I get why seungmin likes being manhandled by changbin like if changbin was my friend I’d start acting like brat just to be manhandled too
-🐇
Everyone likes getting manhandled by Changbin...and Changbin has no issues putting a brat in their place!
NSFW under the cut <3
The thing about Changbin is that he's a bit of a brat enabler.
Not because he wants the bratty behavior to continue, but he knows that both him and the person are getting something out of the "punishment" that follows after it. He knows that Seungmin wants a reaction out of him - if he really wanted the brat behavior to truly stop, he would be responding by withdrawing attention. All brats thrive on attention, and like we've talked about before, the best punishment for a brat will always be ignorance. That's what breaks down a brat the fastest, and Changbin's smart. He knows that.
...but he enjoys the raw show of power he gets to do whenever someone brats out around him. He knows that Seungmin likes how it feels to feel so weak against him. He knows he's bulked up, he knows he's super strong, he knows his muscles are attractive (we've all seen how Felix has tried to bite into them on multiple occasions).
So yeah, Changbin's a brat enabler. He enjoys the act of putting a brat in their place physically, so of course he lets you keep being a brat, even when he's pretending that he's "scolding" you for your behavior.
The quickest way to get a reaction out of him is through public teasing. Say you're out with him and some of the boys, maybe in some high-end club that's good about keeping the paparazzi out, and you're feeling needy. You might think to maybe flirt with someone else to grab his attention, laugh a little too hard at Jeongin's jokes, feel up Chan's muscles and tell him how strong he's been getting. But Changbin doesn't do jealous. He's secure in himself and you, and he trusts you endlessly. You could be on someone else's lap and he trusts that it's completely platonic, because he knows that you wouldn't actually do anything. It's really sweet and honestly a bit flattering, but it also makes it pretty hard to get him riled up and ready to put you in your place.
With jealousy off the table, you have to resort to other means to get him hot enough to manhandle you into the backseat of his car (or a stall of the bathroom, if you're lucky). He's not a jealous type, but he does get hot and bothered incredibly quickly.
You start small - perching yourself next to him on the shitty club booth bench, press up against his arm and making a tired little sound in the back of your throat. His arm shifts off his body on instinct so that you can wrap yourself around it, press your chest against his arm and cheek into the muscle of his shoulder. He's warm under you, and if there wasn't a dull throb between your legs right now, you'd forget your purpose and let yourself just melt into him.
Instead you complain quietly about needing a drink and he huffs, offering you some of his. It's something fruity, a nasty neon color to it, even under the club lights, and he laughs when you wrinkle your nose.
"Promise it's not as bad as it looks," he says, and when you send him a questioning look, he doubles down, "Promise! It's just the right amount of sweet. Try some, try some."
He brings it to your mouth and this is your first chance to tease. You tilt your head back, let your mouth fall open, and blink up at him, staring at him through your lashes. You let yourself look as fucked up as possible, like he's already pounded you into the mattress once, tongue sneaking out to tease at the rim of the glass, and he curses under his breath, tensing against you.
"Please?" you whisper-yell, voice just loud enough to make out over the thump of the bass, breathy and needy and said just the way you would if you were begging for him in bed.
"'course, jagi," he responds, swallowing hard, "Keep that mouth open for me."
He tries so hard to be in control of the situation, steady hand tipping the glass ever-so-slightly to guide the alcohol into your mouth, but you're not playing around. You let some of it dribble out of the corner of your mouth, let it trace a path down your jaw and neck, and swallow the rest of the acid drink with a moan. You roll your eyes back into your head for dramatic effect, and you know it works, because he tenses against you, bicep flexing and unflexing as he tries to get a grip on himself.
This is when he realizes what game you're playing. When your tongue comes out to lick up the excess moisture clinging to your lips and your heavy-lidded eyes come to look at him again, he connects the dots.
"You were right, jagi," you say, leaning in even closer to him, "That was sooooo good."
Your hand shifts to rest on his inner thigh, just low enough on his leg that it could be mistaken for an innocent move, a way to be closer to your boyfriend. But you both know, as you keep your fingers there and squeeze, that it's not quite innocent, not at all.
He doesn't respond to you, opting instead to set his drink down, and this is when phase two of your plan to get him to put you in your place kicks off. Because, just as he reaches to pull you closer with his now-free hand, you shift, disentangling yourself. You watch a flash of confusion pass across his face, but he controls it, refusing to let you get the satisfaction of holding the upper hand.
"'m gonna go find Jinnie and make him dance with me," you shout over the music, leaning in to press an extremely chaste kiss to Changbin's cheek, "Thank you for the sip, jagi, love you! I'll be back soon, promise."
You say it as sweetly and as innocently as possible, but the grin on your face is just a little to sharp at the edges to be genuine. His fingers flex in the air, still halfway on their journey to grab you, and even in the low lights of the club you can see the outline of him starting to press against his pants, half-chubbed at least by now. He lets his hand fall and shoos you off with tense shoulders and dilated, hungry eyes.
