Yes We Love A Softdom Ari - Tumblr Posts

daddy!ari levinson x naive!reader | kinktober 2022 summary | your friend matches you for an odd arrangement.

for more drabbles: [#kinktober 2022] tag!

notes | part 1? idek if i should continue this but i want to hehe.

warnings | size kink, breeding kink, dd/lg, dom/soft ari

buy me a kofi! drabble requests/asks! main!

CONT.

A sugar Daddy? You asked a week ago, the whole thought laughable when your friend brought it up for you. Both because you thought the concept didn’t exist, and because who would want to take care of you? You’re so used to cleaning up for other people that you couldn’t remember the last time someone made time for you. Except she frowned at you and explained that it was more than that, and to walk in with an open mind. 

She didn’t explain that the man would be intimidating. And handsome. Very, very, handsome, his rugged look accentuated by his beard and wide posture. He’s also probably over a decade older than you, though he doesn’t look the part. Even the waitresses are entranced by him, and you can’t blame them. You glance around the restaurant he chose—you’re pretty sure it’s above your bank account—hoping for other customers to walk in. Was the talk of a queue all a myth?

You hear him call your name—Ari, that is—and can’t help but peek up from taking a sip of water. Frankly, you don’t have the guts to meet him head on. And Ari loves that about you. Your natural submissiveness, the way you fidget with your fingers, the way you’re looking up at him with stars in your eyes. You have no idea who he is, but fuck, does he know everything about you.

Every. Little. Thing. 

Hiring an investigator does wonders to satiate one’s curiosity, usually. 

“What do you want to eat?” His tone is gentle, coaxing. He needs to bring you out of this shyness, have you become comfortable with him enough to initiate physical contact first. And so that you could perch on his lap as he feeds you.

Cockwarming is another subject—if one more waiter tests his control he’ll just shove his cock in your virgin hole and have your cunt milking him while you eat, though he doubts you can multitask. He’s sure that in moments, you’ll go dumb on his cock. Not that he’ll mind. Ari wants nothing more than to take care of every single need of yours. 

“Whatever you want,” you blurt, glancing at the menu and trying not to wince at the prices once again. “Maybe I’ll get the salad?”

In your defense, it’s the cheapest on the menu. The fact that you don’t come from a family where you can afford to eat at a Michelin star restaurant is probably laughable to this man. This wall-street, billionaire. It’s hard to ignore the designer labels on his suit, and compare it to your target t-shirt and thrifted jeans, both articles of clothing something you were proud about. You recall your jaw dropping when your friend pulled up his networth, bragging about how she managed to hook you up with him. 

Connections. Imagine having that. 

Ari clears his throat, and you startle, head snapping up. 

“There we go,” he murmurs. “I’ve been trying to get you to look at me since we introduced ourselves.” 

The playfulness and edge in his tone causes your cheeks to flush, and you mumble an apology. 

“Mhm. I’ll be paying tonight, so feel free to order whatever you want.”

“Oh, no—” Your eyes widen. “I couldn’t possibly impose you like that.”

“Alright.” The smirk catches you off-guard, too. He motions the waiter over, and you clench your fists. God, you hated ordering. Half the time, the employees would dismiss your order, often getting it wrong. Or they’d treat you like dirt, forcing you to pipe up and defend yourself.

Not that you do a very good job. 99% of the time you just left humiliated or with an apology—when it should be the other way around. 

Ask for a salad. A salad. It’s literally two words! What could go wrong. 

“What would you like?” 

Ari motions for you to go first, and that’s when you feel it: your shoulders stiffen first, and you open your mouth for nothing to come out. Oh God. You’ve rehearsed this line nearly a thousand times in the short few minutes, yet why couldn’t you say anything? Panicked, you fumble for the menu to point at what you want. 

“I got it, baby,” Ari chimes in, laying a hand over yours as he orders for the two of you. In one smooth move, he entwines your fingers together, his thumb leaving soft, circular strokes of comfort. 

This is most embarrassing night of your life, but you can’t even protest that you can do it yourself. The immediate reaction is relief that he’s capable of taking care of you, and that he didn’t bat an eye when you couldn’t do such a simple act. You’re in your own little world that you barely catch what Ari orders—an expensive meal, one with lobster and high-quality meat. 

You nearly squeak out a protest, but his stare tones you down. 

Perfect, Ari thinks. He’s already on edge, obsessed with the image of you going dumb on his cock. Since your friend showed him a picture, he’s been hooked on your innocent smile and soft gestures. How your lips would part so that his thumb could slip in, how you’d lean against him because you don’t have the stamina like he does. Fuck, this arrangement definitely should be solidified by the end of the night. He doesn’t even care what label that you want to put on it—as long as you’re going to be his. 

 “Do you have any questions for me, baby?” 

The endearment catches you off guard, those owlish eyes peering up at him for direction. You have so many, but opted out of writing a list. Once you spiral, you often couldn’t stop.

But the most prominent is: “Do I call you Daddy?”

The quick internet search you did made your gut clench with… want. The ferocity of your desire to have someone dominate you, praise you, and guide you was, frankly, shocking. In fact, the whole topic still sounds taboo to you, something that shouldn’t be discussed in the middle of the restaurant. 

The man in front of you leans in, tone deepening. “What do you think, baby?” 

“Yes?” Your mouth is dry, palms sweaty. 

“You want to try it out for me?” Ari has no doubt that you’re already getting wet from the encouragement in his tone. You’ve been on the edge of arousal and curiosity for the past half hour or so, with how much you were squirming and avoiding his gaze. 

Cheeks flushed, you whisper, “Okay, Daddy.” 

It sounds right.