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Yoo Joonghyuk. That bastard.
Kim Dokja should’ve had better foresight. He should’ve known to not entangle himself with the protagonist of this damn story. He should’ve taken his transmigration into this world as a type of extended leave from work—and lived his days in the countryside, basking in the sun and reading the history novels this world had to offer.
Instead, he’d run into the protagonist as soon as he’d transmigrated, that handsome visage too difficult to ignore. Even through the grime of everything, and the bloodstained black clothes, drenching all in an unending sanguine, Kim Dokja knew immediately who it was.
How could he not recognize Yoo Joonghyuk? That handsome face, and a body that resembled the statues of old, carved in marble with only a chisel and all the time in the world, had practically screamed the look of a protagonist to him. And somehow, this protagonist, had landed square on Kim Dokja’s doorstep—a cabin in the middle of the woods.
He’d only known of his status as some side character in the novel—some sort of practitioner of magic—irrelevant for a decent majority of it, before he’d heard a ruckus outside. It had shaken his cabin walls, enough to make his windows tremble and the tableware on his countertop to clink, and so… it was only natural for Kim Dokja to investigate it.
And, his luck seemed to be especially terrible, with the ruckus being exactly what he didn’t want to see.
Half-dead and seeping with what appeared to be tar, Yoo Joonghyuk was in a… less than ideal state, to say the least. Blood dripped out from his forehead readily, drenching his face in a red that rendered him nearly unrecognizable.
Despite common sense telling him to do otherwise, Kim Dokja dragged Yoo Joonghyuk’s half-dead body into his cabin, treating him for the next week. Bandages, herbs, and magic spells he’d hastily learned from the spellbooks scattered around his house—it was nothing close to the peaceful retreat he’d imagined when finally getting away from work. Lots of wandering had led him to healing Yoo Joonghyuk enough for the bastard to finally blink his eyes open one fateful day.
“Hey—” Kim Dokja called out.
But before he could get a solid response, he was attacked by the patient he’d so carefully attended to in the past few days.
“My sister.” Yoo Joonghyuk had gripped his collar with a single hand, choking him out. “Where is she.”
Kim Dokja could only sputter in his grasp, heaving all the air he could down into his lungs before Yoo Joonghyuk had punched him in the stomach once more. Another punch, and another wheeze, Kim Dokja could do nothing but take the brunt of his assault.
After a few more impacts, and after almost passing out, he was able to clear up the misunderstanding with Yoo Joonghyuk. The least that bastard could do was look apologetic, and apologetic he was, with his head down akin to a kicked puppy.
Speaking with Yoo Joonghyuk elucidated him to where exactly he had landed in the story. For some damn reason, it must’ve been somewhere around the middle of it—definitely a quarter of the way through. It was likely that his sister had gotten caught up with the demon attacks out there, somehow stranded far away from her brother—a divergence from the original novel.
As soon as Yoo Joonghyuk had figured that out, his immediate action was to try to step out of Kim Dokja’s doorway, despite bandages still covering a great majority of his body. In time, Kim Dokja managed to grasp onto his arm, dragging his injured form back to bed.
“Stay,” Kim Dokja choked out. His damn body still hurt, with how much Yoo Joonghyuk had punched him, but he still couldn’t let this bastard leave. No, not when it threatened his future in this world. Yoo Joonghyuk had to remain healthy and alive before the next part of the story—when he would trash the Demon King of Rage and Lust’s hideout, banishing him for once and for all.
So Yoo Joonghyuk was kept like an injured dog in Kim Dokja’s humble abode.
It wasn’t a great living arrangement—Kim Dokja’s little cabin-slash-hut thing was a little shabby, and having an alpha and an omega live under one roof was precarious. Still, Kim Dokja managed to make it work—and with Yoo Joonghyuk’s amazing cooking, and his handsome face, Kim Dokja grew to enjoy his mornings.
And yet… Kim Dokja’s terrible luck didn’t seem to improve, no matter what had happened.
“The envoys are close,” Yoo Joonghyuk says.
Connecting to the communication network used by the nobles wasn’t a difficult feat. The original owner of Kim Dokja’s body was a skilled spellcaster, allowing for Kim Dokja to connect the knights that had fended off the demons for weeks to their precious Northern Archduke.
It’d been several weeks of this, staying with Yoo Joonghyuk, enjoying his delicious meals, taking quick whiffs of his scent. Kim Dokja had known it’d end soon, but this… wasn’t it too soon?
Kim Dokja looks up from the book he’s reading. Yoo Joonghyuk is looking at him with lowered eyes, something indescribable bubbling within those pupils. If Kim Dokja were a little more foolish, he’d deem it a sense of regret.
“You’ll be able to see your sister soon, then, Joonghyuk-ah,” Kim Dokja replies. Rocking back and forth on the chair, he buries his face in his book, if only to hide his expression. “Aren’t you excited? You can take something before you leave. A souvenir of sorts. Rummage through the cabinet in the kitchen, and you’ll find something that you like.”
“Kim Dokja.”
