della munchin’ mella

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓍊𓋼𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖥧𖤣𖡼

idk i’ll probably have more here one day

☆ wlw mel king x f!piercer!reader content ☆

*MY WRITING IS MY ORIGINAL WORK, I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR IT TO BE USED FOR ANYTHING INVOLVING ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE (AI)*

Mel stretched beside you, rolling over and huffing when she'd hit a low point in the series she was reading. She shut the case of your e-reader for now, putting it down on the nearest bedside table. Looking for something to do, she took out her phone, but hardly even looked at it. She had some energy to spend, she could feel it, and yet nothing was really doing it for her. Sure, that was when she should probably be getting up to walk around anyway, but that wasn't really what she wanted.

She finally found something of interest, opening a collage app she had, finding where she'd left off with the seventeenth-century fashion inspiration, but that didn't hold her attention for very long, either. Mel folded her arms while she laid on her tummy and set her head on top of them. Her focus jumped around to different parts of your face, dark eyelashes fluttering with the movement.

Was kissing something Mel had to prompt now, or were you the one not following through? She didn’t know. She'd never done any of this stuff before and was too embarrassed to ask. All she knew was you’d kissed her… then again… and again. Then it was like you two left the hood of your car, and the option to keep doing that disappeared. Was it a one-time thing? Was it just to shut her up, or maybe a fake-twenty-first birthday gift? No, it couldn’t be your gift because you’d already explicitly broken the no-present rule when you two got back to the apartment.

Who knew, though, because she’s realized by now that you liked to plan a lot, often done (lovingly) behind her back. All the way back in June, you’d asked if she had any plans once she'd gotten home the day of her vacation request being denied. She had no idea when to use it if not the first week of July and was ready to leave it to be randomly assigned, but you were already plotting something.

“If I suggest a week, do you promise not to look into it?” you’d asked, and she hesitantly allowed you to claim whatever set of dates for her. Once you started talking about a twenty-first do-over, she thought the week you'd chosen would be for that, but it wasn't.

And while she still wished that the July 4th shift had never even happened, it was at least a little worth it when you both returned from that weird but perfect makeup party and you'd put the envelope of Ren Faire tickets into her hands. For her sake, you even playfully hid from her reaction behind your hands when she opened it.

Mel left the collaging app to find the website again. Pittsburgh Ren Fest: Wine Revelry and Romance, she read silently on her screen. September 19th and 20th.

She hummed to herself, mindlessly chewing at her lower lip while she continued to read the details, purposely squirming over towards you so her side was pressed against yours.

You jumped slightly since you’d been so focused on the horror film she was avoiding on your TV screen, but your expression smoothed over with a little smile when you looked at her.

"Are you excited about the Faire?” you asked, and she nodded with a genuinely happy hum, still reading whatever details she’d pulled up on her screen.

You glanced at her screen too, surprised that Mel stayed where she was, considering the heat building between your bodies the longer she remained pressed to your side. It was way too hot out for this, but ever since you kissed her, she’d turned into a little magnet stuck to your side. Even with the AC running, it felt like wherever her bare skin met yours was searing.

For someone with a relatively small frame and plenty of space on your bed, Mel liked to station herself right beside you like it was the middle of winter and you were all she had to stay warm. Instead of acting like it was the middle of August… which it was. And despite all her strong feelings against most sensory experiences that involved uncomfortable temperatures and too much contact, she was certainly comfortable right now. You’d grown used to her doing it in her sleep, but this was new.

You wanted to squirm your way onto your side, but—respectfully—she tangled up with you like an invasive vine.

“Mel,” you groaned out through a laugh when you’d barely moved in an attempt to reach behind yourself for your phone on your bedside table, and she took it as an opportunity to be even closer. She dipped under your outstretched arm, casually placing her chin on your chest high up by your shoulder and her arm on your stomach to keep looking at her phone.

“Hm…?” She hummed distantly, scrolling through pictures of Ren Faire costumes again.

“It’s 94 degrees out today,” you whispered, showing the weather app pulled up on your phone screen. “And air conditioning is great, but it only goes so far—”

She tilted her head at that, blushing when your reasoning for telling her that dawned on her.

“Right… sorry,” she murmured, sparing a taut smile, before separating from you.