Phase three sets in when you drag Hyunjin to somewhere on the floor where you know that Changbin can see. Hyunjin's complaining to you about some boy at the bar, and you tell him it's the perfect time to go dance off that angry energy, and he'd be damned if he didn't go with you. You're particularly close because he's Changbin's roommate, and he's caught you both in so many...compromising positions that at this point, Hyunjin's seen every part of your body (not all at once, but the point still stands).
This means, that when you drag him by the collar down to whisper-yell to him your plan, he just grins back and mouths something along the lines of "let's get you that dick". He's mostly just glad that it means you won't be boning on their shared couch tonight, and that just maybe he'll get one night of peace where he doesn't have to pretend that he's not listening to the two of you through the thin walls of the dorm (he hasn't decided yet who he's jealous of).
What matters is that Hyunjin lets you grind against him, lets you throw your hand around his neck and run your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. Just Changbin doesn't do jealous doesn't mean that he can't appreciate how good you look out on the dance floor, body moving through the air like you own it. It's like you've got his dongsaeng on a leash with how he's following your movements, eyes trained on you like he can't look away. He's not jealous, he's damn proud that you're his. People can look all they want, Hyunjin can look all he wants, but you're not doing any of this for anyone else but him.
It's going on for too long now, so he throws back the rest of his drink, winces at the acidic, sugary taste that punches him in the back of the throat when he does, and slips out of the booth to join you on the floor.
"He's coming over." Hyunjin says, breath hot against your ear as he leans in.
"Thanks Jinnie," you yell back, "I owe you lunch or something."
"Just don't fuck on the couch or the kitchen counter for a couple weeks and we'll be even." He yells back, slipping away into the crowd just as Changbin steps into your space.
Your hands find his chest, feeling him up until they've worked their way around his neck, one hand tangling into the hair of the back of his head. He leans in, eyes predatory, and takes a sweeping glance at you. It makes you feel small, the way he's sizing you up like you're prey, and it shoots a wave of arousal through your body. You try to hide the fact that he's affecting you already, but he feels the way you shiver against him, and his eyes darken.
His hands come up to grab at your hips, big hands settling into the meat of them and dragging you impossibly close. You can feel the way he's tenting his pants against your front and it makes your thighs clench. But you're a brat, and you can't just let him win that easily.
"Hey jagi," you purr, sliding forward and giving him just a bit of friction against you, "Wanna dance with me?"
"Mhm, I don't know, I'm not really in a dancing mood right now..." He trails off, one hand slipping off your hip to come rest on your ass.
He doesn't squeeze or grope, doesn't have to, because the weight of his palm just resting there is enough to sent electricity through your veins. He's not trying to be subtle, or to be coy, and you know what he's implying.
Which is exactly why you have to play innocent. You pout up at him, whining dramatically.
"But I want to dance!" You whine, giving him your biggest, glassiest eyes. "Wanna dance with you, Binnie."
Before he can even give you a response, you're prying yourself out of his arms and slipping deeper into the crowd, waving him along and acting like you expect him to follow you. And he does, not because he wants to, but because he's starting to feel that itch under his skin, the kind that tells him to grab you and drag you out of here. He doesn't give a fuck if you "wanna dance", mostly because he knows you don't actually want to, but he does give a fuck about your attitude. He knows what you want, and he thought he was going to give it to you, but of course you're playing hard to get now, after he finally folded and was ready to give in.
You grin when he presses through the crowd easily, people making way for him sheerly on the fact that he's big, and spin around to grind back just as the beat of the shitty club song drops. His hand falls on your hip again, holding you against him, and he lets you grind against him, lets you roll your body to the music like the beat owns you.
He only lasts a song and a half before he's getting antsy. Every roll of your hips presses your ass right into his erection, which is full now, and it's starting to get incredibly uncomfortable in his very tight jeans. And you look so good damn good, losing it to the music and just moving to the beat. You look so free and wild and perfect and it makes him want to slip your stupid, form-fitting jeans down and take you right there on the dance floor.
Which he supposes means you won, but he doesn't care. The beat is building again towards another shitty repetitive chorus and he can't do it anymore. His hand comes forward and cups your throat, his palm covering the whole front of it, and he yanks you back into him. You moan, the sound getting swallowed by the crowd, and he bites into you ear lobe when he leans in.
"You've done your dancing," he grits out, hand on your throat squeezing just enough to make your head spin, "Either we leave now, or I press you against the wall of one of the shitty bathroom stalls and remind you of your place, brat."
You moan again, heat pooling your belly, and he just sighs like you're an inconvenience, and then his arms shift, hand dropping from your throat to spin you around. You're disoriented, arousal and alcohol a pleasant hum in your veins, and the world spins when he picks you up like you're nothing. You squeak, and swat at his back, cheeks heating up.
