#omniscient reader x reader

[3smos]

warning: drabble. dom reader. sub character. gender neutral. slight pet play.

Yoo Joonghyuk is a dog. A feral one. He holds his own leash and his collar holds no name. He's a stray who tells himself he won't come back, only to return with his tail between his legs.

"Why're you back?" He glares at you, weakly, but he tries his best.

"Say it." You spat out, slapping his cock lightly. He jerks violently, yet his back arches into you, clinging onto you.

Aw. He likes you.

"Y-you're the only one who can make me...-" Joonhyuk sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as he eyes roll into the back of his head, pleasure overwhelming his every sense. You yank at the roots of his hair, forcing his head back. "Hahhh- c-cum."

"I never let you finish, pup." You chide. There's no use in coming back if that's the case, which it is. Joonghyuk braces him when your slick covered hand pinches the tip.

He sucks in a sharp breath, his hands shooting out to grip onto your shoulders as his knees dig deeper into the mattress. "Fuck... mhhn- I always do, at the end of the day."

...

AHH IVE GOTTEN RUSTY!!

[jjhei-81]

Reader who was abandoned and founded by him.

Reader who followed them throughout the journey and gained a family along the way.

Reader who willingly let their family use them to progress.

Reader who seeks praise and affection only to be casted aside.

Reader who tries to catch up and lighten their family's load in the shadows, hidden in the darkness to let their siblings shine.

Reader who slowly faded into the background and forgotten.

Reader who gave up their everything for their family.

Reader who sacrificed themselves to save their family.

Reader who now lies somewhere where their body is not found.

Reader who's final words is a prayer that their family will be happy and safe.

Kim Dokja, Cale Henituse, Yoo Joonghyuk, Scaramouche, Wanderer, Astral Express family, Jing Yuan, + your faves!

a/n: uhhh enjoy?? I might or might not make a series or a one shot abt this lol

[missy4176]

Protective Instincts

Kim Dokja x Reader

Kim Dokja has always been someone who’s difficult to read, a man with a thousand faces hidden behind that ever-present, enigmatic smile. To most people, he’s an enigma, someone who effortlessly blends into the background, observing the world through his dull eyes as if he’s merely a bystander in his own life. But to you, the person he’s chosen to let in, he’s more than that. Beneath the layers of apathy and self-imposed distance, Kim Dokja harbors a deep, unyielding protective instinct—especially when it comes to you.

It’s not that you can’t defend yourself. You’ve proven time and again that you’re more than capable. The world you live in demands nothing less. The apocalypse, with its brutal trials and life-or-death scenarios, has honed your skills and instincts to a razor’s edge. Kim Dokja knows this; he’s seen you fight, seen you survive, and yet, despite that knowledge, there are moments when his concern for your safety overrides his typically detached demeanor.

The first time you notice it, you’re caught off guard. A sudden attack from a group of hostile survivors leaves you both cornered. You’re prepared, muscles tensed, ready to strike back, but before you can act, Kim Dokja moves. His body shifts instinctively, stepping in front of you, positioning himself as a shield. It’s a split-second decision, one that speaks volumes about his true feelings—feelings he often keeps buried deep within, masked by layers of self-loathing and detachment.

“Dokja, I can handle this,” you protest, even as you feel a flicker of warmth at his concern.

“I know,” he replies, his voice calm, almost too calm. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t protect you.”

His words are simple, matter-of-fact, but there’s an underlying intensity in his gaze, something that makes your heart skip a beat. It’s in these moments, when his guard is momentarily lowered, that you catch glimpses of the man beneath the mask—a man who, despite his best efforts, cares more than he’s willing to admit.

It doesn’t stop there. Whether it’s guiding you through dangerous terrain, subtly steering you away from potential threats, or using his quick wit and vast knowledge to outmaneuver enemies, Kim Dokja’s protective instincts manifest in various ways. Sometimes it’s subtle, like a quiet warning before you walk into a trap, his voice low and serious as he murmurs in your ear. Other times, it’s more overt, like when he pulls you out of harm’s way, his grip on your arm firm but not painful, his touch lingering a moment longer than necessary.

“Stay close,” he often says, his tone leaving no room for argument. It’s not a command, not exactly, but a plea disguised as practicality. And you listen, not just because it makes sense, but because you know it’s his way of showing he cares.

Kim Dokja isn’t a man of grand gestures. He won’t sweep you off your feet or shower you with flowery words of affection. He’s too guarded for that, too aware of the fleeting nature of happiness in a world that’s constantly trying to tear you apart. But his actions, the way he places himself between you and danger, the way his gaze sharpens when someone threatens you, speak louder than any words ever could.

There are times when you catch him watching you, his expression unreadable, but there’s a softness in his eyes, a rare tenderness that he doesn’t show to anyone else. In those moments, you realize that his protectiveness isn’t just about keeping you safe—it’s about holding on to the one thing in his life that makes him feel alive. You are his anchor, the person who reminds him that he’s not just a character in a story, but someone who deserves to live, to feel, to protect.

And so, you let him. You let him be your protector, even though you don’t need it, because you understand that it’s his way of showing he cares. You don’t push him away when he steps in front of you, don’t protest when he pulls you close in the midst of danger. Instead, you accept his protectiveness for what it is—a testament to the depth of his feelings, a reflection of the connection you share.

In the end, Kim Dokja’s protective instincts are just another facet of his complex personality. They’re a reminder that beneath the layers of detachment and cynicism, there’s a man who cares deeply, even if he doesn’t always know how to express it. And in a world where everything can be lost in an instant, that protectiveness becomes a lifeline, a quiet, unspoken promise that no matter what happens, he’ll always be there to protect you—even if it costs him everything.