You couldn’t tell if she’d been looking into how dejected girlfriends were supposed to act—still not your girlfriend yet—or if this was another example of Mel not knowing exactly where her body landed in a space. Either way, she’d moved over to the complete opposite side of the bed, right by the edge of it.

You huffed a laugh, deciding it must’ve been the second possibility when she looked at you, her expression open and wondering.

“You don’t have to be that far,” you explained with a light giggle.

“‘S okay.” She shook her head with a little smile, cringing when she’d accidentally glanced at your TV. You knew the horror film was why she’d rolled over to face the other direction, but it still felt a bit like a pouty guilt trip.

You sighed silently through your nose, and tilted your head, taking a moment to look at her. She was wearing one of the shop’s oversized merch tees and a pair of sleep shorts, your gaze shamelessly following the dip and curve of her side. Then continued down to her legs, which she occasionally considered shaving when the texture hit her the wrong way but never did because shaving sounded worse. Mel shifted again to get more comfortable, cricketing her legs slightly before settling with them bent up higher, curled closer to her upper body.

She jumped then, nearly dropping her phone when you’d suddenly gathered the excess fabric of her shirt to pull her back. This particular choice for dragging her back to your side of the bed caused the front of her top to ride up. Mel let out a squeak-yelp kind of sound, quickly pressing her forearms over her chest to keep the material from creeping up any higher.

“What are you—? I’m trying to respect your space,” she said honestly, attempting to look at you when you decided to circle an arm around her waist to move her the rest of the way.

She just wanted to read and look at some damn costumes. She thought you wanted space? So, fine, she could respect that and find something to entertain herself with. But now you were pulling her across the bed, confusing her and getting some of that grouchy side you admittedly loved.

"I don't—" she started in a huff, jerking away to fix the way the shirt lay on her body since the bunching was starting to grate at her.

Before she could say anything else, though, you were pressing at her hip to encourage her to lie on her back. When she yielded, too focused on what she wanted to say, she was cut off yet again, this time from you finally kissing her for the first time in days.

It was slow and sweet and apologetic and really distracting. It made her heart flutter, and she let her hold on her phone loosen enough for it to drop from her palm and onto the bed. But what should she do with her hands again…? Where was she supposed to put them?

She hesitated, going to move them, then second-guessing. After she'd started and stopped a few more times, one of your hands found hers and set it on the back of your neck, which she followed up with the other before you could guide it next. Mel tangled her hands in your hair after, lightly tugging at you to be closer.

You never said anything, but you'd been beating yourself up over kissing her the way you had. You worried she was too emotional, that you should've found a better time for it when she was a little more level-headed, or maybe you should’ve talked about it first? You never discussed kissing with other women; you just did it, but Mel was different. You didn't want to overwhelm her.

Now here you were, yet again with your mouth on hers. No discussion or any real forethought. Just the knowledge that you'd already kissed her, she seemed a bit snubbed—which was not your intention—and you wanted to kiss her again. You'd been trying to have some personal space, yes, but it was also about trying to control yourself. Clearly that was working out for you.

That warm, buzzing feeling returned to the pit of Mel's stomach, a breath ghosting from her lips when you’d pulled away long enough to adjust your position. You moved further on top of her, leaning forward to have your forehead touching hers while you nudged her legs apart to settle between them. She let them fall open, only remembering to quit hyperextending them when she started to feel the ache in her hips.

Your hands felt chilly from the air conditioning, pulling a shiver from her when they sought out her sides under her shirt, but it wasn’t enough for her to want you to stop. You squeezed at the dips of her waist, feeling the squish of her belly against your hands, and smirking into the kiss when you'd tested pressing a hand directly on her tummy which she pushed up into. Separating from the kiss, you'd only parted from her enough to be sure she was still comfortable despite the slight teasing.

She looked up at you for hardly a second, her eyes going to your lips, waiting for them to find hers again and warm them with more kisses. In response, you cruelly leaned in enough to brush your lips against hers only to pull back. You did it a second time to make her chase after you, your quiet laugh muffled against her lips after you'd caught her scowling up at you.

