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SCENARIO WINDOW

[Sub Scenario – '1864' has been generated!]

{Sub Scenario – 1864}

Type: Sub

Difficulty: ???

Clear condition: Have sexual intercourse with Incarnation Yoo Joonghyuk from every Regression round up to the 1864th. Ejaculation inside Kim Dokja is needed for completion of the tasks.

Time Limit: None

Reward: Kim Dokja’s obligations to Yoo Joonghyuk fulfilled.

Failure: ???

[?/1864 tasks complete!]

1

Dokja had doubts about any of the Regressions other than the 1864th actually wanting to have sex with him, but it seems like his fears were misplaced. He should be worrying about himself instead.

Just a few hours after the creation of the sub-scenario, Yoo Joonghyuk from the 1st Regression has already lined up for his turn.

When Dokja walks in his bedroom, 1 is already on the bed, dress shirt unbuttoned with no pants. He looks like he's casually posing for a Renaissance painting, leaning on the sheets like that, soft light and shadows carving the planes of his chest and abdomen. Statuesque. His face looks just like the Joonghyuk Dokja knows, but with fewer scars and somehow a lot younger.

Dokja tries not to look at 1's hips. He tentatively scoots closer.

“I didn’t know you would be this enthusiastic,” he says politely. From what he remembers, 1 is rather sweet, with a whole lot of misplaced hope and aspirations.

“I’m curious about you,” 1 says. He’s positioned like a coiled spring, impatient as he taps the sheets with his fingers. “Can we start?”

“Yes?” Dokja steps closer and coughs awkwardly. 1’s eyes are restlessly bright, brighter than any of the later Regressions he’s met. "So, you want to—"

1's hand winds around the back of Dokja's neck and draws him in for a kiss. Oh. He’s assertive. Dokja tumbles into the bed next to 1, who stares at him expectantly. Dokja lowers his gaze and finds himself blinking at 1's cock. Dokja has definitely seen Yoo Joonghyuk's dick before, several times, in fact, and had it inside him, but it still intimidates him. It looks extremely attractive in the dim daytime lighting, long and thick, curving up with precum already beading at the tip. The lack of any contact so far makes it flush only a tint of rosy pink.

Dokja kind of wants it in his mouth.

He noses at 1's cock, mouths at it, feels the heat emanating and his own body start to burn up. The scent makes Dokja's head go woozy with lust. He licks at the tip first, gives it an open mouth kiss, lips parting softly only around the head. He lets go, starts to clumsily lick along 1's length. His tongue presses insistently against the spot right below the head to the side when 1 suddenly grabs a fistful of Dokja's hair.

"Stop teasing," he grits out, grip tightening.

Dokja winces from the pain at his scalp. "It's my first time doing this," he confesses. "I don't know what you want."

1 stares down at him disbelieving. “Don’t you do it with the other one?”

“Do you mean Joonghyuk of the 1864th round? Well, he does it to me, but I’ve never…” 1’s grip on Dokja’s hair loosens just a bit.

"You…" He blinks and shakes his head almost imperceptibly. "Put the whole thing in your mouth. No teeth."

1's dick looks more daunting now, this close. Dokja thinks it's somehow swelled even larger since he's started licking at it. But not backing down, he parts his lips once more and takes as much cock as possible into his mouth. Slowly, he pushes further, trying to lay his tongue flat. His gag reflex kicks in just seconds later; Dokja gags around 1's cock but doesn't retreat. Tears well up in his eyes.

"Careful." 1 strokes his hair. Dokja makes a noise and the vibrations must have made 1 feel something because he twitches in Dokja's mouth. Dokja notes with disappointment that he's barely even halfway taken 1's full length. He starts bobbing his head up and down 1's shaft, trying to take it deeper down his throat each time.

When he finally takes 1's entire cock into his mouth, he fights his gag reflex, chokes for the last time, and the tears finally fall from his eyes.

1 comes into Dokja's mouth. Dokja swallows his load, licks the rest of the cum off of 1's cock. 1 wipes the tears from Dokja's eyes. He pushes Dokja down onto the bed and kisses him. The scene unravels fast from there.

1 kisses Dokja the entire time they fuck. His lips only leave Dokja's after he's come inside of Dokja.

There’s a sort of vulnerability in 1’s voice that Dokja is unfamiliar with, raw and too truthful. “Wish you were mine. Then I would’ve known what to do.”

Dokja thinks an apology wouldn’t be worth anything. “I’m yours now.”

“You really didn’t leave me with anything.” There doesn’t seem to be any regret in 1’s eyes. "But I guess it's my sin for forgetting you."

"Not your fault. Just Probability," Dokja whispers. "And fate." Dokja's heart falls at the sight of 1's face, still fresh with hope. Brimming with determination, yet with a certain somber awareness that seems to understand that the first time will not be the last. That this round is just another sacrifice to build upon, for the scaffolding of the future.

It's impossible not to kiss him, even if it's an empty consolation. 1 holds him like something he wishes he could have.

[1/1864 tasks complete!]

2

Dokja tries not to remember how Yoo Joonghyuk died in this round, but it comes to mind anyway.

In the 2nd round, Yoo Joonghyuk almost lost his mind training in the Dark Stratum, and he met his end at the hands of the Demon King Asmodeus…

"Go easy on me."

2 doesn't.

He tosses Dokja onto the bed. Dokja, still spent from the night before, flops uselessly onto his stomach.

2's large hands grope at Dokja's thighs, then knead at Dokja's ass. He sticks out his ass a bit for easier access, expects 2 to start fingering him soon, but it doesn't come. 2 lines up at Dokja's ass and Dokja panics momentarily— surely he isn't going to fuck Dokja without prepping him first but who knows what Yoo Joonghyuk of the 2nd round— something heavy and slick slides between Dokja's thighs. Dokja looks down and sees the head of 2's cock peeking out from between his legs, dribbling precum onto Dokja's skin.

"Close your legs," 2 instructs him. Dokja immediately obeys, and 2 starts thrusting between Dokja's thighs. By the fifth thrust Dokja is trembling, squeezing his thighs together even tighter. He hadn't known his inner thighs were this sensitive, each slide of 2's cock feels like a brand on his skin. It doesn't help that 2 has started touching him all over, waist and hips, fingers running up and down his abdomen, thumb along the dip of his spine, then reaching up to tease at Dokja's nipples. He tries to suppress the sounds he's making but it's no good, soon he's whimpering into his fist as 2 rolls his nipples between thumb and forefinger.

His cock changes angle too, angling up higher until it's sliding in the small gap of Dokja's thighs, right along his balls with every thrust. Dokja doesn't realize how hard he's become until 2 grabs his cock and starts pumping it. The feeling makes Dokja cry out in relief. At the same time, 2 has started prepping Dokja, but he hardly feels a thing besides cold wetness due to all the stimulation his cock and inner thighs are receiving.

Dokja clamps his legs together and the sweet pressure makes his pleasure soar.

2 grabs Dokja around his thigh and lifts his legs, spreading his cheeks further apart and allowing 2 to penetrate even deeper. Dokja jostles hard from each thrust. 2's fingernails are digging painfully into the soft skin of his thighs now, and with Dokja's head turned to the side, 2 takes the opportunity to mark Dokja's exposed neck, sucking at the sensitive skin there, biting gently.

2's eyes are blank, almost lifeless besides the sparks that light up when he becomes extremely agitated.

"I remember now. You were a Prophet."

Dokja senses something. "Ehh, no… not really."

2 frowns. Dokja starts sweating. Yoo Joonghyuk was betrayed by Anna Croft the Prophet in the 2nd round. Thus, to the end of the regression round he developed a keen hatred for prophets.

There's a wild look in 2's eyes now. "Prophecy: will I be rough with you or not?"

Dokja tries to deny anything but Yoo Joonghyuk is the harbinger of fate if nothing else. His excuses fade from his lips and he replies miserably. "...You won't go easy on me."

And so it continues. 2 starts to enjoy it. He is insane.

"Prophecy: who will come first?"

"You," Dokja gasps out, and then 2 strokes along Dokja's cock is such a way that his entire body trembles and he feels the white hot pleasure tingling to his toes, heartbeat loud through his blood as he comes.

"Wrong," 2 smiles. "You aren't a Prophet after all." He buries his cock deep into Dokja once more, twice, and finally releases his spend into Dokja's spasming hole.

He flips Dokja around. His hamstrings scream in protest as 2 pushes his knees to his shoulders, baring his thighs and ass.

Dokja's head lolls to the side in exhaustion. "I'm not— a Prophet, but— I have a Prophecy… Prophecy! You won't fuck me a second time."

"Wrong again," 2 says. "It's the second round." 2's laugh is almost a growl.

Dokja begins to think he should be fearing for their enthusiasm rather than their indifference after all.

[2/1864 tasks complete!]

