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isabelckl · 23 days ago

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texting loser!ellie that you have nipple piercing in class 3

nerdy loser!ellie x popular mean fem!reader

bored in english, you reply to a girl named E you’ve been talking to on an anonymous gay dating app—without knowing it’s that lesbian nerd girl, ellie williams.

masterlist

The rest of the month bled together in that soft, glowing kind of way—every day bookmarked by the same routine. E in the morning. E during class. E when you were brushing your teeth or pretending to do homework. You talked about everything. Or nothing.

She kept you sharp. Made you laugh when your head was splitting from school noise. Kept you just distracted enough to forget you were tired all the time. And somewhere along the way, you stopped wondering who she was. Because it felt like she already knew you. Not the polished version people saw. You.

You’d stopped counting how many pictures you’d sent. Nothing technically scandalous. But enough to make her say “i’m not strong enough for this” at least three times a week.

You were on your phone, sprawled out in your usual seat in English—last sub of the day, last brain cell left.

You:

im on my last sub rn. talk to u later :(

don’t think about me too much while you’re in class

You smirked.

You:

oh i will. especially us doing unholy things rn

i’m blocking u.

You:

no ur not. u love it

You were still grinning like an idiot when the classroom door slammed open. Everyone scrambled to pretend they weren’t just throwing paper balls or stealing someone’s chair.

Ms. Alvarez was already holding a clipboard, face grim. “Alright, settle down. We’re starting a new graded requirement today—your final literature project. Half of your term grade will come from this. I’m pairing you up.”

Groans some cheers exploded. You barely registered it, still texting E something about being the main character in a forbidden library romance.

Until you heard your name.

“...and Ellie Williams.”

Your head snapped up, blinking.

A few snickers came from behind you, your friends catching it instantly.

One of them patted your shoulder, barely hiding a grin. “Oh, girl. Should we start worrying?”

You rolled your eyes and didn’t bother to answer.

Then a voice you hated piped up. Some guy you’ve never liked, probably trying to be funny.

“Maybe you could just show her your tits and she’ll do the work for you.”

You turned to him instantly.

“Shut the fuck up,” you snapped. Loud enough for people to hear.

He put his hands up, smirking. “Just suggesting.”

Ms. Alvarez didn’t seem to hear, or maybe she was pretending not to. “You’ll have six weeks. You’ll be required to sit beside your assigned partner during this class for the entire project period.”

Some complaints, some high-fives.

You grabbed your bag, eyes scanning. Ellie was still seated, alone near the front, chin in hand.

You made your way over slowly. She was on her phone, thumb tapping something out fast.

“Hey,” you said, soft and casual.

Her head snapped up. Like, immediately. Her phone vanished into her hoodie pocket so fast it was almost suspicious.

You raised your eyebrows slightly, not saying anything.

“Hey,” she replied, voice a little rough around the edges, like she’d just cleared it.

She blinked once, then moved quickly—grabbing the things from her desk and tucking them into her bag on the floor, her sketchpad sliding in last. Then, without saying anything, she reached out and dragged the desk and chair beside her, pulling them close in one fluid motion. The legs scraped loudly against the tile.

You cleared your throat, lowered into the seat, and placed your bag on top of the desk. One hand stayed tucked in the pocket of your skirt, curled loosely around your phone.

You didn’t say anything else and neither did she.

You both just sat there as Ms. Alvarez started droning about the project.

“This is a character-driven piece. Something with personal stakes. Introspection. Conflict. Subtext. You have six weeks.”

You barely heard her.

You unlocked your phone under the desk.

You:

i just wanna go home now and talk to you

(not being clingy)

You smirked without meaning to, biting the inside of your cheek.

You waited for her response.

Ms. Alvarez was saying something at the front—project guidelines, probably. But her voice felt like it was coming through a thick wall of static. You just kept your gaze on your screen. Quiet and expectant.

Still nothing.

She usually replied right away. Even in class. Even with “busy” in her bio.

You stared at the chat a moment longer, thumb hovering over the screen. Not that you were being clingy. Obviously.

You bit your lip and glanced sideways.

Ellie was hunched over her notebook, scrawling notes in the margin like her life depended on it. Her leg bounced under the desk. Her grip on the pen was tight. Too tight. Like it might snap in half if she pressed any harder.

You sighed, leaned back in your seat, and slid your phone back into your pocket.

Your eyes stayed on the front of the room, but you weren’t really listening. Words blurred. The only thing in focus was that weird thrum in your chest. Like something off-key in a song you’ve heard too many times.

After a moment, your eyes drifted back to Ellie.

Her auburn hair was tied loosely at the base of her neck, strands slipping free at the sides and curling against her cheek. Her eyes flicked between the teacher and her notes, sharp and serious, like she was actually locked in.

You stared at her.

Just for a second too long.

Her brows were pinched in thought. She twirled her pen once, adjusted the way she sat, and pulled her hoodie sleeve down over her hand like she was trying to disappear into it.

You pressed your lips together, fingers tapping soundlessly against your arm as you crossed them tight over your chest, waiting for your phone to buzz.

Ms. Alvarez finally wrapped up her monologue with something about “use your time wisely” and “brainstorming starts now.” She sank into her desk after like she was already exhausted by all of you.

Ellie cleared her throat, quietly turning toward you.

She pushed her notebook halfway across the desk, her handwriting a little messy but precise enough to follow. She didn’t look at you at first—just tapped the edge of the page once, offering it like a peace treaty.

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the desk and your chin on your knuckles. Watching her.

She glanced up, finally meeting your eyes. “Do you have anything in mind?”

You did.

Maybe E.

But you didn’t say that, of course.

You reached over and plucked the pen from her hand. Your fingers brushed for just a second—warm

You lowered your eyes and started scribbling into the corner of her notes.

Fantasy. Coming-of-age. Drama. Romance. Sapphic.

You underlined the last one.

When you slid the notebook back, she tilted her head at it. Just slightly. Her eyes skimmed the list, and then her lips twitched—barely noticeable. But it was there.

“Sapphic,” she repeated, like she was tasting the word.

You shrugged, eyes flicking up. “Just a suggestion.”

She looked at you again. Not judgmental. Not even surprised.

You raised your eyebrows at her—challenging, almost daring her to say something.

Ellie leaned back slightly. Her voice dropped just a little. “Are you sure?” she asked, voice low and husky. “I mean… you’ve got a reputation.”

You didn’t bother hiding the eye roll that followed.

With one hand, you slid the notebook back across the desk toward her. “You can suggest what you think,” you said flatly. Your voice calm and measured.

She picked up the pen again and wrote underneath:

Agreed.

You raised your eyebrows again.

That’s it? She just… agreed?

“No suggestions?” you asked, skeptical. “Nothing on your mind? You just agreed we write a sapphic book?”

Ellie didn’t even look up. “Nope,” she said, the pen already back in her hand, sketching something random in the corner of the page. A shape. A line. A loop.

You narrowed your eyes at her, gaze flicking over her blank expression. “Well,” you muttered, scanning her with a mock offense, “I expected something much more from you. I mean, you’re the nerd here.”

That earned a glance—sideways, brief. The corner of her mouth tugged, like she was fighting off a smirk.

“Well, I also didn’t expect you to suggest writing a sapphic book,” she replied, voice very dry.

You tilted your head. “Why not?”

Ellie shrugged. “You’ve got a reputation, remember?”

You didn’t even flinch. You let out a breathy scoff, leaning forward on your elbows again, voice low but pointed. “I just told our classmate to shut the fuck up because he said I could show you my tits and you’d do the work for me. Do you think I care about reputation?”

That caught her.

Ellie blinked, startled for a beat, then let out a short breath—half laugh, half disbelief. “Jesus,” she muttered, her gaze flicking to yours. “Didn’t know you were like that even in personal.”

You frowned. “Huh? Like what?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just glanced down at the notes again, something unreadable twitching in her expression.

You scoffed softly and leaned back, arms folding across your chest again. Your eyes darted to Ms. Alvarez, who was now busy at her desk, rifling through a drawer.

“And oh, please,” you said, dry. “It’s not like Ms. Alvarez isn’t gay either.”

Ellie looked at you, blinking.

“That’s why she has no husband at her age,” you went on, tone casual like you were talking about the weather. “She likes girls. And the rumors, Ellie—you’ve heard them. She won’t mind reading a sapphic piece.”

You tilted your head, lips twitching.

“And I bet she’ll like it very much.”

Ellie stared at you for a moment longer and looked away.

