, already sliding your panties off of your legs as you spoke, "don't want anyone to be suspicious of us."

“Yes ma'am." Mark hummed, his lips were on yours again as he took off his suit jacket, throwing it aside to the floor. Your lips connected as Mark pushed you against the sink counter.

“Jump," he said huskily against your lips. You followed his instruction so as , sitting against the bathroom counter. Mark began to kiss down your neck, sucking the delicate skin and being sure to leave deep red marks along the sides of your neck and collarbone. As his head moved down to your chest you let your hands fall to his hair, gripping and tugging the slightly grown out ends.

Mark pulled the spaghetti straps of your dress down slightly, just enough to give him access to your bare breasts. He began to kiss the swollen skin of your right breast, tongue swirling over your sensitive nipple before he put his mouth around it and started to suck at the sensitive bud. You bit your lip and moaned in pleasure as your hands tugged at his hair.

Mark always knew how to pleasure you. Whether it took two minutes or twenty, Mark never failed at pleasuring you in ways you didn't even know were possible.

After he was satisfied with pleasuring your sensitive nipples, Mark brought his face back up to yours, breath hot as he said, "I could really use some of that cupcake frosting right now." You cocked your head to the side, "And what would you do with it?"

Mark brought his face back down to your bare chest. "I would put some frosting here...and here..." he motioned to both of your breasts. "And then, I would do this," you gasped as his tongue swirled around your nipples once again.

Mark chuckled amusingly as he noticed you growing more and more aroused by his actions. "And then once I'm done there, I would put some right here." He rubbed a veiny hand down your tummy. He looked up at you with lust filled eyes, "And I'd lick it up until theres nothing left." You bit your lip at his description.

Too bad you're in a public bathroom and not at your apartment. You could really use that frosting right about now...

"Mark," you whimpered out, "I need you." Marks large hands ran down your torso, stopping when they reached your hips. He gave them a gentle squeeze before he pulled his hands off of them. Mark quickly unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down his legs in one swift motion. His large cock was bulging out of his underwear as his erection grew from being out of the restraint of his tight pants. He pulled his undergarments down as you pulled your satin dress to one side, giving him full access to your dripping core through the slit of your dress.

Mark lined himself up with your entrance and thrusted himself into you. You threw your head back in pleasure as the tip of his cock repeatedly pushed up against your cervix. You straightened your neck as Mark leaned forward to kiss you hungrily as he urgently thrusted into you. It was obvious that you were both deprived of one another's touch and intimacy. Mark pumped himself deeper into you as his forehead rested against the crook of your neck.

"You feel so good Y/n," he panted, letting a groan slip out, "so good."

You moaned out in blissful pleasure as the speed of his thrusts picked up, "M-more, please." You practically whimpered out, "I'm so close Mark."

Mark always had you begging for more. He loved when endless whimpers and copious amounts of begging phrases came out of your cherry lips.

You felt your walls tighten around his cock as a familiar warmth pooled in your lower belly. "I'm- uh," you moaned incoherently, "gonna cum."

Mark brought a hand down to your core, rubbing his finger against your sensitive clit in order to make you cum harder and faster. You felt like you couldn't form words as Mark pleasured you. Your face contorted into one of pleasure as you felt yourself growing closer and closer to your release.

“That's it pretty girl," Mark praised, gritting his teeth as he too was growing close to his climax, "cum for me." One last thrust of his hips had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your legs shaking as your juices coated Marks cock when you came down from your high. You both were moaning messes as Mark thrusted a couple more times, he went to pull out when his orgasm grew close, but you stopped him

“Don't" you breathed out, putting your hand on his chest and stopping him, "do it inside of me, please. I wanna feel you Marky…all of you.“

That’s all Mark needed to hear before he too came, his hot cum filling you up and dripping from your folds as he pulled out of you. Both of your chests heaved as you recovered from your intense orgasms.

"That was amazing," you breathed out, letting your hands rest against Marks shoulders as he still stood between your legs. “We should do that again sometime."

Mark chuckled softly, backing away from you and grabbing a handful of paper towels so the two of you could clean yourselves off. He slyly grinned as he said, "We should, but with the frosting next time." You chuckled at his suggestion as you pushed yourself off of the counter, legs wobbly as you stood.

You wiped your soaked core and thighs clean of a mixture of yours and Mark’s cum, Mark doing the same with his manhood. You readjusted your dress straps and stood in front of the mirror, fixing your hair and straightening out your dress so that nobody would know you were busy getting your world rocked in the bathroom. Mark stood next to you, smoothing his messy dark blonde hair before he zipped his Navy pants. You turned to him and wrapped your arms around his body, the two of you leaning in to share a passionate kiss.

