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theharrowing · 8 months

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Collateral 🗡️ POV: Jimin

Jimin learns that his boyfriend played a role in his recent attack and he decides to get revenge.

Or, the one where Jimin attempts to kill a man, but needs to call for help, and 2seok arrive to take care of more than just a dead body.

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❗ THIS IS A CHARACTER POV CHAPTER!!!

if you do not wish to perceive any POV that is not the main character, please feel free to skip this one!

🗡️Jimin x his ex, Jimin x Seokjin x Hoseok

🗡️ word count: 9.7k

🗡️ mafia au, complicated relationships, graphic violence, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit, 21+

🗡️ warnings: power bottom Jimin with ex; bottom/sub Jimin & top/dom Seokjin with allusions to top/dom Hoseok. drugging someone using cocaine laced with pharmaceuticals with the intention of killing them; use of anal plug; anal sex; restraining someone against their will; sex pivots from consensual to dubious; cocaine use; murder; being cradled in the bosom of one friend while the other suffocates his dying boyfriend with a pillow; bdsm dynamics; wearing a collar; sounding - use of sounding rod; safewords; subspace; allusions to blowjob & anal fingering with the promise of sex.

🗡️ notes: mc is referred to in 3rd person (she/her) pronouns for this chapter! i don't have Jimin's relationship tagged in the overall fic because this is the first and last time we know him by name and it feels insignificant. this chapter is a bit brutal at times. heed the warnings.

🗡️ early draft beta read by @blog-name-idk - but it has undergone some pretty big non-beta’d edits

🗡️ posted feb. 2024 - originally nov. 2022 | read on ao3

Jimin stares at his reflection in the vanity mirror. He has recently colored his hair a nice medium brown, and his gaze traces the waves that perfectly rest over his forehead, marveling at a job well done.

Beauty is a weapon that Jimin hones and uses expertly, and this new look of his is simply an act of sharpening his blade.

R&B music plays constantly through speakers placed in every corner of the room, setting the mood while Jimin slowly and delicately applies a dusting of pink eyeshadow, highlighting with white below the brows, and finishing with soft black lines along his lids that peak in a faint cat eye at the ends. Then he applies mascara and dots gemstones along his brows and beneath his eyes.

His right eye is still bruised with deep blues and purples surrounding the socket, but the swelling has gone down, and Jimin rather likes how dramatic it looks dusted in shimmery pink.

To complete the look, Jimin applies a light pink gloss to his lips, then gently blots on a deep red eyeshadow just to the scabbed-over slit on the right side that has been healing nicely. The injury stands out, and one would never know a touch of powder has been added to accentuate it.

"Perfect," Jimin says with a grin as he sits back in his chair in only his briefs and takes in his reflection.

Jimin promised Yoongi he would lay low because it was the only way he figured he would have the freedom to return as quickly as possible and enact his revenge without the others worrying too much about him. The moment he left the mansion, he drove straight to his suite at Paradise. He feels guilty for lying, but lying is one of the few privileges Jimin has always had, and at times it comes as second nature to him.

Taehyung had let it slip that Jimin's soon-to-be ex-boyfriend is associated with the man who attacked him. While the family men were beating information out of the man, he name-dropped Jiyong and mentioned he is one of Ryujin's men who had been sent to spy on the family.

Jimin hates that he was not a bit surprised to hear the rumor. He had been having suspicions for several weeks that Jiyong may have been up to something, and he has recently been keeping him at arm's length and not inviting him to any of the mansions. Since keeping Jiyong away from the property, his attitude has begun to take a turn, and he has been unpredictable and moody, which Jimin now attributes to him being unable to complete his mission.

So, naturally, Jimin has decided the only thing left to do is corner the man, apply a little pressure, and force him to speak, all while slowly killing him. And what better place to do so than in the comfort of his suite at Paradise, where no one will dare interfere with his actions?

His usual guard, who is already stationed outside his room, has been informed to ignore any screaming he may hear—aside from a safeword that Jimin has chosen, of course. The room is bugged for his safety, and Jimin tries not to imagine all the things his trusty guard has heard over the years. After all, that is how he was saved from the beating that could have ended up being a lot worse.

Jimin steps back from the vanity and gives himself one more glance before sliding down from his tall makeup chair and walking to his closet. The room is nearly the size of his suite, with rows of clothing, costumes, bondage gear, jewelry, footwear, and other accessories. He walks to the first rack, which is lined with robes and lingerie, and he grabs a mesh black knee-length, long-sleeve robe with feathers lining the hems.

Beneath the robe, all Jimin wears is tight pink briefs, and he ties the black cord around his waist loose enough to allow plenty of skin to stay exposed, showcasing several semi-faded bruises on his chest and neck. Jimin considers painting over those with a little makeup as well, but a light knock on his suite door indicates that his time to prepare has come to an end.

"One moment, jagi!" Jimin calls from the closet.

He smooths his hands down the soft mesh of his garment and pulls his lips into a sweet, practiced smile. All the world is a stage, and Jimin is ready to put on a final performance for Jiyong.

With one last glance around the suite, Jimin confirms that everything is in place, and he turns off the closet light and walks to the door. The room is simple, with a large bed in the corner and shelves of sex toys between the bed and the closet door. There is a tiny kitchenette between the closet and the en suite bathroom, where Jimin can prepare something small to eat, but he only uses the space to store alcohol and the occasional snack.

There used to be a small dining table and chairs, but after the attack, Jimin had all superfluous furniture removed, leaving only the bed, makeup chair, and vanity. He had come too close to getting the back of his head bashed into the corner of the hardwood of the table, and he does not want to take the chance again.

The lighting is dim, with pink and purple lights giving the room a bit of a romantic glow. On the bed are black satin sheets with wrist restraints tucked just below the pillows for bondage play.

Jimin loves being restrained and made helpless during sex. There is something he finds so addicting about handing over all control and being used as his partner pleases. Of course, bondage play is reserved only for people who Jimin trusts. Even so, the restraints he ordinarily uses have a safety mechanism to allow him to break out of them easily, should he need to.

The restraints currently nestled under Jimin's pillow have no such mechanism.

