𝐆𝐨𝐝'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 ~ 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓭, 𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽, 𝓬𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓶𝓮𝓭

He told you to stay away from them.

He didn’t mean it as a warning—more like a test. A line drawn just to see if you’d cross it. And oh, sweet girl, you did. You always do.

Atsumu watches from across the club, jaw clenched so tight it might snap, fingers twitching against his whiskey glass. He isn’t even listening to the girl trying to press herself against him; his eyes are locked on you—laughing, smiling, letting some other guy touch your wrist like he’s earned it.

You don’t know what you’ve done.

You don’t realize it, even when he’s dragging you out through the back alley, his grip a bruising shackle around your wrist. You’re spitting curses at him, struggling, kicking at his shin like a stubborn little brat, but it only makes him grin.

You’ve never been afraid of him.

You will be.

The motel room smells like sweat and cheap air freshener, but Atsumu doesn’t give you a second to take it in before he’s shoving you inside. The door locks. Your back slams against the peeling wallpaper. His breath is hot against your ear.

“Ya really like pissin’ me off, don’t ya?”

You twist, try to shove him off, but he’s stronger. Bigger. He laughs when you try to slap him—dodges it effortlessly and catches your wrist, twisting your arm behind your back until your body arches against his.

“Aww, baby, what happened to all that bitchy behavior, huh?”

You snarl, but the sound is lost when he bites your neck—sharp, possessive. He licks over the wound, smirking against your skin.

“You think I wouldn’t see ya?” His free hand drags up your stomach, fingers hooking into your top, tugging, stretching, tearing. “Think I’d let some dumb fuck lay his hands on ya?”

Your protests become shrieks when he bends you over the bed, yanking down your shorts, panties tearing in his impatience.

“Atsumu—stop—”

But he doesn’t. He never does.

His weight pins you down, one large hand pressing into the small of your back while the other grabs your ass, spreading you open.

“Bet ya thought ya were real cute, lettin’ some other guy get close to ya.” He presses his cock against your entrance, teasing, laughing when you buck and squirm to get away. “But ya forgot, princess—”

The first thrust rips the air from your lungs, splitting you open with a burn so raw it hurts. You wail, but Atsumu only groans, his head falling back as he bottoms out inside you.

“—yer mine.”

Your nails claw at the sheets, body trembling, but he only picks up the pace—deep, brutal thrusts that steal your breath, that make your legs shake and your mind blank with the force of him.

“You wanna be a little slut?” He fists your hair, dragging your head back so he can whisper against your lips.

“Then I’ll fuck ya like one.”

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