nervousnerd

you have to be kinder to people who are slow processors.

you have to be kinder to people who don't understand your jokes.

you have to be kinder to people who forget important dates.

you have to be kinder to people with cognitive decline.

you have to be kinder to people who were always this way, too.

g!p nerd megan x fem!reader

summary. just megan being a silly sub nerdy

content. g!p megan, oral sex, smut, suggestive content, dirty talk

saeza notes: soooo heyyy guys!! 😋😋😋

The teacher had assigned you two as partners for the human body project.

You needed a good grade. Everyone knew it. You'd been on the verge of failing all semester, showing up late, turning in half-finished assignments. Megan, on the other hand, was the best in the class. The nerd.

That's why she paired you with Megan. It was her last hope that you'd pass.

Megan had insisted on doing the project in the library. But you had won, and she ended up agreeing to do it at your house.

Now she was here.

In your room.

The biology books were open on the desk, but neither of you was looking at them. The notes were scattered across the bed, loose pages with diagrams of the reproductive system that she had drawn the night before in perfect handwriting. The afternoon sun streamed through the window.

Megan was sitting on the edge of your bed.

Her pants were around her ankles. Her shirt, too big for her, reached halfway down her thighs, and her hands were resting on the mattress on either side of her body, trying to hold onto something.

You were on your knees between her legs.

"Are you sure this is necessary?" Megan asked, almost in a whisper, as if forming words cost her effort. Her black-framed glasses had fogged up slightly, and her fingers gripped the mattress as if it were her only anchor to the world.

"Yes, nerd," you replied, and your smile was as sharp as your tone. "Don't you want an A?"

Megan swallowed. She nodded.

Her hands gripped the mattress. Her knuckles were white.

Your fingers found the edge of her boxers and you pulled them down slowly. First the fabric slid over her hips, then over her thighs, and then they were also around her ankles, next to her pants.

You stayed there, staring.

You hadn't expected that.

Megan was small. Thin. With that fragility of nerds who spend more time reading than eating. The glasses. But her cock — God, her cock — was anything but small. It was thick. Very thick. The base was wide and tapered only slightly toward the tip, which was already pink and slightly wet. The length was respectable, more than you would have imagined.

"Oh," you said, and you couldn't hide your surprise.

"What?" Megan asked, nervous. Her legs closed slightly, but your knees kept them open. "What's wrong? Is it bad?"

"It's not bad," you interrupted, and your hand went up to wrap around the base. The thickness filled your palm, and Megan moaned, a small, stifled sound that cut through the silence of the room. A sound that seemed to surprise her as much as it did you. "Not at all. Trust me."

"Oh," Megan said, and her cheeks turned red. "And is that… is that good?"

"It's very good."

You leaned in.

Your tongue touched the tip, barely a brush, and the moan Megan let out was sharper. Her back arched slightly, and her hands pulled at the mattress.

"That…" she started to say, but fell silent, as if she didn't have words for what she had just felt.

"That what?" you asked, your lips pressed against her skin. "Tell me. For the project."

"I don't know," Megan admitted, and her eyes were very wide behind her glasses. "It feels… weird. Like a tingle. But not on the skin. Inside…"

"Inside where?"

"My stomach," she said, and brought a hand to her belly. "Like I have something hot down there. I don't know how to explain it."

"Well, you're going to have to learn," you replied. "You're going to have to tell me everything you feel so we can put it in the project later. Okay? The teacher wants details. Sensations. Things that aren't in the books."

"It's not in the books?" Megan asked, confused. "I've read all the required ones and it's not—"

She couldn't finish the sentence because you had already opened your mouth and taken it inside.

Your tongue pressed against the underside while your head moved forward, and you could feel it widen, feel it fill every empty space in your mouth. The tip brushed the back of your throat and you had to stop. You swallowed. You breathed through your nose. And you kept going.

"Oh, God," Megan moaned, and her back arched more. Her hands let go of the mattress and found your head, but they didn't push. They just stayed there, trembling, her fingers tangled in your hair. "Y/n… that… that thing you just did…"

"What did I do?" you asked, pulling back just enough to let your warm breath brush her wet skin. Your hand kept moving where your mouth couldn't reach, up and down the shaft.

"You put… all of it… all the way in," Megan said, her words coming out choppy, breathless. "And I felt… I don't know… very tight…"

"Did you like it?"

"Yes," she whispered, and seemed surprised by her own answer. "Yes, I think so."

"Then I'm going to do it again."

You took it all the way in again. This time you didn't stop at your throat. You forced a little more, and you felt the tip pass that narrow point, felt your throat open to receive it. Tears welled in your eyes from the reflex, and a wet sound escaped your full mouth.

Megan moaned.

