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PAIN KINK: A jjk smut written by @orgkoov on Instagram. Warning: Explicit content 🔞
He knows it hurts you so bad and you've said it a million times to him, asked him, begged him to go easy on you, to slow down, to be a bit more gentle with you, to do whatever it takes to make it not hurt anymore. He almost feels bad too, especially when your cünt clings so hard to his cöck it feels like his blood flow’s impeding.
He tries but he loses his cool when he feels your walls wrapped around him perfectly, when you look up at him like that, lashes wet with tears, your lower lip so desperately pulls between your teeth because “koo, it hurts,” his breath catches in his throat. His chest pounds with dysphoria.
How is he supposed to stop now? How can he stop when you keep on asking for more by whining for him, hips twitching so violently leaving no choice for him but to force his palms into your sides with expert force to hold you still and drill himself in you, because he knows you love it. You love the pain.
Jungkook starts losing himself, then, his eyes rolling far, so far back into his skull that they might not come back, focused solely on the task of obliterating you. He wants to make you cry, make you scream, wants to make you cream him, wants you to feel how crazy he is, how crazy your body makes him feel, wants to find a dozen little half-moons littering his wrists in the morning, wants to fuck you senseless.
So he does.
And you love it. You do, he is aware of it. He can tell by the way you drool all over yourself, fighting him, telling him to slow down while digging your heels into his shoulder blades that much harder.
He wants to hit you deep, he won’t—can’t—stop until he gets there, that special spot, so sweet and forbidden and reserved just for him deep within your core. If he angles his hips just right, rolls into you deep enough, he might just—he might get lucky enough to hit it perfectly, just if–
“Fuck, fuck, look at you.” He doesn’t even recognize his own voice, it’s something surreal, losing his senses at the sight of your belly distending with every push. It looks alien, truly the eighth wonder of the world, in his eyes. Hell, the only one that matters to him.
And you’re far too gone to care, head tossed back, hair splayed in every which direction; you look insane, you’re probably close, losing it with the persistent beating of his cock into your very innards.
It hurts, still does, yet your cheeks burn with a flavor of something you don’t quite yet know of. Your nails still pinch into Jungkook's thickened skin, faint trails of red lying in their wake.
It hurts so good, you think. You can’t think. If you could think.
“koo—kook–“ He shushes you, pushes your ankles all the way to your ears, eyes focused, jaw dropped, honed in on the mesmerizing sight beneath him. Jungkook never ever wants to forget this, wants to print this image of you into his brain until the day he dies.
“Wanna fuck’a baby right into your belly, right here,” he makes a point to slow down, nearly stopping once he’s all the way inside of you, breathing deeply as his cock throbs, as you shiver. He can feel you pulsating around him, and he thinks he’s never been so close to you before—or anyone, for that matter. It’s addicting. He wants to be here, always, buried inside of you.
“kookie, please.. hurts so bad.”
He can’t help but grin, not even sparing you a glance, his own eyes welling up with tears of pressure and euphoria and fuck, he’s probably losing his mind a little bit too, now, “But you love it. I know you do, princess.”