[devdozes]

Hi, I saw your requests were open. I love your writing so much, would you mind writing a yoo joonghyuk x reader, with the trope enemies to lovers/temporary unrequited love and some hurt/comfort? It's completely alright if you don't wanna :)

cry.

hihi anon hope ur doin well, i hope this helps u a bit and this is modern au again:)

It started like any other day. You woke up late. Spilled coffee on your notes. Missed the first half of your lecture. The professor’s glare felt personal. It felt like he would actually fail you.

And to top it off, there he was. Yoo Joonghyuk is occupying your favorite spot in the library without even a glance in your direction.

He didn’t do it on purpose. Of course not. Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t care enough to do things on purpose to you.

And that's what pissed you the fuck off

You hated him. That was the arrangement, wasn’t it? You bickered during debates, shot each other glares across seminar rooms, and challenged each other on every academic point just to see who’d flinch first.

Only uh...you didn’t really hate him. You hated that you didn’t.

Because somewhere between his sharp arguments and sharper jawline, you’d developed the worst kind of attachment. The kind that bloomed silently. The kind that was all ache, no confession, and the kind that made you grow hope at even the slightest action towards you. The kind that made your chest tight whenever he narrowed his eyes at you. The kind that made today, of all days, unbearable.

So you didn’t go to the afternoon classes. You didn’t respond to messages. You wandered the campus, hollow and quiet like a ghost (one might even say that you look like one) and eventually ended up on the rooftop, watching clouds move too slowly, the wind too still.

You were tired of pretending. Of smiling. Of brushing off the ache in your ribs as if it wasn’t heartbreak trying to bloom inside you.

“Are you sulking?”

The voice snapped through your thoughts like a whip. Low, dry, unmistakable. And then you snapped your head towards where the voice came from. "Yeah, I'm trying to mimic you."

Yoo Joonghyuk stood just a few steps away, hands in his coat pockets, hair tousled like he’d been running or thinking too hard. His brows were furrowed, but not in annoyance. It felt like concern 😨

"Very funny."

You stared at him, unable to stop the words that spilled,

“Why are you here?”

“You weren’t in class.”

“So?”

“So I noticed.” He took a step forward.

Your throat tightened. “Why would you care?”

A pause. The wind shifted.

Then: “You looked like you were about to cry this morning.”

You froze.

“”

“You did,” he interrupted. “You always cover it up with sarcasm or silence, but today… it wasn’t the same.”

You turned away. “Whatever, just leave.”

“Why, though?” He asked in a uncharacteristically soft tone, which made you snap out.

“Because,” your voice cracked, bitter and breathless. “Because I like you, and you don’t like me back. And I’m tired of being your rival if you’re never going to see me as anything more than someone to one-up.”

The silence that followed was devastating. You hated it. You hated how you felt like you could fall down on your knees any moment, like your heart was bleeding out in the open.

Then you felt a warm hand closing around your wrist.

You looked down, heart beating so fast you felt like it might burst out any moment.

Yoo Joonghyuk was standing close now, too close. His grip was firm, grounding.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like you.”

"😨" His voice was quieter now, gentler. “You assume too much, fool.”

“Because you’re always cold to me.”

“You’re always provoking me.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “Because it’s the only way I could talk to you without doing stupid, Joonghyuk.”

He hesitated. Then slowly, he lifted his other hand, rough, scarred knuckles brushing against your cheek, like you were something fragile and precious

“I thought if I kept my distance, it would go away.” He lowered his gaze, a rare vulnerability creeping into his expression. “And...it didn't.”

You didn’t know who moved first. Maybe both of you did, but suddenly your arms were around his waist, and his were around your shoulders, pulling you close and burying his face in the crook of your neck. "Is this counted as a victory royale?" "Shut up, fool."

[minjubun]

hold mе like you'll never lеavе ✶ reuniting

۶ৎ in which… you and jihye have been seperated since the start of the scenarios. but, no matter how much time had passed, the two of you never crossed paths again. with every deadly trial, your hope of ever finding her starts to dwindle. until one day...

🎧 ྀི lee jihye x fem!reader hurt/comfort slight angst (more than slight tbh) est. relationship mentions of y/n ʚ 3.3k words ɞ you and jihye are part of a band bc i love guitarist jihye. and you have heartrender-esque powers. also you both are loser lesbians. sorry guys, i don't make the rules :p ─── ☘︎

“i can’t believe we’re going into our third year of high school soon,” you mused, leaning against the park bench. 

the music festival ended two hours ago, but you and jihye still hadn’t headed home yet. after your band finished packing up their instruments, the five of you had hung out around the food and game stalls before parting ways. jihye’s guitar was slung over her shoulders, tucked safely in its bag. you could still hear the faint melody of day6’s happy, the song your band had performed earlier in the day. 

the evening air blew gentle breezes your way, a soft caress after a hard working performance. 

at the mention of your last year of high school, jihye dropped onto the bench with a groan, setting her guitar to lean against the arm rest before dramatically falling onto your side, burying her face in your shoulder. “do not remind me of our approaching college entrance exam.” her voice came out muffled. “my mom’s already signed me up for csat lessons.” 

you chuckled at her words, shaking your head as your hand went to pat her head. “don’t worry, i’m dreading it, too. i don’t even know what colleges i want to apply to.”

“i thought you wanted to go to ewha womans university?” jihye looked up from her spot on your shoulder. 

“i do, but…” your gaze fell to your lap. “there’s gonna be hundreds of other girls trying to get in… i don’t think i’ll have any chance.”

jihye sat straight up, turning to face you. her eyes scan your dimmed figure, your fingers busy picking on your nails. taking one of your hands in hers, she brought your face back up with the soft touch of her other hand. “hey, you are the smartest girl i know. you’ve got more drive and ambition than half of the people in this school. you’re intuitive and know exactly how to deal with different situations. and, you know exactly what you want. people like you know how to play the cards in your favor. i have complete faith in you, y/nnie.”

you couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face, nor the warmth that spread throughout your chest despite the cool air. you threw your arms around her neck, burying your face in her chest. her thumb continued to stroke your hand, returning your embrace. “and besides complete faith, i have complete love and heart eyes for you.” jihye added as a gag. 

a snort of laughter came from you, your eyes turning into crescent moons at her awful attempt at flirting. though, you had to admit, it did take your mind off of the csat’s. 