When Jimin opens the door wide and takes in the sight before him, his smile nearly falters. Jiyong's hair is black, short, and messy—framing his handsome face nicely—like he rolled out of bed moments before arriving. He wears a simple white tee tucked into blue jeans, and Jimin wonders how it would look with bright, deep crimson red spreading over the thin, white fabric.

"Hey, baby boy," Jiyong says as he eyes Jimin's attire with a smirk. "When you said you wanted to speak in private I didn't realize you meant you wanted to fuck. I would have put a little more effort into my appearance."

Jimin takes a step forward and rubs his hands over Jiyong's chest. He can feel his heart beating gently behind his ribs, and he tilts his head slightly down to capture Jiyong's lips in a chaste but sweet kiss.

"I had plans to just talk," Jimin mutters against Jiyong's lips. "But then I thought about how long it's been since we've had some time for just ourselves and I couldn't resist changing into something more enticing."

"Enticing?" Jiyong responds with a grin. "You're absolutely breathtaking, baby."

Jimin doesn't miss the way Jiyong's gaze lingers on his bruised eye and split lip as he grips onto his shirt and backs into the suite. He glances over Jiyong's head, making eye contact with the guard who stands with his arms crossed in the hall, just opposite his door. The guard nods once, and Jimin tugs Jiyong over the threshold and closes the door, which locks behind them.

"Let me fix us a drink, okay?" Jimin suggests, and Jiyong nods as he eagerly reaches for the black cord around Jimin's waist that holds his robe closed. Jimin swats at his hands and giggles as he backs away.

"Have a seat," Jimin says as he nods to the bed.

Jiyong does as instructed and sits on the edge of the bed. He rubs his hands over the dark sheets and keeps his eyes fixed on Jimin, who saunters over to the kitchenette while keeping his attention partially on Jiyong as best as he can.

Jimin pulls two short, round glasses from a small drying rack on the counter and grabs a decanter of whiskey that Yoongi gifted him, pulling the intricately designed triangle crystal top off with an inviting pop as the rubber stopper comes loose from the opening. He pours them both a finger of whiskey and puts the decanter top back on, pushing it nice and firm to create an air-tight seal.

"Whoa," Jiyong calls from the bed, "using the special occasion whiskey?"

Jimin hums and turns to Jiyong with a smile. "That's right. Jeonggukie also gave me some new product that I would like you to try. I had a sniff shortly before you got here, and I feel incredible."

"Damn, starting without me?" Jiyong chides.

On a small mirror, Jimin has racked up a nice thick line of cocaine, triazolam, and codeine. He brings it over to the bed with an already rolled-up note and hands it to Jiyong, then turns back to the kitchenette for the glasses of whiskey. Jiyong wastes no time snorting the concoction.

First, there's a hiss, then a gasp. Jimin turns to Jiyong with wide, worried eyes, and much to his pleasure, he watches as his darling boyfriend struggles to hold his composure. Snorting the medications could not have felt good, Jimin thinks to himself. Probably it burns his cocaine-raw skin like crazy.

"Everything alright?" Jimin asks sweetly.

"Fuck's in this?"

Jimin chuckles, adding a lilt of playfulness at the end. "Cocaine, silly."

Jiyong taps on his nostril with the knuckle of his bent index finger and sniffs several times. "Smells off. You said this was new?"

"Just came in last night."

"And you had some?"

Jimin hums and hands Jiyong his whiskey. "I did," he lies with a soft smile.

The line Jimin racked up was pretty thick, even for an avid user such as Jiyong, and he smiles as he grabs the empty mirror from the bed and sets it onto a nearby nightstand. It is astounding, really, how someone who snorts so much cocaine does not immediately find something off about the powder and refuse to snort it.

None of the family men would have been that stupid. But, then again, none of them do drugs outside of what Jeongguk supplies.

Jiyong swirls his whiskey and gives it a smell, then sips it slowly, and Jimin holds back laughter at his newfound paranoia. Originally, he had planned on mixing the pills in his whiskey, but after some trial runs, the powder of the crushed-up medication was always detectable, either visually or by taste.

"Alright," Jiyong says as he adjusts his posture, sitting up and rolling his shoulders. He winces as he sniffles loudly. "What's the special occasion?"

Jimin holds his drink out toward Jiyong, which Jiyong taps his glass gently against, and as Jimin shoots back the bittersweet liquid, Jiyong follows suit and does the same.

"Get on the bed, jagi," Jimin says. "I want to give you my good news with your cock buried deep in my ass."

Jiyong coughs, seemingly shocked by Jimin's words, and Jimin laughs as he leans to give him a weak pat on the back. As Jiyong bends forward and attempts to catch his breath, Jimin peels the empty glass from his fingers and sets both glasses beside the mirror on the nightstand. Also on the small, black table is his silver vial of unlaced cocaine.

Perhaps it is selfish, Jimin thinks, but despite his overwhelming desire to dig his claws into Jiyong and kill him with his own two hands, he wants to fuck him one last time. He even went through the trouble of prepping himself, just in case the pills kick in too quickly.

Jiyong stands from the bed and stumbles forward a step before correcting himself, and Jimin watches as panic flashes over his face while he begins to undress. He leaves his clothing in a heap beside the bed and sits naked on the mattress, cock half-hard and looking heavy between his legs.

"Lay down, jagi," Jimin instructs, and Jiyong smirks as he scoots back on the black silk, then rotates himself to lay with his head on the center pillow.

Jimin bites his lip and swishes his hips to the soft R&B that plays overhead as he rubs his hands down over his pecs and tummy, then back up, feeling the soft black fabric of his mesh robe. Jiyong watches intently, following the movement of Jimin's hands, and Jimin approaches and bends slightly at the hips as he sticks his hands under the robe to gather the hem of his briefs and pull them down.

"Gonna keep the robe on?" Jiyong asks with a grin.

Jimin nods, feeling rather femme fatale, and saunters over to the bed, wasting no time to climb on top and straddle his boyfriend's hips one last time.

"I prepped myself," he says sweetly, giggling as Jiyong's eyes go wide, and he reaches behind Jimin to feel for himself.

A small burst of pleasure shivers through Jimin when Jiyong's fingers touch the end of the metal anal plug, and he lets out an exaggerated moan and throws his head back. Jiyong tugs on the toy a few times, then slowly begins to pull it out, sparking Jimin to let out a genuine moan as he falls forward into Jiyong's chest.

