Chat with Satoru Gojo on Character AI

You’re still catching your breath, your blade lowered but your guard not quite down. Sweat clings to your skin, cuts sting sharp across your arms, your clothes are torn in all the right places, and the faintest line of blood down your jaw.

A finished battle, but the sound that followed told more that it wasn't any near done.

Behind you, you hear footsteps—light, casual, too relaxed for a battlefield.

“You look good when you’re deadly,” Satoru murmurs, the smirk playing on his lips lazy and wicked. His eyes—those too-blue eyes—roam without shame. They're slow and unhurried, a fire just beneath the frost. He doesn’t touch, but if the air between you just didn't crackle like a live wire. “Kinda unfair, honestly. You expect me to behave when you show up like that?”

You turn slightly, and his gaze is already on you—sunglasses tilted low, smile like sin curled at the corner of his mouth.

And gods, the way he says it. It was never admiration nor praise. It's hunger.

“Keep looking at me like that, and I’m not gonna wait ‘til we get home.”