- Size difference, manh@ndling, objectificati0n.
The snow falls in thick, lazy flakes outside the window, blanketing the world in a quiet, icy hush. You’re curled up on the couch, sipping hot cocoa, the warmth of the mug seeping into your hands. But it’s not enough—winter’s bite is relentless, sneaking through the cracks despite the roaring fireplace and the heavy blanket draped over your shoulders. You shiver, tugging the fabric tighter, cursing the season under your breath.
Stupid, stupid winters.
“Want more cookies, doll?” Changbin’s voice, soft and rich like the cocoa you’re drinking, cuts through your thoughts.
Your husband’s presence is a comfort. He’s so damn sweet, so loyal, so perfect it almost aches to think about how much you love him.
He slides onto the couch behind you, his massive frame engulfing yours as he pulls you into his chest. God, he’s huge—broad shoulders, thick biceps, a solid wall of muscle that makes you feel small in the best way. You tug the blanket over both of you, and he nuzzles into your neck.
“Still cold?” he murmurs, his voice laced with a teasing lilt.
You glance over your shoulder, pouting dramatically, and the chocolate mustache on your upper lip only adds to the effect.
Changbin chuckles, deep and rumbling, as he cups your face, his thumb and index finger gently pinching your cheeks to make your lips puff out even more. “So pretty, like a doll,” he says, his dark eyes glinting with adoration.
Before you can respond, he leans in, kissing away the chocolate with slow, deliberate licks, his lips soft but firm against yours.
You love when he calls you doll. It’s tender but laced with a subtle edge of objectificati0n—vulnerable, delicate, his to hold, to play with, to mold however he pleases.
“It’s so cold,” you whine, setting the empty mug on the rug beside the couch.
Another shiver runs through you, and you press yourself closer to Changbin’s warmth. His thick arms wrap around your waist, biceps flexing under his sweatshirt.
“Warm now?” he asks, his voice a low hum that vibrates against your back.
You shake your head, playing up the dramatics. “Need more warmth,” you mumble, your hands sliding over his muscular thighs, feeling the power beneath the soft fabric of his sweatpants.
Your fingers squeeze, teasing, and you can’t help but marvel at how solid he is—every inch of him built like he could bench press you without breaking a sweat.
Changbin huffs, a mix of amusement and mock exasperation. “Always so needy,” he teases.
In one fluid motion, he scoops you up—blanket and all—like you weigh nothing. You squeal, wiggling in his grip, but it’s no use.
You know what’s coming, and the anticipation is agonizing. He’s big—in every sense—and you’re already bracing yourself for the delicious overwhelm.
He carries you to the bedroom. The way he holds you, so effortlessly, makes you feel small, fragile, like the doll he calls you. He tosses you onto the bed with a playful smirk, and you land with a soft thump, the blanket tangling around your legs.
Changbin peels off his hoodie, revealing a broad chest, sculpted abs, and just the right amount of softness around his tummy—a perfect blend of strength and warmth that makes your mouth water. His body is a masterpiece, not lean but powerful, every muscle earned through hours of hard work.
“Turn over,” he says, voice dropping into a low.
“No,” you retort, just to poke at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. You love riling him up, knowing it’ll only make him more intense.
His brows raise, and before you can blink, he’s on you. One massive hand wraps around your waist, flipping you onto your stomach with ease. Your face presses into the soft pillow, hips instinctively lifting as he positions you exactly how he wants.
“Changbin—” you start, but he cuts you off with a firm, “Shh. Dolls don’t talk.”
The blanket’s long forgotten as he leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “Let’s see how much warmth you can handle."