"So eager you prepped yourself," Jiyong teases as he tosses the plug aside and presses two long fingers into Jimin's stretched-out hole, forcing a sob to fall from between his lips.

"Need you now," Jimin moans, rolling his hips and fucking himself onto Jiyong's fingers.

Jiyong reaches beneath Jimin with his other hand and grabs his cock. He presses against Jimin's hole, in which his fingers are still buried, and Jimin trembles and slaps Jiyong on the chest.

"One or the other," he complains, feeling horny and impatient.

Jiyong pulls his fingers out and gives Jimin's ass a light slap, groaning, "Alright, alright."

As soon as Jiyong presses his cock head into Jimin's ass, Jimin takes over and sits up, rocking his hips gently despite the overwhelming stretch. Jiyong slides his hands over Jimin's ass, grips him with intention, but then drops his arms to his sides. A light sigh leaves Jiyong, and Jimin opens his eyes to find him staring at the ceiling, looking spaced out.

"What's the matter, Ji?" Jimin purrs as he picks up his pace, rolling his hips up and crashing them down.

Grunts and groans come from Jiyong, and he blinks several times. Finally, he mutters, "What was in that cocaine?"

Jimin slows his hips to a languid pace and grabs both of Jiyong's hands. He pulls both hands above his head and leans forward, leaving a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.

"What do you mean?" Jimin asks sheepishly.

"I feel...fuck. Tired."

Jimin hums, reaches above Jiyong's hand to tug on a thick black strap that runs from the bed frame, to just under his pillow, and pulls out a black leather wrist cuff. Jiyong does not enjoy being restrained, so Jimin works fast to secure the cuff, which locks in place with a velcro strap that wraps around the entire wrist.

"What—" Jiyong yanks at his restraint and attempts to claw at the velcro with his other hand. "Jimin, this isn't funny."

Jimin, who continues to slowly fuck himself on Jiyong's cock, fishes out the second restraint and wrestles it onto his wrist. Jiyong grunts in a feeble attempt to beg Jimin to free him, but he doesn't seem to have a lot of strength left in him, and the words die on his tongue. Jimin giggles as he tightens the velcro, then he sits back up and bounces his hips high, slamming them down hard, hoping to cum fast before he loses him completely.

"Triazolam and codeine," Jimin moans as he throws his head back.

"Wh—"

"The cocaine," Jimin groans as he makes eye contact with a very heavy-lidded Jiyong. "I laced it with triazolam and codeine."

Jiyong rocks his hips as if in a panic, possibly attempting to shake Jimin off, but it does him no good. Jimin is close anyway, and he snakes one hand into his robe to squeeze at his leaking cock head, hissing from the burst of pleasure that the contact brings.

"Don't you want to make me cum, baby?" Jimin asks, moaning through each word as his high increases.

Jiyong stammers, "Of c-course."

"It's a shame I'll never cum on this cock again," Jimin whines as he rubs the dribbled streak of precum down his shaft.

"Jimin," Jiyong mutters, "what are you doing?"

Jimin feels so close. He picks up his pace, squeezes his eyes shut, and sobs out as his orgasm rocks through him. He catches all of his release in his hand and leans his weight on his other hand, which presses into Jiyong's chest.

Despite bringing himself quickly to orgasm, everything feels lackluster, and Jimin sighs as he lifts his hips and drops Jiyong's still-hard cock out of him.

Originally, he wanted to blacken Jiyong's eye and split his lip as the other man had done to him, but now that Jimin comes down from his high, he just feels disappointed. He feels sad.

"Was this relationship a sham from the start or did Shin recently buy you?"

Horror widens Jiyong's heavy eyes. "Ji-Jimin, p-please."

"Answer me!" Jimin shrieks, balling his fist as his cum runs down his wrist.

"I'm sorry, Jimin," Jiyong mutters. "Please f-forgive me."

"Forgive you for what, exactly?"

Jimin dismounts Jiyong and gets off the bed. He picks up his pink briefs and wipes his hand off with it, then grabs his silver vial of cocaine from the nightstand, unscrews the top, and brings the attached tiny metal spoon to his nose.

"I w-was just supposed to sp-spy on the family," Jiyong mutters pathetically.

Jimin sniffs back the drug, dips the spoon in once more, and sniffs a second small pile into the other nostril. Then he screws the top back onto the vial and holds it tight in his fist as Jiyong continues.

"I wasn't...su-supposed to f-fall in love."

Anger and bile rise up Jimin's throat, and he turns to Jiyong with a frown. "Don't you fucking dare!"

"I d-do love you," Jiyong whines, and Jimin's fist trembles. He wants to punch Jiyong until his face is unrecognizable. But he doesn't want to fuck up his hands; Jimin needs his hands.

"You love me? Which is why you sent someone to beat me up? Weird fucking way to show your love, Ji!"

Jiyong squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. A tear falls down the side of his face, the sight of which just adds to Jimin's fury.

"I didn't k-know—he wasn't supposed to do th..." Jiyong trails off, face falling to the side.

Jimin approaches and slaps Jiyong several times on the cheek. Jiyong startles and opens his eyes wide and pleadingly.

"Baby," Jiyong whines.

"If you confess to me what happened I will unrestrain you, force you to vomit the pills, and we can part ways and call this done," Jimin lies. "Otherwise, you are going to die."

Jiyong's eyes open wide, and he swallows hard. "I was Sh-Shin's man from the start. But I stopped giving her inf-information. That's why she sent that guy, who—who—. He was supposed to rough up me. Not you. I'm sor-sorry."

"Ryujin sent you to spy on us, and then you got too close and betrayed her? So she sent a man to set you straight and he attacked me instead? Is that what happened?"

Jiyong nods frantically, eyes threatening to roll to the back of his head. "P-please, you can't leave me here to die. Someone will f-find out."

"People overdose in these rooms every week, jagi. Nobody will ask questions when Yoongi's men are the ones handing your body over to the morgue."

A weak, garbled sob comes from Jiyong, who attempts to scratch at his restraints. He kicks his feet out, but it is clear that his limbs are too heavy to move very well, and he gives up, curling on himself as best as he can as he cries.

And Jimin, who thought he had everything under control, sobs before he can stop himself. In the six months that he and Jiyong have been spending time together, he has managed to catch feelings.

