Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Once upon a time, in a land so far away, tucked into the edge of a dreary, dark, dense, damp forest, was a temple. In the forsaken temple in that forgotten land lived the false god.

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“Grandma,” whispered the sweet boy, nuzzling into the warmth offered by the beldame. Her daily prayers had just ceased by then, as the sun dipped low into the horizon, leaving everything and everyone to the mercy of the late winter night. For the preceding half an hour, her shrill voice had liltingly hummed the verses of prayer Jimin knew by heart; hymns of highest ideals for an innocent, unassuming child – love and gratitude, virginity and honour, peace and forgiveness. During her prayers, penitence took over his awareness, and the boy moved his lips to enunciate the same words as his grandmother.

In the afterglow of newfound holiness, Jimin found himself unable to sleep despite the howling winds of a wretched storm. It was a cold night, and the booming thunder had brought the boy of twenty years from his lonely room in a cabin past the great swamp to his grandmother’s chambers. Though he, in no way resembled his adolescent self in his post teen age, for his grandmother who had lived since forever, he was still a boy in leading strings.

This did not, not even once, upset him. Jimin took great comfort in clinging to the residues of his childhood pre-pubescent innocence and naivety within the four walls of their house for appearances' sake. With no other family nor close kin, Jimin and his grandmother lived in a land of dreams and fancies.

Her bony fingers brushed his dark strands off his face, placing a wet smooch that evoked crinkles in the boy’s forehead. Still, Jimin huddled closer. “Halmeoni?”

“Yes, my Minie,” her voice was kind.

“Will you tell me a story?”

“Which one, Minie?” There was no purpose behind that question. The crone only knew one tale, the one she had been cantillating since before he was old enough to understand subtleties of it, and Jimin had only heard one his entire life. This was a thing of habit, a role that they played, that helped convince them both that this time it would be an entirely different story. Sometimes it was; the tale was dark and twisted like trees in the woods by the swamp, the one that shrouded the falls. Its ending kept changing every time it was recited. That was the comfort of such a cautionary tale; you never let it take a singular form. Lacing it with lies and half-truths distracted one from what it truly was – a prophecy.

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There were many intentional variations of the story, a new detail woven into the fabric of their history in order to protect the babes from the horrifying nature of it. No one knew what the story was like before, or if there was ever a true story. There were no scholars in their ancestry – Jimin and his bloodline belonged to a watered-down branch of the old royalty – the ones who lay with outcasts and had to part with their life in the township. After years, any hint of royal blood had vanished from their composition. They were forced into this strip of land deep inside the forest by the kings ages ago, by the time Jimin’s grandmother was born the rest of their kin had been slain. Therefore, he only had his grandmother to pour into the vessel that was his mind the stories of their kin.

However, in their appearance, his grandmother insisted, they resembled their kingly forefathers. Jimin believed this to be true. He believed he was beautiful. Every soul who had laid eyes on him had told him – the butcher’s boy who brought them a fine cut from their share, the milkman who brought his grandma fresh cow’s milk in the mornings, and the doctor’s apprentice he ran to every other week when his grandmother’s frail health demanded help.

He could see it with his own eyes, this very second, as he stood on the edge of the pond hidden by the willow tree. He untied the strings of his garments, looking over his shoulder to ensure that his grandmother was still confined to the kitchens. He would be mortified if she were to see him like this.

He let the robe slide down his arms and lay him bare. Jimin looked down at his reflection, and his breath caught in his chest. Albeit being on the shorter side, his long limbs graced him with an everlasting illusion of being taller and well-made than he already was. His skin resembled the colour of warm ivory in which his striking features existed in harmony. Under a mass of his pitch-black hair, which was now tousled and falling in gentle curls, reaching right above his nape, were his dark brown eyes. His lips were cherry red and his cheeks naturally pink. He had lost some weight around his tummy, his stomach folds now a thing of the past. His waist was now slender and defined a double concave, and Taehyung Hyung, the butcher’s boy, had wrapped his big hands around it while lifting him up when he had saved Jimin from a stray bullock cart. He had grown since the last time he had the chance to see himself like this. His chest had filled out and when he tentatively tried to hold his breast, the flesh spilled from his grip. His trance is broken when a lone fish splashes in the green waters, the ripples therefrom shattering his bubble of personal admiration.

The rains had rendered the earth softer than before. His toes sank a little into the muddy bed as he walked into the pond. He had just returned from collecting herbs today and since prayer was only an hour away, he had to bathe himself to get rid of all the impurities from the world outside their little cottage.

He sank into the depths of the pond, closing his eyes as he relished in the feeling of being submerged. Underneath the surface, schools of tiny fishes swam all around him. Weeds swayed in the ripples he caused. He stayed underwater until air ran out of his lungs and he ached for a breath of air. When he broke through the surface, merry chirping of birds and crickets awaited him. Sighing, he laid afloat on the surface, enjoying the cool breeze. He enjoyed this feeling of weightlessness, where he was no different to a petal floating atop the surface of the water. It brought him a sense of peace and serenity that his daily chores deprived him of.

His bubble was only broken by the sound of the butcher’s boy knocking at the door of the cottage. Taehyung called out for his grandmother, a deep cheerful tone that suggested that the day at the shop had gone well. He watched the elder being welcomed by his grandmother, patting the boy with her shaking, wrinkly hands in an invitation to come inside their humble residence and drop off the piece of meat, a cut of thigh of a bull from what he could decipher from this distance, and hang it on their kitchen roof.

Taehyung was the third son of Kim Jaeil and the only son of his that followed in his footsteps, whilst his elder siblings migrated to the village. He was only three years older than Jimin, yet they had nothing in common. Jimin believed Taehyung was born to follow his father; his physique and disposition were the most masculine and gallant amongst all the men Jimin had met. He surpassed his father in height and build, and even when he brought down his blade to chop off a little lamb, he never flinched. His taste for cruelty and moral turpitude was an open secret amongst the people of the township. Jimin had heard a few of these tales when he had visited the communal markets when the rains render wandering into the forest to scourge for food an impossible task.

Nevertheless, he was never unkind to Jimin. He treated him courteously and spared no opportunity to talk to him. Jimin supposed the boy cared for him in ways he was capable of, offering them the most meatiest cut of a hunt or even dry herbs or fruits he had in surplus. Still, there was something about Taehyung that put Jimin on the edge, something he could not pinpoint. Mayhaps it was the crude way he spoke, or the look of insincerity in his eyes when he sometimes interacted with people, including Jimin. However, with nothing concrete to hold onto, these instances, Jimin brushed off as fruits of paranoia.

Wary still, he submerged himself again in the murky green waters until only his eyes were above the surface. Somewhere to his left, a bright green frog sat atop the lily pads croaking – it was going to rain. When he looked at the creature, it leapt into the pond, vanishing into the water without disturbing the surface. He sank into the depths once again, relishing in the feeling of weightlessness. Underwater, he let out air bubbles through his mouth and watched them race to the surface. His fingernails scratched his scalp, washing his hair thoroughly to cleanse himself the way his grandmother demanded.

The stillness of the gloomy pond and the stagnant weather that longed for late night showers put him on the edge. Almost as if something was amiss. With a breathy exhale, he emerged from the water, splashing his surroundings with a spray of the water droplets. He brushed back his dark locks away from his face, hating the way they stuck to his skin. No longer wanting to spend another second in this cold, he wrapped himself in a towel, using another to dry his wet locks. This pressing need to dry himself was the reason why he did not recognise the presence of another, not until Taehyung cleared his throat in front of him.

“Hyung!” he cried. Mortified, he gathered his robes in his arms that he had left by the shore, hurriedly pressing them against himself in order to preserve any sense of decency. “You must not be here!” He unconsciously took a step backwards, dipping his feet into the cold waters again. The butcher's boy, on the other hand, seized this opportunity to corner him, a devilish smile playing on his lips.

“I did not see you this week, Jimin-ah,” the elder feigned to be upset, deliberately choosing to ignore the distress Jimin was going through. It was evident in the way he raked his eyes across Jimin, his gaze lingering at the hem of the towel that ended right above his thighs and his squished cleavage when he had tightly secured the fabric to cover his naked self.

“You must leave,” Jimin insisted, fearing for the worst if at all his grandmother were to find him like this, his modesty compromised in front of a stranger who was not his spouse. He did not even want to think of the consequences of such a situation that left too much to the discretion of wandering eyes to comprehend. Goosebumps erupted on his skin as dread took over him. Cold tendrils of anxiety held him captive. His eyes flickered between Taehyung and the window of his cottage, from where his grandmother could emerge any moment in search of him, if he took too long. It deeply upset him that Taehyung Hyung was inconsiderate of the delicate position he was putting Jimin through. “Halmeoni could–”

“Relax, Minie,” said Taehyung with an air of nonchalance. “I assure you, your grandmother is occupied for a while. I have made sure of that,” the man winked at him and blood rushed to his cheeks. “Besides, I desperately wanted to see you, Minie.”

Minie. That was new. The pet name had been a gift from his grandmother, calling out for him in her sing-song, nasally tone whenever she wanted Jimin to do something for her. She had used this name when she had pleaded with him to let her eat a sugar cube, and the time she made him swear to never indulge in the curiosities of a man that was not his husband. Somehow, hearing the same name fall from Taehyung’s lips sent a shiver down his spine.

He gulped when Taehyung took a step towards him, his strong, meaty arms taking hold of his robes and snatching them from his grasp. He quickly covered himself with his arms, abashed by the deeds of the man in front of him. His chest rose and fell with a thousand emotions; outrage, anticipation, and surprise. It had been some time since the elder had been taking his liberties with him, and Jimin was unsure what the man truly wanted out of him.

“Hyung, this is wrong,” he mumbled, certain that the elder had heard him, and the latter sure had, for he scoffed, stepping closer to Jimin as he tossed his garments to the side.

“What is?” Taehyung raised an eyebrow, daring him to continue. Despite the innocence of his youth, Jimin had grown accustomed to Taehyung’s measured brazenness. He was aware of the fact that Jimin amused him as much as he roused him, and this manifested into interactions that left Jimin breathless and confused. “Since when is it wrong to talk to you, Minie?”

“Not when I am–” he stuttered, his heart thumping in his ears when Taehyung took another step that brought him closer to Jimin until their toes were touching. “Not when I am undressed.” This was an act of outrage of his modesty and Jimin was well within his rights to shove the intruder off his personal space. Yet his natural tendency to avoid any form of conflict, or unpleasantness, in its entirety, had him bite down on his pillowy lips in a pitious attempt to not draw the attention of his unassuming grandmother towards the pond in their backyard.

“Why would it be a problem if I saw you naked?” The elder taunted him, his hand wrapping around Jimin’s waist. “You will belong to me sooner than later.” The declaration sent shivers down his spine and a great confusion took over his previously schooled features. His hands come to grip the worn-out fabric of Taehyung’s shirt, crumbling it by the collar where he held onto when Taehyung leaned in to take the dropping earring of his between his teeth. Despite the fabric that shielded him from the touch of the man, his touch sent shivers down his spine. He should be enraged by the actions of this nefarious man who had taken the virtues of countless maidens. He should be ashamed of himself for permitting him to take his liberties with him. Jimin, just like any other maiden, would be shunned from the well-meaning and virtuous society if it was made known that he let a man see him this way.

Yet, this foreign feeling of being desired was new to him. It had only been a few months since this awareness had taken root in him – the awareness of something brilliant and extraordinary that had been hidden from him before. Now, he noticed the way eyes lingered on him. Men, old enough to be his grandsire and as young as adolescent boys with sparse whiskers under their chin, bestowed him with their limitless attention. They yearned for his grace and swarmed him like flies in the market. It had perplexed him at first and had reduced him to tears of shame. This shame turned into innate curiosity when he started hearing tales of secret rendezvous from the few maidens he interacted with on the days he had the opportunity to visit the town. In hushed whispers, Jihyo had told him of the time she let Taehyung lick her down there. Ever since Jimin had been torn between the values of his upbringing and forbidden desires that are natural yet deplorable.

His knowledge of Taehyung’s infinite trysts with many young maidens in the village was the reason why his advances often left  Jimin feeling guilt-ridden and regretful. As much as he wanted to know what was this great pleasure that Taehyung, and only Taehyung, could bless them simplefolk with, Jimin had no desire to be one amongst many of his conquests. He had come to realise he yearned for devotion above proclamations born out of desire. He decided that this novel feeling, which he was eager to learn, he would only know from the hands of a lover. That was the reason why Taehyung’s declaration of claiming Jimin as his struck him as peculiar and out of character.

Flushed with shame, he asked him, “Hyung, why are you acting so strange? What do you mean by belonging to you?”

“What? You really thought I would let your fine cunt go to some other bastard?” the man in front of him said ever so casually. He cringed at the words. No matter how many times he had heard Taehyung speak so uncouth and doltish, it still made him embarrassed when he was the object of his vulgarity. “I know you want me, Jimin.  I know what goes on in that empty head of your kind. What you need, and what I want, are the same. So why deny ourselves what we truly want, Minie? I am done waiting for you to figure out what it is that you truly want. I am only making this easier for you.”

“‘How I look at you’?” Jimin whispered, the dubiety of this moment evident in his features. Jimin gulped at the darkness that was evident in Taehyung’s smile. “I think you have misunderstood, Hyung. I do not think of you like that.”

“Now we both know that is a lie,” Taehyung chuckled. He yelped when Taehyung’s other hand wrenched the towel off his body, leaving him exposed. Tears sprang in his eyes at his modesty being outraged, yet Taehyung only cooed at him. His attempt to shove Taehyung off him only results in the man tightening his hold on his waist, his fingernails now digging into his skin. “Aww… do not be so silly, Minie,” the man drawled, throwing the towel on his shoulder as he leched over him. “You know you want this. Don’t you want to be shown what a man can do for you? Promise you will have the best time by the time I am done with you.”

He was about to protest when he caught the shadow of his grandmother approaching the windows. Petrified, he prayed that she would not come out searching for him. Not when he was naked in the arms of a heathen. “Minie,” he watched her call out, her eyes drifting over to where the pond was. “Are you alright, my love?” Her eyesight was failing her with each passing day and Jimin had never, in a million years, imagined that it would prove to be a blessing in disguise.

“Yes, Halmeoni!” He yelled in answer. “I just slipped a rock.” The lie came easily. These days, it was like he had been spinning a web of lies around the house, preserving the bubble of Jimin’s childlike innocence and oblivion in the presence of his pious grandmother, whilst he peered at the lands of ecstasy and sexual awakening that were denied to him within the four walls of his house. He had arrived at the conclusion that the crone did not want him to grow up and dismissed any expression of Jimin’s intimate desires. It was this stigma of his adult self that had brought him in the palms of a ruffian such as Kim Taehyung who was eager to dangle in front of Jimin all that he was deprived of.

He watched her silhouette walk back into the darkness of their kitchen and let out a sigh of relief.

“I thought you never lied,” Taehyung brought his attention back to his predicament, trapped in the arms of the man.

“You left me no choice,” he snapped, looking up at the man from underneath his lashes. What happened next was something he could have never foreseen! Jimin gasped when Taehyung cupped his mound. He stood in his tiptoes, walking into the warmth of Taehyung’s body as this feeling, so foreign yet so delightful, brought tingles in his nether lips. His mouth fell open, and brows shot above his fringe when Taehyung dipped a finger inside his folds as if he was searching for something. “H-Hyung…?” His voice betrayed his interest, and the naivety of someone brought up as sheltered as he was.

“I always wanted to know if you had hair down here too.” Taehyung squeezed his palm over his mound, making him squeal at the pressure on his chubby lips. His pubic hair was barely visible to the eye, a sparse trail of dark hair lining his lips that stood starkly against his complexion. “I must say I am not disappointed to find out that it's nearly bare, baby.”

“Stop!!” he wailed, scandalized to the point that he was flushed pink all over. “Y-You can’t say that to me!!”

“Sh…” Taehyung admonished him without a bite. “Just feel it, Jimin-ah.” And he did. Jimin clung onto the man as Taehyung caressed him down there, drawing reactions out of Jimin as if he were a puppeteer and Jimin a doll at his disposal. His body was drawn taut like a bow, tiptoed and squirming. His chest was pressed against Taehyung’s firm build, and his head was buried into his nape. Jimin did not want to see himself like this, did not want to be conscious of the fact that he was doing something wrong and sinful.

“Your pussy is dripping, baby,” Taehyung told him, continuing his ministrations of stroking his folds. “Does it feel good?”

“Mm-mhmm,” he answered through a barely concealed moan, biting down on his lips to stifle any sounds that might alert the old crone.

“Do you remember the snakes that day, Jimin-ah?” The elder spoke, Jimin answered him with a breathy ‘yes’, too distracted by the feeling of Taehyung’s hands over his mound. His eyes were closed, and all he could feel were those insistent fingers spreading apart his folds, yet never being where he truly wanted them to be. “Will make you shake on my tongue like that,” Taehyung promised him. “Will fuck this pretty little cunt until its sloppy and gaping. I know you talk to them brainless whores.” There was a thinly veiled accusation in his voice, as if he knew Jimin was doing something he should not be. “Did they tell you, Jimin, how good I fucked them? I can make you come even harder until all you know is me. Give me a chance, baby.”

“Hyung, I can’t–” he pleaded, overwhelmed by the vulgarity of Taehyung’s words.

“Oh, you can!” Taehyung withdrew his hand from his folds, and Jimin deflated like a sunflower at twilight, hissing at the loss of that delicious hold on his delicate part. “Just one night, Jimin-ah. Now, now, do not be a prude! Surely, you do not think of sex to be some holy fucking thing.” Taehyung actually chuckled. “It is just so natural, baby. And I think you need to be fucked out of your brains by a real man. You are too tense, always like you've got something up your ass. I can fix that. Give me a night with you and you won’t have to wonder what it's like anymore. Say what?” The man gripped his jaw with the same fingers he had stroked him before. “And, I can ask for your hand the next day, you know?”

Jimin’s jaw fell open at those words. “What do you mean, Hyung?”

“Means I am so fucking obsessed with you, pretty face,” Taehyung said it slowly, enunciating each sound like Jimin was simple of mind. “I intend to marry you anyway. I have already convinced my sire. He had no problem as long as I ran the shop smoothly. So baby, what we are about to do, it is fucking normal. So, fucking alright once I wed you.”