Nearly jumping up straight from surprise, Kim Dokja looks up from his book to see Yoo Joonghyuk peering down on him.
“You’ve been hiding something from me.”
“Hiding…” Kim Dokja swallows. “Hiding what? I don’t have anything to hide, do I? You’ve seen everything there is in my house.”
Shakily, Kim Dokja places the book on the armrest of his chair, face-down on the page he had last been reading. He stands up, and grabs onto Yoo Joonghyuk’s sleeve.
“Come on, Joonghyuk-ah.” He smiles hollowly. “There’s nothing I have to hide. We can go into my kitchen and search together for a souvenir, alright? Just… don’t try to kill me again.”
Dragging Yoo Joonghyuk along, Kim Dokja manages to convince himself that he can get out of this. That he’s successfully gotten Yoo Joonghyuk to turn a blind eye to the obvious thing he’s been hiding these few weeks.
But, when Yoo Joonghyuk glares him down as soon as they enter the kitchen, advancing towards him with terrifying speed, Kim Dokja knows he’s absolutely screwed.
“You’re a demon, Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk breathes, a gust fluttering against Kim Dokja’s fringe. “How long did you plan on hiding this from me?”
Kim Dokja gulps. Shit.
The side character Kim Dokja had transmigrated to had been a demon. A half-demon, courtesy of his fantasy father. This fact was what had led to his death in the original novel, too. When Yoo Jonghyuk had found himself taken in by the original Kim Dokja, he’d been with his sister. The original Kim Dokja helped treat them back to a relatively healthy state, buttering them up now and then. Only when the bastard had tried to poison his sister did Yoo Joonghyuk make mincemeat of his body, throwing his remains into the ocean.
Kim Dokja’s character was a throwaway one, meant to emphasize how demons were innately bad, how their characters couldn’t change—even if they had human blood coursing through their veins. And despite having done none of that this time, Kim Dokja still had to pay the consequences for it, it seemed.
“Yoo Joonghyuk, uh!” His back is pushed towards a wall as Yoo Joonghyuk strides forth, his glower deepening. “Wait, wait… You don’t have to do this, alright? You can take everything I have. You can even take me hostage. Just—”
“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk growls. His scent seeps into the air, heating up Kim Dokja’s body. Uncomfortably warm, and crammed in between both Yoo Joonghyuk and a wall, he has no choice but to bide out his time and gulp.
“You fool.”
And that, a single sentence from Yoo Joonghyuk, is all the warning Kim Dokja gets before a small warmth blossoms between his lips.
Huh…?
Yoo Joonghyuk’s tongue slips between his parted lips, taking full advantage. Kim Dokja can’t breathe, as soon as Yoo Joonghyuk licks at his tongue, sucking at it, pulling everything away.
Huh? Huh? Huh?
What the fuck?
“Yoo Joonghyuk!” Kim Dokja pants. “What… You—”
“Idiot,” Yoo Joonghyuk grumbles. “You hid something this miniscule from me. Yet, you flaunt your scent like it’s nothing. Kim Dokja, were you trying to seduce me?”
Kim Dokja is rendered immediately speechless.
Seduce? What nonsense had this bastard been thinking up these past few weeks?
Kim Dokja had only been scenting everything because it was his first time as a damn omega! What the hell was this bastard thinking? It wasn’t because Yoo Joonghyuk was hot and exactly his type…
Well, it wasn’t entirely that. It was just… difficulty in adjusting to this new world, adjusting to his new body, and figuring out what the hell he was supposed to do now that his entire life as he knew it had fundamentally changed. Keeping his scent reeled in was at the bottom of his priority list, and that’s why he’d done only the bare minimum to keep it hidden.
With Yoo Joonghyuk around—with the skills of restraint he’d shown in the novel, and with his disinterest in the matters of sex, Kim Dokja had mistakenly thought that Yoo Joonghyuk wouldn’t have been affected.
But if he knew that he would’ve pounced on him like this—eyes glimmering with hints of a refulgent gold—Kim Dokja would’ve done all he could to keep Yoo Joonghyuk happy.
Before Kim Dokja can muster up a response, Yoo Joonghyuk pounces again. Those lips, on his own, on the crook of his neck, on the now-exposed skin of his collarbone as Yoo Joonghyuk strips him deftly—it prompts weak gasps to escape from Kim Dokja’s mouth, sharp groans and low moans to permeate the air. Kim Dokja, taking in gulps of Yoo Joonghyuk’s scent, only finds out it’s a terrible idea when his entire body has grown too hot for him to deal with alone, when Yoo Joonghyuk has already shed him of his pants, his bare cunt out in full view.
Kim Dokja blinks slowly, his mind lagging behind as he tries to process everything. Before he can, though, Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand glides across his soaked cunt, grazing right over his sensitive clit.
“Your slick,” Yoo Joonghyuk murmurs in awe. “You must’ve wanted this for long, Kim Dokja.”
“Wh-what…?”
Dazedly, Kim Dokja only snaps out of it when Yoo Joonghyuk slips his cock between his thighs, sliding in with almost no resistance, length searing against his clit.