“Your cherry lips are gone.” Mark noted against your lips. You just chuckled as you continued to kiss him. He pulled away first and rested his forehead against yours. You smiled softly up at him, staring into those soft brown eyes you were obsessed with.

"We should go back out there." Mark said lowly. You nodded in agreement.

"You go first." he said, pushing you gently towards the bathroom door. You unlocked the door, swinging it open and walking out of the bathroom.

Thankfully, nobody seemed to be waiting on the occupied bathroom. You walked back over to the table you were sitting at earlier. As you got closer you saw Rutger and Kayleigh sitting in their chairs, laughing about something with one another. Kayleigh eyes lit up as she saw you come back to the table and sit down.

“There you are," she smiled sweetly, "we were wondering where you went."

You had to come up with a lie…or not, they didn't have to hear the whole truth.

“I was in the bathroom."

Rutger nodded, "I assumed. Where's Mark?"

Your breath hitched, "Oh he's-." You felt a hand press against your upper back. "Right here." Mark said with a small smile as he sat back down in his chair.

He let out a breath, "I was on my way to the dessert table, got caught up talking with coach and some of the guys."

You looked over at Mark, smiling softly at him as he placed a hand on your thigh. Something about him looked different though. You couldn’t quite figure out what it was though until your eyes widened and your heart dropped to your stomach.

Oh no.

Ethan was walking back to the table with Marks navy suit jacket in his hands.

You mentally cursed yourself as Ethan stood in front of you and Mark, his lips curling up in a smirk as he held the jacket up

"Any idea why this was on the bathroom floor?"

Mark shrugged, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red, "Oops." Was all he said as he took the jacket from his best friend.

You and Mark may have gotten caught, but it was totally worth it.

hi loves!!

this is my first time writing for mark🤭 i hope you loved this as much as i did. he needs more content on here, so if you have any blurb ideas or fic ideas please send them my way ;)

this will be the first of many fics posted this week. i’ll try to get one out every other day if i can! i’ll also be answering au asks every day/night too, so feel free to send those as well.

thank you so much for reading! your support and kind words mean the world. i love you all so much🤍

i hope all my umich babes and mark girlies loved this tehe

[catastrophe-coining]

Cherry Flavoured

[Pt: Cherry Flavoured]

A Flavoured [Link] term for those who taste like / want to taste like cherries.

(Link goes to flavoured template / coining)

Inspired by @daybreakthing 's coining event.

Tagging: @radiomogai

[pedrito-friskito]

cherry flavoured - dieter bravo x fem!reader

summary: dieter fucked up, and he misses you, plain and simple (or not so…)

warnings: mentions of drug use/drinking, masturbation, descriptions of oral/p-in-v sex, swearing, etc., a whole lot of angst

a/n: I’ve listened to this song (see below) about a million times in the last week and I kept thinking about dieter and here we are. bit different from other fics I’ve posted but let me know what you think!

| main masterlist | ao3 |

Your lips always tasted like cherry.

That’s what Dieter remembers. What he’s fixated on, currently. He found the chapstick accidentally; he finally found it in him to crawl out of bed, to change the sheets and finally wash the last remnants of you from his mind, when the tube dropped to the floor, rolled across the hardwood, disappeared under his dresser. He got on his hands and knees to fish it out, sighing deeply when he realized what it was.

You applied the stuff religiously, always keeping a tube in your pocket, in your purse. There was one in your car and one in Dieter’s, three in different corners of your condo and another two stashed in his bathroom. It was an addiction, one Dieter was all to happy to support, especially when it meant kissing those stupidly soft lips of yours, the taste of cherry on his tongue when he finally pulled away.

Nearly two months, now, since he’s seen you. Since he’s kissed you. It’s his own fault, he knows that, know that he was the one to fuck it all up, as per usual. In all fairness, he did warn you, when this all started. He told you he was no good for you, that he’d fuck up in one way or another and hurt you. You’d brushed him off with red-rimmed eyes and vodka on your breath. He’d chased you like a high, still remembers the first night he’d stumbled into your bed like it was yesterday. Which is impressive, given how drunk you both were.

Drunk on each other, on too-expensive whiskey and high on the heat between you, on whatever the drug of choice had been at that party. That bit he doesn’t remember. But he remembers how warm your body had been, how you’d dragged a finger from the tip of his nose to the tip of his cock and told him how much you wanted it. It was messy, sweaty and stumbling on both your parts, and it was a miracle he didn’t cum the moment he sank into you, but in the morning, you were still there, hungover as he was, grumbling into his chest about pancakes and coffee.

He sets the lip balm on his nightstand and heads for the kitchen. The place is a mess, the counters littered with pizza boxes and takeout containers, empty liquor bottles and discarded beer cans. He knows he should clean up, knows he shouldn’t let himself live like this, to descend into the depression he’d walked the edge of before you’d showed up, but he can’t find the motivation.

