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He glanced at himself in the mirror and grinned, admiring how gorgeous his new body was. All smooth skin with curves and muscles in the right places, he wasn’t malnourished anymore.
For the first time in ages the bite of hunger no longer hassled him.
He was full and he knew he wouldn’t need to feed for at least a decade following this.
Rampage or not, all six of them were under his careful control and moved like puppets to his will.
“Jimin.” Six different voices expressed the same sentiment and each of the men spoke his name with reverence like he was a god. In some ways he was.
Their god.
All of his bandmates worshiped him and bowed at his feet, figuratively, unless he wished it to be so.
When they came with offerings, leaving them inside of the temple that was Jimin’s body, he accepted with soft kisses, laughs, and smiles. Hands were clutched onto his skin as tight as hands clasped into prayer were, leaving bruises and testaments of the person before them.
Seokjin’s offerings came in the form of appeasements. Whether it be making Jimin’s favorite meal or being Jimin’s pick-me-up on a bad day. The oldest was aware of Jimin’s power over them yet did nothing to fight it. He simply waited his turn and showed up whenever Jimin found himself alone, be it in the shower, the living or his own room. Seokjin never failed to adorn Jimin with his confessions, cooing about how pretty his face looked painted in white.
Yoongi rarely sought Jimin out but when he did, he always ended up intertwining their limbs together until Jimin could feel his heartbeat. Whatever he felt like offering was what Jimin accepted, purely because he knew it’d be good regardless. The second eldest didn’t speak much and preferred to confess in forms of grunts and sighs as he moved slowly, taking the time to worship each and every part of Jimin.
Hoseok, being his roommate, frequently found time to prepare offerings for Jimin. They ranged from pieces of his favorite candy to the thrilling feel of his hands closing around Jimin’s neck as he sat on top of him. At times like that, it felt like Hoseok was the one who had Jimin under his thumb but when he smiled despite not being able to breathe, he knew the truth. Hoseok’s confessions were whispered in Jimin’s ear whenever he thought Jimin was asleep.
Namjoon always confessed first then gave his offerings, choosing to save his praise and worship for last. Red marks of possession littered Jimin’s body when Namjoon murmured his last praise and left his offering between Jimin’s sticky thighs.
Taehyung was unconditional with his giving and stopped at nothing to ensure that Jimin was satisfied. Because his love was that of a friend and of a lover, Jimin found his confessions the most interesting to listen to. Sometimes he’d admit to being jealous of the others monopolizing his attention. Other times he’d talk about the nonsensical thoughts that crossed his mind as he lightly scratched his blunt fingernail up and down Jimin’s abdomen.
Jungkook liked to give thanks in the middle of the night, showing up unplanned like a storm. He murmured his words into Jimin’s shoulder, pressing their bodies together as he confessed his sins. Spoiled, the youngest member’s confessions were always met with a moan and even a praise.
Variant yet steadfast in their worship, Jimin thrived.