“Hey…” Kim Dokja gasps. “Hey, Joonghyuk—uh! We… uh, nh, ah—! We can talk this out…”
“We don’t need to talk,” Yoo Joonghyuk breathes. He slides in between his thighs once more, again and again, that same teasing pressure flicking right against his clit, grazing over his needy entrance—until Kim Dokja can think of nothing except Yoo Joonghyuk’s cock finally sliding into him, that stretch pervading his entire body.
“Tell me,” Yoo Joonghyuk grunts. “You want this, don’t you, Kim Dokja?”
Kim Dokja keeps his lips stubbornly shut. This bastard—this prick. Fuck.
He wouldn’t succumb to this bastard’s teasing, no matter how desperate he is. No, he couldn’t—
Another slip against his clit sends Kim Dokja reeling, and before he knows it, a sharp keen escapes his mouth. The end of it is muffled, but it’s not muffled in time, and it becomes abundantly clear that Yoo Joonghyuk had heard him. Perfectly clear, in fact.
A small chuckle rumbles from Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest, and Kim Dokja feels as if he’s finally gone insane.
“I can smell it,” Yoo Joonghyuk says. “How much you want this. How much you’re begging for it. Kim Dokja, speak.”
Bastard, he thinks. Fuck. This fucking bastard.
He never should’ve taken Yoo Joonghyuk in. He should’ve fed this guy’s entire body to the sharks, should’ve thrown him off the cliff near his cabin. He shouldn’t have kept this bastard alpha near him if he planned on doing this all along.
“If you won’t speak,”—Yoo Joonghyuk slides between his thighs once more, that infuriating pressure increasing against his cunt, tightening within his belly—“then, I’ll simply fuck it out of you.”
“What—” Kim Dokja manages, but it’s all but punched out of him, along with the air in his lungs, as Yoo Joonghyuk’s cock rams straight into his pussy, entering him in one fell swoop.
His legs nearly give way, though, as usual, Yoo Joonghyuk is quick on his feet, and even quicker with the instincts that have been honed into him throughout years of assassination attempts. A hand grasps Kim Dokja’s back, and inadvertently, Kim Dokja feels him sink even deeper onto Yoo Joonghyuk’s cock.
“Fuck—ah, hn, ah—!”
This bastard wastes no time at all, manhandling Kim Dokja up, until he’s barely stretching Kim Dokja, and slamming back down, breaching his womb with no resistance at all. Kim Dokja feels his grip on sanity slipping, his mind abuzz, the thrusts hitting him harder than a punch straight to the gut.
Repetitively, slaps and squelches of their obscene clash, along with the harsh pants of Yoo Joonghyuk’s heaving breaths mixing with his own, send Kim Dokja’s body so lax he practically sinks into the kitchen wall. He breathes, heaves, but nothing seems to flow down into his lungs. Only the scent of Yoo Joonghyuk remains, sticking to everything, laving against his own tongue, tightening the coil screaming for release within the recesses of his stomach.
He’s moved, shifted into the strangest positions possible, until Yoo Joonghyuk is finally taking him fully from behind. Whispers of good, so tight, and so good for me, Kim Dokja, slip out, loud into the still air, but Kim Dokja’s mind has shattered into more pieces than he could possibly pick up, unable to process anything except this overwhelming pleasure. He only comes back to a state of half-lucidity when Yoo Joonghyuk’s breath splays hot against his nape, his scent gland.
“You’re mine,” Yoo Joonghyuk growls. “Aren’t you?”
His nose swipes over Kim Dokja’s nape again, again, and once more, and despite himself, his body sinks deeper into Yoo Joonghyuk’s hold, deeper onto his cock.
An uncharacteristically loud sound rips from his throat as he feels him repeat that subtle motion. In the pit of his stomach, something burbles, uncomfortably as Yoo Joonghyuk grows close to that spot, before retreating suddenly, taking to fucking Kim Dokja’s womb with as much force as he could muster.
Fear. It’s fear, Kim Dokja reasons.
But it can’t be entirely fear, with his pathetic body craving for it, screaming for Yoo Joonghyuk’s fangs to release, to latch onto his nape.
His body wins in the end, soon enough. Another thrust, and Yoo Joonghyuk’s face grows close to his nape again. He can feel a tongue lave over that damn spot on his neck, can feel Yoo Joonghyuk’s fangs scrape against it, before—
Squirting pathetically, Kim Dokja only cries as fangs dig deep into his nape, his mind sputtering, electrocuted by this overstimulating pleasure. It should be painful, this claiming, but Kim Dokja’s vision nearly blacks out from the snap within his stomach, the dam breaking in the face of pressure, a wave coursing throughout his entire body. He falls limp in Yoo Joonghyuk’s grasp, and he’s shifted until he’s supported by Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulder, his nose taking deep breaths of Yoo Joonghyuk’s scent by the crook of his neck.
“Beside me,”—Yoo Joonghyuk runs a hand through Kim Dokja’s sweaty hair, rubbing smoothly along the small of his scalp—“you’ll stay beside me, Kim Dokja. Forever.”