"Power to the women who are venom."
𓆙
A rivalry between a secret anti-government organization and its deviant counterpart; will seven boys and a girl lead justice to be served?
2034 has brought upon the presidency of Allison Diggory, a woman both l...
[A/N] - fuck it y'all i'm writing smut this chapter. sorry for the wait. been really busy but hopefully you'll like this 👀
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"He doesn't deserve you," Taehyung breaths shakily across your skin. Your head is thrown back, [H/C] [H/T] tresses curling and brushing across your scalding hot neck. His tan, lengthy hands sweep the strands away.
"W . . What?"
"My bodyguard."
That same wary hand guides itself down your back, tracing your spine and tickling the minuscule hairs, his touch seeping through your thin shirt. Your clothing doesn't even feel fitting on your lithe body anymore, instead longing to be ripped off and discarded roughly.
"Jungkook?" you groan confusedly. His hand cusps your ass, fingertips digging into the plump skin and squeezing. Your womanhood tremors with thrill, gushing and rushing heatedly.
He plants a wet kiss upon your skin. "Mhm . ." He hums, the sound vibrating against your nerves and burying deep under your skin, traveling up to your mind and wrapping around your perception, and burning with meaning.
Then his hand, once fiercely squeezing your ass, glides around your hips, caressing them and pulling the crook of your neck back in for a series of warm pecks. He leaves hickeys on his way, pain searing and trough the selected spots, and pleasure quivering in its midst. One of his hands departs from its original position down to your midsection.
His hand taps against your womanhood and rubs gently.
Your heart drops and you inhale shakily.
Suddenly, everything comes flooding back. Amongst the sheer enjoyment of having Taehyung touching you, kissing you and breathing tremulously against you, is the white hot memories of your first. No . . . You wouldn't count him as your first. Never ever. You couldn't.
Your heart pounds more hastily against your chest like a drum, and your ears begin to suffocate with an irrevocable high-pitched ringing. Your vision chips away and you slightly sway.
Your earliest reactions begin to halt, replacing with shaky breaths, dissipating thoughts and lack of consideration of what's really going on. Taehyung's touch becomes cold against your skin, meaningless and substituted with the remembrance of your father's violent, careless touch. There's no other way you can perceive it. It was all too much for a mere child to experience to not have it all flooding back.
