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bodacioustomato · 5 days ago

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I want everyone to still know that this fic exists heehee 😏

— I CAN BE YOUR BARBIE DOLL, PRINCESITA, RIGHT?

RECEIVERS。ayatsuji yukito x fem!reader

CUSTOMER。This is commissioned by my beloved homie @bodacioustomato! Thank you for commissioning me mwah mwah <3

WISHCARD。Yukito sighs softly against the skin of your thigh. “This is exactly what I need. A doll like this. Like you.” He mumbles. “Warm, responsive, noisy. So… so dollish yet so human.”

BOUQUET。n/sfw smut 18+, fluff, oral s*x, obsessive behaviour and thoughts, mild dark content, body worship, dollification, objectification, dom/sub dynamic

PRICE。approx. 5.1k words

FREEGIFT。Velvet (Noita), Stargirl Interlude (The Weeknd, Lana Del Rey)

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful your eyes look?”

Those pretty eyes gaze up and Yukito almost breaks his facade. Even with the closeness you two are in right now—thigh to thigh, body to body—Yukito wants to get closer, inspect closer, observe, see, stare, and touch those orbs yoked in your head so thoroughly.

“Look at you, doll. Look at you.” He says as he traces his finger on your jawline before taking your chin to face ahead to the mirror. “Aren't your eyes pretty?” You nod slowly and he smiles—he loves it when you know you are pretty.

He first saw you during one of his detective jobs. You were a witness to a crime that happened near your flower shop. The image of you telling about what horror you have seen while holding a small pot of violet petunias is still vivid in his head. Your white blouse, cute bows, and red pleated skirt—you looked familiar, Yukito thought at that time.

Like my little Ivy.

Soon after he got back from the job, he tried to find Ivy through the hundreds of dolls in his collection. Ivy was found—a small doll wearing a white ruffled blouse and a red gypsy skirt. Just a little bow and Ivy will look like you.

Coming to your flower shop is integrated into his evening walk. He stared and stared until his attention was finally caught by you. Conversations were easy and your sweet voice only makes Yukito wish some of his pretty dolls could mimic.

“You always say that, Yukito…”

Ah, that sweet voice again.

Yukito smiles to himself. How long has it been since the two of you have been in this relationship? Months, perhaps approaching a whole year. You really are a sweet dearest girl—it is no wonder why you would choose to work in a flower shop, taking care of delicate creatures to maintain their colours and freshness. Yukito admires it, really. If he is not a detective, he would rather be a dollmaker—and just like you, he can take care of delicate objects as well.

But his work is not an obstacle for him to pursue his hobby. Lately, he has been indulging himself in styling and taking care of some of his dolls in the basement. So much time he spent there that you once got worried. As intelligent as he is, he still could not fathom why and how his obsession with beautifying his dolls peaked to its high.

Perhaps it is because of you. Yukito is sure of it.

How else can he explain the number of dolls he tried to style according to your fashion that day when he visited your flower shop? How else can he explain the number of flowers he secretly plucked off just to use them as an accessory on his doll? He finds himself needing to insert a piece of you into his creation.

But he is not satisfied. Countless porcelain has he dressed, and not one can fulfill the jar of contentment in his heart.

More creative, he thought.

More ‘you’, he thought.

What a conundrum—but gladly, Yukito finds a solution to fill his heart’s content. And you are his key for it, his object of affection and attention.

So here you two are—in your bedroom that he has specifically designed to suit his taste. Pastels and Victorians. Monochromes and Gothics. Of course you are allowed to have your own clothes—it is your bedroom after all. But there is a built-in closet on the wall, hanging tens of different dresses and clothes that will keep increasing in numbers.

Sitting side by side at the dressing table, Yukito watches as you take out your makeup collections, arranging them nicely on the surface. But his eyes soon find it boring to just watch, so they wander to stare at your reflection.