3

3 is eerily like the Yoo Joonghyuk Dokja knows best. He supposes they started out the same way. Wariness, burgeoning impatience, and still a whole lot of hope.

It’s the third day. Dokja has not caught a break. He unbuttons his shirt and takes it off, wincing at the soreness in his shoulders. His skin is littered with fresh bruises, and though they’re fast-fading due to his status, they’re still dark against his pale skin. Dokja chances a glimpse of 3's reaction and finds 3 staring at him hungrily.

They fall into a familiar pattern— 3 pulling him into bed and staring down at him from above with some curiosity in his gaze. And like with 2, maybe some hostility.

It happens quick. His hands grab Dokja by the neck, squeezing harshly, as if trying to wring the life out of him. Constant pressure closing in on his windpipe, fingers pressed against his pulse, hard enough to bruise.

He can't breathe. Dokja's hands scrabble to pull at 3's sturdy wrists. “Joonghyuk.” Dokja’s voice comes out as a faint wheeze. 3 squeezes him even harder.

“Ah.” 3 shifts his body and their bodies line up in a way that makes Dokja shudder and arch up. Surprisingly, Dokja is sporting a hard-on, his dick straining through the fabric of his briefs, rubbing against 3’s erection— that bastard, getting turned on from choking him. Dokja supposes he isn’t any better.

Finally, 3 loosens his grip just enough for Dokja to gasp a breath of air. In that opening, his mouth collides with Dokja’s in an insistent kiss, sealing up Dokja’s air supply once more. Dokja struggles futilely under 3, and his back arches up into the solid body above him as 3 grinds his hips against his. Dokja’s vocal chords produce a feeble whimper, and just like that, 3 is back to choking him.

3’s hands are a collar around Dokja’s neck, and stay locked there even when they’ve both removed their clothes and their skin is sliding slick against each other. Joonghyuk is, after all, very consistent. There’s a few seconds of reprieve when 3 prods at Dokja’s hole with a finger, but when he pushes in with his cock, the hands are back at his neck.

Dokja’s vision swims and the tears come to his eyes. He can’t focus on anything but the tender pain banding his throat and the sensation of 3 repeatedly fucking his ass. He’s struggling to breathe, and his body goes limp and his consciousness starts fading away when 3 finally releases the grip on his neck. Dokja’s mind still wavers in and out of reality, but he registers a look of concern on 3’s face, the kind that Dokja’s finally been able to parse out since going through the scenarios with the 1864th Joonghyuk. The look that says he’s worried for Dokja.

Dokja swallows with some difficulty and loops his wrists around the back of 3's head, pulling him in for a kiss. 3’s hands ghost over the tender spots on Dokja's neck. He knows he's bruising badly by now— his undurable Incarnation body is as unreliable as usual.

“Does it hurt?” 3 says, when their lips part.

“Yes, you bastard! Asphyxiate me with some prior notice at least,” Dokja grumbles, but he kisses 3 again anyways. The deja vu is startlingly comfortable.

3 suddenly brings up some strange topic. "I think I would have followed you sooner." His eyes are wide, and very, very dark.

"What do you mean?"

"If it were me you had met, perhaps I would have believed you from the start."

"You say that now, but I don't think so." Memories of a prophet's betrayal would have been fresh in 3's mind when he started this regression.

"I would have been very lost without you. I was very lost."

Dokja smiles weakly. "I guess I was right. You are soft." He strokes the hair on the back of 3's head and twirls a curly strand around his finger.

Dokja dimly registers, before everything gets woozy and fades away into a fuzzy warmth, something hot spilling into him, and a solid body pressing onto him, a deep voice saying something in his ear, and hands, kind hands.

[3/1864 tasks complete!]

8

Dokja runs into a problem earlier than expected.

“I don’t want to have sex with you.” 8 sits on the edge of the bed, back turned to Dokja, arms crossed.

“Yoo Joonghyuk.” Dokja pauses. He’s not sure if he should comfort 8 or bitch about the 1856 more Joonghyuks he has to fuck after this. He sighs. “Do you hate movies?”

8 doesn’t answer.

“There were a few you didn’t watch in there, didn’t you?” he says lightly, walking over to 8. “Let’s watch them together.”

“Do what you want.”

Thus, Dokja takes 8 to a random movie theater somewhere in Seoul that's decidedly not the Daehan Cinema. They've both had enough of that particular establishment.

It's abandoned. Dokja takes a while to get a movie running; he's never been to the projection room before and 8 is disinclined to help, standing off to the side scowling as Dokja works with the projector. Once the movie starts rolling, he has no idea what it is, but it's probably one of the newest releases from several years ago.

Dokja can't really focus on the movie anyway. He's sitting next to a very cold and rigid 8 on a plush loveseat before the screen. It’s a foreign film, with flashy explosions going off and a character stumbling dramatically around in the smoke and fire. Dokja has had thoughts about movie dates before, but none of them were quite like this. That is, with a depressed man uninterested in him, no popcorn to share, past the near end of the world.

The silence between them sits stagnant and heavy, tension like clothes weighed down by water. In the dark, Dokja sneaks a glance at 8’s profile, half-lit by the flashing light of the movie. There’s a sort of resignation in his face. On screen, someone is screaming.

“Hey, Yoo Joonghyuk.” Dokja doesn’t look away this time. He looks at 8’s clenched, tense jaw and his furrowed brow. When 8 turns to him, he doesn’t make out the despair on 8’s face. He can, maybe, make out his own reflection in 8's eyes. If he could see himself, his face would be just as half-lit and his eyes would be shining. Perhaps with something like anticipation.

Before any of them realize it, 8 is kissing Dokja.

The characters on screen— fighting, bleeding, dying, or whatever— are completely ignored.

"You're so… " 8 growls. There's a certain wild look in 8's eyes as he grips Dokja's waist and hips roughly and bites him all over his collarbones and neck. Dokja whines. He was only half expecting this to happen.

"S-slow down—" Dokja yelps as 8 delivers a painful bite at the base of his neck.

But both their movements become fast and hurried in the faint dark. 8 barely pushes Dokja's pants and underwear down his hips before grasping his warm, hardening cock in hand and pumping with quick motions. Dokja scrambles to unbuckle 8's belt, and once 8's pants are undone Dokja barely has time to palm at 8's erection once before 8 is pushing him down on the loveseat and kissing him all over again. 8's mouth is hot against his.

8 flips Dokja around onto his stomach. Dokja digs into his front pocket and shakily presses a small bottle of lube into 8's hand.

By the time 8 is coming into him, warm cum gushing into his hole, Dokja is screaming louder than the theater sound system. 8 pushes into him one last time, and buries his face into the back of Dokja's neck. Dokja can feel the flutter of 8's eyelashes— closed eyes— against his skin. 8 stays there, cock plugging the cum inside Dokja, body draped over Dokja's. Tired, tired.

"You still don't like movies, huh?"

8 hums into Dokja's skin. "This one was fine." On screen, a character starts crying. Dokja feels 8's smile curve into his skin and the light flashing behind his closed eyelids. Feels that maybe things will be alright.

[8/1864 tasks complete!]

14

Somehow, after his stint with 8 at the movie theater, the Yoo Joonghyuks had decided to unionize and fuck Dokja outside of the bedroom.

"... Why is this here. Why did you… recreate the Absolute Throne?"

"This was your birth story, was it not?"

Dokja considers. “It was a good story, huh. But that’s besides the point! When did you even— and why—”

“It’s relevant to both of us.” 14 looks at the Throne almost fondly. Dokja scans it, noting the jagged crack on the seat, like a sword had tried cutting into it.

"Ohhhh. This is the round where you finally stopped being an idiot and didn't sit on the Throne."

14 smiles sharply at him. "Go sit on it."

"No? Why?"

14 pushes him lightly. "Nothing's going to happen. It's a harmless replica."

"It's weird."

"Go. Sit."

"I'm not your dog."

14 raises an eyebrow. "Questionable."

Dokja looks scandalized. "Ah, you bastard."

14 sighs. "I'll sit then, and then you can follow."

He sits on the throne, legs crossed in an arrogant manner. He looks like the very picture of royalty. Dokja has the sudden urge to kneel at his feet and reenact medieval greetings. He approaches cautiously and slowly straddles 14. It's disconcerting, how intensely 14 is watching him as he settles onto his lap. 14 is, predictably, already hard, dick insistently pressing up against Dokja's hips.

"You don't look happy about this."

"I'm not unhappy," Dokja says. "You're being nice to me. It's just… this roleplay fucking sucks. What are we even doing?"

"Don't think so much." 14 tilts up Dokja's chin with a long forefinger, like every inch of the king he is. "Just kiss me."

Dokja does. He thinks this is nice. This Joonghyuk isn't much of a tyrant. He's still insufferable, but in a way, easy to talk to.

14 holds him close. His body is hard and packed with muscle. Dokja feels like jelly.