So he rolls a joint instead. 

Stepping out onto the back porch, he lights the end, flicking the match into the wet grass, sinking down onto the concrete steps. He’s getting used to it again, to getting high alone, and it fucking sucks. He misses you. He misses the way you’d always inhale too hard on the first toke and end up coughing up a lung, leaning into him until you could catch your breath. Or the way, if your lip balm was fresh, it would leave an imprint around the end of the filter, and his next inhale would taste like cherries and you.

You were a fun stoner. Not too intense, not too in your head, always laughing and giggling and telling jokes that didn’t make any sense, but that somehow made them funnier. He remembers that night in the summer, when you’d sprinted through the grass barefoot, sprawled on your back and screeched at him to join you. He’d laid down right next to you, head tilted against yours, and you’d pointed out constellations up above, making up new stories for the myths that came with them.

And munchies were your speciality. Dieter had learned to stock up on all your favourites well in advance, because your cravings were never the same. Some nights were savoury, others sweet. There was one constant though: popcorn and chocolate. That was the only way he could get you to sit still and watch a movie with him, a freshly popped bag and a bowl of M&Ms. Preferably the mini ones, but you weren’t overly picky.

Now, his kitchen is full of your favourite things. There’s even the mug you’d brought from your own apartment hiding in his cupboard, a silly thing with Yoda printed on the front and talk to me before I’ve had my coffee, you will not around the rim.

He’s used it every day since you left.

Dieter takes a long pull on the joint, watches the end flare red, lets the smoke sit in his lungs longer than he should. It burns as he exhales, flicking the ash into the garden. He scrubs a hand over his face; his beard is a mess, scraggly as anything, his hair just as bad. He takes another toke, rubs at his eyes. He’s tired. Tired of being in this stupid fucking house by himself.

Why did he have to go and fuck it up like that with you? You, the one thing that had actually made sense to him. You, the one person who had actually made him feel like himself.

Once he’s down to the roach, he stubs out the joint, tosses it in the overflowing ashtray on the patio table, and heads back inside. Fuck, he’s so tired. He’s done nothing but sleep since that night but he doesn’t have any energy, any stamina, any will to do anything.

You took it all with you.

His intention had been to change the sheets, but now he just falls back into them, pressing his face into you pillow, inhaling deeply. It’s growing fainter, the smell of you in the fabric, and it makes anxiety worry through his gut. Reluctantly, Dieter pulls himself back out of bed, shuffles to the bathroom, strips and gets into the shower, pushing the tap almost as far as it’ll go.

You always took the most scalding showers, and at first, he didn’t understand it, always wincing and complaining when you cooed at him to join you, but as time wore on, he got used to it — he got used to you — and the heat became a comfort, a necessity.

He presses his forehead to the tile, that familiar stoned tingle in his muscles singing at the contrast between the hot water and the cool ceramic. He washes his hair with your shampoo, stumbles through the steam-filled room back to his bed, falls back onto the mattress, body still wet.

Wet.

You were always so wet. Cherry-flavoured and wet.

Fuck.

He’s high. That’s it, that’s where he can place the blame, sighing heavily as his cock twitches at attention between his legs just at that singular thought. Well, not singular, because it expands like a spiderweb, crawling through his brain and pulling images and sounds he’s held onto for lonely nights such as these.

Dieter had learned your body very quickly. It had surprised you, and you had told him as much, admitting that you had expected someone much more selfish in bed. Sure, Dieter had a reputation to uphold, the asshole with the quiet god complex, forever chasing the next high that might compare to his Oscar win. But if there was one thing he was, it was a good fuck. He prided himself on it, in a way. God had given him a…gift, and he was fucked if he wasn’t going to use it.

And you? Fucking hell, he could have used it on your everyday for the rest of his life.

You were always so eager. Breathy and moaning and forever touching his body, exploring him with your hands. He couldn’t pick a favourite way to fuck you, he liked them all. And he knew how to get the most out of each position, how to get you dripping on his sheets no matter how your body was arranged.

If he was on top, he’d have his face between your legs, your knees locked around his head, licking and kissing and slurping at your pussy until you were nearly convulsing against the mattress, a death-grip on his hair and his name moaned so beautifully it made him cum in his pants once or twice.

With you on top, it was more about angles. He’d crook his knuckles and twist his wrist until he found that rough patch deep inside you, stroking and prodding until your eyes rolled back in your skull. Then he’d pull his hand away, slam you down on his cock and fuck up into you until he couldn’t see straight.

There was the time he’d got you on your knees, head cushioned on a pillow, ass high in the air. He’d nearly drooled at the sight, instantly hard as a rock, and he could still hear the way you’d whined as he’d touched you, circling your clit with his thumb, one finger teasing your wet hole, tongue flicking up over your ass and back down again. He still remembers the way your thighs had quaked, muscles shaking beneath his hand as he’d held you in place until one orgasm had bled into two, until you were begging him to fuck you.