"So impatient, Mel," you'd teased in a whisper, your amusement expressed so faintly in the curve of your lips with your mouth brushing hers again. Your lips parted slowly, feeling her follow your movements to kiss you back, and her knees squeezed at your hips when you'd brushed your tongue against hers.

You leaned over her more, settling further in your spot between her legs. You’d pleasantly surprised her with a light tug at her lip with your teeth. She nearly smashed her face into yours when she went up for you right after you'd let go of her bottom lip, already in the process of bringing your mouth back to hers. It made the kiss land a bit harder than intended, but you really didn't care; you simply adjusted and felt her mindlessly push her hips out toward you more.

You pressed your hips down in return to pin hers, getting a soft gasp from her that you wished you'd been recording so you could play it over and over in private.

The pressure excited her, angling her hips so the weight you'd applied fit just right. In return, your hands found the bends of both her knees so you could tug her down from the pillows to have her completely flat on the bed.

You’d just laid back on top of her when you both heard the buzzing on your pillow. You slowly peeled away from the kiss, raising your attention to the phone there, sighing to yourself when you realized it wasn't a number you could ignore.

Mel let out a little sound of disbelief caught between a pleading noise and a frustrated huff.

She tugged on your shirt to get back the attention that had gone to your phone. You held up a finger along with a soft murmur to give you one second before you set that hand back down on top of her stomach, lightly this time.

“Hey,” you answered the call from Quinn, feeling Mel holding onto that hand with both of hers, but you kept your focus on the words Mel could just barely hear in the form of Charlie Brown adult mumbling.

You sighed over whatever had been said, holding your phone between your ear and your shoulder so you could rub your forehead.

“Shit… I’m sorry, I’ll be right there.”

“What?” Mel meant to ask, but it came out more like a questioning hum once you started separating from her. Didn’t you know she was starting to get the hang of this stuff? Why did you have to stop now?

“I have to be at the shop today for walk-ins. I forgot,” you explained after, getting out of the bed.

Mel frowned to herself when you left the bedroom, twisting her hands and hoping that feeling would go away. Then you walked in to lean over her and give her one more kiss, bouncing the mattress with the energy you put into setting your hands down and then suddenly pulling away again.

Mel’s expression went from miserable grumpiness to something lighter, smiling so much to herself that her cheeks hurt. Still, when you had to leave, her mood plummeted again, and she was abandoned with that warm feeling low in her belly. She knew the sensation. She'd been growing rather familiar with it thanks to you, but she didn't really like it. It was only exciting up until it lingered for too long.

Finally, with a bitter sigh, she paused that creepy movie you forgot to stop and got up to go watch TV in her room.

Distractions. That was all she needed. She knew what would help once she'd been able to identify the feeling she kept experiencing lately—she wasn't that naive—but that didn't necessarily mean she wanted to do it.

She'd tried before, and it was a disaster. Yes, now she knew her anatomy better and actually had some arousal to work with, but it was hard to think of...taking...care of herself...without it being a reminder of the one time she'd tried as a teenager.

She'd read about it after having spent half of sex education raising her hand with questions and corrections until the unqualified ass at the front of the room stopped calling on her. Some students snickered under their breath from her participation putting a spotlight on his inadequacy. Some—mostly stupid boys—snorted over any questions she had that were perfectly appropriate for the subject but they were too childish to hear. And some of the girls near her spoke in hushed tones that she'd recognized to mean she wouldn't want to know what they were saying anyway, unless she felt like having her feelings hurt.

Fine, she'd thought. She'd continue educating herself if the sex ed teacher wouldn't do his job. The rest of them could go on to get pregnant early or end up feverish at the ER, waiting for their first dose of doxycycline, azithromycin, or levofloxacin—depending on the particular needs of that person's body. Maybe it was mean to think that, but still.

The only comments she'd overheard which successfully hurt her feelings were ones regarding how she'd felt the need to ask certain questions in the first place. How did she not know already? Was she really that inexperienced? And other...related commentary that would upset most teenagers. Now the memory liked to jump out at her at random just to make her full body cringe, causing her to shake her hands like it had been some creepy-crawly thing she'd needed off of her.