He realizes a bit too late that 14 is more dangerous than he seems. This more easygoing yet regal manner of his is so easy to trust, to fall and swear loyalty to. It's no wonder how 14 was able to sway so many people towards him even without a Throne.

"It's okay if I take you like this, right?" Somehow, Dokja finds himself sprawled under 14 on the seat of the Throne, back digging painfully against stone.

"Yes?"

"Dokja, don't you think there still should only be one king?" 14 grinds slowly against Dokja, pressing him into the stone where the crack rests.

"... Shouldn't be… any..!"

"Is that so?" 14’s smile is as ambiguous as a cloud. "I think it would've been a regret to give up the Throne if there was someone like you around."

"What do you mean?"

"I should've taken control and had you be mine. Fuck you every day like this if I wanted."

Kim Dokja was wrong. This Joonghyuk is not sane, he is also a psychopath like the rest of them.

It was foolish to think of this seemingly amiable Joonghyuk who stepped down from the Throne as being capable of clemency. This Joonghyuk is just as much of a dictator as any other Joonghyuk who's fucked Dokja. Ruthless, almost uncaring, bulldozing his way into Dokja with a smirk on his face all the while.

In the end, 14 drives Dokja to the ground until they're collapsed among the rubble of the Throne.

How has this bastard not come yet? 14 starts fucking Dokja on the floor in the absence of a Throne. He's still diligently going at a constant pace, unfazed by the fact that they've already destroyed everything. Dokja clenches hard around 14 in an attempt to get him to finish and stop brutalizing him. 14 does nothing but deliver soft kisses along the side of Dokja's neck. "Joonghyuk," Dokja sighs, in his breathiest voice. 14 nibbles at his collarbone. Dokja doesn't think his body can take it any longer. He stares at a piece of Absolute Throne at his fingertips. Then, he realizes.

"Your Highness."

Finally, 14's hips stutter. He beams at Dokja, almost glowing with euphoria, and thrusts deep one last time before releasing into him.

Son of a bitch.

[14/1864 tasks complete!]

20

Things are… not alright. By the 20th round, Dokja has an epiphany of sorts. All the Yoo Joonghyuks will get even more depressed and insane with each coming regression. Dokja realizes that he hasn’t quite prepared for this.

Dokja’s voice is hoarse. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s screamed so much.

“How many times have you come?” There’s a smidgen of amusement in 20’s voice as he pounds into him from behind. That bastard, he definitely knows how many times Dokja has come. The problem is, Dokja doesn’t.

“F-five?” Dokja ekes out when 20 squeezes at his waist and digs his nails in.

“Not quite. It’s only been three.”

Dokja cries out when 20 delivers a particularly rough thrust. “Only three? Isn’t that enough for the human body?”

“Wha—” Dokja twists his head back to look at 20, who has a smug look on his stupid face. “How many times are you going…”

By the actual fifth, Dokja is sobbing into the bedsheets.

“No… please, no…” His voice has quieted to whimpers. 20 continues fucking his body, nailing his prostate with devastating accuracy and coaxing yet another orgasm from Dokja’s cock with his hand.

By the end of it, Dokja is coming dry. He’s completely spent, every part of him. The only thing he can do is shudder as he orgasms again. He’s stopped crying since around the 12th one. 20 flips him over onto his back and examines his face, all the while palming gently at Dokja’s still twitching cock. He looks satisfied.

“Twenty. That’s a nice number.”

“How many hours has it been… no, days?”

Above his swimming vision, 20 looks like he's barely broken a sweat. Still gloriously godlike, like some angel handing out divine punishment.

“You did well.” The soft kiss on Dokja's cheek contradicts 20's brutal roughness. Dokja reaches up and tugs at 20’s hair. It’s damp with sweat. So he did go through some exertion to deliver such a pounding. Dokja swats tiredly at the back of 20’s head.

At this point of the regressions, Yoo Joonghyuk had definitely been losing it.

Dokja closes his eyes and drifts off.

[20/1864 tasks complete!]

41

“You’re nervous.”

“I’m not,” Dokja says. He is.

After all, this is the 41st regression. One of Yoo Joonghyuk’s most ruthless rounds. Dokja can’t imagine how rough he’ll be with him.

Dokja can’t read the look in 41’s eyes when he looks at him. It’s a steely gaze with cold, uncaring eyes. There’s a frown on his lips.

“I would’ve never taken you as my companion.”

“Okay? I don’t need you to,” Dokja replies. “Just use me.”

41’s gaze sharpens.

“Use me, like I did with all of you.”

41 doesn't kiss Dokja, not once, but bites and sucks bruises along Dokja's neck. When Dokja leans in to attempt a kiss, 41 forces Dokja’s head down on his cock, grips his hair keeping him there, not letting him breathe. Dokja’s throat constricts around 41’s girth, and he can feel hot tears springing to his eyes at 41's punishing grip.

41 fucks Dokja like he’s afraid of losing him. Then Dojka realizes, he’s surprisingly gentle. It’s a late realization that perhaps 41’s coldness in this round was just a heavy mask to protect his fragile emotions. After all, who can bear losing the beloved companions who would do anything for you? Maybe he thought it was better to push everyone away. The climb to the top should only be done alone.

Not once does the expression on 41’s perfect face falter, not once does the ice break. Maybe that’s what made 41’s companions seek him out even as he pushed them away— his actions, the words and touch that feel heartless but hold an impossible kindness to them. Just like the calluses on his palms, rough yet revealing care.

He's harsh on Dokja. But between every ruthless thrust, there's the brushing of Dokja's hair out of his eyes, the feather-light touch on Dokja's skin as if he's afraid to touch him in case he disappears.

So Dokja kisses him. When 41 is buried all the way in him, Dokja hooks his elbows around the back of 41's head and brings them impossibly close, so close their mouths are only a heartbeat apart, and in the next breath Dokja kisses him furiously, tender, and sad all at once. 41's lips are warm. His scars are unfamiliar.

Once again, Dokja is finding something new in the stories he’s reread. “I’m going to hurt you,” 41 warns.

Dokja smiles at him. Somehow, he thinks it won’t hurt very much. “Go ahead.”

[41/1864 tasks complete!]

81

81 is a bit peculiar, even for a Yoo Joonghyuk.

Dokja sits awkwardly at the kitchen island, a five course meal fit for formal dining spread out in front of him. It looks out of place under the stark kitchen lighting and scuffed up countertop.

He fidgets in his chair as 81 puts the last finishing touches on a tiny dish with careful fingers. The plate is set in front of him, and a second in front of 81's seat.

"Start from there," 81 instructs, pointing at the dish to Dokja's far right. "I'll make the dessert later since it will take us some time to finish eating the main course."

Dokja nods, reaching over for the first plate with his chopsticks, feeling a tad overwhelmed by everything.

He’s eaten Yoo Joonghyuk’s cooking before, so he knows how good it is. But 81’s cooking easily surpasses anything Dokja has tasted before, going beyond the heights of culinary experimentation. He supposes this is what happens when Joonghyuk gives up on a round and decides to dedicate it to refining his cooking skills.

The last bite is like a perfect lingering note at the end of a symphony. Only then does Dokja realize 81 hasn't touched his food yet. Instead, he's been watching Dokja eat. There's a gratified expression on his face. Even in this round he somehow has ways to be a smug bastard.

"So." Dokja puts down his chopsticks. "When are we going to…"

"Eat dessert?"

"... Fuck."

"..."

"I'd rather not," 81 says finally.

Dokja goes through all the cycles of grief simultaneously before calming down. "Okay. Is there a reason why?"

"I like you. I just don't want to have sexual intercourse with you. It's not something I particularly enjoy doing in the first place."

Dokja goes quiet, feeling a bit dumbfounded. He floats after 81 who has moved to working on the dessert. Dokja can't tell what it is, but it looks like a lot of chocolate is involved. He hovers next to 81 as he places a caramel tuile onto the top of the dessert.

Dokja takes the small spoon 81 hands him and digs into the dessert. Two seconds later he achieves nirvana. The dessert is so good it distracts him from all worldly issues for a moment before he remembers his terrible conundrum.

"Joonghyuk," Dokja scoops up another bite of the eighth wonder of the world. "It's really, really good."

"I know." 81 has started eating his own portion of the dessert.

"Please have sex with me."

"If you like it so much, have some more." 81 smoothly acts like he hasn't heard anything and inserts a dessert-laden spoon into Dokja's open mouth. The divine taste hits Dokja's tastebuds and his mind blanks out again.

Dokja wrestles his braincells back and considers for a moment. "How about you put the chocolate on me and lick it off or something?"

I can't believe that worked.

Dokja finds himself sprawled out on the sheets while 81 drags a paintbrush with his mouth all over Dokja's stomach. He hands the paintbrush to Dokja, and then starts licking the chocolate off Dokja's skin. Dokja's fingers tighten around the handle of the paintbrush as 81's warm breath chases the cool wetness of his tongue all over Dokja’s abdomen. A few gasps later, and Dokja reaches his peak.