And dear Heavens, Yukito’s eyes cannot stop staring. How dolly, he ponders. He once said that he never gets tired of looking at his dolls. You have the same effect, apparently. He could not count the number of humans he got tired of seeing after two days of seeing the same face. But you! You, you, you, little doll—months after, he still does not tire, does not find it dull. Are you a doll yourself?—is something he silently asks you when you are invading his head. Like ivy.

A pinch.

“Ow! Hey!” You pout when Yukito pinches your cheek, tugging your flesh before letting it go. You rub your cheek and you look at him, bewildered. “Why’d you pinch me?” You protest.

“I want to make sure that you are real.”

“I am real.”

“Indeed. How peculiar.” He smiles. “Are you done? Can I start?” He asks before he reaches for a bottle of primer.

“Uhm, I haven't said my answer yet.”

“Uh-huh. And the answer is yes, sweetheart. Yes, I can start.” He says with a grin before he puts on a small blob of primer on the back of his hand. “Face straight ahead.” He orders and you nod, eyes darting to your reflection as Yukito puts the product on your face.

As for you, you were pretty surprised when Yukito brought up his ‘conundrum’—or whatever it is. Something along the lines of dissatisfaction with his hobby. You know Yukito has some kind of obsession with dolls, especially over the past several months. Right beneath your very bedroom, right under his office floor, right on the small shelf—there are collections of his dolls.

At first, it was pretty weird for you to sleep in your bedroom that he had arranged himself. He had put a shelf of dolls right by your bed and oftentimes, you do feel like you are being watched by creatures—or souls trapped, who knows?—but over time, you have gotten used to their presence.

So, to help him with his dissatisfaction, he asked you to do something for him today. And that is allowing him to do your makeup. But, being a lover of a detective has taught you a thing or two—he does have another hidden agenda he has yet to reveal.

Well, that is fine. After all, you have the time in the world to figure out what he actually wants.

You watch Yukito through the reflection. He is focused on covering some spots on you with a brush. His technique differs from a usual makeup technique. It feels like he is painting instead. Occasionally, he looks away to observe something that is unfortunately in your blind spot.

But the longer you stare at your reflection as Yukito gradually puts on more and more products, you realise a certain style that he puts on your face right now. Blushes, shimmers, and highlights are emphasising your features. Your face looks strangely smooth and blurry. Your lips are glossy. Your eyelids are flamboyant with colours.

When he is about to touch up a spot, you grab your wrist. “What?” He asks but you do not respond. Instead, you turn around, right in the direction where he keeps looking at during the time he is doing your makeup. As soon as you turn, your eyes catch the sight of a porcelain doll that has been sitting on the shelf since forever now.

You look at your reflection and then the doll back and forth.

Too similar. Not too identical—you are a human and it is a doll—but the resemblance is uncanny.

“Huh. Well, I thought you would notice it straight away but it does take time, hm?” Yukito says before he puts down the brush and walks to the shelf, taking the porcelain doll carefully before approaching you again.

“Don’t you think she looks the same as you?” He says before he holds the porcelain doll right beside you. “Look at her, dolly. She has the same lips and eye colours as you. Dare I say, she had the most beautiful eyes among my collections.” He smiles to himself as he traces the eyeball of the doll. His fingers then carefully gouge out the eyeball from its socket—detachable.

Yukito places the doll on the bed before bringing the porcelain eyeball closer to you. You shudder—eerie that something resembling an organ is near you. But your lover chuckles. “Oh, don’t be afraid. Among my collections now, you have the prettiest eyes I have ever seen, little doll.”

He places the eyeball right beside your own eye. His other hand reaches up and his thumb and index pry open your eyelid wide. Breath hitches, your irises shake when Yukito is gazing deeply against your own.

“Sometimes I feel that it is a shame that you are made with flesh and blood.”

You retract away from him, glancing nervously. Yukito, noticing your emerging timidity, cackles. “I’m not that crazy to gouge out your eyes. I prefer them to be where they’re supposed to be.” He says before he places the porcelain eyeball on the table. He then takes your hand, pulling you to stand up.

