Chapter Text
Shoko had fallen asleep an hour ago.
She was a good friend that you had met in your mandatory labs, and her cool and nonchalant nature had quickly drawn you in. Within a couple weeks she was one of your closest friends.
Currently, your so-called friend, who was supposed to be your ride home, was passed out on the couch after a few too many drinks.
You had been invited to her apartment, where her roommate loved throwing parties. He also went to the same college as the two of you and the people that knew him, knew how fun his parties were. Of course, it helped that he was rich and didn’t mind things breaking and could afford mass amounts of alcohol.
The last few stragglers of the party had finally left a few minutes ago and now you were alone with no ride and a phone that had stopped working after a random drunk had knocked it out of your hands.
Sighing, you roughly rubbed your hands over your eyes, attempting to sober up a bit more.
“Hey.”
Startled by the new voice, you whipped your head to look at who called you, instantly regretting it when you stumbled. In the entry of the kitchen stood Gojo Satoru.
Gojo was probably the hottest person you had ever seen in your life. His snow-like white hair, tall and built frame, long fingers that would be more suited to playing the piano, and clear, sky blue eyes that seemed to look right through people and into their soul.
“Hi,” you responded, hoping your voice didn’t sound as shaky as you thought it did.
Gojo’s long legs stalked into the kitchen, rifling through the fridge he victoriously found a gatorade and some bread.
“Are you good? Need anything?” he asked, being a good host, barely turning to look at you as he rummaged through a cabinet. Presumably to find aspirin.
“Uhh, how’s Shoko?” you responded, messing with your phone so your hands had something to do.
“Hah, well, she’s definitely out for the night. She won’t be waking up anytime soon.” Grabbing a trash can he finally turned around to look at you now that his self-imposed scavenger hunt was finished, “why, you need something from her?”
“Well, she was supposed to be my ride home since my roommate and i don’t have a car,” feeling awkward when he continued to stare at you, silently, you continued rambling.
“B-but I can just walk home, it’s like a 20 minute walk home! Looking back it probably wasn’t the smartest plan for her to drive me home, I guess we both forgot how heavy of a drinker she is. We’ll have to plan better next time, maybe…”
You're knocked out of your nervous rambling by a loud laugh, startled, you looked up to see that Gojo had moved to stand closer to you. His eyes bore into yours, amusement swirling in his sparkling eyes.
“Doesn’t seem very safe, It’s 3 AM, ” putting his hand on his chin, he looked up in thought before snapping his fingers at you like he had just discovered the meaning of life.
“Just stay here! Take Shoko’s room, I don’t think she’s getting up from that couch anytime soon,” his smile was blinding and you had to turn your head to escape his piercing gaze.
“Uh, if you’re fine with it then thanks,” he started walking out of the kitchen without turning back to see if you were following. Like a puppy, you scrambled to keep up with his long strides so he could hear you, “i-if it’s not too much trouble though, could I use your phone to call my roommate?”
He made his way to the couch where Shoko was sleeping, hugging a beer bottle and a trail of drool down her chin, putting the trash can, advil, and gatorade next to her.
“She’s expecting me to come back tonight and I don’t want her to worry when she wakes up and I'm not there.”
Your roommate, while heavily extroverted and outspoken, preferred to stay in doing skincare and watching dramas rather than drinking and partying. She claimed alcohol was bad for her skin and she needed her beauty sleep. She was probably your closest friend and your first friend you made once coming to college. You had met her after running into her crying on a bench outside of her class because she flunked Intro to Biology.
After making sure Shoko was on her side, Gojo sprung up, digging his phone out of his back pocket and unlocking it.
“Sure, I’m gonna go rinse off real quick so you can just leave it on my bed when you’re done,” turning to go to the bathroom he glanced over his shoulder, “room’s at the end of the hallway.”
Waving, he slammed the bathroom door shut, finally leaving you in silence.
“He’s really trusting to just leave me with his phone,” you muttered to yourself, “or maybe he’s just careless.”
Cursing, you stared at the phone, realizing you didn’t have her number memorized. Hoping Gojo didn’t mind, you opened up his instagram so you could just DM her instead. After leaving both a message and a voice message, you realized that she barely even uses instagram, checking it every few days.
An idea sprung into her head, when you remembered her obsession with Twitter. Apparently, Twitter had some really good fashion accounts. Looking for Gojo’s twitter, you smiled in victory when finding it. His phone layout was chaotic. Rather than just separating apps into folders by category, they were all just left out, downloading them and leaving them where they were installed. He had five pages worth of apps.
You didn’t want to even think about how much memory his phone needed to handle that.
Going to search for her account, your curiosity got the better of you. You wanted to know what his twitter account was so you could stalk him. You giggled at his twitter handle, sixeyes, how edgy.