They were compatible. They fit together nicely. And it was all a lie, doomed from the start because he was sent by the enemy and chose to keep that a secret even as they got close.

The worst part is that if Jiyong had been honest with him about betraying Ryujin, they could have tried to make it work. It would have been an uphill battle, but he would have done his best to trust him.

Jimin turns away from the bed in time for tears to fall in heavy streams down his face. He can't do this. He can't follow through with the murder. He needs help.

On the vanity counter sits Jimin's phone, and he walks over and picks it up in shaky hands, dialing Yoongi's number. Yoongi answers after one ring.

"Hello?"

"Hyung," Jimin sobs, voice squeaking. "Please don't be mad at me."

"Jiminah," Yoongi responds firmly. "I could never be mad at you. Tell me what is happening. What do you need?"

"I c-came to Paradise," Jimin hiccups. "I brought Jiyong and I drugged him but I can't finish him. I need help, hyung."

Yoongi chuckles. It is soft and bright, and it takes Jimin by surprise. He can't help but smile slightly from the sound.

"Jiminah, what did I tell you about trying to do everything by yourself?"

"I know," Jimin whines, feeling pathetic. "I'm sorry."

"Seokjin and Hoseok are at House of Cards. I can send them over now, or I can come to you in the next thirty or so minutes."

"S-Seokjin-hyung is fine."

"Don't cry, okay, Jiminie? Your hyungs will take care of it."

"Th-thank you, hyung."

The line goes dead, and Jimin lowers his phone from his ear. There was a part of him that feared Yoongi would be disappointed in him for going against his wishes of laying low. But he should know by now that Yoongi could never be disappointed in him. He has said as much many times, and he has never shown signs of faltering.

Jimin takes a fortifying breath and holds it in his lungs before breathing it out slowly. His phone vibrates in his hand, and he lifts it to find a notification from Seokjin that says, "Be there in 5."

Hyungs will take care of everything, Jimin reminds himself. They always do.

The room is still and silent, and Jimin glances at the man on his bed—naked and breathing deeply, fast asleep. Jimin wasn't sure how much it would take to force an overdose, and his original plan was to smother him in the event that the pills were not enough. But now that he faces the need to finish the task, his arms feel shaky and weak.

Jimin is not a killer. He may be family to a pack of ruthless men, but Jimin cannot bring himself to kill someone.

With one more deep exhale, Jimin returns to his closet and grabs the clothes he came dressed in—a black long-sleeve velvet button-up and lace-front leather pants.

The intention was to go to the club and find someone to fuck away his frustration with, but now as he slides on the thick leather pants, he does not feel like doing much of anything. He even considers finding something else to wear since it will be Seokjin and Hoseok taking him home, but he doesn't have the strength to choose a new outfit. Maybe his hyungs will consider his outfit amusing.

Jimin manages to loosely tuck his shirt into the front of his pants before there are three firm knocks on the door. Seokjin always knocks thrice. Jimin smiles weakly to himself and shuts off the light in his closet, then makes his way to the door, keeping his eyes off Jiyong.

When Jimin swings the door open, Seokjin immediately lifts his hands to Jimin's chin and bends to place a soft kiss on his bottom lip. Jimin gasps and immediately relaxes into the touch, and Seokjin places a second peck on his nose before standing straight and peering over his head. It has been years since Seokjin kissed him, and Jimin stands in a bit of a daze.

"I have always wondered what his cock looks like," Seokjin muses.

Jimin backhands him on the chest with a chuckle, coming back to earth as he shouts, "Hyung!"

"Tell us what you need," Hoseok says softly as his head appears from the side of Seokjin's broad shoulder.

Jimin takes a step back and allows both men into the room, and as Seokjin walks past Jimin toward the bed, Hoseok closes the door softly and approaches Jimin, gently taking his chin in his hands just as Seokjin had.

"Baby, your new hair color is stunning," Hoseok says sweetly, eyes sparkling. "You look so much younger."

Jimin sniffles and smiles, feeling tear streaks staining his cheeks. "I look younger because I've cried my makeup off like a child."

Hoseok chuckles and pulls Jimin into a firm hug, engulfing his head and shoulder with his arms. He smells like a freshly picked bouquet, and Jimin wraps his arms around Hoseok, sinking into the feeling; Hoseok has never hugged Jimin like this before.

Then, Jimin hears it: a muffled voice groaning and struggling from behind him. Hoseok holds Jimin even closer.

"It'll be over in a second, baby, don't worry," Hoseok mutters against Jimin's head, and Jimin nods feebly and lets out a deep breath that he had been holding.

For years, Seokjin and Hoseok have called Jimin baby, and for years, Jimin thought it was condescending at best. But like this, tightly wound in Hoseok's arms, the name brings him comfort. Perhaps, he thinks, he had it all wrong.

"Did he manage to confess?" Seokjin asks, and Hoseok slowly lowers his arms from around Jimin.

Jimin is not sure what he expects to see when he turns around, but he is thankful to find that Seokjin has completely covered Jiyong with the black silk sheet. Seokjin glances around the room and begins to collect Jimin's things, grabbing his vial of cocaine and his cell phone and shoving them into his pockets.

"He said Ryujin sent him to spy on us and that he ended up fall—" Jimin stops himself, then sighs and nibbles on the inside of his lip. "When we started dating he began to lose sight of the mission. Apparently, the guy who roughed me up was actually sent here for him. Or so he claimed. I don't know. I don't fucking care anymore."

Hoseok wraps his arms around Jimin's shoulders, pulling him into a tight back-hug while Seokjin washes the whiskey glasses and mirror that had been left on the nightstand.

"Oh, baby, you clearly do care," Hoseok says as he rests his head against Jimin's shoulder and nuzzles his nose below his ear. "And that's okay. We can help you forget."

"Forget, how?" Jimin asks, watching as Seokjin tidies up the makeup that was left on the vanity, then gathers the clothing that had been piled on the floor.

Seokjin turns to Jimin and quickly raises his eyebrows a few times. "Any way you'd like, pretty bird. What's your poison, these days?"

What Jimin really wants is to be tied up and fucked senseless until he forgets the way Jiyong's cock felt inside him—until he forgets his own name. But he doesn't know how to ask for that, even if it happens to be something that he assumes is on the table.