“you’re a complete dork, you know?” you looked up at her. 

“as if me being part of a band wasn’t proof enough already.”

you softly shook your head before leaning in to kiss her jaw. 

her lips fell into a pout. “you missed.”

rolling your eyes at her words, you muttered, “needy girl,” as you went to press your lips against hers. letting out a small hum, jihye tilted her head as she returned the kiss. your hand lightly scratched the nape of her neck, tasting the left over soda on her lips. feeling jihye’s smile in the kiss, you pull away just to tease her, watching as she chased your lips with a coy smile. 

before she could start whining again, you kissed her lips one more time. the two of you sat there, staring at each other as you caught your breaths. 

“walk me home?” you asked softly. 

“of course.”

even though you were a few weeks shy of turning seventeen, the memory of high school felt like it had been decades ago. 

you thought it would be just another competition day, another one where you missed the last few periods of school to go attend the vocal competition your music teacher had recommended. it was supposed to be predictable; get to the venue, go on stage, wait until all the other contestants finished performing, hear the winners announcement, and then go home. 

but on your way home, the subway had turned into a bloodbath. a dokkaebi you had only ever seen in story books was suddenly floating in the air, telling you that in order to survive in this new world, you had to stain your hands. 

though, now that you were nearing the fifth scenario, perhaps your hands will always be covered in blood. 

the specks of crimson colored your face, clothes covered in dirt you hadn’t been able to remove for the past few days, and unkempt hair falling out of its braid. your eyes flicker over each face. the five men cornering you hardly looked like they were in better shape, since you had led them through quite a chase. each of them were holding various sorts of weapons, varying from all levels of sharpness and damage. though, compared to your abilities, their clubs and knives felt like child's play. 

when the man on your right lifted his wired club to strike, your hand shot out at him. 

[body manipulation, level 2 has been activated.]

the man froze in his spot, his chest slowly heaving as you gradually blocked his air ways. you focused your skill until the man crumpled on the spot. the other four goons were rooted in their place, their expression a mix of anger and fear as they stared at their choking ally. one of them managed to snap out of their stupor and lunged at you, which caused the other men to follow in suit. 

you jumped back before a blade could hit you, slipping through the side so you were no longer cornered. another man threw various punches, keeping you alert as you dodged and backed away. 

one man seemed to have thought it a good idea to pull your braid, dragging you for a moment as you stumbled over your steps. the pull on your roots caused you to wince, the flare of pain catching you off guard. you reached for the hand in your hair, turning around in his hold to spit on his face. when he let go of your hair in shock, you kicked the man right where it hurts and backed off.

you knew the fight wasn’t over yet, but your muscles had started to ache, even with your high stats. the four men already regrouped in front of you. you needed this fight to be over soon. 

raising both of your hands. you sensed for their windpipes, your powers making you aware of their ever expanding lungs. when you saw their movement to attack, you balled your hands into a fist, holding their lungs to a stop. you saw their faces contort with panic, every attempt they try to make for air only making their pain worse. one by one, the men fell unconscious, their weapons clattering on the pavement. once you had held their lungs back for thirty seconds, you unclenched your fists, freeing their organs from your restraint. 

heaving for air, you stumbled away from the scene, far enough so that when they eventually regained consciousness, you would be hidden from their line of sight. when you finally found a secluded street, you pressed your back against the wall and slid down, too exhausted to even bother to find your way back to your station group. not like they were any good either. 

you assumed you had traveled up north from where you had started in the first scenario. perhaps here was where you would finally see her. it’s been over a month since you last saw jihye and no matter how far you looked, you couldn’t find any signs of her. it’s like she had just disappeared when the world turned into hell. 

your eyes screwed shut at the thought of her. 

no, no, you couldn’t afford to think about her. not when you were exhausted and had used up much of your mana. not when you were unsafe in the middle of nowhere. you should probably— 

“what is your name?”

your eyes shot open as you tilted your chin up. a woman with brown hair was staring down at you. she wore a brown trench coat and looked to be in her forties. although you should’ve been thrilled seeing a woman after being chased down by a group  of men, all the warning signs went off in your head. 

your hand shot out, ready to activate your ability when her hand caught yours before you could do anything. 

“don’t. i don’t need you to close off my lungs too.” her grip was firm and you couldn’t read her, so you held your breath. then her words registered in your head. 

your eyes widened, pulling your hand away from her. “what? you saw me—”

“yes.” the woman cut you off. then, to your surprise, she leaned down and rested her weight on one knee. her eyes scanned you as if you were a front page of a newspaper, taking in your disheveled state. “are you alone?” she asked. 

letting out a ragged breath, you nodded your head tentatively. 

the barest glimpse of a smile graced her face. “i’m lee sookyung.”

well shit, if she was willing to give her name, then you’d have to give yours. 

at your brief introduction, she held out her hand to you. “come with us, then. a girl with as much grit as you will find a rightful place in our group.”

jihye never allowed herself a moment of distraction. especially when intruders kept clambering onto the island in search of a useless boon. she swung her katana against a man’s arm, slicing the limb clean off. cries of terror echoed through the vast island as the men scrambled away, leaving behind a rustle of leaves. 

letting out a small huff, she placed her free hand in her pocket and said, “why don’t you come out now?” 

turning to look back at kim dokja’s poor attempt at hiding, her brows raised at the red skull over his head. “what’s the use of hiding when you have the target mark on you.”

dokja flinched at the reminder, eventually turning around with his arms up in surrender. “are you going to kill me too?” he asked with a nervous smirk.

