It's so nice being on tumblr because you don't even have to make your own post but people would still follow you anyways if you're good at rebloging posts they like
the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
Summary: You and Mel were the virgins to top all virgindom. Somebody had to fix that.
Word count: 3.5k
Contains: Smut/some humor. Awkward/nervous pairing. Mutual pining & miscommunication. First kiss/loser virgins get experience trope. Mel gets confident real quick, reader blames herself until she doesn’t. Mushy. *wlw fingering, scissoring.
A/N: RRAAAHHHHHHHH IM HUNGRY I MISS MY MELLY BEAR NOAH WYLE PUT S3 OUT NOW NOW NOW. i was falling asleep proofing this so just pray there’s no typos guys here’s your gay shit
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It started on a very innocent basis, just to make that clear. It was only supposed to be a kiss, you know? That’s normal. Happens all the time.
You had never had a ‘first’ anything. It was a point of insecurity for you for quite a while. Growing up was twice as hard being the chubby virgin– lose weight and you become a skinny hypothetical whore, seek sex and you’re still a whore, just fat. There was no winning. As you grew up it was easier to shove that judgement down, but it always lingered. Especially once you were old enough that girls you knew in high school were getting married and having children, and you were sharing a city apartment with a college friend.
You had many good things. You had a wonderful job working as a registered nurse at PTMC. You had a black cat– named Binx, obviously– who was a licensed cuddlebug. You had a full bookshelf and a nice espresso machine. But of all the good things in your life, Mel was the best.
Mel came into your life when you were getting your nursing bachelor’s. She was knee deep in medical school, and while you were close to graduating and getting a job, she still had four years of residency to look forward to. At the time, you had a spot secured after graduation at PTMC, and you offered to put a good word in for her, but she was determined to start at the VA. You didn’t blame her. They had a fantastic opportunity for her there, and her brain was so big and beautiful under that braid… you supported her choice. Part of that support was promising to stay friends, and going in on an apartment so she and Becca didn’t have to struggle alone. You would have a steady income to help keep her afloat on those criminal student wages so Becca could stay in the living facility, and Mel could be sure there was a bed awaiting her every night. It was the least you could do. Now she was at the hospital with you, and you went home together. Carpooled, saved gas. That was a good thing. Very good.
You hadn’t tried dating. It was too daunting. At some point, the idea of ‘getting out there’ lost its luster. You figured that if love was meant for you, it would happen naturally, and without you searching high and low for it. That was ridiculous validation-based psychosis prescribed through Disney films, you swore it. Someone should study it. Mel hadn’t either, but it seemed more for her a matter of no time available to try. Either way, things were comfortable. You had a cozy place and a best friend who you cared about more than anything in the world. Except just one teensy little issue… love had happened very naturally. Unfortunately.
How were you supposed to resist it? Mel was everything that was right about the world. She was kindness in a bottle, with all the spark and genius of lightning, and all the intuition of a wise old sage, and the strength of a warrior encased by the soft and gentle heart of a fucking child. She did nothing but accumulate more knowledge and experience to make herself a more understanding and universal person. It was genuinely making you distraught. How could anyone be so good? How could anyone be so strong as to look at her, those sweet eyes and her pouty lips, and think to themselves, Yeah, she’s whatever? It simply cannot be done. And it was ruining your life.
Well, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but it was certainly hard– because nothing felt different. You were so incredibly safe beside Mel. You didn’t struggle to communicate, and you didn’t clam up. You could joke and tease and burp. You could be honest and complain aloud. There was no barrier created by passion that held you back from sharing every bit of your life with her, and because of the lack, you felt like a monster. You lived in her house and cooked her dinner, and you were in love with her, and you never said a word. It was the same as living with an imposter. A pathological liar. The guilt was crushing.
Like, take right now for instance. You were sitting on the couch after an excruciating shift– fourteen hours– with your head in her lap as she half-dozed under the buzzing gleam of the television. She was raking her fingers through your hair, studying the indents, and she just showered with that linen-scented body wash that made your mouth dry. And you let it happen. You let every passing moment happen without telling her the truth. You did nothing but live in her house and pretend like you were her friend. So when she prompted, “You’re quiet tonight,” you were at a loss to explain yourself. Coward is as coward does.
“I’m just tired,” you muttered.
“Mm,” she hummed, “Me too.”
On the television, some mind-melting reality show was keeping the doctor awake. Two people were slobbering over each other in swimwear, and Mel cocked her head to the side, sniffling softly. You watched her tongue dart out to wet her lips before she wondered aloud, “You still haven’t kissed anyone, right?”
You blinked up at her. Blonde waves made a shield over her cheeks as she peered down in return. You shook your head. “Nope.”