He was about to answer when his grandmother requested his presence with a high-pitched and shrill command. “Jiminie, come to pray! Make haste!” He looked over Taehyung’s shoulder to see that she had indeed closed the kitchen door, something she did before she locked them both in the living room for prayer. Plagued by the proposal that Taehyung was dangling in front of him, Jimin bit his lip in deep thought. He gingerly took the towel that the man had stolen from him and wrapped it around him again, finally at peace to be covered from those lustful eyes.

“I must go,” he announced, looking at Taehyung expectantly so that he would let him pass.

Jimin witnessed a flash of rage in Taehyung’s features, which the latter contained with a deep breath. It was with great caution that he moved past the man to gather his robes lying on the grass and dress himself haphazardly as a temporary refuge. “Fine,” Taehyung said, barely concealing his disappointment. “I will let you go now. But you will come to me. Tonight.”

Jimin looked at Taehyung like the man had grown two heads. The request was, if anything, unreasonable. But then Taehyung was not known for his patience and understanding. He was as beastly as the animals he killed.

“I will wait for you near the abandoned shrine by the falls,” Taehyung continued. “Meet me when the moon is high. I do not care how, I expect you to be late.” His eyes were wide with alarm when Taehyung once again cornered him. He did not dare to breathe when the man took the ties of his robe and fastened the knot. Taehyung drew them tight until the fabric was biting into his skin and he could not breathe. His chest tightened, and his skin turned blue. “Do not disappoint me, Minie.”

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No one knew his name. They found comfort in calling him just by the moniker ‘the God’. For someone conceited, vengeful, and gluttonous as their God, the name was fitting.

The story began on a happier note. They were happy people who lived and died at the mercy of their God. They prayed to his grace, made daily offerings and submitted their life and soul at his feet. And he was merciful in return; their yields were surplus, their lands fertile, and none of them ever knew sickness. In their gratitude, they had built him a shrine in the middle of the swamp, where he would be surrounded by his dear companions – the crocodiles. The creature was as ancient as their God, and the tales of their friendship dated back even to the origin of human life.

Their God was a lonely being. He had wandered around these lands alone for ages, tending to it and guarding it with his immortal life. As centuries passed, the lonely God yearned for a companion. His longing brought him to the riverbed. Gathering the clay from the bottom of the river, the great God moulded himself a companion. A bride!

It was said that he had laid the clay figurine of his bride amongst a clutch of crocodiles. The ancient beast would tend to it like it was its own, and in that summer when the eggs hatched, the clay figurine turned into the bride the God always wanted. Ever since crocodiles were a beloved attribute of their God. People would offer them lambs and calves every harvest season to appease the divine. The reptile, the recipient of these offerings, in return, was generally harmless to the residents of the land. They drifted across the surface of the water, venturing into the swamp only to hunt during extreme scarcity or during the mating season. It was the natural order that the God, his bride, his crocodile and his subjects lived in the lands in harmony.

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Conquered ever by the growing curiosity within him, of things he had never imagined were possible, Jimin, trusting his intuition that a night of secret affair could do him no harm, slipped out of the cottage after his grandmother succumbed to the allure of sleep. Besides, the threat in Taehyung’s request was not lost on him. ‘Do not disappoint me, Minie.’ Jimin need not even lie with him for Taehyung to run his mouth about stealing his virtue, and such a predicament would be fatal for his innocence regardless of the truth of it. Going to him was the least harmful option. Perhaps he could convince the elder to keep this a secret forever. He could be persuasive when he wanted to; he just needed to be careful and not let Taehyung best him today.

And, he wanted this. His rotten dreams and desires had no place in this house of sanctity. What Jimin was becoming, the thoughts swirling within him that led his cold fingertips to the wetness between his legs, would never be welcome until he was tied down by a man under whose mercy he would spend the rest of his life. That was his curse. But tonight, he chose to seize the opportunity of escape, even if for a little while.

The midnight adventure was exciting for him! It was so thrilling to be out at this hour where the darkness reigned over the lands with only a sickle of moon to guide him. There was this feeling, defined by the palpitation of his heart and the rapid spasm of his chest, that seized him with open arms and took him for a flight of delight. He was dressed in a loose, white, cotton nightgown. It flew in the wind as he skipped past the muddy road cutting through the swamp. Taehyung, or any man, would be overjoyed to see him in this – his raven hair caught in the wind and rosiness capturing his pale skin. Jimin wanted to be seen like that; wanted to be revered, wanted to be desired.

Tall grass swayed in the wind as he passed. There was not a person nor a hut in sight. The sound of crickets and lonely owls was drowned out by the rumble of thunder, promising the arrival of the rain. Jimin prayed that he find Taehyung before the first raindrop.

Their cottage was in a secluded stretch of land near the forest where the soil was firm enough to hold the weight of their home. Jimin’s dead father had bought this piece of land from a merchant who had given up his life in this godforsaken place after the death of his only daughter. The location had made him grow up isolated from the rest of the village that lay far beyond the marshy lands, across the muddy river, on the other side of the dense woods that caged their lands. This only made his journey longer and more tiresome. By the time he arrived at their proposed meeting place, the temple, a backdrop against the dense forest, he was sweaty and his clothes stuck to him uncomfortably.

He would not lie. Merely being near the abandoned shrine frightened him. People stayed clear of the place for a reason. Overgrown with foliage, creepers and vines, the entire shrine was swallowed, made up of rock pillars and marble flooring. The shrine itself was hidden by the tall grass from the distance where Jimin was. A long, narrow path made of clay cut through the swamp, leading to steps cut into rocks. Hyacinths and duckweeds covered the entirety of the murky waters that were home to reptiles, since they were sacred to the God, and other creatures of the night. It was as if someone had deliberately created these lands to serve as a moat to the shrine. With the waterfalls this close, their thunderous descent silenced every other sound, and their mist submerged the lands in perpetual gloom.

He did not want to be alone here for long, especially now that the rain clouds had devoured the moon. It was a reasonable assumption that Taehyung wanted to have Jimin in the cave behind the falls. It was a popular refuge for daring lovers to engage in deeds that must never be spoken of again. He wondered if he should go there himself and wait. It was starting to drizzle, and he was certain that the dark nimbus looming over him would erupt any moment from now. His suspicions were confirmed when the first droplet fell on the apple of his cheek, the heavy droplet splattering on his delicate skin. The rain that followed the cloudburst descended on him like pebbles. Jimin hugged himself, surprised by the lashing rain, gasping as he brushed his hair from his eyes. However, it was of no use.

With each passing moment, Jimin was drenched to the bone. His clothes clung to his petite frame, and his teeth clattered in the cold. Thunder erupted somewhere not far off. There was no way he could stand there any longer. Running to the cave in this heavy downpour was precarious. The mossy rocks would be slippery, sending him plummeting to the deadly falls. Henceforth, cold and desperate, Jimin, against his better judgement, found himself rushing towards the shrine, uncaring of the implications of his actions.

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Life flourished on Earth under the benevolence of the great God.

It was said that the God’s bride was the most beautiful creature to ever walk on the land. With skin that glowed pale moon and hair the colour of the dark brown mud at the bottom of the river, the God’s bride was lovelier than morning dew adorning a lotus flower. Made from his most innate desires, his bride made the God the most jovial. They ruled their lands together.

The God's subjects revered them and their union. They made offerings before harvest and prayed before the flooding season. The God ensured that they lived long and healthy, and his bride made their crops fecund. Those days were unlike any!

It was not surprising for anyone to find out that his bride was carrying their child within her. The God, elated by the pregnancy of his dearest, blessed the lands with abundance. The harvest was surplus, and the days were sunny. Children played in the shallow waters, skipping over rocks as they chased a dragonfly. They all went to sleep with full stomachs. There was never a more blessed union.

The stories, the many million variations of the stories, deviated from here. No one knew for certain the events that had taken place. Some say it was a poison arrow drawn from the quiver of an impetuous hunter, while others say it was a deed done by a jealous maiden who wanted the God, the handsome and striking God, for herself. Yet, all the stories agree on one thing – the God’s bride was slain along with the babe inside the womb.

The God, the ever-benevolent and compassionate one, turned vengeful when he came to learn of the demise of his bride. The God sat in his shrine for days with the corpse of his bride in hand. Heartbroken and bitter, the loss of his lover turned his heart into stone. In his wrath, rain flooded the lands, and crops died therefrom. Man, woman, and cattle alike died by his hands, and those who survived were impoverished by the famine he had cursed them with. Within a fortnight, half of the population had died. The floods he sent eroded even the highest mountains, and crocodiles feasted on the corpses that were swept by the rivers.

The tales again differ as to how this period of terror came to cease. The most popular version was that a father, who was devastated by the death of his lovely wife and seven children, offered his last remaining maiden daughter to the God. Whilst she had been no replacement for the peerless bride of the God, in a second of his furious anger, the God accepted the offering. However, whereas his subjects believed that this peace offering would have quenched the thirst for revenge of their God, it fueled his bloodlust. The next day, the corpse of the young maiden was washed ashore. Obvious signs of assault were evident in her carcass –  bitten lips and cheeks, bruises all over her olive skin that had turned a ghastly purple hue, his breasts and inner thighs littered with bite marks. They found crocodiles feasting on her dead body – the God did not spare her even in her death.

This singular deed served as a reminder of the God’s malevolence and hardened the hearts of his subjects. His unrelenting and ungrateful nature had turned them resentful, and his cruelty, they deemed, was disproportionate. They pillaged and destroyed his temples and murdered his priests. All of his scriptures and paintings were burnt, and over time, his name disappeared from their memory. He was forsaken, driven off from his own lands and condemned for eternity. They prayed he would never return.

In some ways, their prayers were answered.

The God was never seen again; it was as if he never existed. However, in his absence, they fared no better than when they were subjected to his wrath. Their supplies dwindled, and their lands were flooded. The flourish plains turned into a wetland crawling with twisted, vicious creatures. There was nothing the people could do.  They did not know his name; not anymore. Nor were his temples spared. With no one to turn to, his subjects resorted to the example that was set before. A sacrifice! An offering to vouch for their submission.

Ever since fathers would let their firstborns be an offering before this vengeful deity. They would, with open hearts, make this sacrifice for the survival of their kind. On the third new moon of every year, beautiful maidens made their way to the mangroves where the God wandered about in his grief, somewhere upstream the cascade. On the third sunrise after the oblation, their mutilated corpse came tumbling down the waterfalls and would be discovered by a stranger as crocodiles feasted on them. For centuries, this act of sacrifice had ensured the survival of their kind.

With no one to turn to, they lived their lives in this submerged expanse of land, haunted by the omnipresent deity who had, ever since that fateful day, unleashed hell upon them. Their prayers turned from hymns of this glory to desperate pleas for any kind of mercy. They prayed to this nameless god, with all of their heart and soul, but it was of no use.

Every year they would decide upon a maiden who had come of age. And every year, they would find their decaying carcass washed ashore by the waves.

─────── ‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙ ───────

Jimin remembered the ‘snakes that day’ when Taehyung mentioned it because it served as a prelude to the horrors that unfolded later that day. It was a late evening and storm clouds were gathering on the horizon. The air was charged with the scent of something rotten.

Because he had to help bathe his grandmother after a long day of scourging in the woods, the sun had already started its descent when he had hurried to the village in search of new linens. Strange dreams have been plaguing his grandmother, often resulting in her wetting her bed as she slept. She had been convinced that something unfortunate was going to befall them, for she had seen the signs. Bad omens lurked in every corner of their little home, apparently. To ease her fears, she had resorted to praying for their God for mercy, to spare her soul from torment. The more desperate her prayers grew, the less Jimin could ignore his own gnawing fear of losing her as he watched the poor, old woman’s health deteriorate with each passing day.

When he walked back from the village with arms hugging fresh linens that day, Taehyung, who carried their weekly share of meat, accompanied him since it was going to be dark soon and no maidens should be out at that hour. The day was also relatively slow-paced for all of them. It had not rained that day, yet the cloudy weather did nothing to lift their spirits. However, there were strong gusts of wind that played with his open hair. As he walked behind Taehyung, he regretted wearing the loose robes, for they kept getting in between his legs, given the wind, making it hard for him to walk on the narrow road.

He came to a halt when sharp hissing sounds caught his attention. “Hyung,” he breathed out, tugging Taehyung’s cuff. The butcher's boy stopped in his tracks reluctantly, turning ever so slightly to look at Jimin, whose gaze was fixed somewhere else.

“What is it, Jimin-ah?”

The question did not reach him in the state of stupor. The words he spoke were born out of his own innate curiosity; however, they served as an ample response to Taehyung’s question. “What is that?” He pointed at the two snakes in the shrubs, intertwined so intrinsically that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. An astonishing sight! They hissed as they danced. Jimin had initially thought the larger snake was preying on the other, a cannibal, but the more he watched, he realised that he was mistaken. “What is happening to them?”

The elder did not answer him at once, a flicker of mirth on his face. Taehyung opened his mouth to answer him, but quickly paused, appearing like he was choosing his words carefully. It only amplified his curiosity; he had to know.

“They are fucking, Jimin-ah.” The elder started walking again in hopes that Jimin might follow him. He himself seemed to be rattled by the stale air. The latter, on the other hand, was so utterly captivated by the sight before him. It appeared to be so intimate yet so primal, as if the creatures were in a trance.

“Fucking?”

“Mating,” said Taehyung. “They are coupling. So that they can have snakelets. Like how we humans fuck. But we fuck because we feel like. They fuck to have babies.”

Finding the answer to be satisfactory for now, Jimin trailed right behind Taehyung, clinging onto his shirt. His hold crumbled the stiff fabric, yet Jimin knew Taehyung paid it no mind because it was him. The elder had taken sudden interest in him these days. Though Taehyung’s numerous affairs were public,  it made him giddy to an extent, knowing such a virile and hot-blooded man was after him. Lost in these thoughts, he stumbled into Taehyung when the man abruptly stopped.

“Hyung, why did you stop?” He tried to peer past the man’s shoulders, standing on his tiptoes. The man was taller and broader than him and he completely covered his line of vision. But he could hear wailing and frantic murmurs, commotion from an unsettled crowd that should be ahead of them. Anxious, he clung to Taehyung with clammy hands. He noted that the stench of rotten flesh had intensified until it seemed to seep into his pores. He released his hold on Taehyung to slam his hand over his mouth, willing the rising bile to subside. “H-Hyung, what is it?” He asked, voice shaking.

Taehyung himself seemed paralysed, rooted on the spot. One of his hands was protecting Jimin from stepping out of his cover to witness whatever was happening. However, Jimin had to know! He gulped down the taste of acid in his mouth, sneaking past Taehyung’s body only to witness the most horrific sight.

He only got a glance before an angry Taehyung pulled him back into himself, pressing his head into his chest and covering his eyes. But then it was too late. Jimin had seen what he was never supposed to. The image of it was engraved into his eyelids, so that even when he scrunched his eyes closed, he could see her. Jimin knew Lee Yunha as the apprentice of the village doctor and as a close friend. She had been the one who used to come at even the darkest hours to treat his grandmother. He was aware of the rumours that she had been chosen as the God’s offering for this year and had bid her goodbye with the warmest hug. Jimin, oblivious to the true nature of the sacrifice, had mistakenly believed that it meant she would go away to live with the God – that was the story he was told.

Yet the sight before him shattered his illusions. His Yunha’s comely face was shattered, from the fall one would innocently assume, and her stout frame was mangled by a thousand bite marks. Her skin was an appalling shade of purple, having decomposed in the water before being washed ashore. It shocked them all to see how eerily her jaw was popped open, hanging off one of its hinges with her tongue out. One of her arms was nearly torn off from the rest of the body by a crocodile that refused to let go, which the villagers who had gathered were currently fending off. Her father had gathered her in his arms, despite, and wept in agony.

Poor Jimin felt his chest tighten. His stomach churned as he pressed himself closer to Taehyung, unable to breathe all of a sudden. It kept flashing in his head – her mutilated corpse and the lack of colour in her face. He was not even conscious of himself when his body jerked sideways, almost crashing face-first into the wet ground if not for Taehyung’s hold on him, and hurled the entire contents of his stomach. Tears slipped past the corner of his eyes, and heat rose in his head as he retched, flaying in Taehyung’s arms, feeling the soft burn of the acid in his mouth. Taehyung kept rubbing his back, trying to calm him down, but it was all in vain.

Jimin could never sleep peacefully again. Not when he saw Yunha every time his eyes threatened to close. Taehyung had to call for a carriage that day, for nothing could calm the shattered boy in his arms. Jimin convulsed in Taehyung’s arms as he cried the entire way. His broken sobs were heart-wrenching for anyone who listened. When Taehyung dropped him off at his house, his grandmother walked to the door to receive her child without her walking stick, frightened by his state. It had taken weeks until he was ready to pray to their evil God again; months, for Jimin to find solace in sleep. Yet his grandmother persisted, joining his arms forcefully in submission before their God, lest his insolence bring them his wrath.

─────── ‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙ ───────

The abandoned temple of the God, even as a relic of its former glory, was a majestic sanctuary of rock pillars cut into the stone of the waterfalls. Hidden by vegetation that warded off humans, the shrine was larger and deeper than it appeared to be. The line of pillars in the entrance led the way towards an opening into the depths of the very earth itself. No one knew what lay in there; no one wanted to know either.

It was only desperation that prompted Jimin to seek refuge in the most unlikely of places. The cold had seeped into his bones, and by the time he was hurrying up those steps, violent shivers had taken over him. He could sense the presence of the crocodiles in the swamp, their green eyes following him as he tread the narrow path towards the shrine.  Their gaze prickled his skin, and if not for the rain, it would have made the hair on his skin rise.  By the time he was under the roof of the abandoned shrine, Jimin sighed in relief that he was no longer being assaulted by the heavy raindrops.

His distress was great; it wrapped around him menacingly in this cold, dark place. His nightgown was nearly see-through, and it clung to him like a second skin. His hair was plastered onto his face uncomfortably. Stranded and alone, he sank down against a pillar, regretting ever coming here. ‘This was a mistake,’ he thought, tears welling in his eyes. He had betrayed everything he was ever taught for a night of pleasure, and here he was, in the worst place someone like him – young, naive and defenceless – could ever be. He was not even certain Taehyung would come in such terrible weather. 

