My pain

Four: Memories of the past

Not edited🙃

So there's some flashbacks from Jikook past together in the beginning & end. I'm keeping it a little vague but also leaving a few hints here & there. I promise it will all come together & make sense in the end. Not a whole lot of smut in this chapter as I didn't really get a chance but the next one will all be smut smut smut.

This is mainly a character/storyline based one so please enjoy 😊

The smell of smoke and stale cigarettes littered the air like it was it's own ashtray. A half smoked fag sat squeezed between his fingers, the burnt remnants hanging off about ready to fall. It was late or maybe early, he didn't really know. Time wasn't something he took mind of, it didn't matter when it came to how he lived his life.

He brings the bud of the cigarette to his lips, he parts his mouth and inhaled until his lungs expanded and held all it could. It burnt, his lungs in their own right begged him to exhale but he liked the sting. It was the masochist in him, always searching for that small gratifying sting of pain that took the edge off.

Pain to him felt more like pleasure than something he should be afraid of. He could control pain, could control how much it hurt, how long he'd endure it and when the pain would come.

Ultimately it all came down to control. He made those who hurt him think they were the ones with all the power where in reality he was the one who held all the cards. He was the one with all the dominance where he had them eating out of his palm, on their knees begging him for more, begging him like the dogs they were.

"I should go." He says after blowing smoke clouds into the stale air.

"You always say that, yet you never do."

He puts the cigarette out, squishing it against the well used ashtray. It sizzles when it finally gets put out, ash smearing the once white pottery.

"You hate it when I leave because you know what I'll be doing when I do." He doesn't bother sparing him a glance, he simply goes to pick up another cigarette.

The man behind him still curled up in the blankets laughs, his hand reaches out to brush against his bare back along his spine.

"That's true. I hate knowing you're out there being fucked by people who don't even know how to fuck."

It's Jimin's turn to laugh. He sticks the bud of the cigarette in his mouth, he lights it up, covering the spark with his hand he burns the end until it's fully lit. When it's lit he puts the lighter down, he turns back to look at the man who sat half up right, naked head to toe, only thing keeping him somewhat covered is the thin blanket covering his manhood.

"They know how to fuck, believe me, I wouldn't be fucking them if they didn't." He grins a little, buffing smoke in the man's direction.

"But you know how I feel, I don't like sharing what belongs to me." His eyes were stone cold, no glint of empathy or emotions, he was merely stating a fact and that was that.

Jimin doesn't respond, he scoffs at his remark and takes another drag. Cigarettes were his devilish sin, he hated to love them because he knew they were bad but they were so good.

"If you feel that strongly you must have a lot of belongings." He wasn't taking a jab he was simply making a statement because as much as he slept around he did his fair share too.

Neither of them were saints, people with morals, seeing that they've both cheated, stolen and fought their way to where they are now.

Jimin didn't believe in monogamy and neither did he.