#Gojo’s like “’there’s a competition!!!????’ and I’m like yeah you wanna play and he’s like hmm what’s the prize and I say oh idk my love?

[strawberrystepmom]

who of your faves are you picking for a hula hoop competition? there are many wrong answers.

The only thing I’m picking is your ass up and hauling you to court for harassing me, an innocent woman.

[oneoftheextras]

Day 14 | Satoru Gojo | Kinktober 2021

kinktober 2021 masterlist

14th October - Knife Play

paring: satoru gojo x f!reader

summary: pumpkin carving with gojo and he finds out you have a knife kink

words: 2.7k

warnings: no spoilers for any season, 18+, smut, knives (duh), hate-sex (kinda)

← day 13 | pain | levi ackerman            day 15 | thigh riding | konro sagamiya →

The pumpkin hit the table with a thump, if it weren’t for your aching arms then you would’ve been concerned about breaking it.

Gojo placed his pumpkin on the table as though it weighed absolutely nothing to him, which it probably did, but you were sure he was showing off.

For some reason the students had decided to have a pumpkin carving competition, but instead of normal rules where you carve your own pumpkin as an entry, you were forced into pairs and your pumpkins had to compliment each other.

Of course, you’d gotten your most annoying colleague Gojo as a partner.

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked as you laid out all the equipment you’d need to make this a success: a trash bin for the guts, a big spoon to scrape said guts out, big knives for the top, and little knives for the details.

Gojo had insisted that you did this at your place and not his. You assumed that it was because he didn’t want to get pumpkin juice on whatever expensive flooring he’d had fitted, but he knew it was because he wanted to see what your apartment looked like.

“If we wanna win then they’ve got to look good,” you explained as you thought aloud, “Then lets just carve me into it!” he exclaimed with absolutely no irony at all and reached for one of the knives.

If you’d had time to roll your eyes, you would’ve but you had to stop him before he completely ruined his pumpkin and you had to make another trip to the store, “No, no, wait!” you grabbed his wrist before he was able to grip the blade, “What? Don’t you want to win?” he peered at you through his black shades.

That’s when you saw the humour in his eyes. Of course he was joking. He was the strongest sorcerer but sometimes you couldn’t help but doubt his intelligence, he was a vain airhead that thought the world of himself.

At least this time he had an ounce of self awareness.

“I do want to win, but we need a plan before we go crazy on these things,” you let go of his wrist and slid into your chair. Even when he was seated he was still miles taller than you, it wasn’t fair.

He leaned on his hand as he spun his finger around the stem of the pumpkin, “You think, and I’ll start taking the guts out,” he shrugged and this time you let him pick up one of the big knives.

You eyed him with caution as his slender fingers curled around the black plastic handle. Watching him handle the utensil was dangerous, it did something to you that it shouldn’t.

Maybe you hadn’t thought this through entirely - despite your distaste for Gojo, you knew you had a liking to blades.

“You’re the brains,” he waved it around and pointed the tip of it in your direction “And I’m the pretty face,” he pointed it at himself before he plunged it into the pumpkin’s flesh.

With a shaky hand you picked up the black marker and started drawing an outline on the orange skin, you let out a wobbly breath as you watched him work the knife with an unnerving amount of skill.

“You alright?” he asked without turning to face you. If you hadn’t seen his mouth move then you would’ve doubted that he even said anything, “Y-Yeah!” your voice squeaked like you were a teenager going through puberty.

He popped the top of his pumpkin off and started to scrape off the stringy bits clinging to it. Thank God he put the knife down to scoop the inners out with the soup spoon you’d laid out in between you.

From where you were sitting you could see his white eyelashes from under his shades, and every now and then you got a glance of the beautiful blue of his irises.

As much as you didn’t like him, you had to admit he was an attractive creature.

He was tall and slender, toned muscles hiding under his baggy clothes.

Everyone talked about his eyes like they were the Crown Jewels but you’d never had the pleasure of locking with them.

Instead you’d have brief glimpses like seeing something blue out of the corner of your vision.

Something was up with you, and he didn’t need his Six Eyes to be able to see your skittishness.

Were you afraid of him? No, you’d told him to go jump off a mountain on multiple occasions.

He watched you fiddle with your hands and pick at your fingers, the definition of nervousness. He loved how vulnerable you were being.