Jimin, despite being brought up by a pious and devoted grandmother, never truly believed in their malign god. He had deemed them to be mere tales spun to evoke submission and passivity, similar to those tales one would tell a babe to keep it from misbehaving. This belief of his was shattered the day he lost Yunha. The terrible circumstances of her death had kept him awake for countless nights until the very fear he tried to resist his whole life had seized him and turned him into yet another servant of the God pleading for mercy. In the aftermath of losing someone he knew dearly to the whims and fancies of their abhorrent god, Jimin found himself looking back at the myths he grew up with as cautionary tales. In his heart, for the first time, he felt fear when praying to their God.

Henceforth, every second of being in this place filled him with dread. His lips were moving in prayer, his hands joined as he kept praying for mercy, to let him pass without incident. He flinched every time lightning ripped the dark sky open. There was no sign of rain subsiding; if anything, the winds blew harder, and thunder kept getting closer. He did not know how much time had passed by now. He was woken up from prayer when lightning struck a tree nearby, splitting the mighty tree touching the sky in half from the middle. Its shattered splinters pierced everywhere, one lonely piece lodging itself into his cloth, missing the flesh of his thigh by an inch. Jimin shrieked when that happened.

With hindsight, Jimin would blame it on his fear, and perhaps, if he were to introspect, eagerness born out of boredom from being trapped in this place for what seemed like hours. There were voices – hushed whispers that grew urgent with each passing minute. They were giggling to themselves, laughter so innocent and almost childlike. He could not make out what they were, but with the tone of it, he was certain they were getting anxious. They were calling something, or someone. At some point, there were high-pitched sounds of wailing that were so heart-wrenching that he found himself weeping. He realised these voices were calling to him! They were begging for his presence, as if he were the remedy for their suffering.

Jimin bit his lips, looking at the entrance of the cave. His heart was hammering in his chest and despite the weather, his blood ran hot underneath his skin. He was not even conscious of himself when he rose from his place, his soaked cloth tearing from where it was pinned into the earth by the splinter, and walked that path that vanished into the opening. Water ran down in a steady stream from inside the cavern making his ascend perilous. Yet he preserved. He ran his fingertips over the stone pillars, marvelling at the intricate patterns that were carved into its surface. If he had truly appreciated them, he would see that the murals kept twisting and turning, carving into itself newer tales – things that were about to take place.

As glaringly obvious as these signs were, they were lost on Jimin, whose body and soul were now consumed by the voices that were calling to him. He was calm and content. The fear in his heart was replaced by a tantalising sense of intrigue at hearing his name being chanted over and over by whatever was inside the cave. It called to him. Jimin. Jimin. Jimin. He had an intuition, an animal intuition of something transcending life and death that demanded that he comfort the anguish of the being present in the cave. His strides were quicker now, and there was something so charged and tense that hung in the air as he walked, pulled by strings.

The karst was deeper than it looked from the outside. Jimin let out a deep breath at the sheer size of it. Even when he tilted his head all the way back, he could not still grasp the true expanse of the cave. Water, crystal clear, had submerged the entire floor of the cave. It was a shallow stream that barely reached past his ankles. While in plain sight, it appeared to be stagnant, Jimin would sense the faintest hint of an undercurrent. If, at all, there was any other opening to this cave, he could not see it from where he was. However, there were small openings that during a clear morning would light up this cavity; at present, rainwater dripped down from the ceiling into the wet, rocky floor, further nourishing the moss that had taken over.

The karst was not abandoned in the way he had imagined it to be. A staggering rock of white marble stood in the middle of the cave, collapsed underneath many boulders and visibly tilted off its axis. It seemed like water had dug this cave around the mighty rock, cutting through the limestone to envelop it, and the almost concentric arrangement of stalagmites and stalactites around it vouched for the truth of the same. There need not be any doubt that this was the idol of the forgotten God. It had to be! Jimin had never seen a sight more marvellous. The soul of the boy yearned for it, towards this abstraction that was pulling him.

The idol was not the only thing worth mentioning. Covered with tattered and moth-eaten tablecloth, the fragile mahogany table held stacks of broken china. Thick clusters of goblin's gold grew across the cavern, greedily feeding off the warmth of the sunlight that would filter through tiny cracks and crevices. Broken oil-lamps hung precariously on the walls of the cave, serving no purpose but adding to the general atmosphere of desertion. There were candles, thousands of them. There were other signs of life, however. Snails hugged the walls of the cavern in thick clusters, and termite hills camouflaged themselves amongst the stalagmites. There were also rare sightings of broken shells, which Jimin assumed could only belong to crocodiles, and skeletons of dead hatchlings.

Jimin let himself be drawn by the spiritual stimuli. The whispers that had lured him here had ceased. Now his only incentive to explore the karst was the intrigue that overpowered his initial fear. The water under his feet faintly glowed, but when he took a step, sediments now disturbed, erupted into clouds of silt and mud, tainting the water with a muddy orange colour. His wet footsteps echoed across the cavity. He walked into the depths of the cave, drawn by the voices that started to echo again. He touched the collapsed idol of the God, the stone-cold to touch. He could not help but press his cheek against the cold stone, some depraved instinct to be closer to the divine entity. “My God,” his lips uttered in a newfound reverence. His head was bowed in submission, and he chanted an orison for safe passage in his head.

He flinched at the sound of someone crying for help. Their shrill voices cut through the silence of the cave. “Who’s there?” Jimin called out, the earlier residues of apprehension surfacing in his head. That proved to be sufficient incentive to sober him. He looked around, confirming that there was no one but him. And then he heard it again; a cry full of despair and longing coming from the unknown. It was then that he spotted it – a tub tucked deep into the darkness of the cave. His mouth parted in shock at the sight of it. The wooden tub was overflowing with the water that fell directly on it from the crevice above. It reminded him of an eternal fountain. An arrow, a partially oxidised copper arrow, stuck out from the middle of the tub, as if it was embedded into something inside of it.  Gulping down the disquiet that he was feeling, Jimin steeled himself as he approached the tub.

The only other sound, apart from his quick and shallow breaths, was the sound of water.

Jimin gripped the edges of the tub with both hands as he neared it, raising himself up on his toes to take a look at the inside of it. What he saw stole his breath away. He slammed a hand over his mouth to muffle the terrified shriek that ripped through him. It was him! Jimin saw himself inside the tub, submerged under the water. Naked as the day he was born. His dark hair was floating in the water, his eyes closed, and there was no colour on his skin. The arrow that he saw was piercing his swollen belly, like he was a day away from childbirth. His breasts were bigger, swollen clearly by the pregnancy. It looked to be at peace, both hands cradling the bump as it slept.

His heart jolted at the sight of it – of himself. Jimin faltered in his step, vision going blind for a moment. He looked so vulnerable and so fragile. He could no longer breathe properly, clearly overcome by terror and fascination. He felt like his lungs were collapsing, hands gripping the tub only getting tighter as he held onto it to ground himself. His eyes blurred as a sob wrecked through him. A thousand questions ran through his mind. What was happening to him? What was this place?

He must have been about to cup his face – or, the face of the body in the tub – when it happened. A startling roar echoed in the cave that frightened everything that existed in the cave. Jimin barely had time to hide himself behind the tub when a colony of bats fled from the darkness, their fear evident in the air. This fear caught up to him when a million bubbles emerged from the water, catching the wind and swarming all around the tub until it burst against the pillars.

He must leave this instant. However, the approaching footsteps told him that escape was no longer an option. They were imposing and urgent, as if agitated. Jimin hurried to the side of the cave, hiding himself amongst the tall ferns and stalagmites that lined both sides of the shallow stream. His heart was racing, and his breath was unsteady. Jimin knew whatever was coming for him, could sense him just by his harsh breaths. He silenced himself, pressing closer to the stone, wanting something firm to hold onto. How he wished he was anywhere but here! If only he had not succumbed to Taehyung’s invitation. Tears slipped past his waterline at the thought of it. How everything that was happening to him could have been avoided had he been wiser.

Jimin wondered if it was too late for him to go back. If he could undo his mistakes and choose a life of acquiescence. He hugged himself, holding onto the last of his wits. He had to make it out alive somehow. His grandmother had no one else she could rely on. Not even Taehyung, whose affections and favour were contingent upon Jimin’s willingness to dance to his tune. If– if at all something were to befall him, that old, lonely creature would suffer the most.

His dispirited thoughts were broken by the approaching figure. Its footsteps rang loud in the silence of the cave. Jimin figured that the rain must have subsided outside, for the faint moonlight illuminated the cave for the first time, and a dark shadow kept getting closer and closer. When the man finally stepped into the light, Jimin’s faint, poor heart stilled for a second.

The sight before him was so fantastical that he forgot the prevailing circumstances. Fear, cold and paralysing, wrapped around him like tendrils of vines. It swarmed inside the crevices of his consciousness until his bosom rose up and down, up and down, desperately trying to hold onto whatever warmth breathing could provide him. Alas, the chilly air only pierced into his fragile lungs like a thousand ice needles. It was coming from him, he realised – this eerie chill and terror.

The man – Jimin is unsure one could even refer to the being as one – gleamed in the pale moonlight. He stood, or was floating, above the surface of the water; even if there were to be ripples, his presence would not have disturbed them with its infinite loops. His skin was snow white, with a slight greenish-blue tint that only belonged to death and rotting. The most unsettling thing about him was his eyes; they were far from human. His breath raced, and his hands shivered merely by the sight of them. They were as vivid green as the algal blooms, parakeet even in the darkness, and the pupils, dark vertical slits.  When he blinked, a sheer glassy veil flickered in his eyes. He was dressed in all black like death itself. Jimin had to shove his fist into his mouth to muffle the sound of sheer panic he let out.

Jimin thought the being sensed him first, smelled him, before he saw him. Head tilted back, his strong nose was in the air, and the next second, his reptilian eyes were on him. He stumbled back, hitting the rocky wall with a thud. He screamed, all the fear and distress he had been trying to contain before finally escaping into a loud, piercing, shrill. He cried, hands finding purchase in the ridges of the wall as any hint of sanity escaped him. The man before him looked at him like he himself was surprised to see Jimin specifically. A rational Jimin would conclude that it must have something to do with the comatose body of himself in the tub. However, the rattled fawn that he was, clutched his heart and wept.  “D- Do not hurt me, please,” he managed to say.

The man gave him a wide, toothy smile. Jimin’s legs wobbled at the sight of his sharp canines. “Tsk, tsk, your kind never learn, do they?” The man’s voice was as deep as the cavern itself, a low, husky sound that emanated power more ancient than life itself, yet melodiously dangerous that could lure a sailor to abandon his course. “How many more should I send back before you disappear from the face of the earth?” The man chuckled humorlessly. It would have been sad if not for the rage that shimmered underneath his green eyes. “But I must say… You–” he turned on his heels towards Jimin and in the blink of an eye he was before him, his cold fingertips raising up his chin in inspection. “– You make a compelling case for your kind.”

“W-Who are you?” Jimin flinched away from his touch, his skull hitting the back of the wall. The impact of it disoriented him when he desperately tried to be present, waiting for a moment to escape from the arms of this stranger.

A wicked grin took over the man again. He leaned in, their bodies pressed close together so that they breathed the same air. “Jeon,” he whispered against the shell of his ear, his hands caging Jimin. “Jeon Jeongguk. Heard before?” Without even looking at him, Jimin knew he was impatient for a response, so he shook his head, eyes closed. Jeongguk, on the other hand, found amusement in his misery. “Of course, not. Your kind would send me to the pits of hell in the name of retribution. Look at me, Jimin. Open your fucking eyes, and look at me.”

“How do you know my name?” he breathed out through his haze, forcing his eyes open despite the nerves.

“Are we really doing this, Jimin?” The man scoffed at him, his eyes raking across his frame. “If you want to start off the night offending the very God that you pray to, be my guest. But I must tell you, willful ignorance does not fare well with me. So, if you want to keep your head attached to this pretty neck until I am done with you –” his cold hands wrapped around his jugular, pressing down, “– I’d suggest you bite your tongue.”

‘God.’

The God.

Jimin’s eyes widened and his body shook with violent shudders when the gravity of the situation dawned upon him. The man before him was the vengeful and revolting being that had tormented him and their kind since the beginning of time itself. The infernal deity that preyed on the virtues of young maidens and feasted on their corpses. Jimin felt like he was combusting simply by close proximity to such evil. Panic cruising through him blinds him, and Jimin could not hear anything around him anymore, apart from the ringing in his ears.

“P-Please, I didn’t know…” he cried, pressing both palms against the man’s chest to put as much distance as he could between them. “Spare me. I– I beg you.” At this stage of hysteria, he did not contemplate the implications of shoving the God himself, nor refusing him. All he knew was that he had to get away. He had to leave.

The God, to his absolute astonishment, relented. Jimin let out the breath he did not know he was holding when Jeongguk suddenly took a step back. He slumped against the wall, hugging himself as he looked at the man with nothing but fear. ‘Something was amiss,’ he thought.

“I mean no harm, Jimin,” the man said, walking towards the white boulder with his back to Jimin. “I am, but a curious creature. I heard that I had visitors, so I had to come check.” There was a pregnant pause, as if Jeongguk was contemplating whether or not to speak more. “It is not often that I get visitors here.” Jimin frowned at the statement. The irony of a man grumbling about the lack of visitors whilst demanding virgin sacrifices annually was not lost on him. A fiendish God indeed.

“And you…” Jeongguk turned to him suddenly, a wicked glint in his eyes. “You came here of your own accord. You have put my heart at ease.” His eyes raked across his body, and Jimin was once again reminded of his compromised dignity, the sheerness of his wet clothes and the mere obscenity of his body. The man’s stare on his pressed breasts and the outline of his mound was revolting, as if Jimin were some common whore to be leered at. Yet he could not protest the way he wanted to. It was as if the very presence of the man was poisoning his senses. Jimin felt his grip on the rock loosening, how his breath was becoming slower, and his limbs were turning weak.

Before he could make sense of what was happening, Jeongguk was on him. His large hands wrapped around his waist, and Jimin felt like he was losing his mind. He jerked away from the cold touch, the bubble of false security crafted by Jeongguk’s soothing voice and beguiling aura shattering as his mind finally caught up with the repulsive touch of a stranger.  By some association of the frigid touch with the violation of his character, the real danger of the situation was revealed to him.

“NO!!” He cried as he pushed Jeongguk off with all his might. But alas, he was no match for a God. Jimin tried to escape; he really did! He twisted away from Jeongguk’s gasp as the man dove into the valley of his neck, momentarily fooling him by taking advantage of the latter’s own underestimation of Jimin’s will to escape. He did not make it far. He was not even given the chance of temporary relief when Jeongguk lifted him off his feet, those strong arms wrapping around his waist. “NO!! Help me!! Somebody help me!!!” He cried, flaying in his arms. Suddenly, he could not breathe. His inevitable fate became clear to him when the God started walking them back deeper into the cave, past the tub where a more peaceful Jimin lay. Jimin scratched his arms, digging his fingernails deep enough to draw blood, and while it would have prompted any mortal being to loosen their hold on him even for a fraction of a second, on Jeongguk, they had no effect.

He was terrified out of his mind when the man threw him across the moss-covered floor of the temple. He skidded at the impact, his back hitting against the rocks as water splashed all around him. “P-Please spare me, my God,” he begged, arms joined in prayer. “P-Please, spare me. I am not worthy of your attention. Please let me g-go.” He choked on his tears, struggling to breathe as the God in front of him undressed himself. He scrambled away from Jeongguk, body pressed against the cold stone wall, fearing for his life.

“Where will you go, Jimin?” Jeongguk blinked at him as he threw his long black robe unceremoniously to the floor. “There is no escape from me, don’t you see? I cannot let you slide through my fingers. My mercy to you shall be letting you go after this.” He looked away as the deity stripped himself of his clothes, in a state of complete undress, before a person as insignificant as him.

The light was scarce this deep into the cave, and this limited Jimin’s vision to the man in front of him. Even then, the sharp contours of muscles rippling underneath the taunt skin were visible to the naked eye. If Jimin had any misgivings about the man in front of him being an imposter preying on his innocence, such suspicions were proven wrong by the fear-imposing physique of the God. Well-endowed, Jeongguk was simply peerless. His body towered over Jimin’s; he was baleful in stature and presence. What terrified him the most was the God’s cock, standing proud and erect against his toned abdomen. It was nearly the size of his forearm, perhaps the same girth, and it looked painfully hard with how red it was, beady precum at its tip. It was the obvious truth that someone of as fragile a build as he had could never take the God and walk away unscathed. Jimin was not as simple-minded as people presumed him to be. His fate, his forlorn and disastrous fate, was revealed to him the moment Jeongguk’s gaze fell on him. Despite being privy to this knowledge, acceptance did not come easily to the boy. He clung onto the far-fetched possibility of escape, praying (whom does he even pray to when it was his own God defiling him) and hoping that even an iota of mercy was cast upon him.

He yelped when Jeongguk grabbed him by the ankles and pulled him towards him, dragging his delicate frame through the water. Thrashing against his hold only results in him getting the water into his lungs. The sting of the water and the tremors induced by the fear coursing through his veins drew more tears of trepidation. He was still coughing the water in his lungs when Jeongguk forced his legs apart, getting between them. Jimin’s first instinct was to press them together as much as he could, trying to lift himself off the wet floor to scramble away from his captor.

This, however, proved to be exactly what Jeongguk wanted him to do, as if he were orchestrating every minute response of Jimin. Jeongguk’s hands gripped his hair, yanking him towards his sturdier build. Jimin had no choice but to go with it, reduced to nothing but a doll in his arms. Even in his overwhelmed state, Jimin was aware of the exact moment their lips collided. The God was a creature starved; he coaxed open Jimin’s mouth with an unyielding bite to his plush bottom lip, making the boy wince in pain. This moment, Jeongguk took advantage, sliding his tongue into Jimin’s hot mouth. Jimin recoiled when the man sucked on his tongue; however, any attempt to turn his head away was forestalled by Jeongguk’s bruising grip on his chin. It was purely instinctual when he bit down on the man’s tongue, his own body protesting against his violation. Had he thought nothing would sway the primordial god away from him, the blood that Jimin tasted on his tongue came to his succour.

