!nerdjo x reader | part 3
Exam stress leads to a late night horny decision. Everything is going great, until the guy in the video starts sounding a little too familiar
part 1 here! . part 2 here!
When you arrived at the library on Friday afternoon, Satoru was already there.
He was sitting alone at a table tucked away in one of the quieter corners, a simple blue T-shirt stretched across his broad frame. His glasses rested neatly on the bridge of his nose as he stared intently at his laptop, white hair falling slightly over his forehead.
You lingered by the entrance for a moment, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag, before finally walking over.
He looked up immediately. His expression softened into a small, genuine smile the second he saw you.
"I, um..." He glanced at the cup sitting across from him. "I bought you coffee. It's just a latte. If you don't like it, that's okay. I didn't have your number, so I couldn't ask if you preferred oat milk or almond milk or—"
"Satoru," you interrupted, unable to hide your smile. "I like it. Thank you."
The tips of his ears turned a soft pink.
"...Okay" he mumbled, looking visibly relieved.
You settled into the chair across from him and pulled your notebooks from your bag. He tried to focus on his laptop, but you noticed how his eyes flicked up when you slipped off your jacket. The moment your gazes met, he quickly looked back down at his notes, his ears still flushed.
"So..." He cleared his throat. "Have you thought about what we should research?"
You paused as if considering his words, but you already knew what you were going to say. In fact, you'd known the moment you'd walked into the library.
It was childish. Maybe even a little cruel. But after reading his reply the other night… You wanted to see his face when you said it.
For a split second, something flashed across his face. His brows lifted ever so slightly. Surprise. Confusion.
He stared at you for another beat. Then he blinked and gave a small, sheepish smile.
"I… wasn't expecting you to say that."
"No!" he answered a little too quickly. "No, not at all" He let out a quiet, shy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's actually one of my favorite antibiotics."
"Figures" you muttered before you could stop yourself.
He nodded and leaned forward slightly, visibly more comfortable now that the conversation had shifted to something academic.
"We could focus on its mechanism of action and the molecular basis of resistance," he said, eyes lighting up behind his glasses. "There are a lot of interesting papers we could draw from. It could make for a strong presentation."
You nodded, trying to ignore how attractive he looked when he got excited about the topic.
For the next hour, the two of you worked quietly, reading through papers, comparing notes, and deciding which studies were worth including.
As you jotted down a few notes, your thoughts drifted back to the Q&A post.
There's this girl in my chem class
The blonde girl immediately came to mind.
You glanced up from your notebook. Satoru was completely absorbed in the article in front of him, absently tapping his pen against the table as his brows furrowed in concentration.
A strange feeling settled in your chest.
…No. You barely knew him.
"Replacing the amide linkage in D-Ala-D-Ala with an ester linkage in D-Ala-D-Lac alters both the hydrogen-bonding donor/acceptor capabilities and—"
"Are you... still with me?" He looked at you, searching your face with a mixture of concern and that characteristic, debilitating shyness. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Am I talking too much?"
His shoulders slumped just a little.
"No—no." You shook your head quickly. "I'm listening. Sorry... I'm just tired."
And catastrophically attracted to you.
Before he could apologize again, a familiar voice cut through the silence.
You looked up to see Shoko making her way through the library, one hand tucked into the pocket of her jacket. She smiled the moment she spotted you.
"I've been looking everywhere for—" She stopped mid sentence.
Her eyes landed on Satoru. Then on you.
Her eyebrows climbed almost to her hairline.
You already knew that look. With a quiet sigh, you slowly shook your head.
Shoko pressed her lips together, clearly fighting back a grin.
"This is Shoko," you said, gesturing toward her. "My friend."
Satoru looked up from his laptop, sitting a little straighter.
"Likewise." She tilted her head ever so slightly, looking him over for just a second. "You have really pretty eyes."
Satoru visibly froze. His ears immediately flushed pink.
Only then did Shoko turn back to you, looking entirely too pleased with herself.