But not before you caught it—that flicker of a smirk, barely there.

She shook her head once, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Unbelievable,” and went back to scribbling.

Ellie tapped her pen a few times against the edge of the desk, then tilted her head slightly.

“So,” she said. “What’s it gonna be? Angsty? Enemies to lovers?”

You squinted at her, lips already twitching. Without saying a word, you reached out—snatching her notebook and pen in one smooth motion.

Ellie blinked, caught off guard.

You scribbled one word in bold, all caps:

SMUT.

You slid it back to her with a raised brow and the kind of smug grin you only pulled when you were being very annoying on purpose.

Her eyebrows shot up.

“Smut?” she repeated, slow, confused. “How… it’s not appropriate, I think.”

You bit back a laugh. “Of course it’s not,” you scoffed. “I’m just fucking with you.”

She stared at the word a second longer.

You plucked the notebook back and crossed out SMUT with a dramatic scribble, then started writing again beneath it.

“Anyway, I think something like friends to lovers or whatever,” you said, voice a little more thoughtful now. “It’s the easiest for me to write.”

You kept jotting down rough plot beats, loose ideas—nothing concrete yet. Just bullet points. Your handwriting was starting to drift sideways, slanted and lazy.

When you glanced up again, Ellie was watching you.

Her chin rested in her hand, elbow propped against the desk, eyes steady on your face like she was studying something. Like she was seeing a new side of you. Quiet. Focused.

There was something unguarded about her in that moment. Something soft around the edges. Like maybe—for just a second—she forgot to keep her usual walls up.

You paused, blinking. “What?”

She didn’t answer nor move.

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh,” you said slowly, tilting your head to mirror her. “You’re interested in writing that smut?”

That seemed to break the spell.

Ellie blinked, straightened slightly. “No,” she muttered, her voice low and curt as she grabbed the notebook back from you.

You watched her quietly as she flipped to a clean page and started jotting something down like nothing happened. Like she hadn’t just been staring at you for maybe… kind of a long time.

Her pen scratched against the paper. Her face calm again. Composed. But her ears were slightly pink.

“You’re red,” you said, your voice teasing, a smirk tugging at the edge of your lips.

Ellie didn’t look up. “It’s warm in here.”

You raised a brow. “Right. Sure it is.”

She clicked her pen once—sharp, deliberate—then turned to you with a look so flat it could’ve been carved from stone.

“Better red than desperate for plot-driven foreplay,” she said, completely deadpan.

Your mouth fell open.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, scandalized. “You are thinking about the smut.”

Ellie didn’t respond. Just returned to her notes like nothing happened, but the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth gave her away.

You grinned, triumphant.

You watched her for another beat, amused. “You didn’t deny it.”

Ellie didn’t look up, but her pen paused. “I’m ignoring you.”

You leaned over, voice lower now. “You’re failing miserably.”

That got you a side glance from her. Brief and sharp, but not annoyed. More like she was trying not to smile and losing the battle entirely.

You tapped her notebook with your nail. “So, what is this groundbreaking lesbian epic we’re writing?”

“Plot ideas,” she said, clearing her throat. “Since you keep distracting me.”

You hummed, unconvinced. “Am I allowed to see, or are you gonna bite me if I try?”

Without a word, she tilted the notebook your way.

You leaned closer.

There was a character with too many feelings and a bad temper. Another one with trust issues and what looked like “shitty taste in people” scribbled in parentheses.

You frowned, eyes skimming back over the notes. “‘Shitty taste in people’?”

Ellie didn't say anything at first, she twirled her pen between her fingers, like maybe if she spun it fast enough, she wouldn’t have to answer. But eventually, she shrugged.

“Some people keep going back to things that hurt them. It’s realistic.”

You stared at her for a beat. The way she said it wasn’t casual. It wasn’t dramatic either—just honest, like she’d written that trait from experience, not imagination.

You leaned back a little. “Nope.”

Ellie blinked. “What?”

“Nope,” you repeated, already reaching for the notebook. “Too depressing. I’m not writing about heartbreak or sad girls with commitment issues. I’ve got enough of that in real life.”

She didn’t stop you as you turned to a fresh page, clicking your own pen open with purpose. “Let’s try this again.”

You started scribbling, words forming in fast, slanted loops.

Two characters. Childhood friends who lost touch. One returns unexpectedly. Maybe there’s a stupid school festival involved. Maybe someone’s in denial. Maybe they’re both idiots, and it takes a whole novella of almosts before anything actually happens.

You glanced sideways to find Ellie watching your hand move. She didn’t interrupt. She was staring like she was trying to match the rhythm of your pen to the shape of your thoughts.

You paused, tapping the page. “This is better.”

Ellie tilted her head. “Friends to lovers?”

You nodded. “Less depressing. More yearning.”

“Yearning is depressing.”

“It’s a good ache.”

She was quiet for a second, then let out a tiny exhale—somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “Alright,” she murmured. “Let’s write something stupid and soft.”

Ellie took the pen from your hand without asking and leaned over the notebook again, brow furrowed in thought. You didn’t say anything. You just watched her as she wrote—quiet, focused, occasionally pausing to tap the pen against her chin. The sunlight from the classroom windows had shifted, painting her in a late afternoon haze of gold and orange. It softened the sharp lines of her face, caught in the ends of her lashes and the auburn strands slipping from her hoodie.

She looked like a photograph that could blur if you stared too long.

The bell finally rang, loud and abrupt. Ms. Alvarez raised her voice over the sudden scrape of chairs and chattering students, tossing out reminders about deadlines and word count minimums. Nobody listened.

Ellie shut the notebook with a quiet thud and began gathering her things, slipping the sketchpad into her bag and adjusting the strap of her guitar case. You stood, grabbing your own bag from the desk and sliding your phone from your skirt pocket out of habit.

Your fingers unlocked the screen before you could stop them, eyes drifting to your last message to E. Still no reply. You stared at it for a moment longer than you meant to. The bubble of words just sitting there. Unanswered.

You let out a breath, sharp and quiet, then turned to Ellie just as she slung the guitar over her shoulder.

“By the way,” you said, holding your phone out toward her, “I need your number.”

She glanced at you, nodded, and took your phone without a word. Her fingers moved fast, thumb flying across the screen before she handed it back and silently offered her own. You typed yours in, quick and neat, and gave it back with a nod.

The room was already half-empty, filled with leftover noise and footsteps in the hall.

You walked out, phone back in your hand, your thumb instinctively brushing over the screen. You opened your messages again.

Still nothing.

Your eyes stayed on it as you moved with the current of students spilling into the hallway—sunlight flickering across lockers and tile. You didn’t notice when Ellie fell in step beside you until she asked, casually, like it was nothing.

“You waiting for someone to text you back?” Ellie said as she walked past, not even slowing down.

You blinked, glancing up—but she was already a few steps ahead, her guitar slung over her back and her hoodie pulled up.

You didn’t answer. You looked down at your phone again, just as a message from E lit up your screen.

Your chest tightened with that familiar tug—the kind you only ever felt with her.

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#isabelckl #ellie williams #ellie williams x fem reader #tlou ellie #ellie fanfic #nerd ellie #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #friends to lovers #eventual smut #loser ellie #wlw #lesbian #ellie the last of us #the last of us #ellie williams fanfiction

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melimausl · 2 months ago

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I love nerdy losers

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boricuasirena25 · 4 months ago

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cute little painfully nerdy 2000s ellie williams x popular bimbo fem reader part 3

since yall hornballs wanted smut so badly 🙄

cw : smut, public sex in class, degradation, ellie’s horny fantasies, wet dreams, plot twist kinda

the bell rings. you don’t rush to your seat—you never do. you glide in late like always, cherry gum in your mouth, tight hot pink juicy couture velour zip up barley zipped up with your black lacy VS push up bra peeking through. a boy stares. you don’t care. you’re too busy reapplying your gloss with your middle finger.

ellie sees you before you see her, she recognizes your heavy, dreamy scent of the love spell body spray from 5 miles away.

she’s already at her desk, hood up, legs bouncing under the table like she’s got an energy drink in her bloodstream. which, honestly? she probably does. her fingers are smudged with pencil and her notebooks half open, little doodles of swords and boobs peeking through the lined paper. she’s not ready. for anything.

mr. brooks clears his throat.

“alright, students. group projects. DNA replication and genetic variation. pages 94 through 99. picked your partners for you.”

groans ripple across the room. you roll your eyes, zoning out as he goes on to list random pairs of students in the class… “david and rebecca, ashley and karen, adrian and braxton, becky and jared-“ then suddenly.