"Ah.. we've run out of chocolate."

81 stares at Dokja contemplatively. He leaves the bed with a fluid movement and hurries to the kitchen. Dokja snuggles into the sheets, still coming down from his post-orgasm high.

When 81 returns, he's holding a bowl of whipped cream. Dokja carelessly dips a hand into the bowl and raises a glob of it to his lips. 81 watches intently as he licks at it. "Oh, it's really good."

Before Dokja can blink, 81 has swooped in and kissed him. He traces Dokja's lips with his tongue. Everything tastes like cream and chocolate.

"Did I have cream on my mouth?"

"It doesn't matter." 81 kisses Dokja's lips again. He's gentle and soft as he parts. "I don't know why, but I like you. I like watching you eat the food I've cooked. I wonder why… I just want to kiss you more."

"What's with you, saying such sappy things?"

"This is just who I am in this round. I’ll say and do the things I like, even if it means forsaking the world for a moment. I'm a selfish man in this round."

"Will you let me…"

This time around, Dokja is the one licking dessert off of 81. He's slathered the cream all over 81's chest and stomach, which are still somehow unfairly toned despite 81 not maintaining any combat training.

"Missed a spot."

81 is meticulously Yoo Joonghyuk.

Dokja bites at one of 81's nipples. He doesn't even flinch, just ruffles Dokja's hair. Slowly but surely, Dokja makes his way down to 81's hips. Without a word, he starts lathering 81's large cock with the whipped cream.

It's a more pleasant experience than any blowjobs he's had in the past couple of weeks, largely attributed to the light, sweet taste of the cream and how gentle 81 is with him. He takes the entire thing into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, nose now pressed against the hair above 81’s cock.

"You can stop now." If it weren't for the hints of red on 81's cheeks and ears, he would've looked entirely unaffected by Dokja's skillful blowjob. "Cum doesn't taste good with whipped cream."

Dokja gives him a dubious look but leaves 81's cock alone. He's a bit irked he wasn't able to finish the job (he does think Joonghyuk's cum would taste excellent with the cream), but 81 stopping here probably means he’s ready to fuck Dokja.

Instead, 81 stares at Dokja’s blushing face. He pulls at Dokja’s cheek. The skin stretches like sticky rice dough. “Hm.” 81 leans close to Dokja’s face, then opens his mouth and chomps down on the squishy cheek.

“!!!”

Dokja bears with it for a few seconds out of surprise before he shoves 81’s face away. He holds a hand to his bitten cheek in shock and outrage. “What.”

“Like mochi,” 81 appraises.

“No, why’d you bite me there?”

81 looks puzzled. “It’s something we all want to do.”

“You… all of you have sick and twisted fantasies.”

"It’s because you’re cute." 81 pinches Dokja's cheek. "I want to feed you tomatoes, just to see the look of disgust on your face."

Dokja gives him a look of disgust.

“See. Cute.”

Dokja’s disgust dissolves instantaneously. He isn’t used to Joonghyuk so bluntly calling him cute. “Aaahhh. Are you going to fuck me?”

“I’m getting to it.” 81 squishes Dokja’s face between his hands. He holds his face there in place and leans in to kiss him. This one is rough, rushing in like flames on an open stove.

81 devours him. He doesn’t allow Dokja any breaks, fucks him round after round without rest, although he gives Dokja some water to drink in between. The whipped cream from earlier mysteriously disappears, but there’s a suspicious stickiness on their skin whenever they rub against each other. He won’t stop biting and pinching at Dokja, like he's a delicious meal.

By the end of it, Dokja has a feeling like he's been battered and whirled around in a stand mixer, beat until he's turned into smooth paste.

"Thank you for the meal," 81 whispers into Dokja's ear. Dokja trembles on the bedspread. 81 kisses him one last time, and all Dokja tastes is sweetness.

[81/1864 tasks complete!]

91

"Ten seconds."

"Huh?" Dokja doesn’t know why 91 dragged him onto the top of a skyscraper, but he suspects it isn’t for sightseeing.

"I'm giving you a ten second headstart. You can run if you want. Because once I catch you, I'm going fuck you. No prep. And we're doing at least five rounds."

Dokja feels his hole twinge from past memories of being railed too many times in one night. 91… Also a psychopath…

"If you don't catch me, then…"

"That won't happen," 91 declares arrogantly. Jerk. "Ten."

Dokja stares at him for a second. "Nine." He bolts.

Dokja immediately opens with Way of the Wind. His plan is to create as much distance as possible, weave through some obscure areas of the city, and then find a hiding spot to hunker down for a while.

He's already zipping above the rooftops at top speed. Perhaps if he also used Electrification… The familiar wind envelopes him and he puts on another burst of speed. The sweat on the back of his neck cools rapidly as he moves. It's been ten seconds and 91 has undoubtedly started the chase. There's a rising sense of dread in him at the thought of 91 going after him, and his heart rabbits fast with the excitement of it.

He hears a sound in the faint distance, something like a sonic boom. Ah, shit.

Within five minutes, Kim Dokja has been caught by 91. Lapse in judgement on Dokja’s part. 91 in this round has both Red Phoenix Shunpo and Way of the Wind. There was no way Dokja was going to win from the very beginning.

Dokja is pinned to the ground. He struggles half-heartedly in 91's grasp, like a songbird caught in a bird of prey’s talons. 91 presses his body against Dokja's back and his pinned arms, leaning forward and brushing his lips against the nape of Dokja's neck. Dokja shivers. 91 bites down like some sort of wild animal and Dokja cries out.

He flips Dokja over and smiles with amusement at Dokja's dazed face.

"This was rigged," Dokja accuses.

"So what? I was going to fuck you anyways. At least make it more fun."

"Go easy on me."

"Why? I caught you, I can do anything I want with you," 91 grins wickedly. He slots a knee between Dokja's thighs, nudging up into Dokja's crotch.

"Please." Dokja cranes his neck up to kiss 91 in a desperate attempt to distract him. 91 is momentarily surprised. Dokja takes this as a prime opportunity to punch 91 in the stomach with an electrified fist and zoom away with Way of the Wind once more. This time he also runs Electrification to help.

He knows if 91 catches him— when he does— (Dokja hates to admit it but 91 definitely will) the punishment is going to be so much more severe. Dokja's ass might need a week to recover. Sweating profusely now, Dokja runs even faster.

He sees a shadow in his periphery. It's 91, a murderous look on his face as he chases closely after Dokja.

It's over fast. Dokja is caught around the waist with two strong arms and held fast against 91's chest.

"Caught you," 91 whispers in his ear. Dokja goes completely still this time. "Bad Dokja, running away from me like that." There's dark amusement in 91's voice. Dokja can barely hear him over the whipping of the wind in his ears. They're on the rooftop of some other tall office building in the city.

Dokja wonders what 91's hair looks like in the wind. Probably like he stepped out of a shampoo commercial.

"Now, where to fuck you?"

Dokja resigns himself to his fate.

They end up on the 72nd level of the building, Dokja stripped of his clothes and pressed up against the glass of a window, 91 taking him from behind. 91's hands circle around Dokja's wrists like cuffs. Dokja's panting breath fogs up the glass in front of him.

“You’re such a fool.”

Dokja presses his face against the window, whining in soft protest. 91 moves at an infuriating pace, just too slow to be comfortable and yet too fast to be slow.

His voice is a deep rumble next to Dokja’s ear. "Anyone could see you right now. Getting fucked like this against a window, like the slut you are."

Dokja moans, smears cum all over the glass. He has a brief thought that maybe 91 doesn't mean salvation.

His forehead knocks against the glass, hands pressed to the glass on either side of his head. 91's fingers tangle into his.

[91/1864 tasks complete!]

101

101 fucks Dokja upside down, trussed from the ceiling and dangling helplessly in the air. The ropes bound around his ankles start to cut into his skin as his body sways and 100 grabs his hips to pull him in with every plunge. The change in angle, jabbing insistently against his prostate, makes Dokja come so hard he passes out.

[101/1864 tasks complete!]

111

Kim Dokja doesn't know where he is above the Seoul skyline right now, but he's at least a hundred meters up in the air, clutching onto 111's waist.

"Please don't drop me."

In the 111th round, Yoo Joonghyuk became a Demon King for the first time. His demon form is similar to Dokja's, large, feathery dark wings, horns on his head, skin dyed inky the more demonic energy he uses. Just like Dokja, he's grown several times larger. Everything about him just seems larger than Dokja, from his wingspan to the wicked horns curling outward.

"Hold onto me."

111 wraps two strong arms tightly around Dokja's waist, fucking into him roughly from behind, face buried in the feathers of Dokja's wings, amongst the frantic wingbeats. He pulls at Dokja's horns, yanking his head back as his back arches and 111 hits that one spot that makes sparks race up Dokja's spine and the base of his wings tingle.

