being the manager for a demon boy band is not for the weak…
“Guys, you’re on in six.”
Your first mistake? Going into the dressing room by yourself. Forgot about the Buddy System™ that you, yourself, made up. For your own protection, of course.
Second mistake? Not keeping your eyes on them the entire time. You should always have eyes on all of them.
You glanced at your tablet once — count it, once — and you got yanked into the room, the door slamming shut. Your tablet is gone and so is your phone, vanished to the couch in the corner.
“Good evening, Manager.” Jinu greets you in a sweet sounding voice, all of them gathered around you like a bunch of sharks that just scented blood in the water.
“Hello…” You say, slowly, warily glancing at their coy expressions. The lock clicks, with Baby giving you a smug, sharp toothed grin. “So,” you look away, clap your hands together while trying to sound unaffected, “you have six minutes before you go on stage.”
“Six minutes, wow,” Baby mocks, pushing off the door to join the others in crowding you.
“I think six minutes is enough,” Abby shrugs, his eyes bright yellow and his grin spelling trouble.
Romance nods, glossy bottom lip caught between his teeth as he gets in close. He’s warm and smells like the flowery shampoo that sponsored them. “We can do a lot in six minutes.”
You go to say something, anything, and whatever it was just dies the second they all move— latching on to whatever exposed skin they can, pawing at your clothes.
You manage to free a hand, tangle your fingers into Jinu’s hair and give a little feeble tug with your human strength. He pops off the skin of your throat with a wet sound, lets out a drunken sounding chuckle as he looks at you through his lashes.
The patterns have made their way all up their faces, bright and jagged and alive. The human facade is gone.
“You’re fine,” He coos at you, like you’re a skittish thing he wants to keep cuddling. Wickedly sharp claws fiddle with the buttons of your shirt, and someone’s nose runs along the other side of your neck.
“You should relax, Manager,” Mystery’s soft voice murmurs, his clawed hands massaging the tension from your shoulders.
Baby lets out a victorious little noise in the back of his throat when he manages to wiggle his hand into your pants, fingers wrapping around your cock to give you a squeeze.
Your grunt is swallowed up by Abby’s lips. His fangs nip at your bottom lip, his clawed hand squeezing your jaw to open your mouth. His tongue delves in the second your teeth unclench, laving over yours with a satisfied groan.
Mystery’s helping Baby tug your pants down, and one of them is nibbling at the vein on your hip. Sucking bruises to match the ones forming on your throat and jaw.
“Can’t wait to have you inside me again,” Romance whispers hotly into your ear, claws ghosting over the trail of hair leading down.
The timer on your phone shrieks, startling all of you into stillness. It’s time for the show to start— ten thousand fans waiting for them in the sold out stadium.
The door’s unlocked, and each of the boys presses a kiss to your cheek as they depart. All perfectly composed, like they weren’t actively defiling you a moment ago.
Your lips are kiss swollen, your hair is a mess, clothes wrinkled to hell, your pants low on your hips— and you’re uncomfortably hard.
“We’ll see you after the show, Manager.” Jinu says sweetly, waving, before they walk down the corridor.
synopsis: Abby’s been throwing hints left and right—flirty touches, cocky smirks, lingering glances that scream take the damn bait already. But his manager just keeps smiling at him like nothing’s going on. Sweet. Harmless. So when Abby finally snaps after a brutal night and drags him into a supply closet, desperate to blow off steam, he figures he knows how this ends. A quick hookup. A little control. Easy.
He doesn’t expect the guy he’s been teasing for weeks to turn around and beg for something filthier. Something softer. Something that leaves Abby shaking by the end of it.
And the worst part? He kind of loves it.
content warnings: 18+, smut, brat Abby, top male reader, power dynamics, closet scene, manager x idol, begging, dom/sub elements, praise kink (good boy, prince), manhandling, ass eating, overstimulation, [smut], post-scenario emotional softness, mild internalized shame, possessive behavior, freaky obsession (hidden under a sweet exterior)
word count: 1.2k
"You gonna help me or not?" Abby asked, breath short, jaw tight.