“Your hair is perfect as it is. We can move on to clothes now.” He says before he pushes you to get on your bed. He goes to the ‘special’ closet in your room and takes his time to choose several sets of garments. He returns to the bed with six different sets and tosses them on the bed beside you.

“Take off your clothes.”

“S-Sorry?” You shriek in embarrassment. You know how straightforward and shameless he could be but sometimes his request is just out-of-pocket.

“You heard me, dolly. Or should I do it for you?” He says before he holds the hem of your blouse and raises it, revealing your tummy.

“Wait! Right here..?”

“This is your room, no? Yes, here.”

You stare at his face, seeking any sign of whether he is joking. But there is none to be seen and you are left with no choice. Face heating up, you slowly take off your blouse. Chills run down your spine when your upper body is only covered with your white lacy bra. You place your arms around yourself as your eyes wander everywhere but him.

But unfortunately, you see the dolls. Although there are not as many as the dolls in the basement, still—these dolls are watching you, you feel. The breeze in your room does not help to ease the chills coursing down your spine at the feeling of being observed by other things.

“Yukito…” You lean against Yukito’s body, seeking his warmth, in hopes that the closer he is, the faster the chills disappear. He instinctively wraps his arms around you but not for long as his hands trail down, squeezing your sides before they rest on your waist. His fingers tuck inside and with a gentle pull, your skirt drops.

“There you go, dolly. Was that so hard to undress for me?” There is a hint of teasing there—how unfair.

Yukito smiles pleasantly when he sees your half-naked body bare to him. You shift awkwardly on your spot as he revels in the sight of you. Breathtaking really. He takes your arm and caresses your limbs, imprinting his fingerprints on every spot of your skin. He raises your arms, drops them. He moves your fingers up and down, rests them. Your breath hitches when he practically holds you like a marionette—admiring, adoring, worshipping.

“Ah—!” You yelp in surprise when you are suddenly pushed back onto the edge of the bed. Half of your body lays on the mattress. This time, he holds one of your legs high, shamelessly caressing your calf and then your thigh. You squirm, hips bucked up—hot.

Yukito sighs softly against the skin of your thigh. “This is exactly what I need. A doll like this. Like you.” He mumbles. “Warm, responsive, noisy. So… so dollish yet so human.”

By now you wonder if Yukito even sees you as a human—the constant mentions of how dollish you are is excessive. It is impossible to go unnoticed. Being treated like a fragile thing such as a porcelain doll—you should have disliked it. You are a human, a lady with a soul in a mess of flesh and blood.

But you like this.

Yukito takes your hand so you sit upright. He takes the garments he has chosen from the closet and aligns them with your figure. His eyes are strangely playful, akin to a younger you playing with her Barbie dolls.

“What do you think of this one?”

“This looks cute on you.”

“I like the bows. They will look pretty on you.”

“The skirt is very short. But you don’t mind, right?”

You let Yukito choose your outfit. Sometimes your hand cannot help to satisfy your curiosity to touch and feel the garment. The design, the fabric, the colour, the accessory—they are detailed and delicate. You wonder where did Yukito get all of these. These garments are meant to be worn on a mannequin or human which makes them more expensive than a dress for a toy. Some of them are quite revealing and a few of them are just straight-up lingerie.

“What about this?” He asks you as he shows you a pastel pink dress. The top is a corset with floral patterns on it while the bottom is a short frilly skirt. However, upon further inspection, you notice that the dress is basically a two-piece corset lingerie. You can feel the ardour of embarrassment soaring in your nerves.

“This… Uhm… Too sexy…”

“Yeah? Why not? You’re sexy.” Yukito’s reply is just so nonchalant as if he does not just say a perverted thing. “You’re gonna look very sexy, doll.” He says before his finger playfully tugs the waistband of your panties. You purse your lips—your heart is thumping fast, almost like it is trying to leap out. Yukito’s golden eyes are staring deeply into yours, awaiting your answer. Your lips pry open to say something but a gasp leaves your mouth instead when he suddenly seizes your chin.

