WIP GAME
I saw the new episode and it seems like assexual Mel was a Taylor headcannon only (or she lied to fuck with the fandom) but I am so attached to your fic, Needs Met! Do you plan to continue writing it? If so, please please can I have a snippet?
Yes, I'll definitely finish it! This just comes with the territory of writing WIPs as canon is releasing. I've found a surprisingly deep well of inspiration for Needs Met so it's been a total joy to write.
Here's a snippet that was written before s2e4 that has Frank taking Mel through every aisle of trader joe's and lovingly cataloguing her safe foods. true romance, etc. (@sawdustandstardust another case of same brain that you mentioned grocery shopping in your WIP spread like strawberries 🍓)
this picks up right after the end of chapter 2. please refer to tags on ao3 fic before reading. this is a first draft so apologies if it's rough.
Frank woke Mel up a few hours later. No light streamed through the windows; it was totally dark outside. “What time is it?” she asked, yawning. She propped herself up on her elbows from her prone position.
“Nine thirty,” Frank answered. He sat against her hip on the bed and rubbed her back. “Are you hungry? I can order food.”
Mel shook her head. “I’m fine. Are you ready to have sex again?”
The hand at her back tensed, then became feather soft. “Yes,” he answered.
Mel recalled her thought process about his choice of missionary position earlier; how she’d hoped for something different. Maybe she could just ask. She kicked the duvet down the bed, baring her naked body. “Can we please,” she yanked the pillows from his side of the bed and stacked a few under her pelvis. “Like this?” She wiggled to get comfortable, ass-up, too sleepy for self-consciousness.
Silence.
She craned her neck to see him staring at her ass with wide eyes. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
He jerked into action, hurriedly stripping and grabbing the lube. She shivered as the cold lube on his fingers hit her cunt, even as she kept her thighs spread wide for him. Only he took too long, fastidiously inserting one finger, then two, into her.
She yawned again as he toyed at her entrance with his cockhead. He was taking forever. “Frank, I’m tired. Can you please start?” She pushed her ass back, trying to spear herself on him, but she was still drowsy and uncoordinated from her nap.
He huffed a laugh, gripping a hip in each hand to hold her still. “Easy, tiger. I’m trying to behave myself here.”
“Why?” she asked plaintively. “Can’t you just—”
Frank shut her up by sliding his cock all the way to her cervix in one smooth motion.
Mel squawked, faceplanting into the mattress with the force of his motion. It felt like he was in her throat. His dick felt way bigger like this—or maybe he’d been onto something with the preparation.
“That’s why,” said Frank. He hauled her hips back up against him, filling her to the hilt again. “Hands and knees for me.”
She squeaked again with overwhelm. His cock was splitting her open. “But— I like it like this. I like to rub my face on the sheets,” she protested.
“Not this time, honey. I want to see your tits move,” he said.
Mel huffed, rising gingerly from her elbows to her hands. Her breasts swayed with the motion.
“Deep breaths. You okay?” Frank asked. He petted her flank like she was a wild horse. He squeezed at her love handle. Pressed a line up her spine with his thumb.
“Yes,” said Mel. Long inhales through her nose and deep exhales through her mouth, to accustom herself to being stuffed. She let her head hang between her arms, eyeing his hairy knees planted on the bed behind hers. “Yeah, okay.”
He swore as he started to move, to get into a slow rhythm. “You’re so fucking tight.” He pulled her back onto his cock with a firm hand at the flexure of her hip as his other snaked up to caress her swinging breast. “Still good?” he asked as he sped up, starting to snap his hips against hers. The sound of their bodies slapping against each other filled the room.
“Mmhmm,” Mel managed. She reached out for the headboard in front of her, bracing herself to better push back against him.
He swore again. “Yeah, baby. That’s so fucking good.”
Ridiculously, Frank’s praise sent a red flush blooming down Mel’s cheeks and throat. Thank goodness he couldn’t see it, Mel thought, even as she pushed herself back against him harder. This created a kind of interesting sensation on her clit, paired with a fullness from his cock she’d never experienced before. With each thrust, he rubbed against a particularly delicious spot. Something delicious hovered just out of reach. She gasped as he pounded into her again. There.
“That’s right, Mel,” Frank said behind her. “Chase it.”
Given permission, Mel arched her back and threw her whole body into it. She speared herself on each thrust, trying to hit that elusive spot. Pleasure built deep in her gut.
“Fuck me,” Frank muttered under his breath, barely audible, to which Mel responded:
“I’m trying, Frank.”
He laughed in breathless disbelief, even as he kept up a ruthless rhythm of slamming into her. She whined, gritting her teeth as she followed the sensation to a place of pleasure-pain…
Mel’s orgasm popped like a bubble.
She tumbled down into a quick little orgasm, lashes fluttering, toes curling. Her whole body tingled with waves of pleasure that emanated from her cunt; little quakes like the aftershocks of an earthquake. She struggled to hold herself upright with shaking wrists. “Gosh,” she whispered breathlessly. That had never happened before.
“There you go,” Frank said, magnanimous, proud of her. He pressed down between her scapulae with a firm hand. “You can put your head down now, if you want.”
“Oh, thank you,” Mel breathed, folding down on her elbows, pillowing her head in her hands. The aftershocks from her orgasm were still making her cunt clench.
He pounded her for another five minutes, give or take. She felt weak all over, still trying to catch her breath after that surprise orgasm. It didn’t matter. Frank held her hips up with both hands and fucked her limp. Now she really was his sex doll.
Still in disbelief, Mel rubbed her cheek rhythmically on the soft sheet as she got fucked into the mattress.