"Changbin! We're-you can't just-in public??" you stammer out, burying your face in his neck when you catch people staring at you.
You can hear the grin in his voice when he responds, all smug and knowing. "Everyone already knows you're mine. What's the big deal?"
You just makes an embarrassed sound into his neck, bravado gone now that he's got you in his arms, and you refuse to look up until you feel the nip of fresh air on your neck.
You make it to the car, and that's as far as you make it, because Changbin doesn't even pretend that he's going to drive the two of you home. He opens the back door and tosses you in like you weigh nothing. You bounce onto the seats with an oof, and he slips in with you, clicks the door closed behind him, and crowds into your space. He's so big there's barely enough room to make this work, but he doesn't care. He pulls at your jeans with one hand and the button flies off with a rip!, sheer strength and need thrumming under his skin. He yanks the fly down so hard it makes a sound in protest, and you're dripping so bad you think it might leak through your jeans before you even get a chance to pull them off.
"Jagi-" you start, but he cuts you off with his mouth, and you melt into him.
He yanks your underwear and broken jeans down your legs easily, breaking away to help you slip fully out of both of them. You fumble for the button of his jeans and curse when you can't get it, fingers too shaky with arousal to get a good grasp on it. He chuckles low in his throat and pushes your hand away, popping it open easily and sliding his fly down. He guides his jeans and underwear down until they're around his ankles, then settles into the seat, using the little button on the side of the seat to leeeaaan it back.
He pats his thigh once, tilting his head to look at you, and as much as you want to keep being a brat, your body instinctively obeys him, dominance coming off of him in waves. You slip onto his lap and he brings a hand up to your face, looking at you expectantly.
"Spit."
You do, and he spits into his hand, too, then guides it down to your entrance. He collects some of your arousal on the way, then slips his wet fingers into you, making your head fall back, a moan tearing out of your throat as you finally get what you want.
He sets the pace, and you know he's too strong for you to fight back, so you let him take it excruciatingly slow, fingers spreading you open wide. He slips a third finger in just to make you hiss, but his pace doesn't increase. You try to writhe on his lap, but his other hand comes to grip at your waist, and he holds you still with ease, bicep flexing under his skin whenever you try and free yourself. It makes you leak even more, and he notices.
"Bratty thing, is my strength making you hot?" He says, smile all teeth and mirth, "You leaking like a slut just because your Binnie's stronger than you? You're so easy."
You can't even protest, because as he speaks, his fingers crook just right, brushing that spot inside you that makes you see stars, and the only sound you can make in response is a moan. He laughs, low and mean, before slipping his fingers out, using your dripping arousal to stroke his cock once, twice, lubing it up. You make a needy sound and he rolls his eyes, using his glossy hand to dig into your other hip, and, without any warning, slams you down onto his dick.
You scream, and he groans, cock twitching inside of you.
"Gotta keep it down, jagi, unless you want someone to see you acting like a whore in the back of my car."
You nod, but you're not really listening, because Changbin doesn't give you a chance to adjust. He's manhandling you like you're just a sex toy, lifting you up and slamming you down, setting a fast, hard rhythm that has the edges of your vision going black from the sheer force of it. Everything feels so good, and you're already close, and you feel almost unreal, like your body isn't even your own anymore.
And it isn't, not with the way he's using you. You're ragdolled in his hold, body limp as he uses you. He's thick and hot inside of you, cock brushing against that spot inside of you with everything thrust, and before you can warn him (before you even know it yourself), you're coming around his cock. Your mouth falls open into a silent moan as you do, sound getting trapped in your throat as you pulse around him, twitching in his hold as he keeps using you.
You're pushed into overstimulation, your body burning and hot and everything was almost too much and then he's coming, a groan tearing out of his throat as he bucks once, twice, thrice more and just holds you down, filling you up with his cum.
You fall forward, head hitting the seat as you go truly and completely limp, unable to hold yourself up. He's cooing at you quietly, murmuring praises and sweet nothings into your ear as you come back down. You laugh quietly when you do finally come back to reality, and he makes a questioning sound in his throat.
"I get why Seungmin always pokes at you, it's hot when you get all manhandle-y." You say, pressing lazy kisses against his neck. He tastes faintly of salty and something very distinctly Changbin.
"Don't say one of my members' names while I'm still inside of you," he whines, though he's tilting his neck to give you better access, "I don't want to think about Seungmin in the after glow."
"So your drunken confession a couple weeks ago that you wanted to bring Hyunjin into the bedroom was just a joke-"
"You said you wouldn't bring that up!"
"Yeah, well, I had a point to prove-"
You both descend into an easy banter, Changbin's ears tinted red at how easily you called him out. It's funny how soft he can get in the afterglow, back to just being your sweet Binnie.
Unfortunately for him, you're already plotting how you can get him to manhandle you again. Seungmin really did have the right idea.