You blinked up at him from where he dropped you. “...What kind of help are we talking about?”
He exhaled like he was about to throw something. “Are you serious right now?”
"I mean—" You sat up slowly. "You’ve been kinda vague."
Abby crouched in front of you, both hands planted on either side of your thighs. His eyes were glassy with frustration. "I dragged you into a closet. What do you think I want?"
You tilted your head, all soft lashes and fake innocence. “Hug?”
His face twitched. “You are such a fucking menace.”
"Then why do you keep flirting with me?"
“I—what—?” He paused, short-circuited.
“You think I haven’t noticed?” you asked, voice dropping a little, just enough to make his breath catch. “You think I haven’t been waiting for you to finally do something about it?”
His mouth opened, but no sound came out. You were already rising to your knees, closing the space between you, until you could hear the way his breath stuttered when you leaned in.
Abby blinked, startled. “Wait—so you knew?”
“Oh, baby,” you breathed, brushing your fingers under his chin, “I’ve been starving for you.”
His whole body tensed, heat crawling up his neck.
You smiled. “So. How do you want me?”
Abby licked his lips, fast. “I thought you’d maybe wanna… I dunno. Suck me off. Or let me—”
“Nope.”
You kissed the corner of his jaw. “Wanna eat you out.”
He jerked back like you slapped him. “You what?”
“I said—”
“No, no, I heard you. I just. What the fuck.”
You shrugged. “You dragged me in here. You said you were stressed. Let me help.”
“That’s not—Guys don’t usually—I’m not—” He looked like he was glitching out. “You’re fucking with me, right?”
You gave him that look. Soft. Puppyish. Lips parted, a little pouty. Not even putting it on.
“Please?” you whispered. “Want you so bad, Abby. Been thinking about it forever.”
His throat bobbed.
"You're not gonna tell anyone, right?"
"Course not."
You kissed him.
That shut him up fast.
Abby stiffened, caught off guard, but he didn’t pull away. His hands twitched at your sides like he couldn’t decide whether to push you off or pull you in. And then—slowly—he kissed you back. Tentative at first. Almost shy, like the fire he’d come in with was starting to burn inward now.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, cheeks flushed, breath catching like he’d just realized what he was agreeing to.
“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this,” he muttered.
You tilted your head, smiling gently. “You don’t have to.”
He hesitated. Really hesitated this time. You could see it—pride and desire wrestling under his skin, chewing at the edge of his mouth. His fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt like he needed to hold something while he decided.
Then finally, he let out a breath and nodded.
“Okay,” he said softly. “But if I tell you to stop, you have to stop. No matter what.”
You beamed up at him, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. “Deal,” you agreed easily. “Now turn around and brace yourself against the wall.”
Abby did as you asked, hands splaying against the shelves as you positioned yourself behind him—before pushing his pants down, along with his boxers. You could see the way his body trembled with anticipation, hear the shaky inhale of his breath.
"Tell me if you need me to slow down or stop," you reminded him gently, hands coming to rest on his hips. "I'll check in with you throughout."
With that, you leaned forward and dragged the flat of your tongue over his entrance. Abby jerked, a gasp leaving his lips at the sudden contact. You hummed encouragingly, licking again before sealing your mouth around him and sucking lightly.
"Oh fuck," Abby breathed, fingers scrabbling at the shelves. "That feels... holy shit."
You just continued your ministrations, varying your technique to figure out what he liked best. It didn't take long before he was pushing back against your face, breath coming in short pants as you worked him open with lips and tongue.
"Please," he whined after a few minutes, hips rolling desperately against the wall. "I need more. Need your fingers or something."
You pulled back just long enough to slick up two fingers before pressing them inside him, curling them just so to hit his prostate. Abby cried out, back arching as he struggled to take the new stretch.