He nudges your head up and down with a naughty smirk. “See? It's not that hard to nod.” He says. “Yes, Yukito, let’s try these on.” He mimics your voice, nodding your head according to his words. The way he controls your body is bizarre. Moreover, he looks strangely joyful and excited—evident by how his eyes sparkle when you ‘gave’ your permission. Letting him push you onto the bed again, you watch him parting the lingerie from the hanger.

Your hands reach up, about to take the lingerie to wear it yourself. But Yukito tilts his body, avoiding your grabby hands. “Let me do the work, doll. I know how to style my own dolls, alright?”

You get what he wants now—play dress up. It just so happens that you are his mannequin now. Standing in front of you, he pulls you by your shoulder to lean you forward. Your face bumps against his stomach while his hands travel to your back, rubbing your skin before his nimble fingers unclasp your bra.

“O-Oh! Y-Yukito—” You look up at him—those doe eyes… Oh, how he loves them. Yukito smiles before he drags the bra strap off your shoulders. But before the garment could drop to the floor, you—overcome with embarrassment—hold your bra close to your breasts.

He clicks his tongue, a tint of annoyance. “No, no, dolly. You are not supposed to move your arms.” He says before he puts both your arms down. Your bra falls off your body, leaving your breasts bare to him. But he is unbothered. He is much more focused on positioning your hands on your lap, so you would sit like an unmoved doll. He even fixes each of your fingers' positions. Once he is satisfied, he stands straight and looks down at you.

Brushing the bra from your lap down to the floor, he purrs, “Perfect. You’re so perfect.” He crouches in front of you, admiring your nude top. His stare is shameless as his irises go left and right—and you realise he is staring at your boobs. You are about to raise your hands to cover your face but he quickly places his own hands on yours, halting you.

“Be nice, little doll. Goodness, stubbornness is quite deeply engraved in you, hm? I suppose it is a different kind of beauty for a doll like you.” He says before nudging your warm, heated face. “Besides, your embarrassed face is so entertaining.”

You pout slightly. You do not even want to look down as you will just see your naked breasts, so you force yourself to keep eye contact with him. “So mean…” You murmur, and your foot kicks his shin lightly.

Yukito bites his lower lip with a slight smirk on his face before he crouches in front of you, hands travelling up to your thighs and then your hips, caressing your flesh as his eyes stare deeply against yours.

“You possess such a perfect body. Don't you think you should get yourself painted? Be a model, like one of those sculptures?” He says, smooching your knee while at it. And you once again noticed it.

Sculptures. Not even a human model.

What do you see me as, Yukito?

“You want tens of people to see me like this?” You ask—the thought of being naked and surrounded by tens of people and being drawn is quite unpleasant.

He blinks. “Well, on second thought, maybe not.” He sighs as if he is so disappointed at the fact that his jealousy would get him better than having your figure painted in an art. “Now, come on, dear. I have to undress you fully to put this dress on.” He says as he tugs on your panties.

You glance at the dress—not even a dress, that is freaking lingerie. You nod slowly before Yukito pushes you to lie down on the bed and raises both of your legs. Your feet rest against his torso as he takes off your panties.

“My, my, look at that. A little doll is leaking.” He cackles when he sees your glistening pussy. You feel hotness coursing into every pore of your skin as you look away. His fingers creep up along your thigh before they trace your folds teasingly.

A shaky gasp leaves your lips as you grip the sheets. Yukito scoffs at your reaction before he turns away to the makeup table. “I should take a picture.”

“W-What?”

“Mm-hm. A piece of art cannot go forgotten, yes?” He takes a small digital camera from the dressing table and turns it on. You squirm, filled with discomfort mainly from shame. Noticing your movement, Yukito frowns. “Perhaps my building is truly haunted. Since when can a doll move by herself?”