“y/n and… ellie.”

you look up from your manicured hands in your lap instantly, silence. you make a disgusted look. brows furrowed, lips pouted.

but ellie? she jerks in her seat like someone pulled a string in her back. her eyes snap up and lock on you, wide behind her crooked-ass glasses. her whole face goes red—forehead, ears, even her damn neck. she freezes. then immediately starts fumbling with her the spirals on her notebook, like she thinks if she looks busy enough, maybe you’ll ignore her.

you don’t.

you sigh heavily as you take your time walking over, swinging your hips just enough to make two boys whisper. you drop your bag next to her desk. she looks at it like it’s a bomb.

you sit down.

“so,” you say, voice flat, bored, already annoyed. “you gonna write the whole thing or just f*ck yourself to it?”

she chokes. like physically chokes, hand flying to her chest, eyes bugging out. she tries to answer, fails, tries again, and somehow makes it worse.

“i—i don’t—i wasn’t—f*ck mysel-?—no—what—”

you stare. blow a bubble. let it pop, then giggle in her face.

her face is ruined. her mouth opens and closes like a fish. she looks like she wants to die. and then crawl under the desk. and then die again.

you lean in, just a little, enough for your perfume to hit her nose.

“i still remember that sketchbook from last week by the way.”

ellie flinches.

“i wasn’t—you know.. it’s for anatomy,” she blurts, which makes no sense, and she knows it. “not like, your—i didn’t mean your anatomy, just—like—the concept of anatomy, which, like, technically—f*ck—”

you tilt your head.

ellie covers her face with her hands and groans, long and low, like she’s in pain.

“do you touch yourself to those with your hoodie on, or do you take it off to set the mood?”

“please,” she whispers. “please shut up.”

you giggle again, soft and wicked.

adrian—your adrian—is three rows in front of y’all, hearing the whole thing. you haven’t even acknowledged him since class started either.

ellie peeks through her fingers. she’s twitchy. sweaty. miserable. and when you pull your chair closer, she damn near leaps out of her skin.

“we’re gonna get an A,” you hum, dragging her open textbook toward you. “you’re gonna do all the work. and you’re gonna keep your nasty little sketchbook zipped up tight.”

she nods. small. frail.

“say ‘yes, ma’am.’”

“…yes, ma’am.”

you smile. pop another bubble.

this is gonna be fun.

ellie keeps her eyes locked on the textbook. she hasn’t spoken in five minutes. not since the “yes, ma’am.” her handwriting’s shaking. her cheeks are red. her hoodie sleeves are halfway over her fingers again, clenched tight like she’s praying.

you lean back in your seat, legs spread just a little wider, flipping your hair over your shoulder. her eyes flicker for a second—just a second—to the inside of your thigh under the desk.

you catch it.

“are you even paying attention?” you ask, fake sweet. “or are you too busy trying not to cum in your boxers?”

her pencil snaps in half.

“i’m—i’m paying attention,” she mumbles, head down, the tips of her ears red like she’s been slapped. “mitosis. cell cycle. S-phase. DNA replication. i—i know it.”

you hum. press your knee against hers under the desk. she jerks back like she’s been shocked. you look down at her shaky hand on the table. long, twitchy fingers. drum and guitar callused.

slowly, you reach out. grab her wrist. guide it down.

“wh—what are you—” she tries to pull away, but she’s weak. pathetic. you’re stronger. meaner. so much prettier. you press her hand against your bare thigh, just above the hem of your skirt. warm skin. smooth. soft.

she stops breathing.

“f*ck,” she whispers, wide-eyed, voice cracking. “you—you can’t—i’ll f*cking—”

you don’t let go.

“don’t be a p*ssy,” you murmur, eyes half-lidded. “it’s just a little skin, right? nothing you haven’t seen in your nasty little sketches.”

her fingers twitch.

you push her hand higher. just a little.

the edge of your thong peeks out. she squeezes her eyes shut, like she can block it out. but her fingers stay.

shaking. burning. gripping your thigh like it’s keeping her alive. ellie whimpers.

you smile, slow and wicked and keep her hand right where it is. she doesn’t move at first.

your fingers are still around her wrist, soft but firm, like a leash she doesn’t want to escape. her palm is pressed flat to your thigh, skin burning hot, nails barely grazing you. you’re looking ahead like nothing’s happening. like you’re so fucking bored. like her hand being between your legs is just part of your routine.

ellie’s brain? completely fried. ‘f*ck. f*ck. f*ck’ she thought.

she doesn’t know where to look. her eyes are flicking between the worksheet and your lip gloss and your thigh and the window and the corner of the floor like any of it will help her not lose it.

her face is flushed. her mouth’s dry. her hoodie’s too hot and her fingers are twitching because all she can think about is—

‘she’s soft. she’s so soft. i can’t—f*ck—i can’t.’

you’re right next to her. in the flesh. warm. sighing softly. looking down, pencil in hand while pretending to read the textbook like her hand isn’t right there.

and now?

her fingers start to move.

slow. slight. like she doesn’t even realize at first. like muscle memory. like her horniness has taken over completely.

she slides the tips up, just a little.

then down.

tiny little strokes. featherlight. testing you. seeing what she can get away with.

you shift in your seat.

press your legs together.

you don’t look at her. but you don’t stop her either.

so she keeps going.

and her heart is slamming in her chest.

she’s so wet in her boxers, her clit becoming a rapid beating second heartbeat to the point it’s actually painful. ellie thinks she might cum just from this.

her fingers dip slightly beneath the curve of your thigh. under the edge of your thong. just barely.

her breath stutters.

you’re wet. not soaked. not dripping. just warm and soft and slightly damp and f*ckf*ck—

she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from groaning. her forehead hits the desk. just for a second. to ground herself.

you look at her finally. say nothing. just smirk. and she knows you know exactly what you’re doing.

she doesn’t say a word. she just keeps stroking.

slow, pathetic, desperate.

and no one can see a thing.

yet, her fingers go still when she feels it. the way your c*nt clenches as she pushes past the edge of your soaked thong.

how easy it is to slip in.

how tight you are. how f*cking warm you are.

like you’ve been waiting.

ellie lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding—shaky, low—and stares at your face like it’s the only thing that matters.

you’re still looking at your notes. like this is nothing.

like her fingers aren’t buried inside you right now, moving slow, dragging against that soft spot she’s imagined so many times her body could do it with her eyes closed.

and it kinda is.

her fingers start working in that perfect rhythm she’s practiced—on herself, in the dark, in the shower, during her breakdowns after seeing you in a mini skirt.

she curls them just right.

presses deep.

slides out slick and slow, then back in, faster.

you twitch.

your thighs shift.

but you don’t look at her.

and that’s what makes her lose it.

“f*ck,” she whispers. her head is down, lips barely moving. “you’re gonna make me cum in my f*ckin’ boxers, sh*t.”

you don’t flinch. you just turn the page in the textbook, lip caught between your teeth.

ellie’s eyes flicker to your mouth.

her fingers thrust deeper. faster. the sound is obscene but muffled by the low hum of the class, the hum of the lights, the buzz of old ac.

“this p*ssy’s so f*ckin’ warm,” she whispers, voice cracked. “you’re gonna—geez—you’re gonna ruin me.”

you pulse around her. her legs shake.

she’s gritting her teeth. trying not to grunt. trying not to moan.

“can’t believe i get to finger you in bio,” she breathes, nose brushing your shoulder. “you’re so mean to me—so f*ckin’ mean—and you’re so wet. you like this? letting the loser do this to you?”

your pencil scratches across the paper like nothing’s happening.

you’re breathing harder now. lips parted. eyes still down.

but your hips start moving—tiny little rocks forward against her fingers—and that’s when ellie knows you’re close.

she curves them deep, presses her palm against your clit, and starts pumping harder.

you clamp your thighs.

grip the edge of your worksheet.

swallow a whimper.

“good f*ckin’ girl,” she mutters, barely audible. “take it. just take it. i’ll make you cum so hard you won’t walk to 5th period.”

and you?

you turn your head just slightly.

lips brush her ear.

