Chapter Text
The late afternoon sun slanted through the tall windows of the classroom, casting long golden bars across the empty desks. Most of the second-years had already bolted the moment the final bell rang, but Mizuki lingered in the hallway just outside, heart hammering like it always did before she did this.
She clutched the small paper bag to her chest—another silly gift, this time a pack of those ridiculously expensive melonpan Gojo-sensei always complained were too sweet for him but somehow never refused. Tucked inside the bag was her homework, the margins doodled with tiny sparkling stars and one discreet heart in the corner of the last page. Nothing too obvious. Just enough.
Mizuki slipped into the room on quiet feet. The door clicked softly behind her. His desk at the front of the class looked untouched, the way it always did after hours—like it was waiting for her. She approached it slowly, cheeks already warm.
He’s so tall, she thought, eyes tracing the broad back of his chair. Even empty, it looked huge. Everything about Gojo Satoru was huge. Six-foot-four of pure, unfairly sculpted muscle wrapped in that loose black uniform jacket that somehow still clung to his shoulders and biceps like it was trying to survive. She’d felt it every time she hugged him. The solid wall of his chest, the way her face barely reached his sternum, how her arms couldn’t even fully wrap around him.
She set the bag down carefully in the center of his desk, right on top of the neat stack of papers. Her fingers brushed the wood, lingering. Then she adjusted it a little, making sure the handwritten note on top—“For Sensei ♡ Hope your day was amazing!!” —was perfectly visible.
Just as she was smoothing the corner of the bag, the door slid open with a loud bang.
“Gotcha.”
Mizuki yelped, spinning around so fast her skirt flared. Kugisaki Nobara stood in the doorway, arms crossed, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised in triumph. Her lips curled into a wicked smirk.
“Again? Seriously, Mizuki? You’re gonna get caught one of these days and then what?”
“I—I’m not doing anything weird!” Mizuki protested, cheeks burning crimson. She clutched her empty hands behind her back like a child. “I just… turned in my homework early. That’s all.”
Nobara strolled in, eyes flicking straight to the little paper bag on Gojo’s desk. She let out a loud, disbelieving laugh.
“Homework with a bakery bag and a heart note? Girl, please. You’ve been doing this for months. You’re not subtle. You’re basically vibrating every time he walks into the room.”
Mizuki puffed her cheeks out, trying to look indignant. “He’s a really good teacher. And nice. And… tall. That’s it.”
“Nice,” Nobara echoed, voice dripping with sarcasm. She circled the desk and poked at the bag with one finger. “You know his dick is probably just as stupidly huge as the rest of him, right? I made a note about it last week. No way a man that jacked is packing anything average.”
“Nobara!” Mizuki squeaked, mortified. She lunged forward and swatted her friend’s hand away from the gift. “Don’t—don’t say stuff like that!”
“Why? Because it’s true or because you’ve already thought about it?” Nobara grinned, leaning against the edge of Gojo’s desk like she owned it. “You hug him every single chance you get. You disappear after class to leave him snacks like some lovesick little housewife. You doodle hearts on your homework. I’m not blind.”
Mizuki’s face felt like it was on fire. She stepped closer anyway, almost protectively hovering near the desk. The faint scent of Gojo’s cologne still clung to the air around his chair—clean, crisp, expensive. It made her stomach flutter.
“I just like him,” she mumbled, voice softer. “As a teacher. He pays attention to me. No one else really does that.”
Nobara’s expression softened for half a second before the teasing smirk returned. “Yeah, well, keep leaving your little offerings and one day he’s gonna snap and bend you over this desk. Then you can stop pretending you don’t want to climb him like the giant tree he is.”
Mizuki didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Because the mental image Nobara just painted—Gojo’s massive frame behind her, those big hands on her hips, that teasing smirk inches from her ear—made her thighs press together instinctively.
She swallowed hard.
The sound of familiar footsteps echoed down the hallway. Long, confident strides. The kind that made the floor feel smaller.
Nobara’s eyes widened. “Shit. He’s coming back already. Quick, hide the evidence or own it, teacher’s pet.”
Mizuki froze, heart slamming against her ribs as the door began to slide open again.