“Me neither,” she sighed, scratching her head. “Kinda sad.”
“I guess,” you swallowed.
Mel gave your head one more pat before cocking her head to the other side, seemingly thinking. You watched in some phenomenon similar to slow motion as the velvety skin of her cheeks bled pink, and her nostrils flared. Your heart seized as she muttered softer, “I always wanted to.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she admitted, hand stilling on your head. “To know what it feels like. It probably isn’t any good without practice, I imagine. Bumping noses and stuff.”
A strange feeling spread through your limbs, making everything tingle like sand was filling you head to toe. You pulled yourself up, pajama shirt scrunching carelessly, and turned your back to the television to look at her. “That makes sense.”
Mel’s lashes laced together as she blinked. “I can ask you anything, can’t I?”
Your heart made a sound. Something like ba-dunk. “Of course you can.”
“You won’t make fun of me?”
“Mel,”
“Because it’s not like I want you to be super serious, but I want you to listen and not judge me, I know you wouldn’t but I still have to ask–”
“Melly,” you chuckled, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “I won’t make fun of you. You can tell me anything in the world.”
The doctor nodded apprehensively before tucking some of that torturously blonde hair behind her ears. A nimble finger pushed her frames up her nose. “I just… I was thinking about it, and maybe…”
You sat still, ba-dunking.
“I was thinking maybe I could– we could, um, kiss. Maybe we could kiss.”
Oh. “Kiss.”
“You’re judging,”
“I am not judging.”
“You look pale.”
“I am,” you breathed deep, "surprised."
“Did I freak you out?”
“No,” you winced, rubbing your eyes and laughing. Ba-dunk, ba-dunk. “I just didn’t expect that!”
Mel flushed profusely, tangling her hands together. She looked humiliated. “It was just an idea, like, to get it out of the way, because neither of us have and it’s like, safer, I guess, and I just wanted to–”
“I’ll kiss you,” you blurted.
Mel blinked the same way Binx always did when you asked him to get off the counter. That sort of Did I just hear you right? blink. “You will?”
This was wrong. So, so wrong. You were in love with her and you were going to take advantage of her curiosity to fulfill that need. You were going to kiss an innocent woman and lie to her fucking face. Oh God, were you going to. You were a bad person. You were extremely horny, too, but mostly just a bad person, especially when you leaned in a bit.
“I don’t really know how,” Mel murmured sheepishly, adjusting on the couch to slide nearer. When her knee brushed your leg, you shivered. So much for acting normal all the time. “I mean, I think you’re supposed to tilt your head in opposite directions. And keep your mouth shut the first time.”
You blinked robotically, moving on autopilot. Bad person. Bad person. Ba-dunk.
“Are you sure you want to try this? It’s your first kiss. You’re, like… giving it to me.”
In some stroke of idiocy, you whispered, “I think it’s a good idea.”
Mel’s face was scorching red. “Okay. Um… I guess I’ll just… lean in first.”
“Okay.”
You could smell her body wash like chloroform, making you woozy and weak as it curled inside your throat. She was so warm like this, and as she tilted her head to the left– her favorite direction, don’t ask why– you tilted to the right. When she pressed her lips to your mouth, you paused to examine the results. Warm, yes. Definitely feels like skin– you touched skin all day long with your patients, so it wasn’t a particularly special feeling. But what was special was the pressure. Mel seemed to push against you, her plush bottom lip lodged between both of yours, mouths linked like steps. It was like a suction cup that tasted of leftover ice cream. You let out a small breath that rustled the baby hairs above her mouth, and she pulled away with startled eyes. You didn’t move a muscle. It was plain, and it wasn’t particularly good, but you were trapped. Ensnared in the clutches of more.
Mel scrunched her nose and said, “Sorry.”
You shook your head. “Try a different way.”
“What?”
“We’re too stiff,” you explained, feeling like a beast. You shouldn’t be asking for more. Hell, you should be on your knees begging for forgiveness. But she was so dejected, and you wanted her mouth inside your mouth. “I’ll– I’ll, um–”
“You should sit on my lap.”
An involuntary laugh slipped out. “Mel, I’m twice your size.”
“It’s okay,” she glanced away. “I… it would be nice to feel… more of you. If we’re really going to practice.”
You swung your leg over her thighs and plopped down decisively, watching if she groaned under the weight. She didn’t. In fact, she spread her legs a little wider to slouch, leaving you lording over her. Bad person bad person bad person ba-dunk BA-DUNK.
“We should really go for it,” you suddenly suggested, mind reeling with ease. Your eyes lidded, and so did hers. Your hands slid over her shoulders, and hers over your hips.