Naturally, she'd assigned her own secret homework, waiting for a moment she could actually be alone in her bedroom. She spent it watching a video she didn't even like while trying something she didn't like that much either until she was so overstimulated she shot out of bed to go wash her hands. It was supposed to be some mind-blowing first experimentation with her body, and instead she ended the evening crying in her room after reading about the porn industry, lying to her mom and saying she was upset over one of those ASPCA commercials. Then she really was crying over that too because talking about it reminded her of the last one she'd seen.

So, Mel had formed an aversion to even bothering with self-pleasure. Or more so, the urge failed to occur when there wasn't anything to motivate it, whether it was peer pressure or actual arousal.

That experimental phase had started and ended very rapidly.

If she really thought about it, maybe there had been hints of that desire depending on what stage she was at in her cycle, but it was never enough to really form a "need." Now, however...

Mel sighed to herself, seeking comfort from the movie on her laptop she had propped on top of an old textbook. She pulled her hand away from her mouth, forcing away her bad habit of biting at her nails once she realized she was doing it again. Despite being her go-to... But I'm a Cheerleader may have been a poor choice on her part if she wanted to deprive that feeling in her gut of any fuel.

It only bloomed further as she gnawed at her lip, watching the scene of Megan fantasizing about kissing Graham. Mel's brow dipped into a frown, and she exhaled sharply. Her eyes darted over every detail, her cheeks growing warm when she couldn't help thinking of you. Her expression bunched up with frustration, and she let out another sigh, reaching over to rewind the movie as if she could force a different perspective and rewatch that scene like it was exposure therapy.

The human body truly was an amazing thing. She knew the evolutionary purpose for hormones suppressing her ability to think logically, but she still disliked the lack of control.

She let her attention drift on purpose, focusing on how comfortable her bed actually felt after months of always choosing yours first. Mewling miserably, Mel curled in towards her mattress, burying her face in her pillow. She hugged the cushion, transferring her attention from the movie to self-soothing, cricketing her legs again. A gentle, innocent contentment—that was what she needed. She just had to let herself relax and enjoy being cozy in the airy fluff of her comforter. Mel adjusted the angle of her body to melt further into her bed. When she rubbed her legs together again she felt something she hadn't been intending, at least not actively.

Her eyes opened lazily and she squeezed her legs together as tightly as possible, fluttering her eyes shut over the pleasant pulse she felt between her thighs. She tested the friction again, hiding her face in her pillow with a pathetic whine when she realized she’d lost whatever angle had sparked that feeling.

Her heart raced as if she’d get caught at any second, but she continued anyway. Mel pressed into the pillow, raising her hips up off of the mattress enough for her to slide a hand down between her legs. She felt the urge to glance at the door several times, nearly losing her nerve to the side of her that was quick to avoid anything potentially uncomfortable. Then, she rolled her fingertips just right, and Mel hid her face again with a weak noise.

She thought about kissing you and being close to you and what it would be like to have you touching her instead, and that buzzing feeling grew stronger in her pelvic floor. Mel whined, shifting her hips a few times to rock against her own fingertips that she kept circling at the same time. That sensation built and flatlined several times until she could've cried when it stopped building altogether. She'd never wanted this so badly before, or at all, but she’d adapted quickly and she was easily becoming desperate for that warm, tightening feeling in her belly. She felt like she needed it after unintentionally edging herself—was this what everyone else felt? And often? God, that sounded awful. This was a lot of work.

Mel raised her body up more, gathering her blankets between her legs for added compression, splaying enough in her kneeling position to rut on her bed. She squeezed her eyes shut, tensing her abdominal muscles to aid her need for pressure and finally letting out a breath she'd nearly forgotten about. The warmth tinting her cheeks like a pink wash of watercolor was spreading throughout her body, to the point that the back of her neck and her ears felt hot. She was sweating—she didn't even care, either; she just needed that release she'd never had, and it kept evading her like it was taunting her for being uninterested all these years.

"Please," she begged her body through a miserable whine, sinking into the bedding again.

Mel laid onto her stomach, gasping. Her hair was a mess, half falling out of the lazy braid she'd put it in for her day off, and her glasses were... somewhere. They'd been shoved up onto the crown of her head earlier when she'd been hiding her face the first time, only to slide down when she was grinding on her own bunched-up comforter. Out of sight, they were currently clinging to some strands of her hair by one of the hinges.

