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English
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Part 4 of moans' Dokjoong Week 2025
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Published:
2025-10-22
Updated:
2025-10-29
Words:
2,624
Chapters:
5/?
Comments:
47
Kudos:
51
Bookmarks:
8
Hits:
794

Original Sin: Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa

Summary:

Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Through my fault, my most grievous fault.

It was Kim Dokja's sin that doomed his protagonist, his universe, and he shall atone for it all.

Notes:

This was going to be a one-shot for Dokjoong Week 2025, a mere 2k words of Kim Dokja's jealousy and envy that culminated in raw, passionate fucking. Unfortunately, because I'm a massive idiot, I let my brainworms take over. This one's gonna be a long journey, I think. I might even give up somewhere. Still, I hope you enjoy what I have to offer. Much love to everyone.

This one's for that one reader.

PS: Thought of releasing this as a long-ass one-shot (some 40k+ words) but. I'm one impatient motherfucker. And I crave validation. So sue me.

Maybe I'll compile it if I ever complete this project. Welp.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: A New Chapter

Chapter Text

Kim Dokja had been covered in day-old gauze, a neck brace and multiple casts on his limbs when he read the first chapter of the webnovel that changed his life.

⸢Yoo Joonghyuk stood before the vast, endless calamity pouncing on him and spoke.

"Until I witness the end of the scenario, I shall never give up. That's why… You shouldn't give up, either."⸥

The dull eyes of the recovering boy began reflecting the light from the all-too-bright phone screen with its laggy software, but he didn’t care. A seed of a fight took its roots within him, as did the buds of desire, a certain longing for life, maybe. 

[Dear Author-nim. It was a great read. May I ask about your release schedule?]

It had been a long chapter, and had it been any other phase in his life, he’d have not been as indulgent towards the webnovel as he was right then, with the heart monitor still beeping in tandem with his quick but steady heart rate as he lay on the scratchy linen spread under him, the saline steadily dripping into his veins through the catheter, but there was a pain in his hands where it was attached and he could feel every drop burn through. The nurses were talking earlier about how there had to be a change in catheter since he’d been there for weeks now, something about a certain -phlebitis, but he couldn’t exactly talk about the burning in his veins because who’s going to pay for it? It was a miracle that it wasn’t serious, that he was even here, the doctors had told his relatives, much to their disappointment, and he didn’t want another unwanted burden on them, he didn’t want to owe them any more than he already did. So he grit his teeth and bore it all.

The protagonist of this new webnovel would’ve done the same, anyway.

Ignoring the pain within his hands, he typed out another comment for the author.

[Are you… going to release another chapter tomorrow?]

The story had a lot of views for its first chapter, but a lot of the comments were negative. It itched at Dokja — how could they not appreciate Yoo Joonghyuk’s tenacity? How could they not see how great he was, how strong he was? How could they say something mean to the author, who’d put in all his efforts for such a long and interesting chapter? How dare they?

He read it again, the light in his eyes slowly coming back.

That’s my protagonist, he thought, impressed by the feats of Yoo Joonghyuk in front of him. 

A ping notified him of a new message in the Textpia app he was reading from.

[Yes. A new chapter will be published tomorrow.]

A small smile formed on his cracked lips. He could see his protagonist again.

 

Chapter 2: Kim Dokja vs The World

Summary:

"That's my protagonist!"

Notes:

I'm just pre-cumming my ideas at this point.

Chapter Text

The hate comments on ‘Three Ways to Survive an Apocalypse’ only grew as the story went on, as did Dokja’s attachment towards the webnovel. With this attachment grew a certain amount of animosity towards everyone else who didn’t see the masterpiece that was TWSA. 

He began countering every hate comment on every chapter, with a detailed breakdown of Yoo Joonghyuk’s motivations, his actions, on why it was the best decision he could make, why the author-nim’s exposition was necessary to understand the plot, that they didn’t understand the author-nim’s true intent, that they were just plebeians equivalent to the dust under author-nim’s foot that were jealous they couldn’t write a story half as complex as TWSA. The last comment got him banned from Textpia for a whole week, and he began regretting every venomous comment he’d left under everyone’s hate. It was negative press after all, for his dear author-nim, and he didn’t want to inconvenience him any more.

After his ban was lifted, he focused solely on promoting the TWSA novel on the forums he frequented, every chance that he could get.

Strangely, the hate comments reached their plateau soon enough, while the view count exponentially declined with the release of every chapter. Was it because I was too mean to everyone? Did I drive everyone away from reading such a gem because I couldn’t stop raging? Man, author-nim must hate me now… Well, I’ll just promote TWSA some more.

His guilt only grew when the internet started accusing him to be the author of the story — they called it shameless self-promotion, they called him names, they called him slurs, and he was beginning to get frustrated at how his plan had backfired even more, how author-nim definitely hated his dumbass now.

At least, he appreciated Yoo Joonghyuk like no other. At least, there was no one who’d nag him about any mischaracterisation when it came to Yoo Joonghyuk, because Kim Dokja obviously understood the cool, badass protagonist the best. At least he could indulge in the feats of Yoo Joonghyuk knowing that he is one of the few passionate readers of his journey, a protagonist he could call his own. 