“then do it, perv.”

ellie’s gone. she’s imagined this so many times. in her sketchbook. in the shower. in her f*cking dreams.

you sitting on her lap, whispering in her ear, your lip gloss smearing on her neck, your tits bouncing while you ride her neon green strap—

you calling her a freak while grinding on her face—

you licking her fingers while sitting on her bed like a brat—

suddenly, she jerks awake with a sharp inhale, eyes wide, hoodie tangled around her arms, face flushed, sheets kicked off the bed.

her room’s still dark, lit only by the faint glow of her lava lamp and the blinking red light of her PS3. her sketchbook’s open next to her—flipped to a half-finished drawing of you sitting on her lap with your thong around one ankle.

her hand’s still in her boxers.

and yeah… they’re soaked.

disgusting. tragic. predictable.

ellie groans. drags her forearm over her face like it’ll wipe the sin away. mutters to herself.

“f*ck”

her voice cracks. she rolls onto her back, staring at the popcorn textured ceiling. her stomach flips. her hips twitch.

and suddenly she’s grinding her hand into her boxers again—again—because the image won’t leave her brain.

your face when you bit your lip.

your whisper in her ear.

your p*ssy squeezing her fingers like it needed her.

it’s too bad this is one of them. just another one of her pathetic dreams.

taglist : @deliciouslydeviantsatan, @valeisaslut, @dollinrehab, @l0veylace, @velvetinkbym, @liztreez, @elliesgffrfr, @sleepingwasp, @brooks-lin, @lovelessswan, @cherrylipsmakerss, @shookkatofthat, @mars4hellokitty, @jaydonisnothere, @ellieslittleslutt, @pussyeatercunt, @livvietalks, @angelsglitch, @robiceps, @lesb4ellie, @sparkle-jump-rope-queen, @sweet-anonyme, @mylettterstoyou, @pinkpigtailedjoy, @pink7princess, @nahcala, @mascspleasegetmepregnant, @sincerlykelsss

lmk if uu wanna be added. :)

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jaeyuniversal · 2 months ago

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nonsense - s.jy

pairing: loser shy tutor!sim jaeyun x outgoing tutee fem!reader

synopsis: you're loud, confident, and a little too good at making shy boys squirm. your only issue is you’ve always hated physics—until you meet your painfully shy tutor, jake sim. he’s awkward, brilliant, and blushes every time you call him cute. so naturally, you flirt. hard. at first, he stammers and short-circuits, but as study sessions stack up, jake starts to change. maybe it’s the way you lean a little too close or how he starts to flirt back (badly, but adorably).

featuring: jake sim of enhypen n maki from &team!!

genre: college au fluff!!!

warnings: jake has his first kiss, making-out?? kind of. a bit of jealousy, jake is just a super cute loser. lowercase intended ◡̈

playlist: nonsense by sabrina carpenter & soft spot by keshi

wc: 2.411k

a/n: i fear i will ride the loser jake wave forever! i love nerdy men <3 btw this is not proofread...

you’ve always hated physics.

not because you didn’t get it — okay, maybe a little because of that — but mostly because it was boring. theories and forces and laws. rinse and repeat. you weren’t failing physics. not exactly.

you were, however, spending an uncomfortable amount of time squinting at your textbook wondering how the hell you’d gone from memorizing song lyrics in under a minute to barely remembering newton’s third law. you told yourself it wasn’t that bad. then your lab partner dropped out, and your professor kindly suggested that you “seek out support.”

support came in the form of jake sim.

quiet. polite. a little too handsome for his own good. glasses-wearing, formula-spouting jake, with a habit of ducking his head when people talked too loudly. you’d seen him around campus before — usually alone, sometimes reading while walking (impressive), always in a hoodie two sizes too big, and baggy jeans that he almost steps on.

you’d think he was popular, but those thick framed glasses always resting on his perfect nose made you think otherwise.

your meet-cute wasn’t the typical coffee-spill-and-eye-contact thing. it happened last semester, during an elective you were both in: intro to astronomy. you’d been running late one day, flustered and frantic, only one seat left in the lecture hall. next to him. you took it.

he didn’t even glance up.

not until halfway through the class, when you leaned over and whispered, “sorry if i’m invading your orbit.”

he looked at you like he didn’t get the joke. (he didn’t.)

but later that day, you got an anonymous compliment on the university confessions page. “to the girl who sat next to me in astronomy and said something about orbits… you kind of wrecked mine.”

you knew it was him. and you never forgot.

───

“you don’t have to hover,” jake mumbled, eyes focused on the problem set in front of him.

“i’m not hovering. i’m observing… like a particle. you know, in motion.”

“that’s not… how particles work.”

you smiled to yourself. “i was hoping you'd say that.”

he flushed immediately. jake didn’t handle flirting well. hell, he had never even felt the touch of a woman, nevertheless flirted with one.

you’d learned this by session two. if you got too close, he got tongue tied. if you complimented him, he’d practically glitch. it was fascinating. like a physics experiment, but cuter.

“what happens when you apply an external force to a closed system?” you asked, tapping your pencil.

he looked up slowly, suspicious. “depends on the force.”

you leaned in, gaze playful. “what if it’s me?”

he froze.

“y/n,” he said quietly, “you’re not even trying to learn right now.”

“that’s where you’re wrong, mr. sim.” you leaned back in your chair, spinning your pencil between your fingers. “i’ve been learning a lot.”

he narrowed his eyes, skeptical but intrigued. “like what?”

you met his gaze, serious now. “like how you pretend you didn’t notice me in astronomy last semester. even though you did.”

jake stiffened. his pen slipped from his fingers and rolled across the table.

“i—i didn’t—how did you—”

“i recognized your handwriting,” you said softly. “from the confession post.”

his face went scarlet.

you tilted your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “you called me orbit girl.”

jake looked like he wanted to disappear into the earth’s mantle. “i didn’t think you saw that.”

“i did. i screenshotted it.” you shrugged casually, then added, “still have it.”

he looked like you’d just told him you’d been keeping a shrine in your closet. but beneath the panic, something else flickered — hope, maybe?

“…why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

and there it was. the plot twist.

you dropped your eyes to your notebook, fingers idly brushing a corner.

“i was going to,” you said. “but you never talked to me again. i figured you weren’t interested.”

jake looked stunned. like he’d just missed the punchline to his own joke.

“no! i mean– um…i wasn’t not interested,” he said quickly. “i just didn’t think someone like you would ever…”

“what?” you said, raising a brow. “flirt with their physics tutor?”

jake swallowed hard. “like me back.”

there was a beat of silence. you reached across the table, nudging his pen back toward him.

“you’re cute when you’re nervous, jake” he blushed and wrapped up the tutoring session, brain too flustered to continue talking about his second favorite subject (you’re his favorite).

───

you asked around for jake’s number which proved to be very difficult.

no one had it.

so, you did the only thing you could think of. you went to every cafe within a 15 mile radius of your campus, hoping to find the shy boy.

your mission to find him ended up taking longer than anticipated, misjudging how many cafe’s surrounded decelis. you’ve been to 23 and counting, not once finding the fluffy haired boy with glasses way too big for his adorable face.

as you walk into the twenty-fourth cafe, you think you see him. striped shirt, slightly messy brown hair, around 5’9ish. you walk up to him, tapping on his shoulder when someone behind you calls your name.

“y/n?”

you whip your head around to be met with those big, dark hazel eyes you adored so much.

his plump, heart-shaped lips were wrapped around the straw of his green grape ade, softly biting the plastic. his head was strewn to the side, resembling a golden retriever.

“i found you!” you happily cheered as you made your way to the little table he was at.

“f-found me? were you… looking? for me?” he stuttered which made you giggle.

you fondly smiled at him, “yeah. i was.”

after you ordered an iced mocha, you guys sat in a comfortable silence until you spoke.

“so,” you said, stirring whipped cream into your drink, “what’s a physics genius like you doing tutoring me when you could be dating someone who understands quantum mechanics?”

jake almost spat out his coffee.

you smiled sweetly. “kidding. kind of.”

“i—i don’t think I’m a genius,” he mumbled. “and I’m not — uh — dating anyone.”

“oh, i know,” you said casually, resting your chin on your hand. “campus gossip moves fast.”

jake’s eyes widened. “wait — what do you mean? what gossip? about me?”

you laughed. “relax, jake. you’re just a bit of a mystery. tall, soft spoken, brainy, never goes to parties. people notice.”

he stared at you like you’d told him he was famous.

you sipped your drink and shrugged. “i noticed.”

the cup trembled in his hand.

“…thanks?” he said, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.

you leaned forward. “you say that like you don’t believe me.”

jake’s mouth opened, then closed again.

he was still trying to respond when the barista called out your name, signaling your pastries were ready. you winked at him on the way up and when you turned back, he was still watching you, straw halfway to his mouth, like he couldn’t believe any of this was real.

