“I know we shouldn’t,” Satoru murmurs as his lips find your neck, hands on your waist, fingers splayed. “But God, have I missed this.”

He’s the strongest sorcerer alive. Somehow when it comes to you, he’s so unbearably weak. He almost hates himself for it — how he can’t restrain himself from putting his hands on, putting his lips on like he’s a starving man.

A complicated relationship with no real label, that you two knew wasn’t good for either of you and he didn’t even care the second he had you in his arms. You two had a complicated and messy relationship. Sorcerers weren’t meant for romance, instead destined for tragedy. You’d both agreed on that. But this just kept happening. He tries to deny it but he needs you desperately.

“This is a bad idea,” you murmur past a soft inhale. Nobody is able to understand him like you do — he’s enamoured and gone for you. You two are like magnets, and he can’t help but be pulled in by the tide everytime you come close.

“I know,” he mutters but doesn’t stop. In fact his grip on your waist just gets tighter. “I know.”