I am Yoo Joonghyuk, he thought, before opening the newest chapter. I am Yoo Joonghyuk, and this is my protagonist.

 

Chapter 3: Today's Best

Chapter Text

When he first clicked on ‘SSSSSS-Grade Infinite Regressor’ by accident, he thought it was a cruel joke.

It had a sizable amount of chapters so far, and each one was taken straight out of TWSA, beat-by-beat, from the worldbuilding, to the characters, right down to the minute details of their mannerisms. Hell, even the damn protagonist was called ‘Yoon Jonghyun’, an obvious rip-off of his Yoo Joonghyuk. 

Seething, he left a comment on the latest chapter.

[Author-nim, isn’t this plagiarising Three Ways to Survive an Apocalypse?]

It took two minutes before his phone began pinging incessantly from notifications.

If the hate he’d received from promoting TWSA was bad, this was at least twenty-fold worse. He began replying to the hate comments one by one, but in the end, he couldn’t keep up with the barrage of messages and the sheer amount of hatred behind every one of them, directed straight at him. In the end, he gave up, locking his phone and tossing it aside on the bed in frustration.

How is it even on the ‘Today’s Best’ list? TWSA deserves to be there more than that trash plagiarised novel.

“Scum, all of them,” he muttered to himself. “How could they love a knock-off more than the real deal? Definitely have shit for brains, the way their tastes stink up and rot everything they touch. No wonder this world is doomed.”  He shook his head, the anger still boiling his blood, heating his head. “Tasteless bastards, none of you deserve to be graced by my Yoo Joonghyuk.”

 

Chapter 4: A Reader's Adonis

Summary:

Yoo Joonghyuk, the epitome of human beauty.

Chapter Text

Yoo Joonghyuk, he thought, as he pictured the fictional man in his head on his way to his part-time job. 

The description of his beauty in the novel was… extensive, to say the least, so Kim Dokja had no problem picturing him in his head, aided by his limitless imagination. His protagonist was a tall, tall man, broad shouldered, thick muscles packing every inch on him, dressed completely in black — black combat-wear, black Infinite Dimension coat, black leather boots and harnesses, with the blood of his enemies adorning his body.

He bet that Yoo Joonghyuk's body underneath all that black was littered with scars from the scenarios he had to clear so far, every regression having a different pattern of scars on him, different densities on the body like a regression heatmap, different stories behind every silvery line and jagged, uneven hyperpigmented disruption that cut through his otherwise smooth, bronze skin. Like the paragraphs in a chapter, every scar was a testament of the history of Yoo Joonghyuk, a physical score on his body of the horrors lived by him in the hellish apocalypse.

His face would be that of an angel, Kim Dokja mused, a face carved painstakingly by the gods above; every angle, every sharp edge, every soft curve would be intentional, every feature on his face in harmony with the others, a god-like visage that’d bring Aphrodite to her knees in worship, the reader's Adonis, the perfect man.

Yoo Joonghyuk, my protagonist.

He clicked onto the forum and left another recommendation for the latest chapter of TWSA. Though, over time, it had become more of a habit than a necessity. Reading more accusations of self promo had become part of his routine too, and he sighed as he scrolled through the unwelcoming comments to his sincere recommendations. Can’t they even give it a shot? 

Being the sole reader for TWSA was such a pain in the ass, sometimes. 

At least, Yoo Joonghyuk is my protagonist, even if I’m the only one who gets to appreciate him.

 

Chapter 5: Demon Sword of Lust and Envy

Summary:

Lust is one hell of a drug, and envy its amplifier.

Notes:

This is my entry for Dokjoong Week 2025:
Day #5 - Jealousy

This whole fic was supposed to be about canon-compliant jealousy when I first started it. Oh well... Consider it an extension of the Dokjoong Week 2025 goodness.

Songs for this chapter: Hysteria - Muse; one of my favourite songs :3 (I do have a lot of favs tho)

Enjoy this smol treat hehe!

Chapter Text

“Yoo Joonghyuk,” he moaned out, his hands working leisurely over his slick shaft. 

The latest chapter had his protagonist bound and gagged by one of the Ten Evils, the Tyrant King. Yoo Joonghyuk was being tortured for more information about the future scenarios, after some traitorous bastard had leaked it to the Tyrant King that he was a regressor. 

Yoo Joonghyuk, the powerful regressor, on his knees, so close to death, so close to losing his mind, yet he held out, a defiant look in his eye, hatred simmering between them as he took every physical hit on his body with only a grunt.

The visual in Dokja’s imagination… Somehow, the thought of him being in that unfavorable position got him to break his resolve and palm his dick through his pants. It took him a few moments to realise that he was in public, manning the cash register, sporting a hard-on that bordered on being painful, all for his protagonist. He wasted no time in getting into the dingy staff restroom after mumbling something about eating too much leftovers to his coworker, getting to work immediately with his phone in one hand, and his stiff member in the other. 