"Right there," he gasped, head thrashing from side to side. "Fuck yes, just like that. Don't stop."
You didn't, doubling down on your efforts until he was babbling incoherently, thighs shaking with the force of his pleasure. Only then did you pull your fingers free, sealing your lips back around him and sucking hard as you pushed three fingers inside this time.
"Shit," Abby panted, eyes rolling back as he struggled to take the new stretch. "So fucking full. Can't... can't take much more."
You just stayed there behind him, gaze locked on every twitch, every shiver, working him over with your mouth and hands like you were starving for it. Abby’s fingers scrabbled against the wall of the closet, breath hitching. His head dropped forward with a soft, choked sound—he couldn’t see you, but he didn’t need to. Every nerve in his body was screaming for you.
"Gonna come," he warned shakily, hips starting to stutter. "Fuck, I'm gonna come."
You just hummed around him, continuing to work on his prostate until he was screaming your name, spilling a hot and sticky mess from his cock, that dribbled down to his hole and across your tongue. You swallowed it down greedily, continuing to work him through his orgasm with lips and tongue until he was spent and shaking.
Only then did you pull away, licking your lips clean as you rose to your feet. Abby looked up at you with glassy, satisfied eyes, a dopey grin on his face— reaching up to pull you down for a proper kiss. You went willingly, letting him taste himself on your tongue as he clung to you.
You were both still on the floor ten minutes later.
Well. You were on the floor. Abby was draped across your chest like a dramatic little prince, sweat cooling along his collarbone, your jacket half-tucked beneath him like a makeshift pillow.
He hadn’t spoken in a while. Just kept exhaling soft and shaky, like he didn’t quite know how to be alive again yet.
Finally, he muttered, “...Fuck.”
You laughed quietly, one hand stroking up his back.
“Never speak of this again,” he said.
You hummed. “You said that already.”
“I mean it.”
You kissed the top of his head. “Sure, baby.”
He didn’t argue. Just curled in closer, fingers fisting the fabric of your shirt.
"...You were really good,” he mumbled, voice too quiet for how bratty he usually was. “Like. Stupid good.”
You smiled. “I know.”
"Ugh." He shoved at your chest half-heartedly. "Don’t get cocky."
"Too late. Got you crying in a closet."
He groaned into your neck. “I hate you.”
You laughed. “You will. Until the next time you’re stressed.”
I went to a KPDH sing-along yesterday that was PACKED with families. It was amazing seeing all the kids that got to get up and dance and sing along (they were nice about it too, I saw a group get up and go over to the side of the theater to dance).
At the point where they started hearing Gwi-mas voice I realized that people weren't talking in the theater... That was the surround sound that made us feel *in* the moment. It truly showed little details I didn't know about before.
Dude I did the SAME THING, being SURROUNDED by all the negative whispering anytime Gwi-ma was talking up anyone’s fears was crazy! It was a lot of fun and I hope the turn out shows them how much we want more 🫶👏
What if Reader was a Demi God of Hecate and because her mother is an underworld goddess she can summon people from the underworld or in this case demons.
So reader's in a tight spot and uses her powers to summon something or in this case some people she ends up summoning the saga boys, who were in the middle of rehearsal.
they are confused as to why they're there but they agree to help one reason or another usually because their own nefarious purposes they help reader out of the spot and they show back up to her cabin nobody really questions who they are whether they're with the exception of Percy in which reader explained what happened and he lets them go,
now when Cabin 20 was built again it was turned into a magic house basically the place is alive somewhat like the Addams house it's consistently yells at those inside of it with the exception of the children of Hecate.
now when they first arrived they were surprised by the house but it immediately created a new room for them so they can stay seeing as you know, they're technically from the underworld
Hell = Tartarus
Purgatory= fields of Asphodel
Heaven=Elysium
Take this where you want I'll come back when I get more inspiration
