Wings - Seokjin
Wings - Seokjin smut stories
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Kim Seokjin 김석진 - Dystopia!AUGlossary - Seokjin. Yoongi. Hoseok. Namjoon. Jimin. Taehyung. Jeongguk. “손 뻗고 싶어달려보고 싶어조금 더” - AwakeHe dips his fingers into the paint, dragging it down your side, circling it across your thigh. The paint is red and sticky, staining your skin a deep burgundy.
By yoongisbbydoll http://yoongisbbydoll.tum...

Wings - Seokjin

by yoongisbbydoll

Kim Seokjin 김석진 - Dystopia!AUGlossary - Seokjin. Yoongi. Hoseok. Namjoon. Jimin. Taehyung. Jeongguk.

“손 뻗고 싶어달려보고 싶어조금 더” - AwakeHe dips his fingers into the paint, dragging it down your side, circling it across your thigh. The paint is red and sticky, staining your skin a deep burgundy.

This time, he dips into the yellow, dragging it over the curve of your breast, then swirling down to your navel.White silk caresses your back.

Seokjin leans over you, knuckles skimming the black paint. He pulls back and begins painting the silk, dragging the color out and feathering it with his hands.

Seokjin digs the heel of his hand into the soft material, adding texture to the paint.He dips a pinky into the green and begins tracing your cheekbone and jawline.

You almost smile, then remember that he needs you completely still.He uses his nail to add purple to the small crevices of your face, down your nose, under your brow, defining your lips.

Seokjin stares thoughtfully at you, his art piece. When he steps back, you long to reach out for him but stay completely still in fear of smearing the paint.

Seokjin analyzes every inch of your bare skin, wondering where he went wrong. Something is off and he stares you down.

With his rigid look, you no longer feel like a piece of art and instead just an item, something to be thrown away when he’s done.You don’t speak up.

Suddenly, he spins on his heel, walking off to his desk. He grabs a large paintbrush and returns, dipping it into the black paint.

Seokjin holds his hand still for a moment before smacking the ferrule with his opposite hand. The bristles jolt, small droplets of paint splattering across your skin.

It’s so sudden that you jerk your head to the side. When you look back, Seokjin has barely noticed, already dipping into another color.

The black and white mix on the brush, creating a lustful gray.Seokjin splatters the paint across your shoulders, carefully avoiding your hair and face.

He furiously cleans the brush and then starts in on the white, letting it drip over the black drying into the silk sheet.Minutes pass by slowly, Seokjin not saying a word out of pure concentration.

Paint drips down your bare skin, seeping into the silk you lay upon. Your throat is dry and you wonder if you should speak up. But Seokjin beats you to it, “Close your eyes.

”You do so willingly, hearing the shuffle of his shoes against the concrete floor as he gets into position behind the camera. Soft clicking graces your ears, lulling you into a soft dream.

When your eyes open, there’s a clamor near the door and Seokjin is dragging you off the bed, throwing a towel over your shoulder.

“This is the police, we were wondering if you have time to answer a few questions.”Seokjin tosses you your clothes then throws his camera and rips the sheet off the bed.

You barely have time to notice the dark wings painted into the silk. You turn the other way and slip on your clothes. The paint is still damp against your skin and soaks into your pants and shirt.

“Go to the car, don’t say a word.” He murmurs against your cheek, lips lingering against your skin.With a soft push, you head for the bathroom.

You can hear Seokjin talking as you open the window and toss the bag out. You follow it quickly, escaping into your neighbor’s yard.

The grass is damp and prickly against your bare feet but you run quickly to the end of the street through the yards of your neighbors.

Seokjin never parks the car near the house and, for once, you’re grateful.You glance up the street, watching an officer carefully get back into his cruiser.

He drives up the street like a turtle, peering into the windows of the houses lining the block. Each white house looks dead. No lights on, no movement or signs of life from within.

They blend in with the black street, white guidelines, and stained black grass.

When the officer passes you, he nods his head, but you’re too busy focusing on the letters printed on the side of his care to notice.Freedom of Expression Detainer Division 346The End

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