Luckily, Jimin doesn't have to ask because these two can read him like a book. Reading people is one of their many shared gifts.

"Let's get you home and take good care of you, hmm?" Hoseok suggests.

Seokjin smiles and sends him a wink. It all seems innocuous enough, but Jimin can hear it in their voices—can see it in their eyes.

Jimin nods and lets himself smile. "Okay."

On their way out of the club, Jeongguk and Taehyung show up to take care of Jiyong's body. They say Yoongi sent them, and they both give Jimin a warm hug, which is a strange thing to receive from either of them, much less both.

The ride to Seokjin and Hoseok's house is short; Jimin disassociates from the moment they get into the car, with only the sound of the large metal gate at the end of the drive pulling him from his daze. A sedan sits parked in front of the garage, so Hoseok pulls up behind it and gets out. Before Jimin can reach for the handle, his door is pulled wide open, and Yoongi stands before him with his arms outstretched.

"Hyung," Jimin mutters. He pauses before exiting, then steps out of the vehicle and into Yoongi's embrace.

"I'm so sorry for all you have been put through, Jiminah," Yoongi says against the side of Jimin's head.

Jimin sighs and wraps his arms around Yoongi. Although he is grateful for so much care, he feels embarrassed by all the attention. The youngest two hugging him earlier was the final straw.

"It's fine," Jimin grumbles.

Yoongi backs from the hug but takes Jimin firmly by the shoulders with both hands. "It is not fine," he says, looking Jimin sternly in the eye. "I know you had feelings for him. And I know you are a softie who hates to kill. But you are not alone. Please do not ever feel like you have to do anything alone."

"I was afraid to ask because you wanted me to lay low, and I went against your word," Jimin confesses.

"Jiminah," Yoongi whines, knitting his eyebrow in frustration. "You know that no matter what, I will never be upset with you. I told you to lay low for your protection, but you are not a child. I trust you to do what you think needs to be done. Just please do not do everything by yourself. We are a family for a reason, and I am here for you, no matter what."

Jimin wiggles out of Yoongi's grasp and mutters, "Yes, hyung," as he attempts to follow Seokjin and Hoseok into their house, but Yoongi stops Jimin, grabbing his hand and giving him a gentle tug.

"One more thing," Yoongi mutters as Jimin turns to face him. Yoongi looks tired, like he hasn't slept since the last time Jimin saw him, and he wears a black tee with no button-up, which is concerning. Even in his own home, it is rare to find Yoongi dressed down in the middle of the day.

"What is it, boss?"

Yoongi sighs and nibbles on the inside of his mouth, crossing his arms over his chest. "Our darling knows you were the queen."

Anxiety drops to the pit of Jimin's stomach. "How—"

"She had a dream about the night she killed Seungri, and it was hard to hold back the fact that we knew all about the incident. She wanted to know how much we knew, so Namjoon and I took her to dinner and did our best to explain the events that led to that night. It...did not go very well."

"Oh."

"I do not think she is angry with you, but it is hard to say. But just be mindful of that, next time you see her. Maybe you two should have a conversation. I did not tell her much about your involvement; after a certain point she no longer wanted to listen."

Jimin swallows a lump and nods. Every inch of him tingles with anxiety, and he hates the idea of having to look her in the eye, knowing that she knows. He had planned to tell her eventually, but he was banking on not having to for a while longer—at least, not until he got to know her a little better. Curse Yoongi and his moments of kindness.

"Understood," Jimin mutters sullenly.

Yoongi wraps his arms around Jimin once more and gives him a kiss on the cheek, which causes Jimin to grimace and attempt to wiggle away.

"Everyone is so loving today," Jimin whines.

With a chuckle, Yoongi drops his arms from around Jimin. "The youngest two act like grumpy old men, so I have always kind of viewed you as our baby."

"Great," Jimin mutters as he rolls his eyes, though the thought of being the baby of the group does delight him quite a bit. Of course, he can never let them know that. "I'll lay low for real, this time. If dove needs space, then I can wait but if it seems like she wants to talk, let me know, and I can come right over."

Yoongi nods, flashes half a smile, and turns toward the path that connects his mansion with Seokjin's. With a final, fortifying breath, Jimin faces the house to find Seokjin standing in the doorway. His arms are crossed over his chest, but his body language is otherwise relaxed and patient—head leaning to the side against the door frame with one ankle crossed over the other. It feels oddly domestic to approach the man waiting for him in such a fashion, and Jimin hesitates before he takes a step forward.

When they were younger, back when Seokjin joined the group and was getting trained to be a family man, Jimin was the only one not sleeping with anyone within the group, to his estimation. Taehyung and Jeongguk never came out and said anything at the time, but there was an abrupt shift in their demeanors one day—a playfulness that Jeongguk rarely displayed with anyone else—that led Jimin to believe that something had been going on.

Seokjin quickly broke down Jimin's walls and his inclination toward avoiding platonic sex, and they spent a good two months exploring new depths of pleasure and pain, and waking up in each other's arms. And then Hoseok joined the team, and slowly, Seokjin began to replace his time with Jimin with his time with Hoseok.

At first, Jimin felt salty about it, but as he got to know Hoseok, he understood their bond. Not only do they come from affluent families, but they are both sadistic little freaks with a bloodlust, and a penchant for manipulation. Perfect for one another.

Over the years, there has been an open invitation for Jimin to join them in bed. And over the years, Jimin has nearly caved many times. But fucking one's friends is oftentimes messy, and Jimin has always worried about being the cause of some rift between bonds of irreplaceable men, potentially making Yoongi's life more difficult.

Not to mention, being his own top whore at Paradise has afforded him the ability to use others as a means to sexual needs and escape. So he has stayed out of their relationship.

But there has always been an inkling at the back of Jimin's mind—not only to see how Seokjin has changed over the years, but to discover what Hoseok is into, as well. Jimin has done well to keep his distance and stave off his curiosity, but today he is feeling rather vulnerable. Today he wants to experience subspace—something only Seokjin has ever helped him to accomplish.

As Jimin approaches the house and walks up the three concrete steps to the landing, Seokjin straightens his posture and holds out his arm.

"Hoseokie is fixing up a quick stew. Would you like me to draw you a bath, or would you like to stay as you are?"

Jimin considers it. A bath does sound nice, but he would rather not be alone with his thoughts right now. "I'll stay as I am."