The cocky girl that never fell for his charms; the disinterested girl that rolled her eyes at the girls who’d throw themselves at him; finally showing some sort of weakness, he just had to find the source.

He moved in his chair so he was slightly closer to you - no reaction.

He stretched his arms out above him dramatically and let out a loud yawn, making a point to brush his hand against your leg on his descent - all you did was move your leg away from him.

“I’m so tired!” he covered his mouth to disguise another fake yawn, perhaps it was his voice? “Maybe if you didn’t spend all night staring at your own reflection you’d get enough sleep,” you bit back at him as you picked up one of the smaller knives and started to cut out the lid of your own pumpkin.

It seemed like you were having trouble pulling the knife back out of the flesh again and keeping the line straight.

“I have much more important things to do than that!” he folded his arms and continued to watch you struggle, “What? Like-“ you cut yourself off with a grunt as you yanked the blade out “-Redoing your hair for the 12th time?” you continued.

He inspected you as you truly made a mess of your pumpkin, if you kept going like that it would be beyond saving.

“Here,” he said, standing from his chair and reaching over you, “Let me do it, you’re ruining it!” he pulled the knife from your grasp and plunged it back into the pumpkin.

His movements were so fluid, as though the resistance you’d felt before simply moved out of the way for him.

You tried to ignore how good the knife looked in his hand; you tried to ignore how intimidating he was looming over you; and you tried to ignore how good he was at handling the blade.

“There!” he sighed, lifting the lid effortlessly from the body of the pumpkin. When he shifted his eye line, he noticed that you weren’t looking at the pumpkin but instead you were staring anxiously at the knife in his hand.

He turned the blade in his hand until the light reflected on it and gave you a quizzical expression - but you weren’t paying him any attention, your eye line was trained on the sharp object.

“I’m not going to stab you!” Gojo laughed, he was about to put the knife down and mock you but his eye caught the pink wet flesh of your tongue dart between your lips to wet them with your saliva.

He’d found your weakness.

A sick idea popped into his head. You were nervous again, just like before, “I-I know!” you stuttered and attempted to meet his gaze but quickly bailed.

“Do you?” he placed one of his hands on the back of your chair and the other - the one holding the knife - onto the table in front of you and bent his tall frame down to lessen the proximity.

You felt your breathing pick up it’s pace. There’s no way he knew, he was just trying to make a move on you like he always did.

“Satoru, stop messing around, i-it’s dangerous!” you tried your best to sound strong but your voice wavered as your body betrayed your mind.

This was perfect, he thought. He’d wasted so many nights imagining how the essence of you, all helpless and needy underneath him, would taste - and now he was getting it.

The way your eyes widened every time he moved the knife set his skin alight.

It wasn’t real fear or concern, no, it was pure arousal. He’d seen it multiple times on other women that were all too eager to fall at his feet, but on you? You wore it better than any model could.

“It’s dangerous is it?” he mocked the tremble in your voice, “Then why are you smiling?” he quickly moved his hand - and the knife to rest on your shoulder, your breathing increase substantially.

He was right, you were smiling, but it was alongside nervous laughter - you didn’t want him to have this over you but it made all the butterflies in your stomach take flight at once.

No one you’d been with before was brave enough to indulge in your knife kink, they were always worried that they’d hurt you if they slipped or if you moved unexpectedly.

Not Gojo, he wasn’t worried.

He knew his control over the blade was perfect, it would only go where he wanted it to go. Although, he wanted to make you think that he just didn’t care.

“Please!” you whined, rubbing your thighs together as discreetly as you could, “Admit you like it!” he teased you more, delight evident on his face.

For a moment you were going to shake your head to signify ‘No’, but then you remembered the blade close to your neck.

“There’s no shame in it,” he dared to shift the blade closer until it grazed the baby hairs on your neck.

The whimper that left you was strained and pleading, but not for him to stop, you wanted and needed more.

This was the first time anyone had indulged you in your fantasy and, knowing Gojo, he would take as far as you wanted without having to ask.

He was relishing in your presence. He love the way you complied when he moved the point of the blade to rest on the underneath of your chin, slowing rising from your seated position at the faintest additional pressure.

With the smallest movement of his arm, he swiped the pumpkins off the table and let them crack open on the floor.

“The pump-“ you started to protest but the pressure of the blade on your throat increased, “Do you want me to stop?” he raised an eyebrow at you with a knowing smile.