The God drew back, causing him to collapse onto the wet floor, water splashing all over them both. The water level here was shallower than the middle of the cave, reaching past his ears such that only his face was above the surface. Jeongguk’s eyes were blown wide with rage and fatal lust. Jimin could feel it, the raw power emanating from the man before him that ebbed like eternal waves, eroding away whatever grasp he had on reality.

The God spat on his face, the bloodied spittle landing right beneath his eyes. “Submit to me, Jimin,” Jeongguk drawled, an uncanny sweetness slipping into his tone as he scrunched up his soiled nightclothes. His long hands treaded carefully on his skin, ever so slowly exposing the pale column of the boy’s leg. With a frantically uttered ‘please’, Jimin pushed down his garment in an attempt to preserve the remains of his modesty. He was, however, rewarded with a chuckle of disbelief. “Free yourself from these mortal confinements, my boy. Hand yourself to me,” the God insisted, securing both of his arms above his head with one of his larger, stronger hands.

He shuddered when Jeongguk dove into his nape, his cold tongue rapidly rising in heat as it lapped at his skin. Jimin squirmed in his hold, needing to put as much distance between himself and the God. It was of no use when Jeongguk had him trapped beneath him, caged in body and soul. Jimin could not think in his presence; Jeongguk’s weight on him was numbing his mind. Dark fog took over him, and Jimin was stripped of all sensations except Jeongguk’s touch. Hence, his pliancy when Jeongguk tore open his white nightgown from the neck to the lacy hem. Even as tears rolled down the sides of his face and met the freshwater of the cave, Jimin was merely an observer of his own tragedy, not a participant. This distinction was important to him at that moment.

He could see Jeongguk’s pupils dilating as he beheld him in his naked body. The latter's greedy eyes took in the paleness of his skin from the cold waters, his unfocused eyes and his button nose, down to the pillowy cavern of his mouth to the peak of his chin, from where the valley dipped down the tender column of his neck. “Beautiful,” the God marvelled. “Magnificent. Swan-like.” When his gaze fell onto the rising and falling of his breasts, Jimin’s face flushed with shame. Yet, it did not stop there. The God traced the slope of his belly with his knuckle, dipping into his navel with intrigue, as if the very undulation of it enthralled him. Jimin held his breath the whole time, fearing that even an exhale might disturb the moment and transform it into something macabre. However, this breath escaped through his parted lips shakily when Jeongguk continued his exploration, caressing the path down his happy trail, ghosting the faint hair on his mound to grip the chubby lips between his cold fingers. Jimin sighed at the touch despite the repulsion he felt at the moment. His touch was different; where Taehyung had been mean and compulsive, meant to lure Jimin to come out from his hiding, the God was possessive and territorial – like he was certain Jimin belonged to him in body and flesh. The air reeked of Jeongguk’s attraction, the vastness of it distilled into a poison that slipped into the air, that settled onto the floor of the cave, blanketing both of them.

“No! P-Please,” he cried, when Jeongguk plunged two fingers into his heat once, reaching a place Jimin did not know existed. The touch was searing, the intrusion rubbing against his walls that grew wet with each passing moment. He erupted into tears of shame when Jeongguk brought the hand to his lips and hummed around his fingers, his reptilian gaze never granting Jimin a second of respite. Jeongguk’s hand returned sooner than he would have liked. Stroking up and down between his folds, Jeongguk reduced him to tears, drawing out sounds of pleasure against his wishes.

Jimin could not help the never-ending tears. He cried because it felt good. Too good. Because it should not be like this. Jimin should not be relishing in the arms of a vengeful deity who was taking great pleasure in violating him. But alas, it felt good – better than anything he had ever known – to have those cold, calloused fingers stroking his pussy. It felt good to be in the arms of a man.  “Ah! Stop! P-Please,” he cried as the man increased his pace. Jimin rose within his constraints, back arching off as heat curled in his stomach. The squelch of his wet pussy against the splashing water was obscene to his ears. This was not what he wanted today. This was not the man Jimin had imagined giving himself to.

“Seems like you are enjoying this, my swan.” There was an arrogant tilt to the God’s voice. “Perhaps your mask of innocence was a ploy all along. Perhaps you came here looking for me. That is it, Jimin-ah. Give yourself to me.” Jimin could see it in his eyes – his chest swollen with pride – the thrill of a conqueror.  However, Jimin would not let himself be claimed so easily. Not even by this sordid creature.

“N-Never,” he whispered, his gaze hardening where it was fixed on the roof of the cave. Apart from his fear-induced stupor that stripped him of rationality, now, in the clarity of his predicament, the boy, with a heavy heart, made peace with awaiting fate. Hot tears that welled in his eyes no longer spoke of his helplessness.

“I dare you, say it again,” Jeongguk’s fingers dug into his cheeks, forcing him to look at him, the same fingers that were drenched in his wetness. It made his skin crawl.

“I w-will never submit to you,” said the boy. “You shall never have me. Not in the way that matters.”

The God mistook as disrespect what was his attempt to hold onto the last of his dignity and punished him for it. He did not expect it when Jeongguk’s lips clamped down over his nipples, suckling hard enough to reignite the fire in him. He thrashed in the water as Jeongguk released his hold over his wrists, the hand now spreading apart his pussy lips harshly. His other hand cupped his tit, letting his fingers claw into the fat. Jimin hissed at the contact, quite unfamiliar with the warmth spreading through him by virtue of the pain.

Jeongguk met his eyes, a toothy grin on his lips, before he sank his teeth into Jimin’s breasts and watched him flay in his arms. “No–” he tried to pull the man away by his hair. However, his protests died in his throat when Jeongguk brought his hand down and slapped his leaking cunt. “Ngh!” He moaned, eyes rolling back at the stinging pain. The humiliation of it forced him to lose his grip, fearing retribution. When Jimin looked at the man again, the awe in the God’s gaze was long gone, replaced by morbid amusement in watching him fall apart.

“Look at how wet you are, Jimin,” Jeongguk whispered, eyes blown wide with thrill. “Can you hear it?”

“Ah!” He squealed when the God slapped his pussy again for emphasis. “No! P-Please…My God!”

His cries only fed the flame of desire in the deity. “Cry for me, Jimin. Beg your God for kindness.”

“W-Why are you doing this?” He asked, trying to push Jeongguk off by the shoulders. However, his efforts are uncoordinated, for he was lost in the throes of pleasure. The God frantically rubbed over his clit while greedily sucking his tits, overstimulating the poor boy who was new to these forbidden and scorned aspects of carnality. He felt so so sensitive down there where Jeongguk rubbed him raw. He tried to close his legs, resisting the building heat and blinding pleasure. “Please- S-Something is happening to me,” he gasped, chest spasming as he struggled to breathe. “No! No! Please stop!” he begged, completely at a loss as to the sensations taking over his body. The coiling heat in the pit of his stomach and the tingling pussy folds that were growing wetter with each second were something so unknown to the boy. He willingly went as Jeongguk took him in his arms, teeth clattering in the cold air.

“Come for me, Jimin,” the God commanded, rubbing over his clit with determination. “Let go…”

“Ang!! I can't~,” his toes curled and mouth opened wide in a plea. He fell apart when he reached the peak, flailing as he squirted all over Jeongguk’s palm, skin scorched and clammy. “My! My!” He sniffled weakly, overcome by a million emotions – desire, shame, regret and, surprisingly, relief.

Before he, in his naivety, could presume that the God was sated – for Jeongguk let go of him, dropping him once again into the cold water like a rag doll – Jeongguk’s calloused hands were on his hips as the man flipped him over. Since Jimin least suspected this to happen, water went inside his nostrils and his mouth, and the boy felt like he was being drowned. The panic over his predicament seized him, prompting him to twist over to take a look at his captor and his next course of actions.

“What are you doing?” He managed to ask without stuttering. It had not struck him, yet, the extent of his dishonour. The haze in his mind kept him away from the obvious truth that he was already defiled in the eyes of men and god.

Jeongguk did not answer him. The God raised him by his leg, forcing him to stay on all fours. The floor of the cave was thankfully covered with moss, given the flow of water; however, this still did not do anything to ease the harshness of the rock nor help with the bruising of his knees. Still wobbly from his release, Jimin collapsed when Jeongguk let go of his hip, scraping his knees and elbows on the rocks regardless. The water stung against his torn skin, and Jimin cried out. “My God please…” he tried one last time.

The God, however, was unmoved by his pleas. A shrill of agony was torn from his throat when Jeongguk pulled his hips upright again; only this time, with a firm hand, he forced Jimin’s torso flat against the floor. In this position, his face was barely above the water. However, whilst water had always soothed him before, right now its presence, a breath away from his face, felt like a looming threat. It scared him how easily the God could drown him if he wanted to. Jeongguk’s hand on his nape, forcing him down, was a constant reminder of the same.

Tears flowed freely now when he felt the God align himself with his entrance. Jimin sucked in a breath when he felt the tip of Jeongguk’s cock sliding in between his wet folds. It felt as huge as it seemed, spreading his nether lips across its girth. Jimin had to bite down on his lips to stifle the moan that threatened to escape him. “Fuck!” The God exclaimed, tossing back his head. “F-Feels so good, Jimin…”

“Don’t–” he begged hopelessly. Those were the only coherent words his mind could conjure.

It did not affect him as much when his plea was ignored. The God had gotten him accustomed to that in this short time. For a second, he had enough lucidity to wonder if the God ever heard their prayers. Was he ever merciful after what he had suffered by the hands of his kin? The corpses of many maidens would testify against his innocence. And now Jimin was about to join them. The promise of death startled him; however, this feeling of dread subsided as soon as it made itself known. For, to live was to live with shame. Only death shall set him free from the woe of living with the consequences. As Jeongguk dragged his cock obscenely over his spread pussy, Jimin found the thought of death comforting. 

He froze when Jeongguk entered him, his enormous cock breaching his untouched hole. It stretched his cunt to the point it felt like it would tear. Jeongguk’s cock was ripping his pussy apart. He could not feel any hint of the pleasure Taehyung had, a lifetime ago, promised him. Pain was all he felt. Whether it was the physical torment of being pierced by the massive length of Jeongguk’s cock or the agony of being used to satiate the lust of a man against his will, he did not know. Unshed tears gathered in his eyes. It was done! He was ruined, once and for all. His chastity was stolen by their God. Jimin stumbled forward with the sheer force of Jeongguk’s thrust. He was only saved from drowning by virtue of the firm hold the deity had around his waist.

“Oh, Jimin-ah,” Jeongguk drawled. “Your cunt is so fucking t-tight!”

It made him sob harder. He cried when Jeongguk buried himself to the hilt when he lingered deep inside his wetness, and later drew back to pound himself harder into Jimin’s pussy. His body shook with each thrust, with the God not holding himself back. He begged him over and over to stop. To spare him. However, somewhere along the line, his cries were turned into a chorus of high-pitched mewls as ecstasy took over.

The pleasure he felt was undeniable. It flowed in his veins like molten lava, from the ends of his raven locks to the tip of his toes. The sweat that bloomed against his cool skin and a deep red flush ran deep inside his skin. His mouth hung open, and his fingers dug deep into the bed of the little stream under him. Still, even the gurgling water did not help in tearing the mind away from the slapping of flesh on flesh. It dragged him back to the present and forced him to see the reflection of his defilement.

“Wish you could see yourself, Jimin,” Jeongguk leered at him. “Wish you could see your sloppy pussy weeping harder than you.” His lewd words were embossed on his skin by the flame of humiliation.

He gasped when Jeongguk pulled him back by his nape, scruffing him. His arm snaked around Jimin, pulling him close until they were pressed against each other. With one hand wrapped around one of his tits and the other rubbing at his clit, Jeongguk pounded into him with abandonment. “Oh God!” It slipped out of him in the waves of pleasure.

This, however, angered Jeongguk. “My name,” Jeongguk mumbled against his skin, nuzzling into his hair. “Say my fucking name, Jimin”

“Won’t,” he said adamantly, his palms hugging his stomach where he could see the God’s cock piston in and out of him. Horror-stricken, he closed his eyes, gripping Jeongguk’s wrist to ground himself. The temperature of the cold-blooded beast had risen to a blistering heat, matching the sweltering skin of the boy.

He fucked into his pussy harder, uncaring of the way Jimin’s body was bouncing at the impact. By now, his knees were bleeding against the floor of the cavern; whilst it should scare him, it was the last of his concerns. “Ah– Ah– No. Stop!! I cannot take it!!” Jimin cried as pain once again reigned over his senses. “Please… Please…”

“Beg me, Jimin,” the man roared. “Call my name and beg me.”

“Jeongguk!! Please– stop, Jeongguk. ” he cried. Snorty and tear-stained, Jimin thought he was a sight to behold. A pitiable imitation of his previous self. He wondered if he could ever go back to the way it was, just him and his grandmother in their little cottage – where Jimin did not have bite marks all over his skin and shame running down his thighs.

His head was lolled to the side as the God sucked on his dainty neck. His thrusts became shallow, staying inside him for a fraction of a second to graze at his sweet spot. He could feel it again. The same shimmering of pleasure underneath his skin. He knew he was close to his release, and it seemed like Jeongguk was aware of it too. He toyed with his body, carefully caressing his folds when Jimin’s cries were high-pitched and desperate. However, more terrifying than coming undone in the arms of this beast was the thought of him tainting Jimin forever. The possibility of it shackled him and dragged him under. So, when Jeongguk nipped at his earlobe, moaning in pleasure, Jimin trampled on his dignity himself.

“P-Please don’t do this to me,” he whispered, tossing his head back on the man’s shoulders. “You can’t–”

His request was cut short when blinding pleasure took over him. “Ang! My God!” Jimin writhed against  Jeongguk’s hold when came again that night, his release running down his thigh. Jeongguk fucked him through his high, ramming repeatedly against his sweet spot as he chased his own peak. He exhaled a breathy ‘Jeongguk’ when the God himself spilled inside him, his hot cum filling his womb to the point it dripped past Jeongguk’s cock that was still nestled inside him.

“Fuck,” he thought he heard the God sigh as he emptied himself inside Jimin. Jeongguk held him the whole time he came inside him, forcing him to stay with him even when his mind was straying afar. When Jeongguk finally released his hold on him, Jimin crumbled, sagging down into the water as if his strings were cut. There was a splashing sound of water. Jimin was not entirely aware of the things happening around him. He was not curious, not even the slightest.

Jimin lay there, stripped of will and ambition. Jeongguk’s cum spilled out of him in tiny rivulets, joining the clear water. Everything hurt; his trampled heart and his tainted skin. His head was barely above the water, propped by the folded arms under his chin.

He could not feel Jeongguk’s presence over him. This was the moment of his great escape, lest he desire to be caged in Jeongguk’s prison forever. It weighed his heart down when he could not even lift a finger, not even when he wished to. It should scare him that he was not in control of himself. That he was apathetic to the ache in his heart.

Hours seemed to slip past him without his knowing. When he finally believed in his heart that the God had abandoned him and made good on his promise to let him walk free, the hand over his nape returned and shoved his face into the freezing water. Jimin screamed as water filled his lungs.

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He had one of his visions: of those days of plunder and pillage, houses set ablaze and virtues stolen. He had seen himself in a pond again. He must have been singing initially; he had memories of moving his lips to the cold breeze, and his hands were above the surface, palms facing the sky in a gesture of absolute subservience. Poor Jimin felt his garments getting heavier. Memories thereon were muddled together, or simply conjured by his mind to make sense of what was happening to him. Yet, he swore the steady and inevitable descent into the depths of the brackish lake was not the heaviness of his attire that had drunk its fill. There were hands wrapping around his petite ankles. They slithered underneath his fabrics, clawed onto his tender flesh and grabbed him down. He did not fight the feeling. But he knew from the sting in his lungs that this was nothing but a dream. The salt in the water told him as much. He only awakened when he hit the muddy bottom.

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Chapter Text

He was inside the karst again. Naked as the day he was born, Jimin stood there before the erected white marble of Jeongguk’s mortal self, seemingly restored and standing proudly in the centre of  the cave like in the days of old. He was sweating from the heat of the cavern, utterly lost as he stumbled forward in search of the reason why he was here. Jimin was surprised to learn that he did not fear being inside the cave; this time, as if his purpose had been revealed to him, Jimin’s nimble feet led him lead him to the depths of the cave, until he stood right in front of the great bath where his replica laid in eternal sleep. Only this time when he walked, there was no splatter; the surface of the water was undisturbed and none of the inhabitants of the cave acknowledged the intrusion that was his presence.

It must be a dream!

In this dreamscape, Jimin was free. There was no trepidation in his soul, not even when his path ended in front of the ancient deity. Elated and content in a way he was never before, Jimin stood in front of Jeongguk and his other self, watching them both lay in the tub. The arrow piercing the ‘bride’s’ pregnant belly was gone. He looked peaceful in his sleep, laying in the arms of his lover, the God.

Jeongguk was the first one to stir from their slumber.

Jeongguk, albeit aware of  Jimin’s intruding presence (which Jimin could tell by the rapid blink of his clear eyelid), had his sole attention of his bride. Both of them, submerged under the water in the tub, were entangled in a way Jimin had only seen snakes when they coupled. He held his breath when Jeongguk brushed the floating strands of dark hair from the face of his bride, placing a tender kiss on his pouty mouth. Jimin felt the feather light touch the same.

His bride did not respond to the kiss, even when the God deepened it by prying his mouth open. Jeongguk’s steady palms moved underwater with utmost gentleness, caressing the bump where his child laid. Jimin’s hot, sweet-kissed mouth fell open, drool leaking past the corner of his mouth whilst he cradled his own flat stomach. It was only when Jeongguk wrapped his lips around the nipple of his bride, laden with milk and suckled, which in turn induced a wanton moan from his own parted  lips that Jimin’s lust drunk mind caught up with the sublime entanglement of his mind and that of the bride’s.

Jeongguk’s exploration of his lover left Jimin in a state of extreme arousal. He moaned when Jeongguk wrapped one arm around his bride’s breasts and pulled the latter’s naked body onto his front, slotting himself between the parted thighs. When Jeongguk dripped his fingers into the soft folds of his bride’s pussy, Jimin watched in horror as familiar wetness trailed down his own thighs.