She nodded like she was being overtaken by something. “Okay.”
“Even if it’s bad. Like you said, it’s practice.”
“Just practice,” she agreed.
When you leaned in, it was with far less restraint. You tilted to the right again, and this time Mel kept her mouth open. You felt the sting of her teeth against your bottom lip as she tried to find the sweet spot of where the spaces slotted together right. Her tongue was slippery and thick, pressing against the roof of your mouth as she tried to tangle and only licked. You laughed and pushed your fingers into her hair, cradling them behind the curvature of the skull and craning her back. Your gut lurched as she squeezed your thighs, and suddenly nothing was embarrassing. After a moan into her mouth, you found something that felt right– a sort of ebb and flow, where you pushed and she pulled, tongues dancing and teeth knocking, making you giggle, making her squirm.
“Mel,” you panted, mentally recording the feel of her jaw opening in your hands.
“I think this is good,” she evaluated.
“I think we should keep going,” you groaned, smearing a wet trail of kisses down her neck. “Practising.”
“Yes,” was her best work.
It was wrong, right? It felt good. She was so much softer than you expected, and so much stronger. She seemed fascinated with squeezing every abundant inch of you with her steady hands, hands that probably should have been a surgeon’s but stuck to emergency care. You tugged at her hair as you belabored a sensitive patch behind her ear that had Mel’s chest rising and her toes curling. It had gotten to the point where none of this was safe at all, and you were rolling your hips in a frenzy for friction, and she was clawing at your face to bring you back to the original agreement.
With her eager mouth against yours, Mel fell subject to the parasite in her heart and confessed, “I’ve been– wanting to– kiss you, mmf– for so long.”
You could barely think between smacks. “Me? You– mngh– really?”
“Mhm… God… yeah.”
“Me too,” you whimpered, breaking it to take a look.
Mel was a proper mess. Hair static from tugging, mouth bitten red, tank top tugged unruly and eyes sheening with a mist that landed somewhere between tears and hunger. You combed her hair back and let yourself be a bad friend. “I’m in love with you and I never said anything because I was scared.”
The doctor gazed up at you for promptly one second before grabbing your face and dragging you back down, making you yelp. You smushed your mouth to hers happily, and somehow she slipped the words through your teeth: “Thank God.”
“Hm?”
“I love you,” she laughed, wriggling you until she was able to shove you down onto your back. Mel crawled over you in a careful heat. “This was the best excuse I could use. I couldn’t take it anymore.”
You didn’t have time to laugh because she smoothed her hands right up your shirt, spanning them greedily over your ribs. “Mel!”
“Yeah?”
“You love me?” You flushed– finally.
“I love you.”
“I want more,” you smiled.
“More firsts?”
“Please.”
Mel barely contained her joy and all but mauled you, pressing your back into the worn leather of the couch and boxing you in. Her shirt was easy to slide off, but it took quite a while to snap your focus back at the sight of all her chocolate beauty marks against that cream skin. Your shirt took more work, but the reward was greater, because Mel practically cried over how beautiful you were under there, all that body you hid away (“and for what?!” she exclaimed). When she was brave enough to slip her hand between your legs, all bets were off. You were about to be the worst person possible.
“Fuck, please,” you whined. It was pathetic, really, how quickly you folded without even an ounce of pleasure yet. “Touch me, Melly.”
“Now this I can do,” she smirked. “Doctors. Anatomy. Y’know.”
It was funny because she was right. Her fingers nudged under your cotton barrier and notched against your clit like a magnet, no searching necessary, only seizure. Her lips smothered yours again as those same pulse-taking digits encircled your nub softly, offering a cruel amount of pleasure with barely any of the ferocity she used above the neck.
Your nails dug into her shoulders as she made quick work between your legs, but half the credit could be attributed to the sudden cockiness she let loose as she caressed you. “Have you thought about this before?”
“All the time,” you gushed. “I think I’ve been getting off to you for years.”
“Oh my God, like, in your room? The one next to mine?”
“I don’t– ah– have another!” You gasped.
“That’s so good,” she said mournfully, “and so sad, baby, I could have done it for you.”
Your eyes crossed like a cartoon. “Fuck.”
Mel chuckled and cupped your mound with her palm, testing the puckering center of your cunt like a button. “Baby? Is that a good one?”
“Anything,” you babbled, hips bucking. “You can call me anything.”
“Baby,” she began, sliding a finger into your sopping walls. “Honey,” she added, beginning to thrust. “Oh, sweetie,” she concluded and she plunged a second finger in, seeing as you were wide open and absolutely begging for it.