Soon, there was precum flowing down his cock, as he imagined the expression on Yoo Joonghyuk’s face while being continuously beaten up. The scowl, the glare, the grime, the bruises that would color his face, his tan torso, his entire body, the blood that would flow through his split lip, through the wounds that had broken skin when they landed hits on the protagonist, through the shallow cuts where the enemies had managed to get him, the biting pain of the restraints on his entire body, how absolutely sublime the entire situation was — for Dokja’s wild imagination, of course. 

“Yoo Joonghyuk,” he rasped out, the name a prayer on his lips, an invocation of his deepest desires. 

I wish I was there to see you in that state, Yoo Joonghyuk. I want to be there. I need to be there.

How dare he not be real?

He read on, as the feeling of irrational jealousy and lust clouded his rationality completely. His mind was in a haze, as he read about the regressor struggling against his restraints, how he grunted, how the henchmen laughed at his attempt before kicking him in the ribs, earning them their first pained groan from the protagonist as the foot crunched part of his chest.

Dokja wanted Yoo Joonghyuk to beat these worthless fuckers up. None of them were good enough to even lay a finger on his protagonist. That was his Yoo Joonghyuk, the only way they could even harm a single hair on his body was because of deception. 

Sure, Dokja felt this way. But he also found it incredibly thrilling that his almost unbreakable protagonist was reduced to this state.

The movements at his wrist quickened, as he imagined Yoo Joonghyuk again, in the same position but completely naked, his bronze skin glistening with sweat and the contusions on his body, struggling, struggling some more under the restraints. He imagined being there, a voyeur to his hero’s suffering, a man revelling in the pained look in his protagonist’s dark eyes, the pride and resolve still intact on his angelic, bruised face.

Dokja’s deepest, darkest desire was to be the one to impact that protagonist. The one to influence his protagonist. The one to be breaking him.

Alas, all he could do was spectate. He was no protagonist, he was just a Dokja.

The envy ate him from the inside, and the desire fuelled it even more, gasoline poured on a raging fire that consumed him wholly at the moment. Dokja groaned as he varied the pressure on his cock — lighter, faster at the base, while he squeezed more firm, agonisingly slower as he inched his hand towards the glans. The pressure was a good tease, as was the image of Yoo Joonghyuk naked and bound with a litany of blooming bruises. 

It would be nice to be the one to beat up Yoo Joonghyuk, to be the one to put those bruises on him.

“Yoo— hah, Yoo Joonghyuk,” he panted out, keeping his voice low, almost inaudible. “Fuck, yes.”

He quickened the pace of his hand as he read on, the quiet schlicks punctuating his need for the protagonist. Joonghyuk was strangely silent, unresponsive, and the goons mocked him some more, when the Tyrant King stepped in. 

⸢”Yoo Joonghyuk, currently the most powerful incarnation in the Seoul Dome, now bleating like the pathetic lamb that you are.”

The Tyrant King sauntered closer, a disdainful sneer on his cruel face. He was only greeted by the silence of the bound and battered regressor.

“A little birdie told me that you knew how to clear the scenarios, and I thought we could team up, Yoo Joonghyuk.” Jung Youngho came even closer, until his boots were soaked in a pool of Joonghyuk’s blood. “It’s a pity we cannot be friends.”

He stepped onto the regressor, firmly planting his blood-soaked sole onto his crotch. 

“My, my,” he scratched the scruffy beard on his chin, as a wicked glint took over Youngho’s face. “Quite the looker, aren’t you, Joonghyuk? I should’ve told my men to go easy on that mug of yours, if I’d known of your beauty. Well, we’ll pay it no mind, I’ll just kill the ones who hit your pretty face.” He inched closer to the beaten man, until their breaths mingled together. “With a face like yours, you’d do well being my concubi—”

A soft thud was heard, followed by a louder crash as the Tyrant King fell, while his head rolled down onto the ground. A large jet of blood spurted everywhere from the fallen body, spraying over the regressor as he got up, grunting in pain, with a bleeding Splitting the Sky Sword in his hands.

His bloody face held pure disgust as he looked down at the twitching, fallen corpse. “Concubine? You’re not even worth being the sheath to my sword.”⸥

“Fuck,” Dokja groaned, bending forward as his hands picked up the speed, his movements growing more frantic, more desperate, chasing his orgasm. “Yoo Joonghyuk.”

⸢“You’re not even worth being the sheath to my sword.”⸥

Yoo Joonghyuk, the day you become the sheath to mine…

“Mine.” A low growl ripped through his mouth as thick cum spurted out of his dick, wetting his hand completely, while some spilled on the floor. He continued pumping his shaft until the waves of his orgasm quelled down, leaving him with his sticky, messy hand — the aftermath of his need for his protagonist.

“Mine,” he whispered, even when the haze seemed to have cleared out. Post nut clarity seemed to only have intensified the envy he felt for the Tyrant King. 

How fucking dare he even think he’d ever be in the same realm as my Yoo Joonghyuk?

The regressor would never be Youngho’s damn concubine. Yoo Joonghyuk was his protagonist. His protagonist, and his alone.

 

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed this! You can check out my other works if this is upto your taste.
My Twitter is @blorbohyukkie

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