“M-My God!” Jimin exclaimed, gripping the edges of the tub as he watched the deities become one. He rubbed his legs with the rising heat in his core, high pitched sounds of pleasure escaping him with each dip of Jeongguk’s fingers into this lover’s pussy. Flushed with ecstasy and shame, Jimin brought his fingers to his mouth to muffle his cries lest he awaken the gods. He choked on his chubby fingers, pulling his jaw open to let the drool slide past them to drip onto his perky breasts.

In spite of how loud the sensation he was feeling made him, Jeongguk and his bride were oblivious to the world outside the tub. It was eerie for him to be so close to him, the God who stole his virtue, and not have his heart race with blinding fear and anticipation of harm. He must be sick in the head, he thought at how aroused he was. Long gone were the aversion and sense of violation the God had instilled in him. In the dream he was living, Jimin and the bride shared the same soul. Their wants and desires were one and the same. They were so intrinsically intertwined that Jimin could feel the life growing inside him. The God’s sire twisting and turning in his womb. It must outrage him how he was reduced to be a vessel of the bride’s bubbling emotions. Yet in the battle raging in his mind, the bride triumphed, and Jimin watched with absolute rupture how Jeongguk claimed his bride.

“A- Ah!” He let out a deep sigh when Jeongguk entered his bride, feeling the God moving in his insides. Jimin’s fingers left the warmth of his mouth to leave a wet trail in their journey toward his fluttering flower. They pried its soft, wet petals open and plunged deep into the slippery, gushing cunt, imitating the thrusts of the God. The voyeurer he was did not blink even for a second. He watched them become one with each rhythmic movement.

The bride’s face was devoid of emotions, like he was unaware of what was happening to him. Jimin had never seen himself appear so serene when he looked at his reflection. The he who belonged to Jeongguk was otherworldly and enthralling. Truly divine in a way a mortal could never compare. Jimin could never hold a candle to the bride; he would live and die as a shadow of his likeness whilst the other shall reign over the throne that was the banished God.

What moved his shattered heart however was Jeongguk. A look of utmost devotion took over him. Though his eyes remained closed, there was no doubt of the love he bore for his bride and his unborn child. Creases in his forehead spoke of the tragedy of their loss; it was as if he was replaying a fragment of their past before it all turned to ashes. There was the helplessness of someone doomed to relive their happiest memories knowing how it was going to end up in flames.

Something akin to envy took form in him. It was clear as day how  much the God cherished his bride. He could not help but think about the time those hands were on him. Jeongguk took him like a hound took a bitch, pounding him into the wet rock cavern, whilst he moulded Jimin to his liking. What was so different about him? Jimin and the God’s bride shared the same visage. Given the pleasure cruising through his veins that found its pinnacle in his cunt, the cum cascading down his thighs were a testament of how they were one.

He did not believe in the supernatural. But he did believe in the truth he was witnessing. He watched the God spill inside of his bride, burying his neck into the latter’s nape and pressing a soft kiss to the pale skin. Jimin’s neck tickled.

“Jeongguk…”

He barely recognised his voice that uttered those words. However, the deed was done. Jeongguk’s eyes shot open as if he had been awaiting his moment. Entranced by the brilliant green of his eyes, Jimin was unable to look away. Jeongguk smiled at him, not the one full of malice and ulterior intent; this smile signified all things good in the world – affection, joy and content. It stole his breath, that dazzling smile.

“Join me,” the God mouthed the words underwater, making space for Jimin next to him. Jeongguk placed his palms next to the water surface, not truly breaking through, in invitation. Jimin looked at his palm and then at his bride. He realised he wished to join them. He nodded.

He was just about to join their hands when he blinked. The water rippled and the illusion shattered into a million pieces. Instead of the bride, inside the tub laid Jimin himself with his throat torn to shreds with talons, ravished and devoured to the point there was not an inch of his skin that was unblemished. Jimin shrieked and fell on his butt. Into his mind came his grandmother’s words of caution, which he finally ended up understanding.

The dream he was trapped in was a play orchestrated by the God himself to make him hand over his soul to him. The most subconscious and purest of submission, just as Jeongguk had demanded from him the last time he was physically here. The betrayal (if one were to call the abduction of his mind that) stung deeper than his bodily violation. Jimin wanted to run away towards the light, yet in this dream that belonged to the God, he was put a puppet on strings. Henceforth, he remained rooted in place, waiting for judgement as a visibly enraged Jeongguk emerged from the tub.

“Such a cunning little thing, aren’t you?,” the God barked at him, pulling him onto his feet. “Why don’t you let go, Jimin?”

“Your cruelty is repulsive,” said Jimin, embracing himself in an attempt to shield his nudity from the eyes of the lustful God. “You had your share of me when you defiled me that day. Are you never satisfied? Does your greed have no bounds?”

“Jimin, don’t you see,” the God implored. “You belong with me. You always have. And I will stop at nothing to have you by my side.”

“Because I am your bride?”

The question suspended in the air when he uttered them, and then sliced through the God’s pretense to nestle itself deep into his open wound of nostalgia. “How dare you speak his name?!” Jeongguk roared, slamming Jimin against the wall. “The likes of you don’t deserve to be in his presence.”

“Then why am I here?,” he mumbled, his voice robbed by the pain from the impact. “Why does he look like me?”

“You are here because I am the only one who will accept you. All of you. All of your sins.  Only I can save you. So save us both from this hassle and submit to me, Jimin.”

“How dare you… You–” his voice cracked. “You are the worst of my sins, Jeongguk. You are the one who defiled me. What you did to me… that was sin. I have done nothing wrong and I need not be saved. Especially not by you. You are the poison in my veins. It is your touch that corrupts me. Your thoughts prey on my poor heart. You may evade my dreams and lure me to submit, but know this: I shall never be yours.”

“I will make you crawl back to me,” Jeongguk seethed. Tears pooled in his eyes as the cold fingertips dung into his cheeks. It seemed like the God wanted a bite out of his very flesh. There were signs of his lust driven frenzy – his dilated pupil, the iciness of his skin, and his scent of death. “I will get this arrogance out of you. Rob everything you hold near and dear. You will pray for me to save you. You will have no one to turn to but me. You will throw yourself at me and beg me to take you away.”

“Why me?,” he sobbed. His spirit was broken, all that remained was the shreds of his dignity. “What would have happened if I had not wandered into this cave that day?”

The God’s gaze was warm. “Jimin-ah, wake up.”

At daybreak, his eyes fluttered open from sleep.

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“Burn away, merry child, O run away,

Right from the water, green, if you may;

In the end, in the depth, thou shall see,

Dead god, gone, no one ever shall set free;

Envy those who never sink so deep.”

He awakened with a gasp, clutching his chest. Liberated from the arms of nightmares, Jimin sat upright on his bed adjusting himself to the sunlight pouring through the windows. It was harsh on him, robbing him of his sight in its brilliance.

He realised he was in his room when he saw his cluttered cabinet. He had caused such a disarray before he had left. His grandmother was sitting on his right, leaning on a chair as her lips moved in prayer. The same prayer he had woken up to. Her weakened senses had not caught up with the fact that he had woken up. The sight of her made his heart squeeze in his chest uncomfortably.

The moment a semblance of awareness dawned upon him, so awaited him, pain – unfathomable and infinite pain.

It was the scorching heat underneath his skin, a ghost of invasive touch and a lingering sense of profound shame. His next course of action was entirely instinctual, driven by a sense of desperate self preservation. A need to know that he was alright. That the terrible night he had lived through and the emotions that he was feeling right now, were a figment of his horror stricken imagination that had translated into a vivid dream. Yet when he peeled the covers off, what waited for him was a glaring reminder of what had happened to him. He was littered with marks – of harsh fingertips and sunken teeth. There was not an inch of his porcelain skin unblemished. The vibrant purple and red marks blended quite well with the red dots in his vision.

With a shuddering breath, he broke down. He cradled himself as he sunk back into bed, wretched sobs and wheezing, taking a hold of him that he struggled for air. In a way the suffocation was mercy. He needed not think when he was fighting to draw breath. Rocking himself as he wept, the pain within him was so great that Jimin could feel the infinite cracks ripping apart his poor heart. He wrapped himself in the blankets, wanting nothing to do with the cruel reality he was living. The Jimin of yesterday would have found no fault in him – his actions were simply innocent. He has gone to meet a lover to show him what he always wanted to know. But alas, and know he did, only by the hands of an entity more sinister than Taehyung could ever be. Had he never stepped out on that fateful night, had he abided by all the tales and imaginary lines  his grandmother had drawn to keep him safe, then perhaps he would not have fallen prey to Jeongguk. And in the calamitous aftermath of his curiosity, Jimin had lost himself.

His woeful cries stirred the crone from her doze, and Jimin could tell the very moment she saw him, she started crying as well. Despite her frail health, his grandmother took him in his arms and let him sob into her bony shoulder. “I am sorry,” he told her, weeping harder at the sight of her. “I am so so sorry, Halmeoni!”

“My baby,” she held onto him tighter, brushing away his dark hair from his eyes. “M-My baby…”

“I am sorry,” he insisted. “I–”

“It’s alright,” the old woman reassured him, kissing every inch of his face. Jimin wondered for a moment how she could still hold him like before. Like he had not been–

‘Ruined.’ The word repeated in his head. Over and over, as he wept.

Ruined.

Ruined.

He was ruined. By him.

“Everything is alright,” his grandmother said again. “It is the God’s wish.”

Jimin went still in her arms. Something entirely unpleasant took life inside him. “What are you saying?” He asked her, his voice almost a whisper given how cold and aloof it came tumbling out of his mouth.

When his grandmother pulled herself away to look into his eyes, what Jimin saw was acceptance – not of his disastrous and deplorable fate but something entirely unknown to him. Something that resembled gratitude.

“It was the God’s wish to have you,” his grandmother said, completely at ease with her conclusions of what  had happened to him. He wondered if old age had turned her brains to mush. He feared that  her devotion had led her to forsake him and his chastity that she herself had previously held to be dear. “He sees you for who you are – his dear bride. He told me last night. I saw it all, my Minie,” her eyes were glassy and fixed on the ceiling, as if leafing through the pages of a cherished past. Jimin did not recognise the woman holding him. “You were the most beautiful bride. The most magnificent. Not the false martyrs, but the one true love of our dear God. You will see the truth of it soon.”

The moment she finished her monologue, Jimin pulled away from her as if her  touch was burning him. She shook her head in contempt, bringing him back to her embrace. Jimin sat paralysed in that bed. ‘Not even his Halmeoni stood by him’. Her blind faith in the vengeful god scared him. Jimin had expected her to renounce him, to be thrown out of the house and have her sever the thread of their familial connection. Yet her loyalties remained dubious even in his hour of need. He could feel it in the air, the distinct scent of poison swirling around them. It tightened like a noose around their neck, tightening and tightening until Jimin could see a blue tint emerge in his pale complexion. He could not breathe.

His grandmother began chanting the same prayer she had been muttering when he woke up. Eyes fluttering closed, there was only submission in her voice. Her high pitched shrill incited the same unease he had felt in that cave. Only this time he did not weep. Jimin’s eyes are fixed on the canopy of the bed.

“Burn away, merry child, O run away,

Right from the water, green, if you may;

In the end, in the depth, thou shall see,

Dead god, gone, no one ever shall set free;

Envy those who never sink so deep.”

─────── ‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙ ───────

His habit of self isolation when distressed often made his grandmother anxious. In her better days, she used to lure him out of his spells of sadness by making him a warm meal or narrating one of her stories. These days her wits escaped her, so her frail self settled on knitting by his bed as he muffled his sobs under the blankets. It would destroy him to worry her tender heart. So he bore his pain in his heart and smiled at her as much as he could to play his part.

It had  been a week since he left the confines of his room. His self imposed imprisonment granted him enough time to escape the clutches of reality. He realised the luxury thereof on the third day since his awakening. Jimin had dared to step out into their small garden, braving himself to venture as far as their pond. It must have been late afternoon when he decided he needed to wash off Jeongguk from his skin once and for all. He could still feel him inside him. Jeongguk had draped himself over Jimin’s existence. He was in the air that he breathed and filled his hollow insides until he exploded. It terrified him to no end that he could feel Jeongguk even now.

It was not simply his plagued mind conjuring these visions. Jeongguk brought his demons alive. He had conspired with nature itself to torment Jimin. This Jimin discovered the day he dared to venture outside the comforts of his bed chambers.

It seemed like his grandmother and the rest of the village had decided that the period of mourning permitted for his stolen virtue was over, marked by the startling number of visitors they were forced to entertain. They had come in droves, lingered until they caught a glimpse of his defeated self in bed, and went away only when they made sure to remind him of his defilement. They urged him to return to his usual self and live the rest of his days in penance. What brought him out of his seclusion was the inability to entertain them.

It was a partially cloudy day when he was forced out of bed by his grandmother. A bath would do him good, they mutually agreed. Regardless of how dearly he yearned to float away in the cool water in their pond, what was once natural to him, in the aftermath of his meeting with Jeongguk, Jimin found himself completely distrusting of the element.

His fears and his thoughts, which he then rationalised as figments of his terror-stricken imagination, however came to life when he reached the pond. He did not have it in him to scream anymore. The kind of fear Jeongguk had familiarised him with was the kind that left one paralysed and numb to the world. Yet a startled scream pierced the silence that had taken him hostage with its cold finger. Not even his grandmothers' subsequent wailing, her howl riveling a tortured soul, made him tear his eyes away from the sight.

A mighty crocodile laid dead in their pond, its pale ivory belly facing the hiding sun. Its belly had been slashed open, revealing large pearls that Jimin knew in his heart were its eggs. Countless tiny hatchlings crawled out of its cadaver, into the stillwater, and painted it a bloody red. The progeny feasted on their supposed mother’s iridescent intestines, gnawing and tearing the tender flesh until fragments of pale white skin floated above the surface like a million petals. The sight churned the contents of his stomach and a slight headache preluded the arrival of  bile in his mouth.

─────── ‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙ ───────

Pain. Bone crushing and mind numbing pain was all he could feel. He screamed on top of his lungs, begging for someone to come and save him. He was outside; the surroundings were not the comforting walls of his room. He was on all fours, with forehead touching the wet ground.  When he lifted his head, a task that took him infinite strength, he could make out the outline of the shrine. Dread filled him at the mere sight of it.

It was raining heavily and Jimin felt like he was being nailed down into the ground by the raindrops. With great effort he managed to sit back, stretching his legs out and wide. One of his hands naturally came to rest above his stomach. His stomach. It was only then he noticed his stomach, swollen with what could only be a child. He was huge. He supposed that explained why his movements were sluggish and painful. 

The life inside of him was struggling to break free. He screamed as contractions wrecked through him, frightening him out of his mind. Whatever was inside him was larger than a babe and it seemed determined to tear him apart if that was what it took for it to break free. Desperately needing something to  hold onto, his fingertips buried into the ground for purchase. There was no one with him. Here he was abandoned in his hour of need and there was no one to hold him. He cried harder, face blotched with tears and snot.

“H- Help me…” he prayed. He knew whose presence he was begging for, deep in his heart. The father of his child could only be him.

His hands were shaking where he propped himself up against the wet ground. Legs spread apart, he struggled to breath, even through his mouth, given the downpour. His skin was hot to touch, downright feverish, in stark contrast against the cold rain. Something was approaching him, cutting its way through the tall grass. Jimin could not care less. Not when his nether lips were stretched wide open by whatever was crawling out of him. He collapsed in agony, facing the sky, wailing through the labour. He cradled his stomach, a gesture that was so unfamiliar to him since he did not remember ever being pregnant. Yet right now he laid there, head tossed back in pain, writhing on the ground as he gave birth, all alone in front of his shrine.

By the time his baby crawled out of him, Jimin was soaked in rain and blood. He curled to his side, arms folded to his chest, sobbing, repenting for those sins he committed and those he had never dreamed of committing. He could tell that he was losing blood. Dizzy and exhausted, the boy laid there, struggling to catch his breath.

Whatever creature was approaching him had arrived and its looming presence was the only incentive for him to lift himself from the dirt. A wintry scent that he had by then attributed to Jeongguk came from the green eyes that spied on him from the grass.

Suddenly frightened for the safety of his child in the presence of a creature that must be an underling of Jeongguk, Jimin quickly raised himself up to gather his babe in his arms. Yet it was the sight of what he had given birth to that terrified him. He flinched back and screamed, shaking like a leaf at the sight of the egg. An egg! He had just given birth to an egg! Like some lowly cold blooded animal, Jeongguk was punishing him by making him give birth to an abomination.

He muffled his whimpers, palm over his mouth, as he sat on the ground. With a tender affection only a mother could have, he caressed its hard shell. “W-What do you even think of me?” He screamed at the shrine in front of him. “You are not God. You are a monster!!” His tears were endless. This was nothing but a tragedy, forcing him to love a twisted creature for his God’s amusement.

A thunderous crack was what freed him from his misery. The egg cracked open, translucent white albumin liquid oozing through the fissures. The being inside showed no signs of wanting life the way it did whilst inside him. It was like death was crawling out of the fracture.

Jimin did not know, did not want to know, what it was that he was seeing. His faith in his terrible, sinister God was long gone, but what he witnessed stole any aspirations he had for life itself. The sight of it shall never leave his memory. Whatever was inside the egg was burning despite the rain, smoke escaping through the cracks. When the shell revealed what was inside it, Jimin felt bile rising up his throat. He did not even have a moment to prepare himself before he was vomiting at the very sight of  it.

The being inside was barely human. When he extended his hand to touch what was supposed to be his child, it was as if he had plunged his hands in steaming water. The thing had the silhouette of a human, yet every feature of it was far from the same. Its eyes were reptilian slits, like its father’s, and in the place of its nose were two holes without flesh. There was scarcely an ounce of flesh on its limbs overall. The thing had scales all over its spine; dark, iridescent scales that resembled crocodiles. When Jimin braved the scorching heat of its skin and touched it, its flesh withered off like flakey petals.

Jimin woke up from his sleep screaming, fresh hot tears cascading down his face. He scrambled out his bed, tearing apart his nightclothes, stumbling towards the mirror to see his reflection.

He sighed in relief at the sight of his flat stomach, not even a slight bulge underneath his fingertips. He anxiously probed his folds fearing tears or any other signs of labour. He slumped into the ground as he found none. His chest heaved and breath was shaky. Jimin wept in terror, vision hazy from the terrible nightmare he had. Whatever dream that Jeongguk had planted in his sleep was vicious and sadistic and Jimin could never forgive him for it. There would never be a day he would accept the God in his heart.