“i want to but i can't since that might make master sad.” she said with a shrug. “how have you been? not that i even need to ask.”

dokja started walking towards her. “i thought you went back to taepung girls’ high. what are you doing here?” 

“master came to get me a while back. i have no idea how he found me, though.”

“hmm…” dokja then fell into silence, seemingly thinking things over in his head. jihye watched him with waiting eyes. everyone had been separated at the end of the fourth scenario, sent to face their own personal trials thanks to the man in front of her. but facing her past unprovoked had been an unneeded revisit 

 “are you here with junghyeok?” dokja eventually asked. 

jihye blinked once, her jaw falling open. “huh? didn’t you come here knowing all that?”

“find him! he’s around here somewhere!” the voice of a man boomed, loud enough to carry over to the island. up ahead, two boats were nearing the island, presumably to hunt down dokja now that he had a bounty on his head. 

“but why did you bring those deadweights with you?” she asked, nodding at the boats. 

“to hunt down the catastrophe, of course,” dokja answered as if it were obvious. 

jihye’s brows shot up. “why? you don’t have to do that.”

“what?”

“you don’t have to fight the catastrophe. that’s what master said.”

dokja snapped his neck to turn toward her, eyes wide as if she had dunked his head in cold water and sprouted a dragon head from the back of her neck. 

without even bothering to reply to her, dokja dashed away in a sprint. 

jihye could only tilt her head as she watched his figure disappear. does he even know where master is…?

she looked away and shook her head. that would be his problem. her eyes then trailed back to the approaching boats. they would bring another wave of stupid people on their island, another boring fight she’d have to deal with. sighing to herself, she decided to have a short walk around this side of the island, just while she waited. 

it’s not like plants and greenery had ever piqued her interest, so she didn’t really know why she had chosen to do such a menial task. a small dot of red in the midst of the green did catch her eye, though. squatting down, she watched as a little lady bug made its way from leaf to leaf. 

you would have loved staring at the lady bug for hours, jihye thought. then her head shot up, eyes widening at her own thought. 

no, no, no! 

she repeatedly knocked the side of her head, closing her eyes in hopes of getting rid of that thought. now was not the time for jihye to be thinking about you. because if she did, she would be thinking about you all night, and tonight wasn’t one jihye can afford being distracted in. 

jihye felt herself slouching on the ground, staring at the bushes again. the lady bug was gone, just like you. 

no, jihye! she scolded herself. there was no guarantee that you were dead. but there was also no confirmation of your survival. after weeks of unsuccessful searching, all jihye had been able to do was miss you. oh how she desperately wanted to hope. but hope will only hurt her in the end, whether it was by reality or by time, that hope will be her achilles heel. 

and so she let herself sit in the worry for just a moment. just a moment for her to allow herself to think of you. 

with a sharp breath, she pushed herself to stand, awaiting the adversary boats that had just docked on their island. 

now, the sixth scenario awaits them on the other side of the horizon. jihye watched with a bored expression as the three kings fought in front of her. it was no fun when you could already predict who would win, so she simply let her mind wander from the scene. 

and as always, she always wandered back to you. 

her hands tensed at the thought. her eyes scanned the room. 

well, it’s not like she was going to be fighting any time soon, so she supposed thinking about you just for a few moments wouldn’t hurt. 

were you at yongsan station just like everyone else? you had to be. but there were just too many people for her to hope for the chance of catching you, of finding you in the crowd. 

maybe you weren’t even part of the scenarios. maybe you were stuck with horrible allies, confused and weak and unable to fight through the scenarios—

stop, stop! jihye scolded herself. she needed to assume that you were alive. she wouldn’t know how to live if you were dead. 

as dokja’s fight with the other kings wrapped up, the man approached their group. “you guys go ahead. i have some business to take care of.”

heewon nodded at his words. “all right. come on, guys.”

jihye, being the closest to the flap of the tent, turned around and went to open it, when another figure pushed the fabric aside and bumped into her.

“hey! watch where—”

“oh, i’m so sorry, i—”

jihye backed away at the familiar voice. blinking to clear her vision, she widened her eyes as it registered in her mind that she was standing face to face with… you. 

her voice came out uncertain. “y/n?”

your lips parted at the realization. “jihye…”

you looked different from when she last saw you. a red scarf was wrapped around your neck, the fabric softening your features from afar. your eyes appeared heavy, drooping when you would often wear a bright appearance, your cheeriness usually conveyed through your crescent moon eyes as you smiled. but now even your lips were downturned, dried and flaking, a small scar present on your chin. 

jihye felt like the world had turned into a fishbowl. everything around her seemed so muffled, she thought her eyes must be deceiving her. the you in front of her had to be a mirage, right? 

then an older female voice broke through the silence. “do we already have a response, y/n?”

that seemed to snap the both of you out of your trances. you blinked three times after you had heard your name, regaining your bearings as you stumbled aside from jihye. 

“ah, yes, we do,” you straightened up, walking over to the king of the wanderers with poise. “they said they couldn’t afford to spare any with the upcoming scenario, but…”

jihye almost didn’t want to leave. not without you. she wanted to grab your hand and drag you away. she needed to hug you, to hold you and make sure you were real. because she really, really didn’t want this to be a dream. 

but the rest of the group were staring at her, and she didn’t want to start a scene. so she took in a small breath before stepping across the entrance. white sunlight greeted her, but it only made her feel cold. she had just seen you again, yet she she was already walking away from you.

her ears heard hyeonseong say something, but the words couldn’t take shape in her mind. all she can think of was you. 