"So," she said, as if she hadn't just short-circuited the poor guy, "you're still coming next Saturday, right?"
"Choso's party?" she repeated.
You stared at her blankly.
Shoko let out an exaggerated groan, dragging a hand down her face.
"Oh my God. The semester has completely eaten you alive. I've mentioned it, like... three times already. You are coming, though."
She pointed a finger at you.
With one last nod, Shoko turned to leave. As she walked past Satoru, she flashed him an easy smile.
Satoru looked up, visibly caught off guard.
She kept walking. Once she was behind him, she glanced back at you. Slowly, she mouthed—
You rolled your eyes, fighting back a laugh.
The two of you worked for another fifteen minutes in comfortable silence before Satoru finally closed the article on his screen.
"...I think we have enough to get started," he said quietly. "We can call it a day, if you'd like."
You looked up from your notebook.
"Yeah. That sounds good."
Satoru closed his laptop and stood, instinctively ducking his tall frame beneath one of the low-hanging library lights. The motion was so natural it made something warm flutter in your chest.
"...See you in class, then."
You nodded, briefly distracted by how tall he looked standing so close. He offered you one last small, almost nervous smile before turning toward the exit.
He stopped mid-step and looked back at you.
You quickly tore a small sheet from your notebook and scribbled down your number before holding it out to him.
Satoru blinked in surprise.
"...My number," you said, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. "So we can plan another one."
He accepted the paper carefully, as though he were afraid of crumpling it.
"I..." He cleared his throat. "...I'll text you later."
He paused, seeming to realize how that had sounded.
"...So you have my number too. I mean—for the project, of course."
With one last awkward nod, he turned and walked away a little faster than before.
A week slipped by faster than you expected.
He’d texted you just a few hours after you'd gotten back from the library that first Friday — a simple "Hey, this is Satoru" — and you’d saved his number with fingers that felt a little too eager.
Since then, the two of you had met once more. Working with him was surprisingly easy. Conversations flowed naturally when they stayed on the project, and before you knew it, you'd already finished nearly half of it in just two study sessions.
You'd done your best not to make things weird. Not to give yourself any more reasons to visit his page again.
You'd been walking down one of the science building's long hallways when you spotted him in the distance. The blonde girl was standing beside him again, talking animatedly about something you couldn't make out.
Satoru listened quietly. Then, for whatever reason, he looked up. His eyes found yours from the other end of the hallway, surprise flashing across his face. He lingered there for a heartbeat before turning back to her. You watched his lips move.
That single word had been enough.
By the time you made it back to your room, your emotions were a tangled mess.
Jealousy. Want. Need. It was driving you insane.
Two glasses of wine later, the hesitation you usually carried melted away.
You chose the video he'd uploaded a couple days ago. The moment it started, your hand slipped between your thighs.
The camera was angled down over his body, capturing the subtle definition of his collarbones and the way his chest rose and fell with already shallow breaths. The grey sweatpants clung to his hips, the thick outline of his cock already straining against the soft fabric.
He didn’t start stroking right away. Instead, his large hand slowly dragged over the bulge, palm pressing down firmly, rubbing in lazy strokes. A low, shaky exhale escaped him.
Your fingers found your folds, already obscenely wet. You could feel your own slick coating your fingers as you started teasing your clit
"Mmh… fuck," he whispered, voice already breathy.
On the screen, his hips twitched upward into his own palm, chasing the pressure. He rubbed harder, fingers splaying wide so the heel of his hand dragged along the full length of his clothed cock. The fabric shifted, outlining every inch—thick, heavy, and clearly aching.
"God… I need you to touch me. Please. I’ve been thinking about you all day."
The words hit you hard, jealousy flooding you once again. You weren't even lying to yourself anymore—you were fucking jealous. Yet, you were far too aroused, eyes fixed on the sight of his giant cock bulging against his sweatpants, stretching all the way to his pocket.
Would you even be able to fit him inside?