You writhed and gripped her wrist, holding her in place as she fucked you with her fingers. Sugary tears collected in the corners of your eyes. Your fingers were never long enough, but hers were a different story. She was tickling the corrugated muscle inside you like piano keys. You moaned weakly and fluttered around her hand. “Melly!”
“What should we do, sweetie? Do you want to cum? Or wait?”
What kind of question was that? “Cum! Please!”
Mel’s teeth sunk into your warm cheek as she pierced you again and again, a brutal curving thrust that had your knees trembling. By the time you were grabbing onto her for dear life and gasping for air, she knew she’d made it happen.
Mel dragged her slick fingers out from between your folds and shoved them in her mouth, nuzzling into your neck as she tasted you. Her anguished moan made your stomach flip. You shifted helplessly, the ache between your thighs barely quelled, and you asked, “What do you want me to do to you?”
Mel’s eyes flicked up from her resting place in her neck, and she grinned. “Me?”
“Mhm,” you swallowed, still panting. “What do you want?”
She grinned wider. “To fuck you.”
You blinked. “Like…”
“Mhm.”
“Not fingers? O-or my mouth, or–”
“Later. Do that later. I just,” Mel breathed in the scent of your skin before continuing, “God, I really just want to scissor you. So much.”
It was maybe the dorkiest thing she’d ever said– and this is Mel we’re talking about– but it worked on you. Everything she did worked on you. You made no objections as she shimmied your panties down your legs and allowed hers to follow, and you selfishly ogled the soft, puffy folds of her pussy as she clambered over you again.
Mel giggled and braced her arms on the cushion beneath you, and she asked, “It’s just like kissing, isn’t it? Tilting our hips to either side?”
You floundered, because Mel was recreating about ninety wet dreams in that moment, and you struggled to speak. The doctor leaned down to kiss you much softer than before, and she whispered, “You want this, right?”
You melted, obviously. “Yes.”
“Okay. Then let’s practice.”
Turns out this was an even easier rhythm to syncopate. Maybe it was because you were both so wound up, but it only took a few seconds of brushing her cunt against yours to fall prey to the blissful smear of arousal. Mel’s sharp hips rocked against the sweet spot between your lips, and there was enough cushion on you to stop it from being bone-grindingly close; her soft, throbbing clit kissed yours again and again as she clung to your thigh and rocked, rocked, rocked…
“Holy shit,” you gasped for air.
“I thought it only worked in porn,” Mel grunted.
“You watch porn?”
“Sometimes I have to,” she gritted her teeth, “Jesus, you’re so wet.”
“You’re so good at this,” you sighed. “Sure you haven’t done it before?”
Mel stroked your face as she grinded her hips in a blessed circle, catching the flesh just right. “Only with you.”
When Mel came, you wished you had a camera. Perverted, yes, but understandable. Her mouth parted in a picturesque little ‘o’, and the pinch between her brow was characteristically adorable. Her face screwed up like the wind had been knocked out of her, and her body stuttered against yours, rutting weakly, like the pleasure was squeezing her insides. You, on the other hand, deflated like a balloon, gushing and whimpering nonsense about feeling so good you could die. Mel slumped over you, reveling in the thick little puddle of slick that connected your two at the hips.
The television was still running. It was a new episode, and Mel turned to glance at it, smiling like an idiot. You tried to regain breath and dignity beneath her, but it was hard when she stroked your sides and placed little kisses over your chest.
“There’s a lot we have to try,” Mel muttered, careful not to move just yet. “When you get your strength back.”
“Don’t act like it’s just me,” you quipped, smirking. “You’re spent.”
“Give me a couple minutes. I just lost my virginity, you know.”
“You’re so annoying,” you giggled, and the reverberation made your hips twitch with sensitivity.
Mel peered up at you, and you could’ve sworn, just for a second, that she looked just the way she did when you met her. Perfect, and in love. Maybe it really had been forever, even then. Maybe you were just smart enough to be a nurse, and just stupid enough to spend eight years pining over a girl who loved you back the whole time.
“I love you again,” you cooed, coaxing her hair back.
Mel glowed. Humans don’t glow, but she’s something entirely different. “You can say that again.”
I may of sent this before but my wifi was messed up so I don't know if it went through, but!!! Can you draw 141 doing communal shower antics and maybe if you'll be soooo kind to bless me with some gaz stuff just doing anything on duty love him in your style, keep creating😘
it's really gross how you can be self aware enough to know what's going on in your head but you can't actually stop it from happening. i need to grab it like a pigeon that got stuck in a house and throw it out the window. be free
you need to understand that i have two sets of headcanons. there's the set of realistic headcanons based on my genuine reading of the show, and then there's me playing pretend with my dolls.
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