"U-rrgh!" Dokja's wing jerks suddenly when 111 hits the spot again, sending them off balance and spiraling down. 111 stays buried inside Dokja as he maneuvers them up again. 111's arms squeeze Dokja's waist tightly, holding Dokja even closer, cock lodged even further than he thought possible up Dokja's ass. Between them, like a pillow, are Dokja's wings, feathers smushed and crumpled against skin and fabric.

Midair sex is unpredictable, erratic, but its limitless angles do wonders to Dokja's prostate. At the end of it, Dokja goes limp with pleasure in 111's hold, relying on 111 to keep them both in the air. Cum, his own and 111's, runs down his legs. Finally, 111 pulls out, and still clutching onto Dokja, spirals them down on a nearby rooftop almost shakily, like a leaf at the whims of the wind.

The evening sky glows yellow before the sunset, clouds scattered flat above the horizon like gold coins. Dokja lies across 111's lap on his stomach. There's been a poor attempt at putting clothes on. Dokja's shirt is wrinkled and in near-tatters, pants stained from the liquid still trickling down his thighs.

“Your wings are a mess.”

Dokja fluffs them up, and 111 runs a hand through the dark feathers.

“Whose fault is that?”

111 starts to comb through Dokja's feathers, fingers rubbing soothing circles at the base of his wings, smoothing out any rumpled feathers. A cool evening breeze drifts by. There's a lull in 111's impromptu wing grooming session.

"You have a few too." Dokja reaches out to fix a few of 111's feathers.

Dokja folds his wings neatly on his back, and adjusts a stray feather. It promptly springs out again, sticking out like a flag between book pages. 111 takes hold of it and plucks it out quickly from Dokja's wing.

"Hey..!"

"A momento," 111 says, holding the dark feather to his lips. "Your feathers are softer than mine, you know. It's like the texture of your hair."

"I didn't know you were so sentimental."

111 tilts his head. The feather wobbles in the wind. "You know what happened this round."

Dokja looks at him quizzically. "... You left Earth." He fiddles with the ends of his flight feathers, now splayed around him. "And you didn't get to return."

Thump. Joonghyuk's heavy wing unfurls and flops on top of Dokja's head. Like a weighted blanket.

"Wasn't the exile penalty terrible? Dying several times was better than going through that."

"I don't know. It wasn't that bad."

Dokja huffs. "My Incarnation body wasn't doing well before getting there, that's all. By the way, which complex did you end up liberating? I can’t remember. Was it—"

111 kisses Dokja suddenly. "You stole all my tricks."

"Are you upset?" The mood between them is still light, like feathers, but holds a touch of somber air.

"I guess not, since you suffered." 111 pulls at Dokja's cheek. "It's not an easy path."

Dokja bats his hand away. "You know, you're not that evil for a Demon King."

"You say so?" 111 grins, a feral, sharp thing. He lunges at Dokja, and they fall past the edge of the building in a tumble, the sunset in their wings.

[111/1864 tasks complete!]

173

Some things remain the same, Dokja realizes, when he's being fucked missionary by 173 on his bed. He can see Joonghyuk's face so clearly, the slight frown on his face as he concentrates on thrusting into Dokja, the twitch and arch of his eyebrow when Dokja tightens around him. Right before he comes inside Dokja, the way he tenses and clenches his teeth, growling, and then relaxing with a sigh, eyelids heavy as he leans in for a kiss.

It’s familiar— their mannerisms, rude and blunt way of speaking, and their general personality. It’s also familiar— the flutter in Dokja’s chest, the low swooping of his heart every time one of them smiles with that Yoo Joonghyuk face, how his heart leaps back into his mouth when their eyes meet.

[173/1864 tasks complete!]

211

Then there are the deviations, like 211, who dresses him in cat ears and a butt plug with a tail attached to the base. It might be one of the most embarrassing moments of Dokja’s life. His only respite is that he’s laying down in bed, so at least half of his body is out of view.

He flicks the tail around, sighing almost mournfully, as if wishing it were real. Dokja squirms. The plug lodged inside his hole is quite large, and even the slightest jostle sends shivers through his body.

"Make cat noises for me." This son of a bitch.

"Nya?" Dokja tries. "Nya. Mrow."

"Cute." 211 strokes his hair and ears, petting him like he’s a cat.

Dokja turns his head to the side— and freezes. So preoccupied with the accessories, he hadn't noticed it— the camera set up on the side of the wall, its small red recording light blinking.

He panics slightly, turning back to 211 with wide, horrified eyes.

"What? Don't you do this all the time for the Constellations?"

211 flips him all the way over onto his stomach and positions his hips until they're lifted, ass sticking up in the air. Dokja buries his face in the sheets, hiding away from the camera.

211 grabs at his hair and pulls his head back. "Ack!"

"Look at the camera. Your face is always so blurry on the stream, it's difficult getting a clear glimpse of you. But if I'm going out of my way to get footage, I want to see your pretty face in it."

Dokja looks at the camera through teary eyes. Meanwhile, 211 forces his fingers into Dokja's mouth and gropes his ass with the other hand, pulling his asscheek aside to rub at Dokja's hole. "Keep meowing." Dokja continues meowing around 211's fingers in his mouth, now more muffled. His saliva flows slick around the fingers and down 211's hand and his own chin.

"Nyaaa," he sounds out. 211 removes his hand from Dokja's mouth and sticks his now wet fingers into Dokja's hole. "Nyaaahhnngh." Dokja's legs tremble. 211 shoves his cock into him.

Somewhere in between, he forgets the camera, forgets any humiliation he had fostered. 211 presses Dokja into the bed with his full bodily weight, his cock continuously slamming deep into Dokja's ass. He keeps a domineering grip on Dokja's hair, pulling it back so his blushing and teary face is presented to the camera. Dokja mewls and cries as 211 pounds him. As 211’s cum floods into his asshole, Dokja has a feeling that the video will be circulating around by the next day.

He hopes it’s only among the Joonghyuks.

[211/1864 tasks complete!]

383

This time Kim Dokja stands before a full-length mirror, scantily clad in a number of lacy lingerie garments.

He fiddles with the garter belt strap on his thigh. How did that get there… “Really?” He shoots a discreet glance at the Yoo Joonghyuk behind him.

"Turn around for me." Dokja spins all the way around and faces the man at the foot of his bed.

"The white lace suits you," 383 says. He's close, just a breath away from Dokja. "It's a bit flimsy though, I can see everything underneath."

Flushing despite himself, Dokja looks down to see his nipples dark against the near-translucent fabric of the lingerie top he's wearing, and his cock hardening in his silky briefs.

"Last thing." 383 guides his head forward by the back of his neck, then fastens a collar around Dokja's neck, white lace to match with the rest of the set.

He topples into the bed and 383 drags him onto his lap. He’s propped up against 383’s chest, facing the mirror. There’s a startled look on his face, and his hair is slightly disheveled. One nipple peeks out from the skewed top he’s wearing, the thin fabric twisting around his ribcage. 383 reaches out and squeezes Dokja's erection. Dokja's breath hitches and gasps into a low moan as 383 starts kneading gently at his clothed cock.

The briefs are pulled to the side to reveal Dokja’s hole. 383 plunges his cock into it easily.

"Look," 383 says. "Look at yourself."

Dokja's eyes are swimming with tears but he takes the peek— he looks debauched, pink blooming on his pale skin under white lace in places 383 grasped too hard, red marks all over his neck and shoulders. There's a soft sheen of sweat on his body, and the lingerie tightens around his hips and chest with every jostle. He hadn't noticed before until he sees in the mirror, his thighs are trembling slightly and his whole body quakes when 383 thrusts deep inside of him.

Ah… He has a thought when he finally comes, cum spurting and splashing onto the mirror, and all over 383's hand and his own stomach. … is that really me? He looks straight out of a porno film, the pink of his tongue visible from his open, gasping mouth, lashes shadowing flushed cheeks from heavy, half-closed eyelids. 383 continues to pump in and out of him and squeezes his thigh with too rough of a touch, causing the garter belt straps to snap. Dokja shudders and 383 yanks his hips down one last time. When 383 lifts him up again, he can see his gaping hole, and the white cum that comes flowing out of it right after.

383 tips over the mirror with a dash of Probability. It clatters to the floor, all silver and light. Dokja sits shivering on 383's lap, thighs squeezed together, still milking the last few ebbs of his orgasm. 383 lifts Dokja up and places him onto the fallen mirror.

Dokja writhes on the mirror due to the sudden coldness on his bare skin, almost like a sharp blade, but soon he starts writhing for a different reason— when 383 starts fucking him again, pulling on the straps encircling Dokja's body.

The heat from their bodies fogging up the mirror, condensation clinging to their skin. He can barely see anything in the reflection now, just fragments of his body, a hip caught in 383's hand, the curve of his waist, thoroughly kissed and bitten lips. Cum dribbles onto the mirror again, from his cock or 383’s or his hole he doesn’t know, but he’s soon turned around for another round.