───

you had your feet up on the seat across from you, swinging gently as you skimmed your notes. jake sat across from you, hoodie sleeves shoved up to his elbows, manspreading with his textbook open on his lap.

you knew what you were doing when you stretched, your shirt riding up slightly as you leaned across the table to reach a pencil. you knew jake saw. his eyes darted down and back up so fast it was like a reflex.

“everything okay?” you asked sweetly.

“fine!” he said, voice three octaves too high. “great. normal. yup.”

you laughed, tossing your pen down. “you know, if we were measuring awkward tension in this room, we’d have to switch to the richter scale.”

jake groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “why are you like this?”

“because it’s fun watching you short-circuit.”

he peeked at you through his fingers, a lopsided grin starting to form. “you’re evil.”

“i prefer charming.’”

there was a beat of silence. then, softly—

“you are.”

your smile faltered. just for a second. “what?”

jake met your eyes, cheeks still flushed but voice steady. “charming.”

you blinked. it was the first time he’d said something like that without tripping over his own tongue.

“…jake sim,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “are you flirting with me?”

he shrugged — shrugged — with fake nonchalance. “maybe.”

you stared at him.

he stared back.

and then — his pencil rolled off the table and he smacked his head on the edge trying to catch it.

“still me,” he groaned, face down on the table. “still a loser.”

you couldn’t help it. you laughed so hard you nearly fell out of your chair. he was cute and adorably clumsy. exactly. your type.

───

the next session, you came in with your usual confidence. playful comments. flirty glances.

but jake didn’t fold this time. (immediately).

in fact, when you were about to lean over to grab his calculator, he reached past you and did it first. smooth. like he was testing you.

“looking for this?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “who are you and what have you done with jake?”

he smiled — cocky, but still nervous. “maybe i’m learning.”

you tilted your head. “is this some physics thing? like, building resistance?”

“more like acceleration,” he said softly. “you keep pushing. i’m picking up speed.”

you stared at him.

he immediately panicked. “i mean — not in a creepy way — i just meant—”

you cut him off with a smirk. “careful, jake. you flirt like you solve equations — painfully accurate.”

he blushed again, but this time, he didn’t back away. instead, he looked at you for a long moment, then leaned in a little, just enough to make your breath catch.

“you said once that you noticed me before,” he murmured.

“yeah,” you said slowly.

he smiled, shy and genuine. “i think i’ve been noticing you for a lot longer.”

you forgot how to breathe for a second.

and then he bumped your knee under the table, awkward as ever. “anyway, we should… probably go over magnetic fields now.”

you grinned, heart racing. “god, you’re such a loser.”

“your loser,” he said quietly.

and somehow, that was the smoothest line of all.

───

the tutoring session was going fine.

that is, until maki showed up.

you were in the library lounge, halfway through a problem on thermodynamics, when a voice interrupted.

“y/n?”

you looked up. riki maus (known as maki). same year, tall, charming, objectively hot in that annoying way that made girls forgive him for talking through labs.

“hey,” you said, blinking. “didn’t know you were on this floor.”

jake went completely still next to you, pen frozen mid-equation.

maki barely glanced at him. “i was just heading out, but i had to say hi. you doing okay with physics? i tutor sometimes too, you know.”

jake’s grip on his pen tightened.

“oh?” you asked, amused. “you tutor now?”

maki shrugged. “not officially. but i could make time. for you.”

you opened your mouth, ready to tease him back, but jake’s voice cut in first.

“she already has a tutor.”

maki blinked, like he’d just noticed him. “right. sim, yeah? you’re in physics lab.”

“yeah,” jake said, still quiet, but there was an edge now. “i’ve got it covered.”

you turned to jake, brows lifting slightly. was he… tense?

maki grinned. “no offense, man, but i’ve heard tutoring y/n is more like surviving her. you sure you can handle it?”

jake stood.

you blinked. jake stood.

he was taller than you remembered. towering over maki, still in his soft hoodie and baggy jeans, but standing like something had clicked. like a switch had flipped.

“i can handle her,” he said, voice even. “better than anyone else.”

maki raised his hands. “okay. chill, bro.”

he gave you one last glance and walked off.

you looked up at jake. he was still standing, chest rising and falling like he was trying to keep it together.

“jake?”

his eyes met yours. there was something in them you hadn’t seen before. something fierce.

“do you like him?” he asked.

you frowned. “maki? god, no.”

he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. stepped closer.

“because i don’t like seeing guys like that flirt with you.”

you tilted your head, heart starting to pick up. “jealousy doesn’t suit you, sim.”

“i know,” he said quietly. “but you do.”

and then he kissed you.

you didn’t expect it. not from him. not like this.

not with his hand cradling your cheek so gently it made your heart ache, not with the way his lips pressed to yours like he’d been waiting for this moment for weeks — months — forever.

your breath caught. he was warm. steady. his lips moved with surprising confidence, slow at first, then deeper, more certain as you kissed him back.

his other hand found your waist, pulled you in, grounded you. like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.

your fingers curled in his hoodie, body leaning into his. he tilted his head just slightly and kissed you like a man who had solved the formula for gravity and decided to fall anyway.

wanting to deepen the kiss, you moved your thumb to his jaw, signaling him to open his mouth wider.

he (hopefully) got the hint and slowly but surely slotted his tongue right against yours. he wanted to memorize every part of you and figured he should start with your mouth.

it was as if your lips and tongues moved in perfect synchronization. like puzzle pieces.

when he finally pulled back, it was only enough to rest his forehead against yours.

you both stood there, catching your breath.

“…wow” you said, dazed. “what the hell, sim.”

he stared at you. blinked. once. twice. “w-was it okay? did i — do it wrong?”

silence.

he spoke again, “that was kinda.. my first — um — my first kiss…”

you let out a disbelieving laugh. “what do you mean that was your first kiss??? you kissed me like you’ve been rehearsing it in your dreams.”

he looked away. shy. “…maybe i have.”

you narrowed your eyes. “wait. have you?”

he winced. “that was a joke.”

it was silent for a hot minute.

“…mostly. i—i never really get close to pretty girls because i don’t— well i don’t go out. so. um. yeah…”

you grabbed his hoodie and pulled him closer until your lips were right in front of his plush ones. “stop speaking nonsense and kiss me again, sim.”

he didn’t hesitate. just smiled at you and slammed your lips on his. he kissed you like he was finally where he belonged.

and maybe he was.

because nerdy physics tutors?

yeah. they might know the laws of motion — but now he knew what it felt like to crash into you.

please reblog if you enjoyed this cute lil fic ! it helps a lot <3

[ @jaeyuniversal ] prod. 250508

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rooniearts · 4 months ago

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hi you're like, the first person ive seen who also headcanons Silver as having hearing loss. as somebody with otosclerosis, it's really meaningful to see someone else share this and even create art for it! thank you so so so much!!!

WAHHHHHH i'm gonna cry that's so sweet ;;;; i'm so glad you get joy out of my projecting onto the silly lil hedgehog guy <3

#sth #sth fanart #silver the hedgehog #roonie answers #roonies doodles #i love the idea that blaze knows him so well that she knows the exact moment he struggles with hearing something #it makes me bawlllll aUUHHHH #i still subscribe to the idea that blaze thinks espios a giant nerd a d loser #but thats HER loser's favourite loser and she is NOT about to ruin that for him

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blueinnewyork · 7 months ago

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★⋆. MATT STURNIOLO P! LINKS

ⓘ 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌， 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽．

dilf! matt when he had to get ready for work but you looked so cute sleeping (somno)

dilf! matt with milf! wife not wasting any second as soon as the kids went to sleep

married dilf! matt with doll! babysitter (cheating)

munch! matt being chronically obsessed with having chubby! gf ride his face

munch! matt thats sick but only needs one type of medicine

loser! matt with popular!tutee on valentine’s day

big dick! matt is for the chubby girls btw.

dilf matt after seeing babydoll! gf in a skirt he bought her.

big dick! loser! matt getting experience from slightly chubby! bsf

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pink7princess · 3 months ago

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a stupid study sesh?

losery nerd!abby learns from a spoiled femcheerleader!reader a different lesson.

