Minsung - Oneshots

You can control me, but I still own you. {Smut + Fluff}

C/W:

~Heavyyyyy on degradation in some parts

~impact play, breath play (not too extreme),  

~Switch Dom/Sub relationship (kinda....)

~Sir kink (It just suits this specific spicy context more, imo)

~Spit kink... yes its back.. don't judge me lmfaooo

~Most importantly: EVERYTHING IS CONSENSUAL!!! 

~Soft aftercare/ending. 

~Concept~

Minho always tops. It's an unspoken fact between them—a dynamic that works. He loves control, he loves guiding Jisung through pleasure.

But then the world tour hits.

And Jisung, post-workout, thick arms and broader shoulders on full display, tight black tank-top clinging to his sweat-slicked body, voice raspy from screaming lyrics into a mic, starts commanding the stage in a way that feels dangerous.

Minho's watching from the side. He knows he shouldn't but all he can think about is how good Jisung looks when he takes control.

~ <3 ~

The bass thumps around the arena. The screaming from the fans being completely deafening, unreal. The enthusiasm from the crowd only fuelling the Straykids members further. 

The lights and smoke creating an even better atmosphere. Minho should've been focusing on the dance, focusing on the song.

But, how could he when Jisung thrusted his hips in such sultry ways. The beat drop for venom hitting as Jisung's body flowed perfectly with the rhythm. His look overall wasn't helping either.

Black tight tank top. Sweat dripping of him like a damn waterfall. His tongue poking the inside of his cheek, his expression instantly morphing into a smirk and a wink thrown Minho's way as he was caught staring, thirsting over him.

It wasn't the first time Jisung had caught Minho staring like that at him and most definitely not the last. However, he couldn't help but notice the glint of something new in Minho's eyes.

It wasn't the usual dominant, sharp glint that Minho would stare at him with, the type of stare that would get Jisung right to his knees as soon as they were away from everyone. Instead it was something possibly submissive? 

This only urged Jisung to be more aggressive through out his performance. Tank top being lifted regularly to show off his tattoo and toned body. (A/N: red lights started playing... no jokes lmfao) The intense eye contact Jisung would hold with Minho every time his body moved more suggestively.

Minho swallows hard. His mic shakes slightly in his hand at Jisung's every move, every look, every touch. None of them have their full focus on the fans instead it's on one another.

By the end of the performance, he's overstimulated and furious with himself—over how hard he's breathing, over how tight his pants feel, over the cocky, mocking grin on Jisung's lips.

<3

The dressing room hums with leftover adrenaline. Someone's yelling about dinner, staff weaving in and out, voices muffled by the buzz still ringing in Minho's ears.

But all he can hear is bass and moaning. His own brain replaying every damn second Jisung spent on stage like a broken loop—hip thrusts synced to beat drops, tongue poking his cheek, tank top riding up to reveal sweat-slicked abs and the dark ink below his ribs and on his chest.