[383/1864 tasks complete!]

438

438 has a small glass bottle in his hand. Clear amber liquid swirls inside. Dokja catches a whiff of the liquid’s scent— cloyingly sweet and thick, with floral notes. He presents it to Dokja, and he backs away at the expectant look on 438’s face.

“Drinking unknown substances was not part of the agreement.”

“You ate what 81 gave you.”

“That’s because it was proper food.”

438 holds the bottle up to Dokja’s face. “It’s safe and gives you stat benefits.”

Dokja looks at it suspiciously. “It looks like it’s for sex.”

“An aphrodisiac,” 438 elaborates. “You look like you don’t believe it works.”

Dokja grasps the bottle, fingernails clinking against the glass. He gives 438 a significant look and takes the bottle away from him to twist open the stopper. He tilts the bottle up to his lips.

“Don’t drink the whole thing. Just a few drops.”

Dokja tips a few drops of the liquid into his mouth. The aphrodisiac is less sweet than expected, almost tasteless. It has a smooth, glassy texture, almost like lube with the consistency of a syrup.

There are no immediate effects. Dokja sits amidst the silk bedsheets a bit dazed, allowing 438 to rub more of the aphrodisiac onto his nipples. The scent quickly spreads through the entire room, heavy and thick in the air like a humid day. Dokja’s head starts to swim and he feels woozy.

He lays pliant in 438’s arms. “Joonghyuk.” 438 starts to smell very good, very fast. Dokja nuzzles into his chest and wraps his arms tightly around 438, rutting against the solid warm body against him. He’s dimly aware of what he’s doing, but the urge is too much— 438 encourages him, petting his hair and stroking down his spine, finally squeezing his ass lightly until Dokja is squirming, feeling too hot.

The aphrodisiac drips honey and gold onto Dokja’s skin. Everywhere it touches, Dokja burns. There’s an itch in his throat from when he swallowed it, not the tickle of a cough, but more like a maddening thirst. It feels parched dry, and the only thing that can quell it is Joonghyuk’s cum down his throat.

“Joonghyuk please— ah, ah— I…”

He's desperate, and willing to throw everything out the window. It's unrational but his heart can't seem to stop pounding and wishing— for 438 to skewer him with a cock and fuck him until the next morning. He's never wanted sex more in his life.

Dokja sucks 438's cock in record speed, not a single grimace on his face as he swallows every bit of 438 down.

"Please, please fuck me." He's grinding shamelessly against 438 now, face buried in his sturdy chest. Everything smells ten times better than it did before, and Joonghyuk's scent, musky yet clean like sun through an early morning forest, smells all the more sexy and drives Dokja insane.

"Joonghyuk-ah," Dokja gasps into 438's ear, nuzzling into 438's neck. He clutches 438 like a lifeline, like he's a thousand meters up in the air and afraid of heights. He ruts shamelessly against 438's thigh. It feels so warm and. "Joong-Joonghyuk-ah." Dokja might cry. He needs the stimulation now.

"So desperate."

Dokja can't be bothered. "Y-yeah," he agrees. "More please. I need your cock." He's never been as blunt as this, as shameless in his word choice. It's terrible. He pushes on. "I need your cock in my hole."

It's bad dirty talk, but effective somehow. Maybe 438 is charmed because it's Dokja, or because he looks so pitiful, mewling like a cat in heat and staring up at him with large teary eyes. "I want to see you fuck yourself on me," 438 finally says. Of course it wouldn't be that easy.

Dokja would take anything. He practically jumps onto 438's cock. His hole easily receives 438— he's not sure if it's the lubing quality of the aphrodisiac or all the times he's been fucked until now or both— but it’s easy. He bounces on 438's lap hard, bottoming out with each thrust, as he clutches at 438's shoulders for stability. Everything becomes hazy, he doesn't recall when it happens but 438 soon joins him, lifting his hips up in tandem with Dokja's movements, sinking himself even deeper into Dokja's needy hole.

438 comes inside him, wrenching a still weakly moving Dokja down, and Dokja shudders as the hot cum fills him up from the inside, and the mere thought of 438 leaving something of himself inside Dokja makes him come. The aphrodisiac is strong, Dokja thinks dazedly. Between the tangle of their legs is a whole mess of cum, smeared against skin, dripping wet and copious.

438 slides his hand along Dokja’s belly and fathers some of the cum onto his palm and fingers. He lifts the hand to his mouth and licks it. “You’re such a slut.”

“You made me like this,” Dokja breathes, leaning in to knock their foreheads together. “So take responsibility.”

[438/1864 tasks complete!]

555

Yoo Joonghyuk of the 555th Regression round comes to him with a request.

“So. Miniaturization. You want me to shrink down?”

Dokja can think of a million ways this could go wrong, but he’s learned not to kinkshame. He fervently hopes Krygios never finds out about this.

555 seems almost normal besides his odd request. Dokja doesn’t want to think any further about it and grants his wish, shrinking down to his Miniaturized form. He steps onto the palm 555 offers him. It’s from there that things start to derail.

“Kim Dojega.”

What the hell… “No,” Dokja says. “That’s not my name.”

555 smirks. “Dojega.”

Dokja glares at him. Curse Yoo Joonghyuk’s smirk for being so sexy. He wants to shove one Miniaturization-ized fist up 555’s nostril.

“Hurry up and take your clothes off, Dojega, before I rip them to shreds.”

Dokja stamps angrily on 555’s hand while throwing his coat off. He turns his back to 555 as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. Suddenly he feels a giant blunt object nudging at his spine, and his back arches naturally at the touch. He whips his head around to see 555 poking at him with a huge finger. “What’s your deal?”

“If you’re going to be so slow, at least let me see you. Turn around. Strip-tease for me.”

Dokja feels the heat rise to his cheeks. “I’d rather you rip my clothes off.”

“Okay.” Immediately after the words have left Dokja’s mouth, 555 gently pinches Dokja’s clothes with his forefinger and thumb and tugs. Dokja’s clothes immediately rip into pieces, and he’s left stark-naked upon 555’s palm.

“Ugh.” Dokja slips off his shoes and socks. Then he plops down on 555’s palm. “What are you going to do to me? At least let me know that.”

“Hmmm.” 555 looks thoughtful. His voice resonates even lower and deeper than usual in Dokja’s ears, and he fights off a shudder. The back of his neck prickles at the predatory look in 555’s dark eyes as he scrutinizes Dokja. “You’re so small.”

He bends the hand holding Dokja into a semi cup shape, rocking the surface Dokja sits on, and Dokja tumbles back against his fingers. Then 555 starts touching Dokja, rolling him between his large fingers, holding him in his gently squeezed fist, lightly stroking him all over with the rough pads of his fingers.

This… should not be nearly as arousing as it is. Dokja lets himself be manhandled all over, lets 555 lift him and turn him over onto his stomach. He does, however, freeze when 555 releases him in favor of unbuckling his own belt. The clink of metal as the clasp comes undone sounds like a death sentence. Dokja scrambles to his feet.

“You are not going to fit in me,” Dokja says flatly. He stands on the palm of 555’s hand, hands on hips. “And I’m not going to let you.”

“I know,” 555 says. “I just want to make you squirm.”

With a finger, he presses down lightly on Dokja’s head. Dokja sinks to his knees with a sigh. 555 taps at him until he’s laying down again.

555 strokes Dokja’s ass with the pad of his index finger. “What are you doing?” Dokja asks, alarmed. He stares at 555’s index finger, sizing it up. “That’s not going to fit in me either.”

555 moves his index finger down and slowly lifts up his pinkie. “Oh, uhhhh,” Dokja articulates, very eloquently. “...that, might work.”

The finger prods between his asscheeks.

“Tiny… cute…” 555 says. “Dojega. Make some noise for me.”

“Uh, ah ahhh, ooooh,” Dokja says, very convincingly. “Aaaaa, oooh-hhngh!” he gasps for real as 555 wiggles the finger inside him with surprising dexterity and brushes his prostate. His body gives a jolt and trembles rather pathetically on 555's palm as 555 fucks him with his pinkie.

Dokja is pretty sure the length of 555’s cock is taller than he is at the moment. He wraps his arms and legs around it, and 555 starts thrusting into that small space. It’s probably the most absurd thing he’s done so far in this sexual journey, and the strangest ride of his life.

"It's not enough," 555 says.

Dokja squeezes around his cock even harder. "Are you sure?" he yells back.

"Don't you have that skill?"

"What s— ohhh," Dokja realizes. Like a light switch turning on, Electrification is activated, and 555 hisses as blue-white lightning starts sparking around Dokja's body.