“N-No, please!” you begged all too quickly, causing him to break out into a wide grin. He had you exactly where he’d wanted you all of these years.

A creak of wood sounded as he gently laid you down on top of the table.

“Where to begin?” he hummed to himself in thought, trailing the knife down your chest until it reached your workout leggings.

They might not have been the best idea in hindsight, but when you felt the blade cut through the fabric with ease, you didn’t mind as much.

He inhaled sharply at the damp patch that was already showing on your panties. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” he smiled and used his free hand to rip the fabric even more, exposing the flesh of your legs to him.

You shook your head furiously, but you had to admit you were liking every second of it.

“No?” he mocked you again, “It’s okay, you don’t have to lie to me,” he grazed his fingers over your clothed entrance until he found your clothed clit.

He began rubbing small circles onto the small button, watching you mewl and writhe under his touches, “You can admit you like it,” he didn’t want to blink in case he missed a second of your blissed out features, “I don’t kinkshame.”.

You felt him move the fabric of your panties out of the way while dragging the blade edge across your inner thigh and back towards your stomach.

Without warning, he pushed one of his fingers into your hole, sighing at the warmth he felt encasing his slender digit.

He slid it in and out of you experimentally at first, testing your reactions to him, and when he thought you were ready he added another and picked up the pace.

“I’ve waited years for this,” he mused as he watched you try to stifle your moans, “Who’da thought it would be a kitchen utensil that would finally break you,” he laughed at his own words.

There wasn’t time for you to reply and he hooked the blade under your top and ran it along the fabric, watching the stems snap under the sharp surface.

He pulled his fingers from you and put them into his mouth as he listened to you whine and mumble to yourself at the loss between your legs.

He placed the knife gently on your stomach as he undid his pants, letting them slide down his legs and crumple around his ankles.

Gripping your ankles tightly, he placed your feet flat on the table and slowly pushed down his boxers.

When he pushed his glasses down onto the tip of his nose and finally took the black shades off, you stared in stunned silence.

His eyes were unlike anything you’d ever seen, it was like he held the universe within his irises and he was letting you peek into creation itself.

While you were distracted, he took the moment to line himself up with your hole and forcefully push himself inside of you.

As soon as you felt the sensation of being filled to the brim, you threw your head back and moaned loudly.

Fuck he was long! How did he manage to hide all that under his uniform?

He gave you no time to adjust, he picked up the knife again and held it straight up against your throat. It was entertaining for him to watch you trying to remain as still as possible whilst he fucked into you harshly.

You felt the pressure of the knife hardened and you squeaked. To anyone who wasn’t balls deep inside of you, it would seem like you were scared, but he felt the way your walls clamped around him.

He knew you were like him, he knew you were freaky too.

The table creaked and groaned alongside you, especially when he picked up each of your legs one by one and threw them over his shoulders, deepening the angle he was thrusting into you.

He was relentless in his pursuit of your orgasm, he was so unbelievably hard at the fact he was finally able to have you the way he wanted, he’d waited years and years for this so he wanted to relish every second of it.

His thumb found your clit again and continued its assault from before, although this time it was sloppier.

“See what you were missing out on?” he let his ego fly but you were too stubborn to completely give in to him, regardless of how much you liked the curve of his cock, “Fuck y-you!” you tried to be intimidating but a hearty thrust made you stutter, “You already are sweetheart,” he winked at you and then increased his rhythm.

Your moans went up in pitch and volume, you could feel your orgasm coming to rear it’s head but you didn’t know if you were ready.

Ready to give Gojo the knowledge that he’d made you cum.

It wasn’t up for you to decide, your body shook violently as your climax ripped through you with a jolt. He grinned manically when he felt your heat get warmer and your walls get slicker, but he wasn’t doing so great himself.

The way you fluttered around him had him close to the edge, he didn’t want to cum so quickly but the anticipation of waiting for you to want him had gotten the better of him.

Against his will, his hips stuttered and soon he was painting your walls white with a lengthy groan.

He slid the knife away from your throat, noticing the red scratch marks that he’d left. “Are you okay?” he asked, suddenly concerned that he’d gone too far and actually hurt you.

“I’m good,” you nodded, out of breath, “I’m great actually,” you laughed to yourself, realising that you’d just let your most annoying coworker fuck you on your dinner table.

Safe to say, you didn’t win that years pumpkin carving contest.

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