You stop moving and he smiles, satisfied. Yukito approaches you again and gently positions you however he wants. He places your legs together, tilting them to the side while your naked upper body faces the ceiling. He even arranges the top of the lingerie on your body, hiding your breasts but not fully—just enough to tickle a bit of lust.

“Oh, a model now, aren’t you?” he cackles. Your face heats up again.

“Well… Well, if I don’t do it, you’re gonna get angry…” You murmur. Yukito snorts as he fiddles with the setting of the camera and fixes the sheets beside you, smoothing out the wrinkles on the fabric and dusting off the nonexistent dirt.

“Do you think so badly of me, dear? Fine. I’ll return the favour for being such a good doll for me today. How about that?” He says, almost nonchalantly. He seems to be so sure he can do any favour you want after he is done satiating his fetish.

“Now, come on. Be nice and pretty again.”

You look at the camera lens as Yukito starts snapping photos of you. You keep your expression serene with a hint of coldness, just as Yukito instructed. He is breathing very heavily behind that camera, you can see. In fact, whenever that device is in the direction of your barely covered torso, his adam's apple throbs before he mutters a tiny curse.

Your eyes cannot help but divert to all over his body, reading his quirks before you hear Yukito sigh. “Your eyes aren’t focusing.” He huffs as he checks the camera, skimming through the tens of photos he has taken. “It’s fine. We have plenty. Now then…”

He puts down the camera on the bed before taking your legs and drags your whole body to the edge of the bed, closer to him. You yelp in surprise. Yukito, however, is more focused on his second task. He takes the corset lingerie and puts it on you. The corset fits perfectly, albeit a little tight on your breasts, You squirm but a light smack on your thigh stops you.

“Tight…” You complain. Yukito does not answer, instead, he turns your whole body so your back faces him. His fingers trace your back before he loosens the ribbons that hold the corset together slightly, just enough for your body to relax.

“You look sexier like this.” He cackles before his hands travel down, cupping your ass, fondling the flesh. You whine, trying to wiggle your way out of his embrace but a click of a tongue from Yukito is enough for you to halt. “I really don’t recall if a doll is able to move by herself.” He says, voice slightly hardens before he pushes you to lie down on the mattress.

You bite your lips when you notice his eyes keep glancing at your pussy—which feels a bit embarrassing as you do feel damp right now while he stares with an unreadable expression.

“Your pussy is adorable.”

You wince in shame, shutting your thighs close as he chuckles. “Why do you have to say it like that?”

“I’m just telling you what I observe.” He whispers before he parts open your legs again, this time his hand wastes no time touching your cunt, teasing your wet, slicky slit. You gasp and shake your head, heat is boiling in your stomach as your hips buckle up against his palm. “It’s almost amusing to see how your body reacts to a small touch.”

Yukito hovers over you, placing his knee beside your hips. “You should see yourself from my own eyes. The camera cannot capture this pretty face. How shameful, how shameful.” He pulls away his finger and brings it to your lips. Even without him saying it, your lips already parted, allowing him to press his wet finger on your tongue, massaging the moist muscle.

You hear his breath hitch. “Beautiful, beautiful…” He whispers to himself before he pulls his finger out and reaches for the frilly panties. Yukito then puts the panties on you, fixing the skirt around your hips. He holds your hips, swaying you left and right before laughing condescendingly.

“You look ridiculous. But that’s exactly what makes you special from the rest of my collection.”

He reaches for the camera, turning it on again. He sets up the settings he wants before he directs it at you, snapping a couple of photos. Looking back and forth, Yukito reaches to move your legs closer together, with one knee raised slightly. He takes your left hand and places it on your tummy before he positions the other hand to lay beside your head.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Every picture taken will have Yukito taking a good second of staring at your figure, as if he is trying to burn the image of you into his brain, clouding himself with you. At first, you do not dare to move out of his instructions but you try to test the water—first, you move your hand slightly, and then your arm, and then your legs, and then your neck, until you can freely pose however you want. And Yukito’s smile grows broader when your embarrassment is slowly dissipating, allowing yourself to act pretty as you should be.