“jihye?” heewon’s worried voice managed to break through her stupor. 

the girl looked up and realized the rest of the group was already ahead. she gave a glance back to the tent mulling things over in her head. “i think… you guys should go ahead first. i’ll find you later, i promise.”

heewon nodded at her words, giving a small rub on her shoulder before continuing her steps. 

jihye stood there in front of the tent, waiting with bated breath for you to walk out. you couldn’t be in there for too long, not with dokja with his own agenda standing in the tent. 

soon, the tent flap rustled, and then you stepped out into the sun, the light bathing you in a soft glow. when you had finally noticed her staring, you stopped in the middle of your tracks, taking her in. 

then in a blur, you had tackled her into a hug. your arms clung around her waist as you buried your face in her shoulder, where it always was whenever the two of you had hugged. 

jihye returned the embrace just as fiercely, wrapping her arms around your shoulder as she pulled you in closer, if that was even possible. 

“you’re real, right?” she found herself whispering. 

a small chuckle escaped your lips. “of course i’m real, you dork.”

the two of you pulled away sooner than she would have liked. half of her still thinks that this was a dream, so she cupped your face in her hands, letting her thumb brush over the soft skin of your cheeks, the scar on your chin, and the edge of your lips. 

“i thought… i thought you might have died.” her voice came out smaller than she’d expected. 

your lips pressed into a small pout as you tilted your head. “did you have such little faith in me?”

jihye looked down with the huff of a laugh, shaking her head at your teasing. “i couldn’t find you for weeks. i searched everywhere i could but you were never there.”

“you were gone, too.”

“yeah,” she sighed, shifting her gaze to look at you again. “but i’m glad i found you now.”

your lips curled into a smile, one she so dearly missed. 

feeling a warmth creep up into her cheeks, she returned the smile sheepishly, a small request on the tip of her tongue. “can—can i kiss you?”

this time, you truly laughed at her. “do you even have to ask?”

a/n: i know the synopsis made it really dramatic bc they literally reunite before the 6th scenario so ig it's not thatt long since they've seen eo but yk it's basically been a million years since jihye and reader saw each other. this is like my longest fic yet on tumblr wkwkwk. idk how well this will do since jihye isn't very popular over on orv tumblr, but i hope the five jihye fans enjoyed it lol.

like & reblog for a kiss .ᐟ

[sillydestiny]

Headcanon: Dokja Being Jealous

- Dokja is typically a composed and rational individual, but when it comes to matters of the heart, especially concerning his significant other (reader), he can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy from time to time.

-One of Dokja's main triggers for jealousy is when he notices his significant other spending too much time with someone else, especially if that person happens to be charismatic or charming. While he trusts his partner, he can't help but feel a pang of insecurity, fearing that he might not be enough for them

-He tries to suppress it initially, not wanting to appear insecure or possessive, but as his feelings grow deeper, he finds it increasingly difficult to ignore.

- He's not possessive in an unhealthy way, but he values his relationship with the reader deeply.

- Dokja's jealousy often manifests subtly at first. He might become more attentive or protective of the reader when they're around other people, especially if he perceives them as a potential threat.

-Dokja's jealousy often starts as a small knot in his stomach, but it gradually intensifies as his imagination runs wild with worst-case scenarios. He may become more distant or withdrawn, retreating into his thoughts as he tries to rationalize his feelings.

-Despite his internal turmoil, Dokja rarely confronts his significant other about his jealousy. He prefers to keep his emotions bottled up, fearing that expressing them openly might push his partner away. Instead, he tries to cope with his feelings on his own, burying himself in work or distraction.

-Despite his efforts to conceal it, his closest companions, like Yoo Joonghyuk or Han Sooyoung, can often sense his

-However, there are moments when Dokja's jealousy becomes too overwhelming to ignore. In these instances, he may subtly test his partner's loyalty, perhaps by asking leading questions or observing their behavior more closely than usual. While he hates himself for it, he can't help but seek reassurance that he's still valued and loved.

-Ultimately, Dokja's jealousy stems from his deep-seated fear of abandonment and rejection. He's been hurt in the past, and he's terrified of experiencing that pain again. Despite his rational mind telling him otherwise, his heart can't help but cling tightly to the person who has come to mean everything to him.

-Over time, with patience and understanding from his significant other, Dokja learns to trust more fully and express his emotions more openly

[slowd1ving]

Kim Dokja with a Sung Jinwoo!Reader and their supporting constellation is Six-Eared Macaque

BAKHT ⁺ ✦ KIM DOKJA

"An existence as lonely as yours... chance has not been kind to you, it seems." It was neither choice nor good fortune that flung you into the rift that divided worlds: suspended in a limbo not of your own making, in a world with no dungeons like yours but 'scenarios' instead. Only the Story reaching its [◼◼◼] and you protecting the protagonist would guarantee your return, but how were you supposed to do that when the 'protagonist' you were meant to protect kept dying? honestly it's been a while since I read both solo levelling and orv so the plot is a bit hazy. I told myself to focus more on the actual interaction so it wouldn't snowball into storybuilding like the rest of my works... but alas... honestly this ask was extremely interesting like I've never read journey to the west but a sung jinwoo/six eared macaque collab??? damn me when I focus on tense first encounters rather than the lovey dovey aspect of relationships.. jokes aside it does get somewhat soft at the very end fun fact bakht refers to fortune in arabic, or rather finding luck in 'chance'; which unfortunately our reader doesn't seem to have a lot of... art by @ 1L9l2Aa8UCL0IGJ (blackbox) on x! pairing: kim dokja + sung jinwoo gn reader warnings: canon typical danger, mentions of death, also they're not really on the best of terms initially?? quite graphic depictions of blood wc: 2.7k

ORV MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Tonight, the wind carried only premonition in its whispers. It started like all the stories did—the ones that reached your ears, at least. Beginning as a gentle breeze, the songs twining past and future turned coarse as a gale once they encountered the pixelated appendages that seemed to have a life of their own: six downy auricles that were unable to decide whether to stay in the virtual realm or materialise themselves. 

Most of the time, they hid in the umbrous kingdom—much like the rest of your shadows. When you donned the façade of the humans from Planetary System 8612, the tales you could eavesdrop on were mere gossip slinking in from the future and the bygone past—tidbits of paltry information that were perhaps divine retribution for not proudly donning the Six-Eared Macaque’s ‘crown’, as he seemed to put it. 