It burns even brighter, like the spark beginning the universe. Kyrgios would be proud of how Dokja has internalized his teachings, but maybe not so proud if he knew what Dokja was using them for at the moment. He faintly registers 555’s fingers encircling his body, and holding him right in front of his cock. Dokja lets go, and the electric current follows him in a trail of sparks. Amongst the brightness, Dokja opens his eyes. "Is it—"

Spurt. Something hits Dokja, heavy and wet, all over his forehead and— suddenly it's like a rainstorm, cum gushing out everywhere, covering Dokja in so many strings of thick white. The lightning fizzles out.

"Oh.." 555's cum is all over him. "This is a bit…" He’s still dangling in 555’s hold, placed in front of 555’s still-leaking cock.

555 makes him lick it all off afterwards. It takes a while— cleaning off 555’s cock and the rest of the cum on 555’s fingers. He’s still in his Miniaturized form, cum covering him like a veil, all over his hair and skin.

“Again.”

For the first time, Dokja starts to regret choosing the path of Miniaturization.

[555/1864 tasks complete!]

666

Yoo Joonghyuk's presence has always been large, but this is almost like getting caught by someone while in Miniaturization mode. Kim Dokja is his normal Incarnation body size, and 666 has used Giant Body Transformation. 666 towers above him, but he doesn’t look ridiculous. Instead he looks like a statue of a god, fit for a temple.

666's face looks even more flawless enlarged. There’s an absence of pores, smooth tan skin and those sharp eyes cut from gemstones. Not a hair from his dark eyebrows is out of place. This is decidedly not the small, fun-shaped kkoma that had bounced around indignantly after Dokja stole his phone from him. Dokja stares at his outrageous handsomeness, dumbfounded.

"I heard from the others that you're still tight."

Dokja blinks. "Unfortunately."

The smirk of 666's face is magnified sexiness. "Good."

He unzips his pants. Dokja's heart thumps with anticipation.

Oh.

It's definitely Yoo Joonghyuk's cock. Shaped the same way, even how it curves up when fully erect, flaring at the tip where it's slightly swollen, beading with precum. There’s a vein that runs around the length like vine on a marble column. Yoo Joonghyuk's dick is either a national treasure or holy entity.

Only thing is, it's three times larger than usual.

Kim Dokja, faced with the impossibility of the situation, buries his face in his hands.

…

It goes in eventually.

At this point of the regressions, Yoo Joonghyuk's sword was skillful enough to cut through a mountain in one stroke. Dokja feels like he's been split open similarly. When 666 comes inside of him, it's like a river coursing through a valley, a dam overflowing. A real calamity. Dokja's ass will most likely never recover.

[666/1864 tasks complete!]

700 / 800

700, thankfully, is a normal size. He doesn’t spare Dokja though, and he descends upon Dokja like a storm, fucking him with Transcendence, thrusting into him faster than the speed of sound as if he wants to carve out Dokja like he does with all the other stars in the sky.

They're joined by 800, who receives Dokja’s limp body by the time 700 is done with him. 700 and 800 have a short, but very terrifying discussion. Dokja is so done for.

"Ah, seriously," Dokja complains. "Double penetration? I can't take that much."

"Didn't 666 prepare your body?"

Dokja’s hole is loose enough now that he doesn’t need any prep before sex. But still! It’s a small hole.

“And I just fucked you,” 700 says. He takes Dokja back from 800. “Fool.”

800 frowns, as if his toy was taken away. The two Yoo Joonghyuks glare at each other silently. Dokja, caught in the crossfire, can only imagine the terrible argument that would ensue if one of them were to speak now. He quickly agrees to the double penetration plan for world peace.

700 goes first again, his cock entering Dokja’s freshly-fucked hole easily. Dokja whimpers. He lays on top of 700, and feels 800 settle above himself, sandwiching him between the two men.

700's cock is already snugly locked inside Dokja's hole. 800's cock slowly forces its way in.

"Relax," both of them say at once. Dokja stifles a laugh but he tries relaxing the tension in his muscles in order to accommodate both of their insufferably big cocks into his ass. After some time, Dokja has softened enough that 800 can thrust all the way in.

Dokja feels full to the brim with cock. There’s a slight bulge in his abdomen from where their cocks have distended his body. For all their hostility towards each other, 700 and 800 work together well, their cocks sliding in and out of Dokja in tandem, sometimes alternating rhythms so Dokja’s prostate gets mercilessly battered without end. They both explode into Dokja at the same time, filling him up with more cum than ever before.

[700/1864 tasks complete!]

[800/1864 tasks complete!]

999

999’s form is breathtaking. He’s still wearing his eyepatch over his missing eye, but he’s also retained his other injuries, a lost left arm and right leg. He looks weathered, but not the slightest bit defeated. His one eye shines brightly, like he’s still chasing after the stars.

When he speaks, his tone is light. “Did you like me better as a Murim dumpling?”

“No,” Dokja whines, plopping down next to 999 on the bed. “I like you best like this. Though you were cute as a kkoma.”

“Cute?”

“Mhm. Prickly, but so nice… Did I ever thank you for accompanying me through the Journey to the West?”

999 huffs. “If this is your idea of thanks…”

“It’s not a very good way, but I thought it would help let you all take out your frustrations on me. Since an apology wouldn’t mean much.”

“You think sex remedies everything?”

“No, that’s absurd.” Dokja pauses. “But I think we would’ve gotten along well regardless.” 999 feels like an old friend. Perhaps it’s the time they’ve spent together, just a drop in the great Star Stream, or maybe their similar ideology. 999 was the pinnacle of the hero Dokja admired, sacrificing for the greater good, disregarding the personal cost of it. Dokja had followed that very way of living to protect the people he loved.

“I think you’re right,” 999 says slowly.

“I know you’re capable,” Dokja’s words come out in a rush. “But I want to, for you. I want to do this for you.”

999 nods his consent and Dokja clambers onto 999’s lap. 999’s eye flashes gold.

“Kim Dokja?”

Dokja is hugging 999 tightly. “Suddenly I...” He’s not sure why he’s gotten so flustered all of a sudden, like he’s just been granted a night with a hopeless crush. But he is sure 999 can feel his heartbeat against his chest, loud and fast.

He’s clumsier than he should be this far into the sub scenario, but 999 is patient as he waits for Dokja, and when Dokja finally slides down on him, it feels like something clicking into place. Just as tightly as Dokja clutches onto him, 999 holds Dokja tightly too. 999's one arm is sure and steady, his heavily scarred hand warm and comforting on Dokja's skin.

“You were my favorite, you know?” His voice breaks, and the tears start falling while he’s rocking back and forth on 999’s lap.

He can’t see 999’s expression since he’s hugging him, face buried in 999’s shoulder, but he feels 999 stiffen at Dokja’s words, and then relax again. 999 inhales Dokja's scent, breath ghosting out across Dokja's shoulder blades.

“Do you usually cry this much during sex?”

Dokja wipes his eyes. “I’m not crying.” 999 stays silent.

“I think. It's just, I got luckier than you."

“I like your story,” 999 tells him. His voice is gentle.

“Do you?”

“All of it,” 999 promises. Dokja realizes that 999 isn’t resentful that Dokja has succeeded his failures, instead, he’s thankful that he had the chance to witness a round where his philosophy triumphed.

999 kisses him softly. Dokja holds him even closer.

[999/1864 tasks complete!]

1114

1114 holds up a pair of cat ears.

“... I already did that.”

Wordlessly, he brings out bunny ears. Dokja frowns. “That too.”

“I’ve done basically everything at this point. One of you sick bastards had a hyung kink. I had to call him hyung even though I’m older than him.” Dokja pauses with a shudder.

1114 doesn’t look fazed. “Have you done doctor roleplay yet?”

“That was 980.”

“Petplay?”

“1089.”

“Schoolgirl skirt?”

“What is wrong with all of you— yes, I already did that!” Dokja wants to break down sobbing. “... I can do it again if you want.”

“... Can I just fuck you.”

“Yes please.”

Dokja still ends up wearing a cheongsam, black silk with red detailing. Halfway through taking him from behind 1114 makes him change into a white one, and they fuck against the wall instead.

“I thought you didn’t like white?”

“You look good in it though.” Dokja’s cock tents the front of the silk fabric between his legs. There are bite marks along his thighs where the slits in the dress reveal his skin. “It’s the color of a Western wedding dress.” 1114 scoops up a wobbly-kneed Dokja and bridal carries him to the bed. He restrains Dokja’s wrists above his head and kisses him hard.

“You’re saying this is our honeymoon,” Dokja deadpans. Damnit, these delusional men and their twisted fantasies. The silk shifts over his cock and it throbs traitorously.

1114 grins. “You haven’t been married yet, right?” He slams into Dokja again, knocking into his prostate until Dokja answers the affirmative.

“Call me hyung.”

“Bastard! I swear—”

[1114/1864 tasks complete!]

1268 / 1355 / 1420 / 1534 / ????