He collapsed onto the floor, crying and writhing for someone to hold him. Yet there was no one. Jeongguk had taken everything from him – his sanity, his chastity, and most importantly, himself. He wept on the cold, hard, wooden floor, wondering how long until his God no longer found him amusing and spared him.

─────── ‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙ ───────

Ever since Jeongguk started evading his dreams,  Jimin had never known peace. Some days the visions were kind, consisting of him running down a meadow with the wind in his hair and summer in the breeze. He would bathe in the pond amongst schools of tiny, colourful fish, and break through the water to smile at the croaking frog atop the lilypad. Jimin saw himself cradling a babe once, bringing it to his tit and letting it suckle whilst they watched the sunset. Those days he awoke fresh and helped his grandmother around the house from dawn to dusk like he used to. He would forage the woods for herbs and by evening accompany Dahyun to the market for a brief visit.

But alas Jeongguk was impartial in bestowing him with a fair share of nightmares for every glimpse of heaven.

It was the lecherous dreams Jeongguk subjected him to. The debaucheries he made Jimin see. He would fall asleep with a weight on top of his chest, crushing his ribs. And in his dreams he would be back at the alcove in the shrine, ravished by none other than Jeongguk. He would see his naked self in Jeongguk’s lap, the God’s fingers in his pussy and his lips around Jimin’s breasts. The God would plunder his chastity every night and Jimin would wake up screaming to the sight of a disfigured and demonic being crouching over his sleeping figure, watching over his nightmares.

He awakened one such day with a gasp, lifting his covers to discover himself wet between his legs.

“You have been gone for too long.”

“Halmeoni!” Jimin cried in shame at the sight of his grandmother, sitting on the stool beside his bed. She had taken his habit after the nightmares started plaguing him, reassuring him that she would fend away the demon bringing such dark dreams with him. Jimin allowed her this.

He was aware that his grandmother suffered from the hands of the God as he did, when he stole Jimin’s  bright spirit. These days he was but a husk of his previous self, surviving to behold every other day without any hope or yearning. It hurt his grandmother to see him like this, now more than ever as she started losing her grip on reality. Even with her herbs, the old woman approached her final days. It was evident in the tremors of her limbs and the distracted gaze of her glassy eyes. Her cries have been frequent enough to rival Jimin’s own. As much as acknowledging the truth pained him, Jimin was forced to face the possibility of losing her sooner than later.

“Shall we try milk of poppy for you, Minie?” She asked again, wanting to relieve him from his dreams. She did not know he had emptied the vial days ago and found no refuge. These were not mere dreams. There were realities crafted to serve as his personal prison.

“Perhaps not, Halmeoni,” he assured her. “They are getting better.”

It was a harmless lie, but a lie nonetheless.

“My Minie,” she chuckled helplessly, sewing a tiny petal onto the kerchief. Her blindness had by now given her multiple tiny stabs to her fingers, yet she persevered.  “These dreams won’t cease just like that. He is not known to be merciful.”

Her words sent a shiver down his spine. “You know why I get those dreams?”

“Of course, my love,” she said apologetically. “I know him and his impulses. The tales I told you are the truth of it. I have told you no lies about him. He is what he is.”

Jimin clutched his aching head, trying to process her riddles. “Halmeoni, tell me about his bride. What happened to his bride’s corpse?”

“Well,” the old woman paused her task. “His bride was hunted down by envious men who wanted him for themselves. They also feared how powerful the God’s progeny would be and wanted to get rid of it too. That was why they fired the arrow at his bump! It was to get rid of the mother and child. Our God is powerful, but even he cannot bring back life. Perhaps he could have brought his bride back but definitely not his child.”

“So he let them die?” Jimin shifted under the sheets, pulling the covers to him.

“No.”

“They are alive?!”

His grandmother shook her head kindly. “He preserved them, Minie,” the crone whispered like it was a secret between them. “I do not know how exactly. I don’t think anyone knows. But he did not let them die. He still has their remains. No one knows where and how. It is a mystery.”

Jimin knew where. In that tub inside the karst laid the bride carrying his unborn child. Jimin had seen them. He was the only one who had. That begged the question as to why him? Why was he the chosen one? Why him and not the countless maidens who were made offerings. Those with greater virtues than him were rejected by the great god, and every breath Jimin took was an anomaly in the pattern.

“Why did he kill Yunha and the others?” He could not help but ask.

“It is not him,” his grandmother said with conviction. “It is not his deed.”

“What do you mean?” Jimin exclaimed, feeling like he was opening a Pandora's box.

“Do not ask me how and why, but that is not him, Minie,” the crone insisted. “His love for his bride is too great to touch another. He is vengeful, maleficent and immoral. Yet he is loyal to his bride. He would not touch another the way those corpses were.”

“But he t-touched me,” he said through the wobble of his lips.

“I know,” that was all she said.

“Is there no escape?” Jimin wondered out loud. He brought his knees to his chest, looking at his grandmother for comfort. She was all he had. Jimin knew she understood him and what happened to him. Whilst the rest of the world was eager to outcasting him for a mistake that was not his, his grandmother believed in his truth. He would miss her when she was gone.

She must have sensed his plight for she scooped him up in her arms like she always did whenever he was upset. “The story of our lineage is made by those who say it. Our study is what we make of it – our half truths and lies and silences. To claim your place in history, you must erase the past, Jimin-ah.”

─────── ‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙ ───────

When he peered down, Jeongguk was between his legs, lapping at his folds. “Help!! Help!!” He cried when he came to realise what was happening to him. He tried to break free from the grip of the man, yet it only spurred the God on. Jimin’s face was scrunched in pleasure, delicious pleasure. With each insistent lick, Jeongguk drove Jimin closer and closer to madness. His rough tongue against the soft flesh of Jimin’s folds paralysed him. He was hiccuping by now, too lost in pleasure to protest. He collapsed on the sheets, locking his ankles around Jeongguk’s torso, effectively holding the God hostage between his legs. He laughed mirthlessly at how blasphemous all of this was; his own god violating him in his bedroom whilst his grandmother laid in her bed, a call away, chanting prayers to keep this very god away from him.

“T-Too much!” He cried. “It’s too much!!” He convulsed in his bed, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he released onto the Gods’s awaiting mouth. His eyes fluttered close and toes curled in pleasure. This was the first time he had known something like this. He laid there in the aftermath of his climax wondering how the God was able to pull these reactions out of him.

When the morning came, Jimin glowed from his mind numbing orgasms from the night before but from within he was rotting – flesh and soul. He never knew when the God decided to spend the night playing with his body, the toss of the coin was unbeknownst to him, until it landed with the head facing the God and his head facing Jimin’s gushing pussy. There was no denying the pleasure. It felt good to let Jeongguk have his way with him given how well the God knew his body in a way that Jimin never knew was possible. However, it remained that Jimin hated his touch. He abhorred how accessible he was to Jeongguk. With his bride dwelling in his shrine, Jimin was closer to Jeongguk in a way Jeongguk shall never be to Jimin. A corpse served as the portal to his living, breathing flesh.

Like a person possessed he laid awake at night, unable to let himself fall into natural sleep, anticipating the cold touch of the God. It was always past midnight when he felt it – icy fingers parting his legs. He only needed to close his eyes to see him and Jeongguk would descend from his sacred shrine in the falls to Jimin’s bedroom.

Jimin gasped when he was turned over, forced into his belly like the first time the good God took him. When he opened his eyes, there was no one in the room, save for the ghost of a touch tracing the curve of his spine. It was then the God introduced poison into the alembic. Its scent permeated the still air, and Jimin, susceptible to this mortal flaw, sucked in the poisonous air, one lungful and another, and then succumbed to the whims of the God. Consequently Jimin, malleable in the hands of God, was rolled out like fresh dough, his arms stretched in front of him and head tilted to the side atop a soft cotton pillow. He spent another night in the throes of pleasure, taken over and over by Jeongguk who made love to him like a lover.

A conscious part of him knew that his newfound tenderness was not meant for him but for the bride who was kept in the cave. He gripped the sheet with his nails, tearing into them as Jeongguk slowly thrusted in and out of him. In turn,  Jimin slipped in and out of lucidity that came to him like eternal waves of the crystal seas.

─────── ‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙ ───────

The weeks of scattered showers and shadows had pushed Jimin into an abysmal state of existence. With no faith nor person to resort to, his days of isolation were filled with episodes of heart wrenching cries. It was a surprise if he ever woke up before dawn. The nightmares of the night before would keep him up until the early hours of the morning, and the ghastly visions his God bestowed him with would have shaken him to the core to fall back asleep. His only solace was the sun. In the few hours where the sun shone bright, Jimin dared to come out of his cottage and procure ingredients for supper.

On a particularly sunny day, Jimin braved himself to go to the village alone after the incident.

It had been a month since the night he wandered into that cave and, as much as he was ashamed to admit of his neglect, he had only noticed the shortage of meat on their table this week when he regained his appetite. Not that he had not noticed Taehyung’s absence. He had missed the man more than he would like to admit, having grown used to the presence of the elder. Yet in the aftermath of what had happened to him, Jimin, crippled by insecurity and anxiety, found it hard to voice his concerns to his grandmother. He dared not ask her if he had ever visited him, nor of any news of significance related to the butcher’s boy. What he could muster was a meek question as to why they did not have meat in so long, to which his poor grandmother replied that the young lad never came with their share after what befell Jimin.

The response did nothing to placate his worries.

If anything, it opened floodgates of contorted excuses to answer why the man, who seemed to be utterly bewitched by him, abandoned him completely. ‘He must have been busy with work.’ ‘Or perhaps his father forbade him from visiting Jimin.’ ‘He would have wanted to give Jimin the space to recover and come back to him.’ Thoughts like these persisted until this moment, he stood outside the butcher’s shop, playing with the fabric of his robes.

The village centre was bustling with life when he reached there. The travellers were walking their horses slowly around whilst they searched for inns to spend their night in. The vegetable stalls had sold nearly all of their produce, and were chatting up with the customers that lingered to exchange a few words of courtesy or hot gossip. However, this illusion of a merry town engaged in their habitual life shattered when their gazes fell on him. Jimin was aware of the exact moment this happened, for the silence that settled over the township was so great and momentous that the air stilled and the wind broke. Dozens of eyes raked him up and down, flickering between him and each other, as they reached a silent agreement to which Jimin was suddenly not privy to.

Tears prickled his eyes when the silence made way for hushed whispers. These whispers were not meant to conceal the weight of their judgement upon him but rather to incite shame. The truth of it became abundantly clear as the voices became more distinct with every step he took and phrases of condemnation were spat to his face. The words were meant to hurt – so was every glance, every scoff, every tsk. They muttered ‘a slut’ under their breath when he passed by. They talked about how he ‘spread his legs like a common whore’ and how he dared to betray his future husband and his chastity. Some of them claimed to lament the loss of his innocence. They wondered which hooligan had been audacious enough to steal the virtue of a babe as unassuming and pure as  Jimin. They prayed that the God would show him mercy.

There were times he wondered what would have happened to him if he had asserted the truth of what happened to him like he had the day one of the village elders had come to meet him. He had told them what happened to him – how the God they had sacrificed Yunha to had taken advantage of him and how his cosmic appetite for flesh remained unquenched. He had intended to warn them; that the monster they were dealing with was devious and wolfish and that he would spare no young maidens. The elder Kang had been utmost sympathetic to him and his experience when they had spoken, which was the reason why his heart broke when he learnt of the tales the elders were spinning across the settlement. Jimin wept when he found out that Kang told everyone that Jimin had lost his mind. That he had spread his legs to some delinquents and had lied in their God's name to save himself from shame. They called him a blasphemous whore and ruled for his isolation from the impressionable maidens in the village, lest he tempt them with his depraved ways.

Since then, Jimin kept his truth to himself.

Yet, walking through the parted crowd that started him down with disgust, pity and aversion, Jimin tightly gripped the hems of his robes with shame. He wanted nothing more than to escape from this predicament. To be a spectacle was the last of his desires, especially since he knew how cruel the world was underneath all the pretense of propriety and goodwill.

Never had he been so glad to see the butcher’s shop. The place that had previously made him queasy, now loomed in his vision as a safe refuge. He could see Taehyung in there, hacking a lamb into many little pieces. He stopped in front of the shop just as Taehyung brought down the cleaver, hewing a limb off the lamb. “Hyung,” he greeted the elder, his gaze fixed on the cleaver dripping with blood.

“Jimin,” Taehyung said through gritted teeth. Unlike what was natural between them, Taehyung did not drop his chores at once to tend to Jimin. It was not so that Jimin demanded to be made the sole recipient of Taehyung’s attention. He was aware of whom the elder was deep in his heart. Yet the sudden and unexpected hostility from the one man he had trusted enough to hand himself over, brought back the crippling emotions Jimin tried so hard to escape. 

“I haven’t seen you in long, Hyung,” he said, hoping the quiver of his voice would be masked by how fast  he was  speaking. “I did not notice you did not come by until I realised how famished we were without you bringing us a slice of meat every other day. Halmeoni also asked where you were…”

The way Taehyung eyed him made him feel like the lowest of the lowest. A scum in his eyes. “Do you think I am a fool, Jimin?”

“What do you mean, Hyung?”

Jimin stood there, terrified as Taehyung came over and yanked him inside the shop with a bruising grip on his arm. He shrieked in pain when the elder threw him to the nearest wall, caging him in his arms. He had to admit that Taehyung had always instilled a certain degree of fear in him. Despite his imposing figure and the nature of his trade, Jimin was led to believe that his racing heartbeat and shivering limbs were all surface manifestations of his attraction to Taehyung. It was only now that Taehyung had him entrapped between his arms, his cleaver buried to the wooden wall next to Jimin’s head that Jimin learnt of the extent of the terror Taehyung had instilled in him.

There were people whispering behind them. He knew how compromised he looked, and how leisurely Taehyung had positioned them. Jimin wondered how far the rumours shall go after this visit.

“Are you happy?” Taehyung spat at him. “Are you happy after completely ruining yourself? Spreading your legs for the entire town like the fucking whore you are. Fucking hell, Jimin! I thought you and I had a thing. What did you do instead?! How  many men plundered your cunt that day, slut?”

Taehyung’s words, whilst not entirely unexpected, still shocked him to his core. Jimin looked at the man before him with tears in his eyes. How could Taehyung of all people ask that to him, especially when Jimin had gambled his life just to spend a night with him. His heart ached at those cruel words. “Not you too…” he sobbed, clutching Taehyung’s tunic in an attempt to make the elder listen to him. “Y-You know why I was out that day. I came for you…”

“Fucking hell, Jimin,” Taehyung snorted. “What on earth are you on about? You came for me? Is that what you have been telling people? You know, Jimin, I had assumed that you shall play good to your Halmeoni and be the fucking prissy little thing you are. Sure, I would have had you in my bed one way or the other, but I understood. I was willing to take time with you. Now, I want you to imagine how I felt when I found you in the alcove by the falls looking like you were ravished by all the men in the town. Tell me, did I make you wait too long that you had to let the first dick that came your way inside? Were you always such a desperate whore?”

“You were the one who found me?” Jimin exclaimed quietly. “At the alcove?” ‘Why did Jeongguk leave him at the alcove?’ He had never asked anyone of how he was discovered and brought back to his home. He did not have it in him to listen to the answer from anyone, knowing that the discovery of his poor, assaulted body could not have been an easy affair for his grandmother, who loved him so dearly. To  grant them both the mercy of forgetfulness, Jimin had never voiced his curiosities surrounding his return.

“Were your wits fucked out of you that you forgot you had to go home, Jimin?” Taehyung continued, visibly agitated by Jimin’s lack of recollection. “Or, perhaps you wanted to be taken so freely by anyone who passed by. Did you know how betrayed I felt when I learnt that you gave yourself to someone else?” Taehyung dung into his chin with his bloody fingers. “Did you know how humiliated I was when my Appa told me that the one I intended to wed turned out to be the glory hole of the village? Speak something, dumb whore!”

“You won’t believe me,” he cried, defeatedly. “They did not and now you would not either.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes at him. “Believe what, Jimin?”

“I had come that day for you like you told me, Hyung. I swear I did. B-But when it suddenly started raining, I sought refuge in the shrine and it was… it was him! Oh, Hyung, believe me. It was the God.” He broke down into pitious sobs, forced to relive the memories of what had happened. “It was our God that stole my innocence from me.”

“Oh, Jimin,” Taehyung shook his head solemnly. “When Elder Kang said you were lying in the name of God, I refused to believe him at first. But you truly are! How despicable!”

“Hyung, it is true! P-Please trust me.”

“Tell me, Jimin. If it was truly the God who fucked you, why are you alive?”

The air was stolen from his lungs at how cold Taehyung’s words were. “What?”

“You heard me,” the man taunted him, leaning down to evade his personal space. “Yunha, Chungha, Minji, Mina, Saeron, Chaeyoung… all of the maidens who were made sacrifices to the great God, washed ashore on the third day dead, surrounded by crocodiles. So why did I find you, who claims to be ravished by the God, in the alcove by the falls, alive and alone?”

“I do not know,” he said weakly.

“You don’t know?!” Taehyung raised his brow.

“I do not know why I am alive, Hyung,” he cried, exasperated. “I do not know why he spared me or why he left me. Perhaps he thought I would die there. Or not even the crocodiles wanted me after he was done with me. I do not know! All I know is what happened to me in that cave, and that is what is the truth of it. I do not– I do not care if you don’t believe me. Not anymore.” He steeled himself and twisted away from Taehyung’s grip. “I shan’t see you anymore.”

He yelped when Taehyung grabbed him by his hair. “Oh no, we are not doing that. Look over to the fruit stall, do you see him?” Jimin’s eyes watered by the burning in his scalp as Taehyung forced him to look at his friend. “That is Seojun. He has had a thing for you for years and you never once looked at him. Now look at the fish stall… that is Wooshik. You reject him, remember?” Jimin was forced to nod by Taehyung. “And by the textile mill is Hyungsik and past him by the tea shop is Sunghwan. We want you to leave your door open tonight while you sleep–”

“You!” Jimin seethed, offended by the sheer audacity of the proposal Taehyung was suggesting.