But tonight was different. Tonight, the mellifluous litany of your flute was sharper than usual as you idled the time away. Tonight, with only the vast night shielding you and the countless shadows skulking on the rooftop, their dance appeared wilder. There was frenzy in the air, and prophecy tainting the cold, canorous wind. 

It tasted acerbic. 

‘Danger… horizon…. Dokja….’

The frequency soured the melody that brushed past the fur of your six-ears, and they flicked, irritably. 

[The Fake Monkey King warns of something afoot.]

“I know,” you bitterly commented. Something was always afoot when it came to this world in which you did not belong. Falling past the veil separating a dungeon from nothingness wasn’t meant to happen. Your system subsequently trapping you in this limbo until you reached [◼◼◼◼◼], too, wasn’t meant to happen either. Let the Story run its course and protect its ‘protagonist’, and this dimension will naturally collapse just enough that you’ll fall through back into yours. 

Kim Dokja, you’d repeated like a mantra while you lost your mind—over and over while your system glitched and protested in this limbo. Over and over, while he died and died and died some more. You’d bought and earned and fought for various potions, weapons and clothes to help him with his scenarios—leaving them in his vicinity where you knew he’d stumble across them—but it was all so fucking futile. 

Each time, he returned past the veil; each time, you sank into a deeper mire of restriction. You hadn’t spoken to another soul in months: imprisoned in the very shadows you controlled. It wasn’t as bad, initially: you could still talk to people uninvolved in the ‘Story’, the poor souls dubbed as extras—so long as you didn’t cause any ripples with your actions. If Dokja was accounted for through both the soldiers in his shadow, and the whispers that reached the six ears that fanned out behind your head, it would be fine. 

‘Hazard… kilometre north of Dokja’s camp….’

A kilometre. You’d be quiet. You always were. 

Dokja. Dokja. Dokja. Your face soured as you exchanged places with Beru: ready to silently act as his guardian shadow, though if he was determined to sacrifice himself… Both of you would pay a price.

The silence in the city was razor-sharp and just as deadly, to the point you could hear the ionic buzz of your summoned demonic knives. Their ozonic scent bitterly filled your mouth, which only amplified the acerbic profanities mingling on your tongue as you glanced around for the danger. What danger? You’d be damned before you were sent back to that empty desert to reflect your wrongdoings. There was no chance to gain anything there—just endless time, chipping your sanity away and stirring up derision for the one who couldn’t solve anything without dying. 

Because in the end, both of you would pay the price, and he didn’t even know it. He became a constellation, while you were shackled to a prison that was never of your own making. 

Examining the wreck of this urban landscape that felt too much like the Seoul you knew, you came to the abrupt conclusion that there was nothing. Even when your six-ears flicked this way and that, it was too silent. Not a whisper, nor any trace of danger lingered in this space; such an occurrence was nigh-impossible in the scenario-laden dome of this city. 

[The Prisoner of the G◼◼◼en Headband expres◼◼◼◼ his mistrust.] 

Sun Wukong. A flash of hatred that was not your own wracked your body, complete with a burning envy and something far more insidious than anything you’d ever experienced, 

Crackling messages began interfering with your system screen. You’d only seen this once—when you accidentally intruded on the fringes of the ‘Star Stream’ as an ‘unauthorised one’. An anomaly if you ever saw one. 

“There’s nothing,” you muttered callously, scraping the tip of your blade against concrete ruins. If it had been a false alarm, then it was time to leave before you risked paying the penalty. Your job was simple—keep watch of the ‘protagonist’ from the shadows, and make his life somewhat easier. 

[A nameless constellation argues that advertisements are simply a part of life, and that it’s not a big deal to build suspense.]

That’s weird. The messages were getting clearer, but the warning signs that typically appeared in the system windows weren’t there. 

Your own supporting constellation was far too quiet as you sheathed your knife in the shadow dimension—the darkness cradled the weapon softly before it vanished, though the familiar whish could not soothe the unease that distorted your mind. Never had the six-ears failed to pinpoint hazards, as close to omniscient that they were.

“Got you,” something—someone—whispered from afar, the moment you stepped on the next broken slab of pavement and triggered a tripwire. A paltry toy, golden string that was incandescent in this darkened city, wrapped tightly around your body; right before you were shoved against a concrete wall. “You’re not the only one to see the ‘outcome’.”

Stand down, Igris, you commanded as the stranger continued to press into you; you could sense the turbulent shadows growing even more agitated at your position, though all of them could feel the ease with which you could’ve snapped out of the rope that was no more than a thread. The stream was eerily silent, while the glassy window only you could see kept its cold azure colour—nothing like the glaring scarlet that informed you of your penalty. 

Who is this? 

In the darkness, you made out the shape of a mouth pressed into a thin line. Dark hair partially swept over the stranger’s eyes, while a long white coat draped itself over his shoulders. But it wasn’t the garb, nor was it the features that alerted you of just who this was. 

It was the umbrous cloud of his soul, the very one you’d been tracking all these weeks. 

“Kim Dokja,” you greeted, half-placidly, half in intrigue. If he could bend the rules of life and death to suit him, you supposed that bending some more rules wouldn’t hurt. The interest was quickly replaced by irritation—for this was the very charge that had continuously shackled you to the in-betweens of the Seoul dome. Not quite a human from this planet, nor a monster—just an abominable anomaly that didn’t belong in this ‘Story’ at all. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

There was a polite smile on your face, but he only scoffed in disbelief. “What the hell are you playing at? Who are you? You think leaving all those materials for me to find will somehow increase your chances to survive? Why are you doing this?”

Incredulity laced each syllable. The Ugliest King stared hard at the face of the Shadow Monarch, though he didn’t know it. 