┊͙ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ content: reader is blinded by angry disgust (confused horniness) :3 to realize she has a fat crush on this losery nerd, abigail anderson. after a few flirty exchanges/teasing by reader during a study sesh, it leads to sneaky sex..fingering (r!receiving,) top-ish!abby + almost getting caught!!? cute bittersweet ending :3

┊͙ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ author's note: the characters are over 18 dw :P,,,smart girls are so underrated...intelligence is so sexy??! i love nerdy abby sm, anyways i made dis shit super long…sorry man…but enjoy!!

abby arrived at your house. it was an April evening, meaning—it was finally warming up. you chill on your bed, window open with the cool breeze as the sun sets, every pink object in your cute room glimmering. you scroll on pinterest, petting your pet cat. she purrs, loving your familiar aroma. life is good, you’re freshly showered, cute pj set on and hair blow dried all cute. you sigh, throwing your phone beside you, deciding you want a snack. you hop off your silky bed and make your way down the hall to the stairs. as you reach the bottom, the doorbell rings. damn it. she actually came. your mom signed you up in the tutoring club at school because of your flunking grades caused by cheerleading. backpack full with textbooks slung over her broad shoulder—braid all tidy and flannel snug and well buttoned up. your mom sets down whatever she's cooking and scurries from the kitchen to the door. she creaks open the door, "hello—?" abby inhales sharply, adjusting her posture, standing tall with a friendly smile. her glasses awkwardly sit half way down her nose and with a little push of her thick fingers, she adjusts them, "I'm here to help—uhm.." abby looks in, catching your frozen frame suddenly turning, hair bouncing and socks sliding, attempting to sneak back up the stairs.

"Oh! You must be Abigail! Come inside!" your mom grins widely, waving a hand sweetly forward. abby steps inside, her huge stature and boots creaking the wooden floor, "Missy! Get back here!" your mom laughs, glancing over at you with a playful glare. defeated, you walk down dejectedly with a groan.

a scowl forms on your face as you walk up to abby. her physique is insane. an absolute tank. you avoid her eyes because for some reason…she pisses you off. your mom speaks, "Snacks are in that pantry, water is near—“ she continues talking expressively, the classic overexaggerated hand movements a mother would use as she's simply giving abby the run of the house. abby seems only to be half-listening as you catch her gaze flicker to your pajamas. fuck, your cheeks flush. your lacey tank top with the cursive writing of "bossy" hugs your figure in an alluring way. it's accompanied with your cute cleavage showing... you nod, turning to your mom, attempting to agree with whatever the hell she was saying. your own eyes gawk at abby's arms and thighs. shit—you realize abby's eyes linger to your bottom half, your pretty short shorts and plump thighs. you nervously push your hair behind your ear, glancing at your mom.

you could tell abby's taking in your body from how she inhales roughly, trying to snap out of it. abby accidentally catches a whiff of your intoxicating perfume and hair heat protector... shit, this was a bad idea.

"I'll leave you girls to it!" your mom rests a hand on abby's shoulder, making her jerk to reality, "and—Welcome Abigail. Hope you can help this silly dork study well for her math test tomorrow!" your mother chuckles adorably as she walks back to the kitchen, pace quick to check what was in the oven. both you and abby watch as she leaves, the air is so thick, making it hard to think.

you turn to abby, eyebrows furrowing. you grow angry for how she makes you feel. your cheeks burn. her—this fucking quiet loser who reads during class 24/7, hangs out with other gym rats & lame nerds, eats alone at lunch with her nose buried in her sketchbook and watches your cheer practices with her stem homework on her lap, is standing in your house right now.

wait—you wince at your own words realizing how...bad you feel for her. ugh-what? you hardly speak to her. abby has only ever exchanged more than a billion glances with you for like ever. but, the way she looks at you can tell a whole story. her gorgeous blue eyes, fierce eyebrows and soft lips. she seems so mysterious. honestly, someone that pretty shouldn't seem so alone all the time. what? yuck-! she's just a pathetic nerd! you’re a popular cheerleader. you blink with an irate swallow. abby stares down at you, her voice gently rude, "studying for a math test isn't that fucking bad," she sighs disappointedly, shaking her head, "wipe that dumb frown off your face, come on." abby rolls her eyes, pushing past you, her strong arm brushing against your chest as leads herself up the stairs.

your mouth gapes in confusion with how she somehow brushes you off. you. a super hot cheerleader in the flesh! you, baffled, follow pursuit, your socked feet padding on the stairs. abby is already walking down the hall, entering you room. "hey-!" you whine, catching up, suddenly embarrassed about her seeing everything in your room.

she steps inside.

the pink walls covered with white & pink posters of your interests, stuffed animals cover your bed, makeup scattered all over your vanity—beside it, a huge mirror decorated with pictures of yourself and friends.

your cat yawns, suddenly noticing abby, meowing at her tiredly. she squeaks over, hopping off the bed, greeting abby with face rub on her calf. abby looks so out of place. but—somehow...she looks really good in here. the contrast makes your heartbeat flutter. you kinda… like it. what—ew!? her? out of everyone…? well… abby looks over her shoulder at you, her voice making your cheeks heat up, "she's so cute. what a pretty cat."

you fluster, your mind racing at the stupid innuendo and the way she simply looks. abby’s strong nose is so attractive. fuck, you never really noticed, or—never took the time to look at her since the fact she won half the academic awards in the school always made you fume. you hated how smart she was. you didn’t even really understand why that was. but—that random dirty thought confused you, making your thighs rub together. why the fuck did i distort a simple sentence? you shake your head with a giggle, "t-thanks."

abby steps towards your vanity, setting her bag down on the frilly seat, her strong hand gripping the bag handle tightly, "you mind if I put this here?" your breath catches in your throat as you nod anxiously, "yeah-sure, that's okay." you sigh, feeling overwhelmed with the ache in your stomach. you close your eyes, walking over to your bed.

"grab your textbook and notebook, okay?" she softly asks, her demeanor seemingly calm. turning her back to you, she rummages through her bag, discreetly glancing at you one last time—eyes taking you in, shyly. you roll your eyes at her words. you're alone and she wants to do math? fuck no. wait, what?

you hop on the edge, laying back, rubbing your eyes as you try to assess your noisy brain.

this nerdy hunk is in your room right now.

you sit up abruptly, eyes wide at your own words. this nerdy...WHAT? you blink at your thoughts, staring down at your short painted nails now on your lap. abby's rummaging through her backpack for a pencil and eraser. hmm. i mean...she doesn't actually seem that losery. she seems to take care of herself. you glance up at her, her physique clearly being taken care of. abby’s back is turned to you. shoulders beefy and neck strong. god, you rest your eyes shut, thinking. shit...her back is kinda...hot. fuck.

she works out, you know that—you've seen her exercise. sometimes, in the early mornings when you go to the gym, you catch her there all the time and maybe you go extra early on certain days just to see her, her sweaty face and neck, body always in a compress shirt, a drastic comparison to her flannels and casual t-shirts.

damn. you bite your lip, reminiscing. man, has she always been this hot? hmm.

"hey." abby's standing in front of you, her voice making you jump and eyes shoot open. she looks down at you with an agitated glare, "come on." her head nods to your desk, your notebooks and textbooks sitting all messily. your breathing relaxes as you smell her pine cologne. god, she's actually so...handsome.

you raise an eyebrow at her. “abby.”

your voice hitches, realizing you’ve never really ever spoken to her. or even said her nickname everyone calls her. it feels weird.

“what?” she sighs, handing you a pencil. “can we work?” her head cocks to the side, annoyed, resting her weight on one hip.

you got all her attention. talking to her for the first time. well damn. you decide to...play around a bit. because fucking hell, this hunk is in your room.

and she's hot.

you don’t like her because she is hot for a nerd.

shit, you wanna know what she tastes like.

you shake your head no.

abby's eyes squint with confusion, a look of disgust crosses her face, "what do you mean, no?" abby's voice is stern.

you smile mischievously, tilting your head, changing the subject, “what do you do for fun?" you lay back on your elbows, sighing, feeling more confident because you know how timid she is. you know your tits rest teasingly because from her angle—they must look so good.

"what-?" she chokes with a chuckle. you bite your lip with a sing-song voice, "answer me."

"i'm not here to discuss silly hobbies." abby groans, looking away, rubbing her neck, nervously, “i volunteered to help you study.”

your grin grows, need growing. slowly, you lift your foot, resting it on her thigh teasingly.

"how much can you bench?" you laugh sensually, staring up at her through batted eyelashes. abby's face softens as she raises an eyebrow at the caress, glancing between you and your leg.

“a lot, right?" you ask under your breath, huskily with cheeky grin. abby's gentle eyes glow glassy with curiosity.