After about thirty minutes, he suddenly breaks away from the camera, taking a deep breath. He looks around before taking the porcelain doll he took inspiration from before. He attaches its eyeball to its eye socket before giving the doll to you.

“Hold her gently.” He says and you nod, placing the doll in your arms before you gaze up at him.

“Ha… Ahaha,” He lets out a shaky chuckle. “That’s it, that’s it.” He murmurs to himself as his eyes roam back and forth from you to the doll, from the doll to you. The outfit may be different but your face—the way you look is just similar to the precious porcelain.

Yukito says nothing other than continuing to snap more photos of you and the doll. You lay on your stomach as you bring the doll closer to your resembling face, once again your irises trail up to the lens.

However, your eyes caught something.

A bulge in his pants.

The embarrassment you thought you had cast away returns slowly and painfully to harrow your chest. You wonder what is playing in his mind right now to be aroused at this moment and not when you were fully naked earlier.

“Yukito… You are…” aroused—is something you could not mutter. But the way your eyes divert to his crotch just gives him the clue of what you wanted to convey. Instead of feeling equally ashamed, Yukito smirks.

“You can’t blame me for reacting this way when two of my favourite dolls are on the bed together.”

“Are you… excited because of her?” You ask suspiciously as you hold the porcelain doll closer. Yukito huffs and shakes his head.

“Her? No. No—look at you, little doll.” He gets closer, a knee on the mattress, pressing his weight onto the bed. He grabs your chin, thumb teasing your lips before it slides in to press onto your tongue slightly. “I’ve done amazing work on you and the resemblance—it is just wonderful.”

He puts away the camera before both of his hands touch your cheek and the doll. “My pretty girls. But of course, you are the prettiest.”

Seeing him treating his dolls as something sentient—or perhaps he is treating something sentient as his doll—sends tingles all over your nerves. Yukito lowers, his lips finally touch yours and you can feel his warm breath of relief from the little break between the kiss, as if he has been holding himself back for long. His kiss is soft and sweet, just tender enough to make you melt. Your hands reach up to grip onto his blonde hair, as his tongue unhurriedly probes your lips.

His hands travel on your exposed skin, tracing the shape of your figure. His fingers are nimble on the fabric that barely covers your body, down down down they go to tug on the frilly fabric of your skimpy panties. You squirm when you feel his fingertips crawl on your inner thighs, making their way to your cunt. With his knuckle, he teases the middle part of your pussy that is already damping the panties.

“You’re excited too. Freak.” He jeers before he pushes the panties to the side, teasing your folds. Your body arches when he brushes your needy clit. Yukito’s kiss drifts from your lips to your chest. Burying his face into your cleavage—which is pushed together by the corset, he takes a long inhale of your scent as his fingers graze against your pulsing hole, slowly inserting themselves into your wet cunt. You whine, hand raking the hair at the back of his head.

He finally lifts his face from your tits, smiling lewdly. “Indeed, no dolls can compare themselves to you. You’re too warm, too comfy—too human.” He whispers before he takes a nibble on your chest. You moan as you feel his fingers are thrusting again. The dormant lust awakens—your head is spinning with desire.

Yukito moves down and without any warning, his lips attach themselves to your pussy, licking and lapping on your clit as his fingers wave inside you. You let out a high-pitched moan, hands frantic to find anything to grab on. Your fingers are itching on the porcelain doll as you feel his tongue and lips are engulfing your clit.

The wetness from your pussy is pooling on the panties, along with his saliva. Your breath hitches as a string of sweet moans leaves your throat. An attempt to say his name is only interrupted with a teasing light bite on your clit. His fingers are coated with your juices and he slurps them without shame. He drives his fingers deeper as his tongue sucks your bundle of nerves harder, his other hand is gripping your thigh tightly as if your flesh is his support.

Sweat forms at the edge of the strands of his hair as he continues to make out hungrily with your pussy. The coil in your tummy is twisting, a familiar feeling. Your hips start to buckle up wildly, grinding against his face as you chase your nearing orgasm.