He let out a broken little moan, rolling his hips again. The wet spot forming at the tip of his cock was starting to darken the grey material, and he traced it with two fingers.
"I'm already leaking so much… just for you. Look what you do to me." His voice cracked on the last word "I like you so much. You have no idea. You're so smart and you smiled at me today and I—ahh—fuck, I got hard right there like a fucking loser."
Your fingers moved faster, circling your clit as heat flooded your body. The way he said it—so raw and filthy—made you clench around nothing, your pussy aching for him, wishing he would just pull those damn sweatpants down once and for all.
He kept rubbing himself over the sweatpants, while his free hand fisted the sheets beside him, knuckles turning white.
"I'm this needy because of you," he whimpered, the words tumbling out faster now. "Every time you looked at me I wanted to crawl under the table and beg ´Please… let me cum for you. I'll be so good. I'll do anything you want´"
He gripped himself through the sweatpants now—properly palming the thick length and stroking in long, firm pulls that made the material bunch and slide.
"I want you to feel how much I need you. I'd let you edge me for hours if that's what you wanted. I'd whimper your name until my voice gave out."
You couldn’t believe how dirty his mouth was. The contrast between the polite, slightly awkward Satoru and this desperate, whining version of him was making you lose your mind.
A soft, needy whine escaped him as he squeezed the head through the cloth. He was breathing harder now, little gasps and whimpers punctuating every stroke.
"F-fuck… I'm so sensitive today. Because of you. Because you sat in front of me, smelling like vanilla and coffee and I wanted to bury my face in your neck and—ahhn—beg."
You pushed two fingers inside yourself, biting your lip to hold back a moan as he shoved his sweatpants down and freed his cock. It slapped heavily against his stomach, thick and veiny—the same obscene, pretty cock you’d seen before. Your mouth watered at the view, and jealousy clouded your mind again, fueled by the overwhelming heat in your veins.
You knew he wasn't thinking of you. He was thinking of her—the blonde girl who hovered in his orbit, who didn't know the dark, frantic secrets he kept behind the screen. You hated her for it, and yet, you were intensely, violently grateful that he was recording this.
He wrapped his fingers around the base and squeezed, holding it there while his hips rolled in shallow thrusts, fucking into the tight ring of his fist slowly.
"Let me cum please, I beg you," he whined, voice pitching higher. The words were pure roleplay now, directed straight at the camera—at you. "I'll be your good boy. I'll hold it as long as you want."
His abs flexed with every thrust, thighs trembling as he fucked up into his fist harder.
"God, I'm so close already… but I don't want it to end. I want to stay like this for you. Needy and desperate and saying stupid shit because I can't think straight when It's about you"
His words kept pouring out — needy, filthy, and shockingly honest. The desperation in his voice, the way his thighs trembled and his abs flexed with every desperate thrust into his fist… it was too much.
He slowed down deliberately, teasing himself cruelly. The contrast was devastating—his body clearly aching for release, hips twitching uncontrollably, yet he kept himself on that edge.
You kept fucking yourself harder as he edged himself on camera, whimpering and begging for someone that wasn't you.
A particularly sweet, broken moan tore from his throat as he finally sped up again.
"Fuck—" you moaned, finally hitting your own orgasm as his voice cracked beautifully on that last plea. Thick ropes of cum shot across his stomach and chest in powerful, rhythmic spurts.
You came with him, your thighs shaking, a broken whimper slipping past your lips. He milked every last drop, his body twitching with aftershocks until he was panting, spent, and trembling.
You lay there in the dark, your heart hammering against your ribs, your pussy throbbing so hard it was almost painful.
When you finally caught your breath, your pulse still racing, your fingers moved to the comment section.
"Vancomycin boy… you have no idea what you just did to me."
You knew then, with a dark, twisted certainty, that you no longer wanted to just watch him on a screen. You wanted to be the one making those whimpers rip from his throat—even if he was thinking of her instead.
Thank you so much for all the support this fic has received!! It made me so happy!! 🥹
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part 4 coming soon !
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