Hated how perfectly your bodies melted together late at night.
Hated how your lipstick stains littered his skin like bloodstains on a crime scene the day after a party.
Hated how no matter how hard he tried, all it took was just a glance from you across the room with your godamn annoying ass eyes, and suddenly he had you pressed against the bathroom door in a frat house, bending you over the sink as he fumbled with your clothes.
And worst of all, he hated how you seemed unaffected by it, like he was some frat boy you let fuck you every now and then.
It all made him restless.
Why were you so tempting... was it because of the way you dressed? All cute like you were a present wrapped up just for him to tear into, or was it the fact that you hated his guts...
It was driving him crazy, the boxing ring wasnt enough anymore, no matter how many opponents laid unconscious after a couple hits from sukuna, no matter how many victories, no matter how many drinks he had, he always seemed to end up at your doorstep in the middle of the night, not bothering to speak as his hands found purchase on your hips, salvation on your lips, cutting off whatever sparky comment you had ready, pushing you inside your dorm as he kicked the door shut behind him, lifting you up and carrying you towards the bedroom, loving the way you clung to him, hands wandering his skin, as if you were trying to tangle yourself beneath his black tattoos.
He may hate how he'll feel in the morning, full of regret and hating himself for letting himself cave yet again, but now? Right now, all he can think about is how beautiful you sound, heavy breaths mingling together where your lips connect again and again, or how your still stuck on him like if you let go he'd disappear.
He didnt let your clinging stop him as he plopped you down onto the bed, climbing ontop of you as he quickly discarded his clothes onto your floor.
Red piercing eyes slowly raking over your form in a twisted form of reverence, taking his time sliding your pajamas off your body, relishing how your smooth skin felt beneath his rough, calloused hands, before diving in like a man starved, like your warmth was an oxygen he had been deprived of.
Like you were salvation.
And that made it hurt all the more when you wake up in the morning to an empty bed, the same old text lighting up your screen that this would be "the last time, for real", even if you both knew it was an obvious lie that he'd told you a million times over.
Siighhhh.... I been really enjoying this hated-lovers trope thingy with sukuna especially.... like come on man, he'd be such an ass irl and I know I wouldn't stand for his shit, but like, hes so fineeee.... anywho I hope you all enjoyed this, I got inspired to write this by that one old maroon 5 song "one more night" cause it just fits him so well especially since the video for the song is adam boxing and just *chefs kiss*, not proofread though (like always pookies), I also wrote this at damn near 1am so ill probably reread this in the morning and try revise it like most of my other work lol, anyways, peace out homies ✌️
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