He’s got his hand wrapped around himself now, palm still slick from the shower, and he can’t hold back his groan as he strokes up, curling over his tip before moving back down. It’s a poor substitute for your mouth or your pussy, but it’s all he has access to, so coupled with the memories playing through his mind like a movie, it’ll have to do.

Tip dripping, precum making each pass of his hand slicker and slicker, Dieter moans again, his free hand curls into the sheets, tossing his head back. God, he misses you. And it’s not just the sex, not just the way your pussy felt like it was made for him. Fuck, it was so much more than that.

He cums fast and hard, painting his stomach with his spend, your name a hoarse shout that echoes through the room. He sounds pathetic, even to himself. With an annoyed grunt, he gets up and walks into the bathroom, wetting a washcloth to clean himself off, then digging through his medicine cabinet for something helpful.

Still chasing that high…

He doesn’t find anything but a tube of cherry chapstick.

Dieter had never told you, but when he met you, he finally felt…still. Once he had you, he felt like he could stop, to take stock of what he had, to lay down something resembling roots, to build something just for the two of you.

But then he’d fucked it all up.

He’d had friends over. If he could even call them that, he now realized. People from the last film he’d wrapped, a few actors, writers, what have you. He had the best weed on set, and even though he knew you weren’t thrilled about it, invited them over for a smoke session. You’d gotten friendly with one of the girls, who had then tried to convince you to leave with them to go party somewhere else when things had started to wind down. You obviously didn’t want to go — even stoned, Dieter could tell from the way you were playing with your hair that you were anxious to have his visitors leave — and you’d tried to laugh it off, saying, “No, I shouldn’t. Besides, someone’s gotta hang out here and keep an eye on this one.” You’d winked, jutting your chin towards Dieter, earning a chorus of laughter from everyone.

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“You can stay or you can go, baby,” he’d drawled, reaching for supplies to roll another joint. “I really don’t care what you do.”

But he did care. That’s the worst part, to him. He cared so much. Sure, you were still early days; there’d been no exchange of I love yous or keys to each other’s apartments. It was still new, in it’s own way, and Dieter was till trying to convince himself he was worthy of you, worthy of this person who had flipped his whole world on it’s head and made him feel like him.

And still he’d fucked it up, just like he told you he would. The guilt was enough to make his head heavy, to make his shoulders ache with the weight of it.

You were gone quickly. You’d gotten up as soon as the words had sunk in, and Dieter had watched the wreckage play out before him, the hurt and pain in your expression still haunting his dreams months later. He’d allowed himself to be pulled back into conversation with whatever fucking actor or writer or whatever was sitting beside him, finished rolling his joint, finished ruining his life.

When everyone left later that night, it took him a while to realize that your stuff was missing. The few sets of clothes you kept stashed in his closet were gone, along with the big fuzzy jacket he’d loaned you the first night you met. It was a running joke that it now belonged to you, and part of him was glad you’d taken it.

He tried to call you, but it was late. The phone just rang and rang and rang, your chipper voicemail message echoing through his empty house. He didn’t leave a message, didn’t want to have his apology recorded when he knew he’d just fuck that up too. 

He hoped you’d return the call, maybe text him or something, but there was radio silence on your end, and Dieter wasn’t sure how to break it. He’d broken your heart, that much was clear on your face as soon as those stupid fucking words were out of his mouth. He still couldn’t believe he’d said them, had no idea where it had come from. Some latent need to look cool in front of his so-called friends? Deeply buried commitment issues that decided that was the opportune moment to surface? He didn’t know.

He’d rehearsed the apology over and over in his head, even aloud in his bedroom like he was reciting lines. It wasn’t perfect, but neither was he. Neither were you. He wasn’t fool enough to make himself believe that. But he owed you an apology. Whether or not you were willing to give him a second chance, he wasn’t sure, but he knew he couldn’t just sit around and wait, to bank on the quiet hope that you’d come back before he found the courage to call you again.

Fuck it.

Dieter wraps himself in his robe, snatches the chapstick off the counter, and stomps back to the bedroom. His phone is hidden somewhere in the sheets, and it takes a few minutes for him to find it, swiping quickly to your contact and hitting the call button before he can change his own mind for the millionth time.

He curls his fingers around the cherry chapstick as he waits for the line to connect.

You answer on the second ring. “Dieter?”

“Baby,” he breathes, the sound of your voice like an adrenaline shot straight to his heart. “Can we talk? Please?”

There’s a long silence, and for half a second, he’s waiting for the dial tone to tell him you’ve disconnected. But it never comes. “Yeah,” you say finally, and he feels like he could topple over. “yeah, we can.”

—————

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