"Wonderful," Seokjin responds as he lets his door fall closed behind them and secures two deadbolts. The smell of something hearty and rich hits Jimin's nose, making him suddenly aware of how hungry he is. Jimin toes out of his shoes and kicks them near the neatly stacked rows of shoes and boots, and Seokjin does the same with a giggle—as if he knows Hoseok will be displeased with his carelessness, and he finds it delightful.

Jimin leans into Seokjin's hold as they make their way through the living room to the kitchen. Most of the houses on the compound are the same. Open concept foyer, living room, and kitchen with spare rooms on the first level and stairs that lead up to bedrooms and bathrooms on both floors. Each house has more rooms than its occupant—or occupants—have a need for, so many of the homes have guest rooms, offices, gyms, libraries, and so on.

Seokjin and Hoseok have tailored several guest rooms to be sexual fantasy havens, decorated a certain way, and stocked with outfits and toys to suit that particular brand of fantasy. Hoseok is rather proud of his dollhouse room and has shown off pictures of pink walls and lavish furniture that appear as if the room had come straight out of a barbie dream house. Seokjin, on the other hand, brags most about his puppy playhouse, stocked full of harnesses and leashes, with various cages throughout.

It occurs to Jimin, as he is led to the kitchen, that he has not been back to this house since Hoseok moved in and began to decorate. There is a certain quality to the furnishings that gives the home a baroque feel—intricately hand-carved wood, gold leaf accents, and velvet upholstery. Count Dracula himself could have assisted with the interior design. Jimin smiles as he cranes his neck to see the various paintings and sconces on high, wainscotted walls.

In the dining area is a wooden table—as intricately hand-carved as everything else they own—that seats eight beside a wall of glass which overlooks a surprisingly minimalist garden. In the distance, Taehyung's mansion can be seen sticking out from a wall of tall shrubs and columnar trees. Just past the dining area, Hoseok is busy in a surprisingly modernly furnished kitchen with black marble counters and black steel appliances, dancing to a tune he hums while stirring a pot.

"Have a seat!" Hoseok calls over his shoulder, and Seokjin guides Jimin to the chair at the head of the table, muttering, "Guest of honor."

Jimin rounds the table and sits, then places his hands on the top of the hardwood and stares down at the mauve ceramic bowl and matte bronze utensils. He feels anxious and does his best to breathe deeply—in through his nose, pushing his belly out while keeping his shoulders down, and out through his mouth—to keep the swirl of panic that fights inside him at bay. Meanwhile, Seokjin is in the kitchen, presumably helping Hoseok while Jimin waits.

"Wine or soju, baby?" Hoseok asks.

"Or whiskey?" Seokjin suggests.

Jimin turns his head, glancing from the corner of his eye to find Seokjin leaning against the marble counter with his black sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His dark hair is pushed off his forehead today, and he looks absolutely stunning—but, then again, Seokjin always looks stunning.

"Soju is fine," Jimin responds with a soft smile, and watches as Seokjin straightens his posture and makes his way to the fridge. Then, Hoseok spins with a large, steaming pot in mauve oven-mitt-covered hands, and Jimin's eyes follow as he rounds their large marble island and brings the pot to the table.

Hoseok's wavy dark hair falls over his forehead, and after the pot is plopped onto a cloth pad in front of Jimin, Hoseok turns to him and winks, then straightens and makes his way back into the kitchen. Jimin stares ahead at the wafting steam as Seokjin and Hoseok come back and forth, bringing soju and side dishes before settling down.

"You happened to need comfort on a day that I was already planning to make short rib stew," Hoseok says cheerily. "I had everything prepped and simmering since this morning."

Seokjin serves Jimin a bowl while Hoseok fills everyone's glasses, and they dig in. The stew is hearty and does not pack too much spice or overwhelming flavor, which is exactly what Jimin's anxious stomach needs, and he feels grateful for his family men.

Dinner comes and goes in a bit of a daze. The food is delicious, but Jimin's appetite is not what it normally is, so he slurps and chews slowly while Seokjin and Hoseok hold conversation around him. It is nice, Jimin thinks, to be present without having to contribute much. He is not sure he is really in the mood to talk, but he enjoys hearing the back and forth of his hosts, even if he struggles to catch exactly what they are discussing.

After their meal, Seokjin clears the table while Hoseok fills their glasses with more soju. Jimin feels satisfied but not too full, and all the soju has helped relax him enough that the anxiety is at bay. Perhaps Seokjin and Hoseok being present has helped in that sense, too. Jimin is not entirely sure.

"What would you like, baby?" Hoseok asks. "We could relax in front of the television...or we could head upstairs and take your mind off everything in other ways."

Jimin is pulled from his thoughts—most of which are just spaced out staring into nothing—and blinks at Hoseok, who sits to his right with his chin cradled in his palm.

Hoseok continues, "We could relax in front of the television...or we could head upstairs and take your mind off everything in other ways."

"I'm not sure," Jimin admits. "But I could use a distraction...more than what the television might offer. What did the two of you have in mind?"

Hoseok grins, then bites his lip, humming and cocking his head as if in thought. "I've wanted to have you in our home for so long, I feel too overwhelmed with possibility to choose."

Warmth floods Jimin's neck and cheeks, and he flits his tongue out to wet his lips, watching as Hoseok's eyes follow the movement. "Same," he mutters softly, suddenly feeling shy.

"Well," Seokjin offers as he returns to the table and drapes himself over Hoseok's shoulders, "we could tie you up, whip you, and all that usual stuff. Or, we can take you into one of the doll rooms and dress you up like our pretty little princess, then punish you until you cry."

"Or, we can also go easy on him," Hoseok chides as he turns to look at Seokjin with a playful smile.

Seokjin shakes his head and, staring into Jimin's eyes, says, "Baby doesn't want us to go easy. Does he?"

"No," Jimin responds with a delicate shake of his head, still in disbelief that his conversation is happening. "I want to lose myself."

"What a delight to know some things never change," Soekjin says.

Jimin does not miss the way Hoseok's face lights up with delight. The wide, toothy grin sends a shiver down Jimin's spine, and he has to look away, gaze falling to the cup of soju before him. He picks it up and takes a gulp of the cool, bittersweet liquid, then sets it down.

