Chapter Text
Jin could admit that he had read many novels centering around submissives—he could admit that his favorites were those that his own erosmates had written, his Taehyung and Namjoonie both well-known authors in their particular genres. Novels were often the closest a dominant or switch could get to true submissives; that or movies (both those that could be broadcast and those much more… illicit), but movies tended to lack the certain romance that Jin was fond of. And if they didn’t lack romance, they certainly lacked his particular form of care. Or any care at all.
Submissives were rare creatures, meant to be treasured and valued, given to only the highest-ranking doms in society, politicians and chaebol and descendents of royals. Meant for the rich, the truly rich. He and his eros were wealthy, sure, but not influential enough to be afforded a submissive of their own.
They would certainly never be given the opportunities that he loved reading about. They would never be able to court a submissive, to win their heart and have their dominance accepted readily and willingly. They would never run into a sub in a library or museum where they might find common interests; they would never meet one in the town near their beach house and ask their familial dominant for permission to collar; they would never even just happen across one to have dreamy thoughts about.
Submissives were incredibly rare, they were incredibly precious, and they were incredibly protected.
So why was there a submissive curled up on their doorstep in the early hours of the morning?
It had been raining hard all night, a storm sweeping over the city, keeping everyone inside and soaking everything out. Even with their awning, rain had blown nearly to the door, only a few inches left dry. The sub seemed to have curled up as small as they possibly could to fit within those small inches, but their back was still soaked, their skin nearly visible under the thin gossamer. It was winter, too, and they were outside, in the rain and cold, in barely enough clothes to cover them, much less keep them warm.
And if Jin hadn’t had to leave for the airport at three in the morning, he was sure he would never have seen them. Dirty and thin, this was clearly not the sub’s first night on the street.
Jin pulled out his phone, cancelled his scheduled ride, and crouched beside the sub, in front of the stairs, before touching their shoulder.
They shot up with a terrified gasp as soon as his fingers just barely brushed their shirt—a boy, Jin was rather sure, staring at him with absolute fear in his wide, dark eyes, the circles under them making them seem all the wider, the hollows of his cheeks evident as he breathed heavily, gathering himself and scrambling back against the wall. His feet were bare and dirty and he had bruises on his ankles and wrists and—there was a collar around his neck, thick and tight, and scratch marks all around it reddening his skin, where the sub had clearly tried to get it off.
“Let’s get you inside,” Jin said gently. “This is not weather for anyone to be out in.”
The sub glanced around frantically, clearly looking for an escape.
Jin did his best to keep his face gentle, even as his voice took on a dominant sternness that he hoped would be impossible to ignore. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
And with that, the sub stood on shaky legs, staring at him with more fear than Jin had seen in the most frightened animal, and allowed Jin to escort him inside.
The house was quiet, of course. Jin had firmly told his eros that they would say goodbye to him before bed; he would not be waking anyone at three in the morning for a kiss when they could just give it to him right then. That hadn’t stopped him from checking in on all of them, of course, making sure his darlings were nice and warm and safe before he would leave for a week, even kissing their foreheads when he knew they wouldn’t wake.
He turned lamps on as he went down the hall to the bathroom, the sub following him silently the entire way. Jin wondered if he could hear the sub's heart racing heart if he listened closely enough.
He seemed even more pale and unhealthy in the brighter light of the bathroom, his breath catching when Jin closed the door behind them. He didn’t want to make him feel cornered, but—well, perhaps he did. He didn’t want him to try to run. Especially when he had so many cuts and scrapes and god knows what other injuries to take care of.
Jin silently got first aid supplies from the medicine cabinet, wetting a washcloth so he could clean him up, at least a little.
“Here,” he said quietly, guiding him to sit on the closed toilet. “Let me help.”
The sub flinched when he touched his ankle, looking over the bruise. It was still dark, in the early stages of healing. A rope, he thought, or perhaps a cuff locked too tight. The same for his wrists. There were occasional scratches that looked newer than the rest. The other bruises he could see—those were much less identifiable.
He couldn’t do much for bruises, but he could at least clean up his cuts, likely from running shoeless around the city for god knew how long. He was quiet as he worked, putting on bandaids where he needed to, simply washing them when he didn’t, wiping his feet clean at the end.