One Yoo Joonghyuk at a time is hard enough to handle. The later regressions now come at him in groups of more than three. Sometimes they line up to use Dokja one by one, other times they fuck and torment Dokja together. A few times they tie Dokja up, so he’s helpless with no escape from the pleasure they inflict on him.

Dokja looks like he's barely breathing. He's no longer being neat with his mouth, there's cum leaking from the corners of his mouth, dribbling down his chin all messy and mixed with saliva. There's some running down the pale column of this throat.

1268 watches Dokja swallow, his Adam's apple moving almost painfully. He wipes the cum off Dokja's neck with one finger and holds the finger to Dokja's lips. Dokja turns his head to the side and his expression crumples, but he parts his lips anyways and licks the cum off of 1268's hand.

Behind him, 1534 thrusts deep into his ass, sending a jolt through his body, sparks arcing up his spine when the tip of his cock prods against his prostate. 1355 and 1420 are on either side of Dokja, their cocks heavy in his palms. He jerks them sloppily— and all he wants to do is flop onto the bed but he keeps going— a few insistent thumb brushes later and 1355 and 1420 are both climaxing, cum landing on Dokja’s hair and skin.

He collapses on the bed, smearing cum everywhere, and 1420 continues to fuck into his lax body until Dokja’s hole has been filled with cum again. The door opens, and the scenario windows pop up before Dokja’s tired eyes once more. Another wave has come.

[1245/1864 tasks complete!]

[1301/1864 tasks complete!]

[1479/1864 tasks complete!]

[..../1864 tasks complete!]

[1862/1864 tasks complete!]

1863

“You’re not wearing white today.”

“You know I don’t like white,” the Secretive Plotter says, brushing off Dokja’s teasing. He cuts straight to the chase. “The First Scenario. I was intrigued with how you solved the scenario, the people you saved and those you didn’t. Physically weak, but with so much resolve in your eyes.”

“So… you want to see me like how I was before I boosted my physical stats?”

The Secretive Plotter smiles. “You are sometimes clever.”

“Only sometimes, huh.”

He starts stripping. It almost feels like peeling off another layer of clothes when he removes all his stat buffs to revert to his original form. He keeps his stamina high though, having a feeling that he might need it.

Dokja thought he would’ve gotten used to it since the Miniaturization fiasco, but he feels strangely more vulnerable here being so small next to the Secretive Plotter. Dokja looks at the Secretive Plotter’s body, holding his breath. He quickly looks away. “You’re going to break me,” he mutters.

“I won’t,” the Secretive Plotter says, reaching out a hand to turn Dokja’s head so he’s facing him again. He pulls Dokja into him, arms eclipsing Dokja’s narrow shoulders.

Dokja is definitely going to be bent in half. He blushes all the way to the tips of his ears.

Dokja sits on the Plotter’s thighs, back flush to his chest. His senses are dialled up high, just the Plotter’s breath on the back of his neck feels like he’s been touched. He bows his head slightly, since it’s unavoidable, but he shivers and cries out anyway when the Plotter bites his nape. It’s only the back of his neck but he’s already being made a mess of, little moans and exhalations as the Plotter nuzzles him there.

“—Ah-h!” The Secretive Plotter pinches one of Dokja’s nipples and then starts playing with both of them. He continues to bite Dokja’s sensitive neck while he rubs Dokja’s nipples, flicking at them until Dokja’s breathing goes ragged. The stimulation makes Dokja squirm, and his ass grinds against the Plotter’s cock.

When he's finally sheathed on the Secretive Plotter's cock, the Plotter starts jerking him off as well, his large long-fingered hand enveloping Dokja's cock, pumping it as he fucks Dokja.

Dokja's had a lot of things fit in his ass by now, and this position isn’t new to him. But from what he remembers, this one has a higher success rate of hitting his prostate every thrust. That, coupled with the Plotter playing with his cock, makes his orgasm feel like a firecracker hit him. The immense pleasure brings immediate tears to his eyes, and the heat spreads through his body like a wildfire. He comes, shaking, and the Plotter sets him down.

Dokja had expected the Secretive Plotter to be bitter, to be rough with Dokja, or maybe even be unwilling to have sex with him. But instead the Secretive Plotter is indulgent and careful with him, almost embarrassingly so.

He stares at the large, prominent scar on the side of the Plotter’s face.

“Are you still upset that I didn’t choose you as my Sponsor?”

“I’m not upset,” the Secretive Plotter says calmly. “But it would’ve been nice. I heard sex feels quite good between a Constellation and an Incarantion with a connection.”

Dokja coughs. “That’s terrible.” He rolls to the side. “By the way, you haven’t come in me yet.”

Wordlessly, the Plotter grabs Dokja’s waist and starts again. This time, he’s facing Dokja. His eyes are still sharp, but they seem to be looking elsewhere, either at something he can’t reach, or a faraway place to distance himself from Dokja.

Dokja knows they both hate the guilt festering in Dokja’s heart. So he tries to close himself off for the Secretive Plotter’s sake. But it’s hard to, when it’s Yoo Joonghyuk’s face, and when his touch is so tender.

Eventually, the Secretive Plotter does come inside of him. He doesn’t ask for another round. After cleaning up Dokja he leaves, shoulders strangely bare of either white or black coat.

It’s far from closure. But Dokja had made him a different promise. And he intends on fulfilling it.

[1863/1864 tasks complete!]

1864

The ending is almost anticlimactic. Yoo Joonghyuk, his from the 1864th regression, waits on the bed for him after his shower. He patiently collects Dokja into his arms, and doesn’t mention anything about Dokja taking a while to blow dry his hair. Dokja slides up close against his body, resting his head sweetly against his chest.

“So, how do you want me?” The words leave Dokja’s lips easily. He’s said them at least a thousand times.

Joonghyuk stares at him. His hand touches the side of Dokja's head, where his hair is soft, and shifts down to cradle his face. Dokja leans into the touch. “What do you want?”

“Huh?” Dokja looks at him blankly. “Me?”

Joonghyuk represses a deep sigh.

“Well… I haven’t really thought about it? I mean, I’m doing this for all of you, so I don’t really mind—”

“Did you like it?”

“It felt good.”

His heart flutters. Joonghyuk’s face is so familiar to him, from the outward impassiveness to the placement of faint scars. There’s an expression on that face he can’t read but he can understand. It’s strange to know that Joonghyuk cares for him now.

Joonghyuk kisses him, and their lips meet softly, tongues pressing against each other, gentle and relaxed. Slowly, he pushes Dokja down onto the bed. They sink into the mattress together, and then Joonghyuk parts from him, hovering above Dokja without touching him.

“Tell me what you want,” Joonghyuk says again.

“I like seeing your face,” Dokja starts slowly. “And kisses.” Joonghyuk kisses his lips again, soft little ones on his cheeks and jawline and neck, each one careful and reverent.

“Okay. I’ll do it facing you then.”

Dokja makes up his mind. It’s not like he has to choose just this once. He has Joonghyuk forever. “Can I sit on your lap?”

They maneuver a bit awkwardly so Dokja can sit on him. Joonghyuk is already hard. Dokja thinks he may have had enough cock for a lifetime, but his heart still beats faster at the feel of it pressing against the back of his thigh. He wraps his legs tighter around Joonghyuk’s waist.

“You can just put it in.”

Joonghyuk pauses, hands still prying apart Dokja’s butt to finger him. “Why is your hole already wet? You didn’t lube it yourself?”

“....... It’s a side effect from everything. I’m… self-lubricating now?”

“That’s bullshit.”

Dokja agrees, but he likes arguing with Joonghyuk. “It happened because we were all too lazy to use lube. Anyways, it makes things more convenient for everyone.”

“It’s just us now.”

“Just fuck me already.”

Joonghyuk kisses him again, and at the same time, lifts Dokja up to slam him down on his cock. The moment Dokja starts moving his own hips, Joonghyuk tightens his grip on Dokja’s waist, forbidding any further movement. “Let me do it.”

Dokja lets him. Letting go of control comes easily to him now, but he’s surprised with how good Joonghyuk is with him— what pace to set and when to kiss him.

Joonghyuk knows him best. It’s kind of a terrifying thought, that someone he’s read for over a decade could come to know Dokja just as well as he knows his protagonist. At the same time, Dokja feels safe. Like he doesn’t need to plan and think in three steps ahead for what to say and do.

“The sub-scenario is going to end soon.”

Dokja groans. “It’s been so long, I forgot there was an end to it.”

“We can still do it tomorrow.”

“You make it seem like I’m sex addicted.”

“Aren’t you?”

Dokja just smiles at him. “Let’s do it again tomorrow, Joonghyuk-ah.”

Up close Dokja can see it again— the curve of Joonghyuk’s lashes, his straight dark brows, slight upturn of the lips as he gazes down at Dokja— all these things that Dokja can revisit. The familiar, warm flutter in his chest, this feeling he can hold onto.

[1864/1864 tasks complete!]