"And now?" you asked, pulling back to breathe. A strand of saliva connected your lower lip to the tip of her cock.

"Now…" Megan blinked, as if trying to focus on reality. "Now the tingle in my stomach has moved down. It's lower. In my… in my pelvis. Like something is… building up."

"Building up?"

"Yes. Like when you have to pee, but it's not pee. It's something else. More… more intense."

You smiled. And you went down again.

This time you were faster. Your head moved up and down with a steady rhythm, your hand complementing where your mouth couldn't reach, your tongue pressing against the main vein on every upstroke. Megan moaned uncontrollably, small, sharp sounds escaping her parted lips.

"Y/n," she moaned, and her voice was a plea, even though she didn't know what she was asking for. "Y/n, something's happening. That tingle… it's growing."

"Just feel it," you said, pulling back just enough, and your hand sped up to compensate. "It's normal. It's what's supposed to happen. Do you want me to stop?"

"No," she answered instantly, and her hips pushed forward on their own, as if her body knew what it wanted even if her mind didn't. "I don't want you to stop, please."

"That's what I wanted to hear, good nerd," you said, while your hand kept moving, fast, firm.

"So intense." Her voice was barely a whisper. "I don't know if I'm going to be able to…"

"Yes, you can," you encouraged her, and you sped up more. Your hand was moving up and down at full speed now, and the tip of her cock was swollen, purple, dripping. "Just let go. Don't think. Just feel."

"It's very close," Megan moaned, and her fingers tangled in your hair tighter. "Y/n, it's very close. The tingle… it's going to explode… it's going to…"

"Let it," you said. "Explode."

Then her back arched, her head fell back, her glasses flew through the air and landed on the carpet. And her entire body tensed.

The first spurt hit your hand, hot, thick. The second landed on her own stomach. The third and fourth were weaker, dripping onto her trembling thighs. And then it was over.

Megan was shaking like a leaf in the wind. Her eyes were open but unseeing, staring at the ceiling unfocused. Her mouth was open, and small gasps, small sighs, escaped from it.

Megan blinked. She sat up on her elbows. Her glasses were on the floor. Her hair had come loose from its ponytail. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly.

"Can I…" she started to say, and hesitated. "Can I write down what I felt? For the project."

You smiled. You picked up the notebook from the floor and handed it to her.

"Sure," you said. "That's what we're here for, right? For the project."

Megan took the notebook with trembling hands. She clicked the pen open with still-trembling fingers. And she started to write.

You just smiled.

in which fans find the secret, pre-debut fan page yoonchae had for you, her le sserafim bias, causing you to realise that maybe the girl you've had a crush on for years might actually like you back

content: fem!reader, idol!reader, reader is a member of le sserafim, yoonchae's cringey fanpage is a warning in itself, forgive me for that part 🙏, megara and purinz mentioned, all of this takes place in like a day 😭 ss count: 25 note: i'm back!!

✮ "Stop trying to act tough. You're shaking."

✮ "When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

✮ "Hold still--I know it stings, but I have to do this."

✮ "You scared me half to death, you know that?"

✮ "I've got you. You don't have to hold yourself up anymore."

✮ "Just breathe. In and out. I'm right here."

✮ "You're going to need stitches and I swear, if you say you're fine one more time--"

✮ "Don't argue with me right now. Just let me help you."

✮ "I'm not going anywhere, so stop telling me to leave."

✮ "Can you squeeze my hand? I need to know you can hear me."

✮ "You're running a fever on top of everything else. Of course you are."

continuing--

⊹ How do they treat people who can't do anything for them? Waitstaff? strangers? people they'll never see again? this is the oldest trick in the book for a reason. It works. How someone behaves toward people with no social utility tells you everything about their actual values versus the values they perform for an audience.

⊹ What's their relationship with their own body? Are they comfortable in it or is it something they carry around like a problem? do they take up space or make themselves small? are they aware of how they look or completely indifferent? Physicality is psychology and most writers forget the body entirely until someone needs to throw a punch.

⊹ What do they lie about and why. Not dramatic plot lies necessarily. the small everyday ones. the things they exaggerate or omit or reframe. Because people don't lie randomly, they lie to protect something. Find what your character is protecting and you'll find what they're afraid of. That fear is the ENGINE!!

⊹ Who did they used to be? not their whole backstory. just: who were they before the thing that changed them. because that person is still in there somewhere, showing up in small ways, wanting things the current version of them would never admit to. The ghost of a former self is one of the most interesting things you can write into a character without ever stating it directly.

⊹ What would make them walk away?? from the goal. from the relationship. from the person they're trying to be. everyone has a breaking point and it should be specific to them, and please not a generic "too much" but the exact thing, the particular betrayal or loss or realisation that would finally be enough. know this even if the story never reaches it.