His bio was sparse and his profile picture was just a blue screen. Even more curious, you scroll down and almost drop his phone at what you see.
What the fuck.
Videos and pictures of women in different stages of undress fill the screen. You stop at one of a girl bent over a man’s knee, gagged and crying as he spanks her ass, leaving red marks. Another, a woman is tied up and blindfolded getting facefucked. Drool and cum spilling out of her mouth, the sloppy sounds of her gags and a man’s balls slapping her face, fill the room.
Out of morbid curiosity, you continue to scroll, stopping at one video that Gojo himself posted.
The video starts with a black screen and quiet shuffling heard in the background, the phone is then propped up to show a pale man sitting down from the neck down. Only wearing boxers, he is surprisingly well built, a six pack and v-line most guys would kill for. His long fingers play with the waistband of his red boxers, revealing a faint happy trail of white, almost translucent, hair. He reaches into his boxers and strokes himself lazily, getting faster with his strokes, he begins to pull out hi-
You hear the shower turn off.
In a moment of panic, you forget that this isn’t your phone, turning it off unconsciously. Your brain blue screens when you realize what you just did.
“Oh. My. God.”
His phone is password protected and you definitely don’t know him well enough to guess his password. The second he turns his phone on, he’s gonna see your massive invasion of privacy and think you're a creepy pervert.
Chanting, “fuck,” repeatedly under your breath you race into his room to put his phone on the bed. Fast walking back out, you hurriedly start picking up trash and stress cleaning, doing your best to act normal.
“He’s gonna think i’m a creep, Shoko’s gonna think I’m a creep, other people will find out and they are gonna think I’m a creep, someone’s gonna tell on me and i’m gonna go to jail, then everyone will know I’m a creep. I’m not gonna last in jail, I’m non-confrontational, they’re gonna walk all over me and I’m gonna get shanked and die and my mother won’t even come to my funeral out of shame and-”
“Hey,” you hear a deep voice whisper next to your ear.
You scream, falling on your butt and dropping all the trash in your hand except for a solo cup, which you brandish like a sword in front of you.
There is only silence, as you remember Gojo’s presence and you look up to see him staring down at you like you just escaped a mental hospital.
“Uh..” he smartly says, at a loss of words. He didn’t think you would react like that, maybe just jump at most.
“Oh! Sorry,” you laugh tensely, “uh guess I’m kind of jumpy right now.”
“You don’t have to clean, I have a housekeeper coming ‘round at noon tomorrow. Thanks though,” he swiftly steers the conversation into a less awkward topic.
Shamefully, you stand up, wanting the ground to open up and swallow you whole.
“Right,” you clear your throat, not really knowing what else to say.
Finally, you gather the courage to look up at him, his hair is still wet from his shower. Beads of water dripping down his neck disappearing into his shirt, probably dripping all the down to his happy trai-
No!
You mentally slap yourself, using every ounce of willpower to drag your head out of the gutter and bring your eyes back up to his face.
“Uh, are you okay? You look kind of out of it,” he sweetly says. Making you feel even more like a piece of shit for violating his privacy and looking through his Twitter when he was already being nice enough to let you stay there and use his phone.
“Hey, maybe you should sit. How much did you drink?” worriedly his hands hover around you, wanting to help you sit, but not wanting to touch you without permission.
“I’m okay! I just accidentally found your twitter account and looked through your porn collection and also, almost watched a video of you jerking off and now I’m curious to know what it actually looks like. But no biggie, I hope we can move past this and be civil!”
Is what you wanted to say, but in a surprising show of self-control you stuttered out, “I-I’m okay! I’m just gonna hit the hay! Hah, I don’t know why I said it like that. I’m going to bed, goodnight, thank you, sorry!”
And with a final embarrassing act of rushing out of the room, almost tripping on the cup you had dropped up earlier, you all but throw yourself into Shoko’s room and shut the door behind you. You slide down the door, clutching your shut, desperately trying not to have a panic attack.
Deciding to act like tonight never happened, you feel around your clothes, attempting to locate which pocket it’s in. It’s not the first time you’ve been in Shoko’s room so you locate her charger, praying that your phone will work when you wake up tomorrow.
Having to get it fixed would really put a dent in your wallet, so you manifest that you got all your bad luck out tonight so that your phone will be fine in the morning. Digging through Shoko’s closet, you find a pair of soft pajama pants. Knowing she won’t mind, you change out of your jean shorts and jump into her bed. Trying to calm your racing heart, you whisper reassurances under breath hoping that Gojo won’t care that you saw his Twitter account.
“Everything’s going to be fine, maybe he going to accidentally drop his phone in the toilet! Yeah! And it won’t work anymore, so you’ll be fine…”
And to the sound of your own desperate lies, you fell asleep.