When he looked up to ask the sub his name, hopeful he would at least feel able to speak, though—
“Please don’t send me back,” he said, hoarse and terrified, desperation in his eyes. “Please, I’ll do anything, please don’t—”
Jin knew he couldn’t promise anything. He knew he shouldn’t even if he could. But—
“Is there a name on that collar?”
The sub breathed like it was hard to manage, and what he did manage was painful. Jin would have to look at his ribs. “No.” He pursed his lips when Jin gave him a slightly skeptical look. “I got it off.”
“Ah,” Jin said. He shouldn’t, couldn’t offer promises. But looking at this terrified creature, this poor thing who was clearly not being cared for, treasured, who was out on the street where any manner of doms or switches could have found him, dragged him back, made these marks even worse, given him more— “Then I wouldn’t even know where to send you. You couldn’t get the collar off?”
The sub swallowed thickly, searching his eyes as he processed what Jin meant. “N-no,” he got out. “I c-can’t.”
“May I—?” Jin asked, though it was more performative than anything as he looked closer. The sub nodded, though, his pulse visible behind the thick leather.
It was too tight, Jin saw right away. It bit into his skin, leaving a mark beyond the scratches the sub had given himself. It didn’t have a standard buckle or latch, either, instead a study lock on the back that could be opened only by a thin key, likely one that would be difficult, if not impossible, to replicate. It was sturdy enough that it would have been impossible for the sub to get it off without it, too, no matter how furiously and desperately he attempted.
When he tried to hook a finger into it to see if he could perhaps slip scissors under, the sub made a strangled noise, jerking back.
“Spikes,” he said hoarsely, crossing his hands over his neck protectively. “Pl-please don’t pull.”
Jin stared at him. “Your dom put you in a prong collar?” He thought that was only in graphic porn, and even then that was switches acting as subs, without their entirely delicate natures—
“Pl-please,” the sub repeated.
Jin shook himself out of it, clearing his throat. “I won’t. I’m sorry for hurting you. I assure you that was not my intention.”
The sub stared at him, still covering his throat.
“Perhaps—perhaps I can figure out the lock. I’m sure there’s a tutorial online if I look hard enough. Heist movies can’t be entirely made up.”
The sub continued to stare. Jin thought himself suave, handsome, romantic. He did not think himself so easily flustered, but he had also never seen a sub so close, much less talked to one. But then, this sub had likely rarely had a dom apologize to him, if his injuries were anything to go by.
He sat back on his heels, giving the sub some space between them. He lowered his hands after a moment, feeling safe enough to do so.
“What is your name?” Jin asked quietly.
The sub stared, his hands shook where they now laid on his lap. His eyes were still scared, his heart still racing, his entire posture suggesting that he was ready to run at any moment. But he whispered, like it was a deep secret, one he was very carefully letting go. “Jungkook. My name is Jungkook.”
“Jungkook,” Jin repeated quietly. “I’m Seokjin. Please allow me to take care of you, at least for the time being.”
Jungkook glanced over Jin’s face, at his hands, at the bandage wrappers on the floor, at the door that remained unlocked even if it was closed. Jungkook nodded once, and promptly passed out.
“Oh, fuck—”
-
Jin carried Jungkook to one of the guest bedrooms, glad there was one on the ground floor. Even with his shoulders and even with Jungkook weighing much too little, he wouldn’t have been able to carry him up the stairs safely enough for his tastes. Jungkook didn’t stir even when he picked him up, even when he laid him down, even as he frantically got a cold compress for his head then worried that was the opposite of what he needed and got a hot water bottle to press against his side then hovered nervously trying to figure out what to do.
When he heard stirrings from upstairs a few hours later, he was glad to have another person to consult.
And then he blanked out, staring ahead unseeing, realizing he had brought an injured sub into their eros’ home without any true knowledge of how he had ended up there or what he had been through or where he had come from.
He wandered out to the kitchen, trying to figure out what had even happened over the past few hours.