"I know just the thing," Seokjin says as he stands up straight and holds his hand out to Jimin.

Jimin scoots his chair back from the table and stands, then takes Seokjin's hand. A gasp escapes him as Seokjin tugs him close, forcing him to stumble into his chest.

"Come this way, baby."

"Okay," Jimin mutters softly.

Hoseok stands and peers over Seokjin's shoulder. "Okay is an improper response for your hosts. What do you say to us, baby?"

Jimin knows this game—has played it many times with Seokjin before, and is absolutely unsurprised that Hoseok prefers the same.

"Yes, sir," he tries and is rewarded with another devious grin and a nod of Hoseok's head.

Jimin is led through the dining area, back through the living room, to a set of stairs beside the entrance, and then up. The master bedroom in these homes is a door at the end of the hall—a large room that takes up most of the second floor, but Jimin knows that he is not being taken there. Seokjin leads him to a large wooden door on the right.

As they approach, Hoseok takes the lead and keys in a passcode, which unlocks the door. When Hoseok walks in, dim lights flick on automatically, revealing a room with large, comfortable couches and chairs, a bed, and shelves upon shelves of sex toys—from impact toys to dildos and plugs, and more.

Everything is black and dark red, with bursts of yellow and red light glowing from beneath and behind furniture and stationary devices, with no lighting overhead. Hoseok walks to a large black sofa in the center of the room and sits on one of the far ends with his arm outstretched over the back.

"Go to Seokie, baby," Seokjin instructs, and Jimin mutters, "Yes sir," as he releases Seokjin's hand and makes his way to the couch, slotting himself beside Hoseok's open arm.

"Jinnie, bear, what did you have in mind for us, today?" Hoseok asks, craning his neck to follow Seokjin's movements through the room.

Seokjin stands before a large, dark armoire with a door swung open on the left side. Hanging from hooks on the inside of the door are various small toys, and Jimin immediately recognizes what Seokjin is reaching for because this is something they used to do together all those years ago.

Jimin shifts on the couch, feeling a wave of apprehension return as he watches Seokjin take a small silicon rod and begin to wipe it clean with a cleansing pad. Seokjin has always been meticulous with cleanliness and sterilization after play, but he always gives his toys and tools an additional swipe with a gentle cleanser before use.

With the door to the armoire wide open, Seokjin turns to the couch and raises an eyebrow at Jimin—a silent question.

Jimin nods, whispers, "Yes, sir," and swallows thickly while Hoseok's fingers dance over Jimin's shoulder, sending a tingle of comfort through him.

"Want to wear a collar for us, baby?" Hoseok offers.

Jimin does want to wear a collar, and he turns with wide, eager eyes and nods. "Yes, sir."

"We bought one just for you," Hoseok blurts out. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth before continuing. "I-if you'd like that one?"

"You bought me one?" Jimin asks, feeling affection burst and bloom in his chest.

"We've been waiting for you to join us," Hoseok admits, blushing pretty and nervous as his cheeks take on a slightly darker shade in the dim light.

Jimin feels overwhelmed with joy but also with regret. Some part of him always assumed that there was no place for him in their bed—that their invitations were a courtesy simply extended to the man Seokjin used to fuck, and nothing more.

Hoseok scoots to the edge of the couch and slides himself away from Jimin, then he makes his way to the same armoire Seokjin stands near. From a drawer on the right side, Hoseok produces a black, rectangular box, then he stands on his toes and kisses Seokjin on the cheek before returning to Jimin, sitting beside him on the edge of the sofa with his body angled in and their knees touching.

Jimin waits eagerly as Hoseok opens the box, revealing a very thin black leather collar with pale pink metal o rings hanging from various points around the length. Jimin's breath gets caught in his throat as tears well in his eyes, and he looks up to Hoseok, then to Seokjin, and back at the choker.

"This is—" Jimin begins, but his words get caught. "Thank you."

"Your hair was that pretty pale pink back when we bought it," Seokjin says as he approaches with a small silicon toy in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other.

Jimin smiles and runs an index finger over the hoops. His hair was pale pink when he met Hoseok, which means—

"You bought this for me that long ago?"

Hoseok hums and smiles softly. "We always wanted you to come to us, baby."

"I'm sorry," Jimin mutters quietly before he can stop himself.

Seokjin tuts his tongue and sits on the couch beside him. "Nonsense. We knew you would come when you were ready. Well, we hoped, anyway."

Hoseok interjects, "Admittedly, we did get a little jealous every time you brought some new guy around. We began to wonder if you held a grudge."

Gently, Hoseok removes the collar from the box and holds it up to Jimin's throat with a smile. As he wraps the thin leather around Jimin's neck and leans in closely to tighten it, Jimin breathes in Hoseok's floral, musky scent. The cold metal hoops kiss his skin and cause goosebumps to break over his arms.

"Perhaps a little," Jimin admits softly. "I guess for a while, I felt replaced."

Hoseok finishes clasping the collar, then sits back and gently takes Jimin's face in his hands. His pretty lips are downturned in a frown as he says, "I'm so sorry, baby."

"We have you here now, and that is all that matters," Seokjin says as he gets onto his knees on the floor.

Jimin straightens out and sits back on the couch while Seokjin crawls between his knees, and Hoseok's hands slide from Jimin's face, down to his neck, and to his chest. Seokjin sets the items in his hand beside Hoseok, then places both hands on Jimin's knees and rubs them up to his thighs. The warmth of Seokjin's hands and the distant but familiar sight of him looking up at Jimin from between his legs stir up myriad emotions.

Seokjin leans forward and, with a smirk, finds the end of one of the strings on Jimin's pants with his teeth. Jimin's breath hitches as Seokjin gazes up at him through his lashes and begins to slowly sit back, untying Jimin's leather pants using only his mouth. Jimin finds himself panting as Seokjin runs his hands down and up his thighs, then further, to his waist.

"Let's get you out of these," Seokjin purrs with a smile. "As much as I love the sight of you in leather."

Jimin nods, already feeling a bit dazed, and he lifts his hips as Seokjin gathers the waistband of his pants and briefs and tugs them down, past his thighs. Seokjin pulls, forcing Jimin's legs straight up in the air and he slides down in a slouching position, giggling softly as his hands grip the edge of the cushions for stability.