“Listen to me, slut,” Taehyung barked at him. “We are having your loose hole one way or the other. So be a good little bitch and cooperate. Leave your door open tonight and wait for us. If you don’t I will hack down your door and have turns at you in the middle of the town tomorrow noon and bring your old crone to watch it. So choose wisely. Now, hurry along.” With a loud spank, Taehyung shoved him into the street when Jimin stumbled to find his footing. He kept his head up despite the snickers and whistles as he walked past the village. It was only when he reached his room that he allowed himself to weep.

After the torture he was put to by the God, Jimin was unable to even imagine the suffering Taehyung and his cohorts shall bestow upon him. To be treated like a harlot squeezed his tender heart and drove him into madness. And when he looked at his grandmother, sitting by the fire and knitting, moving her lips in prayer, Jimin thought if there was any deity in the lands that could make her prayers come true.

‘Would Jeongguk care about what was happening to him after he claimed Jimin was his?’ Jimin supposed it did not matter. At the end of the day he was merely warm flesh to the men around him – god or mortal.

His perpetual submission and placidity were things that had attracted men, luring them to trail behind him like moths to a flame. Yet he himself had suffered greatly at the hands of these virtues. His purity and virginity that he, and everyone around him, had ascribed great significance to the point that they were the sole testaments to his character, had only enslaved him in chains he could not be free from. Now that he was no longer in possession of these attributes – now that they were stolen from him – he was deemed to be undeserving of the good graces of men who, previously, considered him as the highest ideals a person could yearn for. Now, stripped of the golden halo of these traits, Jimin, in their eyes, deserved to be ogled at. He had earned the role of being an object of their perversions, their debaucheries and their vices.

That night he, with a heavy heart, turned his home into a burial ground for his virtues. He fed his grandmother a cup of milk of poppy to put her to deep slumber. He wept when she fell deep into the land of a dreamless sleep, whispering a chorus of ‘sorry’  into her crown as he waited for doom to befall him again. Everything else was in perfect order; the door was left open and Jimin waited in the living room, donning a loose nightgown. His head was lowered to the ground in prayer, pleading to the only god he knew to spare him from this fate. He cried whilst the night slipped away and no visitors came knocking at their door.

When the day broke, came a visitor – Sana, a milkmaid who was kind enough to look past  Jimin’s fallen reputation – with a private news, which turned out to be the most devastating and shocking news to the entire village. Kim Taehyung and his friends were found dead in the alcove by the falls. Their limbs torn off apart by the mightiest of the crocodiles who refused to let the people salvage their corpse for proper burial. Sana told him how revolting the sight was. Unlike any other corpse, they were so thoroughly mutilated that none would have identified the bodies had it not been for the bracelet Taehyung wore on his wrist. Sana spoke of battered bones and ripped of tendons, and confessed that even her father could not stomach the way the skin was peeled off from flesh. Jimin thanked her for the bottle of fresh milk. He closed the door behind him and leaned against the wood.

For the first time in a long time, he smiled.

─────── ‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙ ───────

Jimin’s merrier days were marked by the complete oblivion of Jeongguk’s omnipresence. He arose before the sunrise and prepared a bath for his grandmother, who preferred to wash herself before the morning prayer. She had certainly slipped past the august of her life. Even during prayer her speech was slurred and eyes droopy, which she would never permit herself had she had some of her wits left with her. With each passing day his worries grew grave until Jimin awoke one fatal morning with his grandmother passed away in her sleep.

The storm clouds took over the grey skies and wept alongside him. Jimin did not have it in him to let go of her, clinging to her body as he wept from morning till dusk until Sana came by and discovered him tucked to the side of her dead body, passed out. He wept in her arms, praying to the God to give him back his only family. But even the God could not defeat death.

The funeral rites were administered by a village elder who was wheezing in the cold breeze. Sincere sympathies were exchanged and the crowd dwindled by midnight with only Jimin, Sana and a handful of elders remaining. The priest assured him that her passing had been with ease, a natural death in her slumber, which was a luxury not many people could afford. He missed most of the conversation, focusing only on the feel of  her bony, wrinkled palm in his, tracing the undulation for one last time before he let go. By the time the priest uttered the last hymns, Jimin’s tears had dried up.

One by one they left, but not without offering him words of comfort.  With fear of offending him, they did not take the name of the God, but settled to say that his grandmother was in good hands. Jimin thanked them earnestly.

“Jimin-ssi.”

He was forced to pry his eyes away from the ground where his grandmother laid to the man in front of him. “Elder Kang,” he said in greeting. Jimin did not know the man personally but there was not a soul in the entire wetlands who did not know who the man was. Elder Kang was the youngest of the village elders at the age of sixty-two and had no family to speak of. It was widely known that he had lost his kin to a flood years ago and that his last relative, his wife, was attacked by the God one day whilst she was passing by the swamp. These great tragedies have caused him to age faster than his peers, marring his appearance with deep lines and grey hairs.

“I am so sorry for your loss, my child,” the elder said, taking a seat beside Jimin on the bench as he wrapped his hand around Jimin’s shoulders. “I am sure she is in a good place.”

“May her soul find the afterlife,” Jimin recited curtly.

“I know these are trying times, my boy,” the man whispered with a disinterested kindness he was by now familiar with. “I hope you know that my door is always open… in case you need anything at all.”

“Thank you. I will remember that.” Jimin stiffened when the man gave a soft squeeze to his arm  before rising again. He looked at the man pensively, lost in deep thought. Kang, mistaking this for interest, smiled at him warmly. So he dared to ask again: “Elder Kang?”

“Yes, Jimin-ah?”

“Have you ever seen the God?”

“No one is worthy enough to see him. Not after what we have done to him,” Kang told him the tale all of them knew in some way or the other.

“And no one who has seen him has lived to tell the tale…” Jimin wondered out loud.

“No one can just see him, Jimin-ah,” Kang sighed, visibly flustered that he was unsure where Jimin was going with this. “He had left the lands. You know your history. He has left us to die. He is cynical and abhorrant.”

“But when you deliver the maidens who are sacrificed to his temple at night, even then we do not have witnesses. You have not seen him and the ones who have met their deaths at the hands of the crocodiles near the plungepool.”

Jimin noted the flicker of conflict in the old man’s eyes.

“Elder Kang, why was Taehyung and I found in the alcove whilst the rest of the maidens tumble down the falls?”

Elder Kang breathed hard, glancing across the backyard of his cottage to make sure that no one had overheard them. A menacing gaze took over him which was masked by his stretched, thin lips that attempted to mimic the kind smile everyone else had given him. This time when Kang sat next to him, Jimin warily looked around to find a comforting presence.

“Jimin,” Kang took his hand in his, clenching his fingers to the point that Jimin squirmed in discomfort. “There are things that happen because they are necessary to uphold peace and order. No one can rule without fear. Have you known fear?” Jimin nodded gingerly, looking into Kang’s eyes. “I do not think you do. But that can be remedied. Think about the fear you feel when you know something you should not. Or, when you are living alone with no one to protect you when the wolves come knocking.”

“Good thing I do not know anything,” Jimin gave him a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

─────── ‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙ ───────

It took him two days and a dozen lies but Jimin managed to exchange the last of his belongings for a black silk dress and some gold trinkets that he threw into the pond praying for his grandmother’s soul. The efficacy of his deeds reflected in the cabin that was now submerged in a sense of abandonment. The floor was scrubbed clean, crockery dust and stacked atop the cupboards in the kitchen, all of his knives were sharpened and the bedding was washed and folded over the cots. There was not a speck of dust in the entire cabin.

With the rains persisting, Jimin sat on the floor of the living room awaiting his visitor. An atmosphere of eerie calm hung in the room. It was late afternoon and Jimin was patient as ever, hence when his guest arrived when the sun was low, he did not complain.

“I will take good care of the cabin while you are gone,” Dahyun said, pulling him into a hug.

“I hope you do,” Jimin smiled, giving her the keys.

“How long will you be gone?”

“For a while.”

─────── ‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙ ───────

“I must say, I expected you to come crawling back to me sooner,” Jeongguk awaited at the steps of the shrine, the black slits of his eyes dilating at the sight of Jimin. He was dressed in all black, the silk dress hugging him tight at every curve; he was a mirror to Jeongguk’s silken robes lined with gold. Jimin knew he had intrigued the otherwise nonchalant deity. The blink of his third veil of an eyelid told him of the attraction. Jeongguk’s gaze was on his rosy cheeks; Jimin spent his last moments in his cabin mourning everything he had lost, and his sadness had doused him with a blush of winter rose. The gaze brought a smile to his pouty lips, that curved ever so slightly upwards in silent acceptance, but when he noted the hungry eyes of the God darkening at the gesture, he bit down on the reddened flesh to pacify them both.

“My God,” Jimin greeted him.

Although it was evident that his presence had delighted the God, Jeongguk’s attention was somewhere else, where he was orchestrating the mating dance of two vipers. Jimin averted his head in shame, sucking on his bottom lip hoping that Jeongguk would not humiliate him. “Are you here to surrender?” The arrogance in the God’s voice was revolting to him.

“You must already know I cannot do that,” Jimin allowed himself to walk closer to the God, standing right in front of the God. This close, the difference in their build was starkly evident. Jeongguk towered over him like a mountain, casting his dark shadow on Jimin. His hard muscles spread across his broad chest spoke of strength, the kind which made him the sole ruler of the wetlands. Jimin had to tilt his head to meet his gaze, only to quiver under its intensity. Even now Jimin was no match for a god.

“And why would that be?” The God scoffed, looking down at him with ire. Jimin could feel it, the scent of poison spilling into the air. But afore Jeongguk could suspend his mind and toy with his flesh, Jimin willingly walked past him towards the cavern. He glanced back as he walked; an invitation to the God to follow, and the deity in acceptance followed him closely, bemused by what he supposed was the folly of a deer walking into a snare.

The cavern welcomed Jimin. A cold breeze was blowing into the entrance of the cavern that played with the fabric of his silk dress. However, the wind reluctantly let go of his dress once the water flowing through the cave seized its possession, and the wet cloth clung onto his ankles. Once inside the darkness of the cave, Jimin kneeled before the great white marble, his forehead pressed against the wet floor in reverence. He did not turn to look to know that Jeongguk watched him with suspicion.

“You have tormented me, day and night,” Jimin said passively, as if recollecting a narration told to him by someone else. “You have taken everything from me. Everything that was meaningful. You have killed my spirit. You must understand, I no longer have a soul to give you. So tell me, what difference does my submission make? When you have already stripped me of everything that I was?”

“Should a lamb about to be slaughtered know at which feast it shall be served?” Jeongguk taunted him, walking past him to lean against the tub. Jimin supposed it was a habit; to always protect his most precious possession that lay in the tub.

“Certainly not,” he agreed sincerely. “But I deserve the truth before I give my life away.”

The look of Jeongguk’s face told him that he did not expect Jimin to surrender so easily. Silence filled the empty cavern whilst the God contemplated. Then deeming that Jimin, who was about to draw his last breath, could pose him, an immortal being, no harm by knowing the truth, Jeongguk relented. “You are born for me.”

“Born for you?” Jimin mouthed back the words, rising from his place of worship to approach the God.

“You are the answer to my prayers. You were born to absolve your ancestors of their sin; the sin of murdering my beloved. There was no way I could get him back,” Jeongguk turned to face the great bathtub and gently cradled his bride’s face. “I might be a God but even I could not barter with Death. In the face of my suffering I was promised another – a life for a life, born to the same bloodline that ended my love. You were born to be sacrificed, Jimin. Your grandmother knew this, and her consent was taking her own life such that you shall return to me.”

Jimin stilled at the revelation, mind racing at the discovery. “Halmeoni knew this?”

“She was the one who told me where to find you, Minie,” Jeongguk scoffed at his look of surprise.

Jimin stared at Jeongguk whilst the God just drove a knife to his heart. He had, in essence, just did that. What, to Jimin, made the betrayal more personal was knowing that his grandmother, his grandmother whom he believed loved him more than herself, was the one to twist the jammed blade deep into his ribs. It suddenly dawned upon him: “It was you,” he gasped. “It was you who came to me that day by the pond, not Taehyung.”

Jeongguk nodded with a twinge of aloofness. “It was meant to be.”

He did not respond to the arrogance of the man before him. Frankly, Jimin could not bear to look at the man and the silence that festered between them turned to be suffocating in the presence of a volatile god whose poisonous filth permeated the thin air until Jimin was forced to choke. “I understand.”

“You do?” It was Jeongguk’s turn to be surprised.

Jimin forced a smile. “The love you have for your bride is so infinite that I cannot phantom it. And I understand why you did what you did. You might have hurt my feelings along the way, but now I know why. I am but an insignificant link that would lead you to your true love. But I am afraid I cannot grant you this favour.”

Jeongguk raised a brow. 

“I am afraid,” he confessed. “I am afraid you shall subject me to a fate far more cruel than death.”

That stoked the God’s pride for his lips stretched in an arrogant smirk. “What is it that you are so afraid of?,” the man implored, drawing Jimin in closer. And Jimin, the mere mortal he was, was not immune to the deity’s charm. He tongue wet his lips, in response, taming his wild, dangerous heart that was threading a dangerous game.

“No,” he said adamantly. “I cannot let you do that to me.”

“Jimin, you are not leaving his cave tonight. Given how you have dolled up for me, I do not think you would want that either.”

He flushed red to the tip of his ears. “I came because of a promise of death to put  an end to my suffering, my God. But I am afraid I shall suffer greatly at your hands lest you sow your seed in me and let me live even for a day.”

“You think bearing my seed is a fate worse than death?” The rage consumed the God  was such that it spilled into the air around them. Jimin shivered at the sheer intensity of his gaze.

“I do. I do not ever want to take your seed!” He said. “I will never lie with someone so weak and impotent. You will never sire anything worth mentioning. I know what your seed is like. I have seen it in my visions. You will make a desert out of my womb and sire vermin.”

“Do you think the frail, grotesque critter you dreamt of was my seed?” Jimin gasped when Jeongguk wrapped his arms around his stomach. Blinking away his tears, Jimin did not resist when Jeongguk undid the strings of his dress, peeling the fabric away from his skin until he was standing there in his naked glory. “Oh, Jimin!” the man spun him in his arms. Jimin refused to meet his gaze only to have his head be harshly pulled back by his hair. “My child will be the greatest being that ever lived. You will be honoured if I ever bless you with my seed.”

“I doubt it, My God,” Jimin said through gritted teeth, feeling the burn in his scalp. “I have seen what you sire.”

“I am going to fuck a baby into you,” the God declared, leaning so close that they were only a heartbeat apart. “Your womb shall take my seed before I slit your throat.”

Jeongguk’s threat loomed over like a forbidden fruit, and to Jimin its waxy skin and rich, vibrant red of lustful lies mattered more than what life had to offer. So he leaned in and claimed it for himself. When their lips met, Jeongguk was just as eager, if not more. His arms wrapped around Jimin’s middle, completely enclosing this thin waist. Jimin moaned at the feeling of those cold lips, getting warmer each second they lips were slotted together. “M-My God!” He let his hands bury into the dark locks of Jeongguk’s wavy hair, prying the man away from his lips just so that they could collide again following the string of spit that joined their slick lips.

“You taste so good like this,” Jeongguk broke the kiss, undressing himself with the assistance of an eager Jimin. “S-So willing this time, aren't you?”

“Yes…” Jimin gasped, taken by the physique of the God before him. This time he can truly appreciate the man before him for who he was. One only needed to take a look at him to know that he was no mortal soul. Even in his cruelty he was handsome. And devastatingly so that Jimin found himself getting wetter by the second. “Want you one last time.” Jimin brought his shaking hand to cup the God’s cheek in a display of utmost reverence. He needed Jeongguk to know he was offering what he truly wanted from the boy – absolute submission. So he took one of the God’s hands and guided one of them towards his ass while the other wrapped around his dainty neck.

“Didn’t know you could make demands,” Jeongguk gave a light squeeze to his neck, just enough to make him light headed. Jimin knew if Jeongguk willed he could tear his head right off his neck without breaking a sweat. The soothing pressure against his jugular spoke of the same. Jimin’s pussy throbbed at the ferocity of the God’s power. The chilly air snuck inside him and Jimin wheezed in an effort to breathe. The cold drove him towards the man before him, slotting himself between the God’s parted thighs.

“Not a demand,” he squeezed his eyes shut when Jeongguk’s hand left his throat, choosing to explore the canvas of flesh offered for him to take. “A dying w-wish” Jimin hissed when he stopped by his nipples, cold and erect from the breeze blowing inside the cave.

Jeongguk chuckled. “A tamed swan!” His hands were now distracted as they cupped his tits, feeling the weight of it against his large hands. Jimin tossed his head back when Jeongguk pinched the fat spilling out from his palms. “Tell me what do you want?”

“Want you in my pussy,” Jimin hummed, his own hands joining Jeongguk’s where they played with his tits, from there they descended together to find the place they both longed for Jeongguk to be in. Jeongguk grabbed his mound with a mean tilt of his head, as if mocking their first encounter. Jimin squirmed in his arms, opening his pouty, kiss-swollen lips to let out a high pitched moan to match the lust clouding his eyes.  It must be said that they are not the same people who met by the pond a lifetime ago; here Jimin was a willing participant and Jeongguk no longer veiled his insincerity with deception.

“A sweet little thing,” Jeongguk told him, prying apart his chubby lips. “Such a shame you should die.” Jimin’s legs buckled at the touch, and had Jeongguk’s strong arm not been wound around his waist, bearing his weight against him, the boy was certain that he would have collapsed on the ground.

“Mmm?” Jimin fluttered his lashes at the God. His fingers joined Jeongguk’s, gathering the sticky wetness between his cunt and shoving it  in Jeongguk’s mouth. “Don’t I taste sweet?”

“Very,” Jeongguk agreed, slobbering all over his fingers. Jimin curled them, pressing down his tongue, watching the drool trail down his arm. The sight was simply erotic, plucked from the lands of dreams Jeongguk and him had traversed together before.

“You are going to miss my sweet pussy,” he sighed letting the feeling of Jeongguk’s fingers rubbing his folds take over him. It was a miraculous thing now that he was not resisting it; the pleasure was sublime. Jimin pulled Jeongguk with him, both of them slumping down into the stream of water. He must have underestimated how chilly the water was; it pierced into his skin, and Jimin moaned at the sensation. “Jeongguk–”

Jimin saw it again; the flickering of eyelids that had mesmerised him so. ‘He is truly like a crocodile,’ he thought. “Jeongguk….” he tried again, and unmistakably the God blinked, revealing his obvious attraction. “You want me,” he said in awe. Jeongguk’s cock was painfully red and weeping onto his stomach. He could not resist the urge to trace the curve of it, right from underneath his heavy balls to the tip beaded with precum.