At least Hoseok didn’t scream when he turned on the kitchen light to see Jin standing there. “Hyung! I saw your suitcase in the hall. Are you alright? What happened? You’re supposed to be in Japan by now—”
“I found a submissive on our doorstep,” Jin said. “His name is Jungkook and I said I wouldn’t send him back.”
Hoseok stared.
“I made coffee.”
Hoseok took a deep breath, poured himself a cup, and lifted his chin. “Where is this Jungkook?”
“Passed out in the guest room. He—well, he literally passed out at first but I think he’s metaphorically passed out now. You know. Asleep.”
“How did a submissive come to be on our doorstep?”
There was only one real explanation, Jin knew, and whether or not Jungkook had said it outright, Jin knew that it was the truth. “He ran. I believe you’ll understand once you meet him.”
Jungkook was still asleep when Jin led Hoseok to the guest room, both of them creeping down the hall, not wanting a creaking floorboard to startle the submissive awake. But he slept soundly, curled up on his side, only the top half of his face visible over the blankets. He twitched in his sleep, let out the quietest little whimper, and Jin rushed to his side. He didn’t touch him, didn’t want to scare him, and being close was the most he could do.
Hoseok leaned on the door, watching them. Jin’s hand hovered over Jungkook’s hair.
“I’ll call out of work.”
Jin nodded. He pursed his lips, sitting in the chair by the bed he’d been occupying since he tucked Jungkook in. “I don’t want to scare him with—all of us.”
“Neither do I. But this—” Hoseok sighed. He closed the bedroom door behind him, leaving them only in the gray morning light that was beginning to shine through the windows. “We’re effectively harboring a fugitive right now, hyung. A runaway submissive? It’s unheard of, first of all, and—”
“And what?” Jin asked. “I’ll take harboring a fugitive over sending a submissive back to what was clearly a terrible situation. He was so desperate when he asked me, Hoseok-ah, he was so—”
“I’m not saying we send him back, Jin,” Hoseok said firmly. “I am not even suggesting it. If it was bad enough for him to run—I would never. I am saying that we should discuss this, all of us. If we’re aiding and abetting, we had better get our story straight.”
“I love you,” Jin said seriously.
Hoseok snorted. “I love you, too, hyung.” He came closer, leaning on the arm of the chair and looking the sub over, at least what he could see of him. He sighed, resting a hand on the nape of Jin’s neck. “Poor thing.”
“We can take care of him. I know we can.” He couldn’t help but take a deep breath, the fantastical notion catching up to him. “Our very own submissive.”
Hoseok pressed a kiss to his temple, giving his nape a gentle squeeze. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, my love.”
“He’s in a prong collar.” Jin could feel that that was enough to truly convince Hoseok that the submissive lying in their bed instead of anywhere else was right.
“Well,” Hoseok murmured after a moment. “We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”
Jungkook went from asleep to awake in half a second, shooting up with a panicked gasp, looking around with wide, scared eyes until they landed on the two dominants beside his bed. He scrambled back until he was pressed against the headboard, as far away from them as he could manage without falling out of bed entirely.
“Jungkook-ah,” Jin said calmly. “Do you remember me?”
Jungkook breathed hard, staring at him, eyes flicking over him and Hoseok rapidly. “S-Seokjin-ssi.”
Jin smiled as gently as he could manage. “That’s right. Do you remember how you got here?”
Jungkook shook his head once before flexing his hands on the blankets anxiously.
“Well—” Jin gave a considering nod, “I carried you to bed when you passed out. But I mean at our doorstep.”
Jungkook swallowed, glancing between them again. He nodded once.
“Hyung said your collar is—uncomfortable, Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok said quietly. “I’ll find a way to get it off, alright?”
Jungkook bit his lip before nodding sharply. “Pl-please, sir.”
Hoseok clicked his tongue; Jin could feel the growing endearment in his heart. Hoseok loved when his babies were polite. “Ah, darling. I’m your Hobi-hyung.”
Jungkook stared at him for a long moment before tears started prickling at his eyes, threatening to fall all at once. Hoseok very clearly held himself back from leaping to comfort him, his hand on Jin’s nape tightening briefly to try to keep him from doing so either.