Rather than free Jimin's legs from the leather pants, Seokjin stops with Jimin's knees restrained and his legs standing tall, and rubs down the backs of Jimin's bare thighs, spreading him slightly. Jimin gasps and struggles to hold himself in position as Seokjin's fingers tease near his balls and down to his ass.

"Hyung," Jimin whines, though for what he whines, he is unsure.

Hoseok helps Jimin by sitting high on his knees beside him and tugging at the pants, freeing his legs. As soon as Jimin's feet fall free from the fabric, his legs spread, and Seokjin takes advantage of the position and pushes his thighs open, spreading him wide. Jimin hardly has a chance to adjust before Seokjin's warm, wet tongue is pressing and laving against his half-hard length.

A breathy whimper punches from Jimin's lungs, and he shivers as Seokjin leaves sloppy, wet kisses along his thighs and groin in no discernable rhythm or pattern. Jimin slowly, gently lowers his legs and attempts to sit up and get more comfortable, but Seokjin presses Jimin's hips firmly into the couch, and Hoseok removes the cushion behind him, slowly lowering him onto his back. The couch is far deeper than Jimin realized when he sat, and he nearly distracts himself by wondering how thick those cushions are, but the sound of a lube bottle snapping open instantly dissolves all thought.

"Have you sounded since doing it with me?" Seokjin asks.

Jimin shakes his head, then remembers Seokjin probably can't see the movement and says, "No, sir."

"We'll go nice and slow, baby," Hoseok says as he pets Jimin's hair. "Just tell us what you need, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"And if you go non-verbal and need me to stop?" Seokjin asks as he drags his teeth over the soft flesh of Jimin's inner thigh.

"Clap my hands, sir," Jimin whimpers as the idea of becoming so high from pleasure that he might lose his ability to speak tingles through him.

"Good baby," Seokjin and Hoseok say in tandem, sending a wave of arousal and excitement crashing over Jimin all at once.

All Jimin wants is to be so good for them that he breaks and becomes a shell of himself—a vessel for nothing but pleasure. Jimin does not reach that level of high with anyone else. Not with his now-dead ex, and certainly never with his clients.

His achievement of subspace relies heavily on not only his level of trust but also on the unique types of pain that he has only explored with Seokjin. He found out about subspace by chance with Seokjin and has never allowed anyone to come close since.

Jimin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, relaxing into the couch as best as he can while Seokjin gathers his cock and gently holds it in his hand, pointed straight up. Jimin prefers to sound while only partially erect, and he tries only to think of things that will stop him from becoming too hard, replaying the visual of alertness draining from his exes eyes as the laced cocaine pulled him from consciousness.

Remembering the murder that had taken place mere hours ago is probably a mistake, and Jimin nearly begins to spiral and panic. But then the blunt tip of a small, silicon rod begins to enter the hole of his cock, and Jimin returns to reality. Seokjin is so painfully slow that as Jimin's eyes fly open and he stares up at the ceiling, all thoughts that had previously plagued him are wiped clean.

The stretch of his urethral opening is a familiar sting Jimin does his best to adjust to, and he gasps and claws at the couch as he tells himself over and over silently to breathe, just breathe, in slowly and out just as slowly, breathe, breathe, breathe.

"Does it hurt, baby?" Hoseok asks as he gently pets Jimin's hair.

"Yes, sir," Jimin manages through clenched teeth.

"Color?" Seokjin asks, stilling his movement but keeping the silicon inserted.

In the past, they always used the stoplight safeword system, where green signals for Seokjin to keep going and red signals for him to stop.

"Green, sir," Jimin responds, almost desperately.

Seokjin continues to slowly press in, stretching Jimin open with the small tool. The feeling no longer stings, but it does feel intrusive in a way that makes him want to squirm and claw and fight. It also feels so good—so unbelievably, incomprehensibly good—that Jimin trembles and sinks and does his best to disappear completely.

"You're doing so good for us, pretty baby," Hoseok says sweetly, running his hand over Jimin's clothed chest, grazing his fingertips over a nipple and sending sparks through him.

"Th-thank you, sir."

The pressure in Jimin's cock evens out, and Jimin tilts his head to find that the sounding rod has been completely inserted, with nothing but a little black loop sticking out from his tip. Jimin drops his head back to the couch and lets out a deep exhale. Already, he feels tingly and breathless—light as a feather on the breeze.

"I'm going to stretch you open a fuck you now," Hoseok mutters into Jimin's ear, making Jimin gasp. "Does that sound good to you, baby?"

"Yes, sir."

"And if we completely lose you to subspace, what should we do?" Seokjin asks.

"Continue to fuck me," Jimin mutters with a smile. "Use me until you're done and clean me up."

"You're sure about that?" Hoseok asks as his teeth graze over Jimin's throat.

Jimin has never been so sure of anything in his life. "Yes, sir," he whimpers desperately. He trusts them with his life.

A lube-slick hand strokes Jimin's cock, and his sense of reality cracks. The pleasure feels so intense with the sounding rod snug inside him, that all he can do is gasp and continue to weakly claw at the cushion below him.

Jimin hardly recognizes the weight on the couch shift, nor his upper half being lifted enough to tug the shirt over his head before his back is returned to the warm, soft cushion.

When Jimin's legs are spread and a long, slick finger is prising him open, he realizes that he is lying fully on the couch—that he has been shifted around entirely. Punchdrunk on dizzying euphoria, all Jimin can comprehend is what his body feels; nothing else in the world exists.

And when a warm, wet mouth engulfs his cock at the same time as two fingers stretch him open, Jimin fades completely from his body and floats to the ceiling.

For the first time in years, Jimin feels the warm, peaceful hug of subspace, and he is totally and completely gone. His body and mind and trusted solely to these two handsome devils, and he is completely at their mercy.

thank you so much for reading!!! i hope you enjoy these extras. i lament only writing from one point of view, so these have been a lot of fun for me. hopefully it’s not too confusing plopping them into the story as early as chapter 10.

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tag lists will be on separate reblogs! they’ve gotten too big to contain as one! if you would like to be tagged in this fic, please let me know!!! 💜💜💜

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#jimin mafia #jimin angst #jimin smut #seokjin mafia #hoseok mafia #yoongi mafia #bts mafia #bts angst #bts smut #bts poly #fic: collateral #Spotify

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