—
The next morning, Mel woke up with her face between Frank’s shoulderblades. Both of them were still totally naked and she was spooning him like a tiny backpack. He stayed asleep, whuffling into the pillow softly, as she extracted herself out of the king size bed.
In Frank’s shower, Mel felt almost embarrassed as she remembered the way she’d keened and clenched around his cock last night. She’d made a big deal about never orgasming with a partner and then she’d done it on their first night together. No one is going to take your ace card away for orgasming one time during sex, Mel reasoned with herself under the spray of hot water.
She still felt a bit sheepish about the whole endeavor, but this outcome was way better than hating it. After all, she had signed on as a sex partner with Frank for a whole year. Maybe the freedom to just be had been exactly what she needed. No pressure. Besides, she knew Frank on a way deeper level than she’d known any of her previous sexual partners. That probably counted for something.
Mel had lugged her duffel bag into Frank’s bathroom, so she came out dressed in her day off uniform: an oversized t-shirt, leggings, and striped socks. Frank sat on a barstool in front of his island, clad in low-slung sweatpants. He opened his arms wide.
Mel bemusedly walked into Frank’s embrace. “What do you want to do today?” Mel asked, squashed into his chest.
She expected Frank to share another highly detailed plan of sexual intercourse, but instead he said, “I need to go to the grocery store. Will you join?”
That’s how Mel found herself pushing the fire engine red cart at Trader Joe’s. She never went here—it was in the bougie suburb outside of town, in a strip mall with horrid parking— but Frank swore by Saturday morning shopping to beat the crowds.
They started in the produce section.
“Go ahead and get whatever you want,” Frank encouraged. “If you’re at my place every weekend, I want to have food and snacks you like.”
Mel shrugged and stopped at the display of apples. She grabbed a $2.99 three-pound bag of Pink Ladies and dropped it into the cart.
Frank made a face. “Those are your favorite?”
“These are what I usually get,” said Mel, flummoxed by the selection. This Trader Joe’s housed bizarre produce which this Midwestern gal found intriguing yet a little scandalous: brussel sprouts on the stalk, white alpine strawberries, fuyu persimmons from California.
He took the bag out of her cart and set it back. “Let’s get those instead.” He pointed at the endcap: gorgeous shiny Honeycrisps displayed like soldiers in a legion, each bigger than Mel’s palm, polished and flawless.
Mel shook her head. “Too expensive.” The chalkboard sign next to the apples proclaimed: “Organic Honeycrisp from Oregon: $1.99 each.”
“You’re a doctor, you can afford it,” said Frank. He winked at Mel as he handed her a produce bag. “At least, you can when you’re with me. Does Becca like these?”
Mel took her time choosing three apples, finding the largest, prettiest ones, painted with brushstrokes of gold and candy red. “No,” she said distractedly. “Becca doesn’t like biting into the fruit. She prefers berries.”
When she looked up from the Honeycrisps, Frank had taken the cart to the refrigerated shelf. She ambled over to him as he set clamshells of strawberries, blackberries, and raspberries into the cart. “You don’t have to buy anything for Becca,” she protested. “We decided that you’d pay off the credit card and take on rent. You don’t need to buy our groceries, too.”
“We’re here,” he said, shrugging. “Might as well grab a few things.”
Mel sighed. He was going to be so annoying about this. “No blackberries, then. Neither of us like the seeds.”
Frank swapped out the blackberries for blueberries. “Noted.”
Mel watched him roll the cart down the aisle, equal parts amused and concerned. He had a certain swagger in his step—sexual satisfaction, Mel realized. Princess and Perlah would be able to smell it on him during his next shift if he didn’t turn it down. She trailed him through the aisles, as he kept picking up the most random items. “Will you eat these?” Frank asked, holding ridiculous products like broccoli frozen pizza, or pumpkin salsa, or dill pickle potato chips.
He catalogued her shy yes’es and wrinkly nosed no’s carefully. Soon enough, the cart was modestly full—ingredients for pasta with meat sauce, frozen chicken nuggets, frozen hash browns, pastries. Frank didn’t make Mel feel guilty for her pickiness like she anticipated—though she knew he was an adventurous eater himself.
Then she gasped, grabbing onto Frank’s arm.
“What?” he asked, alarmed.
“Ube mochi pancake mix,” said Mel, pointing at the endcap she’d spotted.
Frank grinned. “Now we’re talking.” He grabbed a box from the display and read the back. “Eggs, butter, water. Easy enough. Let’s get some maple syrup, too. And Irish butter.” He tossed the box of pancake mix in the cart.
After they’d perused every aisle of the grocery store and made small talk with the gregarious cashier, Frank insisted on stopping inside the boba place in the strip mall. Apparently he’d seen the way Mel’s eyes had snapped to the neon bubble letters “BOBA TEA” as they’d pulled into the parking lot.
The only thing was, he had no idea what to order. so Mel took charge here, ordering a honeydew milk tea for herself and a Vietnamese coffee for Frank. She hummed in the passenger seat as he drove back to his apartment, sucking down tapioca balls. “What do you want to do the rest of the day?” she asked.
“This and that,” Frank replied. “I need to do laundry.”
But as soon as Mel walked through his apartment door, he snatched the cup out of her hands and shoved her up against the door.
“Oh,” said Mel.
“I need you again,” said Frank, kissing her neck, pulling her hips into him.
“Okay,” said Mel.
“Pancakes after,” he suggested, a question in his eye as he pulled her t-shirt over her head.
“Okay,” said Mel. Her eyelashes fluttered shut. "Pancakes after."