"y-yeah," abby stutters as her eyes bore across your body, her frame uneasy. she rubs her shoulder, embarrassed. a girl has never talked to her this long.

abby doesn’t talk to girls that much.

because...there’s only one girl on her fucking mind.

your scent. your face. your smile. ugh. she can get a fucking toothache thinking about how sweet your laughter is.

abby's watches your silly cheer practices for a reason.

she’s alone in a room with you, trying to be this chill calm person…but—she’s freaking out in her head wildly at your outfit.

fuck, she volunteered for a reason.

unbeknownst to you, abby’s been in love with you for years.

her hearts aches every time she sees you with that gang of popular kids, wishing, she was amongst them.

when she reads, she’s always stealing glances at you, daydreaming about you and her being the main love interests in her romance books.

when she hangs out with her stupid gymrat friends, all she talks about is you. her friends always give advice on how to talk to you! although, abby ignores half of it because she's scared of even looking at you...

when she sketches during lunch, she’s illustrating nature that reminds her of you. writing poems about you. drawing your features.

when she sits at the stands during your practice, she loves hearing your giggle as she completes her insane calculus equations, admiring your charming playfulness as you play around with your friends.

there are days where she wishes she could talk to you.

abby hates how different you are. how you hang out with those shitty jocks and those snakey motherfuckers in cheer.

she sits alone at lunch and fucking daydreams about you walking over.

abby loves working out for a reason. it calms her nerves because, shit—it’s better than crying for hours about how she’s incapable of simply approaching you.

abby knows how sweet your soul is. she knows beneath that mean exterior, when you're with the right people, you shine. she watches you from afar, constantly feeling like a creep. she’s a little ashamed.

worst of all—she hates every stupid boy that speaks to you.

like during valentine’s day, abby was so tempted to buy you flowers, leaving them on your desk with a handwritten letter confessing her love.

but…when rumor spread you already had a valentine, she felt empty.

abby wants you. wants to hold you by the waist. wants to hold hands as you walk to class.

…so naturally, when she heard this opportunity of helping you for the end of the year, she took it!

abby’s got a chance of getting to introduce herself before the year finishes and before college starts...she only reasoned you could bond over the summer.

fuck, her heart swooned imagining being in a room with you.

alone.

abby’s face contorts into anxious interest because—you're enchanting. god, laying beneath her like this...in this piece of clothing? her mouth goes fucking dry. she licks her lips swiftly, eyes scanning your angelic features. she attempts to play it cool as if her fucking underwear, boy shorts, aren’t getting moist. shit, this is her wet dream.

of course abby fantasizes about fucking you.

she becomes so bright red imagining it—eating you out in the locker room…fingering you in the bathroom...and her favorite—strapping you in her bedroom late at night.

even if she gets a glance from you during class when she’s ovulating…

her shy nature is quite drastic from her thoughts.

she’s pretty fucking kinky.

loving the idea of public sex to bondage.

she always brushes it off because they’re all fucking fantasies anyway...

abby’s head spins realizing how you know nothing about her but she knows everything about you.

she feels pervy. almost gross how you don’t know what’s going on in her head.

abby gulps heavily, shoulders visibly tensing, thinking about how good you’d taste. her freckled cheeks turn a bright red, attempting to shake off the sudden thoughts.

"you're strong, right?" you mock, your tone sultry. still propped on your elbows, you throw your hair over your shoulder, allowing your cleavage to now be completely visible.

abby nods obediently. you beam widely, eyes fluttering close, devilish smile spreading across your face, "are you a virgin, abigail?" her eyes widen, gaze peering intensely into yours.

"why do you wanna know?" she quietly questions, eyes almost desperate.

"oh...well." you start, rolling your eyes, "from the amount of times you’ve come to watch my cheer practice, I wonder if you've fucked anyone on the team." you chuckle, nonchalantly lean up to sit, pulling up your tank top, bouncing your tits for a second—clearly on purpose.

her gaze bashfully avoids yours, self-conscious, realizing how bad that sounds. she fidgets with a notebook in her hand, mindlessly bending pages, “none of those girls are interested in me.” abby claims pathetically, eyes wandering your walls, “and, i’ve-i’ve never…had sex.” she shamefully admits, ogling at her shoes, then—back at you.

fuck, the way she said she’s never had sex—almost sounds like she’s telling you she wants you as an option.

damn it. you feel your panties dampen from the tension.

“why haven’t you?” you scrunch your nose, kindly taking abby’s hand and guiding her to sit beside you on the bed almost like a lost puppy—she obeys, her huge frame jostling the bed.

shit, abby’s brain is short-circuiting because well—you’ve never been this fucking close. abby is mesmerized by your silky skin and the way your pretty lips move. she’s so pathetically drawn to you.

“i-…” abby begins with a deep breath—however, you suddenly cut her off, leaning in, admiring her gorgeous features, simply inches away,

“you’re so hot, abby. no girl ever wanted to fuck a cute nerd like you?”

abby’s dead silent, mouth gaped, eyes big, miserably tainted by arousal. this entire time she’s been trying to fight it.

…but the way she can smell your breath unlocks a need so vicious inside in her.

your eyes linger to her lips, gaze dropping to take in all of her body. finally—you realize why you hate her.

“ever wanted to get fucked by a cheerleader?” you whisper, a cocky grin on your face, “because i sure as hell wanna get fucked by a nerd like you.” you move forward, hand on her thigh, lips ghosting over hers.

abby holds back a whimper, nodding desperately.

your eyes glaze with lust as you move in, lips gripping hers.

abby practically melts into the kiss, pretty lashes batting shut. fucking hell, she wants to scream and jump around—but all she does is moan gently with a growing grin, savoring your candy-flavored lipgloss.

her hand wraps in your hair, tangling with the softness she’s always wanted to become familiar with. you groan against her plump lips as you feel how roughly her mouth moves against yours.

abby seems so passionate, it's so insanely hot, like—you know you’re getting wetter. abby’s tongue pushes past your lips, exploring your warmth. you moan softly into the kiss, fueling her motives further. her hand holds your waist, gripping your sweet flesh, allowing herself to move on top of you. you fall back gently, lips still grasped like your lives depend on it. you hear abby kick her shoes off, moving further on the bed. she’s above you, caging your body in, you did not know you’d love this as much as you currently are.

you whimper pathetically into her mouth, realizing—maybe hating her all this time was fucking idiotic.

abby, herself, groans into your mouth as she begins frantically unbuttoning her flannel—but first…she takes off her glasses. fuckkkk, nothing has ever turned you on as that just did. she places them on your nightstand as she continues kissing you so harshly, making you feel like you’re suffocating. but fuck—you love how eager she seems. maybe this is perfect. maybe she's perfect. you pant, gently helping abby pull her flannel down her shoulders. your hands move up the white shirt that was beneath her flannel, probing her warm waist.

you were so ridiculous, shit, you could’ve had all this a while ago.

abby grips your head roughly, pulling your hair tightly, cocking your face harshly against hers. the pain makes you wince with a loud moan, smiling against her lips. your soft hands push up abby’s shirt.

she takes the hint and completely pulls it over her head, lips unhooking for a second. as she throws her shirt on the ground, within that second—you miss her. you've never felt like this with anyone. is this what real lust feels like? you lean up towards her, bravely wanting to take the lead and fuck—her warm arms engulf you, pulling you on top of her, making your cheeks glow with excitement. abby’s wearing a pretty white sports bra, the brilliance against her skin makes you desperately want to see what she looks like without it.

however—abby’s hands probe up your shirt. you nervously pull back, “i’m-i’m not wearing a bra.” you flush bright pink, confused why you said that, so what!?!?

you understand suddenly. you're nervous. oh. no one's ever made you this nervous. catching her gaze in the hallway always did.

abby smiles wickedly, “here.” she pulls over her sports bra and it feels like time stops.

shit.

you bite your bottom lip hard, almost drawing blood as you see abby’s small tits fall. you moan softly, eyebrows furrowing at the sudden meal laid in front of you.

you pull your own shirt over your head, blush faltering—becoming more confident from how kind she is. fuck, your tits bounce so perfectly. abby’s eyes become almost become predatory and you swear you saw her pupils dilate. you move up to kiss her again, tits grazing each others, making you quietly bite back a whine,

“good-…” fuck. abby stops herself before she finishes that fucking phrase.

she’s imagined this so many times, it almost slipped out. her heartbeat races harder as she turns shamefully scarlet, anxious eyes searching yours.

you raise an eyebrow, tilting your head with surprise, allured by what she was about to say. your gaze grows teasing—realizing what was to leave her lips.

fuck, you wanna hear her say it. this quiet nerd. shy hunk of a woman. your eyes glow with desire as you whisper sensually, “say it.” you softly bite her bottom lip teasingly, nodding with approval as you begin to kiss down her neck.