Overwhelmed, you bring the porcelain doll closer to your body, hugging it. Yukito glares up—his eyes sparkle seeing the sight of you and the doll again. Two beautiful dolls, one is lifeless, one is extremely full of it.

“I-I’m close— Aah..! Mmh..!” Your whimper is a melody to his ears—one of his favourite sounds in the world. Furthermore, what dolls could replicate such sweet noises? How special you are, little doll—you should feel very lucky to be collected by me.

Your pussy clenches tightly around his digits as your moan grows louder. His name is a mantra coming out from your glossy lips. With a hard suckle on your clit, you cum, coating his fingers with more debauchery. Licking the juice leaking from your cunt, Yukito finally lifts his head, bringing his fingers to his lips to suck them clean.

Obedient, you are. When he gets closer with his tongue out, you open your mouth, accepting the sloppy kiss, tasting yourself from him. His hand reaches to caress the doll’s face as he shares a messy kiss with you. A nudge on his chest signalling to him that you need a break, so he backs away.

Flushy face, breathy mutters, wet lips, shivering shoulders—Yukito smirks at the alluring sight of you. None of his collections can mime this—none. He takes his camera again—his chest is full of a certain desire to be fulfilled. Noticing his camera is once again fixed on you, your quivering lips form a sugary smile. Your eyes are glimmering with eros—the fire of his loins.

Yukito chuckles.

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful your eyes look?”

if you like my works, consider buy me a ko-fi!

#still one of my favorite commissions ever #i still read this fic on my free time because it makes me giggly and blushy #god i love him so much #i will commission you again keshi just you wait 😎😎#this fic is so cute and so smexy and woof woof bark bark meow #bsd #bsd ayatsuji #fanfic #spice 🌶#keshi 💗

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bodacioustomato · 7 days ago

Text

Trash Sugar Magic MEDLEY

❥ 001: ᴛᴇᴀʀ

contents ❥ nikolai gogol x fem!reader, fluff, 1.2k words

links ❥ MAIN MENU, gif+dividers are my edit/mine!

Getting kidnapped a few days ago is really not on your agenda. But your kidnapper has been kind—well… sort of, if you minus the times he pushes you roughly, tugs your hair, ties your legs to the bed posts, seizes your jaw and shakes your head as he mocks you for being so spoiled.

However, this time, his kindness will not compensate for what he has done.

“Nikolai.” You call him when he is in the room, crouching by his wardrobe to rummage through the drawer for something. You are not able to move. Your legs are tied. You are forced to sit and lounge on his bed with some old books accompanying you.

Nikolai does not respond though, as if your call is too small for him to hear. But really, he just ignores you.

“Nikolai.” You call again, louder. But he does not even turn around. Huffing and clenching your fists, you hastily take off your white cardigan, bundle it up into a ball and toss it towards the man.

The cardigan perfectly lands on his hand, submerging his face in the fabric scented with you.

“W-What the hell do you want?” Nikolai stands up immediately as he pulls your cardigan off his head. His face is red and his voice is coated with a tint of fluster.

“You ignore me.” You pout, crossing your arms. “You must pay for what you've done.”

“W-Wha… What’d I do?” He asks back, baffled. You point at your baby blue dress, exactly on the neckline where there is a rip, caused by his rough handling of you a few days ago. It was not big of a rip but yesterday, Nikolai was in need of using the bathroom and he shoved you away as soon as you got out a little too hard. His grip on you accidentally stretched the fabric and made the rip bigger.

This is your favourite dress and the big rip is exposing your chest, for God's sake! Nobody wants to be this exposed during winter.

“This is your fault.” You say as you keep your finger pointed at your cleavage where the rip is located.

Nikolai’s eyes are staring but he looks visibly confused.

“I… don’t understand.” He says. You tilt your head, huffing again as you lift the ripped part to make it obvious to him.

“Where did you look? This tear right here wasn’t that big a few days ago!” You whine.