Jin, however, couldn’t keep from doing so. He stood, quickly going around the bed to cup Jungkook’s cheek, furrowing his brow as he studied his face. “Oh, darling. It’s alright.”
Jungkook’s breath hitched in his throat, a hiccupy sob escaping him. He leaned into Jin’s touch and gripped his blankets, hands shaking. “S-sorry.”
“No sorries, sweetheart,” Jin said softly.
“Please don’t be lying,” Jungkook managed to choke out, forcing his eyes to meet Jin’s, searching them frantically. He gripped Jin’s hand when it fell from his cheek. “Please—please b-be kind, please don’t send me back, I’ll do anything, just—”
“What you can do is relax, sweetheart. Hyungs will take care of you, all of us.”
“That’s right,” Hoseok agreed. Jungkook’s breath caught again as he snapped to lok at him. “We’ll take care of you. And we certainly won’t send you back to what is clearly a bad situation. Putting you in a collar like that—” he clicked his tongue. “And when is the last time—” he froze. “Oh, you must be hungry.”
Jungkook stared at him for a long moment before nodding once, clearly thinking it was some sort of test.
Hoseok didn’t give him any more reason to think it was one, though. “I’ll make some breakfast for us all, darling. Oh, poor baby—”
They were an eros made of mother hens, Jin thought fondly as he watched Hoseok go, fretting his way out of the door. “He’s a good cook,” he told Jungkook, leaning in to whisper, “but not as good as me.”
Jungkook was still shaking and Jin took both of his hands in his own. “I-is it just—you two?”
“Ah, no,” Jin smiled gently. “The others are still asleep. There’s—” he huffed a laugh. “We’re a dom-heavy eros. There’s me and Hoseok, and Namjoon and Yoongi. We have two switches, though—Taehyung and Jimin. They’re the youngest of us.”
“Four doms,” Jungkook whispered, seemingly to himself.
“It can be overwhelming, even for us,” Jin admitted, squeezing his hands warmly. “But we work together incredibly well. We love each other too much to not.”
“No sub?”
“No sub. Our switches lean subbier, though, I will admit. You’ll see when you meet them. They’ll be obsessed with you.” Jungkook’s lips twitched down and Jin nearly cooed. He kept a hold of his hands with one of his own but reached up to pet his hair with the other, tucking it behind his ear. “But I can keep them at bay as long as you want, Jungkook-ah. I said I’d take care of you, and I mean it. Even if that just means you don’t want to be overwhelmed with cuddles.” He smiled almost conspiratorially, but that didn’t stop Jungkook’s worried look.
“Nice?” he asked after a moment.
“Nice,” Jin agreed immediately. “We’re all nice, though I would also say we’re all annoying. But everyone is nice, and we’ll be nice to you. We’ll all take care of you.”
Jungkook didn’t look entirely convinced, but he still nodded once. He didn’t really have an option but to give them his blind trust, Jin knew, but it still made something hopeful and bright burn in his stomach.
Although Hoseok had already met the little sub he had found, Jin still felt a strange protectiveness at the thought of introducing him to the rest of his eros. Not for Jungkook’s safety, of course not—but apparently his dominant instincts came with a possessiveness he’d never experienced, at least with his own eros.
Hoseok came to tell them when the others started to stir and Jin was grateful. He didn’t want to spring anyone on Jungkook without as much warning as possible. He didn’t want to spring anyone on his own self without as much warning as possible, for that matter. He needed time to push that green jealousy down; that would do no one any good.
He was tempted to keep him for himself a little while longer as he looked at Jungkook’s nervous face, his pinched brows and pursed lips as he heard the creak of the stairs and voices down the hall. They didn’t come closer, though, likely stopped by Hoseok.
Before he could offer to bring food to Jungkook, to let him stay nice and tucked in bed and away from the world, Jungkook looked to him once again. “Nice?”
Jin’s shoulders untensed; he hadn’t even realized they’d been tense to begin with. “Nice,” he agreed softly. “They’ll be happy to meet you.”
Jungkook still looked skeptical, but he took Jin’s hand when it was offered again.
“Ready?”
The sub lifted his chin bravely and all of Jin’s possessiveness faded away. His eros would love him.