You sympathised, you really did. Having someone trail after you (though he hadn’t mentioned your shadows—did he even notice them?) and leave you useful items might have been convenient to some, but chronic overthinkers (as Beru had reported to you from his shade) wouldn’t see it as such. 

But it wasn’t like you had a choice not to, either. 

“I just want to get back home.” For the first time, there was a hint of the welling annoyance that seeped through the cracks in your courteous expression: in your grinding molars, in the slight squint of your eyes. Babysitting this guy should have never been part of your job.

Don’t affect the story.

You pressed your lips together to avoid the tide of complaints that swept in. Why do you keep dying? Do you know how much it sucks whenever you do? Why the fuck was I put on babysitting duty?

“Just take the things,” you gritted out instead; to which a sharp blade stung the side of your neck. Quick, but not quick enough to pose a true threat to you. “They were annoying to farm, you know that?”

“I never asked for them, nor do I need them to reach where I want to be. You were never in the original— I can’t exactly trust you now, can I?” he scowled—more ill-tempered than Beru had included in his periodic reports. In a mere second, you surged: as fluid and fast as quicksilver, slamming the guy you’d grown to abhor into the cold, harsh asphalt. There was no apology dripping from your lips this time, only a snarling, bloodied grit of teeth when the penalty began etching into your skin as a direct consequence of laying hands on the ‘untouchable’ protagonist. 

Sensing your distress, the six-ears materialised around your face—like they were countering the drip-drip of sanguine that slinked from your nose and onto the shirt of the man beneath you. You watched as you sullied the protagonist you were forced to stay away from—tainted in a way that was sure to finally end you. His dark eyes, too, traced the motion of each crimson rivulet: chest rising and falling desperately as he felt the very real, razor-sharp edge of his own knife lightly against his jugular. 

“Listen, I never asked for this either,” you hissed. “Believe it or not, I too want you to reach the conclusion of this shitshow so I can get back home. You need to stay alive for that. I’ll wait.”

The pressure in your head intensified. 

“I don’t know how you got past the restrictions on me—” Your grip on his shirt loosened as carmine began seeping into the system window. “—but I can’t stay here any longer without repercussions. Neither can I interfere with the story nor escape this hell—” Dark spots began floating in your vision, and the blade sliced into the concrete a hair's breadth away from his neck with a low-resonating chime. Maybe this was your only chance to make your job easier, without the loss of sanity that came with rule-breaking. “—but if you can’t trust me, trust that your accomplishment of your goal will allow me to get back to my own world as a result.”

“Wait–” Your body swayed as you stood, feeling the familiar frequency of the Stream boot up against the fine down of the six-ears. I don’t have time, you wanted to say, but iron was beginning to leave your lips too. 

[The Prisoner of the Golden Headband complains loudly that fraternising with the enemy is a horribly stupid move, pulling out his hair.]

[The Demon-like Judge of Fire is unsure of this development, and would like to be filled in on this stranger’s connection with the Prisoner of the Golden Headband..]

The Star Stream was… clear. Not filled with static like it had been before, but cogent enough that you could observe each message coherently. 

[The Star Stream has its eyes on you.]

A terrible foreboding surfaced, while your chest constricted with the sudden onslaught of red that assaulted your eyes—a cacophony of warning signs, all targeted at you. 

“What is that?” A hand that wasn’t yours reached for the crimson glow, and you jolted as the cerise shattered: reverting back to the familiar blue interface. The ache in your head, too, vanished—yet the buildup of fatigue was still present in your hazy mind. Though, the only thing you could register was the change in his voice as he observed the screen, an inkling of understanding as he watched the characters fade from existence:

Protect the ‘protagonist’ Kim Dokja. Let the Story run its course, and you will be able to return to your home world. 

{The Fourth Wall quietly observes the remnants of its meal.}

Gone, in a wave of his hand. That same hand, now held out to you as if it hadn’t just erased weeks’ worth of strain from your body: long, deft fingers reaching out to you. You could only stare as the world grew dim around you, as a faint voice brushed past the soft fur of your six-ears. 

‘Error… error… due to unprecedented actions ◼◼◼◼ taken by the protagonist, the system has now… updated to provide for a deuteragonist model… consi◼◼der standby… updating… updating… ◼◼◼◼◼◼   ◼◼◼◼ objective updated… reach the [◼◼◼◼] alongside deuteragonist Kim Dokja to catalyse homecoming.’

“What the hell… did you do?” you slurred. The misguided loathing towards him had dissipated into a tumultuous state of frenzy; you could feel the shadows within stir with the agitation of your mind, though you fought to keep your cards at bay. Rather than the hilt of your familiar sword, you thumbed the worn edge of your flute in a last bid to stay calm. 

“‘Reach the [◼◼◼◼] alongside deuteragonist Kim Dokja to catalyse homecoming’, huh?” The incredulity you felt at him repeating the words that only you ever heard was overshadowed by the bone-deep exhaustion you felt. 

“Was… being honest,” you mumbled for the last time, fully expecting to feel the frigid asphalt as you collapsed and your eyes came to a close. The lingering penalties had finally taken effect, yet you didn’t quite hit the hard concrete like you anticipated. Rather, you collided against a wiry frame that, despite its initial gauntness, was far warmer than anything you’d felt in these apocalyptic weeks. “I might’ve died if I continued interfering.”

“You won’t die.” The words ghosted over your ear as he stared down at the person in his arms who’d been tracking him for weeks. They’d been a constant pain and irritated him to no end, especially with all the gifts he received that he’d never read about in TWSA; and there was nothing he hadn’t read about in TWSA save for the epilogue. “I won’t let you.”

His very headache was now slumbering in his arms, with only the ambition of going home on their mind. 

What a lonely existence. 

Maybe you heard him. Maybe you didn’t. All he knew was that he was crafting an epilogue that would shake this very world to its roots, and perhaps there was a small, you-sized shape cut out just for the person snoozing their little heart out. He had a feeling he had only breached the outermost layer of you; peeling back only the very dermis to reveal someone far too overpowered to compete with most of the dome. 