“Oh,” His Adam's apple throbs and he awkwardly looks away. He takes a deep breath, shakes his head before he runs his palm over his face. “So, what?”

“Fix it. I love this dress.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“But you did it.”

“Yeah, and I do not give a bloody fuck.” With his hand on his waist, he waves his other hand dismissively. “Does that rip even matter right now? What matters is that I’m gonna get my money from babysitting you.” He says before he turns around.

“Hey, wait! Where are you going?” You ask, crawling to the edge of the bed. “Give back my cardigan.”

“I’m going out. You stay here and don’t think of doing anything funny. I will know.” Nikolai says before he smirks as he holds out your cardigan. “It’s gonna be cold. Here, take it.” He tosses the cardigan to the corner of the room.

“H-Hey!” You try to protest. There is no way you can reach it, especially when your legs are bound to the bed. You hear Nikolai’s mocking cackle, followed by the click of a shutting door.

Meanie.

— ♡

You wanted to give Nikolai the silent treatment. But your rebellion was cut short when he got home by eight with mushroom and chicken pie from Olga’s diner and three pieces of brownies given by Olga herself. The dinner was fulfilling enough for you to forget your sulk.

You changed your dress to a sweater, provided by him, to sleep in at night. The weather is getting colder and with sniffles between your begging, he gave you one of his sweaters. As usual, you are still tied to the bed at night—you do not understand why he is still reluctant to trust you, as if you have anywhere safe to go.

You fold the dress and the cardigan—you grabbed it when you were free earlier—and set them on the drawer by the bed. Then, you lay down, eyes looking at the door. The room’s light is turned off and you can see the dim light from the living room. Nikolai is probably working on something you do not understand.

Well, you have time to get to know him. With that in mind, you sleep.

You are deep in your dream. Even the softest sound of the door being pushed open does not wake you. A tall figure approaches the bed.

Nikolai stares at your body. The sweater completely fits you, covering your skin and providing extra warmth for the night. The cheap blanket barely covers your body, as if your movement during your sleep also moves the blanket away. Silently, he takes it and drapes it over your body properly.

His eyes then fix on the folded blue dress on the drawer. He takes it and walks outside, plopping on the couch that has become his new bed for the past few days. Slipping his hand into the jacket he wears, he takes out a cookie container. He opens the lid and reaches for a needle and a roll of white threads.

“I hate this girl,” Nikolai grumbles to himself before he slips his hand into his pocket and takes out a pair of glasses. “I can’t even fucking see right.” He sighs as he wears it. He holds the needle and with his tongue slightly out for extra concentration, he tries to put the thread through the needle hole.

The living room is as quiet as a graveyard. The only thing that makes noise is Nikolai who occasionally hisses when he accidentally pricks his finger with the needle—Ah, curse his flawed eyesight… He even tries to not frown so hard as he tries to focus—massaging his temple to ease his strained eyes. Nikolai certainly does not want to get wrinkles at this age. He is more than glad that he does not start balding like the inmates he used to talk with.

An hour passes and with a snip of the remaining thread, the rip on your dress has closed. He holds the dress up, checking his handiwork. Almost perfect. The white of the threads is a little visible if he looks closely but overall, your dress looks fine now.

Nikolai runs his hands through the fabric, seeking any other tear that he might have missed. He finds none, really, but he does snip some pointy threads from the existing seams on the dress. Once he is satisfied, he places the dress on his lap, staring at it.

He remembers it—the night he trailed you from the bar you worked at from afar. You were not really a contrast amidst the snow. Rather, you complimented the sight.

A girl, at night, alone.

You looked like you were just begging to be taken away. And after a few days of having you in his house—perhaps you did want to be taken away.

Nikolai waits. He waits for the day you spout anger and demands him to release you. He waits for the day you call him a bunch of names. He needs it to happen right now, at this period where he still hates you—where his annoyance is still fresh and his affection hasn't bloomed.

Because it hurts none now.