“good girl.” she groans roughly, eyes fluttering shut as you suck harshly on her neck.

you begin giving her a hickey she’s always deserved. you suck the skin meanly, making abby whimper. fuck—her hands grip your ass, pulling you closer. the movement of her hands on your thin shorts makes you baffled from how wet you became. she’s exactly your type. you dated jocks. no connection, though. but shit—her, she’s perfect. you smile eagerly against abby’s neck, pulling back.

your eyes, full of need once you see how fucking sexy she looks with a hickey, not a hickey—your hickey.

“fuck, abby, you look so good.” you whimper against her mouth, kissing her once more, craving her sweet spit. suddenly, abby’s strong hands slip down your shorts and panties sharply, the cool air hitting your ass, making you moan into her mouth. her bold move only got you wetter.

one of abby’s big hands moves down your waist, going past your bare ass—her fingers, middle and ring, slip against your sloppy hole.

“mmmmm, can i?” she whispers huskily in your ear, kissing your neck. you nod with a huge smile, pretty eyes closed, ready to savor the feeling. abby’s fingers plunge in so fucking easily from how damn soaked you were. “shit.” she hisses out, feeling how you tight you were.

you bury your face into her bare shoulder, panting with soft groans. your mom is still downstairs. abby's pace is slow but rough. her fingertips graze your g-spot, continuously slamming too well into you. “you feel so good,” she whispers, kissing your bare shoulder.

you lean up, placing your hands on her shoulders. your tits bounce gently as you ride her fingers. she increases the speed at your sexy sounds. you reach forward, gripping your headboard. her fingers stretch you out so fucking good. abby’s pink lips grip one of your puffy hard tits, making you breathily groan harshly, "shit—abby..."

abby grins with a confused expression, she mumbles, “can't believe i'm doing this,” as she sloppily sucks your other tit with a concentration you adore. fuck. your eyes roll back with a whimper, the two sensations driving you crazy.

her fingers pick up speed, suddenly pounding into you, making you gasp sharply.

"f-fuck..." you whine, grinding down on her fingers. one of your hands cheekily make way to her cargo jeans. abby chuckles darkly,

"you wanna?"

you nod desperately, leaning down to swap spit passionately, hands gripping the buttons of abby’s pants, making her kiss you rougher. however, shit—unbeknownst to the two of you, your mom’s coming up the stairs.

a sharp knock silences the room, a cheerful voice outside, “Girls!—“ you both freeze. eyes dead wide. your gaze flickers around, fuck—your panties and shorts are hung to your ankle, you and abby’s shirts on the floor. shit. "It's getting late!—Abigail, you should give me your mom's number so we can arrange playdates!" your mom stupidly chuckles, loving how she still treats you like you're eight.

you shake your head with a nervous gulp. fuck, this is terrible. abby's face is in horror, flickering from your chest, to the door and back up at you, fingers still gently pumping inside you. shit—you bite back a moan, “a-alright! be there in a second!" she stutters, "l-lemme gather my things!" her eyes move back to you, soft and full with displeasure. her eyebrows furrow with regret. your moms footsteps fade away down the stairs.

things were cut short. man.

but hey, you have a new reason to be pissed at her!

"you couldn't have come earlier, abs?” you ask with a pout, giving her a new nickname—something very fitting rolling off your tongue. you kiss her lips, sweetly savoring her taste. your hands grope her nipples teasingly, playing with them with a grumble.

"s-sorry…” she sighs against your lips, genuinely feeling bad. her fingers slip out slowly.

she looks just as disappointed as you.

you whine pathetically, missing her fingers already. fuck. you mumble against her cheekbone, hugging her. “damn it, abbyyyy.” abby kisses your cheek, her voice soothing, “i know, i know…” she comforts, cuddling you back, your bare chests touching each other as they’re meant to be.

she pecks your nose, gripping your hips, moving you off her. you’re practically tossed to the side! you really weren’t, you’re just fucking dramatic..

you roll over with a bratty sigh and slump on the edge of the bed. abby leans down to grab her shirt off the floor, handing yours sweetly in the progress. your pretty eyes bore up at abby’s bare upper torso as she swiftly pulls her white undershirt over her head, her tits disappearing. you pout dumbly once more, tugging your tanktop back on and pulling your shorts up. abby grabs her glasses from your nightstand, pushing them back up her pretty nose.

you scan the room, eyes falling on her sports bra on the bed.

“abs, you forgot to put this on.” you grab it, chuckling preciously. abby tilts her head with query as she walks over to pack her bag, smile growing as she watches you hold her bra, never imagining this situation happening ever.

you bite your lip with a mischievous smile as you think of something silly, “can i keep it till next time?” a pink blush sprinkles your adorable eager smile.

abby can’t say no.

“yeah. t-that’d be..” she nods, buttoning her flannel with an embarrassed grin. you shake your head with a giggle, “but that means i should give you one of mine!”

you scurry to your drawer, the top littered with today’s clothing. you select it, prancing back up to her, handing abby your flowery lacey push-up bra.

her eyes glimmer with lust, holding your bra in her hand. abby’s head spins—still wondering if this is a dream. she tucks it in her bag with a bright red blush, looking almost grateful.

abby leans down, slipping her combat boots on. you admire her, yourself, feeling grateful for taking this chance with her. you never should’ve disliked her.

you grab her hand, speaking gently, really showing you’re not as intimating as abby truly thought,

“i can walk you to the door, abby.”

abby’s arm jokingly nudges your shoulder, “alright, pretty.”

~~~ ⚢ ~~~

you lead abby down the hall with your hands interlocked.

once your mom comes into view, you let go, not because your mom’s homophobic—more like, you wouldn’t want her to know her daughter’s not studying and you know...then have her request a tutor who’d actually teach her…yuck!

“abs will be going now.” you giggle with a suspicious glint, reaching the bottom of the stairs. you reminisce what you both did earlier, fixing your hair nicely as if nothing ever happened. your hand brushes up against abby’s as she nods to your mom, walking to the door, “thanks for having me.”

abby glances at you, almost longingly—which makes your chest ache.

you inhale, attempting to feel okay. you’ll see her tomorrow. your mom scrambles to the door, unlocking it hastily with a kind smile, “Alright, goodnight, Abigail. Hope you have a safe drive home!” your mom’s demeanor is friendly as always. she waves you over to say goodbye to your guest, you know, the one you didn’t want to come over?

you stumble up to abby who’s now standing in the doorway, her stature—incredibly hot and her face, so cute!

“thanks.” you glow pink, biting back a huge grin, cherishing this view till you see it tomorrow at school.

“you’re welcome.” abby teases right back, scanning your figure—making your heart swoon.

your eyes watch each other for a second longer than expected, somehow painting how you miss each other already.

abby turns, her pretty braid swaying as she walks down the pathway. the cool night air seemingly bids her farewell as well. your soft gaze locks onto her as she makes her way to her truck. you know your attraction is showing on your face and—gladly, your mom isn’t noticing or she’d most definitely make fun of you.

abby waves to you, her big hand in the air as she opens her car door accompanied with her huge smile—making your heart feel full.

you wave back playfully, your own pretty smile, wide.

you and your mom walk back inside, shutting the door.

the warm house makes you realize you might have a big ol’ crush. well, you’ve had a big ol’ crush, your silly ass just didn’t notice.

“So, what was it like having a little tutor?” your mom chuckles, walking back to the kitchen to grab a handful of peanuts she was snacking on.

“oh, it was…it was cool.” you sigh longingly, missing her. you adjust your shirt, trying to think of positive thoughts. your spirits are higher than before…since…realizing that stupid angry hole in your heart is gone. it just needed to be filled with lesbianism from a sexy nerd.

“It had to be more than just cool, sweetie.”

“alright, alright, mom. it was fun-!”

you roll your eyes jokingly, going back up the stairs,

“it was just a stupid study sesh.”

~~~ ⚢ ~~~

wait damn i lowkey loved writing this……shall i make a part two??!!!! probs right? cuz like nerdy abby has my heart !!?!?

edit: ANDDD here’s the second part of this story! = part two!!