Dokja’s thumb traced the bloody lines staining your face. You could faintly feel them; then, abruptly, the citrus smell that lingered on him grew sharper. Closer. A soft pressure applied itself to the crown of your head: fleeting, silvery. What was that?

It was everything that had been forcibly taken from you after you were brought past the void. 

With something that was suspiciously close to a smile, your mind drifted away in the arms of someone who both damned you and saved you. 

　⁺ ✦

“If Igris and Yoo Joonghyuk fought, who would win?” 

“Igris,” you answered without missing a beat. There wasn’t a hint of hesitation in your face as you opened your mouth, and it was so strong that he almost believed that your Commander could beat the true ‘protagonist’ of this world. “And if he lost, I’d win for him.”

This! This was his chance to get back at that squid bastard! 

“...Want to test your hypothesis?”

[k-dokja]

yu junghyeok nsfw alphabet ? perchance ?

Gods, I swore I wouldn't do another one of these but YJH is like my favourite in ORV so...

I DON'T ACCEPT FULL NSFW ALPHABET. I'LL ONLY ANSWER UP TO FIVE LETTERS PER CHARACTER.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Really quiet. Deadly so. You'd think he didn't enjoy it if you weren't seeing him climaxing a few minutes ago. He gets really contemplative after sex; it takes him a while to reconnect with the thought that he is allowed to feel good and shouldn't feel bad about it. He loves being with you, but his mind is always all over the place.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He doesn't really have any preference for anything on him. Whatever you enjoy, he has a slight liking for it, but in general, he has a very detached view of his own body. Junghyeok does like your lips best, however, not in a sexual way; he simply loves the shape of them. And your spine, he likes running his fingers down the length of it; this one is totally sexual.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

The mythical beast of having cum that tastes good. He's super mindful of what he eats, so his cum is definitely okay for swallowing if you're into that. It's a bit thin, on the runny side. He doesn't like cumming on your skin in general; it's another mess to clean up.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Probably fucks harder if he knows there's no risk of getting kids LOL one less risk to worry about.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Yes. Most of his experiences come from being in a committed relationship. He takes his time to learn your preferences. Once he's out of 'research' mode, he's much more confident in taking the initiative. In the beginning, it's a lot of quiet questioning and testing the ground.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl. He likes the eye contact, like not having to worry about crushing you under his weight. It gives both of you some levels of control. Also, seeing tits bouncing 👍

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Have you seen this guy?

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He doesn't exactly groom; it just looks that immaculate. Yes, of course, it matches the drape; he's Korean.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Sex is mainly for intimacy for him; anything else is very secondary. Yes, the stress relief is good, but he's honestly still too high-strung in the aftermath unless this is the two of you after the end.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not a mastubator at all. He doesn't have anything against it, but between his nonexistent sex drive outside of you and his general disinterest in it, he never sees any point in touching himself. He'd rather vent his frustration by hitting something. Far more productive that way.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Hair pulling, spanking, and light asphyxiation.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Has to be completely private and safe. Otherwise, he doesn't care which platform you're fucking on.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Prolonged makeout session, cuddling in bed at night, usually when he's taking it easy with you. Sparring also gets him going sometimes, but it's a toss-up whether it works or not because he needs to be in a specific mindset.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Roleplay, additional partner, CNC, any type of play, BDSM... the list of what he doesn't want to do is actually huge; better to ask what he wants to do.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefer to give over receiving. He always gets too restless during receiving to actually enjoy it. His nature makes him unable to sit still and do nothing, he always has to order you around, move you a little, take charge of the situation somehow.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Rough, in general, in a desperate way, where he wants more of you. All of you, in any way possible. He just wants to be as deep in you as he can, but he also loves savouring the feeling of being inside you. It mostly depends on the day whether he's on the fast or slow side. He's on slow and rough by default, however.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Theoretically, it sounds efficient for him, but realistically, he usually takes too long for this to be applicable. The likelihood of getting interrupted during a quickie is so high, he usually doesn't bother. He's more receptive to it after everything is over and done. Honestly, he's open to a lot more things once the world is safe again.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Minimal. He doesn't even experiment much, painfully vanilla in his preferences. He's not the most exciting of guys if you're looking for an adventure with. Unless the two of you are completely safe, he's not going to do anything with you. Outside of that, getting him comfortable enough to have sex is also a whole production, and asking him to experiment is even worse.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

The type to go for long rounds instead of many rounds. He's one and done for himself, but you always come at least once way before he's even finished. He lasts ridiculously long because he needs to completely relax before that happens.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Toys with your feelings. Not a toy guy, no.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He knows how to make you feel good; he's confident in that. He has a lot going for him that makes him a great bed partner when it comes to your pleasure. He, however, is very hard to tease, because you're more likely to annoy him than rile him up. You have to try really hard to get him as flustered as you can get when he gets to you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Pretty quiet. He's more of a breathy sigh, grunts, and groans guy. He doesn't make much noise in general, outside of checking if you're feeling good.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

There's a very specific condition where you can get super soft Junghyeok. It requires a combination of sleepy Junghyeok, the sun barely rising, and the two of you tangled up in bed. The sex will be slow and sweet, and he'd be less tense for the whole day.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Big, thick, in charge. Decent in girth, a little over six inches. His head is rather sensitive, but he doesn't like it when you play with his balls, it kinda tickles to be honest.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

On the low end of things. It's pretty much nonexistent if he's not having an active sex life. He also doesn't appreciate getting seduced in the heat of important things or in public; it annoys him and only annoys him. Better save it for private.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Take him quite a while if you did it at night, but he falls asleep faster than he normally does. If it's any other hour of the day, he'd be ready to get up and go do other things once he spent enough time with you. It's hard for him to stay still.