She'd found a good rhythm, and her forearm burned from the effort, but she didn't care. She was overheated and the hair between her legs scratched slightly at her arm, but she was so needy and so, so, so close…

Finally, something snapped inside her, and the only thing keeping her quiet was her pillow. A full-body shiver dragged through her, lingering in her thighs that kept trembling or twitching. The warmth that had hit a peak low in her gut spread out over her body in a warm wave. From oxytocin or dopamine or whatever… Whatever. Fuck, she'd never cared less about pinpointing the right terms. She couldn’t even think right now. She could only bury her face in her pillow with a shaky breath and feel the way her heart pounded or how her underwear clung to her.

Still, she felt maybe she didn’t get it quite right, and she kicked off her pajama shorts that had been twisting around too much anyway. Mel viewed her body differently for the first time since, well… ever, really. She looked down at herself, brushing the excess fabric of her oversized t-shirt out of the way, and saw a faint damp spot in the center of her cotton underwear. She felt a little embarrassed by her curiosity, but there was also a very specific, shy pride over this particular milestone.

Her satisfaction was only really disrupted by the way her underwear was sticking to her; the dampness catching the fabric in a way that made it look like her body was sucking it in. So, she decided to lose that article of clothing too, separating it from where any of the wet cotton clung to her folds and she tossed it off to the side on her bed. Mel briefly indulged her curiosity again to see how wet she was, and her bashfulness returned as if she hadn’t been in the privacy of her own room, but it hadn't been enough to stifle this rare craving. Distantly, the movie continued playing, but she'd hidden under her blankets and tested that sensation again without clothing in the way.

Mel let out a breath, the muscles of her thighs seizing up then relaxing again. Another new sound escaped her from the first, direct brush of nerves. Oh, she’d never been happier to know anatomy than right now, when she was twisting in her spot, sliding her fingers over different pleasure points, whimpering and panting, then eventually choking back her moans when they fell from her lips. She hid them in the light green-cased pillow again, slowly growing lax on the mattress when she could feel the bit of warm arousal slowly dripping from her pussy onto the sheets.

Mel let out the kind of sigh that seemed to ease every bit of tension she held in her body and stayed there for a while like some living, breathing puddle of a person in her bed.

ʚɞ

"Mel?" you called out when you walked into the apartment. Considering your unexpected departure earlier, you tried to call her for the drive home, but she never picked up.

“Dr. King? Blondie? Mel-Belle? BabyMel Cheese? The Keeper of Knowledge? Squish-Mellow?”

She didn't answer now either, even as you rattled off every nickname you could think of during the time it took to set your bag aside and take off your shoes. You were starting to worry you were about to experience what it was like to have Mel mad at you.

“Pebble…?” you tried the most recent one, which was your own secret reference to her definitely autism pebbling you all the time with her fun facts. Even if she didn’t seem to recognize the trait, but then again she didn’t recognize any of them when it came to herself.

You were saying her actual name again when you'd reached your doorway and trailed off with a smile. She was all splayed out in your bed, half awake and watching something random on your TV.

"Did you have a lazy day without me?" you whispered with playful betrayal. She grunted a wordless hum, and you laughed.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" you asked now, squatting by the bed so you could see her face when you moved her hair out of the way.

"Mm-mm," she reassured you with the weakest shake of her head.

"You feeling okay, though...?" you murmured, resting the back of your hand against her flushed cheeks.

"Mhm," Mel yawned. "Just sleepy..."

"Mkay..." you smiled fondly at her, only pulling away to change out of your day clothes and into some pjs.

You climbed back into bed and on top of her, kneeling on either side of her while she remained laid out on her stomach. Your hair splayed when you leaned over her to press a kiss to her cheek, breathing out a laugh at her squirming and giggling from you tickling her sides.

"Ugh,” you huffed, pausing to enjoy her proximity, hiding your face in her hair.

“I missed you today," you confessed in a sigh, smoothing her hair off to one side again and very lightly bit at her jawline.

Tugging her shirt out of the way to blow a raspberry against her shoulder, you smiled against her skin when it earned you some more giggles.

“I missed you too.”

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ the photos and gif used in this post do not belong to me.

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