He released a shaky exhale. He was truly out of his mind; either utterly courageous to gamble away his life in the hope of the hand of fate or just foolishly optimistic. Either way, Jimin had gone over his thoughts for days. He had cracked open his skull and pried into every seam of his brains and every musing of his mind. He knew in his heart what he was here for, even if his body told otherwise.

They were pressed closed like this, Jimin partially submerged in the cold stream and Jeongguk over him, with the boy being the only source of heat with the feverish passion pooling in his stomach. Jimin flipped them over, perching atop Jeongguk’s cock. Jeongguk’s hands did not for a second tolerate their separation from his body, his hands automatically resting on either side of his waist, digging into the fat there. But that was not where he needed them. No. Jimin had now succumbed to the same carnal pleasure he saw in Jeongguk’s green eyes; the poison was no longer emanating from Jeongguk’s body but Jimin could taste it on his tongue all the same. So he brought the God’s hand back to his tit and tossed his head back in pleasure when the man seized his prize. His nether lips were spread over the girth of the massive cock, oozing wetness along its length as he slowly rocked himself back and forth. Jimin’s lips parted, ever so slightly, his tongue pressed against the back of his teeth. “Jeongguk…” he prayed.

“Go on,” the God taunted him. “See what you can do, Minie.”

The name filled him with rage, reminding him again of what he had lost. Hence, he found purchase on Jeongguk’s sturdy pecs and took all he could from the God. “F-Fuck…”  he gasped when he lifted his hips just so he could entrap the elder’s cock between his folds. He teasingly swayed his hips, causing the length to slip in and out of his slippery cunt. And when the God least expected it, he guided the cockhead towards his hole and slammed down at once. “Oh my G-God!” His eyes roll to the back of his skull and his fingers dig into Jeongguk’s flesh. The stretch burned, no human could possibly take all of it and walk away alive. But Jimin had done it once before, and he shall do it all again.

“Y-Your cunt is tighter than last time, little swan,” Jeongguk praised him, kneading his breasts and driving Jimin into the land of delicious torture. He was still getting used to the burn in his pussy, and the sudden cold touch against his sensitive tits were just what Jimin needed to reach the zenith of ecstasy.

He hiccuped when Jeongguk sat upright and buckled his hips, jostling him in his lap. “Ah–,” a wretched moan left him when he felt how deep Jeongguk was inside of him, nearly tearing his pussy apart. To his astonishment, it felt outworldly, sans the pain of last time. Jimin loved it so much. He loved the way Jeongguk played with his tits, and how he did not need to lift a finger to have Jimin bouncing on his lap. “M’ gonna cum,” he cried in alarm, so taken aback by the heat rising in his pussy. “If you don’t s-stop, I’m gonna– Angh!!” He trembled when Jeongguk hit that sweet spot, the one that he could never find on his own.

“C-Come to me, swan,” Jeongguk called to him. “Come to me and give me a sweet kiss.”

And Jimin went to him; he leaned down and planted a sloppy wet kiss that could rival his dripping cunt. Lust drunk, Jimin lavished Jeongguk with these open mouth kisses, sliding their tongues against each other before diving in to claim what was his for the moment. “D-Do that again,” he slipped the words into the God’s mouth along with his tongue. “Fuck into my p-pussy.”

And Jeongguk did just that, his greedy hands bounced Jimin in his lap and it was in that moment of madness, peering down at the man from above, Jimin saw in his glassy green eyes who the forsaken god really was. Jimin saw hope, love and perseverance, and he could not look away. His hands came to cup Jeongguk’s jaw, softly cradling his face even as his face crumbled in pleasure. Even amidst this, Jeongguk never looked at Jimin. And when his reptilian eyelids blinked and he finally saw the boy, those fleeting emotions, which were never Jimin’s to even behold in the first place, vanished. Their gazes turned frigid.

His surprise, panic and inexperience caused him to thrash in the man’s hold as Jeongguk finally flipped them over. He cried when the cock slipped out of him. But Jeongguk did not make him wait, sliding at once into his pussy.  He recovered from this moment of weakness miraculously. His velvety walls gripped tight about the God that it was like he had trapped the God inside him. Jimin supposed that was true in a way. His victory was in his reach. He only had to be patient.

From above, Jeongguk loomed over him with the promise of death. His eyes were vicious even if his touch was not. He rammed into the boy with reckless abandon. Jimin leaned into his touch and soaked up everything he had to offer. In his final act of devotion, his torment, he made sure, belonged to Jeongguk. He gave the God his tight, gushing cunt, his warm embrace and a deafening chorus of wound up-high pitched moans. “Oh yeah– Right there! Jeongguk!!”

“Y-You like it so much?” Jeongguk’s lips were on his, stealing all of the sweet sounds Jimin was making, his hands groped his hips, and he buried himself in his pussy. Jimin arched his back, pressing onto the warm body of the God. The water splashed with each thrust of Jeongguk and Jimin crawled further into the arms of the God.

“Y-You are in my lungs,” Jimin cried, completely captured by the outline of Jeongguk’s cock drilling into him, reaching visibly past his navel. “Angh– I can’t!! I can’t, my God–” He could not even breathe in between the hiccups and the wails he seemed to be letting out.

“Go ahead, Jimin-ah,” Jeongguk pressed a kiss to his nape. Jimin wondered if he wanted to rip his head from there. “Come for me.” Jimin was so captivated by the blinding heat pooling in his stomach that  nothing else mattered then. Even if Jeongguk had ripped his throat off, Jimin would  have died without vengeance.

Jimin shrieked as Jeongguk kept his shaking legs spread open as he kept slamming into his cunt. His toes curled in pleasure and Jimin scratched the deity’s back until he felt blood bloom at his fingertips. “Ah–” He panted, struggling to hold onto reality. It so happened that he could never tell what was true and what was in his head when it came to the God. “Don’t stop!! I f-feel it,” he wailed. In his frenzy, his hand found its way towards his glistening folds and Jimin, past caring of any retribution from the God, rubbed his clit, imitating how the God had done to him a million times before. “S-So good”

“Come,” Jeongguk said, biting into the fat of his tit and Jimin’s body followed the command even before Jimin heard those words.

Like an arrow let loose, his release crashed into him violently, leaving him shaking in the pool of water. “J-Jeongguk…” Jimin slurred as he came, squiring all over them both, slumping back into the pool as his body spasmed with the intensity of the orgasm. By now Jimin was sobbing. “Please– Please…”  He flayed, near hysterically, underneath the God, that water, the icy cold water of the stream, invaded his lungs, and the wheezing Jimin had newly developed from the intensity of  the orgasm transformed itself into a series of desperate coughs.

Yet Jeongguk did not let him savour the pleasure on his own terms. The man kept pounding into him, slapping his hand away to claim the rights to his sloppy pussy. Jimin thrashed when Jeongguk started to rub his clit without any care, drawing out his orgasm longer than his poor body could withstand.

Which was why he did not remember the moment when Jeongguk spilled inside of him, filling him up with his seed. Hot cum filled his womb and Jimin arched into him like a bow. A sense of sangfroid filled him when he tucked his chin over Jeongguk’s shoulder, and smiled at the ceiling of the karst. That was the last thing he vividly recollected, for he slipped in and out of consciousness, accompanied by Jeongguk which went without saying. Still, it remained that the rocky ceiling was the last thing he saw in flesh. Everything else were mere fantastic notions fed to him by the God.

When Jimin came to his senses his belly was stretched taut with Jeongguk’s cum, like the vision he has had. He was brought back to his senses by the arrogant God who pried his folds apart, marvelling at the sight of Jimin’s cunt weeping his stick white cum.

“Made a mess for you, my pussy made a mess for you,” Jimin whispered in his ears, luring the God to surrender in his arms. Jeongguk, defenceless and not anticipating any harm, joined him, turning them both to their sides so as to welcome Jimin back into his arms. It was nearing dawn by now, yet Jeongguk was still releasing inside of him. Jimin’s heart ached at what it meant. “You gave me a child.”

“You will be gone before we are certain,” Jeongguk pressed another kiss to the same spot as before. Jimin’s curious mind supplied him with figments of the times he had seen the crocodiles hunting in the swamp; how they shatter poor lambs against the rock with a bite to their necks.

“Is that how you are going to keep the guilt at bay?” he asked sweetly, leaning away to look into Jeongguk’s eyes. There he saw no remorse, not even a recognition that what they were doing to each other was askew.

“There won’t be any guilt once he comes back to me,” said Jeongguk, his eyes flickering to the great tub beyond where they lay. “Only he matters.”

“What of your child?” Jimin asked him earnestly. “I know how much you long for it.”

“Only he matters,” Jeongguk repeated. “If that’s the price to set him free, I shall willingly give up any dream of mine.”

Jimin did not know why he laughed, head tossed back and eyes closed; and it seemed to put the God at a loss too, his gaze anything but warm. “I was just wondering if my life was not enough of a sacrifice that you would have to give up on that dream of yours as well,” he made a poor attempt at explaining himself.

He was not going to lie, knowing that Jeongguk saw his life so easily as a commodity to barter stung deeper than he convinced him it would. When Jimin walked in here, he knew what must be done. Yet there were these things that he picked on from Jeongguk’s words that revealed a bigger scheme than whatever his desperate mind had devised and no amount of aplomb could ease the anxiety that came with that.

“Now, you shall suffice,” the look in Jeongguk’s eyes was sinister.

He shuddered at the dreadful realisation. “You had planned to impregnate  me even if I were not willing today.”

It was Jeongguk’s turn to chuckle now. “You are brilliant!,” the God exclaimed. “Oh Jimin, how I long to keep you if our circumstances were different! You are too smart for your own good.”

“A life for a life…” he gasped.

Jimin peeled Jeongguk’s hands off him, rising to his feet. Jeongguk did not stir from his place, laying in the cold water that was home to him. “You cannot escape from me,” Jeongguk warned as he watched the boy walk towards the entrance of the cave.

“I am aware,” Jimin gave him a smile over his shoulder. “I merely want to watch the sunrise. One last time…”

The God did not grace him with a response, hence he lingered there, watching the sun climb up the blue canvas of the sky, past the vapourous mountains. Even with the thundering roar of the cascade, Jimin could hear the weltstone move against the blade the God was sharpening behind him. The boy shifted in his feet, mourning all he had lost, all that was stolen from him.

“Come to me, Jimin-ah,” the God pronounced his judgement, leaning over the tub where  Jimin’s blood shall spill the next second. “Your sweet death awaits you, as promised.”

This time, the smile  he gave the God reached his eyes. He approached the man in front of him, his arms wide open in invitation and eyes full of devotion. He presented a new beginning for Jeongguk. A second chance at the life that was stolen from him. And the God, content with the submission of his promised scapegoat, did not refuse him. This moment of incaution cost him dearly.

It took more strength than he expected but the fateful synchronisation of luck and surprise came to his aid, and Jimin tangled his leg in between Jeongguk’s, and with a powerful shove, sent them both crashing into the tub. The blade was sent flying across the cave when Jimin sunk his long fingernails into Jeongguk’s wrist. Jimin caught each drifting emotion Jeongguk was feeling; surprise, terror, stupor and wrath –  in the same order, as they broke past the surface.

Then something astounding happened. Jimin braced himself for the impact; for them to topple over with the weight of three bodies in the tub. The boy shrieked when he crashed into the corpse of the bride only to sink into a mass of fine mud. Even the arrow that pierced the womb of the bride, which Jimin expected to spear right through his own belly, turned to dust. Jeongguk, enraged and hysterical, thrashed in furious anger and gut wrenching agony, coughing the tub to finally topple over, sending them both to skid past the wet floor. Jimin howled on top of his lungs at the fine clay sticking to his flesh, completely at a loss as to what had happened. The God was not better, wailing and stumbling as he tried to save the mud from being washed out by the stream.

“WHAT DID YOU DO??” Jeongguk bellowed, his voice thundering in the cave. “What the fuck did you just do–” his cracked in pain.

“My life is too precious for me to sacrifice for the likes of you,” Jimin said triumphantly, washing the mud away from his body.

“You little bitch,” Jeongguk seethed, crawling towards him with a murderous look in his eyes. “I will fucking kill you.”

The ground shook and the flowstones trembled in his wrath. Jimin did not even get the chance to run before the man pounced on him. The wounded God wrapped his hands around his neck, squeezing down his throat that Jimin, for a moment, feared that his airway would collapse under the force. His eyes rolled to the back of his skull and Jimin clawed at Jeongguk’s hands, flaying to be set free. The pale blue hue that was characteristic to Jeongguk seeped into his complexion as precious air was stolen from him.

“C-Can’t–” he wheezed, slapping the God with all his strength to pry him away from him. He pressed the heel of his palm against Jeongguk’s jaw and shoved him as far as he could yet he was no match for the God. In a final act of self-preservation, Jimin gathered the sand that was previously his lover and smeared it into the God’s eyes. Surprised and wounded, Jeongguk howled in agony and desperation, giving Jimin a moment’s respite as the boy heaved himself up from the God’s caging arms and wheezed, gasping for air.

“What have you done?” Jeongguk wept, blood slipping past his waterline as the dark shadow of pain won him over.

“Y-You can’t kill me,” Jimin choked out. “You w-wouldn’t dare.” Even when Jeongguk looked at him with wrath enough to turn him to dust, he continued: “Your bride is gone! The one you awaited for all this time… the one for him who ruined me for… gone. And nothing shall bring it back. Your past is gone and now you only have me. And you would not kill me, not when I am the last one in this world who would ever look at you. Your people have forsaken you; they loot and plunder and kill in your name. They do not care if you return or not: they have learnt to live with your wrath. All the things you have done for your bride washed away with the mud.”

The God did not respond to him. The sorrow had consumed the immortal such that even the red, hot, rising sun could not brighten his dark soul. Jeongguk thrashed and flayed where he laid, chest heaving with every breath he took, imitating the shallow waves that swayed the path of the little stream  to soak them all. The God’s misery transformed the cavern into a tomb for both of them. The flowstones broke off from the ceiling and lodged themselves into the crevices and faults in the floor. The sound of the waterfall grew distant whilst boulders larger than him rolled from somewhere above them and piled up in front of the cave, depriving Jimin of the glorious sunrise that marked the dawn of his new banished life. The cavern sealed itself to once again save the God from the horrifying hand of fate; only this time, Jeongguk had brought it upon himself when he had ensnared Jimin in his deception.

He supposed he should be delighted now that he had brought the vengeful God to his knees. He had succeeded the feet his kin had failed for eternity to accomplish. Yet what remained with him was emptiness. Where Jeongguk was high with fury and particularly susceptible to rampage, Jimin was devoid of the sweet taste of revenge and victory. Although the ends he sought have been accomplished, the means still remain a mystery to him. There were questions yet to be posed before answering them was even pressed upon. Jimin wondered if this was his true destiny; to be the one to banish the vengeful God from the wetlands that was his.

When the last ray  of sunlight was stolen from him, Jimin cried for all it was worth.

─────── ‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙ ───────

Death.

The word resounded in his conscience that he recoiled in surprise. Whilst making the monumental decision to lay his life down in exchange for the sweet fruit of revenge, Jimin had accepted the finality of death. Yet now starting right at the promise of ‘sweet death’ as Jeongguk had called it, Jimin was once again reminded of his youth.

Death.

But, was it really death that was looking down at him? When Jimin stared at those parakeet eyes gleaming at him, the young boy saw transformation. Metamorphosis. Shedding a skin that had grown too tight to contain all that was him, in exchange for another, more vicious clothing. His eyelids fluttered close when Jeongguk laid him down in the soft mud in the tub.

A full moon had slipped through their fingers. An entire expedition of the moon in the tropical sky until Jeongguk warmed up to his blood living in Jimin’s womb. It had taken time, and countless visits to the doorstep of death by the God’s grieving hands for Jimin to realise the feat he had accomplished. He had erased the God’s past and had claimed a place for himself, not just in his history, but in his present and future: until eternity. And for Jeongguk whose whole immortal life had been a journey towards obtaining companionship, the reality that perhaps Jimin was his saving grace he was bestowed with sunk in only later. Fate had given him a bride in flesh, and his unfortunate hands had tormented him in pursuance of a fantasy.

His means were his end.

Anointed in gold with aureate embellishments all over his body, the God’s bride was dressed in black silk. He was laid in a tub of golden silt, candles lit all around the cavern to illuminate them all in its feverish hue. The mighty God gently dragged the tub into the stream to let the water sway his bride, as if putting a babe to sleep.

Jimin was about to enter a land of dreams. He shall reign sovereign, supreme and untouchable. He shall shed his mortal skin in exchange for a glorious purpose. With the vengeance in his heart ceasing to exist with the life inside of him, Jimin brew his offspring with love and vanity. He shed his sheepskin of good virtues and stood naked facing the only truth in his world: his pride. Whilst Jeongguk had tormented him for his own pride, Jimin had learnt from him. With the patient hand of his God, Jimin crafted his pretentious self-preservation into narcissism . Paying for the mistakes of his past with his life, Jimin shall be reborn as a deity as rotten as Jungkook himself and, through his selfish sacrifice, return Jeongguk to the memory of his people.

His God looked down upon him, eyes full of devotion and the most tender affection; and this time it was all for Jimin.  Jimin beheld the God from where laid, a soft, content smile taking over him. His hands were above his unassuming belly where they both knew their solace laid. Jeongguk returned him the smile, visibly overcome with gratitude and rue, and a lone tear escaped him. Jimin closed his eyes and opened his mouth to catch the droplet on his tongue.

And death, the sweet death, came to him.

The next time he awoke, his flesh was ice cold and when he blinked, a translucent veil he had seen a million times in Jeongguk’s emerald eyes, flickered in his vision.

─────── ‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙ ───────

Once upon a time, in a land so far away, tucked into the edge of a dreary, dark, dense, damp forest, was a temple. In the forsaken temple in that forgotten land lived the God, his bride, and his heir, and they ruled the wetlands until the end of times.